Chapter Three: The Magic Test and Memories

Chapter Three: The Test of Magic Power and Memories

Two years later—Fortuna—Order of the Demon Sword, Second Squad

“Heeyah!” A white-haired boy swung a katana about one and a half meters long, bringing it down in a decisive arc. The blade sliced clean through a tree thick enough that two people would need to encircle it with their arms. “Clap, clap, clap…” Applause echoed from behind him as a youth of twelve or thirteen years emerged. He, too, had white hair, parted in the middle and flowing loosely. A blue cloak hung around his shoulders, and at his waist, a silver double-barreled revolver was fastened, embroidered with a blooming blue rose. His identity was unmistakable.

“Nero, brother!” The boy with the katana sheathed his sword and called out.

“Schuster, today is the day for your magic affinity test. Enough practice for now, come with me,” said Nero.

“Alright!” The boy—no, our protagonist Schuster—broke into a jog to catch up, walking alongside Nero.

Let us take a closer look at our protagonist two years on. His hair, now a cropped white bob just skimming his shoulders, frames eyes of celestial blue, fathomless as an endless sky. He wears a sleeveless, high-collared white vest over a black fitted shirt. Two brown straps break the monotony of the vest, crossing his chest and connecting to a cinched belt at his waist, which also anchors a crimson cloak that conveniently conceals his katana. His lower half is clad in snug brown leather shorts—do not be deceived, none of this attire is made from ordinary materials. The brown belt is drawn tight around his waist for agility in combat. On his feet, knee-high brown boots are adorned with silver crests, denoting his rank as vice-captain. The only splash of vivid color is the pair of blue fingerless gloves he wears. A red pouch hangs from his waist and right thigh, while a black armband encircles his upper right arm, and a flexible black bracer cushions his left forearm.

His azure eyes and exquisitely delicate features would inspire envy in any woman—his face is flawless. Were he to find himself on Earth, a swarm of fanboys would surely rush forward, shouting, “Lady Thunder has appeared!” and “Long live Lady Thunder!” Alas, his hair is not pink; otherwise, he would truly be her spitting image. Sometimes, Schuster grumbles about his resemblance to Lady Thunder, for no matter what, his physique refuses to grow robust. Among the paladins of the Order, he is notably petite; at his age, it is nearly impossible to discern his gender, with most assuming he is a girl. Of course, none of his fellow graduates from the Order would dare voice this aloud—it would be far too perilous.

Without further delay, guided by Nero through a labyrinth of corridors, our protagonist finally arrived at a room with a single table at its center, atop which sat a crystal ball. The room was otherwise unremarkable.

“Well, here we are! Pour your magic into it, and it will reveal your affinity. A year ago, your power wasn’t sufficient for this contraption to work. Tch,” Nero scoffed at the device.

“That’s it?” Schuster asked, surprised, placing his hand on the crystal.

“Channel your magic,” Nero instructed.

Schuster complied.

The crystal ball began to glow, its light intensifying until the entire room was bathed in brilliance. Suddenly, a surge of powerful electricity shot upward, bursting toward the ceiling.

“That’s why I call this thing a piece of junk,” Nero said, shielding himself with his left arm.

“Nero, brother, why didn’t you warn me sooner?” Schuster snapped, dismissing the arcane shield he’d conjured before him.

“Uh… I must have forgotten,” Nero replied, avoiding Schuster’s gaze.

“Hmph! I’m not talking to you. To think, I’m a lightning mage, just like Lady Thunder,” Schuster muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Nero asked.

“Nothing—you misheard,” Schuster replied hastily.

“Never mind. Come, let’s go to the arcane wing. Since lightning magic has long been lost, you’d best combine swordsmanship with your magic and forge your own path,” said Nero, striding ahead.

“Oh, Nero, brother, what’s your affinity?”

“Me? Fire.”

“No wonder your weapon is the Crimson Queen,” Schuster murmured to himself.

Watching Schuster mutter, Nero’s thoughts drifted back to two years ago.

—————————This is the line that marks the memory—————————

“Hurry!” Schuster called out. “Come on, everyone, we’re almost there!”

With a hiss, he struck down another scarecrow demon. Glancing back, he saw three more lunging toward a trio of terrified survivors.

“No—!” someone screamed.

“Heeyah!” In that instant, a crimson flash streaked past. Within the scarlet blur, a figure was barely discernible. He stopped between the three villagers and the three demons, swinging a massive sword in his left hand. With a powerful sweep, he sent the demons flying.

“Deadweight, don’t be fools—get inside, now!” barked the red blur—Nero—turning to snarl at those behind him.

“Y-Yes! Understood!” The crowd surged into the chapel, collapsing onto the floor and gasping for air.

Schuster reassured the newcomers who scrambled to the side as Nero approached, “Don’t be afraid of him—he just acts cold, but he’s got a warm heart.”

“Hmph, that’s none of your business, kid. You lot, guard the entrance. And you, head to the First Squad—have Credo lead a team to clear out the demons,” Nero ordered, glancing at Schuster before addressing the surrounding knights of the Order.

“Yes, Captain!” replied the knights.

Gazing at Nero, Schuster could not help but feel a surge of admiration. “No wonder he’s the strongest paladin—he became captain of the Second Squad at such a young age. I have to work hard, too!”

Yet as Schuster observed Nero, Nero was, in turn, observing him.

“This kid has saved at least a fifth of the entire village—and he’s only five. Ah…”

“Kid,” Nero said, approaching Schuster, “come work for me. I’ll make you into a great knight.”

Schuster looked up at the white-haired youth before him. Beneath that roguish exterior, who knew what wounds lay hidden? Perhaps only at this moment could he accept another’s concern.

“Yes, Nero, brother. I’ll become a great knight,” Schuster said resolutely.

“Hmph! Then follow me.” Nero let out a cold laugh and strode away. Pausing, he added, “My training will make you wish you were dead. Are you prepared for that?” He did not realize that he’d already spoken more today than he usually did in an entire year.

“I won’t let you down, Nero, brother,” Schuster nodded vigorously. “Compared to the training I endured in my past life and this one, how hard could it be coming from a brat like you?” Of course, once again, our protagonist forgot that he was only five years old.

Thus began Schuster’s arduous journey.

“Misery!” became Schuster’s daily refrain.

It was sheer torment—the sort that made even his previous training seem trivial. The special regimens that followed were even more grueling.

Swordsmanship training: Yes, swordsmanship. Ordinary drills were no trouble for Schuster, but dueling with a monster like Nero? That was hell itself. It was like showing off a hatchet before a master—it wouldn’t kill him, and he improved rapidly, but after endless bouts, his arms cramped so badly he couldn’t hold chopsticks, and he broke two blades a day.

Agility training: Yes, agility—leaping across rooftops, rolling, vaulting. Once he learned to channel magic and conjured up Lady Thunder’s outfit, this became a daily ordeal. Why only after unlocking magic? Because ordinary bullets couldn’t pierce magical armor. Thus, Schuster’s luck ran out—Nero became a moving target, shooting with glee while Schuster dodged in misery.

And so, our protagonist’s tumultuous childhood began, each day more chaotic than the last.

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PS: The next chapter promises excitement—my specialty, combat scenes, are on the way! Show your love, come watch, and support your humble author!