The Obsessive Regressor of The Academy

13. The Academy? (2)

Luminous Academy.

Built near the Empire’s capital, it was already a city unto itself, a symbol of the finest educational institution on the continent.

Entry was notoriously difficult, but the variety of careers open to graduates was almost absurdly vast. Graduates received respect wherever they went, and most of the Empire’s officials were alumni of this prestigious school. There was a reason the nobles gnashed their teeth trying to get in.

And into such a place, they would enroll a mage affiliated with the Witch’s Circle.

More precisely, they would enroll the most talented individual from Wiheim. The Witch’s Circle or the Alliance were largely irrelevant. It just so happened that the most outstanding mage who had recently come of age was Ena’s disciple, affiliated with both the Circle and the Alliance. The subject wasn’t raised to specifically torment her.

In fact, various magical organizations had recently been sending their young mages to Luminous Academy. It was akin to studying abroad, a way for them to avoid being trapped in a well, to wander the world and forge connections. It was quite the trend. The difference was that the Alliance had been doing it for a while.

It was all due to a contract between the first Alliance leader and the Academy Headmaster.

There wasn’t some grand incident. The Alliance had asked the Headmaster, an old friend, for help in building the city of Wiheim. In return, the Headmaster requested that any young, talented mage who emerged should be sent to the Academy.

It was hardly a difficult request, so the Alliance Leader readily agreed.

This promise, which began as a favor and expanded into a contract, had continued to this day.

The Academy and Wiheim enjoyed a relatively amicable relationship because of it.

However, the current Alliance Leader had been feeling a twinge of guilt about this friendship lately. For years, no exceptionally talented young mage had appeared to send to the Academy. The only mages around were wizened middle-aged or elderly individuals. They might have looked young on the outside, but their souls were old.

And then, like rain after a drought, there was Asel. They hadn’t spoken directly, but the Alliance and the Circle had already witnessed the exceptional level of magic he wielded at the exchange event between the two. The Leader believed he was undoubtedly the most suitable candidate for admission to the Academy.

So, he cast his vote, and Asel won with a resounding margin, as he expected.

It was a joyous occasion. The Leader felt like getting up and dancing, but position demanded decorum. Maintaining a solemn facade, he continued the meeting.

And this was the result.

“…”

Norium, the Alliance Leader, met Ena’s piercing blue gaze and sighed deeply.

“Senior, why are you like this? This is a great opportunity for Asel, too.”

It was an odd sight, an elderly mage addressing a girl-like Ena as “Senior.” But no one expressed surprise at this. Instead, they swallowed nervously or simply observed the situation with keen interest.

“Besides, he’s going to leave Wiheim and wander the world someday. You know how important it is for a mage to experience the outside world as soon as possible, Senior.”

“That’s my decision to make. Not the Alliance’s.”

“…Well, that is a fair point.”

Norium grimaced, muttering something under his breath. It was, admittedly, peculiar not to seek Ena’s opinion on her disciple, Asel. He asked, forcing a bright smile,

“May I send him, then?”

“Are you jesting with me?”

“This isn’t working, is it.”

Norium threw aside all pretense of solemnity, reverting to his usual self as he sprang to his feet. The sight elicited gasps of eager anticipation from those observing the confrontation between Ena and Norium.

Both Ena and Norium were Archmages, having attained the Eighth Circle. Two beings categorized as asymmetric warfare assets wherever they went, facing each other in opposition.

“Come now, Senior. Isn’t this a tad…overprotective? Other mages assign their disciples monster hunts as homework, no less!”

“Do you truly believe Asel requires such a thing?”

“Hmm. Perhaps not… Ah, then I shall ask the reverse. Is there, perhaps, anything *more* you could teach Asel?”

“Much. I intend to impart lightning magic directly, at his side.”

“You are aware that excessive interference may prevent Asel from awakening his own unique magical signature, are you not? I trust you would not wish to limit your disciple’s potential.”

“…There is still much I can teach him.”

“Such as what? From what I’ve seen, his handling of circuits, core, and mana rivals even our own.”

“…Regardless, there is much.”

“Honestly.”

The exchange had gone on for quite some time. Norium, with a look of utter weariness, shook his head and raised a single finger.

That simple gesture caused mages to swallow nervously. Though a death match was unlikely, the possibility of a display of power was certainly present. Clashes of opinion among prideful mages often escalated into outright physical conflict.

The mages shifted in their seats, anticipating the battle.

But their expectations were splendidly defied. Rather than projecting mana, Norium, who had risen, merely pointed at Ena and stalked out of the chamber.

The faces of the mages remaining slackened with bewilderment, while Ena’s features twisted with displeasure. Norium, observing this, bellowed.

“You wait right there! I shall inquire directly of Asel himself!”

“…What?”

“Ultimately, his own will is paramount!”

*Crackkk.*

Norium drew his extended finger down vertically. A fissure opened in space, mirroring the gesture.

An Eighth Circle Spatial Mage. A monster who had mastered spatial magic, requiring extreme difficulty and talent, to its very limits. He hurled himself into the rift and vanished from the conference hall. Ena, lips pressed into a firm line, dove after him through the shattered wall.

*KRA-KoooM!!*

A bolt of pure white lightning tore through the skies above Wiheim.

“….”

“Shall we perhaps grab a bite to eat?”

In the emptied meeting hall, the Grand Mages gone, one of the assembled wizards spoke, and everyone nodded in agreement.

“Let’s do it.”

“I know a good place. I’ll show you the way.”

“Then we’re in your hands.”

That day, a raucous drinking session amongst high-ranking mages unfolded on the streets of Wiheim.

*

*Crack!*

The space beside where Asel stood abruptly tore open. Startled, Asel instinctively chanted a spell, extending his hand towards the ruptured dimension.

[Crimson Fire Fan]

A spell completed in an instant. All-consuming flames, rapidly growing in size, shot forth in a fan-like arc.

The sudden burst of fire sent those attending the party scrambling back with cries. Skilled mages narrowed their eyes, summoning their own mana, while Irina, standing beside Asel, exhaled a plume of smoke. The smoke swiftly coalesced into hundreds of daggers.

“Hm?”

Just as she was about to unleash them across the rift, Irina sensed a familiar trace of mana within the torn space.

She didn’t need long to consider. As far as she knew, only one mage dabbled in spatial magic and possessed such an unsettling aura.

Irina sighed deeply, cancelling her spell. The daggers reverted to smoke, sucked back into the end of her pipe, and she inhaled deeply.

“Hmm.”

At that moment, a face popped out from beyond the tear.

A face thoroughly blackened by soot. Part of his braided, snow-white beard was charred black, his cheeks and chin glowed an angry red. Black smoke billowed forth as he opened his mouth. Asel’s eyes widened as he recognized the owner of the bizarre visage.

“…Master?”

“Long time no see, Asel. Ahem, cough… your magic remains considerable, I see. Had I not employed spatial distortion, my head would be ash. Haha.”

Norium flashed a benevolent smile, stepping clumsily through the rift.

With a snap of his fingers, his dishevelled appearance reverted to that of a tidy mage. He stroked his beard, looking down at Asel.

“Congratulations on coming of age. Is it already eight years since you arrived here?”

“…That’s right. Time flies.”

Asel answered with an awkward smile.

Three years prior, he had briefly seen the Master during an exchange between the Witches’ Circle and the Alliance, but this was the first time they had spoken directly. Considering the other man’s status and power, feeling nervous at merely exchanging words was, in some ways, only natural.

Norium narrowed his eyes.

“What’s your current rank?”

“Sixth Circle.”

“Ho, Sixth Circle after only eight years of serious magic study. And without any practical experience or epiphanies, no less? You’re a real prodigy, that’s for sure.”

“It is thanks to an overindulgent mentor,”

Assel said with a faint smile. Norium was enjoying their conversation until the word “mentor” escaped Assel’s lips, drawing his attention.

“Ah, right. Assel, you…”

“…? Yes. What is it?”

“Have you considered enrolling in the Luminous Academy?”

“…The Academy, you say?”

Assel murmured, glancing sidelong at Irina.

‘So, *this* is his way of congratulating me on my advancement.’

He left Irina, puffing away on her long pipe, to mull over Norium’s proposition.

He knew the Luminous Academy well enough. He had seen it in books, and occasionally conversed with mages who hailed from it. He could confidently claim to possess a certain level of knowledge about it.

However, talk of enrollment was another matter entirely. He had always believed it to be something outside his world, but an unexpected opportunity now presented itself.

‘It doesn’t sound too bad, does it?’

It wasn’t that he had grown weary of life in Wiheim. He had never harbored a single complaint during his time there, and the bonds he had forged were precious to him. It had come to feel more like home than the remote mountain village where he was born.

But he also yearned to leave Wiheim and wander the world.

For mages, experience was as crucial as it was for warriors. The nature of one’s life and pursuits shaped their inner world and the uniqueness of their magic. It was the sole similarity between auras and mana, rooted not in talent, but solely in one’s life and philosophy.

There was a reason why mages often drifted as mercenaries or wandering scholars. Those whose skills had matured, who possessed confidence in their magic, and desired growth, would leave their cradle and roam the world. Those who failed to do so, settling for the comfort of the present, saw their potential diminish considerably.

Assel was an unusual case. A 6th Circle mage, living and sleeping in Wiheim, doing nothing but casting magic? It was enough to make mages who had roamed the world foam at the mouth and throw a fit.

A 6th Circle mage was a talent welcomed anywhere. Capable of manifesting high-level magic, effortlessly wielding mid-level spells, and drawing upon low-level magic as naturally as breathing. Considering that the minimum requirement for the Academy’s entrance exam was the 4th Circle, it was an incomparably higher level.

‘But, remaining in this state will make reaching the 7th Circle impossible.’

From the 7th Circle onward, one not only developed their own unique magical system, but also imbued their magic with their inner world, granting it uniqueness. Ena’s endless barrage of white lightning was a result of this manifestation of uniqueness. It was a realm that could never be reached by sitting in a room, casting magic.

*KWA-AA-AANG!!*

Was it because he was thinking of Ena? The sound of lightning striking the roof of the mansion echoed. Assel briefly looked up at the ceiling, then returned his thoughts, noting Norium’s anxious expression.

‘I have no intention of remaining in the 6th Circle. My goal is the 8th Circle, or even beyond.’

Having embarked on the path of magic, fueled by an unceasing interest, enjoyment, and intellectual curiosity, Assel yearned to reach not only the 8th Circle, the realm of archmages, but also the 9th Circle, which no one had attained except for those called “Great Sages.” It was an ideal realm that every mage dreamed of – a stepping stone to transcendence.

It was a realm that still seemed distant, but if he steadily climbed the steps, he could reach it. He wasn’t sure about the 9th Circle, but he felt like he could reach the 8th Circle after a few years of roughing it. Of course, he had to get to the 7th Circle first, but Assel wasn’t too concerned with the immediate next level.

It wasn’t arrogance. It was confidence. He trusted his talent, and it had never betrayed him. He was certain that he could reach the next Circle in 5 years through research alone, or in less than 2 years by traveling. Even that was a rough estimate. Perhaps it would take even less time.

He didn’t even imagine it taking longer.

There was nothing more foolish than wasting his brainpower on such an absurd possibility.

‘In the end, the foundation of everything is gaining experience.’

His chain of thought came to an end.

Acel nodded, his gaze fixed on Norium.

“Very well. I accept…the enrollment.”

“Good! You’ve thought it through brilliantly!”

It was a thought he would have arrived at eventually, regardless. Unable to remain satisfied with his current station, he’d have left Wiheim for growth, whether as a mercenary or a dungeon delver. The method had simply become academy enrollment.

“What would you have me do?”

Acel inquired, and Norium was about to answer, when…

“Acel!”

*KRAK-oooM!!*

A bolt of pure white lightning slammed down beside Acel, and Ena materialized. She glared at Norium, conjuring crackling electricity in both hands.

“You damned b*stard… you layered spatial distortion on the estate?”

“Did I? Heh heh, old age makes the memory hazy.”

Norium replied glibly, scratching his cheek. Ena grit her teeth and stepped forward, as if to shield Acel.

Rarely did Ena express any emotion, let alone the fierce fury now erupting outwards through her actions and her magic. Lightning laced the air, and Ena growled out a warning.

“Get lost. My leniency as a Guildmaster ends now.”

“Very well. I shall take my leave then. I’ve already received my answer, after all.”

“…What?”

Ena whipped around to face Acel at Norium’s words. Acel swallowed hard under her harsh gaze. He’d never seen his teacher in such a rage, and it was…intimidating.

“I’ll be going. And Acel, I’ll inform you of the entrance exam schedule later.”

With that, Norium tore open a rift in space and vanished beyond it. But Ena didn’t even spare him a glance. She spun back to Acel, grabbing his neck and pulling him close.

“Ugh.”

“…”

Their eyes met, inches apart. Close enough to feel each other’s breath. A distance that might make one’s heart flutter with anticipation, but Acel’s heart was hammering with dread.

“T-Teacher?”

“…”

“…Ena-nim?” (Honorific title)

“…Come to my room tonight.”

Ena said those words, then released Acel and trudged back to her room. Acel didn’t even think to straighten his disheveled clothes, only watched Ena’s listless back as she disappeared.