[625] Prajna's Magic (2)
A massive light swallowed Infercus, and endless flashes surged inward.
Kraaaaar!
Because it was the apex creature, the dragon's screams only deepened the nameless terror.
"14 percent! 11 percent!"
At the analysts' shouts, the spectators didn't even blink—fists clenched tight.
'Could this actually be happening?'
An event counted among the handful in history and myth was replaying before their eyes.
Krrr!
Inside the storm of enormous mass, Infercus writhed wickedly.
"Mana is recovering! 13 percent! 15 percent!"
"You old eccentric. Why would you set it to concentrate mana?"
Complaining about realism only proved the program hadn't been designed to be cleared.
"17 percent! 19 percent! It keeps rising!"
As Infercus's head bowed lower toward the ground, the contestants, drained of color, armed their spells.
"Damn it! Hang on! Focus all fire!"
While everyone's eyes were fixed on the dragon, only Shirone turned his body and moved toward a corner.
"No."
the hooded woman said.
"He won't hold."
Kieeeee!
Infercus arched its back so far in an attempt to concentrate mana and escape the quasar that its spine seemed to bend.
"It's condensing. It's past the critical point."
As Baikal had said, the quasar's shrinking size actually began to raise the force of the impact.
"9 percent! 7 percent!"
In that instant, the dragon's body twisted.
"4 percent! 2 percent! 1 percen—!"
Elizabeth's rising cry cut off; her pupils quivered in shock.
Kraaaaar!
The dragon—valued at 360 million magicle—was being drawn in after the quasar as it collapsed to a point.
Kieee….
The scream faded like a distant memory, and everyone in the Colosseum froze in stunned silence.
"They really did it. They killed the dragon…."
- Extreme Survival Evaluation complete. Final survivors: 28. The second evaluation will begin shortly.
In that unreal silence, the contestants' first glance went to Shirone.
He sat with his eyes closed, preparing for the next test; the focus radiating from him sent shivers down their spines.
"Bravo—!"
A foreign scout in the VIP section jumped to his feet.
"Bravo!"
As if on cue, scouts from many countries shouted praise in their tongues, and the crowd rose in applause.
The thunderous clapping shook the Colosseum, but Baikal remained motionless.
'Is this your answer, Shirone?'
Elizabeth, barely containing her excitement, turned to him.
"Judge, give us your assessment."
When the applause ebbed, Baikal—lost in thought until then—finally opened his measured mouth.
"S class."
Lala smiled as she recorded the grade.
"Amazing. Clearing the tenth stage. I've never felt this moved while scouting."
Baikal asked Elizabeth, "Check the records for the entire Kingdom of Tormia. Has anyone ever cleared stage ten?"
"There is a record."
Elizabeth's eyes flashed blue.
"Nineteen years ago, someone from Alpheas School of Magic cleared stage ten—the first in the kingdom. It was also a first-round evaluation; the final survivors numbered fifteen."
"Nineteen years ago. Who was the top graduate then?"
She blinked and pulled up the info.
"Mikea Gaold."
Baikal knew the name—the former head of the Magic Association—well enough.
"…Trying to follow a madman's footsteps, huh?"
- Selection for the second graduation exam evaluation begins now. One of the five events, excluding Extreme Survival, will be chosen.
Even after an incident that rewrote the school's history, the system remained indifferent.
"Bah, what fools. On a day like this you should give the contestants more rest! You're ruining a great match," a middle-aged man grumbled, and the hooded woman muttered, leaning her head on her fist.
"We didn't come here just to fight for the sake of fighting…."
The man's face creased. "Hey, miss. You've been muttering. If you have something to say, say it to me directly—don't just mumble and refuse to use honorifics. Who are you, anyway?"
The hooded woman snapped her head around. "And who are you? You don't look like a parent."
"Oh? You don't know me?"
The man proudly took a three-year-old issue of Spirit magazine from his bag and opened it. The special feature headline read:
Poltar, a Man Who Loves Magic, Reflects on 27 Years as a Private Scout
"Ah?"
"See? This is my thirtieth year. The Creas branch of the Magic Association even gives me a special observer pass."
"The Association, huh? Impressive."
"Of course. Magic is my life. I keep meticulous records—regulated magic's evolution, every Alpheas graduate's history."
"That's incredible. With that passion, why not become an official scout?"
Poltar's eyes softened. "I once dreamed of becoming a mage in my youth, but life doesn't always go your way."
"A particular reason?"
He turned away sadly. "I can't get into the Spirit Zone."
"...."
"I memorized the fundamentals inside and out, but it still won't take. Even after thirty years it's difficult. Sometimes it almost works…"
The woman looked straight ahead without answering.
"By the way, who are you? Unless you're an official, you need the Association's approval to observe."
"Me? I'm a student here."
"Oh, you're in the advanced class."
No wonder her words felt out of the ordinary.
"Then you should be watching with your friends. Why sit here alone?"
"Just… I don't really know anyone, so…."
Poltar looked at her with pity. "Oh dear. Are you being left out?"
"Yes… well, something like that."
He patted her back. "Keep your chin up! Dream big! Work hard and who knows—maybe you'll become the best mage in the world! You're still young!"
'Not that young, though…' She didn't bother correcting his patronizing tone.
"Ha! Today's the best! It's been ages since a graduation exam this exciting!"
An announcement sounded. - Deciding the second evaluation event.
A circular hologram appeared above the contestants' heads. With Extreme Survival slot darkened, an arrow spun through the five remaining events.
'How recovered is he, anyway?'
What everyone worried about most while waiting was Shirone's mental state. Without magic, a full recovery was impossible, and indeed his complexion was noticeably paler.
'What on earth is he planning?'
Shirone's friends watched, worried.
'Once the evaluation starts, most will focus on Shirone. Factions will form depending on the event.'
If rivals allied, so would the friends—and Shirone would be the focal point.
'I'll take Shirone out first. Even tired, he's the top graduation candidate. Removing him quickly helps me.'
As different thoughts bloomed, the arrow stopped on a slot.
"Sigh."
Each event had pros and cons, but one thing was certain: nobody welcomed this choice.
- One-on-one Combat (Combat Power Measurement).
"Wooooaaah!"
As the most popular graduation event, the crowd exploded.
'This is insane.'
The contestants could see the hardship ahead, but none wasted time complaining.
'We hit Shirone.'
Almost instantly, all twenty-eight contestants entered the Spirit Zone and most lunged toward Shirone. Shirone's friends took defensive positions and surged from the opposite side.
'One-on-one combat. It'll be factions at the start.'
Amy—who'd been beaten by Geumhwaryun in last year's exam—planned to forge a united front. Iruki and Naid, who agreed, joined her on either side as they advanced toward Shirone, when—
"Elysion!"
Photon cannon flares slanted down above the heads of every contestant except Shirone.
"What the—!"
Boom! Crackle!
With the unexpected opening, participants who'd hit the ground stared up at Shirone in daze.
"Hah. Hah."
Having fired twenty-seven shots at once, he already looked worn, head bowed and panting.
Those who'd been approaching halted, and Shirone, stepping back slowly, beckoned as if inviting them on.
"What a madman…!"
Realizing the gesture meant he would face them all, the contestants revealed murderous intent.
"Worst decision ever."
Baikal said.
"…I'd like to say otherwise, but after being blindsided in the first evaluation, I can't."
"Still, it's impossible to face them all. He's already tired."
"I agree it's difficult, but 'impossible' is too strong. Even if twenty-seven united, they aren't Cage-class."
That was true.
"But it's an unpleasant choice."
Putting feasibility aside, as a mage Baikal couldn't be pleased with Shirone's decision.
"Number 27. Who do you think you are?"
Most of the affronted contestants narrowed their eyes and surged at him.
"You must answer, Shirone."
As the second evaluation began, Baikal threw another question.
"Are you… that extraordinary a being?"
A blinding flare flashed, and while the contestants hesitated, Shirone flew upward.
Everyone tilted their heads skyward as the hooded woman followed his light with her gaze.
"The reason geniuses aren't recognized by the majority is that they deny the existing system."
Who could accept that time and space were woven into a single plane?
"It's not jealousy or envy. It's a lack of understanding. The system is different, so they can't accept it."
As she spoke in lofty terms, Poltar turned. The woman gripped the armrest and sprang to her feet.
"But I understand you, Shirone. See it through. Even if the whole world denies you—"
She threw back her hood, revealed her face, spread her arms wide, and arrogantly lifted her chin.
'I—Miro, the strongest—understand you.'
"Hey, sit down! I can't see!"
"…Sorry."
Someone behind her shouted; Miro, embarrassed, smoothed her hair and sat.
"Come down! Is your plan to run away after all this?"
The contestants concentrated fire on Shirone as he teleported through the sky.
Those friends who'd failed to understand at first now fully grasped his intent.
'You really want to become a mage.'
Iruki's mouth twisted into a savage grin.
'If that's your wish, then so be it, Shirone!'
Atomic Bomb after Atomic Bomb detonated upward. Shirone, wings of light unfurled, flew to the edge of the Colosseum.
'This won't work, that won't work…'
All the voices declaring he could never be a mage slid away from his mind.
"It doesn't matter. Even if not everyone believes."
His wings fluttered as he landed behind the Ataraxia placed at the Colosseum's edge.
"I am a mage!"
A white sphere sprang into being before Shirone and vibrated with terrifying intensity; Rian smiled.
"Of course you are, Shirone."
"You insane—!"
Those who saw the Ataraxia halted mid-charge and ground their teeth.
"Photon cannon!"
The moment the sphere of light passed through the Ataraxia, all twenty-seven contestants twisted as if their waists had been struck.
"Dodge! Scatter!"
A titanic flash engulfed the Colosseum.