The Youngest Member Filming a Parenting Show is Adorable - Chapter 185

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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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【Interlude 17】
The eldest among them clenched his fist and rose to his feet. The other two grasped their throbbing heads and chanted the incantation.
Their destination: the Northern Port of Laximen.
Teleporting there was effortless—no need to even draw a magic circle.
‘But what really, truly infuriates me is something else entirely.’
‘That draining every last drop of mana will expand our mana vessels.’
‘All three of us have hit a wall. We’ve been hesitating because we’re afraid of depleting ourselves completely, and we hate the pain involved….’
Yet somehow, he divined this and singled out all three of us.
That’s what makes this so infuriatingly unlucky.
“I wish someone would appear one day and trample that little Magic Tower Master’s pride into the ground.”
“Though honestly, if something like that actually happened, I’d probably be terrified….”
“I’m wishing for something that will never happen.”
Splash, splash!
Today of all days, the waves were particularly fierce.
Standing atop the cliff to avoid the ships already present, they soon fell silent and stretched their arms wide.
Mana surged in response to the three mages’ auras.
Without a single tree or any materials whatsoever, they had to conjure a ship capable of crossing the strait in exactly one hour.
While the three celebrated geniuses labored, cold sweat drenching their bodies as they constructed the vessel, Rasifer surveyed the remaining mages with a merciless gaze.
‘Pathetically weak, all of them. This won’t do.’
Truly bothersome, but these mages here are at least serviceable, so there’s no help for it.
I’ll have to order them all to advance one class while I’m away in Idrask.
With such coercion, wouldn’t they rise at least halfway?
“You’re only 6th Class. By the time I return, you’ll be 7th Class.”
“Pardon?”
“7th Class—just half a level up. I’m being generous.”
“P-Pardon?!”
The mages gasped for breath, stunned as if struck by a sudden bolt from the blue.
Conducting research and writing papers is an entirely different matter from advancing one’s magical rank.
If it were that easy! Everyone would become a 10th Class Archmage by now!
“Do you have complaints?”
“…!!”
They had complaints.
Many complaints. Numerous, abundant complaints indeed.
The New Product Research Laboratory at the uppermost level of the Magic Tower is only accessible to those of 6th Class or higher.
For reference, 6th Class is a position treated as a distinguished guest wherever one goes. Even university professors can achieve that rank, they say.
Even in the Mado Empire Quaion, where the entire populace is familiar with magic and mages rule the nation, 6th Class mages are not numerous!
And yet he demands that 7th Class mages expand their realm by half a stage.
One might wonder if such enlightenment could be achieved even with a lifetime of investment.
“You place limits on yourselves because you believe you cannot ascend. You regard the tree as unclimbable from the start and never even attempt to leave the ground—so how could you ever climb?”
“….”
Rasifer spat out his words with contempt toward the mages staging their silent protest.
“Advancing beyond Class 7 ultimately comes down to breaking through limitations. You already have limitations—why are you cementing them further with your own thinking? You’ve slammed the door shut with your own hands. Don’t you understand? If you want to enter, you have to actually think about entering. Otherwise, don’t bother. Tsk.”
Who on earth raised him to have such a personality?
Most of the Class 6 mages thought exactly that.
However, the attitudes of some Class 7 mages differed.
They opened their mouths to say something, then fell silent again, their eyes lost in deep contemplation.
There are times in life when bitter truths are necessary.
I wish he hadn’t delivered them with such an attitude… truly, I wish he hadn’t used such a tone, but I can’t expect even that much from Rasifer.
After all, he had already transcended class itself.
To his eyes, Class 6, Class 7, or Class 8 were all the same.
“Those who understand—stop your research and meditate instead. You’ve left the fallen leaves alone, and look at the state you’re in now. You have to sweep away the fallen leaves for the seasons to cycle. Spring can’t arrive if you’re blocking it. You’re the ones who’ve prevented it.”
“…!”
“Don’t pretend otherwise. Don’t pretend you don’t want to advance, don’t pretend your current research is too important, don’t pretend you have no ambitions, don’t pretend you’ve forgotten. Clear away the fallen leaves so the seasons can turn. Retrieve what you’ve hidden beneath them.”
Rasifer didn’t lash out like this at the young mages just starting out, those with lower classes—in other words, Class 3 and below.
That was the time to shower them with praise and keep them confident.
But the ones in this research lab, as far as he was concerned, had grown far too complacent.
The most pathetic part was their pretense.
Acting as though they didn’t want to reach higher classes, as though they were content now, as though being a satisfied pig was acceptable.
They behaved as if they’d forgotten their desires entirely.
In peaceful times, he honestly wouldn’t care either way, but these weren’t peaceful times.
Breaking through a class takes years.
A minimum of five years, stretching to ten at most.
They needed to start as soon as possible so that when he required mages, these fools would actually be useful.
Shouldn’t they at least earn their keep with research funding received for useless projects?
‘Ah, when I go to Idrask, I should visit that resort too. Who knows—I might end up going there with Superti in the future.’
If she mentioned wanting to go somewhere, I’d make a note of it and teleport her there immediately.
Normally, Rasifer could teleport to any location he’d mentally marked, even places he’d never visited.
He’d never made a mistake domestically, but who knew about foreign lands.
That’s why he was making the effort to visit in person this time.
Teleporting to places he’d actually been was effortless.
‘It’ll be useful when the Baratheum Empire collapses and I need to relocate.’
If I’m holed up in the Idrask Empire, it won’t matter how the Baratheum Empire crumbles.
After all, I’d be fleeing to an entirely different continent.
‘Let’s go take a look.’
Exactly one hour later, Rasifer teleported to the Northern Port of Laximen.
Rough waves crashed and churned, deep and brilliant navy waters rippling endlessly.
Upon seeing the magnificent ship floating atop them, Rasifer’s lips curled upward.
‘See? They can do it, but they’re just making excuses.’
Though exhausted mages lay scattered across the deck like dried herring, he brushed past that entirely and snapped his fingers.
The sails billowed wide open, drawn by the powerful mana that bent even the wind to his will.
The anchor rose of its own accord, and the ocean current’s direction shifted as well.
Rasifer, who had made his way to the bow, swept his platinum hair back and let his eyes gleam with anticipation.
He affected maturity because he knew far too much, but at his core, he was still at an age where adventure held its allure.
In truth, the absence of his parents had forced him to grow up far too quickly.
Rasifer’s temperament—shaped by a father who had been a libertine of high society and a mother of unwavering stubbornness—was perhaps inevitable.
But there was another reason: he had inherited the family estate at an age when he should have been carefree.
The Duke’s Couple had vanished when Rasifer was merely five years old.
Never mind that at five, he had memorized every grimoire within the mansion and all existing magical circles, even improving some to make them easier to use—a remarkable achievement by any measure.
But would he have thrown himself into such obsessive pursuits if his parents had remained?
Could those hours spent reading magical texts in an empty mansion have truly brought him joy?
The answer was no.
Yet a man of such formidable pride would never voice such weakness.
He had not shed a single tear at his parents’ disappearance.
He had simply accepted it as inevitable, taking on the role of acting Household Master with quiet composure and beginning to sign documents he had never seen before.
He had seized control of the family estate even more completely than his father before him, ensuring the Elders Council could not exploit the Duke’s Couple’s absence to extend their influence.
Yet even now, Rasifer dwells in the Magic Tower, having abandoned the Raximun Estate.
Because he cannot bear to return there.
Of course, it was a child’s story—one he had never revealed to anyone, and never would.

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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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