Episode 839

The Mad Clone looked at his disciple with pity.

It wasn’t so strange for a magician to encode symbols from their own life into the magic they developed.

Magics crafted by a magician left traces deeper and clearer than even the longest ballads sung by bards.

Naturally, it only made sense for a magician to inscribe more meaningful symbols into those traces.

‘I don’t think magic leaves a longer, clearer trace than a bard’s song, though.’

Most old songs had disappeared, but the same was true for magic, wasn’t it?

Some insanely popular song could keep being sung for a thousand years, even in the current Empire…

‘I bet the song “Einrogard Is So Good” will last another thousand years.’

But instead of making a reality-based argument, Lee Han chose flattery.

The Mad Clone already regarded him with a scornful gaze—there was no benefit in provoking him further.

“Ah, I see. That’s how it was. I didn’t realize it. Must have been a good tree.”

He was a close friend when the prince was still young and innocent.

Gainando would have said, “How can a tree be your friend,” but Lee Han understood.

Sometimes things that aren’t alive can be better friends than the living.

Just as imperial gold coins were precious friends to Lee Han, that dendrobium tree was likely so for the Mad Clone.

‘Amazing. The Skull Principal had a time when he cherished and loved trees?’

Maybe it was just because it was a tree. At least a tree wouldn’t say something stupid.

“Does that tree still exist?”

Lee Han thought he might try to find it at Einrogard and show it with the Stone of Echoes, hoping even the Mad Clone would feel better seeing his childhood friend.

That’s impossible, wretch. The tree was burned.

After hitting the reverse scale with flattery, Lee Han panicked.

“…Sorry.”

Wretch, did you burn it? Don’t apologize for no reason.

Fortunately, the Mad Clone wasn’t angry at the rude question.

Instead, he suddenly looked pensive, gazing off somewhere in silence.

“Are you alright?”

Yes. I was recalling the past. Odd. I don’t usually reminisce.

It was only natural for the counterpart to find that odd.

The main Skull Principal was an undying lich, and the Mad Clone was a kind of splintered idea, not a living thing animated by flesh and blood, but a being driven by law and principle. Rarely would such a being recall its past.

‘But I get it. They say you always get lost in the past as you grow old.’

I definitely learned magic from dragons. Hm… I can’t remember the dragons’ names. Wretch, do you know them?

“…I’m not sure.”

Unprepared for this, Lee Han was shocked at the reveal.

You don’t even know their names? Not a single one? Even for a barbarian, that’s extreme.

“These days, it’s really hard to see dragons… I heard most of them have disappeared.”

Lee Han wasn’t exactly a dragon expert, but he knew that dragons were rapidly becoming endangered.

In the ancient past, dozens would cross the skies, but now you’d be lucky to see one even in the heart of the imperial palace.

And even then, unless there were nasty, evil magicians around, that one would probably cast off its body and flee to another dimension immediately.

‘Truly amazing. I never thought he learned magic from dragons.’

Lee Han knew that the Skull Principal had been an extraordinary archmage from a young age, but had never considered who or where he’d learned from.

Such a legendary figure, so ancient that even if he had fallen from the sky as a skull, Lee Han would have just nodded in acceptance.

Suddenly, Lee Han grew curious.

What sort of past did the Skull Principal have to become so twisted and monstrous?

Come to think of it, the Mad Clone was the most accurate witness to the principal’s past.

The Skull Principal could trick even the oldest death knights with a distorted narrative, but never the Mad Clone.

‘Alright. I need to ask, carefully.’

If there was some weakness buried in the Skull Principal’s past, it might be a small consolation for all Lee Han’s suffering this year.

“In your youth, was it common to learn magic from dragons?”

It sounded crazy, but customs change with every era.

Maybe in the old days, magicians learned magic in dragon dens, not Einrogard.

Maybe, as food for the dragons…

Impossible. Dragons never taught magic to mortals.

“Then how did you learn?”

Because I was judged worthy.

“Ah, okay.”

Accustomed as he was to the Mad Clone’s endless speeches about his noble blood and honor, Lee Han answered perfunctorily.

‘Guess the dragons were duped. Handing over magic to someone like that…’

As with Gainando, Senior Yu, and that other peer, being a prince or royal wasn’t really proof of trustworthiness.

“So did other royals get to learn?”

Wretch. I said “worthy,” not “royal blood.” Are you really this dense and foolish?

“Eh? Then what kind of qualifications?”

To use magic honorably. Is this so hard to understand?

“No, I get it.”

You totally don’t.

“!”

Lee Han flinched, caught out.

How did he know?!

The Mad Clone sighed and explained.

Wretch. Imagine you are the prince of a country—a tiny kingdom.

“Yes.”

Neighboring armies are colossal—legions of heavy infantry armed with magical armor and spears, battle mages wielding steel and the power of a demi-god locked inside their mage tower’s heart… What would you do?

‘Was that the Three Kingdoms era?’

Lee Han recalled stories from the Empire’s history books.

Some eras are well-recorded, others almost lost.

The Three Kingdoms era was among the truly ancient times.

But “three” didn’t mean only three kingdoms; it just meant only three managed to survive—there’d been countless others lost to history.

“I’d master magic to defend my kingdom as best I could.”

Better than just invading, but no. You’d never get the dragons’ teachings that way.

Lee Han cocked his head.

He still didn’t get it.

“Then what should I do? Oh, maybe attack first?”

‘That does sound like the Skull Principal…’

Given his reputation, it fit.

But the Mad Clone looked at him with even more contempt.

Are you serious?

“…No.”

The royalty declared their intent to master the very heights of magic to eradicate all bloodshed and scars from the continent. That oath was acknowledged by the dragons…

“…!”

Lee Han was utterly stunned by the unexpected answer.

Now that he thought about it, he’d heard the same thing when learning -Gonadaltes’s Ruin-, but hadn’t remembered at all.

‘How could I forget something I already knew?’

It was just so utterly unlike anything the Skull Principal or Mad Clone would say.

‘Did he trick the dragons?’

Don’t even think it. Dragons are never fooled, wretch.

“How could I possibly think such a thing?”

Lee Han quickly changed the subject.

“But Master, even if you reach the pinnacle of magic, is it really possible to do something like that?”

Just look at -Gonadaltes’s Ruin-, a failed experiment.

If any other attempt had succeeded, the continent wouldn’t look like this—and Einrogard would long since have vanished.

That no one knows.

‘So it really is impossible.’

By his normal standards, the Mad Clone would’ve insisted it was possible. But saying “no one knows” was as good as admitting it was probably out of reach.

A problem magic simply couldn’t solve.

But that’s not the point here. Royalty swore before dragons, and the dragons honored that vow, granting the right to learn magic… Of course, the kingdom fell anyway…

“I see… Huh?”

?

“Did you just say something about a kingdom falling?”

I said the kingdom fell. I’ve thought this before, but, wretch, is there something wrong with your hearing…

“No, I heard it. I just didn’t understand.”

Maybe your brain…

“Why did the kingdom fall? You learned the dragons’ magic.”

Did I say I learned to defend it? Or to heal the continent’s wounds? Wretch. When will you get a clue?

‘It can’t just be my intelligence at fault, right?’

The story was so unnatural, it wasn’t just Lee Han’s understanding at issue.

Trying to stay calm, Lee Han summarized.

“So you swore before dragons, learned magic, and then didn’t use it even as your kingdom fell?”

Slightly off. After I learned, I returned, but the kingdom had already fallen.

The Mad Clone’s voice was calm.

Seeking to overcome the continent’s pain, he learned magic from the dragons; when he returned, the kingdom was gone.

Focusing on the belligerent country to the east, they’d lost to a surprise attack from a friendly nation to the south.

Nothing remained but the ruins of the palace and the stump of an old tree.

“You didn’t even take revenge?”

Of course not.

“Why not??”

Revenge never brings back a fallen kingdom!

“……”

Lee Han found this more chilling than all of the Mad Clone’s mad rants.

It’d be more human to just seek revenge after learning magic; this seemed too unreal.

‘Can a person really be like that?’

Lee Han wasn’t a violent person, but if he’d come back from dragon training to a ruined kingdom and an enemy army, he had no idea what he’d do.

The royal kingdom destroyed countless kingdoms, and was itself destroyed. The nation that destroyed it was soon destroyed, too. Wretch, a magician should choose something far more constructive than such a meaningless cycle.

“And what might that constructive choice be?”

As I said, mastering magic’s ultimate height and erasing the continent’s bloodshed and scars. My royalty failed, but if you become a great disciple… and if you raise an even greater disciple… perhaps someday we’ll achieve it.

“…Wouldn’t just learning ten different fifth-circle spells be enough?”

At this ancient archmage’s absurd expectations, Lee Han let slip nonsense of his own.

• * *

‘At least he could’ve just said “no” instead of all that.’

Lee Han grumbled as he walked.

The Mad Clone, furious at the nonsense, had spent a full hour berating him.

He would’ve preferred just getting cursed out.

“Ah. Professor Garcia.”

“Lee Han. Welcome. What about Lagesa? I heard she’d been following you to audit my class?”

Professor Garcia tilted her head, seeing Lee Han arrive alone.

All the professors had been informed that the old pirate had been shadowing Wardanaz lately, sitting in for various lectures.

So naturally, Garcia had been expecting her and had even mentally prepared.

“…She said something urgent came up.”

“…She didn’t ditch my class because it’s boring, did she?”

At Lee Han’s look of surprise, Professor Garcia felt deeply wounded.The Mad Clone looked at his disciple with pity.

It wasn’t so strange for a magician to encode symbols from their own life into the magic they developed.

Magics crafted by a magician left traces deeper and clearer than even the longest ballads sung by bards.

Naturally, it only made sense for a magician to inscribe more meaningful symbols into those traces.

‘I don’t think magic leaves a longer, clearer trace than a bard’s song, though.’

Most old songs had disappeared, but the same was true for magic, wasn’t it?

Some insanely popular song could keep being sung for a thousand years, even in the current Empire…

‘I bet the song “Einrogard Is So Good” will last another thousand years.’

But instead of making a reality-based argument, Lee Han chose flattery.

The Mad Clone already regarded him with a scornful gaze—there was no benefit in provoking him further.

“Ah, I see. That’s how it was. I didn’t realize it. Must have been a good tree.”

He was a close friend when the prince was still young and innocent.

Gainando would have said, “How can a tree be your friend,” but Lee Han understood.

Sometimes things that aren’t alive can be better friends than the living.

Just as imperial gold coins were precious friends to Lee Han, that dendrobium tree was likely so for the Mad Clone.

‘Amazing. The Skull Principal had a time when he cherished and loved trees?’

Maybe it was just because it was a tree. At least a tree wouldn’t say something stupid.

“Does that tree still exist?”

Lee Han thought he might try to find it at Einrogard and show it with the Stone of Echoes, hoping even the Mad Clone would feel better seeing his childhood friend.

That’s impossible, wretch. The tree was burned.

After hitting the reverse scale with flattery, Lee Han panicked.

“…Sorry.”

Wretch, did you burn it? Don’t apologize for no reason.

Fortunately, the Mad Clone wasn’t angry at the rude question.

Instead, he suddenly looked pensive, gazing off somewhere in silence.

“Are you alright?”

Yes. I was recalling the past. Odd. I don’t usually reminisce.

It was only natural for the counterpart to find that odd.

The main Skull Principal was an undying lich, and the Mad Clone was a kind of splintered idea, not a living thing animated by flesh and blood, but a being driven by law and principle. Rarely would such a being recall its past.

‘But I get it. They say you always get lost in the past as you grow old.’

I definitely learned magic from dragons. Hm… I can’t remember the dragons’ names. Wretch, do you know them?

“…I’m not sure.”

Unprepared for this, Lee Han was shocked at the reveal.

You don’t even know their names? Not a single one? Even for a barbarian, that’s extreme.

“These days, it’s really hard to see dragons… I heard most of them have disappeared.”

Lee Han wasn’t exactly a dragon expert, but he knew that dragons were rapidly becoming endangered.

In the ancient past, dozens would cross the skies, but now you’d be lucky to see one even in the heart of the imperial palace.

And even then, unless there were nasty, evil magicians around, that one would probably cast off its body and flee to another dimension immediately.

‘Truly amazing. I never thought he learned magic from dragons.’

Lee Han knew that the Skull Principal had been an extraordinary archmage from a young age, but had never considered who or where he’d learned from.

Such a legendary figure, so ancient that even if he had fallen from the sky as a skull, Lee Han would have just nodded in acceptance.

Suddenly, Lee Han grew curious.

What sort of past did the Skull Principal have to become so twisted and monstrous?

Come to think of it, the Mad Clone was the most accurate witness to the principal’s past.

The Skull Principal could trick even the oldest death knights with a distorted narrative, but never the Mad Clone.

‘Alright. I need to ask, carefully.’

If there was some weakness buried in the Skull Principal’s past, it might be a small consolation for all Lee Han’s suffering this year.

“In your youth, was it common to learn magic from dragons?”

It sounded crazy, but customs change with every era.

Maybe in the old days, magicians learned magic in dragon dens, not Einrogard.

Maybe, as food for the dragons…

Impossible. Dragons never taught magic to mortals.

“Then how did you learn?”

Because I was judged worthy.

“Ah, okay.”

Accustomed as he was to the Mad Clone’s endless speeches about his noble blood and honor, Lee Han answered perfunctorily.

‘Guess the dragons were duped. Handing over magic to someone like that…’

As with Gainando, Senior Yu, and that other peer, being a prince or royal wasn’t really proof of trustworthiness.

“So did other royals get to learn?”

Wretch. I said “worthy,” not “royal blood.” Are you really this dense and foolish?

“Eh? Then what kind of qualifications?”

To use magic honorably. Is this so hard to understand?

“No, I get it.”

You totally don’t.

“!”

Lee Han flinched, caught out.

How did he know?!

The Mad Clone sighed and explained.

Wretch. Imagine you are the prince of a country—a tiny kingdom.

“Yes.”

Neighboring armies are colossal—legions of heavy infantry armed with magical armor and spears, battle mages wielding steel and the power of a demi-god locked inside their mage tower’s heart… What would you do?

‘Was that the Three Kingdoms era?’

Lee Han recalled stories from the Empire’s history books.

Some eras are well-recorded, others almost lost.

The Three Kingdoms era was among the truly ancient times.

But “three” didn’t mean only three kingdoms; it just meant only three managed to survive—there’d been countless others lost to history.

“I’d master magic to defend my kingdom as best I could.”

Better than just invading, but no. You’d never get the dragons’ teachings that way.

Lee Han cocked his head.

He still didn’t get it.

“Then what should I do? Oh, maybe attack first?”

‘That does sound like the Skull Principal…’

Given his reputation, it fit.

But the Mad Clone looked at him with even more contempt.

Are you serious?

“…No.”

The royalty declared their intent to master the very heights of magic to eradicate all bloodshed and scars from the continent. That oath was acknowledged by the dragons…

“…!”

Lee Han was utterly stunned by the unexpected answer.

Now that he thought about it, he’d heard the same thing when learning -Gonadaltes’s Ruin-, but hadn’t remembered at all.

‘How could I forget something I already knew?’

It was just so utterly unlike anything the Skull Principal or Mad Clone would say.

‘Did he trick the dragons?’

Don’t even think it. Dragons are never fooled, wretch.

“How could I possibly think such a thing?”

Lee Han quickly changed the subject.

“But Master, even if you reach the pinnacle of magic, is it really possible to do something like that?”

Just look at -Gonadaltes’s Ruin-, a failed experiment.

If any other attempt had succeeded, the continent wouldn’t look like this—and Einrogard would long since have vanished.

That no one knows.

‘So it really is impossible.’

By his normal standards, the Mad Clone would’ve insisted it was possible. But saying “no one knows” was as good as admitting it was probably out of reach.

A problem magic simply couldn’t solve.

But that’s not the point here. Royalty swore before dragons, and the dragons honored that vow, granting the right to learn magic… Of course, the kingdom fell anyway…

“I see… Huh?”

?

“Did you just say something about a kingdom falling?”

I said the kingdom fell. I’ve thought this before, but, wretch, is there something wrong with your hearing…

“No, I heard it. I just didn’t understand.”

Maybe your brain…

“Why did the kingdom fall? You learned the dragons’ magic.”

Did I say I learned to defend it? Or to heal the continent’s wounds? Wretch. When will you get a clue?

‘It can’t just be my intelligence at fault, right?’

The story was so unnatural, it wasn’t just Lee Han’s understanding at issue.

Trying to stay calm, Lee Han summarized.

“So you swore before dragons, learned magic, and then didn’t use it even as your kingdom fell?”

Slightly off. After I learned, I returned, but the kingdom had already fallen.

The Mad Clone’s voice was calm.

Seeking to overcome the continent’s pain, he learned magic from the dragons; when he returned, the kingdom was gone.

Focusing on the belligerent country to the east, they’d lost to a surprise attack from a friendly nation to the south.

Nothing remained but the ruins of the palace and the stump of an old tree.

“You didn’t even take revenge?”

Of course not.

“Why not??”

Revenge never brings back a fallen kingdom!

“……”

Lee Han found this more chilling than all of the Mad Clone’s mad rants.

It’d be more human to just seek revenge after learning magic; this seemed too unreal.

‘Can a person really be like that?’

Lee Han wasn’t a violent person, but if he’d come back from dragon training to a ruined kingdom and an enemy army, he had no idea what he’d do.

The royal kingdom destroyed countless kingdoms, and was itself destroyed. The nation that destroyed it was soon destroyed, too. Wretch, a magician should choose something far more constructive than such a meaningless cycle.

“And what might that constructive choice be?”

As I said, mastering magic’s ultimate height and erasing the continent’s bloodshed and scars. My royalty failed, but if you become a great disciple… and if you raise an even greater disciple… perhaps someday we’ll achieve it.

“…Wouldn’t just learning ten different fifth-circle spells be enough?”

At this ancient archmage’s absurd expectations, Lee Han let slip nonsense of his own.

• * *

‘At least he could’ve just said “no” instead of all that.’

Lee Han grumbled as he walked.

The Mad Clone, furious at the nonsense, had spent a full hour berating him.

He would’ve preferred just getting cursed out.

“Ah. Professor Garcia.”

“Lee Han. Welcome. What about Lagesa? I heard she’d been following you to audit my class?”

Professor Garcia tilted her head, seeing Lee Han arrive alone.

All the professors had been informed that the old pirate had been shadowing Wardanaz lately, sitting in for various lectures.

So naturally, Garcia had been expecting her and had even mentally prepared.

“…She said something urgent came up.”

“…She didn’t ditch my class because it’s boring, did she?”

At Lee Han’s look of surprise, Professor Garcia felt deeply wounded.