The second day's class was again Magical Philosophy, but this time taught by Riley—a Level Seventeen archmage known as "that certain someone in this tower."

  Tall and lean, Riley wore meticulously polished adamantine-rimmed magical glasses. His refined appearance was matched by deep, intelligent eyes that seemed capable of penetrating the world's secrets. When he stood at the podium, absolute silence enveloped the classroom. A Level Seventeen archmage was close enough to a magister that advancement might be forever elusive or perhaps just a night's work away. Yet, compared to a Level Sixteen mage, the additional eighth-level spell slot alone significantly altered their relative strengths—three versus two eighth-level spells was a difference even a child could grasp, not counting the advantage in lower-level spells.

  Having reached Level Seventeen first, Riley's demeanor in certain matters had become flawless. He no longer concerned himself with "prairie gophers" nor spoke derisively of "Kamchatka boars."

  Standing at the podium always pleased Riley. Within this confined space, at least, he held absolute authority. Everything would have been perfect if only a certain woman named Helen Su didn't cross his mind.

  His voice, soft yet powerful, resonated equally in everyone's ears:

  "Everything has a foundation, just as the world rests upon a single origin, and planes and rules depend on one another. All beings—humans or otherwise—exist upon these planes. Though weak, we are not insignificant. No two souls are identical, just as no two people are precisely the same. Our purpose is to comprehend the world, gradually grow powerful, and gain greater resources—equivalent to freedom. Our world is dominated by the strong, and our laws are rules set by those strong individuals. Though infinitely distant from a plane's derived rules, these laws dictate the fate of most of us. As weaker beings, you don't even need to defy derived rules—breaking human laws alone is enough for your destruction."

  Many students nodded, particularly the older mages. Compared to the previous day's forceful mental bombardment, today's class showed genuine interaction. Encouraged by the positive response, Riley continued confidently:

  "Only magisters can sense derived rules; before reaching Legendary status, comprehending fundamental plane rules is impossible. Among us, how many will ever reach magister rank? Even for geniuses, how many fall along the way? Understanding world composition and plane rules is of little immediate value to you. However! Anything is possible in magic—as long as you possess sufficient power. But where does power originate? It arises from knowing yourself and exploiting your environment. Each person is complex; fully understanding oneself may take a lifetime. Thus, enhancing your strength demands a grounded, realistic approach, beginning with self-awareness. Only by building from the bottom upward can you grasp your destiny."

  With a wave of his hand, Riley conjured a magical image of a human body, pointing to various parts:

  "Strength isn't complicated, nor is it as simple as having more spell slots—though three eighth-level spells certainly surpass two. Power is essentially composed of attributes, equipment, skills, and bloodline. There's also a fifth element: intelligence! It represents the greatest individual variation, something only you can develop. Let's begin by examining attributes—starting with mental power..."

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  Richard gained considerable insights from this lesson, learning for the first time that mental power originated from the soul, while mana was the driving force behind spells. Warriors relied primarily on physical strength, and clerics harnessed faith. However, upon reaching Legendary ranks, all professions somewhat leveraged the power of rules; the degree determined their ultimate strength.

  Riley gracefully concluded the lesson:

  "Don't chase impractical dreams. Remain grounded, advancing step by step—this is your task. Higher ranks grant longer life, increasing your potential to pursue greater power. Thus, clearly understanding yourself, your environment, and resource allocation maximizes personal strength. The further along the path to power you progress, the more significant each step becomes. The real difference between Level Seventeen and Sixteen mages isn't as small as people imagine."

  Richard barely had time to absorb these two contrasting methods of thought when, on the third day, Master Phil introduced yet more ideas. Drawing a circle in the air and dividing it vertically, he marked red on the left and blue on the right.

  "The world's mysteries are infinite. Can we fully understand them? Opinions differ here. Some say yes—many mages fall into this category. Others claim it's impossible, asserting only gods possess complete knowledge; thus, believers and clerics usually belong here."

  Phil had split the circle equally, signifying neutrality without endorsing either view. After exploring contradictions such as whether the world could be infinitely divisible, Phil described numerous additional perspectives. Like Richard, most students struggled to grasp the significance. They couldn't see how these debates increased magical power.

  Yet, none dared voice doubts. Phil was a Level Eighteen magister—seemingly only a ninth-level spell separated him from Riley, but this single spell represented an unfathomable gap.

  Merely a ninth-level spell.

  Consequently, everyone listened intently, grateful for the rare opportunity to learn from a magister—even if the lesson seemed abstract.

  On the fourth day, Theodore stood expressionless at the podium, drawing a similar circle but positioning the dividing line differently. The red "unknowable" dominated most of the circle, leaving only a thin blue segment.

  "The world is subtle; we cannot comprehend everything—only gods possess complete knowledge..."

  Later, Richard discovered Theodore wasn't a mage but a powerful divine caster, roughly equivalent to a Level Sixteen or Seventeen mage. Divine casters in Deepblue were rare, but stranger still was Theodore’s simultaneous devotion to three distinct deities without conflict, enabling him to use spells from three different divine systems—far surpassing typical casters at the same level. Richard concluded after much thought that the only plausible explanation was deception.

  Deceiving gods—three at once—revealed Theodore's exceptional nature.

  On the fifth day, Tisrifa also drew a circle, mostly blue, immediately identifying him as a mage and a believer in comprehensible truths.

  Richard's swift judgment proved... somewhat useless.

  On the sixth day, Master Fuja pointed to chaotic numbers:

  "When you find beauty in these numbers, you’ll be halfway successful in mathematics."

  On the seventh day, Master Komu instructed students to discern numbers within intricate, beautiful geometric patterns, essentially translating aesthetics into numbers—a foundational step in planar spatial geometry.

  Thus, Richard became trapped in a cycle: finding beauty in numbers, then extracting numbers from beauty.

  A month quietly slipped by. Little Richard drowned in abstract theories, most seemingly unrelated to practical magic casting and often contradictory. Amidst this vast sea of chaotic information, certain words echoed repeatedly: "special," "Helen Su," "boss," "dominate everything," carving deep impressions into Richard’s mind. All lecturers, from Popovich to Tisrifa, ended lessons with "The world is this simple," almost becoming Deepblue’s unofficial motto.

  "The world is this simple," yet Richard’s thoughts were hopelessly tangled.

  Nonetheless, Richard achieved a genuine breakthrough in magic, albeit unintentionally:

  He learned to conjure a fireball.