Limits of Training (3)
"Oppa! Oppa!"
The Wizard who had left the training ground called out, but Shirone quickened his pace as if he hadn't heard.
He reached the most secluded spot on campus—not a place meant for resting.
Having lived in the mountains since childhood, Shirone always sought nature when he needed a break.
"Haa."
He sat on a small rock and exhaled, but the tightness in his chest wouldn't ease.
'What is the right thing to do?'
To kill Satan Habitz, he needed the Wizard's power—but what of the Wizard's life?
A seven-year-old was being asked to kill the cruelest, most brutal person in the world.
Shirone snorted.
'Yeah, maybe I'm the mad one.'
He'd known that for some time, but this felt different.
"Oppa."
The Wizard's voice pulled Shirone up. The child had probably followed him out of worry, and seeing her arm in a splint made his guilt worse.
"You're badly hurt. Wizard, there's something I need to tell you—"
"I'm sorry, Oppa."
Her eyes were brimming with tears.
"I didn't think Mom and Dad would hate it so much. I just… learning is so fun, and I got too excited…"
'Fun?'
Shirone remembered something he had forgotten.
"Oh. Right."
It had been unbearably hard and painful, yet that was precisely how humans endured.
'If only they have the certainty they can become stronger.' Nothing given to humans is more intoxicating than that.
"Wizard, why is magic fun to you? Do you want to be the strongest in the world? To surpass me?"
"I want to surpass you. But it doesn't matter if I beat you now. Magic is just fun."
"There are many ways to be happy in this world. You don't have to be the best to enjoy life. So why learn magic?" The Wizard blinked.
"Well, of course…"
As always, she smiled with the purest expression.
"Because this is the world I'll live in." Shirone felt his throat tighten.
"Yes. That's right."
No matter how others criticized them, this was the only world they would live in.
Only we can understand ourselves.
"Today's training was a bit weak. I told Mom and Dad. I'll be fine from tomorrow."
"Ha ha!"
Shirone wiped at his eyes.
Since entering the world of magic he had never known the word defeat…but—
"All right. Grit your teeth and keep going."
It felt like all the bitterness he'd had to swallow to chase a single result was being soothed.
The Wizard stepped up and wiped the tear from Shirone's cheek with a small hand.
"You must be having a hard time too, Oppa."
They hadn't been intensifying training for long, but the Wizard's insight had deepened noticeably.
"You've grown a lot. Being able to read others' hearts is a rare gift."
"Hehe. So, Oppa. Are you and Amy already in love?"
"Huh? Well…"
"If that's so, when I become stronger than you later, will you like me more?"
'Still a child,' Shirone thought, stifling a smile.
"There are many kinds of love. If you truly surpass me… if you become the greatest mage in the world—"
"Yes, in some ways I might value you more than Amy."
It was an adult's way of categorizing feelings, but the Wizard delighted at the possibility.
"Great! Then I'll surpass you by tomorrow!"
"Oh ho? Is that so?"
Shirone set the Wizard's broken arm and fused the bone with Miracle Stream.
The next day the training ground felt icy.
Even after yesterday's heartbreaking scene, the Wizard's parents insisted on staying to watch.
"Phew, looks brutal today too." Teachers were already tense as Shirone and the Wizard warmed up in front of the Image Zone.
"Is this live combat practice?"
"No. Today's fundamentals."
The Wizard's resolve gave Shirone courage, but they couldn't ignore the parents' view.
'Seeing your child hurt is the worst thing for a parent. I've been too cold.'
Even in their world, they had to consider how outsiders saw it.
"Today's lesson is mental pulse."
It was the optimal training: intense while not appearing excessive.
"I'll demonstrate."
The Wizard, a natural-born awakener, cast by instinct and lacked theoretical knowledge.
'That's impressive in itself, but to face Habitz I must teach everything I can.'
If the Wizard's creativity were to be drowned in Habitz's chaos, the body would remember this moment forever.
Shirone stood at the center of the Image Zone installed at Stang National School of Magic.
Memories of training to raise his final-year grades flashed across his mind.
'I have to do this right.'
As the mental pulse began without warning, the watching teachers' eyes widened.
"W-what on earth…"
In the Image Zone the mind became visible, but its back-and-forth motion could not be seen.
'A gigantic sphere…? No, it's definitely cycling. The count keeps climbing.' Every time it reached its maximum radius the buzzer screamed so loud it seemed to tear the speakers.
'Six thousand mental pulses per second.'
Even whoever was the world's second-best mage wouldn't reach that speed; this was several times faster.
The Ten Mages Council shook their heads.
'Unbearable.'
If one mastered mental techniques, this was the expected result—but the problem was the Wizard.
'Even if someone could reach this, they usually die. The Five Greats aren't joking.' Bartok turned away while the Wizard continued the demonstration without blinking.
"Aha."
The Ten Mages Council realized at once.
'One minute, seventeen seconds.'
They understood how long this surge had been sustained—astonishing for someone with no grounding to keep a 6,000-per-second mental pulse going that long.
"Got it?"
Without needing more explanation, the Wizard nodded and stepped into the Image Zone.
"I'll try."
Shirone took his place beside Amy, and the Ten Mages stood behind them. It was only training, but everyone was genuinely curious how far she could go.
"Phew."
After a deep breath she suddenly opened her eyes wide and deployed a Spirit Zone.
The buzzer sounded and eyes from teachers and students fixed on her mental pulse readout.
Bartok felt his heart race.
'Eight hundred per second. Well beyond pro-mage level. But the talent we want reaches the ends of the universe. This isn't enough…'
"Huh? Huh huh?" As the students reacted in shock, the mental pulse numbers kept climbing.
Two thousand per second.
The Wizard's pupils trembled violently, but the magnitude hadn't yet hit a critical threshold.
'She's controlling it.'
The mental pulse continued rising and blood dripped from the Wizard's nose.
"M-my dear."
Her mother gripped her husband's arm.
'Faster, faster.'
Perhaps without time to feel the changes in her body, she was soaring.
Once it passed three thousand per second, blood streamed from her eyes and the mother could no longer bear it—she ran to Shirone.
"Stop! Our child is going to die." Bartok knew why Shirone remained silent.
'I am… a first-star resident of the Ivory Tower.'
He had the skill to be a guildmaster in any kingdom, but above him were the second-, third-, fourth-, and fifth-stars.
'How could I not long for it? How could I not crave it? But wanting to go doesn't mean you can go.'
The Wizard's father spoke.
"That's enough. As I said yesterday, our daughter's safety comes first."
Bartok thought,
'They don't know.'
How mad people in this world are to grow stronger.
Mental pulse: four thousand per second.
'They aren't trying to beat someone. They don't want something by becoming strong. They simply become ever stronger. The fact of themselves endlessly rising is happiness in itself.'
In other words—
'All humans are the same…'
Strength flared in the Wizard's eyes.
"Yaaaaah!"
Mental pulse: five thousand per second.
'I can get stronger. I can do better. I believe. The moment you doubt, you break.'
Pure tears mixed with tears of blood.
'I want to… fly.'
Her Spirit Zone, having hit its limit, began to contort and collapse.
"If you lose your rhythm, it's over."
Shirone said.
"Your thinking is too rigid. Let it all go. Let go of the need to be recognized, the compulsion to succeed—focus on the present. Don't gather your thoughts; scatter them. Pour yourself out."
"Uaaaaaaaah!"
When the mental pulse reached six thousand per second, Shirone felt a thrilling chill.
'She understands it instantly and shifts her mental state.'
It was like watching a single, perfect work of art—there was no jealousy.
But to everyone else, it was a pitiful sight: a seven-year-old bleeding from her eyes, nose, and mouth.
"Mage Shirone."
The Wizard's mother sobbed.
"Please stop. I beg you. I know our child has talent. But what meaning is there in succeeding by going this far?"
"Talent?"
Shirone spoke for the first time.
"Do you think this child has some natural gift that lets her bear all this pain? If you think that, you're showing her great disrespect."
"B-but—"
"Yes, she's a genius. Perhaps talent exists. But—mother."
Shirone turned to her.
"There is no talent in this world that lets someone do something well without effort."
At the weight in his voice, the mother fell silent.
"All humans are the same. Does being a genius make a needle prick hurt any less? No. It's only that they understand and process the pain differently. Do you see the Wizard's talent? I see the reverse. What I see is a mere seven-year-old who, to reach this level, has had to digest from inside her mother the amount and magnitude of pain necessary to get here."
Shirone looked at the Wizard.
"How much must a fetus have screamed to process those impossible feelings?"
"Our daughter…"
The mother's face crumpled.
"You said you were farmers."
Shirone, apologetic, said, "I don't know much, but I've heard farmers remove rotten rice seed early. It isn't pleasant. Raising a great life is sometimes cruel."
The father's expression changed.
"You can't make others fully understand our world. Just as people can't know a farmer's life, we don't fully know theirs. But within it we dream and compete. That alone is our real world."
Everyone was the same.
"The Wizard wants to be the best. Not because of talent, but because the pain she's endured won't allow her current position. That's why the moment she met me she threw everything in."
Shirone pleaded.
"Leave her to me. If I judge she truly cannot bear it, I will stop."
"But she's bleeding like that even now—"
"Stay where you are."
The husband calmed his wife and turned to Shirone.
"I understand. I'm a man too. I've dreamed of reaching the top of the world at least once. But you say our daughter will become the best?"
"Yes. If she can continue to digest pain like this without end, she'll get there soon."
The father looked at the Wizard.
Seeing her grit her teeth and endure despite blood in her eyes made his own eyes water.
'Damn it! Yeah, she wants to fly. I wanted to fly too. So go on. I'll protect you.'
He squeezed his eyes shut, bowed his head, and called out.
"Please take care of her!"