After listening to the report from Ivan, the "chief steward" of the base, Gauss gave his usual affirmation of the man's work.
Watching Ivan walk off with noticeably light steps, Gauss looked a little puzzled.
When did Ivan become so… lively?
If Gauss remembered correctly, Ivan had seemed quite steady at the first interview—kept a tight, serious face the whole time.
But thinking about it, Gauss could understand.
Back in his previous life, plenty of "fresh graduates" somehow already had years of "experience" on their résumés—who doesn't polish themselves up for an interview?
At the very least, Ivan's capability and attitude were beyond reproach.
After discreetly checking on how the base was running, Gauss immediately made another trip to where Alia was in "seclusion."
To avoid disturbing her meditation, he didn't go close—he only watched from a distance for a while.
Then he gave Shadow a couple of extra reminders before leaving.
After what happened back in Longflute Fortress, it was better to have someone keeping an eye on things.
Of course, compared to Longflute Fortress, this place fell under Falrim's jurisdiction—the security level was several tiers higher.
And when he had spare time, he still came by now and then to take a quick look. It wasn't far from the Red Dragon Company's compound anyway.
Two days passed in the blink of an eye.
Inside the manor compound, Gauss held the invitation Ivan had mentioned—the one from the magic academy.
After weighing it again and again, he decided to go.
Even though he had the Adventurer's Manual and was "born ahead of the starting line" compared to other spellcasters, a little communication with peers was still useful. It would help him understand how far other casters were from him—and how far he was from them.
Although his spellcaster level was already as high as 7, and his actual peak combat power had reached Level 11, he hadn't fought that many human professionals over the course of his career.
Most of the time, his enemies were monsters that couldn't even speak his language—little green skins, spellcasting green skins, big green skins…
In other words, he was more of a PvE specialist than a PvP player.
So exchanging notes with fellow spellcasters made sense.
"Captain Gauss, do you need me to accompany you?" Ivan appeared beside him at some point.
Gauss looked at the eager expression on his face. Considering Ivan was an academy graduate, he probably wanted to take the chance to visit his old school.
And lately, to keep the Red Dragon Company's potion shop stocked and stable, Ivan had been working like a beast of burden.
Gauss couldn't bring himself to refuse.
Besides, in the whole Red Dragon Company, Ivan was the most suitable person to go with him. Right now, Albena and Serandur—both at the manor—weren't standard "academy-style" casters.
He'd treat it as a day off for his head steward.
"Alright. Then I'll trouble you to come with me."
"This is what I'm here for, Captain Gauss."
Ivan had someone bring out a carriage.
The two of them climbed into the cabin. With a crack of the whip and the roll of wheels, the carriage quickly left the compound.
…
"HOO!"
After the driver's shout, the horses slowed to a stop.
Gauss stepped down from the carriage.
Ahead was a manor on the scale of a luxurious violet castle. Even before entering, you could feel the aristocratic aura rolling off it.
"Captain, this is my alma mater—Karksa Magic Academy," Ivan said, looking at the buildings with a flash of nostalgia and pride.
As a spellcaster, Ivan's level wasn't particularly high, but the academy had produced many powerful mages.
As far as he knew, among Falrim's transcendent spellcasters, at least three had received their early instruction here—and the remaining few also had deep ties to the academy.
You could say Falrim's "total magic" was ten parts, and Karksa alone held eight of them.
Gauss sensed it too: even out here, the ambient mana density was clearly higher than most places in the city.
Inside the academy—and especially in its cultivation rooms—it would only be higher.
Spellcasters couldn't directly absorb natural mana and turn it into power, but living in an environment like this long-term would still help their personal mana grow, little by little.
No wonder Ivan said that most of Falrim's influential local mages were connected to this place.
How could a self-taught "wild" mage ever erase that kind of gap?
And the students who could enroll here were already one step ahead—meaning they'd be ahead at every step.
Potions. Access to more and better spells. Peer exchange. Professional courses. Elite teachers.
Even the "real combat" gap was addressed: the academy regularly organized cleansing expeditions under the protection of strong instructors, with far better safety.
The only advantage Gauss could think of for a wild mage was mental toughness.
Academy-trained mages might be less ruthless—less willing to go hard against enemies or themselves—and they might lack the street-level cunning and experience forged by crawling through the mud at the bottom.
But that "advantage" was tiny in the face of absolute level differences.
And once academy graduates left and spent time in the real world, they'd patch that weakness quickly anyway.
Gauss sighed silently.
How brutal… even though he was the person with the least right to complain.
After all, what he possessed was the highest-tier resource and talent in the world.
"Gentlemen, per academy regulations, entry on non-open days requires an appointment. Do you have documentation?"
The gate guards stepped forward. They were professionals too, and years of watching the gate had given them keen eyes for reading people.
They scanned the two men who had just stepped down from the carriage—then lingered on Gauss for a beat. Their expression immediately softened into a respectful smile.
To them, the young man in white robes carried a calm, imposing presence—an ease that didn't waver even before an extravagant academy manor. Not a trace of nervousness.
Someone like that was either powerful… or extremely well-connected.
Either way, not someone they could afford to offend. Their tone became exceedingly polite.
If it were anyone else, their attitude might have been different.
"This is the invitation letter your academy sent to the captain of the Red Dragon Company—Lord Gauss," Ivan said, presenting it.
The guards checked the document. Their respect deepened.
"Captain Gauss, please come in."
They hadn't expected someone so young to already be the leader of an adventuring company.
Sure, in theory, hitting Level 6 qualified you to register an adventuring company—but in practice, if you tried, you'd face a long review and likely rejection.
Most company captains were high-tier Masters, if not transcendent powerhouses.
Even for academy gate guards who often saw important figures, this was still uncommon.
"Thank you."
After passing through the open, ornate iron gate, the campus grounds were even more lavish.
Every plant had been sculpted by gardeners. The pavement was spotless.
Gauss observed quietly—and also felt a powerful magical pulse from the ground.
The entire academy seemed built atop a massive formation.
Which meant their visible security didn't need to be overwhelmingly strong.
His gaze shifted to the students walking the corridors in standard black robes and wizard hats, chatting in small groups or hurrying along with books in hand.
Their strengths varied.
There were spellcasting apprentices with no official level, Level 1 casters… and Gauss could even sense a few with the mana of Level 2.
Noticing his gaze, Ivan explained:
"Karksa's program is six years. Most students enter as apprentices, but as they progress, some talented ones can break through to Level 1, Level 2… even Level 3 while still enrolled."
He stopped at Level 3.
Most students could graduate smoothly as long as they reached Level 1.
Even those who didn't become formal professionals could still graduate—if they earned certifications in potion-making, alchemy, enchanting, and so on.
Reaching Level 2 before graduation counted as an excellent graduate. Ivan had been one of them.
Level 3 was exceedingly rare.
Two years per level—what a terrifying pace.
Most students enrolled at fifteen or sixteen. If they hit Level 3 by graduation, they'd only be twenty-one or twenty-two.
A Level 3 caster in their early twenties could likely reach Level 5 by twenty-five… and if they were lucky, become a Master before thirty, with real chances to push beyond.
Spellcasters weren't like warriors. Warriors declined with age as their blood and vigor faded.
Spellcasters had a longer "shelf life"—often described as "the older, the nastier."
So a Level 3 graduate was basically one foot into the Master tier—and maybe, just maybe, a glimpse of the transcendent horizon.
Ivan shook his head.
His own talent was decent, but not dazzling.
Graduating at Level 2 was good—but beside the truly radiant prodigies, it was dim.
And he could feel it: his ceiling wasn't even as good as some other Level 2 graduates.
As a warlock with only a thin trace of dragon-blood, his early breakthroughs had gone smoothly, but after Level 2, his pace slowed.
It took him nearly six years after graduation to reach Level 3.
Sure, he'd divided his attention with potion-making—but the root cause was still "talent."
Only after joining Red Dragon Company did he feel his growth accelerating again.
His eyes flicked to Gauss walking beside him.
That sense of inferiority vanished instantly.
Any "genius graduate" looked ordinary next to this captain.
And Ivan only learned after joining: Captain Gauss was only twenty.
In the face of that absolute talent, Ivan and those "Level 3 prodigies" were basically the same.
The captain was the real monster.
He couldn't help thinking it again.
While Gauss was quietly surveying the academy, a teacher-like figure hurried over.
"Lord Gauss, your presence honors Karksa Magic Academy."
"I'm the academy's external liaison director—Alan Victor. Apologies for not greeting you sooner. The vice headmaster is waiting in the reception hall and sent me to guide you."
"Director Victor, hello." Gauss shook his hand.
From Gauss's senses, even someone in an "external liaison" role—supposedly not a combat-heavy position—still had Level 6 mana.
Falrim really was something else.
The city's top magical academy wasn't playing around when it came to staff.
But since breaking into Level 7 and confirming he had combat power comparable to the weakest transcendent tier, Gauss himself had relaxed a bit.
He wasn't inferior either.
The three of them drew plenty of glances as they walked.
Maybe it was Victor's attitude, or maybe it was the effortless composure in Gauss's bearing—students couldn't help looking twice.
"So young…"
"Is he some big shot?"
"That's Director Victor from external liaison—so the person he's escorting must be a powerful visiting mage…"
"I swear I've seen that face somewhere…"
The students murmured.
If Victor had been escorting a respected old mage, there'd be little mystery.
But the man beside him looked like he could be the same age as many students—perhaps even younger than some.
If he were a new student, the one greeting him would be from admissions, not the external liaison director.
Strange. Strange.
Gauss soon met the vice headmaster: an elderly mage with white hair and beard.
Exactly the kind of "strong mage" stereotype you'd expect.
Several other directors and senior instructors were there too.
Aside from Ivan, everyone present was a Master-tier spellcaster.
Gauss raised an eyebrow, curious.
He hadn't expected Karksa to treat him with such weight.
Ivan clearly hadn't either.
These were all senior faculty—director-level staff.
Aside from teachers currently teaching classes, it looked like most of the academy's higher-ranked mages had come.
And Gauss hadn't even announced his visit ahead of time.
The academy likely only learned he'd arrived when he reached the gates.
"Apologies, Lord Gauss. This is a bit… crowded," the vice headmaster, Kieran Zevier, said.
"The teachers have all been eager to meet you."
"It's an honor, Headmaster Zevier." Gauss responded modestly.
Since the academy was showing him respect—and he wasn't the type to swagger and posture—he naturally returned it with courtesy.
Besides, the surname Zevier was familiar. The count's family that ruled this provincial capital carried the same name. That was no coincidence.
After a few minutes of polite exchange, Gauss finally understood why they were so eager to "watch" him.
It turned out Falrim's high-mage weekly paper had just published news of his advancement to Level 7—along with his rumored age (barely past twenty).
It hit the city's high-tier mage circles like an alchemical bomb.
Some people had even started calling him things like "a supernova of a thousand years" and "the miracle of the post-Roland era."
That alone showed how shocked they were.
To many teachers, even the best students at this age were only Level 2–3.
Even among today's transcendent archmages, only a tiny handful had reached Level 4 at this age.
And Gauss?
Compared to those top figures' peers, he wasn't ahead by one level. Not two.
He was ahead by three or four.
That gap was so absurd it could no longer be described as "levels"—even "heaven and earth" felt insufficient.
What they didn't know—what made it even more absurd—was the real information gap:
most academy students formally touched magic at fourteen or fifteen, or earlier.
Gauss had started his professional path at eighteen.
If they knew that… the shock would become a tidal wave.