Shirone's Breakthrough: A Mage's Resolve

Ethela, touching her lips in thought, asked:

"Then, would you like to try a demonstration in the Image Zone?"

"Huh? Right now?"

"Why? Are you not feeling well?"

"No, it's not that, but…"

Ethela blinked in confusion. The enthusiastic student who had insisted on using the Image Zone since the first day of class was nowhere to be seen today.

'Is something bothering him? Could it be the other students' hostility? He's more sensitive than I thought.'

Those who knew their own capabilities rarely wavered under others' scrutiny. While excessive stubbornness could isolate someone, it was also a necessary trait to achieve one's goals.

Of course, Shirone wasn't overly concerned about others' opinions either. What Ethela didn't realize was that the interference he faced wasn't mere rivalry—it was malicious sabotage.

"If you're unwell, we can do this another time. You're the only one in Class Seven capable of four-directional conversion. I just wanted to see it in action."

"No. I'll try. Please evaluate me."

Refusing Ethela's guidance due to classmates' criticism would be foolish. As Shirone entered the Image Zone, the expected barrage of voices flooded in:

"Look, he's trying again!"

"Probably showing off for his crush. Well, it's the only thing he's good at anyway."

While underclassmen's jealousy spilled out, upperclassmen paused their training to watch.

'How much has he improved?'

A month had passed since Shirone successfully executed the defensive form of four-directional conversion. Everyone was curious about his progress.

"I'll begin, Professor."

"Go ahead. Start with one form at a time."

When Shirone activated the defensive form, a cube composed of 144 faces tightened around him. Upperclassmen murmured in awe:

"His defensive form is upper-class tier. That's practically armor-grade!"

The more impressed they were, the more Class Seven students glared at Shirone as if he were a public enemy—though none could openly mock his undeniable skill.

Switching to the offensive form, Shirone summoned jagged spikes that erupted menacingly.

'Impressive control. He's truly gifted.'

Even upperclassmen now saw him as a potential rival. As the offensive form shrank into a cross-shaped target, Ethela smiled with satisfaction.

'His fundamentals are exceptional. He could advance to Class Six early at this rate.'

Shirone attempted the separation form—a pattern he hadn't yet mastered. Though daunting, failure was necessary for growth. The same obstacle resurfaced:

'Still not working…'

Each attempt caused his Spirit Zone to distort and vanish. Class Seven students exhaled in relief.

"Pfft, what's he even doing? That's not four-directional conversion—it's child's play!"

"So much for being a 'genius.' This is why you shouldn't overhype people."

Shirone's composure cracked. No one in Class Seven could perform the separation form. Why were they judging him by standards they couldn't meet?

As his Spirit Zone trembled, their taunts grew louder.

Amy, watching nearby, frowned.

"What's wrong with them? Why are they like this?"

Seriel replied, "The separation form is inherently difficult. He's letting their reactions get to him."

"Doubt it. Insecure people sway under criticism. Talented ones know their path. He's not the type to crumble."

Yet Shirone's anger stemmed from something deeper.

'Why do people wish for others' misery? What did I do wrong? I just want to learn, to become a mage. Why is that so hateful?'

His fury fed on itself, destabilizing his Spirit Zone.

"Hey! Stop overthinking!"

A voice from Class Five snapped him back.

"Hesitating won't help. Do what you came here to do—become a mage."

The anger vanished as if struck away. Regaining clarity, Shirone refocused.

'What am I doing? My goal is to be a mage, not dwell on petty thoughts.'

His 40-meter Spirit Zone shrank exponentially as he pushed for separation. Every student watched, breath held.

'Hold on. Don't faint.'

At 2 meters, the sphere finally detached from his body.

"H-He did it… The separation form!"

Half-dazed, Shirone manipulated the Zone with dizzying speed until—poof—it vanished.

"Haa… haa…" His heart raced as if he'd sprinted for hours.

"He actually succeeded…"

Upperclassmen buzzed louder than before. Even Class Six hadn't mastered this.

"Wow! Amy, he did it!" Seriel cheered. Amy smiled genuinely.

'Congratulations.'

Meanwhile, Ethela contemplated how to channel this momentum.

Lately, Shirone struggled with another problem: his inability to cast spells. While the curriculum didn't require Class Seven students to learn magic yet, most nobles, trained since birth, already could. Shirone had only studied for 1.5 years at the Ozent household.

His solace was the "Spine of Knowledge"—a mental library organizing all information spatially and chronologically. History wasn't mere academics to him; it was a framework for understanding everything.

'If I focus on one field, I might manage basic spells. But that won't close the gap with those who've trained for years.'

His solution?

'Abandon magic for now. Use the Spine to absorb diverse knowledge simultaneously.'

Classmates mocked him:

"Look at him, reading random books. Does he think that'll make him smarter?"

"He can't even keep up with lectures."

But Shirone trusted his method.

'Everything connects—music with math, cooking with chemistry. The Spine will help me see the world's patterns.'

One midnight, after finishing a book, he noticed a Class Six girl still studying. They exchanged silent nods.

Exhausted but determined, he recalled a scholar's words:

"Teens aren't human—they're superhumans. Sleep is optional."

Encouraged, Shirone pressed on.

Ethela visited Sienna during lunch.

"About Shirone… He mastered the separation form."

Sienna's eyes lit up. "Proposing something bold, aren't you?"

Ethela nodded. "It's time to challenge the class further."

As chemistry notes filled Class Seven's board the next day, Sienna ended early—a rare occurrence. The students tensed. Something was brewing.