I Don't Need To Log Out

In the grand, castle-like gathering hall of the Magus Council, two old Trionians sat in a secluded chamber, speaking in hushed voices.

One was Birna, the head of the Magus Council. The other was Ejen, one of its senior councilmen.

"Are you sure Arlon is telling the truth?" Birna asked, her sharp gaze fixed on Ejen.

"There is no way for me to be certain," Ejen admitted. "The most I can do is ask Shirl, but she might be reluctant to answer."

Birna exhaled slowly, leaning back in her chair. "I see. So, there might be people working with the Keldars among us… What exactly did they say to Shirl?"

Ejen rubbed his temples before answering. "According to Arlon, they told her, 'I bring orders from the Council. You are to return to Kelta immediately for reassignment. Your current duties in Oceina are to be transferred to another administrator.'

Then, they added, 'The Council is aware of your recent communications. Be careful where your loyalties lie.'

But Arlon doesn't know who delivered the message."

Birna frowned, fingers tapping lightly against the armrest of her chair.

It had been a mere banquet conversation—an exchange between Arlon and Ejen in passing. But that brief moment had planted a seed of doubt in Ejen's mind.

The next day, Arlon sought him out again, relaying what had happened to Shirl in Oceina.

And now, here they were, discussing a matter that could only mean one thing.

Treason.

Yet they had no evidence. No clues as to who was responsible.

"Could Asmond be behind this?" Ejen asked suddenly.

Birna's expression darkened. "Ejen! Have you gone senile in your old age? Since when do you throw out names without evidence?"

"You know I don't throw out names lightly," Ejen countered, his tone heavy. "Asmond would gain the most by eliminating Shirl's father. You know that."

"That is still speculation," Birna snapped. "We have no proof. By that logic, you and I both gained something from Merl's death, did we not? But at least I know you never wished for it."

A heavy silence fell between them.

Birna sighed. "Strong people like Merl are always envied. Their absence shifts power, changes alliances, and opens new doors. It's no surprise that someone would take advantage of his death."

Ejen closed his eyes for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.

"Sigh… You're right. I just—" He exhaled sharply, gripping the armrest of his chair. "I want revenge, Birna. I'm old now. I don't want to die before avenging my friend. And I need to make sure Shirl will be okay."
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Birna let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. "Bullshit."

It wasn't clear which statement she was calling bullshit on.

And neither of them asked.

---

The day came to an end as the students and players returned to their rooms.

The evening passed in a familiar routine. After finishing their "homework," the players—except for Arlon—logged out, their consciousness returning to their real bodies.

Arlon, as always, stayed behind.

While the others rested, he trained.

Tomorrow was Wednesday, bringing more missions and tasks in preparation for Friday's exam.

He had limited time—he needed to complete his assignments while also setting aside time for his own growth.

His training wasn't just about keeping up. It was about surpassing who he used to be.

He had learned Trion's military swordsmanship, but he was far from mastering it.

For a magic swordsman, mastering a single sword style wasn't necessary—but Arlon had come to understand a painful truth in this life.

Strength alone wasn't enough.

Starting with Zephyrion and Orlen, there were many Trionians in this timeline who surpassed even his peak strength in the past.

That fact was undeniable even though, in the past timeline, he had always thought that he could have beaten Asef or Zephyrion.

And if warriors of their caliber had failed to protect Kelta from falling in the past… then what did that say about Asef?

The implications were clear. If Arlon wanted to stand a chance against what was coming, he couldn't rely on his past achievements. He had to go beyond them.

So, while others slept, he trained. He didn't need to sleep thanks to Zeno.

His sword cut through the empty night, his magic pulsed in the quiet darkness.

If he wanted to win this time, then neither his blade nor his spells could fall short.

Failure wasn't an option.

---

The next day started the same way.

As Arlon left the dorms alongside the other players and students, he was once again met with his growing number of admirers.

There were even more rumors than the day before, but he didn't care.

The group made their way to the classrooms for the theory lessons.

Luckily, Arlon had already learned everything he needed thanks to A Magician's Secret. Still, he listened.

The book was old. While its knowledge was invaluable, he couldn't be certain if new discoveries had been made since Agema had written it.

Even so, nothing in these lessons was beyond him. He was confident he could score full marks in the exams without effort.

And besides, he had a feeling that if Agema were still around, she would personally hunt him down if he didn't get a perfect score.

She existed only in stories and in his imagination, but he had already formed an image of her in his mind.

Soon, when he reached Samera Mash, he would learn if that image was accurate.

The classroom was filled with students settling into their seats, some chatting, others flipping through their notes. The instructor, a tall woman with silver-rimmed glasses and sharp eyes, entered with a calm but commanding presence.

Professor Yure. One of the more well-known theorists in the academy.

She placed her notes on the podium, but instead of starting the lesson immediately, she looked around the room.

"Before we begin, let me ask you all a question." She paused, letting her gaze sweep across the students. "What do you believe is the true nature of magic?"

A few students glanced at each other before Mei raised her hand. "Magic is the manifestation of one's mana through spells, formations, or catalysts."

"An acceptable answer," Yure said. "Anyone else?"

Mirek spoke next. "Magic is energy. It can be controlled, stored, and shaped through will and understanding."

"Another fine answer."

She let a brief silence settle over the room before continuing.

"And yet, both answers are wrong."

That caught Arlon's attention. He had expected a standard lecture, but this was something different.

"Or rather," Yure amended, "they are incomplete."