A Returner’s Magic Should Be Special - Chapter 36

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 36. Training! (2)

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July 11th.
Nine days remained until the Shadow World would manifest.
“I’m going to die from how hard this is!”
Romantica’s exasperated voice erupted in the Hebrion Academy cafeteria.
The evening meal was incomparably superior to what Beta Class had eaten, yet Romantica’s expression remained thoroughly displeased.
“Training, training, training! Are you trying to kill us!?”
“I believe I’m giving you sufficient rest. You get ten minutes of break for every hour of training.”
“It’s too short! I want to go shopping, and I want to browse the dessert shops freely.”
There was a certain logic to Romantica’s complaint. Since training began, she and Fram had been granted no leisure time whatsoever.
Each day after lessons ended, there was only brutal training conducted according to the schedule Dezir Armang had set. It might have been excessively harsh for a sixteen-year-old girl to bear.
Dezir Armang himself acknowledged the unfairness, but he had circumstances beyond his control.
‘There simply isn’t much time left before the Shadow World begins.’
Among the Shadow Worlds that would manifest this year, Dezir Armang had a particular one in his sights. At their party’s current strength, entering it would be somewhat perilous. That being so, he had no choice but to intensify the training regimen.
Of course, he couldn’t say that aloud, so Dezir Armang spoke as indirectly as possible.
“Of course I don’t intend to keep running things like this. Once you’ve addressed your weak points, I’ll absolutely give you proper rest time, so bear with me for now.”
“You’re promising?”
“Of course.”
It was just as that exchange was taking place.
“Oh my, Azest!”
A cry mingled with surprise suddenly burst forth, and someone approached Dezir Armang.
It was Azest.
She set her tray down in the seat beside Dezir Armang.
“Curious how no one else sits near your party.”
“We’re commoners. Being a Single Ranker doesn’t seem to erase that treatment.”
“I see.”
“We’re trying, but well, as you can see.”
Despite being commoners, Dezir Armang’s party had risen to Single Ranker status and created quite a stir within Beta Class.
Yet within Alpha Class, prejudice against commoners remained unimproved.
Azest nodded.
“So what brings you here?”
The question, tinged with wariness, came from Romantica.
“Some objection?”
“Not objection to sitting next to Dezir… but don’t you notice all the stares converging here? Everyone’s watching. They must be having trouble swallowing their food!”
“My apologies for that. Is there anything I can do?”
“Simple. Go sit at another table.”
“Romantica!”
Despite Dezir Armang’s sharp rebuke, Romantica refused to yield her position.
“Dezir! Have you forgotten what her party did to us?”
Romantica had not forgotten that Pugman had deliberately withheld information about the Magic Tower’s support from their party.
“Fine. I’ll move to another table.”
Azest spoke.
“But I have something to say to Dezir…….”
Extending the tail of her words, Azest sideways glanced at Romantica’s reaction.
Romantica’s eyes widened, her distaste written plainly across her face. As if detonating a bomb before such a girl, Azest spoke.
“Dezir, once you’ve finished eating, could I visit your room for a moment? That way we could talk ‘alone’ together, without anyone who dislikes me present.”

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“It’s modest, but come in.”
Dezir Armang’s room was remarkably neat and orderly for a boy’s quarters.
When Azest entered his room, she took a seat in a wooden chair from the sitting area. The wooden chair was hard, though not uncomfortable.
Dezir Armang opened the window to air out the room, then headed toward the kitchen.
He returned from the kitchen moments later bearing two steaming cups. The tea had taken on a reddish hue.
“It’s made from plums—Plum Tea.”
“The aroma is lovely.”
The Plum Tea that Dezir Armang had brewed using the recipe Fram provided smelled exceptionally fine.
The sunset had begun slanting through the open window, bathing everything in a red that matched the tea itself. The summer breeze carried with it a pleasant warmth.
“Why would you say something so easily misunderstood?”
“What does it matter? It’s not exactly a lie.”
Azest brushed her hair back lightly over her shoulder.
“But I do have a question. Can you answer it?”
“Anything I’m able to answer, I will.”
Azest set down her cup.
“How did you apply Grease to a three-dimensional form?”
“So that’s what you were curious about.”
During the entrance examination, Dezir Armang had once deployed Grease across his own body.
It seemed simple on the surface, but in reality the procedure was far more complex.
Fundamentally, Grease was a kind of rigid magical plane that covered the surface of an object.
Yet such magic could never perfectly cover areas with numerous curves and contours—a limitation closely tied to its conventional application on flat ground.
“Can you teach me?”
“There’s no reason I couldn’t.”
Dezir Armang rose from his seat and retrieved two sheets of paper from the shelf. He placed one on the table and smoothed it thin with his palm.

[Grease.]

Dezir Armang cast the spell over the paper, then flicked it with his thumb.
The paper slid smoothly across the table’s surface. It shot through the air, passed through the door leading to the adjacent room, and flew all the way into the living area.
“That’s the standard form.”
Azest already knew this.
Dezir Armang placed the paper on the table again and repeated the process. Grease enveloped it once more.
He lifted the paper.
Azest watched to see what he intended, and he grasped both edges of the paper before tearing it apart in opposite directions.
Rip.
“……?”
It was not just once. He continued tearing until the paper was reduced to thumbnail-sized fragments.
Once he had torn the paper completely, Dezir Armang dipped his index finger into the teacup and wet it. Using that moisture, he pressed each tiny scrap—still coated with Grease—firmly against the cup’s surface until there were no gaps.
When Dezir Armang then tapped the cup lightly, it glided smoothly forward and came to rest before Azest.
“This is the answer you were looking for.”
“You divide the area into Polygons and perform separate calculations for each?”
Azest arrived at the correct conclusion at once.
“Exactly. For reference, hexagons are the most convenient. The most important thing to watch for is…….”
Suddenly Azest stood and deployed her magic.

[Grease.]

She performed individual calculations on the surface exactly as Dezir Armang had shown her. It demanded far more effort than ordinary casting.
The Grease magic enveloped her body without seams, covering every part as though she wore a second skin.
Azest took a step.
Her foot moved remarkably smoothly—as if she encountered no air resistance whatsoever.
She sensed something amiss. The sensation she felt while moving was different from before. Her body felt as though it no longer belonged to her.
The movement had become far too effortless. Even her exceptional senses could not maintain balance.
She attempted to shift her other foot to regain equilibrium, but it was a mistake. Her body pitched forward. Her center of gravity collapsed beyond recovery, and then…….
Thud.
When Azest opened her eyes, thinking oddly that the floorboards were soft, her gaze met that of Dezir Armang beneath her. He had caught her reflexively the moment he saw her falling.
Dezir Armang spoke in a voice gentle enough to soothe a child.
“The most important thing to watch for is that your senses change from normal. There’s no friction at play.”
“I see. So training is necessary to adapt to this sensation.”
Azest nodded slowly. Dezir Armang said nothing, his face flushed.
“My apologies, Dezir. Are you hurt anywhere?”
“No, it’s just…….”
Azest tilted her head, confused.
“Would you mind getting up?”
“Huh?”
Azest and Dezir Armang were in an odd position. Dezir was beneath her, and Azest was on top.
Dezir had wrapped both arms around her waist to hold her firmly in place. Azest was sitting astride him.
Azest wore a faint smile. Rather than moving away, she pressed her index finger against Dezir’s chest, stopping him just as he tried to sit up.

“A-Azest?”
From that very position, she spoke with remarkable composure, as if discussing someone else’s affairs entirely.
“Shall we get down to business?”
Azest’s voice carried an unusual note of amusement—rare for her.
“I’ve left the Blue Moon Party.”
Without thinking, Dezir half-lifted his torso.
His wide black eyes and her composed golden gaze met.
Dezir was shocked. He couldn’t help but be.
Azest, the ace of the Blue Moon Party. When she entered the Shadow Labyrinth, she had participated as a member of that very party. For her to have left it now—it was unthinkable.
“There’s no need to be so startled. It was simply that I couldn’t continue with that professor.”
“So you’ve learned what happened.”
Azest nodded.
The crimson sunset that had glowed moments before had now completely faded, and the room was filled with darkness. Yet Dezir didn’t even think to turn on a light.
“The kind of party I aspire to lead is one that competes through skill rather than scheming when facing other parties, and remains humble even in victory. When I imagined such a party, only one came to mind.”
“Azest, you…”
“Dezir.”
Azest rose from her seat.
Click.
She lit the lamp. The darkened room flooded with light, and her face became clearly visible.
“Will you take me into your party?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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