Deculein's gaze was always unwavering, piercing straight to the truth. His eyes were direct, as if he believed his direction was the only path. Hesitation, doubt, fear, regret—none of these negative emotions existed within Deculein. He possessed only a confident self-belief, a dogmatic assurance in his own righteousness.
His arrogance and conceit, in the end, became signs of his nobility. Even his flaws appeared aristocratic. Epherene's father, who had taken his own life under Deculein's command, disappeared as if he had never existed, like a mirage blown away by the wind. Deculein remained unscathed, and no one questioned him.
Only Epherene knew the truth and completely loathed him. Despite this, she couldn't meet his gaze. There was an insurmountable barrier between them, an uncrossable limit, like a veil separating them.
A true mage pursues truth without wavering. They remain calm and steady, unaffected by any variables, maintaining a constant focus to find their own answers with cold-blooded determination.
If a mage doubts themselves, relies on others, or succumbs to pressure, they cannot be a true mage. Thus, as much as it was difficult to admit, Deculein might truly be a gifted mage. Perhaps all this time, there had been a misunderstanding, and the magical prowess of the Yukline bloodline had been severely underestimated.
Epherene lowered her head. From the beginning, it was a battle she could not win. Between her, a non-academy student, and him, a professor, lay an immense gap in time, experience, knowledge, and skill. Thinking mere talent could bridge such a gap was the fantasy of a fool ignorant of reality.
"... I'm sorry," Epherene forced out in a strained voice.
Her spirit had crumbled. Fear consumed her, leaving her unable to fight back. She had no choice but to accept her defeat.
"Pathetic," Deculein said.
Epherene's shoulders trembled. She glanced up at him timidly and saw a hint of contempt in his eyes.
"Composure is a fundamental trait for a mage," Deculein continued, his words cutting through her like a blade. "If you can't stay calm over such a trivial task..."
She didn't want to hear it, it felt like her mind was being slashed.
"You'll never escape being a halfwit for the rest of your life."
She wanted to flee. The oppressive atmosphere of the classroom felt suffocating.
"... A mage must remain composed, even when provoked by others. They must stay calm despite repeated failures, overwhelming pressure, or even when their enemy is standing right in front of them."
Epherene shivered all over, a chill running down her spine, her eyes wide as she stared at Deculein. He remained as composed as ever.
"You must always remain cold."
Epherene understood his message.
"Such pitifulness will prevent you from ever reaching the heights you aspire to."
She clenched her fists, feeling a heat rising from deep within her chest—a form of passion.
"You won't even come close to my feet."
Epherene didn't run from his rebuke. She accepted it instead.
"Consider why you haven't faced disciplinary action."
She had entered the tower with confidence, but now she wondered what she had accomplished so far. Since her first day, she had achieved nothing significant and had nearly been expelled for losing her temper.
"I don't need apologies from someone like you."
Epherene felt foolish and immature. She was still a child.
"You disappoint me, Epherene," Deculein said as he placed the clock on the podium and straightened his cuffs, a habitual gesture signaling the end of his lecture. He turned and opened the classroom door. "I truly thought you were a gem.”
Leaving those final words hanging in the air, Deculein departed, but his voice lingered. He did not reveal the expectations he had held or the disappointment he had felt.
Epherene stood silently, replaying his words. The sense of helplessness that had spread through her was already dissipating. She stepped up to the podium where Deculein had stood and looked at the watch he had left behind.
Time was still ticking. Epherene looked at the watch and clenched her teeth.
"... What are you gonna do if you're disappointed," Epherene muttered, grabbing the clock. She turned back to her desk.
"... I can do it," Epherene continued, rolling up her sleeves and focusing her mana. She began once more to control the elements. "I can do it. Your disappointment means nothing to me."
If she couldn't succeed today, she'd work through the night. If not then, she'd try again tomorrow. She wouldn't give up until death. The phrase “give up” no longer existed in her mind. Deculein had erased it completely.
"I can do it too..." Epherene murmured, holding back tears. Instead, she used her strength to draw out her mana, burning her overflowing emotions as fuel. Blood dripped from her nose. "I really can..."
The drops of blood soon transformed into a blooming metallic rose.
I leaned against the wall outside the classroom, thinking. I had devoted nearly seven hours to one person, yet the reason was unclear. Today, there had been no death variable triggered from Epherene. There was no threat of death at all. Epherene had simply been weak, and I disliked seeing her like that. Epherene was a good kid, a clearly virtuous named character.
Back when I was a developer and a player, using a keyboard and mouse, I was far from magic as being a knight class, but I clearly remembered the Luna family. She would undoubtedly grow into a mage central to this world, positively influencing the main quest.
While she lacked many things, such as mental strength and the mindset of a mage, overcoming these wouldn't take much.
Luna was like a spark, ready to ignite with just a bit of kindling or oil. Of course, I might get caught up in those flames, but this game and world have no predetermined future. Fate is merely the belief of those who do not strive, so I believe only in myself.
Therefore, Epherene will not kill me. I will ensure she doesn't. I will prevent her from even considering it, not allowing any pursuit. This rivalry isn't bad. Though unintended, Deculein's personality can be useful in this way. I won't be outdone by a mere Debutant.
"I can do this!" Epherene shouted, her voice echoing from the classroom.
"... Am I a professor or an elementary school teacher?" I muttered, chuckling softly. Despite my muttering, I felt good.
[Side Quest Completed: Your Path]
Unexpectedly, a quest reward popped up, as if someone high above was complimenting my choice today. Suddenly, the classroom door opened, and Epherene burst out. She didn't notice me behind the wall and waddled down the stairs like a penguin, likely burdened by physical strain. I watched her disappear before entering the classroom.
The lecture hall was no longer shrouded in darkness. On Epherene's table, her spells shone brilliantly, preserved in their magical forms. The Will-o'-the-Wisp floated like ghostly flames, the Engulfing Smoke flashed blue like a thundercloud, and the Rising Metal took the shape of a rose. I glanced at the clock on the table.
Six hours and twenty-five minutes. She had achieved this result in just twenty-eight minutes. Jealousy crept in, along with needless irritation.
If I had known it would turn out , I would have been harsher, I reflected.
Just , Deculein's persona refused to be entirely kind. I could only show kindness to a select few, and very few people would ever see me smile. Such a demeanor came at a ridiculously high price. This must be what they call Elitism. It's utterly vile. I pulled out the record sheet and began to write.
Epherene Debutant │ Time Taken: Six hours, Twenty-five minutes, Five seconds
Though she repeated the chronic weaknesses of non-Academy students, the quality of her results was top-notch.
Reason: Time Limit Exceeded (Six hours, Twenty-five minutes)
After dismantling the spells preserved on the table, I walked to the Mage Tower's parking lot. As usual, I was about to get into my car and head home. It was a late night, and the air was chilly. Under the magical streetlights in the vast parking lot, I noticed an unexpected figure. It was a man wearing enough coats for two grown men.
He looked like he had a white tiger draped over him, with broad shoulders and a robust build befitting a warrior. Yet, his handsome face seemed almost incongruous with his massive frame. I recognized him.
Zeit von Bluegang Freyden. As his surname suggested, he was Yulie's older brother by twelve years and the current head of the Freyden family. His neatly styled white hair complemented his distinguished appearance. I grew tense. Zeit was a renowned named character for his immense combat prowess.
In fact, his early-game combat power ranked third, and I had experienced his fearsome reputation indirectly through the monitor. Seeing Zeit in person, he was even larger than LeBron James.
"Head Professor Deculein," Zeit said, his expression stern.
Is it because of Yulie's Snowflower Stone? If so, is this another death variable? There is no way I could counter this monster right now. Pondering this, I approached Zeit.
"Haha, it's good to see you. Running into you here feels different," Zeit continued, suddenly smiling warmly.
"... Indeed," I said, nodding calmly despite my surprise.
"Well, it's nothing serious. I've heard rumors that things between you and Yulie aren't going well, and since I had business at the Imperial House, I decided to visit. I heard you were in class, so I waited here."
Zeit seemed to be in favor of the marriage between Deculein and Yulie, at least for now.
"Don't worry. We'll make sure the wedding is ready within the year. I'll arrange dinner this week."
Zeit wasn't purely evil, but his unwavering loyalty to his family placed him in a gray area. He might seem friendly now, but if I proved harmful to Yulie or the family, he wouldn't hesitate to cut me off.
"A dinner shouldn't be necessary."
Zeit placed a hand on my shoulder and said, "It is necessary. I arranged this engagement, so it's my responsibility."
I instinctively frowned. Seeing my reaction, Zeit withdrew his hand.
"Haha! This is why I like you. The youngsters today only know how to flatter and grovel. But you, you’ve got spirit."
"Even a mage isn't a weakling if they have spirit," Zeit said, laughing heartily and his gaze intense. "You just need to show up. I've picked a restaurant you'll love, so don't worry."
I couldn't think of a way to refuse.
"Since it's late and I have other matters to attend to, I'll be going. By the way, your car is impressive. Next time, give me a ride. Haha," Zeit continued with a chuckle.
Without giving me a chance to refuse, he walked away, still laughing. His broad back was as imposing as ever, no matter how many times I saw it.
I muttered as I got into my car, "... Is he hinting that I should buy a car as part of the dowry?"
My driver, who had been dozing off, snapped awake and grabbed the wheel. Startled, he said, "Sir, you're here!"
"Did you drop off Allen?"
"Oh, I was going to, but he said he was fine and left on his own, sir!"
"Yes, sir! Right away!"
Early the next morning at the three-story mansion near the capital that Yulie had prepared on her own, a quarrel broke out in the courtyard. It was a battle of words, not swords.
“I refuse!” Yulie said firmly.
“Why do you refuse so adamantly?” Zeit asked.
“We recently had an argument. And I’m busy training the knights. I have no time to see him.”
“Are you upset just because he took the Snowflower Stone?”
“I am not upset!” Yulie retorted angrily.
Zeit found it strange that Yulie was making such a fuss over a simple dinner with Deculein, while Yulie was frustrated that her brother didn’t understand.
“Yulie, think about why he bought the Snowflower Stone. That metal can only be used to make weapons. He likely did it for you—”
“If he really intends to make a sword for me, I will call off our engagement the moment he gives it to me.”
A word she had agonized over hundreds of times but never spoken aloud, calling off the engagement. The atmosphere grew heavy. Zeit looked down at Yulie in silence. His formidable presence, standing six foot seven barefoot, and the stature of their family overwhelmed her. Even Yulie, who always stood proud, had to lower her gaze.
“I’ve said before, breaking the engagement is foolish. Even if Deculein’s performance has been lacking lately, Yukline is still our strong ally.”
Zeit had been the one to push for Yulie’s engagement to Deculein ever since their drinking session about three years ago.
“Also, as far as I know, no man loves you as much as Deculein does. Or do you have someone else in mind?”
“... There’s no such person,” Yulie replied.
“Then why are you hesitant? You were the one who said that emotions have no place in an arranged marriage between families. Is Deculein’s poor performance bothering you? It’s common for a mage to have a temporary slump—”
“It’s not about his performance.”
Yulie was a knight. Born to be a knight, she would die a knight. She would lie down on that belief.
“Then what is it about?”
But a knight cannot exist just by themselves. A knight without a lord is merely a warrior. Only when a lord calls their name do they become a true knight.
“It’s been over two years since the engagement. How long do you plan to delay the marriage?”
Her lord was her family, the Freyden. That’s why she accepted this engagement herself.
“I will arrange dinner this week. Deculein will be there, so you can reconcile then,” Zeit said and left.
Yulie, standing idly, soon gripped the sword in the courtyard. The magic imbued in the sword rose coldly, forming crystals that encased the blade. As she swung the sword, a crescent-shaped strike shot out, freezing the area. Before the ice could shatter, she continued her flawless strikes, her elegant swordsmanship carving patterns in the air.
An old injury reopened, but she didn’t care. Yulie’s anger always manifested through her sword. She wielded it with her will alone, cutting through the unseen and sublimating her emotions in the Mortal Realm of her sword. Eventually, even the unbearable became bearable.
Watching his lord from a distance, her knight Veron bit his lip until it bled.