The Lowest-Ranked Hero Has Returned

Chapter 103: The Ryu Family's Black Sheep (4)

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Chapter 103: The Ryu Family's Black Sheep (4)

“Ah...”

A sigh escaped through my lips.

A wave of despair weighed heavily on me.

‘What do I do about this?’

If there was another reason Berald couldn’t learn magic, I would simply have to find and remove that cause.

If it was a curse, I could break it, and if it was poison, I could neutralize it.

For someone like me, who possessed the ‘Primordial Flame,’ neither would be a difficult problem to solve.

‘But…’

What if the reason he couldn’t use magic no matter how hard he tried was simply because he was just too stupid?

‘Then there’s nothing I can do.’

How could I possibly make someone who was born stupid suddenly intelligent?

‘Even if it were possible, there’s no way it could be done in just three days.’

No matter how much effort he put into it, there was no way to make someone capable of performing magic calculations in just three days, something they couldn’t do in years.

“Hah.”

A deep sigh escaped me as my mind grew more tangled.

Berald smiled bitterly, shaking his head.

“There’s no need to push yourself, brother. I know it’s a difficult matter.”

“…Berald.”

“Well, even if the family stops sending financial support, I won’t starve immediately. Our family is still part of the ‘Ryu’ clan. We’re not that poor.”

Berald shrugged as he continued.

“Of course, My father won’t be able to receive treatment regularly like he does now, but since the treatments over the past five years haven’t improved his condition, it doesn’t really matter whether he get treated or not, right?”

“……”

That couldn’t be true.

Even if it was a slim chance, the possibility of recovery was vastly different from giving up treatment altogether.

“What happened to your father?”

I hadn’t heard that Berald’s father was sick in my previous life.

Though I had known Berald since our school days, we weren’t close enough for him to confide in me about such dark family matters.

“Hoho. My father, you say?”

Berald spoke with a bitter expression.

He sat down on the training ground floor and took a bite of the bread he had split in half.

“Five years ago, there was a fight between the ‘Ryu’ family and the Demons.”

“…This is the first I’m hearing of this.”

The Ryu family was one of the most powerful families in the Republic.

If a conflict had occurred between them and the Demons, it would’ve caused an uproar in the Republic.

At least in my memory, no such uproar had taken place.

“They must have blocked the information from spreading within the family. In truth, it wasn’t even that big of a fight. There weren’t many casualties, after all.”

Though Berald said this with a bitter smile…

‘In other words, there was a fight, even if it wasn’t a large one.’

And there were casualties, however few they may have been.

Among them was Berald’s father.

“My father was severely injured in that battle.”

Berald’s voice was calm as he continued.

“Though he was lucky to survive, he was left with a side effect—his memory started to deteriorate.”

Though he spoke in a calm tone, his voice was laced with deep emotion.

“Anyway, that cranky old man... After making my life difficult ever since I was young, he eventually forgot even his own child’s name. It’s his punishment, I suppose.”

Berald chuckled, covering his eyes with his hand.

“……”

Suddenly, a memory from my previous life flashed through my mind.

A brief conversation we had before his death.

“Haha! If you really need a name, call me ‘Berald’s Martial Arts’! You’ll live for a long time, brother, being immortal and all. Our old man was just like that. Old people tend to forget their children’s names.”

“Even if I die, please remember my name.”

I remembered him asking me to remember his name, that pitiful figure of his.

‘You fool... Back then, you said it was just because of old age, but...’

So, this was the truth behind it.

‘That’s why he was so obsessed with his name.’

I watched silently as Berald quietly sobbed, covering his eyes.

“There is a way.”

“…What way?”

“A way for you to use magic in three days.”

“…?”

Berald looked at me as if I were speaking nonsense.

I closed my eyes and organized the method that had come to my mind.

A way for Berald, who couldn’t control magic at all, to use it.

That was...

“Just give up.”

The only way for the tenacious Berald to use magic was, ironically, to give up.

“…What do you mean by that?”

Berald asked, looking confused.

“You know there are three stages to magic, right?”

“I know that much.”

The flow of magic consists of release, manifestation, and control.

The area Berald had never been able to reach, no matter how hard he tried, was ‘control.’

If that’s the case…

“Just give up on control entirely.”

“…Give up on control?”

“Yes.”

Narrow it down to just two stages: release and manifestation.

“Try creating a magic projectile again. This time, don’t even think about controlling it.”

“Hmmm. I’ll give it a try.”

Berald nodded and focused his mind.

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Wooooooong!

The Stigma glowed, and immense magic surged around him.

“Hup!”

With a powerful shout, a magic projectile formed in mid-air.

It was about the size of a fist.

Its hardness had improved somewhat from the previous mushy form.

‘As I thought!’

Watching the magic projectile Berald created, I clenched my fist in triumph.

This one was much more refined than the magic projectile he had formed before.

‘By giving up on control from the start, the quality of the projectile improved.’

It made sense when you thought about it.

For example, consider building a magic vehicle...

Wouldn't making a model that just looks like the real thing be far easier than actually creating one that can move?

“…Huh?”

Berald also widened his eyes in surprise, as if shocked by the quality of the magic bullet he had created.

“B-Brother! Did you see this? I made a magic bullet the size of a fist!”

Berald shouted excitedly.

“See? It's much easier when you give up the control process, isn't it?”

“Is that even a question? It's like… the difference between trying to hop on one leg and then sitting in a wheelchair!”

The difference between hopping on one leg and sitting in a wheelchair, huh.

‘That's a perfect metaphor.’

He must have found it much easier to manifest magic after giving up on trying to control something that wasn't even possible in the first place.

“Alright, let's keep working on improving it.”

“Hehe! Got it!”

Berald nodded and got back to making magic bullets.

* * *

Three days passed like that.

Berald's magic bullet had reached a level of completion incomparable to what he had first made.

What had once been no bigger than two finger joints had grown to the size of a human head, and what used to feel like handling soft dough now had a hardness stronger than steel.

‘I didn't expect he'd improve this much in just three days.’

Of course, it wasn't simply because he had given up the control process that such a dramatic change occurred.

‘It must be thanks to all the effort he's put in up until now.’

Berald had probably been working harder than anyone to learn magic from the day he first started.

‘Because it's Berald.’

Even if no one else recognized it.

Even if no one acknowledged him.

I know.

How relentless he is when it comes to not giving up.

Even when everyone whispered that he couldn't do it, he must have continued training in magic all on his own.

‘And now.’

The fruits of all that accumulated effort were finally finding their direction and blooming.

“I can’t believe I created this magic bullet….”

Berald looked at the translucent sphere, as large as a human head, in disbelief.

It was embarrassing to even compare it to the pathetic magic bullet he had first made.

‘Though, compared to the amount of magic used, it’s still lacking in many ways.’

If the first magic bullet took 100 units of magic to produce a result of 1, now he could create a result of about 10.

Compared to Senior Sophia, who could produce results two or three times greater than the amount of magic she used, it made you question whether this should even be called "magic."

‘No matter how generously I phrase it, it's still below average, and aside from this magic bullet, he can't use any other spells.’

But that's fine.

Compared to his previous life when he couldn’t manifest any magic at all, this still opens up a new path for Berald.

Now, my job is simply to guide him on how to walk down that newly opened path.

“But Brother.”

“Yeah?”

“I know it's silly to say this now, but…”

Berald scratched the back of his head with an awkward smile.

“This magic bullet… it just floats in midair, but it doesn’t actually move, does it?”

“Of course. You gave up control, after all.”

“…Then what’s the point of it? How am I supposed to defeat Senior Lios with a magic bullet that can’t even move?”

Berald stared at me blankly.

I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.

“Is that really a question you're asking after three days of magic training?”

“Ahem! Well, that just shows how much faith I had in you, Brother!”

He let out an embarrassed cough and avoided my gaze.

He was probably so excited about successfully creating a proper magic bullet that he didn’t even think about anything else.

‘That’s just like Berald.’

Of course, I didn’t have him practice making immobile magic bullets for three days without a plan.

“Berald, have you ever heard this saying?”

“What saying?”

“When the head is weak, the body suffers.”

It was an old saying from the Republic.

“Haha. My father said that to me so many times, I got sick of it.”

Berald laughed as if he had heard it a thousand times before.

“Well, then just think the opposite.”

“The opposite?”

I glanced at Berald’s body, packed with muscle, and smirked.

“If you’ve got an overwhelmingly strong body… it doesn’t matter if your head’s a little weak.”

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]