The warm sunlight streamed through the large window, settling gently over the table near it.
Its warmth lingered lightly on the surface.
A small girl sat in front of it, sipping tea.
She gazed outside with an expression unreadable, her thoughts a mystery.
Cautiously, I stepped closer, carrying a tray whose weight lent a reassuring steadiness to my steps.
Mindful not to let it tilt, I approached the table and gently placed the tray upon it.
She noticed my presence and turned to look at me.
“This is today’s lunch.”
I placed the large plate from the tray in front of her.
On it was a steak—a massive piece of meat nearly the size of her upper body.
The butler standing nearby set a knife and fork beside her plate.
She picked them up with both hands and looked at me, her emerald-green eyes filled with curiosity.
It was clear she wanted an explanation on how to eat it.
“Why not start by trying just the meat?”
The steak had already been cut into bite-sized pieces, prepared with care for her convenience.
She carefully sliced a piece and brought it to her mouth.
After chewing a few times, she let out a small sound of admiration.
From her slightly open lips, a delicate flame burst forth.
Her eyes widened in surprise as the flame dissipated harmlessly into the air.
It was a natural flame born from the steak—a characteristic of the Fire Toad, whose essence had been carefully preserved within.
Preparing this meat required great effort.
The Fire Toad’s flesh was incredibly tough, so I meticulously sliced it thin along the grain, reassembled it with magic to preserve its texture, and repeated this process thirty times to achieve the ideal tenderness.
Then, I shaped it into a thick steak and cooked it without using fire, relying solely on magic to sear the outside to crisp perfection while keeping the inside tender.
As a result, the steak retained its original magical properties, producing flames that could be enjoyed as part of the dining experience.
“I used magical herbs from the lava marshlands as seasoning. They’ll clear your mind and significantly increase your resistance to flames.”
“Mmm, it’s delicious.”
She began eating the steak eagerly, forgoing the knife and simply using her fork to bring pieces of meat to her mouth.
Not wanting to interrupt her flow, I waited until she had swallowed another bite before speaking again.
“If you pair it with the purée, it will taste even better.”
Beside the enormous steak was a purée delicately shaped like a flower.
At my suggestion, she scooped a bit of it with her fork and sniffed it hesitantly.
Her face wrinkled slightly.
“Ugh, it smells like potatoes.”
She glanced at me sideways, the fork still in her hand.
I smiled at her without a word.
After a moment of hesitation, she combined the purée with the steak and took a bite.
Her eyes widened as she exclaimed, “This is even better!”
Of course, it was.
I had crafted this combination with utmost care.
The purée was made from starlight potatoes I had personally cultivated—versatile and abundant tubers that thrived under starlight.
To grow them, I had dedicated a shadow puppet to tending the field day and night, imbuing the plants with magic and nurturing their growth.
The resulting starlight potato purée was on a completely different level from the ordinary, enhancing the robust flavor of the steak with its gentle, subtle essence.
As she took another bite, her mouth released another flame, this time in a stunning golden hue—the signature glow of the starlight potato.
I had anticipated she would enjoy this visual flourish, and her delighted reaction proved me right.
“This is fun!”
She ate enthusiastically, flames bursting and dispersing beautifully in the air.
Meanwhile, I quietly observed her, ensuring everything on the table remained in order.
When she had consumed about half the steak, I set a small bowl from the tray before her.
“Now, would you like to try it with this sauce?”
Inside the bowl was a dark substance, swirling like mist.
She regarded it with suspicion, her gaze questioning.
Once again, I merely smiled.
Hesitantly, she picked up the sauce and sniffed it.
It carried no discernible scent, which made her frown slightly.
“It looks so strange…”
After some deliberation, she poured it over the steak.
The mist-like sauce hovered over the meat briefly before seeping in, turning its vibrant red hue into a deep, shadowy tone.
She looked mildly repulsed, which made me chuckle internally—it was a harmless prank.
Despite her hesitation, she took a bite.
Her eyes widened slightly as she chewed, and after swallowing, she poured more sauce onto the steak and continued eating.
“This is…?”
She turned to me with a look of awe.
I showed her a small container holding the sauce’s key ingredient.
From it emerged a shadowy figure that hopped onto the table—a Fire Toad’s shadow.
Using magic, I drew it back into my hand, where it was absorbed into a shadowy tree I had created.
“This sauce is made by simmering the shadows of thirty Fire Toads over a long period. Alone, it has no flavor, but when paired with meat, it enhances its depth and richness.”
She continued eating, savoring the sauce-soaked steak in silence.
Eventually, she reclined in her chair, her head resting against the backrest, letting out a satisfied sigh.
Her belly had puffed up slightly—surprising, given how much she had eaten.
Her petite frame seemed incapable of holding such a large meal.
She gave me a thumbs-up, clearly pleased.
“This is great. I didn’t give you shadows for this, but still, good job.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I replied with a polite bow.
It was only after honing my craft to this level that I realized: my professor had foreseen the importance of shadows in my growth.
Likely, he had known this even before I was accepted into the university, which was why he had encouraged me to take Professor Heisen’s class.
Deep respect filled my heart.
The girl, now satisfied, returned her gaze to the window.
I glanced outside but saw only thick clouds.
Whatever she was watching remained a mystery.
A thin flame escaped her lips—remnants of the magical steak she had eaten.
Red, gold, and black flames intertwined with her magic to form the shape of a dragon.
She sent it flying out the window and began to play with it, controlling its movements.
Meanwhile, I cleared the table with care.
At that moment, one of my shadow puppets approached, carrying a tray with a beautifully crafted plate.
It was my very first creation, and I had named it “Number One” in commemoration.
Number One set the tray on the table, and I carefully picked up the plate.
Any interference of magic could alter its taste, so I handled it delicately.
“This is your dessert.”
As she controlled the flames, shaping them into a dragon, her attention returned to me.
The fiery dragon she had conjured disappeared beyond the clouds.
I gestured toward the plate on the table.
On it sat twenty small tarts, delicately arranged.
The butler, waiting quietly nearby, poured her a cup of tea and placed it beside the plate.
She picked up one of the tarts and ate it.
Then, in a fluid motion, she sipped the tea, savoring the taste with her eyes closed.
The tarts did not boast strong flavors.
They were simple confections made from mountain berries harvested in these vast peaks.
But that simplicity was enough to elevate the aroma of the tea.
Judging by her satisfied smile, my intention had succeeded.
She leisurely enjoyed her tea and tarts while gazing out the window.
The butler silently refilled her cup.
I glanced at him.
The butler, a humanoid figure resembling a dragon, radiated a controlled but immense magical energy.
In truth, he occupied the largest domain within my Shadow Tree—about a hundred times the space of any other shadow puppet.
From my observations, my Shadow Tree could sustain approximately five hundred puppets.
Yet, this one individual claimed one-fifth of that capacity.
I narrowed my eyes.
He felt far stronger than me.
It made sense, considering the density of magic in this place.
The magic here was five times that of the fourth or fifth floors.
After gaining sentience, this puppet had absorbed magic at an explosive rate and devoted itself fully to serving my professor.
The puppet had even enchanted her bed to move on its own to accommodate her aversion to walking and preemptively addressed her tasks.
It treated both the professor and me with equal importance, a characteristic shared by all shadow-imbued puppets.
However, the capacity issue was troubling.
Including all the puppets I had already created, I had roughly a hundred slots left.
To increase capacity, I would need to expand my Shadow Tree.
The professor’s amusement resonated with the surrounding magic, causing it to ripple and hum.
Witnessing this awe-inspiring spectacle, I let out a wry smile.
It was only after advancing to my current level that I fully realized her strength.
Her domain not only encompassed the entire tower but extended far beyond, reaching past the mountains and into the horizon.
I couldn’t even fathom its limits.
When I first sensed her domain, I had been utterly shocked.
The more I learned, the more I realized how much I didn’t know.
Undoubtedly, there were still many things beyond my comprehension.
***
“I’d like some more,” the professor said, pointing to the remaining tarts.
She gazed wistfully at the dwindling pile.
Anticipating this, I had already sent Number One to fetch more.
Responding to my signal, Number One brought another tray of tarts and placed it before her.
Her face lit up with a beaming smile.
As I continued to attend to her, a connection flared within my Shadow Tree.
Following the flow, I detected Cassian’s puppet transmitting a message—it was Cassian, reporting an issue with the tower’s magical array.
My brow furrowed slightly.
I bowed to the professor and said, “If you’ll excuse me, may I step away?”
She waved her hand dismissively.
I backed away from the table, leaving the butler to attend to her needs.
Placing Number One into my dimensional pouch, I left the room.
Two hours had gone into preparing this meal.
Seeing her satisfied made me realize that mastering cooking had been worth it.
Looking at my hands, I stifled a bitter smile.
As my connection with the shadow puppets deepened, they began to mirror my learned skills, including cooking.
The more proficient I became, the more capable they grew.
This growth was vital for refining their autonomy.
It was clear that as the puppets improved, my workload would decrease.
Already, they handled simple tasks, giving me the luxury of time to devote to pursuits like cooking.
***
Following the signal, I found Cassian in the central hall of the second floor, clapping her hands and playing with a bear puppet.
Using a subtle magical pulse, I announced my presence.
She turned her gaze toward me, then jerked back slightly.
A razor-sharp magical aura brushed past me like a blade.
Recognizing me, she dispersed the energy harmlessly into the air and waved.
“There’s a gap between the floors,” she said, pointing to the staircase in the central hall—a passage connecting the levels of the tower.
I inspected the magical array and found a slight gap in its structure.
As she had said, a minor fault had formed.
Judging by its nature, it had appeared about two weeks ago—around the time of a small skirmish that had taken place here.
That was undoubtedly when the damage had occurred.
As I quickly corrected the error, I asked, “How did you notice this?”
Until I examined the array, I hadn’t even realized the gap was there.
The fact that it hadn’t been reported in two weeks suggested no one else had noticed either.
“Hmm, it just felt itchy? Something about it bothered me whenever I passed through,” she said, scratching her forehead.
The fact that she had detected such a subtle irregularity through sheer intuition spoke volumes about her skill.
“Thank you for letting me know,” I said.
“Sure thing. Take care, mister,” she replied, waving as she departed, the bear puppet following closely behind her.
She never went anywhere without it—not even to her lectures.
Despite the harsh environments it was exposed to, the puppet remained unscathed, a testament to her strength.
***
I returned to my workshop, where my shadow puppets were hard at work on a massive figure.
One of them, Zero, greeted me with a flicker of intent.
“Zero, is it ready?” I asked.
Zero, looking disgruntled, nodded.
It was clear the name still didn’t sit well with it, but there wasn’t much it could do.
I had chosen it, and that was that.
It was the first shadow puppet I had created—the prototype that had inspired my entire craft.
Its name had come to me naturally, and eventually, Zero had resigned itself to it.
I looked up at the puppet Zero was working on—a giant tortoise.
It had saved my life multiple times and guided me to university.
I owed it a great debt.
Due to its immense size, crafting its shadow required an extraordinary amount of effort.
Even that wouldn’t suffice.
To repay its kindness, I had meticulously prepared not only to imbue it with a soul but also to endow it with immense strength, akin to the butler.
The thought of it coming to life brought a smile to my face.
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