I launched into a rapid succession of questions. “How obedient is the slime? Are there any further steps you need to take? Is it possible for it to cease being your familiar?”
I couldn’t really help my curiosity. After all, it wasn’t every day that one was able to witness the exact moment a monster tamer obtained a familiar. What was more, Ingo’s technique differed on a fundamental level from the other methods I was aware of. Getting the chance to question him directly was more than I could have hoped for, and as a scholar, I was thrilled.
When conducting research that required interviewing the people on the ground, one first had to begin by establishing a rapport. Otherwise, there was a chance they’d refuse to talk to you at all. There was a time when I had not properly understood that, basing all of my judgments on the words I saw in books and written reports, but it turned out that was a good way to miss the reality of a situation. I’d learned that from Rentt.
In any case, my point was that I couldn’t be more grateful that Ingo was teaching me with such patience and attention.
“And here I’d thought you were the eternally composed type,” Ingo said, smiling ruefully. “It seems you’ve got a childish side I wasn’t expecting to see.”
The way he’d said that reminded me strongly of Rentt. I could really see the connection between foster father and son. “Rentt tells me that too,” I admitted. “Sorry. I tend to get carried away in the face of new discoveries.”
Ingo shook his head. “It’s nothing to apologize for. Rather, I’m grateful to have such an inquisitive student. You’ll pick things up quicker that way. Now, as for your questions. What was the first one again?”
“How obedient is the slime?” I prompted.
“Ah, right. First, I must establish that the slime and I are now connected by a bond—though that’s just the word I’ve chosen to use. A more technical description would be a permanent, mana-based connection. I imagine you’ve used contract magic before, so you would know how it feels to be bound by it, correct?”
“Yes, I do. I did notice that the magic circle resembled those used in contract magic. But it was unlike any known modern examples.” The circle Ingo had manifested had lacked the patterns and designs necessary for ordinary contract magic. That should have resulted in his mana dispersing—and yet, it hadn’t.
“Good observation,” Ingo said. “I’ve done my own research into modern contract magic, and the conclusion I’ve reached is that the concept behind its design is different on a fundamental level from my own technique. In other words—”
He proceeded to go into the specifics of how it differed. And not to sound conceited, but I doubted any other mage would have understood him. I, however, was recognized by the Empire for my scholarly contributions and had spent the better part of my life ceaselessly conducting my research into monsters. My magic eyes had also afforded me countless opportunities to analyze the composition of magic circles. All together, it meant I was well equipped to follow along with Ingo’s explanation. Nevertheless...
“I believe I’ve grasped the essence of it,” I said. “However, there are several points I’m still not clear on. For example—”
After listening to the questions I’d raised, Ingo nodded. “There’s no shame in that. As I’m sure you understood, this is only a tentative hypothesis of mine. There’s much I’ve yet to fully analyze, and my own understanding of it is often just ‘it works because it works.’ Honestly, that means this is a rather dangerous technique. I won’t blame you if you decide to back out now.”
Invoking magic you didn’t understand was a rather nerve-racking prospect. After all, if you didn’t know how it worked, you didn’t know what it was capable of. But did that mean I, an adventurer, was afraid? No. The very idea was laughable.
Adventurers made use of tools they didn’t fully grasp on a regular basis. The magical items acquired from dungeons were often poorly understood, with thoroughly analyzed examples being rare exceptions. Nevertheless, they were put to use anyway. If it allowed you to achieve a desired end, what did it matter that you didn’t understand how it got you there?
Realistically, though, each usage of such an object carried with it the risk of catastrophe. There were folk tales and actual historical examples of magical dungeon items destroying entire cities due to their wielder’s recklessness. That they continued to be used was only a testament to how indispensable they were. After all, humans were weak. In the face of the threat represented by monsters, we had to make use of whatever we could get our hands on.
At the end of the day, when the choice was between humanity’s extinction and the occasional disastrous accident, there was only one real option.
Of course, monster taming probably didn’t fall into that category. Humanity would likely get by just fine without it.
The thing was, I’d sensed possibility in Ingo’s technique—the possibility that I’d deepen my understanding of monsters...and of Rentt.
And even though I knew it would come with the possibility of disaster as well, if I were asked to choose between that and remaining ignorant? Well, I’d pick the same path. That was just the kind of person I was.
There was a reason I considered being a scholar my calling in life.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I told Ingo. “If anything, the prospect of so much being unknown only excites me more. And besides, I think it would stand to benefit Rentt if I learned more too.”
Ingo hummed knowingly. “Something tells me that the second reason carries a lot more weight.”
“I can’t argue with that. So, may I count on your continued instruction?”
“But of course. Moving on, then...”