Memoirs of a Wicked Magician - Chapter 5

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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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Chapter 5
Mana so violent and sharp it bordered on savage thrust mercilessly through soft, fragile young bodies, tearing and gouging without mercy.
“Ahhhhh!”
“Ah, it hurts! Sob, ugh…… It hurts so much…….”
“P-please! Save us! Ahhhhhhh……!”
Harrowing screams echoed from every corner of the chamber.
In truth, this was torture—nothing less.
Mana Transmission for the Ceremony of Bestowal, designed to forcibly heighten Mana Sensitivity and form a Mana Core within the body.
In any proper Magic Tower, the Ceremony was never conducted this way.
For someone with the aptitude to become a mage, it normally took anywhere from one month to over half a year for a Mana Core to properly establish itself within the body.
If something went wrong, the mana flowing through the body could veer off course and damage organs throughout the body—potentially fatal. The proper method was for a high-ranking mage to maintain steady, careful attention and build the recipient’s adaptation gradually.
Therefore, the Northern Magic Tower’s Rapid Mana Transmission was implicitly forbidden by mage society itself.
“Huh, ugh……!”
A child beside Liriope suddenly vomited blood, then collapsed forward and convulsed before losing consciousness entirely.
Liriope’s own condition was no better.
An enormity of mana—far beyond what an underdeveloped body could bear—boiled like molten metal through her veins, clawing at her insides.
The agony was so severe that her mind reeled; cold sweat drenched her entire body in moments.
Even clenching her teeth, a strange sound—half moan, half sob—escaped her lips against her will.
“U—hgh, ah…… Aahhh…….”
Her throat filled with the sharp taste of blood; her vision flashed white as firecrackers burst before her eyes, then dimmed to black, cycling endlessly.
[Stay with me!]
Just as Liriope was about to buckle forward, unable to endure any longer, a harsh voice seized the back of her neck and held her upright.
[Lose consciousness now and it’s all over. Do you want to spend the rest of your life deaf and broken, listening only to half-formed sounds?]
Though she had endured this once before, the pain offered no familiarity; Liriope bit her tongue and clung to awareness by sheer will.
[I’ll open the path for you—concentrate! If you’re swept away now, all you’ll do is crawl through life being trampled by everyone else until the day you die. Did you travel back in time just to meet this pathetic end?]
Clinging to those words like driftwood fished from drowning waters, she fought to control the raging mana within her.
“Hgg, hgh……. Ah…… Aahhh……!”
Of course, it did not come easily.
It couldn’t. If everything resolved at the snap of her fingers, why had she lived such a wretched life until now?
Memories from before the Time Regression flickered across her fading mind.
Herself—treated worse than a dog in a Magic Tower where only the strong survived and were acknowledged—barely clinging to life day after day.
She had once clung to that shameful existence without even knowing it was shameful, desperately trying to remain at the Northern Magic Tower alongside her sister.
But after she realized that effort was meaningless, she had instead lived in silence, trying to escape the notice of others.
She had accomplished nothing, protected nothing, had lived so powerless and pathetic that she despised herself.
And finally, she had lost even that one precious thing right before her eyes.
This time could not end the same way.
This time…… she could not repeat that same path…… never……!
Liriope endured the suffering with her whole body trembling and convulsing, her teeth clenched in grim determination.
She had no idea how long she thrashed on the ground, crying out.
Her fingernails had broken from clawing at the floor in her agony, and tears and saliva streamed down her face until it was slick with moisture.
In truth, she was drenched in sweat that poured like rain; there was no point in distinguishing between them anymore.
And whenever she reached the limits of her endurance and wanted to give up, a voice would lash at her mind with harsh discipline, rousing her back to consciousness.
Yet despite the merciless tone, an intangible force guided mana with remarkable finesse and persistence toward the region of her heart, where the Mana Core should form.
It flowed endlessly, endlessly, as if that moment would stretch into eternity.
Boom!
“……!”
Then came the moment.
As if dark clouds had parted, as if mist over a lake had settled, her muddled mind suddenly blazed bright.
A clarity like breathing in the crisp, clean air of deep winter flooded her vision wide open.
And something miraculous unfolded before her eyes.
“Ah…….”
At first, she thought it was snowing—black and azure snowflakes falling inside the chamber.
Through her blurring sight, fine particles glimmered beautifully, drifting through weightless air like a slow, graceful dance.
They floated serenely around Liriope as if time itself had stopped—then, like a dam bursting, they became a powerful tempest that tore through the room.
The mana that had only been aching and wandering aimlessly finally found its own path and began to settle into her chest.
As mana poured in to fill that space, a sensation of liberation and near-omnipotence unlike anything she had ever felt before welled up inside her.
Her body trembled now for an entirely different reason than before.
What seized Liriope’s entire being in this moment was not pain but a clear thrill—almost intoxicating in its euphoria.
The violent agony that had been shattering her body vanished like a lie.
Had her clothes not been soaked through with tears, sweat, and blood, she would have thought all of it a dream.
Her violet eyes, which had been clouded as if lost in a dream, slowly filled with light again.
Only then did Liriope notice that the Magic Circle covering the ceiling had gone dark.
“Hmm. Out of fifty children, sixteen survived this time, and only four endured without losing consciousness? That’s better results than in previous years.”
The whimpers and groans of the children—born of fear, anxiety, chaos, and pain—hung in the air alongside a nauseating reek of blood.
Most of the children were dead, unable to withstand the sudden onslaught of mana. Many more who still drew breath lay convulsing pathetically across the floor.
Even the handful of children awake and conscious besides Liriope bore clear marks of having writhed in extreme agony.
One of them—the Red-haired Boy—sat vacant-eyed on the ground in a bloodied state, until his eyes suddenly widened with burst blood vessels as he surveyed his surroundings.
Upon confirming the final fate of the boys who had called him leader, he let out an animal cry and glared at the mage overseeing the Ceremony with murderous intent.
It was then that Liriope became aware that someone had been holding her in an agonizingly tight grip all this time.
“Ah…… gh, ugh…….”
Only then did she realize the person was gasping out a breath without even the strength to scream.
When Liriope raised her head, her eyes fell on Caliona, blood streaming down her face in rivulets.
“Ah…… sister……?”
Liriope’s breath caught.
[Your sister—I suspected it from the moment I first saw her, but as I thought, she’s a Broken Vessel.]
The voice in her head, audibly more weary now after the fierce ordeal they had endured together, clicked its tongue softly.
[Natural talent as a mage—practically nonexistent. It’s remarkable she’s holding up at all with her insides in such a state.]
Liriope thought this made no sense.
Nonexistent talent as a mage?
But Caliona was a genius everyone recognized.

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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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