["She's a memory, yes. But she isn't just static data. In words you'd understand, Master, she's more like a sentient NPC,"] Irigal explained.
"I don't believe this!"
For an entire day, Wayland bounced between death and resurrection. By the time he could no longer endure the strain, he collapsed onto his bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Irigal, looking like a delicate porcelain doll, materialized in the room.
She glanced at Wayland and used her prana to pull the covers over him.
After a moment's thought, she floated closer to his face, her pale gold prana gently brushing against him.
The crushing physical exhaustion seemed to melt away, and Wayland's breathing became steady and calm.
Irigal sat at the head of the bed, her small feet swinging back and forth as she watched over him, humming a soft, gentle melody.
[Shadow Realm Spearmanship training with the Queen of the Land of Shadows, Scathach: Current Progress 5%.]
The next morning, when Wayland woke up and saw that record, he felt his soul leaving his body.
He couldn't even remember how many times he'd died the previous day, and the result was only 5%? That meant he had to endure another twenty days of this hell before he could master it.
'Son of a...'
Wayland felt a surge of impotent rage.
And to top it all off, he was learning spearmanship. He was becoming a Lancer.
'You've got to be kidding me, you stupid system! Take my E-rank Luck and throw it in the trash already!'
However, classes were still a thing. Wayland struggled out of bed, got dressed, and headed for the El-Melloi classroom.
This morning's lecture was Magic Crests and Magic Circuits: Control and Repair.
He arrived early, before the lecture had officially begun.
Just as he sat down, Flat Escardos sprinted over to him. "You disappeared right after class last Friday! I didn't even get a chance to talk to you."
"I was busy practicing magecraft."
"As expected of the El-Melloi classroom's rising star! You're so diligent!" Flat patted him on the shoulder, his energy as boundless as ever.
Wayland shook his head helplessly. "Was there something you needed?"
"Yeah! You still haven't told me why you missed the entrance ceremony."
"You're still thinking about that? Fine, fine. I'll tell you..."
Wayland omitted the part about the murders and simply explained that he'd used magecraft on a London street, been caught by the Department of Policies, and thrown into solitary confinement.
"Man, you clearly don't know the Policies crowd. I heard they've installed prana sensors in every nook and cranny of London. The moment someone uses mana, the execution teams are deployed."
"So that's how it works."
Wayland finally understood how Hishiri Adashino had detected him so quickly. "What if I actually need to use magecraft?"
"Generally, if you're a member of the Association with a valid reason, you can get away with it. But for outsiders? They'll lock you up first and ask questions never."
Flat noticed Wayland nodding and suddenly remembered something. "Since you've just arrived at the Clock Tower, don't just bury yourself in work. You should join some clubs, broaden your horizons."
"Clubs? The Clock Tower has clubs? I thought..."
"You thought it was just a bunch of shut-ins researching magecraft all day?" Flat laughed. "We're all just teenagers, man. How could we possibly stay cooped up like that?"
'You're a teenager too!' Wayland complained internally.
"Do they have a 'Far East Magic Nap Society'?"
"Hey! Since when is there a club dedicated to sleeping?"
"I'll check them out when I have time." Wayland pointed toward the podium. "The lecturer is here. Get back to your seat."
"Right! See ya later!"
Wayland finally let out a breath of relief.
"Magic Crests and Magic Circuits are not permanent. As 'organs' of a magus, they have their own lifespan. Even those with a thousand-year pedigree will eventually decay or fail. This is why Tuners and Repairers exist. Tuners specialize in adjusting the body's rejection of a transplanted Crest, while Repairers fix damage caused by combat or unnatural strain..."
Waver stood at the podium and began his lecture.
A beautiful day... always starts with a beating.
Wayland woke up from the memory and took a deep breath. His tense muscles gradually relaxed as he returned to the world of the living.
He was actually starting to get used to it... 'Like hell I am!'
He wasn't a masochist; there was no way he could 'get used' to dying.
Wayland sat up. Although he'd spent the entire night in the Land of Shadows, he didn't feel any fatigue when he returned.
Normally, he would have been thrilled.
As a former night owl who rarely slept before midnight, waking up the next day had always been a struggle.
[Shadow Realm Spearmanship Progress: 35/100]
'Victory is in sight!'
Wayland gave himself a silent mental cheer.
Ring... ring...
'What's that sound?'
Wayland looked toward the source and realized it was his phone.
An entire week had passed, and this was the first time it had ever rung.
He'd almost forgotten the device even existed.
"Hello?"
Wayland fished the phone out from under his sheets and pressed the answer button.
"Wayland? Are you in Slur Street?"
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]