Beyond the Fence
“Wow…”
The students couldn't find words as they gazed at the scenery across from them. Even on a weekday morning when few students were around, the Shopping District brimmed with vitality. Beyond the merchants bustling about their shops, the streets teemed with school staff and visitors from outside on business.
What stood out most was the sheer scale. Even from across the way, it looked at least twice the size of a modest village.
“Hey, isn't that a beastkin over there?”
“Where, where?!”
With people coming and going from all corners of the continent on official business, the Shopping District was also a prime spot for spotting all sorts of folks. In the direction the excited student pointed, a human-like figure with ears resembling a cat's was browsing a shop.
“That's a half-beastkin. They have distinct beastkin traits but look closer to regular humans outwardly.”
“Are there different types of beastkin?”
“Of course. Plenty of folks like us marry beastkin, after all. Mix the blood, and the features blend too.”
The conversation suddenly veered into continental politics, igniting the students' curiosity even further.
“So what do the more beastkin-like ones look like?”
“Hmm, something like that person walking over there?”
The students' blood ran cold as they followed the teaching assistant's pointing finger. At the end of that direction stood a bipedal tiger—no different from a beast straight out of a nightmare—chatting away. Eyes that pierced like a predator's claws, fangs that sapped the will to fight. And to top it off, a build that looked big enough to swallow an adult man whole.
“You're really lucky to see a pureblood beastkin like that. You'd have to go to Warland otherwise.”
“I-I'd rather not…”
“Scary, right? When I was dispatched to the desert, I couldn't even stand straight.”
The teaching assistant chuckled half-jokingly, but the students silently vowed to themselves: the beastkin homeland and warriors' cradle, Warland. They would never set foot there.
“Enough chit-chat. Before we dive into the tour, here's what you need to keep in mind.”
The teaching assistant clapped to draw attention, his expression turning serious.
“First: if anyone talks to you, say without fail, 'Sorry, we're on a school tour.' Everyone inside Snowrobe knows, but there are outsiders too. They've been briefed before entering, so that'll get you off the hook.”
The students nodded vigorously at the first rule. They'd been dreading exactly what to say if that tiger beastkin approached.
“Second: just look, don't touch. If you start a fight or damage a shop, the punishment will exceed school rules. On the flip side, the school has warned everyone not to mess with you, so behave and you'll be fine.”
Punishment beyond school rules. Sensing the heavy mood from the stark warning, the teaching assistant smiled and dangled a carrot.
“So, for those who follow the rules, we've got a gift. The school will buy one item of your choice from the Shopping District. We've sent merchants a list excluding overpriced or exploitable stuff, so just ask the shop owner for what catches your eye.”
With instructions delivered, he clapped again.
“Alright, enjoy Snowrobe's Shopping District!”
A wave of excitement swept through. Amid it, Maness Pictri had a clear goal in mind: the fence ringing the district's outskirts. Somewhere there lay the path to the Library of Memories.
Under the teaching assistant's lead, students began crossing the bridge one by one. Even that small step felt thrilling, like stepping into another world.
At the tail end of the group, Maness scanned his surroundings. Gone. No matter how many times he looked, the first-year forbidden sign Iris had mentioned was nowhere in sight. From now on, he could come and go freely. He had no points to spend yet, but buying stuff wasn't his aim anyway.
“Regroup at the bridge by lunchtime. The clock tower in the central plaza will let you know. Don't cross the outer fence.”
Freed, the students scattered in clusters. Maness strolled casually, spotting other classes' students eyeing shops eagerly. To keep things fair, all first-years toured on the same day and time. The district was vast enough to handle the crowd—beyond imagination.
This means nonstop walking. He'd known roughly, but experiencing it firsthand was different. No simplified maps here, no directional signs for convenience. Relying solely on fragmented memories, Maness headed straight for the central plaza.
“I picked this! Cool, right?”
“Plenty of time left—think it over, why rush?”
“What! Why'd it fly off on its own?!”
“Wand shop that way— the pricey ones look super fancy. No way with our points, though…”
Savoring first-years' reactions as he pushed through at near-running speed. With newbies dominating the streets, paths cleared naturally. No need to sour the mood by tangling with rowdies while everyone was hyped.
Half observing, half focused ahead, Maness reached the clock tower and caught his breath. Where the district's eight streets converged—the social hub, lined with snack stalls and booze joints perfect for bonding.
Maness headed for one: the Wizards' Roundtable. True to its name, round tables only, drawing crowds lured by the Arthurian vibe. Knights and wizards alike valued appearances, and feeling like a big shot mattered hugely at magic school.
Right from here. Food counted toward school-paid points, so first-years packed the tavern. Glancing at revelers, he veered right, passing the Roundtable.
Onto the open road again, he strode without hesitation. His destination lay not inward, but outward.
Heading endlessly to the edge, people thinned, revealing the fence's shape. Beyond beckoned vast fields and towering mountains.
“Should be around here.”
Arrived, Maness ran his hand along the fence, walking the perimeter. He stopped only when rough wood turned unnaturally smooth—crafted for gripping.
Found it. Sensation confirmed, he compared sides, gripped firm, and channeled mana.
The fence sucked it in like a manmade magic tool.
Click.
Soon, it swung open like a door—low enough for a kid to hop with effort. At the absurd simplicity, Maness drew a sharp breath.
“Let's go.”
Taut with tension, Maness flung the fence wide and stepped forward.
“Magic originally belonged to dragons. The enigmatic power held only by the ancient wyrms at its pinnacle never leaked outward. There was no reason to share what was theirs with others.”
“But as humans demanded blood under the guise of dragon hunts, the dragons began to speak. Why would ignorant races spill innocent blood? Their answer: human greed.”
“Dragons did not hate humans. Rather, they pitied their frailty, ruled by emotion. Those who branded magic as unnatural and sought to punish it—dragons gifted them magic in return.”
“A fitting price to end petty wars. Humans too had the right to wield it. If they could conquer space and time.”
Maness slowly opened his tightly shut eyes.
Overlapping different spaces with magic. He'd expected a world-flipping vertigo, but nothing unusual hit him.
“...Impressive all the same.”
Mental shift aside, the empty field had become a dense forest. Had he teleported? No—the fence and Shopping District still connected behind him.
Magic only that guy could pull off.
As awe settled, Maness recalled a figure. The monster at Snowrobe's peak, rarely seen even at private meetings or events.
“Time is money.”
Scolding his dazed mutter, he pressed on. Seemed like endless walking since entering the district, but every step had purpose. Finding a doubly hidden spot wouldn't be pointless.
Manmade things held intent. Straight ahead from the fence led to a clearing where a stele spared further search.
Sighing in relief, he approached. At the boundary of script and image, something illegible.
Godawful handwriting.
Ancient runes. Fewer than ten on the continent could read them now. The sole key to the Library of Memories.
Maness couldn't read them either, but even he could tell the writer had terrible penmanship. If it'd been neat script, rune users must've had issues.
Done appraising, he scanned around. Unreadable, but he knew the content.
If the five elements unite, the path shall open.
Info from a hidden quest in the original. Late-game busywork to uncover—first time leveraging it here.
No worries regardless. Matching info awaited ahead.
Start searching this side.
After quick stretches, Maness looped in and out of the forest from the stele. Risky—lose the way, trapped forever. Best he could do.
The target wasn't far anyway.
“This it?”
After repeats, he spotted floor etchings. A magic circle centered on the fire rune.
Brief glance, then knelt, hand to circle.
“Hoo…”
Channeling mana like at the fence, colorless light spread along it.
As expected.
Confirmed activation, but regret tinged his face. To open the path to his goal, the light needed to ripple red. His mana lacked fire nature—obvious result.
But I can break it.
This circle dated centuries back. With modern magic advances, solutions abounded.
Something else to try first. Maness pocketed his mana-draining ring, drawing max mana and pouring.
Light blazed brighter, racing faster—not just filling one, but extending to linked circles.
At least three. Fill that many to advance.
Plans ready for the rest. Body screamed under load. Filling even one fully was no joke.
Grab any mage, say fill three solo? They'd call it a quirky suicide method.
But Maness trusted his inexplicable talent. He had the mana for it.
Without that faith, he wouldn't have reached here.
Mana as sixth sense. Still not tapped out, he kept pouring.
“Hah, hah…”
Will he die? Yanking hand free, gasping, but no rest. Five circles unfilled—test limits.
Two max? Useless detour.
Fading light pulled his heavy body. At a point, he collapsed.
Staring skyward, he laughed endlessly.
“Ha, haha, hahaha!”
At his mana filling four circles—and half more.