In WORLD 2.0, where he played as a magical gunman, mage proficiency wasn't measured in levels but by the grade of "Sinister" spells they could wield. So it was hard to gauge exactly what level 8 in this world entailed. Regardless, this was entirely new knowledge that he'd never encountered in his game. Feeling a surge of determination, Asmon decided he needed to examine his own magical pattern. "Extend your palm and place the index finger of your other hand in the center. Then, let your magical energy flow through it," he recited, following the instructions.
Channeling his energy, he watched in amazement as a soft blue glow coursed along his finger, spreading across his palm and tracing a distinct pattern. At first, three spirals intertwined before his eyes—but then, strangely, the spirals flipped, transforming into dozens of tiny diamond shapes. He shifted his energy to one side, and countless concentric circles emerged, flooding his palm with light.
In no time, Asmon realized he could alter the pattern of his magical energy at will. Though he wasn't entirely sure of the limits of his control, the very fact that he could do so was proof enough that he now possessed the magical mastery of a grand mage. It was almost unbelievable, considering it had been less than three days since his awakening. "One thing is for sure—my talent is undeniable," he said, a note of awe in his voice.
Yes. Despite his frail body, his magical talent had to be nothing short of extraordinary. Feeling a strange comfort in that thought, Asmon promptly tossed the introductory texts into the library's return bin. Even after reading only one of them, his excellent memory had captured nearly every detail as if in a snapshot.
The library was nearly empty as closing time approached—only Asmon and a couple of others remained. Gazing out the window at the fading sunset, he allowed himself a rare moment of solitude. It had been so long since he'd experienced anything like this. Compared to his grueling days in the factory, laboring until the brink of death, this peaceful interlude felt revolutionary—yet his drawn, creased face revealed nothing of the hope that stirred within him. "This isn't exactly what I expected…" he murmured.
After spending the entire day holed up in the library, poring over books on magic, Asmon reached one clear conclusion: aside from the concept of magical patterns he had picked up from the introductory texts, almost nothing in these books was of any use to him. "All common magic ideas have completely vanished."
Every classification now focused solely on each mage's unique magical system—the so-called "Sinister"—with no mention of the old common magic system, "Dexter," that every mage once relied on.
Had common magic been removed entirely in the shift to the 3.0 worldview? 'It made little sense, since none of the common spells he'd used before were explained anywhere. No matter how exceptional his talent, he couldn't be expected to simply create a concept that didn't exist. "Given how convenient common magic was, it's unthinkable that it would just be forgotten or phased out," he mused.
Still, there had to be a reason for its absence. Perhaps he'd have to investigate further later. Asmon idly flipped through the books piled haphazardly atop the desk, lost in thought. The tomes that detailed the unique magical systems—elemental magic, black magic, necromancy, shamanism, barrier spells—were filled with intricate details, yet he barely glanced at them. After all, to truly master a unique magical system, one couldn't simply study a catalog in a library—it was necessary to obtain a genuine grimoire or find a mentor to teach the Sinister arts. For Asmon, who knew no one in this world, such information was utterly meaningless.
In the end, resignation overcame him. As he began gathering the scattered books and preparing to stand, a soft voice addressed him from behind. "If you want to be a mage, you'd be better off giving up."
"…?" The voice was both sweet and cold. Instinctively, Asmon turned toward its source. A woman in a crisp white blouse and blue skirt was carefully arranging books that others had left behind. Her blonde hair was swept to one side, and her refined features were set in a cool, detached expression with steely eyes.
Without fully meeting his gaze, she continued, "You've been sitting here all day reading, but that's not how you become a mage. At your age, it's already too late—why not study theoretical magi-engineering instead?"
"What exactly are you trying to say?" Asmon asked, his tone cautious.
"I just don't want to see you clinging to pointless hope," she replied curtly.
Thwack. At that moment, she set down the book she had been holding and looked directly at Asmon. Her eyes—blue as the ocean—met his calmly. "If you can't get into a proper school or find a mentor, your only option is to study magic at a university. But if you don't have a solid foundation, you won't be admitted—and even if you are, you won't learn much from the lectures." Silence hung between them. "On your own, you can't do anything. Talent and luck are determined by the subjects you study. Curiosity and passion come second," she said, her tone matter-of-fact.
Asmon said nothing, simply staring at her, his mind churning. For a long moment, her face, softened by the glow of the setting sun and cast in gentle shadows, seemed almost vulnerable. Noticing his lingering gaze, she sighed softly, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking to a stranger like this." She swept her flowing blonde hair back gracefully. "It's past closing time now. I need to put these books away, so if you don't mind…"
Before she could finish, Asmon spoke up, addressing her as she turned to leave, "Is that advice from your own experience?"
"…?"
"You're too young to give up already. Instead of driving yourself into the ground, why not start with what you can do?" She paused, clearly caught off guard by his unexpected response. Her expression shifted into one of bewilderment. For a long moment, neither spoke. All Asmon could think was that his magical talent was far from lacking—if anyone needed to work on it, it should be her. Perhaps she meant to advise someone else entirely, but clearly she had the wrong person.
Wishing her well on her promising future, Asmon began descending the library's stairs when she suddenly called out, "Hey!" When he turned around, she was holding something from inside her blouse and tossed it toward him. It was a high-end business card, embossed in gold with a luxurious design. She stared at him for a long moment before letting out a deep sigh. "You've mistaken me for a student."
"…Excuse me?"
"From the way you act and speak, you're utterly ridiculous. I never expected you to take my advice so flippantly…" She pressed a hand to her head, exasperated, then shook her head. "Forget it. If you come looking for me later, I might show you a bit of magic, but for now… I'm done."
'Was she out of her mind?' Asmon stared at the blonde beauty who seemed to be talking to herself. Finally, he stepped out of the library and pulled out the business card. After a moment, he read its inscription on the underside:
[Lavatheon University. Endowed Professor, Department of Elemental Magic Studies.]
[Aris Richelien.]
"…A professor?"