Chapter 15
‘What conclusion have you reached?’
Ian hesitated momentarily before the mana measuring device. Unforeseen events kept unfolding.
During his earlier meeting with Professor Frost, he’d learned that while his father had studied with the professor, their relationship hadn’t been particularly close.
‘Yet the professor seems to know about my mana problem somehow.’
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have positioned Ian before this secluded laboratory’s measuring device. Ian sifted through his memories again.
The name “Frost” wasn’t one he’d heard from his father’s lips, but rather from papers shelved in their library.
‘But that doesn’t mean I have reason to avoid this.’
Professor Frost was someone who viewed Prince Helios’ opposition from a different perspective. While Count Cage approached matters politically, the professor focused entirely on Ian himself.
The reason remained unclear.
Refusing the measurement now would seem odd. More importantly, offending Professor Frost wasn’t an option.
“Do I simply place my hand here?”
“Yes. Once positioned, channel mana. The device will react. Clear your mind as if meditating.”
Ian rested his hand and closed his eyes.
All mana gathers in the heart.
The body’s blood vessels converge there. Magical texts note that mana’s focal points have shifted historically—ancient practitioners sometimes concentrated power in their dantian.
Some even drew atmospheric mana directly rather than storing it internally.
Modern mages universally focus mana in the heart.
Some call it tradition, others efficiency.
But magic holds no absolute truths. In centuries or millennia, mana utilization may change entirely—perhaps even in the near future.
Oooom…
The orb hummed eerily as azure light flooded its core. Professor Frost observed silently, arms crossed.
The orb flickered—the moment everything shifted.
Whoosh…
The rising blue light abruptly dimmed. The professor’s eyes glinted strangely.
“Hmm. As expected.”
The dwindling glow vanished completely just as Ian opened his eyes.
“Is it done?”
“Yes. Read the result below.”
“……”
Ian stared at the indicator’s stark message:
― Below Standard
A sigh escaped him. He’d long anticipated this outcome, vowing not to falter even when confronting it directly.
Yet seeing it spelled out left him hollow. Reality was merciless.
Meanwhile, Professor Frost’s lips curved faintly. Ian burned to ask: Is this your idea of entertainment?
“Just as I predicted. You intended to face Prince Helios in this state?”
“How did you know?”
“Don’t mistake my intent. I simply needed confirmation. This conversation requires privacy—shall we move?”
“Of course.”
The professor reset the device and led them to his study. For the first time, he offered Ian tea. Steam curled from the cup, softening the room’s austerity into something almost welcoming.
“Thank you.”
“Your impressions?”
Ian sipped, smiling. “More than impressions—I want to know how you anticipated my condition.”
“Impatient as ever.”
“I suspect there’s history I’m unaware of.”
“From over a decade past. Concerning your father.”
Professor Frost inclined his head graciously.
“As mentioned earlier, your father occasionally praised your intellect. More frequently, he posed... unusual questions about mana aggregation disorders.”
“What sort?”
“Treatment inquiries. He never named you, but I suspected. No logical basis—mere intuition. When I heard of your clash with Helios, verification became urgent. Had my guess been correct, your life would be at risk.”
“It is. As you witnessed today, my mana manifestation is flawed.”
“Circles?”
“One.”
Circles denote crystalline mana clusters in the heart. More circles mean purer mana and stronger spells. High-tier magic demands greater reserves—impossible with few circles. Conversely, advanced mages amplify basic spells through superior mana quality. Thus circles measure magical prowess.
“Your father’s count?”
“Four. He prioritized spellcraft over circle accumulation.”
“No need for defense—as a theoretical mage myself, I know circles matter little in our field.”
“My apologies.”
“Natural to be protective. Still, one circle remains problematic regardless of talent.”
“I haven’t been idle.”
“Your efforts?”
“Since my parents’ disappearance, I’ve tried accumulating circles. Yet One remains my limit.”
“I see.”
The professor lapsed into thought before continuing:
“The academy will soon conduct mana evaluations for all magic students. You’re aware?”
“Yes.”
“By opposing Helios, you’ve gained notoriety. Many discuss you. A rematch seems inevitable once Count Cage’s investigation concludes.”
This mirrored what Milo had shared. The professor paused, stroking his teacup. Ian studied his face unabashedly.
“Great mages possess vast mana, yet abundance alone doesn’t define greatness. History proves this paradox—magic’s inherent irony. Our inability to resolve it maintains magic’s mystique. Lacking mana isn’t shameful… except in environments like academia.”
“I’ll undergo evaluation willingly. Taunts mean nothing. I’ll settle matters with Helios too—no retreat.”
Professor Frost narrowed his eyes at Ian’s unflinching gaze.
“Do you enjoy philosophy?”
“My understanding is limited, but yes.”
“A simple question: Do you believe fate is predetermined or malleable?”
Ian had contemplated this often. Now at the academy, clarity emerged:
“The future is forged.”
“Indeed. Thus clinging to theoretical magic isn’t necessary. Your current path stems from circumstance, not passion?”
“Truthfully, yes.”
“You hunger for strength?”
“Not hunger… an inner thirst.”
The professor’s attentive silence encouraged candor.
“Father always said great magic requires more than raw power. But inner voids demand filling. Lately, my thirst concerns mana growth. I wish to cultivate mine further.”
“Mana aggregation disorder is rare but documented. As Oracle heir, you’ve likely reviewed standard texts. However, our Great Library holds older archives—even preserved ancient manuscripts. Your future hinges on effort. Understand?”
“I’ll try.”
“Admirable courage, Ian Oracle. Some advice then: You assume evaluation will invite mockery. Correct?”
“Yes.”
“That’s prejudice. An inferiority complex—common among prestigious heirs. The Oracles’ theoretical reputation made you fear congenital failure. Time fossilized these fears into expected ridicule—a mirage of circumstance, not reality.”
“……Weakness invites scorn here as much as poor swordsmanship in Martial Arts. You deny this?”
“No.”
The professor’s bluntness stunned Ian into silence.
“Did nothing feel unusual during measurement?”
“Not particularly.”
“‘Clear your mind meditatively’ implies the inverse—failure to do so skews results.”
Ian’s eyes widened.
“You mean… results can be manipulated?”
“Naturally.”
“But that’s—”
“No rulebreaking. Assessments are ceremonial. No penalties for withheld strength.”
The revelation staggered Ian. Years of struggle suddenly seemed absurd. ‘Was his test recommendation meant to demonstrate this?’
Ian’s mind raced. He’d stand calmly before the device. When “Below Standard” flashed—a rarity in Magic Department—he’d exit unfazed. Whispering crowds would assume concealed power. Confidence was key—no flinching, deflecting questions with smiles.
‘Worth attempting. Bluffing pressures opponents holding better cards.’
“I’ll heed your advice, Professor.”
