Gunmage
Chapter 177: Children of magic, children of war

Chapter 177: Chapter 177: Children of magic, children of war

He held the gun out front.

"See this?"

Lugh said, his voice low and measured.

"I don’t need extensive skills to use it. Which is to say, even if it had been another person, even if a regular child were the one to pull the trigger, they still had a chance to kill Lady Selaphiel. A good one."

The words hung heavily in the room.

Jahira opened her mouth, as if to speak, but nothing came out. She fumbled for something—anything—to say, but ultimately fell silent.

Lugh sighed. He had already told them the basic principles, but they wouldn’t truly understand unless they experienced it for themselves. And even then, he had only demonstrated the abilities of a revolver.

They had no idea how powerful a standard-issue rifle was—let alone the far more devastating machine guns.

And that wasn’t even the peak.

Going further up the scale, there were artillery shells.

Those were the true terrors of the battlefield.

Come to think of it...

Lugh glanced at the silver ring that sat snugly on his finger, reflecting the light faintly.

Yes. This would do.

There wasn’t really a reason to keep most of the events of Drakensmar a tightly sealed secret.

Lugh spoke, his voice more distant now.

"Ever wondered how I got the Ring of Nyx?"

The room shifted. Everyone snapped to attention. The air thickened. This was more than casual conversation—this was history in the making.

Lance leaned forward slightly, his expression sharpened.

"The hero of the Sylphs, Auren... he was the previous wielder of the Ring of Nyx. How he died, what happened in Drakensmar—none of it’s ever been clear."

"Ah,"

Lugh murmured.

He immediately noticed the problem.

He couldn’t explain the truth without revealing everything that had happened.

There had been secondhand recounts from survivors, yes, but no one knew the firsthand, mystical truth Lugh was about to share.

This is going to take a while.

He sat at the edge of a velvet sofa, fingers laced loosely between his knees. The others followed suit, the room settling around them like dust after a battle.

He cleared his throat and began, adopting the tone of a storyteller.

"Prince Lovainne’s strategy for the siege was—"

"No, no,"

Jahira interrupted, leaning forward.

"Go all the way back. I heard you sailed the Devil Sea. What happened then?"

He exhaled.

"I’ll tell you,"

He said slowly,

"but—you all must do the same. Answer every question I ask about the Von Heim family."

There was a tense pause.

Then—

"Okay,"

Selaphiel agreed.

With that, he launched into the story. His voice steady, but almost trance-like as the memories flooded in.

He painted the atmosphere of that place—the ironclad formation of warships that had seemed unbreachable at the time. The thick mist.

The monstrous silhouettes lurking just beneath the waves. The sirens, whose grotesque figures induced nightmares.

He spoke of Captain Veyland, and the brown-haired spy with eyes like dull steel. He mentioned the inhuman soldiers—their movements, their glassy eyes, the unnatural coordination.

Now that he was saying it aloud, he realized the eerie similarities between their abilities and the power of the Mawglass.

When he reached the part where he had become conscious that their only target was him, he paused.

Back then, the spy had asked him,

"You’re not the bastard son of some legendary magician, are you?"

He had replied firmly,

"No. Both my parents were human."

His ignorance... It was on a whole other level, thinking back on it now. Not only had his father been able to use magic, but his grandmother had been a bona fide elf.

He turned to Selaphiel, brows furrowed.

"Do you think there’s any reason why the monsters only focused on attacking me?"

Selaphiel folded her arms, her brow creased as she considered the question.

"It must be because of the unique properties of your mana"

She said at last.

"Explain,"

Lugh pressed, leaning in slightly.

"Well, you see... people like you are different. Most humans in general are born without magic circuits. Not even a drop of mana. Some are naturally born with circuits, but that hasn’t happened in thousands of years"

"As for why this is? Well, let’s just say it’s the result of your elven ancestry—combined with... selective breeding."

"Which is to say..."

Lugh urged her on. Though he held countless memories, this was all news to him.

"Which is to say every human who can use magic is only able to do so because they’re descendants of other magic races. In Ophris, it’s almost exclusively elves, and you’re a part of them. The blood running through your veins would be irresistible to such creatures "

"I see."

Lugh suddenly went quiet. His gaze drifted to the floor.

After a while, he spoke again.

"Do you think there’s a way to artificially create mana circuits in someone—a human, perhaps?"

"That’s impossible,"

Jahira cut in, her voice sharp and certain. It wasn’t a belief. It was a fact, to her.

"Hmmm,"

Lugh hummed, noncommittally.

He knew it wasn’t impossible.

It was what Emrys had been researching right before... and the man had made various degrees of success.

He might have created a stable method if only he’d been given more time.

All of a sudden, Lugh didn’t feel like explaining anything anymore.

How had this conversation even started?

Oh, right. He wanted to warn the elves about how terrifying firearms were. To alert them of the grave danger the forces of Heieg posed—not just to the Ashborn Corps—but to the capital itself, and all the mages who lived within it.

He needed to wrap this up.

Just then, the door swung open with a bang.

Zephyr walked in, elbows pinned stiffly to his sides, clutching a folded robe awkwardly in his arms.

"You’re late,"

Selaphiel said, her voice like cold iron.

"Well, th-that’s—"

Zephyr stammered, then stopped, brightening as a sudden excuse came to him.

"It’s because I was told to help deliver a message to Lady Isolde!"

"A message from who?"

Selaphiel asked.

"I—I think his name was Victor Isl... ale?"

"Aelhurst?"

Isolde raised a brow.

"Yes! That’s it!"

He replied enthusiastically.

Isolde sighed, rubbing her temples.

"What does that round man want now..."

She held her hand out wordlessly.

Zephyr blinked.

"Huh?"

"The letter,"

She said, shaking her open palm expectantly.

Zephyr looked confused.

"What letter?"

"The one that Victor Aelhurst got you to deliver,"

She explained, voice tight but patient.

"He didn’t give me any letter,"

Zephyr admitted sheepishly.

Her patience frayed.

"He gave me a message, not a letter,"

The youth explained quickly.

"Through the servants, he told me to tell you he’s waiting downstairs. He wants to discuss... um, important things."

Isolde’s eyebrows twitched.

"To think he still hasn’t learned his lesson. Appearing here barely a day after Lugh was almost assassinated... That man is courting death."

She rose to her feet with a swift motion.

"I’ll follow you,"

Selaphiel added, rising with her usual poise.

"I’m good,"

Jahira muttered, reclining back.

Lance merely grunted.

"Forgive us, Lugh,"

Selaphiel said with a courteous nod.

"It seems we’ll have to continue your story at a later time."

"No issue,"

He replied, standing too.

"I’ll follow you as well. I’m very curious about what Victor has to say."