[390] Battle Readiness (3)
"That's insane, Fermi. If that's a thousand press, how much did you compress the air?"
"No kidding. Even if it hit armor, the impact would be huge."
Shirone felt nothing. He might have at least applauded before, but it didn't compare to Gaold's air gun.
Fermi had been steadily clearing master difficulty. When he finished the final movement item—Flying Acrobatics level 10—the crowd erupted in applause.
Spinning like a screw while ascending, then sweeping a wide circle and turning sideways like a pinwheel to glide freely through the air—such acrobatics were impossible without perfect mastery of both the press and blow branches.
"Fermi, all‑master. You earn 100 points."
It was the moment Fermi reclaimed first place in the graduating class.
"Impressive, indeed."
It was rare for Iruki to offer praise.
Even Shirone had no grounds to argue this time. It really was an All‑Master.
"Yeah. His fundamentals are rock‑solid."
"No, that's not what I mean. Fermi was All‑Master last year too. He just majored in something different."
Shirone turned his head sharply.
"Different major?"
"Yeah. He registered Earth magic. The year before that he was All‑Master in Flame."
Could that really be true? Changing majors every year and being All‑Master in each—astonishing.
A high mage might handle student‑level difficulties, but this was absurd. Fermi was still a student.
Shirone stared blankly at Fermi. When the other boy made a throat‑slitting gesture with his thumb, the feeling from the survival evaluation rose in Shirone again.
Fermi had been All‑Master and was the undisputed number one.
It was the kind of event that would tip any student's judgment when they'd been weighing Shirone and Fermi against each other.
"Too late to regret it, kid. I won't let you graduate until you lick my shoes."
Reading the anger in Fermi's eyes, Shirone stood. He told his friends and headed for the training ground.
"Iruki, Nade. I'll go up first."
Nade and Iruki glanced at each other. They trained together every day and knew Shirone wasn't yet at the level to challenge for another All‑Master.
"What are you going to do? A head‑on clash won't help. You'll just expose your full power. And if you fail—even worse, you'll be crushed."
"He must have some plan. Let's trust Shirone for now."
The students' gazes fixed on Shirone.
Amy and Arin stopped their conversation and turned; Canis's eyes brightened.
Dante, sitting on the ground, propped his chin and watched.
'Fermi did All‑Master. How will you respond?'
The evaluation instructor held up the sheet and asked, "Shirone, major?"
"God Particle. Challenge items?"
"Power level 7, projectile speed 8, firing rate 7, defense 7..."
Shirone rattled off the items just as Fermi had.
Through week seven, Shirone's specialty evaluation average was 3.6. The levels he was listing now were more than double that.
"Lastly, Movement Control, level 10."
The teacher's eyes flashed.
Level 10 meant master difficulty. Moreover, the God Particle movement control threshold was far stricter than the photon branch's.
It was clear Fermi's All‑Master had affected Shirone's choice.
Still, Shirone's selection had weaknesses compared to Fermi's.
In reality, Shirone had only chosen seven items, and aside from Movement they were mostly level 7 or 8.
"What? If you're going to do it, commit. If not, don't be half‑hearted."
"He's just trying to save face. He has to at least keep up so other students are torn between Fermi and Shirone."
"That's a huge mistake. That won't even scratch Fermi. Typical first‑year error. Newbies are hopeless, huh?"
This was the majority view in Class Two.
Dante withheld judgment and fell into thought. He blinked rapidly as he ran the numbers, and a smile tugged at his mouth.
"Hmm, that method…."
Meanwhile, on the hill watching, Fermi and his group already wore faces of assured victory.
"Kekeke, a last desperate thrash? He looks cute like this, doesn't he, Fermi?"
The Electric Monster Lycan looked back at Fermi.
Fermi smiled. But Lycan, who had spent years with him, knew that this was the smile he showed when he was most enraged.
'That damned brat….'
Shirone's first evaluation was the single‑attribute power item.
It didn't exist in the photon branch, but had been created for the God Particle because it was mass‑based.
He closed his eyes, focused, and a sphere of light formed as if pushing space aside; it compressed at terrifying speed.
By the time the students watching felt the suppressed vibration gild their vision, the Photon Cannon roared and fired.
The flash struck like a glass marble and shattered into shards of light; the gauge numbers spun to calculate the power.
2,242 crash.
It far exceeded the level‑7 single‑attribute power standard of 1,800 crash.
When Shirone checked the score and glanced at Fermi, the students murmur—slowly, realization spreading.
Converted to an energy basis, 2,242 crash equaled roughly 8,200 press.
In other words, the destructive force produced by compressing air to 8,200 press corresponds to 2,242 crash.
That was 7.3 times Fermi's recorded 1,123 press—a clear demonstration of the God Particle's strength.
Shirone's evaluations continued.
On projectile speed, the Photon Cannon's velocity reached a staggering 100 meters per second, again far surpassing Fermi's result.
Puf‑puf‑puf‑puf‑puf‑puf‑puff!
Shirone fired the Photon Cannon at the target ahead with brutal speed.
Even in full daylight the surroundings flashed, and the students' vision filled with golden streaks.
"165 rounds per minute. Pass for level 7."
Fermi's firing‑rate master standard was 160 rounds per minute.
Already dominating three categories, the students now caught Shirone's intent.
"I see. That bastard Shirone…."
The seven items Shirone had chosen overlapped with those common to the air branch.
"You're surpassing all of Fermi's evaluation items."
When the students turned to Fermi, he had his hand over his face as he watched Shirone.
Only his closest comrades knew his eyes were burning with murderous intent.
Shirone hadn't achieved an All‑Master.
Yet even so, he was scoring higher than Fermi in those same items.
The students felt it clearly: air‑branch magic at God Particle level 7 could be overwhelmingly dominant.
"That damned son of a—."
Fermi's comrades flinched. It was the first time they'd seen his emotions so openly.
Sensing the gazes of so many students, Fermi finally lowered his hand and flashed a confident, practiced smile.
'Oops, the businessman's smile. Be confident.'
A businessman must seem unruffled. Even when debt is choking and a knife is at your back, confidence can open a way. That's business.
Of course, the crisis was real. Students were already halving Fermi's expected value and redirecting it to Shirone.
Air branch equaled God Particle level 7. The strategy of raising value by comparing to Fermi was working exactly as planned.
"He really is amazing, Shirone hyung."
Aider approached from behind Iruki. His major was also air branch, so the sour feeling made sense.
"His talent is different. How do you beat someone like that?"
"Talent?"
"Yeah. The photon branch's advantage comes from having no mass. But Shirone can give it mass. No one can beat that."
Iruki acknowledged Shirone's magical talent, but he didn't think talent alone explained everything.
Talent is only a tool. A person digging with bare hands and a person digging with a shovel will always have different speeds.
If the world is soil, the shovel is talent.
But no matter how good the shovel, if you don't use your arms, waist, and legs, the ground won't be dug.
So even a sudden insight is merely the explosion of daily accumulated training.
Shirone had worked every day and pushed past limits one by one. Small gains compound into results.
All success, all futures, begin with knowing they will come.
"I don't think anyone is born with bare hands."
"Huh?"
Aider looked down at Iruki.
"Some are born holding a shovel, some a hammer, some a pen. Those with shovels will dig faster, but they won't necessarily write well. Talent isn't given; you find and develop it yourself. The air branch has something only it can do. Don't belittle what someone else discovered just because you didn't find it. Talent is also effort."
Aider turned the words over in his mind. Though he'd spoken partly to push back against belittling Shirone's effort, the advice was more valuable than gold to him.
"Thanks, Iruki hyung."
Iruki raised and lowered his brows. He wasn't offended—he was grateful, as the youngest usually was. That was why Aider had no enemies.
"Last is Movement Control. Master difficulty. Reaction time under 0.8 seconds."
Shirone inhaled deeply and steadied himself. Pouring everything into six items had made him dizzy for a moment, but compared to his real‑world experience, it was nothing.
The evaluation teacher activated the Red Line–certified evaluation magic, Navigation.
A small sphere formed, inside which an arrow spun like a compass with its north misaligned.
Movement Control required executing exactly the motion Navigation proposed.
The arrow's shape, length, and color indicated direction, distance, and speed respectively, and the mage had to perform it within the reaction time.
The God Particle master threshold was 0.8 seconds—0.2 seconds shorter than the photon branch's 1 second.
On the neural level, 0.2 seconds is an enormous gap.
The association set the standard because mass allows sudden acceleration and abrupt stopping.
"Reaction time 0.8 seconds?"
The students looked incredulous.
Photon mages could subdivide time and prebuild sequences. Patrol and Rainbow Drop came from that.
Movement Control wasn't about moving according to a preplanned script.
Navigation would suggest directions, speeds, and distances completely different from your expectations, and the mage had to react instantly.
Demanding a 0.8‑second reaction in that situation felt cruel.
'No, the association's judgment is right.'
Shirone recalled Colli's teachings. If someone had already achieved it, it belonged as the standard.
He'd heard Ethela's Movement Control reaction time—the superhuman tier—was 0.1 seconds.
At that level one could traverse a densely wooded area by teleporting in an instant, or re‑teleport in place and dodge attacks with only upper‑body weaving.
Of course, that was the work of a famed monk; a student like Shirone couldn't take comfort in it.
But he understood the association's logic.
Don't judge the God Particle by photon standards.
This was Shirone's own ability—something no one else had.
'I'll conquer it with my technique.'
Light rose from Shirone's body like flame. The growing blaze formed into a gigantic pair of wings and ignited.
"W-what is that?"
The students' eyes widened. It was a magic they had never seen or even heard of.