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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Xrecker
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Making bricks for the wall wasn’t difficult.
Mix straw with the magically created fine soil, shape it into bricks, and then dry them.
Like children making mud pies, I manipulated the straw-mixed soil with wind magic, shaping it into rectangles, then used Firebird Wind Shear, a spell that emitted hot air, to rapidly dry them.
Due to the perpetually below-freezing temperatures of the Vulcan Mountains, making bricks without magic was practically impossible.
Normally, they would have to import expensive bricks from elsewhere or make do with roughly hewn stones.
There was a reason Eva had sought me out first for the wall repairs.
“Phew.”
Wiping the sweat from my brow, I looked around.
News of my wager with Dorothea had spread, and a crowd of soldiers had gathered to watch us make bricks.
I wondered if this was really something worth watching, but then I remembered that entertainment was scarce in this place.
There were no famous bards visiting for performances, no passing gypsies, and certainly no red-light districts.
With nowhere to spend their regularly paid wages, the soldiers mostly sent money home to their families or used it for gambling amongst themselves.
And now, two mages, both known to be at least fifth-tier, were engaged in a competition?
I would have come running too.
I can’t just blatantly lose now, can I?
With so many onlookers, the pressure was on.
To make my eventual, dramatic loss appear natural, I had to keep pace with Dorothea, at least for a while.
I glanced at her to see how she was doing.
“Pandemonium Krise!”
She was using her specialty, fire magic, liberally, drawing on the mana she had conserved the previous night.
Seriously?
Who used fifth-tier magic for menial labor?
Fueled by her competitive spirit, Dorothea was like a runaway train.
She created large chunks of brick-shaped soil and then fired them with intense heat, churning out solid, almost porcelain-like bricks at an incredible rate.
…Is that a plasma cutter?
As a wind mage, I couldn’t replicate her production method.
While I managed to keep up initially, the gap between us widened as time went on.
I knew I had lost. I stopped even pretending to try and started making bricks at a leisurely pace.
After the allotted hour, the results were clear.
Eva, acting as the judge, looked back and forth between the piles of bricks Dorothea and I had created, then, with a chuckle, raised Dorothea’s hand.
“312 versus 527. Dorothea wins!”
“YES!”
Dorothea jumped up and down, celebrating her victory.
The soldiers who had been watching applauded. It seemed like genuine appreciation, not just flattery to appease their commander.
While Eva had earned popularity through her kindness and consideration, Dorothea’s appeal seemed to stem from her childlike appearance, reminding the soldiers of their younger sisters or daughters.
Was this the “military girl” trope?
I brushed the dirt off my hands and approached Dorothea.
“Congratulations, Commander-in-chief.”
I extended my hand, and Dorothea, after staring at it for a moment, grinned.
“Ahem, you’re supposed to call me ‘big sister.’”
While her smug face irritated me, I had made a promise. I smiled and said,
“Yes, big sister.”
Dorothea’s grin widened.
“That’s right! It’s only natural that a little brother’s magic is weaker than his big sister’s! Big sister understands!”
She stood on her tiptoes and patted my shoulder condescendingly. It was surprisingly irritating.
Maybe I should have tried harder.
It was too late for regrets.
As I fumed inwardly, Dorothea, beaming, addressed the soldiers.
“Everyone! I’m feeling generous! Eat and drink as much as you like tonight! It’s on me!”
“WOOOO!”
“Commander-in-chief! You’re the best!”
“Dorothea! Dorothea!”
The soldiers, completely ignoring me, surrounded Dorothea, chanting her name.
I was completely forgotten. I looked at the scene incredulously, sighed deeply, and turned to Camilla, who had been standing silently behind me.
“Let’s go.”
Camilla nodded slightly.
“That seems like a wise decision.”
I left, ignoring the deafening cheers of Dorothea’s fan club, and returned to our tent to rest.
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Mages typically used two sources of mana when casting spells: external mana from the atmosphere and internal mana from their own bodies.
While the efficiency of mana absorption varied depending on the breathing techniques used, even the most powerful mages couldn’t cast spells indefinitely, as their internal mana reserves were finite.
In my case, I could cast a sixth-tier spell three times, a fifth-tier spell ten times, and a fourth-tier spell thirty times before depleting my internal mana.
Of course, these numbers weren’t absolute.
Aether magic, which used highly compressed mana, consumed almost three times as much mana as conventional elemental magic. After casting Fat Man, I would be completely drained and require several hours of rest to recover.
The reason I was explaining this was because I was suffering from severe mana depletion after my brick-making competition with Dorothea.
Even I, an incredibly powerful mage, had my limits. Unless I was carrying a battery of mana stones, like yesterday, it would take several hours for my mana to fully recover.
The main symptom of mana depletion was lethargy. A draining weakness and a strange sense of fatigue that I had always disliked.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m used to it.”
My master used to say that steel becomes stronger the more it’s hammered, and he had certainly hammered me plenty.
I wondered how he was doing. I doubted the stubborn old man would have died after only a year of my absence.
He would probably give me a good thrashing for joining the Demon Lord’s army.
As Camilla helped me into our tent, I felt a sense of relief wash over me.
“Let’s rest here until dinner.”
“Alright.”
We had dropped the formalities at some point, and I had been addressing her casually.
But I suddenly wondered if she was uncomfortable with it, so I asked,
“How old are you, Camilla?”
Camilla tilted her head, as if unsure of my intention, then replied in a calm voice,
“Thirty-five.”
“…”
Eight years older than me.
While demons generally lived longer than humans, that didn’t change the fact that she was my senior.
I looked at her cautiously.
“Were you uncomfortable with me dropping the honorifics?”
Camilla shook her head.
“I’m a maid. It would be more uncomfortable to be addressed formally by someone I serve. Please, continue to speak to me casually.”
“That’s good to hear, but…”
As I breathed a sigh of relief, Camilla suddenly said,
“If you don’t mind, could you call me ‘big sister’?”
“…Suddenly?”
“You don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable. It’s just a personal request.”
“No, no, it’s not a problem.”
I stopped her from bowing her head and cleared my throat. But I suddenly felt embarrassed.
Unlike with Dorothea, calling Camilla “big sister” felt strangely difficult.
Perhaps it was the difference between jest and sincerity.
I had never called anyone “big sister” before.
I fumbled with my words, then finally managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper,
“…Big sister.”
Camilla stepped closer and asked, her voice unusually soft,
“Could you say that again? I didn’t hear you.”
“…Big sister?”
Camilla muttered, a strangely satisfied expression on her face,
“That’s… a new feeling. Being called ‘big sister.’”
“I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.”
“I’m an only child.”
Camilla glanced at me, then returned to her original position.
“Shouldn’t we continue with our lesson now?”
Her unexpected request made me freeze.
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
Camilla lifted the hem of her skirt slightly.
“Hearing you call me ‘big sister’ made me… excited.”
A drop of clear liquid trickled down her exposed thigh.
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