Genius Wizard who sees Rainbows- Chapter 9

#009. Sector 49 (1)

 

 

 

The car swerved sharply.

The surrounding landscape rushed aggressively toward the boy.

In that moment, a man who had fully risen jumped toward the vehicle at just the right time.

*Thud!*

The man barely managed to land on the hood.

The impact caused a crack to spread across the windshield.

Despite the unexpected and sudden action, stopping the car wasn’t an option.

Ray pressed the accelerator while looking ahead at the part of the man that wasn’t obscured by his body.

The car’s destination lay outside Sector 50.

If he veered slightly off course, he could escape into the wilderness leading to Sector 49.

“You… bastard… I’ll kill you…!”

The man, now steadying himself on the hood, yelled something at Ray.

Although Ray couldn’t make out the words due to the wind and the glass, the man’s intense fury was unmistakable.

*Screech! Screech!*

The vehicle shook left and right, but the man didn’t fall off.

*Thud! Thud! Thud!*

The man began striking the windshield with a metal rod he’d grabbed earlier. Dissatisfied with the results, he pulled another object from his pocket.

“…!”

It was a black L-shaped object.

A gun.

Ray reacted instinctively the moment he recognized it.

With one hand, he gripped the steering wheel.

He didn’t stop pressing down on the accelerator with his foot.

Simultaneously, his other hand gathered mana.

*Hum.*

Ray focused his mind, channeling his anger.

The crimson mana swirled, condensing into a single point.

“I… will kill you… no matter what…!”

The man steadied himself on the swaying car just as the *red point* moved to the tip of Ray’s finger.

*Click.*

*Hum.*

The gun barrel and Ray’s mana-infused finger both aimed at their respective targets.

It all happened in a flash.

The man’s gaze was locked on Ray’s face.

Ray’s focus was fixed on the gun barrel.

As the man’s finger pulled the trigger, Ray abruptly yanked the steering wheel to its limit and twisted his head aside.

*Bang! Zing!*

The bullet grazed past Ray’s face, piercing the seat’s headrest.

Ray immediately turned back to assess the situation.

Two holes appeared before him.

A bullet hole in the windshield.

And a similarly sized small hole in the man’s head.

*Thud!*

The man’s corpse fell off the hood like a puppet with its strings cut.

In the rearview mirror, Ray watched the body grow smaller and smaller in the distance.

“…”

Ray turned his gaze forward.

He was already in the wilderness.

A desolate expanse of barren land and mountains of scrap metal stretched endlessly before him.

The Elton River ran parallel to an endless road.

However, through the shattered windshield, the scenery appeared fractured and distorted.

Ray rummaged through the glove compartment and pulled out a long wrench.

*Smash! Clatter!*

He used it to knock out the remaining shards of broken glass, clearing the windshield entirely.

Now, the scenery was clearly visible.

Ray pressed harder on the accelerator.

*Whoosh─*

The wild wind blowing through the barren land cooled the boy’s heated head and sweat-soaked body.

*
*
*

Ray didn’t stop driving.

The car now had a makeshift windshield fashioned from a glass panel scavenged from nearby scrap.

It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t impede his driving much.

He glanced at the rearview mirror.

The sight of Sector 50 had completely disappeared.

There was no going back now.

Not to Sector 50. Not until he gained the strength he needed for vengeance.

Ray’s lips moved as if possessed.

“…Revenge.”

He’d never had a purpose in life before.

He’d lived aimlessly, rolling like a stone wherever the world tossed him.

If thrown, he accepted it.

If chipped away, he endured it.

If shattered, so be it.

It was only after meeting the children under the bridge that he found a small sense of purpose – to protect them.

But when those children died…

The purpose that had guided Ray’s life vanished.

And ironically, the deaths of Niles and the children carved a new goal into Ray’s heart.

A blazing, unquenchable fire named vengeance.

What he would do next…

Where he would go…

Such concerns were meaningless now.

This fire would always guide him faithfully.

For now, he had to reach Sector 49.

To find a way to become as powerful as that dark blue mana magician

Ray turned his gaze.

To his right stretched the Elton River, reaching the horizon.

“All sectors are situated along the Elton River,” he recalled.

That was one small relief.

As long as he followed the river, he wouldn’t lose his way.

Ray looked left.

On the elevated road to his left, massive vehicles occasionally passed by.

Some were dumping garbage; others transported goods.

Judging by their luxurious exteriors, they likely came from low-numbered, upper-class sectors.

Ray drove for hours.

*Tuk-tuk.*

The overheated engine began to groan.

The sun was setting, but the ground’s heat lingered.

It was time to let the car rest.

Ray stopped near some rocks by the riverbank in a shaded area.

*Screech─*

As soon as the tension eased, hunger and fatigue crashed over him like waves.

He reclined in his seat, staring blankly at the sky.

The sound of rushing water.

The crimson-stained sun.

Dusty winds drifting below.

That was all the scenery offered.

Once he regained some energy, Ray stepped out of the car and checked the trunk.

Inside, he found a decent supply of bottled water, preserved food, and fuel.

“…Thorough preparation, old man.”

*Click. Gulp, gulp.*

The water sliding down his throat felt like rain soaking parched earth, reviving every part of him.

After devouring canned food and biscuits, his hazy mind finally cleared.

He gazed at the horizon with sharper vision.

The horizon now painted in blue.

Despite driving for almost half a day, the scenery beyond the horizon remained unchanged.

An endless wasteland.

That was all.

Ray instinctively knew he wouldn’t reach Sector 49 in just a day or two.

It might take three or four days—or perhaps an entire week.

Remembering why adults rarely left Sector 50, he set up a makeshift bed inside the car using scraps from nearby junk piles.

He piled driftwood from the riverbank to start a fire.

*Crackle.*

Even without a lighter, it was no problem.

After all, he could summon sparks with magic.

Ray stared at the campfire before shifting his gaze to the night air.

“…Magic.”

Closing his eyes, he focused deeply on his senses.

When he opened them again, the world around him had transformed.

It was now a world composed of mana.

Mana in vibrant colors swirled and mingled like oil paints on a palette, rippling ceaselessly.

Mana was everywhere.

An aurora stretched across the desolate land.

Thanks to the dim evening light, the colors appeared far more vivid than during the day.

“Phew.”

Taking a deep breath, he drew some mana of various colors toward him at random.

Though mana differed depending on its hue, it was generally resistant to movement.

It felt like trying to mold nearly hardened clay with his hands.

Ray painstakingly blended the gathered mana into an indigo hue.

*Sizzle!*

The indigo mana reacted, transforming into an electric current of the same color under his control.

Mana could be categorized into two types:

The first was mana that could be used for magic immediately, without any extra steps.

The second was mana that required blending with other hues to create new compositions before it could be used.

The former included red mana.

This was likely due to its association with the primal human emotion of *rage,* giving it inherently potent power.

The latter encompassed almost all other types of mana.

However, mixing mana wasn’t a simple task. Incompatible types repelled each other like opposing magnets.

There were specific combinations and ratios required to mix mana correctly.

This was one of the primary reasons magic was so mentally taxing to use. Every moment required careful manipulation to mix the mana colors properly.

‘If only mana could be drawn more fluidly, using magic would be so much easier.’

Certain emotions could amplify the ease of drawing specific colors of mana, but that had its limits.

Ray realized he needed a more fundamental solution.

Something akin to the ring-shaped vessel he had seen in the chest of the monocle-wearing mage.

If mana could be stored and only accessed when needed, it would revolutionize magic’s efficiency.

Focusing his mind, Ray stirred up traces of lingering anger in his heart, deliberately avoiding the enormous well of sadness nearby.

What he needed now was *rage.*

Rage to keep moving forward, to pursue vengeance.

Sadness only brought painful memories—emotions he wasn’t ready to face.

*Buzz.*

Red mana coursed into his chest.

But as soon as his focus broke, it dissipated.

Repeated attempts yielded the same result, leaving Ray exhausted and frustrated.

With dark circles under his eyes from what felt like sleepless nights, he muttered quietly to himself.

“…This isn’t working.”

It was only logical. Humans couldn’t sustain a singular emotion indefinitely.

Surely, there had to be another way.

Finding clues about the ring-shaped vessel was one of the things he had to do in Sector 49.

For now, however, he chose a different task: exploring new mana-blending formulas.

It was something he had dabbled in before, though never with much determination. But things were different now.

Ray raised his head once more.

His ashen, dust-covered hair, naturally white as a blank canvas, framed his determined face.

Before him stretched the largest palette the world could offer.

*
*
*

 

**Ray’s routine became cyclical, like running on a hamster wheel.**

During the day, he drove the car. By evening, when the engine reached its limits, he immersed himself in magic research.

With deft hand movements, he guided mana toward his palm, testing combinations of colors he instinctively felt might yield new magic.

*Buzz.*

Mana of various hues tangled together with a faint resonance at their center.

Ray’s eyes widened as he watched the colors blend into one.

*Sizzle!*

But at the critical moment, the mana repelled each other violently, scattering in all directions.

Ray remained undeterred.

His emotional scars had long since been sealed, leaving only faint traces. Barring extreme situations or deliberate focus on specific emotions, his calm demeanor rarely faltered.

He continued experimenting.

Changing color combinations and their quantities.

Adjusting proportions with precision.

Five minutes passed. Two hours. Six hours.

Evenings and nights flowed like this every day.

In that time, small spells manifested in Ray’s palm: frost formed, winds howled, and tiny stone fragments appeared.

When mental exhaustion reached its peak, Ray would crawl into the car, pull a tattered blanket over himself, and rest.

As he closed his eyes, he thought, *The progress has been surprisingly fast. I must be lucky.*

Soon, the rhythmic sound of his breathing filled the air.

The stars in the hazy night sky watched over the boy.

*
*
*

**Afternoon, under a blazing sun.**

Footsteps echoed busily along the riverbank in Sector 50.

“Search over there!”

“They couldn’t have gone far….”

It was Hector’s men.

They scurried about, as if searching for something, their movements tinged with unease as they stole frequent glances toward the parked car by the riverbank.

“Still nothing?”

A voice came from inside the car.

Though the tone was soft, it carried an ominous weight, as if spoken directly into their ears.

One of the men, evidently the highest-ranked, hurried to the car and approached the open window.

Through it, the side profile of a middle-aged man wearing a monocle came into view.

Dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, he exuded the air of a refined gentleman.

The subordinate stammered, trembling, “I-I apologize, sir! We’re searching as thoroughly as we can, but—”

The monocled man turned his head slightly.

“I’m aware of your efforts. Of course.”

“Y-Yes, sir! If you could just give us a bit more time, we’ll surely—”

“Take this.”

“Pardon?”

Through the window, the monocled man extended a staff.

The subordinate’s eyes widened in fear.

The man urged him again, “What are you waiting for? Take it.”

“I-I’m sorry! Please, give me another chance—”

“I’m not fond of those who don’t listen.”

The subordinate wept as he reluctantly grasped the staff’s end with trembling hands.

*Crack!*

“Arghhh!”

Ice began to spread from the man’s hand, quickly consuming his entire body.

Within moments, he was frozen solid, an expression of terror etched on his face.

The monocled man tapped the ice statue with his staff, shattering it into pieces.

*Clatter!*

Chunks of ice containing fragments of the man’s body scattered across the ground.

The other subordinates, having witnessed this from below the riverbank, quickly turned away and resumed their search with pale faces.

“Found something here!” someone shouted.

The monocled man stepped out of the car and descended toward the source of the voice.

“Is this it?”

“Y-Yes, sir!”

The man looked down at the blackened scorch mark on the ground.

Another subordinate ran up, holding a fist-sized piece of grayish-white stone.

“We found this as well!”

“Ah, it matches. It wouldn’t make sense for no traces to be left. Good work.”

The subordinates finally exhaled, their faces showing relief.

The man scrutinized the stone fragment and scorch mark alternately.

“This is indeed part of a golem. The blackened mark also carries traces of the mana it once held.”

He scanned the area.

It was an ordinary riverbank with an unremarkable underpass. Nothing seemed out of place.

“Hm?”

At that moment, the man noticed a disturbance in the mana lingering in the air.

A straight trajectory, spiraling outward.

It suggested that powerful magic had been used here—so strong that it left visible traces in the atmosphere.

He followed the trail with his steps.

Stopping inside the underpass, he murmured, “It was fired from here.”

Walking back out to the scorch mark, he stopped again.

“And it struck here.”

The man pieced together the scene in his mind.

A mage of extraordinary power had launched an attack here, obliterating the golem.

To be precise, it wasn’t just destroyed—it was *melted.*

The sheer intensity of the fire magic left nothing of its original form.

Yet, something didn’t add up.

“Is there another mage in Sector 50?”

“W-What? N-No, of course not, sir! You’re the only mage we’ve ever seen or heard of!”

In Sector 50, no other mage existed. It was certain.

While searching for the Rainbow, he had scoured the entire sector, finding no trace of magic, let alone another mage.

Who could it be?

Who destroyed the golem here?

As the man paced back and forth beneath the riverbank, lost in thought, he suddenly stopped inside the tunnel under the bridge.

The floor was clean and bare—seemingly devoid of any traces.
However, the man’s sharp observational skills caught even the faintest of marks.

There were slight indentations, indicating that something large had been set up there.

**”It seems to have been about the size of a small tent.”**

Raising his head, he noticed marks on the pillars as well. These were from ropes tied to support the upper part of the tent.

**”At this height… it wasn’t adults living here.”**

Without taking his eyes off the marks, the man asked,
**”Were there children living here?”**

**”Yes, sir. While this wasn’t within our jurisdiction, I believe so. It seems like a suitable environment for orphans.”**

**”Perhaps they relocated to avoid the war.”**

Even at the spot where the tent had been, there was still a faint ripple of mana.
Unlike the residual mana in the air outside, this one bore the marks of deliberate precision.

**”A street orphan using magic?”**

The man furrowed his brow.

That was an absurd notion.
But if he simply examined the evidence before him, it seemed plausible.

The ability to sense and manipulate mana wasn’t entirely unheard of, even among the lower sectors’ residents.
Although extremely rare, it wasn’t completely impossible.

However, using magic was an entirely different matter.

The world was composed of hundreds of elements, and the ways to combine them were nearly infinite.

Only a minuscule number of combinations could actually produce magic.

This is why magicians could only be nurtured through systematic education.

For generations, the magical community had meticulously established combination formulas.
Without being taught by a mentor, it was impossible to use magic.

**”In Sector 50? In this tiny area? There’s no way anyone who could teach magic exists here.”**

A street orphan using magic?
Discovering elemental combination formulas entirely on their own?

The man chuckled darkly.

Hearing his laugh, the subordinates around him flinched.

He continued laughing, unable to stop.

The thought was ludicrous.

To figure out a combination formula by oneself?

Such a concept was nothing short of a crude joke.

**”If that were possible, they’d be an unprecedented prodigy destined to become an archmage. Given the chance to mature, they’d surpass someone like me by leagues.”**

Scoffing at his own musings, the man redirected his reasoning.

He concluded that an external magician had briefly passed through Sector 50, destroyed the golem, and left.

**”Yes, that’s a much more reasonable explanation.”**

*Snap!*

The man snapped his fingers, calling his subordinates to gather around.

He began issuing several orders to track down any clues about the unknown magician.

Leaving the matter unresolved was unacceptable—after all, they had destroyed his precious creation, something that had cost him significant resources.

Meanwhile, the Elton River’s waters lashed fiercely against the shore.