Hush's POV
It never dies.
The light.
It burns. Scorches. I can feel it crawling beneath my skin, under my eyes, through my mind. No matter what I do, it doesn't vanish.
No need to worry. Nothing can touch it.
I accepted the pain. I welcomed it.
And never will I lose my sight of it again. Never will I turn away.
It is everything and nothing, all at once. The source of power, the burden, and the consequence.
End of Hush's POV
John had noticed Hush staring blankly into space, his expression distant and unreadable. He tilted his head slightly, concerned.
"…wonder why. Hey, are you alright?" John asked.
Hush blinked and turned his focus back. "Oh, nothing," he replied, his tone detached, almost indifferent.
Curiosity nudged John. "By the way… I'm a bit curious now. How does your magic work?"
Hush exhaled slowly. "It's more of a mind manipulation thingy. Whatever I think, my targets… they think it too. Simple as that."
John raised an eyebrow. "How does that connect with Despair then?"
"Dunno," Hush replied, shrugging. "At the least, I can scare people. That's the effect. Creates despair."
John shifted uncomfortably. "Hoping you don't try that on me."
"As long as you don't try me," Hush countered, smirking faintly.
The conversation faded as they neared the enormous academy entrance. The massive wooden doors grew taller with each step they took, seeming to stretch infinitely toward the sky. Chaos whispered behind the doors—voices, shuffling feet, and the faint crackle of magic—but it was mostly indistinct, muffled by the aura of the building itself.
"Weird door," John murmured, his mouth slightly agape. A mixture of awe and confusion flickered across his features.
Hush simply pointed. "Look."
A young man stumbled out of the entrance, eyes wide in shock. He shuffled toward a small side building inscribed with the phrase: "To know is to accept potential despair."
John returned his gaze to the grand doors. Their wood was dark and ancient, carved intricately with motifs eerily similar to those in his grimoire. At the center of each door was a pair of wooden eyes, subtly morphing as if they had a will of their own, tracking each movement, scanning every visitor.
Then, without a sound, the doors opened.
John felt the weight of the world press upon him. The doors were colossal, sealing the essence of life itself: mountains, rivers, skies, everything. Waves of violet and white light spilled from within—the pure essence of mana. Everything was mana.
The doors are dead.
He understood suddenly: they were nothing but a vessel, a compilation of inert mana. Once fearsome, now merely ornamental. Like the world itself—an elaborate construction of dead, inert forces. The dead door concealed truths no ordinary mage could fathom.
"…finished. Oh, he still hasn't regained his senses? Just wait—"
John blinked. He was lying on the ground, weak and disoriented.
"W-where am I?" he muttered.
Hush crouched beside him. "We're in the academy. I assume that was the first challenge."
John slowly sat up. The ceiling above was immense, carved into crystalline patterns pointing toward a glowing white center. Light-violet mana radiated faintly from each shard. He stared at his eyelashes, at his hands.
This is dead mana. I am… dead.
Frozen, he barely registered Hush tapping him on the shoulder.
"H-hey," John muttered, looking at the knuckles that nudged him.
"Better get going. Register your book for class analysis. When they call your name, you'll teleport to your assigned room to showcase your abilities. They need to gauge your current mastery of mana," Hush instructed, nodding toward the middle room.
"Oh, okay," John replied hesitantly. The room ahead had a door with a brown frame, flickering briefly to reddish before going black entirely.
After about a minute, a girl exited the room, moving toward two waiting students. The academy seemed sparsely populated—only a dozen or so people.
"Okay, I'll register my book. Wait for me," John told Hush.
Hush nodded. "Take care. Good luck, lad."
A middle-aged man waved, his bald head and golden earring glinting under the violet lights. He looked muscular, though covered by a simple red shirt. Courteous, yet intimidating.
John approached the registration desk. The table was patterned with glowing violet circular designs.
"Place your book here," instructed the receptionist, sliding a rectangular container toward him.
John set his tiny book in the container. He waited, the silence stretching.
'She mustn't have noticed how tiny my book is,' he thought. Almost instinctively, he considered explaining.
"Excuse me, I've placed—"
Darkness. The room dimmed entirely, save for the faint glow of the desk. The receptionist had vanished.
'Is this the test?' John wondered.
A projected image of the receptionist appeared. She seemed to laugh, attempting to contain it, tears threatening to spill. She looked at his tiny book with utter disbelief.
"What should I do?" John muttered.
"Oh! Hahaha!" The girl stifled another laugh, sniffling from the force of it.
John groaned inwardly. "Okay, so we're even. Where do we start?"
"Show me how you manipulate mana," the receptionist instructed. "I'll analyze your abilities."
John hesitated, unsure of what he could demonstrate—except the one thing he now knew: his book could respond to his will.
Closing his eyes, he imagined it moving to his other hand. Opening them, the book floated exactly where he intended. Slide it to his left? It obeyed. Right? Done.
"…maybe I can manipulate where my book goes," John murmured, eyes widening at his own realization.
The receptionist froze, staring in shock.
"Hello?" John prompted.
"Yeah… you need serious training. You're an S—harbinger of will," she finally said.
John's mind reeled at the grandiose title. "Do I feel empty when I cast a spell?" she asked.
"Empty? No… nothing changes," he replied curiously.
"That makes sense. Proceed to the orientation hall immediately after this room."
A door appeared out of nowhere. John walked through, sensing no mana consumption—his device couldn't detect anything.
At a distance, he saw the middle-aged man smiling.
The door above him read: "Insignificant (0–6) Mobile Mana Storages."
The man laughed. "You might be lucky, lad. You're a lucky charm!"
John thought wryly: Lucky charms really have magic now? Must be why they treat me like this.
Beside him, Hush tried not to laugh, keeping his gaze low.
"Where to next?" John asked.
"To the orientation room, just after this corridor," Hush replied, his red face betraying a faint smile.
"John. My name," the middle-aged man added.
"Yes… John. I've got my own shameful stories. That's why I only got into the academy recently. Name's Kinru," he said, proud yet humble.
They advanced toward the corridor. Two guards in black vampiric suits watched silently, each holding glowing violet mana spheres.
Suddenly, a voice called from behind: "You three will be re-tested."
Hush reacted instinctively, casting fake light at the approaching guards. The mana spheres grew ominously larger, and the world around them went black.
---
John awoke to white light, disoriented. A nurse, magical and serene, asked if he felt alright.
"You were tested by the best policy mage's crafted guards. You saved your friends by using your mana, preventing a rampage. Now, you need emergency magical reconnection," she explained.
John's mind swirled. Hush and Kinru were fine, but the answers he sought—his true potential, the limits of his Despair magic—were farther away than he thought.