The next morning someone knocked on Damon’s door, he opened it and Fergulio entered. “How is your stomach doing?” asked Damon.
“I never vomited, and you are forbidden from ever bringing it up.”
Damon patted Fergulio’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s normal. I went through the same thing.” Damon let out a chuckle and handed Fergulio a few tools. “Now get to work.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Didn’t the butler give you the books I handed him?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“But reading is different from doing. I understand; however, you have to eventually take the plunge, don’t be afraid to fail. That's the only way to learn after all.”
“That’s a load of bull.”
Damon shook his head. “It is not. Now get to work.”
Fergulio looked at the rodent’s corpse for a few seconds and got to work.
Two hours later Damon faced a half broken and fully mutilated carcass. Damon dispelled the residual mana and cast a quick preservation spell to get in some practice himself before throwing away the pile of bone and flesh.
“Hey what are you doing? That’s half a day’s work.” The boy yelled and clamoured to the garbage.
Damon stopped the boy with his index. For a second Damon thought that if he were to revert to his cambion form, his nails would probably plunge into the boy’s skull. Anyhow, Damon spoke, “No, it only took two hours, and you shouldn’t get attached to skeletons, people will think you’re weird.”
“Aren’t you attached to what you make?” asked the boy.
“That’s just a rodent.” Damon took out another tray. “If you feel so sad, take it out on this one.”
“Another one?” Fergulio backed away.
“Yes, like I said, two hours. As such you still have two left.”
“But when are we going to start using magic?”
“You want to learn magic, yet you can’t even dissect a rat. This isn’t combat magic. Without knowledge and the appropriate skills, you won’t be able to do anything. Now get to work.”
Fergulio dissected the rodent in an hour and a half. With what remained of his lesson, Damon spoke to him about various ingredients and their uses.
“OK you’re done,” said Damon. Fergulio collapsed on a chair. Damon cleaned up and stored the destroyed material in containers. The maids would come dispose of their contents later.
When Damon finished, he noticed that Fergulio hadn’t left, his face still a bit pale.
“Although it’s normal to feel a bit queasy at first, you really aren’t getting better. Maybe this isn’t for you.”
Fergulio shook his head. “I have to do this.”
“Why?”
“Don’t ask too many questions.” Fergulio brushed him off, and Damon cursed his low charisma.
“You should probably go; do you not have any other classes now?” Damon opened the window. The stench of blood and guts wafted out.
“No, it’s fine, I don’t have anything else on my plate. My father just wants me to become my older brother’s personal black mage. Ricardo, my older brother is currently with my second brother and my older sister at the commander’s academy.”
For a second Damon imagined an isekai school with tournaments, demon infiltration, and all the other things one found in light novels and manga. However, he was pretty sure that those brothers were in their early twenties. The academy was probably just a fancily named barrack filled with buff nobles. And on a second note, did he just answer the question I asked two seconds ago. I’ll have to teach him how to stay quiet. “Well, you should go now.” Damon shooed him out. “I want to go visit town and you can’t stay if I’m not here.”
Fergulio quickly came out of his sombre state of mind, “oh, I’ll come as well. There isn’t much to do here anyways. Wait ten minutes, I’ll inform the butler.”
When Fergulio returned he wore clothes of lesser quality and a rusted metal bracelet.
“Get changed, you can’t go out looking like that,” said Fergulio.
Damon got dressed in a commoner’s tunic. He brought along gold coins and some silver in case he saw anything interesting.
When they stepped outside the duke’s residence, Fergulio’s appearance changed.
“Oh, so it’s a transformation enchantment. That’s quite rare.” Although Damon had one, he didn’t know how common they were. And although the one owned by Fergulio probably couldn’t hold transformations indefinitely like his demonic item, they were still terrifying accessories.
Fergulio raised his chin, “I am the son of a duke. This is nothing for me.”
If the kid was so proud about it, it meant that the enchantment was expensive even for nobles. “Is that so? Well, that’s good. By the way. Do you know where we can buy enchanted jewelry?”
“Sure, follow me. There’s one shop in town.”
Fergulio led him through the main streets and nice little nooks in the city. Here, the buildings were made on limestone, bricks, and wood. The houses were sometimes painted over in bright colours which gave it a much more pleasant feel compared to the countryside cities. However, feces still delimited the streets, and the common people didn’t look nor smell healthy.
There were many alchemical, clothing, weapons, armour, and furniture shops. All run by different people and with their own specialties. Plus, there didn’t seem to be any chain store, which felt … odd.
They passed through a wide street filled with street vendors for food and trinkets. Fergulio brought him to a store name Callakrela Stones. Inside there were a few commoners, and what looked to be noble or wealthy merchants browsing through rings, pendants, earrings, and the sort. Fergulio opened a side door which led to stairs.
On the second floor, an old man sat behind the counter.
“If it isn’t the young master? It’s been a while.”
Fergulio nodded and undid his transformation. “It has, but today I’m not here for myself but my new magic tutor.”
This kid needs to learn to shut up. One day he’ll say that he’s a black mage as a pickup line.
“Yes, I’m interested in enchanted rings,” I said.
The old man got up from his chair with a bit of pain and wobbled over to Damon. “Well, you’ve come to the right place.” He extended his hand and Damon shook it. “Would you like me to show our selection?”
“If you could it would be greatly appreciated.”
“Well, I don’t have much else to do so it’s fine by me.” The old man walked over to the far side of the room. “We currently have five rings:
Damon felt that buying a ring which increased your charisma was … how to say it. Slightly concerning since it wasn’t very different from mind control. But he wouldn’t question it. For the people of this world, things such as these have always been here. But then again, wouldn’t this be the same as buying a luxury watch back on earth, i.e., saying ‘I’m rich so you should befriend me and maybe I’ll hand you some cash’ if I like you?’
“I’ll take the charisma ring.”
Damon took out his coin pouch, the clerk unlocked the glass display by touching a metal lock and handed Damon the ring. He tried it on, and it fit perfectly. Since he didn’t need it to be fitted the clerk quickly counted the money and Damon left both satisfied and considerably lighter.
You are reading story Black Prince: Cruel Magic at novel35.com
Damon ke Stolas LVL. 18 (1450/8106)
Damon thought that now he had a more respectable charisma value, he should increase his intelligence. But, in all honesty he had no clue what a normal charisma value should be. Thankfully, he could use his status as an elf to ask that question.
“Fergulio, what’s the normal range of charisma for level zero humans?”
Fergulio rubbed his chin, “I’m not sure but I’d say between fifteen and twenty.”
Oh God, I was low when I started.
“I was also curious to know if humans’ levelled up a specific perk faster than others. And what would be a normal amount of charisma for a level twenty human?”
“I’d say thirty to thirty-five. For your other question, I don’t think so.”
Now I’m thankful that I became a Cambion and bought this ring. Plus, if I don’t stay isolated for a year or two my charisma should go up by a point per level. Which makes sense. Staying locked indoor with skeletons doesn’t sound like the most social life, nor a mentally healthy thing to do.
“What about dark elves?” asked Fergulio.
“It’s about the same. I just wanted to know if there were any major differences.”
Now that Damon’s charisma had increased, he could probably get more information out of Fergulio. “So, you have two brothers? What are they like?”
“Yes, but why do you want to know?”
I think nobles have charisma suppressor items or maybe I’m overestimating charisma usefulness. “I’m just curious since I’ve only seen you and your father, but I’ve heard that you have two brothers and some other siblings. I’m just surprised at the size of human families.”
“Yea, I have two older brothers, one older sister, and a younger sister. Do elves, not have many siblings?”
Even if they have a counter for charisma, it still seems to depend on the other party's interest, and these humans who almost never see elves blabber when I relate the conversation to elves.
“No, we just don’t make as many kids, and when we do the age difference can be a couple hundred years,” Damon continued to invent as he went. “So, two elvish brothers might not see themselves as brothers, but maybe as uncle and nephew or even father and son if the circumstances align.” Damon rubbed his chin, “That’s why I wanted to know how it felt to have brothers and sisters close in age.”
“Well, my brother is in the commander’s school and when he used to live here, he spent a lot of time training. Michael, the second oldest, who is just a year younger than Roberto also trained the sword, so they stayed together most of the time. I never spoke to them much.”
“But don’t you also have sisters?”
“Well, my younger sister is still very young. And my mother passed away seven years ago, and my father recently remarried. But I do get along with my older sister, but as I said, she too is training to be a knight, so she also left for the academy.”
“That makes sense, well then I guess that even if the reasons are different elves and humans have distant relationships with family.”
“I guess so,” said Fergulio in a quiet voice.
They arrived at the estate. Fergulio went back to the mansion and Damon to his little house in the corner of the garden. Damon looked at the flowers and then at the moon once again. He figured out his ideal scenery with the aid of the duke’s gardener.
What he liked was a field of blooming fluorescent flowers under the stars and moon. Perhaps with a few purple and orange-winged butterflies thrown in the mix. That’s when he remembered the formulas of a couple earth magic potions. Once increased the growth and vividness of flowers and another to make them glow in the dark. The duke probably used these kinds of potions in the front and back gardens as well, however, his little nook out of sight didn’t receive much care.
Damon went to the attic and undid his form. He was comfortable up there; however, someone might walk up on him someday, so he transformation into a dark elf once again and went to sleep.
#
For the next week, Damon continued to teach Fergulino black magic without any incidents. The boy’s hands had started to glide around the dissection table with precision and intent. Although he didn’t like the sight of guts, his face no longer went pale at its sight.
While Damon examined his work, they engaged in casual conversation, “Fergulino, in this week of study, what do you make of black magic?”
Fergulino continued to brew a crimson-red potion.
“It’s the opposite of holy magic.”
“What’s holy magic?” Damon rephrased his question. “An answer is only answered when the answer cannot be questioned further.”
Fergulino turned to Damon. “What the fuck are you going on about?”
Although Fergulino had started to get comfortable with Damon, the latter had become harsher when it came to his view of how black mages, and more specifically how his students should act as black mages.
“It means that you have to tell me what holy magic is,” repeated Damon.
“Then can I say holy magic is something you use to cure and heal people’s hearts.”
“Then that would make black magic something you use to hurt people and cause them trauma.”
“That’s about ri—"
“But it isn’t,” interrupted Damon. “Black magic is the embodiment of desires. Whether that is greed, envy, or pride.” Perhaps the Cambion had also started to create his own interpretation based on the owl’s teaching and his own view of black magic.
“In what way?” Fergulino placed the potion on a stand. “Isn’t black magic about making undead and cursing people.”
Damon shook his head and opened the window. “Black magic is about the greed to extend one’s life, it is about the envy we hold for the ones we curse, and it is about the pride in our own power.” Damon sat down, standing for four hours straight on paranoid legs tired him. “Even if they kill all the black mages in a country, more will come from abroad to fill the void. If they manage to keep them out with the aid of angels, then grand demons would come with their legions to fill the void. They will hide, teach, and protect those with talent in the black arts. And then what will the king do when these Demonic Princes send their best black mages out of spite? You should know, a level 10 curse can only be removed by a level ten black mage, no holy priests can touch it.”
Fergulino looked down to the blood-covered table, “Black magic is a necessity; however, that doesn’t mean we should accept it.”
“Argh, you don’t understand. Look at grand scale of it all, magic is used to kill. The king condemns black magic because it can cut the head without damaging the rest. But then, why would the people condemn it you may ask? Well, it is because the head has a mouth. It tells its arms, its legs, and torso that it is bad. Why is it so that to call someone noble is a compliment, but calling someone a peasant is an insult? It is because the nobles tell the peasantry, the commoners, and the soldiers that they, the noble, are good and righteous. They will say the peasants are dumb and weak. If they, the people, do not accept this, then the nobles will cut their heads to prove themselves right, and in turn noble. Now you are a noble, and a high-ranking one at that. You are the jugular of the monarchy. But that ends now.” Damon took a step, then another, and a third towards Fergulino. “You are now a black mage; you are to join something much bigger than the nobility of a small kingdom. And now, as a black mage, tell me, are all black mages raging psychopaths? Are there not hundreds of people with potential in black magic who never use their powers because others are afraid they may become evil cultist? Is that not the act of a saint? To sacrifice one’s happiness for the safety, and ease of mind of others. However, no one says anything about fire mages, who burn villages and towns to the ground. Who turn children into roasted meat, and roasted meat into inedible char? Now tell me. Are you a demon or a human?”
Fergulino did not respond. At this point he had somehow found himself in a chair and looked at the ground in a vain attempt to avoid Damon’s words.
“Which one?” Damon pressed. He grabbed the boy’s chin and raised it high enough for their eyes to meet. Fergulino’s lips quivered, and his clammy hands turned into fists to hide their slight tremble. Damon wasn’t getting an answer, but he wasn’t getting pushed back either, so it wasn’t all bad. “Wait here, I’ll figure something out," He said, letting go of the boy.
Damon went to the mansion and requested to speak to the butler.
“I’d like to request for the young master to go hunt beasts. He doesn’t need to be the one fighting. He just needs to understand that all magic is equally destructive.”
The butler nodded, “I’ll report this to the Lord.”
#
For the next week, Damon continued to teach Fergulino black magic. He soon heard back from the duke who said that he’d set something up soon enough.
For the past few days, Damon had started to gaze at the moon on his roof, now more comfortable with his surroundings. He laid down, hands behind his head and continuously cast shadow agility. This ability didn’t seem to alert anyone and let him increase his dark magic level. However, he did have to put earth magic in the back seat. He could only imagine how hard it might be to train your magic skills as someone other than a noble with a large estate.
Anyhow, that wasn’t his problem. Thanks to his star reading skill, he could identify the stars. Although he didn’t have the knowledge to know where they led nor what they meant, recognizing them was enough to entertain him throughout the night.
When he was about to leave, he felt movement in the background. However, before he could do anything a woman with half plate, half-leather armour snuck up on him. Damon, who had his shadow agility activated used his hands to push off the roof and land on the ground. He didn’t have his sword on hand, so he created a quarter dome to protect himself against any ranged attack, cast smog, sandstorm, shadow meld and finally lessen reflection to run away. He jumped the walls which surrounded the mansion, ran into the side streets, and transformed into an old human male with grey hair. He also made sure to change his gate by limping, his left foot dragging slightly behind the other.