Even a Third-Rate Art

Maria Theresa.

A 5th-tier mage up from the countryside. In truth, a young dragon amusing herself with a human game. She was roughly five hundred years old — an age at which the thirst for knowledge burned at its fiercest.

And that dragon had taken a very particular interest in him.

"Think it through carefully, X. A first-year becoming a teaching assistant is a rare opportunity. Once you graduate, do you really think you'll land a proper position? Become my assistant, and your career is as good as guaranteed."

Madness shimmered in Maria's sky-blue eyes.

He had to refuse. No matter what it took.

Circe is the one who's supposed to become the teaching assistant!

He steeled himself inside the terror and pushed back with everything he had.

"I'm sorry! I have no talent for magic! I only enrolled to scrape together credits — I'm not interested!"

"Is the problem that you can't sense mana? I'll take care of that for you. I could even reconstruct your entire body into a mana vessel, if you'd like."

"P-please, spare me!"

The offer to turn him into a mana being — something like an elemental — was not a bluff, and that made it so much worse.

Maria's brow furrowed at his fierce resistance.

"Playing hard to get won't end well for you. I know a great many ways to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠set a student on the proper path."

"Eek…!"

She meant she would knead his mind the way one works dough — rewrite his thoughts from the inside. Real fear took hold of him then.

"I'm sorry!!"

X ran.

Before a terror he could not hope to resist, the only rebellion permitted to a creature so small was to look away and flee.

"Ah… he's gone."

Maria watched his retreating back and clicked her tongue. Then a puzzled look crossed her face, and she sank into thought.

"Why didn't the mental magic take…?"

She reviewed her casting for any mistake. Finding nothing amiss only deepened the mystery. After turning it over, she arrived at a conclusion: there is something about X.

A being she had never encountered before. Curiosity hammered at her heart. The thirst called the unknown left her parched.

"He'll come back eventually…. I can take my time."

Maria swallowed a quiet smile, never noticing the eyes that had been watching the entire exchange in secret.

A student from Class F produced research like that…?

A girl with long, straight violet hair moved her pen in silence. On any other day she would have dismissed it out of hand — but what she had overheard had convinced her that her own knowledge was not something to be taken lightly. The contents of that conversation had been that shocking.

He must have picked it up somewhere. As if this academy had any real students to begin with. And Class F, no less….

The reincarnated Sage, Circe Odyssey, let out a long breath. Guilt at having eavesdropped on someone else's research crept in, but the disappointment sitting heavy in her chest arrived first.

That's right. There was never going to be a proper student in a place like this.

Circe had endured so many disappointments that she could no longer sweep the darkness from her heart. She had reached the point of resignation.

A hundred years ago, she had poured her entire life into barely sealing the Demon King. When fortune granted her reincarnation, she had been simply glad. Pride at having saved the world had left her giddy.

That feeling had collapsed almost at once.

The family she had been reborn into were misers of the worst kind. After Circe manifested magic and entered the Magic Tower, the household had been so wretched she severed all ties.

Even that wouldn't have mattered. It was only a family problem.

Entering the Magic Tower, Circe had still carried a sliver of hope. She had believed the mages of this era would be more advanced than those of a century past — that they would have built their research into a proper system, that they would burn with a passion for the truth. That was what she had sacrificed herself for.

But they weren't.

Humanity had declined. Magic had become a stepping stone toward power and wealth. Mages and researchers clung to a handful of coins, and those in authority treated magic as nothing more than a tool of war. Not a single soul spared even a thought for the threat of the Demon King. Inquiry and research in pursuit of the truth were nowhere to be found.

Coming to Elion Academy — supposedly a treasure-house of knowledge — had changed nothing. If anything, it had made the truth plainer.

Our sacrifice was for nothing.

And yet the threat of the Demon King and the Demon Realm remained. She would have to endure that hellish previous life all over again. This time, she would have to do it alone.

Professor Maria is at least better than the rest.

Maria was a mage who genuinely researched the truth. The look in her eyes set her apart from every other mage ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Circe had met. She claimed to be 5th-tier now, but she might one day surpass Circe herself and reach the 8th-tier. Or she might already be a great mage, hiding her true strength.

…I need to get a grip. My body got younger, and now my thoughts are getting younger too….

And then there was that boy Maria had taken an interest in. X. He couldn't even answer Maria's questions properly, yet he had the gall to claim he was conducting independent research and had drawn attention he had no business drawing. Because of him, the chance to study under Maria had gone up in smoke. He had been the one to receive the teaching assistant offer.

I won't accept it.

Riiip—

The pen tore through the paper under the force of her grip. Circe paid it no mind, sinking deeper into thought. Before she knew it, the current of her thinking had begun to tilt toward how she might get that boy out of the way.

She knew it was nothing more ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠than the petty jealousy of a child. The thoughts would not stop.

The Magical Truths class he had expected to be his one sanctuary had turned out to be a dragon's maw.

The terror that had crawled up X's spine lingered in his mind, and time slipped past without mercy.

On the morning of the fifth day, at assembly, Roxwell delivered a final warning with a look steeped in venom.

"Seventeen F's in less than a week. I've gotta hand it to you — that's almost impressive."

It wasn't as if he'd been skipping class. The professors' standards had simply been set impossibly high. Not that anyone was going to listen to an excuse like that.

"Remember this. Three more F's and a disciplinary committee gets convened. That's where they decide whether to expel you. And unless a miracle happens, expulsion is guaranteed. Got it?"

"Yesss…."

A lifeless answer. He knew perfectly well there was no way out. In the end, there was only one option left.

This is all I've got. Buy this first.

After the required classes, during lunch, he found a secluded spot and opened the Talent Shop. He purchased Basic Swordsmanship and Basic Mind Method at once.

A colossal flood of information slammed into his mind ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at once.

"Ghhhk… feels like it's being hammered straight into my skull…."

His brain scrambled so thoroughly that a dazed sound slipped out of him on its own. Time passed, and the information settled into place.

…I can use this.

Certainty settled in. He picked up a nearby stick and ran through the basic sword forms. Vertical slash. Horizontal slash. Thrust. They were the most elementary motions imaginable, yet he executed them as naturally as if he had trained them for years.

Only after performing them did the realization hit.

This is just the Three Powers Swordsmanship! Don't scam me!

A groan escaped him. Then again, what had he expected from an F-rank talent that cost five hundred points? He was reminded, all over again, that he had no cheat abilities waiting for him.

No time to look into the basic mind method…. Next class is Introduction to Cultivation, so I'll figure it out there.

The lecture hall was packed with martial artists and the smell of sweat. They took one look at X and their faces soured. Hostile muttering rose on its own.

"He's taking Introduction to Cultivation too?"

"What the hell does he think he's doing?"

"Can he even use a cultivation method?"

The hostility was so familiar it was almost comforting. He ignored it without a second thought.

There he is. The reincarnated Hero, the original protagonist's protagonist — Leon.

He glanced toward a corner where students had clustered. The one they were all watching stood at the center.

"Leon, come on, at least tell us what cultivation method you learned!"

"Sorry. It's a unique method, so I can't really share it. I can still help from the side, though."

"I'm so glad you signed up for this class! I was already hitting a wall."

"It's nothing. I just got lucky, that's all."

A natural, bright-brown wolf cut that suited his easygoing nature, and shining blue eyes that pulled people in. A handsome young man whose charm had to be sitting at a 5.0, if not higher.

Leon Brave: the original protagonist, the reincarnated Hero. He was also X's only remaining lifeline.

Good. Keep soaking up all that attention. Please, get strong, smash this apocalypse to pieces, and bring the novel to an end.

The bell rang, and the lecture began.

The professor for Introduction to Cultivation looked like a mountain spirit who had wandered down from some remote peak. An old man with neatly kept white hair and a tidy beard approached with his hands clasped behind his back.

In the setting, he was a master from the far East, wasn't he? They didn't even try to hide the murim concept.

The old man took his place at the lectern, regarded the students with deep eyes, and began the class with an introduction.

"I am Hao Lung. I oversee Introduction to Cultivation."

With those words, the sticks of chalk behind him rose into the air as one. As if possessed of their own will, they began inscribing the structure of the human body and lines of text across the blackboard. Lung's hands remained folded behind his back.

The students stared, transfixed, at the uncanny sight.

Telekinesis…. Well, he is an 8-Star martial artist. Of course he can use it. In murim terms, a master of the Unrestrained Realm.

Later, Lung would recognize the talent of the reincarnated Hero, Leon, and take him on as a student. He was also the one who would eventually enable Leon to wield internal energy and magic together — a critical figure.

As the chalk filled the board without rest, Lung began his explanation in earnest.

"I dare say that not a single one of you truly understands the essence of internal energy. You think of it as nothing more than power derived from the body. Then I will ask you this. Can the strength of the body move chalk without grasping it?"

Silence served as their denial.

"In this class, you will learn the essence of the internal energy you have been accumulating without thought, and you will pursue inquiry and training in internal energy itself. If you came here hoping to learn a better cultivation method, abandon that hope. There is no such thing as a 'good' cultivation method in this world."

The chalk stopped. The blackboard was already packed from edge to edge.

"Then let us begin in earnest."

Lung's teaching method was orthodox. He covered the fundamentals of cultivation methods and internal energy, then evaluated the strengths and weaknesses of each student's personal method.

"Yours is a most unusual method, Leon. Harmonious internal energy — pure in the extreme."

Naturally, Lung took an interest in the reincarnated Hero. He had glimpsed the defining trait of the unique Protego Mind Method: that it accumulated any kind of power in harmony. Leon himself likely had no idea.

"To reach the 5-Star realm before even coming of age. Outstanding talent. You weren't chosen as the freshman representative for nothing."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Good. Continue to strive."

The next student was Crown Prince Darius. Lung examined his internal energy and frowned.

"Hmph. Arrogant internal energy, through and through. Hegemonic. Destructive. Suited to oppression and dominion."

"I am a prince of the Empire. My internal energy is power for the throne. That is the natural order of things."

"Good. When even such hegemony reaches the heavens, it too becomes Martiality. It is because of that very hegemony that you attained the 5-Star realm. Continue to strive."

Darius, who drew so many envious gazes, merely let his eyes slide past them with lofty indifference.

Last of all, Lung turned to X. The moment he saw him, he sighed.

"I told you plainly I would not be teaching cultivation methods. So why has a child without a scrap of internal energy come to this place?"

A fair reaction. X had never trained a cultivation method in his life, so of course he possessed no internal energy whatsoever. Enduring the students' snickers, he explained himself slowly.

"I did recently learn a cultivation method, but it's an unfamiliar one, so I wanted an expert's analysis. It could be dangerous, after all."

"Mm. From the sound of it, an unusual method. That concern is well placed. A flawed cultivation method will seize you by the throat. Perform one full circulation for me."

X immediately called up the method he had acquired as raw information. He settled into stance and slowly moved his energy along the prescribed path. Turbid energy separated from the pure; the dregs sank, the refined rose. He accumulated nothing. He ran a single complete cycle, exactly as instructed.

The method ended. He opened his eyes to find Lung staring at him in astonishment.

Did I mess something up again?

Lung was still for a moment. Then he let out a long breath — "Haaa" — and spoke.

"To think I would see this mind method in this land again. And yet, of all things… of all things, it had to be this one. Heaven is truly without mercy…."

"…Is it a dangerous method?"

It was a cultivation method handed to him by a status window that had been actively trying to kill him. For all he knew, the internal energy it produced might be the sort that ruptured a body from the inside. He looked at Lung with that worry written on his face, and the old man shook his head.

"No. If we are speaking of danger…. It is the safest cultivation method in the world. No matter what you do, you will never suffer deviation. A method safe beyond all measure."

"…So it's a good one, then?"

The pity on Lung's face suggested otherwise. He exhaled deeply and explained.

"…In my homeland, that method was a third-rate art anyone could learn on a street corner. The Samjae Mind Method. It is a method for self-cultivation, not for the pursuit of Martiality."

When Lung finished, the lecture hall fell silent for a beat. Then a snort broke the quiet, and the silence shattered.

"Pff— bahahaha!! A street-corner method, he said!"

"Kh-hhk, hahahaha! A third-rate mind method!"

"Hahaha! Did you come to the academy for spiritual self-improvement?!"

The hall filled with the students' roaring laughter. Leon wore a look of pity. Darius looked at him as one might look at an insect.

X accepted reality at once.

I'm screwed.

Five hundred points for a third-rate sword art. Five hundred for a third-rate mind method. A thousand points, dissolving into thin air.

It's over. There's nothing left.

A life in which nothing ever worked. The world in front of him went dark.

When class ended, he left the lecture hall with heavy shoulders. At least he had avoided an F for class conduct.

The rope he thought he had grabbed had been rotten the whole time. His heart was a mess.

Nothing I can do. Set this aside and find some other way….

He was dragging his feet toward the door when a voice stopped him.

"X. A moment."

Lung still stood with his hands behind his back, watching him. X approached, puzzled. Was he about to change the class-conduct grade because of the mind method?

"Did I do something wrong…?"

"You look as though the words 'third-rate mind method' crushed you."

"Ah, well…. Yes…."

"Have you learned any swordsmanship?"

"That's… more or less the same story."

"Show me."

A sword came whistling at his face. X caught it and ran through the Three Powers Swordsmanship. Vertical slash. Horizontal slash. Thrust. That was all.

Lung made a low sound in his throat.

"The Three Powers Swordsmanship. This, too…."

"A third-rate sword art you learn on street corners, right?"

Lung shrugged. A sigh escaped X on its own. Doom was bearing down on him, and every technique he had learned was third-rate. It was as good as telling him to thrash around and die.

"I used it well. It's a remarkable sword."

He moved to hand it back, but Lung shook his head. Instead, he held out the scabbard as well.

"Carry that sword for a while. It was forged for the purpose of cultivation. Consider it repayment for letting this old man taste a bit of homesickness."

"Pardon? Even so, a sword this precious…."

X knew next to nothing about blades, but even from a few swings it was clearly a sword worthy of being called a masterwork. And the old man had just handed it over without a second thought.

"Cheap iron swords like that are a dime a dozen. Take it and consider it thrown away."

"…Thank you."

"Walk with me a while."

X sheathed the sword and followed. He had to hurry to keep pace with those immortal-light steps. Lung walked at a leisurely speed that was somehow still fast, and spoke.

"What is Martiality? Answer me."

"Martiality is…. Just power."

"Correct. Martiality is simply power. Whatever form it takes, if it exerts force, all of it is Wu."

They had arrived, somehow, at the edge of a hill that opened onto a sweeping view of ridgelines. When had they gotten here? It felt as if a spirit had led him by the hand.

"And so Martiality, when it stands alone, is a lonely thing. What meaning is there in possessing power and nothing else?"

"…But it's better than having none. Without it, those who have it take from you. Possessions. Lives."

"Correct. That is when Martiality finally reveals its worth."

Lung raised a hand. The sky rippled, and a violent gale came crashing down. The wind was strong enough to throw a man into the air. Then it died as suddenly as it had come. An old sword was already in Lung's grip.

"Watch closely. This is the height you must reach."

Lung settled into stance and swung.

A vertical slash. The world pressed down as if a mountain were collapsing onto it.

A horizontal slash. Every tree along the ridgeline was scoured away.

A thrust. Savage gales from every direction shot forward as one.

X stared, emptied of thought. To shake heaven and earth with a swing of a sword — so this was a master of the Unrestrained Realm. He was so stunned he could barely open his mouth.

"That was…. the Three Powers Swordsmanship? How can a third-rate sword art do something like that…."

"If the one who uses it is third-rate, even a supreme art becomes third-rate. Conversely, if the one who uses it is a master, even a third-rate art becomes supreme."

Lung turned to face him.

"For such a small child, you carry a colossal burden on your shoulders. And you consider what you have learned to be meager. How pitiful."

"But it's only third-rate…."

"Ah…."

"The Three Powers Swordsmanship and the Samjae Mind Method you learned have, across a long history, served as the foundation and the bedrock of countless martial artists. You believe you learned the wrong thing. In truth, you have obtained a precious fated encounter. That is what I wished to tell you."

Lung stamped his foot once, and the scenery changed. They were back in the heart of the academy. Hands still folded behind him, Lung started off in some direction and left a single remark in his wake.

"Continue to strive."

He walked away like an immortal vanishing down the road. X stared after that retreating back, something swelling in his chest, and offered a martial salute — fist against palm, head bowed.

Thank you…!

"Heh heh! You've picked up quite a few things from somewhere, I see."

He hadn't even been looking. How had he known about the salute? Lung's laughter echoed down the empty corridor like a lingering spirit.

X gathered himself.

It's not time to give up yet.

He would find a way. Fortunately, he had the knowledge to find one. He called up the setting from memory and took stock of the professor for his next class.

I'll cling on. However I have to.

If survival demanded it, he would play the clown. Three marks of class-conduct F remaining. He would dodge expulsion. He had to.