The Lecture That Shouldn't Exist
Milo had assumed Grave was joking when he said he was going to open a course of his own.
He knew Grave was far from ordinary, but as far as anyone could tell, Grave's official standing was that of a mere security guard.
At the Academy, a guard was nothing more than a handyman you summoned when you needed one. A guard opening a lecture? That was like a janitor announcing he'd be teaching a class.
No matter how exceptional Grave might be, impossible was impossible. That was what Milo had thought, and yet—
…Why is this actually happening?
Milo blinked dumbly at Grave, who stood behind the lectern looking down at the students.
It looked so natural. He looked like a real professor.
Is there seriously any professor who uses an actual guard as a teaching assistant?
Just as Elysium Academy's faculty was the finest on the continent, so too were its teaching assistants the best in the land. The Academy provided them to professors free of charge, so what kind of professor would ever settle for a security guard instead?
…Why on earth?
Milo turned his gaze toward Leon at the far end of the lecture hall.
His face was expressionless, but there was something in the way Leon kept sneaking glances at Grave that made Milo's instincts prickle.
That guy got roped in too!!
Leon was in the same boat as him.
He smacks actual professors around?
Just then, Grave's indifferent voice rang out through the hall.
"Any questions?"
Evangeline's hand shot up.
"What's this class called?"
"Practical Combat Studies."
"Practical Combat? But we all have different attributes?"
It was a surprisingly reasonable question.
Aura, black magic, divine power, and magic—the four attributes each had such distinct characteristics that classes were normally organized around students of the same one.
But the students in this lecture hall were, at a glance, all different.
A knight, a black mage, a priest, a mage—and then Evangeline.
Even general education courses rarely grouped more than two attributes together, and here was a combat course spanning all four—
It was unprecedented.
"Ah, don't worry about that. I've prepared an expert for each attribute. Through one-on-one analysis, the lessons will be tailored to each student's individual needs."
Cheers erupted at Grave's answer.
Because it sounded very sweet indeed.
Milo tilted his head.
An expert for each attribute?
Could that even be possible? Fine, maybe Grave could teach aura himself, but the other attributes—
…Wait, no, he uses black magic and divine power too, doesn't he?
Even a casual observer could see that Grave was exceptionally skilled in both. Milo could say so with certainty, because he'd been on the receiving end of that divine-power-infused fist firsthand.
Come to think of it, the man was even good at magic. Back when he was screening people at the back gate, hadn't he fired off light spells and fireballs like it was nothing?
Is he planning to teach all of it himself? Oh, what a horrifying thought—
Just then, Grave clapped his hands briefly.
"First, fill out your course registration forms."
"Aren't registration forms normally submitted on the last day of the add-drop period?"
"Wouldn't it be a pain to have to come back and submit them later?"
"Well, yes, but—"
Just then, Rosa, swinging a leg propped up on her desk, cut in.
"Let's at least hear the orientation first."
It was an utterly insolent attitude, but Grave simply nodded, unbothered.
"Very well. Let's begin the orientation."
At the mention of class starting, Milo naturally drifted toward the back door. Blocking the exit, he looked out at the students and offered a silent prayer for them.
Poor bastards.
This was a man who smacked professors around. No way he'd go easy on mere students.
But contrary to Milo's expectations, Grave didn't immediately start throwing punches.
"Let's start with the fundamentals. What do you think an attribute is?"
"Me! Me!"
"Go ahead, Evangeline."
"There are four attributes! Aura, magic, divine power, and black magic!"
"Oh, impressive that you know even that much."
"Hehe! Is that all you've got for praise!"
It was blatant sarcasm to anyone with eyes, but Evangeline lifted her chin and preened anyway.
"There are four attributes. Aura and magic, divine power and black magic. But are those four truly different attributes?"
"Of course they are! How do you not know that?"
"How do they differ?"
"They don't even have the same names!"
"Setting names aside?"
"Then, uh—"
Evangeline squirmed and fidgeted until, desperate, she looked at Andy for help. Heaving a sigh, Andy answered in her place.
"The underlying power and the method of manifestation differ."
"…Right! Exactly! That's precisely what I was about to say!"
Evangeline mumbled Andy's words back, mimicking them under her breath.
"And how does the foundation of each attribute differ?"
This time Grave looked at Andy as he asked.
Andy obediently chewed over the knowledge in his head before speaking.
"Divine power is founded on faith in the Lord, and magic on the mana in the atmosphere. Black magic is a contract with demons—huh? They're all external powers."
Andy spoke as if something had struck him as odd. Grave gave a light nod.
"Correct. It's the accepted theory that aura, too, is absorbed from the natural world. The four attributes are all different, yet they share one thing in common: each is a power drawn from outside oneself."
Somewhere along the way, the lecture hall had fallen silent. Even those rowdy students were hanging on Grave's every word. Even Evangeline, of all people.
"Which means, for all four attributes, the crucial thing is the link that connects you to that external power. A knight's breathing technique, a priest's prayer, a mage's incantation, a black mage's curse—those are the examples. So, could a priest use a knight's breathing technique?"
Grave asked the question in an even, matter-of-fact tone. The answer came from the very back of the hall.
"Why would anyone do something that stupid?"
Rosa. Legs stretched out across her desk, she tilted her head crookedly and asked with a sneer.
Grave stepped down from the dais and approached her, stopping right in front of her and looking down at her.
Rosa glared back up at him, chin askew.
He's going to hit her.
Milo swallowed hard.
But instead of a fist, Grave simply curled the corner of his mouth.
"Why is it stupid?"
"A priest just recites her prayers. Doing some knight's breathing instead is what makes it stupid."
"Stupid, is it—"
Grave let out a soft chuckle and gave his fingers a light snap.
A pure white light flickered to life at his fingertip. Divine power.
"The primary purpose of divine power is healing and blessing. The key to manifesting it lies in keeping the god's power uniform and steady. A prayer helps you 'maintain' that power."
"So what? You're throwing that trivia around like it's something special?"
Rosa smirked, curling her lip with contempt. It was grating enough just to watch, but Grave continued his explanation without a flicker of reaction.
"And a knight's breathing? In the middle of a fight, a knight needs to throttle his power down in an instant—or concentrate it all into a single point. Knightly breathing is therefore specialized in 'regulating' power. And if you apply it, something like this becomes possible."
Grave spread a second finger.
Between the two long fingers, the pure white light exploded outward, growing until it flared up and over his hand.
At that sight, Rosa's slouching posture straightened itself.
Grave kept explaining in a voice utterly without inflection.
"Magic converts and deploys the power of the natural world. Its incantation formulas, then, function through 'conversion.' And using that—"
Grave raised a third finger. A vast sheet of pure white light began to swirl like a gusting wind, and then the divine power scattered through the room like flower petals drifting on a spring day.
Before long, the white light blanketed the lecture hall in a dense, mist-like haze.
"Th-that's even possible?"
Rosa stared at it, mouth hanging open.
But it wasn't over yet.
Grave spread one more finger.
"And finally, black magic stakes your own life force to wield a power beyond yourself. Its curses, therefore, carry a 'Berserk' effect that burns life as fuel. Applied like so—"
The mist-like divine power hanging in the air suddenly blazed with intense light. A brilliance so bright it blinded filled every corner of the lecture hall.
It was as if a pure white sun had risen indoors.
Everyone stared at Grave, dumbfounded.
Just then, a raucous clamor drifted in from outside—the orientations in the other lecture halls apparently wrapping up. Grave clicked his tongue and clapped his hands, and the pure white light vanished in an instant.
The whole thing had been so surreal that everyone in the hall wondered, briefly, whether they'd been dreaming.
"Now then. Fill out your course registration forms."
At Grave's beckoning gesture, Leon began distributing the forms to the students.
Something about the relationship between the two of them was decidedly strange, but not a single person noticed. They simply filled out their forms as if entranced. Even the delinquent Rosa scrambled to write hers down.
Collecting the completed forms, Grave turned away without ceremony.
"Don't be late."
Not so much as a breath could be heard until the moment Grave stepped out of the lecture hall.
Only after the door thudded shut did anyone remember to exhale.
H-he was so fucking cool—
Milo felt oddly proud of himself.
Andy stared blankly at the closed door.
Truth be told, everything Grave had just explained was textbook material—the most basic of basic theory, the kind you'd find in a primer on your very first day of studying magic.
Incantation formulas carry the property of conversion; aura, amplification; divine power, maintenance; black magic, berserk.
So basic it was almost confusing to hear spelled out.
But he had never seen anyone apply those properties across different attributes like that.
Naturally so—because there was no reason to.
Magic achieved its best efficiency through incantation formulas. If you wanted more power, you used a stronger formula; if you wanted more duration, you used a formula that added sustain. Half-learned methods borrowed from other attributes bought you little for the effort. That was the accepted wisdom.
Except Grave had just denied that wisdom point-blank, to its face.
If divine power could incorporate the properties of other attributes, then magic could as well.
If he could cast spells like that—
Andy's heart was just beginning to race at the thought when—
"In the end, it's just a parlor trick, isn't it? Casting high-tier divine power would be better anyway."
Rosa had snapped back to her usual delinquent self, drawling the words with a sneer.
And she had a point—there certainly existed divine power with a wider area of effect and greater force than what Grave had demonstrated.
Andy nodded along agreeably.
"But between spells of the same tier, the one built on applied aura breathing would come out stronger. And applying prayers would give you better sustain."
"Why bother? Just use high-tier divine power."
"Exactly. Sure, raising your tier beats any party trick like that in terms of raw efficiency. But—"
Andy turned to Rosa and asked his question.
"Can everyone here use high-tier divine power?"
Rosa's ornate eyebrows twitched, ever so slightly.
Every person's limits are fixed from birth. They call that talent.
But those tricks only proved useful once you reached that limit. In other words, they were the desperate thrashing of someone who had hit their ceiling and could grow no further.
Nothing to be sneered at—quite the opposite.
Just then, into the heavy silence, someone rose from their seat.
"So what you're saying is, it actually works?"
It was Evangeline. There was a strange confidence radiating off her, and it made Andy uneasy.
And that unease became reality almost immediately.
"Hey, friend. Aura breathing, was it? Teach me how that works, would you?"
Evangeline dropped a hand on Vivienne's shoulder.
Now, the founding principle of Elysium Academy's education was that all people are equal before learning. It was precisely why matters of class and station were governed with such severity.
But no matter how egalitarian the rules, draping your hand over the shoulder of an Imperial Princess and yakking away casually was something that absolutely, under no circumstances, should ever happen.
Even the other bottom-tier students recoiled, faces frozen in horror—yet Evangeline herself remained perfectly composed. Andy watched the two of them with mounting dread, thinking hard.
Was Evangeline a high-ranking noble?
Nothing else made sense.
After all, her looks were genuinely extraordinary.
High nobility was the most likely explanation.
"Hey, friend. Answer me."
…It had to be.