Stirring. (1)
Ifrin and Sylvia, attempting series magic, were drenched in sweat. Sylvia managed to apply the series somehow, but Ifrin fell just short by a single step.
"Beck. Lucia. Come forward."
I demanded the same from the other debutantes.
They, too, floundered without direction, merely scrawling formulas at random. Logic was scarce in their magic; it relied solely on intuition.
"...It is done."
I shut off the power to the crystal transforming the lecture hall. As the barrier dissolved, the scenery reverted to an ordinary classroom.
"This is the extent of your ability. My error in overestimating you. Sit."
The debutantes slunk back to their seats in the lecture hall chairs.
"I sought to teach you eyes that view magic not through intuition, but logic. Without a theoretical framework, intuition invariably loses its way."
Of course, this method was unfamiliar to them. Hence the difficulty, the frustration, and their inevitable regression to square one.
"..."
My efforts to teach had not been lax. Likely, no professor was more diligent in lecturing than I.
I had pored over every methodology, game system, even tomes from the ancient theocratic era said to flourish more magically.
In the distant past, logic was paramount, and I, too, deemed a 'systematic' approach correct. Yet among them, scarce more than five or six possessed the talent to internalize it...
In vulgar terms, post-nut clarity had arrived.
"I shall explain in detail once more from the beginning."
The game featured various 'bonus systems.'
Attribute bonuses, series bonuses, combination bonuses, harmony bonuses, and so forth...
Attribute bonuses naturally amplified performance and reduced mana consumption when leveraging a character's talents. Series bonuses were little different.
However, 'harmony bonuses' were more complex.
First, this game did not grant instant mastery of magic upon acquiring a grimoire.
Practical proficiency in magic, and the very process of 'internalizing' it, were essential. What my company folk called 'Understanding' required adequate time even in-game.
Harmony bonuses activated when that 'Understanding' and 'practical proficiency' harmonized perfectly.
I wished to impart such harmony bonuses to the debutantes.
"Behold. The formula for Goblin Fire."
With Telekinesis, I levitated a piece of chalk.
In one panel of the blackboard, I drew the formula for Goblin Fire; in the next, the auxiliary series formula; then meticulously recorded the process of linking them.
An analog lesson.
"Goblin Fire, when applied to an 'auxiliary series,' manifests special effects. Memorize the entire connection of this formula and circuit."
If understanding proved difficult, begin with memorization.
Debutantes worthy of entering the Imperial University Tower would numberlessly memorize complex content, understanding it in the process or thereafter.
"Thundercloud, applied to a 'destruction series,' manifests special effects. Memorize this as well."
I inscribed on the board the 'logic' of grafting each Pure Element onto suitable series.
Scribble-scribble─ six pieces of chalk moved simultaneously. For readability, I colored key circuits differently.
Hoping the students would be impressed by the detail.
"Metal Hymn, wielding metal like a blade, surprisingly manifests special effects when applied to a 'summoning series.' Its profound depth eludes you yet—simply memorize it."
Not a moment's pause in note-taking; the blackboard brimmed with series applications for eight magics, lines and circles numbering near thousands—a geometric tapestry indistinguishable as pattern or sigil.
A two-hour lecture.
"It is concluded."
No response.
Half bore deathly pallor; the other half still scribbled furiously.
I belatedly surveyed the scene I had inscribed.
The massive blackboard, nigh five meters tall, was utterly filled with formulas.
"Feel the impotence unsolvable by intuition alone. Only through experience do you grasp its necessity."
Everyone fancies a plausible plan until struck.
Afterward, thoughts change.
I continued coldly.
"Next week, a simple examination forthwith. Prepare yourselves."
The clock read precisely six, off by eleven seconds.
Overwhelmed by profound discomfort, I exited the lecture hall.
* * *
No sooner had class ended than Ifrin headed to the library. Today's Deculein lecture had been exceedingly complex and difficult.
[Goblin Fire's 'Logical' Auxiliary Series Application]
[Thundercloud's 'Logical' Destruction Series Application]
[Metal Hymn's 'Logical' Summoning Series Application]
[★IMPORTANT★ Effort to view 'logically,' i.e., 'magically,' is required]
"...Logic."
Deculein said: In magic, logic paves the path, while intuition is the walk. Intuition alone risks losing the way, deception by phenomena.
Simple magics or problems might yield to intuition alone—perhaps more efficiently, bolstered by accumulated insight.
Yet confronting difficult magics beyond intuition's grasp, or venturing into magical unknowns for the first time...
'Logic'—that 'path'—would prove a useful tool for resolution...
"...It's hard."
Persuasive words, undeniably compelling.
The issue was the difficulty.
It began simply, like 1+1.
Blink once, and the blackboard overflowed with geometric formulas, myriad mathematical operations to express those circuits.
"But how on earth does Deculein...?"
No matter the contemplation, it clashed endlessly with Father's letter.
Did he possess some theoretical aptitude after all?
Learned from Father?
Or hired another in Father's stead?
"...Study first."
Learn, master, acquire—challenge anew later.
Professor Deculein seemed to welcome challenges, after all.
Thus madly studying, midnight passed unnoticed.
Ifrin tucked her thick notebook into her bag and rose.
Stumble-stumble─
On the way back to the dormitory, passing a deserted alley...
"...!"
Spotting someone, Ifrin instinctively hid.
The plump silhouette was Rellin; the slender, Professor Ciarelle.
They whispered furtively.
"...Lady Ruina missing? Professor Ciarelle, is it true?"
"Yes, indeed. I saw her leave for tea after Her Majesty's tutoring, but thereafter, her whereabouts are unknown."
"Why suddenly... No, surely not Professor Deculein?!"
"Shh. Shush."
Ifrin's eyes widened round.
"Details at the mage council. The disappearance remains secret for now. Can't have the tower in chaos."
"Yes. But the timing is suspicious. Opposition signatures imminent..."
Clutching her mouth at the alley's mouth, holding her breath until they departed, Ifrin exhaled sharply.
"...Kidnapping? Missing?"
Ifrin knew of Ruina.
Not only named in Father's letter, but one of the era's singular magical talents.
Deculein, abducting such a one?
"Nah, no way."
Professors' words weren't gospel, and worrying for others ill-suited her precarious straits.
Her account balance?
Semester-start aid of 100,000 elne: 85,000 spent on grimoires, mage stationery, department events; 5,000 sacrificed for meager meals; remaining a paltry 10,000 elne...
"Miss Luna?"
Upon dormitory arrival, the lobby supervisor called her.
"Yes."
Ifrin approached. The supervisor adjusted her pince-nez with a finger—contrary to her stern look, the most trustworthy soul here.
"Several letters came. Take them. Kids might tear if in the mailbox."
"Ah, yes. Thank you always."
"Good night."
Ascending stairs, Ifrin examined the letters.
One from home; the other... Ifrin's eyes ballooned ping-pong size.
A sponsorship certificate.
Tearing it open hastily: another 100,000 elne.
"Whoa..."
The certificate gleamed gold-like; Ifrin's pupils sparkled.
Word of her midterm second place, perhaps?
Maintain grades, continued support?
Ifrin beamed purely, pocketing the certificate, then eyed the home letter.
"...!"
The next instant.
Ifrin whirled, sprinting to the administrative office.
"Um, excuse me!"
Bursting in, she cried. The night-shift clerk eyed her irritably.
"Yes."
"I received a sponsorship certificate today..."
Grandmother's letter bore unfamiliar tidings.
300,000 elne deposited 'sponsorship funds.' Thanks to Ifrin, no family worries.
"Anonymous again?"
"Yes, anonymous."
The clerk yawned, nodding. Ifrin pressed urgently.
"Still, perhaps—"
"Just accept it. Your situation's rough. Who reveals their name for sponsorship?"
"..."
Harsh truth. Rumors of 'mad commoner' Ifrin abounded.
Glancing at her crestfallen face, the clerk added,
"If uneasy, write a letter."
"...A letter?"
"Yes. Letters reach even anonymous sponsors. Luck willing, a reply. 200,000 elne already—big money."
"Ah... yes, right. I'll do that!"
Ifrin pondered, then nodded. If averse to letters, no reply.
No harm in sending.
Eyes wide, she asked,
"Um, stationery? You don't provide?"
"...Get your own. We just deliver. 200,000 elne sponsor? They're loaded."
"...Yes. Thank you."
* * *
The next day. Amid university festivals and parties, the magic tower.
Parade music faintly drifted from outside as my recent fixation—'Rune Language and Circuit Correlations'—neared completion.
A precise interpretation.
The symposium's Problem 6 runes totaled fourteen characters; usable in circuits: a mere three.
This research would resolve the symposium.
Sealing documents with mana, I stowed them in my briefcase.
"...Hm."
Suddenly, a notebook in the drawer corner caught my eye again.
[ ─ ]
Untitled notebook.
Neither 'Magnate Tycoon' nor 'Villain's Fate'—an enigmatic object.
"This..."
I took up the notebook.
Examining the innocent cover closely, I flipped it open. Placing hand on a blank page.
No more endless deliberation.
"Only trying reveals."
Steeling resolve.
Slowly, I infused mana.
"...!"
Sensation of tidal engulfment hurled me back to reality. That day's memory and myriad emotions flooded vividly.
Deculein's past.
Finger pressing temple. Deculein's past, yet it rooted as my own memory.
Independent Quest: Deculein's Diary
◆ Trait Yukline Growth
Evidently, this notebook was Deculein's diary.
"Damn it..."
Averse to torment by those memories, I left the tower.
Wandered university grounds aimlessly.
······This chance is final.
That voice rang clear.
Father's voice.
Not my father.
No—truly my father.
Reconstructing Deculein's memories as mine? His father resembled mine...
Thud─
Shoulder bumped a passerby.
"Ah, sorry."
He departed with that meager apology. I took umbrage at the nameless lowly cur.
Yet it somewhat settled my turbid mind.
"See the play~ Tickets running low~"
A theater nearby.
"Ah, care to view? Tickets available!"
The touting student offered me one. I nodded, entering.
Seated blankly, the play began unawares.
─Daddy. Daddy. I'm sorry...
Not a fragment registered to eye or ear.
"Euu... Hic."
The neighbor seemed deeply moved.
"...Sniff."
Irksome sniffling drew my glance.
Slightly startled.
"Uuuh..."
Ifrin.
To the sniveling girl, I silently offered a hanger-chief.
"Ah? Ah, th-thank you, hic... Hiccc..."
Ifrin wiped tears, returned it. I discarded it on the floor.
─Can't kill him honorably! Too many die meanwhile! My father perished thus!
Belatedly catching lines. Vengeance tale, seemingly; the actress superb. Even by Aesthetic Sense, exemplary.
Intermission arrived.
Ifrin fled clutching eyes, returned just as Act 2 commenced.
······Thanks.
Glancing, whispering, she proffered popcorn. Hooded robe concealed my face, it seemed.
─...I loved you. But by my side, you'd suffer. I'm the criminal, murderer who killed him.
The play crested climax.
Ifrin hunched fully. Tears trickled through clutched fingers.
"Gulp! Sniff! Hic!"
More sentimental than appearances suggested.
From suit pocket, I proffered a proper handkerchief.
"Ah, hic. Th-thank, hiiik... Hiiiik..."
Her stifled sobs boiled like a kettle. I rose, exited.
Walking campus anew, sat any bench.
To compose mind, closed eyes in darkness.
How long thus.
Stirring
* * *
11 PM.
Play ended; Ifrin emerged. Magical fireworks burst skyward. Some party afoot, but scant interest.
"Hng, hng. Ah, cried my heart out."
Wiping tears with handkerchief, she walked.
From some gentleman. Seemed exorbitant; meant to return, but he'd vanished.
"Ipi!"
A call. Turning: Julia.
"Big trouble!"
"What?"
"Semester start, dormitory wall, that red formula—no, follow first!"
Julia seized Ifrin's hand, dashing.
Arriving dormitory, Ifrin startled fiercely.
"What is this...?"
Part of the dormitory shrouded in crimson-black barrier. Dormitory 3, mostly commoners, engulfed in mysterious fog.
"Semester start, red formula on dormitory wall! This?!"
Fireworks ceaselessly adorned skies. Distant cheers clamored noisily.
"What, what happened!"
Professors arrived belatedly on report: Rellin, Ciarelle, Retran, Camel... Mid-meeting at tower, they gaped aghast.
"What... Such Demonic Energy..."
"Damn it. This is why I opposed opening Darkness Mountain!"
"...Chairman, the Chairman?"
Rellin to Retran.
"Likely Floating Island. Of all days, today..."
"..."
Professors dared not enter the barrier.
Unknowing contents, rash action unwise. Emanating Demonic Energy density ominous.
Gas masks essential. Active knight accompaniment safest. Viscous Demonic Energy tenaciously disrupted even professors' magic.
They were merely rational.
"Professors! What now!"
Ifrin cried. Rellin flinched, then narrowed eyes bird-like furious.
"Why ask me, brat!"
"People inside!"
"..."
Julia's retort; Rellin bit lip, peering in. Seeming conflicted, middle-aged, he had much to lose.
"...Who first discovered!"
"Not the issue!"
"Not the— Ah, Professor Ciarelle! You, destruction series?"
"...I'm frail. Wait. Knights soon."
Waiting risked lateness.
Unknowing interior happenings.
"...Haa."
Sighing, Ifrin handed Julia bag and handkerchief.
"Ipi, why?"
"I'll go."
"What? No!"
That moment.
A honed-as-blade voice pierced space.
"What transpires."
Cool timbre chilled humid air.
All turned.
"..."
Deculein.
Emerging amid crowd, leisurely. Chilling gaze swept vicinity; his posture arrogantly erect.
Soon spotting barrier, he faintly furrowed brow.
His impression of the grotesque barrier daunting even professors:
"The commotion exceeds bounds."
Merely that.
And without command or query, he walked.
Step─ step─
Deliberately resounding footfalls toward the barrier.
Professors watched his back; no fear or hesitation in his stride.
He was simply aristocratic.