A Talentless Mage Devours a Disaster-Class Future - Chapter 1
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 1
The academy city of Axion.
The magical capital where all the continent’s Mages are born.
Before the towering gates of the academy city Axion.
A long queue of freshmen in elaborate robes stretched out in front of the checkpoint.
“Next.”
The guard with the spear gestured forward.
As Aion Iscar stepped up, the guard’s gaze lingered briefly on his worn leather coat—a rough, unrefined garment that clashed with the sleek cityscape.
No, it was more than that: the clothing was noticeably too thick for the local climate.
“……Well, well.”
The guard studied Aion’s face and muttered as though speaking to himself.
“Quite a few northerners coming down today. Those big fellows who passed by earlier—they don’t look like they belong with Mages, do they?”
It wasn’t a question that demanded an answer, merely a complaint to ward off boredom. Rude as the monologue was, Aion chose not to respond.
Rustle—
Instead, he carefully produced his Acceptance Notice from inside his coat, preserving it from creases.
“Let’s see, then.”
The guard took the notice and examined its contents.
“Aion Iscar…… Iscar?”
The guard looked up and studied Aion again. It wasn’t contempt or suspicion—just surprise in his eyes.
“The great Iscar Family from the Northern Region? I don’t think I’ve ever seen that name here before. The Iscar Family hasn’t produced a single Mage all this time, have they?”
He had crossed the line.
When Aion met his gaze directly, the guard realized his rudeness and cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Ah… my apologies.”
The guard stamped the notice with a sharp *Thud*, then returned it.
“You’re cleared. Don’t get lost on your way in—the layout here’s a bit confusing.”
“……Thank you for your trouble.”
Aion bowed briefly, tucked the notice away, and stepped past the gate. Behind him, the guard called out to the next person in line.
“Next!”
Aion paused for a moment, then straightened his collar and moved forward.
‘So this is Axion….’
Such a vibrant, chaotic city didn’t exist in the Northern Region. Aion decided the brilliance wasn’t altogether unpleasant.
Of course, the real problem was that finding one’s way became considerably difficult once you factored in the commercial districts and the city center itself.
‘Elves who’ve only ever lived in forests must find Axion utterly bewildering.’
Non-human races like elves still hadn’t fully integrated into the established order.
Not that he had room to worry about others—Aion Iscar himself was an alien presence here, dwarfed by the overwhelming sprawl of Axion.
“…It’s hot.”
Aion Iscar stepped through the city gates and came to a halt.
Floating stone lanterns drifted through the air.
“Hahahaha!”
“Careful! Go slowly!”
“Hurry up!”
Students in Axion uniforms darted about in every direction.
Before that glittering spectacle, Aion found himself absently looking down at his own hands.
…….
He clenched his fist, then opened it again.
The heavy calluses embedded across his broad palm were impossible to ignore.
The hands of one who has trained with the blade.
A long breath escaped him.
Yet whatever his past held, Aion had come here with the same resolve as every other first-year student—to become a Mage, no matter what.
“Is it that way?”
Footsteps.
“What’s with the leather coat in this weather?”
“Is he from the countryside? Though his clothes don’t really look like a commoner’s…”
Whispers drifted from students passing nearby. Aion didn’t respond.
Perhaps it was a blessing that people judged him by appearance alone.
If they’d discovered his pitiful magical aptitude, their assessment would have been far harsher than it was now.
Aion was accustomed to poor judgments from others, yet their sting never quite dulled.
And yet he’d come anyway—to learn, despite knowing his limits, unwilling to abandon hope.
— Aion, won’t you become a Mage?
‘…The proposal still seems absurd, even now.’
An encounter with someone had brought him this far. A person who’d suggested he become a Mage despite his meager magical gift.
And so Aion had chosen to walk the path of the Mage.
That a dull talent like himself had gained acceptance to Axion—the continent’s foremost and only orthodox magical academy—bordered on the miraculous.
Aion didn’t want to miss that miracle. So he walked forward silently toward the academy’s admissions office.
***
“Hmm… A member of the Iscar Family, here at Axion? That’s unusual.”
……
“Unusual indeed… truly unusual… It’s never happened before….”
He understood it was unusual, but as the Mage kept repeating it, he found himself wondering just how much more unusual he planned to call it.
Thump!
At last, the Mage in the admissions office thrust a stamped parchment toward Aion.
“Go to the Hazel Wing of Lumenia Dormitory. That’s where you’ll be staying for the next four years.”
“…Thank you.”
“Surprisingly well-mannered for your appearance. I’d heard that people from the Northern Region had rough temperaments.”
……
When Aion met the Mage’s gaze, the Mage clutched his chest and spoke.
“D-don’t look at me like that. I meant no offense.”
“……?”
Aion recalled hearing that his eyes often seemed frightening, and he understood the Mage’s reaction.
“Anyway, enjoy your time at the academy.”
“Yes.”
Aion turned and left, heading toward the grounds.
After passing through a simple checkpoint at the academy district’s entrance, a massive arched structure known as the main gate of Axion Academy came into view.
“…So that’s the Gate of Truth.”
The Gate of Truth.
A legendary portal built thousands of years ago by the founder of magic himself, who had brought magic to this continent.
On the ancient stone structure was carved an inscription famous enough that any Mage had heard it at least once, worn smooth by the passage of time.
— I have seen the sea.
Passing students giggled as they read the brief sentence.
“Miss Mirse, they say the first Mage spoke those words the moment she first encountered Mana. Truly… ‘I have seen the sea’—isn’t it beautiful?”
“It is. They say that once you reach the rank of Arch Mage, Mana really does feel like a sea, you know?”
“Haha… Someday I hope to experience that too….”
Soon after, Aion stood before that gate. He lifted his head and gazed at the crude lettering.
‘I have seen the sea…….’
Aion’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile.
A sea? His body right now was like a parched desert without a single drop of water.
The flow of Mana that others could sense with their very breath remained to him like a mirage he could never quite grasp.
Just beyond the gate lay the section where new student registration took place.
A Crystal Orb mounted at the entrance of the courtyard, alongside some peculiarly constructed Magical Instrument.
The procedure was straightforward: place your hand on the Crystal Orb, register your Mana Resonance, and it was done.
Like a fingerprint, each person’s Mana Resonance was unique, making it proof of identity.
An extraordinarily simple procedure—something any freshman admitted to Axion could manage without difficulty.
Whoosh—
“Confirmed. Next!”
The person ahead moved through with a cheerful sound. Now it was Aion Iscar’s turn. He placed his rough hand over the Crystal Orb.
Silence—
……
Nothing happened. The Crystal Orb, which had been gleaming brilliantly moments before, remained silent as a dead stone. The Mage overseeing the registration frowned and tapped the Crystal Orb lightly.
“Listen, don’t just rest your hand on it—channel your Mana through it.”
“I am channeling it.”
“You are?”
The Mage responsible for the registration checked the Crystal Orb’s readings in disbelief. The needle on the Magical Instrument beside it hadn’t moved at all.
Wait—looking more closely, the needle was trembling slightly after all.
“Concentrate a bit harder. No, wait—this device has never had problems before….”
……
Abominably faint resonance. Pathetic Mana readings—barely higher than an ordinary commoner.
The instructor’s expression shifted from bewilderment to contempt to revulsion in an instant.
“What’s going on? Why isn’t that line moving forward?”
“Someone can’t seem to pass. For this to happen at the prestigious Axion?”
“Perhaps the Magical Instrument is malfunctioning.”
A murmur arose from the queue behind him. It wasn’t mere curiosity. It was unmistakable displeasure.
Several impatient nobles raised their voices.
“Honestly, does Axion accept just anyone these days? At this level?”
“Nowadays every dog and cat wants to become a Mage, so they all come crawling in. Lower nobility will push even their dullest children into Axion if given the chance.”
“He doesn’t know his place. Did he even get in through legitimate means?”
“Judging by his appearance, he looks like he’s from the Northern Region? I’ve heard no real Mages ever come out of the North.”
Outright mockery.
Contemptuous glances suggesting that some unqualified riffraff had contaminated this hallowed temple of learning.
“Quiet, everyone! No disturbances!”
The Mage barked the command, then sighed heavily and rummaged deep into a desk drawer.
Clatter.
What he withdrew was an old parchment covered in dust and an ink pen.
“Do it by hand. Here, here, and all the way to the back of the page—write it all out, and we’ll postpone your measurement for later.”
The Mage held out a pen.
“……”
Aion Iscar picked up the pen. At a place where others passed through without effort, he had to bow his head and move the pen nib in frantic haste.
Scratch, scratch.
His handwriting didn’t tremble, but humiliation crawled through him.
‘…This is the worst.’
The everyday noise of the city of magic.
Each time that alien scratching of pen on paper reached his ears, the murmuring behind him became thorns driven into his back.
“Look at that. Heh heh… writing with a pen at a place like this.”
“Doing it by hand? A Mage? What is he, some kind of primitive?”
Snickering laughter rippled through the hall.
Aion pressed his lips together and quietly completed the final signature. Black ink smudged messily across his fingertips.
Like the emotion he was feeling now.
‘…Quite a start.’
Aion hurried out of the registration hall as if being driven away. He rubbed the ink stains from his hands as he walked, swallowing down bitterness, toward the dormitory.
In the distance ahead, a breeding pen for Beasts he’d never seen before came into view.
‘It’s a magic academy, so maybe that’s why… they keep even dangerous specimens loose like that.’
Beasts that looked dangerous at a glance were being controlled with only minimal safety measures.
Far off, he heard the voice of a groom coming down from a black horse, trying to calm the animal.
“Whoa, whoa…”
— Neigh-neigh-neigh-neigh…
“Whoa, whoa… easy now, easy. Whoa, whoa…”
— Neigh-neigh-neigh-neigh… neigh…
Something wasn’t working right; the groom kept trying to settle the horse.
‘It has horns. Is that… a Bicorn?’
A monster standing at the opposite end of the unicorn’s nature.
Aion had heard plenty about how vicious that black horse’s temperament was. Though this was the first time he’d actually seen one.
“Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa…”
— Neigh-neigh-neigh-neigh-neigh-neigh-neigh…
“Whoa, whoa… WHOA-WHOA-WHOA-WHOA-WHOA-WHOA-WHOA! AAAAAAAHHHHH!”
— Whinnnnnnnnnnny!
Shrieeeeeek—!
“Hack—cough—agh…!”
The groom who had been standing in front of the horse moments before was struck in the head, spraying blood as he tumbled away in a wretched heap.
“Kyaaaaaahhh!”
“N-no, nooooo!”
It had all happened in a heartbeat.
“S-somebody stop it!”
“Ahhh… th-th-th-that…!”
Crash—!
— Whinnnnny!
It was no ordinary horse. As chains snapped with a metallic shriek, a Bicorn with a mane black as pitch burst free from its restraints and bolted forward.
“Th-the Bicorn’s loose!!”
“Damn it…! Look out—!”
The peaceful campus courtyard erupted into screams.
The unleashed Bicorn charged ahead, its savage crimson eyes blazing.
Thundering-thundering-thundering—!
The problem was that a silver-haired female student, standing far ahead of Aion Iscar, was about to collide with the beast.
“Kyaaaaaahhh!”
A Bicorn’s horns could pierce stone.
Boom—!
The Bicorn leaped as if compressing space itself, its horns aimed at the girl.
‘…She’s dead.’
If an untrained person took a Bicorn’s horn head-on, there was no escaping a fatal wound.
In that instant, a voice pierced through his mind like a thorn.
— I’m certain Aion will make a kind Mage.
Aion Iscar bit down on his lip.
Of all the moments—that memory had to surface now.
‘…Damn it!’
Aion Iscar’s body moved at tremendous speed toward the silver-haired student.
Shove—!
Aion Iscar shoved the girl clear, hurling her out of the Bicorn’s path at the instant of collision.
“…damn it all.”
But he had thrown himself into the collision with the Bicorn instead, pulling the female student to safety.
—Shrieeeek!
Craaaaaash!
“Ghhaaaah!”
Screeeee—
Along with the ringing in his ears from the violent impact, strange voices bled through.
【…Being swallowed up!】
【P-perhaps this is better after all!】
【Ah, who knows anymore!】
Aion Iscar had no leisure to pay attention to those voices.
Boom!
His body, which had been hurled skyward, crashed back down to the ground.
A cloud of dust rose where the Bicorn had swept past, then settled.
The students around them stood frozen, mouths agape, and several turned away from the gruesome sight of blood scattered across the courtyard.
Hisssss…
Aion Iscar lay moaning in agony within the dissipating dust.
Screeeee—!
Guards began running across the courtyard, and the situation started to come under control.
‘At least… I’m… alive?’
【Phew… somehow we managed to touch him.】
【Would you call this a success?】
【Hehehehe! Success? We’re all ruined!】
‘Ugh… it hurts… and now I’m hearing voices…’
The fallen Aion Iscar’s mind flashed back to the moment just past—the Bicorn charging straight at him, snorting in rage.
‘I wish I’d at least lost consciousness.’
The crushing pain across his entire body was bad enough; now the voices grew louder.
【Hehehehe! You can hear us now, can’t you?】
Laughter tinged with madness.
【Fool… nearly died trying to save some woman whose face you don’t even know.】
Biting words, cold as frost.
A mechanical analysis.
【Oh dear, it doesn’t seem like anything’s broken, but they’re in so much pain. Whatever shall I do….】
Even the elderly woman’s voice carried pity.
‘Am I dreaming…? Why can I hear their voices….’
The voices didn’t fade.
If anything, they grew steadily clearer.
Aion Iscar forced his eyelids open.
【His eyes are open!】
“…Who are you.”
【Huh? What’s he saying?】
【Could he possibly mean us?】
“…Yeah.”
Aion Iscar forced the words out with tremendous effort.
“…Who are you people.”
The voices that had been audible until now fell into confusion at his response, but only for a moment.
One voice answered his question.
【We are you, fifty years from now.】
Words that defied belief followed.
“…….”
【Moreover, we are all Mages who have glimpsed the end of truth….】
The voice grew faint.
【And you’ve just swallowed us.】
Even as his mind grew hazy, Aion Iscar spoke one final necessary truth.
“…That’s bullshit.”
Aion Iscar lost consciousness and his body went limp.
A Talentless Mage Swallows a Catastrophic Future — Episode 1
Author
Wang Motchi
Publisher
Daon Creative
Planning / Editing / Production
Yeon
Cover Art
Darley
UCI
G720:N+A036-20260706063.0001
© 2026, Wang Mozzi
※ This e-book is protected under the copyright law of the Republic of Korea.
No part or whole of this work may be reprocessed in any form without the permission of the author and publisher.
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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