Chapter 9: The Divine Bridge and the Muscular Feline

“You… find me quite interesting?”

Yalin froze, a sudden wave of goosebumps prickling his skin.

‘What was this old geezer suddenly spouting? Surely, she wasn’t making a move on him?’

After all, this was the Vice Dean of the Alchemist Division, and she had been at the academy for nearly sixty years.

By that reckoning, her true age likely exceeded a century.

Naturally, for a top-tier alchemist, preserving one’s youthful appearance was hardly a challenge.

Thus, Fulin’s face, hidden beneath her hood, remained strikingly beautiful, appearing to be only in her late thirties.

‘But that’s no reason for an old cow to graze on tender grass (TL Note:  (lǎo niú chī nèn cǎo) is a Chinese idiom meaning an older person, typically a man, pursuing a much younger person, often with a humorous or slightly critical connotation.)!’

‘Was he really being underestimated to this extent? Did she perhaps think he was selling himself?’

‘Well, actually, yes.’

‘If the price was right, it wasn’t entirely out of the question.’

“Time’s up. Let’s head into the classroom for class.”

As the bell chimed, Fulin bypassed Yalin, pushed open the classroom door, and chuckled softly.

“However, if you ever find yourself with some free time, would you mind having a chat with this old woman?”

“Of course, Ms. Fulin. It would be my honor to speak with you.”

Yalin followed her into the classroom, clicking his tongue inwardly.

‘Good heavens, she actually referred to herself as an old woman…’

‘Was this the composure and confidence of an elder artist?’

‘Alas, Wendy would probably never learn such a thing in her lifetime.’

Yalin ascended the steps and casually selected a window-side seat in the back row.

This particular class, ‘Introduction to Aetheric Fundamentals,’ was a general course, attended by students from both the Alchemist Division and the Magic Sword Academy.

At the lectern, Fulin held a grimoire, unhurriedly introducing the origins of Aether.

“Aether serves as the bridge connecting humanity to the divine. It is not a substance native to this world, but rather a projection of the will of the Supreme Being, a response and grace bestowed upon our souls through prayers directed to the gods…”

In the back row, Yalin felt himself growing drowsy.

There was simply no helping it; starting with such long, complex sentences meant that only divine beings could possibly follow along.

What could easily be explained in a few concise words, once entangled with the concept of deities, had to be presented as profoundly mysterious, leading to an endless stream of convoluted explanations.

Simply put, this world was home to numerous gods, each presiding over distinct authorities.

For instance, there were those who wielded water, those who commanded fire, and even some who dabbled in bizarre and unusual powers.

So-called modern magic, in essence, boiled down to groveling before the gods to borrow their authorities.

As for how this was achieved, it relied on ‘Aether.’

For example, if one wished to utilize a certain deity’s authority, they would have to prostrate themselves before them.

Whether through worshipping statues or chanting praises, as long as the ‘Lord God’ was sufficiently pleased, they would bestow Aether, allowing access to their authorities.

‘Aether’ served as the key, granting permission to access divine authorities; ‘mana,’ on the other hand, was the tool, the means by which these authorities were actually unleashed.

Only through the combination of both could magic be cast.

To cast more potent magic, both a substantial amount of mana and Aether were indispensable.

Mana was largely innate, though diligent cultivation could slightly enhance it.

Aether, however, was entirely dependent on the ‘Lord God’s’ mood.

If the ‘Lord God’ deemed a person worthy, they would grant more; if displeased, they would give less, or even nothing at all.

Naturally, different deities possessed varying temperaments.

Take, for example, Azel, the Sun God who governed the element of fire; he was quite approachable.

A few words of flattery were all it took for him to willingly dispense a bit of Aether.

Consequently, statues of Azel dotted the kingdom, and almost everyone could wield simple fire magic, effortlessly lighting a cigarette or boiling a kettle of water.

However, some gods were not so easily appeased.

Akasia, the God of Wisdom, for instance, possessed a particularly peculiar disposition.

If this deity were to materialize, they would likely resemble someone like Wendy.

They would only bestow authority upon those whom They deemed worthy.

If They decided you were incapable, then you truly were.

Even if you built a grand cathedral and kowtowed a dozen times daily, They wouldn’t bother to acknowledge you.

Of course, in most circumstances, as long as one prayed with sincerity, the gods were generally willing to grant a small measure of Aether.

All, that is, except for Yalin.

He had no idea if he had offended some divine lord in a past life, but from birth until now, not a single deity had deigned to acknowledge him.

Even if he wailed and cried before their idols, showering them with extravagant praises (TL Note: (cǎihóng pì) – ‘rainbow farts’, a humorous term for excessive flattery/praise.), Yalin received not a single response.

‘Seriously, I’m out here loving people every day, can’t anyone love me back?’

Without Aether, casting magic was impossible.

Given this predicament, Yalin’s only recourse was to become an alchemist.

After all, alchemy largely relied on science, with less stringent demands for magic.

While useful spells like ‘Appraisal’ and ‘Quality Analysis’ existed, if one was sufficiently capable, performing calculations by eye was not entirely out of the question.

‘Don’t underestimate the craftsman’s spirit! A mere tens of thousands of permutations and combinations? Watch me calculate them directly with my human-powered calculator!’

The dismissal bell rang, and Yalin closed his textbook.

‘Time to hurry back and write that report. Who knows if that old geezer will be in a better mood tomorrow, hopefully, he’ll pass it quickly.’

Just as Yalin prepared to leave, he suddenly heard a set of malicious footsteps approaching him.

Immediately afterward, a tall figure blocked his path.

Yalin was somewhat surprised.

He had only just arrived at the Alchemist Division; logically, not many people should know him yet.

‘Could they have mistaken him for someone else?’

“Hey—you’re that Yalin, aren’t you?”

A voice, with an upward inflection and clear disdain, boomed beside his ear.

The coarse timbre didn’t sound like it could belong to a human.

“Hm?”

Hearing his name called, Yalin finally lifted his head.

Before him stood… a muscular cat-man!

Yalin: ‘???’

‘Wait, who are you? Do we know each other?’

The sudden appearance of the brawny man startled Yalin considerably.

The cat-man boasted a formidable six-pack, brawny arms, and a pointed head.

‘Apologies, that wasn’t quite accurate; it wasn’t his head that was pointed, but rather his two triangular cat ears.’

A long tail, somehow emerging from his trousers, dragged along the ground.

Judging by the rapier tucked into his waist, he likely belonged to the Magic Sword Academy.

While this world was home to numerous races besides humans, the visual impact of this particular cat-man was simply too overwhelming.

‘Holy crap, muscular furries (TL Note: (fú ruì) is a direct transliteration of ‘furry,’ referring to anthropomorphic animal characters.), could you please just stay away from me!’

“The name’s Totomia.”

The cat-man’s abrupt, ‘zero-frame’ introduction nearly made Yalin burst out laughing.

Fortunately, his self-control was strong enough to barely maintain a straight face.

‘Demihuman names were always so peculiar; it was merely a cultural difference, nothing to laugh about.’

“Uh, hello?”

“You don’t know me?”

Totomia bared his teeth, grinning ferociously as he stared at Yalin, revealing a mouthful of savage fangs.

“But I know you! You damned simp (TL Note: (tiǎngǒu) is a Chinese slang term for someone who excessively fawns over another person, often to no avail. Here, it implies Yalin is a sycophant or ‘lick-dog’.) from the Arcane Division, how dare you show your face here?”

Now Yalin understood.

‘So that was it; he was here to pick a fight.’

‘Damn it, even living such a low-key life, he still couldn’t escape this essential trope of academy web novels?’