Infinite Mage - Remake

Shirone was precious to Alpheas. But so were the others. Now, students were ready to kill each other inside their Spirit Zones. To risk them all for one person would be selfish.

“I’ll go down and make the announcement. Notify Shirone’s parents… and begin the funeral preparations. We’ll discuss any disciplinary actions later.”

Amy collapsed into her chair. Seriel, eyes brimming with tears, ran to her.

“Amy, what should we do? Shirone… Shirone…”

Amy felt the same. It was as if, the moment Alpheas acknowledged Shirone’s death, he vanished from her heart too.

“Shirone…”

The atmosphere outside the building was near explosive. Everyone had activated their Spirit Zones. With a single decision, they could unleash deadly magic.

Amira’s doubts resurfaced. Is this really the right path? What kind of reasoning could justify classmates turning their powers on each other with intent to kill?

She bit her lip, looking between Neid and Iruki. Neid was clearly ready to fight, but Iruki still looked like he had something left to say.

“You,” Amira said. “You’re a Servant, right?”

Iruki didn’t respond.

“Do we really have to go through with this? Your friend is too emotional. But you’re no different.”

“…I’m sorry, but I’m feeling emotional too.”

“Liar. Or maybe it doesn’t matter. Do you even know? Do you really think Shirone is still alive? Is that your conclusion?”

“Hmm. Conclusion…” Iruki’s eyes lowered in thought. After a moment, he looked directly at her and said,

“There’s only one answer. Shirone is not dead.”

Neid turned to him in surprise. Back in the infirmary, Iruki had claimed the opposite. What changed?

“Iruki, you…”

Iruki didn’t look back. His gaze stayed fixed ahead. Amira’s disappointment deepened. She’d always seen him as the most rational student in the school, but in the end, he was just another emotional teenager.

“If you truly believe that, then give me a logical reason. Something that can convince us.”

“Of course,” Iruki replied.

Amira blinked. She hadn’t expected him to answer so confidently.

“Then tell me. Why do you believe Shirone is still alive?”

“Because it’s four o’clock… Should I say that?”

DONG. DONG. DONG. DONG.

The bell from the clock tower rang out four times.

Iruki hadn’t needed to check a watch. As a Servant, he had measured the time internally. The method was simple—just count seconds from a fixed point.

Neid suddenly understood why Iruki had been so quiet lately.

He was counting… But since when?

Amira stared blankly at the towering clock. Then, as something clicked in her mind, she turned sharply.

“I get it now. You’re just insane. What does the time have to do with Shirone’s death?”

Iruki didn’t respond. He was already running behind schedule, though he suspected a few miscalculations along the way.

Four o’clock and seven seconds. Eight… Nine… What are you waiting for?

Amira finished her thoughts, firm in her decision. Trying to reason with the emotional Neid or the already unhinged Iruki was pointless.

“We’re taking Shirone with us. Let’s see how long you can hold out against the senior class.”

Neid’s eyes flashed with intensity, fueled by the powerful presence of the academy’s top students. Just then, a new voice—unfamiliar yet oddly recognizable—cut through the tension.

“Well, you all seem to be having fun. Mind if I join in? This is right up my alley.”

Everyone instinctively looked around, but the source of the voice remained hidden. Moments later, two figures emerged from the shadow cast by a nearby building—it was Canis and Arin.

Amira’s eyes sparked with fury.

“You! Do you even realize where you are? How dare you show your face here! I’ll have you arrested immediately!”

“Go ahead—if you can,” Canis replied with a snort. “Not like I plan to run.”

He casually approached Iruki, who frowned in irritation.

“You’re late,” Iruki muttered.

“You said be here by four, didn’t you?”

“It’s been twenty-seven seconds.”

Canis looked annoyed but forced himself to stay calm. Right now, settling their score took priority.

“Here. What you asked for.”

He handed Iruki a stack of documents, which Iruki immediately began flipping through. Neid, curious, leaned in.

“What is that, Iruki?”

“The Dragon’s Report. I took a tissue sample from Shirone and sent it for analysis.”

“What? When did you even do that? And wait—how could you get to the capital and back in just five days?”

Even with a fast carriage, the journey would normally take four days one way. Factor in the analysis time, and the turnaround was impossibly fast.

“I asked Canis for help. He knows the geography around Basuka better than anyone.”

Canis clenched his jaw at the memory. It had been a grueling trip. By day, he traveled by carriage. By night, he made the treacherous journey to the Dark Fort. Night travel was faster, but he’d pushed his magic to its limits and blacked out more than once from exhaustion.

“Anyway,” Canis said with a shrug, “with this, I’ve done my part. I don’t owe Shirone anything now.”

He didn’t feel particularly emotional about Shirone’s death. But as a fellow disciple, he felt a responsibility to act against Arcane’s cruelty.

“Still, that’s not really my business. You can tell Shirone that yourself.”

Amira felt increasingly uneasy. The mention of dragons was no small thing—they were the kingdom’s top scientific and magical authority, and Iruki’s father was one of its leading figures.

“What kind of scheme is this? Do you really think we’ll back down just because the Mercodyns are involved?”

Normally, the name Mercodyn would intimidate anyone. But the families gathered here were no slouches either. If it came down to numbers, they had a fighting chance.

“Don’t worry about that,” Iruki said. “I signed off on the request myself. Once my name’s on it, who knows what tricks the old man might pull. But what matters more is what’s written in this document.”

“Hah! What, does it have some magic spell that can raise the dead?”

Iruki calmly closed the folder and began reading aloud from the beginning.

“Title: Observations on Immortality and the Cessation of Biological Activity.”

The crowd quieted. Even the people inside the infirmary on the third floor strained to listen.

“Analysis of the subject’s tissue sample. Non-mechanical apnea. No signs of organism-specific decomposition after 24 hours post-death. Supporting data attached.”

Iruki flipped to the next section.

“Based on this data, we conclude that while biological activity has stopped, it is not conclusive evidence of full functional cessation—i.e., actual death.”

He stressed the next point.

“In Dragon research, there are three recognized types of cardiac arrest. First, actual cardiac failure. Second, temporary cardiac arrest. Third, a condition in which the heart appears to have stopped but hasn’t, due to external factors.”

Amira scowled, unable to hold back.

“What kind of nonsense is that? I can accept the first case, but the others? That’s just absurd!”

Iruki turned the page, unbothered.

“Usage Notes: In the case of a stopped heart, the subject may be clinically dead. However, under certain conditions associated with immortal function, two alternative cases arise.”

He raised his voice as he read.

“Case 1: If mental expansion is stalled due to a particular event, bodily functions may halt temporarily until the mind reaches a conclusion. See attached report.”

He flipped again.

“Case 2: Even after mental expansion concludes, there may be a shift in the observer’s perception of time. That is, life activity may persist, but appears undetectable due to a time-space barrier. See attached report.”

Satisfied, Iruki skimmed to the final page.

“Conclusion: According to all gathered magical and biological evidence, the subject currently lying in the infirmary—”

He held up the final page for all to see.

“Aryan Shirone cannot be considered dead.”

The previously rowdy crowd fell into stunned silence. They were mages—they knew enough to recognize that no one could easily dismiss a report from the Dragons.

“Iruki... since when have you...?” Neid murmured, eyes wide in disbelief.

Iruki turned and gave him a soft smile.

“How about that? A way to bring the dead back to life. I’ve been searching for it, even while everyone else was grieving.”

Neid’s lips trembled. He had hoped—but Iruki had believed. While they mourned, Iruki fought alone.

“Here,” Iruki said, handing the report to Amira. “See for yourself.”

Amira took it silently. On the front page, the seal of the Dragons was clearly stamped.

There was no more room for argument. The kingdom’s most credible institution had spoken. Even if she tried to escalate the issue legally, the courts would most likely side with the academy.

“You’ve been through a lot, Amira.”

A calm voice rang from the entrance of the building.

It was Alpheas.

“The Principal.”

Amira’s usually steady gaze trembled for the first time. She had always been composed, like steel, but seeing Alpheas’ face now made her heart melt.

After all, she had followed him since the days he was still wetting his bed.

“I’m sorry... for making you take on this burden,” Alpheas said gently.

Amira lowered her head, holding back the tears that threatened to fall.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Headmaster. But the more respected someone is, the more they must not hide their mistakes. If things continue like this... even the school could suffer.”

“Don’t you see? No one here resents you. You are the future of this school.”

Alpheas looked at her with sympathy. All the students here were like his own children—raised with care. Hurting them pained him deeply.

When Amira raised her head again, her eyes were misty. But she saw the same kind, gentle smile she remembered from her childhood.

“Please trust me—just this once. After Shirone’s matter is resolved, we’ll deal with everything openly. Whatever punishment is due, I’ll accept it. I will stand before my beloved students with dignity. I won’t run away.”

Hot tears slid down Amira’s cheeks.

“Will you really come back? I’ve always respected you…”

“I swear it. There will be no deception in my punishment. I give you my word—on the honor of my entire life.”

Amira quickly wiped her tears with the back of her hand. She refused to cry in front of Alpheas. She wanted to show him she had grown into someone stronger than the child he once knew.

“Understood. Since you've said that, the Student Council will accept your proposal and review the matter again. Please—don’t do anything that would damage your honor.”

Alpheas smiled warmly. She had grown into a brave and intelligent leader. The little girl who once ran toward him shouting “Principal Dundaeng!” had become someone admirable.

Erina, maybe my life wasn’t in vain after all.

Once the student council president gave her approval, the protestors dispersed at once. Even the conservative faction guarding the entrance cleared out, and the area in front of the building quickly emptied.

Only Fermi remained, scratching his head awkwardly.

“Ah, it was going well, but I had to mess it up at the end.”

Alpheas chuckled heartily.

“Haha! Things didn’t go your way this time, Fermi.”

“Can’t be helped. Honestly, I still think it’s against the rules for the principal to step in.”

“Shouldn’t you be graduating by now? You’ll be twenty-two next year.”

“Maybe. But I haven’t even made money here yet.”

“Is that so?”

Alpheas knew Fermi had been a key player in the recent events. Still, he was proud of how far his student had come.

“And besides, I’m still having fun here. That’s enough for now.”

Without saying goodbye, Fermi simply gave a casual salute and walked away. He probably wouldn’t be part of the student council anymore. After all, peaceful places don’t pay well.

Meanwhile, Iruki and Neid walked silently toward the infirmary. It had been their first serious argument in five years, and the tension still hung in the air.

But Neid couldn’t take the awkward silence anymore.

“Hey! Are you really going to stay quiet like this? You think being mysterious makes you look cool?”

Iruki scoffed.

“You’re the one to talk. Planning strategies while doing butterfly strokes in a sea of sorrow? Besides, if we talk too much, the enemy might find out. Doesn’t your brain work that far?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m dumb! And you’re soooo smart!”

Insults aside, the conversation broke the ice, and their tension melted away. Iruki glanced at Neid with concern.

“Are you okay? I mean, I really lost my temper back there.”

Neid scratched his head, looking regretful.

“I don’t know. Everything happened so fast, I didn’t have time to think. But it’s fine—we didn’t end up fighting for real.”

“You were pretty cool. You might already be erased from my memory though.”

“Pfft, yeah right. You calculated this whole thing, didn’t you?”

“Hey, whatever. Just bow down and admit I was right.”

Their banter ended as the infirmary door opened. Amy stood there, waiting. Iruki scratched his head sheepishly, while Neid still felt awkward around her.

“Well, anyway, what’s done is done. At least Shirone’s safe…”

But before he could finish, tears welled up in Amy’s eyes.

“Thank you. Thank you, Iruki…”

Iruki flinched, looking horrified.

“Sheesh... it’s fine.”

Overwhelmed, he darted into the infirmary like he was escaping. But inside, another wave of emotion was waiting—Seriel, with her arms open wide.

Iruki dodged her hug with fancy footwork that resembled a boxer’s sidestep.

This is why I don’t get women.

Seriel and Amy met at the doorway and embraced, crying tears of relief. Neid soon joined, and the three spun around in joy.

“Wow! He’s alive! Shirone is alive!”

Amid the joyful reunion, a gentle smile touched Iruki’s lips. But deep inside, he still felt uneasy. Shirone had survived—technically—but he remained unconscious, unmoving, like he was merely asleep.

Even though they had promised to stick together after graduation, Shirone’s condition made it hard to believe that promise would be kept.

Come back. I’ll wait… no matter how long it takes.

Shirone’s consciousness stirred again. To be exact, even in madness, he regained awareness—only to fall into madness again. His mind spun rapidly between sanity and insanity, like a coin flipping between the North and South poles.

He had gone mad a thousand times. Each time, he fought desperately to hold on to his crumbling consciousness, but the intense mental barrage seeped into his very soul, twisting his nature.

“You were never wanted. Anyone would’ve been better for your parents than you. They must’ve regretted raising you every day. You're not even their real child—they just picked you up. If they were your true parents, they would never have kept you.”

“No! That’s not true!”

“You must be a bastard child. Anyone could have adopted you. They aren’t your real parents.”

His soul screamed in protest as Shirone’s essence began to unravel.

Ohhhhhh!

“Deep down, you’re nothing but a cunning predator—someone who tramples others with your power. Your strength inevitably causes someone else’s downfall. You're a tumor—unneeded in this world.”

Ohhhhhh!

Madness consumed him again. His mind reeked of despair. If he was to be reassembled after this, what would he become? A demon? A monster? A devil? He didn’t know.

The collapse accelerated. As Shirone hit his mental limit, two opposing forces began to coexist inside him—locked in constant rotation.

And in that chaos, he glimpsed something new.

At the edge of human mental endurance—where no drug could reach—Shirone discovered the only way to preserve his sanity.

He found the origin.

If the breaking point is the limit, then the origin is where that limit begins. But it held within it the infinite potential of all existence.

Some called it the Spot. Others, the Spirit Zone. Some even named it Taegeuk. But to sorcerers, it had one name.

Infinity.

Shirone's eyes flew open. The spirit zone had been absorbed into his mind, and countless scattered particles—once moving faster than light—began to reassemble, reconstructing his mental form.

At the center of infinity, Shirone remained steady. The tormenting voice that had plagued him was gone, and his psychic body solidified, hardened like adamantine.

He had reached the realm of the Nirvana—the stage that comes only after enduring immense suffering.

It was like striking gold.

Shirone, now glowing with radiant energy, turned toward the exit. There was no more hesitation in his heart. With purposeful steps, he walked forward, and the warm, brilliant light from the exit merged with him, becoming part of him.

Floating before his eyes was a small, transparent glass marble. Inside—no bigger than his palm—was the temple he had just left. A woman stood there, looking up at him.

“You’re leaving at last, Shirone,” she said gently.

“I’m sorry. But... I want to go back.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” she replied with a soft smile. “To be honest, I didn’t think it was possible. But you made it. You’ve earned this.”

Her words lifted some of the weight from Shirone’s heart, but still, he felt a strange heaviness in his steps. Perhaps that’s why he couldn’t stop himself from asking the question—one that had been quietly lingering in his heart.

“Have you... ever been lonely?”

The woman blinked in surprise, then her expression softened.

“You’re a kind soul, Shirone. But a god doesn’t feel loneliness. I’m just a little sad that you’re leaving. Just a little.”

“Thank you for bringing me back to life,” Shirone said. “I really wanted to say that.”

Her expression turned serious for a moment.

“Remember this—there are no second chances. You've now reached the stage of Nirvana. That means... I can never invite you here again.”

Shirone nodded with resolve and turned toward the exit. As he moved forward, his consciousness began to drift, pulled into another dimension—through time and space.

‘I’m finally going back.’

He faintly heard her voice one last time.

—Please give my regards to Principal Alpheas.

Even in his fading awareness, the name sparked suspicion. How does she know Principal Alpheas? But the thought dissolved as his mental form returned to his physical body.

Ten days after Shirone’s death.

“Mmm...”

Amy stirred awake, rubbing her drowsy eyes. As she stretched and leaned back in her chair, her joints cracked from sitting in the same position all night. Her body was moving, but her brain still felt half-asleep.

She looked around the infirmary—everyone else was still sleeping. After splashing water on her face and drying it with a towel, she walked over to Shirone’s bedside.

“Shirone... You're coming back today, right...?”

Her voice faltered.

Suddenly, Amy froze. Her heart pounded in her ears, and a chill raced up her spine, spreading through her neck and face.

Shirone’s eyes had opened.

“Wha...? Wha—?”

Amy stumbled backward, eyes wide. She tried to call out to Neid and Iruki, who were asleep on the floor nearby.

“Hey... h-here... guys... here...!”

But no words came. Her throat felt locked, like no sound could escape.

Then, with a deep breath and a burst of panic, she resorted to the only thing she could do.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Neid and Iruki shot upright at the scream, as if the entire infirmary had exploded.

“What? What happened?!”