As Siana left, the atmosphere turned awkward. Though both had their share of complicated histories, this was the first time they'd been alone together in a room.
Amy: "Uh, um…"
The discomfort lingered, partly because of a flicker of anticipation—but that flicker was buried so deep it felt fragile, as if touching it would shatter everything.
Amy: "Then… I'll get going."
Shirone: "Ah, yes! Thank you for coming."
Amy, about to leave through the window, hesitated at Shirone's polite tone and turned back. She didn't know how she wanted to define her relationship with Shirone, but it certainly wasn't as mere senior and junior.
Amy (muttering to herself): "You idiot! Why didn't you tell me? If something like that happened, we should've discussed it. This isn't just your problem."
Shirone: "I know. But I didn't want to bring it up."
Amy: "Why? Because of Pride?"
Shirone: "No. The truth is… I didn't want to drift apart from you, Senior."
Amy: "What?"
Amy's cheeks tinged pink.
Shirone: "If I'd said I was going through all that, our already awkward relationship would've gotten even more strained."
Amy: "..."
Was Shirone thinking the same thing she was?
Shirone: "It's my goal. When I first came to the academy, I saw your name at the top of the rankings."
It wasn't exactly what she'd expected, but Amy had to acknowledge Shirone's potential.
Amy: "Then drop the 'senior' title."
Shirone: "Huh?"
Amy: "You think you can surpass me with that weak mindset? If you're serious, chase me properly."
Shirone: "But…"
Amy: "It pisses me off. Greeting me to my face but sneaking up from behind? That's cowardly. Fight where I can see you."
The logic was sound, but the proposal was radical. Ignoring class distinctions—which dictated social standing—meant Amy saw something extraordinary in Shirone.
Amy: "But catch up fast. If you drag your feet after all that big talk, I'll take it back. Understood?"
Flustered, Amy turned toward the window, hiding her flushed face—until Shirone's voice stopped her.
Shirone: "Amy."
Her body froze.
'Idiot. You're doing it right after I said that?'
When she turned back, Shirone's eyes burned with determination.
Shirone: "I'll definitely catch up to you."
After a stunned pause, Amy smirked.
Amy: "Hmph, by then, I'll already have graduated. If you're so confident, try keeping up."
With that, she leaped out the window. Shirone rushed after her—but only darkness remained.
'She's really fast.'
The gap between them was undeniable, but now wasn't the time for admiration.
'This is a teleportation test.'
It was time to give it everything.
Shirone paused his other studies. With one month left until the early advancement exam, he had to master teleportation.
Upon analysis, the odds were worse than he'd thought.
First, he had to learn teleportation self-taught. Worse, since he'd never even attempted other advanced magic, he'd need extra time to sharpen his instincts.
'I'll have to cut sleep to three hours. Focus entirely on teleportation.'
His first task was gathering every book on spatial magic. Contrary to fears of scarcity, finding material was easy.
'Don't even need the library, huh?'
Rumors said about 20 students had taken the exam—all preparing with methods far beyond textbooks.
Shirone (muttering): "Might actually fail at this rate…"
Suppressing panic, he started with teleportation's foundational theory.
Shirone (reading): "Hmm. 'Time is a concept born from light.'"
The first page was already daunting. Why were time and light in a book about moving fast?
'Focus.'
Teleportation began with the Photonization Theory, hailed as magic's greatest discovery. Just as thermodynamics governed fire, photonization allowed control over light itself.
'And controlling light means…'
Controlling time.
'It's not about moving fast—it's transforming the body into light to skip time.'
The elegant formula by Kergos, a master of temporal magic, stated:
"Time and space were originally one."
'Space-time.'
Thus, controlling time meant controlling space.
All possible because light's absolute speed was immutable.
Shirone: "Relative speed is just a gap in time and space. But light unifies them."
Finally, he understood.
Shirone: "Time is born from light."
Kergos had thought the same—hence the Photonization Theory, teleportation's core.
'The formula's simple. The problem is application. Especially the praxis…'
Even knowing the theory, could anyone truly feel light's precision?
'No mage can mentally calibrate measurements at 10²⁰ scales.'
He kept reading.
Temporal mages classified light-speed into four tiers:
Superluminal (Faster than light; theoretical, godlike—enabling time-slip magic. None had reached it.)Luminal (Light-speed; mastered by history's greatest, like Stop Magic users. Rare.)Subluminal (Near-light; transcending physics, enabling spatial jumps. Current tech couldn't achieve it—except via magic.)Paraluminal (Arbitrary term for supersonic speeds. Barely distinguishable to the eye.)
'But supersonic is still dangerous.'
Teleportation's risk lurked here.
Photonization reduced mass to near-zero, but at paraluminal speeds, even residual momentum could be lethal.
'Miss an obstacle, and you're dead. Even reduced mass supersonic impact is fatal.'
With dozens of students jumping simultaneously, the margin for error was zero.
'Can I do it with just the basics?'
A doubt struck him.
'Light can't be calculated. Even paraluminal is superhuman. So how…?'
How were advanced students so proficient? Even Seriel had teleported flawlessly while carrying him in the forest.
Shirone: "Ah! That's it!"
He gasped aloud.
'It's not calculation. It's insight.'
Like sensing every leaf on a tree at once—perceiving light as a whole.
Shirone: "Not easy. Not at all. But… not impossible."
Maybe this was what Alpheas had wanted?
Teleportation was standardized, but skill gaps were vast.
'I do have an advantage.'
While behind in theory, teleportation's barrier was low.
'The test evaluates understanding and execution—not just formulas.'
With 30 days left, Shirone immersed himself in Kergos's work, studying through sleepless nights.
By day 20, theory was down.
'Time to practice.'
He headed to the Class Seven training grounds—empty, likely due to private sessions.
'No need to stress. I've worked hard.'
Entering Spirit Zone, he fused it with photonization.
'I exist between formula and praxis.'
To manifest the phenomenon, he had to erase himself—bridging the two.
In that unified state, he attempted his first jump.
Shirone: "Teleport."
Light flooded his vision—then the world collapsed onto him.
Shirone: "GAAAH!"
After "traveling" five meters, he crashed, rolling across the floor. Every bone felt shattered.
Shirone: "Ugh…"
Even through the pain, he knew: This was failure.
'Incomplete photonization.'
The residual momentum had hit him full-force.
Shirone (gritting teeth): "I'll… make it work."
Wiping blood from his split lip, he stood. His gaze sharpened.
Shirone: "Again."
Countless attempts followed, each refining errors.
Brute force? Maybe. But physical memory was what stuck.
By the next evening, an unknown watcher appeared—likely a rival's spy. Shirone ignored them.
He had nowhere else to train, and his skill level was too raw to steal.
Shirone: "Ghk—!"
How many times had he crashed? His body was bruised; mornings brought agony.
'I won't quit.'
On the final day, his voice was ragged from dust inhalation.
Shirone (hoarse): "Never… giving up."
Staggering into the grounds, he swayed. Most errors were fixed—but pain and fear remained.
Shirone (groaning): "Ngh…"
Another failure might kill him.
Shirone (yelling): "DO IT! NOW!"
With the desperation of jumping off a cliff, he lashed himself forward—re-entering Spirit Zone.
Shirone: "Tele…port."
At the极限 tipping point, his body lurched—covering ten meters in a blur.
Not light-speed, but to human eyes?
He'd vanished.
Upon arriving at his destination, Shirone barely managed to catch himself from tumbling forward.
"..."
He stood there for a long moment, expression dazed. This time, he hadn't felt the usual excruciating pain.
"Hehe… I did it."
For his first successful attempt at the spell, his reaction was underwhelming—but he had already pushed himself far beyond his limits.
Dong. Dong. Dong.
As the bell tolled midnight, Shirone collapsed right where he stood.
The cold scent of damp soil filled his nostrils.
I did it.
After thirty days of relentless practice, he had only managed to advance a mere ten meters using teleportation.
How much farther can I go with this?
To cross the 700-meter "Uncrossable Bridge," he would need to chain at least seventy consecutive teleportations.
And given that this was a race, maintaining focus and stamina would be just as critical.
A single teleportation was far less efficient than casting one offensive spell. After all, if the goal was simply to move ten meters, sprinting would be faster.
The key is chaining them together seamlessly.
Maintaining the same level of concentration for repeated teleportations was anything but easy. Each jump changed his surroundings, forcing him to recalibrate his perception and spatial awareness.
No time to rest. I need more practice. At the very least, I have to improve the chaining—
Though his will burned fiercely, his body had reached its limit. Not even a finger would budge.
As consciousness slipped into the abyss, Shirone's eyelids grew heavy.
And just like that, the morning of the test arrived.