I Loaded the Occult Panel

No, this seemed to be about more than just making the walk effortless.

Richard summoned his panel.

[walking Lv.3, progress 91.3%.]

Last night, it had been at 91.2%.

Richard raised an eyebrow.

Over the past half year, he had tried every trick in the book to push [walking] forward: jogging, climbing stairs, taking long detours back to his dorm.

After he hit Lv.3, progress had crawled slower than a snail. Gaining half a percent in a single week was a good run.

He hadn’t expected walking with Levitation to actually boost his [walking] progress.

...

That day, he ran a controlled test.He spent half the time walking normally and the other half walking while levitating. Covering the exact same route and distance, he found his progress ticked up noticeably faster while suspended.

At first, he thought he was cheating the system.

Hovering just off the ground for free while reaping extra progress—was there really such a perfect deal in the world?

[Speculation: Inner Awakening] immediately dragged him into a deep analytical state.

Without friction, there was no leverage. Walking relied on the ground pushing back.

The foot pushed back, and reactionary force propelled the body forward. Half the work was done by the earth itself.

Now, the earth was out of the equation. It all fell on his own ankles, knees, waist, and abdomen... Every single step required him to shift his own center of gravity, relying on the deflection angle of those two wings to propel himself forward.

A single step covered the exact same distance, but now it cost ether.

He counted his strides from the dorm to the Petrie Building. Walking normally took around four hundred and twenty steps. Levitating took exactly the same.

By the time he finished the trip, his lower back was burning hot.

”I see... It’s resistance training.”

Richard felt a bit like those gentlemen at the gymnasium who ran laps wearing lead vests.

Another matter came to mind.

The shadow.

For the past six months, he had harbored a vague suspicion, and only today did he finally dare ground it in reality:

The shadow had been practicing Stone Armor, Moon Nail, and Silence behind the veil for months;

and on his end, the proficiency of those Spell Formulas was rising alongside it.

Not by much, but definitely rising.

The Spell Formulas were shared because his spirit was embedded in the shadow.

A Spell Formula was ultimately just a specific method of manipulating ether. As the spirit grew more accustomed to using that method, his main body naturally reaped the benefits.

If Spell Formulas and [Breathing] could be shared, why couldn’t [walking], [eating], and [sleep]?

Richard returned to his dorm, still mulling over the question.

Breathing, eating, sleeping, and walking—the panel classified them all under [Body].

The shadow had no lungs, no stomach, no bones, and no knees.

Even if it walked ten thousand miles in his place, it was only wading through a stretch of weightless darkness.

Richard finally pinpointed the core issue:

”Levitation can push [walking] because maintaining the circuit to float consumes ether and creates extra resistance. That circuit is part of this physical body.”

”But the shadow isn’t part of this body at all.”

”The spirit can be projected outward, but the physical body can’t be outsourced.”

...At least, not yet.

Under the [Astral Projection] tab hung a whole string of locked functions. Advancing beyond five wisps required him to ”meet other conditions.”

The shadow had been growing for the past six months. It had evolved from a marionette he dragged on strings into something that would instinctively stretch out its tentacles to snatch food, something that would independently follow when he took a half-step back.

What if, one day, it could truly be considered a physical ”shell”?

”If [Astral Projection] can one day separate more wisps, or if the shadow gains an independent shell of its own, would this restriction be lifted?”

Richard screwed the cap back onto his pen. That possibility was too far off—so distant that thinking about it now would only cause insomnia.

He closed his notebook and locked it in the drawer.

Fischer was the first to notice the Levitation.

On Monday morning, his classical prose writing class let out.

That afternoon, just after inscription class dismissed, Richard walked from the back row and rounded the podium to hand in his assignment.

He had just turned to leave when Fischer suddenly sprang up from his seat.

”Williams!”

”What is it?” Richard asked, mildly startled by his outburst.

”How did you just get over here?”

”I walked.”

”I didn’t hear a thing!” Fischer looked as though he’d just seen a ghost.

”My hearing is perfectly fine. You took over ten steps from the door to the podium, and I didn’t hear a single one!”

”I have soft soles.”

Richard sighed inwardly.

The guy was useless at everything else, but his observational skills for completely pointless details were terrifyingly sharp.

Fischer’s eyes began to dart around. Richard was all too familiar with that look.

”Absolutely not.”

”I didn’t even say anything yet!”

”You want to compose a piece about me.”

Fischer immediately stood up straight.

”How did you know?”

”The last time you made that face, that’s exactly what you wanted to do.”

”This time is different.” Fischer fished his music notebook out of his coat, flipping through the pages with a rapid rustle.

”It’ll be purely instrumental this time. I’ve got it all planned out. I’ll just have a double bass play a single, continuous note from beginning to end, with absolutely no variation.”

”...Why?”

”Because there’s no variation in the way you walk!” He gave a look that plainly said, Isn’t it obvious?

”I already have the title picked out. I’ll call it The Silent Williams.”

”Doesn’t that name give you a kind of... ghostly vibe?”

”Fischer, do you even know what people have changed your last song into?”

Fischer’s pen-wielding hand froze.

”I heard the cafeteria version again this morning,” Richard said.

”The lunch lady was singing it while serving soup. When she got to the line, Three chimes and the cook swapped the meat out for radishes, she dumped an extra scoop of radishes right into my bowl.”

”That just means she feels guilty.”

”And yesterday afternoon in the library, I heard someone humming the second verse.”

”What’s the second verse?”

”Four chimes without an answer, five chimes without an answer, on the sixth chime you beg your Mentor for money.”

Fischer fell silent.

”...That actually is a pretty good rewrite,” he admitted, looking pained.

”They really captured that intense driving rhythm.”

”So,” Richard said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

”Are you sure you want to write a second song about me?”

Fischer stayed quiet for a moment before slowly crumpling the sheet of paper into a ball.

”...It just feels like a waste,” he muttered. ”It was such good material. It had a great aura of mystery to it.”

”Save it and write about yourself.”

”What’s there to write about me?”

”Fischer in the Collation Room.”

”...That makes me sound like I’ve been dead for a long time.”

Fischer took two steps away, then suddenly looked back.

”But seriously, the way you walk is really bizarre.”

Richard didn’t answer.

”Are you training in something?”

”Center of gravity training for the Mirror Tradition.”

”The Mirror Tradition practices walking?”

”If a mirror is going to reflect someone, the person has to be steady first. And the first step to being steady is the feet.”

Richard realized he didn’t even have to think to come up with these lies anymore. The words simply poured out the moment he opened his mouth.

Fischer said, ”Oh,” looking like he only half-understood but had decided not to pry any further.

His curiosity flared up quickly, but it dissipated just as fast. It rarely survived the next new distraction.

”Well, keep at it then,” he said, waving a hand.

”Don’t be late for afternoon inscription class,” he added. ”Old Ke is taking attendance.”

Montagu and Catherine were much harder to brush off.

During their routine sparring session, the third round of the melee had barely begun when Richard sidestepped.

He glided through that step with a posture noticeably smoother than usual.

Montagu stopped fighting immediately.

He stood in the center of the arena, his gray-blue eyes fixed on Richard’s feet.

”Williams.”

”What is it?”

”That step you just took...” The blond young man frowned. ”Do you have something wedged beneath your feet?”

Slumped in the corner and panting heavily, Fischer hadn’t heard a word.

Edith was off to the side, quietly reading her book.

Catherine snapped her Silver Needle box shut and raised her eyes to look over.

Richard answered without skipping a beat.

”Center of gravity training for the Mirror Tradition.”

”Center of gravity training?”

”You can’t have any vertical bob when trying to reflect someone,” Richard answered naturally.

”If your body dips, the water’s surface shatters. So you have to train your walk until it’s perfectly level. Your footfalls must be light, and your steps perfectly even.”

This was actually a half-truth. The ”seeking stillness within movement” of the mirror condensation method’s Second Stage trained exactly that.

”All right.” Montagu dispelled the wall of light that was still lingering in his hand. ”Keep at it, then.”

He turned around, took two steps, and then glanced back.

”You’re picking it up pretty fast, though.”

”The Mirror Tradition is all self-study. If I don’t grind through it fast enough, I’ll starve to death out there.”

Montagu let out a short laugh and didn’t ask further.

When they dispersed, Catherine walked alongside Richard.

She pulled a notebook from her pocket, flipped it open, wrote a line, and held it up.

”There’s something beneath your feet.”

Richard opened his mouth to reply.

Catherine flipped the notebook and wrote on the next page.

”I was beside you earlier. I could see the dust on the floor.”

She lifted the notebook a little higher.

”You weren’t stepping on it.”

Richard sighed.

This was the most maddening thing about the girl. She only ever reported what she saw, and having reported it, she just waited for you to continue.

”Catherine, I’m practicing the Levitation Spell Formula. Don’t go spreading rumors.”

The red-haired girl blinked.

She tore the page out, ripped it to shreds right in front of him, and then wrote on a fresh page: ”I won’t tell.”

Having written that, she walked away.

Richard felt like he now needed to draft every single sentence in his head before speaking to anyone.