In the tranquil park, Serie crouched on the grass, a faint magical glow emanating from her hands.
Beneath her palm, clusters of flowers bloomed from the grass under the influence of magic, forming a small flower field in the park.
Gazing at the vibrant blossoms, Serie reached out and lightly traced her fingertips along the petals.
Under the soft touch, for a moment, it felt as if she were once again touching her disciple Flamme's fingers. Unknowingly, the corners of her lips curved into a faint smile.
Flamme.
This human disciple of hers, in Serie's memory, was merely a cheerful little girl whose head barely reached her waist.
That small human girl loved nothing more than holding Serie's hand as they strolled through flower fields, only to proudly stand at the edge with hands on her hips and speak of her grand ideals.
That child dreamed of creating a world where everyone could practice magic.
Such a childish and boring idea.
Just like her favorite spell, "Magic of Blooming Flowers"—a completely useless, frivolous magic.
And yet, even in her final moments, in a will written like a formal report and delivered through her apprentice, she still hoped Serie would take over her work and teach humans magic.
How laughable.
In the end, Flamme was just another human disciple Serie had trained on a whim.
Even at the end of her life, they never truly understood each other.
A world where anyone can use magic?
Magic is meant to be special. As one of the great mages who has survived since the age of myth, Serie never intended to teach magic to the talentless.
And yet…
Though she never held any hope, Flamme had indeed made her dream come true.
Within the short span of a human life—so brief it's practically nothing to an elf—she convinced the human emperor to approve a nation-wide magical research program. She normalized the study of magic, discovered over a hundred magical theories, and gave humans the foundation to learn and create magic.
A world where everyone could use magic truly came to pass shortly after her death.
Today, humans have become an indispensable part of the magical chronicles.
Genius human mages, an ocean of folk spells—even Serie herself has been amazed more than once.
There's no denying it: the era of human magic has arrived.
Even long-lived elves will one day be surpassed by humans.
Still, she couldn't help but feel a little annoyed.
When Flamme's disciple, Frieren, delivered the will to her, Serie outright rejected the request to teach humans magic.
And yet, in the end, she started thinking about it.
How ironic.
Oh well—consider it a belated fulfillment of her disciple's dying wish. It's only a thousand years late, after all.
Serie believed Flamme would understand.
For some reason, Serie let out a soft laugh.
After all, you entrusted your wish to an elf.
Delaying a decision for a thousand years isn't exactly outrageous for someone like us, is it?
Also… Flamme.
Even if "Flower Field Magic" is a terribly useless spell, I still remember it, even after a millennium.
...
Was that just an illusion earlier?
When Gut detected a faint trace of magic in the park and followed it to what seemed to be Serie's silhouette, before he could speak, wisps of fog inexplicably rose in the midday park.
As the breeze blew away the mist, there was nothing left in his view.
No trace of magic, no silhouette of Serie. Even the flowers that had bloomed on the grassy field had vanished.
Only a neat lawn swaying gently in the wind remained.
As if everything he had seen was merely an illusion.
But Gut knew—that figure just now was definitely Serie.
Judging from the presence of the Flower Field Magic, Gut guessed that the "Old Mage" was likely reminiscing about her disciple and didn't want to be disturbed, so she cast some kind of concealment.
Maybe Serie was still standing there even now—just invisible to Gut's eyes.
With that in mind, Gut bowed toward where Serie had been, then turned and quietly left the park, choosing not to disturb the "Old Mage" any further.
After Gut left, just as he had suspected, a barrier silently dissipated.
Serie was still there.
Still bent over, gently touching the flowers, though part of her attention was now on Gut's departing figure.
"Heh, a human mage, huh..."
"Interesting."
...
At the inn in town—
"Eh? Seriously?"
Gut let out a sigh of despair. In the end, he had missed the inn's lunch service and didn't get a bite of hot food.
It was just after meal time, and the kitchen staff were already washing up.
Though the smiling front desk clerk cheerfully offered to have the kitchen fire up the stove again if Gut insisted—
He waved her off with a twitching smile, turning down the "kindness."
Gut had never worked in a restaurant kitchen, but even he could imagine how the chefs—who were just finishing up—might feel if suddenly told to cook again.
He wasn't a saint, but he wasn't cruel either.
Besides, chefs in that mood might throw in some "mysterious extras."
You don't even need actual filth—just an extra spoonful of salt is enough to ruin a dish.
Gut always believed food should be a mutual joy.
The chef cooks with heart, the diner enjoys with sincerity—that's how food should be.
So he popped into the bakery next door, picked up some fresh bread for lunch, and headed straight to his room.
While eating at his desk, he summoned the System Interface, intending to claim his reward from the daily quest: "Do a Good Deed."
[Ding!]
[Daily Quest: Do a Good Deed – Complete]
[Random Reward Drawing…]
[Draw Complete]
[Magic Inheritance Scroll: Steal Magic]
"…Huh???"
"Did I just hit the jackpot?!"
Gut's eyes widened. He quickly set down his half-eaten bread and opened the System Space to inspect it.
This was a first. He didn't even know that magic could appear in the Good Deed reward pool.
And from the name Magic Inheritance Scroll, it seemed like the kind that didn't require learning—just use it and boom, you've got the spell.
Perfect timing—he had been fretting over not having any trump cards. Now he had one.
But...
The smile on his face didn't last long.
After reading the detailed info in the System Space, his expression turned complicated.
Because next to the spell on the scroll was an ominous tag:
Steal Magic (Kazuma Locked Technique).