Reincarnated as a Genius Mage

(POV: Blank)

"Now follow me, I'll take you to George's troop." He says as he starts walking, not even waiting for me to follow behind him.

"Wait." I speak.

He halts immediately. Not taking another step.

"What's your name?" I ask. Folding my fists tightly.

He turns his neck and looks down at me, his eyes gleaming with.. confusion? Disdain? Maybe both.

"I asked you a question. What is your name?" I press, my tone growing more aggressive and I don't even know why.

"I'm Tashian." He says.

"Trashcan. What a fitting name."

His brows twitch, "I said Ta–"

"You thought you could bad mouth my mentor in front of me and walk freely like nothing happened? Or do you look down on me so much that you think my presence doesn't matter?" my voice lowers as I take slow, careful steps toward him.

"What are you even talking ab–?"

"Do you think the apprentice of K the Enigma is a joke? No, forget about me, you dare call my mentor a bastard?" As I speak, my fingers dig into my palm.

"Uh.. I'm sorr–"

My killing intent flairs, spewing out of me and flooding the air around us, distorting the pure mana.

I turn on my mana sight.

He has three cores revolving around him. A three core weapon user. Sword user? spear? Maybe an archer? I don't give a fuck.

He freezes, his face getting more pale as he holds his throat. His knees tremble, threatening to give out, and I continue taking slow steps toward him.

He reaches out his right hand toward me, his left hand still clutching his throat as he coughs, "stop! I'm sorry! I'm.."

"No. You don't mean it. You just want to get out of this situation."

His knees give out as he drops on the ground, his forehead on the floor as he clutches his throat with both hands, and tears drip out of his eyes.

I lean down, gripping the back of his head as I withdraw my killing intent.

He gasps, drawing in large breaths as he clutches the dirt on the ground.

I release my grip on his head, and tap his head twice, lightly. "That's a lesson, kid. Learn to keep your thoughts to yourself. That's what I did." I whisper into his ear.

Phew. Barely held myself back from flaming his face. But why do I feel this intense heat in my heart that's making me work up over a little snark from a nepo baby sergeant?

Ah, whatever. At least I didn't melt his face.

I stand, looking over him as he struggles to stand up. "Hey, now. Stand up. You were pretty lively a moment ago. What's wrong now?"

I click my tongue, "you still have to take me to George's troop under K's order, you know."

He finally gathers the strength to stand up as he whimpers.

He moves, limping as he takes slow steps in front of me.

"Walk faster!" I yell.

***

We finally arrive at George's troop camp.

There are about fifty tents here, and they are all red. Definitely signs of a Flameworth living here.

"You can go now." I tell the trashcan. I don't need him anymore. It's pretty easy to locate where I'll need to head to, because I can see that the largest red tent houses the captain.

He nods and quickly heads off.

"You should definitely insult him in front of me again next time!" I yell as he jeers off.

"Ugh, who's yelling?!" A male voice rings out.

I turn, facing the direction of the voice walking out of the largest red tent here.

Is that the captain? No. George is a Flameworth, that means he should have red hair.

The man walking out of the tent has gray hair, I can't see his eyes from this distance. He's wearing a black singlet, green uniform pants, and he wrapped the green shirt of the uniform around his waist. He's holding a breast plate with one hand, and a toothpick with the other; picking his teeth.

He looks like a young man in his mid twenties.

"It is I." I speak casually, almost playfully as I walk toward him.

That was dumb.

"Who are you?" He asks, his brows furrowing as I walk closer to him.

My eyes lock with his brown eyes.

I nod, "My name's Blank. I was sent by the Mercenary K to this troop, to be enlisted as a soldier."

His gaze softens as he takes off the wooden toothpick from his mouth, "oh. You want to enlist in our troop? That's unusual. But you said Sir K sent you? Hmm, come in." He says, flicking his head toward the tent, signaling me to enter.

I walk behind him into the tent.

"I'm Alberto by the way. The right hand man of Young Lord George, and a Flame Mage of the house of the Flameworths." He speaks in a proud tone.

I'm the youngest master of that house. Was.

I nod, "ah, I see."

"So, are you a weapon user or a mage? Or are you one of those types that haven't fought before and just came to die on the battlefield?" He asks. Walking to the part of the tent where a small wooden table seats, and takes a book from it.

"Uh.. I'm a dual affinity mage who uses a weapon." I respond.

"Oh.. a dual affinity mage. Now that's a rare occurrence." He speaks as he drops the breast plate he was polishing on the ground and takes a quill from the wooden table, writing on the book.

Wait til you find out I'm actually a mage with quad affinity.

"So what're the elements you have affinity with?" He asks, still writing in the book.

"Wind.."

"Mn hm." He nods.

"And fire." I add.

He looks up at me, "what a nice combo!" His face lightens up with a bright smile.

"Alright, we're all done here." He closes the book. "I'm also done polishing my Young Lord's armor. So let me take you to meet some people in our troop. My Young Lord isn't present right now though, so you'll see him later."

He walks toward the entrance of the tent, and I follow behind him.

I turn on my mana sight, and I see the three red rings revolving around him. Then I turn it off.

A third circle flame mage.

As we walk out of the tent, toward an open field-like area, away from the red tents, I see two poles buried to the ground and at a large distance from each other. A rope is tied to both poles, and various uniforms are hung on it.

There, right next to the pole, a red-haired man dressed in a white, informal long sleeve shirt, and brown leather pants stands, talking with a smile on his face to a group of soldiers sitting on a long wooden chair. The soldiers laugh as they listen to him.

"Ah, my young lord's here." Alberto exclaims softly as we walk toward the red haired man's direction.

George Petin Flameworth.