The next day, Roland was enjoying his rare morning nap in the tavern corner with his feet propped on the bench, and half-snoring into his ale mug - when the door slammed open.
Clang. Clang. Sound of full armor boots.
One of Reinhardt's knights marched in, scanning the room with the kind of serious expression only nobles' dogs could pull off.
His eyes landed on Roland instantly.
"You. The… fisherman."
Roland cracked one eye open.
"Wrong. Currently tavern pillow tester."
"Lord Reinhardt summons you. Immediately."
Roland groaned.
"Of course he does. Knew that stare wasn't friendly yesterday."
The knight didn't laugh. He just grabbed Roland by the shoulder and yanked him up.
"Now."
"Alright, alright," Roland muttered, wobbling to his feet. "You nobles don't even let a man rot in peace…"
The meeting wasn't some secret chamber. It was literally just the village's empty training yard, with Reinhardt standing there like a painting out of history; wearing cloak, noble crest, and posture so straight it hurt Roland's back just looking at him.
Beside Reinhardt stood Elena, already in fresh noble clothes. And next to her — a girl around eighteen, sharp eyes, staff in hand. Seraphis's apprentice.
Reinhardt gestured at Roland.
"This is the man."
Roland raised a hand weakly.
"Yo. Lazy ossan reporting."
The apprentice immediately scowled.
"This is the one? My Lord, he looks like a beggar!"
Roland nodded.
"Accurate description, thanks."
Reinhardt ignored the chatter.
"I want to see it myself. Show me the technique you used to stabilize my daughter's magic."
"Uh, how about no? I already debugged one bug. Demo version expired."
The noble's eyebrow twitched.
"Then you will duel."
Roland's stomach dropped.
"Oh no. Nope. Big nope. Ossan's bones can't handle duels anymore."
"Duel."
Reinhardt's tone was iron.
And just like that, the apprentice mage smirked and stepped into the yard.
Roland sighed, scratching his messy hair.
"Well… crap."
The apprentice mage twirled her staff with way too much drama, planting it hard into the dirt.
Sparks flared up like fireworks.
"I, Seraphis's apprentice, will not hold back!"
Roland squinted.
"…Cool lightshow. You practicing stage magic?"
Her face turned red.
"Stage—?! Insolence! You'll regret mocking me!"
She flicked her staff, chanting quick syllables.
A small wind blade shot forward, slicing the ground clean. All spectators gasped. Even Reinhardt's knights nodded approval.
Roland? Hmmm, well, he yawned. Literally yawned.
The blade of wind came right at him.
He didn't even raise a hand — just stepped half a pace sideways like dodging a falling apple.
The spell carved a long scar into the dirt behind him.
"Oi," Roland muttered. "That thing had no safety checks. If you spam that in close quarters, you're as likely to slice your own party as the enemy. Buggy code."
The apprentice's eyebrow twitched.
"What nonsense—!"
"Okay, okay. Maybe you need a patch note."
He lifted one finger, barely tracing a circle in the air. A small swirl of dust formed, countering the leftover breeze from her attack. It was lazy, barely more than a sneeze of mana, but stable. Solid.
The spectators murmured.
Elena leaned forward, frowning. She could feel it — his control was precise, annoyingly precise.
The apprentice growled.
"That was nothing! Try this!"
She slammed her staff down, this time pouring mana hard.
[Fire Whip]
Flames roared into life, twisting into a burning whip. She lashed it forward, the heat singing the grass.
Roland tilted his head.
"…Uh-huh. Nice animation, but too much mana in the loop. Watch."
The fire whip snapped at him. Roland just flicked his hand. A ripple of blue shimmered around him, dulling the heat. The whip fizzled like a wet rope.
"See? Overload. That's what happens when you don't balance your mana intake. Like pouring ale into a cracked mug, it just spills everywhere."
The apprentice was sweating now, her pride burning hotter than her spells.
She gritted her teeth, raising her staff high.
"Fine then! If you won't take me seriously, I'll crush you!"
Mana crackled wildly around her, sparks jumping, the air thick with pressure. Spectators gasped, some backing away.
Even the knight watching her muttered:
"Wait, that's—"
[Flame Wave]
The staff ignited with a huge orb of flame. It wasn't practice-level anymore, it was a battlefield spell, one that knights normally shielded entire platoons against.
Elena's eyes widened.
"She'll — she'll burn the whole yard!"
Roland scratched his chin.
"…Seriously? That's the debug build, huh. Unstable, bloated, dangerous. Classic rookie mistake."
And the orb came crashing down.
Roland sighed.
He raised one hand lazily, like swatting a fly. With a single flick, he drew a crooked line in the air.
The giant flame stuttered mid-flight — like someone hit pause — and then unraveled, dispersing into harmless sparks.
Paffff.
The spectators froze in silence.
The apprentice stood slack-jawed.
"W–What did you—how—"
"Line breaks. You left gaps in the mana syntax. I just… commented them out."
"…Commented?!"
"Don't worry about it." He stretched, his joints popping. "Alright, I showed off. Can I go nap now?"
The spectators erupted into whispers.
"He stopped that spell like swatting a bug!" "What's with that old man?" "He didn't even chant!"
Elena stared, her fists clenched, caught between awe and annoyance. This ossan… He makes everything sound so stupid, but… he's right.
Reinhardt, though, was calm. Too calm. His gaze was fixed sharp on Roland, studying.
"Impressive," he finally said. "So you do possess a technique beyond common training."
Roland waved his hands.
"Nah, nah, just old tricks. I'm retired. Totally retired. Don't need quests, don't need apprentices, don't need noble headaches."
Reinhardt didn't smile.
He just gestured to Elena.
"Then you will tutor my daughter."
Roland's jaw dropped.
"…Ha? Excuse me? Tutor? Me? Look, I'm allergic to responsibility. Kids already call me Mentor and it makes my skin crawl. No thanks."
"I will compensate you generously," Reinhardt pressed.
Roland groaned.
"Money doesn't buy naps, my lord."
"It wasn't a request."
Reinhardt's tone grew firmer.
Roland froze. His shoulders sagged. He rubbed his face.
"…Ahhh. I knew it. Should've kept fishing."
The apprentice mage was still fuming in the corner, humiliated.
And Roland… he muttered under his breath:
"Every time I fix one bug, three new ones pop up. Ugh. Story of my life…"