The Emperor (2)
“Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
I ascended the silent podium.
“I am Deculein, chief professor of the Imperial University Tower and a mage of Monarch rank, overseeing the elements.”
As always, the lecture began with my introduction.
“Today’s topic is the test of Pure Elements that appeared at last week’s auction. The presentation will last precisely two hours.”
I had prepared the content and structure a full week in advance.
The problem was the high likelihood that the lecture wouldn’t proceed as I intended.
The chairman’s incessant chuckling from the outset was already grating.
“Before examining the problems, allow me a brief explanation of Pure Elements.”
Though framed as a problem walkthrough, I first condensed and recapped the material from my prior tower lectures.
A short lesson on utilizing Pure Elements like Flowing Fire, Thunder Cloud, Will-o’-Wisp, and so on.
“……However, these Pure Elements have no inherent purpose. They are categorized only by the intent of the mage who manifests them. This distinction must be clearly understood.”
Conflating Pure Elements with magical series tangles the mind.
To put it simply, it is akin to drawing two pictures simultaneously with both hands. One must draw them one by one.
“We shall skip problems 1 through 5 and proceed to number 6.”
Problem 6 materialized in the air.
It required manifesting the spell Frost Mist, a harmony of three Pure Elements.
Yet the lecture’s core lay in 7 and 8, so I glossed over the essentials and moved on.
“I have a question!”
Someone shot up their hand.
As expected, it was the chairman.
“A question! Yes, a question!”
She sprang to her feet, chirping like a magpie, impossible to ignore. I paused and regarded her.
“Proceed.”
“Yes! Professor, you emphasized the distinction between Pure Elements and series, right?!”
The chairman radiated mana, sketching a magical formula in the air.
“So, if we were to combine this number 6 spell into the optimal destruction series, how would you do it?”
I peered into her formula with Understanding.
Three seconds sufficed.
I added a core circuit to her magic circle: the straight line of Explosion, comprising 28 strokes.
“This will sufficiently freeze and shatter the enemy.”
“……Huh? Ah…… Yes. Indeed. Oh…… Thank you.”
The chairman blinked, then withdrew her mana and sat.
“Now, problem 7.”
I summoned number 7.
Artificial Star, employing all elements of wind, water, earth, and fire.
Mid-explanation, the chairman rose again.
“Professor! I have a question!”
“……”
“Number 7 has two core circuits, right? But doesn’t multiple core circuits risk tangling the spell?! In my view……”
She unleashed mana, drawing the magic circle for problem 7.
A composite of multiple spells forming an Artificial Star, but differing from my version.
“Setting just one core circuit like this would make it easier, so why risk the tangle with two?!”
She posed the question. Likely knowing the answer herself.
I gazed at her vacantly for a moment.
I nodded to her grinning face.
“An excellent question.”
I traced her formula with my own mana.
“However, limiting Artificial Star to a single core circuit, as you have, results in extreme mana consumption.”
The chairman retorted instantly, as if waiting.
“On the contrary, two cores would consume even more mana, no?! That’s common knowledge! Why use two when one suffices? Isn’t it wasteful?!”
The other mages wore expressions of agreement. Especially since it came from the chairman.
I countered methodically, softly.
“Yes, that holds generally, but not universally. It varies by spell nature. In this Artificial Star, the dual cores utilize not only the caster’s mana, but the spell’s own energy.”
The chairman’s face stiffened slightly.
“Problem 7’s Artificial Star possesses a unique property. One core governs circulation, the other condensation. The four Pure Elements cycle and condense internally, generating their own energy. Thus, it sustains far longer on less mana.”
I added,
“In that regard, the formula you demonstrated is no star. Merely a lump of mana, dissipating uselessly.”
“……”
The chairman fell silent. Shadow crept over her beaming face.
“However……”
I checked the clock. I had promised 120 minutes; 110 had already passed.
“Answering questions has consumed too much time. I shall omit the explanation for number 8.”
“……”
All eyes turned to the chairman. She pouted wordlessly.
“Finally, a few more questions before we conclude.”
Then.
A chilling voice echoed from somewhere.
“Did you truly conceive problem 8 yourself?”
Open suspicion. I furrowed my brow and looked. A robed mage stared back.
“Introduce yourself.”
“……I am the mage Ruina.”
Ruina. A familiar name.
I could guess who she was.
“Be specific with your question.”
“As stated. Did you truly conceive and author problem 8? That is my curiosity.”
Ruina: the mage who issues quests from Deculein’s antithesis in the tower. Likely exiled from the tower by Deculein, banished to the kingdom—a named character brimming with grudge against him.
“……What, you mean someone else wrote the exam problems for Professor Deculein?! A ghostwriter?!”
The chairman shot up, shouting. Murmurs rippled through the hall—rare for a lecture.
Ruina smirked; the chairman continued.
“As if! Professor Deculein isn’t the type!”
I wished she’d shut her mouth.
“……”
The mages’ eyes spoke volumes. Some nodded, some doubted, some eyed warily.
I stood silently, pondering.
Soon, a fine idea surfaced.
“No way, Professor Deculein!”
At the chairman’s cry, I chuckled lowly and shook my head.
“Drawing inspiration from others is commonplace.”
Gasps choked the air.
“……However.”
I radiated mana. Lines sluggishly traced a formula in the air.
“This entirety is mine alone.”
Eyes closed, I envisioned the landscape, interpreted it as a formula, positioned Pure Elements like paints on canvas.
Then projected the designed spell into the world via mana.
This is Understanding’s trait. Once comprehended, recreation demands far less mana.
Manifesting 8 originally cost over 50,000; recalling a similar circle now took but 3,000.
The landscape formula etched intricately, hovering. Every mage in the hall beheld it.
Eleven linked circles, completed like fountain-pen scribbles or pencil sketches.
“Crafted impromptu, its solution differs entirely from number 8. I leave that answer to you—as homework.”
I glanced at Ruina.
“Does this suffice, Professor Ruina?”
No—her seat was empty. She had vanished. I smirked.
“This concludes the lecture.”
I organized my materials at the podium, straightened my cuffs and sleeves, and eyed the chairman.
She sulked sullenly.
Soon, several young mages from the front approached.
Unusually for mages, they requested autographs.
* * *
Mana +30
Having finished the lecture, I returned to the manor. Another vehicle was parked in the drive—Yeriel’s.
Entering the main house, there she was, eating steak in the dining hall. She glanced up.
“Gave a lecture on the Floating Island, huh?”
“……”
“Yo?”
I nodded.
“Well, no issues? Floating Island mages are a whole different league from tower chicks.”
“No cause for concern.”
“Ugh, come on. Worrywart—always fretting. What is it? Crave the attention? I don’t worry one bit.”
I sat naturally in the seat before her. Servants hurried over, serving food.
Caught off-guard by my sudden joining, Yeriel soon shifted topics.
“……Heard you made 40 million elne?”
“Indeed. Speak if you need cash. I shall lend it.”
“Then…… Wait. Lend? You’re lending it?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t lend—give it! Fork over half!”
I sliced my meat silently.
I pondered it every time, but the manor’s cuisine was impeccably perfect.
The ingredients were flawless, and the chefs’ salaries generous beyond other estates.
“I’ll take 10 million elne…… Oh, and. The tower’s debutantes want their MT at Hadekan.”
Yeriel pulled a document from her handbag.
Imperial University Tower
Magic Department MT Plan
Mages have MTs too. Unsure if they drink and do talent shows like ordinary students, but team divisions with mandatory “magical fireworks” crafting, apparently.
“……Hadekan.”
The capital of Yukline territory.
I had intended to visit someday.
Hadekan housed both regional tower and knight order, its climate so fine it rivaled the capital presently.
The model city—LA in America, cherry-picked livable spots—inspired it.
“What say you, Yeriel?”
“Fine by me. Not all debutantes stick to the tower forever; they might join ours if they like the city.”
She boasted, slyly gauging me. I nodded.
“Approved.”
“Yesss~”
Yeriel pocketed the document and took up her knife again. I watched intently, then spoke.
“When using a knife—”
“Oh, not eating here.”
My instinctive correction. Yeriel snatched her plate and fled to her room.
I finished neatly and ascended to the study.
“……”
Seated at the desk, I withdrew a sponsorship certificate. For the tower.
Beneficiary: [Ifrin Luna].
This exam was my originality, but inspiration stemmed from Ifrin’s father. The notion of “painting with Pure Elements” was purely his.
Thus, sponsoring part of the 40 million elne to Ifrin and the Luna family was right.
“Luna of Juhalle.”
I had gathered intel on the Luna house.
A pitiable history.
Still clinging as a family, but their longtime manor auctioned 13 years prior; now just Ifrin and her grandparents.
I penned a letter enclosing 100,000 elne for them too.
* * *
……Today’s uniform was tidy ultramarine. My cane matched impeccably.
“Ready?”
Yeriel said. I fixed her steadily, then extended my hand. She flinched back.
“Wh-what.”
“Stand still.”
“……Eek!”
As my hand neared, she squeezed her eyes shut.
I smoothed her collar, cuffs—every wrinkle. Dust? Flicked away with Telekinesis.
Now pristine, Yeriel recoiled in disgust.
“……That’s a real sickness.”
“Follow.”
I stepped out.
A clear, blue summer day. Roy awaited in the drive; I boarded with Yeriel.
Today’s succession rite: capital’s Zifreine Square.
“Yeriel. Take this.”
I handed her a document sealed with binding magic. She scowled.
“What now?”
“My predictions, analyzing the next emperor’s disposition and conditions.”
A summary of key events I knew.
Only those benefiting us, easing quest difficulty.
“Pfft. Prophet, are we?”
“Just take it.”
“Sigh.”
She shook her head pityingly but accepted.
“Enough genius play.”
Prophecies amuse only at first. As they align, eyes widen: What is this?
“Master. We cannot proceed.”
The road choked with masses.
We alighted.
“Yukline house, this way.”
An imperial knight guided us. We took the segregated path, glimpsing the rite square ahead.
A long, broad carpet stretched across. Crowds parted around it; at its end loomed the dais. The emperor’s throne crowned it.
“Here.”
The guards’ spot for Yukline: near the throne.
Nearby: Maho and royals, Wilhelm, Gilteon, Sylvia, Eselin, Betan, Ragan—named characters aplenty.
Among them, my gaze settled on one.
Julie.
Sensing me, she nodded. Her face weary, dark circles deep.
I yearned to approach, but greetings were impossible.
Doong——!
The drum tolled. Trumpets and imperial music heralded the rite.
Nearby, the imperial carriage appeared; cheers shook heaven and earth.
The grand, ornate carriage halted at the carpet’s start.
Cheers and music faded.
The door opened. A graceful leg touched ground first.
Sophien Yekater Augus von Yegers Zifreine.
Flaming red tresses, blade-sharp imperial features, yet eyes languidly sunken.
She who would be emperor.
Sophien strode the path reserved for emperors alone. With each step, the square’s masses knelt, heads bowed.
At last, Sophien ascended the dais herself.
One step, two—the throne neared. Beside it waited the former emperor’s empress, her mother.
Sophien knelt before the throne. The empress, tears held back, placed the golden crown upon her head.
Doong——!
Doong——!
Doong——!
The drums resounded.
Thus Sophien became emperor, seating upon the throne.
From that perch overlooking myriad souls, the supremest station, Sophien surveyed the world. The emperor above all seemed…… bored.
I beheld such an emperor.
I knew the root of her tedium. Her origin. Her life.
The emperor’s setting was……
The emperor’s gaze twisted. Suddenly upon me.
Our eyes met fleetingly; I bowed promptly.
Yet I felt her gaze piercing down.
The emperor…… still watched me.