This is a Romance Fantasy World 2
Rian didn't see a Mana Circle as the fruit of some mystical cultivation. It was just an efficient blueprint for obeying the laws of energy conservation. He calculated the mana vectors in his head. Then connected the ends. That was it.
"Well, 1-Circle is easy. But Master."
"……."
"Isn't the capacity a bit low with just this? Mana drain was heavy when I took down that wild boar."
Rian frowned and peered down at his chest. The 1-Circle spun steadily. But its total mana capacity had clear limits. For someone like him who prized efficiency above all, this kind of waste was intolerable.
"There's space left, so let's fill it up more."
Woooong—!
Resonance rang out once more. This time, a deeper, heavier tone. An unbelievable sight unfolded before Iril's eyes.
Outside the existing 1-Circle, another mana ring formed and interlocked with it, spinning in tandem. A 2-Circle, just like that.
"Wait, Rian! Stop! Making circles back-to-back like that will destroy your heart…!"
Iril screamed, trying to intervene. Each new circle brought agony comparable to childbirth for a mage. Blood vessels twisting, muscles tearing—that was the trial to ascend a single rank.
Yet this insane brat was leaping stages like it was breathing.
"Hmm, two's still a bit short."
Rian ignored Iril's shrieks entirely. He was in the zone. Like a programmer stumbling on an optimized algorithm amid tangled code, he was practically euphoric.
"Running it flat wastes space. Let's twist it into 3D. Apply some topology…."
Rian flicked his fingers through the air. The mana rings near his heart warped bizarrely. No longer simple circles. A three-dimensional structure where inside and outside connected like a Möbius strip. Three rings meshed together, rotating as one.
Kuuuung—!
The surrounding air grew heavy, pressing down. Campfire flames surged wildly then died back. Forest spirits cowered in terror.
A 3-Circle. But not the ordinary kind. Overwhelming density and efficiency in a freakish, perfect reconstruction. Something even Iril, with her centuries of life, had never witnessed.
"Whew."
Rian exhaled lightly. No trace of pain on his face. Just the refreshing clarity of a puzzle solved.
"Now it feels breathable. Three circles boosted mana efficiency by about 400%. So, Master, what's next? For 4-Circle, I could arrange them in a 4D hypercube, right?"
Rian gazed at Iril with eager eyes. But she couldn't respond. Her mouth hung slack in a daze. Horror filled her stare as she beheld the monster before her.
This isn't talent anymore.
She'd lived hundreds of years and seen countless human geniuses. But this was different. Even legendary archmages from history books needed three to five years of foundational training from childhood to reach 3-Circle.
Just thirteen years old. Less than five minutes since learning magic.
In that blink, this kid had trampled the established magic system like it was a joke.
He's beyond my capacity to handle.
Iril's instincts screamed. Keeping this child caged in the forest was a sin. No—unleashing him on the world might be the greater crime.
But the dice were already cast.
"…Rian."
"Yeah?"
"Pack your things."
Her voice trembled. Rian's eyes widened round.
"I'm getting kicked out? It's been less than an hour since I became your disciple!"
"No."
Iril shook her head, staring beyond the night sky. To Solaris, the empire's capital. Home to the Solarrium Academy, gathering of the continent's finest talents. It even had a magic department.
"We're going to the capital."
"The capital?"
"Yeah. I've taught you everything I can. You need a bigger stage."
Iril swallowed dryly. The empire's geniuses there—what faces would they make confronting this logic-defying monster? Her vision already spun.
"What's so great about it?"
Rian's question was predictable. Honor? Power? He couldn't care less.
"They serve the empire's best chefs' cafeteria food. Meat dishes every day, cake for dessert."
"Sold."
Rian sprang up. No hesitation, not even a second.
Iril let out a hollow laugh. A potential world-shaker's first step, all for cafeteria grub. How would historians record this?
"Alright. Let's go, monster."
Iril muttered.
"Oh, right. Master."
"What now?"
"I can't read. You'll have to teach me letters too."
Rian's bold demand made Iril pinch her throbbing forehead.
"…Sigh, fine. Forgot you're an illiterate slum brat."
Iril sighed deeply. Absurd, really. A monster mage twisting 3-Circles into Möbius strips, yet illiterate in the imperial tongue. What ridiculous imbalance.
"I could reverse-engineer the language from audio data alone, but imperial lacked visual text matches."
"More weird talk. Fine, come here."
Iril smoothed the dirt floor and scratched out the 24 imperial alphabet letters with a stick.
"These are the five basic vowels, nineteen consonants. Combinations work like…."
About a minute into her explanation—
"Hold on."
Rian's eyes scanned the letters like a scanner. His brain, master of twenty-seven languages in his past life, whirred at terrifying speed. After thirteen years immersed in speech, audio data was perfect. Now with text, it all clicked. Like a Korean learning Hangul.
Lucky the script's simple.
One minute. That's all it took to map the full grammar.
"Got it all memorized. You can erase them."
"…I just wrote them."
"Combination rules are way more intuitive than ancient script. And phonetic too—super convenient."
"……."
Iril blankly alternated between the dirt letters and Rian. Then silently scuffed them away with her foot. No surprise anymore. Expecting normal from this monster kid made her the fool. Ancient tongue in seconds? Of course basic imperial—learnable by commoners in days—was easy. A whole minute seemed odd, actually.
She pulled thick imperial history and geography tomes from her pack and tossed them to him.
"Read these. We'll teleport straight to the capital, so study while I prep the spell."
"Whoa! Teleportation? Master's more impressive than I thought!"
And so began the upward journey of a thirteen-year-old monster and his enlightened elf master.
Solaris, the capital. Heart of the continent, fortress city drawing all wealth and glory. Passing the massive marble walls, a spectacle rivaling Rian's past-life modern cities unfolded before him.
Medieval vibe, but streetlamps run on magic crystals, sewers rival modern ones. What kind of tech tree is this? Classic romance fantasy—quirky as hell.
Magic crystal lamps glowing. Gorgeous dresses and uniforms parading the streets. Impossible in Earth's Middle Ages. A self-proclaimed medieval fantasy world with bizarre progress levels—pure romance fantasy. Still, enjoying the perks? Welcome aboard.
But Rian's gaze didn't linger only on grand architecture or magitech wonders.
"Oh."
His light brown eyes sparkled.
"Master, skewers over there. Grilling heat efficiency is art. Sauce smells insane."
"You glutton, wipe your drool. We're not here to sightsee the market."
Iril yanked his collar. Thanks to her slush fund, Rian sported a neat shirt and pants. His messy light brown hair was trimmed proper. Rustic compared to nobles' silk finery, but no longer beggar rags. He'd pass as commoner, not vagrant.
Especially with his current life's handsome frame—just too skinny to shine fully.
They arrived before a massive domed structure in the capital's heart.
"This is the Solarrium Academy, the imperial academy."
A majestic gold-inlaid sign. Hundreds of luxury carriages queued at the gates. Descending children wore haughty expressions. Outfits screamed wealth.
Today was freshman entrance exam day. Noble heirs arrived as if expected.
"Crowded. Lots of mages too?"
"Obviously. Continent's top geniuses flock here. See that?"
Iril nodded at a group.
"Blue wolf emblem on the carriage. Knights of the northern Edelgart dukedom. Their heir's enrolling this year."
Edelgart.
Rian's stored data—memories—pinged instantly. The original male lead's family from the webnovel.
"And that white lion carriage is the Mage Tower Lord's direct grandson… Rian? You listening?"
Iril turned. Rian was glued to a huge bulletin board by the gates, staring intently. It listed the academy's annual schedule and rules.
"What're you doing? Reading the notices?"
"No."
Rian's tone was deadly serious.
"No freshman welcome banquet menu. Hope they don't skimp day one. You said meat every day, Master."
"…Yeah, yeah, it comes out. So behave and take the damn test."
Iril rubbed her face in exasperation. The monster who might reshape the empire entered the academy. That colossal wheel of fate turned—powered by cafeteria menus, of all things.
"But Master. Don't we need to apply for the entrance exam in advance?"