Pen and Paper Translations

For the five hundred years he slept, Reinhild’s dying body kept struggling to survive even in its unconscious state.

It drew in every shred of mana it could reach and burned it.

So when Reinhild finally opened his eyes, the vast stored mana he once possessed were scraped bare.

True, breathing the clean air and drinking the pure water of Root while eating only good things was letting the reserves refill quickly, but they were still nowhere near enough to stay alive once the Hero appeared.

Not enough, even if the Hero’s elderly neighbor showed up instead.

The Hero is surely growing stronger even now. I have to build mana, and fast.

How does one stockpile mana quickly?

The answer is simple.

Go somewhere so rich in natural energy that the air itself drips with mana and practice mana circulation there.

Because Root is surrounded by forests and trees, natural energy overflows wherever you go.

Simply lying in Xion’s front yard would raise mana faster than circulating it in the heart of a city.

“But nothing beats soaking your whole body in water.”

To maximize results, you should literally submerge yourself in nature.

If Reinhild’s body were still normal he could have gathered nature’s power and created such a space himself, but if he’d been capable of that, he wouldn’t need this training at all.

“There was a lake behind the village.”

Luckily, the lake lay in the opposite direction from the fields where Xion worked.

And the perpetually busy villagers never bothered with such an out-of-the-way spot.

With no one on the road and no one likely to wander by, the lake was the perfect place to train in secret.

“Good thing I marked it on that walk.”

Humming, Reinhild headed for the lake.

One hour… no, two hours of practice at most.

Xion would never notice.

❖ ❖ ❖

Not a single wild animal stirred at the water’s edge.

Except for the faint sound when wind-blown leaves touched the surface, silence ruled.

It was an ideal place for concentration.

Reinhild stripped off the outer coat he was wearing… and put it back on three seconds later.

“C-cold…”

He’d been so pleased to remember the lake that he forgot: if the air was this chilly, the water would be worse.

Common sense said stripping down and plunging into cold water was a fine way to die.

It wasn’t even winter yet. How could it be this cold? Maybe he’d grown too used to warmth.

I’ve gotten this weak. The thought hit him hard.

Still, however soft he’d grown, he couldn’t back out now that he was here.

A Demon King has to endure the cold.

Yes, people might laugh if word got out that he’d frozen to death in a lake, but it was better than dying under the Hero’s sword.

And imagining the Hero being teased because the lake got the kill first was a tiny comfort.

If such rumors spread, even the god who produced the Hero might hide in shame.

Serves you right, god.

I suppose I can keep the clothes on?

He laid Xion’s coat beside the water, then—wearing only the thin under-clothes—dipped one foot in.

The water was ice itself.

If he stripped, he’d turn into Frozen King Reinhild in an instant.

If my clothes get soaked, Xion will ask questions.

What would he say when Xion wondered why he was wet?

No. So what if Xion notices! Why should I care about a human?

He braced himself and waded in.

Cold wrapped around him.

Once he grew used to the chill, he no longer felt it.

A Demon King dwells in a castle that is chilly all year. Feeling cold in early autumn was ridiculous.

“Phew…”

He took a long breath, as though steeling his heart, and slowly released every muscle. His body began to float.

The moment he relaxed, the chill stabbed into his flesh as though to freeze his blood solid.

They say poor mana control can feel like your body is on fire. Here it felt the opposite. His body could probably extinguish actual flames.

All the better.

A demon shows his greatest power when pushed to extremes.

Just as he’d scraped together every last spark of mana when the other demons hunted him to the edge of death, his body would move mana faster in a true crisis.

And mild pain was said to aid concentration, so things were not all bad.

Clenching both fists, Reinhild gathered every speck of mana scattered through his body.

So faint it was unnoticeable unless he strained.

He focused every nerve so as not to miss a drop.

The mana that had crawled along sluggishly began to gain speed, making his body tremble.

“Nnngh…”

A sensation like current racing through his veins… The tingling was anything but pleasant.

No, focus.

If concentration slipped now, it could be dangerous.

The mana he’d gathered would scatter, losing part of what little he had. If unlucky, the backlash could even knock him out.

If I pass out here, I might freeze solid with the lake!

He’d once heard the superstition that a living demon frozen in an instant doesn’t die but stays trapped in ice.

The Demon King didn’t believe such nonsense, but if it were true, that was the last fate he wanted.

Being sealed and waking in a different era once had been more than enough.

“Gh—!”

His thoughts drifted for a moment and mana seized the chance, tearing free of control.

He shoved stray notions away and refocused.

When a stable amount pooled around his heart, he guided the flow along the path of his bloodstream.

“Hhgn…”

It hurt far more than he expected.

Born handling mana as naturally as breathing, Reinhild had never known mana circulation could cause such pain.

Perhaps because his heart which governs mana had once been damaged, the channels that should link smoothly were severed.

Once broken, a mana line never heals.

That’s why you target a mage’s heart: shock it, and strong spells become difficult… not to mention a stab there kills outright.

I have to fix this first.

Gathering mana wasn’t the problem.

If he crammed more power in now, it would only leak out through the holes.

If broken channels can’t heal, then let new ones sprout.

Even weakened, he was still the Demon King. He could manage that.

Though it would take staggering time and effort.

“All right, let’s try.”

He’d never attempted it, but he had to succeed.

Reclining again, he drew mana inward.

The power already pooled around his heart moved at his will, creeping into the severed channels.

Needles of agony stabbed his limbs.

“Nn—agh.”

Not good. The instant the thought arose, concentration shattered.

Cold and pain crashed over him.

Splash—

Once resting serenely atop the lake, Reinhild flailed and slipped under.

Thankfully the lake was shallow. He scrambled upright, soaked to the hair.

“Kkh… This isn’t working.”

It was shameful for a Demon King, but the agony was too much.

When had he become so frail? Was it the Hero’s fault for skewering his heart five hundred years ago, or Xion’s fault for softening both body and mind?

Whichever… clearly, it was the humans’ fault.

“Wretched humans.”

Clutching the left side of his chest where the pain stabbed worst, he cursed them.

Beneath his palm lay a deep hollow scar: the mark of the Hero’s sword.

Not a very glorious wound.

“It’s fine. If I do a little every day, I’ll get used to it.”

Supporting himself on shaky legs, he rose.

The soaked cloth clung to his skin. Rubbed by cold-sharpened nerves, it stung. But this was no time to care about it.

He had to hurry home and dry the clothes before Xion returned.

He turned to leave the water.

“I’ll call it for today and try again tom—”

But he couldn’t take a single step.

“…”

Because he felt eyes on him.

A stranger’s gaze…one he had never sensed before.

Someone had been watching Reinhild the entire time he practiced mana control.