I Was Mistaken as a Genius Mage in a Game

The Grand Mage of the 8th Circle, Alter Heindel, struggled to hide his disappointment upon finally meeting the white-haired boy of the bizarre rumors.

When he first heard that a mage had survived a battle against a Grand Lord despite being only a 4th Circle mage—and worse, a vagrant with no formal education—he dismissed it as nothing more than the usual nonsense spread by apprentices.

Not learning magic properly meant that even if one had the talent, they had never had the chance to cultivate it. Most high-ranking mages barely had the magic capacity of a 2nd Circle mage before they began their training and studies. Some of the Mage Tower masters he knew hadn’t even realized they possessed magic until later in life.

No matter how great one’s potential, magic didn’t grow without training and study.

And yet, a boy who had received no training and no formal education had reached the 4th Circle?

Not only that, but his magic was supposedly so refined that he had fought a Grand Lord and survived? A 4th Circle mage?

It was so absurd that it was laughable.

Even as a work of fiction, it would be ridiculous. So, Alter had ignored the rumors, certain they would soon be debunked.

Then, a letter arrived from the Emperor.

The boy from the rumors was real. He had joined the Sword Saint’s party. And now, they were seeking a tutor to teach him magic.

…Was this even possible?

This was the emergence of a prodigy that defied everything he knew about magic and talent.

Upon reading the letter, Alter left his Mage Tower immediately, bringing only one of his apprentices with him.

His tower was over a week’s journey from the capital. But he changed horses whenever they neared exhaustion, replaced coachmen to maintain speed, and pushed forward without rest.

Thanks to that, he arrived in the capital just three days after receiving the letter.

But the boy he met was far from what he had expected.

The boy did, in fact, possess the magic capacity of a 4th Circle mage.

That alone made him quite talented for his age. If he had truly never received proper education, then yes, his talent was exceptional—almost unbelievable.

The apprentices under Alter’s tutelage often struggled to reach the 2nd Circle at that age, let alone the 4th.

But Alter hadn’t abandoned his Mage Tower just to see a relatively talented youth.

He had come to witness a genius so extraordinary that it would overturn all his knowledge and experience.

When he boarded his carriage, he had expected to see a talent that broke all norms—but now, Alter did his best to keep his expression neutral.

“It is an honor to meet you, Lord Bin.”

Alter placed a hand on Bin’s shoulder as he shook hands with his apprentice.

His frame was so thin and frail that it felt as if a strong grip could snap his bones.

“…This body truly survived a battle against a Grand Lord?”

While not as physically demanding as warriors, mages who entered the battlefield required a certain level of endurance and physical training.

Casting magic in the chaos of battle, surrounded by screams, arrows, and explosions, required immense concentration.

On top of that, dodging enemy attacks, securing strategic positioning, and enduring injuries to complete spells all demanded significant stamina and resilience.

The battlefield was not a place for the weak. A mage who had lived for over eighty years knew this better than anyone.

And to his trained eyes, this white-haired boy was nothing but dubious.

Just look at those frail arms and legs. On the battlefield, he wouldn’t even need to be hit by an arrow—a stray rock kicked up by an explosion could probably knock him out.

‘The claim that he survived a battle against a Grand Lord… seems like nonsense.’

Scholars were creatures driven by curiosity and skepticism.

No matter how much the Sword Saint or others hailed the boy as a once-in-a-lifetime prodigy, it meant nothing to Alter.

To him, this boy was simply another talented mage seen once every few decades.

Even his apprentice, Lir, sitting quietly in the corner of the reception hall, had reached the 4th Circle at the age of nineteen.

‘For someone supposedly destined to save the world… he seems rather ordinary.’

Alter Heindel had dedicated his life to magic and academia. He was a man who refused to believe anything unless he tested and judged it himself.

“Could you show me some magic? Even a simple ‘Bolt’ would suffice. I need to assess your current level.”

‘Bolt.’

The most basic spell of the lightning school.

A simple spell that converted one’s mana into electricity and discharged it from the fingertips.

Alter could gauge a mage’s level just by watching how they cast this spell.

How much mana was lost in the conversion process? How quickly could they form the spell? How powerful was the resulting attack?

‘Bolt’ was not just a beginner’s spell—it was a direct measure of a mage’s skill and control.

“I refuse.”

But the boy named Bin flatly rejected Alter’s request.

“…May I ask why?”

Alter did his best to conceal his growing suspicion.

The anticipation of seeing a clean, refined Bolt spell was shattered, and his eyebrows twitched slightly.

“I wish to conserve my mana for tomorrow’s expedition.”

“It’s just one Bolt. Surely, that wouldn’t be an issue?”

“There’s always the possibility that a single spell’s worth of mana could determine the outcome of a battle. A mage’s mana is a crucial resource for the expedition. You understand that, don’t you, Lord Alter? If you truly wish to assess my skills, you may accompany me on tomorrow’s expedition.”

“…”

With Bin putting it that way, Alter could no longer insist.

After all, there had been many cases where an expedition failed simply because a mage ran out of mana at a critical moment.

A single insignificant Bolt—just one shot of it—and yet, lacking the mana to cast it could mean losing a battle or allowing soldiers who should have survived to perish.

"...Very well. Let’s do that. It’s late; may you have pleasant dreams."

By tomorrow, everything will be clear.

Would this boy’s abilities truly be enough to have survived an encounter with the Grand Lord?

For now, it was enough to lay down and hope that the rumors about the boy were not false.

If they were lies… then he would ensure that the boy paid dearly for deceiving the Emperor, the leaders of the allied nations, and for wasting his own time.

***

Morning arrived, and the expedition set off swiftly, departing even before the ninth hour.

Bin wore a black robe with a wide-brimmed hat. A dark sapphire ring adorned his bony fingers, and a pearl necklace from a mermaid’s trove rested against his slender neck.

The lavish accessories did not quite match the boy’s sharp, almost decadent appearance, but they were heading into battle.

There was not a single fool in the world who would reject equipment that boosted their mana and improved the precision of their spells simply because it didn’t suit their fashion sense.

Alter and Lir sat in the carriage beside the boy’s, idly watching the changing scenery.

Since they had no intention of fighting, they had not come as thoroughly prepared as the boy.

Alter’s battle robe was left hanging in his quarters, and Lir, aside from the hat she usually wore, had only slipped a few rings onto her fingers in case of emergencies.

As the carriage carrying the three of them left the capital and rolled northward, Bin remained fixated on his grimoire, his eyes scanning every inch of it.

"By the way, where is our destination?" Alter finally asked cautiously, once the capital had disappeared from view.

"The Enker Highlands."

A farther destination than expected.

"And why are we headed there...?"

"Because there’s a dragon there."

The boy answered calmly, flipping through his grimoire as he spoke.

The Enker Highlands.

With its naturally fertile soil and ideal weather for farming, devoid of weeds or pests, it was once the world's greatest breadbasket, responsible for seventy percent of the continent’s wheat production.

But that all became history when a young dragon descended upon the highlands and claimed it as its home.

Dragons typically nested atop towering peaks, far from human settlements. However, this particular dragon had suddenly taken up residence in the plains of the Enker Highlands for one simple reason: the demons had driven it from its original territory.

The abrupt arrival of a dragon had sent the local farmers fleeing, and as a result, the value of food across the continent skyrocketed.

This was also why vagrants were multiplying at an alarming rate.

"…It seems like we’re rather underprepared to be hunting a dragon. Just so you know, I won’t be fighting. I’m here to observe your abilities, not waste my own strength."

The dragon in the Enker Highlands was still a fledgling, not yet a full-grown beast.

But even a fledgling dragon was still a dragon.

A fourth-circle mage and a single platoon of regular soldiers were nowhere near enough to take it down.

At minimum, a squad with a high mage of the seventh circle or a warlord of the orc chieftain’s caliber was necessary.

If not, then they would need to increase their troop numbers tenfold before setting out on an expedition like this.

‘Is he actually as strong as they claim?’

Alter stroked his beard, casting a skeptical glance at the boy.

‘…More likely, he’s just a greenhorn who doesn’t understand the scale of a dragon’s power.’

With a face that looked barely sixteen or seventeen, how could a non-elf like this boy possibly have seen a dragon in action?

Alter’s assumption was reasonable, but what he didn’t know was that this boy had slain young dragons in the Enker Highlands hundreds—no, thousands of times.

Albeit, from behind a monitor.

"Sending the Sword Saint would resolve this in an instant."

"The Sword Saint is busy saving people. His party members are all preoccupied supporting him as well…"

The boy replied in an even tone, not once looking away from his grimoire.

"Until I’ve received proper foundational training from you, I won’t be deployed to the major battlefields where the Sword Saint’s first-string members fight. But that doesn’t mean I can just sit around and do nothing. I, too, am a soldier who eats and wears clothes paid for by the hard-earned taxes of the people."

The boy’s quiet voice filled the rattling carriage, carrying a strangely profound weight.

"At the very least, I should be able to handle a young dragon."

"…Well, that’s true."

Alter chuckled lightly, shifting his seat closer to the boy.

He had worried that, being a vagabond, the boy might be nothing more than an undisciplined rogue, but he was proving to be far more polite and thoughtful than expected.

"…I noticed you’ve been fidgeting with your grimoire for a while now. Is there something you don’t understand?"

Deciding that this boy was worth the effort, Alter chose to reward his diligence with a bit of guidance.