Chương 204

Mumud was twenty-two when the coughing started again. He stood in the grand library, carrying a stack of heavy spellbooks. A sharp, burning pain suddenly hit his chest. He dropped the books. They hit the stone floor with a loud thud. Mumud clutched his shirt. He coughed violently. When he pulled his hand away from his mouth, his palm was covered in dark red blood. He stared at it. The old plague hadn't killed him, but it had left a permanent, hidden mark. His heart was failing.

He visited a quiet, discreet doctor in the lower city the next day.

"You have five years. Maybe less," the doctor said sadly, putting his tools away.

"Your mana core is pushing too much mana through your mana veins which is harmful to your weak physical body. It is tearing your body apart from the inside. As far as I know, there is no cure for this." Mumud asked weakly, "What if I destroy my mana core?" The doctor just shook his head, "Your body is already too damaged, destroying your mana core would only worsen your conditions. I'm sorry to say this." Mumud walked back to the tower in a daze. Five years. He didn't tell Braham.

He knew his teacher despised weakness of any kind. Besides, visiting scholars were constantly whispering that Braham had gone crazy after meeting with a legendary blacksmith, locking himself in the laboratory obsessed with researching the secrets of eternal life using a legendary mineral. Mumud didn't want to be a distraction. Instead, Mumud went to work. If he was going to die, he wanted to leave something meaningful behind. He looked at the massive, complicated spellbooks lining the tower walls.

Braham's magic was incredibly powerful, but it was far too demanding and difficult for normal people to learn.

"I can fix this," Mumud whispered to himself in his small, dusty bedroom. He spent every waking hour writing. He broke down Braham's complex formulas. He removed the unnecessary, burdensome steps which would decrease the power of the spells but would also decrease the difficulty of other magicians in learning them. He created an entirely new system. A system where even a mediocre apprentice could cast high-tier magic safely and efficiently. It was a gift to the world. It was his masterpiece. He barely slept.

His skin grew pale. He coughed blood into a rag almost every night, hiding the stained cloth in his desk drawer. One evening, Braham walked into Mumud's room without knocking.

"You missed our meeting," Braham said, frowning slightly. Then he looked at the massive pile of parchment on Mumud's desk. Braham walked over. He picked up a sheet of paper. His red eyes scanned the formulas. The room went completely silent. Braham's hands started to tremble. He read another page. Then another. The Legendary Great Magician, widely considered the smartest man in the world, was looking at magic that made it far more convenient and easier to understand.

While it wasn't to say that Braham couldn't simplify these magic formulas, many ideas behind this were new and innovative, which even Braham hadn't thought of before. And these ideas could even be used by him to improve his magic style beyond the previous Legendary Great Magicians. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"You wrote this?" Braham asked. His voice was strangely flat.

"Yes, Teacher," Mumud smiled weakly, wiping a layer of cold sweat from his forehead.

"I wanted to simplify your teachings. I wanted to share them with everyone." Braham stared at the boy. The pride he usually felt when looking at his disciple was gone. In its place, a dark, ugly feeling twisted deep in Braham's chest. Jealousy. Braham had spent his entire life striving to be the undisputed peak of magic. He tolerated no rivals. And now, his sickly twenty-two-year-old student had just shown clear signs of surpassing him in the understanding of magic.

"It is... interesting," Braham muttered. He dropped the papers back onto the desk. He didn't look Mumud in the eye.

"I will review it later." Braham turned and walked out of the room. The heavy wooden door clicked shut behind him. Mumud frowned. He was confused by the cold reaction. But his chest hurt too much to chase after his teacher. He just picked up his quill and went back to writing. Three months later. Mumud was walking slowly through the lower levels of the tower. He felt much weaker today. His breathing was shallow, and his steps dragged slightly.

He passed a group of visiting scholars standing near the grand staircase. They were whispering excitedly.

"Did you hear the news?" one scholar said.

"The Legendary Great Magician, Braham has finally done it. He published a new magical system."

"I saw the book," another nodded enthusiastically.

"It changes everything. He completely simplified the core elemental runes. It is pure genius. His name will be praised for a thousand years." Mumud stopped walking. His failing heart gave a painful, erratic thump. He changed direction. He rushed to the tower's main library as fast as his weak legs could carry him. He pushed past the studying apprentices and approached the newest book resting proudly on a velvet display pedestal. The cover read: The Foundation of Modern Magic. Authored by Braham.

Mumud opened the heavy leather cover. His hands shook violently. He recognized the formulas instantly. It was his exact handwriting, transcribed perfectly onto the fresh pages. It was his life's work. The late nights, the agonizing coughing fits, the desperate attempt to leave a legacy before his heart gave out. It was all right there on the pages. But his name wasn't anywhere in the book. Braham had taken it all. Mumud dropped the book. It hit the floor with a loud slap.

He stumbled backward, his shoulders hitting a heavy wooden bookshelf. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through his chest. He coughed hard, spitting dark blood onto the clean stone floor. He didn't yell. He didn't scream for justice or curse his teacher. He just stood there, staring at the fallen book with wide, heartbroken eyes.

"Why?" Mumud whispered. He walked slowly up the winding stairs to Braham's private study. The heavy oak door was slightly open. Braham sat at his grand desk. He was improving his Braham-styled magic to further improve its power at the cost of slightly more resource consumption. Mumud stood in the doorway. He raised his hand. He wanted to push the door open. He wanted to ask his father figure why he had betrayed him so cruelly. But as he looked at Braham, Mumud remembered the freezing mud.

He remembered the heavy blue cloak wrapping around his shivering shoulders in the alleyway. He remembered the rare, proud smile when he cast his first light spell. Braham had given him a life when he had absolutely nothing. Mumud slowly lowered his hand. He stepped away from the door.

"I owe you my life, Teacher," Mumud whispered quietly into the empty hallway.

"Consider my name payment for the debt." He walked back to his small bedroom. He didn't pack much. He took a few plain robes and a small leather pouch of coins. He left his magical tools and his remaining notes sitting neatly on his desk. That night, while the tower celebrated the Legendary Great Magician's new masterpiece with wine and music, Mumud slipped out the back door. The cold night air hit his face. He pulled his hood up to hide his distinct silver hair. He walked away from the towering stone spire.

He didn't look back once. His heart was failing. His legacy was gone. He just wanted to find a quiet place by the ocean to spend his final days in peace.