Chapter 67: The Times Have Changed

Re-written date: 7 / 17 / 2025

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Chapter 67: The Times Have Changed

Although KonoSuba didn't shake the beliefs of the veteran magicians who had long formed their own views on the world, the movie still managed to break through their usual seriousness. During the screening, laughter broke out more than once, and the prestigious Grand Lecture Hall—normally a symbol of knowledge and authority—briefly felt more like a lively market square than an academic forum.

When the hour-and-a-half film finally came to an end, Edward stood up and cleared his throat twice before addressing the audience.

"Honored mage of the Empire," he began, his voice calm and composed. "What you just witnessed wasn't only a story—it was the result of an alchemical breakthrough. I've developed a method to record reality using magic, storing moving images into enchanted crystals. Although, for now, I've only used this technique to make films, I believe all of you can already imagine the true potential this technology holds."

He reached beneath the table on the stage and casually pulled out a book. Raising it for all to see, he continued, "Currently, the most common way we record knowledge is through books or letters. But this method has its drawbacks. Paper is fragile, easy to lose, and text alone often leaves much open to interpretation. A phrase like 'swirl until mixture becomes crimson' means very different things to different people."

Some in the audience began to nod, already catching on to where Edward was headed. They weren't wrong.

"Now, imagine using a magical crystal to record an entire experiment," he said. "Not just the results, but every action, every step, every flick of the wand or stir of the beaker. These crystals don't wear out as easily as paper. They're stable and reusable. And more importantly, they let you replay everything—over and over again—until you spot the flaw you missed before."

He paused, letting the thought settle in their minds before going on.

"For dangerous alchemical processes, this changes everything. No more needing to keep a full team of record-keepers on standby. One apprentice and one of these video recorders—that's all you'd need. And for those of you who lecture at the imperial academies, this device can revolutionize your classrooms. Imagine students replaying your lessons in perfect detail instead of scrambling to take notes. Teaching becomes more efficient, and the learning curve flattens."

With that, Edward gently picked up the video recorder he'd left on the side of the podium. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a crystal, and inserted it into the mechanism. A soft glow filled the room as the device activated, projecting a clear image onto the wall behind him.

Everyone watched as the scene that had just unfolded—Edward retrieving the book, lifting it up, making his points—played back with perfect clarity.

Even those who had still been chuckling moments earlier fell silent. For the first time, their expressions turned serious. A few leaned forward, others whispered quietly among themselves. Edward didn't interrupt. He simply let the scene speak for itself.

When the playback ended, he looked across the now-quiet hall and asked, "So… does anyone have questions?"

No one answered. The lecture hall, so full of noise just minutes before, had become a sea of thoughtful silence.

Taking that as his cue, Edward gave a small nod toward Hohenheim, who stood to the side, still absorbing everything he had just witnessed. Then Edward calmly stepped down from the podium and returned to his seat among the attendees.

Even Roy, who usually maintained a certain aloof indifference toward Edward's work, gave him a rare glance of genuine surprise. Edward didn't respond. He had no need to. He had prepared for this moment long ago—one day he knew he would stand before the Empire's most elite minds and make his case. It just happened sooner than he expected.

Now, the hall sat in quiet contemplation, the implications of what they'd just seen slowly taking shape. The technology Edward had introduced wasn't just novel—it was disruptive. It forced them to reconsider how they taught, how they practiced, and how knowledge itself would be preserved and passed down.

And at that moment, standing once more at the center, Hohenheim finally opened his mouth to speak.

"As previously announced," Hohenheim declared from the podium, his voice echoing through the Grand Lecture Hall, "the Alchemy Tower shall henceforth be separated from the Mage Tower and recognized as a formal institution of magic. Edward Durin's status as a Grand Mage is now officially restored by the Mage Tower, and he will serve as the first Dean of the newly established School of Magitech Alchemy."

The moment those words fell, everyone present understood one thing clearly—the times had changed.

This wasn't simply about the rise of a powerful new mage. Nor was it just about someone becoming the youngest dean in Imperial Mage Academy history before even reaching the age of twenty.

No, it was more than that.

Starting from this very day, the definition of "magic" itself would never be the same again.

Magitech Alchemy, a discipline long ridiculed and dismissed by most mages as a lesser form of magical study, would now officially take its place alongside the other recognized schools of magic. The decision may have seemed like a small institutional change, but in truth, it was a spark—one that would ignite changes far beyond what anyone in that hall—or the world—could have imagined.

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Far away from the commotion of the lecture hall, a man named Ska sat quietly in his tower.

He was the current steward of the Alchemy Tower, one of the Mage Tower's long-overlooked sub-divisions. After his brilliant older brother had passed away, Ska had inherited the centuries-old tower and its legacy.

Unlike his brother, however, Ska had no special gift for Magitech Alchemy. Truth be told, his magical talent was painfully average—he was still only a Rank 3 Intermediate Mage, despite his age. But that didn't stop him from doing everything he could to preserve the legacy left behind by his brother—to protect the dying flame of Magitech Alchemy, a discipline almost everyone else had already abandoned.

As its caretaker, Ska had taken his role seriously. He welcomed any student who showed even the faintest curiosity toward the field, ensuring they had a place to study and explore—even if no one else thought it was worth the effort.

Of course, the majority of students saw Magitech Alchemy as a dead-end. Most were far more interested in advancing their spellcasting and increasing their magical power through meditation than tinkering with tools and failed transmutations.

Ska knew this all too well. And so, he waited—alone, in a tower that grew quieter with every passing year—for a successor that might never come.

Until he arrived.

Edward Durin—a boy with magical potential so great that it shocked the entire empire. The moment he enrolled in the academy, people expected him to walk a path destined for greatness. But to everyone's disbelief, he had chosen to climb the steps of the Alchemy Tower—the very symbol of Magitech Alchemy—and devote himself fully to its study.

Even back then, Edward's decision was met with criticism and disapproval. His choice risked destroying not only his future but what little credibility the Alchemy Tower still had left. And yet, Ska had chosen to believe in him.

Despite knowing how slim the odds were, he had bet everything on the boy. He taught Edward all he could—what little his brother had left behind, and whatever scraps of alchemical theory he himself had gathered over the years. He entrusted the future of Magitech Alchemy to that strange, radiant young man.

But as many had predicted, the Mage Tower rejected Edward's accomplishments. When he tried to force the Tower to recognize Magitech Alchemy as a legitimate school, even his status as a prodigy couldn't save him. Despite being on the cusp of becoming the next Arch Mage, Hohenheim—then and now the Tower Administrator—stripped him of his titles and banished him from the magical world entirely.

Ska had blamed himself ever since.

He'd wondered if it was his own stubbornness—his own desperate hope—that had ruined the boy's future. If only he'd stopped Edward… If only he'd convinced him not to challenge the Mage Tower head-on… maybe things would have been different.

But he'd been wrong.

So very wrong.

Because Edward didn't give up. He didn't crumble.

Alone, exiled, with nothing but his ideas and his will, he built what others had thought impossible—the first working magical video recorder and the imaging crystal. And today, in the very same Grand Lecture Hall that had once cast him out, he had returned—not as a student, but as a pioneer—to rewrite the very future of magic itself.

After the historic conference ended, Ska didn't rush to receive the honorary titles waiting for him—Vice Head and officially appointed Tower Master.

No, he went straight back to the very top floor of the Alchemy Tower.

There, deep within a locked cabinet, he opened an old, dust-covered chest. Inside lay a weathered, yellowed notebook—something that looked more like a personal diary than an academic text.

Ska slowly picked it up, his hands trembling not with doubt, but with resolve. Then, turning on his heel, he stepped toward the glowing magic circle etched into the floor.

The teleportation array hummed to life.