Your Majesty, Dinner Is Ready. - Chapter 64

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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 64: The Weakest of the Mage Class
Future aspirations, past circumstances, the build he pursued.
I had nearly every piece of information about Barthimir stored in my mind.
I’d cultivated him with direct care and effort, and raised him with such obsessive focus on the story that I knew him inside and out.
“Future plans? No matter what the Exploration Party leader says, why should I follow along? When it comes to Black Magic, I’d know far more than you.”
“That is correct, sir. To establish mutual trust, I shall first demonstrate my abilities. Please ask me anything at all. I can answer whatever you wish—even the most secretive stories known only to you.”
“Is that so?”
The kind-faced demon Black Mage paused thoughtfully for a moment before speaking.
“Then, what color are my undergarments?”
“Black.”
Oh my. This was, without question, a remarkably high-caliber exchange from the very first question.
“To be fair, I happen to wear the same color myself.”
Zing.
The illustrious one suddenly offered unsolicited fashion advice, insisting that gold would suit me better—matching my hair and eyes—when it came to underwear selection.
“What is my hobby?”
“Observing the curses sealed within the Black Magic faction’s tower and imagining what would happen if you let your body accept them. You can’t do it during the day because the other senior mages would trouble you, so you sneak in at night to look.”
Writhe.
This time Leria interjected, conveying her amusement through the serpent tattoo on her arm, giggling quietly.
She seemed delighted by Barthimir’s hobby of observing curses in the darkness.
“To think you know that much detail….”
The demon curled his lip slightly and thought for a moment before asking again.
“Then, what is the disease I most desire to contract?”
“Flow Coagulation Syndrome. A condition where the vital energy within the body does not flow but instead congeal. It’s a particularly deadly disease for mages, whose free manipulation of magical power is paramount.”
I met the demon’s gaze and continued speaking.
“However, Flow Coagulation Syndrome can become a formidable weapon when combined with a certain curse.”
“You even know the ideal combination?”
I could feel Barthimir’s trust in me climbing vertically without restraint.
Time to drive the final nail home.
“Contracting that disease would surely cause immense suffering. And yet you covet it. You believe that pain is merely a means to reach higher ground, nothing worth avoiding. That is how you think, is it not?”
“…You’ve even figured out my psychology? You really are remarkable.”
Barthimir openly displayed his shock, clicking his tongue in amazement.
“Your evil god really does seem to know everything.”
“I’m afraid that’s not quite accurate, sir. In truth, I should append the unfortunate phrase ‘except what I don’t know’ before ‘knows everything.’ It is, so to speak, a propaganda statement that artfully conceals my rather limited powers.”
《>:(《
“Even so, doesn’t this demonstrate that I possess a remarkably diverse wealth of knowledge in my mind?”
“I have to admit it, you really might be able to help me achieve my dream….”
“Of course, sir.”
The Tamdok Magic Tower Sage Council.
A collective of irreverent corner-dwelling researchers who view the Dungeon—a magnificent space—as nothing more than a mystical spring from which materials to be sold flow infinitely forth.
The reason mages in Pletica cannot find anything in low-grade Dungeons is entirely because of this Sage Council.
They dominate the consensus that only dungeons of C-grade or higher are worth the time to explore, to the point that mages like Barthimir, who are positively inclined toward Exploration Party activities, are treated as rare exceptions.
“If more practical field mages like you existed, we might be able to overcome this current atmosphere of simple profit-and-loss calculation.”
“Among apprentices and regular-grade mages, no one else ventures into dungeons like I do. Even among senior mages, it’s rare to find more than a handful.”
The Tamdok Magic Tower is, quite literally, a wasteland when it comes to exploration.
That is precisely why I was resolved to actively help Barthimir achieve his dreams.
How could the Dungeon City of Pletica allow a territorial management faction with no genuine interest in exploration?
“All you need do is trust me, Barthimir.”
I could say this with certainty.
“I shall help you rise steadily through the ranks within the tower, with utmost sincerity.”
It’s not an impossible thing.
I’ve already achieved it once before.
“I’m not sure it will work out as easily as you think, but I do like the confidence….”
As I gazed into the hopeful eyes of the kind-hearted demon, the rooftop door suddenly swung open.
“Excuse me!”
Charlotte, the maid whose face was flushed from having drunk another round, approached with a tray in one hand.
“Please continue your conversation while you drink. For Kar, I’ve mixed Spirit Water with a Fatigue Recovery Potion, and for the demon Barthimir, I’ve brought a special coffee infused with negative emotions, specially crafted by an alchemist-!”line>
“Thank you.”

“Much obliged.”
After Charlotte waved her hand playfully and left.
I sipped the cool beverage through a straw for a moment before speaking again.
“To become a Sage of a school, three requirements must be met. Your Soul Rank must be at least Level 7, and you must have research accomplishments recognized by more than half the members of the regular Tamdok Magic Tower Sage Council meetings.”
These two conditions were solvable with enough time, but the third was not.
“Furthermore, you must engage in a Magical Duel with a Sage from another school and score well.”
Barthimir, who had been sipping his coffee carefully while lying back with his chin propped up, squinted.
“However much they say these glasses-wearing researchers are confined to their labs, most Sages are Mages with twenty years or more of experience. Winning a Magical Duel won’t be easy.”
“I share that sentiment.”
The Sages who led each school were entirely monsters bristling with powerful Secret Arts and Artifacts.
Compared to the current Barthimir, the gap was something like the difference between a corpse king and a fire ant.
Some of them were even counted among the Twelve Heroes—so if their temperaments were uncertain, their abilities were at least beyond question.
“But did you know this?”
I voiced a truth that any ordinary Mage would protest vehemently against, yet it remained undeniably factual.
“Most of the current Sages have terribly flawed Mystery Compositions.”
They were trash tier characters.
At my bold and reckless assertion, Barthimir, who had been sipping his coffee, opened his eyes wide.
It was the expression of a temple employee who had just heard an anachronistic joke from Chief Choi that was horrifically out of step with the times and somehow humiliating.
《A Wise One is clapping at your candid remark!》
The demon slowly raised himself into a cross-legged sitting position and smiled faintly.
“Interesting. You wouldn’t say something like that without solid grounds, would you?”
“I never speak nonsense or idle words.”
“That’s exactly why your credibility just tanked.”
Barthimir tapped his fingers against his knee.
“You’re saying the Sages have been entirely devoted to magical research ever since they entered the tower, yet their compositions are a complete mess?”
“Well, if I were to correct my statement to say there are ‘very subtle and minor flaws,’ would that make it easier for you to accept?”
“Minor?”
“It’s actually not a difficult problem at all.”
Theory and practice are different things.
Applying knowledge acquired in isolation to an actual field operation required countless trials and errors.
The small defect in Mystery Composition—a shared weakness among most Sages—was born from this reality.
“If Sages never venture out on expeditions and only conduct research in their laboratories, wouldn’t a perfectly flawless magical combination they produced be rather suspicious?”
“That’s fair.”
“A Mystery Composition that hasn’t been tested in real combat must have flaws without exception.”
“I see. I understand that part.”
Barthimir gulped down the rest of his coffee in one go and looked directly up at me.
“So what you’re saying is, if we exploit the weaknesses in their Mystery Compositions, meeting all the conditions to become a Sage isn’t that difficult?”
“You’ve understood correctly.”
“It’s plainly absurd, but somehow it sounds plausible when you say it.”
“That’s because I’m an exceptionally charming half-elf.”
“I’m sure that’s it.”
The demon scoffed and lay back on the floor again, crossing his legs in a way that was terrible for his spine.
I sipped the oddly addictive beverage Charlotte had made and spoke again.
“First, the area you need to focus on immediately is naturally growth. You must meet the requirement of reaching Soul Rank Level 7 or higher.”
“That’s why I’ve been wandering through the Dungeon. I accepted the invitation to join the Exploration Party for the same reason.”
“You’re doing well now, but I can optimize your growth strategy further. Would you be willing to entrust this to me? If you don’t like it after hearing me out, you can refuse.”
The demon Black Mage gazed blankly at the ceiling, then twitched his toes and answered.
“Tell me.”
“Thank you for trusting me.”
I rubbed my hands together with an exaggerated villainous expression.
“What are you doing?”
“Since you accepted without hesitation, I was attempting a Socialite-like gesture to remind you not to trust others so blindly.”
“Don’t. It actually looks creepy.”
“Understood.”
I nodded respectfully and began a customized build consultation possible only for Barthimir.
“Barthimir, you were forced to learn the Black Magic Secret Art by the Black Mage Guild, weren’t you?”
The law-abiding demon managed a bitter smile.
“…You have no secrets from me, do you? That’s right.”
“Did the guild member who taught you ever mention anything about the future of the Black Mage Class?”
As I asked this while using my hands as a pillow behind my head, Barthimir answered without hesitation.
“Yeah. Whenever he saw me, he’d snicker unpleasantly. He said the moment the Black Mage Class is inscribed on your soul, you’re already a doomed explorer with no hope.”
Black Mage.
Truly the weakest of all Mage Classes in both name and reality.
“Black Magic is a Secret Art that channels the power of the Demon Realm, and since demons are native to that realm, they suffer fewer side effects—the combination itself is excellent.”
“That is correct, sir.”
“But the Demon Realm collapsed entirely after the Great Holy War, didn’t it? So in reality, we can’t expect any spectacular synergy.”
To put it bluntly, when faced against a Socialite, he’d emerge victorious only after a grueling, nail-biting struggle.
He was roughly on par with the Thief, who ranked second from the bottom.
That was why I’d decided to invest in developing Barthimir, the Black Mage.
‘The only conscientious Mage in the whole game.’
An unfortunate Class—weak by design, like the Socialite, and neglected for balance updates for years.
Breaking through such dismal circumstances required bold, unconventional methods that shattered preconceptions and fixed assumptions.
After days of deliberation with the mindset of an artist crafting a work, I had constructed a build for a demon Black Mage.
“Calamity Collector.”
I broached the idea casually, and Barthimir’s eyes widened, blinking in confusion.
“I took the liberty of naming your growth method, sir.”
Had Merlin heard it, she would have chided me for making jokes with a straight face.
“…….”
But the demon Black Mage showed no sign of bewilderment—his eyes gleamed with interest.
“Your current afflictions include the Petrifying Body, which slowly crystallizes your form, and the Gnawing Disease, which causes continuous pain as though your muscles were being devoured, is that not so?”
Diseases were not Barthimir’s enemy.
They were, rather, a slightly mischievous companion.
“As for Curses, you bear the Ugly One, which gradually strips away your outward Charm; the Malicious Friend, which strengthens and perpetuates all your diseases; and the Atheist’s Mockery, which severs your communion with the divine and bars you from becoming a believer, would you not agree?”
Curses stood on equal footing with diseases.
Barthimir had formed a steadfast companionship with Curses that ordinary adventurers loathed and feared.
“Splendid. Continue along that path without deviation.”
Diseases and Curses.
And various other calamities of body and spirit—negative afflictions gathered by a Black Mage.
That was the foundation of the Calamity Collector build.

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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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