The Day of the Entrance Ceremony
The day of the entrance ceremony arrived. It was a day with a light drizzle falling. But I couldn't enjoy it. It was all because of that damn magic book. I glared at its pitch-black cover. At first, I'd thought learning the spells would be easy. The structure was incredibly intricate and complex, but the circuits and mana forming it were all very basic. But that was just the surface. This ancient grimoire hid an immense malice equal to its age. Every spell had traps embedded within. If you cast it as written, it would collapse on itself in no time. At first, I thought I was doing it wrong and kept practicing. But the spells kept failing, so I sensed something off and double-checked every step. That's when I found several sabotage circuits designed to ruin the magic. Damn it, hiding traps like this. I grumbled as I fixed them. That should do it now. It didn't. Removing one trap revealed another linked to it. Fixing that spawned new issues. The entire spell formation was one massive trap. Realizing that hit me with crushing despair. So this is how mages from great houses protect their magic? They'd hidden these contingencies in case it leaked outside. They could detect and correct the traps to teach it properly. And those traps worked perfectly on me. My old plan of mastering all the book's spells went up in smoke. After a whole month, I couldn't even guarantee I'd learn one properly. I just focused on a few. For a month, I disassembled the magic circles, analyzed them, and reassembled them. Finally, at the end of that ordeal, I could use two spells.
I tried the Environment Optimization spell. It was the one I'd most wanted to learn. The slightly damp air around me from the rain dried up in an instant, becoming crisp and fresh. Very satisfying. It was my own spell, painstakingly rebuilt over the past month. It lacked the original's finesse, but it still packed plenty of punch. I quickly embedded the spells I'd mastered into the housekeeper dolls. I hadn't completed the professor's assignment, but I had to show some effort. Otherwise, she'd beat me till I dropped dead. And she could stop just short of killing me. That had happened yesterday.
I swallowed hard at the foot of the stairs to the second floor. After yesterday's beating left me collapsed, the professor had ordered me to finish all preparations by 8 a.m. today. I'd been rushing nonstop since then. Checking the time, I had less than five minutes left. The professor would come down any moment. The shop was already empty. I'd cleaned it spotless, not a speck of dust anywhere. All the goods were in my space pouch. I wouldn't be back here for a long while. Maybe not until I died. No point leaving anything behind. Finally, I stirred my mana. The pre-planted dayflies absorbed it and began drawing explosion magic circles on their backs. Once infused with enough mana, they detonated in a flash. The blast originated underground in the workshop. The ground trembled slightly. But I'd calculated the blast radius perfectly, so the surface structures were unharmed. Only then did it feel real—I was leaving. Destroying the workshop was unavoidable. It was filled with traces of my mana and research. What if someone used memory recovery magic to steal it all? I'd heard of that happening plenty. Destroying it wasn't a choice; it was necessary.
Soon, the professor came down yawning. The housekeeper doll was grooming her hair beside her. The Environment Optimization spell activated flawlessly, keeping the air around her pristine. Her appearance tidied up beautifully under the doll's hands. By the time she reached me at the foot of the stairs, she was impeccably groomed, not a wrinkle in sight.
"Yawn. All set?"
"Yes. The shop's completely cleared out."
She glanced around. Nodding at the empty shop, she said,
"Mm. Let's go, then."
"Yes. I've prepared the mount too."
I opened the door and led the way out. In front of the building waited a doll resembling a miniaturized Turtle. About the size of a small carriage, it lay flat on the ground awaiting us. I guided her onto its shell. There was a custom seat made just for her. She reclined into the lounge-style chair. I stood rigidly behind it. The turtle began to move. It was fast yet stable. No jolts on the shell at all. Worth the effort on ride comfort. I glanced back. The shop was shrinking into the distance. Farewell, my ten years. See you later. I muttered inwardly. We soon reached the slum's heart. People blocking the road scattered in panic at the sight of the turtle. Or maybe at the professor. Her reputation hadn't faded yet. Far off, I saw Evan waving. Yeah, it was grudging affection, but affection all the same. I gave him a slight nod as we passed. We followed the same route as exam day. Soon, paved roads appeared. Beyond them loomed the city gate. I steered the turtle there. As always, the gate was shut tight. No passing without exam days. But today was different. Soldiers emerged from the gatehouse, blocking the turtle.
"Halt. Unauthorized persons can't enter or leave the city."
I dismounted and stood before them. Pulling a paper from my pocket, I held it out. Their eyes fixed on it. A smile spread across my face. I'd poured so much time and effort into getting this. The soldiers examined the paper closely, then nodded slightly. The gate opened. One handed it back with a smile.
"Congratulations on your admission, mage!"
"Haha, thank you. Take care."
I tucked the paper away carefully. The university—this was it. People who'd once barred my approach now bowed before me. Was rebirth like this? Passing the exam, I'd shed my old self. Now? A university student. The word made my chest tingle. The gate creaked open via magic. I passed through. The city was enormous. It retained the civilization I'd glimpsed before. Dozens of stories tall, buildings infused with magic cast huge shadows on the ground. Endless streams of people moved between them. Mages soared through the skies above. On exam day, soldiers had blocked me from getting close. But now, I pushed through the crowd. People swarmed like ants. Countless glances flicked toward the turtle. The bustling scene stirred memories from my past life, flashing scenes across my mind. This vibrant city rivaled those memories. No—surpassed them, maybe. A world apart from the slum's gloom beyond the walls. I pressed deep into the city. At the center stood a massive gate. People streamed through constantly, especially mages. They exited the transfer portal and headed to a small door beside it. I guided the turtle there too. A tiny, shabby wooden door. Mages touched it, and it slid open, sucking them inside in a blink. I halted the turtle nearby.
"Here already?"
The professor lifted her head as the turtle stopped. I nodded faintly and arranged the shell into stairs leading down for her. She rose slowly and descended.
"Haven't passed this door in ages."
She crossed her arms. The turtle, job done, retracted its head and legs into the shell and shook violently. The shell began shrinking. The tremors stopped only when it fit in my palm. I picked it up. It was incredibly heavy. Misadjusted? I poured mana in, tweaking its circuits. It lightened a bit. Still rock-heavy, but better. One discovery from studying that wretched grimoire: a compression spell to shrink objects. The thrill of first using it lingered. No one would guess this palm-sized turtle was once dozens of meters tall. I pocketed it. Drawn by mana, it slipped into the space pouch. The spell released, and it expanded, crowding the once-spacious interior. I sighed. Everything perfect except the mana drain. Smaller meant exponentially more consumption. Half my mana gone getting here; compressing it nearly emptied me. First time on the turtle—didn't expect maintenance to be this tough.
"Alright, let's go."
The professor placed her hand on the door first. It swallowed her instantly. I swallowed too. My turn. Beyond this door: the university. I pressed my admission certificate to it. The paper melted away, and the door slowly opened. Emotions swirled: excitement, thrill, fear—indescribable. For decades, I'd dreamed of this. How long I'd waited. What lay beyond? A strong suction pulled. I squeezed my eyes shut. In a blink, I was sucked in.
No dramatic change. I cracked my eyes. I stood elsewhere. A vast clearing. I'd emerged at its edge from a door identical to the one I'd opened. As I scanned further, a strange sensation spread through my body. No— not my body. The surroundings. Mana everywhere—unprecedented density. It flooded into me endlessly. My depleted reserves refilled instantly; my Seedling swam the mana current, growing a notch. Like plunging into a mana ocean. I flailed, unsteady. Then a sharp impact cracked my skull. Someone smacked my head hard. I face-planted. Vision clearing, I saw the professor's pitying look.
"Others snap to it quick. Why are you such a mess?"
"Sorry..."
Even speaking was hard. Then, suddenly, comfort spread. Mana from my head was settling my body. The professor's infusion from the smack. I gazed at her gratefully. She snorted and smacked again. My head buried in dirt. More mana seeped in, speeding recovery. With her help, I stood quickly. No thanks—I'd get my head bashed again. I just coughed quietly and bowed. Instead, I looked around. Others like me writhed, adapting to the intense mana. Beyond them, adapted ones chatted around a massive central dais. Farther, towering mountains ringed the clearing like walls, dozens of peaks. As I recovered, the professor strode ahead. I hurried after. She veered to a corner, not the dais. She liked the quiet spot, nodding at me. I knew what she wanted. I fetched her dolls from the space pouch. They stumbled out, unbalanced by the mana. I swiftly retooled their circuits for more capacity. They steadied. Under my watch, we built her spot. First, dolls erected a large tent blocking views, patterned in golden wood like her hair. At center: a cushioned chair. Magic cushions molded perfectly, adapting seamlessly for ultimate comfort. Before it: a small table sized just right for her. I arranged refreshments; dolls stood ready to serve. The tent's Environment Optimization remade the interior. No mere rest spot—this was her private world amid the vast clearing. The professor sat, smiling satisfied. The housekeeper poured her tea. She savored the aroma, sinking deep into the chair. Perfect. Impressed with myself, I fine-tuned the spell. Still imperfect, a bit unstable. I stabilized it best I could.
Then, a weird mana stirred. Something impure tainting my perfect setup. It started from my shadow. It quivered, swelling. Then it spat out a man: middle-aged, weary-faced. He patted my shoulder and bowed to the professor.
"Professor Irian, long time no see."
She glanced, waving casually, pleased.
"Mind if I join? Entrance ceremony's two hours off."
"Sure. Ron, grab another chair."
I fetched one quick and handed it over. He slumped into it.
"Oh, this feels good."
He poked the cushion. The housekeeper set a cup before him, pouring. A flower bloomed in the tea—more exquisite than before. Refined from the grimoire's servant spell.
"This guy's work. Ebron. Picked him up outside."
She pointed at me. I bowed silently at her gesture.
"Oh, incoming freshman?"
"Yeah. Tutored him a year."
He stared at her, shocked.
"Professor Irian tutored him?"
"What?"
"Makes him your first disciple, right? You've never held a class."
Her face soured. Mana shot at him. Shadows bloomed from him, layering to deflect it softly. My eyes widened—first time seeing her mana blocked.
"No need to be embarrassed, haha."
"Embarrassed? You're the one spouting nonsense."
She grumbled. I stood hands clasped, polite. No interrupting—just refining the tent magic and restocking treats. She beckoned. Approach. I stepped to the table cautiously.
"This is Professor Heisen. Likes shadows, as you saw. Weirdo."
"An honor to meet you. I'm Ebron."
I bowed nearly ninety degrees. His mana brushed me lightly. I yielded. It probed briefly, then withdrew.
"Thought you'd picked someone special, Professor Irian. Nothing stands out."
I stayed silent. True—no reaction. Just deeper gratitude to her. She'd brought this flawed me to university.
"That's why I did. Talented ones get ideas."
"Oh, intriguing. My underlings keep running. Good idea."
"Right? I'm a genius."
"I'll try next year."
They chatted on. I backed away politely, keeping distance. Not dismissed, so stayed visible but faded. Mid-talk, she paused.
"Ron, out."
I bowed deep and slipped from the tent. My shadow cloaked it as I left—no peeking. Important talk ahead. Outside remained quiet, sun blazing.