Wish on the Star-Filled Sea Chapter 7

[xuebingcode]

Chapter 7

Oz: …You as well did not wish for anything personal.

Akira: Ah, you’re right…

Oz: You, Rutile, and Lennox are all the same. Only thinking of others.

That is what Southern wizards do. They prioritize others before themselves. I suppose that makes you similar to a Southern wizard then, Sage.

I find myself smiling at those words when I turn to face Rutile and Lennox, our eyes meeting.

Akira: (I feel a little better now about having shown my wish…)

(I wonder what this feeling is? It’s almost like the feeling you get after you finish your presentation in class…)

Figaro: Wait Master Sage, don’t tell me you seriously ended your wish after just one?

Akira: Aha…yes. I couldn’t think of anything else other than that.

The illusion disappears after Figaro speaks, and I recall a question from Murr before. 

Akira: (It’s not like the thought of “Would you wish to come home?” didn’t cross my mind before but…)

It’s that, I’d be throwing everything I’ve gained in this world away. That isn’t something I should be wishing for at a party that everyone planned.

Figaro’s curious gaze quickly changes to his usual peaceful expression. That’s when a listless voice called out.

Mithra: I’m bored.

It was Mithra. He was sitting on the stairsteps, watching us silently for awhile until he finally decided to speak up.

Murr: You’re bored? Want a cookie?

Lennox: Don’t forget Shylock’s cocktails.

Mithra: No need. How about we end this chatter already? None of these wishes can make for a game.

Owen, leaning his back against the wall, continued.

Owen: Seriously. They’ve all been either feasible little comments or banter. This game is gonna end with zero winners or losers.

Mithra: And also, Figaro.

He waves his hand in the air, and within his hands he grips the crown that was laid on the table. 

His handsome face twisted into a smile of one looking for trouble. 

Mithra: The one who lays their hands on this crown is the winner, and can make Oz and Figaro their servants, right?

Figaro: You’re right. With only that tool, you can make me do whatever you want, under the magic spell of the emperor. 

Mithra: Hmmm. Still, I don’t believe that this crown has that sort of effect to it. 

If it was just nonsense that you were spewing, I’ll make you regret it, Figaro.

Owen: Yeah, let’s end the game already. Whether that’s a piece of trash or not can be determined now. 

Finding out this way is much faster than granting a bunch of useless wishes.

Figaro: You really are hotblooded. Didn’t I say so? There’s a proper function to use it.

Welp, I can’t stop you if you want to quit the game.

Figaro stands straight at the rambunctious Northern wizards, and speaks in a merry voice. 

Figaro: If only you stayed in the game, you could have won and made me your toy. 

Mithra & Owen: Huh?

Figaro: Possideo.

From his lips forming a smile so thin Figaro chants his spell. 

Gradually, specks of light begin to spiral upwards, his hands moving like a conductor’s. The orchestra was just about to start. 

Trailing along his slender fingers is a light that paints its mark where he points, and eventually that light grows and wraps itself around the tree in the centre of the foyer. 

Murr: Wooowie! It’s an ensemble of lights!

Rustica: How majestic…the stars hung up on the tree are all twinkling at once.

Figaro: There wasn’t any rule that I couldn’t participate in the game myself, was there?

The true game starts now. There’s still so many wishes on this tree left, see?

Our sight was stolen by a thousand lights, a single star bringing our focus to it as it floats to the centre stage. 

Mitile: I want to take a nap with a huuuuge sheep! I bet it’d be super fluffy and nice…

Figaro: What a sweet little wish. Looks like this teacher will have to do his very best.

Possideo.

Where Figaro points with his finger, a sheep of Lennox’s pops up. 

And, the same way a cotton candy builds up, the sheep does the same with its round body.

Rutile: …! The sheep is growing larger!

Akira: Soooo fuzzy…

Figaro: Shall we go even further?

He says his spell like it's nothing.

With his calm and composed self, it felt like no matter what wish was thrown at him he could truly grant it. 

Owen: I’d like for it to rain on the day of the party.

I want the Milky Way to overflood and ruin the party with heaps of rain.

Figaro: An overflow of the Milky Way? I can make that happen. 

He snaps his fingers with a strike.

Owen: Ow!

Murr: It’s raining candy!!

Rutile: Oh yummy!

Akira: Is this…milk flavoured?

Lennox: An overflowing of the Milky Way grants you a rainstorm of milky candy, is the joke I think…?

Figaro’s magic darts around the room, opening memories of wishes and showing the saved illusions inside. 

Our hearts danced at the sight of this repeating miracle performing before us.

Murr: Figaro, you’re amaaazing! You just keep on granting them!

Rutile: Yes, he’s on a roll! But, Dr. Figaro, won’t you get tired after using so much mana?

Lennox: …I remember yesterday Dr. Figaro, that you had a discussion with Lords Snow and White…

Figaro: Yep. I knew I needed a lot of power to grant all these wishes so, I asked them to lend me some.

Since they gave me their sugar, I’ll be fine for a little longer.

Rutile: I see, so Lords Snow and White were helping you out! I was surprised for a moment at all the different kinds of magic you were using!

Owen: …Was this your plan from the start?

A disappointed voice rings in my ear. Owen was playing with a star-shaped cookie as he spoke.

Figaro: What do you mean?

Owen: You never had any intention of handing over that crown from the start. You made us the floorboards for your Good-Guy stage. 

Figaro: That’s surprising. Weren’t you guys the ones who wanted to quit the game from the start?

You Northern wizards are so quick to give up.

Mithra: What mouth are you–ggh.

Owen: Gguh.

In the middle of his words Mithra and Owen’s mouths were stuffed with a piece of candy, cutting off any more of their crude remarks.

Figaro: Now now, we still have some work to do. Let’s grant more wishes! 

Murr: You too, Oz! I wonder what kinda wishes the world’s strongest wizard will make come true?

Oz: …

Rustica: I mustn’t fall behind now. Amorest Viesse.

Rutile: Heehee, me too! Ortonik Setomaouge! 

The wizards each recited their spells, including Mithra and Owen, in competition.

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