Math Is Magic

Mirac froze at those words.

The smile he had just started to show vanished, replaced by an expression of disbelief. His hands, resting on the wooden desk, began to tremble visibly as his heart raced.

'K-Kill them?!' he stammered mentally. 'W-What does he mean?'

A mix of confusion and fear made its way through Mirac's thoughts as he desperately tried to grasp the full meaning of what he had just heard.

Vincent, noticing the radical change in Mirac's expression, instinctively took a step back.

His usual awkwardness resurfaced immediately: his hands flailed clumsily, and the words that came out of his mouth were hesitant, as if he was trying to correct his mistake.

"OH! I-I humbly apologize, y-young Prince! I-I didn't mean to scare you at all..." he stammered, his voice trembling.

Mirac swallowed nervously, trying to force a smile to hide his discomfort.

"D-Don't worry, Professor..." he replied, striving to imbue his voice with a firmness he didn't truly feel. "It takes much more to scare me!"

But even as he tried to convince himself of his own words, Mirac couldn't stop the trembling in his hands, which he quickly hid under the desk to avoid revealing his uneasy state.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Vincent exclaimed with relief, visibly relaxing. However, deep down, he felt bitterly regretful for the way he had expressed himself earlier.

The atmosphere between the two seemed to have returned to its usual normalcy, but inside Mirac, the memory of Vincent's words still deeply troubled him.

Attempting to shake off his discomfort, Mirac took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts.

Yet, he knew he couldn't stop there.

Though still shaken, he couldn't ignore the meaning hidden behind Vincent's words, because he sensed that something of fundamental importance was concealed within them.

With this determination, Mirac lifted his gaze and decided to continue the conversation:

"P-Professor Shirkenn..." he began, stammering. "What did you mean earlier by...?"

He didn't finish the sentence. There was no need, really.

Vincent immediately understood what the young Prince was referring to. In fact, even before he spoke, he had already intended to resume the topic and clarify the matter.

Without hesitation, he cleared his throat and replied:

"You see, young Prince... When the Sinner was defeated, the magical society divided mages into two categories: the Syntonics and the Chaotics. The former are those who have an Elemental or Synergic Sintony, while the Chaotics are those who possess an Anomalous Syntony."

Vincent paused, clearly struggling to find the right words to continue, while swaying slightly in place.

After collecting himself from this reflective state, Vincent continued:

"With the defeat of the Sinner, a relentless and bloody hunt for the Chaotics was initiated. Even those who had never had anything to do with magic were executed, simply for being related to families that had Chaotics among their members."

"W-What?!"

Vincent's words crept into Mirac's mind, echoing like an impossible-to-ignore reverberation.

'But that's nothing short of cruel!' he thought, his heart pounding with rising indignation. 

However, his instinct kept him from saying it out loud.

It was too risky to openly express his opinion on such a delicate topic, especially without fully understanding the whole story of the hunt for the Chaotics.

Cautious, he preferred to hide his unease behind a neutral expression.

Then, calmly, he decided to clarify a doubt that had been troubling him, trying to give Vincent the impression that he was simply curious, not scandalized.

"So..." Mirac began, his voice measured and careful. "From what you whispered to me earlier... I should assume that the hunt for the Chaotics is still ongoing. Right?"

Vincent nodded weakly.

"Yes, young Prince. Their hunt is still carried out by the so-called 'Purifiers.' These individuals are tasked with identifying the Chaotics, and once they are certain, they have the authority to execute them immediately, without warning. Alternatively, they can arrest them, but in both cases, the result is the same: the Chaotic is removed from all birth registers and immediately added to the list of the 'Sinners of the World.' After that, they are sentenced to death, with a public execution, and their entire family meets the same fate, without exception. It doesn't matter what rank or social class a Chaotic is from. Whether they are a noble, a peasant, or even a king or queen, no one is exempt. This law is universal and unyielding, sanctioned by the very Seven Deities who govern our world. No one, no matter who they are, could ever escape their will."

Mirac felt a knot tightening in his throat, forcing him to swallow nervously once again. He tried to maintain a composed expression, but panic was rising within him.

"I see..." he finally murmured, with a barely perceptible sigh, standing up from the desk.

His legs threatened to give way under the weight of those revelations, but Mirac forced himself to maintain his balance as he left the classroom. Vincent followed a few steps behind him, silent and thoughtful, as they made their way together to the royal family's dining hall.

Vincent's words still echoed in Mirac's mind like a dark omen, etched into his consciousness.

'There's no doubt! I... I have... an Anomalous Sintony!' he thought, his face contorted into a mask of tension. 'And if that's true... it means that... that...'

The voice in his head trembled, hesitant, as if afraid to speak the undeniable truth.

'It means that I... am actually... a Chaotic!'

A wave of panic engulfed him, cold and paralyzing.

The image of his death—quick, brutal, like that of millions of other Chaotics before him—flashed through his mind.

The blade of a Purifier, the mark of a Sinner engraved in his name, and then... OBLIVION!

And also his dear family—though of royal blood!—would be burned with him in the fire of condemnation.

'Shit! Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! SHIT!!!'

His breath caught in his throat.

'What do I do now?! If anyone finds out, it will definitely be the end for me!'

Just the thought of it made him freeze.

Terror enveloped him like a shroud, suffocating him.

But that wasn't all!

Soon, alongside the fear, another feeling joined in, equally powerful, more fierce and corrosive: hatred.

'Damn it! It's all your fault, Math!' he thought, feeling a wave of anger boil up inside him. 'But I knew it... I knew you would ruin this life too!'

He gritted his teeth, his hands clenched into fists that began to tremble.

He wanted to scream, destroy, erase that curse from his existence.

'Why me? Why me of all people? Why can't I have a normal life too? WHY?!'

But by now, it seemed that fate had clearly made its decision: Mirac would never have the simple life he so dearly wished for!

The weight of that realization began to crush him, making him waver on the brink of surrender.

'But...'

Suddenly, a stronger, fiercer thought emerged from the depths of his fear. A thought that burned hotter than any other emotion, like a living flame, sweeping away the chill of terror.

'I DON'T WANT TO DIE!'

Mirac's eyes sharpened, filled with an unshakable determination. His heart, which only moments before seemed about to explode from fear, now beat with a new energy, indomitable and rebellious.

'I don't want to! Not now! Not after miraculously getting a second chance. NO! I've already promised myself: I will protect this life... until the end!'

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the turmoil raging within him. Anger and fear wouldn't help him.

With his mind clear again, he realized that he had to be cunning, that he had to hide his secret as if his very soul depended on it—because, deep down, it truly did.

As his thoughts became clearer, Mirac lifted his gaze and let his shoulders straighten.

His hatred for Math continued to pulse inside him, a poison impossible to root out.

But that same hatred soon transformed into fuel, a force he would use to protect himself.

He would not allow that power to be his damnation...

He would not allow Math to win...

He would not let anyone—not even a GOD—tear his second chance away from him!

Even if the whole world was against him, Mirac would fight!

'Whatever happens, it doesn't matter! At any cost... I'M NOT GONNA DIE!'

* * *

After an intense sword training under Leonard's watchful eye, Mirac was exhausted. Sweat ran down his forehead, soaking his tunic, and his body desperately craved rest.

However, his mind was too agitated to allow himself any respite. The recent events had raised questions too significant for him to ignore.

Vincent's revelation about the fate of the Chaotics tormented him relentlessly.

During training, however, Mirac reached a crucial conclusion: if he wanted to avoid a tragic end like the one described by Vincent, he first had to figure out how to avoid being discovered!

And to do that, he posed himself a fundamental question:

'How do they identify the Chaotics?'

His analytical mind immediately went to work.

His common sense suggested that the Purifiers couldn't rely solely on false testimonies or presumed clues, as had happened during the Witch Hunts in his old world, between the 15th and 17th centuries in Europe.

In that historical period, ignorance and superstition fueled unjust and cruel persecutions, but Mirac was convinced that, in the current context, there must be a more systematic and reliable method to identify the Chaotics.

'Maybe they use a magical instrument...' he speculated, trying to imagine what arcane knowledge or advanced mechanisms could lie behind such a hunt. 'If that's the case, I must absolutely find out what it is! Only then will I be able to avoid it, especially in case of future investigations on me!'

However, Mirac didn't want to wait for the next History or "Introduction to Magic" lesson to get the information he so desperately needed.

This was because, as they were descending the stairs, Mirac clearly sensed that Vincent was reluctant to talk again about the Chaotics.

It was therefore likely—if not certain—that he would never have another opportunity to address the matter directly with him.

But in any case, Mirac needed answers, and as soon as possible!

He had to learn everything he could about the Chaotics, without risking drawing suspicion.

So, determined to uncover the truth, he decided to undertake an independent search.

He had to find the answers on his own, in a place at the castle where information was kept and easily accessible even to a child like him.

In a place where he could find what he wanted, and much more: the Royal Library.