Frieren: Reincarnated as an Immortal Human-Chapter 38: FRIH -

Ronan cut her off. "I learned on the spot. I'm a genius."

The words dropped into the silence with casual arrogance, but Frieren didn't react with disbelief. Her violet eyes blinked once, then slowly softened as she remembered the other times she'd seen Ronan grasp spells as easily as one might breathe. Even the most difficult magic seemed to fall into place for him as if the world bent around his will. She believed him—not because she was naïve, but because her own experience had repeatedly proven that Ronan was anything but ordinary.

Martin, standing stiffly nearby, was utterly speechless. His jaw clenched. His fingers, still curled from the tension of earlier, twitched. To him, this was absurd. This man—this boy, really—had just claimed to learn one of the most foundational, precise magical techniques on the spot? And Frieren, a high-ranking elven mage, just accepted that? It wasn't just the boldness of the claim, it was that everyone acted like it was perfectly reasonable.

This had to be a farce. It had to be. No one learned magic like that—especially not appraisal magic, which required not just magical sensitivity, but careful calibration, a deep understanding of item enchantment theory, and hours of practice to avoid misinterpreting signals. Martin's lips curled slightly in a frustrated frown. If this had been anyone else, he might have laughed in their face. But here, in the presence of a powerful elf and a man who might as well be a demigod in disguise, he felt like a background character in a play he didn't audition for.

This was a powerful person pretending to be a novice, deceiving a naive girl. But Frieren believed him; she'd seen his speed in mastering spells. Appraisal magic... perhaps it was as he said. She looked at him with admiration.

A quiet glow settled over her expression as she observed Ronan, her gaze resting lightly on the back of his head. For someone who had wandered alone for decades, who'd built up emotional distance like walls of stone, this childlike wonder she now felt was unexpected. He was a mystery that defied centuries of magical convention—and for the first time in a long while, she was genuinely curious.

Martin felt a pang of jealousy. Why did they believe such nonsense? Because of his charisma and acting skills? He could do it too! But Ronan had the resources.

The nobleman's jaw tightened. He'd worked hard for his position—trained day and night, attended endless etiquette lessons, memorized spellcraft from dusty tomes—and yet here was someone who walked into a shop, picked up a spellbook, and mastered it faster than he could even read the first paragraph aloud. It wasn't fair. And it wasn't just envy that bit at him; it was the feeling of helplessness that came from knowing you simply couldn't compete.

Ronan, oblivious to their thoughts, didn't care. He had a cheat code. Unless a stronger cheat code appeared, any comparison would be futile.

He stood at the center of the room, surrounded by the faint hum of residual magic from the recently appraised tools. The air was tinged with the metallic scent of mana discharge and the faint aroma of old wood and dust, relics from ancient magic. His fingers danced over the edge of the desk as he moved with unhurried confidence, his mind operating at a level far removed from those around him.

He examined the tools. "Good haul. Mostly offensive and defensive, but some are useful – a sleep-inducing bell, a thinking-enhancing mallet... This world's magic is versatile. I've also mastered appraisal magic; even that shopkeeper couldn't match me." The maxed-out talent was incredible.

He allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. His tone was matter-of-fact, not bragging, as if merely pointing out the results of a scientific experiment. The sleep-inducing bell gleamed faintly under the light of the shop's hanging mana lamp, its surface reflecting a dull shimmer like moonlight on a still lake. The mallet, while less ornate, seemed to pulse with a strange calming aura, its enchantment subtly influencing the thoughts of those nearby—if they weren't paying attention.

He closed the book, putting the tools away. "Let's go..."

His hand had barely left the cover of the book when a strange warmth spread from his fingertips. At first, it was faint—like the residual heat left on a stone after a sunny day—but quickly intensified, radiating through the leather-bound cover and up his wrist.

He paused; the book was getting hot. He opened it; besides the appraisal information, there was something new...

For a moment, he thought it might be another spell—some secret technique the shopkeeper had hidden within the pages. But what met his eyes was far from structured incantation or magical theory. Instead, an erratic stream of characters sprawled across the parchment like spilled ink.

Gibberish...

Wait. Gibberish?

The characters flickered at the edges of his vision. A mix of symbols, numbers, and fragmented letters. It made no linguistic sense. Not in this world. Not in any. It was the kind of thing you might see on a corrupted data file—if such a concept existed here. He tilted the book slightly, watching the symbols rearrange themselves of their own accord.

Ronan saw a string of random characters, confused.

Then, some messages appeared.

They blinked into existence one by one, translucent against the page, glowing faintly in blue:

—MOD updated.

—Data display function added.

—Detecting magic.

The messages were brief and partially garbled. Ronan touched his chin, understanding dawning. Wind Spirit Moon Shadow was clashing with this world's rules.

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 > Kumo desu Ga: Reincarnated as a Neighbour of a Certain Spider

> I am Mihawk In One Punch Man

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