Chapter 1: In the Audience Hall

Luxion Empire — Audience Chamber

“The second son of Baron Dragals, Al Dragals. I hereby appoint you as a Court Magician.”

“It is the highest of honors. I humbly accept.”

(Um… seriously, how did things end up like this?)

◇◇◇

Baron Dragals was a rural noble who possessed a patch of land on the distant frontier—so insignificant that his name rarely surfaced even in minor castle councils. His family was small, humble, and unremarkable.

And yet, the second son Al was what one might call a prodigy. Before he even understood the world around him, he had already begun displaying sparks of brilliance in countless fields.

…Especially when given a sword in his hand. With a blade, he fought like a one-man army. At first, his parents and even the household servants rejoiced at his promising talent.

However, the boy had one fatal flaw.

That was—

“Zzz… huh!! …Oh, it’s only two in the afternoon? Good. I can still go back to sleep.”

He was, to put it bluntly, a hopeless slacker.

His philosophy of life could be summed up as: Life is but an endless nap.

A ridiculous personal proverb, yet he cherished it like sacred scripture. He devoted most of his days to sleep. He often boasted—with the arrogance of a king—that he preferred napping over all three daily meals.

What a pitiful man.

Even so, his parents and siblings remained gentle and supportive. Hoping to stimulate his intellect, they regularly brought him all kinds of books—thick tomes, scrolls, manuals, anything they could find—to place in his room.

The turning point came when Al was nine. While reading an ancient grimoire his father had found, he stumbled upon a forgotten magical attribute—dream magic, one of the lost arts of the ancients.

And thus, his family’s expectations struck true.

(What is this!? A magic that feels like it was invented just for me!)

According to the grimoire, mastery of dream magic would not only improve the quality of one’s sleep, but its applications were vast—reaching into hypnosis, illusions, and other arcane fields.

(Wait. If I use this on corrupt nobles to scam money off them… I could spend practically every day sleeping, couldn’t I?)

Driven by this wickedly convenient idea, Al finally raised his lethargic body from bed and began researching the ancient magic of the dream attribute.

…But the research quickly proved nightmarishly difficult.

“Hmm… I finally understand why this magic disappeared from the world.”

Dream magic was absurdly difficult. The magical theories, the required control of mana, the layered formulas—everything was maddeningly complex. It was far more efficient to learn any other attribute.

In a war-torn era like this, flashy offensive magic earned more recognition anyway.

(No wonder this died out. Seriously, who would study something like this?)

Only eccentrics obsessed with sleep—like Al—would even consider touching it. And even then, so few could master it that it remained impractical, a niche art lost to time.

Perhaps its disappearance had been inevitable.

But one should never underestimate this sleep-obsessed weirdo. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve become a prodigy known across the empire. Bowing his head to the servants, he had them gather every grimoire they could find. Without sacrificing even a minute of sleep, he carried out his research every single day.

—Several years later.

“Dream magic… this stuff is amazing. Seriously, I’m so glad I studied it… zzz…”

At long last, he succeeded in restoring an ancient magic.

His family and servants rejoiced—initially. But in the end, the only result was that he became even lazier. So with the desperate urging of his loved ones, Al was forced to take the entrance exam for the empire’s most prestigious academy—the Imperial Academy.

“Listen well, Al. The honor of the Dragals family now rests on your shoulders. When you take that exam, remember that you carry the hopes of your family, your servants, and even the people of our domain.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll do my best.”

Despite being an easygoing slacker, he cared deeply for his family and servants. He also hated losing, in his own quiet way.

As soon as he got serious, he passed the academy’s entrance exam at the top of the rankings.

Naturally, he skipped the entrance ceremony by feigning illness.

He had another reason for reluctantly accepting enrollment: at the Imperial Academy, grades were based solely on exams. There were no attendance requirements; as long as one scored well, advancement and graduation were guaranteed.

It was the perfect school for a shut-in like him.

“So this is the legendary academy life… ah, youth… zzz…”

For three years, Al spent nearly every day sleeping at the Dragals’ second manor in the capital, only appearing at the academy on exam days a few times per year. Every time, he effortlessly secured first place in the rankings before returning triumphantly to his bed.

And somehow—no one knew how—the fact that he had revived dream magic spread throughout the academy. In truth, recreating an ancient magic was an unparalleled achievement.

The rumor raced across the empire.

And of course, it reached the imperial castle—the throne room of the current emperor, Agnas Ill-Luxion, known as the Sacred Flame Emperor.

The emperor, a master of magic himself, was deeply impressed.

“To revive an ancient magic at such a young age… and to graduate top of the Imperial Academy. The headmaster reports that his practical combat exams are among the best in history. …We cannot possibly let such a talent slip from our grasp.”

◇◇◇

On the day of the graduation ceremony—which Al, of course, skipped via another fake illness—an imperial envoy suddenly arrived at the Dragals household and whisked him away to the castle.

Inside the carriage, he sagged like a dying plant.

“So this is it. I’m being executed. It’s been a good life.”

“…Absolutely not.”

Without any explanation, he was dragged into the audience chamber, where the emperor—whose presence alone could silence a crying child—awaited him. Rows of imperial guards stood on both sides, watching Al’s every movement with hawklike eyes.

“Forgive the abrupt summons, second son of Baron Dragals.”

“Not at all, Your Majesty.”

“With your genius, I trust you already understand why you’ve been called here.”

“But of course.”

(I have no idea. Some kind of elaborate public scolding? Well… I did skip school a lot…)

The emperor cleared his throat.

“The second son of Baron Dragals, Al. I hereby appoint you as a Court Magician of the Luxion Empire.”

“It is the highest of honors. I humbly accept.”

(Um… seriously, how did things end up like this?)

And so, as of that very day, Al inexplicably found himself among the ranks of the empire’s Court Magicians.

“The formal ceremony for awarding your insignia will be held soon. Since Dragals lies on the frontier, your relatives need not attend, but you yourself must be present—no exceptions.”

“Ah… yes, understood.”

(Damn it. I was planning to skip it by faking illness…!)

◇◇◇

After Al left, the chancellor immediately approached the emperor for his impressions.

“What did you think, Your Majesty? Of the young man who will be our newest Court Magician.”

“…I cannot tell.”

“I see. Even the Sacred Flame Emperor himself cannot read him—that is quite the statement.”

Those skilled in magic typically begin by sensing another’s mana to judge their strength.

But for some reason, that method simply didn’t work on Al.

For a magician, there was nothing more terrifying.

“That is… deeply unsettling.”

“Indeed it is.”

Yet the emperor’s lips curled upward.

Fear, it seemed, was outweighed by his anticipation for this new, unfathomable talent.