Chapter 4

　　Had I ever been this consumed by anything before? For three days, the world outside the tower ceased to exist. I barely slept or ate. My entire being was dedicated to the intricate art of magic circles. I lost all track of time. When exhaustion claimed me, I would collapse onto the desk for a few hours. When hunger gnawed at me, I would chug a strange potion Ea provided, which miraculously kept the pangs at bay.

　　The author of The Fundamentals of Magic had stressed the importance of solid fundamentals, so I focused on mastering the basics rather than learning a wide array of spells. On my first day, drawing a magic circle on a desk with my fingertip was a beginner’s task. Soon, I progressed to drawing them on the palm of my hand. Once that became second nature, I moved on to forming the circles with mana alone, without any physical contact.

　　Speed is paramount for a magic circle. The book recommended a technique called the Stamping Method. By committing the circle’s design and formulas to memory, you could manipulate your internal mana to form the diagram on your palm, eventually reaching a level where you could stamp them out one after another. It was like a professional musician performing from memory, only easier. After repeating a single spell hundreds, even thousands of times, the mana itself seemed to remember the process.

　　I only had to provide the basic framework, and the mana would flow on its own to complete the circle, as if it understood my intent. This provided a level of stability far beyond what a musician’s reliance on muscle memory could offer. It reached a point where drawing with mana felt far more natural than using my fingers.

　　After four days of immersive training, my casting speed had increased dramatically, and my mistakes were few and far between. I could now conjure a magic circle almost subconsciously.

　　And so, on the morning of my fourth day in the Magic Tower, I had mastered three fundamental magic circles. All that remained was to test them in actual combat.

　　"Haaaah," I let out a big yawn.

　　Of course I was exhausted. But that wasn’t enough to make me stop. For me, magic had become a drug. The more I learned, the more I craved power and knowledge, creating a powerful synergy with my over-immersion trait.

　　Ea, who was standing beside me, spoke with a worried expression, "Recommendation. Considering the Tower Master’s current health, it is advisable to cease studying and take a rest…"

　　"I’ll sleep after just one more page," I retorted, about to turn to the next spell when—thud.

　　Something bumped against my foot. I looked down and saw my smartphone lying under the desk.

　　Only then did a sliver of reality pierce my focus. I picked it up and turned it on, my screen immediately flooding with missed calls and messages from a friend.

　　—Yoonjeong: Hey, are you not coming to school today?

　　—Yoonjeong: Is something wrong? Pick up your phone!

　　—Yoonjeong: This isn’t like you. What’s going on? You know four unexcused absences in a row means expulsion, right? Don’t tell me you’re giving up.

　　—Yoonjeong: I can’t tell you what to do, but you’ll regret it if you quit like this. Please, just think it over one more time.

　　The last message was filled with genuine concern. I felt a pang of guilt. I couldn’t possibly tell her I’d completely forgotten about school.

　　Hmm, what to do?

　　Korea Hunter Academy, or KHA, was the most prestigious hunter training facility in the country, with the current Hunter Association President herself as its chancellor. It was a cutthroat place, but graduating was the fastest path to becoming a professional hunter. A diploma from KHA opened doors to top guilds and even a potential government position within the Association. That’s why I’d been clinging on so desperately. Of course, surviving in an academy with a graduation rate below fifty percent was no small feat, especially with a non-combat ability.

　　My entire existence had revolved around finding a way to survive there.

　　But now… I didn’t necessarily need the academy anymore, did I? I was the Master of the Magic Tower. My priorities had shifted from mere survival to the study of this profound new art. Still, the thought of being expelled felt like a waste. It would be like running away before reaching the finish line, and I couldn’t stand the thought of those who looked down on me snickering about how they knew I’d fail. Most importantly, I needed a hunter license to enter dungeons freely.

　　"Ea."

　　"Yes, Tower Master."

　　"Should I go to the academy or not?"

　　It was a question out of nowhere, but she answered instantly.

　　"An outing is highly recommended. The Tower Master is in need of fresh air."

　　She just wants me out of her hair, I thought wryly. After weighing my options, I came to a decision. I would continue attending the academy, but not for long. In two weeks, I will apply for the early graduation exam, get my diploma, and secure my license. With the Magic Tower and magic at my disposal, there was nothing left to fear.

　　Just two more weeks.

　　For the first time in four days, I pulled on a jacket and prepared to face the outside world.

* * *

　　The fresh air was invigorating. Stepping outside the tower, I was greeted by a jungle of otherworldly plants, a clear sign of the area’s strong connection to the other world. The more potent the influence, the thicker the alien flora and the more frequent the monster appearances. There was a good reason this area was a restricted area.

　　I pulled up the map on my phone. It’s a bit of a walk to the station. Maybe I should take a bus.

　　As I calculated the best route, a rustling sound came from behind me. I stopped and turned.

　　Grrrrrrr!

　　A shaggy, tattered monster emerged from the bushes. It was the very same one that had nearly killed me.

　　"Well, look at you," I smirked. "Don’t tell me you’ve been waiting here all this time for revenge?"

　　As if it understood my taunt, the beast roared and charged. I thrust my arm forward, a magic circle forming instantly. The rune of hardening solidified my mana into a frontal barrier.

　　CLANG!

　　A shimmering blue Shield materialized just inches from my palm, intercepting the attack. The beast’s claws scraped uselessly against it, deflecting with a sharp clang. It stumbled back in surprise, giving me the opening I needed. I was already preparing my next spell. The rune of output would launch my mana as a projectile.

　　Fwoosh, fwoosh. Twin arrows of pure mana blazed from the circles on my hands, sinking deep into the monster’s chest. Blood sprayed as it writhed in agony. It’s working! I can fight this thing.

　　KRAAAWR!

　　The beast lunged again, but I calmly deployed another Shield, blocking its frenzied attacks while peppering it with Mana Arrows, aiming for its existing wounds. With each hit, its movements grew more sluggish.

　　Pshnk!

　　I finally landed a direct hit on one of its eyes. The monster howled, pawing at the arrow, and looked up in a blind rage.

　　Grrrr?!

　　Wrong direction. Up here.

　　I deployed a Gauntlet magic circle directly above the distracted beast’s head. Leaping into the air, I plunged my fist down toward the circle.

　　Shhhk! My fist passed through the diagram, becoming wreathed in crackling blue energy. The moment it made contact with the monster’s skull—

　　BOOOOM!

　　My fist connected with the force of a meteor strike, driving the monster’s head into the hard-packed earth. The blue sparks that erupted from the Gauntlet’s impact were a beautiful, violent spectacle. The beast went limp, its rampage finally over.

　　"Ugh, that stings," I muttered, landing lightly on the ground and shaking out my tingling arm.

　　It was my first victory as a magician. A creature that had been a life-or-death threat just days ago was now something I could hunt with my bare hands. But my joy was quickly overshadowed by my analysis of the relationship between proficiency and accuracy and the duration of the Shield. The Gauntlet was my most powerful spell, but its close-range requirement was a liability that needed a solution.

　　With my mind buzzing with these thoughts, I finally left the restricted area.

* * *

　　Hunter Academy. Mana Hall, Fourth-Floor Lecture Room.

　　"As you all know, modern hunter combat revolves around two main pillars: the use of Unique Abilites and specialized equipment crafted from monster byproducts," Professor Oh Yeonhee of Mana Studies explained to her class. "Some people, therefore, consider mana application a secondary skill. This is a grave misconception. It is no exaggeration to say that mana application is the utilization of your Unique Ability."

　　She clicked a button on the smart pen in her hand, and the presentation behind her advanced to the next slide.

　　"Look at the screen. If you place a colored lens in front of a flashlight, the light changes color. A convex or concave lens will focus or expand that light. A player’s power works in the same way. Think of the lens as your Unique Ability, and the flashlight as your mana. Depending on your lens, your mana can create fire, harden your body, or bind and crush your enemies."

　　The students nodded, their expressions serious.

　　"A player’s lens is fixed from birth. However, you can always improve the performance of the flashlight or even replace it with a better one! I cannot stress this enough, mana application is directly linked to your growth. Now, then."

　　Professor Oh activated a series of devices on the stage. A set of expensive mana amplifiers, resembling studio lights, focused their energy on a single point. She stepped into the light and conjured her mana.

　　"You’re all second-years, so you should be able to produce a mana thread, correct?" A thin, blue thread spooled out from the tip of her index finger. "Mana is naturally gaseous, but players can concentrate it into a solid form. This mana thread has countless applications in the field, making it an essential skill for any aspiring professional hunter."

　　The thread extending from her fingertip coiled and twisted, eventually blossoming into the shape of a small flower. Murmurs of admiration rippled through the classroom.

　　"The most important aspects of creating a mana thread are delicate control and concentration. If your focus wavers for even a moment, the flower will dissipate before it can fully bloom." As if on cue, the mana flower scattered into the air. "Alright. Let’s have you come up one by one and try."

　　The students took their turns at the mana projector. They didn’t have to worry about mana consumption, only control. But it was harder than it looked. Most failed. They could produce the thread, but they either used too much force, causing the shape to collapse, or their concentration would break, and the thread would vanish. Still, Professor Oh offered encouragement with a smile.

　　"It’s your first time, so there’s no shame in making mistakes. However, this will be part of a practical assessment in two weeks, so practice diligently. Next."

　　At the mention of an assessment, the students’ faces hardened. They began practicing earnestly at their desks when—creak.

　　The lecture hall door opened. A haggard-looking Yusin stepped inside.

　　He said nothing.

　　A chilly silence descended.

　　"I apologize for my tardiness." Yusin bowed his head and started toward his seat.

　　"Mr. Kim," Professor Oh called out, stopping him in his tracks. "I was informed you were absent for three consecutive days. Did something happen?"

　　"I had some personal matters to attend to," he replied, his voice flat.

　　At his dry response, the professor’s expression tightened. Kim Yusin was infamous at the academy. Despite having a non-combat ability, he would do anything to survive, pushing himself with a fervor that bordered on madness. Professor Oh had always admired his tenacity and favored him for his excellent grades in her class.

　　But the Yusin standing before her now was different. His usual passion was gone and was replaced by a detached, almost transcendent expression. His attitude felt dismissive.

　　I need to snap him out of it, she decided. "Mr. Kim, put your bag down and come up here."

　　"Yes, ma’am." Yusin did as he was told.

　　"Today’s lesson is simple," she said, demonstrating again by forming a flower with a mana thread in the projector’s light. "You will form a shape using a mana thread."

　　While she explained, the other students exchanged stifled snickers.

　　He’s in for it now. She’s going to tear him apart.

　　He should know better. Professor Oh is a stickler for classroom behavior.

　　If that underachiever can’t even do this, he’s truly hopeless.

　　Looks like he finally lost what little grit he had. Good riddance.

　　Yusin’s obsessive drive had always made him stand out, and it hadn’t won him many friends. After listening to the explanation, he asked, "Does it have to be a flower?"

　　"Anything is fine."

　　Yusin nodded, closed his eyes, and took a slow, deep breath. When he opened them again, his expression was chillingly calm, his pupils unfocused. It was a glimpse of the unique madness he sometimes displayed.

　　That terrifying concentration… it’s still there, Professor Oh thought, an involuntary shiver running down her spine.

　　Fshhhh. A mana thread began to flow from Yusin’s fingertip. Then another. And another. Five threads in total, intertwining as they stretched upward. Professor Oh’s eyes widened. Is he operating multiple mana threads at once?

　　The threads formed a sturdy trunk, then branched out in multiple directions. New threads sprouted from the branches to form smaller twigs, and upon them, leaves and flowers began to bloom. Her jaw dropped.

　　No, this isn’t just a simultaneous operation!

　　He was commanding the mana itself, drawing it out in the form of threads as needed.

　　"Huh?"

　　"What is that?"

　　The students, who had been struggling to create tiny petals, could only stare, dumbfounded. While they were making single, finger-sized flowers, Yusin was weaving a colossal tree, its branches bursting into glorious, impossible bloom. And he didn’t stop. The tree grew, quickly exceeding the range of the mana projector, but he no longer needed its assistance. The mana-thread tree soon covered the entire ceiling of the lecture hall, its blossoms sparkling like a magnificent work of art.

　　Finally satisfied, Yusin turned his head. Professor Oh was clutching the podium for support, her face a mask of pure astonishment.

　　"May I return to my seat now?"

　　Her mind had completely shut down. As a professor, she should have offered some critique, but she was speechless. What he had done wasn’t just beyond her own capabilities; it shattered the very foundations of her understanding of mana. All she could manage to do was nod.

　　Yusin closed his eyes, took another deep breath, and the magnificent tree dissolved into particles of light.

　　He said nothing.

　　Neither did she.

　　A profound silence filled the room.

　　"C-Class is dismissed for today," the dumbfounded professor finally managed to stammer.

* * *