History of Regression (3)
Snap—!
Deculein snapped his fingers. The classroom plunged into pitch blackness.
And that's when Ifrin understood why this place was called the "special layer."
"Whoa."
The ceiling had transformed into the night sky. A clear black canvas dotted with stars.
"Truly pure magic..."
Deculein swept his gaze across the classroom as he spoke.
"...never mingles with impurities. It remains unadulterated. Even the same spell feels firmer and sharper, like magic of a higher order. Like the body of the Iron Man."
Pfft—someone let out a small chuckle.
Ifrin glanced over. It was a mage from the Imperial Palace.
"You."
Of course he wouldn't miss it.
Deculein pointed at him. The man faced him with a slightly slouched posture.
"Your name."
"...Ron, sir."
"Summon fire."
The Imperial mage 'Ron' conjured a flame. Just an ordinary one—a basic Ignition.
"A meager flame. Utterly commonplace."
"......"
Ron's eyebrow twitched. Deculein examined the fire with the naked eye.
"Unrefined, it offers nothing but heat. No different from a mere campfire. Far from pure—it's filthy."
A magic circle of just four strokes. Nothing mysterious, nothing special.
"...However."
Deculein interfered with the 'four-stroke' incantation.
He'd imparted a portion of his own knowledge—the properties of the Iron Man.
Whoosh—!
The flickering fire in Ron's palm erupted into blazing flames. Its heat swiftly enveloped the classroom.
"......"
Ifrin and everyone else stared blankly at the blaze. More precisely, at its color.
It wasn't some ordinary fireball. The flames gleamed with a brilliant texture, dense with intense heat.
"Fire that burns purely."
A spell's output is determined by input. Greater input yields greater output; halt the input, and the magic fades.
Yet this superheated inferno persisted on its own—like a white-red gemstone, self-sustaining without further fuel...
"Ron."
"Y-yes, sir."
Deculein called the Imperial mage's name again. Startled, the man straightened his back.
"An ordinary element like fire grows through the properties its caster imparts. It achieves supreme purity. That is the meaning of pure utilization."
Ron peered intently at his own flame.
Snap—!
Deculein snapped his fingers again. Countless points of starlight bloomed in the air.
"The essence of elements. Pure inner force. This is the core of what I shall teach in this lecture. Observe closely."
With that, he began writing.
Hummm...
The starlight on the 80th floor resonated with the heavens. Its glow wove incantations, calculations, and magic circles into the void.
Ifrin hurriedly scribbled in her notebook.
But the content was too vast to fit on mere paper.
No, scale aside...
"Professor. Is this really a magic incantation?"
Ifrin mustered her courage to ask. Deculein's formula was unlike anything she'd ever seen.
He twisted the corner of his mouth.
"No. Too vague for a circuit, too bizarre for a magic circle. It is a new element in composing magic—one that has never existed before. I shall name this foundation 'trait.'"
By then, Roserio was glancing around. Not just her—every mage who trusted their memory and came without writing tools was scrambling.
"This 'trait' can be applied to any magic with proper adjustment."
Just like a game's perk.
Snap—!
Deculein snapped his fingers. Earth coalesced in the air into a spherical form.
Fine particles floated like a planet. A blue ocean emerged on its surface, followed by brown continents.
The Earth.
"Whoa..."
Ifrin gawked openly. But when Deculein clenched his fist, the magic scattered like a mirage.
"This is but a fraction. To grasp my 'trait,' one needs fundamentals. And fundamentals stem from theory."
Deculein manipulated the starlight with Telekinesis.
"Now begins the true lecture."
In the darkness, line by line.
His newly invented 'magic' took form.
...Meanwhile, Yuseffin recalled that morning's events.
—You killed Veron.
Yuseffin hadn't let go of Julie's grief. Instead, with that mad obsession and tenacity, she'd surpassed her own limits.
A newfound awakening.
—I know everything.
She'd extended her shadow to the base of the sheer cliffs.
Searching thousands of meters in altitude and tens of thousands of hectares, she'd recovered Veron's body. She'd identified the steel that pierced his chest.
—So I'm curious.
Why had Deculein gone out of his way to kill Veron?
What was his motive?
—The way you only wanted a smile from Julie wasn't a lie.
Because Veron, Julie's cherished subordinate, got in the way?
Or because Julie and Veron had something going on?
Jealousy driving him mad?
Pfft, no way.
Yuseffin wasn't a fool.
—Veron must have tried to kill you first. You hid it to spare Julie the pain, right?
Obviously. Love-blinded Veron harbored murderous intent first, and Deculein acted in self-defense.
"......"
—Professor? Say something.
Even then, Deculein's expression remained unchanged. The professor maintained his noble poise.
—...Yuseffin.
—Yes~?
Yuseffin smiled brightly. Deculein looked down at her and continued.
—I have a request.
—Pfft. Of course I won't tell Julie abou—
—I will dismantle the Phairden Knights.
"......?"
Yuseffin blinked blankly.
It was far beyond anything she'd imagined.
—There are many ways. Julie is incorruptible, but some knights in her order are utterly petty. Launder underworld money and hand it over, offer bribes...
—How is that a request? Think I'll just sit by?
Deculein stared at Yuseffin silently. She instantly read the emotion in his gaze.
—If the knights fall... Julie will hate me.
That made it even less comprehensible.
His feelings were purely affection.
—...Yes. Enough to kill me, perhaps. But she won't. That's who she is.
Yuseffin's words. But Deculein's response was odd.
—No. That is insufficient.
"......"
—Yuseffin, help me. Make Julie hate me enough to kill me.
Yuseffin's jaw dropped.
Never had she encountered such an absurd situation.
Was this man seeking suicide?
—Why?
Yuseffin finally voiced her innocent question. Deculein answered with unwavering conviction.
A single sentence.
—Because I love Julie.
—...Love?
—I murdered Veron out of jealousy, sought to monopolize Julie by destroying her knights, and my changed demeanor was all an act...
...That should suffice for the scenario. Timing to be announced later.
His voice still echoed in her ears, but Yuseffin opened her eyes.
Back in the present, at a café near the tower.
"Sigh..."
Yuseffin rested her chin on her hand, watching Julie. Julie fidgeted uncomfortably under the gaze, sipping her tea.
Yuseffin asked.
"Aren't you curious, my dear Julie~?"
"...About what, exactly."
"What I discussed with Professor Deculein."
"......"
Julie said nothing. Her silence was affirmation.
"It's a secret for now, but Julie... just one thing. Don't trust that professor too much."
Yuseffin decided to play along with Deculein's scenario for now.
It was for Julie's sake, and curiosity was racing wildly through her veins like mischief unleashed.
"Professor Deculein is wearing a ma—"
"Enough meddling."
Julie narrowed her eyes. Yuseffin shrugged.
"...Fine~ You'll find out eventually anyway. Regret it then. I'm off~"
"Where are you going."
"Hm~ The professor gave me quite a few tasks. Might be busy from now on."
Tracking some demon called Nesius or whatever.
Deculein had asked for her help with that alliance too, and Yuseffin had gladly accepted.
It seemed fun, whatever it was.
"See you later, sis~ Take care, my Julie~"
Whoooosh... Hot winds swept across the rooftop of Yukline Manor.
Yeriel sat on the railing beside Ganesha.
The muggy breeze felt unpleasant—no, rather soothing.
"Ooooh~ Even in midsummer, weather like this. Hadekain's got the perfect spot. I'll retire here someday."
Ganesha stretched with a sigh of admiration. Yeriel shot her a glare.
"Whatever. Anyway, today you caught a giant flying rat in the sky?"
"Yup~ Unknowingly. I hate rats the most in the world, y'know? But this one was huge and flying? Eek... So I smashed it with the manor's spire... and when I came to, I'd regressed two days."
Ganesha grinned. Yeriel furrowed her brow at the cryptic words.
"What the... Anyway. I get it now."
"Hehe. Good thing?"
"...Ugh. Whatever. No point explaining."
Recalling that moment from the frame, a deep sigh escaped her.
Yeriel hugged her knees.
Face-to-face with the adventurers, she had little to say. It was all resolved anyway.
"...Oh, right. That 'Lia' kid—where'd she come from?"
She pouted, changing the subject. Ganesha flinched but soon replied calmly.
"Met her in the southern seas. She's a diamond in the rough with real talent. Part of our family now."
"...Is that so?"
"Why the interest?"
Ganesha asked nonchalantly.
Yeriel murmured softly.
"...She's intriguing."
"Intriguing? How?"
Ganesha perked up her ears. Yeriel stared at the distant sky, as if grasping a memory adrift in the wind.
"...She resembles someone."
"Resembles who?"
"......"
Yeriel turned to Ganesha. Ganesha flicked her twin tails innocently.
Flutter flutter—
Flutter flutter—
Yeriel snickered.
"Does that hair move on its own?"
"Yup. I even smack people with it. Anyway, who does she resemble?"
"Hm... Deculein—my brother's first fiancée."
"......"
Ganesha's breath hitched. A chill ran down her spine.
Yeriel doodled on the rooftop floor with her finger.
"Lia looks just like that fiancée. Uncannily so."
"First... fiancée?"
"Yeah. Julie kinda resembles her vaguely, but Lia's a spitting image."
"But Lia's still young?"
"Eyes and hair color differ, but she'll look more alike as she grows. I notice faces well."
"Oh, uh-huh..."
In that moment, Ganesha sensed fate's cruel joke.
If not for her, Lia would have gone to Deculein—and perhaps, thanks to resembling his fiancée, lived a better life than now...
Ganesha asked slyly.
"What was that fiancée like...?"
"I only know vaguely. Like, just the backstory? Saw her clearly at the betrothal."
"Mm... How was the professor that day?"
Snort—Yeriel couldn't help but scoff. Recalling Deculein from then made her do it.
"First time seeing him smile like that. He truly loved her—wholeheartedly."
That day, Yeriel learned for the first time.
That Deculein could wear such a gentle smile and tone.
"...Hehe. Professor's got a secretly romantic side. Bet seeing Lia reminds him of her?"
Yeriel scowled deeply at Ganesha's words.
"Are you insane? The age gap? My brother's not that twisted..."
...My brother's not that twisted.
Just below the rooftop.
Someone who had sharpened their hearing to eavesdrop murmured bitterly.
"...Sorry."
Probably her fault for adding that needless setting.
Knowing Deculein's model was Woojin, she shoehorned in an Easter egg on a whim.
"I went too far..."
The setting that the woman Deculein truly loved was actually 'Yuarra.'
Hoping he'd notice and cling to it—her pathetic, laughable behavior.
"...Pathetic."
Lia forced a smile, sniffling.
She never imagined a mere Easter egg would butterfly into this.
"God, I'm such an idiot..."
She plopped on the ground, burying her face in her hands.
This is why... thinking of home harms mental health.
Two hours of class later, a 10-minute break.
Ifrin wandered dazedly.
"...You okay?"
Ruina, the professor beside her, asked. Ifrin nodded with a sigh-like mumble.
"Yeah. But... everyone's studying."
From the back, Ifrin had a full view of the classroom's spectacle.
Mages of Kendle, Regello, and Brahm rank from the tower; Grand Army's Kreto; addict Astal; Imperial mages; Professor Rellin; Roserio—all of them...
Studying like examinees.
"This is unfair! Lend me a notebook, pen, eraser—I'll repay tenfold from the floating islands!"
Roserio was outright arguing. Over mere writing tools.
"Hey, Lorhan. Don't you know me?"
"Don't talk to me! I'm forgetting!"
"What?!"
Roserio grabbed a mage's robe, only for him to shake her off roughly.
Unbelievable—treating an Ether rank mage like that.
"...Hey? Lumiere Lorhan? I'm Ether Roserio—"
"Be quiet already!"
A shout rang out. From Grand Army Kreto. Roserio gaped at him incredulously.
"You too, Kreto—"
"Ether Roserio. Do not disrupt the scholarly atmosphere."
Addict Astal admonished sternly. The seven other addicts beside him shot piercing glares.
"Sorry, but I got no writing tools—what am I supposed to do?"
"Your fault. Who comes empty-handed?"
"...Didn't know."
"Quiet now. This is a warning from the floating islands themselves."
Roserio was practically getting mobbed. Other mages without tools fared similarly.
"Why's everyone so on edge?"
"...Floating island mages, kid. New knowledge flashing before their eyes—they can't help it. Lunatics. Snap wrong, they'll commit murder."
Ifrin glanced at Ruina.
"...Aren't you taking notes, Professor Ruina?"
"Done already. Fast hands."
"Ah..."
Ifrin eyed Deculein's theory still shimmering in the air.
"But how'd Professor Deculein come up with it?"
"...Who knows. Nearing death's door?"
Ruina joked. Ifrin's eyes widened.
"Huh?"
"...What?"
"Heard something similar somewhere."
Ruina leaned in slyly.
"What'd you hear?"
"...'Mages grasp truth the closer they get to the heavens—'."
Words from Rohakan, who once kidnapped her.
Ruina cleared her throat awkwardly and leaned back.
"Uh, yeah? Coincidence. I was, uh, joking."
She was sweating bullets when—
"—!"
A sudden yell echoed, followed by crashing desks and chairs as mana swirled chaotically.
Ifrin and Ruina startled, looking over.
"W-what's with them?"
Four or five mages were brawling.
Ifrin didn't know why.
Or rather, she vaguely did.
"You thieving bastard—!"
One spat curses and unleashed destructive magic—
"Cease."
A chilling voice permeated.
Stop.
Everything halted in an instant.
"Truly..."
Deculein arrived precisely as the 10-minute break ended. He glared pitifully at the tangled mages.
"...Vermin."
Meeeooow~
Then, the red-furred Munchkin suddenly leaped from Kreto's lap. The possession lifted.
But all eyes remained fixed on Deculein.
"Be it great minds or fools, old or young... Greed without grace is utterly devoid of dignity."
Deculein felt a vibration in his pocket—transmission paper from Kairon.
"Today's lecture ends here. Heed this: In my class, no ugly, filthy, base acts are tolerated."
He left the room immediately.
A perfect excuse, so little backlash.
Thud—!
As the elevator doors closed, silence blanketed the 80th floor.
But the shock was brief; soon, pencil scratches resumed.
Deculein was gone, but his notes remained intact.
"......"
Ifrin blinked blankly; Ruina smiled wryly.
"Deculein's temperament hasn't changed. Thought he'd mellowed. But base acts? He did the most back then. Grown a bit?"
"Hah, haha. Professor Ruina...?"
Rellin approached then. He casually set his notebook on the desk.
"Shall we form a study group? Share notes?"
"...Can't grasp it alone?"
Ruina retorted. Rellin chuckled awkwardly, shaking his head.
"Not that... It's been ages since middle age reignited my scholarly fire. Professor Deculein delivers. If we comprehend together, we might score points with him."
"Pass. I don't get it either. Just copied."
Ifrin kept scribbling.
Then, addict Astal pulled out a crystal orb and began communicating.
"Yes. Astal speaking."
Ifrin perked her ears while writing.
"A potential new 'element' in magic. Needs more understanding, but exceptionally special."
Praise-stingy Astal calling it 'exceptionally special.'
Ifrin felt pointless jealousy, vain suspicion and hope that this lecture tied to her father—fleetingly—
Click!
Suddenly, a sharp switch sound rang out.
The classroom's mana dismantled; Deculein's notes vanished.
"Eek?"
"What the—?!"
"Wait, hold on!"
"What is it? What's happening."
"Who turned it off...? Who dares..."
"Again, quick! I didn't finish—"
The mages panicked.
No—beyond panic.