The Extra's Rise-Chapter 157: Tower of Magic Conference (3)

The Tower of Magic stood as a testament to human ambition, its sleek metallic frame reinforced with layers of intricate mana circuits. It wasn’t just old—it was a fusion of centuries of research and modern technology, a powerhouse of magical innovation.

As we entered through the main gates, the automatic security scanners whirred softly, running identification checks before letting us pass. The corridors were vast but efficient, with hovering drones carrying stacks of documents and enchanted screens displaying research schedules and conference announcements.

Professor Gravemore led the way with his usual no-nonsense demeanor, while Cecilia and Rose flanked me on either side, their expressions casual but observant.

The Junior Research Hall was already bustling with students from various academies, all preparing their materials. Some were deep in last-minute adjustments, others reviewing their presentations with professors.

As soon as we stepped in, I felt a shift.

Students from other academies glanced up at me, then immediately looked away, almost too quickly, as if afraid to meet my gaze. My brow furrowed slightly—since when did I inspire this kind of reaction?

Then it hit me.

Cecilia.

I didn’t need to look at her to confirm it, but I did anyway. Sure enough, she wore a self-satisfied smirk, her arms crossed in amusement.

’What did she do this time?’ I thought, but then decided against asking. If she wanted to gloat, she’d tell me eventually. For now, I had other things to focus on.

The only ones who did meet my gaze were Elara and Naomi from Slatemark Academy. Elara, ever warm, gave me a friendly wave, while Naomi simply nodded. I returned the gestures, appreciating the fact that at least someone in the room wasn’t too scared to acknowledge me.

Then, just as I was settling in, the atmosphere in the hall completely changed.

A hush spread through the room as a group of figures entered from the far side.

The judging panel had arrived.

Murmurs broke out among the students, and I caught snippets of their conversations.

"What are they doing here?"

"This isn’t fair—we’re just junior researchers!"

"They’re the worst possible panel—brutal, absolutely brutal."

Cecilia, instead of looking concerned, simply grinned.

I glanced at Rose, expecting some kind of reaction from her as well, but her expression was serious.

I leaned in slightly. "Who are they?" I whispered.

Rose exhaled, rubbing her temples. "The most ruthless judges they could’ve assigned. They don’t just reject research—they tear it apart."

I arched a brow. "And you’re worried?"

"Not for myself," she muttered, giving me a pointed look. "I’m worried for the rest of the poor bastards in this hall."

That was when the first presentation began.

And within minutes, I saw exactly what Rose meant.

One by one, students from lesser academies stepped forward, and one by one, they were completely shredded apart.

Not a single judge held back. They dismissed theories, called methodologies flawed, and outright laughed at some conclusions.

"This is nonsense."

"I’ve seen primary school work with better structuring than this."

"This wouldn’t pass even in a third-rate journal."

The faces of the presenting students paled as they tried to stammer out rebuttals, but the judges were relentless.

The room grew more and more tense, shoulders stiffening, expressions turning grim.

Finally, after a long string of brutal rejections, a duo stepped forward.

Elara and Naomi.

Unlike the others, they looked confident.

And for the first time that day, the judges actually listened.

Elara and Naomi stood tall, their expressions poised despite the brutal environment. The tension in the room was palpable—after the previous presentations had been torn to shreds, no one expected the judges to be any kinder.

Elara took a step forward first, her voice steady. "Good morning. We are presenting our research on Mana Circuit Stability in High-Intensity Spellcasting and its implications for multi-layered spell formations."

’Oh, a collaborative research paper,’ I thought.

Naomi followed up smoothly, adjusting a holographic projection behind them. "The problem we’re addressing is the inefficiency caused by mana leakage when complex spells overlap. We propose an optimized channeling structure that minimizes interference."

The judges watched in silence as they continued their presentation, their expressions unreadable.

For the first time since the Conference had begun, no interruptions. No dismissive remarks, no sarcastic chuckles.

When they finished, a long pause followed.

One of the judges, an elderly woman with piercing grey eyes, tapped a stylus against her data tablet before speaking.

"The theory itself is… sound," she admitted, her voice devoid of condescension. "Your calculations hold up, and your practical tests seem well-documented."

The other judges murmured among themselves before another spoke, an older man with thin glasses and a sharp tone.

"The research is competent. But it’s not groundbreaking."

That single sentence caused an entire shift in the room.

Whispers broke out immediately—this was the kindest critique so far. They hadn’t called it trash.

Elara and Naomi, to their credit, took it well. They bowed politely, accepting the critique with grace.

"Thank you for your feedback," Elara said smoothly. "We’ll continue refining our work."

The judges nodded. They had accepted the research.

Not the highest praise, but considering the massacre that had taken place before, it was a monumental win.

Naomi and Elara stepped down, relieved but composed, as the panel moved on.

Then, the lead judge turned their gaze towards us.

"Next," she called. "Mythos Academy."

The room stiffened.

This was the moment everyone had been waiting for.

Me, Cecilia, and Rose.

I stepped forward first, adjusting my posture. I wasn’t nervous—far from it. But I could feel the weight of dozens of eyes drilling into me.

I exhaled slowly.

Time to shake things up.

Rose stepped forward first, her expression composed, her presence unshaken by the ruthless panel in front of her. She tapped the console at her side, bringing up a holographic display of carefully laid-out equations and diagrams.

"Good morning," she began, her voice calm and assured. "My research focuses on Mana Circuit Adaptability in Artificial Constructs, specifically optimizing energy pathways to improve efficiency in autonomous magical entities."

There was a brief flicker of interest from the judges.

Rose continued smoothly, her words precise. "The current standard models for autonomous constructs, such as familiars and artificial golems, rely on fixed pathways for mana circulation. This creates issues when rapid energy shifts are required in battle or high-intensity scenarios. My approach proposes an adaptable circuit structure—one that adjusts mana flow based on external stimuli."

She expanded the display, showcasing a side-by-side simulation.

"On the left," she gestured, "is a traditional construct. Notice the delay in response when faced with unexpected environmental changes."

The judges watched as the golem simulation stuttered for a brief second when hit with a sudden burst of opposing mana.

Rose gestured to the right simulation. "Now, here’s my construct—equipped with an adaptive circuit."

The second construct fluidly adjusted, seamlessly shifting its mana channels in response to interference.

"By integrating mana-responsive lattice structures," Rose concluded, "I’ve achieved a 7% improvement in reaction time and a 5% increase in efficiency when compared to existing models."

A moment of silence.

Then, one of the judges nodded slightly. "Not bad," he admitted.

Another, a middle-aged man with deep-set eyes, adjusted his glasses. "This is a reasonable improvement over current designs."

There was no scorn, no outright dismissal—just critical assessment.

Finally, the lead judge gave her evaluation. "Your research is well-founded. Your methodology is solid. While the improvements are incremental rather than revolutionary, this is competent work."

For this panel, that was high praise.

Rose bowed slightly. "Thank you for your feedback." She stepped back, her face unreadable—but I knew she was satisfied.

Cecilia strode up to the presentation platform, radiating confidence, her smirk never wavering. Without hesitation, she tapped the console, and the display shifted.

"My research," she began, her voice as smooth as silk, "is on Theoretical and Practical Applications of an Innate Gift: Witchcraft."

Silence.

Not the mocking silence that had met so many previous presenters, but an interested one.

Gifts were inherently personal, bound to the soul of the individual. Researching one’s own Gift? That was completely uncharted territory.

The lead judge raised a brow, clearly intrigued but wary. "A study on your own Gift?" she mused. "That’s a first."

Cecilia’s smirk widened. "Then I’ll be the first to publish a formal analysis."

She snapped her fingers, and an ethereal glow surrounded her hands. Unlike conventional spellcasting, this wasn’t mana—at least, not in the way most mages understood it.

"My Gift," Cecilia continued, "is what the scholars have dubbed Witchcraft—a phenomenon that allows me to rewrite the very structure of spells in real time. Unlike traditional magic that requires careful pre-formulation, I can manipulate spells mid-cast, altering their properties on the fly."

She waved her hand, and a small flickering ember appeared in front of her, floating gently in the air.

"A standard fire spell," she said.

Then, before anyone could react, the ember changed.

The air distorted, and suddenly, the flickering flame froze solid, shifting from fire to ice without breaking, without a spell recast, without any transition rune or external influence.

A few researchers leaned forward, now fully invested.

Cecilia smirked, enjoying their attention. "For most mages, a spell is a completed circuit—locked in its nature the moment it’s cast. Mine, however…" She clenched her fist.

The frozen ember shattered, dispersing into glowing particles before reforming into a tendril of electricity that crackled along her fingers.

"…is mutable."

A judge actually sat up straight, eyes glinting with pure fascination. "You can overwrite elemental composition mid-cast?"

"Not just elemental composition," Cecilia corrected, clearly savoring the moment. "I can alter casting speed, spell trajectory, and even partially reconstruct the runic matrix—though that part requires extreme precision."

The murmurs exploded across the room.

Spell structures were rigid. A completed spell could not be altered once cast—that was an absolute rule of magic.

And yet, Cecilia had broken that rule.

One of the researchers, an older man with silver-rimmed glasses, stared at her as if she were a living treasure trove. "This is… astonishing. If fully documented, this could redefine how we classify Innate Gifts."

The lead judge, who had been ruthlessly shredding most of the previous research papers, nodded approvingly. "Your research has no practical application for anyone but yourself," she said. "But that’s precisely why it’s valuable."

Another judge chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "For years, we’ve been attempting to understand Gifts, but they refuse to conform to standardized magical theory. What you’ve done here is… magnificent."

Cecilia tilted her head. "So?"

The lead judge finally gave a pleased nod. "Accepted. Without question."

Cecilia beamed, her crimson eyes glowing with satisfaction. For once, even the researchers who usually dismissed "unique cases" as anomalies were eagerly discussing her work.

She turned back to me with a smirk, as if to say, Top that.

And now, as all eyes landed on me, I finally stepped forward.

The judge’s voice rang out.

"Arthur Nightingale. You’re next."

The room fell silent.

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Now, it was my turn.