Late at night, the halls of the Academy of Raya Lucaria were silent except for the creaking footsteps of Marionette Soldiers on patrol.
Millicent was preparing to meditate. Not wanting to disturb Melina, she stepped out onto the balcony and passed through an isolation barrier. A thin layer of rainwater covered parts of the stone floor. The Academy stood atop a solitary peak in northern Liurnia of the Lakes, more than ten miles above the surface. Before the Erdtree went dark, looking northeast from here would reveal its immense golden projection stretching from earth to sky. Now, there was nothing left to see.
The stars over Liurnia reflected across the waters below, making the world beneath her feet seem identical to the one above her. With the Academy and all its people suspended between the two, it almost felt as though they were drifting through a boundless cosmic void.
With such breathtaking scenery before her, Millicent was reminded once again that the Lands Between truly was a place of astonishing beauty.
She stood alone against the railing, closed her eyes, and turned her awareness inward.
The Shehai within her, once a brilliant sea of pure gold, was now contaminated by broad swaths of black shadow. It resembled an X-ray showing the spread of some malignant disease, the ominous dark region shaped almost like a butterfly.
Her spiritual cultivation was regressing. Millicent knew that perfectly well.
No matter what path someone walked, hardships would eventually appear. Wizards sat at their desks tearing their hair out over impossible books, warriors stood panting before silent training dummies, clerics gazed up at statues of their gods while uncertainty gnawed at their hearts, and monks looked upon a suffering world and wondered whether its endless sea of misery could ever truly be crossed.
Sword-Singers sought to forge both body and mind into weapons, but that pursuit went against human nature itself. Consciousness was inherently self-reflective, just as all things eventually tended toward their opposites. No one's heart could truly become like a lifeless blade, moving forever forward without hesitation or turmoil.
The Redguard Sword-Singers used their faith in the gods of war as the backbone of their discipline, suppressing every trace of weakness and hesitation beneath that faith until only bright, pure courage and discipline remained. Millicent had chosen a backbone of her own. She had chosen to dedicate both her life and soul to Skyl. Once even something as precious as her own life no longer belonged to her, there was nothing left for her to fear. She could die for him without the slightest hesitation.
Faith was a terrifying yet enduring spiritual force. It could turn cowards into warriors and make the weak stand fearless before enemies far stronger than themselves.
But when faith itself was tested, every buried problem came rushing back.
Millicent stared into her Shehai. The corruption of negative emotions was advancing unstoppably, crushing the mental strength she had painstakingly forged through relentless training. Her resistance was collapsing without even putting up a fight. If this continued, her Shehai would eventually go dark completely, and everything she had cultivated would be ruined.
For a moment, she found herself almost laughable.
Pathetically laughable.
No. Don't think like that.
Millicent's heart tightened. She immediately gathered her thoughts and withdrew from meditation.
She looked up at the ancient stars and let out a quiet sigh. Meditating only accelerated the regression of her cultivation, but with her fairly average Intelligence, it was difficult for her to sense the Weave without meditation.
Perhaps she could find some way to heal her Shehai. Maybe there was a potion capable of purging the shadow of fear from her heart. The problem was that she had no idea what kind of potion could possibly have such an extraordinary effect.
Or she could wait until her Shehai went completely dark and her Sword-Singer class deteriorated all the way back to level zero, then multiclass into Wizard.
That, however, would be an incredibly foolish choice.
Once a Sword-Singer's spirit blade took shape, they could draw upon magical power to cast spells and use spell-like abilities. Their primary spellcasting ability was Wisdom rather than Intelligence or Charisma, making Sword-Singer at least half a spellcasting class, even if its spell list was relatively limited. Connecting to the Weave would allow access to a much broader range of magical schools, and sword magic itself was already exceptionally powerful.
Precisely because the Sword-Singer path held so much potential, Millicent couldn't bring herself to abandon it.
If she retreated every time she encountered a little difficulty, wouldn't she spend her entire life standing in the same place?
A trial was both a disaster and an opportunity to soar. She was only one step away from Legendary tier. Cross that threshold, and an entirely new world would open before her.
Millicent attempted to meditate again.
It didn't work.
If anything, her condition worsened.
"Sigh..."
She remained on the balcony until the stars faded and dawn brightened the sky.
Millicent wasn't the only one who had stayed awake all night.
Skyl's roommate hadn't slept either.
Skyl, on the other hand, slept peacefully until the first light of dawn. Before he'd even opened his eyes, he heard someone nearby breathing like a bellows.
He turned his head and looked.
His roommate, still wearing a Twinsage Glintstone Crown, was sitting on the floor. Sweat covered the backs of his hands, and his robes were soaked through as though he'd fallen into a pond.
"What happened to you?"
"I went running... huff, huff... just got back."
"Good habit. When I was studying at Hogwarts, I liked going for morning runs too. Want to start running together?"
"No! I hate running. I was just too excited and had to burn off some energy."
His roommate pushed himself upright with both hands on his knees. Sweat trickled out from beneath the crown.
"I solved it. Your answer really was correct, but I was the one who worked out the derivation, so..."
"So you're still the first author on the paper. I get it."
Skyl couldn't help laughing.
"Has it occurred to you that I don't care about titles and have absolutely no interest in competing with you for recognition?"
"You're serious?"
His roommate froze. Then he yanked off the Glintstone Crown, finally revealing his face.
This was the first time Skyl had actually seen what he looked like.
He was a pale young man with long hair who didn't even look fully grown yet. His eyes were tense and sensitive, carrying an odd mixture of suspicion and self-confidence, while heavy dark circles revealed years of chronic sleep deprivation.
"I'm Skyl."
Skyl held out his hand again.
"Doniel."
Doniel accepted it this time.
"You're actually pretty decent. I don't think I've ever seen you before. Which Conspectus are you with?"
"I haven't decided to join one yet. But I've already applied for the Olivinus Conspectus graduation exam."
Doniel lifted his chin.
"The Olivinus Conspectus? That's nothing compared to the Twinsage Conspectus."
"Everyone knows the Twinsage Conspectus is the best."
Skyl said it casually, mostly to humor him, but Doniel clearly enjoyed hearing it.
"How about this? I can take you to sit in on one of our private seminars. Some of the instructors from the Twinsage Conspectus have established private academic circles. They're high-level scholarly organizations, and anyone invited to attend is unquestionably among the Academy's finest sorcerers. I think you're qualified."
Sorcerers at the Academy often formed small academic circles of their own. Once their research received recognition from the Carian royal family, such a circle could naturally develop into an entirely new Conspectus.
Skyl wasn't particularly interested in those groups.
"I'd still rather attend the regular courses."
He got out of bed and walked over to the blackboard, examining the equations Doniel had left behind.
"Broadly speaking, there aren't any problems."
"You don't need to doubt my genius!"
"Of course. But these steps are way too cumbersome. You need to update your mathematical toolkit."
Skyl erased a huge section of calculations and replaced them with a much more concise derivation. The elegant formulas possessed an entirely different kind of beauty, immediately sending Doniel spiraling back into fascination and self-doubt.
"Y-you... Who taught you this?"
"Uh, Galois. Évariste Galois. He created group theory when he was nineteen."
"Nineteen?! Impossible..."
Sweat poured down Doniel's face as he muttered to himself.
"I'm only two years away from nineteen. Could I accomplish something like that? An entirely new theoretical framework, a new mathematical tool, a new Conspectus..."
He shook his head.
"Impossible..."
Skyl patted him on the shoulder.
"Don't beat yourself up. You just haven't had the chance to stand on the shoulders of giants yet."
"I want to learn this! Where is Galois?"
"In another world. But if you want to learn this stuff, there's actually someone here at the Academy who can teach you."
"Who? You?"
Conflict flashed across Doniel's face.
"I... I'd be willing to learn from you."
"I don't have the time. I'm talking about Thops. You've heard of him, right?"
"Thops the Bluntstone?"
Doniel reacted as though he'd just been bitten by a snake, waving both hands frantically.
"No way. He's hopeless."
"Why?"
Skyl casually fired back a few arguments, and within moments Doniel had been rendered speechless.
"What do you actually care about, reputation or truth? If you can't even approach knowledge with an open and curious mind, what makes you think you're going to found an entire school of thought while you're still young? Thops established an entire system of forcefield sorcery and even earned the recognition of Rennala, Queen of the Full Moon. Why shouldn't he be qualified to teach you?"
"I... well..."
Doniel hesitated.
"Fine. I'll give him a try."
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