Chapter 392: The Master (1)

Ryozo and Abel normally call me “Geom-Ma.” We’ve been together since academy days, so changing the way they address me overnight would be quite difficult.

Besides, the two of them are proud heroines, strong women.

‘And now, just because we’re married, are we supposed to start calling each other “honey” or “my love” like we’re in some romantic comedy?’

That would be ridiculous. In a world of heroes full of blood and steel, a youthful rom-com is like a tumor out of place.

Although, to be fair, it’s not like they’ve never spoken to me that way.

Every now and then, when the situation was too intense, they did.

Whether it was about adult matters impossible to mention, or when they were extremely worked up. Like now.

“…Husband.”

Abel looked at me as she said it.

The golden stars in her pupils pierced through my skin, digging into some corner of my consciousness.

“……”

Ryozo, on the other hand, simply stared at me in silence. She said nothing.

That muteness was suffocating me. I wished she would say anything, “husband,” “dear,” “idiot.” Anything.

Whip.

I averted my eyes toward Meian Poison. It was a plea, half resentment and half a call for help.

“Hmm~.”

Meian let out a strange nasal sound while finishing getting dressed.

She tied a ribbon over her navel and dropped herself onto the sofa.

‘With that outfit, don’t cross your legs.’

The image became far too indecent, damn it.

The cold was biting into my bones. I could almost see my own breath in the air.

And Meian, completely at ease, rolled ice cubes in her glass, still wearing that light clothing.

And then she drops this.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“…That doesn’t help at all…”

“Huh? Why are you making those faces? What I mean is, I didn’t use the Blessing of Metamorphosis. That’s why I’m dressed. If I had completed the transformation, I’d be naked right now.”

I wanted to scream.

But for Meian, that was the cleverest way to cover up the situation. She had to see how Ryozo and Abel reacted.

“If the professor says so, I suppose it must be true.”

Ryozo dropped into the sofa with a sigh.

But she shot me a look that said it all—she was upset, very upset.

Her gaze clearly conveyed, “I’ll let it go for now, but later you and I are going to talk.”

I got nervous.

What day was it today? Day of Wrath? Day of Jealousy? I wished, at the very least, it was one of Abel’s usual days.

Not that Abel was any less dangerous.

She too was radiating a chilling intensity.

But what truly scared me was Ryozo’s coldness. Her silence was far more terrifying.

“All I want is for my disciples to live in peace, without conflict. I don’t want there to be any reason for discord because of me.”

Meian winked at me. Hypocrite. What shamelessness she had to slip away from everything like that.

All my masters were the same. What bad luck I had with them.

***

After the commotion, the meeting continued without major delays.

Though ice was slowly piling up on the walls, scraping with a crunching sound—anyway.

The main topic was the management of the graduate program.

I, of course, was sitting like a criminal, with my hands on my knees.

I thought of leaving, but Ryozo and Abel held me firmly by the arms, like anchors. I couldn’t even move.

I wondered if perhaps the old counselors of the kingdoms weren’t like that—two guardians at your sides, preventing you from escaping.

In any case.

The air was so dense and sharp it seemed full of hedgehogs. In that atmosphere, Meian spoke.

“The professors are setting up new facilities to research magic.”

At Joaquin Academy, the professors were all masters of magic. Well, calling them masters was an understatement.

‘The Dragon Lord, ancients, metamorphs…’

Each had left a mark in their time. And now they all researched under one roof.

The focus was magic, naturally.

And the spiritual energy of the human world.

More and more mana was flowing into this plane.

A dangerous phenomenon.

After the past catastrophes, we couldn’t look away. It had to be faced.

That’s why Ryozo and Abel often met with the professors.

To lighten the weight I carried on my shoulders.

Though right now, ironically, they were the ones who had me tightly pinned by the arms.

“The interesting part is this.”

Meian raised her index finger.

“While researching magic, we learned something new about the Awakening of Blessings.”

Ryozo arched her eyebrows.

“The Awakening of Blessings and magic are connected?”

Meian had been hired as a professor precisely because of her Blessing.

She was the person who had survived the longest after awakening a Blessing, thanks to her Ancient heritage.

“I just found out that in magic there’s something called formulas. From the first level to the ninth. Hard to explain—wait a moment.”

She got up from the sofa and walked to the blackboard.

The edge of her robe swayed, revealing part of her legs.

Zzt.

“Ugh.”

Ryozo and Abel’s stares pierced me like blades.

I lowered my head and closed my eyes.

Meian, unfazed, tapped the board with the chalk.

Her rhythm hinted at concentration.

“Good.”

She hummed and began writing with a smooth stroke.

The sound of the chalk on the board rang vividly.

Crack.

The chalk broke and the sound stopped.

I carefully opened one eye. She had drawn several geometric figures.

Then Meian Poison’s lecture began.

“As you know, magic is based on attributes—fire, air, water, earth, etc.”

“Yes.”

Abel nodded.

“By talking with some demons, I discovered that each attribute has its own formula. I represented it with figures. Fire, earth, water, and air, in that order.”

We looked where the chalk pointed. Her clear handwriting filled the board.

Fire (火): △

Earth (土): □

Water (水): ○

Air (空): ☆

Ryozo raised her hand.

“Formula, as in mathematical operations?”

“Exactly. Very well spotted.”

Meian smiled, genuinely impressed.

Ryozo continued.

“Then, the first formula would be water. A single stroke.”

“Ah! And fire and earth would be third and fourth formula.”

Abel clapped her hands in realization.

Meian smiled, satisfied.

“My students always stand out. Correct. The number of steps in the formula defines the complexity of the spell.”

For example, fire. If we divide it into three steps.

Friction → Mana concentration → Ignition.

Three steps, three formulas.

“And, of course, the more complex the formula, the rarer and more powerful the mage who can use it.”

To me, it was like dalgona—the more complicated the shape, the harder it was to break it intact, but the more satisfying when you did.

‘Now I understand why the only user of air with an eighth-level formula was Corps Commander Kuarne.’

That’s why humanity had such a hard time facing him.

Myself included.

Without the Blessing of the God of the Sword, I never would have caught him.

“Magic, in the end, is pure mystery.”

“The more it is mastered, the more it loses strength, don’t you think?”

I replied. Meian smiled at me more brightly.

“You married well, Kang Geom-Ma.”

“True. But because of you, another thought occurred to me.”

“First, let’s not misunderstand just because a spell is of a lower formula doesn’t necessarily mean it’s weak or useless. It also depends on who casts it.”

Scrr—r.

The chalk scratched the board.

△

The symbol of water was split in half.

“The simpler the formula, the more room there is to add strokes. That means more room to play. And then you can do this.”

Her next target was fire. But Meian didn’t stop at a single modification—she went further.

△

“Thus, with this kind of alteration, much more complex fire spells can be created. The important thing is not to forget the original form. Think about air, for example. From the start it’s already a complex symbol. If you alter it even slightly…”

“It would lose its essence.”

Ryozo answered firmly.

“But then, what does that have to do with the Awakening of Blessings?”

“How can you say nothing? There’s something very similar in Blessings.”

“Ah…”

Without meaning to, I let out a sigh.

“Say it, student!”

Meian pointed at me with the chalk.

“Ah… I mean, the hierarchy of Blessings is quite similar, right?”

“Exactly.”

Lesser Spirit, Guardian Spirit, High Spirit, Ancestral Spirit… and divine.

“Blessings work the same way as magic. If we put them in terms of formulas, there’s no contradiction. You even know that there are heroes of Warrior rank who only possess Lesser Spirit-level Blessings.”

“Of course.”

The best example was Shail. He stood out even among Warriors, without having a single Guardian Blessing.

“This is just my opinion.”

Meian set down the chalk.

“Magic is human calculation. Mages make the calculations themselves using the flow of mana to intervene in the world.”

“And Blessings, then…”

“…Are calculations done by a god, forcibly injected into humans.”

That’s how it was before. Today, probably, that gap had been filled with control mechanisms.

“When the amount of information surpasses the limit, the Awakening of the Blessing occurs.”

According to Meian, magic and Blessings were siblings from their origin. Both were operations of calculation.

“But think about it—have you ever seen a mage have an Awakening?”

“I haven’t, at least.”

“Normal. Because they make the calculations themselves. They can regulate the amount of energy they receive.”

“Then…”

“Yes.”

Her tone dropped, heavy.

“If we combine magic and Blessings, perhaps we could perform the calculations on our own.”

A bold idea.

Blessings were, by definition, gifts from unknown beings.

But Meian was proposing to stop depending on the gods, to place oneself on an equivalent plane to them.

I froze. That theory wasn’t even close to being established.

But the lesson didn’t end there. A fragrant scent suddenly surrounded me.

“And do you know who’s closest to achieving it? Your husband. That’s exactly why…”

When I looked up, Meian was already right in front of me. Ryozo and Abel opened their eyes wide in surprise.

“Would you lend me your husband for a moment?”

Ah, fuck.

What a disaster.

***

Joaquin Academy was striving to establish itself as an elite institution.

It didn’t just teach practical combat or Blessing theory.

It also required graduate students to take courses in arts and humanities literature, music, painting, theater—you had to pick at least two.

At the beginning, everyone protested.

They came to study magic, not to become influencers.

But after a month, even the proudest lowered their heads.

They started taking those classes without complaining, some even enjoying them.

More than one discovered a hidden talent.

For many, those hours of art were like rain in the desert.

Scritch, scritch.

The pencil scratched the canvas in the painting classroom.

The light streamed in obliquely.

The easels were aligned, and the students drew in concentration.

“……”

Victoria pressed the charcoal hard against the blank sheet, almost tearing it.

She had erased and redrawn so many times that her hands were black.

She hadn’t wasted time; she was simply struggling with herself.

The painting instructor looked at her with compassion. At last, he spoke cautiously.

“Your Highness, is the theme too difficult?”

Victoria turned her eyes away from the board and looked at him.

“It’s not difficult. The problem is that I’m interpreting it too much. That worries me.”

“It’s a very aesthetic approach. But still, it’s an assignment with a time limit. I’ll give you a hint.”

A hint for that theme?

Victoria looked at the board again.

The professor smiled and added.

“When you want to evoke a scene, think about who was with you in that moment. If the scene is a post-it note, the person is the nail that holds it.”

“A person…”

“Well, I won’t say more. The rest I’ll leave to your imagination, Your Highness. I look forward to your result.”

He moved away, reviewing the other students’ canvases.

Victoria was left alone, playing with the piece of charcoal between her fingers.

And suddenly she understood. She realized why, among so many materials, she had unconsciously chosen charcoal.

She pressed it to the canvas. She didn’t need colors.

“The happiest moment of my life.”

To paint a white world, black was enough.