The provocation worked like a charm.
Those who are upright often strain themselves to avoid breaking.
"What nonsense is this?!"
"How dare an outsider insult us like this?!"
"A performance? Would you still call it that if your damn head was on fire?!"
Especially when it came to mages—they were among the proudest beings in the world.
It wasn't just their own pride that was inflated; they naturally looked down on anyone who wasn't a mage.
"Ha! I really can't take this anymore!"
"Get in here! I'll show you what a real battle looks like!"
"A bumpkin noble who's never even seen proper magic dares to talk back?!"
Humans, after all, are the kind of creatures who can't stand being looked down upon by those they consider beneath them.
Drawn in by the mages' response, Isaac simply nodded and followed along without a fuss.
"Huh, you're quite polite with your provocations, aren't you?"
The Grand Master poked his side with an elbow. Isaac merely curled his lips without a word and stepped inside.
Even from the hallway, a long line of mages was already visible.
Each one of them turned to look, puzzled.
"Why the line cutting?"
"Hey, Romdel. Even you shouldn't be cutting the line like that."
"Friends, allow me to explain. The mages of the Tower have just been insulted."
The mage leading Isaac—Romdel, apparently—seemed to be quite a recognized figure around here.
When he relayed Isaac's earlier remarks, the surrounding mages responded much like those outside.
"That bastard needs to die!"
"He really needs to see real magic with his own eyes!"
"A guy who doesn't even show basic respect!"
"Vivian! Isn't that your guest? Have you forgotten your affiliation just because he's from the North?!"
Amid roaring support like a wildfire, Isaac headed toward the dueling hall.
Its structure was similar to the sparring grounds Isaac already knew, but the atmosphere was completely different.
Hundreds of magical glyphs floated in midair, glowing faintly.
As a result, the entire space looked like a giant constellation trapped inside a glass bottle.
"Oh."
"If you're ready, come out to the field. I'll go in first."
Romdel stepped inside, glaring at Isaac as if debating whether to freeze, burn, or fry him.
Finally alone, Vivian ran up to Isaac with a worried look.
"Sir Isaac! What are you planning to do?! You'll be staying at the Magic Tower for a few days at least, and now every mage here will despise you!"
"I didn't provoke them without thinking."
"What?! Then what possible justification could there be for making yourself the public enemy of all mages?!"
"You may not know, being in the infirmary, but mage magic isn't all that useful in real combat."
"But even so—!"
"Besides, I've taken an interest in this dueling hall."
He's basically saying he doesn't mind if it costs him his head.
"I have a feeling I'll be using this place often. It's a bit much to wait in a long line every time, isn't it?"
"…."
Vivian's eyes and mouth slowly opened wide as he began to understand what he meant.
"S-So you're saying… you provoked them just so you could use the dueling hall?!"
"Yes. If I crush their pride, they'll probably challenge me every time I pass by."
That way, he wouldn't need to wait in line.
Leaving the stunned Vivian behind, Isaac entered the hall.
"Fighting, Isaac!"
"Disciple! Show them that battles aren't fought with books and brains alone!"
Just before stepping inside, he heard cheers from Sharen and Damien.
Then the Grandmaster quietly approached and whispered:
"Don't bother holding back. This won't be the last time anyway."
Meaning—taking down just one mage wouldn't be enough to stop them.
He was bound to duel several times, so the Grandmaster was advising him to conserve his strength.
"…Understood."
Isaac nodded and stepped inside with a smile.
His standards for 'strength' were harsh—after all, he'd always fought from the underdog's position.
Maybe that's why…
'This is surprisingly exciting.'
To go into a fight knowing he'd win.
Now he was starting to understand why the strong sometimes get drunk on their own power.
***
The two men stepped into the training hall, where runes floated like petals.
One was a typical mage, draped in a robe and holding a staff.
The other, holding a sword, seemed completely out of place in this practical combat training hall.
With his hair tied in a ponytail and two swords strapped to either side of his waist, his decadent appearance and eyes hinted at a life full of stories.
"…He's handsome."
When a female mage muttered under her breath, the others glared at her.
But even they couldn't deny his looks.
Some of the female mages secretly began cheering for Isaac.
"Stay still. I need to lock the time axis."
"Time axis?"
There was no reply.
The floating letters in the air briefly glowed with light, then a surge of intense mana flowed before calming down again.
"It's a restoration spell. No matter the damage, everything returns to the state it was in at that specific time."
Romdel gave a brief explanation while gripping his staff tightly.
"…Time?"
Isaac's eyes widened.
"Ha, surprised by the magic of the Mage Tower? Just like looking at the surface of a lake—you can't tell how deep it truly is—"
Romdel puffed out his chest with pride, but Isaac wasn't listening.
The fixation of a timeline.
His certainty that magic was somehow related to his regression grew even stronger in that moment.
"Alright then, let's begin!"
All eyes turned toward the center.
Romdel was a seasoned professional with a win rate of sixty percent.
There were few who could match him in practical combat.
"Just roast him. Don't even let him draw his sword."
"Make it as painful as possible. He needs to feel what it's like for us to fight in that place."
"How about burning his tongue first so he can't even surrender?"
The mages chuckled wickedly.
And then—
Click.
By the time Isaac drew his sword, the battle was already over.
"That was too easy."
A red line appeared across Romdel's neck.
His pupils rolled back, the gathered mana scattered.
And as his head hit the floor—
"To think I'd have to fight a mage at this distance."
Isaac had already sheathed his sword.
Thud!
Romdel's head rolled across the ground.
And in that instant, time frantically began to rewind.
Isaac was standing once again where he had started, and Romdel, eyes wide, stared at him in disbelief.
"Eek! Gyaah! Hwaaaaargh!"
A grotesque scream escaped him.
Clutching his neck with trembling hands, Romdel shook uncontrollably.
Having your head fall in an instant left behind an overwhelming terror.
Even from a distance, Romdel felt like there was still a blade pressed against his neck.
"Hm."
Isaac calmly looked around and asked,
"If we started again now, would it rewind again?"
"N-No! The saved timeline is single-use!"
"Ah, I see."
If he died again now, it would be for real.
With a disappointed click of his tongue, Isaac gave up on the idea.
***
That night.
Isaac was back at his lodging.
The number of mages he had "cut down" today was easily in the double digits.
Of course, no one actually died, but he had certainly given them a taste of fear—and sparked their competitiveness.
On his way out, Isaac saw the mages having a strategy meeting among themselves, and he felt quite proud.
If he returned tomorrow, he'd surely be able to use the training grounds again.
'Good thing mages are so competitive.'
Thanks to that, he no longer needed to wait in line.
Knock knock.
"My discipleee—!"
The Grand Master swung the door open and stumbled inside.
Isaac frowned—she was completely drunk, swaying with her words slurred.
"Have you been drinking?"
"Mu-myeong brought it~!"
"You're completely wasted."
Isaac smacked his forehead.
For her to be this far gone in such a short time, it couldn't have been ordinary alcohol.
She must have drunk something strong.
Then the Grandmaster lunged at him.
Since the private room was small, he had no space to avoid it and ended up caught in a tight hug.
"You're workin' so haaard! So proudd!"
"Yes, thank you."
Though his face was buried in her chest, Isaac remained unfazed. He'd had similar experiences in his past lives.
"I saw you handling the weapon today! Much smoother than last time!"
"Yes, well. The training wasn't entirely wasted."
"Haha! That's my discipleee! You don't know how proud I am of yooou!"
"…Thank you."
Drunk words speak sober thoughts, as they say.
From the way she roughly ruffled his hair, all Isaac could feel was tipsy affection.
"Heheh, I know it's tough, actin' all proper like that."
"..."
"Sooo, whaddya say? Wanna let loose tonight and share a bed with your masterrr?"
The Grandmaster asked with a teasing smile.
Isaac slightly raised his head to look up at her and replied,
"No, I don't think I can do that."
"Pfft, whyyy not?"
She asked again with a bright smile, as if she already knew the answer.
"There's a woman who confessed to me first. I think I should give her an answer before I move on to anything else."
At Isaac's calm confession, the Grandmaster smiled warmly.
"How can you be so charming—"
"Ahem."
"You really are a disciple to be proud of!"
With a radiant smile, she roughly ruffled his hair again.
***
A few days later.
The Grandsword swept through the air.
Isaac held his breath as the beautiful slash, curved like the Grand Master's smirk, flew toward him.
He held his breath.
No, perhaps it was more accurate to say his breath stopped altogether.
Blood splattered. Isaac's eyes widened, and the now-familiar pain welled up.
He bit his lip and endured the groan.
In the sensation of death approaching, time rewound.
A sensation he had grown used to.
"...Just now, was that a Grand Iaido?"
At Isaac's question, the Grandmaster perked up and nodded.
"You saw it?"
"Yes… It was hard to react, but I did see it."
He definitely saw it.
The slash that came flying like a flash, stretching out like moonlight reflected on a lake.
Upon hearing that, the Grandmaster beamed and ran up to hug him.
"Well done! Well done! The fact that you could track it with your eyes means there's no slash you can't follow anymore!"
The Grandmaster bounced up and down in excitement, then suddenly paused and stepped back in a panic.
"Ahem! Well then, continue your training."
Last night's drunken visit to Isaac's room and the fuss she made—it was nothing short of a black mark on her record.
"...Um, Grandmaster."
Isaac hesitated for a moment before speaking.
He'd realized something recently during his duels with the mages here.
"Actually, I've come to understand—"
"You've worked hard!"
At that moment, female mages entered the training hall.
They cheerfully held out towels and drinks, smiling brightly.
"You were amazing!"
"You were really the best!"
"...Even though I lost."
"But you lasted much longer than last time!"
"Yeah! You were really awesome!"
"..."
The Mage Tower.
Filled with the musty smell of old books, and mages who often didn't even wash properly for days.
There weren't really any "men" here—just mages, that was all.
But thanks to the arrival of one fresh-faced outsider, many of them had begun to awaken the femininity hidden beneath their mage titles.
And in contrast, the determination of the mages who had sworn to defeat Isaac only grew stronger.