Absolutely Do Not Touch ELdmia Egga – Chapter 176

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Yuziro
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It was an old memory.

A memory of the day he received a royal decree to investigate reports of an ancient demon altar resurfacing as a dungeon.

He hired a group of silver-ranked adventurers and journeyed to the White Mountains, located at the westernmost edge of Itsiel.

Secrecy was paramount, so they traveled incognito, completing their investigation without incident.

However, unforeseen delays forced them to resupply in a small, nameless village near Ogwen.

The village, despite being outside the lord’s jurisdiction, was surprisingly well-maintained and boasted skilled hunters, making the resupply process remarkably smooth.

However, it was a small boy who caught Widra’s attention.

“Are you a mage, mister?”

The boy, with striking dark hair and deep blue eyes, a rare sight in Itsiel, approached him with an unusual calmness and clear articulation for his age.

“What makes you think so?”

“Your attire. It’s typical mage garb.”

The boy’s surprisingly sophisticated vocabulary impressed him, but it was his cautious demeanor, despite his apparent interest in magic, that intrigued him.

“I am, indeed, a mage.”

“Then, could you tell me how one begins to learn magic?”

The boy’s question, focused on the process of learning rather than a simple request for a demonstration or a desire to wield magic, piqued his interest.

After a brief conversation, Widra learned of the boy’s academic curiosity about magic.

He decided to offer a brief lesson while the hired adventurers completed their tasks.

Placing his hand on the boy’s back, he began to guide him in sensing mana.

And then, he was stunned.

Mana, flowing naturally within the boy’s body.

It was impossible.

Discreetly casting a mana visualization spell he had developed for his research, Widra felt a cold sweat break out.

He forced himself to speak calmly.

“…Where are your parents?”

“They’re over there, butchering the meat. They used to be adventurers, but they settled down as hunters.”

He had sensed no mana from the two hunters during their initial encounter.

He had been worried about a potential connection between the village and demons, but he breathed a sigh of relief.

While he wasn’t actively involved in conflicts with demons, as a mage dedicated to studying them, caution was necessary.

His investigation of the ancient altar, a relic of the ancient god worshipped by demons, was driven by this same caution.

Encountering a child with mana in a village near the mountain where the altar was located was unsettling, to say the least.

However, if the boy’s parents were human, then the boy was human as well.

‘Perhaps… the first of his kind.’

Only dragons and demons were born with the innate ability to wield magic.

It was a gift bestowed upon them by the gods.

Before the great dragon, Noigardmu, shared the knowledge of refining mana with all races, magic was the exclusive domain of those born with this innate ability.

“Have you ever learned about mana manipulation from anyone?”

“No. Our village doesn’t get many visitors. Let alone adventurers.”

His heart began to race.

He had stumbled upon a potentially groundbreaking discovery, a turning point in human history, in the most unexpected way.

The probability of a child born with mana encountering a mage dedicated to its study was astronomically low.

‘This must be divine providence.’

Steeling his nerves, Widra channeled a minuscule amount of mana through his hand, guiding it within the boy’s body.

His mouth felt dry.

This tiny sliver of mana was the culmination of his life’s work.

The maximum amount of mana a human body could handle without adverse effects.

It wasn’t enough to even cast a single fireball, but it was the result of years of dedicated research, driven by the belief that humans could wield mana.

An ordinary person wouldn’t even be able to sense it.

“Oh? Something’s moving.”

The boy, seemingly fascinated by the new sensation, looked down at his chest.

Widra, fighting back tears of joy, managed to respond.

“That… is mana.”

“Ooooh.”

It was as if his life’s work, dedicated to the pursuit of magic, had finally been validated.

He was overcome with emotion, but he maintained his composure.

However, caught up in the moment, he forgot he was speaking to a child and continued his explanation.

“Magic cannot be manifested without theory, but sensing mana relies on intuition. Can you focus on the mana I’ve channeled into your chest?”

“I’m focusing, but what should I do next?”

“I’ll guide you. Slowly. Very slowly, try to move it to your palm.”

He didn’t even pause to consider the complexity of his words for a child.

The boy, however, accepted his instructions without question.

Mana was like an extension of one’s body, something that could be controlled at will.

Unlike Widra, who was essentially trying to attach a foreign limb, the boy, with a little guidance, would surely be able to wield mana.

With that conviction, he focused all his attention.

“Oh.”

And then, the boy moved the mana.

Effortlessly.

A far greater amount than Widra had initially channeled.

“Ooh. I can move it now, though not perfectly.”

“…That… is the foundation of learning magic.”

The true foundation of magic, a secret once held exclusively by dragons and demons.

“Do you want to become a mage?”

“I haven’t really considered it. I just wanted to learn magic, since it exists.”

The boy, instead of being captivated by the new sensation, seemed more interested in the conversation.

Widra made a decision.

“If you wish, I can become your teacher. Not immediately, but eventually.”

“Really?”

“Of course. A true mage never lies.”

Magic originated from the Dragon Tongue.

Words held power, and lies were an affront to that power.

While uttering a falsehood wouldn’t necessarily weaken one’s magic, it was believed that the consequences would eventually corrupt the mage.

Therefore, the great dragons never lied, and the mages who learned from them followed suit.

It was an archaic belief, one that many modern mages disregarded, but Widra adhered to it.

“I’m currently engaged in a very important task. It will take… at least four years to complete.”

“So, I’ll be nine years old then.”

The boy’s grasp of numbers was impressive. He was clearly a bright child.

“That’s a very long time. If you can master mana manipulation during that time and still desire to learn magic, I will do everything in my power to make you a true mage.”

He wanted to rush to the boy’s parents, explain the situation, obtain their consent, and take the boy with him.

He wanted to teach him, even if it meant abandoning his research on the demon altar and the prophecies of the Imperial Divine Council.

But he couldn’t.

While the boy could potentially revolutionize human magic, it would be wrong to force such a path upon him.

Five years old was too young.

A time of fleeting interests and short attention spans.

If the boy could maintain his focus and master mana manipulation for four years, then it wouldn’t be too late to seek his parents’ approval.

And even if the boy lost interest in magic, there were still ways to benefit from his unique ability.

Compared to the years he had spent without a single assistant in his research, this was a monumental leap forward.

Perhaps, in the process of assisting him, the boy’s interest in magic would be rekindled.

With that hope, Widra made a promise to the boy, a smile on his face.

And exactly three years later, he regretted that decision.

Annihilation.

The news, delivered while he was on assignment in the Empire, was devastating.

There were no survivors.

Only a makeshift grave, erected by an unknown hand.

Widra, surrounded by concerned colleagues, wept openly for the first time in his life.

The encounter he had believed to be divinely ordained, a chance encounter with a child who could revolutionize human magic, had been brutally extinguished by demons.

Consumed by grief and rage, he joined the war effort, fighting on the front lines for years.

Eventually, recognizing the need for further research on demons, he returned to the capital and secluded himself in the royal library.

Driven by the anger of a life denied, Widra, unaware of the true recipient of the gods’ favor, concluded his long reminiscence and opened his eyes.

The boy before him was no longer a child.

He had grown tall, almost too tall for a fifteen-year-old.

He still possessed the dark hair and blue eyes, and the mana, flowing naturally throughout his body like Aura, was undeniable proof of his continued training.

He had mastered mana manipulation without his guidance.

“I believe I am the only one on the continent, aside from dragons and demons, who can properly teach you magic.”

With that realization, Widra felt a sense of renewed purpose, a chance to reclaim the life that had been stolen from him.

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[Peak after peak after peak… this man never stops writing bangers after bangers]