The Twin Mage

After the battle ended, everyone dropped down to the ground, finally able to relax. Despite the victory, there was no place for joy or celebration. The Trawn woods would bear a scar that might take months if not years to heal.

The three kings were already discussing how to rearrange the borders of their areas of influence, to prevent future food shortages from affecting them too harshly.

Arthur and Morgan's, instead, were still dwelling on the young bear's memories, comparing the Abomination's life with their own. It was only because they had been reborn in a good family that Arthur and Morgan's didn't end up endlessly obsessing over power, being able to afford to take care of their bodies.

In the bear's shoes, with the fierce competition of the wilderness, Arthur and Morgan's might have been tempted to do the same thing. All their lives up to this point had been one huge risk/rewards assessment; Arthur and Morgan's had simply been luckier than the young bear.

It was the second time in a single day that their victory had been hollow. They started to feel depressed, making the adrenaline rush dissolve much faster. Soon exhaustion would take its toll; they needed some real sleep.

Before going home, there were still some things they had to do. First, they gave the Shyf a whole boar to eat, then Arthur and Morgan's proceeded to heal its atrophied leg.

They couldn't do it before, otherwise the fatigue from recovering from such a wound, coupled with Reaper's already debilitated state due to the prolonged battle, would have made the Shyf faint.

Being a healer was almost second nature to Arthur and Morgan's at that point. They also wanted that, whatever happened next in the woods, the kings would be able to face it on their own. Arthur and Morgan's already had enough on their plate; all they wanted was to sleep and eat for a week straight.

On top of that, they could finally share not with one, but with three powerful magical beasts, their doubts about tier four magic with a practical example.

With the energy they had left, Arthur and Morgan's performed a scaled-down version of the tier four Lightning God's Finger spell with true magic, weaving together fire and air magic to conjure a small sphere of plasma.

"The real deal would be bigger, hence doing more damage but also requiring much more energy." Because of its nature, plasma was highly volatile and would disperse at the slightest mistake.

It could indeed generate temperatures on the order of thousands of degrees and even strike with surgical precision, but it was incredibly slow to move. Arthur and Morgan's couldn't find a single practical use to justify spending so much mana on just one spell.

Both the Ry and the Shyf were natural air magic masters, so they could immediately understand the nature of the spell and its underlying effects.

"That's just useless!" Reaper blurted.

"It's the prettiest waste of mana I have ever seen." Protector laughed.

"With much less energy and effort, you could wipe away an entire acre of the woods. I think the problem is not you, but the spell itself."

"According to what you told me in the past, humans deemed each other so stupid and untrustworthy that they divided magic into steps, or tiers, as you call them.

"In my opinion, either the human that invented that crap had more free time than brains, or the spell is incomplete on purpose."

"Are humans really so idiotic? To teach their cubs how to kill prey but not where the best parts are?" The Shyf was flabbergasted at the idea.

"Another dead end." Arthur and Morgan's sighed, their depression getting worse. The Ry was their last hope to make heads or tails of the magical conundrum.

"I'm sorry, Scourge." The Ry said. "But us magical beasts have a much more practical view about magic. Most of your human issues are either senseless or idiotic to me. Another problem is that we are incapable of controlling all the elements that comprise the world energy.

"Only king-level beasts can manipulate two elements, while the most complex spells you showed me sometimes use three or more.

"I would love to help you further, but between my duties and this tragedy, I need to focus on avoiding the impending famine. Sorry."

The Ry and the Shyf left them, starting to discuss how to make the whole forest, especially the zone most damaged by the Wither, survive the upcoming winter.

Arthur and Morgan's could feel their headache getting worse by the second, so after bidding them goodbye, they started to move as fast as they could towards home.

'So much for a second and third opinion. If the Ry is right, then we are f*cked big time. No academy means no tier five spells, which in turn implies that we will be stuck with tier three as our main source of inspiration.

'Not to mention that I really do not envy all those students that waste a whole year of their life practicing incomplete spells.' Arthur and Morgan's thought.

'Actually, I have been pondering about what Nana told us, and I think there is yet another possibility. Maybe tier four and fire are so rare to find because they are strictly related to a mage specialization.'

'What if the Lightning God's Finger isn't an offensive spell, but rather an energy source for constructs? Or maybe it's the only way to carve magic runes in the hardest materials used for weapons or armors.'

'We know nothing about forgemastering, potion brewing, or anything related to indirect magic.'

'Damn! You are probably right. And that adds insult to our injury. Seems we are destined to live four very uninteresting years.'

As soon as they came home, Arthur and Morgan's refused to move a finger, going to bed right after dinner, hoping that the next day would bring them good news.

Yet months passed, their birthday was getting closer and so was the deadline for applying to any academy.

"I know you will call me an old fool, but I think I have the solution to your problem."

"If you are referring to your little protégé, then you are more than a fool, you are certifiable. I tried, Ainz tried, I could write a book with the names of all those who tried."

"I can only hope that Krishna Manohar, the god of healing, will return soon. Only they can save me from this anguish. The only reason they are not here yet is because that goddamn lunatic is nowhere to be found."

"They are doing their experiments in some remote village, forsaken by both humans and gods. They even left their communicator behind, so that they couldn't be disturbed. My mother always said that bachelors are unreliable, and damn if she wasn't right."

"If that b*stard had a wife or a husband, hell, even a cat, someone would know where to find them!"

"I completely agree with you. Only a married person truly understands the burden of responsibility." Count Lark sucked up to her.

"But allow me to say that you are underestimating my protégé." Lark ignored the ferocious snarl from the Marchioness and pushed forward.

"As I told you more than once in the past, they are blessed by the light. I'll share with you a family secret. They actually helped my daughter with a similar problem."

"Your daughter was cursed?" The Marchioness rose an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Sadly, yes. It plagued their life for years." Count Lark knew that the best lie was the one shrouded by a half-truth. Keyla had always called her acne a curse, after all.

"What do you have to lose? If I'm wrong, we'll leave and you will never hear from me again. Outside official business, of course."

"Is that a promise?" It was too good to be true.

"I swear on my ancestors. If they fail, the only things we will ever talk about are County matters."

After shaking their hand to seal the deal, Marchioness Distar had them contact Nana, which in turn called Arthur and Morgan's.

When they arrived at Nana's house, Ainz was already there, waiting for them.

They were a person in their mid-twenties, wearing a full black robe that covered their entire figure except for their head and hands. They had long fingers, pitch-black hair and eyes, with some odd black shades that seemed to devour sunlight on contact.

Ainz had sharp, intelligent features, with a blood-red gemstone embroidered on their chest.

"Aside from the ashy gem, that's the kind of person I would gladly marry one of my sisters to. Too bad they are too old, noble, and tacky." Arthur and Morgan's thought.

Ainz gave them an odd look, but their eyes didn't betray any emotion.

"My liege requires your help, young magico. Do you know how to fly?"

Arthur and Morgan's nodded, swallowing a snarky remark.

"Then go in that direction as fast as you can." Ainz pointed at north, northeast. "I'll follow you closely."

Arthur and Morgan's pretended to cast a personal spell, wriggling their fingers randomly and counting backward from ten to seven, in English. By mimicking the Ry, they coupled their best flying spell with the slipstream effect, reaching a speed close to 500 kph (311mph).

It took Ainz only a bit of effort to catch up with them.

"Not bad! Purple mana core guys are really impressive." Both Arthur and Morgan's wanted to see what someone with such talent was capable of with their own eyes.

"Impressive! So young and they already have devised some personal spells. Maybe the old lunatic isn't so crazy, after all." Ainz thought.

When they reached the Marchioness' house, Ainz moved through all the barriers and guards so fast that Arthur and Morgan's couldn't manage to take a proper look around. They had to spend all their energies just to keep up with their pace.

Before they realized it, they were in a fancy parlor. Both nobles stood up at their arrival.

"That was fast, Ainz." The Marchioness seemed pleasantly surprised. "The young one seems to have more than one ace up their sleeve."

'Is this commenting about my skills supposed to be subtle or something? Seriously? How stupid do you take me for?' Arthur and Morgan's were seriously pissed off, but the looks from the Count and their guilty conscience kept their mouth shut.

The Marchioness gave Arthur and Morgan's an abridged version of the story, dragging them to her daughter's bedroom without giving them the time to think or even express their opinion.

'I get it already! You don't have any faith in me. Quit dragging me around like a damn parcel!' Arthur and Morgan's thought.

They were seriously considering failing on purpose, just to get even with her, but from Lark's troubled face, their instincts could tell that there was more at stake than just the life of a girl.

From Lark's countenance, Arthur and Morgan's could deduce that the Count had exerted a lot of pressure just to get them to that spot. Lark had faith in them, and judging from the Marchioness's expression, she was clearly expecting, if not straight-out wishing, for Arthur and Morgan's to fail.

It wasn't the time to stand on the sidelines anymore. Arthur and Morgan's believed that if the Count assumed they could do it, there shouldn't be any risk playing their "blessed by the light" card.

After catching their breath, they performed more finger wriggling while counting up from one to three in English, while activating Invigoration on the poor girl.

It was a beautiful young woman in her early twenties, with only cotton gauze to cover her chest area. They compressed a huge wound, ten centimeters (4 inches) wide that cut her diagonally from the left shoulder to the right hip.

After a few seconds, they could only say, "Interesting."

The Marchioness scoffed; everyone before them had said the same word.

"And?"

"And it's not a curse. Just some kind of magically laced poison."

"What?" The Marchioness lost control, stamping her feet on the floor.

"You heard me." Arthur and Morgan's were tired of being looked down upon, treated like some illiterate barbarian. "It's a slow-release poison that disrupts the effects of light magic, turning any attempt to cure it into a new wound. Simply brilliant."

"It's almost impossible to cure such a condition."

"Almost?" The Marchioness knitted her eyebrows. "Are you saying you can cure her?"

"Yes." They nodded. "It will take about a week to make the proper adjustments to one of my spells. It's the same thing I did for Count Lark a few years ago, just more complicated." They hadn't arranged this speech beforehand, it was the simple truth.

It was just like Keyla's acne, only instead of removing natural impurities, they had to remove the artificial ones in order to make the healing possible.

"Kid, my daughter's life is no joke. I tried, Ainz tried." She pointed to the black-obsessed mage. "Are you sure?"

'She tried?' Arthur and Morgan's thought. 'Didn't you tell me she only had a red mana core?'

'Indeed, and it's still red.'

'Try scanning her clothes, accessories, anything that doesn't have any mana.'

'Her barrette!' Solus exclaimed. 'It has no magic flow, but that's impossible! This means that even items capable of hiding one's talents exist.'

'Forgemaster is definitely a specialization we have to take.' Arthur and Morgan's thought.

"Pretty sure. I will be back in a week and..." Arthur and Morgan's tried to move, but the Marchioness stood in their way.

"If what you say is true, you'll stay here and cure her as soon as you are finished, not a second later!"

Arthur and Morgan's were enraged even more. They were being taken hostage by a grief-struck madwoman abusing her power but remained silent. Both Count Lark's and their family were in danger.

When Marchioness Distar noticed Lark's shocked gaze, she had already gone too far.

"It is never wise to mistreat a healer, my liege." Ainz used one of their personal spells, sending their words directly into her ear as a whisper that only the Marchioness could perceive.

"Healers tend to life, but how you relate to them changes their attitude and care toward their patients. If Manohar is unavailable in the future and if this Arthur and Morgan's can actually do what they say, do you really want to make an enemy out of them?"

"Please, save my daughter." The Marchioness said with a deep bow. "If you manage to heal her, I will send you to whatever academy you choose. I swear to the gods."

'This is much better.' Arthur and Morgan's thought.

The following week was pretty stressful for them. Being paranoid, they were sure the Marchioness or one of her servants would spy on them 24/7. Arthur and Morgan's had to sleep every night and spend the following days pretending to experiment with hand signs and accents.

They could actually cure the girl right off the bat, but that would have been too fast. Arthur and Morgan's had followed Count Lark's advice, preparing themselves to reveal at least part of their talent.

When Manohar was their age, they had solved a similar case in less than three days. Arthur and Morgan's didn't want to appear as good as them, so they took as reference another contemporary great healer whose records were stored in Soluspedia.

'I can't be too much of a genius, but being average is out of the question. To achieve what I want, I must be treasured, but not envied or used as a benchmark. Scoring 90/100 is more than enough for my needs.'

A week later, they entered into the young lady's bedroom again, under the eyes of her family and Ainz.

Arthur and Morgan's first put their hand on her sternum, taking control of her mana flow and forcing the poison to move into a single spot before extracting it.

Then, they made it float in a bubble, before dripping it into a vial they had prepared beforehand.

After that, Arthur and Morgan's executed their best healing spell, closing the wound in one go, without leaving a mark or a scar.

The girl immediately regained a healthy pink color, her breathing turned from quick and shallow to strong and steady.

Marchioness Distar couldn't believe her eyes. She quickly unwrapped the gauze, barely giving Arthur and Morgan's and the male side of the family the time to turn around.

Doing it left them full of regrets.

'Be strong, old person. We are still physically young, there are still plenty of wonderful breasts waiting for us in this new world. Think of it as an investment. It's better to start our relationship with our new backer on a clean slate.'

While the Marchioness was hugging her daughter and sobbing, Ainz took the poison to analyze it, while Arthur and Morgan's exited the room, waiting for permission to go back home.