Chapter 39
Chapter 39
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 39
>Chapter Title: Conviction and the Waist
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Originally, transitioning from neutral mana to elemental mana wasn't this easy.
It involved transforming every bit of mana you'd accumulated so far into the new type.
But.
‘The Heavenly Origin Art doesn't require that.’
Mana that could embrace all attributes.
It held no attributes in the core, but the instant it flowed through the circuits, it instantly shifted to match.
And that wasn't all.
‘It works the same for multiple attributes.’
For example.
Fire and earth.
If a mage wanted to hold mana of two attributes, what method would they use?
Typically, they'd divide the core's capacity.
Take a core with a total capacity of 100, split it in half into 50 and 50, assign one side to earth, the other to fire.
Three attributes? Divide into thirds.
Four? Quarters.
But with the Heavenly Origin Art, there was no need for that.
Derived from the Heavenly Origin Art, its secret arts could encompass all attributes just by learning them—no need to partition the core.
Why was this so impressive?
‘Splitting a 50-capacity core into two doesn't match the output of a single 100-capacity one, right?’
It could even outperform neutral mana in some ways.
Elemental mana was naturally more efficient, after all.
But when comparing mages who'd mastered the same attribute—one single-attribute, the other multi-attribute?
‘That's when the gap widens.’
Of course, there were pros and cons.
Multi-attribute meant lower output but superior versatility, plus the ability to cast various compound spells.
Anyway.
“Phew, it's quiet.”
I headed to the open training ground near the dorms.
There hadn't been one near my original lodgings, but right now I was staying in temporary dorms the academy had set up for the affected students.
These temp dorms were originally for VIP guests, apparently, and they lacked for nothing in terms of facilities.
Maybe it was because I'd been out for just a week.
‘Chilly.’
Could've been the rain we'd had.
Or the deep night making it feel that way.
Anyway, I stood in the middle of the silent training ground and quietly conjured a fireball.
Whoosh—
A bright light flickered in the dim center of the grounds.
I stared at the fireball, gauging the mana consumed and various other metrics.
The result?
‘Efficiency is roughly...’
About double.
Size wasn't everything for power, but creating a fireball this size used only half the neutral mana it would have.
Next up.
‘Compression.’
With neutral mana, I could've compressed the fireball up to eight times.
Of course, that didn't mean eightfold power, but each compression amplified it several times over.
But.
Grrrk, grrrk...!
It compressed to a point, then writhed like it was about to explode.
I eyed the fireball for a moment, then clicked my tongue. ‘Tch.’
‘Still just once, huh.’
I'd hoped otherwise, but no dice.
‘Fire mana has a different nature from neutral mana.’
If neutral mana was like clay that molded however you shaped it, fire mana was like highly elastic slime.
Strong repulsion, maybe that's the word.
Push too hard, and it felt like it'd burst.
“Hmm.”
I dispersed the fireball and sank into thought.
As the light that had lit the area vanished, darkness settled over the training ground's center.
‘If it's this different... no way I can even dream of Collision Formula.’
Collision Formula manipulated energy born from clashing mana particles.
Compared to compression, its difficulty was several times higher.
And...
‘It’s dangerous too.’
Sure, I handled Collision Formula effortlessly now, but when I first devised and practiced it, I'd gotten hurt plenty.
One wrong move, and the backlash could hit your body instead of spilling outward.
But if that happened while deploying Collision Formula with fire mana?
‘Nightmarish.’
My hand might just explode.
The repulsion was beyond imagination...
‘Then what about Interference Formula?’
Interference Formula.
That was the technique I'd used to dispel Karahen's barrier before.
You read the flow of mana in the barrier, then match your own flow to it.
Once aligned, the repulsion vanished, and you could slip your hand in to dismantle it.
‘Let's see...’
Impulsively, I channeled mana into my hand.
It looked like the usual deep blue mana, but its essence was pure fire mana.
I spread the fire mana across my palm, then drew it back in.
“This is...”
Too wild.
Impossible to control.
If Collision Formula was too risky to try, Interference Formula demanded such precise control that even attempting it was tough.
Their affinities just didn't match from the start.
“Tch.”
I smacked my lips in disappointment.
‘No need to force Interference Formula... but Collision Formula's a real shame.’
I'd gained control over fire mana, but I could still draw neutral mana anytime.
No point shoehorning mismatched fire mana into Interference Formula.
Collision Formula, though—that stung.
Its destructive power was clearly something else.
“Well... time will sort it out.”
Tough, but not impossible.
Handling neutral mana had been just as bad, if not worse, at first.
That aside.
‘Now I need some decent spells.’
Crimson Flame was fire mana through and through—and a secret art pointing toward the ultimate goal.
The issue was application.
What did that mean?
‘Got a great sword, but no idea how to wield it.’
I could slash, stab, and swing basics no problem.
But you know how it is.
‘Stuff like Chenbi's Earth Spear.’
Come to think of it, the breathing technique Chenbi used was surely no half-baked thing.
The type that manifested imagery, like Crimson Flame.
‘And it probably synergized perfectly with Earth Spear.’
Chenbi's breathing method shaped certain imagery that meshed seamlessly with Earth Spear's manifestation.
Otherwise, they couldn't have pulled it off.
That's magic for you—acquiring one thing doesn't end it.
‘Even a top-tier secret tome needs matching spells. Great spells need compatible secret arts, or they're useless.’
Why noble houses thrive among themselves.
“Ugh, ptoo.”
Felt dirty just thinking about it.
But it was fine.
‘For now, I can pick up any old fire spell and make it work.’
Fire spells didn't demand as much synergy between secret arts and spells.
If it were plant affinity?
Headache city.
Secret art, spells, and the plant seeds you had—tons to consider.
Anyway...
“...”
I gathered my thoughts and slowly scanned the area.
Most people would be asleep by now.
But I sensed a presence.
Someone out here in the dead of night heading to the training ground? Possible.
But no one from these temp dorms.
The students had escaped death just a week ago, and knights from the Empire guarded the perimeter.
No, forget all that—the reason I noticed the presence was simple.
‘Blatant.’
It kept emanating steadily, like they wanted me to know they were there.
I stared piercingly into the shadows between streetlamps, where light didn't reach.
Midnight silence.
The clapping shattered it soon after.
Clap, clap, clap.
Sporadic applause.
Not loud.
What to call it?
Faint sounds swallowed by the dark.
Yet, somehow.
“...”
That quiet clapping filled the space.
An eerie pressure.
The one hiding in the shadows stepped into the light.
Shoes that somehow evoked the passage of time.
His clothes showed wear but felt antique rather than shabby.
And when his body emerged fully from the dark, head and all.
A white-haired old man smiled at me.
“Indeed, no wonder Professor Pelina was suspicious. Fine mana sense, and above all... handling that finicky fire mana so well.”
Professor Pelina—I knew the name.
About a month ago.
That gaze constantly watching me since the test ended.
No hostility or wariness, but I wasn't one to miss an observing eye.
And this old man mentioning Professor Pelina.
I peered at him closely.
A memory flashed.
“...Headmaster?”
“Call me Principal.”
The old mage who'd rambled endlessly in the auditorium with ‘eh, um, th-that’ filler words.
This was the same Headmaster from then.
But.
“...”
The pressure was incomparable.
What to call it? A pressure unlike anything I'd felt even across lifetimes.
That's when.
“But...”
A faint anger crossed the Principal's face.
The surrounding atmosphere shifted in an instant.
Henji had shown something similar, but this was leagues beyond.
As if the air itself moved with the Principal's mood. Not artificial—purely natural flow.
‘Damn it.’
What the hell was this?
‘No clue.’
Was it because the goblin from the low hills had ventured into the vast plains?
Why did this life throw so many unheard-of powerhouses at me?
Professor Parun, the academy's other profs—none existed in my past life.
Optimistically, it meant I'd leveled up my playing field this time. Pessimistically...
‘Perfect for getting crushed.’
But who was I?
Former Troubleshooter.
I'd break before I bent.
‘If they come... I'll face them.’
I quietly steeled myself when the Principal's voice rang in my ear.
“No greeting?”
“...”
“Ahem, I'm the, uh. Y'know... top dog at the academy. Hm.”
Who said it?
The body's reactions outpace the mind.
“Good evening, Principal! No, Principal Teacher!”
I bowed over ninety degrees—straight to one-twenty—to pay respects.
Breaking before bending was conviction territory.
But the waist was made to bend and twist. As long as it didn't snap backward, any curve was natural.
The Principal chuckled warmly at my bow.
“Hoho, ho... Such proper manners. But lower your voice a bit...”
“My voice was too loud! Sorry! Principal Teacher! I was just so nervous!”
“Ahem. Shout all you want—no one's coming. I've sealed off all sound around us.”
Ah, that explained it.
“Would've been nice to say so sooner. Ahem, throat's pretty dry now.”
“...”
He reeked of hassle. Felt like a secret visit too.
I'd figured calling people would chase him off easy, but a mana field? No way.
‘Sharp old coot.’
Of course, my smile never wavered.
As I said, breaking before bending was conviction. Smiling wasn't breaking or bending.
Just smile, so I did.
“So... to what do I owe the visit?”
At my question, the Principal stared blankly for a moment before speaking.
And when he opened his mouth.
“I came because I'm curious. But I doubt you'll answer straight.”
Grrrk, grrrk—
Indescribable pressure clamped down on my body again.
‘Damn it.’
What a damn life.