Chapter 30 - The Magic Geek Messes Up
"Aahh... 'amazing' doesn't even begin to describe Lady Ester. The Seventh Tier... it's truly unbelievable."
"I suppose so. Since she's family, it doesn't really feel like such a huge deal. Besides, I wasn't even told she'd been promoted. I only found out when the Academy Head made the announcement a moment ago."
I replied to Roche's awestruck comment with a conflicted expression.
"B-But it really is amazing! The highest anyone else has reached is the Fourth Tier."
"I hear there isn't a single Sixth Tier user in any of the neighboring countries, so a Seventh Tier might be a world first. She is truly an inspiration."
"..."
Isak, and for some reason, Elisha, who had joined our group, had been speaking to me with considerable excitement for a while now. The only one acting normally was Ruria, who clung to my arm, wary of Elisha.
Just a short while ago, all students of the Talgum Magic Academy had been gathered in the auditorium for a major announcement from the Academy Head. The news was that my grandmother, Ester Adoni Arcalai, had become a Seventh Tier magic user.
Honestly, I wondered if it was really necessary to gather the entire student body just to announce something like that, but the reaction from everyone else was completely different. The announcement was met with a wave of gasps that filled the auditorium, forcing the entire faculty to raise their voices to quiet the students down. Once the crowd had finally settled, the Academy Head gave a speech along the lines of, "You should all take pride in being juniors to the esteemed Ester and aim high," and so on and so forth, before dismissing the assembly.
Immediately after, Ruria and I were showered with congratulations and praise from our classmates. Soon, even upperclassmen like Lug, the hall head, joined in, all of them lauding my grandmother and our family. It didn't really register with me (and probably not with Ruria, either), but I couldn't very well rain on their parade while they were all so worked up. For the time being, I just smiled and replied with "Thank you," but inwardly, it all felt a bit strange.
After all, my grandmother was the one who was amazing, not me or Ruria. If they were saying it to her, that would be one thing, but hearing things like "Congratulations" and "This is a historic achievement" directed at me felt so out of place that I was tempted to just reply with, "Is that so?"
I understood, of course, that Grandmother reaching the Seventh Tier enhanced the reputation of the Arcalai house itself, and in that sense, I and Ruria were being praised as members of the family. But the fact that it didn't feel real was likely a lingering effect of the individualistic mindset from my past life.
After repeatedly thanking people for their kind words, the crowd around us finally started to thin, so we decided to leave the auditorium. Which is why we were now standing on the path back to the dorms, enjoying a private chat.
"You know, that was the first time I've seen the Academy Head up close. He was the one in the red robes officiating the entrance ceremony, right? The old man with the incredibly long beard. He was wearing black robes today, though."
"A-Apparently he rarely appears before the students. An upperclassman said he hadn't seen him in a long time."
"For someone like that to make a 'major announcement,' I guess your grandmother's promotion to the Seventh Tier really is a big deal."
"You've just become desensitized, Saki. It's the downside of being surrounded by so many incredible people."
"Even if you say that... Hm? Who's that?"
Mid-conversation, I noticed a group walking toward us. A figure in blue robes, flanked by his mismatched pair of cronies—it was none other than Yuli and his entourage. He stopped in front of us, struck a pretentious pose while running a hand through his slicked-back hair, and declared.
"The Seventh Tier is indeed a great feat. Just as one would expect from 'The Witch.' However, I cannot allow the Arcalai name to monopolize the conversation forever. In time, I, too, shall achieve something that will astound the entire kingdom. You would all do well to look forward to it."
He said his piece and, without waiting for a reply, turned on his heel and swept away in a flourish of his robes. An awkward silence hung in the air among those of us left behind. I couldn't even be bothered to make a snarky comment in my head anymore.
"...Where on earth does he get that confidence?"
"Considering his entrance exam scores, I don't think he's anywhere near Saki's or Ruria's level."
"When one is born the child of a high-ranking noble, they are sometimes coddled by those around them and fall prey to a baseless sense of omnipotence. He has likely never had to truly face himself."
Elisha murmured this with a distant look in her eyes. C-Could she be referring to... that affliction? The one from my past life that struck so many around the age of fourteen?! And from the way she said it, could she have suffered from it herself?
"...I shouldn't treat this as someone else's problem. I shall take this as a cautionary tale, so that I do not become conceited myself."
"That would be wise. Well then, Saki-san, we shall take our leave here. Come now, Ruria-chan. Let's walk back together, shall we?"
With those words, Elisha, making no attempt to hide her delight, peeled Ruria off my arm. Ruria was led away by the hand toward the Red Dragon Hall. The look in her eyes as she glanced back at me was like that of a calf being loaded onto a truck, and for some reason, a mournful melody began to play in my head.
Unable to enter the girls' dormitory, the rest of us just waved, watching with a mixture of amusement and pity as Ruria was led away.
From the next day, classes at the Academy began in earnest. Of course, a significant portion of the curriculum was dedicated to practical magic, but what surprised me was how many periods were allotted to normal studies as well—about half, I'd say. Now that I thought about it, I seemed to recall my mother once telling me that "passing on knowledge is an important duty of a magic user."
The standard academic subjects included things I'd already studied at the private academy, like history and geography, which we would now delve into more deeply. There was also a completely new subject I'd never learned before: biology. This class focused on the ecology of non-human species that posed a threat to humanity, like other humanoid races (such as the Orcs Professor Azadh had mentioned long ago) and magical beasts.
This world was home to a vast number of dangerous creatures, far more than in my previous life. While you'd rarely see them around the royal capital, they apparently become a very real threat in the regions known as the frontier. Magic users are expected to be able to counter these threats, so this knowledge was considered essential. Magic really is a combat-oriented profession.
Incidentally, besides Orcs, there are other humanoid species like Goblins and Hobgoblins. Goblins are small, cave-dwelling humanoids, so you won't encounter them unless you're in hilly or mountainous regions. Hobgoblins are humanoids of a similar size to humans; they're rarely seen around the kingdom, but apparently, there's a nation founded by Hobgoblins far to the west. It's said to be a very strict military state where non-Hobgoblin humanoids are treated as slaves. Seriously? I'm never going anywhere near that place.
And then there were the magical beasts. Creatures that would have been called mythical beasts or monsters in my past life, typified by dragons, also exist in this world. Famous examples include Chimeras and Manticores. They generally inhabit deep mountains or vast forests, so they rarely clash with humanity. However, if one ever appears near a human settlement, the damage is catastrophic, requiring the dispatch of magic users and knightly orders.
Now, I said they were rarely encountered, but the sea is a different story. The ocean spreading to the south of the kingdom is teeming with vicious aquatic magical beasts, making long-distance sea travel virtually impossible. If a ship is attacked by a Sea Serpent or Kraken, whose bodies dwarf even whales, even a large galleon will be sunk in an instant. Magic users and knights are useless against an enemy in the ocean, so heading out to open water is considered a suicidal act.
Man, this world is way too dangerous. No wonder so many magic spells are geared for combat.
There was one other thing I had come to realize with certainty. It was the commonalities between this life and my previous one—specifically, the shared nouns like Orcs, Chimeras, and even the goddess Isis. On this point, what had been a vague guess was now almost a certainty.
In short, 'I' wasn't that special. Just as the angel Azrael (a name I'd given him) said in Yetzirah, souls travel between this world and my former one through a system of reincarnation. If that's the case, it's not at all strange to think that there were others before me—souls who reincarnated into this world, or from this world into my old one—who retained their memories, just as I did.
Though the number may be small, I believe it's highly probable that these predecessors of mine were responsible for bringing the names of fantastical creatures from this world to my old one. Since such magical beasts actually exist here, it's likely that a memory-retaining individual from this world spread stories over there, saying "creatures like this exist," which then influenced various myths and legends, leading to the use of the same names.
This would also explain why ritual magic here was almost identical to that of my past life. Either a magic user from here spread it over there, or a magician from my past life brought it here. I don't know which came first, the chicken or the egg, but something of the sort must have happened. Given the timeline, it seems more likely that it was brought from this world to my old one, but I can't be sure, as time may not flow at the same rate in both places.
In any case, just thinking about these things was quite fun. And so, biology became one of my favorite classes.
While academic studies were enjoyable, the main focus of our classes at the Academy was, of course, practical magic. The Academy had one large training hall for each grade level, as well as several smaller magic labs. The large training halls were about the size of a small gymnasium from my previous life, and within them, students would spread out and practice magic as they pleased. The Academy obviously put a lot of emphasis on this class, with two or three professors supervising the practice sessions.
The magic labs were the rooms where we had performed our spells in front of the examiners during the entrance exam. They were used for practicing spells with significant environmental effects or for testing out spells in secret. You had to apply to a professor to use them, but I heard the utilization rate wasn't very high. Apparently, the professors also used these labs when they wanted to test magic personally.
As for the spells themselves, at our private academy, my father and mother had taught me directly. At the Academy, however, the methods for learning lower-tier spells were compiled into textbooks that students could freely browse. The contents were simple, covering the spell's name, the shape of its sigil, and a brief outline, but the professors managed them, and taking them out of the room was strictly forbidden. It was a rule that befitted an academy that valued secrecy. Of course, I read them so intently I was practically drooling.
The First Tier spells we were currently learning numbered twelve in total. Once we mastered all of them, we would be promoted to the Second Tier. In reality, very few students manage to reach the Second Tier while enrolled at the Academy. The closest right now was Lug, the third-year hall head, who had apparently mastered ten.
A few days after we first-years had attended several practical magic sessions, a strange atmosphere began to envelop the Academy.
"Still, this [Sending] spell is incredible."
Professor Rehoboam Hazza, who taught our magic class, replied happily to my words.
"Oh! To realize the usefulness of [Sending]... you're quite sharp, Saki-kun. Students who are new to magic tend to focus only on powerful attack spells."
Professor Hazza was a lanky man in his mid-thirties with a mop of messy red hair. He was a Third Tier magic user, and since we got along quite well, he often supervised my practice. We were currently in the middle of a discussion about the [Sending] spell, which I had recently learned.
"To be able to instantly deliver a short whisper of about thirty words to someone far away is an incredible feat. I don't understand why more people don't make use of this spell..."
"The tricky part is that both the sender and the receiver must be magic users who have mastered [Sending]. As it stands, the person who uses this spell most effectively is probably your father."
Professor Hazza was correct. In my past life, the development of communications accelerated the speed of every culture, yet this world, despite having the ridiculously convenient spell [Sending], remained at a medieval level of civilization. One of the main reasons was that it only worked between magic users.
Magic users in this world held high status and were feared by the general populace for their combat abilities. In other words, they were extremely proud. Would such people be willing to work as communicators or messengers? No. Absolutely not. They would undoubtedly refuse the offer, declaring, "I have more suitable work to do." At least in our country, any scheme by royalty or nobility to create a communication network using their court magic users had, until now, almost always failed.
The one who shattered this status quo was my very own Arcalai family. My grandmother and father managed to make the members of their faction understand that the various jobs magic users had previously refused out of pride were, in fact, important missions, and succeeded in getting them to perform those duties. It was all a feat made possible by the outstanding skill and overwhelming charisma of the previous and current heads of the house.
Grandmother made magic users operate in groups just like regular soldiers, creating a "corps of magic users." Father, in turn, had magic users engage in espionage, building an "information network of magic users." It could be said that the former brought about a revolution in military affairs, and the latter, a revolution in strategy. And the spell that played a major role in both these military and intelligence activities was [Sending].
"In practice, this spell can reach from one end of the kingdom to the other without any delay. It's instantaneous over distances that would take months on foot or horseback. We haven't been able to test it over greater distances, so we can't be sure, but the current theory is that the range of [Sending] is effectively limitless. If you wanted to, you could probably gather information from all over the kingdom."
Professor Hazza scratched his messy head as he spoke with great delight about the details of the spell. This was another reason we got along. He had the disposition of a true geek, finding joy in investigating the detailed specifications and the upper and lower limits of various spells. His stance—how can one claim to have mastered a spell without knowing its intricacies?—was remarkably similar to my own, for though the fields of magic and magecraft differ, we were both otakus at heart.
"Professor. Please stop talking only to Saki and watch our practice too."
"Ah, my apologies. You are all so talented, I figured you would be fine without my supervision."
"If that's the case, shouldn't the most talented one, Saki, be fine if you leave him alone? Isak-san, Elisha-san, and I want to learn our third spell as soon as possible."
"Alright, alright, don't be so upset. Well then, Roche-kun, let's have you cast first."
Irritated by my chat with Professor Hazza, Roche interjected and led the professor away. Left behind, I had no choice but to idly watch with Ruria as they practiced their magic. Ahead of us, the trio of Roche, Isak, and Elisha were chanting the spell they were currently working on, while Professor Hazza scratched his head and offered them various pieces of advice.
Elisha had, at some point, become completely comfortable with our group, and now the five of us tended to stick together during practical magic classes. Her tendency to fuss over Ruria too much, and to try to fuss over me whenever she had a chance, was a problem, if you could call it that, but even Elisha took her classes seriously. Before long, she, Roche, and Isak had fallen into a routine of having the professor watch them chant together.
Ruria and I were the odd ones out. That was because, just the other day, we had mastered our eighth spell. Four before enrolling, and four in the week since starting. In total, that was eight. The list included [Light], [Magic Missile], [Armor], [Shield], [Sleep], [Blindness], [Sending], and [Heal].
Yeah. It caused a huge uproar. So much so that a faculty meeting was convened, and a report was even sent to the Academy Head. Professors came one after another to interview us, but when they learned that Ruria and I had succeeded in casting every new spell on our first try, they all fell silent.
In the end, we were summoned by Professor Azadh, the head professor, who ended up pleading with us. "Could you two please refrain from learning any new spells for a while and just focus on practicing the ones you already know?" Apparently, because of us, a growing number of upperclassmen and even professors were losing their confidence.
Personally, I wanted to say, "Then don't let us read the spellbooks freely," but it wasn't my intention to stir up unnecessary trouble, so I quietly accepted. However, while Ruria could practice endlessly with her vast reserves of mana, my mana was limited, so I had to rest after just a few casts. That was why I had been idly chatting with Professor Hazza to kill time.
Now that my conversation partner was gone, I truly had nothing to do. I decided to watch our classmates scattered around the large training hall practicing their spells with Ruria.
The method students used to practice was not that different from how we did it at our private academy. You'd have a professor watch you chant the spell you wanted to learn and get their feedback on what you were doing wrong. Or you would have the professor demonstrate the spell for you. Or, like us right now, you would observe other students casting. There was no real theory or established method for mastering spells.
In the beginning, our classmates constantly asked Ruria and me for tips on how to learn spells. Unfortunately, all I could tell them was, "I just chanted it the way the professor taught me, and it worked." Ruria, for her part, didn't even seem to understand the intent behind their questions. I felt bad for our classmates, but the truth was, we didn't understand why they couldn't learn the spells. We were utterly unhelpful, for which I was truly sorry.
Even when we asked the professors, the only answer we got was, "Practice is all there is to it." I had a feeling the problem with the Academy's curriculum lay somewhere around here...
Mulling this over, I casually turned my gaze to a group of classmates practicing nearby. It was... Yuli and his cronies. It looked like he was about to cast [Magic Missile] at one of the targets lined up against the wall of the training hall.
"...[Magic Missile]!"
As Yuli chanted the spell's name, a white streak of light shot from his outstretched fingertip and struck the target. His mismatched followers immediately praised him with cries of "Magnificent!" and "As expected!" Yuli seemed pleased, running a hand through his hair in a preening gesture, but I was thinking, That was terrible.
First, the lines of light that formed the sigil in the air were faint and weak. And it took far too long from the start of the spell's gesture to its actual activation. As a result, Yuli's [Magic Missile] was a textbook example of a spell being cast by the skin of one's teeth, a common trait among beginners. Ruria could probably cast a second one in the time it took him to cast a single shot.
However, that wasn't to say Yuli's spell had no redeeming qualities. The gestures he used to draw the sigil in the air were remarkably fluid and elegant. His form was probably better than any other first-year student's. Perhaps the guy just excelled at things related to appearances... It was then that a flash of inspiration struck me.
The gesture of drawing the sigil and the quality of the sigil itself were unrelated. If that was the case, wasn't the act of tracing the sigil with a finger... meaningless?
To test my new theory, I raised my hand and began to gather mana from my surroundings. My mana was almost empty from my earlier practice, but the amount I'd just gathered should be enough to cast a [Light] spell. Skipping the gesture of drawing the sigil, I simply visualized an orange triangle in front of me and chanted, "[Light]."
And just like that, with surprising ease, a sphere of [Light] was born in my hand without any problems. It was no different from the spell I usually cast with the gesture. In fact, by omitting the finger-drawing motion, the activation seemed to be even faster.
As I let the orb of light float around and observed it, Ruria peered at my hand and asked, "Saki, what did you just do?" That's right. Ruria could probably do the same thing. I explained to her how to cast a spell without the gesture.
"Don't draw the sigil with your finger. Just picture the finished shape very clearly in your mind and say the spell."
"...I'll try."
Ruria let her hands hang loosely at her sides, fixed her gaze on a point in the air, and chanted, "[Light]." Just as with me, a ball of light popped into existence, illuminating the area. Finding it amusing, she remained in the same posture and chanted repeatedly, "[Light]. [Light]. [Light]..." causing orbs of light to pop into being all around her.
"That's my Ruria. Perfect."
When I praised her, Ruria, though expressionless as ever, puffed out her chest and let out a proud little "hmph." I clapped my hands, then suddenly felt a gaze on me and turned around.
Roche, Isak, Elisha, and Professor Hazza—the four of them were staring at us, their faces completely blank.
As their four vacant gazes pierced me, a phrase I'd heard somewhere long ago came to mind. This is... that thing, isn't it? It has to be.
Did I... go and do something again?
Here is chapter twenty-eight. My apologies for the delay this time. I will try to deliver the next chapter as soon as possible.