Infinite Mage (Re-make)

Spring arrived.

Amidst the riot of blossoms around Vincent’s hut, Shirone awaited his enrollment day. Magic school was a family triumph, so Vincent told no one—he refused to let gossip harm his son.

Shirone was grateful. His father had even declined the Ozent family’s offer of a city home, all to shield him from noble scrutiny.

Time flew, and soon the day came.

As steward Temuran waited by the carriage, Shirone bid his parents farewell.

"Father, I’ll return soon. I’ll write often."

"That’s my boy! Work hard! Now, a kiss!"

"Ugh!" Shirone recoiled. At seventeen, he was too old for cheek kisses.

"No more kisses…"

"Tch! Then I’ll kiss you!"

"Nngh—" Shirone’s neck turtled as Vincent’s thick lips approached—only for his father to plant a warm peck on his forehead and pull him close.

"Shirone, I’m proud of you."

"Father…" Shirone hugged him back fiercely. Their love steeled him against the fears of a noble school.

"I’ll return."

With his usual farewell, he left. Temuran bowed.

"Let’s depart. I’ll escort you to the school."

"Thank you."

Silence filled the carriage. Though their roles had reversed in two years, Shirone hadn’t forgotten how Temuran had defended him against Head Steward Louis’s schemes.

At the school gates, Temuran ushered him out with extra formality—nobles’ eyes were everywhere.

"Tuition and materials will be paid through me. Focus only on your studies."

Shirone bowed. "Thank you, Steward."

"I’m merely doing my duty."

"But I’ve never properly thanked you. Your kindness got me here. I won’t forget it."

"A commoner remains a commoner, no matter how high they climb. Nobles can’t be surpassed." Temuran’s face was stern. "Yet opportunities like this are rare. Many nobles will scorn you. Endure it. If you persevere… there is an end."

Wise words from an orphan-turned-steward. Truth was simple: endure, and you’ll reach the finish.

"I’ll become a mage. I swear it."

Temuran smiled—his first in two years. "Then follow me. You’re enrolled as the Ozent family’s guest under ‘special admissions.’ I’ll introduce you."

The same guards from five years ago stood at the gates. Whether they were the ones who’d chased him off didn’t matter—their role hadn’t changed.

"State your business."

"This is Shirone, newly enrolled. Here’s his admission letter and the Ozent family’s certification."

The guard paled at the documents. Anyone crossing this threshold was no ordinary commoner.

"An honor to serve you. I’m Marco, gatekeeper. We’ll meet again."

The night-and-day treatment left Shirone uneasy, but he was no longer a child.

"Likewise."

Temuran turned to him. "I’ll take my leave. Contact me if you need anything."

With the documents in hand, Shirone stepped forward as a student.

"Loyalty."

As he returned the salute and crossed the threshold, his heart threatened to burst.

Alpheas Magic School.

What would he learn here, in the cradle of geniuses? Who would he meet?

The towering buildings seemed to welcome him like giants.

The School’s Scale

The school sprawled over 75.425 square kilometers—an entire mountain. Twenty-two buildings (including dorms) and forty training grounds dotted the campus. With 420 students and 32 teachers, it was undeniably the kingdom’s finest institution.

Inside the admissions hall, radiant students bustled about. While waiting, Shirone studied the curriculum on the walls.

Highly systematic.

The school used a "Class Ten" system:

• Classes 10–8: Beginner tier
• Classes 7–4: Advanced tier
• Classes 3–1: Graduation tier (only 10 of 30 students graduated yearly)

Just ten? With annual exams, twenty talents failed each year.

"So you’re Shirone."

He turned to see Alpheas, unchanged from five years ago. Bowing, Shirone remembered this was the man who’d ignited his dream.

"Hello. I’m Shirone."

"We’ve met, haven’t you? Do you recall?"

How could he forget?

"Yes. Thank you for that day."

"Good. We’ll talk later. For now, follow me. You have an entrance test."

"A test?!" Shirone panicked. He’d learned nothing yet!

"Relax. It’s just for class placement. Can you enter the Spirit Zone?"

"Yes."

"Hooh."

Opening the Zone alone was rare, but Alpheas remained wary. He’d delayed Shirone’s admission to spare him embarrassment—most entrants were under ten, with none older than fourteen. At seventeen, Shirone was an outlier.

I’ll have to teach him from scratch. A shame. Had he started earlier…

Alpheas led him past the testing hall (still busy with younger kids) toward the classrooms.

Shirone’s jaw dropped.

Even the beginner-tier classrooms defied reality. A girl floated four stories high, debating through a window. Another read three books simultaneously in midair.

Alpheas smirked at his awe. This is another world.

In Class 7, the students were older. No tricks—just razor-sharp focus.

"Sub-zero atmospheric convection energy? Why not just condense a refrigerant?"

"But that lacks reversibility. What if we invert the energy’s direction while rotating the time axis—?"

Shirone’s confidence wavered. He grasped the topics but not the details.

A door blasted off its hinges as a girl staggered out, hands clamped over her ears. The students barely glanced up—clearly a routine occurrence.

"Headmaster! Hello!" She bounded over.

"Hoho. Trouble?"

"Sound amplification experiment. The output circuit failed. Back to the drawing board!"

"Balance input and output. Equalize the electrical flow."

"Got it!" Adjusting her glasses, she dashed back inside.

Peeking in, Shirone saw kids debating over intricate magic circles.

I’ve entered another universe.

He realized how small his world had been. Here, everyone was like him.

A leaderboard displayed advanced-tier rankings. Class 4’s top spot read: "Karmis Amy."

The Karmis family?

Thanks to his Ozent connections, Shirone knew the name—Creas City’s highest-ranked noble house.

Impressive.

Overwhelmed but electrified, he craved the challenge.

"Hey! Amy! Let’s go!"

Shirone spun around.

Amy—the #1 student!

His pulse spiked as he spotted a pretty redhead hugging a stack of books.

"Huh?"

For some reason, his heart raced faster.

Trauma. The emotion hit her before the memory did. Only after a long moment did she finally recall who that girl was.

The child she’d met in the back alleys five years ago.

‘H-how… how is this possible?’

Shirone stood frozen, her face twisted in shock. When Amy and her friend walked past, she quickly turned her head away.

‘Please just walk by. Don’t notice me.’

There was no way this encounter would end well, so Shirone prayed desperately.

Fortunately, the two girls seemed uninterested and passed by without a second glance—or so Shirone thought. She was painfully unaware of how a girl’s peripheral vision worked.

Amy’s Friend: “Amy! Amy! Did you see that guy who just walked by? Is he a new student? He looks way too old for a freshman… maybe a transfer? Ugh, he’s totally my type.”

Amy listened to her chatterbox friend but didn’t respond immediately. Like Shirone, she felt something strange.

Amy: “Weird. I know I’ve seen him before… but where?”

Friend: “Oh? Since when do you care about guys? You’ve never even glanced at one before.”

Amy: “No, seriously. I have seen him somewhere.”

Friend: “Liar. You’re being weirdly defensive. You like him, don’t you? Admit it!”

Amy: “Ugh, I don’t!”

Relentlessly teased, Amy quickened her pace. When her friend matched her speed, she broke into a full sprint.

Friend: “Tell me! I won’t let you go until you confess!”

Amy: “No! I said NO!”

The boys nearby watched with envy as Amy, the untouchable honor student who rejected every confession—whether from underclassmen, upperclassmen, or peers—fled from her friend’s pestering.

Only Shirone knew the truth: that this model student had once been the delinquent queen of the backstreets.

Magic Academy – Third Examination Hall

The spacious auditorium had a floor polished smooth as a mirror, engraved with countless indecipherable runes. At the northern end, five instructors sat behind a long table.

When Shirone arrived, six young examinees—all children—were undergoing testing.

Alpheas: “Ah, good. They’re not done yet. Watch closely and see how it’s done.”

The children stared at Shirone, who was noticeably older than the other applicants, but she ignored them.

Alpheas explained the runes on the floor:

Alpheas: “Once you enter the Spirit Zone, these symbols will take on new meaning. What you perceive there will determine the size, strength, flexibility, and nature of your zone. Just answer the instructors honestly.”

Shirone observed from a slight distance, mentally noting the process.

Instructor: “Alright, Kemi. Can you use magic?”

Kemi: “I can levitate objects.”

The examiners didn’t verify claims. There was no point lying in a school meant for learning—it would only backfire.

Instructor: “Good. Then step into the Spirit Zone.”

Kemi: “Okay.”

As Kemi entered, the youngest instructor—a handsome man with slicked-back blond hair—spoke first.

Sade: “What’s the farthest number you can see?”

Kemi: “Six.”

Sade: “Oh? Six, huh?”

He jotted it down, impressed. A six-meter diameter placed Kemi at least in Class Nine.

Next, an elderly teacher with a wrinkled forehead and owlish eyes asked:

Elderly Instructor: “What color stands out most?”

Kemi: “Um… it’s like I’m in a red world.”

Elderly Instructor: “Red—an emission type. No wonder your zone is large for your age.”

The other instructors nodded.

The third and fourth tested brain dominance (which side a tower appeared on) and zone density (how many orbs floated nearby).

Finally, a sharp-eyed woman with long, cold features spoke:

Siana: “How does the temperature feel? Hot or cold?”

Kemi: “A little hot… I’m sweating.”

Heat suggested adaptability over durability—neutral in value.

Siana: “Good work, Kemi.”

The remaining children tested similarly. This year’s batch was strong—one even made Alpheas raise an eyebrow by calling out “Twelve.”

Then came Shirone’s turn.

Alpheas gently nudged her forward.

Alpheas: “Relax and do your best.”

Shirone: “I’ll try.”

She wasn’t nervous. Starting from zero meant she had nothing to lose.

The instructors studied her closely. The headmaster had flagged her as a special case—a guest of the Ozent family with “high potential.”

Still, this was the cradle of geniuses. Many so-called prodigies crumbled here.

Sade (dryly): “Arian Shirone. Seventeen. Can you use magic?”

Shirone: “No, I haven’t learned yet.”

Sade (smirking): “Most nobles pick up a spell or two on their own. No matter.”

His tone carried a jab, but Shirone ignored it.

Sade: “Step into the circle and activate your Spirit Zone. You can do that, right?”

She nodded and focused.

Spirit Zone – Shirone’s Perception

The moment Shirone’s consciousness expanded, she was overwhelmed.

‘Whoa.’

Sensory input flooded her—runes now floated in 3D space, glowing with meaning.

Sade: “What’s the farthest number you see?”

Shirone’s gaze (not her eyes, but her mind’s) locked onto a distant figure.

But she hesitated.

Sade (impatient): “Shirone? The number?”

The teachers assumed she was embarrassed after seeing the children’s results.

Alpheas (gentle): “Just be honest. This isn’t a ranking—we’re finding the right path for you.”

Shirone (unsure): “I… I see a number, but it’s too long to read fully. It keeps growing.”

Sade (annoyed): “Too long? The runes only display integers.”

Shirone: “It’s 3.14.”

Silence.

Siana (adjusting glasses): “Shirone, our runes don’t include pi. Are you certain?”

She was lying.

Pi only appeared if the Spirit Zone exceeded the measuring range—meaning Shirone’s zone was at least 30 meters wide, far beyond the exam hall’s limits.

Class Five. Maybe higher.

The elderly instructor leaned forward.

Elderly Instructor: “What color dominates?”

Shirone: “Blue. Everything’s blue.”

Murmurs erupted. Blue meant convergence—durability over size. Yet hers was both vast and dense.

Instructor: “How many orbs do you sense?”

Shirone: “867.”

The room froze.

867 orbs meant 86.7% density—her mind was unusually stable for her age.

Siana (coolly): “How cold does it feel?”

Shirone: “Freezing.”

Expected. The test couldn’t simulate deeper cold.

Siana scribbled her evaluation:

Convergent. Defensive. Exceptional durability. Yet zone size is… abnormal.

This wasn’t luck. Shirone had honed her Spirit Zone alone for years, compensating for her lack of magic with sheer mental discipline.

Siana: “Wait outside. We’ll decide your class shortly.”

As Shirone left, the instructors erupted in debate.

Elderly Instructor: “A most peculiar student.”

The Evaluation of Shirone

Sade frowned, clearly displeased.

“Rather than calling it unique, wouldn’t it be more accurate to say his balance is just well-adjusted?”

Siana spoke up.

“It’s because his balance is so well-adjusted that it’s unique. A seventeen-year-old boy who knows no magic possesses a Spirit Zone spanning over 30 meters in diameter—despite having a Convergent-type affinity.”

“The larger the Spirit Zone, the lower its density. Yet, this student’s density remains at 86.7%.”

“We teach students technical methods to increase density, but this boy achieved this purely through raw mental strength. An 86.7% density is comparable to the mental stability of a high monk who has trained in the mountains.”

As the other teachers unanimously praised Shirone, Sade, who had been critical, grew even more frustrated.

“Even so, he’s still just at a student’s level. There’s plenty of room left to observe.”

Siana coldly retorted.

“What do you mean by ‘just a student’s level’? This is a school where students come to learn.”

Sade’s face flushed red.

Had she not been so beautiful, he wouldn’t have tolerated such humiliation.

The tension between them grew palpable, and the other teachers momentarily stopped voicing their opinions.

Sade, the Flame, and Siana, the Frost, were infamous rivals within the school.

Alpheas intervened.

“So, where do you suggest we place him? Shirone, I mean.”

Siana immediately responded.

“Class Five would be appropriate, wouldn’t it? Given his high potential and unique affinity, he should receive focused guidance.”

Sade instantly countered.

“But he doesn’t know a single spell! Placing him in Class Five might inflate his ego and lead to reckless behavior.”

“Some students might act like you, Teacher Sade, but not all of them are like that.”

“Siana! There’s a limit to my patience! Let’s be honest—you just want to personally oversee him, don’t you? Since Class Five is under your direct supervision!”

“And what’s wrong with that? Is there a problem if a teacher wishes to mentor a student?”

“It’s pure greed. He doesn’t know magic, and his Spirit Zone’s transformation ability is practically nonexistent. At best, Class Seven would suit him.”

Alpheas turned to the other teachers for input.

Some suggested starting him from Class Ten and gradually building his foundation, while others proposed delaying his placement to observe him further.

A teacher who resembled an owl offered a compromise.

“I also believe Class Seven would be suitable. Given his age, placing him in a beginner’s class might dampen his motivation. Class Seven includes foundational Spirit Zone training, so it should be fine. If Shirone truly demonstrates talent, early advancement is always possible.”

Alpheas agreed.

To refine Shirone’s half-formed talent, a solid foundation was essential.

“Very well. Let’s proceed with that arrangement.”

The entrance examination had concluded.