The next day.

Before meeting the master of the Mage Tower, Amelia and Paulen decided to visit the church near the villa first.

Before they left, Paulen spoke to Amelia in a teasing voice.

"Dinner last night, and now breakfast too, both personally prepared by the Saintess. At this rate, I worry I'll attract far too much envy from the faithful."

"What believer in the world would feel that way toward a Paladin?"

'All you did was say you enjoyed it and pick your teeth with a toothpick...'

Amelia recalled the way Paulen had eaten. No matter how often she replayed it, she could find no sign that he had felt particularly honored.

"Hahaha! Once they taste your delicious cooking, Amelia, they might well get jealous. Don't you think so, Quivery?"

'Jealous? Why?'

Not quite understanding what Paulen meant, the slime tilted its body sideways. It had learned the concept of jealousy from the many books it had read at the Rudendion count's estate, but it struggled to connect that concept with food.

"Don't say strange things to Quivery. Let's get going."

"Of course, Amelia."

As she had at the Church, Amelia held the slime in both hands and headed outside with Paulen.

"Ah! Your Holiness! And Paladin Paulen! It is truly an honor to meet you."

The priest in charge of the Mage Tower's church welcomed Amelia and Paulen with a voice full of emotion. That was only natural: priests serving churches across the country rather than living in the Holy City rarely had the opportunity to see a Saintess or a Paladin in person.

"Please come to me whenever you need anything. I will do everything I can!"

Amelia felt uncomfortable under his bright, eager gaze. Of course, that discomfort came from her low self-confidence, from wondering whether she was truly someone worthy of such a look. Even so, she understood all too well how someone whose eyes held such respect, admiration, and hope felt.

"Thank you for your kindness. I will turn to you when the need arises."

She gave the priest the answer he wanted to hear—the same words she herself had once longed to hear.

"Yes!"

Watching this, Paulen returned to a thought he had had many times before.

'Understanding other people's feelings and acting on them is another reason you are worthy of being a Saintess, Amelia.'

After briefly greeting the priest and the faithful, Amelia, Paulen, and the slime headed for the Mage Tower.

+++

'The time has finally come.'

In a secret workshop somewhere on the Dersia continent, Smartass—the lich who had once been Ventus Frail, The Mage of a Thousand Spells—steadied himself as he watched the stream.

Ever since hearing that the slime would meet the master of the Mage Tower, Smartass had been meditating to calm himself. But from the moment they arrived at the tower, peace of mind had proved elusive.

For a start, the sight of Gracie Frail, who claimed to be his descendant, grated on his sensibilities as a proponent of natural mages. Gracie looked exactly like his older female cousin in her youth, as he remembered her. That made it especially painful, as though his cousin, a fellow natural mage, had fallen from grace and become a mage doped up on magical devices.

-Changing times... Maybe this change in the times is only temporary! It must be a passing fad!

Smartass did everything he could to steady himself, rationalizing what he had seen.

But after Gracie left, watching Paulen take the slime on a leisurely walk rendered even those rationalizations useless.

-A fad, my ass!

There were more shops selling magical devices than when Smartass had lived at the Mage Tower. Yet not a single mage walking the streets was festooned with devices the way Gracie was. At most, they wore a ring or a necklace or two.

And so the shocking image of Gracie, a descendant who shared his blood, returned to torment him.

-Aaaaaaah!

Before he had even laid eyes on his enemy Brooks, Smartass screamed alone in his workshop.

Of course, he did not remain anguished forever. He had endured things even harder and more painful during the journey to slay the black dragon. Somehow, Smartass pulled himself together and recovered.

'I don't like it... I don't like it one bit! But that decision was my descendant Gracie's own choice. Simply getting angry won't... Grr! If I ever meet her in person, I'll find out just what is going on in that head of hers!'

His pride as a natural mage had given Smartass a new goal.

The screen now showed the group heading toward the Mage Tower after their brief greetings at the church.

Waiting at the tower entrance was Gracie Frail.

"Good morning, Your Holiness! Sir Paladin! Here at the Mage Tower, too, you can leave everything to me, Gracie Frail, proud descendant of The Mage of a Thousand Spells!"

-Grrrrgh!

Suppressing the old-fashioned natural-mage snob rising within him once more, Smartass kept watching the screen. The group followed Gracie inside the Mage Tower.

▶This place is crawling with hoomans wearing scraps of cloth.

▶Now, now, those aren't scraps of cloth. They're called roooobes.

▶How do you know that?

▶Are you even watching the stream? Didn't you hear the hoomans call them robes? lololol

[Slam First Ask Later]▶Is this the nest of those weird hoomans who shoot water and fire?

[Madam Cat's Cradle]▶It doesn't look like a cute place~ What a shame~.

'This place... hasn't changed at all.'

Unlike the other monsters, fascinated by their first glimpse of the Mage Tower, Smartass felt nostalgic.

Mages passed by in robes colored to match the elements they primarily used. One gloomy-looking mage muttered about research despite walking alone. Another chuckled to himself over a magical formula he had devised. Still another shuffled along like a zombie, deep dark circles beneath his eyes from working on an assignment his mage teacher had set him.

The scene at the Mage Tower was little different from fifty years ago.

For Amelia, however, this was her first visit, and the sight made her anxious and concerned.

"Hmm. Um... Miss Gracie?"

"Yes, Your Holiness! Is there something you'd like to ask?"

"Are those people over there all right? They look as though they need treatment..."

At Amelia's question, Gracie smiled brightly and waved a hand.

"Oh, they don't need treatment. It's a common sight at the Mage Tower."

"A c-common sight?"

"They may look a little odd to someone seeing them for the first time, but they're all doing perfectly well. Don't worry."

"I see."

As Amelia nodded, trying her best to understand—

BOOOOM!

"Who was that?!"

"Aaaagh! The revolutionary new formula I just thought uuuuup!"

"Ikperju's laboratory exploded!"

"How many times has it been now?!"

"That's what you get with people who research explosion magic!"

"Someone go to the church!"

"... Are they really all right?"

"That's a magical accident. They happen from time to time at the Mage Tower. They'll contact the church, and someone will come right away to treat them, so let's go meet the tower master first!"

"Let's go to where the explosion happened."

"What? But..."

Amelia always had low self-esteem and could sometimes be timid when on her own.

"Now, please."

But when someone needed treatment, she could act decisively.

Breaking into a cold sweat like a child who had been scolded, Gracie answered at once.

"Y-yes, of course!"

Watching her, Smartass thought,

'Fresia, you've found yourself a fine successor.'

Once a companion of the Saintess, Smartass saw something of Fresia in Amelia.

+++

With Gracie guiding her, Amelia went to the site of the explosion. After treating the mage, who had survived the magical accident but suffered injuries, she headed for the tower master's room.

'I mustn't fan the flames of hatred. I need to stay calm. I've seen people act rashly and come to grief time and time again.'

When they reached the door to the tower master's room, Smartass repeated this to himself over and over, trying to prevent any potential loss of control.

Then the door opened.

"Welcome to the Mage Tower, Saintess Amelia, Paladin Paulen. I am Brooks Besilza, its current master."

The mage who had betrayed him. The traitor who had tried to murder him under the guise of an accident and mocked him at the end.

Upon seeing Brooks Besilza, Smartass burst out laughing.

-Bwahahahahaha! What is this?! What the hell?!

Rather than any hatred that might have surged up, rather than rage at the man who had reduced him to this state, it was the sheer contrast between the Brooks Besilza in his memory and the man before him that made Smartass unable to contain his laughter.

-You're completely bald, Brooks! Bwahahahaha!

Unlike the luxuriant hair Smartass remembered, the current tower master's head was smooth and gleaming.

And it wasn't just the baldness. That long beard kept making Smartass laugh as well.

Smartass knew how much Brooks had flaunted his hair. Unusually long for a man's, it had reached down his back, and Brooks had habitually tossed it. Even when casting magic, he worried that it might get singed. If another mage's spell scorched even a little of it, he would fly into a rage.

Smartass also remembered what Brooks had said behind the backs of senior mages who wore long beards.

["What's so great about a beard? If you're going to grow something out, grow your hair like me. Doesn't a beard just look scruffy?"]

It had been a sneer, a form of ridicule. Because all those senior mages with long beards had been bald!

A man who made vicious remarks behind bald men's backs, comparing them to his own luxuriant head of hair—that was Brooks Besilza.

And yet now, that same man's flowing hair was nowhere to be seen. He was growing a beard just like the senior mages he had mocked so relentlessly.

-Oh! Oh, my stomach! Bwah! Ha! Hahahaha!

Smartass laughed so hard that he felt phantom pain in a stomach he no longer possessed.

Thanks to his enemy's unexpected change in appearance, there was no chance of the uncontrolled eruption of hatred and rage Smartass had initially feared.

Meanwhile...

'Shiny, shiny!'

In contrast to Smartass, the slime was innocently intrigued by the tower master's gleaming head. Of all the human heads it had encountered, Brooks's was the smoothest and shiniest.

It had seen humans with little hair a few times before, but Brooks was the first whose head shone as though it had been polished.

"It is an honor to meet you, Master Brooks Besilza. My name is Amelia, and I serve as the next Saintess."

"I am Paladin Paulen, her escort. It is an honor to meet you."

Once the formal introductions were over, Brooks Besilza stroked his beard and spoke.

"Though it will only be a month, I look forward to your assistance. Our great passion for learning leads to frequent injuries here at the Mage Tower."

"Yes. That does seem to be the case."

"Hmm? Ah, Gracie. Was there an accident on your way here?"

"Yes, Master. Senior Mage Ikperju's laboratory exploded, and Her Holiness treated him."

"We've already received your help, then. Thank you very much, Saintess Amelia."

"Not at all. I merely did what I ought to do."

It was time to bring the formal pleasantries to an end. Brooks glanced at Gracie and said,

"If you need anything at the Mage Tower, call for Gracie. She will gladly assist you."

"Pardon, Master? But I have my research to attend to as well..."

"A great hero's descendant helping a great hero's successor—what a heartwarming sight that will be. Hohoho."

'Watching Ventus's descendant reduced to attending to the next Saintess will be quite the spectacle.'

"Y-yes, understood..."

Gracie obeyed Brooks with an awkward smile.