Chapter 9: Mentor (1)
Thievery.
Its origins trace back to a type of magic rooted in long-lost practical sorcery.
Established by the great thief, Ian Gaius, who was both a noble aristocrat and a legendary rogue.
A magic of thieves, by thieves, for thieves.
The visions I was currently mastering were precisely two thief sword techniques and six low-grade thievery skills.
To be exact, the sword techniques were [Shadow Blade] and [Dagger Arts].
The thievery skills were [Focused Gaze], [Night Vision], [Disassemble], [Detection], [Lightweight], and [Whisper].
Since they were ‘low-grade’ thievery skills, there must naturally be mid-grade and even high-grade thievery skills above them.
But when I asked Luis, he said, regrettably, that these were all the visions left in the guild.
How disappointed I was to hear that.
The visions of Shadow were remarkably efficient.
Having seen and experienced most visions in this world, for me to feel this way meant something.
The anticipation—and frustration—of wondering what kind of efficiency mid-grade thievery skills, higher than these, could offer was unavoidable.
Anyway.
I set aside my thoughts about the lost thievery skills for later and focused on the visions before me.
The list, categorized by type, was as follows:
Magic [Telekinesis]
Martial Art [Backstep]
And three summoning arts: [Contract and Summon], [Phase Shift], and [Subspace].
For a week, I poured all my energy into making these mine.
I moved my hand to the belt at my waist.
A cold, hard sensation touched my fingertips.
With a sharp scrape, a dagger was suddenly in my hand.
A short blade, about the length of an adult man’s palm.
Its center of gravity was designed for throwing, a typical thief gadget meant solely for that purpose.
Naturally, it was custom-made, and for a broke guy like me, it was a small, precious item I had to cherish immensely.
Carefully placing that valuable object on the desk, I abruptly closed my eyes and began gathering mana.
Wooong…
The dagger on the desk trembled side to side.
The mana I had previously imbued in the dagger resonated with [Telekinesis], causing this phenomenon.
“Good.”
I muttered, but honestly, this was just the basic stage.
The problem came next.
I pictured an image in my mind.
I awakened the imbued mana, slowly enveloping the dagger.
In doing so, I brought the 300-gram dagger under my control.
I felt its weight.
Though I wasn’t physically holding anything, my right hand felt as if it were gripping the dagger.
It was proof I had complete control over it through my will.
And then.
Truthfully, even this stage wasn’t particularly difficult.
My mental strength stat wasn’t exactly low, and thanks to my [Versatile] trait, I could instinctively handle mana control with ease.
I achieved this stage in less than two days after learning [Telekinesis].
But I couldn’t progress to the next step.
Not even once in a week.
I opened my eyes.
I saw the dagger spinning in the air right in front of me.
When I shifted my gaze, the dagger’s tip followed my eyes, moving as if it were a living creature with its own will.
Then, at some point.
Shwiiik!
It shot.
Downward.
Like a weak stream of piss, the dagger traced a parabola and fell diagonally to the floor with a thud.
A sigh escaped my lips.
“Damn it.”
A failure.
As expected, this time too.
Picking up the dagger, I sat back in the chair and carefully reviewed what went wrong.
It was definitely the weight.
Light and small objects all moved according to my will, but the dagger wouldn’t.
Naturally, anything larger than the dagger didn’t even budge.
So, in a way, the solution was simple.
“Either reduce the weight or increase my magic power.”
Reducing the weight wasn’t an option.
That was obvious.
That left increasing my magic power, which here referred to the absolute amount of mana a mage could wield and this increased in proportion to one of my stats: mental strength.
In other words, to increase my magic power, I needed to level up.
“Now that I think about it, [Telekinesis] is a tricky vision to master. Its learning difficulty is on par with high-grade visions.”
My mistake was underestimating it.
It couldn’t be helped.
In Heroes of Frey, [Telekinesis] was considered the lowest of the low-grade visions, one that wasn’t worth learning even with a secret tome.
It wasn’t just useless in daily life; the main reason was that it was utterly ineffective in real combat.
But now that I tried it myself, I understood why people said that.
It wasn’t that it was ‘useless’ in combat.
It was that it was impossible to ‘raise its proficiency’ to a level where it could be ‘properly used’ in combat.
You were better off spending that time learning other visions.
There were countless better, easier-to-use alternatives to [Telekinesis].
I had no objections to this.
But for me, there was a reason it had to be [Telekinesis].
My vision, [Dagger Arts].
And a new vision I planned to create by combining it with [Telekinesis].
That was my goal.
If I could fuse them as I envisioned, I could dominate every battle in the early stages!
That was the conclusion I reached.
Considering this, level? Mental strength?
I just needed to raise them.
The fusion of visions and a new combat style utilizing it.
That alone was reason enough to choose [Telekinesis].
Mental strength. Ugh, that was the real problem.
In truth, it wasn’t just [Telekinesis] that I couldn’t fully utilize due to low mental strength.
…One of the summoning visions, [Phase Shift], was also giving me trouble.
I abruptly gathered the mana scattered in the air into my hand and chanted a single spell.
“Summon.”
A gentle breeze blew.
Then, with a faint swirl, I felt a small wriggle on my shoulder.
Before I knew it, a tiny bird was perched there, staring at me.
A low-grade wind spirit, Sylph.
Chirrup!
Growth wasn’t limited to combat skills.
It included operational abilities too.
Coldly prioritizing, operational skills were actually more important to me than combat.
I was, after all, a thief.
I had no idea what kind of missions the cult would assign me in the future.
If I couldn’t properly execute those missions or got caught in the act, there’d be nothing more terrifying.
To prevent that, honing my operational skills was paramount.
That was why I chose three summoning arts.
To broaden my operational spectrum and to compensate for the shortcomings of low-grade thievery skills.
Sylph would act as my eyes and ears during operations.
Hmm. A real-world drone, maybe?
But this drone was a bit—no, very—special. It could also transport my body.
The vision [Phase Shift], which swapped the positions of the summoner and the summoned.
As the summoner’s only movement skill, it was typically used for evasion, but I planned to use it in an entirely different way.
Infiltration and escape.
And the first stage for that was, naturally, the Vault.
A week ago, I managed to infiltrate thanks to the special situation caused by the Beast Pouch, but things were different now.
The Vault, with its mana field fully operational, was far beyond what I could handle with my current abilities and low-grade thievery skills.
That’s why I brought out the three summoning arts.
Sylph could fly over the greenery hiding various magical arrays without stepping on them and slip into the Vault through ventilation ducts, not the main entrance, thanks to its tiny body.
If I used [Phase Shift] in that state?
“Game over.”
Hmm. Am I not a genius?
To think of incorporating summoning arts into operations.
It might sound self-congratulatory, but I’d say I opened a new horizon in thievery.
But even this method was hindered by mental strength.
My bond with Sylph wasn’t deep enough.
So, the range for [Phase Shift] was short.
To increase the range by strengthening our bond, I needed to summon Sylph more often and for longer to build rapport and that, too, depended on mental strength.
Higher mental strength meant I could summon Sylph more frequently and for longer.
It all came back to needing to level up.
“When will the mission come?”
The promised week was up, so it was about time for the cult to send a mission.
No helping it.
Until then, I’d just keep training hard.
* * *
“What’s that? What’s going on?”
“What’s up?”
“Why’s he here?”
When I arrived at the lecture hall, my classmates stared at me with wide eyes, whispering among themselves.
This felt familiar.
Oh, right. When I joined the safety team!
Yeah, it’s similar to that.
I realized anew how popular I was.
“What? Can’t I come?”
Then someone spoke up.
A pleasant, melodious voice.
If I were a girl, my heart would’ve skipped a beat from how soft and sweet it was and I knew exactly who this voice belonged to.
Asuka Raymond.
Top student of the 888th class in the Martial Arts Department.
Perfect in looks, skills, and character.
The epitome of a perfect guy.
On top of that, a master of image management, beloved by junior cadets, seniors, peers, and staff alike.
The polar opposite of me in every way, he waved at me.
“You’re here, Gerard? It’s been a while since we’ve seen you in the lecture hall. I’m really glad.”
Bullshit.
I gave a curt nod and kept walking.
“Wow! Look at that attitude. Still the same, huh?”
“What do you expect from that personality?”
“Exactly. You’re too patient, Asuka.”
Asuka replied, “I’m fine,” with a good-natured smile, looking at me again.
Goosebumps prickled my arms.
Ugh, I hate it.
That fake nice tone and hypocritical smile.
He’s probably cursing me out in his head.
He’s the exact type I despise—two-faced to the core.
What a jerk.
Though, for some reason, his name feels oddly familiar.
Better keep my distance. I sat far away.
“By the way, Asuka. Did you get any mentor applications from the Student Affairs Office?”
“I did.”
“Oh! How many? I bet you got a ton.”
“Nah, not really.”
“How many?”
“Hmm. About fifteen?”
My classmates gasped in awe.
“What?”
“Wow… As expected! That’s enough to skip other activities, right?”
“Haha. It’s not like that. The max you can take is five mentees anyway.”
Hmm.
Speaking of mentors, something came to mind.
The glitched application.
Did they fix it? Since I haven’t heard anything, they probably handled it.
Fifteen, huh.
That matched the main storyline I knew.
In it, Asuka had fifteen mentees too.
Among them would be the protagonist, Ivan.
And his rival, the supporting character, Gwyn Gaiard.
“Then who’d she go to?”
“She? Who?”
“You know, the super pretty freshman. Ugh, what was her name? I can’t remember. She was like a goddess.”
Was it because a girl was mentioned?
Male cadets scattered around the lecture hall suddenly gathered.
“What? A goddess?”
“Who is it! Who!”
“Oh, I know who you’re talking about! That… Yuria! That’s her, right?”
“Ohhh! The one with the black hair!”
My ears perked up.
A familiar name.
“Yeah. She didn’t even seem human. There’s talk she’ll soon be the face of the Academy. She’s no joke.”
“What do you think, Asuka?”
Asuka, who’d been looking uninterested, tilted his head.
“Hm? About what?”
“The new freshman, Yuria. What do you think?”
“Oh. Hmm. I don’t really know.”
“Really? Well, your standards might be different from ours.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I don’t actually know her face. I haven’t memorized all the freshmen’s faces yet.”
What a load of crap.
He saw her at the pre-enrollment orientation and at the entrance ceremony.
At least twice and he doesn’t know Yuria’s face?
What a liar.
Pretending to be innocent while managing his image like that is a disease.
“Huh? Then you don’t know if Yuria applied to be your mentee?”
“Guess not. I only checked the number of applications, not the names or photos.”
“Oh, really? Anyone here get a mentor application from Yuria?”
A brief silence fell over the room.
“What? No one?”
“Seems like it. I got two, but they were from other freshmen.”
“Then it’s settled.”
“It’s Asuka.”
“Yeah, Asuka. She’s gotta be one of the fifteen. Man, I’m jealous, Asuka!”
I propped my chin, looking bored.
So much to be jealous about.
Honestly, seeing this, it’s no wonder the 888th class is called the most pathetic in Academy history.
No talent.
And the few who are talented are surrounded by idiots like these, so it’s no surprise they’re rated the lowest among all classes.
Of course, the one who started that rumor was none other than me.
…Well, I’ve got no defense for that.
Soon, the professor entered, and my classmates scattered to their seats.
The professor began the lecture with a brief greeting.
Until then, I was staring blankly at the podium, when a sudden thought struck me, making my eyes widen.
It was a memory that hit me out of nowhere.
“Wait. Fifteen…?”
Something was off.
In the original storyline, Asuka had fifteen mentees.
And now, it was still the same.
Exactly fifteen.
…And that was very, very wrong.
Because Yuria was alive now.
Because of me.
That meant things had diverged from the original storyline.
If Yuria had really applied to be Asuka’s mentee?
Then it shouldn’t be fifteen—it should be sixteen, right?
But Asuka clearly said he got fifteen.
And none of the other classmates got an application from Yuria.
So where the hell was her mentor application?
Did it sink into the ground?
Or shoot up into the sky?
Or maybe…
“…Shit.”
Maybe I knew all along.
That white envelope I’d tossed to the corner of my desk.
Right now, my mind was filled with thoughts about it.
Maybe I just didn’t want to admit it.
“…No way.”
Honestly, I still felt that way.
I’m Gerard, after all.
The Academy’s worst trash.
A deadbeat cadet.
There’s no way, I told myself, trying to deny it. But why did I keep feeling uneasy, like a fishbone stuck in my throat?
And that feeling didn’t go away until the lecture ended.
My bad premonition became reality.
Buzz buzz—
After the lecture, at the main building’s first-floor entrance.
My classmates, who’d left the lecture hall before me, were gathered in a crowd, staring at something with curious eyes and murmuring.
“That’s her. The one I was talking about.”
“She’s stunning up close. But why’s she here? Waiting for someone?”
“Who else would she be waiting for? Obvious, right? Oh, look, there he is. Hey! Asuka! Over here!”
The crowd spotted Asuka and shouted.
The group parted in two.
Between them, I saw someone sitting demurely on a bench.
Yuria.
She looked up, gazing at the man now standing in front of her.
“Hi. You’re Yuria, right? Did you come to see me?”
Cadet Asuka smiled gently at her.
But she wasn’t looking at Asuka.
She stood up from the bench and walked past him.
“Why’d you come out so late?”
“…”
I stood there dumbfounded, frowning as she stopped in front of me.
Oh.
At that moment, the surroundings were…
Utterly, maddeningly silent.