An Absurd World
"What kind of absurd world is this...?"
Humanity wielded three primary kinds of power: Aura, Magic, and Miracle.
Aura was the manifestation of life force. Though it varied by individual, it involved igniting the vital energy inherent to any living being and converting it into a higher form of energy. Simply possessing it fortified the body, and channeling it into specific parts enhanced those areas even further. Training unlocked various applications, but the fundamentals remained the same. As a power rooted in origins, it was classified as the most material and direct of the three.
It relied heavily on talent, and manifesting Aura in the first place was possible only for certain individuals—without special opportunities or procedures, even入门 was no easy feat.
Magic was an academic pursuit. It constructed specific laws and rules to channel the world's energies through those frameworks. Unlike Aura, it wasn't so much an inherent power as a "technique," with greater emphasis on the latter. Rather than relying on the user's unique constitution or talent, what mattered was manipulating mana according to fixed principles. In the extreme, even a complete novice could cast a spell if they followed the exact formula and incantation process.
Of course, this only meant "using magic"—to truly be called a mage, one needed years of study and practice. Only by grasping the underlying principles and mastering their applications could someone earn genuine recognition as a mage.
The last was Miracle. It defied definition. In a literal sense, its very identity was that it could not be defined by any specific concept. If it could be put into words, it wouldn't be a miracle. One could perceive it but not explain it; see it but not comprehend it. It was truly an inscrutable power bestowed by the gods.
The one commonality among miracles was their complete lack of "process," unlike the other two powers. They created something from nothing, or twisted a law from A straight to X without warning. Strength and grandeur alone didn't make something a miracle.
Due to this uniqueness, those who could wield miracles were exceedingly rare. Even back in Cain's time on the Eldrion Continent, fewer than a hundred people could be definitively confirmed as miracle users. Across all eras, they were sparse, with every single one recorded in the history books.
Yet on this world—this Pantus Continent—such figures were as common as dirt.
"Miracle users... no, here they're called Blessers."
And there was a reason for this utterly irrational state of affairs.
Cain turned his gaze back to the open book.
[1: A hundred years ago, the black darkness's dominion assailed the Pantus Continent, heralding the invasion of the cursed otherworld's lords, the demon kings.]
[2: Countless demons and twisted beasts ravaged the earth's peace, and frail mortals scattered like chaff before their flames, exhausting their strength in futile cries, deepening only their despair.]
[3: Then, from the heavenly thrones, the holy gods beheld the earth's lament and could not turn away from their pitiful creations. They parted the clouds and descended upon the land. This is called the Daeganglim.]
[4: The gods extended their hands to earth's children, sharing the flames and authority of heaven, granting humanity at last the sharp blades and hope to strike at the demon kings' throats.]
[5: After long strife and blood sacrifices, the demon kings' hordes were driven to the continent's fringes, the barren wastelands of howling winds—but they still lurk in the shadows, grinding their fangs and coveting the holy land.]
[6: Thus, to preserve humanity forevermore, the gods let the river of miracles flow to lower realms, imprinting the seal of authority upon the brows of many more.]
[7: And so the land brimmed with divine light, as Blessers wielding miracles rose like clouds, ushering in the radiant era of the Holy Marks.]
Amid all the florid rhetoric, the point was simple: A century ago, the continent faced a dire crisis and escaped by divine grace. But the threat lingered—the demon kings still eyed the land. To counter them, the gods granted humanity power in the form of Blessings, across the entire continent, not just any church faction.
"...Is this even possible?"
Mythically plausible, perhaps, but from a mage's perspective, the passage was hard to swallow. Every power had limits. Neither Aura nor Magic could be used infinitely—anyone claiming otherwise was a fraud. Especially not something as esoteric as miracles spreading continent-wide; back on Eldrion, Cain would've smashed the fool's head for suggesting it.
But the reality before his eyes was undeniable.
"Hah..."
A sigh escaped Cain's lips unbidden. Hard to believe or not, he couldn't just deny it outright. He'd seen Veronica work a miracle with his own eyes.
...And this alien energy permeating the library felt like another variant of it. This was no illusion—it was real.
"...No wonder magic's dismissed as obsolete."
Why bother with complex formulas and incantations when a simple gesture unleashed miracles? Human nature favored the quick and easy path, so magic's decline in an era demanding long study seemed almost natural.
"Troubling. Most troubling... This makes negotiations far harder..."
Cain closed the book with a groan. It was bitter for a lifelong mage to learn his craft held little value here, but he'd have shrugged it off as a quirk of the world. The real issue was his current position: In a world that had forsaken magic's worth, a mage—and a department head professor—lost all luster.
He'd planned to prove magic's value and negotiate from strength, but now dismissal loomed inescapably.
"Can't approach this as a mage. Need another way..."
Losing this identity wasn't an option, whatever the path. As he pondered, he sensed someone approaching through the library.
They're watching me.
Some business, perhaps. Cain kept his composure, waiting for them to speak.
Soon, the figure drew near and whispered softly.
"The Vice Dean summons you. Professor Cain Dravel. Please proceed to the Vice Dean's office."
As expected—a subordinate of the Vice Dean. The aura felt anything but ordinary.
Cain asked, "Must I go immediately?"
"The Vice Dean urged haste. Refusing wouldn't be wise."
"Ah, I'll go, but hold on a moment—I have somewhere to stop first."
Unfavorable position or not, no choice. He'd have to persuade them somehow. With that thought, Cain rose from his seat.
"What brings you to the accident site?"
"Just a moment, young one. Need to check something."
"Pardon?"
"Ah, forgive me—slipped my tongue. It'll be quick; bear with me."
"...Understood."
He needed to adjust his speech, but this young body resisted old habits. Age truly hardened the mind.
*
Guided by the staffer, Cain organized his thoughts en route.
The Dean's summons is obvious.
To hold him accountable for the explosion. While studying the world's norms in the library over the day, Cain had also assessed his current self—or rather, his standing as Magic Department professor.
It hadn't been hard to gauge. It was worse than imagined—glaringly so.
A professor, yet no visitors. Veronica showed up, but only as an incident witness.
No collegial greetings from fellow professors, no close staff—not one. Most students didn't even know he existed; prisoner or professor, who could tell?
This went beyond the original owner's poor reputation. Fundamentally, the title "Magic Department Professor" was utterly disregarded.
They could shutter the department tomorrow without a single objection.
No external aid possible. The foe held both justification and advantage, and just two days post-possession, he'd have to fend off closure single-handedly.
Facing that conclusion, he mused,
Hm, not a bad spot at all.
Winnable. Two days in—not ideal, but enough to chart a course.
They soon reached the Vice Dean's office.
"Enter when ready."
"Thank you."
Creak.
Passing the staffer who held the door, he stepped inside.