NOVPUBThe students’ reactions to the perfect square drawn on the magic board split neatly into two camps.
One side brimmed with curiosity and expectation, wondering what mysterious magic Professor Ludger was going to unveil this time.
The other side was filled with disbelief—no matter how much credit they gave him, this was going too far. A square magic circle? That just didn’t make sense.
Even considering all the unconventional things Ludger had shown them before, a square-shaped magic circle went beyond the bounds of common sense.
Magic circles were traditionally drawn as circles not just for symbolism, but because the circle was the most efficient geometric shape for channeling magical energy.
Whether the energy was flowing outward from the center or inward from the outside—
The “curved line” of a circle allowed that energy to circulate smoothly, promoting flow within the magic formation.
But shapes with “angles” were a different story.
Magical energy that traveled through a magic circle had a kind of inertia—it moved in the direction it was drawn.
Naturally, mana moving in a straight line would crash into a corner when it encountered an angle and be deflected out of the formation entirely.
Once mana leaked out like that, it would scatter unpredictably or clash with itself, eventually dissipating into nothing.
If anything, that would be the lucky outcome. In worse cases, it could result in an explosion.
In other words, the “circle” in a magic circle was the bare minimum requirement to stabilize the flow of magical energy.
But the square Ludger had drawn? It had not one, but four sharp corners.
That meant four potential escape points for the straight-flowing mana.
What if you tried to block the energy from leaking at the corners by adding extra lines?
Same issue.
Any straight line drawn into a magic formation had to have an end. If there was no definitive endpoint, it ceased to be a magic circle.
And if you tried to minimize mana loss by drawing a line that never ended? You’d need a canvas the size of the continent to even attempt it.
And yet the square Ludger had drawn was barely 70 or 80 centimeters on each side.
There was no way you could create effective magical pathways in something that small.
“You all look skeptical.”
Ludger was well aware of the doubt in their eyes.
He had expected this exact reaction the moment he drew that shape on the board.
“...”
“...”
The students kept their mouths shut, but none of them dared voice an outright objection.
They had their own pride and baseline knowledge as aspiring magicians, after all.
Some students were even beginning to believe that, just this once, Ludger might actually be wrong.
What’s he planning now?
Flora Lumos furrowed her delicate brow as she tried to read Ludger’s intent.
Normally, she would’ve already shot her hand up and fired off a sharp question without hesitation.
But Flora had done that once before—and Ludger had shut her down hard.
Since then, she’d watched for opportunities to challenge him again, but Ludger never left any openings.
Even someone as sharp as Flora had been forced to admit the truth.
Ludger Cherish never said anything without a reason.
So now, even as she sat there with a sulky expression, she kept her mouth shut.
Instead, she turned a cold glare toward the students who were casting expectant glances her way.
What, do they think I’m the designated class agitator or something?
She could understand their silent hope that she would speak up, but it still annoyed her.
Once her irritation showed, the students who met her eyes quickly looked away.
With that subtle intimidation complete, Flora crossed her arms and refocused on Ludger.
Hmph. There’s no way he’d make a claim like that without a good reason.
That was the conclusion she’d reached: if he didn’t have something real, she’d already have lost respect for him.
So this time, too—please, she thought—blow their minds and wipe those smug looks off their faces.
Even while pretending not to care, Flora couldn’t help but feel a surge of anticipation.
“Since some of you don’t seem convinced, I’ll show you myself.”
Ludger held up a sheet of paper he’d prepared as part of the lesson materials.
“As you can see, this is a magic circle. It’s quite similar to the one I drew on the board.”
The square on the board had been plain, but the one on the paper was more complex—based on the same square, but with added symbols.
Still, to the students, the additions didn’t make it feel more magical—if anything, it looked more dubious.
The square had been divided into five rows and five columns—twenty-five cells in total. It resembled a chessboard more than a traditional magic circle.
There were characters inscribed within each square, but beyond that, there didn’t seem to be anything obviously magical about it.
“I’ll now channel mana into this formation. Let’s begin with a basic elemental manifestation.”
The students’ reactions were flat.
They figured the moment he fed mana into that boxy thing, it would immediately break down and fail.
Everyone was already imagining the outcome.
But then, as Ludger sent mana through the square, something unexpected happened—something they could see.
Bzzzzzz...
The magic circle began to glow softly, and soon, a small flame flickered to life at its center.
“Wait—it worked? That magic circle actually functioned?!”
“What the hell... How is that even possible?”
It was unbelievable.
A shape with rigid corners—where mana shouldn’t be able to flow—had just activated a spell.
Most of the students were dumbstruck, as if they were dreaming.
But a few, including Flora Lumos, stared at the magic formation with sharp, focused eyes.
“As you can see, a square-based magic circle works perfectly. Why do you think that is?”
Even before the question had finished leaving Ludger’s lips, Flora Lumos raised her hand.
But she wasn’t alone.
Rine had also raised her hand.
Flora instinctively looked toward her.
That girl...
She’d already caught Flora’s attention before, but recently she’d become much more noticeable.
She’d even gone to visit Ludger’s office after class once...
Flora’s thoughts were interrupted as Ludger spoke.
“Flora Lumos. You were faster. Go ahead—why do you think this magic circle functioned?”
“It’s the letters.”
“The letters? Can you elaborate?”
“The square is divided into five rows and five columns—twenty-five cells. And each of those cells has a character inscribed. That’s what stabilized the mana flow.”
Despite Flora’s confident answer, the rest of the class still looked unsure.
“Letters in a magic circle?”
“Is that even a real thing?”
If simple letters were enough to pull that off, they’d have to be using ancient script—one of the lost magical languages.
Even if it was Flora Lumos saying so, that seemed like a stretch.
But then Ludger spoke again—and the students’ eyes widened.
“You are correct.”
Wait—seriously?
Their gazes snapped back to the writing inside the square.
Not sentences. Not incantations. Just characters.
One per cell.
It didn’t look like anything with magical structure or encoded mana functions.
The students all looked at Ludger.
This professor...
He’s done it again.
* * *
Their eyes have changed.
I was getting used to this now—these reactions from the students.
They’d looked the same way when I first demonstrated Source Code.
Even if they didn’t believe at first, the moment they saw that it worked, the students of Seorn turned into ravenous seekers of knowledge.
That hunger—that’s what made them worthy of being here.
Of course they’re surprised. They’ve never seen this kind of magic circle in this world.
Because what I showed them wasn’t from this world. It came from Earth.
Strictly speaking, it’s not even a magic circle—it’s a magic square.
The magic square traces back around 4,000 years to ancient China, during the time of the Xia dynasty.
The story goes that King Yu of Xia was working on flood control along the Yellow River when he came across a turtle’s shell. On that shell were patterns that inspired the very first magic square.
From there, it traveled—through India, Persia, and the Arab world—before spreading to West Asia, South Asia, and Europe, evolving along the way.
Even now, people only see it as a mathematical curiosity—a grid where the numbers add up to the same total in every direction. But its roots are deeply tied to the occult.
Guess I’m finally putting Mom’s crazy lessons to use.
Back then, I hadn’t believed in anything occult or supernatural. But my mother had forced me to memorize it all anyway.
And I’d studied like a madman.
Not because I wanted to. No, it was out of pure spite—because my mother kept insisting I become a shaman.
I wanted to prove a point. n𝚘vp𝚞𝚋.com
That no matter how perfectly I memorized it, how hard I studied, it would all be completely useless.
That all that effort and learning would amount to nothing.
That she’d wasted her son’s time and energy on garbage.
I wanted to show her she was wrong.
It was petty.
But at the «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» time, that’s the only way I knew how to act. And honestly, I still don’t regret it.
But here and now.
No—every moment I’ve spent in this world, since the day I was born into it...
Those teachings weren’t wasted.
My mother wasn’t wrong.
“...”
Feeling unexpectedly melancholic, I forced myself to focus back on the magic square.
The one I used wasn’t just some numerological grid. It was the “Sator Magic Square.”
SATOR
AREPO
TENET
OPERA
ROTAS
Five words inscribed in Latin, arranged in a perfect 5×5 grid. No matter which direction you read them—forward, backward, up, down, even diagonally—they spell the same pattern.
It’s what’s known as a palindrome—a sequence that reads the same in either direction.
But it’s more than just wordplay. Words that carry the same meaning no matter how you read them represent cycle—or in magical theory, completion.
Which means that even without drawing a circular formation, the power of the words themselves can create magical circulation.
“Even with a square layout, as long as the embedded language is properly structured, you can replicate the functionality of a conventional magic circle.”
“Professor, I have a question.”
One student shot their hand into the air, and Ludger gave a small nod.
“Speak.”
“Drawing a square-shaped magic circle is definitely impressive. But... is there a real benefit to doing it this way, compared to a traditional circular one?”
“There is.”
“And what would that be?”
“It’s easier to draw.”
“...”
The brutally concise answer left the student speechless.
Easier to draw? Seriously? That’s the big reason?
“...”
But when it came time to argue, the student couldn’t actually come up with a rebuttal.
Because Ludger was right.
To clarify for the students who still didn’t understand, Ludger offered a full explanation.
“As you all know, drawing a perfect circle for a magic formation takes a great deal of practice and effort. A circle is a flawless shape—so if it’s even slightly off, the structure collapses.”
The reason magic circles are still valuable in artifact design is precisely because almost no one can draw them well.
Anyone can sketch a circle on flat ground or paper.
But etching a perfect circle onto a curved, hard-surfaced object? That’s an entirely different beast.
Even the slightest distortion, and the whole thing fails.
That’s why only certified enchanters—those granted “Meister” licenses—are permitted to inscribe official magic circles.
“But squares are different. If you just mark four equally spaced points and connect them with straight lines, you can draw a square anywhere, anytime.”
That’s the primary advantage of the magic square.
Unlike a circle that demands intense focus and perfect execution, a square could be eyeballed and still get the job done.
Even students could do it, not just licensed Meisters.
“You can draw it faster and more cleanly than a traditional circle. Does that answer your question?”
“...Yes, it does.”
“Good. Then take a look at the materials I handed out.”
With a subtle gesture, I nodded at Sedina, and she immediately began distributing the lesson sheets to the class.
“Today’s square-based magic circle was just a simple example. In reality, there’s far more variety than this.”
The students all turned their eyes to the handouts.
Inside were various shapes—not just characters but also numbers arranged in grids and patterns.
“These magic squares can be built not only with letters but also with numbers. The effect is relatively weak compared to traditional formations, but they can be more effective in certain precision-based applications.”
Numbers might seem like pure logic, but they too contain a kind of mystery.
There’s Egyptian numerology.
Gematria from Israel.
The Pythagorean school from ancient Greece.
Systems that assign meanings to numbers, using sequences and arrangements to draw forth hidden power.
Knowledge like this—impossible to find in this world—was something only I could teach.
And that was the lesson I’d chosen to give my students today.
