Imperial Palace (3)
......Deculein had departed.
As promised, there was no rematch or review. Ruina, however, remained in place, and Sophien regarded her.
“Ruina. What thinkest thou of this position?”
“......It seems better than mine.”
Though her pride smarted, she answered honestly. Sophien nodded.
“Far better. Not merely improved, but far more entertaining as well. Thou art overly timid, Ruina.”
“......Yes. My apologies.”
“Wert thou raised taking beatings from someone in thy youth?”
“'Twas from reading naught but books in my household.”
Ruina accepted Sophien's words with composure. She never betrayed her feelings outwardly.
“The bond 'twixt Yukline and McQueen is not a good one, is it?”
“......Yes.”
Yet she lacked the courage to feign ignorance here too. Ruina bowed her head to hide her expression.
The Verhert Conference, fifteen years prior.
'Twas then that Yukline's former head had ambushed and eliminated McQueen.
He had stolen her father's dantian, reduced him to a cripple. Then, brazenly claiming no such intent, that such things were commonplace at Verhert, he offered financial aid to the family under the guise of salvation and mercy.
In exchange, he demanded McQueen's magical secret art. A hollow promise to return it once McQueen regained her footing.
McQueen at the time had no choice but to accept. 'Twas a matter of choosing the lesser evil.
Such atrocities by Yukline were hardly unprecedented with McQueen.
Even after Deculein became head, such antics were commonplace, and as a result, numerous magical secret arts slumbered in Yukline's underground library.
Thus, Ruina's primary goal was reclaiming McQueen's magical secret art.
“......”
As silence stretched, Sophien leaned down to peer into Ruina's eyes.
“Hey, art thou weeping?”
“......!”
Ruina startled and shook her head. Sophien easily discerned the anger and hatred in her.
How simple a thing.
Not so with Deculein. His emotions were opaque, shrouded in acrid dust.
Not the slightest fragment visible.
“Ruina.”
“Yes.”
“Is this thy gift?”
Sophien placed her hand on the grimoire Ruina had brought.
Ruina answered with quiet pride. 'Twas an item unobtainable even with money.
“Yes. 'Tis the magical insights penned in his youth by the Grand Elder of Dzekdan at Verhert—”
“I shall read it. Begone now. A promise is a promise.”
“......Yes.”
Ruina rose quietly and exited.
Sophien propped her chin on her hand, gazing at the chessboard. The classroom, emptied of the two mages, fell silent.
Yet one remained.
“Kairon. What thinkest thou of this position?”
“......”
“No path opens, however deeply one ponders.”
At this juncture, no breakthrough existed. No matter the deliberation, defeat was the outcome.
The solution lay in never reaching such a state to begin with.
Regarding his sullen face, Kairon spoke.
“The world is vast indeed, Your Majesty.”
“......”
For some reason, his tone pleased her. Sophien twisted her lips and shot him a glare.
“'Tis not defeat.”
She grasped her king. In her grip, it crumbled to dust. At the mana manifestation, Kairon's brow twitched.
“Had I proceeded slowly, I would have won. I was ensnared by his tricks.”
Sophien was confident of victory in a rematch. She had lost her rhythm, drawn into his pace.
“Doth instruction now fall to thee?”
“The knights arrive in three days.”
Sophien closed her eyes without reply.
Thus, she soon sank into her inner world, and Kairon held his tongue.
“Still too much for me, it seems.”
The chess match was a loss.
Of course, pouring mana into Understanding allowed reading ahead and pressing somewhat.
Yet my entire mana pool depleted in twenty minutes. Even forcing it out, I couldn't finish the game.
Still, I gained new insight.
Temporary amplification of Understanding.
In the moment of the match, Understanding surged, enabling maneuvers beyond my knowledge—but an utterly consumptive act. With Understanding exhausted now, I couldn't even recall my moves.
A manifestation distinct from 'learning' or 'study'.
“......”
Feeling the aftereffects of mana exhaustion, I reached the parking lot outside the outer walls. My car and Ruina's stood side by side.
—The coachmen are getting licenses late too.
—Yeah? Well, nobles don't ride carriages much these days.
The drivers chatted.
—Right? Glad I got ahead of it.
—Say, do you know who started this car craze?
—Who?
—Professor Deculein himself. All trends in the capital start with him.
Though fellow drivers, the difference was stark. My driver's back was straight; Ruina's bowed and scraped.
“Ah, you're here!”
“An honor!”
As I approached, the two bowed. I nodded curtly and boarded.
“To the mansion.”
“Yes!”
The car rumbled away from the lot.
Shortly after departure, I glanced in the rearview. Ruina's car trailed right behind.
I looked ahead indifferently.
“......?”
The backrest of the front passenger seat. A faint energy shimmered on the leather.
A trace of mana.
I narrowed my eyes at it. The trace soon formed letters.
Have you abandoned us?
“Jeff.”
“Yes!”
Startling, yet this body betrayed nothing. I calmly scanned the interior.
No death flags.
“Did you park and leave the vehicle unattended?”
“No. Stayed nearby the whole time. Being right by the imperial city and all......”
Even as a driver, Jeff was ex-mercenary.
To inscribe without his notice meant no amateur.
Have you abandoned us?
Judging by the content, likely from Deculein's old connections.
If so, somewhat awkward. Surely from the underworld.
“No one approached? Carrying anything?”
“......Ah.”
Jeff nodded in realization.
“Heard Mage Ruina bought a mansion in the capital recently. Seems she'll stay there now.”
“......”
I gazed out the window. Shadows briefly fell across the passing scenery. I thought mana, but 'twas tree shade.
“I see.”
Glanced in the rearview.
Ruina's trailing car had vanished.
I opened my book as usual. Read calmly while pondering Deculein's forces.
“......”
From a player's view, Deculein's underlings were nuisances. Many named villains stronger than him in combat.
Yet their loyalties were shallow. Kill Deculein, and they scatter without vengeance events.
Indeed, after I became Deculein and cut 'sponsorships,' his underworld ties withered away.
Yet......
“Need to think this through.”
These ones are different.
A few names came to mind, but best to hold off until face-to-face.
Dark night.
Ilayde's capital, Terhal, bustled with Marik mine openings and demon purges. Thus, even Gilteon in the lord's castle still signed documents.
—Lately, Deculein's prowess exceeds expectations.
Scritch-scratch. Amid the quiet pen scratches, a voice intruded.
Gilteon nodded.
“Indeed.”
He knew Deculein's practical skill 'intimately' from a certain incident.
Yet assumed the theory wholly 'that one's.'
After 'that one' died, the theory halted abruptly.
“A symposium, is it.”
Whether change of heart, last gasp, or new brain—he knew not.
Deculein declared a symposium challenge.
In this magical world, solving a symposium problem held great prestige.
Varying by issue, but problems 6, 9, 11—lingering fifteen years—were special.
“Which problem doth he challenge?”
—Not yet revealed.
“......Curious, his mind. Opposing Altiegue suppression too.”
Gilteon stacked signed papers. Leaned back.
Gazing at the darkness beyond the walls, he smiled faintly.
“Unpredictable bastard. Small wonder he's Yukline seed......”
Yukline and Ilayde were mortal foes aplenty.
Not just fifteen years ago—clashes, destructions, deaths unending.
Yet acknowledging each other sole nemeses—a bizarre bond.
“......What of the knight slain at Verhert?”
—On hold, likely eternally.
Gilteon chuckled softly.
“Heh. Who'd think Gallak harbored grudge 'gainst Deculein.”
—Indeed.
Of course, Leok Kingdom orchestrated the Verhert ambush.
Yet Gilteon's brother Gallak added the perfect piece.
Veron.
Inciting an emotional man was easy.
Deculein's victory, unexpected.
In confined one-on-one, even a mage two ranks above crumbles to a knight.
“Gallak's too hot-tempered.”
......Be that as it may.
All Gallak's doing.
Gilteon uninvolved.
Surface or shadow......
—Rumors say Julie and Deculein's relations aren't bad lately.
“I know. That family's youngest has luck beyond measure.”
Julie. Meant to die in the womb, yet born—and survived even bearing that 'curse' in another's stead.
A normally incurable curse; how she overcame it still puzzled Gilteon.
—A flower that blooms stronger through trials.
“Trials aplenty. From Deculein, from her own kin.”
—Perhaps that's why she survives. Each soul bears unique origins.
Gilteon laughed.
“Too sentimental. Useless hypothesis—begone.”
—Yes.
The shadow conversing with him faded quietly.
Wednesday morning.
Awakening, Ifrin showered and stepped out. Yawning hugely─she glanced back casually and startled.
“Good grief......Don't you ever tire?”
Graffiti covered the door. Scram, beggar bitch, filthy slut, halfwit, etc. Lately, such childish harassments worsened.
Thought ignoring would end it; instead, they ramped up.
“This is noble behavior?”
She knew the instigators. Beck, Lucia, Jupern. Viscount-to-earl mage brats' gang.
Pitied them at first. But spreading to club members was intolerable.
“Pathetic fakes.”
Ifrin cleansed the graffiti.
Truth: True mages only on Floating Island.
'No status in the tower' mere facade. To remain, needed not just combat theory—but politics near-essential.
Full professor reviews? Perfect fit.
“Sigh......”
Ifrin left the dorm, crossing campus.
School grounds lately crowded. Delayed festival underway.
Stalls everywhere, taverns, parties, plays, knight jousts galore. Ifrin eyed play tickets.
En route to theater.
Thud─!
Something snagged her ankle.
“Ugh!”
Ifrin tumbled. Drink splashed her prone form. Splatter─sticky droplets clung to hair and robe.
“Ow......”
“......Goddamn, what bitch is this!”
Expected apology; got curses. Then she saw the face—reason clear.
Noble gang, Lucia of Levairon count family. She glared at fallen Ifrin, muttering.
“You again?”
“Hah.”
Sighing, Ifrin rose, cleansed herself, smirked.
“Yeah. You again.”
“Again my ass. Hey! Watch where you're going, idiot. You spilled my drink!”
Lucia jabbed Ifrin's chest. Rage surged, but worthless foe.
Fight here? Penalty only hers. Deculein intervene? More rumors.
Kids nowadays fear Deculein not. Unaware of his infamy.
Perhaps 'cause he never personally disciplines.
“Fine. Sorry. Happy?”
Ifrin snorted, turned away. Voices bubbled behind.
—That psycho bitch has no manners.
—Where's that attitude from dissing Sylvia early semester? Who does she think she is.
—Right. Heard her dad was under that prof—suicided.
Ifrin's legs halted.
—Huh? Stopped. Yo, she's pissed.
—Whatcha gonna do, retard halfwit. It's true. No pride?
—Nah. Don't. She'll tattle to prof. Big trouble.
—......Hey. Lately profs banding together. Deculein as policy head or whatever—tower life obvious. Checking him.
—Oh yeah. Dad was gonna let slide, but he backed Altiegue at Verhert? So signed opposition...
To them, Deculein villain.
Villain to me too—but to me, you're villains too.
“......Bitches.”
Barely restraining, Ifrin walked on. Bought theater ticket. Gripped the stub white-knuckled.
Tomorrow, nine PM. Portrait of a Sad Day.
Ate alone after. Warned chance-met club members 'don't acknowledge in tower.' Returned pre-3 PM.
Today's A-Class lecture hall: vast, open field.
This mystical shift now routine.
Ifrin ignored club members eyeing her, stood alone.
“Welcome.”
Precisely 3 PM, Deculein entered. Stood before debutantes, face impassive.
“Assignments may be submitted post-finals. Take your time.”
Welcomed news. Deculein surveyed them, continued.
“Today's theme: practical use of Pure Elements. Series Application of Pure Elements.”
Series application. Lecture's pinnacle, core topic.
Mages tensed rigidly.
“Seems complex, but need not overthink. Observe.”
Deculein slammed cane to ground.
Boom-!
Will-o'-wisps bloomed everywhere.
Professor's wisps neat, elegantly swaying.
Art over magic—debutantes gawked briefly.
“These wisps: simple fire-wind combo. However.”
One clung to debutante Rondo.
Rondo flinched—but no heat.
“Move.”
Rondo did. Lighter steps. Eyes widened.
Then wisps clung to Ifrin and others; similar reactions.
“Auxiliary application of will-o'-wisp. When wind-fire elements in incant perfectly harmonize, Pure Elements yield effects transcending mere combination.”
Combo bonus.
In-game, auxiliary wisps boosted move/attack speed—system ported intact.
“Wisps destructive too, but auxiliary maximizes potential. Each Pure Element has unique merits.”
News to Ifrin. All debutantes clueless too.
Game system, obvious to Kim Woojin.
“Thus, harmonized Pure Elements must suit series. Simple: recall series magics learned.”
He radiated mana, drew simple fireball incant.
“Core here: this 'fireball' circuit. Erase it from incant.”
Fire nucleus vanished; Pure Element thundercloud took place.
“Transplant Pure Element incant, connect circuit. Done.”
......Silence.
Sudden circuit-magic fusion dazed them.
“Natural to find difficult. Must try yourselves. Ifrin.”
Deculein called. Recalling, she startled.
“And Sylvia. You two, forward.”
Midterms' top two: fine samples.
“Apply series to any Pure Element magic, demonstrate.”
Deculein instructed; they nodded. Ifrin tried thundercloud on destruction magic.
Her mana formed thundercloud midair.
However.
Snap-!
Deculein snapped; thundercloud dispersed. Erased instantly.
Mana Interference.
“Huh?”
“Wrong. Again.”
No anger at 'again.' Inept at series? But mere snap deletion stung pride.
“Yes.”
Ifrin nodded, regathered mana.
“Again.”
Snap-!
Deleted again, told to retry—but expected. Sylvia same.
......Yet.
“Again.”
Snap-!
“Again.”
Snap-!
“Slightly better, but again.”
Snap-!
No end to that 'again.'