A Genius Mage Hides His Origins

24 – Duality

The warriors at the forefront of magic are commonly referred to as magicians for convenience. However, if you look into the details, you will find that the term “magician” is unexpectedly divided into two distinct groups.

Theoretical magicians and experimental magicians.

Although both contribute to the advancement of magic, water and oil cannot mix seamlessly.

It is an inevitable phenomenon for them to view each other with disdain.

But there was a new group that both factions despised.

They were the “fake theoretical magicians.”

“I can’t stand the nonsense of theorists.”

If I were to borrow the words of the man next to me, he was a theorist.

I became aware of his presence ironically when he stood up to leave.

At first, I was absorbed in carving the meat on my plate, and later, I was so engrossed in eavesdropping on the debate sounds coming from nearby tables that I didn’t even know who was sitting next to me.

“Well, isn’t that so, my friend?”

Only then did my eyes meet with the man next to me.

Friend?

Pointing at my chest with his finger, as if to ask if he was referring to me, he seemed to be shaking his head.

Since I had never eaten with a lively-looking Federal youth like him, I decided to think that he had a habit of referring to anyone as a ‘friend’ in the third person singular masculine noun.

Anyway, since he asked, I had to answer.

“I don’t think it’s a topic worthy of judgment.”

“Hmm. It’s a rather lukewarm answer. Could it be that you are also one of those people?”

It was a hard-to-overhear remark.

A fake theorist refers to those who pretend to be knowledgeable by showing off only the theories they picked up.

They are fake scholars who question the honor and status of magical scholars without even a hint of curiosity or knowledge appetite.

There are many who criticize my gray hair, but mocking innate characteristics won’t have any impact.

However, undermining my magical curiosity is an unacceptable matter.

Because it’s the same as mocking Benjamin, who took me as his disciple.

I slowly stood up from my seat.

“…Am I a ‘theorist’?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re asking whether I dream of becoming a theoretical magician, the answer is yes. But I have never underestimated the study of magic, not even for a moment.”

“Is light a wave or a particle?”

After hearing my words with one ear and letting them pass through the other, he began talking to himself.

“I think it’s a particle.”

“Why?”

The particle nature of light.

In the past, it was considered a given, but if one were to say that without any evidence in the current field of magic, it would probably be dismissed as a joke.

Although those ‘intelligent young men’ over there may not be to my liking, the fact that the wave nature of light has been proven is as true as it gets.

However, the man in front of me spoke confidently.

“The experiments are telling us, aren’t they? Light is suspicious.”

“What?”

“Do you know about Thomson’s discovery of a new particle?”

Thomson.

An unforgettable name.

The letter that made me decide to embark on this journey. He was the protagonist of that remarkable discovery.

I nodded.

“Thomson used light in his experiments to separate a new particle.”

“….”

“And that’s not all.”

The man smirked and looked at me.

“Tell me, what do you think?” he asked, as if testing me.

It was intriguing how Benjamin seemed to assess things differently, but it didn’t bother me.

Engaging in debates and discussions from the perspective of a scholar, without hiding my interest in magic.

The current situation vaguely resembled the landscape I had dreamt of.

And I could tell what experiment the young man in front of me was about to mention.

While Benjamin focused more on laying the groundwork for academic studies rather than directly teaching magic, he occasionally threw bits of knowledge related to magic.

One of those was a story about an experiment.

“The Michelson-Morley experiment, right?”

When the wave-particle duality of light was proven, people thought that waves, like sound, would always be transmitted through a medium, so light would too.

To prove the existence of a medium called “ether,” the two magicians devised an intricate apparatus and conducted the experiment.

They failed.

There was no ether.

But the failure paradoxically brought about even greater value.

Waves without a medium.

It made the peculiarity of light even more apparent.

Seemingly satisfied with the answer, the man nodded with a content expression.

“You, theory enthusiast, I quite like you.”

“……”

“I became curious about your sincere answer. Particle or wave, what do you think?”

He asked.

After a moment of silence, I opened my mouth.

“Can’t we both?”

“…hahahahaha! You, I thought you were an interesting friend, but you turned out to be quite fascinating.”

He leaned forward and whispered in a voice audible only to me.

“Hey, that college student over there, wearing the uniform of the Prussian Federal Magic University, it’s probably not even his. People who pretend to know everything with the knowledge they pick up like that aren’t accepted by magic universities.”

“….”

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“We’re the same age.”

Seemingly satisfied with what he wanted to hear, the man swung the restaurant door open with a bold motion.

“I’m Werner. I dream of being an experimental magician leading the most dangerous experiments. Gray-haired friend, see you again at the Magic University!”

After making this final declaration, he left abruptly.

What in the world.

It felt like a storm had just swept through.

Perhaps due to the strange sensation that came with the name Werner, I found myself tilting my head as I collected the dishes. At that moment, I realized one thing.

Since he occupied the seat, his voice had been quite loud.

Even in the ongoing discourse between us, the conversation had been carried out with a booming voice.

So, it was only natural that the pride of the ‘intellectual youths’ who should have been observing the high-level debates on the same subject right next to me had been crushed. Furthermore, sitting at the same table as a seemingly favored female student, he left nothing to be said.

“Hey, gray-haired….”

Quivering voice.

Glancing at the owner of the voice, even the hand holding the utensil was trembling, and an uncontrollable anger was frozen in those eyes.

Dalak. He put down the utensil and shouted.

“Come out to the square. It’s a duel!”

*

Three blurry years ago, when the air in the warehouse room was still unfamiliar.

Back then, I was dedicated to learning Pravobian.

I tried using encyclopedias and even memorized rudely, but the most effective method was the dramas.

Since the usage of language itself is the conveyance of thought, I remember that learning words was fastest when immersed in the context of the story.

I encountered a total of six dramas.

Four tragedies and two comedies.

As dramas were not particularly popular in the Empire and grew as a literary form in the Federation, the landscapes of the Federation were permeated into the dramas. Amidst that, regardless of the tragic or comic nature, there was one element that appeared in all six works.

Duel.

A disagreement, no matter how small, led to a duel.

A mere misunderstanding resulted in an immediate shootout.

I couldn’t fathom why the people of the Federation loved such radical conflict resolution so much.

Of course, it was undoubtedly influenced by the playwrights who wanted to intensify the flow of the drama. However, I never thought that the people of the Federation would engage in duels.

So, I never dreamed that someone would propose a duel.

And not just any duel but a duel involving magicians.

Coincidentally, the restaurant was right next to the road leading directly to the square.

“Let’s go to the square.”

“….”

Whether fortunate or unfortunate, just a few minutes’ walk from the restaurant brought him face to face with the largest square in Prausen.

Lafian Square.

Elegant statues and fountains. A bustling marketplace. People joyfully engaging in conversation with laughter.

To turn away from all of that and confront a man filled with anger seemed truly tragic.

He came to a stop.

At that moment, six thugs behind him also braced themselves and began to glare at me.

The only solace was the silent presence of a female student standing next to him, as if pleading her outsider status. But all of them were hostile towards me.

Come to think of it, I still didn’t know the man’s name.

“Evarist Duma.”

“…Eugene.”

In the next instant, he raised a magic book, assuming a posture that seemed to signify something.

I stood there blankly, watching his actions. Apparently displeased, Evarist decided to pick a fight.

“Don’t tell me you don’t even know the etiquette of a magical duel?”

“It’s even more surprising that I know about such things…”

“I’m a undergraduate at the Prausen Federation Magic University! It’s a mistake not to know the magic duels of our profound history and tradition. Tsk. You have a magic book, right? Hold it in your left hand.”

Then, he once again assumed a bizarre posture and glared at me.

What can I say? If magic was still considered part of mystical superstition, it would have been a cool stance.

Does he genuinely think that’s impressive?

Werner’s concocted rumors about academic fraud not only gave rise to credibility but also led one to suspect whether this man’s claimed book was not a magical academic work but rather a collection of fantasies by a lay scholar.

From the side, a voice mixed with a sigh was heard.

“That’s enough. It’s pathetic.”

It was the voice of a female student.