Star Instructor Oscar (4)
Today marked the third week of the Reinterpretation of Basic Magic lecture, and the atmosphere inside Lecture Hall 4 was distinctly different from usual.
"Why is it so packed today? I can see a bunch of 4th and 5th level seniors in here too."
"The rumor spread like wildfire — that Oscar's a star instructor."
"Still, it's just a basic magic class... wait, is that Elder Maxim sitting in the back?"
"No way, it really is him. At this point, this is basically a seminar at a magic conference."
That was how hot a topic Oscar's lecture had become within the White Tower. The mages who had attended from the very first session wore a quiet pride on their faces, while those attending for the first time waited for Oscar with expectations they barely dared to admit.
Drrrrring!
And when Oscar finally appeared, more than seventy pairs of eyes came raining down on him.
"..."
Without a trace of surprise or nervousness at the countless stares, he mounted the podium with a calm, even stride — and then began speaking without any preamble at all.
"The spell you'll be learning today is the one you should value most for the rest of your lives as mages."
"Ooooh!"
The eyes of the mages who had come half in hope, half in doubt, sparkled like stars. They were just thinking they'd made the right choice coming here when—
"That spell is Wind."
"..."
Their expectations shattered like glass, and an undisguisable disappointment rose across every face.
What kind of spell was Wind, after all? The most basic of the basics. A fundamental spell so widespread that even mages who weren't of the White Tower could cast it.
Sensing the crowd's discontent, Maxim casually raised a hand.
"I was planning to sit quietly and just observe, but I can't help my curiosity. Oscar, are you seriously planning to teach Wind magic to this many gathered mages?"
"Yes."
Faced with such unabashed confidence — as if to ask what the problem could possibly be — Maxim could only offer an awkward smile.
"Hm. Well, granted, it fits the whole 'Reinterpretation of Basic Magic' concept better than anything... but I don't think there's a single person here who doesn't know Wind."
"You're right that no one here doesn't know Wind. But whether they've truly understood it and made it their own magic is an entirely different question. If you'll pardon my boldness, Elder — could you demonstrate your Wind magic for us?"
It was an unexpected request, but Maxim readily nodded.
"Nothing to it. Wind."
Whoooooosh!
A searing gale, as if carrying the very heat of the desert, whipped through everyone's hair and robes in an instant — and vanished.
The stunned mages began to murmur.
"...That's Wind? Not Gale or Wind Press?"
"Insane. So this is the level it takes to hold an Elder's seat."
Even the same basic spell carried extraordinary power in the hands of a high-tier mage. Having glimpsed a new world, the mages showered Maxim in looks of boundless admiration.
Amused by their endearing reactions, Maxim chuckled and asked, "Was that sufficient?"
"Thank you."
After a brief bow of acknowledgment, Oscar turned his head to look at a mage seated near the front.
"Amy Ravin. This time, you cast Wind."
"M-me?"
The words why me? climbed all the way up her throat — but by then, countless eyes were already fixed on her. In the end, gnashing her teeth, she cast the spell.
This time, a breeze as trivial and soft as a spring day tickled its surroundings before fading away.
Oscar raised his hand and swept his gaze across the students.
"Now, does anyone think they know what difference there was between these two spells? Raise your hand."
At that, a few hesitant mages raised their hands and answered carefully.
"Different range and power?"
"Uh... I think the temperature was a little different too."
"They were clearly the same spell, but the feeling? The atmosphere was kind of different."
None of it was wrong — but none of it was the answer Oscar was looking for.
Then, from a corner of the lecture hall, Veronica Frix murmured under her breath.
"...The property of mana."
"Correct. Veronica Frix."
"Wh-what?"
Veronica jolted upright, never having imagined her tiny muttering would be overheard. Oscar gave her a nod that said well done.
"Just as she said — the difference between those two spells lay in the property of the mana composing them."
Gripping the podium, Oscar looked around the lecture hall.
"Isn't it strange? From the construction of the formula to its deployment, every step of both spells was identical — and yet one burned hot as a desert wind while the other was gentle as a spring breeze. The results were so different you'd hardly believe they were the same spell."
He gave the students a moment to think, then continued.
"Does anyone here understand what the property of mana actually is?"
"Uh... do you mean the four classifications of mana?"
"Those concern the elemental lineages of mana. The property of mana is a different concept entirely."
After sweeping his gaze over the students once more, Oscar began his explanation in a smooth, measured voice.
"To explain what the property of mana is, we must first trace the roots of the White Tower itself. Since ancient times, the White Tower and the Blue Tower have been classified as the towers that represent the Harmony Sphere. Can anyone here explain exactly why that is?"
"...Because of the characteristics of our elements?"
At someone's textbook answer, Oscar nodded.
"Exactly. The Red Tower and the Yellow Tower may be strong and fast, but they can never be harmonious. Why? Because no such thing as cold fire or cold lightning exists in this world."
But the White Tower and the Blue Tower were different.
"Wind and water can grow endlessly colder — or burn hotter than anything else. That is why we represent the Harmony Sphere."
Everyone nodded. Up to this point, it was common knowledge that nearly every mage already knew.
"But even between the Blue Tower and the White Tower — both called the Harmony Sphere — there lies a clear, decisive difference."
Above Oscar's palm, a droplet of water conjured by Water magic floated into the air. Slowly, the water began to boil.
"As you all know, the conditions for boiling water are simple. A heat of one hundred degrees at standard atmospheric pressure — and a little time."
Fwoooosh!
The boiling water vaporized in an instant and became wind. At Oscar's gesture, that wind began to alternate between scorching and freezing, cycling by the second.
"Wind, on the other hand, blends easily with its surroundings — and so it can change its property in a single breath."
Like a chameleon.
That was the decisive difference between the White Tower and the Blue Tower.
"Wind is freer than any other element. If you desire, it can wield power as fierce as the flames of the Red Tower, accelerate as swift as the lightning of the Yellow Tower, or take on forms as versatile as the waters of the Blue Tower. Even the Blue Tower's water has things it refuses to mix with — oil, for instance — but wind has no such rejections."
It was the only element capable of embracing any property at all, according to the mage's imagination. Only wind could take into itself every harmony this world contained.
"And so, a mage of the White Tower must recognize how they themselves think of wind — how they see it in their mind's eye."
Oscar's gaze turned toward Maxim.
"To one person, wind is a presence so hot and so fierce it could melt the skin from an opponent's body."
This time, he looked at Amy Ravin's face — her mouth hanging open, lost in a daze.
"To another, it can be a presence as warm and familiar as a spring breeze."
There was no right or wrong in the perspective or philosophy with which one interpreted it. The free wind would embrace every path that stretched endlessly outward.
"How do I perceive wind? That is the core of today's lesson."
The moment one grasped that answer, the property of one's mana was decided — and it would influence every spell that mage ever cast.
Oscar looked out over the faces of the students, each one sunk in thought.
'...In my past life, I never once told anyone any of this. In the first place, this concept was something you were only supposed to grasp once you'd become a high-tier mage.'
Back then, he had believed a mage ought to discover everything through their own experience — that both brilliant success and miserable failure were equally the foundation upon which a great mage was built.
'Only at the very edge of death did I realize how wrong that was.'
That, too, had been nothing but the stubbornness and vanity of one who had walked the road ahead of them.
Which was why, in this life, he intended to be generous with his teaching.
'But I won't show them the whole road to the summit.'
The only path he knew was the one he himself had walked as Oscar Sage. He had reached the peak by that road, certainly — but he never believed it was the only right answer.
'If there are ten thousand mages, then there are ten thousand right answers.'
Teaching someone everything from A to Z did nothing but place a ceiling on their infinite potential. And so the advice he could offer them ended precisely here.
Those with the talent for it would take away a great deal from today's lesson.
"...Hm?"
And then it happened.
"Wind... to me, wind is without a doubt... without a doubt..."
The muttering Maxim's eyes suddenly turned hazy.
The mage seated beside him, seeing his state, cautiously reached out a hand.
"Elder, are you all right?"
"Don't touch him!"
Oscar's shout cracked through the room as he bolted up the steps of the podium.
"Clear a space around Elder Maxim right now. Under no circumstances is anyone to interfere with his enlightenment."
At those words, the mages erupted in gasps of awe.
'So this is the legendary...'
'Breakthrough! A moment of true breakthrough!'
'They say mages of the 7th level and above require a certain enlightenment with every rise in level...'
'To think I'd witness it with my own eyes.'
From the 7th level onward — the threshold of the high-tier — enlightenment mattered above all else. Without attaining it, a mage could not so much as install additional circuits into their own body.
'Maxim...'
If that 7th-level mage took this opportunity to rise to the 8th level, it would be an enormous boon.
But when Maxim opened his eyes a short while later, he could not hide his disappointment.
"Hoo..."
In the end, he had failed to cross the threshold of the 8th level. In the process of retracing the road he had once walked, he had gained only a small realization — though as a 7th-level mage, he could certainly claim that his depth had grown all the more profound.
Maxim turned and offered his gratitude with utter sincerity.
"Thank you, Oscar! No — wait, you're the teacher here, so should I be thanking you?"
"...That's genuinely kind of creepy."
"Haha! I mean it, I'm truly grateful, truly! Hahahaha!"
He wrapped Oscar in a crushing embrace and simply would not let go, holding him until the man could barely breathe.
After that, the focus of the students rose to absurd heights — hardly surprising, when this was a lecture capable of granting enlightenment to a mage of the 7th level.
'And thanks to that, everything ahead of me just got easier.'
Anyone whose rank and level fell below Elder Maxim's would not dare breathe a word of objection to him. Which meant that, all the way up to the Night of the Magicians, he could raise their skills at a blistering pace.
'But the greatest harvest of today...'
Oscar turned his head ever so slightly, and his eyes met those of a mage who had been unable to look away from him this entire time.
'Veronica Frix.'
The real victory was that he had succeeded in capturing the attention of that little troublemaker.