**Genius!**
This man was an absolute genius in magical research!
Dwight had already made up his mind about the captured mage before him.
If he kept researching, he might one day become a founding master of an entirely new school of magic!
But right now, Dwight cared about only one thing:
**how to use magic through potion craft.**
The mage grew excited as he spoke of his life's work — a secret he had hidden for years, never daring to share with anyone. Now that he could finally talk freely, his eyes blazed with pride, and he even gestured wildly with his hands.
"For someone like me, my spiritual power — my magic capacity — is more than enough. But my **sensitivity** is too low. I can't sense the magic elements in the air around me.
I thought: it's like a man who is hard of hearing. If the sound is soft, he can't hear it… but if the sound is loud enough? He *can* hear it!"
Dwight's eyes lit up, and he cut in at once.
"So… you used potion craft to **raise the concentration of magic elements** in the air around you?"
"Yes! The foundation of fire magic is the **Fire Element**. Even the greatest mages don't truly know what Fire Element is — they only know how to use it.
But flammable potions *burn*. That means they contain Fire Element!
My theory was: my sensitivity is too weak to sense magic elements under normal conditions. But if I could flood the air around me with Fire Element… make it dense enough…
Even someone as insensitive as me could feel it!
And then… I could cast magic!"
"…And you succeeded?" Dwight breathed.
"I did!" The mage's voice was solemn.
"I ran hundreds of experiments. I focused on fire magic. I had to find a way to extract Fire Element from flammable materials — that took me years.
I left my master, traveled south, built a small laboratory, and made my own tools.
After years of work… I found it."
Dwight's heart raced. "You found Fire Element! What is it, really?"
"…I don't know." The mage looked faintly embarrassed.
"I tested over a hundred formulas and three hundred extraction methods. Not long ago… after one experiment, I mixed a special powder from a dozen plants — a black powder.
And then… I felt it."
"Felt it?" Dwight raised an eyebrow.
"Yes! I'd never been able to sense a single trace of magic element before! But the moment I spread that black powder into the air with a small fan I'd made…
I felt it!
I tried casting the most basic Fireball Spell… and I could *clearly* sense the Fire Element dancing around me!
I… I did it!"
His voice shook with emotion.
"I walked the path of magic at thirteen. For **twenty years**… I finally cast a spell.
It was just a tiny Fireball, no bigger than my fist. But when I saw it shoot from my hand… I thought I would die of joy."
Dwight stared at him and sighed.
"So the Fireballs you cast in the tavern fight…?"
"Exactly." The mage nodded. "I carried small sealed bottles of the powder. When I wanted to cast magic, I secretly opened a bottle with my hand inside my sleeve. The powder released into the air… and I could sense Fire Element and cast spells."
A bizarre method… but the man was a genius.
Then a strange thought struck Dwight, and his face turned odd.
"And you passed the First-Class Mage exam using this trick?"
The mage blushed. "I know it's cheating. But I wanted the title of *mage* more than anything."
"I understand." Dwight said. "But why only First-Class? With your magic power and this solution, you could take higher exams, couldn't you?"
"I can't." The prisoner shook his head. "My method fixed my sensitivity problem… but created a new one I can't solve."
"What problem?"
Dwight leaned forward. His own chance to use magic depended on this man.
"I tested it. Even with that powder thick with Fire Element… my sensitivity is still too poor. I can only cast the most basic Fireball Spell." The mage smiled bitterly.
"You think I don't want to cast higher magic? I even dreamed: if I can keep raising the Fire Element concentration… theoretically, I could cast the ultimate fire Forbidden Spell, *Incinerate City*!
I could become a Forbidden Mage — the highest honor a mage can achieve! I'd be at the peak of magical power on the continent!"
His face flushed with passion, but his voice fell.
"Too bad. To cast higher fire magic, I'd need to make the Fire Element around me *even denser*.
The powder I made is already extremely concentrated. I can't think of any way to make it stronger.
I even calculated: even with that powder, I can only cast the lowest Fireball.
To cast mid-level fire magic… the Fire Element concentration would need to be **dozens of times higher**!
Dozens of times!
The only place with that much Fire Element is *inside actual fire* — and I'd burn to death before I could cast anything."
"So even though you fixed your sensitivity… you can only cast the most basic magic." Dwight summed up.
"Yes."
"Then what about your **Instant Casting**?"
Dwight was still fascinated by how he could cast Fireballs nonstop without chanting.
"That's just another potion craft trick." The mage looked sheepish.
"My magic doesn't draw on natural elements — I carry my own.
Normal mages need incantations to *call and gather* magic elements from the air.
But me? I don't need to call them.
They're right there in my sleeve."
This time, Dwight truly froze.
If that was true…
If this man could one day solve his current problem and cast high-level magic…
**He could cast them *instantly*, too!**
Imagine it:
A mage who could cast high-level fire magic…
**without chanting, with Instant Casting.**
How terrifyingly powerful would he be?
Dwight talked with the mage for a long time, carefully steering the conversation toward Magic Potion Craft.
To the mage's surprise, this young noble — clearly a member of the famous Rollin family, to own such a castle on the Rollin Plain — was deeply knowledgeable about the lowly, looked-down-up field of potion craft.
It was almost unheard of.
Yet the young noble truly understood it. His knowledge impressed even the mage.
As their conversation grew more comfortable, Dwight finally spoke of his own past:
how he had once dreamed of becoming a mage, only to be declared completely untalented.
The story struck a chord in the prisoner.
He felt an instant bond of shared suffering.
This young noble was just like him!
Both had dreamed of magic, both had been told they had no talent, both had strong spiritual power but cripplingly low sensitivity.
Despite their earlier conflict, and despite being a prisoner, the mage's dislike for Dwight faded.
The boy had only captured him out of a desperate hunger for magic.
At heart, they shared the same resolve.
"Solskjaer."
Dwight spoke the mage's name — he had learned it during their talk — and looked at him steadily.
"Let me ask you something. Why do you want to be a mage? What do you hope to gain?"
"…That's simple." Solskjaer thought for a moment. "A mage's true calling is to seek the ultimate secrets of magic, to study it for a lifetime. But I'll never be a high-level mage. That kind of quest is beyond me.
I just want what I deserve."
"You mean the status and respect given to mages?" Dwight smiled. "Your answer is honest. And you're right. Mages are highly rewarded — great lords everywhere compete to hire powerful mages, offering wealth and honor.
But let's be honest: you're only a First-Class Mage. No great lord will pay a premium for a low-level mage like you."
Solskjaer fell silent.
He knew Dwight spoke the truth.
Even with his official title, everywhere he went, people lost interest the moment they learned he was only First-Class.
That was why he had been forced to join Jolin's tiny, worthless adventurer group.
He'd wanted to join a large mercenary company, but no one wanted him.
Seeing his defeated look, Dwight knew the time was right.
He smiled and spoke:
"Solskjaer, if your dream is to have the respect and status of a mage… then **pledge loyalty to me**.
Become my personal magic advisor.
I will give you all the respect, status, and resources you need.
As you know by now, I am of the Rollin family.
Surely the name Rollin is worthy of you."
Solskjaer's heart leaped.
Serve this young noble?
It might not be a bad choice.
They had clashed, but only because the boy was obsessed with magic. Their talk had been pleasant.
Most of all, the young noble was just like him — a man denied magic who turned to potion craft.
He felt like they were kindred spirits.
And to be the magic advisor to the Rollin family… with generous pay?
Why hesitate?
"I…" Solskjaer hesitated briefly. "I accept your offer. But I must return to the south. My laboratory is there. I have essential tools, rare materials, and all the powders I've extracted. I must retrieve them myself.
You understand — a mage's laboratory cannot be touched by ordinary people. It's too dangerous."
Dwight thought for a moment.
Letting him go south alone was risky. What if he ran away?
This man who had cheated his way to magehood was worth his weight in gold to Dwight.
He could not risk losing him.
In an instant, Dwight made his decision.
"Then I will come south with you. I'm curious about your laboratory myself."
On this day, the path of the future Demon of Roland…
**began.**