The Mob Character Who Woke Up!-Chapter 53: What is this place?

Kaizen blinked in confusion. Where did that knowledge come from?

’I didn’t read that in any brochure.’

It was like the answer was hard-coded directly into his ROM. He just knew it instinctively.

Finch’s entire face lit up with a genuine, sharp smile that made him look slightly less like a nervous accountant and more like someone who knew deadly secrets.

"Correct. The Vector Legion. They hunted Arch-Demons that terrorized entire nations. They sealed the catastrophic Northern Rift that threatened to consume the continent. They are living legends whose names are written in history books."

Finch leaned in closer conspiratorially, his eyes gleaming with passionate intensity behind his glasses.

"And do you know why they were considered the strongest group? Do you know their secret?"

Kaizen shook his head slowly. This time, his internal database was completely empty.

"Because every single member was an Axiomancer," Finch said triumphantly.

Kaizen stopped walking completely. "All of them? Every single member?"

"Every single one without exception," Finch nodded vigorously. "You see, Kaizen, Elemental Magic is loud and obvious. It is pure brute force applied directly to problems. Fire burns because it is hot. Lightning kills because it is fast and violent. It is completely intuitive to understand. Even a goblin can throw a basic fireball if you give it enough raw mana and a spicy taco to get angry about."

Finch tapped his own temple with one finger.

"But Axiomancy? It is the underlying code of reality itself. It does not ask the world politely to burn. It commands the world to fundamentally change its own rules according to your calculations."

Finch’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper as if sharing forbidden knowledge.

"The disadvantage isn’t actual weakness in power. The disadvantage is the massive barrier to entry. To cast Fire magic, you need passion and anger. To cast Axiom magic, you need pure Intellect and understanding of fundamental principles."

He gestured vaguely at the towering elemental structures around them, dismissing them with a casual wave of his hand.

"Other elements doesn’t care if you’re stupid or intelligent. They just needs fuel and anger. But Logic? Logic demands absolute respect. To warp reality with a mathematical equation, you cannot simply be strong. You must be a genuine genius. And frankly, most mages walking around this academy are just idiots with expensive idiot spells."

Kaizen absorbed that information carefully.

’It’s a filter.’

He realized with dawning understanding.

’It’s not trash magic at all. It’s high-skill-cap magic. It’s the Dark Souls of spellcasting. Git gud or get out.’

"I like the sound of that," Kaizen smirked with genuine interest. "Nerfing reality sounds incredibly fun."

"That’s the spirit!" Finch said excitedly.

They kept walking together.

They passed the imposing Fire Tower.

They passed the elegant Water Tower.

They passed the Lightening, Earth and Ice Towers.

They passed the massive Artificer Halls where the sound of hammering echoed, and the Alchemy Labs where explosions were genuinely considered "progress."

They kept walking.

The pavement slowly turned from polished marble to rough cobblestone. Then from cobblestone to packed dirt. Then from dirt to "is this actually a path or just a deer trail?"

The carefully manicured hedges gradually turned into overgrown weeds that reached up to Kaizen’s waist.

"Uh, Mr. Finch?" Kaizen asked while swatting away a fly the size of a golf ball. "Did we take some kind of shortcut? We passed the entire Elemental District about a mile back."

Finch didn’t answer. He just chuckled softly to himself.

"We are here."

He stopped walking.

Kaizen stopped walking.

He looked forward.

There was no tower. There was no marble hall. There was no floating crystal or impressive architecture.

Sitting in the middle of a completely neglected field of tall grass was a small, wooden house.

It didn’t look like it belonged anywhere near a fantasy academy. It looked like it had been ripped out of a samurai movie and dropped from a great height.

It was an old, Edo-period Japanese house. Sliding paper doors. A tiled roof that sagged slightly in the middle like a tired old man’s back. A wooden porch that looked like it would creak loudly if a butterfly landed on it.

A wind chime hung from the eaves, dinging sadly in the breeze. Ding, ding, please help me.

Kaizen stared at the shack. Then he looked back at the glistening skyscrapers of the other departments visible in the distance. Then back at the shack.

"This," Kaizen pointed a shaking finger at the structure. "This is the Department of Axiomancy? The home of the legends? The genius lair?"

"It has character!" Finch insisted while sweating profusely. "And great ventilation! Very feng shui!"

"It’s a shed, Mr. Finch."

"It’s a dojo of the mind!"

"It’s a fire hazard with a roof!"

"It’s a humble abode that encourages focus!"

"It’s a building code violation!"

Finch coughed nervously. "The Professor prefers a humble environment. To focus purely on the equations without distraction from material luxury."

Kaizen let out a long, suffering sigh. He walked up the creaky wooden steps that groaned under his weight.

’Of course.’

He thought bitterly.

’The genius drunkard lives in a literal shack. It’s a trope. It has to be a classic trope. Next, you’re going to tell me he sleeps on the floor and uses sake bottles as pillows.’

He reached for the sliding door.

"Well," Kaizen muttered while grabbing the handle. "Let’s see if the legendary Vector Gentleman is actually home. Or passed out in a puddle of sake."

He pulled the door open.

The interior was dark. The air smelled like old books mixed with alcohol. There was a low table in the center of the room covered in papers, empty bottles, and what looked like advanced mathematical equations scribbled on everything.

And sitting at that table, face-down in a pile of papers, was a man.

He had messy silver streaked elegant hair. He wore a traditional robe that was stained with ink and probably alcohol. He was snoring loudly.

"Professor!" Finch called out desperately. "Professor Mortimer! We have a student!"

The man didn’t move.

Finch tried again, louder this time. "Professor! A student signed up! An actual student!"

Still nothing.

Kaizen looked at Finch. Finch looked at Kaizen.

"Is he dead?"

"Not yet, just very drunk," Finch said sadly. "This is normal."

"This is the Vector Gentleman?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Kaizen stared at the passed-out legend.

"I’ve made a terrible mistake," Kaizen whispered.

"No!" Finch protested. "He’s a genius when he’s sober! Which is, admittedly, rare, but still!"

Kaizen sighed deeply.

This was going to be a long semester.