Chapter 13: News (4)

Chapter 13: News (4)

“Ah... umm....”

Epherene’s heart pounded like it was about to burst, and her mind was racing. Her classmates had already disappeared. Epherene tried to slip away quietly.

“Step aside,” Deculein said.

Hearing those words only fueled her determination. There was no reason for her to have been the one to move; it should have been him. Epherene bit her lip, lifted her head, and tightened her grip on the paper in her hand.

“... Sir!”

She meant to use one hand but ended up raising both very politely. What a disaster.

“Sir...”

Deculein still looked down at her with cold eyes. Epherene took a deep breath to steady her racing heart. At the same time, she made a vow. One day, if not now, she would crush that arrogant gaze with her own strength...

“I want to start a club. But to do so, I need a supervising professor’s signature,” Epherene said. There was no reaction, but Epherene pressed on resolutely. “... I promise I won’t bother you. It’s just that other professors don’t approve of a commoners’ club. I just need your signature....”

She used up all her energy just to say that. Her outstretched arms trembled under Deculein's inscrutable, crushing pressure. But then, something unexpected happened. Deculein took the paper she offered. He simply reached out and took it without a word.

“... Hup,” Epherene gasped.

Deculein read the proposal. She was anxious, fearing he might tear it apart and say, "How dare you, a mere commoner, approach me—" She could almost hear the sound of ripping paper. But then, Deculein took out a fountain pen from his coat, making her anxious once again.

She feared he might tear the paper with his pen and say, "Did you expect this? How dare commoners—" But instead, Deculein signed it. She was anxious. She feared he might triumphantly rip the signed paper and say, "Did you really think I would sign it—" But he did not. He simply handed it back to her.

"Fill up all the details and send it to my office later," Deculein replied.

"... Sorry?"

He walked past her without another word. As she stood there in a daze, his scent gradually faded away.

Epherene stood, staring blankly at the Club Formation Proposal in her hand. There was a signature—Deculein's signature. She shouldn’t let her guard down just yet. He might have cast a spell to make it tear after some time. Yet, even as Deculein walked away, becoming smaller and smaller until he was just a dot in the distance, the paper remained intact.

"Woah, wow, wow, wow! That was amazing!"

Her pesky classmates, who had been hiding, finally showed up.

"Wow, you really got his signature... Epherene, you've got some guts."

"See? I told you, to that professor, nobles and commoners are the same! He ignores everyone equally!"

They laughed and made a fuss, but Epherene wasn't happy. She felt awful. Once again—though it wasn't intentional—she had sought pity. Anger surged within her, heating her body. She wanted to ask Deculein why he was being so lenient with her.

She didn’t need his worthless pity or compassion. It was ridiculous, nothing more. He should have been able to overcome such trivial emotions himself. If he was truly sorry, he should have confessed his wrongdoings to the world and apologized to her father.

"Epherene, you're going to join too, right?" Julia asked without reading the room.

Epherene clenched her fists and turned to glare at her.

"No, I'm not. And if you push me like that again, you'll be in big trouble," Epherene said coldly, but Julia's attention was already elsewhere.

"Oh, no, she is not just joining. Epherene, you should be the president since we're founding the club because of you!"

"You've got to be kidding," Epherene said.

What is wrong with this girl? Epherene shook her head in disbelief.

"Hey, I said I'm not doing it—"

But then.

"Right, since today is a special occasion, I'll treat you all to something even better! Let’s go to my place! My dad brought in some Roahawk boar," Julia said.

Roahawk boar. Epherene had never eaten that before. In fact, it wasn't something common that anyone could eat. It was an incredibly high-graded boar. Raised on Euphrain perilla leaves, these pigs lived better lives than most people. The moment you bit into the meat, the juice would burst forth, and its texture was said to be the most tender in the world...

"Ephie! You're coming too, right?!"

"No, I'm not going," Epherene, acting full of herself, pouted her lips and pretended to be angry. Julia clasped her hands together and bowed her head.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Did I scare you? I was so startled. Come on, don't be like that, let's go together just this once," Julia begged Epherene.

Epherene really appreciated Julia asking her again.

"... Alright then. But don’t do something like this again," Epherene replied.

"Of course not! Let’s go, let’s go~" Julia said.

"I stepped in on purpose because I also thought that your cause is—"

"I know, I know. Let’s go, let’s go~" Julia said, linking arms with Epherene as they walked off.

After pretending to be reluctantly dragged along, Epherene arrived at Julia's restaurant, Flower of the Pig. The restaurant, from its sign to its interior, exuded luxury. The food was delicious, delicious, and delicious. Especially the Roahawk boar—it was so exquisite that she wanted to savor its taste forever.

***

On the last Thursday of March, in the annex of the Yukline mansion, which had been completely renovated into a training ground and gym without any sunlight, I brushed back my wet hair. My body reflected in the mirror was drenched in sweat from intense exercise.

The mages' hands became busy as they looked through their textbooks, tilting their heads in confusion because today's lecture content wasn't in the book.

Snap—!

With a snap of his fingers, the classroom lights went out. In the dark, a magical spell and its name appeared—Scorching Fire.

"What?"

"Huh?"

Everyone was shocked. Scorching Fire was known to be one of the most difficult spells among the Pure Elements.

"Don't worry. I'm not asking you to learn this spell. Your skills are inadequate compared to it. Scorching Fire is merely an example," Deculein casually continued the lecture.

"As you all know, creating a simple fire requires only eight strokes."

As he finished speaking, a fire appeared in the air. It was Deculein's magic, and the flames flickered with unnecessary elegance.

"However, Scorching Fire requires eighty-eight strokes."

This silent, invisible fire, designed for mass destruction and arson, required eighty-eight strokes just to ignite. For use in attacks, an additional sixty strokes were necessary.

"Did no one ever wonder why? Was it just because it was an amazing fire? Or was it simply called a Pure Element because it appeared to mix categories of manipulation and enchantment?" Deculein asked.

Everyone blinked in confusion.

"But why was it classified as a Pure Element even though it contained mixed categories? What was it about this Pure Element that raised so many questions?"

His lecture had an unusual, captivating quality.

"You probably went through life without ever questioning it. Theory is only a tool, and you have learned magic purely by intuition."

At that moment, fire spread across the ceiling. It was red, then it turned blue, and finally became black. One hundred and fifty mages stared in stunned silence.

"You must clearly understand the spell of the Pure Element of fire," Deculein said.

Soon, a much simpler spell was projected. It was an eight-stroke spell for Fire. From that point on, many mages, including Epherene, who had been watching and listening, instinctively took out their writing instruments. However, Sylvia stubbornly refused, thinking she had nothing to learn from Deculein, whether it was theory or intuition. She was still sulking.

"Watch closely. By adding these two thin strokes to the spell for Fire, you can change its color. These two strokes control the color."

He changed the red fire to blue with two strokes.

"Adding four strokes can create a bigger fire."

He made the fire more destructive with four strokes.

"But adding seven strokes to the fire makes it suddenly flow," Deculein explained.

Like a miracle, the flame flowed downward. It was not magma, but the fire was genuinely flowing.

At that point, even Sylvia, who had been trying to ignore it, started to feel anxious. Her hands itched with the unexpected content of the lecture. Deculein's lecture was highly theoretical. Typically, elite mages, often considered geniuses, use their intuition to cast spells. Theory provides only a broad framework, while the details are executed through intuition.

If all mages relied solely on theory, every spell would look like a copy-paste job. Sylvia, being a genius herself, was no exception. Her property was the origin, not element. She was unfamiliar with the complex theories of Pure Elements.

Also, it was inevitable because focusing too much on theory left little time to learn the actual magic. Each line contained a certain amount of mana, and each circuit had a specific function. Trying to understand all of these theoretically would take forever to Memorize even one spell, making practical training difficult.

"Now, look again at these seven strokes once again."

This is a paradox. To become an elite mage, one needed exceptional intuition, yet elites can't explain their intuition. To teach well, one needs strong theoretical knowledge.

However, those with strong theories often can't perform any magic higher than the Intermediate level due to a lack of intuition, so they aren't elites. This makes professors somewhat inadequate. They provide a theoretical framework, but young mages need intuition, which they can't teach. But Deculein was different.

"These seven strokes, this spell, make the fire flow. You might have recognized this pattern," Deculein said.

She knew what Deculein would say next—water. By magically separating the properties of water and applying them to fire, the fire flowed like water. This was the combination of Pure Elements.

"As you can probably tell, this spell uses the properties of water. Fire and water. Combining Pure Elements like this is very difficult, but once you understand the principle, it makes sense."

At that moment, Sylvia felt a shiver down her spine. It was an unexpected and unfamiliar sensation she hadn't experienced in a long time. She was actually learning from Deculein. The only problem was that she hadn't brought any writing instruments, stubbornly believing the lecture wouldn't be useful.

No one would have guessed that Deculein, who envied the most talented young mages, would prepare such a lecture. She had expected herself to be the object of jealousy, not to learn anything from him.

Everyone in the A-Class classroom was already focused on Deculein as if entranced. They were all taking notes, except for Sylvia. She felt anxious. This lecture was something she could apply far better than any of them, something she could learn much more deeply.

Sylvia wondered why they were the only ones studying. Feeling restless, she cautiously reached out her fingers toward the open pencil case of the female mage next to her. Like a spider stalking its prey, Sylvia slowly moved closer.

At that moment, their eyes met shortly. The female mage quickly returned her attention to the lecture, but Sylvia felt a wave of shame at being caught.

Desperate, Sylvia reluctantly released her mana, making sure the magical waves stayed contained so no one else would notice. The mana flowed from her core, coursed through her veins, and finally emerged from her fingertips. What had been purely blue soon changed into various colors, forming the shape of a long, blunt writing instrument—a pencil.

"Therefore, the nature of Scorching Fire is quite complex in a way," Deculein said.

The silent, flickering element was wind. The formless, rising element was smoke, a blend of fire and water. Together, these three elements formed Scorching Fire.

"Fire, water, and wind are purely combined to create this Pure Element magic. Now, let's simplify this Scorching Fire and see what calculations are necessary for its implementation."

Sylvia focused intently on the lecture. For the first time in ages, she devoted all her attention to the face, voice, and teachings of a professor who truly deserved to be called a teacher—something she hadn't done in a long time. For a moment, she recaptured that pure emotion she had lost in her childhood.