I Was Mistaken for a Saint in a Dark Fantasy

The force of the heavy snow finally began to subside.

Around the time the piled-up snow melted in the steam of the Magical Kerosene and flowed down into the sewer.

“You tried to master the concept of Exception Handling in just a fortnight?”

The Nihilrit baronial family’s private tutor—Schmidt adjusted his monocle and spoke.

“Young Lady Freya. That was only possible because it was Young Master Yulian.”

Schmidt shook his head from side to side.

The concept of Exception Handling, even if it was part of the basics, was not an easy one.

There were 30 formulas alone.

It took at least a month just to internalize these formulas to the point where one could recite them fluently at a moment’s notice.But the true difficulty of this concept began after memorizing the formulas.

“Then, to check how much you’ve mastered the concept, I will ask you a question. An enemy and your ally are currently clashing swords. You are about 45 steps away from them. In this situation, if you were to use Flame Magic, which Exception Handling formula would you use?”

“Huh? Uh... wouldn’t I use Formula 4, which designates a range?”

“If you use Formula 4, it’s nullified if the enemy hides behind your ally.”

“Uh, oh, then...”

More than anything, this was the problem.

’Memorizing the formulas’ and ’mastering the concept’ were two completely different domains.

While memorizing the formulas was somewhat possible in a month, learning which formula to use in actual combat always took much longer.

“If I add Formula 4 to Formula 1...”

“The chant time would double, and the two conditional statements would contradict each other, causing a misfire.”

“Hoe-eh...”

At Schmidt’s firm dismissal of her wrong answer, Freya’s eyes spun.

It was too harsh a problem for a girl who had just turned 12 years old.

“Haaah...”

The private tutor let out a deep sigh.

“Don’t be too disheartened. This is a field where even those called a Gifted Child take three months to barely take their first steps.”

“B-but my Older Brother did it in four days...”

“Let’s make him an exception.”

Schmidt wore a bittersweet smile as he thought of his former student.

“You don’t need to follow the Young Master’s example. After all, finishing the race is more important than being fast.”

Yulian.

He was a sore spot for Schmidt as well.

A genius who completed a three-year course in three months, one who could be compared to a Great Sage without falling short.

What if he had also possessed the talent of a Mage?

Even now, a year later, Schmidt thought God was truly cruel.

It would have been less tragic if he hadn’t been granted a firefly-like talent.

“So, Young Lady.”

Schmidt adjusted his askew monocle and gently advised Freya.

“If you push yourself like this from the start, you might get exhausted later. Your current pace is no less than that of geniuses, so there’s no need to be so impatient.”

“But I want to be able to use magic quickly, too.”

“Why is that? Do you have a particular reason?”

“It’s not a special reason, I just wanted to follow my Older Brother like Unnie...”

“Pardon?”

“Ah, it’s nothing.”

She wanted to follow Yulian down to the Limbus Pit.

Because the sight of him going down to help people in need felt like a story of the heroes she admired.

Above all, it was also fun to learn new things by Yulian’s side every day.

But she remembered her mother’s words and cut herself off.

— “Freya. Please keep it a secret from other families that your Older Brother Yulian goes down there.”

— “Why?”

— “I suspect they might point fingers at him.”

— “Why would they point fingers when he’s doing a good thing? Are they jealous?”

— “Hmm... Jealousy... I suppose you could see it that way.”

Freya looked up at her private tutor.

She had heard this private tutor was the third son of some count’s family.

Of course, Freya didn’t think Schmidt would point fingers at Yulian either. But it was possible that rumors might spread among the nobles because of it.

So Freya quickly corrected herself.

“It’s just... I thought if my Older Brother could do it, maybe I could too.”

Schmidt smiled warmly at Freya’s answer.

He found the competitiveness, typical of 12-year-olds, to be cute.

“It’s alright, Young Lady. Since you are also the Young Master’s sister, you’ll be able to catch up without being impatient.”

At the private tutor’s words, Freya briefly remembered that she and Yulian were not related by blood, but she didn’t say it out loud.

Because it wasn’t very important right now.

“Well then, shall we begin?”

“Yes, Teacher!”

Freya nodded vigorously and tightened her grip on her quill pen.

Even if they were strangers not related by blood, to her, Yulian was the most wonderful and cool older brother in the world.

***

Around the time Freya was having a pleasant time with Teacher Schmidt,

I returned to the Limbus Pit after a long time and had a hectic day.

Perhaps because the heavy snow had just ended, the backed-up patients all rushed in at once.

’Still better than last year, though. Thanks to Erika.’

In a situation like this, Erika’s presence was a great help.

It was much easier since Erika could screen for who had problems with their bone marrow.

After the morning consultation ended,

we took a short lunch break.

“If caster ∈ {allies}, then damage → 0... no, what was it? Does ’Si jaco’ come first, or ’objectum’...”

In a separate room at Buresuhobu.

While waiting for the food, Erika was muttering, staring at a scrap of paper.

“If target.sign = protected... no, was there a comma here? Or not? Argh, I don’t know!”

Finally at her limit, Erika tore at her hair and collapsed onto the table.

“Seriously, how long has it been since I learned to read? Why make me memorize thirty formulas!”

For the past two weeks.

Unlike Freya, who had more or less memorized the 30 formulas, Erika had only learned 15.

It was partly because she had only recently learned to read, but more importantly, she hadn’t developed the habit of sitting still for a long time.

“Argh, I don’t know! I’m taking a break! Teacher! My delivery work—”

“You’re not an errand runner anymore. Act like an assistant and go back to the on-call room to study.”

“You scared me! Teacher, when did you get here?”

“Since the moment you said ’Si jaco’ instead of ’If Caster’.”

And even those 15 were only learned because I had forced her to sit down.

I glanced at the scrap of paper in Erika’s hand.

They were definitely formulas I hated memorizing, even though I already knew them.

But as a protagonist with a genius persona, there was a line I had to deliver.

“Is that supposed to be difficult...”

“I’m not a genius like you, Teacher!”

Erika let go of the hair she was tearing and grumbled.

I ignored her, sipping my pre-meal tea and correcting the typos on her memorization note.

Kiiiik—

Just then, the door to our separate room opened with the sound of a rusty hinge.

“Teacher. I heard you came for a meal, so I came to pay my respects.”

“It’s been a while, Wangcho. How’s your toe?”

“Hehe... I had a bit of a hard time during the heavy snow.”

“I told you to cut down on alcohol and meat.”

Just then, Erika chimed in between us.

“Wangcho is a Hyena Beastkin. Do you really think it makes sense for a Hyena Beastkin not to eat meat, Teacher?”

“I clearly said that he could substitute it with rabbit meat or duck eggs, and that he could drink beer if it’s distilled.”

As if I wouldn’t have considered that.

At my retort, even Erika, who had tried to defend Wangcho, shut her mouth.

The embarrassed Wangcho blatantly changed the subject.

“Ah, Buddy. Did your face heal well?”

He was in the corner of the separate room.

He waved at Otto, who had been keeping silent as if he wasn’t there.

Otto’s face, which had been covered in scars right before leaving the Limbus Pit, was now clean.

“Wow, those priests from Uppertown are amazing. I thought scars like that would last a lifetime. There’s not a single trace left.”

“It’s all thanks to Teacher Schnabel.”

Otto glanced in my direction.

“They said the first aid was done well. Thanks to that, they were able to heal it with just a Minor Heal.”

Hmph.

Of course.

As befits a world with complex magic, the principle of divine magic in this world is also complicated.

The deeper and dirtier the wound, and the poorer the initial treatment, the exponentially more divine power and difficulty are required to heal it.

But in Otto’s case, he was able to recover without any problems because I had treated his wounds like a work of art.

’I was in trauma surgery, you know.’

I might be borrowing the power of the misunderstanding genre for obstetrics and gynecology, pediatrics, or internal medicine, but trauma surgery is my actual skill.

That’s why, even though healing priests treated Otto, I believe about 30 percent of the credit is mine.

...Tsk.

It would be nice if I could use Heal, too.

The problem is I have no faith.

Anyway.

“Oh, this is the first time I’ve heard you talk this much, Buddy.”

“...”

“Hey, look at him clamming up.”

Wangcho patted Otto’s shoulder and joked around.

Otto didn’t brush off the touch with annoyance, but simply stared out the window with his characteristic stoic expression.

“Enough with the jokes.”

Wangcho plopped down on the chair across from me, his usual sly smile fading slightly.

I, too, hardened my complexion.

Though it’s meaningless since I’m wearing a crow mask.

“Teacher. Please be careful when you walk these streets for a while.”

“Did something happen?”

“As it happens, this year is the Ghoul Season.”

Ah, now that I think about it, that’s right.

A peculiar season exists in this Limbus Pit.

Roughly once every three to four years, right after the heavy snow falls and melts away.

The spontaneous generation rate of undead in the Limbus Pit rises exponentially.

And since its principle was related to something Erika needed to know, I asked her.

“Erika. Do you know why ghouls infest the Limbus Pit once every four years?”

“They’re already miserable from starvation, and then they freeze to death—”

“Erika, use nice words.”

Language is life for a wizard.

Knowledge from the STEM field is important, but vocabulary is just as crucial.

“...They say the ghosts of those who starved and froze to death become strong vengeful spirits. Isn’t it for a reason like that?”

“That’s a civilian’s perspective. You’re in the process of becoming a Mage now.”

Mage.

At that word, Wangcho’s eyes widened as he looked at Erika, but I paid him no mind and continued speaking.

“Try explaining it in magical terms.”

“...I didn’t learn that.”

“You mean you don’t remember.”

I roughly patted Erika’s head and reminded her of the material again.

“Now, Erika. What did I say were the five elements needed to cast magic?”

“Runic formula, chant, catalyst, magical power, and... uh... what was it?”

“Symbolism.”

In magic, symbolism is extremely important.

Of course, the other four are also necessary, but that’s not what’s important right now.

“Ghouls absolutely require the symbol of ’death untouched by the divine gaze.’ That’s why ghouls don’t spontaneously generate from corpses in a cemetery that have had a funeral or a requiem ritual.”

That is, unless some crazy black magician performs a ritual desecrating the dead.

“For this reason, ghouls often appear in slums or on battlefields. In those places, no one mourns or prays for the dead.”

The Ghoul Season in the Limbus Pit also occurs once every four years after a heavy snow for this reason.

“The accumulated symbolism of desecration has burst forth. The ghouls are generated when the frozen, preserved corpses act as a catalyst, reacting with the magical power pooled in the city fog.”

Still, four years is an extended period.

Originally, before I arrived, it was a Ghoul Season every two years.

After I came, the death rate dropped exponentially, so for D-Sector alone, it has been four years.

I heard the other sectors are still struggling with ghouls running rampant every two years.

“But Teacher. There’s something strange.”

“Go on.”

“Then why does spontaneous generation happen without a runic formula and a chant?”

“Originally, the runic formula and chant aren’t essential for casting magic.”

The runic formula is a kind of framework for a person to use magic at the desired timing and in the desired form.

Therefore, magic not having a runic formula doesn’t mean it won’t activate.

It just means the magic will activate however it pleases.

Likewise, the chant is not essential for magic either.

You can think of a chant as a process of bargaining with the world to make up for a lack of symbolism, catalyst, and magical power.

Therefore, if there is enough symbolism, catalyst, and magical power, it means neither the chant nor the runic formula is essential.

“Of course, for a person to cast magic, both are ultimately essential.”

However, unlike the vastness of nature where everything overflows, humans lack sufficient magical power, symbolism, and catalysts, so those two are practically semi-essential.

“Now, do you understand?”

“Mostly.”

“I don’t understand.”

I ignored the shrugging Wangcho.

In any case, Wangcho’s point was that the Ghoul Season had arrived in D-Sector after four years.

’Tsk. If I had done just a little better, I might have been able to extend it to five years.’

As I was thinking that to myself, the silent Otto spoke to Wangcho.

“...Do we not have to go up this time?”

“Oh, Buddy. Don’t tell me you’re scared because of last time?”

Click.

Otto silently cocked the hammer of his revolver.

Wangcho replied, disgusted.

“Can’t even take a joke.”

“...”

“Alright. I’ll just answer your question. You asked if we have to go up, right?”

Nod.

“No need. How strong can those ghouls be? How strong can things that starved and froze to death possibly be when they get up?”

It’s just as Wangcho says.

Unlike ghouls on a battlefield, slum ghouls are frail.

Frankly, even if a horde of ghouls came, Otto could just run them over with the car.

“The original body is too weak. Unless some superhuman died and their corpse became a ghoul, it’s not that dangerous. So relax and eat up, Buddy.”

“...”

The moment I heard Wangcho’s words, I thought.

What a fucking reassuring thing to say...