Chapter 30
Chapter 30
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: Runes of the Gods
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Runes are the language of the gods—the [Ones Who Came] said to have driven the Abyss from this land—and each character is imbued with profound power.
Through the Six Principles of rune formation—pictographs, ideograms, compounds, loan characters, phonetic loans, and arbitrary signs—virtually every phenomenon in the world has a corresponding rune.
To ascend to the rank of Sage, one must master all these principles and go further: they must know how to combine them into new runes.
But it doesn't end with mere creation; one must also derive the mathematical formula that defines the rune. That's why the gap between 5th Circle and Sage is called a heaven-and-earth difference.
‘Alright, then...’
Rain laid out various runes on the parchment at his desk, then twirled his pen.
‘The Yuryang Sovereign doesn’t teach new knowledge. It only fills in the gaps from what I already know.’
The path might be a bit rough, but he welcomed it. Having everything handed to him without effort didn’t suit his temperament.
‘In that case, let’s just start combining them at random. Well, not completely at random—let’s try ones that make sense...’
He jotted it down in his notebook.
The Sovereign would correct any shortcomings later. Nodding in satisfaction, he stood, stretched, and loosened up.
“Time to build some stamina before curfew.”
Physical training was crucial as the driving force behind mana growth. He couldn’t keep relying on the lord’s estate just to use the Yuryang Sovereign once.
* * *
Magicians often neglected physical conditioning, so the training room provided by <Delaiten> for students was sparsely populated.
The regulars were mostly from the Slade family, representatives of Wing Type magicians, or students from Chaihak Academy.
Still, disciples from the Eight Great Academies, aware of stamina’s importance, visited three to four times a week to train.
“One million twenty-one...”
Of course, the standout among them was Logan, the senior disciple from Chaihak Academy. His burly frame was steadily hoisting a 150-kilogram barbell.
The muscular male student spotting him, Ilin, spoke up.
“Hey, Logan.”
“One million twenty-two... Hm?”
“Why are you hanging around with that Calamity Young Master lately?”
Logan’s motion froze mid-lift, his ballooned biceps and pecs locked.
“What’s that out of nowhere?”
Ilin glanced at disciples from other academies, then lowered his voice.
“Damn, the guys from the other academies are making fun of us.”
“?!”
“They’re saying you got your ass kicked by the Calamity Young Master and now you’re just his lackey. Chaihak Academy’s done for, or whatever. That’s not true, right?”
“Of course not, you idiot!”
“That’s gotta be it, though?”
A sultry voice suddenly cut into the conversation.
Her sweat-glistened body curved with feminine allure, her playful face framed by chestnut curls plastered by perspiration.
She approached, squatted by Logan’s head, propped her chin on her hands, and grinned.
“I thought our Logan had signed a contract to wipe the Ludwig boy’s ass or something♪”
Her voice sang like a melody, brimming with allure that could tempt any man—yet Ilin glared at her warily.
“Nora...!”
No one his age didn’t know her name. She was a senior disciple from Melev Academy, one of the Eight Great Academies.
Melev Academy specialized in slaughter-focused secret arts, making it shunned by many magicians.
“Isn’t it obvious? Anyone looking would think you got forced into being his pathetic minion after losing to his strength.”
Logan calmly racked the barbell and snorted.
“You idiot. You think I’m playing lackey for Rain Ludwig? That’s why your Melev is beneath our Chaihak—your thinking’s so simplistic.”
“Oh my.”
“It’s an academy order. ‘Get close to Rain Ludwig, dig up info, and find a chance to stab him in the back,’ they said.”
Ilin, genuinely moved, teared up and clapped.
“Oh, ooooh! As expected of Logan! I knew it, damn it, damn it!”
Chaihak magicians really were simple. Logan shrugged.
“I’m just following orders. What would brainless types like you know?”
That was Logan’s explanation.
Rain Ludwig was hiding his power. He didn’t care about the nickname “Calamity Young Master.” The Ludwig family was clearly concealing something.
His goal was to uncover why they hid it and gauge his true strength.
“That’s weird~♪ Our Logan wasn’t the type to use his head like this.”
Nora gazed into space, tapping her cheek thoughtfully, then nodded as if convinced.
“It bugs me too. Why hasn’t he taken a single ranking exam despite having the power to blow you away?★”
It had become the school’s biggest mystery. These days, few outside the Eight Great Academies dared call Rain “Calamity Young Master”—it was “Personality Young Master” now.
“If that’s the case, you wouldn’t mind if I crush the Calamity Young Master in midterms, right, Logan?”
As Nora flashed a smile laced with menace, the training room door opened. A black-haired pretty boy entered, stretching.
The boy scanned the room with red eyes, spotted them, and waved cheerfully.
“Logan, I’m here.”
Logan racked the barbell, sprang up, and strode over to Rain with a beaming smile.
“You’re a bit late today, sir?”
“Sorry, I was busy with something. Don’t worry about me if you’ve got your own stuff.”
“Haha, getting cold feet? Today’s the week-ender, so it’ll be intense.”
“Music to my ears. Lead the way.”
Nora stared at Logan’s grinning face in disbelief as he guided Rain—then burst out laughing.
“If that’s really acting, Logan should quit magic and become a clown.”
* * *
<Delaiten>’s weekly faculty meeting was usually just 1st and 2nd-year homeroom professors reporting routine schedules and announcements on Mondays.
But this time was different.
Heavyweight 3rd-year graduation-class professors flanked Chancellor Madelia Page’s seat. From Chief Professor Marhena to Vice-Chief Kyle.
“So the graduation class schedule’s on hold for now?”
At Madelia’s question, Kyle’s eyes gleamed with zeal.
“Yes. With field training underway, we can focus on 1st-years for a week. As always.”
Other 2nd and 3rd-year professors chimed in.
“This year’s 1st-years are impressive, I hear?”
“Looking forward to it.”
“Not sure about ‘forward,’ but they seem entertaining. Just look at that Calamity Young Master who was hiding his talent.”
The professor who’d slipped up, Eyvun, sensed chilling mana and clamped his mouth shut.
Across the table, Elin—arms crossed—glared at him with haughty eyes.
Elin Ludwig was an outstanding professor guiding <Delaiten>’s 2nd-years, backed by her own exceptional magical talent.
“Come on, no harm intended.”
Carolline Professor smiled broadly to mediate, but Elin scoffed.
“Oh? Feeling cocky? Get ready, you punk. That ‘mentor of the century’s genius girl magician’ title’s about to shatter.”
“Heh, I’m counting on it.”
The Golden Generation’s first midterms... Madelia drummed her fingers on the desk, frowning as she stared into distant space.
‘If things had gone as planned, Kasena—that child—might be...’
As the student representative (Page heirs traditionally held the role, destined for chancellor), she could’ve been in the 1st-year Golden Generation...
Madelia shook off the impossible fancy with a deep sigh and nodded.
“Notify the students and assemble them. Midterms start today.”
* * *
Monday’s sun rose. Spring sunlight carried growing heat and humidity—spring would end quickly this year.
“Yaaawn...”
Dragging his muscle-sore body to class.
Thanks to Logan, his physical growth was rapid. No need for Rudiyën to check numbers; his once-flabby frame was hardening with muscle.
He shuffled in and opened the classroom door to a tense buzz.
“For real?”
“For real! Pack up and head to the auditorium now!”
“Unbelievable, insane.”
Incomprehensible chatter. Classmates were packing bags and filing out.
Passing them curiously, he reached his seat. Christa was tidying her clothes, packing light.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
“Midterms briefing in the auditorium.”
“Midterms? Isn’t that next week?”
Tilting his head, Christa smirked arrogantly.
“<Delaiten> schedules exams whenever they feel like it. Chancellor and professors change dates on a whim.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think? To stop cramming cheaters.”
Gertrude Fenton, packing Christa’s stationery, chuckled resignedly.
“Two years ago, they announced midterms—then started the day after. Heh heh...”
The very next day?
Rain’s eyes lit up with amusement.
“Man, all the professors here are pranksters. I like it.”
“You like this sadistic crap?”
“Exams measure accumulated achievement, right? True skill shows the same score anytime.”
Christa nodded approvingly, as if to say, *Worthy rival*.
“Hahaha! Fair point~!”
Gertrude laughed along, but inwardly grimaced a hundred times.
*True enough. True, but why so infuriating? That confident, huh? Noble brats have no charm except my lady.*
Meanwhile, Christa finished primping in the mirror, elegantly flicking her uniform cloak, and turned.
“What’re you waiting for? Let’s go. Latecomers might regret it.”
Amid the tension, Christa brimmed with confidence—born of skill and experience.
From elementary to middle division at <Delaiten>, she’d never lost top rank.
That record was now in jeopardy.