A Talentless Mage Devours a Disaster-Class Future - Chapter 25

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Episode 25

About a year ago.

Winter in the Iscar Territory was long.

At the Northern Edge of the Continent, where the land met The Wall, spring brought no warmth to the bone-bitter cold.

Wheeeee—

A wind that cut through to the marrow blew from somewhere, always. The trees had grown accustomed to it, all leaning in the same direction as though bowing to its eternal force.

Aion sat perched on the estate’s outer wall, high on a hill, gazing down at the vista before him. The entire Iscar Territory lay spread across his vision.

Scattered hamlets dotting the landscape. The dirt roads threading between them. And at the road’s end, the Tundra stretching to the horizon.

‘They said he’d arrive around now.’

―
The patriarch thought it necessary to contact the van Meyer Family directly, despite the breach in protocol. A competent Mage will be arriving for your education, he said.

Aion turned his gaze to the carriage slowly climbing the hill below.

Clatter, clatter—

A small silhouette half-buried among the luggage swayed with each jolt, a wide hat tilting forward then back with monotonous rhythm.

‘……There’s not a trace of tension in that posture.’

Someone who had never seen battle. Someone so unstudied in the warrior’s bearing that it seemed laughable to call oneself skilled.

Clatter, clatter—

At last the carriage came to a halt before the manor.

The driver descended, removed his hat, gripped it in his hand, and bowed deeply.

“Good day to you, young master. I trust you’ve been well.”

Even as the greeting was exchanged, there was no sign of movement from within the carriage.

Aion shifted his gaze toward it.

There, among the luggage in the carriage, was the Mage he’d been waiting for. The wide hat had slipped down over her face, and her body was tilted to one side.

‘…….’

Aion gazed down at that figure for a long moment.

“Ick—!”

The coachman had already picked up on it.
He hastened toward the carriage and gently shook Dorothy’s shoulder.

“Miss, Miss. We’ve arrived.”
“Mmm… We’re here already?”

Smack.

The Mage wiped her mouth with her sleeve and hauled herself upright, her hat tilted awkwardly to one side.

“Yes, this is the Iscar Family Manor you were looking for, miss.”

She sat perched at the edge of the carriage, looking down. She seemed to be deliberating.

The coachman ventured to speak.

“Shall I give you a hand down, miss?”
“… I can manage on my own.”

Thud.

Small feet touched the earth below.
Aion descended from the wall and positioned himself to meet her.

Click.

She adjusted her hat and looked up at the manor. Her eyes met Aion’s, who stood at the base of the wall.

“You’re the guide for the manor, then?”
“Aion Iscar.”

Dorothy’s eyes blinked.

She looked up at Aion for a moment.
Casually, she raised one hand and held it up to compare her crown with his height—the gap was quite small.

At the substantial difference in their heights, her face twisted into a grimace.

“… That’s infuriating.”

The Mage approached Aion. Without hesitation, she reached out and grasped his arm, tapped his shoulder, then flipped his palm over to examine the calluses.

“… You’ve trained well enough as a swordsman.”

She murmured briefly, then shook her head.

“But as a Mage, your talent is abysmal.”

Aion said nothing to that harsh assessment. It was all true, after all.

“Nevertheless…”

The Mage withdrew her hand and looked up at Aion.

“I can help you pass the Entrance Exam at Exion.”

She straightened her hat and stepped back.

“I am Dorothy van Meyer, the prodigious Mage.”
“……?”
“From today on, you are my apprentice.”

***

Aion stirred from a reverie that had haunted him for a year.

Even now, reflecting on it, the connection felt nothing short of miraculous.
The Iscar Family and the van Meyer Family—bound by ancient ties, then sundered for so long—and yet the Archmage Granbel van Meyer had honored his father’s request.

Granbel’s granddaughter Dorothy journeying all the way to the distant north—that entire sequence of events amounted to a stroke of extraordinary fortune for Aion.

‘It’s been far too long.’

His memories of her occupied a place of warmth in his mind.

Perhaps, yes.
Without her, passing the Entrance Exam at Exion with only a year’s worth of training might well have been impossible.
Aion stepped outside, his heart filled with gratitude.

A keen wind whistled past.

The air still carried a chill that bit into bare skin.

Aion stripped off his shirt and hung it on a nail beside the Mountain Lodge door.

【Flame: What’s this fool doing, taking off his clothes?】
【Earth: Foolish old man. Grounding in a purer state draws in far more Mana. It’s what I advised you before… no, what I advised you of. Damn it, after meeting Dorothy again after so long, her speech patterns are sticking in my mouth.】

The night chill swept across his bare flesh. From collarbone to abdomen, cold sensation settled evenly across his hardened muscles.

Aion stood barefoot on the earth.

Exhale—

He steadied his breathing and closed his eyes.

Grounding.

When he’d first begun learning Grounding, the very act of directing Mana downward through his feet felt alien to him.

He had believed Mana could only be drawn in from without and circulated within.

He had been taught that for a Mage—indeed, for any human—Mana was more precious than gold, never to be squandered by even a handful.

This knowledge came from far earlier than Dorothy’s teachings, from those days when he still lived in the north.

But Grounding demanded the opposite.
It meant pouring every trace of Mana from his body into the earth, deliberately driving himself into Mana Depletion.

The suffering that accompanied this process was of an entirely different order from the sting of a blade or the snap of a bone—it was a sensation of being scraped raw from the inside.

Though by now, admittedly, he’d grown rather accustomed to the pain.

“Exhale…”

Soon enough, that torment found him.

He clenched his teeth. In the frigid night air, motionless, his spine grew damp with sweat.

A sharp intake of breath—

He pushed down the pain surging from within, forcing himself to endure.

【Flame: That’s right, you’re doing well. Compared to when you started, you’ve become a completely different person.】
【Earth: Hmph. That’s all thanks to my teaching.】
【Water: Well, that’s not entirely wrong. But without your own will, my teaching would have been useless too.】

‘Just a little more.’

The sensation beneath his soles sharpened. What had felt like nothing more than a vague warmth before was different now.

There was texture. There was flow. He could sense which direction the earth’s Mana moved, where it gathered and where it dispersed.

Aion felt it all with vivid clarity now.

And in that very moment—

A new sensation settled into him.

Ding—!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
[!] Grounding Lv.1▲ → Lv.2
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Aion’s closed eyes slowly opened.

【Earth: …Done. Now you’re finally worth using.】
【Flame: …Do you not know how to praise someone?】
【Earth: I just did, didn’t I.】

Aion stood there for a moment. As his sweat cooled, a gentle breeze brushed against his skin.

He felt a presence behind him.

He’d been aware of it for a while now, but he hadn’t bothered to speak.

There was little doubt about who it was.

“…Leila?”

Leila Draconis.

On this night where moonlight bled into mist, her azure hair shone clearly even through the hazy glow.

Leila stood with her arms crossed, her expression impassive as she regarded him.

She held out the towel she’d been carrying.

“Wipe. The sweat.”

Then she turned and walked back toward the Mountain Lodge where she was staying, without a shred of hesitation.

“…….”

Aion wiped his brow with the towel.

A subtle fragrance rose from the cloth.

***

The next day.

Aion stood before a garden where the grass was trimmed to pristine perfection.

‘…I’m at a loss for words.’

The lawn lay without a single blade out of place, as if measured and arranged with a ruler. Between the grass, seasonal flowers stood in neat rows.
Aion was discovering for the first time that landscaping could reach such a level of refinement.

In the center of the garden stood a fountain. Water arced gracefully upward before falling silent. Droplets caught the sunlight and scattered, glinting as they fell.

The main manor itself surpassed even that.
It bore no resemblance to the other buildings in Exion. The stone exterior walls were carved with intricate patterns, and each window held stained glass.

Even the royal family attending Exion likely did not dwell in such grand estates.

Shortly after, the butler of this lavish manor appeared.

“Miss Aria has respectfully declined the meeting. I would advise you to return, unless you have made a prior appointment.”
“If I make an appointment now, when might I see her?”

The butler seemed to pause, choosing his words.

“Well… that is a difficult question to answer, but… perhaps there might be an available day in about a month.”

A month.

Aion turned the words over in his mind. The Bosco Battle Evaluation was in three weeks.

Time was not on his side.
There was no question of leaving empty-handed.

“In that case, might I wait here? Her mind could change.”
“…Miss Aria does not easily change her mind.”

A firm refusal.

“Regrettably, I believe I’ve just found what she and I have in common.”

An equally firm determination not to leave.

Their eyes met. A moment of silence passed between them.

The butler exhaled softly.

“…As long as you do not damage the garden, I have no objection. However, you must return before sunset.”
“You have my word.”

When it came to stubbornness, he was no less formidable than she.

‘…Besides, this garden seems like a suitable place to practice Grounding.’

Aion leaned his back against a large tree at one corner of the garden. The tree’s shade blocked the sun, and a cool breeze caressed him pleasantly.

Soft rustle.

He pressed the soles of his feet against the earth and began directing Mana downward, slowly and steadily.

Shhhhh―

The moment Aion began Grounding, he noticed something.

‘…Hm?’

There were changes born from his rising proficiency with Grounding.

First, the pain had diminished. The accumulation speed of Mana had quickened, and its volume bore no comparison to before.

Moreover, unlike his earlier attempts, he could maintain it now without assuming the riding posture—simply sitting at ease, without even blinking an eye.

And there was one more thing.

As Grounding progressed normally, Aion felt his consciousness slowly seeping out of his body together with the Mana.

It was no mere illusion.

Aion glanced downward without thought.

A figure leaning against a massive tree, eyes closed, sitting utterly still.

Not a drop of sweat, no sign of pain—as peaceful as one in slumber.

It was himself.

And beneath his feet, something was rising.

A blue-green aura visible only to him. It welled up from the earth like roiling magma, coiling around Aion’s body in a ring.
Slowly, yet without pause, it raced onward.

Huuuuum―

Time seemed to crawl with impossible slowness.

Wind blew. Leaves trembled. The fountain’s stream rose in a parabolic arc.

All of it, in this very moment, felt frozen in place.

A strange moment such as he had never known was unfolding.

A state of utter stability.

To Aion it felt like an instant, and he wished this quietude would stretch on forever. Yet actual time was flowing in the opposite direction.

……Before long, the sun was sinking.

When the scarlet glow of dusk began drawing darkness near, Aion opened his eyes.

Sch―

He reached up and touched his neck with his hand.

A dry sensation.
Not a bead of sweat had fallen.

Aion lifted his head.

His gaze met that of the butler standing some distance away. The butler slowly nodded.

It meant the promised time had arrived.

Aion nodded in response.

“……I’ll come tomorrow.”
“If it’s at all possible, I won’t stop you.”

Aion slipped out of the garden.

A moment later.

A shadow flickered across the second-floor window of the manor, then vanished.

Not long after, piano music began to drift from within the house.

What should have been a sweet melody sounded strangely bitter.

The Talentless Mage Swallows a Catastrophic Future — Chapter 25

Author
Wang Mozhi
Publisher
Daon Creative
Planning / Editing / Production
Yeon
Cover
Dari

UCI
G720:N+A036-20260706063.0025

ⓒ2026, Wang Mozhi

※ This e-book is protected under the copyright law of the Republic of Korea.
No part or whole of this work may be reproduced or reworked in any form without the permission of the author and publisher.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————