When The System Spoils You For No Reason-Chapter 53 - Fifty Three

"Talent hits a target no one else can hit. Genius hits a target no one else can see."

— Arthur Schopenhauer

---

"Fire, water, air, earth, long ago..."

Zeke sat cross-legged in the air, his free flier trait keeping him aloft. Miniature elements danced between his fingers—a tongue of fire spiraled around a shimmering orb of water, while a breath of wind tousled a tiny sculpted mound of earth.

He was practicing magic.

He had copied the basic principles from the demon a year ago and had been studying in fits and starts ever since. Conjuring and shaping the basic elements was manageable now, but going further would require more exposure—complex magical theory, or time spent around powerful practitioners.

"I always wonder what the difference between magic and innate abilities actually is," he mused, voice echoing softly in the spacious room. "With Michael’s ability, I can do quite a lot with fire, but magic feels like it needs a certain procedure. A certain expertise. Not that I can’t do it—it just costs a lot more. Though I still can’t use the extinguishing function."

{Innate abilities are like pre-programmed functions,} Zero explained, his digital tone settling into something almost professorial. {You input ’one plus one,’ you get ’two.’ Magic is an open-ended language. You can find a hundred different ways to arrive at ’two.’ Abilities follow a specific internal logic, bound by the limits of their original design.}

{A magician can shape fire into anything he imagines. Jude can only shape it into weaponry, because that is the boundary of his ability. A spatial mage can teleport, build inventories, cast severance spells. You and Karys, with Sunder, can only do what that ability specifically allows. The trade-off is that it’s easier to execute—and often more powerful than a mage’s equivalent.}

{Average magic demands intense focus, chanting, complex formulae. Yours is instinctual. You are an exception. To use magic at all, most people must brute-force it through raw talent, or possess a dedicated trait for it.}

"Thanks, professor."

{Anytime.}

"So, theoretically—like the demon—I could reverse-engineer abilities into magic."

{Hah. That would be true if it were possible. The demon devoured the ability, integrating it into his very being. You merely copy; it isn’t stored in a dedicated magical conduit, but within the archive of your innate ability.}

"That’s where you’re wrong." A smirk pulled at the corner of Zeke’s mouth. "My ability has an archive for two abilities. If I can access those archives, I can study the structure and reverse-engineer it into a working magical principle—something I could use freely. Bitch."

{That is... theoretically possible. But do you have the perseverance to train that deeply? Do you have any idea how long that would take?}

"Not to brag, but I’m a genius. Was a genius even before I got the Grand Archmage trait. Stacked genius has to come in clutch."

{I hope it doesn’t come in crutches.}

"Play me some montage songs. It’s time to grind."

---

"I’ll need more from you than ’sorry.’"

A tall, broad-shouldered young man stood in the middle of a ruined guild hall annex, his voice a low, threatening rumble. He held another man up by the collar, the fabric straining in his grip. Around them, bodies littered the floor—groaning or unconscious, the clear aftermath of something one-sided. The air smelled of ozone, sweat, and the faint copper of blood.

"Tsk. What bad luck, running into you of all people."

Zeldris didn’t look over his shoulder. He’d already recognized the cool, unhurried presence that had just entered the room.

"We’re both captains of Aethelgard, both stationed on the second floor. Running into each other is normal, Yeon." He dropped the man, who crumpled to the tile, and turned to face the newcomer—Seo Yeon Min.

She stood in the doorway, lean and wiry, her light tan skin looking almost pale under the fluorescent lights. Jet-black hair tipped with electric blue fell just past her shoulders, framing a sharp, angular face. Her hazel eyes, flecked with gold, held his gaze without blinking. A worn black trench coat hung open over a gray hoodie and cargo pants, scuffed combat boots planted firmly on the floor.

"You have a brain?" Her lips twitched in a faint, mocking smirk.

"Going home?"

"Obviously. Why else would I be on the second floor right now?"

"They attacked me first."

"You don’t need to explain yourself to me. We are not friends." Yeon turned to leave, her trench coat swirling with the motion.

"Hey." Zeldris’s voice echoed in the sudden quiet. "If you see him, tell him I’ll be coming for a second round."

"Go befriend a dragon before you think about a second round."

"Tsk." He started walking in the opposite direction—then stopped. His massive shoulders tensed. He turned back, a new energy crackling around him, something aggressive and unspent. "You know what? I’ve heard rumors that aren’t pleasing to my ears. Let’s test them out."

BOOM.

A brilliant golden aura erupted from him, flooding the room in a harsh, oppressive light. The air went heavy. He launched himself forward—a blur of condensed force aimed directly at Yeon.

"Sigh." She didn’t sound surprised. Only tired. "I knew you would do this."

---

"You’re very brutal to a lady."

The voice came from the shadows near a potted plant that had somehow survived the earlier destruction—smooth, unhurried, faintly amused.

Zeldris halted mid-stride. A young man with striking silver hair leaned casually against the wall, metallic grey eyes glinting with quiet amusement.

"What can I say. I wanted to vent—for the sins of her friend." Zeldris’s voice was gruff, but the fight had gone out of his posture.

"If she hadn’t accounted for this being a spar, you’d be dead." The silver-haired man’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. He pushed off the wall and walked toward the door, footsteps silent on the tile. His voice carried back as he reached the threshold, clear and unhurried. "Rushing in like a fool. If it weren’t for the rules, we would have lost an SS-ranked captain."

Zeldris stood alone in the wreckage, the golden light guttering out around him. He raised a hand slowly and scratched his cheek, a sheepish, almost boyish grin finally breaking through.

---

"Finally!"

Zeke threw his hands into the air. He shot up from his meditative hover and spun in a lazy, joyful circle in the middle of the room.

"Cough." The middle-aged man nearby cleared his throat.

"Hehe." A wide, unabashed grin spread across Zeke’s face.

{Congratulations on teleporting ten whole meters,} Zero chimed in, dry as ever.

’It’s an achievement!’ Zeke shot back, pride intact.

"Master, are you speaking with Master Zero?"

The soft voice came from the doorway—the middle-aged man, still standing there, tray in hand.

"Yes, Shoo. I did something incredible. Sorry for disturbing you." Zeke floated down and landed lightly, waving him off with a casual gesture.

"It is my duty, Master." A slight bow, expression serene. He set the tray down on a nearby table and quietly withdrew.

---

"I have returned. Parents, have you been well?"

Yeon stood in the grand foyer of the Min family estate, offering a formal bow. The familiar scents settled over her—polished wood, her mother’s floral perfume, the faint aroma of dinner from the kitchen—a comforting contrast to the sterile, charged air of the guild.

"Sigh. Your brother and his friends are already making us worry, and now you come home with bruises." Lisa Min rushed forward, elegant features pinched with concern. She took Yeon’s face in both hands, thumbs gently brushing the discoloration along her daughter’s cheekbone.

"It’s just a bruise, Mother." Yeon’s voice was softer here, the sharp edges worn down by the warmth of home.

"Yo!" Kai’s voice rang from the top of the staircase. He bounded down, face lit with his usual grin.

"Yo." Yeon’s lips quirked into something small and genuine.

"Hehe!" He didn’t slow down, launching himself at her in a tackle-hug.

Yeon caught him without shifting her stance. A sweet, nearly imperceptible smile. "I thought Zeke had rubbed off on you."

"He certainly has! Come, let me tell you everything your brother and his friends got up to while you were away." Lisa Min looped her arm through Yeon’s, worry forgotten in the pull of fresh gossip, and steered her toward the living room.

Left in the foyer, Jae Min and Kai exchanged a look—silent, mutually resigned. They shrugged in unison.

---

"So, the love interest has come."

Michael’s voice was flat, stating a fact. He sat in a sleek chair in his penthouse office, the city’s twilight skyline glittering behind him through floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Yes, sir." The suited man standing before the desk kept his head slightly bowed.

"That was rhetorical. You’re dismissed."

Another bow, and the man was gone, the door clicking shut behind him. Michael rose—fluid, precise—and crossed to the window. His reflection hovered pale against the sprawling city lights below.

"It would be a good opportunity to observe," he murmured, a small, calculated smile touching his lips.

Then it faded. His expression settled into blank neutrality, amethyst eyes holding no particular light.

"Not really."