Chapter 40

Genius.

A word often used to describe someone with exceptional talent in a particular field.

A mere month ago, the phrase ‘genius of electric magic’ was commonly used among those in the know, to refer to a young elf named Lir.

At the tender age of nineteen, the prodigy mage who’d achieved the 4th Circle had been renowned since her earliest years.

Under the tutelage of the exceptional Alter Heindel, she honed and refined her fundamentals daily, her passion so fierce she lost nights of sleep absorbed in her studies.

Thus, it was considered a foregone conclusion that she would swiftly rise to become a high-ranking mage of the 7th Circle or higher.

The elders of the Lightning School, clamoring about the impending arrival of a 9th Circle lightning mage unseen in two centuries, flickered through Lire’s mind.

‘A laughable notion, in retrospect.’

Perhaps due to some characteristic inherent to her race, only three elven mages in magical history had ever reached the 9th Circle.

Two in the Air School, one in the Flame School.

Before being led by her mentor to meet the elders at the inaugural School Exchange Meeting, Lire truly believed herself to be a mage on par with those only three historical geniuses.

But such hubris shattered in an instant when she faced and conversed with those elders of the Lightning School Exchange.

Her uniquely elven senses had caught the tremor of anxiety lurking beneath the old men’s fervent pronouncements.

‘…Such a talent, wasted on an elf.’

‘Had she been born human, she could have genuinely aspired to the 9th Circle.’

‘If only such talent had been bestowed upon another.’

They looked at Lire as though she were a thief, having stolen someone else’s potential.

The ultimate extreme.

The 9th Circle, the very pinnacle of magic.

Geniuses among geniuses, appearing only a few times each century.

Such exceptional individuals were always human.

For reasons unknown, even the most gifted elven mages invariably found their growth stunted at the 8th Circle.

Some scholars explained it simply as, ‘Humans possess a superior creative spark,’ while others attributed it to ‘Humans receiving a greater share of the spirits’ affection.’

Yet, nothing held firm as accepted truth.

No theory, no matter how meticulously applied, could offer complete explanation.

That an elf, living for millennia, would learn more and experience a wider breadth of events than humans, whose lifespans barely touched a century, was self-evident.

And for a mage, the accumulation of knowledge and the expanse of thought were paramount.

Where, then, could a resource more precious than ‘time’ exist for such mages?

But within the assuredly lengthy history of the elves, only three mages had ever reached the 9th Circle. And even those figures were widely considered fictional among current scholars.

A bizarre phenomenon explainable only as an inherent limitation. A strange curse whose origin remained shrouded.

“…What, so there’s ultimately no reason why an elf *can’t* reach the 9th Circle.”

The reason elves failed to reach the 9th Circle was nowhere accurately defined within the books of this world.

“If there’s no reason, why does everyone assume it’s impossible?”

Morons.

Lir mentally hurled the insult at the elders who regarded her with pity.

So, there were countless cases of promising candidates who had failed to reach the 9th Circle?

The failures of the past could never guarantee the failures of the future.

To assume she, too, would fail simply because no one else had succeeded was nothing more than the mindset of a defeated soul.

Lir, filled with a burning resolve, dedicated herself to her training.

There was no reason in all the world for her to fail in reaching the 9th Circle, and she wanted to crush the self-satisfied noses of those old lightning-elemental mages who pitied her simply because she was an elf.

From that day onward, she completely severed ties with her fellow trainees within the magic tower. She no longer needed friends or companions in her life.

…This all happened when Lir was barely six years old.

Focusing solely on training and study each day, she reached the rank of 4th Circle mage at the youngest age in elven history.

But before she could even pop a champagne cork for her own grand accomplishment, news of a certain prodigy pierced her ears.

‘A genius electromancer, barely sixteen, seventeen years old, standing toe-to-toe with archmages.’

‘Never having received a proper education, yet wielding magic at the Fourth Circle level.’

‘The youngest ever to join a Sword Saint’s party, a promising champion destined to save the entire continent.’

Of course, this prodigy was human.

Inferiority began to scramble her mind.

To hear that a human had effortlessly achieved what she had desperately strived for, sacrificing every spare moment, made her stomach churn.

The stark difference in talent burned like acid, and the countless hours she’d dedicated to study and training felt like so much garbage.

Lir arbitrarily decided that this rumored genius was surely an insufferable human, an arrogant creature who took their gifts for granted.

…No, perhaps it was more accurate to say she *hoped* he was.

If this human, blessed with a talent incomparable to her own, didn’t possess flaws of some kind, she wouldn’t be able to bear it.

‘He has to be a wretched, unappealing person.’

She boarded a carriage, alongside his mentor, determined to see the face of this so-called genius.

‘…A pathetic mug, without a doubt.’

Frankly, she was afraid. Afraid that her wish would be denied, that the person she had been, racing forward for the last decade and a half, would utterly collapse.

…And her wish was dashed to pieces, decisively.

“My name is Vin.”

It was instantly clear that the boy before her was a good person. An insight gifted from elven sensitivity.

Those honest eyes staring directly at her, that calm, warm voice, those subtle gestures and movements overflowing with consideration.

“… “

Yet, there seemed no crack in the ‘Thunderclap Academy’s Prodigy Mage’s’ world.

The boy from the rumors clasped her hand with a welcoming grip, and upon hearing she was an elf, his face bloomed with a joyous smile, as if delighted.

It was a first.

Most ordinary humans, upon seeing her pointed ears, would send her a look that said, ‘A stuck-up species after all,’ no matter how kindly she approached them.

The Academy elders regarded her with pity, as if her pointed ears were some sort of brand.

But this boy, seeing her pointed ears, was genuinely joyful… no, happy.

The sincerity of that smile she could discern with the acute observation unique to elves.

The boy was not disappointed that Lir was an elven mage.

Rather, he seemed even more pleased because she *was* an elven mage.

Whatever the reason, why the boy welcomed her so brightly didn’t matter.

She was meeting, for the first time excluding her mentor Alter, someone who wasn’t disappointed that she was an elven mage.

…No, maybe it was the first time, even including Alter, that someone was happy about her being an elf.

The rumored boy was nothing like the person she had envisioned.

Unlike Lir’s expectations, the boy was a thoughtful individual who didn’t confine others within the mold of ‘race,’ he was courteous, and smiled at her with genuine warmth… such a person.

He was even unreserved in helping her. He told her that ‘it’s polite to make eye contact when conversing,’ to her, who struggled to meet people’s gazes. And he casually nudged her back when she hesitated, unable to apologize.

Despite possessing talents that the entire demon army would fear, the boy was far from arrogant. Instead, he seemed burdened by the talk of him being a ‘genius destined to save humanity.’ He didn’t show it outwardly, but Lir could perceive the worry nestled within his gaze.

He seemed to feel the weight of the burden on his shoulders daily.

“…Still, I visually confirmed the location!”

The reason Lir didn’t collapse to the ground in tears, like that day when she was nearly killed by a Tauros’ spear even after experiencing the sting of venom grazing her robe, was simple.

She didn’t want to be a burden to someone as remarkable as the boy.

She didn’t want to be left behind. It was a desire beyond her station, perhaps, but if possible, she wanted to walk alongside him as far as she could. And if the opportunity arose, she wanted to help bear, even just a little, the heavy burden he carried on his back.

That yearning was more powerful, by far, than the fear of death.

For her, the thought of being rooted to this spot, only able to watch the boy’s retreating back, was a far greater terror than any fear of death.

The idea that she might be so distant that she couldn’t even applaud, let alone share in the glory of the boy who would one day save the world, was simply unbearable.

And so, Lir’s legs did not tremble.

How could a mage who couldn’t even fulfill her role in a place like this ever hope to reach the 9th Circle, let alone stand beside a promising savior of the world?

“Lightning.”

The bolt that shot from her staff drew a straight, true line, just like her resolve, and struck the floor.

A grotesque mass of flesh, with countless legs woven together like a spiderweb, glared at her with poison-filled eyes, but her heart did not waver.

Immediately, the electricity that had struck the floor began to spread in all directions. It crawled up the walls, met at the ceiling, and unleashed a colossal explosion.

In less than half a second.

An overwhelming torrent of lightning crashed down upon the gargantuan mass of flesh, starting from its head.

The wooden arrows that had been embedded throughout the flesh were the first to turn to ash. Then, the skin of the bizarre monstrosity began to peel away, until the dreadful body, saturated with poison, was reduced to cinders.

The electricity gathered on the ceiling poured another massive surge of lightning onto the other aberration hiding in the corner of the room.

*Boom!*

*Boom!*

The surroundings shuddered from the successive explosions.

When lightning strikes, the temperature around it skyrockets to 30,000 degrees Celsius. The rapidly heated air expands at incredible speed, and this expansion is transmitted as a shockwave, echoing with a deafening roar.

It was a natural phenomenon commonly known as thunder, but the lightning that Lir summoned was not followed by its rumbling echo.

“…Containment.”

It was because Lir, belatedly, swung her staff once more into the room threatening to erupt with thunder.

A faint magic rode its tip, wrapping around the walls within, and soon a shimmering barrier completely isolated the room from the group.

Isolation.

A type of area-of-effect magic that doubled the potency of electric magic used within, by surrounding the space with walls made of highly conductive material.

Lir had caged the entire room to prevent even a whisper of thunder from escaping.

Against the walls of the ‘Isolation’ magic, electricity sprung from the magnetic field Lir had created, deflecting off its surface.

The burning mass of flesh, struck by the rebounding lightning, was once again enveloped in a blinding white flash.

Irregular bursts of light continued to erupt within the room, but miraculously, neither the stench of burning flesh nor the thunderous roar escaped.

“…That’s a 4th Circle spell.”

Rex, awestruck by magic unlike anything he’d seen from other 4th Circle mages, couldn’t help but murmur his admiration.

The sheer power of the ‘Lightning Strike,’ far surpassing the norm, was astounding. Lir whispering an ‘incantation’ to amplify its force definitely played a part, but it was also thanks to her innate talent for ‘Lightning Strikes.’

“…Skilled in chaining.”

Yet, it wasn’t the ‘Lightning Strike’ itself that captivated the white-haired boy. It was the ‘Isolation’ magic that followed immediately after.

For the ‘Lightning Strike’ spell to reach its full potential indoors, two steps were usually required.

First, the formation of an artificial thunderstorm above the enemies’ heads, and second, the summoning of lightning from that artificial storm to strike the ground.

Lir had inserted a completely new spell, ‘Isolation,’ between the first and second steps.

This prevented the thunder from echoing and drawing the attention of monsters, while simultaneously doubling the destructive power of the already formidable ‘Lightning Strike.’

“Did you plan that ahead of time?”

“Hm? Oh, no… It just… after casting Lightning Strike, I suddenly realized I shouldn’t make a loud noise…”

“…Genius.”

Magic linkage, a rare technique displayed only by a select few users possessing exceptional control, control impressive enough to be renowned within the community, yet she conjured it on the spot, without prior planning.

The boy could only speak thus, gazing at Lire.

But Lire, hearing the boy’s quiet remark, could not even manage a hollow laugh.

“…Heard that enough from Bean-nim, actually.”

Lire sulked, her lips jutting out, internally cursing the white-haired boy as a ‘deceiver.’

“Huh? Did I do something wrong?”

The white-haired boy stared at Lire with aggrieved eyes, but she did not turn to face him.

She simply buried her face deeper into her robes.