Infinite Mage - Remake

Day 7 after Shirone’s “death.”

The student council continued their sit-in. More accurately, it was the radical faction led by Amira.

In response, conservative students blocked the entrance, trying to prevent others from joining. Even the centrists split into sides, and the total number of protesters doubled.

Almost all the students had gathered outside the main building. The endless shouting and demonstrations made Shirone’s friends uneasy.

“Hold a funeral for Shirone!”
“Punish him! Punish him!”
“Alpheas must be tried by the Magic Association!”
“Take him! Take him!”

Seriel covered his ears. The windows were shut, but the shouting still got through.

“This is too much. Why are they obsessed with punishing Shirone like he’s a criminal?”

Hearing this, Amy lifted her head from where she’d been dozing on the cot.

“They have their reasons. Even students who didn’t like Shirone are probably joining in.”

“Is it Shirone’s fault for being proud? Some people just can’t stand it.”

“That’s human nature,” Amy said. “If some people admire Shirone, others will reject him.”

Iruki lay sprawled on the table and muttered,
“Have you been doing anything lately? He was chasing me around and beating me up just yesterday.”

Amy didn’t even have the strength to be annoyed. She was just as drained as Iruki, worn out from a week of stress. She didn’t want to lift a finger.

Resting her chin on the bed, Amy said,
“I know things look bad, but there are still people fighting for Shirone.”

Neid, who had been watching the sit-in through the window, chimed in.
“Yeah, but most of our supporters are from the beginner and intermediate classes. The protesters, on the other hand, are mostly seniors. If they actually decide to break in, we can’t stop them.”

Seriel spoke up.
“It should be okay for now. The teachers are still with us. Principal Alpheas, Siana-sensei, and Ethela-sensei are all on our side.”

“But I don’t think the seniors know that,” Neid said. “Their behavior’s been weird since yesterday…”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Seriel turned toward Neid.

Iruki answered instead.
“Some of them seem to be missing. It’s especially suspicious that Amira and Fermi haven’t shown up. At least one of them should be out there stirring things up.”

Amy threw up her hands in protest.
“Hey! You speak so politely to Seriel, but why do you always talk trash about me?”

Iruki looked away, clearly uninterested in arguing. He didn’t even have a real reason—it was just that, since Amy was Shirone’s girlfriend, he figured she was a friend too.

Just then, the door to the infirmary opened. Alpheas walked in, accompanied by Siana and Ethela. Even the teachers' faces were showing signs of fatigue, worn down by the constant pressure from the student council.

“You’ve all been through a lot,” Alpheas said gently. “How’s Shirone?”

“As you can see... nothing’s changed,” Amy replied.

“I see. It’s to be expected.”

Alpheas was beginning to feel doubt creep in. A full week had passed. If someone with absolute certainty appeared and promised Shirone would return, he could wait years—ten, even twenty. But there was no such person. No one could prove Shirone would survive. Time was running out.

“I’ll cast a spell on him,” Alpheas said.

Amy and Seriel stepped aside. Alpheas placed his hand on Shirone’s chest and cast a slow magic spell—an embalming technique designed to preserve the body without causing harm.

Once the magic was complete, he stepped back. That would be enough to preserve Shirone for one more day.

But for how much longer? Though the teachers were silent for now, murmurs of discontent were bound to grow louder with time.

Siana stood beside Shirone, gently brushing his hair. The more she looked at him, the more injustice and sorrow welled up inside her. A bright, promising wizard—cut down before he could even bloom.

“That’s why I told them to stop him.”

Shirone had made it through the Overflow, but the price he paid was increased contact with the Immortal Function. At the time, Ethela had promised to take full responsibility. Siana didn’t blame her now. If Shirone never woke up, she would spend her life honoring his soul.

“Teacher! Something’s happening!” Seriel shouted.

Amy and Neid rushed to the window, their faces tense with anger. Siana joined them.

Outside, Amira and Fermi—missing until now—were walking toward the infirmary, holding documents in their hands.

“On behalf of the students of Alpheas School of Magic,” Amira called out, “we’re filing a formal complaint against the faculty! We demand the right to replace Principal Alpheas!”

Siana’s heart sank. The very thing she feared was happening. The student council had immense authority. If the complaint was approved, not only Alpheas, but every teacher could be removed.

Once a complaint is officially filed, the situation spirals out of control. If students’ families get involved, the entire school could collapse.

Siana opened the window. The crowd went silent.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded. “Since when is it the student council’s job to turn the students against the school?”

Amira stepped forward.
“This isn’t an uprising. We didn’t want things to get to this point either. That’s why we’ve held off on filing. But too many things don’t add up. It’s been seven days since Shirone died, and the faculty hasn’t given a proper explanation.”

“Shirone isn’t dead,” Siana replied. “He’s in a state of suspended animation.”

“There’s no such thing as suspended animation without a beating heart,” Amira shot back. “And I don’t understand why his body isn’t decaying. Are you using Principal Alpheas’s magic to hide something?”

They’d figured it out. Their theory was correct.

But some things in this world can’t be judged by logic alone. The student council couldn’t comprehend why Shirone was being embalmed.

The root of the issue was the Immortal Function. Even students of magic had no real knowledge of the realm of Nirvana, so their reactions were emotional, not rational.

“You’re right,” Siana admitted. “Shirone’s body is being preserved through slow magic.”

Her voice rose, loud enough for even the protesting students blocking the entrance to hear.

“Are you admitting guilt?” Amira asked.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, Amira. You’re calling it suspicion, but your accusation assumes we’re using Shirone as an excuse to escape responsibility.”

“You may be right. Still, we haven’t heard anything convincing. The student council can’t accept the faculty’s silence.”

“We haven’t declared Shirone dead. And we’re not trying to run away. Please understand that we’re doing everything we can.”

“We care about Shirone too,” Amira said. “But the student council has to protect the school. We can’t just sit back while everything falls apart.”

“I know you’ve lost trust in us. But we’ve made the best decision we could under the circumstances. Whether or not you believe us... that’s your choice.”

Amira took in Siana’s words. She couldn't shake the feeling that the teachers knew something the council didn’t. Everyone believes in what they think is right.

But no matter how many times she thought it over, she couldn’t understand it. As far as she was concerned, Shirone was already gone. Dead or alive, she just wanted closure.

“Is this the right thing to do? Am I thinking clearly? What if... what if Shirone survives? But that’s impossible…”

Amira didn’t want to file the complaint. But as student council president, she couldn’t let personal feelings cloud her judgment. If she failed, it would be the students who paid the price.

Fermi, watching nearby, grew uneasy with Amira’s hesitation. He worried that the opportunity might slip away if they waited any longer.

“In the end,” he said coldly, “there’s no room left for compromise. We’ll use our final option.”

Siana looked at Fermi with a displeased expression. In her four years of teaching, she had never encountered a student quite like him. Despite his remarkable talent, he was far more skilled at concealing it—and manipulating others.

Fermi believed in deception and enjoyed using that power to control situations. While such tactics might be useful to a wizard, they were not qualities a student should possess.

“Heh. File a complaint or don’t—do whatever you want. In the end, you’ll be the ones who regret it.”

“Fine! Then let’s do it!” someone shouted. “First, we’ll retrieve Shirone’s body and start the complaint process! Let’s go! We’ll save Shirone ourselves!”

Led by Fermi, the group surged toward the infirmary, driven by mob mentality. At that point, no one could stop them.

“Let’s hold Shirone’s funeral and report the teachers! The school doesn’t belong to them—it belongs to us, the students!”

“Wait! Stop this right now!”

Maria and the other students from Shirone’s faction tried to block their path. But it wasn’t enough. Most of Fermi’s group were upperclassmen, and in a fight based on skill, numbers meant little.

“Isn’t this going too far?” Mark called out from the side, his voice firm with conviction. “We’re talking about the life of a fellow student!”

But to the seniors ready to graduate, the juniors from Class 7 weren’t even worth listening to.

Suddenly, a window on the third floor shattered. Debris rained down, forcing the crowd to retreat. A gust of wind blew away the dust—Neid had jumped down, using Fly magic.

As he slowly raised his head, fury blazed in his eyes.

“Back off. All of you. Or I’ll kill you. No one lays a finger on Shirone.”

The air grew tense. Amira, recognizing the shift in momentum, decided to act. She had tried to stay out of it, but things had already spiraled too far.

“What’s the point of this? Don’t you realize this is all pointless? And now you’re threatening to kill a senior? Where did you pick up such a habit?”

But Neid didn’t hear a word. His only thought was to protect Shirone.

“You want to take Shirone?” he said. “Then you’ll have to go through me. But don’t expect to walk away alive.”

A crackling blue bolt of energy floated above his head, and lightning burst around him—pure Lightning Magic. But even more terrifying was the glow of plasma beginning to rise from his body.

Amira instinctively stepped back, her face twisting in shock.

“Plasma? In the advanced class?”

To cast Plasma Magic, one needed to either build a super-high temperature generator or simulate one through sheer magical will. The first method hadn’t yet been developed, so every plasma mage fell into the second category—an elite few who had surpassed mere theory.

Iruki watched from above, his expression disapproving.

“You idiot. I’ve been holding back until now.”

Iruki was the only person at the school who knew Neid’s past. Five years ago, Neid had been a completely different person. He had sworn to hide that side of himself forever. But now, he had removed the mask—for Shirone.

“Maybe I should feel a little guilty.”

Iruki smiled faintly, then silently slipped out of the infirmary, unnoticed.

The protestors hesitated. Even as seniors, they understood how dangerous plasma was. Creatures like electric licorns had made that clear.

Neid locked eyes with Amira.

“This is your last warning. Leave.”

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded. “What does it matter, protecting a friend who’s already dead?”

“Shirone is not dead.”

Tears welled in Neid’s wide eyes.

“What do you even know?! Don’t act like you understand anything about Shirone!”

Amira saw his tears and felt a pang of sympathy—but she wasn’t ready to back down.

“If this turns physical, I won’t stand by. I’ll subdue you before anyone else gets hurt.”

She stepped back, clenching her fists. Swirls of gray-white clouds began to form around her—Cloud Magic, a type of weather manipulation. It worked perfectly with electricity. In fact, at Amira’s level, she could absorb Neid’s lightning into her clouds and strike it right back at him.

“…Why are you doing something you clearly can’t handle?”

A voice came from the front entrance. Iruki walked out.

Neid frowned. What now? Is he here to challenge me too?

But Iruki stopped—beside Neid, not across from him.

“What the—? Stay out of this. This is my fight.”

“But from now on, it’s my fight too.”

“You were on the other side,” Neid said coldly. There was no bitterness between them anymore, but given that Iruki had believed Shirone was dead, there was no reason for him to be here.

“You're not joking around, right? I’m serious too. I don’t want them taking Shirone.”

Neid frowned in confusion. His desire to protect Shirone felt genuine, but he was part of the Advanced Class. Realistically, she couldn’t hope to stand against the senior students. Most of them, at least.

“Do you guys really think you’re that great? You think you can win against us?”

Amira and the others stepped into their Spirit Zones. The immense power of the senior students spread out, and Neid and Iruki could feel it through their synesthetic perception.

Quack. Huff, huff.

Watching the tension escalate, Fermi quietly shook his shoulders in silent laughter. The situation had become so absurd, it was laughable—deadly, even.

Yeah, go ahead. Fight. Destroy everything.

Fermi understood something fundamental—chaos and conflict always bring profit. In that sense, war was a golden opportunity. Wealth only accumulates when a few victors feed off the many losers.

He knew the key to winning wars: suppress your emotions. Human weakness always stems from feelings. Those who can manipulate others' emotions are the ones who rule.

Go on, be sad. Be angry. Scream that you’re the only one who's right. That’s how you stir the pot. And I’ll be the one taking all the winnings.

From the infirmary, Siana watched the scene unfold. Her gaze landed on Fermi.

It’s all his fault. He really does look like the villain.

She felt angry, but she couldn’t bring herself to openly criticize him. Fermi’s philosophy wasn’t exactly flawed—it was cold, but disturbingly logical. Maybe he was even exploiting Shirone’s current situation for his own gain.

Alpheas approached Siana.

“I suppose we have no choice now.”

“Principal…”

“This is it. Approve the student council’s request.”

Amy cried out in protest.

“Principal, no! What about Shirone?”

“I’m sorry, Amy.”

“You know he’s not dead! You know that!”

“…No. Actually, I don’t.”

Amy froze, stunned by his honesty. Alpheas gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Amy, no one truly knows Shirone’s condition. We can only hope. I still believe he’ll return.”

“Then why…?”

“Look around. Even the students who seemed indifferent are fighting now. It doesn’t matter how it started—we can’t let our students tear each other apart.”