Wizard Will

Three days later.

That's right, three days had passed.

Anton sat on his Flying Broomstick, staring blankly out at the sea.

The Old Wizard floated beside him, looking utterly exasperated. "After three days of flying at high speed, if I were the one on the broom, I could've made several round trips—not just to an island, but all the way to France."

Anton silently watched the tide wash over the beach again and again, his face full of worry.

"You're completely hopeless with directions," the Old Wizard said, growing more and more irritated. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for a Ghost like me to keep up with your Flying Broomstick? Is this how you treat your teacher?"

"Heh."

Anton sneered. "As if you're any better with directions. If you knew the way, you would've told me already!"

Silence. Utter silence.

The big and little figures stood there, listening blankly to the sound of the waves, without a word.

"Aren't you always so proud of all your life experience? Think fast. What are we supposed to do?"

A bitter look appeared on the head in the Old Wizard's hands. "I think I'm gradually getting used to being a Ghost. The extra benefits I got from studying the 'Crackling Curse' are slowly fading away."

Anton turned to look at him in astonishment. "What do you mean?"

"I'm becoming unable to think. All I have left is the instinct of Memory. In other words, if you showed me Potions knowledge I'd never seen before, no matter how simple it was, I wouldn't be able to understand it." The Old Wizard sighed.

"Memory is like a list that stretches beyond the horizon. If I want to remember something, I have to search through that list bit by bit."

"My Apprentice, I can feel my will slowly fading away. In the end, all that will remain is a mass of memories."

Anton looked at him, his expression complicated.

Just imagining it was enough to make him feel despair.

"Your first lesson from your teacher: don't be clever for your own good." The Old Wizard looked at Anton, his eyes full of countless emotions.

"I invented the 'Wizard's Eye' Potion. With it, I saw another side of Magic that no Wizard in the world could see."

"Based on that, I also invented the 'Crackling Curse.' It leaves a trace on the soul. Remember the Mark on your wrist? The runes on it meant 'joy,' 'anger,' and 'sorrow.' Emotions and will are the manifestations of the soul. They're the foundation of casting Charms."

The Old Wizard held his head in one hand and reached the other toward the horizon. His translucent fingers gently nudged the sun in his field of view.

"I touched the truth of Magic."

"So I prepared for death long in advance. I made a Vessel for myself, a home for my soul."

"But alas..."

"Even if you hadn't destroyed it back then, my will would still have been gradually worn away."

"So this is what a Ghost is. Haha, so this is what a Ghost is."

The Old Wizard turned to look at Anton. "A Ghost is a trace that life leaves behind in this world. My will is nothing but dust clinging to that trace, and the wind here is far too strong."

"If, when I died, I'd been able to walk forward and enter the World of the Dead..."

He chuckled. "If I hadn't tried to be clever, maybe I really would've entered a new life."

Anton lowered his Flying Broomstick and stood on the beach.

The subject was too heavy. It was like watching a feeble old man, helpless to do anything, slowly take one step after another toward death.

It had nothing to do with his mixed, complicated feelings of hatred for the Old Wizard. It was only about death.

It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"If my will ever completely fades away, then I'll truly be a Ghost. And that Ghost won't be me anymore." The Old Wizard kept droning on beside him. "Before I fade away completely, I'll go far away from you and everyone I know."

"I'm actually very concerned about my pride. I don't want the people who know me to look at me and think, 'He was too cowardly to face death bravely, so he ended up like this.' I..."

"Enough!" Anton roared.

He glared coldly at the Old Wizard. "You are a coward. I'm not like you. I've seen Fate, I've seen death, but I dare to fight back. You're just passively waiting for death!"

"Do you know what I'd do if I were you?" Anton's eyes blazed. "I'd do everything I could to stay alive. If the world tried to erase my will, I'd find a way to fight back."

The Old Wizard only sighed. "It's no use."

"Is it really no use?" Anton's gaze burned bright. "You used that 'Crackling Curse' to create a Vessel for a Ghost, something never done before. Thanks to it, you can still preserve your will. Isn't that right?"

The Old Wizard stared at him blankly. "So what?"

"Teach me. Teach me everything, without holding anything back. I'll study it and use the 'Crackling Curse' to find a way to preserve your will. I might even make you a new body." Anton looked at him earnestly.

The Old Wizard fell silent, then gave a bitter smile. "You little rascal. I know you. You're a born liar. You just want to learn my Charms."

Anton sneered. "Do I need to? Once you've become a real Ghost, you'll be much easier to fool. As long as your Memory remains, wouldn't it be easier for me to learn then?"

Only then did the Old Wizard turn serious. He looked at the boy, bathed in the hazy white light of the sun, and said with feeling, "You're a charismatic person."

"I wasn't before." Anton gazed out over the horizon. "I used to be such an ordinary corporate drone."

At last, the Old Wizard found the answer on the long list of his memories.

"Owls are magical creatures with unique Magical Power. You only need to give one an address, and it'll fly there. Then you can follow behind on your Flying Broomstick."

Anton shook his head. "No. We can't find anywhere to buy an Owl."

"The Knight Bus. When you're in trouble, raise your Wand, and it'll appear in front of you with a pop."

Anton shook his head again. "You think I haven't considered that? But we've already been flying for three days. Every day we fly adds another day of sunk costs. I'm not willing to call the Knight Bus now!"

"I've got it!"

The Old Wizard snapped his fingers, though they made no sound.

"Create a new Charm."

"???" Anton stared at the Old Wizard in shock. "That's ridiculous. Maybe I should just call the Knight Bus after all."

"No, no. This is an interesting experiment. I've done it before."

"First, you need a Revealing Charm." The Old Wizard carefully corrected Anton's wand movements and pronunciation.

The Charm was incredibly simple. Anton cast it in less than a minute, without needing any emotion or thought.

All it did was draw a glowing arrow in the air with his Wand.

"Then what?"

"Dispel it and cast it again. This time, think of the address you're looking for, then order the arrow to tell you which way to go."

Anton's mouth twitched. "What the hell do you mean, order the arrow to move by itself? I'd rather order it to turn into a Gold Galleon."

"Why not?"

"???"

"Why can't you order it to turn into a Gold Galleon?"

"Heh. Did your brain get addled when you became a Ghost? Do you think you're a god?"

The Old Wizard's eyes filled with wisdom. "Remember, emotions are needed to cast Magic. That's just the surface. At its core, what you need is Wizard Will."

"I'd say even the most accomplished Wizards might not be able to come up with a line like that."

"Remember, Wizard, you are a god."

"As a god, command your Magical Power. Command this world. Tell it—and everything in it—to follow your orders and do as you wish."

Anton gave him a thumbs-up. "That's badass!"

The Old Wizard smiled. "Want to try?"

"Let's do it. What have I got to lose?"

So they stayed on that beach for another three days. By the second-to-last day, Anton had run out of the food he'd brought with him.

But he still didn't feel hungry. He just kept waving his Wand.

Until, at one moment, the glowing arrow in midair spun wildly, then pointed toward eleven o'clock and stopped.

"Wahahaha! I did it!" Anton shouted, bouncing around in excitement.

"Right? Right?" The Old Wizard chuckled beside him, keenly feeling his life ebb away. Watching someone carry on his research gave him the sudden feeling that even after he died, he hadn't entirely vanished from this world.

Even if it was a little rascal who'd killed him.

"You're an absolute treasure!" Anton's astonished praise made him feel even more pleased with himself.

"Of course." The Old Wizard proudly puffed out his chest, though he had no head. "Little rascal, after this lesson alone, I deserve to be called your teacher."

"Be sure to remember this principle: Wizards as Gods. It's the foundation of all my research."

Anton couldn't agree more. It seemed simple enough, just making a marker point in a certain direction, but only once he'd done it could he feel that strange sense of control.

Going by the Harry Potter fanfiction he'd read, most Wizards in this world were still at the level of simply casting Charms. Few of them studied Magic and developed theories of their own.

"If you weren't a Dark Wizard, you'd be as famous as Snape."

"Is that so?" the Old Wizard murmured, then gave a derisive laugh. "Though I loathe my cold-blooded teacher, without him leading me down the path of the Dark Wizard, I could never have achieved so much in Potions and Charms."

"Little rascal, I know what you think of me. Gah-gah-gah! I had a rascal for a teacher too, just like you."

Anton shrugged. "Right. If you were still alive, I'd still try to kill you."

"Gah-gah-gah." The Old Wizard laughed so hard that the head in his hands shook. "How interesting."

"Then you'll soon get to see my teacher."

"???" Anton stared at him in surprise. "Isn't your teacher dead?"

The Old Wizard didn't answer. He only smiled mysteriously. "Using my 'Fiendfyre Liquid' to kill me. My teacher is still as detestable as ever."