Chapter 1
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Graduate Academy Days
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Nothing to do.
Eat, sleep, shit.
Eat some more, sleep some more.
Occasionally take a stroll around the garden….
This medieval era has nothing to do even if you wanted to… but really, there's just way too little.
Of course, the fact that I'm a modern guy might be a factor.
But what can you do?
I came from an era where I was so steeped in dopamine I could practically swim in it.
Even while eating, even while taking a shit, even right before falling asleep.
I always lived with my phone by my side, so here, surprisingly, walking in the garden had become my hobby.
Something that had been a hobby once upon a time, back when I was really little….
Anyway, that's how little there was to do.
Around now, someone might raise an objection.
Born in the medieval era and your hobby is garden strolls???
Isn't that living the sweet life?
Right on the money. Sweet life.
I'm living a pretty cushy existence right now.
In the quiet rural town of Vieirn, born as the third son of the local minor lord, Baron Vieirn.
I have an older brother, the heir, and an older sister.
My brother and sister don't get along, but they both got along well with me.
I had good reason for that—I had no ambition to begin with.
While they bickered daily over the family head position, I harbored no such desires.
No reason to get involved in their fight.
Family head?
Why bother becoming family head?
If I'd reincarnated here with my modern memories intact, maybe it'd be different.
In that case… I might've wanted to live a spectacular life, chasing all sorts of ambitions. Flaunting exceptional talent from my school days, hitting the media, becoming famous….
But born into this medieval world, I didn't have any particular goals. How can you want something when you don't even know what it is?
If I'd been born poor, maybe I'd have struggled desperately just to survive.
But my current situation was so comfortable, no such effort was needed.
Yeah, it's the environment that made me this way!
…Is this what they call a wastrel's sloth?
At least my personality isn't rotten. Small mercies.
I liked this quiet town.
I liked my father, who genuinely cared for the people's well-being, and the townsfolk who treated him warmly without fear.
Especially the sight of the golden light spreading over the millet fields at sunset. I loved that.
When I was little, things were hectic. Suddenly dropped into another world, struggling to adapt to medieval culture.
I rarely ventured outside the castle walls, so naturally, garden strolls became my only hobby.
But once I accepted reality, my heart found a peace like never before.
A profound tranquility… something I'd never tasted even once in the modern world.
Except for the times it got too boring.
When I was young, I didn't even know magic existed here.
I just thought it was a real historical medieval era.
The first time I realized magic was real was when Father called me to the training grounds, saying it was time to start building my body.
He assigned me a knight as my personal trainer, but when he saw my disinterested face, the guy suddenly drew his sword and enveloped it in mana.
Seeing something like blue flames rise over the blade… wow.
It was awe-inspiring. Beyond awe—a rush of exhilarating joy that made my heart pound.
The knight smiled warmly at my sparkling eyes, but sorry to disappoint him, I wasn't interested in the sword.
My interest was in the magic.
'That's why Sis liked me.'
My sister had been learning magic since childhood. She hated our brother constantly nagging her at meals that the family head needed to wield a sword. I benefited by association.
Anyway, I had some talent.
My mana vessel was larger than average, and I filled it faster than most.
Father was initially displeased but changed his tune once he confirmed my talent.
He was thrilled that a once-in-a-century genius had appeared in his bloodline.
Word spread through the whole town in a single day: 'The baron's third son has the makings of an archmage.'
But that was the extent of it.
A bit more mana capacity than a normal person. A bit faster recovery.
You might think that's nothing much… but anyone who knows magic understands that sheer 'quantity' doesn't make you strong.
The essence of magic lies in hierarchy. Step by step. Grasping the essence of magic at each level, piercing through complex structures with insight, and the intuition and creativity to apply it to reality.
In simple terms, brains matter more.
A modern guy like me, with only this much…!
My talent wasn't exceptional, that much was clear.
But I wasn't too disappointed.
I'd long since discarded any competitive spirit.
I was content just to wield that wondrous magic myself.
Even at the Academy, I got a lot of flak.
My grades were decent enough. Maybe thanks to my modern college experience, I adapted quickly—which just drew more unwanted attention and disdain.
People said my grades were too good for my talent. That I was pulling tricks to score high despite mediocre skill.
The top student especially kept me in her sights.
Oz Eldis, the only granddaughter of the prestigious Eldis magic family.
She'd drawn massive attention from day one of enrollment.
I still can't forget the murderous glare she shot me when I took first place from her on the entrance exam. The moment she fixed her war declaration gaze on me, someone who'd ignored her completely.
Of course, that was the first and last time I claimed top spot.
I'd just adapted fast thanks to my 20-something modern memories as a medieval native.
The real talents dominated the rankings from the next exam on.
I barely clung to the edge of the top ranks.
Just as it became clear I was nothing special…
Oz Eldis spoke to me for the first time.
"What are you going to do now? You can't rely on luck for good grades anymore."
Her cold eyes were always hard to meet. But now that she had some leeway, the predatory glare had softened a bit.
Like a predator toying with prey?
"I got good grades."
"…I mean, you didn't get first. What now?"
Her eyes turned scary again.
Guess I said the wrong thing.
"Uh… you're first this time?"
"Yes."
Aha! She wants praise?
"Oh, impressive."
"…Mocking me?"
"I'm impressed."
"Is that your impressed face?"
Oz looked at me with contempt, then turned away.
Ah, I should've made a better first impression back then….
After that, she never lost first place once. The problem was, every time, she'd glance my way and smirk.
Why does the noble daughter from some backwater rural noble family get so much of her attention?
I'm too honored for words.
'I never even planned to win.'
It felt unfair. I'd long submitted to her contemptuous gaze.
But oblivious to my feelings, she'd poke at me now and then.
Truth be told, Academy top scores probably meant little to her.
Good grades don't guarantee talent, and after graduation, the gap would widen beyond comparison.
Scores only look big on the Academy's small stage.
So my days at the Academy were spent getting pushed around by the talented ones.
But the professors saw me differently.
They wanted me as their disciple.
Not because they saw some hidden genius others missed.
They knew.
Overwhelming talent doesn't stick around the Academy.
This empire is huge. Incredibly, suffocatingly vast.
And though I lived peacefully in my rural territory and didn't know it, the empire was in a turbulent period.
Hostile forces writhed beyond the borders, cracks spread within. Crisis breeds opportunity. The chance to birth heroes.
Great talent inevitably swims in bigger ponds.
So, those with slightly above-average talent who couldn't scale the highest walls… prime disciple material. Perfect slaves… er, students.
"A mage lives by reason! So choose boldly when needed! What you're good at!!"
Professor Palrez of Magic Engineering spread his arms like a stage actor, booming through the lecture hall—which contained only me.
"That's the meaning! Dig one well deep enough, and you can join the ranks of great archmages! Your talent is that mana capacity. A vessel wider than the sea…!"
"Wider than the sea? You really think so?"
"…Ahem, the sea isn't quite as vast as the Barkus Ocean."
"Pardon?"
"Ahemhem! Anyway! Your talent is superior mana capacity. Hone this tremendous gift, and you'll surely become a great mage! I'll make it happen! I'll teach you how to double that vessel of yours!"
"Not interested."
"Then! Magic to maximize mana recovery elasticity…!"
"Not going to graduate academy."
Even in modern times, I skipped grad school because jobs were scarce in the recession. Why now?
I drew a firm line.
One day, by chance, I learned Professor Palrez's research topic.
It was in an article from the magic journal Villeicher.
Tucked away in a forgotten corner of the periodical issued by the Magic Tower council… a tiny research blurb outside anyone's notice.
[Mana Permanent Preservation Research]
Grand title just from the name. Medieval engineering twist, though….
By then, my interest lay in 'manifesting modern engineering.' Replacing modern tech we can't build yet with mana equivalents.
It could make a fortune, but that wasn't why.
Just boredom.
Intense boredom.
Trying to fill that pathetic dopamine void.
And Professor Palrez's research piqued that interest.
"Professor."
"What."
Professor Palrez scowled the moment I opened the lab door.
Still sulking that I wouldn't be his slave.
His personality is… no.
He's about to be my mentor for years. Can't think rude thoughts.
He's doing groundbreaking research, no less.
Guess I've been too dyed in this medieval pink-tinted life(?).
In modern times, I'd do anything to get my name on great research.
"Take me as your disciple."
"Wha—?!"
"I'm serious."
I spoke earnestly, and Professor Palrez forced down his sagging grin.
"Fine, even you couldn't resist doubling your mana capacity."
"No, it's your research… I'm interested."
His increasingly arrogant posture froze. He stared at me, dumbfounded.
"…My research?"
"Yes. If you're doing something like that, why not brag in class? And Villeicher is weird too—why bury such amazing work in a corner where no one sees it? Didn't you complain?"
I rambled on, then looked at him. His eyes were misty.
What the… this guy.
No way, he's not crying, is he?
"Y-you mean it…? No need to butter me up…."
"Huh? I do mean it."
"Really? Truly?"
…Ugh, intense.
Professor Palrez suddenly shoved his face in mine and grabbed my hand.
I yanked it back like I'd touched fire. An old man's sweaty grip… not interested.
"As expected… not serious. I understand."
"No, I am serious. Why would I lie to you?"
Why am I soothing this old prof like a girlfriend…?
This must be everyday grad student life.
Thankfully, he accepted it quickly, mulling over our past talks.
"True enough. But… hm, I thought you were cool-headed… misjudged you?"
"Pardon? What?"
"Ah, nothing. I get your intent."
Something felt off, but I became Professor Palrez's disciple anyway.