I Was Mistaken as a Genius Mage in a Game

Towering high enough to easily fit several buildings within, the ceiling was adorned with rows of extravagant golden chandeliers.

“I have returned from battle with the Grand Lord.”

At the center of the grand chamber sat a massive round table, covered in golden candlesticks and ceremonial daggers.

Seated around this lavish table were the rulers of the four races that made up the Allied Kingdom.

The Queen of the Elves, the King of the Dwarves, the Great Chieftain of the Orcs, and the Emperor of Humanity.

The Elves Queen possessed an ethereal beauty so striking that it was hard to believe she had lived for thousands of years. The Dwarven King had a thick, lush beard, reminiscent of frothy ale. The Orc Chieftain was an imposing figure, his body massive and covered in scars, enough to make even the bravest onlookers shudder.

The Human Emperor, with strands of silver in his shoulder-length hair, wore robes as ornate as his title demanded. Yet, his eyes held a sharp intelligence that no lavish garment could conceal.

“You’ve returned, warrior! So, what of the Grand Lord…?”

The first to speak was the Dwarven King, swirling a golden goblet of wine as he questioned the Sword Saint.

“He escaped, but I managed to obtain his blood and flesh. I intend to hand them over to the blood sorcerers to track down his location.”

“Ohh…! Finally! That rat has been hiding for three years without leaving a single trace, and now we have his trail!”

The Dwarven King, overcome with emotion, raised his goblet high, his thunderous voice echoing through the chamber.

“You never do learn to conduct yourself with restraint.”

The Elves Queen, a leader over three thousand years old, shot the Dwarven King a sharp glare.

“Haha! And you never learn to be any less insufferable!”

The Dwarven King simply laughed heartily at her irritation.

“...Tch.”

Clicking her tongue in annoyance, the Elves Queen turned away, clearly done wasting words.

“Why didn’t you kill him? From what I’ve been told, Grand Lord Maltiel revealed himself in person. He didn’t just send his mutants—he came himself. With your skill, there’s no way you could have let him escape, unless it was intentional.”

Her words were as sharp and cold as her gaze as she questioned the Sword Saint.

“My subordinates were in danger. I had no choice but to let him go.”

The regal Elves Queen scrutinized the Sword Saint, who sat at the round table with me beside him, letting out a faint scoff.

“...Just to clarify, how many subordinates are we talking about?”

“Five soldiers and one civilian.”

“Were they strong enough to be worth letting a Grand Lord escape?”

“Save for one… I wouldn’t say so.”

“Then you made a foolish decision.”

Her words were cutting, her voice laced with irritation, casting a chilling air over the hall.

“Do you know how many people die on this continent each day because of a single Grand Lord’s existence?”

“…Even I find your judgment questionable. Those in the battlefield were warriors, correct? Warriors are meant to sacrifice themselves for the weak. I am certain they would have wanted you to pursue the Grand Lord instead.”

The Great Chieftain of the Orcs, who had been silently observing, added his voice to the discussion.

His deep, resonant tone filled the chamber differently from the Dwarven King’s boisterous voice, carrying a weighty presence of its own.

The Sword Saint glanced around as if troubled, then sighed before speaking.

“…Well. Yeah, my bad.”

…?

Seated beside him, shrinking into myself like someone trapped in the middle of a battlefield, I turned my head in disbelief.

Was that really his response?

“Well, what can I say? I’m not exactly a genius strategist. I don’t think about tomorrow. If someone in front of me needs help, I help them. That’s all.”

He showed not a hint of shame for his actions.

Even as the leaders of the continent took turns criticizing his decision, his expression remained unchanged.

“This isn’t something to brush off so lightly! You let a Grand Lord escape! Do you realize how many lives could have been saved if you had killed him? I’ve warned you countless times that you need to weigh the consequences of your actions!”

The Elves Queen raised her voice, her sharp words cutting through the air, but the Sword Saint seemed utterly unbothered.

“Well… It’s not that easy. Sorry about that. I’ll just do my best to save as many people as I can.”

With a pleasant smile, he casually bowed his head to her.

It felt like watching an older man give a halfhearted apology after accidentally bumping into someone on the street.

A polite bow, yet completely lacking any sense of guilt or intention to change.

“…I understand your nature well. But you hold the future of this continent in your hands. You need to act with a broader perspective. For once, I must agree with the Queen.”

The Emperor, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up in support of the Elves Queen’s words.

“Hah! If you’re all so dissatisfied, why don’t you go out and fight the demons yourselves?”

Only the Dwarven King came to the Sword Saint’s defense.

“You dare—!”

“Well, if you have so many complaints about his judgment, why don’t you pick up a bow and join the front lines?”

“Are you even listening to yourself?”

The Elves Queen stared at him in pure disbelief.

“We are barely holding the demons at bay because of the Sword Saint’s efforts, and yet you hound him just because he made a single overly compassionate decision? Yes, it’s unfortunate the Grand Lord escaped! But does that justify treating our greatest warrior like this? It doesn’t! Am I wrong?”

His booming voice filled the hall as he mocked the Queen, completely disregarding the decorum of their meeting. But despite his crassness, his words struck true.

“No matter how strong the Sword Saint is, he is still human. Telling him to abandon soldiers in need—it’s too cruel a demand, isn’t it?”

“You make a fair point, but…”

The debate over the Sword Saint’s decision continued.

Meanwhile,

I had absolutely no idea why I was here.

Can I leave?

“…Enough. We’ll continue this discussion later. The Sword Saint doesn’t have time to waste on this.”

It was the Emperor who finally put an end to the argument. Since this was not a matter to be settled in one sitting, the leaders agreed to deliberate further after dismissing the Sword Saint.

“There was one more matter to discuss today.”

“Yes. I mentioned earlier that I rescued a civilian.”

“And?”

“That civilian is the boy sitting beside me. Bin.”

“And?”

The Elves Queen’s sharp gaze landed on me.

The Sword Saint began introducing me to the leaders of the Allied Kingdom.

According to his version of events, I was a vagabond who had never received formal magical training, yet I had the raw power of a 4th-circle mage.

I was a prodigy with the potential to stand against a Grand Lord despite only possessing the mana of a mid-tier mage.

My magic was so refined and powerful that the Grand Lord had personally emerged just to eliminate me—a once-in-a-century genius.

…This situation was escalating way too fast.

“The Grand Lord appeared solely to eliminate this boy?”

“For three years, that cunning creature left not a single trace…”

“To be mistaken for a 7th-circle mage? That’s unprecedented in history.”

“If what you say is true, this boy is undoubtedly a once-in-a-lifetime genius.”

The rulers at the table turned to me, eyes filled with intrigue.

I was going to die.

Was this what it would feel like to have dinner with the heads of state from the United States, the United Kingdom, China, and Russia? My mind was in turmoil, and their words barely registered.

I… just sat there. Again.

“If I had the chance to turn back time, I would make the same decision. Not just because of my own values. By saving this boy, I am certain that more lives will be spared in the long run than the Grand Lord would have taken.”

Bang!

The Sword Saint, seizing what he thought was the perfect moment, slammed his hand against the round table, his eyes gleaming.

What the hell are you doing, you lunatic?

“You save people regardless of their worth. Wasn’t there that time when you chased after a mutant to save a mere private, almost letting a high-ranking demon escape in the process?”

“Right, and now you’re trying to justify your mistake by hyping up the boy’s potential. Your judgment was clearly flawed. It’s a repeated, uncorrected mistake. This will be formally reviewed by the disciplinary council later.”

The Elves Queen and the Orc Chieftain easily saw through his ploy.

“…Well, yeah.”

Clicking his tongue regretfully, the Sword Saint sat back down.

“Oh, come on! Don’t be so rigid! Even if the Sword Saint didn’t think things through entirely… the outcome wasn’t so bad, was it?!”

“Indeed, if everything he says is true, this child could save countless lives in the future. His potential is limitless. If, one day, he reaches the Sword Saint’s level…”

The Emperor trailed off, casting a meaningful glance at the Sword Saint.

“The tide of war would turn! We might even send that damned Demon King and his hellspawn back where they belong!”

Deciding that this was the right moment, the Sword Saint slammed the table again.

“……”

At his words, the leaders stirred.

The end of the war.

The death of the Demon King and his forces.

That long-cherished goal… to think it would all begin with the small, frail white-haired boy seated before them.

The anticipation alone made their hearts pound.

“It won’t take him long to reach my level. He’s a blank slate—completely untrained. I’d say, at most, three years. In three years, this boy will stand where I am now. There’s no way I could let such a genius slip away.”

Three years?

To reach the Sword Saint’s level?

I had played this game countless times, and even with the most optimized build, reaching max level took at least ten years.

Sure, in real life, that was only about a month—maybe three weeks.

‘…But you’re telling me I have three years to become as strong as the Sword Saint?’

His party members were all top-tier experts in their fields, but even they were mere shadows compared to him.

The Sword Saint was, quite literally, a weapon forged by the gods.

There was a joke that if there were two Sword Saints, this thirty-year war would end in three days. If there were three, the Demon King and his forces would hang themselves and return to hell without a fight.

And now, I have three years.

Three years to take my level 1 character and grind him up to level 90.

No power-leveling spots. No glitches. No exploits.

This was a shitty reality.

“The Grand Marshal formally requests that the boy beside me, Bin Kyung, be appointed as an official general of the Allied Army and that the Empire provide full support for his growth.”

Study. Train. Practice. Endure.

In this merciless world, there was no shortcut.

In three years, I had to become Humanity’s Ultimate Weapon, Version 2.0.

“…Do you truly believe this is possible?”

The Emperor stroked his beard, contemplating, before cautiously addressing me.

“…Haa.”

All I could do was take a deep breath.

And there was no point in arguing that I wasn’t a genius.

The Grand Lord had mistaken me for one. That was a fact.

I had fought him and survived, all limbs intact. That, too, was fact.

No matter how much I tried to explain the misunderstanding, they would just dismiss it as false modesty. Just like they did with the Sword Saint.

And if I cleared up the misunderstanding?

I’d end up as a homeless nobody in the capital.

‘…Not to mention, I still have Maltiel to worry about.’

The Grand Lord still believed I was some prodigious mage.

And knowing his obsessive, paranoid nature, he would return to finish the job.

If I admitted I was just some weirdly built mage, I would start from nothing.

No protection from the Sword Saint. No support from the Empire.

…And within three days, Maltiel would take my head.

So, really, I had no choice.

I had to exploit this misunderstanding.

As long as they saw me as a once-in-a-century genius, they would spare no expense in nurturing my potential.

I would receive unparalleled support, allowing me to grow at an unprecedented pace.

A dangerous misunderstanding, yes.

But an incredibly beneficial one.

“…Well.”

As I steadied myself to respond, an image flashed through my mind—

A cart filled with soldiers’ corpses.

Bloated, discolored skin. Exposed bones. Hands that still clutched weapons even in death.

“…Screw it.”

If I revealed myself as just some bizarrely built half-baked mage, I would be spitting on their sacrifice.

Those men had died believing they were protecting a genius, a future hope for humanity.

Their deaths could not be reduced to a tragic mistake over a misjudged prodigy.

They had given their lives for the one who would save the world.

They had to be remembered as heroes who saved a rising legend.

“…Alright.”

What’s the worst that could happen?

“How hard could it be?”

With that reckless declaration—

I decided to live as a genius.