The carriage rattled along the dirt road, creaking like it might collapse if anyone sneezed too hard.
Roland sat inside with his arms crossed, and eyes half-closed. To the casual observer, he looked like a man deep in meditation. In truth, he was just trying to nap while the endless horse hooves clopped on the ground.
Too bright. Too noisy. Too bumpy.
Hahhhhhhhhhhhh.
Retirement, my ass.
Across from him sat Elena, her arms tight across her chest, glaring at him like a cat forced into a bath.
"So," she finally snapped, "when exactly are you going to start teaching me?"
Roland cracked one eye open.
"I thought I already did."
"You just drew three circles on the carriage floor with chalk and called them… what was it… 'memory sectors'?"
He yawned, stretching until his joints popped.
"Yup. Mana pool, mana channel, and spell output. Same thing as RAM allocation. Optimize or crash."
Elena blinked.
"Ram? Allocation? What even—"
"Don't worry about the words. Just imagine… you have a stomach."
"I do have a stomach."
"Good. Now, that stomach is full of stew."
Her face twisted in confusion. "…Excuse me?"
"The stew is mana. If you shovel it all down at once, you'll choke and vomit. That's what your spellcasting looks like." He waved lazily. "You puke fireballs. Bad fireballs."
Her cheeks flushed red.
"I do not puke fireballs!"
"You do," Roland said flatly. He picked up the empty mug sitting beside him and held it up. "Now, picture this mug. If you pour stew in carefully, steady stream, you can drink without spilling. That's mana control. But if you just dump the whole pot — splash! Mess everywhere. Spell fizzles."
"That's a terrible analogy," Elena snapped.
"Terrible, but accurate."
Reinhardt, sitting up front in the driver's seat, chuckled at their banter, though he pretended to be focused on the road. The only one not smiling was Elena, who looked like she wanted to set Roland on fire with her glare alone.
"Fine," she said, grinding her teeth. "Then teach me properly. Not this… stew nonsense."
Roland sighed, leaning his head back.
"Lesson one: Don't blow yourself up. That's it. You pass that, you live to lesson two."
"That's not a lesson!"
"Sure it is."
He closed his eyes again, content to let the carriage bounce along.
"Congratulations, you've just been taught by a professional."
"I'm going to scream," Elena muttered under her breath.
The road curved along the edge of a cliffside, overlooking a forest that sprawled endlessly to the horizon. A few hawks circled high in the sky. At first, Roland ignored them. Birds. Who cared?
But then, the hawks dipped lower. And lower. And…
Wait. Those weren't hawks.
One of the knights suddenly shouted: "WYVERNS!"
The carriage lurched to a stop. The horses neighed in panic as shadows passed overhead. From the sky, leathery wings unfolded; massive-reptilian with long necks and tails ending in spikes. Not one, not two, but at least half a dozen wyverns circled, shrieking.
The knights scrambled into position, shields raised, spears bristling. Reinhardt barked orders with practiced calm.
"Protect the carriage! Archers, prepare [Piercing Shot]! Mages, form the barrier!"
Roland opened one eye, groaned, and muttered, "Seriously? Mid-journey random encounter? Who coded this world's RNG?"
Beside him, Elena's face went pale.
"Wyverns…?"
"Big lizards with wings. Usually annoying. Sometimes deadly." Roland scratched his cheek. "Depends how dumb the AI is."
"AI?"
"Never mind."
The wyverns swooped, its claws outstretched.
Arrows loosed from the knights' bows, spells flared in the air:
[Wind Cutter] [Stone Lance] [Flame Shot]
The sky lit with magic. A wyvern shrieked, a bit wounded but not falling. Another dived, scattering knights with the beat of its wings.
The carriage shook as one wyvern landed nearby, tail lashing the dirt.
Reinhardt's sword gleamed as he struck at it, driving it back.
"Stay in the carriage!" one knight shouted at Roland and Elena.
"Sure, sure," Roland said, waving dismissively. He leaned back like none of this concerned him.
Elena's fists clenched. She wasn't going to just sit there. Not when she had to prove herself. Not when she had a teacher — well, a so-called teacher — watching.
She pushed the carriage door open and stepped out, lifting her hand. Mana surged in her veins, hot and volatile. She focused, muttered the incantation.
"[Fireball]!"
A spark appeared, flickered into existence in her palm. For one glorious second, a sphere of flame hovered there.
Then it coughed, sputtered, and died with a puff of smoke.
Elena's eyes went wide.
"Wh—why…?!"
From behind her, Roland's voice drawled lazily:
"Congratulations. You puked fire again."
Her shoulders stiffened.
"Shut up!"
Another wyvern swooped down, wings whipping up dust. Knights braced their shields, Reinhardt shouted for a counterattack. But Elena's failure still hung in the air. Her spell fizzled. She clenched her teeth, trembling.
And Roland sighed, standing up at last.
"Fine, fine. Guess it's time for a bug fix."
The wyverns screamed overhead, leathery wings cutting through the air like knives.
Dust and wind battered the caravan as one swooped low, its claws scraping sparks off a knight's shield. The ground shook from the impact.
The knights fought hard, spears thrust upward, magic flaring:
[Lightning Bolt], [Stone Spear], [Flame Shot]
Spells exploded against scales, enough to sting, but not enough to bring the beasts down.
"Form up! Don't scatter!" Reinhardt roared, sword gleaming as he slashed across a wyvern's wing membrane, forcing it back.
Elena's heart hammered. She raised her hand again, her jaw clenched. She could do this. She had to do this.
Mana surged. Her palm heated.
"Come on, come on… [Fireball]!"
This time, a flame sputtered to life, a ball the size of an apple. It flickered weakly, wobbling in the air. She hurled it at a wyvern swooping too close. The fireball flew… straight, and this time is true…
And then fizzled into smoke before even hitting the target.
The wyvern didn't even notice.
Elena's stomach twisted.
She felt the knights' strained glances. Her father's voice, sharp and commanding. Her own failure, again and again.
Behind her, Roland clapped slowly.
"Bravo. Perfect. That was a textbook example of spaghetti code."
Her head snapped around.
"Stop mocking me!"
"I'm not mocking. I'm giving feedback. Your mana flow's a mess. Like when you write a program and forget to close the brackets. Whole thing crashes."
"I don't understand your nonsense!"
"Exactly. And that's why your spells don't work." He scratched his beard, watching another wyvern dive-bomb the knights. "Tsk. They're struggling."
Indeed, the knights were barely holding on.
Two had already been swatted aside, their shields dented. Spells glanced off tough scales.
The wyverns weren't the strongest monsters, but in a flock? With aerial mobility? They had the advantage.
"Sir Reinhardt!" one knight shouted. "We can't keep them off forever!"
Reinhardt grit his teeth, slashing his blade through another swooping beast.
"Hold your ground!"
Elena's fists trembled. She wanted to help. Needed to help. But every spell fizzled. Every attempt ended in failure.
Roland rubbed his temple.
"Ugh. I wanted a nap. Not a raid boss."
He stepped forward, stretching his shoulders with audible pops.
Elena blinked.
"…What are you doing?"
"Debugging," Roland muttered.
One wyvern spotted him, shrieked, and dived. Dust blasted up as it descended, claws outstretched, jaws wide open.
Roland lazily raised his hand.
"Watch closely, kid. This is what optimized code looks like."
The air shimmered. Mana rippled outward like waves in a pond.
"[Arcane Burst]."
With a sound like thunder cracking the earth, a surge of pure energy erupted from him in every direction.
The wyvern diving at him didn't even get close — it was blasted mid-air, its scales scorched, tumbling into the dirt.
The others shrieked as the shockwave rippled skyward, knocking several off balance.
Feathers, dust, and sparks filled the air.
For a moment, silence.
Then knights gasped. Reinhardt froze mid-swing. Elena's eyes widened like saucers.
The man who had spent the entire trip yawning and whining had just casually unleashed a spell strong enough to rock the battlefield.
Roland scratched the back of his head, unimpressed.
"Huh. Guess the AOE scaling wasn't nerfed here."
The shockwave's echo rolled across the valley, scattering loose stones and rattling the caravan wheels.
A wyvern flailed overhead, one wing scorched, before crashing into the ground with a deafening thud. Another spiraled away screeching, smoking holes punched into its hide. The rest shrieked in alarm, flapping erratically, their tight formation broken.
The knights gawked, momentarily forgetting to fight.
"Wh-what was that…?" one muttered.
"Was that… magic? It leveled them all at once!"
Reinhardt, jaw clenched, forced himself to refocus.
"Don't falter! Finish the survivors!"
"Y-yes, sir!"
The squad rallied, many spears bristling. With their enemies disoriented, the tide turned. A grounded wyvern roared, trying to rise, but a spear pierced its chest. Another staggered, wings tattered from Roland's blast, only to be overwhelmed by a trio of knights stabbing in unison.
Sparks of steel and flashes of magic lit the battlefield.
The wyverns, once fierce hunters, were now cornered prey.
Roland yawned. "Yep. Just needed a little crowd control." He dusted off his hands as if swatting away gnats.
Elena stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. Her jaw worked, but no words came out. That… that wasn't just magic. That was overwhelming, devastating spell, ugh it is unfair.
She clenched her fists.
"You… you could do that the whole time?!"
Roland tilted his head.
"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"
"Then why didn't you help sooner?!"
"Because they were holding out fine. Call it… an endurance test." He smirked, leaning casually against the carriage. "Besides, I was curious how you'd handle it. Spoiler alert: badly."
Her cheeks flushed crimson.
"You—!"
"Look, don't get mad. It's not your fault. You're like… a buggy prototype. Full of potential, but crashes when put under load."
"I don't know what that means!" she snapped, stomping a foot.
"It means your mana control sucks."
Elena glared, torn between fury and humiliation. She had trained for years, endured sleepless nights, all to wield magic — and this lazy drunk made her look like a child fumbling with matches.
And worse… some traitorous part of her was intrigued.
How had he done it?
That spell, [Arcane Burst], it wasn't like anything she had studied. The efficiency, the sheer scale… It wasn't brute strength. It was refined, streamlined.
She hated that she wanted to know.
Reinhardt approached, wiping blood from his blade.
"Sir Roland… that display was—" He hesitated, clearly searching for words. "—most impressive."
Roland waved him off.
"Don't flatter me. It was just crowd control."
The knights exchanged glances. Just… crowd control? That blast could've wiped out half a battlefield.
The last wyvern gave a pitiful screech before a knight's spear silenced it.
The battlefield quieted, only the stench of scorched flesh and churned earth lingering in the air.
The knights stood breathing heavily, their armor dented, their cloaks torn. But against all odds, not a single man had fallen.
Roland, meanwhile, stifled another yawn.
"Well, that's that. Raid encounter over. Loot drops should be… hmm, mostly crispy."
He prodded the fallen wyvern with his boot.
"Yeah. Definitely overcooked."
Elena could only gape at him. Her heart still pounded from the chaos, sweat dripping down her brow. She should have been relieved. She should have been proud to survive. Instead, all she could think about was him.
That spell. That overwhelming ease. That casual dismissal of danger.
She gritted her teeth. "You're mocking me."
Roland glanced at her. "Only a little. But hey, look on the bright side—" He picked up a pebble and balanced it on his finger. "—at least now you know your weak points. Step one to debugging is knowing where the error is."
"I don't need debugging!"
"Yes, you do," Roland replied flatly, flicking the pebble away. "You've got talent, sure. But your code — uh, I mean your casting — is bloated, inefficient, and collapses under stress. If you were software, I'd uninstall you and start from scratch."
Her cheeks burned hot enough to rival her failed [Fireball].
"You… insufferable old man!"
"Correction." Roland held up a finger. "I'm a retired insufferable old man."
Reinhardt stepped forward before Elena could explode further.
"Regardless of what you call yourself, sir, your power is undeniable. I am glad — no, relieved — that you are accompanying us." His voice carried weight, though his eyes betrayed a spark of curiosity. "But… I must ask, what are you truly?"
Roland shrugged.
"Just a guy who wanted to nap through retirement. But oh nooo, the world keeps throwing boss fights at me instead."
The knights shifted uneasily. To treat wyverns — deadly beasts feared by whole regions — as mere "boss fights" was absurd. And yet, no one could deny what they had just witnessed.
Elena stared at him, torn between fury, humiliation, and… admiration. Against her will, respect began to creep in, though she masked it with a scowl.
Roland stretched, his joints popping audibly.
"Alright. Crisis averted. Now, if nobody minds—" he trudged back toward the carriage, already fishing out his flask. "—I'm going to reclaim my nap."
The knights exchanged glances, half in awe and disbelief.
Elena clenched her fists at her side. I'll prove myself. I'll learn what he knows… even if he's the most aggravating teacher in the world.
From the carriage, Roland's muffled voice drifted back, weary and dripping with sarcasm.
"Seriously… raid encounters during retirement. What a cruel joke."