Chapter 7
Mel looked astonished and reached out to poke a curled-up corner of the book, which was trembling violently. "What did you do to it?"
"I didn't do anything to it," I said. "It bit people, and I just thought its teeth felt really nice, so I touched them for a while."
As if in response to my words, the book whimpered twice more.
Mel reached out and took it. "Hmm, let me try."
With that, Mel quickly pried open the book as it tried to dodge him. The sight reminded me a little of a cold-hearted dentist and a child trembling with fear. I figured it had probably looked much the same when I was touching it earlier, but... that tooth really did feel wonderful.
The book's mouth hung pitifully wide open. Mel and I each held one cover, and together we stroked its gleaming white fangs.
"You're right!" Mel said with satisfaction. "They feel wonderful! That cool, smooth feeling reminds me of the first time I secretly touched my teacher's staff as a child. It's also like Moonlight Crystal freshly mined from the Heart of the Mountain Range, full of pure magic power! It's a shame this is a precious ancient book, or I wouldn't be able to resist breaking one off and taking it with me."
As soon as he finished speaking, the book's wailing rose an octave.
Chapter 7
A little later, Mel and I went to the reading area, carrying the book on Space Magic that we wanted to read, as well as our newly acquired hand toy—the silenced fanged book.
We sat side by side at the table and opened Space Magic.
The book was difficult to decipher. I didn't mean its contents, just the writing itself. The author hadn't used a common tongue. Aside from popular slang, the grammar and spelling commonly used in the two human common tongues of the Diana Continent hadn't changed much, but this book... its pages were actually written in ancient Elvish. The four characters on the cover were all the two of us could understand directly. Judging by the handwriting, it seemed to have been written by the same mage.
An ancient black mage had written a spellbook in Elvish. Unless he was exceptionally individualistic and had peculiar tastes, that could only mean one thing—he was an elf.
Even in the legendary era, elves who became black mages could be counted on one hand. It was a matter of race: elves had a natural affinity for nature, and even those with extraordinary arcane talent rarely chose to leave the forest and become mages, much less black mages. But there had still been several famous elven black mages in history with distinguished feats to their names. They had all been renowned and extraordinarily accomplished, so... we had most likely discovered an authentic work by a well-known legendary mage.
Unfortunately, we hadn't found a signature yet.
Mel frowned in thought and said, "The vast majority of well-known elven black mages were priests of the Shadow Moon Temple in the north."
"But ancient spellcasters weren't as narrow-minded as they are now," I said. "Many mages were proficient in both arcane and divine magic, especially casters of dark divine magic. Many priests of the Shadow Moon Temple in the legendary era were equally accomplished in arcane magic."
"The dark priests in the modern Shadow Moon Temple are still quite good at magic too. I once had the pleasure of sparring with them. They know plenty of wonderful spells. The last time I visited the temple, their high priest told me that if they combined a Charm Spell-yes, the one adapted from the spell abyssal succubi use to trick people into mating—with an Intimidation Spell, it would give the public a conflicting sense of fear and fascination when they appeared in public. It's especially useful for attracting young people!"
Realization dawned on me at once. "No wonder the dark priests of the Shadow Moon Temple top the 'most popular charming villains' ranking every year."
"Hahaha, there's actually a ranking like that?"
I sighed helplessly. "Yes. Young people get up to all sorts of things online these days. My students told me about it."
Mel's eyes curved as he smiled. "I see... If I get the chance, I'll introduce you to them. Dark priests really do know lots of fun spells."
"That would be wonderful!" I thanked him excitedly.
The pace of life in modern society was too fast. I had never liked the term "specialist," especially for mages. They ought to be knowledgeable and experienced. With so much wonderful knowledge out there, why should they be confined by a mind-numbingly boring specialty? Students got into university and studied only the one major they had chosen, then hoped to find a job in that field after graduating... It was so utilitarian that it left me speechless.
Mel agreed. "I really have to thank all the good gods for blessing me with the chance to never attend a magic academy. I hear that many academies even make students choose a specialization these days. Fire graduates can't even conjure an Ice Arrow."
"That's about right." I sighed—it was practically a description of Moli. That girl had graduated from the Royal Magic Academy after studying only fire magic. It had taken me almost a month to teach her how to conjure an Ice Arrow, and even then, all she managed to produce was an ice needle.
We chatted as we tried to translate the book. The elves called Mel a child of the forest, so naturally his Elvish was much better than mine. The problem was that the book used ancient Elvish. In the course of technological development, the elves had disappeared from the continent for a time-environmental organizations regarded this as evidence of technology's destruction of the environment—and had only reappeared in the last few centuries. During their absence, much of humanity's knowledge of the elves had been lost, and quite a few scholars believed the elves themselves had also lost some of their ancient heritage, much like the losses humanity had suffered.
"I need to work out which ancient elven group's language this is first." Mel studied the characters carefully. Elven writing was elegant and beautiful, more like a kind of decorative pattern than letters. We examined it for a long time and tried copying out a few sentences before Mel reached his conclusion. "This should be the writing of the ancient woodland elves. There are still quite a few differences between it and the elves' current common tongue."
"But you can read it."
"Mm, I can make it out. I just need some time," Mel said.
"...But I don't think this passage is writing. I think these are runes. And although the book is called Space Magic, I suspect these runes don't have much to do with space magic. They should be offensive runes." I pointed to several lines of patterns on the page. "Even among mages, few people are proficient in runes these days. I only have a partial understanding of them myself."
"Ha, runes!" Mel frowned. "Most people... including some who call themselves mages, spend all day on their phones or smart computers. It's good enough if they can still remember how to write by hand. Writing runes? That's about as difficult as asking a goblin to court an elven maiden using diplomatic grammar!"
Mel carefully examined the place I was pointing to. His lips moved silently, but sure enough, he couldn't pronounce the proper syllables-because runes generally weren't meant to be read aloud. They were special symbols imbued with magic power. When arranged and combined in prescribed patterns and inscribed on objects, they produced special magical effects. History books, for example, described paladins wielding spears engraved with holy runes to drive out devils, or knights of the God of the Pastures using bracelets engraved with magic-suppressing runes to imprison mages who committed evil. Against all expectations, the craft of making that instrument of punishment had survived to this day.
"In that case," Mel said, pulling out a sheet of parchment, "we'll know if we try writing them down."
I watched Mel take casting materials out of his space ring-of course he had a space ring-along with a spell notebook. Out of courtesy, no matter how badly I wanted to see its contents, I couldn't touch so much as a corner of it. Those were a mage's secrets, the essence of the knowledge he had gained over a period of time, perhaps even his entire life. Not prying into other mages' notebooks was a matter of the most basic etiquette. Mages usually shared their private notes only with friends they would trust with their lives; even their apprentices might never get a chance to look.
He quickly and precisely finished writing the line of what appeared to be runes. His strokes flowed smoothly, and his output of magic power was steady. His fingers pressed firmly as he wrote, the tendons on the back of his hand taut, yet it remained graceful—a nimble, handsome hand, a mage's hand through and through. I couldn't help thinking that his gestures when casting spells must be smooth and elegant too.
The instant the runes took shape, a dim light flashed over the writing. Mel and I immediately stepped back at the same time. The sheet of paper had now become a weapon. Because we had neglected to take defensive precautions, we couldn't stop the completed runes from taking effect. Within a space roughly three feet around the paper, objects rapidly withered and blackened, and even the air turned rotten and eerie. I decisively spread my hands and pressed down with an Air Shield, restricting the runes' effect to within three feet. Mel moved quickly, blasting the paper with a Lightning Ball and destroying the line of runes.