He wandered the outer grounds, letting the afternoon sun warm his shoulders.

  Students were everywhere.

  They dotted the rolling, emerald-green lawns like scattered wildflowers in their crisp blue uniforms. Some were practicing minor spells, conjuring flickering embers of light that danced between their fingers. Others were clustered together in animated groups, chatting loudly about their weekends, and a few were even lounging on ornate stone benches, casually snacking on sweet pastries that smelled fainly of cinnamon and burnt sugar.

  Asterion watched a young man playfully toss a half-eaten apple core into the air and incinerate it with a snap of his fingers, earning a giggle from the girl beside him.

  Looking just at this, it’s unmistakably an… ideal school, Asterion thought, a complex knot tightening in his chest.

  Part of him was profoundly relieved. This was what he had bled for, wasn’t it? A world where magic was used to impress a crush rather than to cauterize a missing limb on a battlefield.

  But another, older part of him—the battle-scarred mage who had survived the war with a goddess—felt a creeping sense of absurdity.

  Could this really be real? There must be a catch.

  But if this was…

  Asterions used to squabble with one of his late friends about this exact topic.

  His friend’s dream was to build a public school to teach magic to anyone with talent when the war was over. Asterion, knowing the history of Earth, scoffed and told him it was centuries too early for that to happen. If ever.

  Looks like you were right, friend.

  Against all the odds, the rigid societal hierarchy and the elite that did not want to share their power, his friend’s dream had been realized.

  If he was alive to see this.

  Asterion distracted himself by catching snippets of conversation from a group of students passing by on the cobblestone path.

  “Did you guys prep for the practical at all?” a tall boy groaned, running a stressed hand to ruffle his hair. “They want us to capture a goblin alive. Are they insane? What if it bites off our fingers while we try to bind it?”

  A goblin? Asterion thought, incredulous, unconsciously following the group to listen to their gossips about the school.

  They were their main meat source when the rations ran out during the Winter Siege.

  What was the point of catching a live goblin? To keep the meat fresh? It seemed they were now handled with… animal protection laws or something?

  “Meh, to be honest, the entrance exam was harder than the practicals,” a girl next to him replied, shaking her head as she flipped her long hair behind her. “At least a goblin has predictable movement patterns. The entrance exam is so random.”

  “True, the entrance exam was brutal,” a third chimed in, shivering at the memory. “Did you hear? There are over a hundred thousand applicants for the upcoming exam—”

  When the girl stopped abruptly to pick some luminescent blue herbs from the garden border, Asterion strolled right past them.

  “…Was that a breeze?” the tall boy muttered, looking around with a confused brown. He rubbed his arms. “I just got a chill.”

  “What? According to the weather controller’s weekly reports, the atmospheric runes are locked in for mild weather until Treeday,” the girl replied, showing off the herb she had just picked.

  Asterion’s [Camouflage] spell was so seamless that he could weave right through the crowded courtyard without a single person batting an eye.

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  Are all these kids 3rd-circle or lower? he wondered, casting an analytical gaze over the sea of blue robes.

  Because [Camouflage] was a 4th-circle spell, it was completely invisible to anyone below that threshold of magical perception. To them, he was nothing more than a trick of light, a fleeting draft of cool air.

  Well, it’s not to the point of being terrible. They aren’t copletely hopeless.

  Asterion conceded, watching a student successfully maintain a water-bubble shield for more than ten seconds.

  From a century-old archmage’s perspective, they were basically toddlers stumbling around in the dark.

  They probably had the theory, but none of the survival instincts that even children had in his days. Instincts that came from having your life depend on casting a spell a fraction of a second faster than the monster trying to eat you.

  At this level, slipping by unnoticed is going to be a piece of cake.

  Asterion passed through the white marble main gates that separated the outer recreational grounds from the academic heart of the campus.

  He crossed the meticulously manicured gardens and headed deeper into the campus.

  As he went further in, the ambient noise of the students began to fade, replaced by a humming vibration in the air. Another structure loomed ahead.

  The white, ivory tower he saw before entering the campus.

  That seemed to be the center of the academy. He tilted his head back to take in the sheer scale of the architecture.

  Asterion closed his eyes, feeling through the natural mana by extending his mana-sense deep into earth.

  Yup. That’s my stash.

  He could feel the familiar mana of his relics buried deep underground. It was anchoring the entire campus. Probably insde a secured basement.

  Asterion cracked his knuckles, gathering a dense pool of mana at his shadow, creating a mana cube to trigger [Shadow Step] to get to the basement directly.

  Right then, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

  …A barrier?

  He paused, twirling the unused mana cube in his hands. He narrowed his eyes, shifting his vision to see the arcane spectrum by embedding the mana cube to one of his eyes.

  “[Sightseeing].”

  An invisible ward covered the entire front facade of the building. It wasn’t a physical barrier. More like a tripwire, an alarm system designed specifically to detect the sudden spatial distortions caused by high-circle spells.

  Using any sort of teleportation spell was a bad idea.

  It seemed it would be better to just walk on foot.

  A bit fancy for a school. I suppose they have to keep rival mage guilds and high-level monsters out of the faculty archives.

  Since the ward was specifically calibrated to catch the massive fluctuations of high-tier spells, his low-output [Camouflage] spell could still safely pass through without triggering the alarms, but definitely not [Shadow Step].

  It would leave behind obvious mana traces, and the officials would easily notice a high-tier mage intruded here.

  Which would be a hassle.

  He considered taking ten minutes to gently disassemble the ward, but quickly discarded idea. It was a waste of precious energy and time, but also he didn’t want to have to re-enchant the ward when leaving. It would leave his unique mana signatures behind, too.

  Asterion yawned, stretching his arms over his head.

  Walking in on foot wouldn’t be that bad. How hard could it be to find the basement, anyway?

  As he walked step by step, the grand entrance to the tower came into full view.

  Flanking the giant doors were two stone statues of dragons. They were crouched on their hind legs, their jaws cracked open, and teeth bared in a silent, eternal display of intimidation.

  The craftsmanship was stunning—every claw, every tooth, and every overlapping scale was vividly and intricately carved.

  But Asterion saw right through the artistry: they were highly sensitive magical artifacts, enchanted with mana-detection enchantments.

  This was entirely different from the first spatial ward.

  This was an automated security gate, designed to act like a magical bloodhound, sniff out the unique mana signatures of anyone trying to enter the lecture halls and cross-referencing them with an approved registry.

  Asterion tilted his head, thinking that the structure of the barrier felt somewhat familiar.

  It's pretty well-made.

  He stood to the side and watched as a few students casually strolled right through the entrance. It seemed to be a convenient system—once the academy registered your unique mana frequency, you could come and go as you pleased.

  Which also meant the security was tight.

  Tight for a normal person anyway.

  He could bypass this in his sleep. Unlike the tripwire ward out front, which required mathematical disassembly, this barrier was easily fooled if you just understood the structure.

  The system relied entirely on detecting the natural fluctuations of a living being’s mana.

  Therefore, all he had to do was completely kill his mana and walk right through.

  Of course, that was easier said than done.

  It was a highly dangerous, nearly suicidal technique. Mana was the life force of a living being. To suppress your mana meant slowing your heart, chilling your blood, and deliberately suffocating the spark of life within your body.

  And if one lost control during the compression process, their body could literally explode as the mana rebounded.

  And fully suppressing his almost endless mana pool was not an easy feat. Asterion would have to shove a hurricane into a teacup.

  Alright, old man. Let’s see if you’ve still got it.