Episode 534

Episode 534

He felt sorry, but this was something unavoidable.

How could Lee Han have known that the skeleton principal would call him like this?

-The principal took Wardanaz!

-Damn it. Haven’t we been exposed!?

“Why are they chasing after us like that?”

“It seems they’re upset that I left.”

“Well, I suppose you’d be upset too if the one who served your meals disappeared.”

Lee Han was slightly hurt by the skeleton principal’s sarcastic words.

“That’s not what my friendship with my friends is about.”

“So who prepares the meals then?”

“I do, but I get paid for it…”

“Of course. For reference, my servants also work for pay. They probably get paid more than you get from your friends.”

Lee Han resolved to help Ifadur’s research on music magic as much as he could.

If he could manage to turn the skeleton principal’s attire upside down, what couldn’t he do?

• * *

The temple choir of Pillone Village was startled by Ifadur’s visit.

They had only gained a bit of fame nearby, and suddenly, they were meeting one of the most famous bards in the empire in person. It was no wonder.

“It, it, it, it’s an honor. Sir Ifadur! Wh-who is this person?”

“This is Lord Gonadaltes.”

“……”

“……”

The choir members immediately recoiled and threw themselves to the ground.

They had occasionally seen skeletons floating around, but seeing one in human form like this was a first.

Who would have thought the principal of Einrogard would visit like this?

Lee Han, curious at the reaction, asked,

“Did you do anything here?”

“Of course not. They’re just frightened by wild rumors.”

“Still, there must be a reason.”

“That’s true. You, scion of the Wardanaz family that eats people for breakfast, spirits for lunch, and demons for dinner…”

The choir members, who were about to rise, heard the name Wardanaz and bowed even lower to the ground.

It was obviously an absurd rumor, but the Wardanaz family’s reputation had a force that made people believe such nonsense.

Lee Han looked at the skeleton principal as if at a loss.

‘Seriously, this person…’

He understood that Ifadur, having come out for music magic, was feeling prickly, but he should vent his mood at those nameless seniors who requested music magic, not at Lee Han.

“That’s enough. Get up. Today, I need your help.”

The skeleton principal lifted up the choir members.

“Wh-what can we possibly do for you?”

“Of course, you can’t do anything for… no, actually. As you might well know, but the hymns you sing sometimes contain a sacred power.”

“Ah. Yes, that’s right. When we all sing in unison, that sacred power spreads far away.”

“…Don’t lie right from the start. It’s never been that strong. And it’s just sometimes, not always.”

The skeleton principal spoke to the choir members, trying to keep his annoyance in check.

This was why he didn’t like talking about mysterious phenomena with non-mages.

Unlike the records, they just went along with their own memories, making an already tricky matter more difficult.

Ifadur spoke to defend the choir.

“There’s always a difference in emotion when you sing a song yesterday, today, or tomorrow. I believe in your songs.”

“Sir Ifadur…!”

Moved by the encouragement from the empire’s greatest bard, the choir members teared up.

Of course, the skeleton principal clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“That’s right. Magic isn’t only cast with the mind, but also with a passionately beating heart. Isn’t song the same?”

“????”

At Lee Han’s sudden words, the skeleton principal stared at him in shock.

It was like the shock he’d feel if a death knight said, ‘Come to think of it, Master, I think I’ve committed too many sins. I want to lay down my sword and live peacefully.’

A well-educated guy, spouting nonsense?

“As expected…! Mage. You understand, don’t you?”

“A magician who visited our village before accused us of lying after hearing our song!”

Apparently holding much inside, the choir members bristled.

It was understandable from a mage’s point of view: they came to see if music gave magical effects, but got responses like ‘It’s not working well today’ or ‘That’s odd, why doesn’t it work?’. The singers, though, could do nothing about it.

They sang their hearts out—how could they help it if there were no results?

“Well… If you’re willing, could you sing for us so we can listen and record?”

“It’s an honor, Bard!”

The choir members took their places and cleared their throats at Ifadur’s words.

“Ah, ah, ah. We will behead our enemies and use them as fertilizer! Draw their blood to water the furrows…”

‘Aren’t the lyrics a bit too extreme?’

So thought Lee Han, but neither Ifadur nor the skeleton principal seemed to care about the lyrics.

“Nothing. No effect.”

“Yes. What a shame. Perhaps they’re nervous.”

“Weak. Much too weak.”

The skeleton principal clicked his tongue again in despair.

From his view, music magic had a structurally fatal flaw.

It was simply that the magic was too weak.

The instability—affected by emotion and mood—was a flaw of primitive magic, but one that could be overcome.

But the lack of power was nearly impossible to overcome.

Look at divine magic, for instance.

Even an irrational method could guarantee power as long as the user offered their vitality and mana.

But music magic did not draw on vitality or mana that way.

In music magic, lyrics replaced the spell formula, and melody replaced motions or magical structures…

But nothing provided the required mana. Without offering vitality or mana like other magic, it was natural.

So where did its power come from?

It just drew on the weak natural mana in the environment.

There was no strain on the caster, but this made its magic extremely weak. If the ambient mana dropped even slightly, music magic couldn’t be cast at all.

From the skeleton principal’s perspective, the reason a choir could achieve even the semblance of music magic was because many people were singing at once.

When sung by many, even a meager power could join and amplify, and sometimes a truly passionate musician could instinctively squeeze out their own mana.

“If you please, I’d like to hear it a few more times…”

“As you wish. Keep going until satisfied, or until their voices are gone.”

The skeleton principal, appearing already disinterested, gestured to Ifadur to do as he pleased.

Even now, just imagining the students who would later whine about not producing results in this year’s music magic was annoying.

Why did young students always think they were different from their seniors?

Of course, challenge was a mage’s duty, but if your mind wasn’t sharp, you should only try what you could manage…

The skeleton principal let out a big sigh.

He knew it was foolish, yet could not help supporting it with Einrogard’s budget for his students’ sake. It made him feel so tragic and pitiful.

Was there anyone in the empire as miserable as he?

“May I sing along as well?”

“Oh… That sounds like a good idea.”

“No… hey.”

The skeleton principal, lost in self-pity, snapped to attention at Lee Han’s words.

He called Lee Han over and whispered quietly.

“Are you doing this because I compared wages with my servants earlier?”

“What do you mean, Principal?”

Lee Han was a little surprised, but played innocent.

Of course, he wanted to get on the principal’s nerves, but above all, he wanted to take this opportunity to build rapport with the villagers.

If choir members thought, ‘Ah, that Wardanaz boy is diligent and passionate,’ they’d probably be more willing to hide him next time he showed up in town.

“…Do whatever you like. But why does a Wardanaz care about singing, anyway?”

Ifadur was puzzled by the principal’s words.

“Do nobles not usual—”

“That’s right. Normal nobles do. The Wardanaz family… never mind. Just sing. I hope you stand out for singing badly.”

Despite the principal’s jab, both Ifadur and the choir welcomed Lee Han warmly.

“There’s nothing difficult at all. Besides, we’ll help you keep up.”

“I never thought a student of Einrogard would take interest in our choir!”

“I’ve always liked singing. I’ve heard much about the choir of Pillone Village, but never had the chance to go out. It’s a shame.”

“Oh…!”

“Oooh…!!!”

Lee Han’s words struck straight to the choir members’ hearts like a dagger.

Lee Han appeared to them as a promising new member who might soon join.

“Which of our songs do you like the most—”

“Actually, I have a question about the song you just sang.”

Lee Han quickly changed the subject before they could say anything else.

In situations like this, earnestness in singing was more important than skill.

As long as he looked eager, the choir would be thoroughly impressed.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Thinking of the undead minions summoned by the skeleton principal, Lee Han summoned up hostility.

Then, together with the choir, he started to sing.

“We will behead our enemies for fertilizer, draw their blood to water the furrows…”

Oooooong—

Ifadur was startled at the goosebumps rising on his skin.

Not only that, but passersby who were listening stopped in their tracks, turning their heads involuntarily.

Endowing everyone who heard it with magical power, unconsciously.

This was music magic’s unique effect, ignoring the rule that the further away the target, the weaker the magic and the more mana required.

“Did you see that? It’s amazing!”

“No… this is insane.”

The skeleton principal was speechless.

Ifadur was excitedly writing out the score himself, but the principal looked further.

Not only did the Wardanaz boy scatter mana to increase its density, but he also unconsciously imbued his sung melody with mana, amplifying the collective power.

Even with multiple, highly powerful magic amplifying artifacts laid out, it wouldn’t have this effect.

He was at a loss.

Embedding power directly into words was the beginning of speech magic, and it was a complex form of magic only upperclassmen specially trained in linguistic magic could achieve.

To show it using something as trivial as music magic.

‘Just what is he doing?’

“Is there a problem?”

“The Wardanaz boy is amplifying the magic. Since you know a bit about resonance magic, let me explain simply…”

The skeleton principal drew a simple diagram on the floor and explained.

He was increasing mana density by scattering mana in the surroundings, and not stopping there, he was unconsciously imbuing his voice with mana, amplifying the power of everyone’s song together.

The old turtle beastfolk bard, failing to understand, asked,

“Why scatter mana in the area? Isn’t that unhealthy?”

“…Exactly.”