A Genius Mage Hides His Origins - A Genius Mage Hides His Origins chapter 49

49 – First Steps

“The essence of magic?”

“Yeah. The long-standing subject of debate. Haven’t we discussed it several times at the Nocturne Club?”

Indeed.

Although it carried the grandiose title of the essence of magic, it was, in fact, a problem relatively well-known not only to magic scholars but also to the general public.

Is magic derived from humans?

Or is it a part of the laws of nature?

A remarkably enduring subject.

As magic has rapidly advanced, discussions about it have become even more lively.

Due to the nature of the topic, it was a question that popped up in discussions across various fields, perfect for anyone to chime in, even if they weren’t a magic scholar.

In the past few months alone, I must have debated this same topic more than five times during my occasional visits to the Nocturne Club.

However.

“That’s a question without an answer.”

The end of that debate was messy every time.

It was expected. Modern magic has yet to clearly elucidate the structure and principles of subatomic particles, and there is no established theory about the source of magical power.

Trying to unveil the unknown through debate can only lead to inconclusive results.

I recalled what Benjamin had once told me.

—Magic has not yet reached the point where it can answer such questions.

Words I encountered back when I hadn’t properly learned magic. At that time, I simply accepted them without understanding, but now I felt I grasped Benjamin’s intention a bit.

The unknown can only be revealed through the repetition of exploration and failure.

That is the essence of scholarship.

I became somewhat skeptical. Did I too naively think that participating in a simple debate would easily establish my direction?

Reading my expression, Werner raised one corner of his mouth.

“It seems even a theorist can get excited about every theory. I have a similar thought, but since we’ve come this far, let’s engage in a debate.”

“Well, if that’s what you want.”

For now, I was curious about how advanced students at the Federal Magic University presented their arguments during debates.

I tapped on Yulia’s shoulder.

“So, how about that?”

Yulia had been silent since earlier.

She looked at me.

Her expression control was impeccable. Even I found it difficult to decipher the hidden meaning in her expression.

Soon, Yulia smiled and responded.

“It seems like it’ll be a good experience. Shall we?”

“Got it.”

From Noble mtl dot com

“Alright, a swindler, a theorist, and a wheelchair woman. Certainly better than when there are only two of us, now that the idiots are gathering. Let’s go!”

“….”

I pushed the wheelchair, vowing to someday shut that guy’s mouth.

*

Coffee Club.

No membership, and participation is free. How does this chaotic forum manage to survive?

The reason is relatively clear.

Lower-ranking students with shallow knowledge must simply shut up and listen.

“Classical magic, championed by Osullemé, is already under threat, right? The invariance of Osullemé transformation broke just now.”

“To deny the entire classical magic system just because of that is a flaw. It’s just a contradiction. Shouldn’t we be questioning the completeness of polarity magic instead?”

“But polarity magic is well-defined.”

In the circular debating arena, a chilly silence coexisted with the fervor of heated discussions.

Roughly eighty students from the prestigious Federal Magic University were seated across the debate hall, but only half of them bothered to speak up.

I could understand the thoughts of the other half who kept their mouths shut.

“…I have no idea what they’re talking about.”

I whispered quietly, and Werner and Julia nodded in agreement, still half-asleep.

The Federal Federation Magic University.

It was a mistake to think that the top students of the Federation’s best magic university would engage in abstract and ambiguous discussions.

Human vs. Nature. Will vs. Law.

Even the most philosophical topic that had entered their heads, which was nothing more than theory and logic to the students of the magic university, lost all abstraction from the moment they got involved.

But that’s not all.

If it were just a logical debate, I would have welcomed it with open arms, but to engage in such a high-level discussion, it seemed that deeper knowledge was required.

As mere first-year undergraduates, we had no choice but to listen quietly.

“…”

I observed the main aspects of the debate.

Different genders and attire, but one thing was certain – they were all at least in their mid-twenties.

Although my title was “top student,” the depth of knowledge I had accumulated was different compared to them.

It couldn’t be helped.

I sighed lightly and rested my chin on my hand.

“It’s only been about thirty years since it was established, but there are no contradictions in polar magic itself. Just look at the Müller-Oslo equations. They’re concise and beautiful.”

Someone said that.

I doubted my ears.

“Oslo?”

It is definitely not a common surname. At least not in the world of magic.

In the Oslo family, there are only three wizards. But Louise goes by the surname Erlich, and I am still a novice who hasn’t even written a single thesis.

In other words,

that is Benjamin Oslo’s achievement.

Something that couldn’t be found in any book!

I immediately opened my eyes wide. I couldn’t let that discussion slip away like this.

I had to understand it somehow.

After looking around, I approached a guy who looked like an upperclassman and started a conversation.

“Senior.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“I heard there’s a new student named Eugene this year. I apologize for the intrusion, but could you explain what discussion is currently taking place?”

As I said that, I bowed at a right angle.

Fortunately, it seemed like I chose the right person. The upperclassman who seemed friendly smiled and readily responded to my request.

I quite liked being called “senior.”

“Ahem. Listen carefully. We need to start with the essence of magic.”

To summarize his explanation:

Humanism versus Lawism.

Since it’s impossible to determine which one is correct, the flow of the discussion naturally leaned towards the classical magic of Oshleme, which advocates for humanism.

The problem arose right here.

Roughly fifty to thirty years ago. When Oshullime’s theory was applied to the relatively recently established field of polar magic, an error occurred.

This was a great vulnerability for the adherents of the Law School.

“Oshullime Transformation… Well, we’ll learn about it later, but anyway, it has been revealed that this transformation method does not apply to polar magic.”

“Does that mean one of them is wrong?”

In general, that’s what you would think. However, the problem is that both seem perfect. Classical magic goes without saying, and polar magic is a revolutionary field. The transformation brought to the magical world by the Müller-Oslow equations is beyond description.

Once again, it’s Oslo.

The senior sighed deeply and continued speaking.

“Anyway, there shouldn’t be contradictions in academia, right? It needs to be resolved. Either find the flaws in classical magic and polar magic to prove that the system itself is wrong, or…”

“Or, solve the contradictions and create a new theory that integrates both systems.”

“Yeah, exactly. You’re pretty smart, aren’t you? Even so, the essence of magic is still veiled. But if a new theory is born, it will be a groundbreaking discovery that will flip the landscape of magic.”

Thump. Thump.

My heart raced.

It had been like that since I heard that Benjamin’s theory was still incomplete.

It’s certain.

A clue about my direction.

Excitement rising from one corner of my heart. Unexplainable tension. Mixed with a disappointment in myself for lacking the knowledge to understand such a debate.

As I returned to my seat, I clenched my fist and opened my eyes.

“Ha! Müller equations, right? Oslo, what a joke.”

A senior on the opposite side of the debate shouted with a mocking tone.

He had a black shield-shaped badge attached to his chest.

*

From his time in the Empire to his relatively recent enrollment in the Federal Institute of Magic,

I had always harbored one question.

Why was Benjamin Oslowe demoted?

Breaking the statue of the Dean might get you noticed, but no matter how much I pondered, it didn’t justify sending an excellent theoretical magician not even to the outskirts but to the heart of the Empire.

Benjamin’s expulsion was merely a pretext.

I could only speculate that there were those lurking, eagerly awaiting his downfall in academia.

And now, I have come to know the truth.

Julia said lightly,

“Oh, him. He’s affiliated with the faction of the former Dean of the Federal Institute of Magic.”

“Huh?”

“They’re a bunch of extreme authoritarians. They want only those from the traditional faction, stemming from Oslimere, to make a name for themselves in the history of magic.”

Julia’s eyes were deeper than ever.

Controversies and authorities.

They were all things Julia despised.

Meanwhile, contrary to the seriousness on this side, the upperclassman with the shield-shaped badge became even more excited and started to tease with his tongue.

“Shouldn’t we mention Benjamin Oslowe, the blockhead scholar? He’s nothing but a fraud who rode on the coattails of Professor Klaus Muller’s achievements, stealing only the fame.”

“Leave it at that. Anyone who knows that he’s an exceptional theoretical magician knows.”

A senior who had explained the debate to me intervened, restraining the upperclassman.

However, he seemed to have no intention of stopping.

“Where is the outstanding theoretical magician? Have any of you seen Oslo’s name in a book until you become third or fourth-year undergraduates? No, you haven’t. He established the academic foundation of polar magic, but all of that is Professor Muller’s research achievements.”

“…I heard that your faction has connections with a magical publishing house. Did you intentionally erase the name of former Professor Oslo?”

The senior student chuckled.

“Even if that’s true, so what?”

“What?”

“Wasn’t he originally an orphan? An insignificant human in the sacred magical world that has been inherited from Oslemebu—”

Ah.

I couldn’t just stand there and listen anymore.

My right arm moved much faster than my reason.

I raised my arm and brought it down.

Kwaaang!!

“What, what’s going on?!”

The circular debate hall of the auditorium was designed to convey sound effectively for its original purpose.

But that’s not all. Due to the characteristics of the stone building, it resonated loudly.

In other words.

All the students present here clearly heard the sound of me firmly slamming the long wooden table on both sides.

Seventy pairs of eyes were fixed on me.

Confusion. Questions.

In the meantime, hostility was subtly mixed in.

Especially those bastards with shield badges dominated, and I realized their gaze was fixated on my hair.

It was a look as if they were seeing it for the first time.

Well, that makes sense. Unless you’re a freshman, the rumor of gray hair wouldn’t have spread to upperclassmen.

They don’t know me.

To be precise, they’re figuring it out just now.

Ignoring everyone else, I stared intently at the badge-wearers.

They mentioned authoritarianism.

“Yeah, this is why you can’t trust the barbarians’ bloodline.”

They were right. The moment they confirmed my hair, open disdain began to emanate.

“Huh.”

What are they so surprised about?

My teacher. Those who insulted Benjamin. If this were the streets of the Empire, it wouldn’t be strange to step forward and knock their jaws.

No.

Is there a law forbidding that just because it’s the Federation?

There wasn’t.

I clenched my fist. In the Federation, where deadly magic was completely banned, my fist was stronger than any spell.

I didn’t have much experience in fights, but I’ve been hit more than anyone else. Even if I didn’t know how to hit well, I knew exactly where it hurt.

It was the moment I was about to rush at them.

Swish—

A slender arm blocked my way.

The strands of hair flutter, and pumpkin-colored eyes gently curve as they gaze at me.

Soon, she rises from the wheelchair, leaning on a cane.

The gazes that had gathered around me naturally turn towards her, standing somewhat unsteadily.

“Hello?”

She speaks with a clear voice.

“I’m Julia Muller, Professor Klaus Muller’s daughter.”