Shirone then attempted the separation form—a pattern he hadn't yet mastered.
The challenge was daunting, but failure was necessary for growth.
The same obstacle as before reared its head again.
'Still not working.'
The Spirit Zone's shape distorted, and each attempt at separation caused it to dissipate.
Seeing this, the Class Seven students, who had been tense, let out sighs of relief.
Classmate 3: "Pfft, what is he even doing? Is that supposed to be Quadrantal Conversion? Looks like child's play."
Classmate 4: "So much for being a genius. No different from the rest of us. This is why you shouldn't exaggerate."
Shirone's mood soured.
No one in Class Seven could perform the separation form.
So why were they holding him to a standard they themselves couldn't meet?
His focus wavered, and the Spirit Zone trembled. His classmates, eager to see him fail, continued their relentless taunts.
Amy, who had been watching the demonstration, frowned.
Amy: "What's wrong with them? What are they doing?"
Just as she had been pleased with Shirone's progress, his Spirit Zone suddenly destabilized.
Seriel spoke up.
Seriel: "I know, right? The separation form is inherently difficult. He must be letting their reactions get to him."
Amy: "No way. Only those who lack confidence get shaken by criticism. Do you really think someone like him would be affected this easily? Talented people know exactly what they can and should do."
Seriel: "Well, that's true, but…"
As Amy said, Shirone's anger wasn't directed at his classmates—it stemmed from something deeper.
'Why do people…'
Why did they wish for others to fail?
For Shirone, who was experiencing competition for the first time, this situation made him reconsider humanity itself.
'Why do they hate me? What did I do wrong? I just want to learn and improve. What's so bad about wanting to become a mage?'
Anger fed on anger, and the Spirit Zone began to convulse violently, as if on the verge of exploding.
Unknown Voice: "Hey, you're overthinking it!"
At that moment, a voice from the Class Five side snapped Shirone out of his thoughts.
Unknown Voice: "Stop hesitating. If you want to do something, just do it. You came here to become a mage, didn't you?"
It felt like a smack to the head—his anger vanished instantly, replaced by clarity.
'What was I even doing just now?'
His goal was to become a mage, yet he'd been lost in pointless thoughts.
But there was no time for distractions.
'Let's do this.'
As the 40-meter-diameter Spirit Zone shifted from its center, its size began shrinking exponentially.
Would separation come first, or would it dissipate?
Every student in the advanced classes—peers and seniors alike—watched intently.
'Hold on. Don't pass out.'
Shirone clung to consciousness until the very end.
When the Spirit Zone shrank to just 2 meters in diameter, the sphere's surface finally detached from his body.
Though the distance was minimal, the shock it sent through Class Seven was beyond imagination.
Classmate 5: "H-He did it… the separation form…!"
Half in a trance, Shirone swiftly manipulated the Spirit Zone.
Shirone: "Ugh…!"
A flood of new information assaulted his mind at an overwhelming speed—it felt like his head would explode.
Just as he was about to lose consciousness, Shirone instinctively widened his eyes.
The Spirit Zone vanished with a whoosh.
Shirone: "Hah… hah…"
Even though he'd only been standing, his heart pounded as if he'd sprinted at full speed.
Upperclassman 2: "That kid… he actually succeeded."
This achievement far surpassed his success with the defensive form, sending a ripple through the upperclassmen.
No one in Class Seven—or even Class Six—had ever performed the separation form.
Seriel: "Wow! He did it, Amy! Shirone actually did it!"
As Seriel grabbed her arm excitedly, Amy smiled purely in congratulations.
'Well done.'
Perhaps talent equal to—or even surpassing—her own.
But rather than envy Shirone, Amy reflected on herself.
'Given his late awakening, he must have trained relentlessly every single day.'
And what had she been doing?
Even with far more resources than Shirone, she'd wasted time wallowing in self-pity.
'Why…?'
Why had she squandered her precious time?
Though those days hadn't been entirely meaningless, she wished she'd realized sooner.
Meanwhile, Shirone searched for the owner of the voice that had snapped him out of his stupor.
But with few chances to interact with upperclassmen, identifying them by voice alone was difficult.
'Who was it? I wanted to thank them.'
As applause surrounded him, Ethela fell deep in thought.
With both peers and seniors inspired by Shirone's growth, she knew just how to further motivate the class.
Ethela: "Hmm, he's ahead of schedule."
Lately, Shirone had been troubled by one thing—his inability to cast magic.
Of course, the school curriculum didn't require Class Seven students to master spells yet, but in reality, most of his peers already knew at least one.
Unlike nobles who'd been educated since birth, Shirone had only been studying seriously for a year and a half under the Ozent family.
His sole consolation was that his "Spine of Knowledge" was proving far more efficient than expected.
To him, history wasn't just an academic subject—it was a vast, interconnected library that organized all knowledge across time and space.
But this was also the root of his dilemma.
If he focused solely on one discipline, he could manage basic spells—but that wouldn't close the gap with those who'd studied since childhood.
'This is the time for choices and focus.'
So Shirone reached a decision.
'For now, I'll give up on magic.'
Instead, he'd use the Spine of Knowledge to absorb multiple fields of study simultaneously.
'Understanding history is like creating coordinates in time and space. No matter what I learn, it'll align logically, making it harder to forget. While others repeat things twice, I can leap ahead in a single stride.'
The time gap between him and his rivals would gradually shrink.
Borrowing books on every subject from the library, Shirone practically lived there.
His classmates mocked him.
Classmate 6: "Look at him, still at it today. Does he really think reading randomly will make him smarter?"
Classmate 7: "Right? He can barely keep up with class as it is."
But Shirone was too confident in his method to care.
'I'm not confused.'
Just as music had mathematical waves and cooking involved chemistry and physiology, all knowledge was interconnected.
The stronger these connections grew, the broader his understanding of the world would become—and the Spine of Knowledge was the pillar supporting it all.
'The immediate results might be small. But if I succeed, I won't just understand academics—I'll understand the world itself.'
By the time he finished a book in deep focus, it was well past midnight.
'It's already this late?'
Only he and a girl from Class Six remained in the reading room.
Even in the silence, courtesy remained. As he packed his bag, Shirone nodded politely.
'Keep up the good work.'
Without needing to hear it, the girl understood and smiled shyly in return.
When he left the library, it was 2 AM.
Shirone: "Ugh, I'm exhausted."
Even if he slept now, he'd only get about four hours—yet Shirone begrudged even that.
'Why do humans need sleep?'
Then he remembered a book titled Conversations with Great Scholars.
A physiologist named Torkcollin claimed that humans needed at least six hours of sleep.
But he'd ended with a joke:
"Of course, I only slept four hours a night in school."
The book's author retorted:
"Then doesn't that disprove your argument? You became a great scholar on just four hours."
Torkcollin replied:
"Teenagers aren't human. They're superhuman. Whether they sleep or not, it doesn't hinder them from achieving anything."
To Shirone, who hated wasting time on sleep, those words were a great encouragement.
'Right, I'll keep pushing. Just do my best—the results will follow.'
Lights were still on in the graduation building.
Watching the flickering windows, Shirone wondered:
'What kind of history is being written in there right now?'
His gaze was already fixed on the future.
During lunch, Ethela sought out Siana.
Though they were both twenty-six and had worked together for four years, they still spoke formally.
Ethela: "Siana, do you have a moment?"
Siana: "Yes, but I have a Class Seven lesson soon, so it can't be too long."
Magical discussions between them often stretched past an hour, but Ethela seemed unfazed.
Ethela: "Actually, it's about Shirone from Class Seven. I wanted to discuss something."
Siana had been curious about Shirone herself.
Though his theoretical knowledge was lacking, rumors praised his practical skills.
Siana: "How is he lately? His practical scores seem quite high."
Ethela: "Definitely. Last time, he even succeeded in the separation form of Quadrantal Conversion."
Siana: "I see."
She smiled, satisfied.
Teaching a talented student was every instructor's dream—especially when you were the first to recognize their potential.
Ethela: "So I'd like to propose something."
Siana: "A proposal?"
It was rare for Ethela to make suggestions, so Siana blinked in anticipation.