[32] Teleportation (3)
The Uncrossable Bridge was the highest training ground bridge, linking two mountain peaks at an elevation of one thousand meters. It stretched seven hundred meters, and below, a torrent thundered through the gorge.
"Why is it called the Uncrossable Bridge?" Shirone asked.
Amy explained.
"Because you literally can't cross it. It's the training ground for teleportation practice. Difficulty goes from level one to ten, but even for Class Five students, anything from level eight up is basically putting your life on the line."
Siina added, "For the promotion exam we'll set it to level one. No obstacles. Class Seven kids can't even clear seven hundred meters."
"Oh? Then how do you evaluate them? Isn't the first person to arrive the one who gets promoted?" Amy asked.
"The student who leaps the farthest will be chosen. It shouldn't be too dangerous—the safety systems will be on, and the senior instructors will be watching. The problem is the students. If their competitiveness goes too far, collisions happen all the time."
That was the sticking point for Amy as well. Since early promotion was at stake, collusion was unlikely—but the person most likely to be targeted would be Shirone.
"How about this: Shirone makes a bold move early on. It'll cost him mentally, but someone like him can pull it off," Amy suggested.
"I was thinking the same. I'll take Shirone as my student starting today," Siina said.
"Huh? You—teacher?" Amy gaped. A teacher taking a specific student under their wing would violate fairness and invite rumors.
"Why would you go that far?" Amy demanded.
"I have some responsibility here. I intended from the start to register Shirone in Class Five, but the other teachers opposed it and the plan was shot down. If they'd listened, Shirone wouldn't have been bullied."
"But if word gets out that you're personally tutoring him, it could backfire. Other students will use any means to study teleportation, and if they hear the teacher is directly mentoring Shirone, this whole test could be ruined. Let me handle Shirone for now. If it's set to level one I can teach him fine."
Siina shook her head. "I thought you were applying for the graduating-class promotion. Wouldn't you be better off focusing on that? You won't have the luxury to care for Shirone."
"Really, senior?" Shirone asked, incredulous. Being the first to apply—while no one else had—meant he intended to fight his way through head-on.
'I see. That's impressive.' He was grateful she'd come despite being busy preparing for her exam. But the mood wasn't the warm one he'd imagined. Pride flared in both women; neither would yield.
"No matter how busy you are, you can handle teleportation. Teacher, you should back off. Your meddling could actually hurt Shirone," Amy insisted.
"As a teacher I can't stand by knowing how important this time is for a student. You get to apply for the graduating-class exam only once a year. Leave Shirone to me and focus on your graduation," Siina countered.
They both smiled, but their eyes were hard. Realizing there'd be no compromise, they looked to Shirone one last time.
"Shirone, you decide. Me, or the teacher? Of course it'd be better if your friend taught you—"
"Yeah, Shirone. You should choose. A teacher preparing a student for the graduating class can probably teach better than someone worried about their own exam."
Their voices were gentle, but to the chooser it felt like an ultimatum. Shirone didn't waver; he said what he'd already decided.
"I'll do it myself. Thank you, but I don't need help."
The two women froze.
"Learning from a teacher would be unfair. But I don't want help from a senior who's preparing for their exam either. I'll try to pass this one on my own."
"You idiot! Other kids will get private tutoring to take the test! Everyone's watching you, trying to trip you up! This isn't something you can handle alone!"
"Then I'll accept that."
"Eh?"
"I think it's amazing you applied for the graduating-class promotion. If you can't overcome this, you won't be able to face any real challenge later on."
"Uh? Well… that's true, I guess…"
"I feel the same. I'll work hard and definitely pass. I won't be ashamed as your boyfriend."
Realizing how resolute Shirone was, Amy couldn't argue any further. More than anything, she was grateful he acknowledged her.
"Hmph. Of course you should."
No one had been chosen by Shirone, but the vibe clearly favored Amy.
Siina adjusted her glasses and stood. "If that's the student's choice, the teacher will accept it. But if you don't understand something, come ask me. That goes for the other students too."
"All right. Thank you for your concern."
Before she left, Siina said to Amy, "I'll let it slide this time, but refrain from entering the boys' dorm in the future. Next time you get caught you could be disciplined."
Amy bowed gratefully. She, too, felt they'd been lucky.
After Siina left, an awkward silence fell.
It was Shirone's first time sharing a room with a girl his age, and he couldn't say a word.
Amy, swept up in the strange mood, felt uneasy. She'd come ready to hit him, but now that they were here, Shirone intimidated her.
"Um, then… I'll go, too."
"Oh, yes! Thanks for worrying."
Amy exhaled in relief and prepared to leave. Then, as if she'd suddenly remembered, she turned and shouted at Shirone.
"You idiot! Why didn't you tell me? If that happened, you should've consulted me."
"Sorry. I just didn't want to talk about it."
"Because of pride? You idiot, what's so important about that?"
"It's more that… I didn't want to end things with my senior."
Amy's cheeks flamed. "Telling the truth would only make things awkward. But I want to keep a good relationship with you—you're my goal."
Shirone remembered the day he first entered the Magic Academy. From the moment he saw the name Karmis Amy at the top of Class Four, she'd been his target.
"I'll catch up to you no matter what. So you better work hard too."
Amy felt pleased and burdened at once—she harbored the same feelings.
"Don't call me 'senior' anymore."
"Huh?"
"We're the same age, and I recognize you. So stop calling me 'senior.'"
"But that—"
"I don't like it! What's with that 'senior' act? Acting formal while you chase me from below is cowardly. Come stand beside me and compete fair and square!"
Class rank in the Magic Academy carried social weight. For her to reject the "senior" treatment was to treat Shirone as an equal.
"Instead, climb up fast. If you just talk and stay stuck down there, I'll kick you out. Got it?"
Amy, face still flushed, walked to the window. She couldn't go out the door, so she had to climb out again.
"Amy."
Shirone called and she flinched, turning back. If she did it just because he asked, what would people say?
But Shirone's eyes burned with a fierce determination that swept away any silliness.
"I'll catch up to you. I'll be waiting in the graduating class."
Amy's eyes curved like gulls. Her expression was hidden by her mask, but she was smiling.
"Hmph. By then I'll probably already be graduated. Come if you can."
She jumped out the window. By the time Shirone looked down, she was already gone.
Shirone exhaled. He'd put on a brave face, but really he didn't know where to begin.
"Teleportation, huh…"
* * *
A month remained until the promotion exam. He had to master teleportation somehow in that time. First he went to the library and gathered every book on teleportation magic. Contrary to his expectations, the books weren't hard to find.
Rumor said about twenty students would enter the promotion exam. That meant all of them were studying teleportation in special ways, not just relying on books.
"This could actually mean I'll fail for real," Shirone muttered, and forced himself to learn the fundamentals thoroughly.
One of the greatest discoveries in magical history, Photonization Theory, transformed a mage's body into light.
So the crucial thing was understanding the nature of light—far too abstruse for a human mind to fully grasp.
Light has both particle and wave properties, no concept of relative velocity, and no mass.
But Kergos drew a great insight from those baffling traits. By exploiting light's absoluteness—its lack of relative velocity—you could leap across space quickly.
If you adopt Photonization Theory as a basis, anyone could in theory succeed at teleportation. That's why it's such a monumental discovery. The real issue is how well you can control it.
Teleportation moves you so swiftly that trying to calculate and act with your head will get you killed.
'Of course. You can't compute speeds on the order of 10 to the power of 20.'
Shirone kept reading. Mages divided light-speed into four broad categories: superluminal, luminal, subluminal, and quasi-subluminal.
Superluminal is faster than light—a realm that theoretically allows time-slip magic. No mage had ever reached that domain.
The most extraordinary human light mages are those who can wield luminal speeds. At that level they can learn stop magic, a power called divine, but mages who reach it are rare in all history.
Most professional light mages, then, differ in skill within the subluminal domain.
Mages define subluminal as "vastly exceeding the maximum speed of matter but much slower than light."
Subluminal movement is also the basic omnipotence for spatial displacement. At luminal speeds movement would be instantaneous, but handling subluminal speeds could still get you to your destination in seconds.
Shirone read on in awe, but it still didn't feel real. The speed he needed to focus on was the lowest tier of light: quasi-subluminal.
Mages define quasi-subluminal as "exceeding the maximum speed of living creatures but much slower than subluminal speed."
That's why, even though teleportation has the properties of light, the human eye can track the trajectory. Because it's not fast enough to warp space, mistaking your surroundings can cause irreversible disaster.
'If you miss even one cover, you're done. Even if you reduce mass with Photonization Theory, there'll still be momentum—a deadly impact.'
He finally understood why Siina had emphasized that the Uncrossable Bridge would have no obstacles. But she'd also said there was little she could do about students colliding.
'Can it really be done? With only the basic formulas?'