“So… this is the paper you were talking about, Gracie?”
“Yes! I can confidently say this time that it’s truly a masterpiece!”
It had been three weeks since the Saintess and the Paladin arrived at the Magic Tower.
Gracie brought the first draft of her research paper—summarizing her observations and thoughts—to Brooks Vessilja, the master of the tower.
A paper can’t be completed in a short amount of time.
That said, there were limits to working alone, and the subject Gracie had chosen was an exceptional exception, making it even harder.
After her walks and slime observations each day, Gracie dedicated herself to writing the paper without missing a single day and finally came to the tower master for guidance, hoping her efforts would pay off.
After all, to Gracie, Brooks Vessilja wasn’t just a supporter—he was the head of the Magic Tower.
If she sought advice from one of the other cranky Natural Magic professors, they’d just laugh her off or ignore her entirely.
Worse, someone might even try to steal the credit for her research.
But Brooks Vessilja was the Magic Tower Master.
He was at the peak of the tower’s hierarchy—there was no one above him.
That’s why Gracie believed there was no way he would steal her work.
“All right, let’s have a look.”
Meanwhile, Brooks Vessilja took the paper with little expectation.
He assumed it was just another paper on magical tool applications, something she usually worked on.
At that level, it might just barely qualify for research funding, and as a descendant of Ventus Frail, Gracie would likely be nervous about that.
‘Heh… I can’t wait to see the dumb look on her face.’
He even took a twisted pleasure in imagining the moment.
‘Hm?’
But the title of the paper was nothing like he had imagined.
[A Study on Monster Use of Magical Tools and the Potential of a Unique Slime]
“Gracie, what on earth is this…?”
The concept of monsters using magical tools was absurd enough, but now it was sounding like a paper on strange slime behavior.
Gracie, who had always focused on magical tools, suddenly turning in something that sounded more like monster research—it was naturally confusing.
“Tower Master, you might not believe it, but please just read it first.”
“Very well.”
Brooks opened the paper and began reading.
‘What is this…?’
The more he read, the more Brooks doubted his eyes.
A paper about a slime using magical tools? He started to wonder if she’d gone crazy from stress while writing it.
Normally, he would’ve tossed the paper aside after reading something like that.
But the slime Gracie was writing about was one he had seen in person.
The very same slime that had arrived with the Saintess and the Paladin.
This wasn’t some hypothetical imagined slime—this was a real one that had actually used magical tools.
It sounded like a lie, but it was hard to believe it was one.
All he had to do to verify it was go and check with the Saintess and Paladin.
No sane person would write a paper with such a blatant and easily exposed lie.
‘That slime can really use magical tools? Even those requiring mana stones—without mana stones?’
The paper consisted mostly of hypotheses and analysis.
Normally, a research paper should be grounded in fact and certainty, but this subject was something unknown and never before seen.
So it made sense that the majority of the paper was speculation and contemplation.
The first half of the paper focused on how the slime used magical tools and explored the theoretical mechanisms behind it.
The second half was, as the title suggested, about how unique and special this slime was.
In other words, it was a study of the slime’s potential.
Of course, to reduce suspicion, the paper also emphasized how friendly the slime was toward people—highlighting that it was even being cared for by a Saintess, and subtly suggesting that meddling with it could be dangerous.
‘A slime that uses tools with its tentacles, can communicate, and even exercises on its own?’
Unbelievable content.
But if it were true, it could completely overturn the world’s perception of slimes.
Could such a slime really have come into existence by mere chance?
The most important point was that this improbable event had actually happened.
That alone made the paper incredibly valuable.
‘If this paper gets accepted…?’
It would surely be hailed as a once-in-a-lifetime discovery, and the Frail family would secure funding for years to come.
‘No! That can’t happen!’
Even though Brooks Vessilja had betrayed Ventus Frail by staging a magical accident, he still carried deep-seated resentment toward Sage of Magic.
His twisted heart wanted the Frail family—the descendants of those mages—to live in perpetual anxiety and poverty.
There was no rational or logical reason behind his hatred.
Even if there were no other talented members in the Frail family aside from Ventus.
‘His descendant must suffer and struggle! Within my reach! Always! They must continue showing me their pathetic state!’
Brooks Vessilja longed for that scene.
But at the same time, he thought:
As a mage, he wanted to know if this paper was actually true.
After finishing the paper, Brooks put it down and spoke.
“Gracie, you know how ridiculous this paper sounds, don’t you?”
“Yes. But it’s the truth.”
“Then we need to verify it.”
‘I knew it—of course the Tower Master would be different!’
Gracie had expected any other professor to scold her, asking if she’d gone crazy for writing such nonsense.
But the Tower Master didn’t deny it outright—he wanted to verify the truth.
To Gracie, that was the mark of a true mage, and her respect for him soared.
***
In Tartan, the city of duels and gambling.
After the preliminary rounds, the main tournament was finally set to begin in a few days.
Godrick, Hawane, Skol, and Def all made it through the round of 32.
The four of them had been training against Nellin regularly, which had noticeably improved their skills enough to spot and exploit their opponents' weaknesses without much difficulty.
But from the round of 16, things weren't that easy anymore.
Skol was eliminated in the round of 16.
His opponent was a girl nicknamed “Frost Fist.”
Skol tried to find an opening, but before he could, Frost Fist’s sharp and relentless attacks overwhelmed him.
“Ow! Aaaagh!”
Skol prided himself on being the fastest in Godrick’s party.
He could follow her attacks with his eyes just fine—after all, he’d taken beatings from Nellin’s wooden sword plenty of times.
But seeing an attack and dodging it were two different things.
“I surrender! Agh! I surrender!”
Having fought stronger opponents before, Skol quickly realized he couldn’t win and threw in the towel.
Def and Hawane were also eliminated in the quarterfinals.
Def faced an opponent as large as himself.
Clang!
Clang!
“Yaaaah!”
“You’re strong and you know how to close in. But… you’ve still got a long way to go!”
Def fought hard and got the crowd roaring.
But his opponent was a frontline warrior known as a B-rank adventurer.
Even with all the training he got from Nellin, Def couldn’t overcome the battle experience of someone who had survived dangerous quests.
Hawane’s opponent was the same girl who had defeated Skol—Frost Fist.
Though slower than Skol, Hawane was confident in his ability to spot openings and took the fight with the goal of landing at least one good hit.
‘Heh, time to show off my keen eye.’
“Skol… I’ll avenge you.”
“I’m not dead, you know!”
But—
Whack! Whack! Wham!
“Ow! Aaaagh! Argh!”
Even if he could find openings, Hawane’s sword couldn’t land a solid hit through them.
The furthest anyone got was Godrick, who advanced to the quarterfinals, but he lost in the semifinals.
“Gah!”
In the end, no one in Godrick’s party won the tournament.
Still, the fact that all of them made it to the round of 16 after fighting through the chaotic preliminaries in their debut was impressive enough to attract attention from the crowd.
“Those four from earlier were pretty good.”
“I thought they got lucky making it to the finals, but they’ve got skills.”
“They just had bad matchups from the round of 16.”
“They’re a party, right? Anyone know their name?”
“No clue. They’re not from around here, that’s for sure.”
‘Nice, perfect.’
Hearing the murmurs in the stands, Nellin was sure she had achieved her goal.
‘Now I just need to start handing out flyers. But before that…’
“Drink up today! Drink! You all did great! Especially you, Godrick! Congrats on making it to the semifinals!”
“Thank you, Sister Marin.”
“Congrats, bro!”
“Thanks, Def.”
“Heh, I knew you’d pull it off, bro.”
“Oh yeah?”
“You said you’d lose in the quarterfinals, remember?”
“Hmph. Skol, stop with the unnecessary commentary!”
“Knew it.”
In a lively mood, Godrick’s party and Nellin began their meal with a toast.
As they ate, they brought up the champion of the Black Dragon Festival.
“So in the end, that Frost Fist girl won it all.”
“Heh, she beat me—of course she’d win.”
“Yeah, back in the prelims, I blocked her punch with an axe—it was crazy powerful.”
“Her name was… what was it…”
As Godrick tried to recall—
“Claire.”
A flat voice gave the name of Frost Fist.
“Right, Claire. Wait… What?!”
Godrick turned in surprise.
There stood the champion of the Black Dragon Festival.
Frost Fist.
A beastkin girl with white-silver hair, yellow eyes, and wolf ears and a tail.
“Um!?”
“Whoa!?”
“What the—?”
“Huh? Why are you here?”
While Godrick’s party stared in shock, Nellin casually munched on meat and looked at the girl.
In response to Nellin’s question, the girl replied—
“I came to find you.”
“Us? Why?”
“Because you had good eyes.”
“Good eyes?”
“Heh, well, my eyes are kind of charming.”
“Not the time for nonsense, Hawane.”
“In the prelims and even in our match—your bodies were slow, but your eyes were tracking me. You’ve clearly seen faster attacks than mine.”
“Oh.”
‘So she’s sharp enough to analyze their gaze too?’
Nellin was impressed by the girl’s perceptiveness.
Then the girl turned her gaze toward Nellin.
“Is it you? The strong one.”
“Well, I’m the one who trained them.”
“How strong are you?”
“How strong? Well…”
With a smirk, Nellin pointed the meat she was holding at the girl.
“Stronger than you, by a long shot.”
“Really?”
Her golden eyes shimmered with determination and a fierce bloodlust she always carried.
‘Tch. Can’t even control her bloodlust properly.’
“Then fight me.”
“Nope. Why would I?”
Nellin bit off a piece of the meat she had pointed at the girl and said—
“There’s nothing in it for me. Don’t bother me while I’m eating. Shoo.”
She waved her hand, trying to get the girl to leave.
And then the girl said—
“…If you beat me, I’ll give you all my prize money.”
She put money on the table.
“Let’s eat first, though. Come on, sit next to me.”
The effect was instant.