I checked the prototype Arald had brought.
“This is the three-dimensional map?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
What Arald carried looked like a rectangular box. A lens was mounted on one of its shorter sides.
'Looks just like a beam projector.'
And not only did it look that way, I had a hunch its function wouldn’t be too different either.
“It’s gotten pretty compact. The one I saw at Hitchcock took up an entire room.”
The 3D map I’d seen at Hitchcock had looked like an installation that occupied a whole chamber. I never imagined it could be small enough to carry with one hand.
“Haha. This one’s fundamentally different from what you saw back then. We only inherited the idea.”
“Hmm. Let’s see it.”
At my words, Arald set the device on the floor and pointed the lens upward.
Then, when he worked the remote control, as I’d expected, light projected from the lens and shot toward the ceiling.
Within that beam appeared the three-dimensional map Arald had mentioned. Apparently it already had data loaded in — terrain and structures emerged, and judging by the layout, it seemed to be the Falind continent. I had something similar among the maps I’d collected.
It certainly deserved to be called a 3D map. It roughly resembled the one I’d formed using Heukcheon.
Except—
“...The resolution’s awful.”
The image quality was poor.
It was harder to make out than the one I’d created with Heukcheon. Having seen the high-resolution, high-quality version at Hitchcock first made the gap even more glaring.
Then Arald said,
“Of course, it’s not yet at a level the general public would find satisfying. But our foremost goal for the 3D map is military use. This prototype, unlike the previous one, can analyze flat-map data and project it in three dimensions. The principle behind it is—”
“You’re applying the elevation values from a flat map to the height axis of a 3D map. Because you’re displaying those values as points, the resolution drops.”
“...! Th-that’s correct.”
I looked at the somewhat flustered Arald and thought for a moment.
The principle behind this 3D map was similar to the one I’d used with Heukcheon.
The difference was that the one I’d made relied on a great many maps that had been brought into my workshop — enough for me to correct discrepancies between them — and since Heukcheon could freely transform from fine droplets to solids, it could reproduce far greater precision.
In other words, the 3D map Arald had produced still had plenty of room for improvement, and would likely advance quickly. As a prototype, it was highly promising.
“But Arald.”
“Yes.”
“By that principle, it doesn’t have to be limited to maps, does it?”
Arald blinked.
It should have been an easy question to answer. But right now, he was trying to read what I meant by it.
Soon his expression stiffened slightly, and I sensed that he’d more or less grasped my intent.
“...You’re right. As long as the data’s accurate, this machine can project other objects as well.”
“Then tell me about the mechanism it uses to interpret data.”
Needless to say, I wanted to find a way to make use of this device.
'There’s something about it that resembles my Weaving.'
After all, it’s a projection — an illusion — not an actual object. But unlike my Weaving, this isn’t visible only to me.
If I could somehow make things visible only to me become visible to others, there’d be countless ways to exploit that.
“Frondier, what are you trying to do?”
It was Elodie, listening in, who asked.
“You muttered something about ‘design’ earlier. Is it related to this?”
“In a way.”
Whether it’s possible, I don’t know yet. I’ve never tried it before.
Something I’ve never tried before—
What I intend to attempt from now on, in the field of “magic,” is something called design.
***
And not long after, I actually found myself assigned to teach Combat Theory.
Whether this was the will of the entire Atlas institution or the result of Giotto’s endless appeals and scheming, I didn’t know — but less than a month after entering this place, I was already handling two subjects.
'...I don’t think Giotto alone could wield that much influence.'
Though he was technically my superior, Giotto only held an upper-mid rank within ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) Atlas as a whole.
Even so, the fact that I’d suddenly been handed another class meant that, somehow, an undercurrent of agreement with Giotto’s view had formed inside Atlas.
'Not that it’s necessarily a bad thing. Nor can I say their intentions are malicious.'
There could be many reasons. Organizations naturally grow wary of introducing complete outsiders. To them, Elodie and I must seem like alien elements that appeared out of nowhere.
Bael’s forged identities had no flaws, but a prodigy entering at such a young age would inevitably draw suspicion.
From that, jealousy and envy would arise. Or perhaps just simple curiosity. To force me into Combat Theory, Giotto must have exaggerated my ability considerably.
When I explained the situation, Arald said,
“Eavesdropping, without a doubt.”
“...No, there are several possibilities—”
“If there were any other possibility, your senses would’ve caught it. Whether it’s magic or another trick, if mana were involved, you’d notice immediately. But information is leaking without touching your senses. That means it can only be mechanical eavesdropping.”
...Just how much does this guy think he understands about my instincts?
Of course, I did somewhat agree with him. If it hadn’t triggered my senses, mana likely wasn’t used.
And in this world, methods that employ absolutely no mana are few and far between.
“What will you do? If you entrust the investigation to me, I can locate the bugs, the device receiving the transmissions, the buyer, and the manufacturer within three days.”
“No, don’t. That’s... a little terrifying.”
There was a strange fervor behind Arald’s otherwise cool eyes.
I scratched my head and said,
“—I’m not planning to do anything in particular.”
Anyway, that’s how I came to teach Combat Theory.
Combat, being theoretical, has limits in a classroom setting, so our lessons took place in the indoor gymnasium.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Frondier, and I’ll be handling Combat Theory.”
“......”
As expected, no one answered.
I slowly scanned the gathered students.
Once again, I was teaching third-years — too far along for basic instruction to help much. More importantly, they had no intention of listening to me.
At times like this, the most effective method was, of course—
“You probably find it hard to accept that the one teaching Magic Theory is standing here.”
As I said that, a faint nostalgia stirred within me.
“So let’s have a sparring match.”
I looked around. Thanks to experience fighting formidable opponents — and my instincts — I could roughly tell who among them was strongest.
Yes, this nostalgia might be coming a little early for me.
“You there, student — what’s your name?”
Naturally, I pointed to the one standing at the center of the group — someone who clearly outclassed the rest.
“...My name is Ias.”
Red hair, golden eyes. Even from the color combination and his features alone, he exuded a charisma that pulled people in.
No doubt about it — this one was Atlas’s “Aster Evans.”
“I’d like to spar with you. If it’s you, the others should be satisfied.”
“...Spar, with me?”
“I’ll be unarmed and won’t strike. If you can land a single hit on me, the match ends immediately. No matter how you do it, your victory will be recognized.”
This was nostalgia for Atjie.
I was imitating my elder brother — someone far beyond my reach in sheer skill.
But there was no need to worry.
I wasn’t doing this out of arrogance.
“...You’ll regret this, sir.”
“I’ll try not to.”
Thud!
Ias sprang forward the instant my words ended. A good decision.
But he was unarmed, like me. He didn’t use Divine Power or Aura.
Well, I wasn’t sure if this student named Ias even possessed Divine Power, but going bare-handed was definitely a mistake.
Whoosh!
I lightly pressed down his extended right arm and redirected its force downward.
Off balance, his upper body tilted diagonally, and I seized his shoulder as it turned, laying him flat on the ground.
“...?”
“You’re straightforward, aren’t you, Ias.”
“...!”
Only after hearing me did Ias realize he’d been taken down, and he hurriedly stood back up.
Watching Atjie subdue Aster back then, I’d understood the motion but hadn’t dared to try it myself — being able to pull it off now was deeply satisfying.
Still, what I did differed a bit from Atjie’s version.
I’d said Ias filled Aster’s role here, but frankly, I doubted any character could surpass Aster’s mentality.
Aster’s humility wasn’t just words — he was relentlessly self-effacing, yet his drive to improve never died, and he turned every circumstance around him into a stepping stone for growth.
Of course, I’d been one of those stepping stones, and I’d welcomed it — making my strength appear unprecedented in Aster’s eyes.
Aster was someone who built walls for himself and then climbed over them. In generous terms, he was the very image of a shōnen protagonist; to put it bluntly, Aster was out of his mind.
“You may use any method. Pick up a weapon, use your Divine Power if you wish.”
“...I’m not done yet!”
Thud!
Once again, Ias charged bare-handed. A world apart from the real Aster, who had immediately drawn his weapon and unleashed his power.
Back then, Atjie had already been famous throughout Constel, so everyone knew his strength. Aster’s decision to draw his sword and go all out had probably stemmed from that.
But Aster would’ve done the same regardless of his opponent. He never did anything that hindered his own growth.
The pride and vanity that usually come with such attention simply didn’t exist in him.
Whoosh!
Thud!
And for the third time—
Ias fell before me once more, bit his lip, and got back up.
By now I could feel the students’ gazes changing. They whispered among themselves, reassessing my ability.
The image of me as a pure academic type who only knew Magic Theory was gone.
I might be imitating Atjie, but my purpose wasn’t nearly as noble.
Atjie had sincerely wanted his students to grow. My sincerity didn’t even reach half of that.
Giotto might have pulled a ridiculous stunt, but in truth, it wasn’t all bad.
Whether it was Giotto or Ias—
If I could use them, I would. That was all.
“Stop being stubborn. Show me your true skill.”
I said to Ias gently, kindly — with a smile.
