I Was Mistaken as a Genius Mage in a Game

The boy focused on the demonic beings with crimson-black skin before him, attuning himself to the flow of magic within his body.

Under the tutelage of the continent’s greatest lightning mage, he had spent the past month studying the structure of magic and the nature of mana. As a result, he could now sense the mysterious energy coursing through him with newfound clarity.

Inside his mind, the process of converting mana into lightning and refining it into the spell [Bloom] was unfolding.

His mana surged through his brainstem, transmuting into electrifying currents that crackled outward from every inch of his body.

The shattered lamp, the spilled oil, and the resulting flames illuminated the once-dark cave.

The demons, caught off guard by the sudden attack, stood frozen in bewilderment. Their expressions were clearly visible in the bright glow.

With a faint smile, the boy focused on the intricate calculations occurring in his mind.

Before receiving Alter’s teachings, he had never experienced this sensation.

Back then, he had simply uttered [Bloom] and unleashed torrents of lightning without understanding the mechanics behind them.

He had no idea how the lightning was created, nor how it transformed into the spell known as [Bloom].

But now, things are completely different.

He could feel every step of the process—the way his mana converted into electricity, the precise transformation that birthed [Bloom].

Thanks to Alter’s guidance, he had drawn closer to the core essence of magic.

Even though he had only learned the basics, his spells were now leagues ahead in both power and precision.

A sense of omnipotence filled him, a confidence that he could accomplish anything.

“Bloom.”

With the utterance of the spell’s name, everything around him was engulfed in blinding white light.

A massive flash erupted, followed by the deafening roar of air being torn apart by lightning.

The swamp’s cave vanished before his eyes, along with the demons who had been staring at him in shock.

“…Oh.”

Slightly taken aback, he surveyed his surroundings as echoes of thunder rumbled around him.

Just moments ago, he had been standing within a pitch-dark, enclosed cavern. Now, when he looked up, he could see the sky, dark clouds slowly gathering above.

Around him, there was—quite literally—nothing left.

Sweat trickled down his cheek, only to evaporate instantly from the residual electricity in the air.

“…Is it over?”

Before him stretched a vast, white plain. Previously, the area had been filled with collapsed trees and muddy swamps, but after the surge of lightning, even those had vanished.

“…Hello? Anybody still there?”

On the off chance that any demon had survived, he extended his hand and sent a small jolt forward.

The released electricity crackled through the air, reducing the already barren landscape into further charred remains.

The lingering charge ionized the air, generating intense heat where there was nothing left to burn. This sudden surge of energy disturbed the atmosphere beyond the horizon, forming a massive thunderstorm in the distant sky.

Clusters of storm clouds gathered above the plains, exchanging bolts of lightning amongst themselves in a chaotic, roaring display.

“…Uh.”

The boy had grown far stronger than he had been before Alter’s training.

This was the undeniable proof of his progress, yet his expression was anything but celebratory.

“…Should’ve tried that new spell.”

Remembering Alter’s warning—that improper chanting could weaken a spell’s potency—he had played it safe by simply invoking [Bloom] without embellishments.

But at this level, spell potency was the least of his concerns.

‘I didn’t expect it to be this overwhelming.’

It made sense, though. His rate of growth was unparalleled compared to ordinary mages.

The former owner of the Magic Tower, a mage renowned throughout the continent, had practically moved next door to personally tutor him every day.

To put it in modern terms, it was as if the top instructor in Daechi-dong had moved in next door and provided him with private, daily lessons for a nationwide college entrance exam.

On top of that, his magic stat was an astronomical 20—far surpassing the average mage’s stat of 13.

Strength, endurance, agility, luck.

He had sacrificed all four of these essential survival stats in favor of maxing out his magic.

It would have been stranger if his growth wasn’t monstrous.

‘Still, even I didn’t think I’d improve this quickly.’

“So I’ve definitely surpassed level 20… maybe somewhere in the mid-30s?”

Even now, he couldn’t accurately gauge his own strength.

It was like punching a machine that only measured up to 999 and being unable to tell whether his actual score was 1,000 or 10,000.

‘Let’s assume I’m at level 30. Overconfidence is dangerous.’

He deliberately underestimate himself, keeping his assessment modest.

But realistically, a mage capable of altering the weather and summoning lightning bolts on a whim was far beyond level 30.

His build was just… incredibly unconventional.

Electricity continued crackling from his body, summoning dark storm clouds even into the once-clear sky above him.

“…Holding onto a week’s worth of mana and using it all at once really is absurd.”

It had been three full weeks since he last used [Bloom].

In theory, if he refrained from using any magic during that time, his body should have stored three weeks’ worth of mana.

But reality was different.

Even if a mage went without casting a single spell for an extended period, their body could only hold a maximum of one week’s worth of mana.

The reason was simple—no matter how gifted, a mage was still human.

And humans had limits.

Skipping meals wouldn’t let someone eat endlessly in one sitting, just as conserving stamina didn’t grant infinite endurance.

Likewise, the maximum amount of mana a mage could store was capped at about a week’s worth.

No matter how long they refrained from casting spells, their bodies wouldn’t accumulate more than that—just as a person’s stamina wouldn’t infinitely increase from resting.

‘Still not enough. At this level, I wouldn’t last against a high-ranking demon, let alone the Grand Lord.’

Tearing his gaze away from the white-hot lightning crackling at his fingertips, the boy turned and began walking toward Lir and the waiting reinforcements.

Some might think his concerns were absurd for someone who could reshape the landscape with a flick of his hand.

But considering his fatal weaknesses… His worries weren’t entirely unfounded.

The boy had no agility, no endurance, no strength, and abysmal luck.

He had the power to shake the heavens for five minutes—but that was all he had.

If the Grand Lord forced him into using [Bloom] and then merely ran away until the spell’s duration ended, what would he do?

Or what if the Grand Lord launched an ambush so swift that he couldn’t even react before he was struck down?

Even while using [Bloom], if his opponent relied on sheer speed, his abysmal physical stats would make landing an attack nearly impossible.

He recalled his fight against Grand Lord Maltiel.

Even when he had the perfect opportunity to land a counterattack, his lack of agility prevented him from delivering a successful hit.

He couldn’t afford to be complacent.

He was expected to be a hero—the one who would drive the Demon King and his army back into the depths of hell and bring an end to this relentless war.

And he had to fulfill that expectation.

Not just out of duty or guilt for deceiving those who believed in him.

He remembered all too well—this game had a ‘bad ending.’

If the protagonist failed to defeat the Demon King and his forces within a set time, the Sword Saint, constantly harassed by the demons, would eventually fall, and the demon armies would begin their final onslaught, eradicating all life on the surface.

It was an ending devoid of hope.

The time limit wasn’t unreasonably strict, but it didn’t leave room for complacency.

He had to steadily increase his stats and truly reach the level of a warrior like the Sword Saint.

If he didn’t, not only would he perish, but so would every living being on the continent.

And when that happened, there would be no one left to carry bodies to the graveyard.

No one left to mourn. No one left to grieve.

“…This is insane.”

He let out a sigh, overwhelmed by the sheer pressure bearing down on him.

As the faces of the characters he had created flashed through his mind, an inexplicable urge rose within him—to meet them in person and apologize.

For creating such a hellish world.

For forcing them into such a broken build.

‘I’m sorry, Ju Meok, Jom Bi, President…!’

With a long exhale, he started walking toward the awaiting reinforcements.

Each step he took sent streaks of plasma flickering through the air around him.

“Incredible power…”

Lir approached him as he neared the waiting troops, unable to hide her awe.

The moss-covered trees, the swamp, the countless caves that had once dotted the landscape—all had been reduced to nothing but white ash beneath the overwhelming force of his lightning.

All that remained were deep craters and exposed bedrock.

“…And this is the power of someone who’s only been studying magic for a month?”

“Damn, if we had been any closer… There wouldn’t have been anything left of us.”

“They said he’d grow to the level of the Sword Saint, but… That wasn’t an exaggeration.”

The soldiers who had been observing from a distance whispered in amazement.

Hearing their words, Lir’s long ears twitched, and an unconscious smile crept onto her lips.

She felt proud that the apprentice who had trained alongside her under the same master was such an extraordinary individual.

“You could’ve held back a little. Now our standby unit has nothing left to do.”

Lir’s voice carried a teasing lilt.

“I’m still not satisfied. If I had used three weeks’ worth of mana, I could’ve scorched the bedrock itself. Or at the very least, I should’ve tested the incantation…”

He let out an awkward chuckle, attempting to press down the static-charged strands of hair standing on end.

“Three weeks’ worth? What do you mean?”

Lir, puzzled by his cryptic words, furrowed her brows.

It was a fundamental truth, akin to a law of nature, that a human mage could only store up to a week’s worth of mana at a time.

As a mage advanced in Circle, their ability to store mana would naturally increase—just as an athlete, through training, could run farther and eat more than an ordinary person.

However, as a mage’s mana capacity grew, so did their recovery speed.

Thus, the notion that “a mage can store no more than a week’s worth of mana” was always true.

But three weeks?

Lir assumed he had simply misunderstood their master’s teachings.

“…There’s a way.”

He offered a knowing smile.

“What…?”

Lir was about to press for an explanation.

But at that moment, the white-haired boy suddenly lost consciousness and collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

Between marveling at his own power, regretting not testing his incantation, and stressing over the mountain of challenges ahead, he had completely lost track of time.

The five-minute mark had passed.

Instinctively, Lir darted forward and caught him before he hit the exposed bedrock.

If she had let him fall, that delicate skin of his would have surely been left with scars.

“…H-Huh?”

Holding him in her arms, Lir blinked in confusion before her ears turned a deep shade of red, and she lowered her gaze in embarrassment.

Having spent her entire life in the Magic Tower, this was the first time she had ever held a boy her age.

…Well, aside from that one time when she had half-lost her mind and lunged into his arms.

“A-Ahh…”

Cradling his light, fragile frame, Lir found herself at a loss for words.

Her body felt strange.

A burning heat spread from her head, and her blood surged through her veins at an alarming pace.

She had no idea how to describe this feeling.

Neither letting go nor holding him tighter, she could only fumble awkwardly—

To the distant soldiers, she looked like someone who had just been struck by lightning herself.