A Student's Duty (4)
He had expected to get them all right, but hearing Zebedi's confirmation still put Cleio at ease.
"I see."
"To think you were capable of this all along and still never showed up to class. You're quite something."
"I just didn't feel like it before... I'll take that as a compliment."
"Sure, it is one—but do you think school is a place you come and go as you please? Tsk."
Because Professor Zebedi was an exceptional mage with sharp senses, cheating on his exams was impossible. Knowing that better than anyone, the professor simply returned Cleio's answer sheet while suppressing his many questions.
Cleio, just relieved to be one step further from conscription, couldn't help his slight smile. His detached reaction only deepened his classmates' astonishment.
Every gaze in the lecture hall turned to Cleio sitting in the very back.
"No way. Even Isiel getting nine right was a miracle."
"How could someone who never even came to class get them all right? That's impossible even if you attended every lecture!"
"Unbelievable…"
Sitting there, unbothered as though the perfect score meant nothing to him, Cleio looked more like a grown man unmoved by trivialities than a fellow student.
Chel stared at him intently from a row ahead, eyes brimming with curiosity, while Isiel turned her head, glaring at Cleio with a sharpness that could kill.
Cleio, too focused on reading the comments written on his graded paper, didn't even notice the girls' stares.
Zebedi quieted the restless classroom and continued the lesson.
"All right, everyone, settle down. The written portion is done, so this time, we'll have the final practical exam."
The atmosphere, which had been calming down, instantly turned chaotic again. Zebedi's classes were infamous for a reason.
"You'll be tested on what you've learned and practiced so far. Anything you've crammed for the test doesn't count as your own knowledge. Everyone, take your practice wands and gather at the drill field."
"Group 1, thirty students—you'll each draw two magic formulas on the ground perfectly and infuse them with ether until they activate. You know the rule: if even a single stroke is wrong, the formula won't function. Still, if you get over 90% correct, it will count toward your score."
The students stood in groups, holding practice wands about the length of a conductor's baton.
Even though the day was pleasantly cool with a soft breeze, sweat beaded behind some students' ears.
"Group 2, ten students—you'll draw six different formulas. However, if you manage to open your Circle and activate them, you'll receive full marks."
"Uuuuugh—"
"What's with that reaction?"
"Professor, there isn't a single first-year who can open a Circle yet."
One of the Group 2 students muttered cheekily. Zebedi's eyebrow twitched upward.
"Don't be so quick to make excuses. Just because you can't doesn't mean others can't. If you haven't neglected the training to circulate ether through your heart, even a first-year can open a Circle."
"So... when was the last time a first-year managed to open one?"
"Exactly fifty-two years ago. Enough chatter. I'll demonstrate first."
Zebedi raised his crooked wooden staff and struck it against the ground with a thud.
In an instant, a magic circle spread outward—so vast it extended beyond the drill field and past the school's outer boundaries.
A warm golden glow blanketed the entire academy, and even students in other classes leaned out their windows to see.
"The headmaster of the Capital Defense Academy said that to qualify, one must be able to encompass the entire school within a Circle."
Zebedi was Albion's sole Grand Mage—bearing the title of Master.
According to Behemoth, Professor Zebedi's ether level was 8.
An 8-level mage's Circle spanned a full kilometer in diameter and contained eight magic slots.
Eight slots meant the ability to activate eight different spells simultaneously.
Then, the "Understanding" function of the Promise began to activate, golden strings of text floating above Zebedi's head.
[Level 8 Mage
Title: Patience of Mercy]
As the professor's Circle unfolded, a massive, intricate array rose from the ground. Cleio's eyes widened.
'[Wind] [Purify] [Freshness]—those were all on the last test! He combined all three at once! That's incredible!'
All that cramming hadn't been for nothing. Though the overlapping formulas were complex, he could still recognize each component. The precision of their combination drew genuine awe from him.
After surveying the students, Zebedi spoke.
"[Blow forth, Comforting Wind of Peace.]"
The leaves on the trees lining the courtyard trembled all at once, and startled birds took flight from the forest.
A refreshing breeze swept gently through every student's hair, cooling the unpleasant sweat and making their bodies feel light.
It was a completely different scale of magic from what Cleio had seen before—more intricate, more powerful.
He was dumbfounded.
"This is magic—and he only uses it for research instead of developing it further?!"
In the previous manuscript, Zebedi had healed Arthur in moments of crisis, but he'd never displayed anything close to this level of power.
"So the 'Final Draft' didn't just change the characters and events… it changed the magic itself!"
When the wind finally calmed and the leaves stilled, the students couldn't even breathe a word.
The professor had a rare gift for inspiring people.
Even Cleio's heart was pounding—how much more so for the teenagers around him?
Satisfied by the awe and admiration filling their eyes, Zebedi spoke again.
"Any student who has drawn eight or more formulas, step forward. I'll evaluate you first. Liphy Angelium, Leticia Angelium, Isiel Kishion, Cleio Asser."
The four named students stepped forward, standing near Professor Zebedi.
"Who will go first?"
The three girls and the lone boy exchanged glances. Cleio quickly took one step forward.
"I'll go first."
"Good. Cleio, will you draw a magic formula—or attempt to open your Circle?"
"I'll open my Circle."
From behind him, Isiel audibly gasped.
If she'd been able to speak, she surely would've shouted, "You lying bastard!"
Cleio gripped his practice wand tightly, doing his best not to look back.
'I didn't want to contradict myself either… but given the situation, I've got no choice.'
At this point, it was far too late to stay out of sight. There weren't many options left for Cleio to choose from.
Ordinarily, he would've planned to hold back a little, to keep his abilities hidden.
But Behemoth, upon learning that it was impossible to score more than fifty points in the swordsmanship fundamentals class, had trembled in outrage, shouting,"You good-for-nothing scarecrow! You're getting a perfect hundred in basic magic no matter what. If you don't, say goodbye to your savings—and my liquor!"
When it came to grades, Cleio trusted Behemoth completely.
After all, by following Behemoth's grueling crash course, he had finally succeeded in unfolding his Circle just two nights ago.
He'd learned how to circulate ether properly by enduring a hundred blows each to the chest, back, and shoulders from Behemoth, who could sense ether's flow.
"You have to circulate it properly for your ether level to rise! Don't just make it swirl on the surface—guide it all the way through your heart, one full rotation! Then draw the circle around yourself while visualizing the Circle in your mind!"
Even now, Behemoth's shrill voice seemed to echo in his ears.
Having just witnessed Zebedi's enormous Circle, Cleio couldn't help but feel a bit deflated—but he still extended his wand forward, circulating ether to his heart just as he'd been taught.
A golden ring rose up from beneath his feet. Despite his effort, the Circle Cleio could produce was only about two and a half meters in diameter.
'Still, this is something. Most can't even form one at all. I should be satisfied.'
"Woooow!""It's a real Circle!""He actually made one!""That's amazing!"
The Angelium twins chimed together in identical sweet voices, and the rest of the students broke into excited murmurs.
But Cleio, focused entirely on manifesting his formula, heard none of the noise.
Recalling the [Wind] formula in his head was easy, but when he tried to layer [Purify] a moment too late, it failed to overlap and bounced off.
From the ground, the [Wind] formula began to take shape. Ether infused its lines, shining with a flickering brilliance.
The loading process was already complete.
'Oh well. Combining them was a bit too much for now.'
Still, since [Wind] alone had manifested properly, he recalled the perfect incantation—from a book he'd once read in the other world.
'Forgive me, great author. It's not plagiarism, it's homage. Let me borrow your line.'
"[The fierce wind shakes the tender buds of May!]¹)"
The dazzling formula blazed to life.
What erupted wasn't merely a breeze.
It was a storm.
The compressed tempest raged violently within the boy's Circle.
His brown hair whipped about wildly, and his uniform jacket flapped backward, turning inside out.
The narrow circle of wind became a golden whirlwind, spiraling skyward like a miniature typhoon forming above the drill field.
Cleio's light body was buffeted by the currents, nearly lifted clean off the ground. One wrong move, and he'd be blown away completely.
Struggling to keep his balance amid the wind, Cleio quickly thought of another formula. There was no time for a poetic incantation this time.
"[Exclude the caster!]"
Thud—!
The ether's light shone so brilliantly that, luckily, no one seemed to notice him stumbling and falling over.
Squinting against the glare, Cleio brushed the dust from his now filthy uniform and stood, pretending nothing had happened.
The ether storm continued for several dozen seconds before naturally subsiding.
No one uttered a single word of awe anymore.
Even in the nearby lecture buildings, not only students but also instructors and assistants had come to the windows, gazing down at the drill field.
It was unmistakably a Level 2 Circle. Though only one type of formula had properly manifested within it, the power displayed rivaled that of a Level 4 mage—a staggering talent.
Zebedi spoke in a solemn, deliberate tone, his gaze upon Cleio intense with admiration.
"…Not since fifty-two years ago has a first-year student managed to open a Circle. You are the first, Cleio Asser."
"Is that so?"
"The name of that student was Zebedi Physis. He is now the only Level 8 mage in the Kingdom of Albion."
'Wow, the man really does know how to gild his own name.'
"You'll find his footsteps worth following. Your score is perfect. And I recommend you consider joining second-year classes starting next term."