Chapter Two: The Necessity of Chanting When Casting Spells

Lord Ordos had been troubled lately, suspecting he might be cursed by someone. The trade route to the Trista border was blocked by heavy snow, and his caravan had been missing for a month. His daughter had fallen ill with a strange disease never seen before. The town’s clergy were of no help, so Lord Ordos had sent them to seek aid from higher-ranking clerics or paladins, though it was uncertain when they would return. What infuriated Lord Ordos most was that his lifelong rival, Maheit, was rumored to have risen to prominence and was preparing to return triumphantly to Red Hazel Town, possibly with hostile intent toward him.

At such a time, a figure rarely seen in decades in Red Hazel Town—a mage—stood before him. Could this be someone sent by Maheit? Such coincidences seemed too unlikely.

“How long have you studied magic?” Lord Ordos asked, calmly appraising Johan. His gaze finally settled on the beautiful gemstone embedded atop Johan’s staff. It looked precious and rare. The Ordos family mined veins in the Golantis Mountains and often found valuable gemstones, yet none matched the quality or hue of the one on the young mage’s staff.

Everything in Red Hazel Town and all who passed through belonged to the Ordos family—a fact his grandfather had once boasted about with pride after crushing the town’s last business rival. That gemstone would surely please his wife. He imagined crafting it into a ring, slipping it onto her delicate finger, holding her soft hand, drawing her close, and dancing with her... Surely, she would not refuse.

“I’ve been exposed to magic since birth and have formally studied it for over ten years,” Johan replied. For a mage, this was still quite novice. He added weight by mentioning his teacher: “My master is the Archmage Yemonkard.”

At the mention of the name, Johan lifted his chin with pride. An archmage was a title reserved for those who had reached the seventh rank or higher. Even the emperor treated such figures with great respect. In Johan’s former world, it was said that such a person would enter court without bowing and attend audiences without formal greetings, clad in sword and boots.

“I’ve never heard of him,” Lord Ordos said.

Johan was stunned. His master was one of the four founding heroes of the Sakura Roland Empire, alongside Emperor Andre Leginrenot, Prime Minister Yawei Gonzalez, and Marshal Charles Odeshuvank. After the empire’s founding, the master retired, found the infant Johan who had just crossed over, and secluded himself on Yelantis Island for eighteen years. It was unthinkable for such a founding hero to be forgotten so quickly. Perhaps Red Hazel Town was just too remote, even the wealthiest merchants remained ignorant.

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is your own skill,” Lord Ordos remarked, clicking his tongue ambiguously as he probed further. Johan nodded, acknowledging the truth.

The fire crackled in the hearth, flames roaring. Gwen, shivering beside Johan, felt the room’s heat melt the snow on her, but the chill seeped into her skin, making her even colder.

“A wind comes from afar, isn’t it warm—” Johan chanted, waving his staff as he cast a spell.

A warm breeze surrounded Gwen instantly. She could see her clothes drying, the fabric becoming warm and soft.

“So this is magic,” Gwen whispered with suppressed excitement. Johan was the first mage she had ever seen, and the first time she truly felt magic—it was incredible.

Johan smiled slightly, relieved. He had worried chanting in public might be awkward, but in such a remote town, no one really knew what a true mage’s casting looked like.

Most spells didn’t require chanting or shouting their names, but Johan felt that especially for powerful magic, one should loudly proclaim the spell's name—“Dragon’s Might Sky-Rending Phantom Strike,” “Void Slash Absolute Flame Burst,” and the like. Even Ainz Ooal Gown recited his spell names.

The spell Johan just cast was formally called “Magic to dry plant-based clothing in a low-temperature state (ineffective if humidity exceeds 50%),” a name so absurd it sounded insane. Thus, Johan had renamed it something more elegant.

“You truly are a mage with some skill,” Lord Ordos said, fascinated by the magic. His tone grew more polite. “The last time I saw a mage was in my youth when I traveled with my grandfather to the border city of Yubeng. He told me some things about mages, what was it again...”

Standing, Lord Ordos shook the fat flesh that had stuck to his chair, regaining a more spherical shape, a complex look crossing his face as he recalled, “By then, magic had lost its former charm, even sacred faith had dimmed. People eagerly embraced new science. High Cleric Roswal quietly sent his son to a science academy instead of the seminary.”

He eyed Johan carefully. “Have you been to Yubeng?”

“No,” Johan said. This was his first time leaving Yelantis Island, where he had lived with his master for over a decade.

“Hm.” Lord Ordos nodded knowingly. “Most mages nowadays are reclusive, seldom traveling. It’s normal to have limited experience, especially someone as young as you. But your ease in casting and controlling magic has earned my trust. I can arrange for you to meet Seriad.”

Lord Ordos was a businessman—businessmen valued capital and ability. No matter how much Johan talked, nothing won trust like showing real magic. Though a rural tycoon, he was considered knowledgeable in Red Hazel Town. Hesitating to welcome an unknown young mage would make him appear ignorant and indecisive. Moreover, since there was the possibility Johan was linked to Maheit, all of Ordos’s behavior could be reported back. He could not afford to show fear.

“Thank you for this opportunity. I cannot promise to cure Seriad, but I will do my utmost,” Johan said, pulling back his cloak to reveal silver-white hair and sincere eyes.

He also caught a glimpse of Lord Ordos’s small eyes, which seemed somewhat suspicious.

Perhaps, just perhaps... he intended to kill him.