Caimon Comprehensive University, Lecture Hall 108
"If I could give you ten times your current sorcery power, but the cost is being chased forever by an immortal snail, would you take the deal? Raise your hand if you would."
The peculiar question transformed the room into a sea of laughter. A student in the front row, an elf, couldn't hold back their amusement and raised their hand. "Professor, the real question is: who wouldn't take it?"
On the podium stood an elegant elf professor with shoulder-length black hair, sapphire-like eyes, porcelain skin, and a slender frame. Dressed in a dark gray coat and white gloves, he exuded an air of authority.
Smiling faintly, he replied, "What if the offer were eight times your sorcery power, but the pursuer was a red wolf instead? Hmm, no one seems too concerned about one of the most common predators in the forest."
"And what if it were five times your power, but the pursuer was a juvenile Slashfish Dragon?"
This time, the room hesitated. The juvenile Slashfish Dragon, infamous for its speed and ferocity, was often nicknamed the "Silver Killer." The joke went: "A sorcerer's first encounter ends in surrender to the sea of knowledge; their second, to the relentless passion of the Slashfish Dragon."
Although controversial for its innuendos, the joke reflected a harsh reality. Despite the tension, most students raised their hands.
The professor nodded approvingly. "Now, what if it were only three times your power, and the pursuer was a Blood Mad Hunter?"
At this, half the hands dropped. Blood Mad Hunters were elite combat sorcerers, categorized into apprentices (one-wing), hunters (two-wing), and captains (three-wing). Even standard hunters were two-wing sorcerers rigorously trained to outmatch ordinary production sorcerers of the same rank.
"And finally, what if it were merely one additional sorcery power, but your pursuer was a Titan-class Executor Void creature?"
No one raised their hand this time. A disgruntled student piped up, "Professor, if I say yes, can you actually give it to me?"
"Alas, I'm not that generous," the elf replied with a chuckle. "But the Void is."
The room fell silent.
"The Void can grant you an additional sorcery power, but the cost is eternal pursuit by an immortal and powerful Void creature. Such 'gifts' are quite common in the Void. If you beg the Void for them, your wish may very well be granted."
He gestured at the class. "Many of you have signed academic loan contracts. These contracts invoke the Void as a guarantor to oversee their execution. If anyone breaches the terms, the Void enforces the penalties. This, too, is a common form of 'gift.'"
A student raised their hand. "But if everyone can make contracts for anything, doesn't that mean the Void is quite accommodating?"
The professor smiled. "Indeed, it is. Because you're the ones bound by the contract, you're the ones who suffer if you breach it. From the Void's perspective, it loses nothing—it only enforces penalties. It's a generous guarantor for 'lose-lose' agreements."
"But if you dare request a 'win-win' gift, the Void shows its true colors—more ruthless than a bank, greedier than any loan shark. It ensures the harshest tests for sorcerers seeking shortcuts."
"However, the terms of these 'rewards' and 'trials' aren't fixed. Sorcerers skilled in Void manipulation can adjust them, increasing rewards while lowering penalties."
"This is the power of the Ritual Sorcery discipline."
The professor scanned the room. "To turn one sorcery power into ten and to reduce a Titan-class Executor to a mere snail isn't mere fantasy—it's a genuine miracle."
"However, don't imagine you can casually shout at the Void and expect results. The rituals are extraordinarily complex, requiring sorcery spirits as materials and mastery of multiple disciplines. It's a high-threshold field…"
In the back row, Adela rested her chin in her hands, her eyes fixed dreamily on the professor.
"Professor Silin is so handsome…"
"Huh?" Freya, sitting beside her, was caught off guard. "I thought you'd be fantasizing about a gift that boosts your gambling luck, with a penalty of losing your reproductive abilities."
"How rude! I always pay attention in Professor Silin's lectures!" Adela puffed her cheeks indignantly. "Though if that gift existed, I wouldn't mind…"
The lecture hall was packed, with students crowding the aisles and even peering in from the windows. Professor Silin was one of the university's most popular instructors, renowned for his intellect, charisma, and teaching prowess. Unfortunately, his external commitments as a council member meant he only occasionally held lectures.
Adding to his allure, Silin's classes were free—no tuition required. A free lecture by a two-wing sorcerer was an opportunity few would pass up. Without Adela saving her a seat, Freya would've been stuck standing at the window.
"…But while master ritualists can manipulate the Void's terms, they remain rare. For example, even a four-wing legendary sorcerer would struggle to turn one sorcery power into ten. Most ritualists rely on conflict to balance their gifts and costs."
Silin offered an example: "Suppose I have two gifts. One cost is that I can never taste food, while the other forces me to taste everything in my line of sight. What do you think would happen?"
Adela raised her hand. "The two costs would overlap. By looking at food, the second cost would override the first, allowing you to taste it."
"Exactly," Silin said approvingly. "This is the essence of conflict—using contradictory costs to mitigate negative effects."
A student asked, "If I had ten gifts, all costing me my sight, wouldn't I only lose my vision but gain all ten benefits?"
"Precisely." Silin smiled. "Ritualists cleverly layer costs to maximize gains with minimal sacrifices."
Another student questioned, "If Ritual Sorcery is so powerful, why is it declining?"
"There are two main reasons," Silin replied. "First, its entry barrier is extremely high. A ritualist must master multiple disciplines, with a minimum threshold of two-wing gold rank. Such high standards make it difficult to sustain the discipline."
"Second, it's dangerous. I mentioned the Void's leniency for 'lose-lose' agreements. In forbidden rituals, a two-wing gold sorcerer could sacrifice themselves to unleash devastation rivaling a four-wing sorcerer's full power."
"We sorcerers can be greedy, reckless, and ruthless, but we must value life above all. Ritual Sorcery often leads to physical and mental damage, making practitioners unstable. It's why this discipline is banned in civilized society."
Toward the end of the lecture, a masked student raised their hand. "Professor, do you think members of the Four Pillar God cult could use Ritual Sorcery? Could past disasters have been their doing?"
"...The Four Pillar God cult has been eradicated by the Crimes Bureau. All its members, including its leaders, are behind bars. Please follow the news more closely." Silin's tone grew cold. "Also, why are you wearing a mask in class? Please remove it."
All eyes turned to the student, who wore a plague doctor mask. Freya's heart skipped a beat—it looked eerily similar to the one Ash owned.
But then the student removed the mask, revealing an apologetic face. "Sorry, Professor. I just really like this mask…"
Silin's sharp gaze lingered briefly before he covered his eyes with a gloved hand. After a moment, he lowered it. "No masks in class. They're distracting."
As the room erupted in laughter, Freya noticed someone slipping out—a figure in a hoodie and mask, moving unnoticed by others.
It was Ash.
What is he doing here?
Back at the apartment, Freya opened the door to the mouthwatering aroma of food.
"Welcome back. Dinner's ready," Ash called out.
"…I'm back."
After they sat down to eat, Freya couldn't hold back. "Did you go to Professor Silin's class this afternoon?"
"Yeah, you saw me?"
"Why were you there?"
"Two reasons." Ash picked up String. "First, I needed someone at the university clinic to treat String."
Freya's eyes widened. "String is sick?"
"Yeah, congenital cartilage disease. I noticed it seemed lethargic earlier and took it to a medical sorcerer. They said it'll need monthly treatments to stay pain-free."
Freya hugged the cat tightly. "I'm so sorry, String. I didn't know… Thank you, Ash."
"Glad you're not mad. I was worried you'd blame me for making things harder—now String knows what it feels like to be pain-free and might not tolerate discomfort anymore."
"How could I be mad?" Freya shook her head. "You've given String a chance at a better life. I'm grateful."
Ash smiled. "It's interesting. You're hesitant to form close bonds with people, but you'll selflessly care for a cat."
"That's different," Freya muttered. "Cats are adorable and won't abandon me. String's a friend with no expiration date."
Ash laughed. "Do you really think about people's 'expiration dates' when making friends?"
"Of course," Freya said matter-of-factly. "If someone's only in my life for a few hours—like a Mud Café worker—I'll just be polite. If they'll stick around for months, I might chat about hobbies. If it's years, I'll gauge their politics and cut ties if there's a fundamental conflict."
"And what would it take for someone to have a lifetime 'expiration date' with you?"
Freya hesitated, then squeezed String's paw. "They'd have to be as cute as String."
The cat squirmed, pushing her away with its paw. Freya laughed and let it go. "You mentioned two reasons for going to campus. What's the second?"
"Passing by the school, I figured I'd see how you attend class." Ash shrugged. "Oh, look, My Crush Is My Neighbor's Wife aired its first episode. Let's watch that."
"I wanted to finish the tea café review…" Freya pouted, poking her rice bowl. "What's so interesting about class?"
"It wasn't," Ash admitted, twirling his noodles. "That's why I left early."
"Weird." Freya grumbled, turning her attention back to her food and the screen.
But her mind wasn't on the food or the video.
For some reason, that strange feeling inside her was growing. And… she felt oddly happy.
What's this cult leader's expiration date…?
She forced herself to stop thinking about it.