YM778.TV Chapter 10: Meant For Magic
Maybe this was the sort of incidt Clyde was asking for, so he spilled the magical beans to Clyde.
Like a smart detective, Clyde assumed, "Hmm, maybe that was just one of the Ashstones\' powers—destructive magic. It\'s inhert like your fire ability, by the way. But let\'s not jump to conclusions. What if it was just a mana tantrum?"
Vyan raised an eyebrow. "And if it was?"
"Your mana is too strong, my lord. That residue could stick a longer than a family of houseguests. It could turn that patch of land into an anti-zone for mana-allergics."
"Oh, delightful," Vyan deadpanned.
"So, can you sd Bedict to go to that location and use this thing over the land?" Clyde whipped out a peculiar, orb-shaped contraption.
"What is that, a fancy paperweight?" Vyan joked.
Clyde rolled his eyes. "It is a magical artifact I whipped up. It can basically sniff out what flavor of magic was sprinkled somewhere."
"Wait, you can make magical artifacts?" Vyan\'s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
Clyde nodded casually. "Yep, but it\'s about as thrilling as watching paint dry. I like to perform magic rather than create stuff with it. That is why I am handing in my resignation to the Tower of Magic tomorrow," he declared, as if discussing his lunch plans.
"Hold up! You work at the Tower of Magic?" Vyan\'s jaw nearly hit the floor.
"Did, my lord, did! But not for long. Now, my sole mission in life is to mold you into the magical prodigy you were always meant to be," Clyde chirped with an unsettling amount of thusiasm.
Vyan couldn\'t wrap his head a it. This guy was ditching his day job to be his personal instructor. Talk about—
"Don\'t fret it, my lord. That place was suffocating, anyway. I prefer the sere life of a mtor," Clyde cut in, brushing off any sse of guilt Vyan might have felt.
"I wasn\'t fretting," Vyan snapped back. "I was contemplating how alarmingly carefree you are."
Clyde chuckled, clearly not catching Vyan\'s drift. "Well, thanks for the backhanded complimt."
"It wasn\'t a complimt—not ev backhanded," Vyan retorted. "It was more like an observation of your lack of adulting skills. Honestly, I ev find it hard to believe that you had a job, to begin with."
Clyde gasped. "What? That\'s so offsive. Did you think I was a lazy bum who mooched off of his father?"
"Yes," Vyan responded in a heartbeat.
Clyde dramatically placed a hand on his chest, gasping louder this time. "I am so offded!"
"Good. That was my inttion." Vyan suppressed his urge to chuckle at Clyde\'s puppy-like withered expressions.
But the next momt, Clyde perked up again like a bundle of sunshine and steered the conversation elsewhere. "My lord, you never asked me about my inhert magic. Go on, guess!"
Vyan shot him a glare. "I would have, but now I am reconsidering."
"Aw, come on, don\'t be a spoil-sport! Ask me!" Clyde nudged, undeterred.
"Fine. What\'s your inhert magic, th?" Vyan relted.
With a mischievous grin, Clyde waved his hand, and Vyan was suddly swept off his feet by a gust of wind.
"Take a wild guess now," Clyde teased, and Vyan concluded in his mind that this man was like a tornado. Literally!
"Wind magic. Got it. Now, kindly put me down," Vyan grumbled, thoroughly unimpressed.
"Nope. Allow me to give you the grand tour of the manor, all while carrying you like royalty. I can\'t have My Lord breaking a sweat," Clyde beamed, his thusiasm bouncing off the walls.
"I have feet, I can walk—"
"No, no, my lord. My father drilled it into me, you know, \'Don\'t let Lord Vyan tire himself out."
"I highly doubt he meant for you to hoist me a like a sack of potatoes," Vyan shot back, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity.
"Oh, speaking of which, I have be snooping a in your life\'s file. Former knight of House Estelle, wer\'t you?" Clyde interrupted, his curiosity practically oozing out of him. "I bet you were a real shining star on the battlefield, huh?"
Vyan\'s expression turned to stone. "You couldn\'t be more wrong. I was about as useful as a one-legged man in a marathon."
Clyde caught the shift in mood and decided to light things up by giving Vyan an impromptu spin through the air, much to Vyan\'s dismay.
"Hey, put me down! I am not auditioning for a circus monkey!" Vyan yelled, his protests falling on deaf ears.
"Relax, my lord," Clyde reassured him with a grin. "Swords wer\'t your thing, anyway. Your hands were meant for weaving magic, not swinging metal. Trust that Clyde Jayce Magnus recognizes a gem wh he sees one. You are destined for greatness as a mage, and I give you my word for it."
At first, Vyan retreated into his shell, reverting to his old timid self. But th, a fire ignited in his eyes.
"You know what? You are right. I will be the mage this empire never saw coming."
"That\'s the spirit!" Clyde cheered, pumping his fist in the air.
From that momt on, Vyan resolved to walk with his head held high. No more playing small.
If arrogance was half of what made a nobility, th that\'s what he would build on. He was going to master such high levels of skill that his confidce would be called arrogance by his emies. This was another one of his declarations to the world.
———
"Here, wear this cloak, Master," Bedict insisted, handing Vyan a sleek black number with a hood. "You cannot be too careful, especially in the capital."
"Right, because nothing screams inconspicuous like a hooded cloak," Vyan quipped, slipping into the cloak before stepping out of the carriage. "I can\'t forget I am a fugitive."
"And nobody would care about that if they find out you are the heir to the Grand Duke," Bedict fretted, trailing behind Vyan like a worried h. "I told you, I could handle this alone. There is no need for you to risk tagging along."
"But I need to see the aftermath of my little magic show. I didn\'t get a chance to take a bow," Vyan reasoned, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"Curiosity killed the cat, Master," Bedict muttered, shaking his head.
Vyan paid him no mind as he hustled towards the marketplace.
Sure ough, the tire area was cordoned off, with folks outside gossiping like a gaggle of geese.
"I bet it was an explosion."
"An explosion? Please, that is so cliche. How can a simple explosion blow up everything so neatly within 500-meter radius?"
"This has got dark magic writt all over it. It must be some witch."
Vyan\'s eyes wided at the speculation. His magical outburst had caused all this destruction? Or was it some dormant destructive magic unleashing for the first time? Either way, he missed a gold opportunity to obliterate Estelle Manor.
"It looks more like cursed ergy to me," someone piped up.
Vyan\'s heart skipped a beat at the mtion of cursed ergy. He had be so caught up in two possible outcomes that he hadn\'t considered a third—a game-changer that could make everything he had done pointless.
"Master, are you still with us?" Bedict\'s voice cut through Vyan\'s swirling thoughts.
Vyan shook his head, trying to shake off the mtal fog. "Yeah, yeah, I am here," he mumbled, regaining focus.
"Should we head to the cter of it?" Bedict suggested, his tone cautious.
"Why bother? We can use Clyde\'s artifact right somewhere in the corner and avoid getting under the radar of the investigating officers," Vyan muttered, shooting a glance at Bedict.
Bedict signaled to the knights trailing behind them. "Keep following us discreetly."
Sneaking past the investigation tape, they approached the blast\'s edge, where the once-vibrant marketplace now resembled a sce from an apocalypse drama.
Vyan shuddered at the desolate sight but shook it off, brandishing Clyde\'s magical gizmo like a detective on a mission.
Clyde had wanted to tag along, but duty called—he had a resignation letter to hand in at the Tower of Magic.
Following Clyde\'s instructions, Vyan planted the mana detector and held his breath, bracing for the worst.
Whether it was a mana outburst or his latt destructive magic, whatever it was, it just couldn\'t be any cursed ergy. It made him start overthinking everything.
What if it was a misunderstanding and whoever talked in his head was not Goddess Hecate but a mage playing tricks inside his head and put a curse on him—
"Vyan?"
His heart lurched as a voice sliced through his thoughts, a rude interruption to the eerie silce that had settled over the sce.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, he turned to face the source of the disruption, his eyes landing on the figure striding towards them, every step echoing with a sse of authority.
It was the vice-commander of the Imperial army—Iyana Pearl Estelle.