So I'm a Snake, Who Cares?

What incredible power.

BOOM!

The thunderous sound rang out clearly even through the storm.

The stone pillar that was hit by the stray destruction beam crumbled with a crash.

The power was spine-chilling. Indeed, a crazy but tremendously strong wyvern.

\'How did they do that!\'

And I was the one who cast such a powerful wind magic that could grab and shake such a formidable monster.

I checked my mana output just in case, but it hadn\'t returned to its original level.

Magic manifested with roughly 1/100th of my mana.

If that\'s the case, the power of my intermediate magic might be enough to tear apart a named monster in one go...

"That\'s impossible. With mere intermediate elemental magic."

\'Then what was that just now?\'

"...hmm."

Even Pelerian couldn\'t give a clear answer.

Hidden power bursting out in dire situations is a classic development.

There might be terrifying potential hidden within me.

But I wasn\'t given time to investigate further.

Chugota regained her balance and prepared another destruction beam.

"Kugagak!"

The Wyvern Mother pounced on her.

She must have thought Chugota had stolen me.

In reality, I was down here.

"Hide!"

Langrey immediately stuffed me into her backpack.

It wasn\'t a particularly large backpack, but I was sucked in all too easily.

Inside was a zero-gravity space.

Filled with all sorts of odds and ends...

I could guess what kind of space this was.

\'To think I\'d end up in a spatial storage!\'

At this point, all I could do was hope Langrey would escape safely.

==

While a storm raged somewhere in the mountain range.

There were regions where the sun was warm and gentle breezes blew.

The kingdom\'s capital, Solion Impel, far away, was one such place.

Spring sunlight shone down on the Emerald School, the kingdom\'s most prestigious institution.

The fragrance of magnolias drifted into the reception room through a slightly opened window.

Ah, that elegant fragrance of magnolia.

Professor Zetarob, a young man who usually enjoyed literature, had been in a good mood lately because of it.

It would have been even more poetic if he could recite a verse.

But he couldn\'t indulge in such whimsy in front of guests.

Zetarob adjusted his glasses and quietly lifted his gaze.

A father and son sat on the sofa across from him.

There were countless boys and girls who wanted to enter Emerald School.

Naturally, this year\'s enrollment quota was already full and set.

But not everything can go according to plan, can it?

Emerald School keeps quite a generous quota for extra admissions outside the regular enrollment.

The boy in front was an applicant, and the man beside him was his father.

The interesting thing was that the applicant boy didn\'t appear nervous at all.

He sat with his hands neatly folded, face calm and composed.

In contrast, his father seemed anxious, constantly fiddling with his fingernails.

He would start shaking his leg, then catch himself and stop with a start.

Zetarob spoke with a gentle smile.

"As I mentioned before, there\'s no need to be so nervous about the interview. We\'re not scoring you right now, I just wanted to offer you some tea as a member of the admissions office."

"...Ah, r-right."

The student\'s single father, Roil Riddle, laughed awkwardly.

He looked very naive.

That was inevitable. Roil Riddle was indeed a country bumpkin.

Zetarob, who had lived his entire life among the wealthy in Solion Impel, could tell just from his accent and manner of speech.

"Yes, your son seems very intelligent."

"Haha, hahaha! Thank you. Hey, you should say thank you too."

To beam so widely at a single compliment about his child.

This happens occasionally. Someone who suddenly becomes wealthy tries to get their child into Emerald School.

However, most special admissions require massive donations, and even after paying such money, many end up failing the entrance exam.

Zetarob smiled faintly as he looked at the open file.

\'But how did he get such an evaluation?\'

Roil, head of the emerging \'Riddle\' merchant group.

That name had gradually spread through Solion Impel\'s commercial circles.

A person who was once an ordinary wagon merchant suddenly secured capital and expanded his business.

Until then, no one paid attention to the Riddle merchant group.

Then one day.

The closed Red Anvil Mine in the Calea Mountains reopened.

The dwarven mines, especially the Red Anvil Mine, generated tremendous added value.

It was enough to cause a massive shock to Solion Impel\'s commercial world.

Quick-thinking and bold merchants all rushed to Calea City.

Just regularly importing forks from the dwarves would bring in significant income.

But what the merchants heard there was surprising.

Zetarob read the article attached to the file.

「..."Oh, we\'ve already signed a contract. With the Riddle merchant group. Huh? I don\'t know the details. Anyway, that\'s how it is, so why are you being so annoying!"

All the dwarves said the same thing.

This was testified by all the merchants who had rushed there at top speed, changing horses multiple times.」

It wasn\'t a lie.

Somehow, Roil Riddle had already secured exclusive rights from the dwarves.

It was an exclusive contract stating that the entire mine\'s production would be supplied through the Riddle merchant group.

How he managed to secure such a contract so quickly remained a mystery.

Dwarves were certainly not philanthropists, nor were they fools who only knew about metal.

If one merchant group exclusively handled everything produced from the mine, the kingdom\'s top 3 merchant groups would become the top 4. That\'s how big this business was.

But Roil Riddle took different action.

「However, \'Riddle merchant group\'s\' head Roil made a different decision.

He shared the rights to handle Red Anvil Mine\'s products with the merchant alliance. And at a very reasonable commission rate at that.

This was a rare show of mercy and fairness in today\'s world where \'anti-monopoly laws\' have become nominal.」

He boldly distributed his exclusively obtained rights to other merchant groups.

In reality, the commission was often less than 2% of sales, and considering the tremendous added value of dwarven products, it was truly a \'merciful\' decision.

Or perhaps he realized it was a business he couldn\'t handle and got scared.

\'It\'s probably neither.\'

Looking at Roil\'s naive and simple face, one might suspect either.

But in Zetarob\'s opinion, it was neither.

Rather, there must have been careful and bold calculations.

The first ones Roil shared supply rights with were the merchant alliance and two of the continent\'s top 3 merchant groups.

He shared the prime goods, including weapons, at a lower commission rate.

Those with less influence were charged higher commissions and given rights to sell cheaper items.

Thanks to this, Roil Riddle\'s merchant group gained \'power\'.

As long as the biggest forces wanted to maintain this contract system, Roil\'s power would not crumble.

Of course, by lending precious things to others, he obtained a very powerful network.

That\'s exactly what a rising merchant group needs most.

It\'s far more valuable than having massive funds.

Being accepted and acknowledged by the existing power holders...

\'Ah, I got lost in thought for too long.\'

Roil was already looking this way with an anxious expression.

Zetarob looked at the last part of the file.

「...Thus, we conclude this month\'s featured personality in the Sun of Impel. We pray for Mr. Riddle and his merchant group\'s prosperity.

--Baumet Writers」

For Baumet Writers, a notorious gossip magazine\'s reporter, to write such a favorable article.

They even included an illustration of the Riddle merchant group\'s emblem with a snake.