I Became A Flashing Genius At The Magic Academy-Chapter 324

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**[Aether World Online]**

**[Login:          ]**

**[Password:          ]**

A familiar login screen flickered to life on the monitor. Reflexively, Baek Yuseol typed in his old ID and password—then paused. Realizing too late that he had never played this game in PC rooms and, therefore, didn’t actually have an account.

**[Login Successful]**

**[Loading...]**

Yet, somehow, he succeeded in logging in, and the screen smoothly transitioned. Heart pounding, he awaited the next screen.

The game’s starting point always began in the “Stellar Academy Dormitory,” with the player’s character resting on the dorm bed.

For over ten years, the opening screen had remained unchanged, featuring the dormitory setting that had become iconic.

“...It’s here.”

In the dorm’s center, on the single bed, sat “Character Baek Yuseol,” staring directly back at him. The avatar was dressed in full starlit armor, with a long sword leaning against the bed, an odd look for a character supposedly still in an academy dormitory setting.

Why was he still here despite supposedly graduating ages ago? The question crossed Baek Yuseol’s mind, but he brushed it aside, focusing on what was important.

Clicking “Character Baek Yuseol” twice with the mouse, a prompt appeared: **[Enter Second Password]**.

He hesitated.

“What... what was it again?”

Not having logged in for years, he had completely forgotten the second password. In a moment of desperation, he entered his own social security number, which resulted in a warning message: **[Two more incorrect attempts will result in automatic logout.]**

“Damn...”

Thinking quickly, he tried entering his mother’s social security number instead.

**[Connection Established]**

Finally, he was logged in.

The sourc𝗲 of this content is frёeωebɳovel.com.

Breathing a sigh of relief and offering silent thanks to his mother, he watched the back of his character, Baek Yuseol, standing motionless in the Stellar Academy corridor, as a flood of alert notifications appeared above him.

Most were notifications from the community and event alerts, so he checked **[Don’t Show Today]** and dismissed them all.

**...Wait.**

Why had he logged in at all? To find a way to survive in reality.

‘I should browse the community for help...’

Navigating to the homepage and logging into his security account, he was met with thousands of alerts.

“What the...”

These notifications were for comments or likes on his old posts. He clicked one, only to see thousands upon thousands of comments filling the screen.

“What is all this?”

Had he really posted something that would warrant so many responses? He quickly checked, and a title that instantly embarrassed him popped up:

**[Black Dragon Solo Clear - Proof.JPG]**

Oh, he remembered. This was the last post he’d made before falling into Aether World.

Reading the thousands of comments, he was shocked. The majority were questions about how he’d done it or if his account had been deleted. Some people claimed it was fake, while experts appeared to argue otherwise.

‘Could it be... that everyone’s accounts were deleted after that day?’

It seemed his suspicions were correct, as there were barely any recent posts in the community. At the very top of the page, a notice indicated that the game itself had ended service.

“Then how am I logged in...?”

He couldn’t figure it out.

Resisting the urge to read through the comments one by one, Baek Yuseol quickly closed them and navigated to the **[Tips and Know-how]** section.

There had to be a way to survive exposure to the life force somewhere here.

Clicking through, he skimmed through past posts, all vaguely familiar.

‘Wait... was there ever a case of life force exposure?’

**[Search: Life Force Exposure]**

**[Search: Yeondurim Siohl]**

**[Search: Root of Life]**

He tried countless keywords, but nothing useful appeared.

Finally, he stumbled upon a post he had written a long time ago:

**[The Next Stage of Mana Leakage Syndrome: Natural Celestial Body Constitution...]**

Thousands of likes. Thousands of comments.

It had once dominated the hottest boards, even appearing in gaming news, as a groundbreaking discovery.

His character, previously thought to be useless due to “Mana Leakage Syndrome,” could eventually evolve into the game’s most powerful trait, the “Natural Celestial Body Constitution.”

“Oh.”

He remembered—Natural Celestial Body Constitution was also related to life force.

The constitution allowed energy to circulate through the body by embracing the life force of nature, providing endless vitality.

“Could it be...?”

Quickly opening the post, he scanned the contents he had written long ago.

And then, he slammed his hand down on the desk.

“Useless!”

The information was simple.

If a player honed “Mana Leakage Syndrome” to its utmost limit, a message would appear, akin to a class change quest, saying: **[Transcend Life and Become One with Nature]**.

The problem?

**[Press F to Commune with Nature.]**

That button was the problem.

The post claimed that pressing the button would make the character naturally regulate life force and evolve into Natural Celestial Body Constitution.

But was reality a place where things worked with just a press of a button? He had been forced to manually perform everything that happened automatically in the game. With all hope dashed, Baek Yuseol buried his head in the keyboard.

—Hmm... only about four seconds left? Still, you’ve got time, so no rush. Ah, I died again. First time trying this kind of game, though—it’s tough.

Annoyed by his other self’s teasing, Baek Yuseol looked up slowly.

“...Your first time?”

—Yup. But it’s fun.

His other self was absorbed in an FPS battle royale game that Baek Yuseol had often played in high school.

“Why would that be your first time...”

He didn’t even have the energy to argue anymore. Mechanically, he exited the community board and returned to the game screen.

With a few keystrokes, he wandered outside the academy building, gazing at the crimson-streaked sky.

“Oh...”

It struck him then—his post about soloing the Black Dragon must have meant the game was set at the end of its final episode.

Climbing to the rooftop of Stellar’s first tower, he could see the entire continent in one view.

“What a mess.”

While Stellar Academy appeared mostly untouched, the continent was utterly scorched.

—...Heh, that’s your world?

“Huh? I guess.”

—Amazing. So a Black Dragon was summoned in your world too. Seems even you couldn’t avoid the worst outcome. Yet... you still managed to protect Stellar?

“If you were really me, you’d know that.”

—Oh, look closer... Stellar isn’t the only place that survived.

The other self leaned into Baek Yuseol’s monitor, pointing out something.

—Some regions in the Far East and South are completely untouched by the Black Dragon’s influence...

“Well, yeah. I killed the Black Dragon before it could reach there. But half the continent was still destroyed. It’s a total ruin.”

—Not exactly.

For a moment, “Baek Yuseol’s Self” lowered his voice, sounding strangely serious.

—You’re right. Most of the continent was ravaged, and countless civilizations were lost.

The other self gazed at the monitor, mumbling.

—And yet...

He looked as if he were longing for something, and Baek Yuseol couldn’t bring himself to interrupt.

—Despite the Black Dragon’s appearance, life still persists. With Stellar Academy, the heart of magic, intact, its legacy can live on. The people in the Far East might one day restore this land.

Finally, he looked directly into Baek Yuseol’s eyes. There was an odd sparkle in his gaze.

—You did it... unlike me.

“What are you talking about...?”

—I’ve changed my mind. I’ll help you find a way to survive. I shouldn’t be doing this... but it’s fine, right? It’ll only cost me the destruction of my soul. I have nothing left to lose.

A chilling dread crept up Baek Yuseol’s spine.

He couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“You... you’re not me, are you?”

The other Baek Yuseol smiled.

It was a smile completely unlike his own, sending a shiver down his spine.

When he snapped back to reality, the lively sounds of the PC room were gone. Surveying his surroundings, he found himself standing alone on a starlit hill, with no one else in sight.

—That’s right. I’m not you. Just because I’m “another version of you” doesn’t mean we’re the same person, right?

“...I don’t understand.”

—There’s no need to understand. I don’t fully understand it myself.

Right. There was no need to understand. If this other Baek Yuseol was willing to help, he would accept it.

—Look at the sky. What do you see?

“The sky?”

Baek Yuseol lifted his head.

A multitude of constellations sparkled brilliantly, the endless galaxy stretching beyond the horizon in a dazzling display.

“What do I see...? Stars.”

The other Baek Yuseol smiled, a smile entirely different from his own.

—Those stars are the lives you’ve saved... and the lives you’ll save.

“The lives I saved...?”

—Yes. But...

A faint, bitter smile crossed the other’s face. A dark shadow fell over him, so heavy that Baek Yuseol found it difficult to look directly at him.

Emerging from a seemingly endless wave of death and despair, those dark, profound eyes

mirrored Baek Yuseol’s own reflection.

—I... see nothing in that sky.

A chill ran down Baek Yuseol’s spine.

He didn’t fully understand the words, but as he opened his mouth to speak, the figure of his other self faded into the distance.

—Take care of my world.

He waved as he spoke, his face too far to read clearly, yet he seemed... to be crying.

—And... your world.

As his world faded into radiant light, everything vanished.