Every day was a grind, but it was paying off. My ability to exhaust my mana reserves had improved significantly. Releasing mana from both my hands and feet simultaneously was challenging but rewarding. I had yet to succeed with Disturb Magic, despite countless frustrating attempts. My theories on disrupting mana flow made sense, but execution? A complete disaster.
In the garden, I focused on releasing mana from my legs. It was an odd sensation, watching the mana flow directly into the ground instead of dispersing into the air. I attempted to control the spread, directing it to radiate outward rather than sink into the earth. The process was exhausting but productive—every effort depleted my reserves further, ensuring they grew stronger over time.
When I wasn't releasing mana, I honed my skills with Water Ball and Air Ball. Those simple spells had become my bread and butter, perfect for fine-tuning my control. My physical regimen was progressing as well. Squats, planks, and leg raises had become routine, supplemented by garden chores that added a practical edge to my training. Push-ups and pull-ups were next on my list, and I couldn't wait to integrate them.
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My memories of the original Rudeus kept me grounded. He had started magic training at two and had expanded his mana reserves dramatically. By three, he was casting Intermediate-Rank Water Magic and causing significant property damage. I'd avoided such chaos so far, limiting myself to Intermediate spells for Earth, Water, and Wind while keeping Fire Magic at an Elementary level to avoid suspicion. Healing Magic was another story—I'd stuck to the basics, as Zenith had yet to demonstrate any Intermediate spells for me to replicate.
That changed recently when I caught a cold. Zenith had cast Detoxification on me, chanting:
"May the cleansing light of the skies wash over this body, so that the darkness from within may be expelled. Detox."
I memorized it immediately. Since then, I'd practiced it on plants, though none were sick enough to confirm whether it worked. Still, it was another tool in my arsenal.
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The day after my third birthday, I decided to recreate the original Rudeus's infamous Water Cannon incident. I had mastered the spell without a chant long ago, but today I chose to chant it aloud for nostalgia's sake.
I waited until all three adults were inside the house, their voices carrying faintly from the garden and kitchen. Ensuring the coast was clear, I stood in the middle of a room, took a deep breath, and began:
"Supple spirit of water and princess of streams that flow through the earth, sweep away all things with your hidden inner might. Water Cannon!"
The mana surged through me, coalescing into a dense, shimmering sphere of water. It felt heavy, almost alive, as it spun in my hands. The spell had a tangible weight, a testament to its destructive potential. With a flick of my wrists, I released it.
The Water Cannon shot forward with incredible speed, shattering the window with an explosive crack. Splinters of wood flew everywhere as the water ball streaked into the sky. It burst mid-air, creating a brief but spectacular rain shower over the nearby fields. I could see farmers looking up, confused but awed by the unexpected downpour.
I allowed myself a small smile. It was perfect. But the moment was short-lived. A suffocating pressure enveloped me, freezing me in place.
Touki.
Paul's battle aura.
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Paul stormed into the room seconds later, sword in hand. His eyes scanned the damage—the shattered window, the splinters, and the puddles of water—before landing on me.
"Rudy! Are you hurt? Were you attacked?" His voice was sharp, laced with concern.
"I'm fine, Dad," I replied, keeping my tone steady. My heart, however, was racing.
His gaze softened slightly but remained wary. Zenith and Lilia arrived moments later, both looking alarmed. Zenith immediately crouched in front of me, her hands glowing faintly as she cast a basic healing spell to ensure I wasn't hurt.
"What happened here?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Before I could answer, her eyes fell on the open magic textbook nearby. She picked it up, reading the incantation scrawled across the page. Her expression shifted from confusion to realization.
"Rudi," she began, her tone firm but gentle, "did you read this aloud?"
"Yes. I'm sorry about the window and the wall," I admitted. There was no point in lying; the evidence was too damning.
Paul's frown deepened. "Wait, that's an Intermediate spell…"
"Kyaa! Did you hear that, darling!? Our child's a genius!" Zenith's excitement bubbled over, cutting off Paul's words. She grabbed his hands and began jumping in place, her joy uncontainable.
How energetic. Was my apology ignored?
"Zenith, calm down," Paul muttered, though he looked more baffled than annoyed.
"No! We're hiring a tutor immediately! This talent needs to be nurtured!" she declared.
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As their argument escalated, Lilia quietly finished cleaning the room. She stepped forward with a calm demeanor, her voice soft and deferential.
"Master Paul, Mistress Zenith," she began, bowing slightly. "If I may offer my humble opinion…"
Both parents turned to her, the intensity of their argument momentarily subsiding.
"Perhaps we could find a balance," Lilia continued. "Young Master Rudeus could study magic in the mornings and train in swordsmanship during the afternoons. This way, his potential in both areas can be cultivated."
Her tone was careful and respectful, as though she were addressing royalty. Despite her meekness, her suggestion carried weight.
Paul scratched his head. "That… actually makes sense."
Zenith sighed, though her excitement hadn't entirely faded. "Fine. We'll do that."
Lilia bowed again. "Thank you, Master and Mistress. I shall prepare accordingly."
And just like that, my schedule was decided. Not that anyone thought to ask me, of course.
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The Arrival of Roxy
The sound of a horse-drawn carriage creaking to a halt in front of our house broke the morning routine. My parents and I stepped outside to greet our new tutor.
Standing by the carriage was a small figure with light blue hair neatly braided, dressed in a simple brown magician's robe. Her sleepy, half-lidded eyes scanned the house, and her compact frame gave her an air of someone who might blow away with a strong gust. She held a magician's staff in one hand and a modest travel bag in the other.
"I am Roxy Migurdia. Please give me your guidance," she said with a polite bow, her voice calm and professional.
"Ah-ah, you're, that, home tutor?" Paul stammered, clearly not expecting someone so diminutive.
Zenith, equally baffled, nodded hesitantly. "Yes… Thank you for coming…"
The awkward silence lingered. Sensing an opportunity, I smirked and blurted out, "You're really small."
Her sleepy eyes twitched, and she shot me a sharp glare. "I don't want to hear that from you."
Ouch. I couldn't help but admire her quick retort. Maybe I deserved that.
Roxy sighed, rubbing her temple. "Hah. Anyway, which one's the student I'm supposed to teach?" She scanned the area, as if hoping the answer would surprise her.
Zenith, recovering from her initial surprise, proudly gestured toward me. "Ah, it's this child."
Still cradled in my mother's arms, I gave Roxy a playful wink. She blinked at me, her expression shifting from mild irritation to sheer disbelief.
"Haaa," she sighed deeply, letting out a murmur she probably thought no one could hear. "I guess it happens from time to time, huh, that there are idiot parents who think their child has talent after growing slightly…"
I heard that, Miss Roxy! Though, to be fair, I couldn't completely disagree with her sentiment.
"What is it?" Zenith asked, noticing Roxy's quiet muttering.
"Nothing," Roxy replied quickly, waving it off. "However, I think this child of yours doesn't understand the concept of magic, right?"
Zenith's maternal instincts flared. "It's fine. Our Rudi here is very talented!" she declared with unwavering confidence.
Oh no, here we go again. My mother's enthusiasm could rival that of any doting parent, and I suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for kids whose parents embarrassed them in front of teachers. This was karma.
Roxy sighed again, this time with resignation. "Haa, I understand. I'll try my best."
Her tone suggested she'd already resigned herself to what she thought would be an uphill battle. She probably believed she'd have to manage unrealistic expectations, but her sleepy eyes betrayed a glimmer of curiosity.
And just like that, it was decided. Mornings would now belong to Roxy's magic lessons, while afternoons would be reserved for Paul's swordsmanship training.
Roxy glanced around the house one more time before muttering under her breath, "Hopefully, this isn't as bad as the last job…"
She might've been an airhead, but she carried herself with a certain understated professionalism. I couldn't wait to see how this dynamic would play out.
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Roxy's First Lesson: A Splash of Chaos
"Well, let's start from the magic textbook… No, before that, let's test how much magic you can use, Rudi," Roxy said, her tone brisk but with a hint of curiosity. She had taken me out to the courtyard, wisely avoiding any experiments inside the house after hearing about the infamous "Water Cannon Incident."
The magic lessons were meant to be outdoors. A good call. No walls to break, no windows to shatter—only a slight risk to the local flora and fauna.
"Let me demonstrate," she began, raising her staff. "Bestow the protection of water to the place where thou demands, let the crystal clear stream appear here, 『Water Ball』."
A basketball-sized sphere of water materialized before her with practiced ease. It shot forward, slamming into a tree. Crash. The tree's branches snapped audibly, scattering leaves and drenching the fence below.
Roxy turned to me with an expectant look. "How's that?"
I crossed my arms, pretending to ponder. "Yes. That tree is one Mother raised with great care. I guess Mother will be angry."
Her face went pale. "Eh!? Really?"
"No doubt," I replied solemnly. The memory of Paul cutting branches during sword practice and Zenith's subsequent wrath flashed in my mind. That wasn't terror—it was pure, unfiltered fury.
"Oh no. This is bad!" Roxy panicked, rushing to the tree. She picked up the fallen branches, her face reddening as she tried to piece them together like an amateur carpenter.
"Uu… Let the power of God be converted into a bountiful crop and bestowed upon those who have lost their strength to stand up once again, 『Healing』!"
A soft glow enveloped the branches. Slowly, they reattached to the tree, as good as new. Roxy let out a deep sigh of relief.
"Phew."
"Teacher, you know how to use healing magic!?" I said, feigning awe.
"Eh, yes. I have no problems up to the intermediate rank." Her voice was curt, but the corners of her lips betrayed a hint of pride.
"Amazing! That's amazing!" I repeated, adding extra enthusiasm for effect. Her nose twitched slightly, clearly pleased. Too easy.
"Well then, Rudi, your turn," she said, recovering her composure.
I raised my hand. "How did it go again?"
"Bestow the protection of water to the place where thou demands, let the crystal clear flow appear toward here," Roxy replied, her tone slightly impatient.
I nodded. "Got it." But instead of chanting the full incantation, I shortened it. "Bestow the protection of water… Water Ball."
The spell formed effortlessly in my hand—a smaller, slower version of Roxy's water sphere. I aimed it at the same tree.
Crash.
The tree didn't just lose branches—it toppled over with a loud crack.
Roxy's mouth hung open as she stared at the fallen tree. "You shortened the chant?"
"Yes," I replied simply.
"Do you usually shorten your chant?"
"Usually… I don't chant." The truth slipped out before I could stop myself.
Her sleepy eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "Voiceless incantation!?"
She stared at me as though I'd grown a second head. Her shock quickly turned to deep contemplation. "I see. So you usually use voiceless incantation. Interesting… Do you feel tired?"
"No, I'm fine."
"Is that so? No complaints about the size or strength of the water bullet here," she murmured, almost to herself. Then, to my surprise, she grinned—a wide, satisfied smile. "Looks like there's some worth teaching him, huh?"
I heard that, Miss Roxy!
She straightened and flipped open her textbook. "Now then, let's hurry to the next spell…"
Before Roxy could continue, a loud scream pierced the courtyard. "AHHHH!!!"
We turned to see Zenith standing there, her tray of drinks clattering to the ground. Her eyes locked onto the fallen tree, her expression a mixture of sorrow and fury.
Zenith stormed over, fire practically radiating off her. "Miss Roxy! Will you please not treat our home as an experiment platform!?"
"Eh!? But this was done by Rudeus…" Roxy stammered, pointing at me with a trembling hand.
Zenith's fiery gaze didn't waver. "Even if Rudeus did this, you're the one who allowed him, right?"
Roxy's shoulders slumped, her face pale. "Yes… You're right. I'm very sorry, madam."
Satisfied, Zenith cast a healing spell on the tree, restoring it once again. She then turned to me with a disapproving look, but instead of scolding, she sighed. "Rudi, please be careful."
Roxy, meanwhile, sat on the ground, scribbling in the dirt with a stick. "To think I made a mistake so quickly… I might be fired tomorrow…" she muttered, drawing an exaggerated spiral.
"Teacher…" I approached her and patted her shoulder. "You didn't fail just now. You're accumulating experience."
Roxy looked up at me, her eyes wide. "Rudeus…?"
"Failure is just a stepping stone to success."
Her face softened. "Th-that's true. Thank you."
With a renewed sense of purpose, she got back to her feet. "Alright. Let's continue."
Paul's Afternoon Training
Later, I joined Paul for swordsmanship training. Since there was no wooden sword my size, we focused on physical conditioning—jogging, squats, and sit-ups. Paul looked stunned as I breezed through 100 squats without breaking a sweat.
"Have you been doing this already!?" he asked, astonished.
"Just a little," I replied, suppressing a smirk. He didn't need to know I'd been training for over a year.
Paul nodded, clearly impressed. "Alright, let's step it up tomorrow."
And so, the days of balancing magic, swordsmanship, and occasional chaos began.