I Was Mistaken as a Genius Mage in a Game

A time when countless people died every day.

In the national cemetery for the elite soldiers of the capital, a procession of mourners dressed in black, along with nuns and priests reciting prayers, never ceased.

People had gathered there, momentarily setting aside their daily lives to mourn their family members, comrades, and friends.

The coffins were lowered deep into the ground, and soil was gently placed over them.

The sound of sobbing filled the cemetery for a long time.

Those lying below were all someone’s parents, siblings, and lifelong partners—husbands and wives who had vowed to spend their lives together.

I stood a little distance away, silently watching their funeral until the very end.

Some lingered until dusk, unable to leave, while others left quietly after placing small, nameless flowers on the gravestones.

"I heard the news—you’ve joined the Sword Saint’s party. I suppose I should be saluting you now."

A familiar voice came from behind me.

It was Rex, the one-armed orc.

He was wrapped in bandages, holding a bouquet of flowers in his remaining hand. It seemed he had come here straight after receiving only basic first aid, just to pay his last respects to his fallen comrades.

"Our sacrifice was not in vain. After all, we managed to save a monster like you."

"……"

I said nothing.

It would be better for him never to know the truth.

Believing that they had died protecting an invaluable prodigy, rather than a mere level-one mage, would bring them more peace.

I simply stared blankly at the now-empty cemetery and the setting sun beyond it.

Rex, finishing his words, carefully climbed the hill and placed a single white flower on each of his subordinates’ graves.

"You’ve paid your respects. So why are you still here?"

Rex, having returned, asked me.

I couldn’t answer immediately.

Because I wasn’t sure myself why I couldn’t bring myself to leave.

"……I just keep thinking, if I hadn’t gotten into that carriage, would those people still be alive?"

I voiced my unorganized thoughts aloud.

"The Grand Lord targeted you. If you hadn’t traveled with us, you would be dead."

"……I suppose so."

"Don’t burden yourself with guilt. It’s our duty to protect humanity, and you are just as deserving of our protection as any other citizen of this continent."

Rex placed his thick hand gently on my shoulder and continued speaking.

"We are proud. Not just because we saved a genius who could change the course of war, but because we were warriors brave enough to give our lives to protect a single boy."

"……"

"Even if you weren’t a prodigy, we still would have protected you."

With those parting words, Rex turned and stood up.

"……For the record, I have no plans to retire. I’m going to get a dwarven prosthetic arm and become an even stronger warrior."

"Losing an arm… isn’t that pushing yourself too hard?"

"The Sword Saint chose to save us instead of killing the Grand Lord. If I want to prove that his decision wasn’t foolish, I have to grow stronger and save even more people."

Rex touched his severed limb as he spoke.

"I won’t stand by and let the man who saved my life be treated like a fool. As soon as I get my prosthetic, I’ll return to the military. I’ll gain experience, fight stronger opponents… and one day, I’ll become a warrior strong enough to protect you."

Unlike me, Rex was courageous, righteous, and proud.

"Next time we meet, I’ll have to call you General. I’ll be the one saluting you then."

"……What’s your platoon’s name?"

I asked him one last question before he left.

"6th Platoon, 1st Infantry Division, Capital Guard Corps."

With a brief answer and a nod, Rex departed.

6th Platoon.

I owed them my life.

The dead should not be dishonored.

Once his figure had completely disappeared from sight, I rose from the bench and returned to my carriage.

Inside, the servant had been patiently waiting for me for hours.

"Tomorrow, I’d like to embark on an expedition."

I asked the servant as he opened the carriage door for me.

"An expedition? Where do you intend to go?"

"The Enker Highlands."

"But, Sir Bin, that place—"

"I know what’s there. We won’t need a large force. Just prepare a single platoon of infantry."

Sensing that I didn’t want to continue the conversation, the young servant refrained from asking further questions.

Originally, I had planned to spend more time adjusting to life in the palace, building up my stamina before setting out…

But since I had resolved to live as a prodigy, I couldn’t afford to let Rex surpass me.

***

On the way back to my quarters, the twilight had faded completely, and the bright moon and stars now adorned the dark night sky.

Upon disembarking from the carriage, I walked alongside another servant who had come to escort me inside. Given the sheer size of this place, even after leaving the carriage, there was still quite a bit of walking to do.

"Welcome back!"

"Welcome back!"

The guards at the castle gate did not bow to me as they would to an esteemed guest.

Instead, they saluted me as they would their superior.

The moment I joined the Sword Saint’s party, I became a member of the Allied Forces.

Fighting alongside the walking weapon of mass destruction and living embodiment of continental authority that was the Sword Saint…

In the terms of my home country’s military, I was now the equivalent of a three- or maybe even four-star general.

Just a week ago, I was a struggling composer in a tiny room, and now, suddenly, I was a four-star general.

Talk about a meteoric rise.

"I heard you’re heading out tomorrow."

I blinked in surprise. I had expected my request to be handled, but I hadn’t anticipated news of it spreading so quickly.

"Ah… so you’ve all heard about my schedule for tomorrow?"

"Yes! We have!"

Technically, as someone with a rank far above theirs, I could have directly ordered them to prepare a unit for me by tomorrow.

But instead, I had conveyed my request through the servants, emphasizing that it was a ‘request,’ not a command.

There was bound to be some kind of hierarchy or unspoken rule about seniority in this world too.

Imagine how they would feel if some unknown rookie parachuted in, suddenly became their superior, and started barking orders.

Even if they couldn’t show it outright, they’d definitely be cursing me under their breath.

Gaining the resentment of these people would do me no good. In a life-or-death situation, how could I be sure they wouldn't abandon me and run? Humans are unpredictable when their lives are on the line.

Tomorrow, even if not these soldiers, I would still have to entrust my life to other troops. There was no benefit in making enemies among them.

Who knows? If I acted arrogantly just because of my rank, they might spread rumors among themselves tonight, saying, "That parachuted guy who just arrived is unbearably rude."

'If I'm a parachute, I should act like one.'

There's no harm in being careful, and building a good reputation with those around me could only be beneficial.

"Thank you. I really appreciate you accepting my request on such short notice."

Thus, I resolved to treat all the soldiers I encountered with kindness and courtesy.

"Not at all! You are the future of humanity! Even though our squad isn’t the one being assigned tomorrow, those selected won’t have any complaints!"

"Exactly! Please use us as much as you need! We are all here to protect humanity!"

Despite it being late at night, the two guards shouted at the top of their lungs, and I bowed my head in gratitude before entering the fortress.

"Sir Bin, you have a visitor."

As I stepped through the grand entrance, the voice of the senior attendant who had guided me on my first day rang out before I could even straighten my posture.

"A visitor? Ah."

It was likely the tutor assigned to provide me with proper magical instruction, given that I had never formally studied magic before.

Thinking it was arranged rather quickly, I casually followed the senior attendant’s lead.

"Ah, finally!"

In the unnecessarily spacious reception hall on the second floor stood a mage clad in a blue robe, his long white beard making a strong impression.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Alter Heindel, an 8th-circle mage and former master of the Heter Magic Tower."

I nearly let out a laugh at the sudden appearance of such a legendary figure.

Alter Heindel. A hero among humanity, emerging in the later stages of the war, making his presence known through his unparalleled prowess.

A lightning-magic specialist who reached the rank of High Mage at the 7th circle at just fifty-two years old.

The youngest in history to establish a magic tower in his name, he did not allow himself to stagnate and eventually ascended to the 8th circle—a truly seasoned master.

A renowned figure in the field of lightning magic, leading its advancements with countless academic contributions.

And now, this legendary mage has appeared before me.

...But something about his introduction irked me.

"Huh? Former master? So, you're not the master of the tower anymore?"

I looked at Alter’s gentle smile as I asked.

"I heard you have no formal foundation in magic. To properly guide you, I would need to stay in the capital for an extended period, so I handed my position over to a competent successor. No need to worry about it."

"..."

He was saying that he had abandoned the magic tower he built from scratch just to teach me.

...This was seriously overwhelming.

A grand mage’s prestigious career is upended like this.

"Ah, and let me introduce you to someone. This is my apprentice. I didn’t feel right leaving her behind at the tower, so I brought her along. She may not be as exceptional as you, but she has enough talent for me to take her in as my student."

Standing beside Alter was a young woman with pale skin and large eyes.

She seemed quite shy, speaking so softly I could barely hear her greeting, avoiding eye contact the entire time.

With long golden hair cascading down her back and a voluminous robe that failed to conceal her delicate beauty, she possessed an allure that naturally drew attention.

Her apparent age was around twenty or twenty-one.

While marveling at her striking appearance, I suddenly noticed something beneath her large hat—long, pointed ears.

'...An elf?'

In the game I played, elves were typically trained as archers.

Their innate agility and sharp perception allowed them to take down enemies from hundreds of meters away with pinpoint accuracy, making them excellent snipers. Additionally, their heightened senses made them exceptional scouts, adept at detecting threats on the battlefield.

'An elf... as a mage?'

There was no merit in raising an elf as a mage.

I had experimented with the concept multiple times in my cramped one-room apartment, but the racial traits of elves were so strongly geared toward agility that, aside from a few ranger hybrid builds, most mage-oriented setups were outright ineffective.

But reality was different from the game.

Reality could be cruel—sometimes bestowing talent in the least favorable environment.

Like how I, with musical talent, was born into a family of doctors and had to leave home at seventeen to pursue my own path.

An elf with an aptitude for magic?

And one strong enough to be personally trained by Alter Heindel?

Most players of the game would ask, ‘Why?’

But my first question was, ‘How?’

'...I want to try this.'

How did they build this character? If I could meet the creator, I’d love to ask them.

What stats did they allocate?

How many spells can they learn, and what was their background setting?

"I... I'm twenty-one years old. My name is Lir... and I'm a 4th-circle mage."

As I was contemplating whether to ask the elf about her parents and background, her small voice echoed in my ears.

...Twenty-one years old?

An elf?

The fact that she was an elf mage was already shocking, but the fact that she was only twenty-one was even more astonishing.

Wasn’t it a cliché for elves to have absurdly long lifespans, boasting ages of a thousand or even two thousand years?

Wasn’t the essence of being an elf the mysterious beauty hiding centuries of wisdom?

In the game, elf characters started at a minimum age of 500, sometimes even 900.

'...This is insane.'

I stared at the young elf mage in a state of awe.

Up until now, I had been nothing more than a frog in a well.

"...You said twenty-one, right?"

"Huh? Oh, yes..."

An elf who shattered the stereotype of ageless beauty.

An elf who defied the rule that they must follow ranger hybrid builds.

An elf who, by simply existing, destroyed the unwritten laws of medieval fantasy worlds.

A living embodiment of ultimate nonconformity.

"My name is Bin."

I grabbed her hand and shook it up and down.

My frail arm muscles screamed in protest, but I didn’t care.

A same-age elf? Where else would I ever meet one?

And not only that, but a mage instead of an archer.

Imagine her in a job interview:

‘Name?’

‘Lir.’

‘Race?’

‘Elf.’

‘Pfft... Age?’

‘Twenty-one.’

‘What?! Then your class must be...?’

‘Mage.’

‘AAAAARGH!’

No hipster could top this.