Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Etala, tapping her lips thoughtfully, posed a question to Sirone, “Would you like to demonstrate in the Image Zone?”

Sirone, caught off guard, hesitated. “Pardon? Right now?”

“What’s the matter? Are you not feeling well?”

“No, it’s not that, but…” Sirone trailed off, causing Etala to look at him quizzically.

She remembered the enthusiasm he had shown during their first class, eager to use the Image Zone. Suddenly, it was absent. What’s troubling him? Could it be the pressure from his classmates? He must be more sensitive than I thought.

She recognized that those sure of their capabilities usually remain undisturbed by the judgments of others. People with obvious talent could indeed be isolated, but the cost was often necessary for attaining one’s objectives.

Of course, Sirone remained unaffected by the opinions of others. Yet, unbeknownst to Etala, he wasn’t just under scrutiny but also faced active malice from his peers.

“If you don’t feel ready, it can always wait for another day. You’re the only one in Class Seven who has managed the Spirit Zone Quaternion transitions, so I was curious to see your progress.”

“No, I’ll do it. Please assess my performance,” Sirone insisted, knowing that shying away from Professor Etala’s guidance because of his classmates’ disapproval would be foolish.

As he stepped into the Image Zone, he was met with the expected wave of disparaging remarks from his classmates.

“Hey, look. He’s showing off again.”

“I bet he wants to impress his girlfriend. That’s all he’s good for.”

While his peers harbored feelings of jealousy, the higher-ranked students halted their practice to observe Sirone. A month had passed since Sirone had adeptly demonstrated the defense form, sparking curiosity among them about his current level of proficiency.

“Professor, I’ll start now.”

“Very well. Begin with one at a time.”

As Sirone displayed his defense form, a cube with 144 faces materialized, solid and unyielding. Admiration resonated from the higher-ranked students.

“Just by seeing his defense form, I can tell he’s on par with upper-level classes. It’s like a suit of armor,” remarked one observer.

The more praise he received, the more his classmates in Class Seven seemed to regard him with animosity like he was a public enemy. Yet they couldn’t openly criticize him due to his undeniable skill.

Sirone then switched to the attack form, and an array of sharp thorns materialized.

“He’s quite good at it. He definitely has talent.”

The higher-ranking students in the advanced class were already viewing him as a potential competitor.

As Sirone’s Spirit Zone condensed into a cross-shaped target form, Etala watched with a smile of approval. He has a strong foundation. He might advance to Class Six sooner than expected.

This time, Sirone attempted the isolation form. It was a pattern he hadn’t succeeded in yet, but experiencing failure was necessary if he wanted to receive guidance. Once again, the challenge he faced was formidable. It still won’t work,

Sirone acknowledged as each attempt to separate the Spirit Zone ended with it dissolving. This prompted the previously tense students of Class Seven to relax and jeer.

“What’s he even doing? Is that supposed to be the Spirit Zone Quaternion? It looks like child’s play.”

“Genius? He’s no different from the rest of us. This is what happens when you overhype someone.”

Sirone felt a surge of frustration at their words. Not a single student had managed to execute the isolation form successfully in his class. He wondered why they were holding him to a standard they couldn’t reach. This hypocrisy shook his composure, and his Spirit Zone quivered in response. His classmates didn’t miss the opportunity to pass snide remarks, hoping to see him falter.

Observing the scene, Amy furrowed her brow. “What is he doing?”

She had previously admired the progression of Sirone’s Spirit Zone Quaternion, but now it was visibly unstable.

Seryel offered her take. “I’m not sure. The isolation form is already tough as it is, but it looks like he’s letting the other students get to him.”

“No way. Sirone’s not the type to waver just because of some negative remarks. Those who truly excel are confident in their abilities and know what they have to do.”

“True, but...”

As Amy had indicated, Sirone’s frustration was rooted in more than just the mocking of his classmates. He was grappling with the unsettling nature of envy and hostility he faced.

Why do people desire the unhappiness of others? This bitter taste of rivalry led him to question his understanding of human nature. Why do they hate me? Have I done something to offend them? All I want is to learn and become better. What’s wrong with wanting to be a mage?’

Fueled by frustration, Sirone’s Spirit Zone began to swell uncontrollably, as if on the verge of an outburst.

“Hey, stop overthinking!” A voice from Class Five cut through the tension, jolting Sirone back to reality. “Don’t second-guess yourself. If you have a goal, pursue it. You’re here to become a mage, right?”

The figurative slap of realization accompanied by the voice swept away the fog of anger clouding Sirone’s mind. Regaining his composure, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of awkwardness reflecting on his earlier state of mind.

What am I doing? His aspiration to become a mage had momentarily been clouded by petty distractions. Casting aside the random thoughts, he reaffirmed his resolve. Let’s do it!

Sirone’s Spirit Zone, with its impressive forty-meter expanse, started to recede from its center and shrunk rapidly. He deliberated whether to initiate the detachment or concentrate on the dissolution first. All eyes were on him now—his peers and seniors—each one curious about his next move.

I have to stay strong. I can’t lose consciousness. Sirone held on to his consciousness with unwavering determination. When his Spirit Zone shrank to a mere two meters in diameter, the surface finally detached from his body. The small gap Sirone managed to create between himself and his Spirit Zone sent ripples of astonishment through Class Seven.

“I-I did it... The isolation form!” Half lost in a trance, Sirone rapidly swung his Spirit Zone. “Ugh!” he grunted.

Each second brought an overwhelming flood of information, nearly bursting the confines of his mind. At the precipice of losing consciousness, Sirone’s reflexes snapped him back to reality, and he jerked his eyes wide open.

The Spirit Zone, sensing the shift, quickly dissipated. Panting, he stood firm, heart racing with the exhilaration of a race well run.

“He... did it.”

His success with the isolation form not only stunned his classmates but also reverberated through the ranks of Class Six, where such a feat remained unaccomplished.

“Amazing! He did it, Amy! Sirone really did it!” Seryel exclaimed, gripping Amy’s arm in her excitement.

A genuine smile spread across Amy’s face as she silently offered Sirone her praise. She recognized that his talent might even eclipse her own. However, she didn’t allow jealousy to cloud her thoughts. Instead, she used the moment to introspect on her journey and abilities.

Despite his late start, he had clearly committed himself to intense, daily mental discipline. In comparison, Amy began to doubt the effectiveness of her own efforts. Despite the support she received being nowhere near the level of Sirone’s, she often found herself meandering through back alleys, immersed in deep thought. Why did I waste so much precious time?

Those past moments weren’t completely devoid of value, but looking back, she acknowledged that a clearer direction from the beginning would have been beneficial.

In the meantime, Sirone was on a quest to find the source of the encouraging voice that had resonated with him earlier. Encounters with upperclassmen were infrequent, and identifying someone by voice alone proved challenging. Who could it have been? I want to thank them.

While Sirone was receiving applause, Etala was lost in thought. His growth had not only affected his peers but had also served as an inspiration to the upperclassmen. She considered how this momentum could further energize the classroom atmosphere.

“Hmm... The time has come earlier than expected.”

***

Sirone faced a troubling concern—he was unable to cast magic.

While the school’s curriculum didn’t require Class Seven students to have mastered magic, many of his classmates were already capable of performing spells. Unlike his noble peers who had been educated from birth, Sirone had only started his formal studies a year and a half ago during his time at House Ojent. Nevertheless, he found solace in the unexpected efficiency of his backbone of knowledge.

To him, History was not merely a subject but a vast archive where all knowledge was cataloged in spatial and temporal sequence. His dilemma was that he could dedicate himself to a single discipline, perhaps mastering basic spells, but such a narrow focus would not enable him to catch up with those who had been learning their whole lives.

He realized that choosing and focusing were crucial at this stage. Hence, Sirone reached a decision. For now, I’ll set aside magic.

His strategy was to leverage his strong historical knowledge base to acquire a broad spectrum of information efficiently. Grasping history was akin to mapping out a grid in spacetime itself. To him, it mattered little which field he chose to explore next. They all interconnected logically, securing each piece of knowledge firmly in place and preventing it from slipping away. If he could circumvent the redundancy of rehashing concepts, then he believed this strategy would allow him to gradually close the gap step by step with his peers who had been learning since childhood.

Sirone had become a fixture in the library, poring over books from various fields to the point where it seemed he practically lived among the stacks. His peers often sneered at his habits.

“He’s buried in books again. Does he really think that reading so indiscriminately will make him smarter?”

“What a fool. It’s already difficult just keeping up with classes.”

Sirone was so steadfast in his method that their words didn’t reach him. I won’t let them interfere with my approach. He saw the interconnectedness of disciplines everywhere: the mathematical harmonies in music, the chemistry in gastronomy, the physiology in the culinary arts. Every thread of knowledge was part of a greater tapestry.

As these connections grew more robust, his worldview expanded. His backbone of knowledge became a massive pillar, providing strong support at its core. The benefits might not be obvious right away, but once I grasp it, I’ll be able to understand not only scholarly subjects but the very workings of the world.

Lost in thought after finishing another volume, Sirone glanced around to find the room dimly lit and the clock striking far past midnight. When did it get that late?

In the quiet reading room, only he and a girl from Class Six remained. Despite the solitude, the silence enveloped them like a blanket. Sirone packed up his belongings and offered a quiet gesture of encouragement. Work hard.

The girl, understanding his intent, responded with a shy smile and a nod.

Exiting the library at two in the morning, Sirone let out a weary sigh, considering the mere four hours of sleep awaiting him should he head back to the dorms. He questioned the necessity of sleep at all. Why do humans need to sleep?

A memory surfaced of a book he had read, Conversations of Great Scholars, in which the physiologist Torquolin remarked that humans should ideally get at least six hours of sleep. But he had added humorously, “Well, during my student days, I only slept for four hours.”

To this, the author challenged him, “Doesn’t that mean your claim is incorrect? You became a renowned scholar despite minimal sleep.”

Torquolin had wittily replied, “Teenagers aren’t quite human. They’re more like superhumans. Whether they sleep or not hardly stops them from accomplishing things.”

For Sirone, who viewed even sleeping hours as a loss of precious time, Torquolin’s words served as great encouragement. Yeah, I’ll work hard. I’ll do everything I can. The results will take care of themselves.

The graduating class building was still ablaze with lights. Observing the flickers through the windows, signs of late-night experiments still in progress, Sirone pondered, What new chapter of history is being crafted inside there?

His gaze lingered on the graduating class building, a symbol of the future he was striving toward.

***

Etala took advantage of the lunch break to approach Sienna. Despite being peers and colleagues for four years, they maintained a mutual respect.

“Professor Sienna, may I have a moment of your time?”

“Yes, of course. But I must attend a Class Seven lesson soon, so our discussion will have to be brief.”

Understanding that their magical debates typically lasted well over an hour, Sienna’s time limitation was perfectly clear to her. In fact, Etala seemed to find the brevity of their available time preferable for the discussion at hand.

“I see. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something concerning Sirone from Class Seven.”

Sienna’s interest was piqued at the mention of Sirone. She had heard whispers of his exceptional performance in practical exercises despite his theoretical shortcomings.

“How has he been doing lately? I’ve noticed his practical scores are quite remarkable.”

“Indeed, they are. He recently managed to execute the isolation form.”

“I see.” Sienna’s face lit up with a contented smile.

From a professor’s viewpoint, instructing a talented student was not just a task but a coveted opportunity. The gratification was amplified when they were the first to unearth and nurture the student’s true potential.

“There’s something I’d like to propose regarding Sirone,” Etala ventured.

“A proposal?” Her interest deepened, knowing that it wasn’t often that Etala came forward with suggestions.

With her colleague’s full attention, Etala prepared to share her idea, which promised to be as intriguing as it was unconventional. Sienna waited expectantly for her to elaborate.