I Loaded the Mysticism Panel

Afterward, Warren left first. His family was having honey-glazed roasted chicken for dinner.

The people in the hallway gradually dispersed, their footsteps fading away.

Just as Richard stood up from tying his shoelaces, Coleman emerged from around the corner.

His right hand was wrapped in a wet towel for a cold compress.

The two met in the middle of the hallway and stopped.

Coleman was the first to speak.

"Can we talk?"

"Sure."

Coleman glanced down both ends of the hallway to make sure no one else was around.

"Not here. Let’s go outside."

The two of them left through the gym’s back door and walked along a path at the edge of the athletic field, heading toward the east side of campus.

Coleman unwrapped the wet towel from his right hand and flexed his fingers.

The swelling on his knuckles had subsided some, but bruises were slowly beginning to surface.

"Is your hand okay?" Richard asked.

"It’s fine. I didn’t injure the bones too much." Coleman draped the towel over the back of a bench. "Soft tissue contusion. It’ll be fine in two or three days."

"I’m Coleman," he said, formally introducing himself.

"Richard."

"I know your name." Coleman’s gray eyes were fixed on him. "The whole school does."

Richard didn’t respond, waiting for him to continue.

"The school I used to attend is called Saint George Military Academy, in Sheffield."

His gaze fell to his swollen right hand.

"On the surface, it’s a military academy, meant to funnel new talent into the military and police systems. In reality..."

He looked up at Richard.

"It’s a preparatory training institution for Hunters."

Hearing this, Richard finally understood why Coleman seemed to have the foundations of a Hunter’s training, yet he couldn’t sense any Ether from him at all.

"The training at the school is divided into two systems," Coleman continued.

"The public-facing system is conventional military training: physical fitness, tactics, weapons handling, and wilderness survival.

"The hidden system is introductory Hunter training: ice-water immersion, hyperventilation, muscle-striking, and Ether Loop activation."

"When students enroll, they all undergo a screening process.

"Those who pass the screening enter the hidden system and are trained in the Hunter’s Direction.

"Those who don’t pass remain in the public-facing system, following the path of a regular soldier."

Coleman’s voice was flat. The experience was already several years in his past.

"I passed the screening when I enrolled and entered the hidden system."

"From the age of fourteen, I woke up at five o’clock every morning, spent fifteen minutes immersed in ice water, did three sets of hyperventilation exercises, and then had three hours of combat training."

"The afternoons were for conventional military courses, and the evenings were for specialized training to activate the Ether Loop."

He turned his right hand over, palm facing up.

"Without Marvels, activating the Ether Loop requires repeated stimulation in an environment with a high concentration of Ether. The goal is to force the dormant loops to awaken under stress."

"Some people activated their loops in the second month. For others, it took a year, and for some, two years."

"And then there are others..."

He closed his hand.

"...who can never activate it."

Richard had already guessed the outcome.

"I was at Saint George for over two years," Coleman said with his head lowered.

"During those two years, nineteen of the thirty-seven people in my class successfully activated their loops. Of the remaining eighteen, I was the last to be washed out."

"Near the end of my second year, the instructor told me I had a congenital defect in my Ether Loop’s structure.

"A key node in the loop was fractured, and it couldn’t be connected no matter how much it was stimulated."

Coleman put his hand back on his knee.

"After I was washed out, the school gave me two options.

"One was to stay in the public-facing system, finish the military prep courses, and enter the regular army upon graduation.

"The other was to transfer to a regular school and complete my education as an ordinary student."

"I chose the second one."

"Why?" Richard asked.

Coleman thought for a moment.

"Staying at Saint George meant watching the classmates who had successfully activated their loops continue to advance every day, while I could only become a grunt in the regular army..."

He sighed.

"So you transferred to Greenwood," Richard said, understanding now.

"Right."

Coleman’s gaze returned to Richard.

"After I transferred, I thought I’d completely severed my ties with the world behind the Curtain."

"The rules at Saint George are very strict. Those who are washed out are forbidden from revealing any information about what lies behind the Curtain to anyone.

"Violators face legal repercussions, and in serious cases, can even have the related memories erased."

Coleman’s pace of speech slowed.

"After I came to Greenwood, I quickly noticed Mr. Hutton."

Richard’s eyebrows twitched slightly.

"In the hidden system at Saint George, each class also had a Guide, though we all just called him our instructor.

"The instructor was responsible for monitoring our progress in activating our loops and providing necessary guidance and protection."

"Although I can’t clearly perceive Ether, I could vaguely sense something about Mr. Hutton that was similar to our instructor."

Coleman’s perceptiveness surprised Richard somewhat.

"You knew Mr. Hutton was the Guide on campus."

"Right," Coleman nodded. "But I didn’t know who he was guiding."

His gaze lingered on Richard’s face for a moment.

"Until recently."

"I noticed when you were using the dumbbells at the Fighting Club, your breathing rhythm was completely different from an ordinary person’s.

"When ordinary people do strength training, their breathing is passive. It just follows their movements.

"They exhale when they exert force and inhale when they relax. The rhythm changes with their level of fatigue, getting messier the more tired they become."

"But your breathing is actively controlled from start to finish. No matter what set you’re on or how tired you get, the rhythm never changes."

Coleman’s observation was incredibly precise.

"Even though we practiced the Path of Burning Blood, we also had some knowledge of the Golden Path."

"So when I saw you in the Fighting Club breathing with that rhythm, I recognized it immediately."

Richard leaned against the back of the bench, his gaze drifting up to the bare elm branches overhead.

"You suggested we spar today," Richard said, pulling his gaze back from the branches, "was it just to confirm your suspicion?"

"Yes," Coleman didn’t deny it.

"If you were a Newcomer who had already stepped behind the Curtain... your reaction speed, Perception, and even your physical Strength would be fundamentally different from an ordinary person’s."

Coleman looked down at his swollen right knuckles.

"The result was obvious."

Richard couldn’t help but chuckle.

"Aren’t you afraid of violating your non-disclosure agreement by telling me all this?"

Coleman’s expression didn’t change.

"The agreement states that I can’t reveal the existence of what’s behind the Curtain to an ’uninformed ordinary person.’"

"You’re not an ordinary person, and you’re not uninformed."

"So, strictly speaking, I haven’t violated the agreement."

The man’s way of speaking was incredibly direct. He didn’t beat around the bush or speak in riddles, just laid all his cards on the table, face up.

"So..." Coleman asked, "which path are you walking?"

"Scholar," Richard answered.

Revealing which path one was on wasn’t some great secret that couldn’t be told.

Coleman’s body visibly stiffened when he heard that word.

"...Do you know how many Scholars I saw in my entire two-plus years at Saint George?"

"How many?"

"Only twice."

Coleman looked at him with a gaze filled with both envy and a sliver of jealousy.

"Once was during the school’s annual evaluation. An old professor came from Imperial University to conduct an inspection.

"He was hunched over and used a cane, looking no different from any old man you’d see on the street."

"But when he walked into the auditorium, every single instructor stood up.

"That included our head instructor—a Minor Mastery Level Hunter who had served for twenty years and killed more Evil Beings than we had ever met people."

"In front of that old professor, he was as deferential as a student."

Coleman’s description gave Richard a more direct understanding of the power structure behind the Curtain.

"And the second time?"

"The second time was on the day I was washed out."

Coleman’s right hand clenched on his knee.

"The person in charge of evaluating the state of my Ether Loop was a Scholar.

"He used some kind of detection instrument and came to a conclusion in about ten minutes."

"Ten minutes."

Coleman didn’t look at him, seemingly lost in his memories.

"I endured hardship at Saint George for over two years, soaking in ice water at dawn every day and getting beaten by the instructor until I coughed up blood."

"Over two years of effort, negated by that Scholar in ten minutes."

He shook his head.

"That Scholar’s assessment was correct. My Ether Loop really did have a problem, and continuing to train wouldn’t have yielded any results."

"I’m just..."

He looked at Richard.

"Envious."

"Envious that you get to walk this path."

Richard didn’t know what to say.

His and Coleman’s starting points were completely different.

Coleman had struggled and fought his way through the Hunter preparatory system since the age of fourteen, pouring nearly three years of blood and sweat into it, only to be forced to withdraw due to a congenital deficiency.

Richard, on the other hand, had been sought out by Mr. Hutton himself and guided toward the Scholar path from the very beginning.

"So now..." Richard chose his words carefully. "Is there absolutely no other way for you?"

"You mean my Ether Loop?" Coleman shook his head. "The Scholar was very clear. It’s a congenital fracture. There’s no known method of repair right now."

He stood up, took the damp towel from the back of the bench, and folded it neatly.

"I have one last question."

Richard looked up.

"Hm?"

"People on the Scholar path, logically speaking, shouldn’t need to train in any of this."

Coleman turned back, his gaze lingering on Richard’s shoulders and arms for a moment.

His gray eyes held nothing but pure curiosity.

"In my two-plus years at Saint George, the only Scholars I ever met were those two."

"The way they walked, they looked like they couldn’t even lift their own suitcases."

"But in the entire Saint George system, not a single person dared to underestimate them."

Coleman chuckled at his own words.

"On the day the old professor came for his inspection, the head instructor personally served him tea."

"I still remember that scene to this day."

"A man who could snap the neck of a member of the Vampire Species with his bare hands, holding a teacup, not even daring to walk too quickly."

He looked at Richard.

"Logically, people on your path shouldn’t need to speak with their fists."

"So why did you join the Fighting Club?"

Richard thought for a moment.

A phrase from Mr. Hutton surfaced in his mind, perfect for the occasion.

"My Guide told me something once."

"What was it?"

"Sometimes, a Scholar also needs to use his fists to protect his desk."

Coleman mulled over the sentence for a moment.

"...Protect his desk?"

"That’s right."

Coleman nodded thoughtfully.

"Sounds interesting."

He didn’t press the issue, probably because he hadn’t expected a complete answer from Richard to begin with.

In the distance, across the athletic field, the gas lamps were being lit one by one.

"The day I left Saint George, my instructor saw me off in his office."

"He told me, ’Congratulations on graduating.’"

Coleman gave a bitter smile.

"’Going out into the world and living an ordinary life is the best choice.’

"’Those who don’t have to walk this path are the lucky ones God has spared.’"

"When I was washed out, I couldn’t understand it."

His gaze fell in the direction of the school gate.

"I felt like something had been stripped away from me."

"Over two years of training, endurance, and pain... all invalidated by a ten-minute evaluation."

"During that time, I had the same dream every night."

"I’d dream that my Ether Loop was fixed, that I’d returned to Saint George to resume my training."

"I was so happy in those dreams."

"But after I’d wake up, I would lie in bed in a daze for half a minute."

"I couldn’t tell if I was supposed to be happy or disappointed."

Coleman stuffed the damp towel back into his pocket.

"Now I know."

"I should be happy. Happy that my name won’t be added to that long list of sacrifices."

He started walking toward the school gate.

"See you next semester. If you ever want to spar, just give me a call."