Hill had originally been wondering whether the skill [Transcendent Magic] could help her understand Elven.
After all, according to legend, the Goddess of Magic—one of the Five True Gods—was originally of the elf race. Of course, after attaining godhood, race and bloodline lost all meaning; that towering divine form was far more significant than any mortal flesh.
In this world, the southern Elven Empire was also the place with the deepest understanding of magic. The world’s only remaining Sequence Ⅶ Grand Magus resided within the Elven Empire. Nearly sixty percent of all magical tomes originated from the Elven Empire, and the earliest were compiled in Elven.
Many magic academies required Elven as a compulsory subject, likely for this reason. After all, no mage could guarantee they wouldn’t need to consult Elven texts in the future. Once these books were translated into human language, ambiguities inevitably crept in—translation was only suitable for storybooks.
In a field as rigorous as magic, even a single mistaken character could lead to disastrous consequences.
Yet after an entire morning of Elven lessons, Hill found that her understanding of Elven hadn’t changed much at all; she was still utterly baffled. The elite-level phrases and vocabulary that tumbled from the teacher’s mouth nearly convinced her that she had once again been favored by the goddess and transported to another world.
It was widely recognized as the most elegant—and also the most difficult—language in the world. The semantic shifts, complex grammar, and sheer volume of vocabulary were truly astonishing!
Hill still found this subject headache-inducing; her grasp of it was about equivalent to that of an elementary student learning English in her previous life.
That being said, the young lady Otis by her side was recognized by the whole school as exceptionally gifted in Elven. If nothing unexpected happened, once their year graduated, this noble heiress would deliver the graduation speech to the dignitaries and the headmaster, in flawless Elven, on behalf of all the graduates.
This was undeniably a great honor—one worthy of being added to a resume, and might even get her recommended to an academy in the royal capital!
Perhaps this noble young lady would become an elegant diplomat one day.
Normally, Otis attended Elven classes with utmost focus, in stark contrast to her two dozing friends beside her. But today, Hill keenly sensed that Otis’s attention wasn’t as concentrated as usual; she even glanced over at Hill from time to time.
Hill took all this in, but pretended not to notice, for the shy noble lady would soon, like a startled fawn, force herself to look away and feign calm.
The whole morning passed just like that. As the bell signaled the end of class, the teacher left the podium without delay. The students now had about two hours of rest, during which they also had to make time to head to the dining hall at 1 p.m. for Holy Communion.
They called it “enjoying” a meal, but most people—including Hill—felt that “enjoy” was a stretch for what was served.
Seated in the bright and spacious dining hall, which was decorated much like a church, with marble reliefs on the walls and stained glass, the sunlight streaming in from outside lent the hall a sacred hue. Of course, since this was not a real church, the revered statue of the Goddess of Plenty was not enshrined here.
The students lined up in an orderly fashion around a long table for their meal. Loud chatter was forbidden, with teachers watching closely and ready to rebuke any offenders. Yet for these young children, to have such a rare break but not be allowed to talk was sheer torment.
So, whispering was permitted.
Hill was, as usual, sandwiched between her friends: the adorable Helena on her right, and the serious Otis on her left.
Hill forced herself to calmly eat the dry bread, then swept the salad clean from her plate, and finally picked up her spoon, a trace of pleasure on her face as she swallowed a mouthful of the bright red stew from her bowl.
Helena’s curious voice sounded beside her. “I don’t get it, Hill—how can you like eating something this sour?”
Otis said nothing but cast a questioning glance at Hill, then looked at her own untouched bowl of stew.
Hill wanted to purse her lips in response, but remembered it wouldn’t be ladylike to do so in front of her two friends.
“Maybe it’s just… everyone has different tastes,” she replied with a smile. “Actually, I’ve always liked sour things like this.”
This was a lie!
The bloodline’s sense of taste was strange: they could discern subtle differences in all kinds of blood, yet were insensitive to flavors normal humans could detect. For Hill, the sourness that tortured most students in the stew was one of the few flavors she could taste.
Apart from that, she also enjoyed spicy and numbing foods—one of the few other flavors her tongue could register.
Unfortunately, unlike her previous life where these condiments were abundant, they were quite expensive here—far beyond what an ordinary family could afford.
That was why Hill had such a fondness for the stew everyone else detested.
“Really?” Innocent Helena had no doubt about her friend’s explanation.
Otis lowered her gaze and concentrated on her packed meal. She suspected Hill’s words weren’t entirely sincere, yet the enjoyment on Hill’s face as she swallowed the stew looked anything but fake.
Her friend had truly changed since her family fell into ruin; she was no longer the girl she used to be.
Was it just her imagination?
Or did the blow of losing one’s family really change a person so much…
Otis thought of herself. If the same thing happened to her, would she fare even worse than her friend?
She might not even have the courage to come to school; all her accumulated pride would be shattered, and she’d be holed up in some cramped, damp apartment, hair disheveled and filthy—just like a mad witch!
With that thought, Otis found herself chewing her bread with far less elegance than before.
The afternoon was Magic class, personally taught by Instructor Inks. His teaching style was… a bit too hardcore; Hill had previously dreaded this subject as much as Elven.
From complex magic runes, to the construction of magic circles that ordinary people could barely comprehend, the guidance of mana, and even the training of meditation techniques…
Hill’s hopes had come true—the goddess’s blessing worked!
She understood. For the first time, Magic class felt easy.
The skill [Transcendent Magic] had given her unparalleled comprehension, turning her from a common magical dullard into a magic prodigy who understood everything at once!
So this was the world as seen by a genius?
The obscure formulas she once struggled with were now as simple as basic addition and subtraction.
Hill’s previously dull mind was now buzzing with excitement as she absorbed Instructor Inks’s teachings. The sense of her mind being filled up, of insight dawning the more she thought—this was nearly as wonderful as the delicious blood she’d tasted the night before!
I’ve got it, I’ve got it! As a magic-user, I finally understand!
When the bell rang for the end of class, she was left wanting more.
If she could, she would have rushed down to intercept the ever-impatient Instructor Inks, to show him her hypotheses and the formulas she’d jotted down at lightning speed.
Alas, such things were not permitted.
To consult a teacher, you had to make time outside of class—and unless you had a certain relationship, or your talent was acknowledged, it was almost impossible.
A mage’s pride was not diminished even after becoming a teacher.
Guiding students was not their duty—they were only there for the kingdom’s paycheck.
It was just a job, and in small towns, mages seldom felt much sense of responsibility; they were clear about the separation between work and private life.
Hill felt a twinge of disappointment, but it quickly faded.
No matter—so long as she had the skill [Transcendent Magic], even the knowledge gleaned from class alone should be enough for her to become a One-Ring Mage!
If she could reach that goal before adulthood, her life would improve greatly!
The goddess truly was generous—to bestow a power capable of changing one’s fate, just like that.
Hill didn’t notice Otis peering at her notebook, which was now filled with densely packed formulas, her eyes full of confusion and astonishment.
“When did Hill become so accomplished at magic?”
These formulas… Even if Otis wasn’t as innately gifted as Helena, she could tell—they were simply not something someone at Hill’s previous level could have written.