Genius Gamer Reborn into a Family of Heroes

Chapter 83

The Staff, Mityel

To be honest, if Harang had to describe how he was feeling right now—

He was very upset. The reason wasn’t anything particularly complicated. It wasn’t simply because he was rejected.

It was because Mityel had “fiercely” rejected him.

‘Fiercely? Fiercely rejected me?’

It wasn’t just a rejection; it was a fierce rejection. Did that mean he was that unqualified?

‘I’ve never heard anyone tell me I lacked something before…’

Harang strode toward Mityel.

‘These magical artifacts around here all have disgustingly strong egos.’

[Eyes of Truth: Two Stars]

Since his identity had already been revealed, Harang figured there was no point in hiding his silver pupils anymore, so he activated the Eyes of Truth.

Two star-shaped symbols appeared around his pupils and began to spin in place.

‘At this point, I’ll analyze the pattern of the rejection as it happens.’

Taking a deep breath, Harang stretched out his hand.

Boom!!

[Artifact, ‘Mityel’, has fiercely rejected you!!]

Crash! This time, the blow was even stronger, sending Harang flying. Even Avon, who had been watching, rushed over to him in alarm.

“Are you alright?”

“Sss… Yes… Though my head hurts a bit.”

It wasn’t just his body that ached—it was his pride. Earlier, Mityel had just fiercely rejected him, but now it was very fiercely rejecting him.

“Could you… give me a little more time? I’d like to give it another shot, even if it takes all night.”

“Of course, take as long as you need. A mage with your level of curiosity and passionate spirit for challenge is always welcome here. Heh. I’ll head up to the workshop.”

Avon didn’t bother to mention that he was going to the workshop to prepare a magical tool for Harang. It was as if he assumed that Harang would fail to bond with Mityel.

“Thank you…”

Harang bit his lip as he stared calmly at Mityel.

If anyone else had seen Harang’s emotional and impulsive side at this moment, they would have found it quite unfamiliar.

He was always so composed, calm, and seemed like a person who didn’t have emotions at all.

But Harang was human, too.

The reason he could stay composed in any situation was because he always calculated everything, planning for every possible outcome so that nothing would catch him off guard. The reason he appeared emotionless was simply because he wasn’t good at expressing his feelings.

In other words, when something happened that hurt Harang’s pride, even he would reach his boiling point.

With his Eyes of Truth flashing, Harang continued to extend his hand toward Mityel.

Boom!!

[Artifact, ‘Mityel’, has very fiercely rejected you!!!]

Boom!!

[Artifact, ‘Mityel’, has fiercely, fiercely…!]

No matter how many times he failed, he didn’t give up.

Avon had mentioned that Harang wasn’t the first mage to challenge Mityel. Many had tried, but most gave up after countless unsuccessful attempts.

However, there was a significant difference between those mages and Harang.

The Eyes of Truth contained the vast knowledge of Kalantatis, and among that knowledge was the record of Mityel’s ‘secret.’

Well, that much was to be expected.

After all, Natalen had been one of Hero Kaladan’s seven companions, and they had spent an incredibly long time together…

‘The seven companions, huh.’

Harang recalled that among Kaladan’s companions, one was a sword, and another was a dragon, prompting him to open his palm.

‘…Come to think of it, Kaladan in the epic always made sure to include Terandal’s name among his companions.’

The “artifacts” of this world undoubtedly housed their own consciousness. Even the Sacred Sword Terandal possessed a formidable personality, didn’t it?

The starlight in Harang’s Eyes of Truth began to spin more intensely, delving deeper into the secret concealed within Mityel’s resonance.

He had tried ten times and failed ten times.

He had tried a hundred times and failed a hundred times.

Yet, he did not give up.

He rose again, stretched out his hand, and continued.

If it didn’t work after a hundred tries, he would try two hundred, three hundred, four hundred—until he succeeded.

By the time the sun had begun to set, and Harang’s clothes were torn to shreds, with his body covered in blood—

‘Hmm, this should be enough. The basic design for the magical tool I’ll give the boy is nearly complete.’

Avon had finally completed the blueprint for Harang’s magical tool. He flicked his glasses with his finger to remove the dust, and noticing that the loud crashing sounds from the basement had ceased, he turned to look in that direction.

“Hmmm…”

Had Harang given up? Mityel’s repelling force was so powerful that even an ordinary person would faint from just one blow. Harang had endured it all day long, and though he had a well-trained body, there was a high chance he had fainted by now.

Feeling concerned, Avon hurried toward the basement. After dispelling the sealing barrier, he threw open the door to the underground chamber, and the sight that greeted him made his eyebrows twitch.

“…Hmm?”

Harang was standing still, his hand frozen mid-reach toward Mityel.

Was he afraid to touch it, fearing he would be repelled again? That couldn’t be it.

The boy who had been repeatedly flung back every few seconds earlier surely wouldn’t be scared of something like that now.

Harang’s entire body was bruised, and his clothes were all torn apart. Feeling worried, Avon approached and placed a hand on Harang’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you take a break and try again later? It’s late, and you’ve suffered a lot of injuries… Hmm?”

As Avon spoke, he was startled. Harang was staring blankly at Mityel, his empty gaze almost as if he were about to cry.

“What’s wrong, my boy? Why are you…?”

Harang, who had been standing there with his arm outstretched, suddenly lowered his head and let out a heavy sigh.

“…I have to give up. I’m not worthy of wielding Mityel.”

“If you’ve decided to give up, I won’t stop you, but…”

Since he’d already completed the basic design for Harang’s magical tool, Avon figured he could finish crafting a staff in a few days.

But he couldn’t help but feel curious about Harang, who was giving up in a very different manner compared to other mages.

He’d never seen a mage cry because they weren’t chosen by Mityel before.

“Can I ask why you think you’re not worthy?”

No one had ever realized the reason before, but Avon had to ask, driven by his curiosity.

To his surprise—

Harang, as if he already knew the reason for his rejection, muttered with a self-deprecating tone.

“…The first reason is that I feel so pathetic and foolish.”

“Is there a second reason?”

“That is…”

Harang glanced at Mityel before turning his head away.

“It’s because I didn’t understand Mityel’s will, thoughts, or consciousness, and I didn’t respect them either. Forcing myself to wield the staff any further would likely be considered an insult. Therefore, the last bit of respect I can offer is to apologize and leave.”

Harang referred to Mityel as “he,” which made Avon feel a bit puzzled. While staffs were magnificent works of art and tools that elevated mages, was it really necessary to show such reverence?

Avon didn’t voice these thoughts, though.

And—

The choice to keep those thoughts to himself was one that Avon would be eternally grateful for.

Flash!!

“Huh?!”

Suddenly, a burst of radiant light erupted.

As the severely injured Harang staggered backward in shock, Avon’s eyes widened, and he looked toward the source of the light with an expression of awe.

Mityel—the legendary artifact said to summon meteors and choose its master—was scattering a dazzling array of multicolored light in all directions!

“What… what is this…?”

As Harang stood there in bewilderment, Avon chuckled softly.

“It seems your judgment was wrong. Mityel has acknowledged and accepted you.”

“…But why, all of a sudden?”

Harang, still overwhelmed, widened his eyes and stared at Mityel in a daze.

Mityel, which had risen into the air, now flew toward Harang, stopping just short of his hand.

Swallowing nervously, Harang cautiously extended his hand. If he were to be repelled again, he felt that his spirit might truly break this time.

But his worry was unnecessary.

Click, click, whirr!!

The moment Harang grasped Mityel, the blunt sphere at the top of the staff cracked, transforming into dozens of rings that spun around in different directions!

This was Mityel’s true form.

“…I never thought I’d live to see Mityel’s true appearance again.”

Avon slowly stepped back, his voice filled with awe and emotion.

Avon stepped back to give Harang and Mityel space to bond.

Clunk! As the upper section of the staff expanded into rings, a crystal that had been hidden until now was revealed.

At a minimum, it was of the highest quality… No, that wasn’t it.

This crystal surpassed even the highest grade that humans could create—it held an unknown and immeasurable value.

Normally, crystals emitted a blue light, but Mityel’s crystal radiated a brilliant, pure white glow!

Flash!

“Ooh, oooooh…!!”

Right after that, waves of energy surged from Mityel, piercing through the ceiling and forming a massive pillar of light that stretched all the way into the sky.

“I remember hearing that my master’s resonance was as catastrophic as heaven and earth overturning, and that the previous generation’s resonance sounded like thunder roaring across the heavens. But this…”

Mityel’s resonance. It was exactly as described in the legends—or rather, even more serene than expected… almost ceremonial.

“It’s like watching the clear wind and a bright moon after the rain has passed.”

Overcome with emotion at the breathtaking sight, Avon fell to his knees.

Look at that boy, standing at the center of the pulsating waves of blue light, holding the staff tightly in his arms with his eyes closed, his black hair flowing in the wind.

It was a sight so beautiful that it felt unfair to be denied even a single tear from the dry eyes of an old man over a hundred years old.

Witnessing the true form of Mityel—hailed as one of the greatest masterpieces in human history—left Avon filled with awe.

Harang, meanwhile, looked down at Mityel in his hand and asked softly.

“…I treated you like nothing more than a tool. Yet, do you still think I’m worthy?”

Mityel did not respond with words. It seemed that, unlike the Sacred Sword Terandal, most artifacts couldn’t speak.

Instead, Mityel hummed and glowed brightly in response. Though Harang couldn’t understand the staff’s words, it was undoubtedly a sign of affirmation.

Yes. This was Mityel’s secret, the reason why, for over a hundred years, the staff had rejected every mage who sought it, no matter how skilled or pure-hearted they were.

Mityel only accepted those who treated it not as a mere tool, but as a partner—a fellow being with its own consciousness.

[Artifact ‘Mityel’ has recognized you as its master!]

[Eyes of Truth: After analyzing Mityel’s will, it seems there is a ‘memory’ it wishes to show you.]

“…A memory?”

Though unsure of what it was, Harang nodded in affirmation.

Just like when he first gripped the Sacred Sword Terandal, his mind began to drift.

‘…Huh?!’

Suddenly, Harang found himself in a strange place, staring at the back of Hero Kaladan.

At this moment, Kaladan’s hair was a striking two-tone mix of black and white. As always, his hair was neatly tied into a ponytail, just like Harang remembered.

‘…Thanks to you all, I’ve made it this far. Now, our journey reaches its final chapter.’

Kaladan looked around, meeting the gazes of his companions, but Harang found himself unable to shift his view. After all, this was entirely Mityel’s memory.

A voice echoed from somewhere.

-“Hey, you fool, Kaladan. You really plan to use me here, too? You should stop while you can! There are far more brilliant swords in the world than an old, useless one like me! If you just say the word, the finest craftsmen will line up to offer you their blades!”

It was the voice of the Sacred Sword Terandal.

-“More than that, I’m a prototype, a failure. Isn’t the ‘successful version,’ crafted after my flaws, waiting for you?”

Kaladan tapped the sword in his hand with a playful smile in his eyes.

‘Why are you saying that, partner? Without you, I wouldn’t even be alive today.’

-“…Yeah, and without a fool like you, I would’ve been broken and discarded on the streets long ago.”

‘Exactly. You and I are bound by fate—friends and comrades. Now, it’s the final chapter. If we defeat the Black Dragon Lord, we can restore the world. So, partner, will you fight with me to the end?’

Though Harang couldn’t see Terandal’s expression, it felt as if the sword was smiling—a radiant, almost blinding smile.

-‘Of course, partner.’

‘Alright, then. Let’s go. To the end of our story.’

Kaladan pushed open a massive door with all his strength and stepped inside.

Then the scene shifted.

A woman appeared.

Harang recognized her instantly.

It was Natalen, the Sage.

Though the public never knew her gender, the woman standing there was dazzlingly beautiful. She held Mityel in her hand—back then, just a staff with no will or consciousness—and said,

‘…Let’s do our best together until the very end!’

With a bright smile, Natalen spoke to Mityel. Even though the staff was just a tool without awareness, she always greeted it and spoke to it, right up until the final battle.

In the end, the powerful will of the great Sage was imbued into the staff, and Mityel came to remember every moment spent with Natalen.

[……You are now exiting Mityel’s memory.]

With that final scene, Harang returned to the present world.

He slowly lowered his head, still dazed, and saw that Mityel was vibrating softly, as if pleased.

Without a doubt, Natalen had cherished her staff just as much as Kaladan had loved his sword.

Mityel, who had never forgotten that affection despite the passage of hundreds of years, had finally chosen a master who treated it as a person, even if only a little.

“…You still haven’t found a true partner again, have you?”

Woooong!

Mityel vibrated intensely.

It was the way of mages—to treat magical tools delicately, almost like living beings, until the moment they became the master. After that, they would change.

Harang, however, hugged Mityel tightly and whispered softly.

“…I’ll try to become the kind of mage you deserve.”

Mityel trembled gently in response.

For hundreds of years, Mityel had trusted humans, only to be betrayed. And yet, it had no choice but to trust again. Harang’s heart ached for the staff’s situation.