Surviving the Magic Academy With Just Intelligence Stats

The human union empire, a thousand years ago...

The Hero Rothschild sat on his chair. He had white hair and his body looked frail, a white blindfold covered his eyes, yet he was still able to read the battle report spread before him.

A woman stood beside him, her features bearing a subtle resemblance to his own. Sophie's gaze followed the same lines of text as his, her presence silent yet unwavering as they absorbed the details of countless battles raging simultaneously across distant territories.

After scrutinizing every word, Rothschild placed the papers down on the wooden table before him. His hands trembled slightly as he sank into deep contemplation.

He thought to himself that the ancient gods were really ruthless. When he had performed his first calculation years ago, he had realized that humanity could never win this war. That realization had spurred him to unite the entire human race, a monumental feat that many had deemed impossible.

Yet the moment humans ceased fighting amongst themselves, new threats emerged. The demons launched their assaults, and worse still, they'd managed to entangle the beastmen in the conflict. He sighed as he remembered the promise he had made to the fox clan princess, it seemed he couldn't keep the promise after all. He hoped she wouldn't blame him too harshly; his hands were also tied.

Rothschild leaned back in his chair, his gaze directed toward the ceiling. In that instant, something extraordinary happened—his mind expanded beyond mortal limitations, his cognitive abilities enhanced infinitely as he began calculating possibilities.

In his brain, Simulation 1 unfolded: They successfully convinced the beastmen to ally against the demons. Victory came, but at a catastrophic cost—millions dead on both sides, civilizations reduced to ash, survivors left to rebuild from almost nothing.

Simulation 2: They focused on defensive strategies, building impenetrable fortifications around human territories. The demons besieged them for decades, resources dwindled, and eventually, the walls fell from within—some people switching sides out of desperation.

Simulation 3: They tried making peace with the demons, offering territorial concessions in exchange for peace. They succeeded initially but slowly, the demons began to reveal their true intentions.

Simulation 4: Assassinations of key demon leaders, creating chaos in their command structure. The resulting power vacuum birthed something worse—an entity of pure malevolence that unified the demons with religious fervor, a demon god was born.

The simulations continued, thousands upon thousands of potential futures examined and discarded. Simulation 99999999999 revealed yet another path to failure.

His consciousness returned to his body. Sophie's slender fingers massaged his shoulders gently. Despite her attentiveness, her voice remained devoid of emotion when she spoke.

"My lord, you're back," she observed, the words flat and mechanical. "How did it go?"

Rothschild could only sigh in response.

"That bad?" she inquired, moving from behind him to fetch a glass of water. Her movements were graceful and efficient as she crossed the room, her footsteps nearly silent against the stone floor.

As she slowly approached him with the drink, Rothschild broke the silence.

"Sophie," he called, his voice soft.

Though startled by the unusual tone in which he spoke her name, she continued her approach without breaking stride.

"Let's give up," Rothschild declared.

The shock of his statement caused Sophie's usually perfect composure to shatter. The glass slipped from her fingers, shattering against the floor.

She immediately dropped to her knees, gathering the sharp fragments with her bare hands. "That's not funny, master," she replied, her voice trembling with emotion she rarely displayed.

"Sophie, I'm tired," Rothschild admitted.

In her surprise, Sophie's usually careful movements faltered, and a shard of glass sliced into her finger. She barely noticed the injury, collecting every piece before disposing of them in the nearby bin. She returned to Rothschild, embracing him from behind.

"Master, let's run..." she suggested, her voice gradually transforming, shedding its emotionless quality as genuine feeling seeped into her words.

"If we..." she began, but Rothschild silenced her by placing his hand atop her head.

"It's not that easy," he explained, his tone gentle yet resolute. "The ancient gods won't rest as long as I'm alive. There is nowhere we can run to."

"But the goddess of light and the spirit queen..." Sophie attempted to argue.

"I don't know what the Source saw in me, calling me the chosen hero," Rothschild interrupted. "I tried my best to live up to the title." He paused for a moment before he continued, "Although I'm doing this because I don't want the people to suffer, the truth is, when I thought of this solution, I was glad at first..."

Sophie's eyes widened at this confession. "Master..."

"Sophie," Rothschild continued, undeterred, "I've worked so much to be a hero. Do you think I was a hero?"

"What do you mean? Master is and always will be a true hero in my eyes," she insisted with unexpected passion. "I'm sure the others think that way too."

"Is that so?" His voice had grown alarmingly weak. "Then... will you let this hero rest?"

With those words, his hand fell away from her head, his body suddenly limp. Sophie raised her head, horrified to find Rothschild's form slumping forward toward her. She caught him against her chest, holding him close.

Sophie embraced him as tears finally broke through her composed exterior as she sobbed quietly.

After what seemed like an eternity, she gathered herself and lifted his body in her arms. The sorrow in her eyes hardened into something stern and resolute.

[I won't let it end this way]

And then, carrying Rothschild's body, Sophie vanished from the room.

…

In the spirit region,

Sophie walked up towards the royal palace of the spirit queen. In her arms, she carried Rothschild's lifeless body, her face expressionless.

As she ascended the path, spirits materialized to block her way. Without pausing, Sophie's form emanated a pulsing forcefield that expanded outward in waves. The barrier collided with the approaching spirits, flinging them backward as though they were merely leaves caught in a violent gale. Their bodies slammed against marble walls and stone columns, leaving faint wisps of spiritual essence trailing behind them.

Undeterred, Sophie continued her ascent up the grand staircase leading to the palace entrance. With each step she took, more spirits converged upon her. But none could penetrate the invisible shield that surrounded her. She repelled them effortlessly, not even acknowledging their existence.

The commotion drew even more attention. Spirits gathered in increasing numbers, surrounding her on all sides, ready to strike.

But before they could make another move, a commanding voice cut through.

"Let her through."

Although the voice was soft, it carried the unmistakable authority of the spirit queen. Instantly, the spirits bowed deeply toward the palace before dispersing, clearing the path ahead. Not a single one dared to question the command.

Sophie continued walking until she stood in the royal throne room, face to face with the spirit queen herself. The queen observed her for a moment before she realized what was in her hands. In the blink of an eye, she appeared directly in front of Sophie, but Sophie showed no surprise or fear at this display of power.

With gentle fingers, the queen caressed Rothschild's cold face, "So this is what you chose in the end," she whispered. After a moment of contemplative silence, she turned her attention to Sophie. "What brings you here?"

[I want to ask a favor] Sophie replied.

[Is this the way to ask someone a favor?] the queen challenged, gesturing to the destruction Sophie had left in her wake.

Sophie remained silent, her face unreadable as she held the queen's gaze without flinching. The queen let out a sigh, returning to her throne in an instant.

"Anyway, I know what you want, but I can't help you," she declared from her elevated position. "This is what the hero chose."

At these words, Sophie's eyes began to glow with an eerie blue light.

[What if I wasn't asking anymore?] she spoke in a threatening tone.

A smirk curved the queen's lips. "Are you threatening me, little girl?" she asked, amusement evident in her tone.

[What do you think?]

The queen's smirk widened into something more predatory. In a movement too swift to follow, she materialized directly behind Sophie, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You're a thousand years too young, kid. Out of respect for the hero, I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Now scram before I change my mind."

Instead of retreating, Sophie carefully placed Rothschild's body on the ground before her. To the queen's utter shock, the corpse did not collapse but remained standing on its own.

"Y-you..." The queen stuttered, momentarily rendered speechless.

[The master and I share an origin,] Sophie explained, her voice calm despite the incredible display of power. [Although he separated it because he didn't want my life to be linked to his, it doesn't change the fact that we were once one.]

Her next words emerged simultaneously from both her mouth and Rothschild's, [I want you to consider your next choice of words carefully. Otherwise...]

The queen stared at Sophie in horror, "Are you really going to do this?" she demanded. "You're going to ruin everything the hero worked for."

Sophie's just smiled as she stroked Rothschild's white hair.

"He's not a hero anymore," she stated with quiet finality. "He is Ambrose Rothschild."

[VOLUME 3 END]