Fallen Mage Regressor

“Ape, you are one lucky bastard.”

“Rather rude.”

Mal was walking alongside his circle mates, all of them having finished their final exams.

Except for Mal.

“In light of your recent medical condition, and your unbelievable success in the tournament, we’ve decided that substitutes for a final exam,” Philo said, mimicking the voice of Headmaster Puck.

He scoffed. “What a load of dragon dung. Philo also did well, Philo still had to take the exam.”

The truth was a bit more complicated than the official reason—Vigil had wanted Mal to have an advantage over the other students for their plan with the Exodi Triumph, and avoiding the princess becoming a target for the cult. As such, the teachers had decided to ensure nobody would see his current set of capabilities.

I love blatant favoritism! Mal thought.

“Remind this honorable one what the matchups will be?” Rolam said.

“There are twelve participants for the tournament,” Mal said. “The quarterfinals will have groups of three facing each other in a 1v1v1. The semifinals will be a 1 versus 1, and the finals will also be a 1 versus 1.”

“Oh, I see.” Rolam glanced back at Lusia, who’d remained quiet at the back of the group. “Do you know who your opponent is?”

“No.”

Rolam continued to look at her.

The silence stretched on. Even Mal felt second-hand cringe crawling down his spine.

I really need to see about improving their relationship at some point.

Rolam turned back to Mal. “Okay, good talk. What about you, Mal? Honorable leader?”

“My first match will be against Emerald and Hypode.”

“The two brothers—interesting choice on the tournament organizers’ parts,” Philo said.

“Oh, draconid, surely you have all of the matchups dedicated to memory?” Rolam said.

“Yes, though Philo doesn’t see why he should tell you.”

“If we end up facing each other, I might go easier on you.”

“Impossible. You’re on the other side of the bracket. The only way you’d face me is if you managed to make it to the finals.”

As they walked, Mal noticed a few whispers from around them. People were staring at them as they walked.

Mal leaned his head back and dropped his voice. “Any idea why we’re being watched?”

“Because we’re first-years and we somehow managed to beat out all of the second-years?” Rolam said. “Not only that, but we’re a middling circle at best, nothing in comparison to Princess Savaly and Hypode. I think back when we had made it through the very first event, they assumed it must have been a stroke of luck. But now that the final event is coming up, it’s becoming more and more clear that there’s something exceptional about us.”

“Your exceptional stupidity, perhaps,” Philo said.

“If you don’t shut up, I’m going to take that tail of yours and shove it up your—”

Mal tuned out the rest of the conversation.

There were three main threats in Mal’s bracket that could potentially prevent him from reaching the finals: Savaly, Philo and Hypode. Hypode would be, of course, a total joke. Philo was dangerous, but Mal was confident in his own abilities—plus, Philo wasn’t terribly invested in the tournament anyway, so Mal doubted there was some sort of surprise waiting for him in the fight.

Savaly was the one he needed to focus on. She wouldn’t take it easy on him. She believed him to be her equal—something that still utterly flabbergasted Mal—and he doubted that she was taking him lightly.

But the bigger problem than all of this—

He shot a glare at someone who was staring at him. The student yelped and looked up at the sky.

If he won the finals, that would instantly make him a campus celebrity.

It’ll be fine, he thought. This is the sort of thing that people talk about for a week, then eventually forget. Though, I should endeavor to stay out of the spotlight next time. If the teachers ask me to do this again, there’s no way I’ll agree.

Mal sat down at his desk. The headache that had been building in his frontal lobe dissipated with the lack of unaligned mana blinding him.

He set each of his magical items on the table: the Airgrass boots, the Bramblevine bracelet, the Firegloves, and his sacks of pollen grenades. He kept his necklace on, not seeing the need to put it down.

He stared at it for a full minute.

“There is absolutely no way this is going to be enough to defeat Savaly.”

Mal had seen her performance in the final exam period. Although she hadn’t improved that much from her first over the course of the year, it didn’t matter. She was already monstrous from the very beginning. Her ability to shape an Arcane Sphere was unparalleled, and the trick she demonstrated with the spikes coming out of the spell was downright terrifying. He doubted that throwing pollen at her would do very much.

Even so, she wasn’t invincible. He’d defeated her in the previous timeline, when she had already reached near her maximum potential. Right now, she was still just a student.

But so was Mal.

What he really needed was something to act as a wild card. Something that she hadn’t seen yet and couldn’t predict.

He pulled out one of the books he’d gotten from Deacon Thoma and flipped through it for the next several minutes. Eventually, he was forced to concede defeat and put the book away.

The problem was that the ingredients mentioned in these books were far beyond his reach. Scales from a dragon—a dragon, not a draconid—the blood of a dryad... Mal didn’t even know dryads were real. Apparently he was wrong.

With no other ideas available, Mal took stock of all of the potted plants in his room, then looked out his window and took note of the ones in his raised garden bed. He turned around and his foot bumped against a bucket of fresh water, Waterroses fully bloomed, and halfway up to his thigh.

To its right, the Withering-type seeds had sprouted up as well, in a similar shape to the flowers. The stems were black and scabbed over, like flesh that had been cut and only recently healed.

Mal hadn’t experimented much with either of these plants. He’d used the Waterroses to create some Cloudfern, but that had been about it.

One by one, he harvested the plants. Waterroses, then the Withering-type plant, then finally the Cloudfern.

Water Type, Withering Type, and Mist Type mana, respectively.

As tempted as he was to try to weaponize Withering-type mana, he knew that was probably unethical, and also he would get executed if he harmed the princess severely.

He took some spare twine that he had, and tied it together, and hung the plant out to dry. With that, he was left with Cloudfern and Waterrose.

He tapped his index finger against the table.

The mist-type was the most obviously useful one. If he could find a way to turn the entire arena to mist, he would be the only one with the capability to see, thanks to Total Awareness.

What about the Waterroses? Could a plant with Water-type affinity help him?

He double-checked the booklet, and though none of them mentioned Waterroses, they did talk about Water-type mana and its effects. It was soothing, and had a light healing effect when applied to wounds. It also—

”It reflects mana?”

Now isn’t that interesting?

Mal stared up at the exterior archway of one of the sections of the coliseum. Under to the side, he saw a handful of students with banners reading “Go Circle Turkey!” and “Lower Rank Cores For the Win!”

“Who are they?” Mal said.

Rolam followed his gaze and his mouth made a little O shape.

“Apparently, a few people were really impressed by your performance,” Rolam said. “You’re an F-grade, everybody knows that. The fact that you’ve made it this far is really inspiring to some of the other students.”

Something bumped into Mal’s left shoulder and he caught himself. He looked over at who’d bumped into him, unsurprised to see Hypode.

Total Awareness isn’t invincible, I have to actually be focusing on the sensation for me to detect movement. Almost forgot.

“Well, if it isn’t the F-grade core of our class,” Hypode tossed his hair and let it catch the wind. “I believe that you and my brother are to be my opponents. I would wish you good luck, but it likely wouldn’t help.”

“Okay.” Mal faced back toward the Coliseum. “Why were you exiting from the Coliseum? Are you leaving already?”

“What? No—”

“Did you walk out purely to stage a dramatic confrontation?” Mal asked.

“That’s ludicrous, I would never do that!”

“Okay, buddy, whatever you say.”

A few of the people who had been holding up banners started laughing. Hypode glared at them and they instantly shut up.

“You’re going to pay for this,” Hypode hissed.

“Okay.”

The minutes ticked by. Mal double-checked his satchel and confirmed that it was full of everything he needed. He ran his hands over the fabric of his robes and nodded to himself. This would be more than enough to take down Hypode.

With any luck, the cult won’t try anything.

Mal didn’t feel very lucky. Hypode had that one thing right.

The sound of the announcer, Igna, drifted into the room. “And now, would our three competitors please enter the coliseum!”

Mal stepped out of the room and walked down a stone hallway. Philo passed by him, a few scales chipped and broken. Despite that, there was a smile on his face.

He stopped and nodded at Mal. “Ape. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be. You won?”

“Of course. ’Twas no issue for a draconid such as myself. Now go out there and do us proud.”

“Do us proud?”

It was an odd turn of phrase. Mal hadn’t heard somebody say something like that to him... ever.

“I’ll try,” he said.

With that, he exited out of the hallway and into the light of the open coliseum.