Atlas’s pride and joy, the magic department student Vasileo, had recently been observing every move of Teacher Frondier.
He couldn’t get Frondier’s Gathering Wind out of his head.
Just how did he pull off that high-speed casting? The spell Frondier had shown hadn’t even revealed a trace of an array. If Vasileo could only grasp that secret, he was sure he could become stronger.
But asking during class was awkward after the accident last time, and outside of class, Frondier was far too busy.
As he gathered information on Frondier, Vasileo realized—Frondier wasn’t just busy. He was impossibly busy. The other students hadn’t noticed yet, but this schedule was anything but normal.
Not only did he teach both Combat Theory and Magic Theory, he was handling nearly every third-year class. Was this Frondier’s own ambition—or an order from above?
'And yet he always looks so relaxed. In a way, that’s even creepier, sir.'
So Vasileo decided to aim for after school. Fortunately, the last class happened to be near the faculty room.
The moment class ended, he hurried straight there—but Frondier was nowhere to be found.
'Again.'
This wasn’t the first time Vasileo had failed to catch him. No matter how quickly he moved after school, Frondier was already gone.
The sheer speed of it was impressive, but to vanish even when the classroom was this close—this went beyond impressive. It was downright strange.
“Uh, excuse me, sir. Do you know where Teacher Frondier went?”
Perhaps determined to meet him this time, Vasileo mustered some courage and asked a nearby teacher. The man seemed to think for a moment, then replied:
“I saw him head outside. Judging by the direction, probably the cafeteria.”
“Thank you.”
And so, Vasileo went toward the cafeteria.
Even on the way, something felt off. Why would a teacher go eat at Atlas’s cafeteria after school? Was the food here really that good?
Atlas’s cafeteria was vast. Once inside, Vasileo searched every corner, carefully scanning for Frondier.
And after quite some time—
“...Munch, munch.”
It was a complete bust.
Trying to soothe his frustration, Vasileo began shoveling food into his mouth. He’d spent so long searching for Frondier that it was already evening, and the smell of food naturally made him hungry.
“Munch, munch... where the hell are you, chew, chew, you ghost of a teacher... gulp.”
A rib with meat still clinging to it went into his mouth and came back out bare. Between his bulging cheeks, he took a hearty gulp of water. The heavy lump of rice and meat sliding down eased his stress a little.
Atlas’s cafeteria stayed open fairly late, but even after all that waiting, Frondier never showed.
Well, if he hadn’t been there when Vasileo first checked, there was no reason he’d appear now. It wasn’t as if teachers commonly came here anyway.
“—They say there’s a ghost.”
Twitch.
Vasileo froze mid-bite, shoulders jerking.
At the next table, two female students were chatting.
Having just muttered ghost teacher himself, the word stuck in his ears. Vasileo found himself eavesdropping.
“No way. A ghost? Come on.”
“I’m serious! They say it’s in the gym. When night falls and no one’s around, suddenly the lights turn on in the dark gym.”
“Someone must’ve just gone in and flipped the switch.”
“No, they say the light’s far brighter than anything normal.”
“...That’s just an illusion. You know how light looks blinding when you’re in total darkness.”
“But think about it. Our gym only has one light switch by the door, right? You can’t turn the lights on unless you go over there.”
“So?”
“They say if you open the door to turn them off, the light disappears—and no one’s inside.”
Meaning, someone would have to be near the door to switch it off, but the lights went out on their own, with no one there.
The other girl’s face turned pale.
“S-stop it, seriously. That’s just a ghost story.”
“And the light starts out red, then turns this eerie bluish color like a ghost—”
“Stop! I said stop!”
The frightened girl shook her head, while her friend laughed, clearly enjoying herself.
“Munch, munch.”
And at another table, Vasileo listened quietly.
“A ghost, huh.”
He murmured.
The gym wasn’t far from the cafeteria.
Come to think of it, when that teacher said Frondier must’ve gone to eat, it was probably because the gym sounded too unlikely.
The cafeteria and the gym—close buildings. A natural assumption.
“Nothing to lose by checking.”
After finishing his meal, Vasileo decided to visit the gym that night.
Realistically, it made no sense to think Frondier would be there. It was odd enough for a teacher to go to ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ the cafeteria after school—going to the gym was even stranger.
But Vasileo went anyway.
Because Frondier was a strange person.
'Maybe he’s secretly training in there. Maybe I’ll uncover the secret behind that high-speed casting!'
Heart pounding with expectation, Vasileo walked toward the gym.
In the end, his deduction was correct.
For in matters of strangeness, Frondier was second to none—he really was in the gym.
But being right about that, and getting what he hoped for, were two entirely different things.
That night, Vasileo saw something he never should have seen.
'Ah, there he is.'
He peered through a gym window.
A man with black hair stood in the center. No doubt about it. Even without seeing his face, that peculiar atmosphere could only belong to Frondier.
Vasileo held his breath and watched.
There was no reason for Frondier to be standing dead-center in the gym without purpose. He had to be up to something. Vasileo was certain he’d stumbled upon the perfect moment.
“Haa.”
He heard Frondier sigh. The sound echoed clearly in the vast, empty gym.
'Teacher Frondier, sighing? That’s rare.'
It was a side of him Vasileo had never seen—and oddly refreshing.
He didn’t know Frondier actually sighed quite often, just not at school.
“Please, let it work this time.”
A muttered plea, almost a complaint. Another unfamiliar glimpse.
'I knew it! Teacher Frondier’s secretly training here!'
Vasileo clenched his fist. So that incredible high-speed casting really was the result of staggering effort and practice.
Meaning, if Vasileo trained hard enough, he could do it too. Hope swelled in his chest.
Swish.
Then Frondier raised his right hand. At the same time, a strange light began to bloom around him—the manifestation of mana.
'What spell is he about to cast...!'
Remembering that astonishing Gathering Wind, Vasileo’s heart raced in anticipation.
Then Frondier recited a line.
“...Let the light be as a thread, like a candle flickering in the winter wind.”
A chant. Vasileo’s mouth fell open.
Frondier—the man who’d used no chant or trigger for Gathering Wind—was now invoking one. Just how advanced must this spell be?!
'Though... that chant sounds so weak.'
Usually, a chant is used to fix the image of a spell, often filled with one’s desire for strength, making it lofty or hopeful.
But Frondier’s chant was utterly negative. It sounded like he was praying for the spell to be feeble.
And then, before his hand, something appeared.
A radiant, iridescent shape—pattern or sigil, it was hard to tell.
'...What is that?'
Too far to see clearly, Vasileo squinted—
“Will-o’-the-Wisp.”
Frondier spoke.
Vasileo’s expression twisted.
'Will-o’-the-Wisp? A basic spell like that?'
Why chant and trigger for something so elementary? Why even come to the gym to practice such a thing?
Whatever his thoughts, Frondier conjured a small flame before him.
'...Right. It’s just a wisp.'
A simple little flame, a spell Vasileo knew by heart.
As his interest waned—
Pop!
'Huh?'
Vasileo blinked in disbelief.
Right where the wisp had formed—another one appeared, overlapping it.
'Are my eyes playing tricks on me?'
Only for a moment.
Pop! Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop!!!
Wisps surged in succession. Born from a single trigger, they multiplied endlessly, flaring within Frondier’s palm.
The first flame hovering in the air was ordinary enough. But as they continued to spawn, colliding and twisting as if struggling against each other, the light grew ever stronger.
—The light starts out red, then turns this ghostly blue...
The crimson flames erupted within Frondier’s hand, burning fiercer and fiercer.
Before them, Frondier broke into a cold sweat, biting his lip.
“Please... please, just—!”
The red fire shifted to blue, then to white—
KWA-AAAH!!
Vasileo squinted. Not out of fear, but sheer brightness. The small flame in Frondier’s hand was flooding the gym with blinding light.
'What... what is that?!'
Even half-blind, he couldn’t tear his gaze away.
Was that really Will-o’-the-Wisp?
'That’s not for lighting the dark! What happens if someone gets hit by that?!'
Of course, he had no idea of its true temperature. Honestly, even Frondier likely didn’t.
But surely, that wasn’t how the spell was meant to be used.
'Wait—was that chant... literal?'
He’d wondered why it sounded so weak—turns out, it wasn’t a mistake.
Frondier had been pleading for his spell to weaken.
“Kh... ngh... nnh...!”
Frondier gritted his teeth, enduring something. Vasileo had no idea what. He didn’t even understand how such a wisp could exist, much less what was happening now.
But clearly, something was reaching its end. The raging light in Frondier’s hand gradually settled, as if all the fireworks had finally burned out.
“Haa... haa...”
His breathing slowed. Floating before him was a light too bright to look at directly.
It probably wasn’t hot to stand near—Will-o’-the-Wisp wasn’t that kind of spell.
But it was still fire. If that touched a living being—
Gulp. Vasileo swallowed hard.
“There... got it...”
Frondier’s face brightened with genuine joy. Vasileo had only ever seen that expression a few times.
With that smile, Frondier said,
“I did it. My...”
Vasileo waited for the rest. What was this spell? How could such a thing exist?
Then came Frondier’s next words—
“Will-o’-the-Wisp!”
“That’s not a damn wisp!”
Unable to contain himself, Vasileo shouted.
What Frondier had just said shook his entire magical worldview to its core.
“...Hm?”
“Ah.”
Naturally, Frondier noticed him.
The two of them stood there, staring awkwardly at each other for a long moment.
