Chapter 211: Teleport
Asher’s gaze shifted from Virelass, who rested gently on his laps, to the golden ring adorning his pinky finger. Its surface gleamed faintly under the light, smooth and almost regal in design. This was no ordinary trinket, it was the reward bestowed upon him directly by the Principal herself, a token carrying the unmistakable authority of one of the most powerful beings in Crymora.
’I haven’t tested how this works yet,’ Asher thought quietly to himself. He had his suspicions, of course. With his understanding of spatial manipulation and teleportation, he had already guessed at the basic principles of the artifact. But assumptions were nothing compared to reality, and if there was one thing he had learned in Crymora, it was that nothing should ever be taken at face value.
Staring intently at the ring, Asher tried applying the same principles he used for his own space teleportation. He concentrated, willing himself to vanish from the spot. Yet, nothing happened. He remained seated upon the couch, unmoved, as though his effort had simply been swallowed by the void.
’So, it doesn’t work without Astra,’ he concluded with a slight narrowing of his eyes.
To anyone else, this might have been considered basic common sense, but Asher refused to apply the phrase "common sense" to anything crafted by a being who stood at the very peak of Crymora’s power. When such figures acted, the results often defied logic, transcending the very framework of the world itself.
He decided to try again. This time, a wisp of golden Astra flowed from his body into the ring. Immediately, the artifact responded with flawless ease, his form vanished from the couch in a blink, and the next instant, he was lying upon his bed in his personal room, precisely as he had imagined in his mind.
’Seems easy enough to use,’ Asher thought, running his fingers lightly across the blanket beneath him.
Yet another question surfaced. Does the distance scale with Astra requirement? Normally, all teleportation did. The farther the destination, the heavier the cost in Astra. That was one of the most ironclad rules of spatial movement. But was this ring bound by the same principle?
He let another wisp of Astra flow into the ring, directing his will toward a more distant location. The artifact obeyed instantly. His figure blinked out of existence from the room and reappeared inside the bustling Logistics and Missions Operations Hall.
The sudden wave of chatter, voices, and footsteps struck his ears, the once-quiet world replaced with noise. A few nearby students turned toward him, their eyes widening slightly in surprise as they wondered where he had appeared from so suddenly. But Asher didn’t linger. Another wisp of Astra, another pulse of will, and he vanished again, this time reappearing on the balcony of his own room.
’So the Astra energy cost remains the same regardless of distance,’ Asher thought, staring down at the ring, his mind turning swiftly.
"How much control over space does one need to create something like this?" he murmured aloud, his expression tightening with awe.
Try as he might, he could not fully comprehend the artifact’s workings. The teleportation ring seemed to openly disobey one of the most fundamental laws of ability correlation: input should equal output. The Astra energy he fed into the ring was minimal, barely a wisp, yet the output, the distance covered, was not constant.
Normally, every ability grew more powerful with greater Astra consumption. A longer teleport demanded more Astra, just as a stronger attack required greater fuel. But this ring seemed indifferent, unbound by the cost-to-result ratio. It was as though it mocked the very laws of Crymora, flaunting a level of craftsmanship far beyond his understanding.
Exhaling deeply, Asher’s form vanished once more. In a blink, he was seated back on the couch within the living room, where his experiment had begun. With a passing thought, he summoned a glass of juice from his system’s storage space, the cold liquid appearing in his hand. He lifted it to his lips, sipping lightly while his mind spun at full throttle, dissecting the enigma of the artifact.
Minutes passed before he sighed. The truth was painfully clear, he had not even fully mastered the basics of space manipulation. How could he possibly hope to unravel the methods of a woman like Cindralis, who had lived for over a thousand years at the very least? Even with his ridiculous talent, such a feat was beyond reach. At least, for now.
’System, any help from you?’ Asher finally asked his ever-silent companion.
As expected, the system remained mute.
’Thought as much’ he muttered inwardly, shaking his head with faint amusement.
’I suppose this is just how things are in a magic-driven world. Normal laws are broken here as though they never existed. The impossible becomes commonplace, and the illogical becomes ordinary.’
"Well, whatever," he concluded aloud with a shrug, dismissing his overanalysis.
His mind then shifted, almost at random, to the thirty-four students who had been expelled earlier. He wondered what emotions must now be coursing through their veins, shame, anger, regret, or perhaps even blind hatred.
’Will some of them walk down the villain’s path? Will they let bitterness consume them and plot to infiltrate the Separate Dimension, maybe even attempt some suicidal bombing revenge against the Academy?’
The thought was admittedly dramatic, but Asher did not dismiss it. Human nature was fickle, and desperation often gave birth to foolishness.
"If any of them were my children, I’d slap the living daylights out of them the moment they returned home," Asher muttered dryly.
The thought almost made him chuckle. Imagine the humiliation, being accepted into the most prestigious Academy in the Empire, only to be expelled in less than twenty-four hours. What face would one show their parents after such disgrace?
’Urgh... my mind is wandering again,’ Asher grumbled, leaning back deeper into the couch.
First Finch, now these expelled students whom he didn’t even know personally, his thoughts always seemed to scatter when he had nothing better to do.
He exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling above him. "Can’t wait for tomorrow," he mumbled.
He had already decided that once classes ended for tomorrow, he would begin his training in earnest, throwing himself into it with full force.
’I’ll give today to my lazy half, and the rest of the year to my hardworking side,’ he thought with a sigh.
Time had slipped away, and with the day nearing its quiet end, he decided he might as well explore the Star Academy grounds. He had nothing else pressing at the moment. Rising from the couch, he stretched faintly before pausing.
’Why walk when I can teleport?’ he thought with a smirk.
A thought later, his form blinked out of the room. When he reappeared, he stood in front of William’s door, the number "4" boldly inscribed above it.
He raised his hand and knocked twice, his movements calm and deliberate, then waited patiently.
A few moments later, the door creaked open, revealing William, his face and body were drenched with sweat.