Infinite Mage - Remake

The first half of the magic school term had come to an end.

Though there had been plenty of disputes and troubles along the way, the atmosphere was warm as the semester concluded. Even the teachers, usually strict and demanding, joked lightly with their students, counting down the minutes until they could finally go home.

Swordsmanship academies emphasized physical training, but they also taught the importance of rest—knowing when to pause was just as crucial as pushing one’s limits. Magic schools, which focused on mental discipline, were no different.

The mind might be invisible, but it was still a vital part of human function. Even the most relentless students needed time to cool their overheated thoughts.

However, relaxation didn’t mean complete idleness. At Alpheas Magic School, students who hadn’t given a presentation were required to write a thesis on a topic of their choice.

But this didn’t apply to Shirone. His presentation on "Invisible Things" for the Supernatural Psychic Research Society had earned him the highest marks, granting him the privilege of a peaceful vacation.

On the day the students began leaving one by one, Shirone found himself standing in the empty Third Training Center.

Normally, the place buzzed with the sounds of chanting and magical explosions—but now, only silence remained.

The Third Training Center was one of the largest facilities in the school. A 1,600-meter track encircled the perimeter, and the interior was divided into eight sections, each equipped with specialized devices for testing different magical effects.

Shirone stepped into the Mobile Magic Training Ground, an open space designed for practicing movement spells—teleportation, flight, dark port, air walk, and more.

As he stood there, he reflected on his progress over the past six months.

‘First, movement magic.’

His primary method was teleportation, but he had since developed Rainbow Drop (allowing curved movement) and Patrol (high-speed lateral shifts).

But his greatest achievement was photon manipulation.

What had started as a simple means of transmitting information had evolved into something far more potent—Photon Cannon, a devastating offensive spell. From there, he had reverse-engineered the principles to create laser magic, a technique capable of cutting through nearly any material with sustained precision.

‘Now that I think about it… I’ve worked pretty hard.’

A satisfied smile crossed his face. His biggest leap forward had been in photon theory, advancing from near-light speed to sub-light speed.

And that was why he was here today—to attempt spatial movement, a feat considered impossible for anyone below sub-light mastery.

“How will it feel?”

This was no mere teleportation. True spatial shifting allowed a mage to fold space-time itself, experiencing the unique properties of light in its purest form.

Shirone expanded his Spirit Zone, synesthesia sharpening his awareness of the surroundings. Focusing his will, he applied photonization magic at sub-light speed—merging omniscience and omnipotence as he shifted his center of gravity.

His body dissolved into light.

A brilliant flash streaked upward before crashing back to the ground.

When he rematerialized, Shirone gasped, his face pale.

“Hah…! That—that was…!”

His heart hammered in his chest. The sensation was nothing like teleportation.

With teleportation, the world seemed to crumple and push against him. But spatial movement? It felt as if the sky and earth had rotated, folding reality itself.

‘So this is true space travel… I can’t even think straight. There’s no way I can use this in battle yet.’

Even Ethela, a 6th-Class certified mage, had relied on teleportation during her duel with Arcane—proof that spatial shifting wasn’t practical for combat.

Its real strength lay in long-distance travel.

Teleportation risked collisions with obstacles, limiting most mages to short-range jumps (under 10 meters). But spatial movement allowed true leaps through folded space, bypassing physical barriers entirely.

However, to make it viable, Shirone’s Spirit Zone needed to be far wider than its current 50-meter radius.

While impressive for a student, it was still too small for high-tier magic. Normally, a mage’s abilities scaled with their Spirit Zone—but Shirone, an unlocker, had broken past theoretical limits through sheer insight.

‘The balance is off. Magic level too high, Spirit Zone too small… Is this even sustainable?’

His zone had grown—its durability far surpassed his early days. In theory, he could stretch it to 100 meters, but doing so while casting advanced spells risked zone fracture.

‘Hah… People would laugh if I said I’m doing spatial shifts with a zone this size.’

For practical use, he needed at least a 200-meter radius.

Imagine:

• Teleporting 10 km = 1,000 jumps
• Spatial shifting (200m zone) = 50 jumps

950 fewer activations. In life-or-death situations, that difference was monumental.

“Powerful spells alone aren’t enough. Without the Spirit Zone to support them, you’ll never be a true master.”

But expanding the zone wasn’t just about size—durability, density, and precision were equally vital.

“Ugh… This road is endless.”

Shirone exhaled, overwhelmed yet exhilarated.

Magic was a balance of countless factors:

• Zone radius & durability
• Omniscience & omnipotence
• Theory & instinct
• Experience & adaptability

And for the first time, Shirone could see the path ahead—not as an insurmountable wall, but as a challenge to overcome.

‘I can do this. I will climb higher.’

With his 4th-Class promotion, he could apply for advanced courses next term. Soon, he’d be steps away from his dream—becoming a full-fledged mage.

“I’m really… a wizard now.”

The thought sent a thrill through him. Once, he’d feared he’d spend his life as a hermit. Now? His future was unfolding before him.

“A lot’s happened, huh?”

He chuckled, remembering his early struggles—fumbling spells, earning scorn from classmates, even that absurd teleportation test.

“Hah! I was so pathetic back then.”

Leaving the mobile magic area, Shirone entered Section 4: Cutting Magic Training.

A viscous cylindrical target hovered above a magic circle, waiting.

Shirone raised a hand.

“Wind Cutter.”

A razor-edged gust slashed out—slicing the target clean in half.

“Heh. Easy.”

His fundamentals had improved drastically. Passing every subject with 80% or higher meant even unfamiliar spells came naturally now.

But not all mages learned the same way.

Some relied on theory, others on instinct. Shirone was firmly in the latter camp—his insights outpaced his analysis.

That was why Arcane had once said:

“You’re the type who learns fastest in battle.”

Looking back, Shirone nodded.

He had come far.

“Hey, Shirone!”

A voice called out, snapping him from his thoughts.

“Hm?”

Neid and Iruki stood near the track, waving eagerly.

Shirone, who had been about to leave, suddenly paused—an amusing idea flashing through his mind. Why walk when I can test this properly?

He focused, converting his spirit zone into a targeted form, calculating the precise distance between himself and his friends. Then, with a sharp inhale, he activated Spatial Movement.

WHOOSH—SCRITCH!

A rush of displaced air hissed as Shirone’s body blurred—then reappeared directly in front of Neid and Iruki, his boots skidding slightly on the gravel.

Neid yelped, stumbling backward. “Wha—?! What was that?!” His voice cracked in shock.

Beside him, Iruki’s eyes widened, his usual calm demeanor shattered. “Wait—was that Spatial Movement? You’ve been practicing this all semester?!”

Shirone rubbed his neck, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “No, not exactly. The training grounds are closing soon, so I wanted to review one last thing.”

Neid clutched his chest, still breathless. “But—but this is your first time pulling it off, right?! That’s insane! Do it again!”

Iruki scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Why are you freaking out? It’s not like you’ve never seen spatial magic before.”

“Not from someone our age!” Neid shot back, jabbing a finger at Shirone. “When the professors do it, it’s whatever—but seeing him pull it off? That’s different!”

Iruki crossed his arms. “Well, Spatial Movement is advanced, even for seniors.”

It wasn’t considered a major-tier spell for nothing. While basic teleportation was standard for wizards, Spatial Movement bordered on elite mastery—something typically reserved for Level 6 practitioners and above.

For a student to achieve even sublight-speed displacement was staggering, regardless of their specialization.

Shirone sighed, flexing his fingers. “Still… it’s not very practical yet. The range is too short.”

Iruki smirked. “Who cares? At least you scared the hell out of Neid.”

Neid’s face flushed. “Hey! I wasn’t scared! I can cast Plasma Burst! Want me to demonstrate right here?!” His bluster was undercut by the way he’d nearly tripped over his own feet earlier.

Iruki waved him off, turning back to Shirone with a dry chuckle. “Anyway, let’s cut to the chase. You were just showing off your fancy new magic in an empty field, weren’t you?”

Shirone’s ears turned pink. Sure, he’d only been reviewing his progress, but… Iruki wasn’t entirely wrong.

“N-No! That’s not—”

“Relax,” Iruki interrupted, grinning. “You’ve earned it. You’re literally the fastest-growing mage this semester. But if you’re done admiring your own genius, we’ve got places to be.”

“Oh—right!” Shirone blinked, glancing at the darkening sky.

Most students had already left for break, but a handful—like Shirone and his friends—had stayed behind. They still owed their teachers gratitude for the semester’s grueling lessons.

The trio left the training grounds, heading toward the faculty dormitories. The building’s doors stood wide open, cleaners bustling in and out as they prepared the rooms for the next term.

Shirone spotted their destination: the teachers’ lounge. Inside, professors lounged in plush chairs, steaming teacups in hand, their laughter warm as they exchanged stories before departing for their hometowns.

“What? You’re all still here? What are you doing?”

Shirone and his friends stood awkwardly at the entrance of the conference room. Siana, noticing their hesitation, feigned surprise and ushered them in.

“Ah, we wanted to say goodbye before leaving. Thank you for teaching us this semester.”

The elderly teacher burst into laughter.

“Hah! Hearing that from the academy’s biggest troublemakers is hilarious! Well, you’ve suffered enough. Enjoy your vacation—students should know how to have fun, after all.”

Siana, having given up her seat for Shirone and the others, poured tea and offered a few parting words.

“Congratulations on your promotions, all three of you. Next semester will be busier, so don’t relax too much. I’ll be watching closely when classes resume.”

Typical Siana—even her well-wishes sounded like a warning. But compared to the teacher who froze entire classrooms for chatter, this was downright kind. The semester’s end seemed to soften even the strictest instructors.

“Yes, we’ll do our best,” Shirone replied, sipping his tea.

Beside him, Sade leaned toward Ethela with a grin.

“Teacher Ethela, if you’re free, would you like to have dinner with me…?”

Shirone nearly spat out his tea.

Flirting with a monk? Really?

Ethela, flustered, waved her hands dismissively.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I have parish duties during the break.”

“Ah, what a shame. If a woman as lovely as you guided me, I’d convert to the Karsis Monastery in a heartbeat.”

Ethela looked utterly lost. No sane person would say such a thing to a bishop of the order. Yet, ever the embodiment of grace, she remained polite.

“Oh my, I’m flattered. But what about you, Mr. Sade? Any plans for the break?”

Siana cut in before he could answer.

“Oh, he’ll probably spend it chasing skirts, as usual.”

Sade’s brow twitched.

Why does this woman always have to pick a fight? By the semester’s end, it seemed she couldn’t function without bickering. Determined not to rise to the bait, he shrugged.

“Hah! There’s no shame in romance at our age. Honestly, I’m more worried about you, Siana. With that temperament, finding a partner must be impossible.”

“Excuse me?!”

“What? It’s obvious. You’ve never even dated, have you? Too busy being a tyrant.”

Siana’s eyes flashed.

“You—! I have dated before!”

The room fell silent. Even the other teachers turned to stare. Shirone and his friends, who knew about her painful history with Armin, exchanged shocked glances.

“Really? When? Who was it?” Sade pressed, smirking.

“Hah! As if anyone would believe that,” he added, clutching his stomach in laughter. “You probably just walked past a man and called it a date!”

Siana’s face burned.

“I did date someone! A real one!”

“Oh? Then who was it? Or is his name a state secret?”

Her fists clenched. Of all people, she refused to lose to him.

“Magic,” she hissed.

“…Magic?”

Every ear in the room perked up.

“Magic was my partner.”

Silence. Then—

“Pfft—HAHAHA!” Sade doubled over.

The other teachers coughed into their hands, faces red. Even the usually stoic Alpheas turned away to hide his smile.

Siana’s face flushed crimson. She hadn’t meant to say that—but the words had tumbled out in her fury.

“You—You’re mocking me?! I’ve devoted my life to magic! Is that so wrong?!”

Sade, wiping tears from his eyes, raised his hands in surrender.

“No, no, my mistake. Clearly, you and magic are… a match made in the arcane.”

He quickly gulped his tea, turning away before she could retaliate.

Shirone and his friends bit their lips, struggling not to laugh. Seeing their teachers’ chaotic dynamic was a rare treat.

“You’re all still here?”

A familiar voice rang out.

“Ah, Principal Alpheas!”

The man strode into the room. Though his teaching authority was suspended, he’d stayed at the academy’s lodgings. Now, with the students departing, he’d come to bid farewell.

“I see the troublemakers lingered. You gave me quite the semester.”

“Only because of your excellent leadership,” a teacher chimed in. “We’re grateful.”

Alpheas chuckled.

“Still calling me ‘principal’? Next term, the Magic Association’s interim head will take over. Treat him well.”

Neid’s face darkened.

No one could replace Alpheas. The old man had been the academy’s heart and soul.

“What’s he like? Please don’t say it’ll be worse…”

“Hah! That’s life. But don’t worry—you’ve all grown stronger this term. You’ll handle next semester fine.”

As the teachers packed their belongings, Shirone and his friends prepared to leave.

“Principal, we’ll see you next term.”

“Of course. Rest well, travel with your families. Oh—Shirone, a moment?”

Shirone paused, turning back as his friends stepped outside.

Neid thumbed toward the door. “We’ll wait in the hall. Don’t take too long.”

Alone in the empty room, Shirone faced Alpheas. The man’s expression was uncharacteristically grave.

“I wanted to discuss Miro.”

Shirone stiffened. Even amid the chaos of promotions and exams, the labyrinth’s encounter lingered in his mind.

“You’re still interested in investigating the ruins?”

“Yes. I’ll need to speak with my parents, but I want to use this break wisely. If not now, when?”

Alpheas nodded slowly.

“Good. It’ll be valuable experience.”

Yet his frown deepened.

“Did you call me just for that?” Shirone asked.

Alpheas exhaled.

“No. Truthfully, I wanted to ask you something. Can you describe Miro’s state when you met?”

“His state…? You mean his demeanor?”

“Yes. Tell me everything you remember.”

Shirone closed his eyes, recalling the labyrinth. Their meeting had been brief, but every detail was etched into his memory.

“He seemed… unstable. His mood shifted rapidly. At times, he felt almost otherworldly.”

“How severe was it?”

“Not extreme, but… unsettling. There were moments he seemed lonely.”

Alpheas’s breath hitched.

“Did he say anything about that?”

“I asked him. He said, ‘Gods don’t feel loneliness.’”

“‘Gods don’t feel loneliness’… Hm.”

A shadow crossed Alpheas’s face. Was Miro sending him a message through Shirone?

No. Or… is he?

Shirone studied him. “Principal, if this worries you, I won’t investigate.”

Alpheas snapped back to the present.

“Hah! No, no. The Kergo Ruins are open to the public. Go, see the world Miro inhabits. Just… stay alert.”

“Wait—are there secrets there? But it’s a tourist site…”

“Where’s the fun if I spoil it?” Alpheas winked. “But never let your guard down. I’m permitting this because I trust your skill.”

Shirone grinned. Alpheas had always encouraged their growth—even if it meant nudging them into controlled danger.

“Understood. I’ll investigate thoroughly.”

Like all swordsmanship academies, Kaizen had wrapped up its term. Despite his abysmal grades, Rian’s steps were light as he headed home.

Finally, freedom!

He’d planned to return to his village immediately—but first, he needed to retrieve his luggage from his sister’s palace residence.

Ugh. Of course, the witch is home.

The grand piano’s thunderous notes echoed through the mansion’s halls, dashing his hopes of sneaking in unnoticed.

“Damn it!”

Rian crept through the opulent halls like a thief, but the music drowned even his muttered curses.

At the far end of the hall, Reina sat before a grand piano, her fingers flying across the keys with furious precision.