Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: History's Irony
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“The irony of history doesn’t change, does it.”
The chancellor’s office where Madelia Page, head of <Delaiten>, resided was a place where dazzling sunlight poured in through eight arched windows on all sides.
“For some reason, talent always seems to concentrate in one place at a time.”
The document she had listlessly placed on her desk was the personnel files of this year’s new students.
“Rohwinen Academy’s Weiber, Rivendel Academy’s Lilian, Harimun Academy’s Kaden, Melev Academy’s Nora, Chaihak Academy’s Logan…….”
The five names Madelia called out impassively were, astonishingly, all late-stage disciples counted among the top prospects from the Eight Great Academies that dominated the Empire.
“Five late-stage disciples enrolling at the same time... This might really be a first.”
Each academy took in and graduated disciples at different times. But how often did the ages of their prized pupils align so perfectly?
“The Warden Marquess sent us an outstanding child, but she might have her hands full on her own.”
The rift between the magic houses and the Eight Great Academies ran deep enough to inspire fear.
Even after reaching adulthood, they didn’t express it as openly as they did as students, but the tightrope factional struggles in the Magic Alliance were still rampant.
It had been the same when selecting the Magic Path Star from the Imperial Secretariat of Magic under the Emperor’s direct command last time.
“It’s not an ideal situation for the academic affairs department to intervene in student squabbles, but I can’t deny it’s a special circumstance.”
Standing before Madelia’s desk was a female mage with a soft expression and half-lidded eyes.
It was Carolline.
She had been Madelia’s disciple as a child and was now Christa Warden’s teacher.
“Pass it on to the professors and instructors. Demeanor level 2. Observe closely and intervene subtly if needed. Make sure no heads explode unnecessarily.”
Normally, she would have nodded right away, but Carolline hesitated slightly.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think it might be a bit premature to make that call.”
“Hm?”
“With this cohort, it doesn’t seem like the magic houses only sent us one genius, Christa.”
It was an odd statement. Madelia tilted her head.
Unlike the Eight Great Academies, the magic houses were family lineages. Only direct descendants could bear the name of a magic house.
It was both a mark of honor and a shackle, meaning their human resources were inherently limited.
“Did some kid I don’t know from the houses come to our school this time?”
“No.”
“As far as I know, it’s just Christa Warden and Rain Ludwig. Two in total.”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re saying Rain Ludwig—the one you passed in the supplementary exam—is a genius?”
“Even if I told you myself, you wouldn’t believe it. You met him at the house meeting, after all. I didn’t believe it until I saw him with my own eyes.”
“You haven’t changed that habit of beating around the bush, Cat. You know I hate that.”
Madelia sighed, and Carolline hesitated a moment before speaking.
“With my limited insight... well, it doesn’t seem like he needs much help. I’m actually looking forward to seeing how those two handle this situation.”
Hm... Madelia studied Carolline’s expression briefly, then checked the academic roster. Her eyebrow twitched slightly.
“No need to wait long for results, then. Their homeroom is Owen.”
Owen—Carolline nodded in agreement. He was the notoriously infamous professor who had expelled 21 students just last year.
“Yes, if they’re worthless, he’ll boot them out in no time.”
* * *
After the entrance ceremony, Rain received his half-placement notice and headed to the Dragon Slumber Pavilion, the first-year undergraduate building.
The pristine white structure resembled a dragon lying on the ground, slumbering. Worship of the dragonkin—absolute beings of life—was shared by the witches of the republic who handled spells and the mages alike.
After all, Karenden, the Black Sun who created magic, was also the progenitor of the dragonkin.
[Clear River]
Walking a corridor bathed in slanting spring sunlight, he arrived at the third classroom.
“Clear River, Clear River... Yep, this is it.”
Matching the Clear River on the notice with the nameplate, he quietly slid open the back door.
The classroom was simple yet elegant.
Four rows of tiered desks, with gracefully curved chairs and supports. Curtains hung from the arched windows on the left swayed in the spring breeze carrying floral scents.
‘Where...’
His assigned seat was the last one in the left row by the window. As he sat there, chin resting on his fist, a familiar face plopped down next to him with a grin.
“The heavens are truly impartial. They must intend to pit you against me, Christa Warden, a recommended enrollee, right from the start of the semester.”
His lips curled in a sneer, and Rain’s mouth fell open slack-jawed the moment their eyes met. Gods, please no. His very first desk mate of his life, and it had to be this jerk...
“A rough translation of Lady Christa’s words would be that she’s truly delighted to sit next to you.”
The one who said that was a girl with a playful demeanor and elegantly braided hair. Rain had seen her at the house meeting too. His eyes naturally drifted to her nameplate to confirm.
[Gertrude Fenton]
The Fenton barony was an eastern magic family that served the Warden house. Each magic house had two or three such vassal families.
“Heh heh, of course I’m delighted. Delighted enough to dance. I get to crush this arrogant punk’s nose on day one.”
As a fresh spring breeze rustled the window curtains, a faint scent from distant days past tickled his nose like pollen.
- Why, Kies?
It was some small town somewhere on the Adrion continent. Leaning his chin on the fence of the schoolhouse, watching kids play, Kies approached from behind.
- You wanna go to school too? Nah. Nothing to learn there. Waste of time.
Kies was mute, but his expressions were so vivid and honest that they could communicate with just a glance. Their party was like that.
- Scared you won’t make friends?
Fride giggled as she came to his right, leaning back against the fence.
She had suffered a mortal wound in the battle to save that town, her arm bandaged (healed completely with spells two days later), but her eyes watching the children sparkled with a gentle smile unlike her usual self.
While Fride and Kies watched the kids fondly, Rista stood to his left with a bright smile.
- Lin, school isn’t just for learning academics.
- Then what do you learn?
- People.
Christa? Learn from a punk like this? Do I have to?
As he wore a despairing look, the front door—reserved only for professors and instructors—slid open with a rattle, sending a quake through the other students’ pupils.
A man with broad shoulders and a burly build strode silently to the podium.
He looked more suited to earning his keep with fists than magic, and stifled groans escaped here and there.
“No way, a gorilla?”
“Ha... Our homeroom’s a gorilla?”
Some famous guy? Glancing at Christa, surprisingly, tension flickered in her eyes too.
“Who’s this guy?”
“You don’t know Owen? He’s the infamous professor from Delaiten’s university division for being stingy with credits.”
He played a big role in expulsions and grade retentions with his F grades, handing them out to students at the drop of a hat.
“Hmm...”
Owen scanned the seated students one by one, then pinched his cheek hard with the expression of a man bearing the world’s sorrows.
“To think these pathetic monkeys are the students I have to guide for a year. Heads so full of shit they can’t even lift them when I’m talking?”
A chalk levitated by telekinesis struck the forehead of a poor front-row victim with a dull *thwack*, echoing in the silence. Every cadet instantly straightened their backs.
“You think this is funny? Amusing? You know nothing. You think arriving at university means it’s all over? That you’ll become court mages to great nobles or build your own towers and live lavishly?”
“……!”
“Keep dreaming, and feed that delusion to the dogs. If you lot manage that as you are, I’ll call you my master. You’re still green, with mountains to learn. Any from the Eight Great Academies here?”
Weiber and two others raised their hands. Owen let out a sky-falling sigh.
“The shittiest thing about this school is you idiots from the Eight Great Academies. The bizarre formulas and confidence you bring from there are beyond hopeless. Any from the magic houses?”
Rain and Christa raised their hands side by side, and Owen looked like he might cry.
“Unbelievable. Look at those smug faces that know nothing of real hardship. Go home, learn to dress yourselves first, then come back.”
Owen insulted every student this way, and Rain couldn’t help but admire his verbal prowess.
He wondered why a man with such legendary talent hadn’t joined a church but become a mage instead. Even a cultish heresy would’ve made him rich as a priest.
“My job for the year is to mold you worthless monkeys into somewhat usable mages. Anyone who can’t keep up gets left behind without mercy.”
No one spoke.
They were terrified, but Owen seemed trained to seize any opening.
“No answer? Am I scary?”
“No, sir!”
“Then you think I’m a pushover? Fine, then. Test today. The lowest-scoring pair gets expelled for lack of aptitude.”
Expelled?
Just like that?
Owen turned and swiftly drew a magic square on the board, filling it with runes.
‘That’s...’
The boy’s eyebrow twitched.
Presenting a magic square and runes was like giving a math problem. The formula and solution method were up to them.
“Time limit: 20 minutes. Solve it now.”
Owen sneered.
“Fail to solve in time or finish last? Expulsion as promised.”
As students blinked in shock, Owen spat in fury.
“What’re you staring at? The test’s already started! Pairs by desks, two per team! Even monkeys can solve 2-star magic if they put heads together, right?”
Students hurriedly pulled out paper and pens, copying the magic square. Christa did the same.
‘The square’s a double fan shape. Runes are Evaporation and Dissipate...’
Wind attribute with ‘Evaporation: spreads like steam’ and ‘Dissipate: goes and vanishes’ properties.
‘The formula to manifest this spell...’
Magic had three main methods: written calculation, hand seals, and mental calculation.
Mental was genius territory; written was for average folk, allowing even the dull to cast 2-star magic.
Of course, it took several times longer.
“Assist. I’ll build the base equation with matrices, then solve with a cubic function.”
“Matrices here?”
The boy chuckled.
“You like living harder than necessary, huh.”
“Don’t drag me down or you’re done. Solve it.”
From the boy who had been watching Christa with interest, scratching his cheek.
“You’re awfully desperate?”
“I have to be. I must be desperate in everything. I have to reach the top.”
In the fluid motion of her brush filling the square with math on the paper, he glimpsed the weight of her house on her shoulders.
Christa Warden was the third daughter of the Warden Marquess.
The Warden house had risen to magic house status producing two Sages, but for the last century, they’d produced no notable talent and were on a downward slope.
The Eight Great Academies mocked that the Wardens were finished, that the Empire now had only four magic houses.
Christa was born amid that house’s misfortunes.
Her two older sisters weren’t just average—they were dullards—so the Warden Marquess had bet everything on Christa.
‘I’ll revive the house with my own hands...’
The square filled rapidly. Without lifting her eyes from the paper, Christa said.
“Got the function solution?”
“Here.”
Rain matched her pace, faster than any other pair. Christa’s lips curved in satisfaction.
“Good. Now...!”
But someone watched the scene with displeasure. Weiber.
‘Playing around.’
Rohwinen Academy was the wind academy.
Their secret arts made magic silent and colorless.
No sound or color from spells, leaving no trace—even seasoned mages couldn’t detect them.
Late-stage disciple Weiber had already mastered the first form.
‘No need for flashy magic. Too risky... and it’s not even on people.’
As spring storms swirled petals in the courtyard, a magic square silently bloomed and shattered in Weiber’s grasp.
‘Just mix a hint of sharpness into the wind...!’
Wind entered through the window, curtains billowing vigorously.
Reaching Christa’s desk by the window, the wind twisted the paper held by the inkstone...
“Huh...?”
A harsh scraping sound, then the paper tore with a rip, splitting the nearly complete magic square.
“W-Wind...?”
Christa’s breathing grew ragged with clear dismay. Her thoughts slipped out as mutter.
“This square’s ruined now. Have to start over... from scratch...”
Written magic used mana-infused brushes; a physical break in the circuit prevented proper activation. Damage to the paper was the classic case.
‘Rohwinen’s secret art... Childish prank.’
The boy spotted the faint mana residue in the breeze. Thanks to Bell Sidias’s reading ability. He sighed shortly.
‘What do they gain from this? Kids these days are something.’
Then, frantic Christa reached for Rain’s desk.
“Paper! Give me yours!”
“?”
“We gotta hurry! No time!”
Redraw the square, inscribe runes, fill equations.
8 minutes left.
Even after 12 used, the process was in his head. 8 minutes—somehow...
- Christa, I’m sorry for making your life so hard with my incompetence as a father.
Defeat at misfortune frayed her mind; one more thread snapping, and tears would flow.
She had to be the best.
Only if she became the best could she restore the house—and expulsion on the first day of university was...
“Impossible. You won’t make it your way, even if you die trying.”
“What?”
“Giving up quick can be the right answer.”
“You—”
“—If you’re doing it that way.”
Before Christa could grab his collar in shock, the boy took up the brush.
One stroke.
Fluid as art, perfect from thousands of repetitions—habit drew the magic square and runes on the paper in an instant.
“If you panic this easily from a little spell sabotage, you can’t be a mage anywhere.”
“……!”
“Remember this. To become a strong mage, stay calm in any moment.”
In the world Lin had lived, not even 8 minutes were given.
Battles hinged on minutes and seconds.
A little late? Expulsion was a joke; the result was death.
“This time, I’ll lead. You assist. Don’t drag me down.”