Frondier and Elodie, newly appointed at Atlas.
After their introductions on the first day of school, the long-awaited first classes began.
As expected by many of the students, Elodie showcased her brilliant magical technique in the practicum room. For someone aiming for a Four-element Combination, most technical problems in magic were trivial. She was adept at demonstrating spells and relating them to real combat scenarios from a mage’s perspective.
However, because her own talent was so exceptional, she often couldn’t understand why students struggled with certain parts, and at those times her handling was still unrefined. Even so, she made a genuine effort, repeating and reenacting things herself to grasp ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) the difficulties her students faced. As a result, progress slowed a little, but her teaching method improved.
By the time class was ending, Elodie thought to herself:
'Just like Frondier said, their combat methods feel a bit old-fashioned.'
Because she handled the practicum course, the issue hit her especially hard. The mages here held extremely fixed roles.
At Atlas, mages are positioned behind even the archers—the last line of defense. Hence, they take it for granted that someone else will protect them up front.
It isn’t fundamentally wrong, of course, but even when assuming a real combat scenario where anything could happen, the mages here were far too relaxed. As though there would always be an unbreakable wall standing before them.
'If they were first-years, I’d understand.'
But the students Elodie was teaching now were third-years. Having only recently been a third-year herself, she could feel the stark difference in skill between the two continents.
Elodie was a mage who could fight alone. She could form a protective barrier around herself in under a second, and most attacks couldn’t pierce it. Even if not, she was used to high-speed casting.
Of course, she didn’t expect other students to reach her level. Yet even Lunia—once called a pure mage back at Constel—naturally prepared for situations without a vanguard.
But here, there was no such preparation. The mages were complacent, cautious, and stationary.
'Should I be the one to fix that?'
Elodie hesitated. It was probably a similar dilemma to what Frondier had been thinking.
Frondier avoided standing out. For Elodie, it was partly laziness and partly fear of clashing with the existing faculty.
“Teacher.”
Just then, a male student approached her.
“Could you please show what you did earlier one more time?”
“Hm? Sure.”
Elodie spoke and looked at him.
'Vasileo... right?'
She had memorized her students’ names in advance. Most she could recall by face.
In today’s lesson, she had demonstrated and taught one spell from the syllabus. The spell’s name was Gathering Wind. It was similar to Raging Wind, which Elodie often used, but of a lower tier.
Elodie reproduced Gathering Wind as she explained:
“This spell’s formation is faster if you build the formula from a stance like you’re aiming a bow, but if you can’t, you can first complete the spell and then draw the string. Keep doing that until you can form it without looking at the array—”
“...Teacher.”
Vasileo, who had been quietly watching her cast, spoke.
“The array’s different from the textbook.”
“Huh? Oh?”
“How did you do it?”
His eyes shone as he looked at her.
Elodie froze.
'Ugh, I did it unconsciously.'
For a mage, a spell array must be a fixed, unshakable formula at the moment of completion.
It’s like calculating a long series of numbers: the ones that appear early or are hard to memorize fade from memory as you go on. Mental math alone isn’t reliable, so you jot notes in advance.
In magic, that note is the spell array.
If you can handle even complex numbers mentally, you don’t need to write them down. Likewise, skilled mages omit some of the array.
──That was common sense in the Terst Empire.
'Here, though, they think it’s only natural to construct every part of the array visibly in front of them.'
To Elodie, it seemed that in Agoris they valued precision far more than speed. As if it didn’t matter how long it took, so long as the spell succeeded. Thus, their progress in simplifying or streamlining arrays had been slow.
“Well, this—hm. It’s about condensing the array.”
She tried explaining, since the concept wasn’t entirely unknown.
But as expected, the next question was one she couldn’t answer.
“How do you condense it?”
Ack. Elodie swallowed the sound internally.
In truth, the method for simplification already existed in theory. But she herself hadn’t followed any such theory—she simply could.
“Ah, well. Since class is over, how about we talk about it next time? Or better yet, ask the teachers who handle magic theory. They’ll explain it much better than I can.”
“Magic theory...”
At her words, Vasileo’s eyes dulled a little.
“...Professor Frondier?”
“Huh? Oh, well, sure, you could ask him.”
“Teacher, did you already know Professor Frondier?”
He asked with eyes full of suspicion.
Elodie smiled flawlessly.
“Hm? No? We met here for the first time.”
“...Really?”
“Of course.”
Her acting was perfect. Even so, his doubtful gaze didn’t fade.
Seeing his expression, Elodie thought,
'Ah, this kid.'
Her pretending not to know Frondier was their private business—nothing that should concern students.
Honestly, even if they had known each other before, what of it? The students wouldn’t care. Two acquaintances becoming teachers at Atlas—nothing more.
But judging by Vasileo’s eyes, expression, and tone—
“...Understood. Thank you for the lesson.”
He bowed politely and walked off.
As his figure disappeared, Elodie let out a small sigh.
“...And yet there are men that easy to read.”
***
Frondier was still troubled.
Even during his first class, the thoughts lingered.
Right now, he was simply copying the textbook materials onto the board, running a class no different from any other teacher’s.
Students who had high expectations after hearing of his appearance and his design of the three-dimensional map quickly turned disappointed eyes toward the board.
Well, theory classes are always like this. Changing the teacher doesn’t change the subject matter.
'So this really is the right way to go, huh.'
He pondered as he lectured.
He knew this continent was severely lacking in magical theory. He already had ideas on how to teach it.
But even so, two things held him back.
First, as he’d thought from the start—nothing good would come from standing out. He hadn’t come to Atlas to pour himself into teaching; his goals were the other gods and Heracles.
And second, Frondier himself had never learned magic.
'These lesson materials I can handle just by talking, so there’s no need to demonstrate spells. And there seem to be other theory teachers who don’t use magic in class either.'
Of course, if he tried, he could pick up basic spells easily. With nearly every theory ingrained in his workshop, he could replicate many spells at will—though he hadn’t yet attempted it.
However, to move the curriculum toward his improved direction, it would lose weight if he couldn’t use magic himself.
'Maybe I should take it slow. Changing my approach can wait...'
“Teacher.”
Someone suddenly raised a hand.
Without waiting for acknowledgment, the student stood up.
Frondier looked at him and said,
“Yes, Vasileo. What is it?”
Vasileo was briefly startled that Frondier spoke his name without even pretending to recall it, but he masked it and said,
“I have a question.”
“All right, what is it?”
At Frondier’s words, Vasileo lifted both hands. He immediately began to chant.
“I shall gather the wind in my hands...”
A sudden invocation. The other students gasped, but Frondier quietly watched.
Soon, Vasileo completed and released his spell.
“Gathering Wind!”
A single arrow of wind formed, stretching between his hands.
Frondier thought,
'Incantation, array, trigger phrase—textbook execution.'
Any teacher would have praised that spell.
And Frondier was a teacher now, so—
“Excellent. A fine Gathering Wind.”
Naturally, he praised it. For now.
“But is your question about this spell?”
“Yes.”
Vasileo nodded.
Frondier’s eyes lowered slightly.
'This spell has nothing to do with today’s theory topic. Entirely separate. And...'
As he considered, Vasileo spoke.
“Is there a way to simplify this spell?”
'...A question meant to test me.'
Frondier paused for a moment.
He was being suspected. The reason was unclear, but there was no doubt.
What exactly was being doubted? His ability as a teacher? His true purpose? Or had some divine power tipped the boy off? Was another god interfering again?
He couldn’t be sure. So for now, he decided to dispel suspicion. If he couldn’t answer properly here, the other students would start doubting him too.
“Simplify, hm.”
Frondier glanced at Vasileo’s completed Gathering Wind, and—
Using his ability Weaving, which allowed him to replicate something while the other caster was still performing it—
“Like this?”
“—!”
An identical spell formed in Frondier’s hand.
Every student stared in shock, not just Vasileo.
“Th-the array...!”
“There’s no array, no chant, not even a trigger phrase!”
“He drew mana out almost instantly!”
The classroom erupted in astonishment.
Vasileo especially trembled, overwhelmed by the sight before him.
“H-how... at that speed...”
He had seen Elodie’s Gathering Wind earlier. She had cast it far faster than he could, yet even her speed didn’t compare to what Frondier had just shown.
It was as if he’d pressed a single button and the spell appeared—at a level utterly beyond Vasileo’s.
“Th-that’s impossible, I didn’t even see—”
In his panic, he forgot he was still maintaining his own spell. His Gathering Wind wavered dangerously.
'Ah, damn.'
Frondier released Heukcheon.
“Ah!”
Vasileo realized the danger and tried to rein it in, but it was too late.
Whoosh!
The arrow shot toward the inside of the classroom. Even if slower than Elodie’s, it was still a textbook-perfect wind spell—with power far too great for indoor casting.
“Eek!”
The arrow streaked toward the group of students—none of whom were prepared.
Then—
Whoosh!
A black tide swept before them. It engulfed the arrow mid-flight, forming a dark sphere.
Thud!
A muffled detonation sounded within, but not a trace of wind escaped. The sphere had completely contained the spell.
Fwoosh—
Then it dispersed and flowed back—returning to where it came from, to Frondier.
The students stood stunned.
The arrow Vasileo had fired vanished after being enveloped by something. It had turned from liquid to solid and back again, retreating to Frondier’s hand. They had never seen anything like it.
Was that also magic? Could such freely controlled magic even exist?
While everyone sat dazed, Frondier spoke.
“Vasileo.”
“...”
“Vasileo.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
He only responded after being called twice—especially since the second call had sounded terrifying.
But Frondier’s tone and manner had simply returned to normal.
“What did you do wrong? Tell me.”
And with that, Frondier presented one of the top three hardest questions to answer in the world.
