That towering height alone was intimidating, exceeding 190cm.
Impeccable formal attire close to perfection, and peerless looks that inevitably drew the eye. A perfect golden ratio evident in his body and the way his clothes draped.
······Deculein von Grahan Yukline.
He seemed the very embodiment of "noble dignity," without a single flaw or gap. Nobility unique to him flowed from every step, gesture, and expression.
"That bastard······."
Yet even this flawless exterior was, to some—to quite a few, in fact—nothing more than a "loathsome shell."
"Haa······."
Ifrin Luna. She had been barely suppressing the rage surging within her from the moment Deculein appeared.
Not just words—her actions were fairly vicious too. She clenched her fist so hard her skin might split, gnawing her lower lip.
He had stolen her father's—her progenitor's—legacy, reduced him to a cripple, and ultimately driven him to death.
The world praised Deculein as the "genius of formula interpretation," but that fame was entirely her father's doing······.
─······Attention.
At that moment, the crystal orb amplified Deculein's voice.
─I shall begin the lecture.
In the vast auditorium packed with hundreds, Deculein finally ascended the podium and surveyed the crowd. His gaze was sharp as a blade, haughty and piercing.
Sharp enough to make one want to draw a dagger and gouge out his eyes right then.
"That trash······."
However, the time had not yet come.
Deculein was an enemy she desperately wanted dead, the sole reason she had entered the university tower, but revenge without backing would only bring her sorrow.
Her talent surpassed that man's anyway.
Whether she learned even stronger magic and killed him with her own hands, or rose to a higher position and socially eradicated him—revenge only grew sweeter with age.
She had lived solely for that sweet moment, so waiting a bit longer was no issue.
─Welcome.
But······a little prank couldn't hurt. A sudden idea struck Ifrin; she flashed an innocent smile and pulled her robe hood low.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
······Hundreds packed the high, wide auditorium, all eyes fixed solely on me. Their gazes glittered oppressively, and flashes from classical cameras dazzled the eyes.
I faced them all alone.
Yet it was strange.
Not the slightest tension arose.
I considered all of it merely natural.
Such treatment was a given in my life, such attention not pressure but privilege—an exalted sense of chosen superiority clung to my flesh like skin.
"······Welcome. I am Deculein of the Yukline family."
Thus, I began the lecture leisurely.
The opening was the script's first line, an introduction to the man Deculein.
"Chief Professor of the Imperial University Tower, a mage of Monarch rank governing elements. I wield the four attributes of water, fire, wind, and earth, unbound by any magical series."
The phrasing reeked of self-indulgence.
"······As is known, magic divides into three 'attributes' and nine 'series.' Attributes: elements, origins, and objects. Series: summoning and spirits, destruction and support, manipulation and synthesis, illusion and harmony, and specialization."
I recited the script verbatim.
Even that alone drew undivided attention and bated breath. Thanks to the trait "Imposing Dignity."
"Thus, a mage must focus on series matching their attribute to achieve magical prowess."
With that, I snapped my fingers.
Snap—!
A crisp sound rang out; the auditorium lights extinguished, and a magical formula materialized in the air.
"Forming and emitting a formula with mana—that act is magic itself. Thus, understanding the formula precedes its manifestation. Now, behold the formula above."
I paused briefly, allowing observers to view the magic circle.
A geometric pattern of dozens of straight lines and curves, reminiscent of a fractal at a glance.
"This 68-stroke formula has curved rune paths, with mana first condensing at the center before extending outward. The inward-to-outward spread suits 'destruction' or 'support,' but destruction magic requires straight paths. Thus, this is a support magic formula. Next······."
The first section: "Fundamentals of Magic."
The lecture on it lasted about 15 minutes, and I never lost composure once. The script clung to my tongue naturally.
Curiously—I had perfectly "understood" this script's structure today, despite seeing it for the first time.
"······Formula-based magic proceeds thus. But must mana always lead to magic, and must one master this formula to use magic?"
Now, "Mana Usage."
This auditorium held not just mages but ordinary students, knights, or aspiring adventurers, so this topic was tailored for them.
"No. It depends on where in your body you store mana."
As my words ended, the aerial formula dispersed, replaced by a human anatomical diagram. Blue mana orbs sat at the heart, head, and abdomen respectively.
MANA STATUS
> Total Mana: 3,375
"First, the 'head.' The brain eases formula visualization, naturally enabling complex lines and circles. Thus, mages typically store mana in the head.
This one probably has mana there too.
Numerically, "3,375."
Not that high. I'd seen some named character's 'initial' mana at "30,000."
MANA STATUS
> Named Initial: 30,000
"Next, the 'heart.' It pumps blood throughout, so heart-stored mana spreads easily body-wide. But concentrating it in one spot is hard. Thus, hearts suit knights more than mages."
I continued slowly, simply, ensuring all understood the script.
Probably "Understanding" had mastered public speaking too.
"Finally, the 'abdomen.' The dantian mixes external and internal most fluidly, universal for mages, knights, or commoners······."
Mid-sentence, I checked the time. Forty minutes had passed.
"······My point is simple. Effort matters, of course. But if talent is meager, efficiency is key. Talent isn't given to all, so most of you need selection and focus."
I nearly laughed reading the script.
If talent is meager, weigh efficiency—need selection and focus—
Perfect advice for the current Deculein.
"And······."
Finally, the script's end.
But this paragraph grated slightly.
Should I read it? Would original Deculein have?
No telling. It was scripted, so probably.
"Finally, are there questions?"
Silence answered.
A relief.
"If none—"
As I turned in relief, a hand shot up. Its owner sprang to her feet.
A robed mage. Before I could speak, she continued.
"Professor Deculein. Last night, a mysterious formula appeared in the mage dormitory. Suspected demonic work—surely the genius of formula interpretation, Professor Deculein, could—"
"Are you tower-affiliated? If so, stating name and affiliation is basic etiquette."
I cut her off promptly. Anxious inside, elegant outside. Instinctive noble rhetoric.
"Pardon? Ah, uh, my name is—"
"Too late. I decline questions from the ill-mannered."
"······Huh?"
The robed mage's lower face flushed crimson.
Sorry, but unavoidable. "Understanding" devours mana voraciously.
Mana: 2,005 / 3,375
The lecture alone drained 1,300 mana.
Interpreting an unknown formula would demand far more; no need to push. Dizziness too.
"This concludes the lecture."
Pfft— Pfuhuhu— Kehuhuhu—
Amid jeers and sneers at the lone standing mage, I straightened my rumpled cuffs.
I smoothed the suit creases from lecturing, donned my coat, buttoned it. Pocketed the script, descended the podium.
Each motion flowed like water.
"······Still!"
A loud voice boomed as I turned. I merely glanced back, standing.
The nameless female mage, still up, drew a formula with mana and floated it.
"The tower dismisses it as rumor and refuses interpretation! With your renown, Professor, surely you can identify its series instantly!"
"······."
I regarded the persistent mage.
Daring such impudence toward Deculein. No such character comes to mind, but the formula was oddly eerie. Unlike standard circles—untamable lines or curves, like dozens of live parasites writhing freely.
The instant I viewed it—Understanding activated unbidden.
Vision tinted blue like ink in eyes, thought and computation accelerated as if time slowed, brainstem strained with burning scent······.
But a mere instant.
Mana: 360 / 3,375
Mana depleted in under a second.
Thus, I barely grasped its nature.
Illusion Series: Barrier Magic
Deeper understanding—manifesting or dismantling—would require double the mana, but luckily, she sought only identity.
"Dorm freshmen analyze it as homework, but vacation means few seniors or professors for aid—progress stalls. A hint from you—"
"No need for hints. Illusion series barrier magic. Someone tried trapping you."
"······Pardon?"
"That's it."
Absolute certainty.
The impudent mage seemed flustered, but I exited without looking back.