How to Survive at the Academy - Ch. 245
TL: TangSanFan
ED/PR: Tanthus
***Bellbrook Subjugation Battle (13)***
A single drop of blue paint fell into the lukewarm water.
Initially, the drop of paint in the water only left a small mark.
However, it gradually spread inside the cup, expanding its influence this way and that, until eventually it dyed the entire contents of the cup blue.
A mere drop. It began as nothing more than that, but by the end, it had transformed the world inside the cup into a completely different vista.
No one knows exactly how the rippling water within the cup will churn, or in what manner the paint that fell into it will spread.
Yet, the result is always the same. That tiny drop of paint, initiating change, eventually twists the far-off future on its head. A proverbial butterfly effect, where one small variable triggers vast and unforeseen consequences.
“I have been researching a method to create such an existence akin to this drop of paint here at the Imperial Research Institute, Your Highness Crown Prince Rienfel.”
It was the word of the great sage, Sylvania.
Crown Prince Rienfel, who had been grievously injured because of Sylvania’s research, questioned what exactly the sage had been studying and observing, eager to understand the price he had paid.
Sylvania’s answer returned a concept of a world that would someday end abruptly without warning—a closed world.
An eternal darkness beyond observation, a ‘precipice point.’
Where all branches of future possibilities come to an end, a destined darkness that must be faced regardless of the struggles and resistance.
As they observed this primal fear together, crown Prince Rienfel couldn’t help but swallow dryly.
“No matter how or in what manner I observed, the future remained unchanged. It’s a deep darkness, the cause of which cannot even be measured. I have been confined to the research rooms of the Imperial White Lily Palace, searching solely for a method to escape this world from that darkness,” Sylvania confessed.
Crown Prince Rienfel shivered as he spoke, “Then… Have you found a way?”
“No.”
With that response, crown Prince Rienfel swallowed hard.
“However, I have devised several hypotheses that hold potential. My conclusion is that the world we live in is a closed one. No matter how or in which direction we proceed, we are fated to reach the same end—a world with no escape from that inevitability.”
“I can hardly believe it even as I hear it…”
“It’s no wonder. However, if this hypothesis is correct… Then there’s still a method to thrash about. If we cannot escape the cliff’s edge with the potential within this world, then we must summon an existence from outside this world, someone completely unbound by the flow of our own.”
Sylvania closed her eyes.
She perceived, through the sacred magic she had spent her life researching, the presence of an entity from another world, one beyond the stars she had observed.
“How this will work, what effect it will have—I cannot know. Nor can I preemptively decide how it will manifest since we’ve never attempted such a thing before. We’re considering bringing in an existence that the world has never been subservient to.”
“If there’s any way that I can help, tell me. I’ll do everything in my power.”
“Thank you, Your Highness. But there’s little I’m certain of.”
Sacred magic is still a largely unknown field.
Though Sylvania is the world’s foremost authority on sacred magic, there remains too much she has not attempted.
“We need immense magical power and a long preparation period, and there are still countless magical formulas to research. Even if we try, it’s uncertain whether we can summon someone to our present time, whether they would be physically present themselves or possess someone in our realm, whether they will appear here and now, or in a distant future or past… There’s so much to study, and it’s uncertain if we can define it. The power of sacred magic to manipulate space and time is inherently uncontrollable…”
It’s a magic that challenges the laws of nature, untried and unrestrained.
An entire field of study remains in the domain of the unknown…
“And even if we manage to summon them… Whether that will bring any meaningful change to the world, we do not know.”
“Then… You’re telling me there’s nothing we can be certain of? How do we expect to solve such an immense problem with such an approach?”
“We can’t just sit idly by when we’re grasping at straws.”
Life is too precious; existence is too valuable.
To accept death is unfathomable.
One simply cannot readily accept the end of the world; there is no desire to yield to such fate.
Sylvania Robespierre firmly believes that humanity can evade this predestined demise.
She does not tremble in fear nor wail in despair.
She pushes aside the encroaching terror of darkness and steps forward with a smile to assure the public. Peace will continue, she professes.
Yet in private, she persists with her research in defiance of the world’s preordained course.
Securing the Crown Prince Rienfel’s clandestine support, she secludes herself in her lab, day in and day out, establishing calculations.
She travels to the Rameln Mountains, observing the stars from their peaks, working backward through the flows of magical power.
Occasionally, employing sacred magic to observe other worlds, she reconfirms the predetermined end of this one.
Eventually, after a long dedication, she completes the summoning circle that can beckon an entity from another world. However, the observed course of the world remains unchanged. The future still inexorably marches toward an abyss of darkness.
Despite this, Sylvania does not lose hope, repeatedly refining and experimenting with her summoning circle, yet the future’s course remains steadfastly unaltered.
Still, she refuses to abandon hope, attempting time and again, yet ultimately Crown Prince Rienfel is the one to succumb to despair.
“Time and again… We’ve tried and failed! It’s all meaningless! To attempt to defy the laws of the world… It was foolish!”
“Crown Prince…”
“It’s futile! All of it! It means nothing…!”
Quivering with frustration and despair, crown Prince Rienfel pounds the desk.
In anger, he sweeps aside the various research books and documents upon it and screams as he claws at his hair.
“I believed you could be the savior to save the world! There would be no one else… Only you could prevent this fated end! But you are the same…! It’s all over for us! We cannot escape this despair!”
Unable to continue, Sylvania understands that vast despair and fear all too well.
The sole reason Crown Prince Rienfel has maintained his sanity is that this deep darkness is a distant future event. He knows his life will end before that finality comes.
Thus, he has been able to act out of a sense of duty to save the world.
If the terror were imminent, he’d be unable to do anything but tremble in his room.
However, despite still having ample time to act, crown Prince Rienfel feels powerless.
He begins to be consumed by futility – pondering a life, regardless of the good deeds or triumphs, that is inevitably engulfed by darkness, he loses the will to live a life of purpose.
Even Sylvania is eventually ousted from the royal palace.
She lets go of her ambitions for imperial power and vanishes into the annals of history.
On the day she was expelled from the palace, rumors about Sylvania began to circulate among the people.
Even the great sage Sylvania could not escape the grave sin of directly harming the crown prince, they whispered. It’s a marvel she lasted as long as she did.
Sylvania did not bother to explain the full truth.
Instead, she left for Arken Island with a wide smile—
Multiple times she observed, she foresaw a future converging into endless darkness.
She had watched countless currents of fate unfold, never perceiving the variations that were now raising their heads.
Sylvania lifts her gaze from the rubble of the destroyed building.
It was all too strange.
Too many inexplicable events were occurring.
Although the terror of darkness sought to deny it, Sylvania speaks out with her blurred vision, reaffirming what she knows to be true.
This shouldn’t be happening. She repeats to herself.
And above all, the most perplexing thing—
Leaning against the outer wall of the fallen Triss building, the blonde man watched Sylvania Robespierre with a piercing gaze.
The venom in his eyes had burned into her memory, constantly stimulating Sylvania’s consciousness.
Clutching her sanity amidst the darkness that threatened to engulf her over the aeons, a resurgence of madness wells up within her. Drawing upon her magic, she rises again.
As she takes to the skies, she sees Yenika Faelover sitting within a magical circle, gripping her staff, her gaze more aggressive than ever before.
Her hair has patches of stark-white, dark marks of shadow creeping upon her skin—yet her eyes remain steadfast.
Sylvania unleashes high-level elemental magic. Fire, wind, water, earth—torrents of magical assaults hurtle towards Glascan, and while dark magic neutralizes most, a few manage to land effective blows. Elemental spells strike Glascan directly, causing massive explosions that illuminate the area.
But the adversary is a high-ranking elemental spirit.
Attacks of such a level scarcely concern it. Dark magic cast towards Sylvania soon engulfs the plaza entirely.
– Boom! Bang! Bang! Woosh!
Rising flames, in shades as dark as blood, consume everything equitably. Glascan wields the spell of Black Flame, capable of incinerating not just the material but even magic itself, pure darkness in the form of fire.
However, Sylvania’s sacred magic cannot be countered.
Swiftly she breaks through a “spatial barrier” that had been surrounding her, returning unscathed to the pinnacle of the tower.
Confronting such a giant hadn’t been quite straightforward. Especially since an elemental spirit of darkness naturally resists elemental forces.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t win. It would just take a considerable effort.
And at that moment, she happened to notice.
Unbeknownst to her, the plaza entrance had been filled with water. The dense darkness concealed it until it was too late.
As if a flood had occurred… The water ceaselessly surged over the plaza’s surface, slowly enveloping the area.
And at the center, Yenika Faelover was nearly submerged to her knees.
Elemental Summoning – Source of Water.
Yet, it was entirely different in scale from anything that Ed Rothtaylor’s spirit Reyshia could summon.
—No matter where it arrives, that place becomes the sea.
A legendary spirit known by that declaration exists—one that devours giant monsters of the deep and even swallows reefs whole.
It was the highest-ranking water spirit, Priddy.
Even with the power of the Phoenix Ring, it had taken over a week of fever and lost vision to summon that massive whale.
There are legends of the mythic spirit tamer ‘Delkrom,’ who comfortably summoned two high-ranking spirits at once.
However, that incredible achievement is often dismissed as an exaggeration to elevate the grandeur of a mythical hero.
No matter the talent of a spirit tamer,
Even those born with exceptional talents have their limits; such is the nature of human boundaries. Yet, the earnest appearance of Yenika, clasping her hands around her staff with fierce concentration, was genuine to the core. For a seemingly ordinary human to restrain the historical figure Sylvaniar Robespierre, she believed that such efforts were necessary. Ironically, such abilities are far beyond that of an average human, but Yenika, bleeding and drawing upon every ounce of her mental strength, had yet to reach that conclusion.
Blood gushed like a waterfall.
Even as droplets fell, her eyes remained wildly open.
With her trembling hands tightly gripping the staff, Yenika could feel her spirit affinity igniting throughout her body.
A deep, resonant sound emerged, more akin to the heartbeat of a great galleon than the whispers of a spirit.
The whale breaking through the ground of the grand plaza and leaping toward the sky dwarfed several buildings with its sheer size.
As Priddy’s descent spurred a geyser of water to blossoms, rain seemed to fall from the sky.
Priddy itself, with its mere appearance, brought forth hundreds of lesser spirits.
Viewing the array of spiraling spirits alongside the colossal whale, one couldn’t help but be reminded of the sight of a mighty flagship flanked by its armada.
Spirits of various shapes and colors soared with the mighty spirit whale, forming an aerial blockade around Glascan, blurring the line between the material world and the domain of spirits.
Was this the mortal world, or the spirit realm where spirits gathered in abundance?
The distinction was blurred as a vast army of spirits engulfed the world.
With demonic beasts swept away by the skies, the roaring of Bellbrook and the ascent of various elemental spirits made a spectacular backdrop.
Sylvaniar stood upon a shattered spire, gazing intently at the unfolding spectacle.
Yenika Faelover bowed her head low.
As blood poured out, and fever surged within, she withstood the torment, refusing to relent despite the searing pain that seemed to consume her senses. Her magic was entirely depleted, and she was on the verge of exhausting even the minimal strength required to sustain life.
Gasping for air, she lacked the strength even to breathe, her vision nearly gone, her tactile sense weakened.
Yet Yenika Faelover did not fall. She persisted in these impossible acts for one sole reason: there was something she needed to protect.
In Sylvaniar’s eyes, this image of Yenika was profoundly different from any she had previously known.
Coupled with Priddy’s mighty bellow, the topmost dark magic of Glascan ambushed Sylvania.
These were attacks no ordinary magic could deflect, their firepower and volume far exceeding any semblance of normalcy.
Sylvania, in turn, summoned her Divine Power magic. With the might that could disregard the very laws of the world, she could quash any scale of magic, even one that far exceeded common understanding.
The Grand Sage Sylvania was a magician to whom the logic of strength did not apply.
Ultimately, it boiled down to how efficiently she could suppress the uprising spirit army.
Surrounding the spire, a blood-red magical aura swirled.
Despite casting enormities of Divine Power magic multiple times, the quantity of mana seemed unending.
The roar of Bellbrook enveloped Arken Island, with its breath scorching through hundreds of spirits in the sky. Priddy, floating through the spirit-filled heavens like space itself, swept the demonic hordes with a flick of its tail.
Sylvaniar’s eyes flashed open. A creeping darkness, whispering madness in her ears called for a comfortable death—a release for those caught in the endless suffering of their futile existence.
Overwhelming despair bred a power from the depths unlike any other, drawing out mana.
The supreme Divine Power magic – Void.
The all-encompassing Divine Power spread across Arken Island.
It was difficult to believe that such immense power could dwell within such a small frame.
Raising her staff, Sylvania let slip a sinister smile, thinking she had not wanted things to go this far, but now there was no other choice.
The Void magic, capable of erasing the very existence of things, had an immeasurably extensive reach.
Even Sylvania, the prodigy and maestro of Divine Power magic, must concentrate fully to control its most formidable spell, lest it overwhelms her.
With lingering aftereffects, it was a magic so colossal that even Sylvania hesitated to use it.
Its power could transform the overwhelming army of spirits enveloping the world into nothingness.
Merely by manifesting it, by simply observing it, one’s very being could be denied—such was its power to shake the foundations of the world’s order.
Yenika Faelover stood against it, fully aware she faced death. But even her defiance might be rendered futile before Sylvania.
With the singular thought of granting rest.
With that alone, Sylvania narrowed her eyes towards the heavens, reaching out her hand. Like a candle snuffed in an instant, this was all bound for a swift end.
That’s what she thought until—
With a might unrivaled, a massive attack struck, adhering to the ultimate truth that only Divine Power could oppose Divine Power. This premise had never collapsed. Except, perhaps, the creator of this world might defy the absolute nature of Divine Power magic.
Yet, even Sylvania’s Divine Power was pressed down by an even greater force.
It was a magnitude that threatened to overwhelm even the colossal spirit army that rose to the sky of Acken Island. It was impossible that another Divine Power magic user of such level could exist in this world.
With wide-open eyes, sylvaniar sought the source of this power.
Atop the ravaged outer buildings.
There stood Lucy Mayrill, barely able to keep her footing, blood-soaked yet undeterred.
Between drips of blood, her clenched fist shone with the light of a phoenix ring—the principles of which were derived from Divine Power magic, which Sylvaniar knew all too well.
A magical artifact that could draw future mana into the present, inflating its quantity by force.
But why did Lucy Mayrill possess such an object?
A future never before observed.
Even the same artifact could wield dramatically different potentials depending on its user.
Lucy Mayrill, a genius who could command the world without the need for artifacts, drew upon mana promised in the future.
What might be the enormity of her mana pool, having gathered for not just days or months but perhaps a year, or three, or even five?
Lucy did not look back.
Facing a laborious future without mana for years to come was not a concern for her.
Survive now. If there’s a reason to live, employ every available means.
With this single-minded resolve, the bloodstained girl lifted her chillingly composed gaze.
The mana flowing into the ring was astronomical, yet she continued to summon more, repeating the act until the overburdened ring began to crack.
Regardless, Lucy paid it no heed. To face Sylvania, no amount of gathered mana would be excessive.
Alongside Bellbrook’s roar, the deep bellowing of Priddy echoed in the skies.
The mighty Glascan, drawing upon her magic, swept away the demonic beasts, spreading malicious laughter through the upper air.
Sylvania momentarily closed her eyes, and when she reopened them…
Lucy Mayrill, once distant, now stood before her.
Charging her fingertips with mana, Lucy spoke up close.
“There was a phrase that old man used to say habitually.”
Perhaps, any formality had long since been discarded.
Lucy’s attitude was so characteristic that before Sylvaniar could respond.
“He said he met the worst teacher ever.”
She recalled the old man, Gluckt, telling stories of Sylvania by the campfire, turning brusque only when recounting anecdotes involving her—though his face would still wear a smile, seemingly reminiscing about the best teacher of his life.
With a deafening crash, the surge of Divine Power sent Sylvania tumbling from the spire.
Though she crashed into a nearby building, her mana continued to overflow. However, her movements became laborious.
Fragments of Sylvania’s memory spoke to her.
The recollection of encountering a young mage who had lost the will to live amid the void.
Memories of a colossal wolf spirit lazily overlooking the sea from peaceful Acken Island.
The days spent teaching magical formulas in a humble classroom with nothing but a blackboard and desks.
Upon reflection, she had lived such a life.
Not always consumed by high-stakes worries about the future within the Lily Palace laboratory or traveling to the Lienfel crown prince’s office.
Memories rising amidst the dust were the marks of Sylvania’s struggles.
“We’re finished now! Our future is inevitably headed for disaster!”
“Stop this futile flailing! We can do nothing but accept our deaths!”
With a cry of desperation, the crown prince, swathed in fear and futility, flipped his desk and clawed at his head.
Hundreds of Glascan’s dark arrows pierced Sylvania. She managed to rapidly manifest protective magic circles, deflecting them all.
Yet Lucy rushed forward, shattering those defenses with a follow-up strike.
Even as a sinking feeling of defeat threatened to consume her, Sylvania felt a desperate urge to resist.
She knew that to conquer a spirit master, one must subdue their corporeal form.