The day after visiting Alicia Trading Company, I rubbed my sleepy eyes and got out of bed. While fixing my hair in front of the mirror, I reflected on everything that had happened and reconsidered my current situation.

  A broken scenario. Signs of destruction. It didn't feel like coincidence at all—everything seemed connected.

  But what I should do now... honestly, I still didn't know.

  The uncertainty sat heavier than exhaustion.

  Should I try to rebuild the collapsed hero's party? Or should I move to save the world myself?

  Either way, I wanted to ask why me?... but that wasn't helping.

  Oh, there was one more option.

  Throw everything away and pursue a peaceful life.

  I had imagined that future countless times.

  Well, if I could do that, I wouldn't be agonizing over this so much.

  "Master Dylan, are you awake?"

  "Ah, good morning, Martha."

  I heard Martha's voice from beyond the door. I hurriedly fastened my uniform buttons as I responded.

  "Good morning. How are you feeling?"

  When I opened the door, Martha stood there with a notebook in hand. As meticulous as ever.

  "Never better."

  She studied my face for a moment, then nodded, apparently satisfied.

  "I'm glad to hear it. Here is today's lecture schedule."

  I received the neatly organized timetable from Martha. Subjects were lined up: law, mathematics, medicine, and then spirit studies and magical studies.

  That said, as a noble, attending lectures held almost no meaning for me. After all, I could obtain a bachelor's degree simply by being enrolled. The tests were either simplified or exempted—quite the favorable treatment.

  "Master Dylan, your meal is ready."

  "Ah, thank you."

  I headed to the dining hall with Martha while looking over the schedule.

  The academy's student dining hall was a spacious area with large windows letting in morning light and long tables arranged in orderly rows. Naturally, the seats for nobles and commoners were separated. Not by explicit rule, but by tacit custom.

  When I took my seat in the noble section, several of my classmates were already having breakfast.

  Laughter came easily here.

  It always did.

  I sat in my usual spot next to Oscar.

  "Morning, Dylan. How did yesterday go?"

  "Well, I'd say it was somewhat productive."

  I kept my answer vague.

  Explaining everything would only earn me strange looks.

  "Oh really?"

  Oscar smiled meaningfully while buttering his bread.

  "So what are you doing today?"

  "Let's see... I might attend magical studies at least."

  I answered Oscar's question. Honestly, I'd tried attending various classes over the past few days, but none of them felt particularly worthwhile. Not to be conceited, but I'd already learned most of the fundamentals during those five years.

  But magical studies was different. To learn magic, it was best to be taught directly by high-ranking mages, and there was no better environment than this academy. Plus, it was simply enjoyable.

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  Magic, at least, followed rules.

  Rules I could learn.

  "Magical studies, huh? I think today's Professor Maxwell's class."

  Professor Maxwell—a powerhouse ranked third among the court magicians and one of the kingdom's finest mages, not just within the academy. In the original game, he only appeared by name, but the prospect of actually meeting him made me a bit nervous.

  "Still, going out of your way to attend lectures—how diligent."

  I wanted to say that academics were a student's primary duty, but I kept my mouth shut.

  For nobles, university wasn't a place to learn—it was for "social training," "building connections," and maintaining "appearances." That was the norm in this society, and I had no intention of challenging that convention.

  "Well, I enrolled, so might as well make use of it."

  But even so, for me those things were secondary. In a situation where the world might be destroyed, I couldn't afford to prioritize such matters. Since I didn't know what might trigger the scenario to restart, it was better to be prepared.

  "Fair enough. Do your best, then."

  Leaving the Oscar, indifferent as always, behind, I finished breakfast and left the dining hall.

  The magical studies lecture hall was one of the academy's best-equipped facilities. The stone circular auditorium had floors inscribed with magic circles, and the ceiling was decorated with constellation motifs. It truly had the mystical atmosphere befitting a place to study magic.

  Equipment of this caliber would be beyond even most nobles' means.

  When I entered the hall, many students were already seated. Incidentally, unlike the dining hall, the lecture hall didn't have clearly separated noble and commoner sections. Though of course there was still an unspoken understanding, and they didn't sit together.

  I found a suitable seat and sat down. I felt glances directed my way. Apparently it was rare for noble students to attend lectures.

  Amid this, the lecture hall doors opened, and Professor Maxwell appeared with dignified footsteps.

  "Good morning, everyone."

  Professor Maxwell was a man in his mid-fifties with a graying beard, wearing deep blue robes. Intelligence and strictness dwelled in his eyes.

  "Today we will conduct practical exercises in magical sensing. It is the most fundamental yet most important skill for a mage."

  The professor's voice echoed through the hall. The students murmured.

  "Magical sensing is not merely measuring the strength of magic power. It also includes perceiving its nature, flow, and detecting abnormalities. An excellent mage can read abundant information from even the slightest changes in magical power."

  At the professor's explanation, I leaned forward. Magical sensing—this was exactly what I wanted to know about. I'd honed this skill through self-study, but if mastering it could help detect signs of the Demon King's resurrection, it would be revolutionary.

  "Now, let us begin with basic sensing."

  When the professor raised his hand, a magic circle materialized in the center of the hall. Pale bluish-white light traced geometric patterns, shining beautifully.

  "This is a magic circle created using a technique called sigil magic. Now, try to sense the magical power emanating from this circle. First, its strength. And if possible, its nature as well."

  The students all closed their eyes at once and began concentrating. I did the same, clearing my consciousness.

  I understood immediately.

  So far, my senses still worked.

  A calm, stable magical power flowed from the circle. A pure force close to the water attribute. The strength was about moderate.

  "Those who can sense it may share your findings."

  A female student seated near the front raised her hand.

  "Water attribute. The strength is… moderate, I believe."

  "Correct."

  Several others followed with similar answers. Attribute and intensity. Solid, accurate responses.

  I hesitated briefly… then raised my hand.

  "You there."

  "Water attribute. Moderate strength."

  A faint pause spread through the hall.

  The same answer as the others.

  "That is all?" the professor prompted lightly.

  "…The flow is clockwise."

  A ripple of murmurs followed.

  "Go on."

  "The magical density is highest at the center and gradually thins toward the outer edge."

  This time, the reaction was clearer. Several students shifted in their seats. The professor glanced back at the circle.

  "…Well observed."

  But something still bothered me.

  "And one more thing."

  The hall quieted again.

  "There is a slight fluctuation in the northeastern section."

  The professor’s gaze sharpened.

  "If left as it is… the circle may not stabilize properly when activated."

  A stir went through the hall.

  "The flow doesn’t fully close. A small amount of force would likely leak before it settles."

  Silence fell.

  For the briefest instant, the northeastern sigil flickered—just once—before returning to normal.

  Several students gasped softly.

  The professor looked at the circle.

  Then he looked back at me.

  "…Your name?"

  "Dylan Belmond."

  "Belmond… I see."

  He studied me for several long seconds.

  "How did you determine that?"

  How?

  "…I simply concentrated and observed."

  That was the truth.

  Follow the flow. Let your awareness sink a little deeper. If something feels off, look at it just a bit longer.

  That was all.

  The professor remained silent for a moment.

  "…He is correct. I deliberately embedded a minute instability in that section. No other student this year has detected it."

  Murmurs arose from around me.

  I felt no pride.

  Only confirmation.

  "Truly impressive. If you're interested, you should consider joining my Arcane Arts Society."

  "Huh?"

  An invitation from Professor Maxwell. The Arcane Arts Society was a very small study group hosted by the professor. Basically, the only way to join was through recommendation.

  "Of course it's not mandatory, but if you want to improve your magical skills, I highly recommend participating."

  At Professor Maxwell's words, I looked up.

  "I'm honored. I would be delighted to consider it."

  "Good, I'll convey the details later. Ah, right—there's someone there who, like you last year, saw through this magic circle. I'm sure you'll get along well."

  The professor's words piqued my interest. Someone with comparable sensing ability—that was a valuable find.

  "Who is that person?"

  "Erna Griebel. A genius selected as a court magician at the youngest age in history."

  Wait—What?

  The name hit harder than it should have.

  Of all people.

  My thoughts stopped for a moment. Needless to say, that name belonged to one of the hero's party members in the original—the sage Erna Griebel.