“So... this is the paper you mentioned, Gracie?”

“Yes! This time, I can guarantee it’s a real masterpiece!”

Three weeks had passed since the Saintess and the Paladin arrived at the Mage Tower. Gracie brought Brooks Besilza, master of the Mage Tower, a draft of her paper compiling the facts she had learned through her observations thus far, along with her own thoughts.

A research paper was not something one could complete in a short time. Yet there were limits to working alone, and Gracie’s current subject—an exception among exceptions—made things even harder. Every day, without fail, she had devoted herself to writing after finishing her walk and observing the slime. Now she brought the fruits of her efforts to the tower master to ask his advice.

After all, to Gracie, Brooks Besilza was not only someone who supported her, but also the master of the Mage Tower. Asking some other stuffy old natural-magic professor for advice might only earn her ridicule and dismissal. In the worst case, someone might even try to steal the credit for her paper.

But Brooks Besilza was the tower master. He stood at the very pinnacle of the Mage Tower, with nowhere higher left to climb. That was why Gracie believed there was no chance he would steal her paper.

“All right. Let me take a look.”

Meanwhile, Brooks Besilza accepted Gracie’s paper without expecting much. At best, he assumed it would concern applications of magical devices, as her papers usually did. That would put her just barely within reach of securing funding, leaving Gracie, Ventus Frail’s descendant, fretting anxiously.

‘Heh heh. I can’t wait to see what a foolish expression she makes.’

Brooks Frail anticipated the twisted delight of that scene, another of his little pleasures.

‘Hmm?’

But the subject written on the paper was entirely different from what he had expected.

[An Examination of Monsters’ Use of Magical Devices and the Potential of an Unusual Slime.]

“Gracie, what on earth is this...?”

The notion of monsters using magical devices was absurd enough, but now the subject looked like research into an unusual slime. Gracie, who normally focused exclusively on magical devices, had suddenly produced the sort of paper a mage specializing in monsters might write. Naturally, he was puzzled.

“Tower Master, I know it’s hard to believe, but please read it first.”

“... Very well.”

Brooks opened the paper and began reading.

‘What is this...?’

The further Brooks read, the harder it became to believe his eyes. A paper written on the premise that a slime could use magical devices? He almost wondered whether the stress of writing it had driven her mad.

Normally, that thought would have made him put the paper down without reading any further. But the slime Gracie had chosen as her subject was one Brooks had seen in person—the very slime the Saintess and the Paladin had brought with them. This was not speculation about what an imaginary slime might be capable of. The paper claimed that a real, existing slime had actually used magical devices.

It sounded like a lie, yet it was hard to believe it was one. To verify what the paper said, he needed only to visit the Saintess and the Paladin and see for himself. Unless she had gone mad, she would never write an entire paper based on a lie so easily exposed.

‘That slime can really use magical devices? And devices that need magic stones, at that—without any stones?’

Most of the paper consisted of conjecture and discussion. Ordinarily, a research paper first needed to establish certainty based on facts, but this paper’s subject was an unknown phenomenon, something never before revealed or witnessed. It explained that this left little choice but to rely largely on conjecture and discussion.

The first half mainly examined how the slime used magical devices and the principles that enabled it to do so. The latter half, as the title indicated, addressed just how unusual the slime was and what extraordinary powers it possessed. In other words, it explored the slime’s potential.

Of course, to allay suspicion as much as possible, she also described how friendly the slime was toward people. Emphasizing that none other than the ‘Saintess’ was keeping it, she indirectly warned that refraining from needless interference would be in everyone’s best interests.

‘A slime that uses tools with its tentacles, can communicate, and even exercises on its own?’

It was unbelievable. Yet if true, it could overturn everything people thought they knew about slimes. Could a slime like this truly have been born by sheer chance? What mattered most was that this chance occurrence had actually happened. That alone gave the paper immense value.

‘If this paper is accepted...’

It would surely be hailed as a discovery of the age, guaranteeing the Frail family funding for another long stretch of time.

‘No! That can’t happen!’

Brooks Besilza had betrayed Ventus Frail and disguised it as a magical accident, but his inferiority complex toward The Mage of a Thousand Spells remained. His twisted heart wanted to watch the Frail family—the heirs to that mage’s blood—forever scrape by, living precarious, anxious lives. There was no logical or rational reason for that desire, even if the Frail family had produced no outstanding talent besides Ventus Frail.

‘His descendants must struggle and suffer! Where I can see them! Forever! They must keep showing me that ridiculous spectacle!’

Brooks Besilza wanted that sight. At the same time, however, he also wanted to discover, as a mage, whether this paper was genuinely true and uncover the reality behind it.

Having finished reading, Brooks set the paper down and spoke.

“Gracie, you do realize how preposterous this paper’s contents look at first glance, don’t you?”

“Yes. But they’re true.”

“Then we’ll need to verify them.”

‘I knew the tower master would be different!’

She had expected any other professor to scold her, asking whether she had lost her mind to be writing such nonsense. But the tower master wanted to check the truth rather than reject it outright. Gracie’s respect for him surged. He truly was a genuine mage.

+++

Tartan, the city of duels and gambling.

A few days after the preliminaries ended, the main tournament finally began.

Godric, Hawein, Sgol, and Def all made it through the round of thirty-two. Constantly training against Nellin had improved the four men’s skills enough that they could exploit their opponents’ openings without much difficulty.

But things were not so easy from the round of sixteen onward. Sgol was eliminated in that round. His opponent was the girl called Snowflake Fist. He tried to find an opening, but her fierce attacks pressed him faster than he could do so.

“Agh! Aaagh!”

Sgol prided himself on being the fastest member of Godric’s Party. His eyes could even follow Snowflake Fist’s attacks. After all, he had been struck countless times by Nellin’s even faster wooden sword. But seeing an attack and dodging it were two different matters.

“I surrender! Agh! I surrender!”

Having fought powerful opponents many times, Sgol judged that his skills were no match for hers and surrendered before things went any further.

Def and Hawein were both eliminated in the quarterfinals. Def faced a competitor just as massive as himself.

CLAAANG!

CLANG!

“Hyaaah!”

“You’re strong, and you know when to move in. But... you’ve still got a long way to go!”

Def fought hard and thrilled the audience. But his opponent was a famous B-rank adventurer who fought on the front line. For all Nellin’s training, Def could not defeat someone with the seasoned experience of surviving dangerous commissions.

Hawein’s opponent was Snowflake Fist, the girl who had beaten Sgol. Though slower than Sgol, Hawein was confident in his ability to spot an opponent’s openings. He entered the fight determined to land at least one blow, even if he could not win.

‘Heh. I’ll show you how sharp my eyes are.’

“Sgol... I’ll avenge you.”

“I’m not dead, you know!”

But...

THUD! THUD! THUD-THUD-THUD!

“Agh! Aaagh! Agh!”

Even if Hawein could spot an opening, his sword could not slip into it and land a hit.

Godric, who advanced the furthest, won his quarterfinal match but unfortunately lost in the semifinals.

“Urgh!”

In the end, no one from Godric’s Party won the championship. Still, the audience was taking an interest in the party. On their very first entry, they had survived the preliminary brawl, and every member had proven skilled enough to reach the round of sixteen.

“Those four who entered together are pretty good.”

“I thought they’d lucked their way into the main tournament, but they’ve got skills.”

“They just got bad matchups from the round of sixteen onward.”

“They’re a party, right? Anyone know which one?”

“No idea. They’re not from around here, at least.”

‘Good, good. That went well.’

Hearing people murmur in the stands, Nellin felt certain she had achieved her goal.

‘Now all that’s left is to start handing out flyers in earnest. Of course, before that...’

“Drink up tonight! Drink! Good work, all of you! Especially you, Godric! Congratulations on making the semifinals!”

“Thank you, Big Sis Marin.”

“Congratulations, Boss!”

“Thanks, Def.”

“Heh. I knew you could do it, Boss.”

“Did you?”

“You said Boss would get knocked out in the quarterfinals.”

“Hmph. Sgol, you shouldn’t say unnecessary things!”

“I figured as much.”

In a cheerful atmosphere, Godric’s Party and Nellin raised a toast and began their meal. As they ate, the party brought up the winner of the Black Dragon Festival.

“So that girl called Snowflake Fist ended up winning.”

“Hmph. She beat me, so of course she had to win.”

“Yeah, I blocked her fist with my axe during the preliminaries. It packed a hell of a punch.”

“Her name was... what was it?”

As Godric tried to remember—

“Claire.”

A girl’s flat voice supplied Snowflake Fist’s name.

“Right, that’s it. Claire. ... What?!”

Startled, Godric looked beside him. There stood the champion of this Black Dragon Festival: Snowflake Fist. The beastfolk girl had white-silver hair, yellow eyes, and a wolf’s ears and tail.

“Hm?!”

“Huh?!”

“Oh?”

“Hm? What’s this? Why are you here?”

While Godric’s Party stared in surprise, Nellin looked at the girl, casually tearing into her meat. The girl answered her question.

“I was looking for you.”

“Us? Why?”

“Because you had good eyes.”

“Good eyes?”

“Heh. My eyes do have an attractive shape.”

“Cut the nonsense at a time like this, Hawein.”

“During the preliminaries, and when we fought directly. Your bodies were slow. But your eyes were following me. That proves you’ve seen plenty of attacks faster than mine.”

“Oh.”

‘So she does have a brain?’

Nellin was impressed that the girl had even tracked and analyzed her opponents’ gazes.

The girl turned her eyes toward Nellin.

“Is it you? The strong one?”

“Well, I did put these guys through their paces.”

“How strong are you?”

“How strong am I? Well...”

Grinning, Nellin pointed the meat in her hand at the girl.

“A whole lot stronger than you.”

“... Really?”

Fighting spirit lit the girl’s eyes, along with the sinister murderous intent she always carried within her.

‘Tsk. She can’t even keep her killing intent properly contained.’

“Then fight me.”

“No. Why should I?”

Nellin brought the meat back to her mouth and tore off another bite as she spoke.

“What’s in it for me? Don’t bother me while I’m eating. Off you go.”

Nellin waved her hand briskly, trying to shoo the girl away. Then the girl said—

“... If you beat me, I’ll give you all my prize money.”

She put money on the line.

“Shall we do it after we eat? Come on, sit beside me.”

The effect was tremendous!