NOVPUBEven lowly beasts and insects possess desire and longing.
Dreams are the essence of life.
That’s why humans, who are desire itself, all dream.
The only difference lies in whether those dreams are clear or murky, light or heavy.
A dream not existing at all—such a state is forbidden under the laws of the world.
And yet, sometimes...
There exist those who deviate from the laws of the world.
The Dreamless.
That’s what they are called.
—Julia, did you know?
Julia recalled something a senior had told her long ago.
Although he was technically her senior, the age gap between them was nearly double. He was well into his thirties—practically an uncle.
—What now, old man?
—Call me senior! I told you to call me senior!
Considering most dream mages in the <Dream School> were over fifty, someone in their mid-thirties was still considered quite young.
But to Julia, he was just another old man.
She had entered the <Dream School> in her early teens—a certified prodigy.
—Sure, fine. Anyway, could you please not talk to me? Sen-ior.
—...Listen, you really need to break that habit of judging people based on their dreams.
—But your dream is just as bland as your actual self.
—You’re too much!
Her untrustworthy senior cried out, then cleared his throat awkwardly.
—Still, Julia. You need to remember this well. You won’t be able to judge people by their dreams forever.
—Why not? A dream is a person’s essence.
—Because... there are people who don’t dream.
Julia had laughed at that back then.
—You’re joking, right? There’s no such person.
—They exist. Believe it or not. I even met one, once.
—Who was it?
—That’s a secret. I’m not at liberty to say. But I’m telling you—they exist.
—If you say so with that much seriousness, I guess it must be true.
—...What do you even think of me?
—Hm. A shady old man? Maybe a little smelly, too.
—...Did I ever do something to you?
Her senior slumped his shoulders—only to bounce back immediately.
He had an iron mental fortitude, capable of brushing off any insult within seconds.
Maybe he’d developed it just to survive among the oddballs in the <Dream School>.
—Anyway, if you stick around our school long enough, you’ll eventually meet someone strange. Like I said—a Dreamless.
—What even is a Dreamless? How can a person not have dreams?
—They wouldn’t be called that if they didn’t exist. As for how it’s possible—well, there are a bunch of theories.
The mention of theories piqued Julia’s interest.
In her field, mysteries were like hunger to a mage—inescapable.
—So, what’s the theory?
—Some say they don’t sleep at all. Others say their dreams are blocked by something else. But most of those are rubbish. Still, there’s one widely accepted explanation.
—Which is?
—Self-conviction.
—You mean a strong belief in oneself?
—Right. The Dreamless have absolute conviction. The kind of belief that what others merely wish for, they will definitely achieve.
People dream.
They dream because they want to become something. Because they hope to reach it.
A dream is desire. An ideal.
And those ideals are usually impossible to realize in reality.
—But those people... they believe—no, they know—that they’ll achieve what others only long for.
Once an ideal becomes attainable, it ceases to be a dream.
It becomes an extension of reality.
So, such people don’t need dreams.
—So what you’re saying is, a Dreamless person...
—Yeah. They’re someone who can turn their ideals into reality. The ultimate transcendent.
Returning from her recollection, Julia stared intently at Ludger.
The ultimate transcendent, huh.
What a fascinating term.
And strangely, she no longer thought her senior’s words were nonsense.
‘He intrigued me from the start of the semester.’
Her senior had once begged her to let him know immediately if she ever met someone like that.
But Julia hadn’t wanted to.
She’d chosen to observe for herself first.
‘A Dreamless changed Sedina’s dream. And in a positive direction, no less.’
Only stronger dreams can influence another dream.
A good dream can corrupt an evil one.
Or an evil dream can purify a good one.
But a person without dreams had altered Sedina’s dream.
This was a groundbreaking discovery for the field of dream magic.
‘Should I just ask him directly how he did it?’
But knowing Ludger’s personality, he was unlikely to give her a straight answer.
Trying to uncover it on her own would be limited in scope.
Which meant...
She had no choice but to turn to another possibility.
‘The old fogeys of the Dream School. They’re eccentric, yes—but their skills are real, and they’re hungrier for mystery than anyone.’
If she hinted at it to them,
She might get an answer.
‘Still, asking those slippery snakes for help really grates on my pride.’
But this involved Sedina—her old childhood friend.
A small sacrifice was worth it.
* * *
Class had begun.
“The amount of mana a mage can release varies drastically between individuals. That’s largely due to innate physical traits.”
Scratch, scratch.
The students diligently moved their pens across their notebooks.
“Some research papers claim that a healthy and well-trained body can release more mana, but the difference has been proven to be minimal. Even if a mage strengthens their body, the efficiency doesn’t increase proportionally.”
Increasing mana output was a challenge for all mages.
Despite countless efforts, no clear solution had ever been found.
There had even been theories suggesting that simply increasing total mana capacity would proportionally raise output.
But increasing mana capacity was even more difficult.
“The most effective method currently known is to drain one’s mana completely and repeatedly recover it, over and over.”
Among mages, this was casually referred to as building “mana muscles.”
Of course, there weren’t literal muscles involved—it was a metaphor.
After all, building muscles required tearing them to their limits and letting them regenerate stronger.
The term had caught on among practitioners because it oddly... worked.
“But even this method has limits. And so, some seek greater results by reaching into forbidden paths.”
“Is that what black mages do?”
“Correct. They conduct unauthorized experiments and cross taboo lines. Human experimentation, to be exact.”
That was the reason black mages were considered insane.
They used people as test subjects—and eventually used themselves.
The Bug Brothers they had fought recently? One of them had fused his own body with insects.
“The Empire confiscated some of the black mages’ research during their large-scale purges. The Mage Tower released only a fraction ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ of it publicly, but even from those scraps, we know that black mages were trying to create ‘paths’ within the human body.”
“What do you mean by ‘paths’?”
“Mana channels. In other words, internal circuits for mana flow.”
This bore some similarity to the field of magical engineering, which had seen a surge in recent years.
The most common example?
Mechanical golems.
Golems were traditionally made from clay and stone.
But with modern science—
Their frames were now forged from steel and brass, with intricate mechanisms driven by high-pressure steam and gearwork.
The raw power they emitted surpassed any old-fashioned golem.
Of course, the energy source for both old and new was still magic stones.
But those alone didn’t make it work.
Complex mechanical parts had to align. Pipes and cylinders had to move in concert.
More than anything else, what mattered was the circuit that distributed the magic stone’s energy throughout the golem’s body.
Yes.
What the black mages were so interested in—was precisely that circuit.
“A circuit that exists only in machines. What they tried to do... was forcibly engrave it into the human body.”
The classroom stirred at those words.
The human body is made of flesh.
It is a form that is fixed from birth.
Everyone knew how dangerous it was to try to implant a completely foreign “organ” into such a body.
The body could reject it. And even if the operation succeeded, the body might not be able to adapt.
The success rate would be abysmally low, and even then, operating magic would likely cause unbearable pain.
And yet, black mages had done so without hesitation.
“Of course, such practices are strictly prohibited by imperial law. What black mages pursue is the reckless violation of natural order and harmony. There is no value in progress achieved through such means.”
“Then... does that mean the only way to increase mana output is through endless training?”
“For now, yes.”
Ah...
At that answer, the class let out a collective sigh of disappointment.
They had hoped that maybe, since it was Ludger, he might know some other method.
Seeing the obvious expectation in their faces, Ludger chuckled inwardly.
Increasing mana output would be a discovery for the ages.
It would make developing something like [Source Code] seem insignificant by comparison.
It would bring about a seismic shift in the entire magical world.
‘Not that there’s no way...’
Still, Ludger decided to offer a subtle hint.
“There’s no need to be so disheartened. Someday, a better method may very well be found.”
“Professor, do you really believe that?”
“I do.”
Ludger replied without a shred of doubt.
“You may not know this, but in the age of the ancient gods, the mages of old wielded magic with power that far surpassed our own, even if the spells were less refined than those of today.”
They could summon lightning from the sky, call forth blizzards, and shake the very earth beneath them.
What modern society considered legendary “grand magic,” those ancient mages wielded as casually as breathing.
“Isn’t that just an exaggeration or myth?”
Someone raised the obvious question.
In truth, most students thought so.
They believed magic had evolved over time.
That the magic of today couldn’t possibly fall short of that from a primitive era.
“Perhaps. It’s possible those feats were only achievable by abnormally gifted individuals with immense mana reserves.”
“Ah... well, that’s disappointing.”
If someone had that much mana, then even unleashing just a portion of it would create overwhelming results.
Maybe it was only possible because it was such a rough, unpolished era.
“Still, there’s no doubt we can learn something from ancient magic.”
In fact, the New Mage Tower had recently changed its direction regarding research into increasing mana output.
They were now looking to the wisdom of the ancestors for clues.
And Ludger knew—that was the right path.
“Sometimes, rather than chasing distant possibilities, looking closely at the quiet footsteps of the past—learning from our predecessors—can lead to true progress.”
Of course, most students wouldn’t fully understand what he meant.
But that didn’t matter.
There would be a few—just a few—who would truly take those words to heart.
Ding—
The bell signaling the end of class rang out.
“That concludes today’s lesson. As review, I’ll assign homework. You are to research and summarize your findings on ancient texts related to mana output. Submit your report by next week. That is all.”
“Thank you, Professor!”
Class ended, and Ludger began organizing his materials.
A few students hovered nearby, clearly debating whether or not to approach him.
“If you’ve got something to say, then speak. Don’t just stand there staring.”
With his permission, the students brightened and came forward.
As expected, they had questions about the lecture.
‘Lately, more students have been asking questions.’
It wasn’t like before, when his intimidating presence kept everyone at a distance.
The turning point had been after the <Magic Festival>—Seorn’s grand event.
Word had spread quietly among the students about Ludger jumping into the flames to save Selina.
He may have been cold and strict on the surface, but in critical moments, he did the right thing.
And he was undeniably handsome, too.
Suddenly, the traits that had once felt distant now seemed admirable.
Not that Ludger himself realized this.
He still hadn’t gotten used to the students’ changing attitudes.
“Professor, do you have a girlfriend? Or someone you like?”
“Unless your question is related to class, refrain.”
His curt answer—“That’s none of your business”—only made the girls giggle in delight.
He had secretly hoped the students would warm up to him eventually... but this sudden drop in distance was disorienting.
“Um, Professor. I have a question.”
“Rine, is it?”
“I didn’t understand this part of the formula. Could you tell me what’s wrong?”
Such questions were always welcome.
Ludger calmly looked over the notes Rine handed him.
“The core lines in the fixed formula are tangled. It may not look like much, but this structure will inevitably hinder mana flow.”
“Ah, I see.”
“If you want to study this more deeply, look into ‘Introduction to Formula Structures III.’ It’s an old text, but it’ll be most useful for you right now.”
He pointed out the error and even recommended the most relevant reference material.
Though his tone remained stern and blunt, the meaning behind his words was anything but.
Rine watched him carefully.
The way he looked at her notes with such composed focus.
Cold and rational—but somehow approachable.
Why?
Why did Ludger always feel strangely familiar to her?
Like she had met him somewhere before.
Like a long-lost something—faint and nostalgic.
Before she knew it, the name slipped from her lips.
“...Heathcliff?”
As soon as she said it, Rine’s eyes widened in shock.
Wait—why did I just say that...?
She didn’t understand it herself.
But what shocked her even more...
Was Ludger’s reaction.
“...What did you just say?”
He was looking directly at her—his face stiff with tension.
