Oscar had unlocked his sixth sense and, in the process, became a 4th-level mage.
This meant he had fully achieved his original goal.
Knowing this, Ado Vail’s tone softened, reverting to its previous warmth.
“Seventeenth, it’s been a pleasure meeting you. You’ve worked hard.”
The atmosphere felt as though Ado Vail was bidding him farewell.
Oscar tilted his head, puzzled, and responded.
“Sorry? I’m not planning on leaving yet.”
“...What?”
Ado Vail, caught off guard, blinked his eyes in surprise.
“If you’ve accomplished everything you set out to do, you should leave. Why wouldn’t you?”
“Well, obviously because training here is incredibly efficient.”
Oscar glanced around as he spoke.
As he said, this space was the ideal training ground.
Five months had already passed since he entered, but in the real world, only about two and a half hours had gone by.
“I love it here. Since I’m already in, I plan to tough it out and reach level 9 before leaving.”
Hearing this, Ado Vail looked at him as though he were insane.
“Seventeenth, you don’t actually think that’s possible, do you?”
“Isn’t it?”
“Phew.”
Apparently, even the dead could get headaches.
Ado Vail pressed his temples, marveling at this newfound fact.
“Of course, it’s impossible. If it were, I’d have grabbed just anyone, awakened their sixth sense, made them a 9th-level mage, and sent them out long ago.”
“...Tch.”
Looking genuinely disappointed, Oscar asked as if bargaining.
“Then, how much longer can I stay?”
“With the remaining outside time, about thirty minutes... that’s roughly one more month here.”
“A month? That’s too short. Is there any chance I could leave and then re-enter?”
“You little—! Do you think this place is some sort of inn where you can come and go as you please?”
“...It’s not?”
Of course not.
Ado Vail let out an exasperated chuckle.
“Haha... I didn’t expect to have to explain this, but what do you think I am?”
“You’re Ado Vail, the first Tower Master of the White Tower.”
“I don’t mean that kind of general answer. I’m talking about my current state.”
“Oh.”
Oscar finally grasped what Ado Vail was implying.
“You’re a type of thought projection, aren’t you?”
A thought projection—a being with a physical form created from thoughts or consciousness.
It was often left behind by knights or mages who had reached lofty heights, seeking to pass on their legacy.
“You’re well-informed. I’m set to disappear either when I fully hand over this ‘space’ to someone or when six months pass after someone enters. That’s why I went to so much trouble finding a truly talented mage.”
“...I see.”
So that’s why he had rejected hundreds of mages before.
None had met his standards.
Oscar couldn’t help but feel regret.
Ado Vail was an Archmage who had reached the 9th level centuries before Oscar.
If he could continue conversing with him, perhaps he could even glean insights into the 10th level.
“Hmm. But a month, you say.”
Realizing that Oscar wouldn’t leave immediately, Ado Vail quickly formulated a new plan.
“While I can’t teach you anything too advanced, I can at least show you a couple of simple elemental techniques.”
“Please do.”
“Take a seat.”
The two of them sat cross-legged on a flat, wide rock in the middle of the forest.
“As you know, spatial magic is immensely powerful in and of itself. Not only is it convenient in daily life, but it can also catch opponents off guard in combat.”
“When you say convenience, you’re referring to Blink or Teleportation, aren’t you?”
“You’re quite knowledgeable. Of course, long-distance teleportation is something only high-level mages can perform.”
“...It’s a more challenging skill than I thought.”
Teleportation was a dream not just for mages but for all humanity.
To have breakfast in an eastern city, lunch in a western desert, dinner in a northern mountain range, and fall asleep by the southern sea was everyone’s fantasy.
Hearing this, Ado Vail scoffed.
“Do you think spatial magic is all-powerful? To achieve such feats, you’d need to be at least at the peak of the 8th level.”
“So, you’ve done it before, haven’t you?”
“Of course, I’ve tried it all. It was quite an enjoyable life.”
Ado Vail smiled faintly as he continued.
“But there’s something far more useful than Blink or Teleportation. It’s called Subspace.”
Snap!
He snapped his fingers, and the air split open.
Oscar’s eyes widened in astonishment.
“Subspace! I’ve studied artifacts like subspace bags, but I didn’t know it could be achieved with spatial magic.”
“Normally, it’s impossible. Subspace belongs to the realm of dimensional magic, a higher concept.”
“Then how...?”
“It’s a kind of workaround.”
Ado Vail smirked and began explaining.
“I discovered this method only after reaching the 9th level. It just felt like it might work, so I tried it—and it did. I’ll explain how to do it now.”
The prerequisites for using subspace were threefold.
“First, you need an abundance of mana because this consumes an enormous amount in an instant.”
“When it comes to mana, I’m fairly confident.”
“I can see that. Let’s move on.”
The second prerequisite was simpler.
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
“Undeniable talent is essential. Without an innate ability to sense mana, it’s outright impossible.”
“I’m quite confident in that too.”
“I can see that as well. Let’s move on.”
The third prerequisite, however, bordered on impossibility.
“You need magical knowledge and senses equivalent to those of a high mage, at least at the 9th level.”
“Given that you only started using it after reaching the 9th level, I expected as much.”
As a diligent student, Oscar even deduced the reasoning.
“It must be because one needs to tangibly grasp the concept of dimensions.”
“Hoho, you’re a delight to teach!”
Ado Vail nodded enthusiastically, clearly pleased.
“Exactly. Everyone knows the term ‘dimension,’ but few have ever truly felt it. However, someone like you, who has achieved the 9th level, must have an inkling.”
“Yes, I definitely sensed it during my battle with the Great Demon Emperor.”
The attacks exchanged in that battle, to exaggerate a little, were enough to obliterate mountain ranges and dry up entire seas.
Naturally, an enormous amount of mana was consumed, and every time it happened, space itself would warp and distort.
“With an immense amount of mana, you can instantly distort space, thinning the boundary of dimensions. By detecting the resulting rift with exceptional mana-sensing ability, you can forcibly pierce a hole and create a fracture. That’s the main gist of it.”
Even from the explanation, it was clear this wasn’t an easy task.
The sheer number of abilities required to use even a single technique was beyond calculation.
“You have one month before you set out. During that time, I’ll teach you two skills at an accelerated pace.”
Ado Vail raised two fingers.
“One is Blink, which enables short-distance teleportation. The other is a technique to manipulate subspace, albeit on a small scale.”
“Can this be done within a month?”
“Under normal circumstances, I’d say it’s impossible....”
He glanced sideways at him with a knowing look.
“But for you, it should be possible.”
His voice carried a peculiar confidence.
The month flew by like an arrow.
Ado Vail and Oscar stood at the edge of the forest where they had first met, conversing.
“It was quite a good time.”
“For me, it was the most honorable and irreplaceable time of my life.”
“...Hmph. Flatter me all you want, but you won’t get anything more out of me, you rascal.”
Though Ado Vail snorted, his expression wasn’t entirely displeased.
In fact, it was more like that of a parent reluctantly seeing their child off, full of repeated advice.
“Always stay cautious and vigilant.”
“About what?”
“You’re merely a mage who can manipulate space. Never forget that fact.”
Ado Vail suddenly smiled wryly, a hint of self-deprecation in his expression.
“When handling this magic, you’ll occasionally make mistakes. You’ll fall into the delusion that you’re some kind of omnipotent god, thinking you can do anything and everything.”
“Beware of that. Especially when there’s something precious around you.”
Oscar couldn’t say anything.
Ado Vail’s expression as he said those words looked so sorrowful.
After a moment of hesitation, Oscar cautiously asked,
“What have you lost?”
“...My heart.”
Turning his head, Ado Vail gazed at the grounds where the half-ruined White Tower once stood.
“In truth, the concept of a magic tower wasn’t my idea. It was my lover’s dream. An idealistic group of mages where knowledge would be passed down from one generation to the next, blossoming into something extraordinary. In a society of mages dominated by individualism, she advocated for cooperation—a notion that was considered absurd at the time.”
But she disappeared.
Drawn into a place from which she could never return, all because of a single mistake.
“...Back then, I was half out of my mind. I needed something to focus on. That tower was built for that purpose. It was nothing more than an outlet for my feelings: my desire to see her again, my obligation to fulfill the dream she left behind. People hailed me as a prophet, a pioneer of the era, but in truth, I was none of those things.”
He was merely a man, painfully longing for a lover he would never see again.
After composing himself, Ado Vail turned back and spoke.
“And... this is a bit embarrassing, but there are secret spaces throughout the tower, created while thinking of her.”
Could those inexplicable extended zones really have such a reason behind them?
Oscar asked,
“What’s inside those spaces?”
“Ahem. I’m too embarrassed to say. But one thing is certain: if you can eliminate those areas, your spatial abilities will grow significantly. Expanding the usable zones of the White Tower would also be beneficial. Consider it a kind of assignment.”
Caught off guard by the sudden task, Oscar hesitated before asking,
“Are you sure it’s okay to remove them? They must hold a lot of sentimental value for you.”
“...In life, some things are best left to flow naturally. Back then, I didn’t understand that. To be honest, even now, I only understand it in my head, not in my heart. But one thing is clear: those spaces are no longer necessary for the White Tower or for you, who live in the present.”
With a faint smile, he made one final request.
“Let go of my lingering regrets and yearning. And live in the present. That’s the dream she truly wished for.”
Slowly nodding, Oscar bowed deeply and offered nine formal bows to Ado Vail.
“In my previous life, I served only one master for my entire lifetime. I don’t know if you’ll allow it, but in this life, I would like to consider you as my only master.”
A voice full of warmth and amusement reached his ears.
“...My final years were filled with regrets, longing, and unfulfilled wishes. I always regretted not having a single disciple. But you, to the very end, have made this old man feel so many emotions.”
And with that, the wind carried his voice away.
“Raise your head, Oscar. I have already considered you my disciple.”
When Oscar slowly lifted his head, the figure of his second master was nowhere to be found.
Yet, unlike when he had lost his first master, he didn’t feel the same sadness.
“May you rest in peace.”
Because he had left with the brightest and happiest smile imaginable.
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]

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