Below the podium, the sorcerers whose lifelong beliefs had just been overturned were still arguing with feverish intensity.
They looked at Loran as though they were gazing upon a newly raised shrine.
Loran paid no attention to any of it.
His eyes rested on the charred hole in the wall, but his thoughts had already drifted somewhere much deeper.
He understood that everything he had done just now was nothing more than an elaborate deception, made possible by one realization.
He had not created some revolutionary new theory.
He had simply exploited a bug.
A loophole in the system that only he and Kiro, the two “players,” could use.
The magic of this world was not some “miracle” that could only be mastered through study and enlightenment.
Its underlying logic was almost brutally simple—
It was an application programming interface.
A public interface for “shaping energy,” open specifically to players.
Comet, Comet Azur, Carian Slicer…
These were not “spells” that had to be mastered through learning.
They were functions that had already been packaged and made ready for use.
And the attribute known as “Intelligence” was not truly the wisdom needed to comprehend the truth.
It was more like an access level.
The higher one’s Intelligence, the larger the function library one could access, and the more advanced the “functions” one could execute.
The native inhabitants of this world—the sorcerers—did not know that the interface existed.
They were like primitive people attempting to understand a computer by studying how transistors worked.
They spent their entire lives researching complicated incantations and celestial charts, believing those things to be the source of magic.
But in reality, they were merely using an incredibly inefficient method to simulate the process of calling an interface.
Their so-called “understanding” was nothing more than fumbling through the darkness and occasionally brushing against the switch for a particular “function.”
But Loran and Kiro were different.
They were “players.”
Users with the highest level of administrator access.
They did not need to understand how the underlying code of this interface had been written.
They only needed to search through the “skill list” in their minds, find the “function” they wanted, and press “cast.”
From this moment onward, Loran could freely use any sorcery he wanted, as long as he had enough FP.
He no longer needed to search for sorcery scrolls.
He no longer needed to learn new spells.
The entire “function library” had already been built into his system from the moment he arrived in this world.
All he needed to do was…
Think.
He could “think” of Comet Azur.
He could “think” of Ranni’s Dark Moon.
He had become a walking magical artillery platform.
Loran moved his gaze away from the hole in the wall and looked at Kiro, who was still standing there in a daze.
She remained immersed in the overwhelming shock of having cast sorcery herself.
Loran watched her.
He knew Kiro would not get far down this path.
She also possessed “player” access and could bypass the learning process to call those “functions” directly.
But her hardware was not good enough.
Her Intelligence of 9 was not merely a debuff to one of her stats.
It reflected her actual intelligence.
Or, more precisely, her ability to understand things.
Her attempt to build both Intelligence and Faith had been a dead end from the very beginning.
…
[Kiro’s Affection toward Loran: -200 → -60]
[Status: Shocked / Confused / Slightly Impressed / Annoyed]
An astonishing increase.
It was not born from gratitude.
To Kiro, everything in the world could be simplified into two categories.
Useful.
And useless.
All of Loran’s previous lectures and grand principles had been useless nonsense in her eyes.
But now, this man had used a method she could not understand to produce a result that could not have been clearer.
He had allowed an “idiot” with only 9 Intelligence to cast sorcery.
That was useful.
For once, she felt a trace of approval toward Loran’s clever little trick.
But…
Just as Patches tried to take advantage of the heat generated by the “Master effect” and sell The Queen’s New Clothes to a seemingly high-ranking sorcerer, he ran into a wall.
“With all due respect, Mr. Patches.”
Although the sorcerer treated Loran with the utmost reverence, he showed Patches no such courtesy.
“Master Loran’s theory explores the truth at the very foundation of the cosmos. It is wisdom beyond price.”
“And yet you…”
He looked at the robe.
“You wish to defile something so sacred with this… worldly commercial activity, reeking of coin?”
“The academy can provide food and lodging for the three of you, as a gesture of support and cooperation for Master Loran’s experiment.”
“However, any form of commercial activity is strictly forbidden here.”
The surrounding sorcerers broadly agreed with him.
They could worship Loran’s wisdom.
But they would never allow that wisdom to be cheapened by something as vulgar as selling clothes.
Patches’ smile froze on his face.
Kiro’s good mood vanished just as quickly.
Apparently, Loran’s little trick was useful.
Just not useful enough.
“Hey.”
Kiro’s expression darkened.
“You. Come over here.”
Loran was surrounded by a group of sorcerers, all speaking over one another as they asked him questions about “functions” and “variables.”
The crowd automatically parted to make way.
“What is it?” Loran asked.
“They…”
Kiro pointed at the surrounding sorcerers.
“They won’t let us sell clothes.”
Her voice was filled with suppressed anger.
“They said we’re defiling your… what was it? Sacred wisdom?”
She imitated the sorcerer’s tone, her face full of mockery.
“So shouldn’t you use that fancy ‘Master’ status of yours and tell them that selling clothes is also part of exploring the mysteries of the universe?”
“You will have to figure that out yourselves,” Loran replied calmly. “I have more important things to do.”
Patches’ smile stiffened.
“Eh? Master Loran, surely you don’t mean that…”
He tried to salvage the situation.
“This is our shared enterprise! Without you, how is our empire supposed to—”
“That is your empire, not mine,” Loran interrupted.
“I have already helped you enter the academy.”
“How you sell the clothes from this point onward is a problem for you to solve.”
“I believe that with Mr. Patches’ eloquence and Miss Kiro’s…”
He paused.
“…luck, it should not be particularly difficult.”
[Kiro’s Affection: -60 → -70]
[Status: Having the Problem Dumped on Her / Dissatisfied / Plotting]
[Patches’ Affection: -10 → -30]
[Status: Plan Obstructed / Dissatisfied / Reassessing]
Loran ignored their rapidly falling Affection.
He turned to Roderika beside him.
“Stay here and help them. If they run into trouble, or if they need any special aromatics prepared, do whatever you can.”
“Y-yes, Mr. Loran.”
Roderika nodded obediently.
To her, any arrangement Loran made was unquestionably correct.
With everything settled, Loran did not stay any longer.
He walked straight out of the lecture room.
The fashion empire?
It was nothing more than a passing joke born from Kiro and Patches’ sudden enthusiasm.
Even if they succeeded, how much real profit could it bring?
Tens of thousands of runes?
Hundreds of thousands?
In a land where lives were worth less than grass, money was the cheapest thing of all.
The true capital was power.
Resources that could be mobilized.
Forces that could be commanded.
The authority to influence the direction of the world.
He did not intend to become a merchant who peddled products.
He intended to become a player holding the pieces.
And Raya Lucaria Academy would be the first board he had chosen.
He was going to accomplish something that had never been possible in the game—
Bring the academy—
or at least one faction within it—
completely over to his side.