Chapter 24
The entire way back to the dormitory, Ian was bombarded with questions from Milo.
It had been easy to shake off their other classmates, but Milo was different. He was strong, and more importantly, they shared the same room.
“What the hell did you do back there? Where did you learn that spell formula?”
“Is it an Oracle family secret?”
“It wasn’t Firebolt, right? It was Fireball?”
“Why aren’t you answering me? This is infuriating!”
“Eeeean!”
Milo finally shouted loud enough to draw glances from patrolling knights.
Ian sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. “The world has many hidden masters. Humility is the path to longevity.”
“Ha! So what? Are you a hidden master now?”
“Let me ask you this instead, Milo.” Ian replied shamelessly. “Did you assume I’d be magically weak? Just because I’m the Oracle family heir?”
Professor Frost would’ve burst into laughter witnessing this scene. He might’ve even written Ian a Royal Theater recommendation for his acting chops.
Milo promptly clamped his mouth shut.
The implication that the Oracle family—known for theoretical magic—would neglect practical prowess was deeply offensive. Such prejudices were regrettably common. Theoretical mages buried in books often lacked raw magical strength.
“No, that’s not exactly…”
“Be honest. That’s not like you. Spit it out.”
“Fine! Yes! I underestimated you! I thought my magic was stronger!” Milo exhaled as if expelling his soul.
Ian chuckled. How many noble heirs were this emotionally transparent? The contrast with Milo’s burly frame made it oddly charming.
“I’m sorry if I offended you. That was rude.”
“You didn’t. I just wanted to warn against assumptions. If we’d met on a battlefield instead of a training ground, such excuses wouldn’t save you.”
“True enough.”
Ian punched Milo’s shoulder lightly as they resumed walking. The larger boy stopped probing about magical secrets, though his body writhed with suppressed curiosity—a sight that cracked Ian up anew.
They found Edel trimming herbs in the dormitory.
“Back already? That’s early.”
“Don’t ask. Total disaster.”
“Huh? A fight? But martial arts students can’t enter the training grounds…”
“Not that. Him.” Milo jerked his chin at Ian. He then recounted the training ground incident to Edel—with considerable embellishment.
“Whoa… You cracked the training ground walls? That’s insane!”
“Stop exaggerating. It was just dust.” The moment Ian said this, unease prickled his neck. Exaggeration was human nature, but he sensed incoming complications.
Still, if this reaches Helios’ ears…
Ian felt certain of Helios’ disdain. Most warriors avoided mages—elemental unpredictability and rare encounters made such fights dangerous, even with anti-magic Aura. That Helios issued a challenge meant he had hidden confidence.
Buying time can’t hurt. I’d crush him instantly if I could, but Hamel Merchant Group takes priority.
Resolving that entanglement would let him focus on academy life properly.
“Top grades and powerful magic… Ian might graduate as valedictorian,” Edel remarked, cheeks faintly pink as she stared at him.
The sudden eye contact felt oddly charged. Ian averted his gaze.
“If that’s all it takes to be top, this academy isn’t worth much. Would I need potion-making help if I were that amazing?”
“Actually, aren’t we the ones being helped?” Edel’s uncharacteristic assertiveness surprised them. “I learned new potion techniques and got elixirs. Milo received distillation gear. We’re the beneficiaries here.”
“True,” Milo agreed. “And it’s a chance to impress Professor Frost.”
“If you see it that way, I’m grateful.”
“Then show gratitude by spilling secrets! You still haven’t explained!”
“Still not giving up?”
“How could I? If I were some martial arts rookie, maybe! But altering spell formulas mid-cast? Unheard of!”
“I followed my instincts. It felt right.”
“Come on! That’s bullshit!”
Ian knew how absurd it sounded.
He couldn’t reveal his glasses. But once Isera’s paper passed Magic Society review, partial truths would emerge about spell efficiency improvements.
“Lightning and Firebolt have absolute rune structures! Their formulas are perfected like 1+1=2! Even minor errors cause miscasts! Such breakthroughs can’t be accidental!”
“True.”
“...Just ‘true’?!”
Milo gaped as Ian smirked, arms crossed.
“1+1 equals 2. Once something becomes law, people stop questioning. They memorize without understanding. Magic’s the same.”
His throat felt parched. Ian gulped water from a cup, then poured one for Milo.
“But theoretical mages exist to ask—are there exceptions? Alternative laws? Some call it wasted effort, but…”
He pushed the cup toward Milo, who drank obediently.
“I’ve been re-examining basic spells through ancient languages. Found better methods. Is that strange?”
“So… only theoretical mages could do this?”
“Anyone curious enough could. I used ancient maxims as clues.”
“Ancient maxims?”
Milo’s eyes lit up. “You found new interpretations?”
“Not radically different. Ancient texts are inherently ambiguous. I just optimized existing possibilities.”
“If academia learns this…”
Ian dropped his bombshell.
“They will soon. I submitted a paper on new Lightning spell formulas to the Magic Society.”
“What?!”
Both Edel and Milo froze.
Submitting to the Magic Society—a transnational powerhouse with branch Towers across nations, including Sonokin Kingdom’s secluded forest tower—meant potential global recognition if the paper excelled.
“You’re insane! Writing papers right after enrollment?”
“Didn’t do it alone.”
“Then?”
“Senior Isera helped. We’re co-authors.”
“No way…”
Shock compounded shock. The Oracle family, barely clinging to past glory, suddenly making waves?
“Wait! You said you didn’t know her before!”
“Thanks to His Highness, we met. She’s always at the same library spot.”
“Where?”
“Why? Interested?”
When Ian teased, Milo recoiled. “Disgusting! She’d chew me up!”
“True. She’s intimidating,” Edel shuddered.
Ian disagreed. Beneath Isera’s cold exterior might lie warmth. A truly calculating person would’ve stolen full credit. Despite academic espionage being rampant, she’d shared authorship despite his zero writing input—unthinkable in this competitive environment.
“Well then, Student Milo? Any more questions?”
“One last thing.”
“Shoot.”
“What circle are you?”
Asking about magical tiers was taboo, but Milo couldn’t resist—Ian’s training ground performance burned in his memory.
“First circle.”
“First circle?! Bullshit! How?!”
“Truth. See for yourself during the assessment.”
“Ugh…”
Ian left him spluttering and flopped onto his bed.
Milo suspected hidden strength—exactly as Ian intended.
Next day, magic freshmen gathered in the auditorium for power assessments.
“Thanks to someone, second place’s my best hope,” Milo grumbled, trailing behind a cheerfully oblivious Ian.
The atmosphere crackled with tension—a far cry from their united front against martial arts students during orientation. Pure competition now reigned, exactly as professors and the Headmaster desired.
Faculty members stood onstage. Milo pointed leftmost.
“That’s Professor Frost?”
“Yes.”
The sole recognizable professor. A single measurement device dominated the stage—not due to cost, but to maximize competitive fervor.
“Preparations complete, Dean.”
“Good.”
Dean Jessica’s magically amplified voice boomed:
“Everyone—attention!”
Instant silence fell.
