The Birth of the Sound Barrier
My ears are precious, so the moment I stepped through the front door into the house, I let out a deep sigh of relief. As the heavy oak door thudded shut behind me, the godawful racket of steel plates being hammered outside and the piercing screams dulled to a tolerable level. But they didn't vanish entirely. No medieval building came with soundproofing, after all—that bizarre howling still slithered through the cracks in the old windows, scraping at my raw nerves like nails on a chalkboard.
“Ughhh… Finally, I can breathe. That was straight-up hell.”
I set the half-eaten apple down on the dining table and shrugged off the robe I'd thrown on haphazardly before heading out. This unfamiliar girl's body still felt awkward as hell, but right now, one apple wasn't cutting it for my growling stomach. No magical fridge in sight, but thankfully the pantry held some bread that looked edible and a bit of dried meat.
I scarfed down a makeshift meal while replaying the chaos from the market earlier.
“Come to think of it, at least the language barrier isn't an issue. People talk, and I understand; the writing makes sense too.”
I'd been too shell-shocked by the deafening noise right after possessing this body to notice, but I was speaking this world's language fluently. The name Cecilia and “6th Grade Commoner Mage” on my residency permit read like my native tongue. Dodging that headache was one small mercy.
“A 6th Grade mage, huh… No clue what that really means in terms of power.”
Smaller number means higher rank, right? Even so, I had no idea how many grades were below me. Chewing on a chunk of bread, I picked up the smooth wooden rod leaning in the corner of the living room—it looked like a staff. Probably the original owner's. As my fingers closed around it, a faint tingle prickled my skin. Mana? Gripping it tighter, a lukewarm warmth spread through my palm.
The problem was figuring out how to pull this mana out and use it.
“Okay, so… swing it and fireballs fly out? Or do I need to chant some incantation?”
Would've been nice if the body's previous owner's memories stuck around. I swung the staff experimentally at the empty air. Nothing happened.
“Hey, 6th Grade mage! No muscle memory or instincts kicking in?”
I was half-considering yelling some cringey chuunibyou spell from manga when I spotted a worn magic book on the desk. Basic Magic Theory—thankfully, the words flowed smoothly. “White stuff's paper, black stuff's text…” Reading was one thing; understanding was another. I slogged through over half of it without grasping much.
What stuck: Mana shifts form with the caster's will. Mana creates specific boundaries via the caster's will. Certain chants fix mana into shapes. No handy noise-canceling spells, though.
“It's a theory book! ‘Will’? That's way too vague… Where's the step-by-step manual?”
Made sense, though—if anyone could wizard up with a manual, magic wouldn't be special. Mages here seemed more intuition than textbook. Or maybe I just wasn't getting it. Either way, trial and error it was.
I stared out the window, focusing on the distant howls from the plaza. Sound is waves. Waves have frequency and amplitude. Solution: simple. To cancel the noise, generate an exact opposite wave.
I extended mana through the staff toward the window. Tricky at first, but this body knew magic, so the feel came quick.
“Ooh, something's happening!”
Imagining mana flowing like a stream from the staff, I felt energy surge outward. Now, vibrate it opposite the noise… How?
Not as easy as thought. No clue how to vibrate mana, and the sounds were irregular—hammer strikes random, woman's screams pitching wildly. Tuning into that hellish noise just to counter it felt like torture.
“Ugh, my head. And I gotta keep listening to this?”
Concentrating harder on the noise to block it—what irony.
Amid the struggle, some talent flickered; faint vibrations hummed from the staff tip as if echoing my will. But forcing it too hard sparked headaches instead.
“Ow… I'm not asking for the moon here, just block some sound… Huh?”
Block sound?
“Wait, am I overcomplicating? No need for fancy counters.”
I lowered the staff and caught my breath. Sound travels via air vibrations. So erect a barrier stopping those vibrations from entering. The book mentioned boundaries via will.
“This could work.”
No phase inversion nonsense—just a pure vibration-absorbing wall for airborne sound. I stood, staff raised, envisioning a transparent dome over the whole house. Air passes, but vibrations get snagged in a dense mana net.
I pressed the staff tip to the window, spreading mana wide. Catch the vibrations. Halt the sound. I willed the mana to form a fine, unyielding shield on contact.
“Block it… all of it!”
Pouring mana surged; the air shimmered. Then, like magic—silence. “…Huh?”
I froze, staff in hand, dumbfounded. Hammer clangs, screams—gone. Only my ragged breaths and the clock's tick filled the room.
“Did I… do it? Holy crap! I'm a prodigy!”
Beats dropping millions on a sound booth back home. 6th Grade felt legit now.
“Let's test…” I cautiously withdrew the staff. The barrier dissolved; noise flooded back. Klang! Kwang! Kyaak! Hell unbroken. I recast—the quiet returned.
“Hm, solid, but… I'm a mage, gotta do better.”
Hugging the staff, I giggled at a fun idea. The mana pool felt robust, like a full power bank. Swirling it slowly, I mapped the house in my mind.
“Thicker on walls, absorptive ceiling like acoustic foam… Oh!”
Beyond a barrier, I infused mana particles between walls, floors—even roof cracks—for a pro studio vibe. Blue ripples spread from the small room, washing through living room, kitchen, bedroom, cresting the roof. The house gleamed like a gem in a box—mesmerizing.
“Hehe, noise solved, perfect workspace too… Huh?”
Mid-joy, rushing to the desk—
Plip. A red dot hit the wooden floor.
“What’s this? Leaky ceiling…?”
Tilting my head, I rubbed the spot. Then plip, plip—bigger drops. A fishy scent hit. Nose touched—
“...Huh?”
Hand smeared crimson blood. Wiping frantically, the nosebleed gushed. Overdid the mana? Vision spun; world tilted.
“W-wait…? Why’s the floor rushing up…?”
Confidence evaporated; I flailed stupidly and faceplanted. The perfect silence shattered with the barrier's collapse—noise roared back.
“Ah… damn it…!”
And so, amid the cacophony, I passed out sprawled on the floor.