The Genius Programmer Turned Wizard - GPW Chapter 3: Crow (Part 1)

Colosseum, First Floor – VIP Seats.
Several nobles dressed in ornate garments were seated there.
But among them, one man stood out in particular.
A worn and tattered black coat that looked like he wore it every day.
No accessories, no ornaments—just a middle-aged man, plain and disheveled.
Flip.
He wasn’t even paying attention to the event—he was simply reading a book he’d brought with him.

> “What’s going on here?! Are they really panicking over such weak goblins? That’s a big disappointment!”

The loud commentary and cheers didn’t seem to register in his ears.
Not until a fellow companion, clearly fed up, decided to poke him.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Hm? What is it?”
“Look, I know you’re not interested in the match, but—”
“Hold on. Let me disable the Silence Magic real quick.”

He tapped his fingers to his ear and spoke again.

“What is it?”
“You were invited to the VIP section—would it kill you to at least watch the match?”
“It would kill me. I’ve got way too much research to do. I don’t have time to waste on garbage like this.”

Fortunately, his rude comment was drowned out by the overlapping commentary.

> “Still, look at that prisoner run! Isn’t he being way too selfish when his comrades are falling?!”

But that didn’t stop him from continuing.

“Why do people even enjoy this kind of barbaric nonsense?”

The murmurs around him grew louder as gazes turned his way.
But he absentmindedly raised his hand to his ear again.
Just as he was about to reapply the Silence Magic—

‘Hm?’

One of the prisoners caught his eye.
The man had crouched down in front of a Hobgoblin, clutching a staff.

‘That staff…’

Even from a glance, he could tell it was a mass-produced item.
A cheap staff that only had Magic Missile embedded into it.
In other words, a weapon just decent enough to be handed to a prisoner.
And yet, for some reason, his eyes kept getting drawn to that prisoner holding a trash-tier staff.

‘…’

Just then, the Hobgoblin raised its club.
The prisoner barely managed to fire a Magic Missile in time, but it barely did any damage.

> “If you could beat a Hobgoblin with just Magic Missile, then every mage in the world would be spamming it! What a shame… Pfft!”

The commentary ridiculed him.
The reactions of other mages nearby were no different.

“Haha! Did you see that? That guy cast Magic Missile with the most serious face I’ve ever seen!”

They weren’t wrong.
You couldn’t defeat a Hobgoblin with Magic Missile.
And that prisoner was casting it with an oddly solemn expression.

> “Why is he just sitting there? Is he frozen in fear? Don’t tell me he’s already given up?”

But this time, they were wrong.
The prisoner hadn’t frozen. He hadn’t given up.

‘That guy…’

His eyes were darting busily.
And despite being alone, he was constantly muttering to himself.

‘What the hell is he saying?’

The next moment—he couldn’t believe what he saw.

‘Is he… smiling?’

It was faint, but the corners of the prisoner’s mouth had lifted.
Even with death looming just a breath away, he was smiling as if enjoying himself—and then shouted something.

“—!”

Right then, a Magic Circle formed in front of him.

BOOM!

A deafening blast shook the Colosseum.
In the ringing aftermath, silence fell.
Until the commentary finally resumed.

> “…What the hell was that?”

People couldn’t hide their shock.
The sheer power of the blast was one thing, but what happened next was even more unexpected.
Thud.
After taking out the Hobgoblin, the prisoner collapsed on the spot.
His fellow mages, who had just been mocking him, regained their confidence and started chattering again.

“Well, sure, it was a spell I’ve never seen before. But it’s not that impressive. Using that much mana for a single shot? Totally inefficient. Useless in real combat.”

But Crow didn’t agree.

“That was a Magic Missile.”
“…What?”
“He defeated the Hobgoblin with Magic Missile .”

If someone still didn’t get it after that, they were just plain stupid.

“What nonsense are you spouting? There’s no way that was Magic Missile.”

…Yeah. This guy was clearly an idiot.
Not that he was the only one.
How many people in the Colosseum had actually understood what just happened?
Based on experience, Crow could confidently say: none of the spectators had.
But maybe that prisoner in the arena… maybe he understood.

Crow suddenly stood up from his seat.

—

“Ugh…”

When he opened his eyes, an unfamiliar ceiling came into view.

‘I… survived?’

…How am I even alive?
He should’ve collapsed during the tutorial after running out of mana.
Flip.
The sound of turning pages broke the silence.
He looked to the side and saw a man reading a book.

‘That guy…!’

He recognized him immediately—he was too important a character in the story to mistake.
A scruffy black coat, unkempt hair, pale skin, and dark, sunken eyes.
There was no doubt.

Crow, the Mage of Origin.
A man obsessed with the origins of magic, known for personally delving into dungeons.
Though a total eccentric, his individual research achievements were said to be the most overwhelming of any current mage.

‘But… why is he here?’

Was he the one who saved me?
With his power and status, it was certainly possible. But why?

Thud.
Suddenly, Crow closed his book and looked him dead in the eyes, commanding bluntly:

“Do it again. That thing.”

“…That thing?”

“The spell you used at the end.”

He was obviously referring to the Magic Shotgun .

‘Seriously?’

That’s the first thing he says to someone who just woke up from nearly dying?
By any normal standard, this guy was seriously messed up.

Translatin_Otaku

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