The eastern departure hall remained alive with conversation.
Students from every corner of the Empire stood waiting before the coastal teleportation gates.
Future generals.
Future scholars.
Future rulers.
Future monsters.
All gathered beneath the same roof.
The atmosphere felt refined.
Intelligent.
Competitive.
Yet even among such people—
The legend of the Divine Spoon Art continued spreading like an unstoppable plague.
Kel stood silently within the line.
Listening.
Enduring.
Suffering.
His expression remained calm.
His soul was not.
Inside his mind—
Seiren had completely abandoned dignity.
The Guardian of Scarder Lake laughed without restraint.
"The spoon represents humility."
"..."
"The spoon represents simplicity."
"..."
"The spoon represents the hidden truth of existence."
"..."
"My favorite was the one about Nameless becoming a dragon."
Kel slowly closed his eyes.
For a brief moment.
Only a brief moment.
Then opened them again.
The teleportation line advanced slightly.
The discussions continued.
The suffering continued.
Somewhere during the last hour, the Divine Spoon Art had somehow evolved from a throwing technique into a philosophical movement.
Several students even debated whether the spoon represented fate itself.
Kel had stopped trying to understand.
Then—
A different voice appeared.
A woman's voice.
Calm.
Measured.
Confident.
Not loud.
Yet somehow every word reached nearby listeners.
The surrounding conversations gradually quieted.
Because unlike the others—
This woman sounded as though she had actually thought about the subject.
Kel's attention shifted.
Several positions ahead stood a young noblewoman.
Around seventeen or eighteen years old.
Her long dark hair fell smoothly over her shoulders.
Silver ornaments decorated portions of her hair.
Her attire appeared expensive yet practical.
Not flashy.
Not excessive.
The kind of clothing worn by someone confident enough not to display wealth constantly.
More importantly—
Her posture remained straight.
Her eyes remained calm.
Everything about her suggested discipline.
Several students had turned toward her.
The noblewoman folded her arms.
Then spoke.
"The technique's name is exaggerated."
Silence spread.
Many listeners immediately frowned.
Others appeared curious.
The woman continued.
"The stories surrounding it are also exaggerated."
Several people looked offended.
As though she had insulted a sacred art.
Kel immediately liked her.
Then she continued.
"However."
The hall grew quieter.
"That does not mean the principle itself is false."
Kel blinked.
His attention sharpened.
The noblewoman's gaze moved across the crowd.
"The opposite."
Her voice remained calm.
"The principle behind the technique is very real."
A few students exchanged glances.
The woman continued.
"The essence of the technique isn't the spoon."
"Nor the object."
"It's the method."
Kel's eyes narrowed slightly.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The woman continued.
"The true purpose is weaponization."
Several students frowned.
"Weaponization?"
She nodded.
"Any object."
Then pointed toward a nearby table.
"A cup."
Toward a pen.
"A pen."
Toward a coin.
"A coin."
The crowd gradually became interested.
The woman continued.
"The technique allows ordinary objects to become weapons."
Several listeners slowly nodded.
Then she added something even more important.
"The second principle is concealment."
Kel nearly stared.
Because finally.
Finally.
Someone had noticed.
The noblewoman continued.
"Most combat techniques leak energy."
"Aura."
"Mana."
"Killing intent."
"Pressure."
The students listened carefully.
The woman raised a finger.
"This technique does something different."
Her eyes sharpened.
"It compresses energy."
The crowd became completely silent.
Kel remained motionless.
The line.
The station.
The noise.
Everything faded temporarily.
Because for the first time—
Someone actually understood.
The noblewoman continued.
"When energy is compressed inside the object."
"The object appears ordinary."
Several students suddenly looked thoughtful.
The woman nodded.
"Others cannot easily detect it."
"Because the energy isn't surrounding the object."
"It's hidden within it."
A scholar nearby blinked.
Then immediately took out a notebook.
The woman continued.
"Then upon impact."
Her hand lightly closed into a fist.
"The compressed energy releases."
"Explodes."
"Detonates."
"Expands."
The explanation remained simple.
Elegant.
Accurate.
Painfully accurate.
Kel stared silently.
Inside his mind—
Even Seiren stopped laughing.
The Guardian sounded surprised.
"Oh."
Kel nodded internally.
"Yes."
"She actually understands."
"Yes."
"Completely."
"Almost."
The Guardian became quiet.
Because the explanation was genuinely close.
Closer than anyone else.
Far closer.
The surrounding students immediately began discussing the idea.
A young noble frowned.
"So the spoon itself doesn't matter?"
The woman looked at him.
"Of course not."
Several listeners appeared shocked.
The noblewoman sighed.
"The object was never important."
"The principle is."
A scholar nearby immediately nodded.
"Energy concealment."
"Compression."
"Delayed release."
The woman smiled faintly.
"Exactly."
The scholar's eyes brightened.
"Then theoretically..."
He immediately began calculating possibilities.
Kel watched quietly.
For the first time all day—
Hope returned.
A tiny amount.
A microscopic amount.
Yet it existed.
Someone understood.
At least one person.
One.
That was enough.
Then another student asked.
"But if the technique is real..."
"Why does everyone keep talking about spoons?"
The noblewoman looked toward him.
Then after several moments—
She answered honestly.
"Because people are idiots."
Silence.
Then laughter erupted throughout the nearby area.
Even Kel almost smiled.
Inside his mind—
Seiren completely lost control again.
"I like her."
Kel nodded.
Reasonable.
The woman wasn't wrong.
Several students laughed awkwardly.
Others looked slightly offended.
Then another scholar spoke.
"If the principle is genuine..."
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Then the technique has enormous applications."
The noblewoman nodded.
"It does."
"Assassination."
"Ambushes."
"Stealth attacks."
"Long-range combat."
The scholar continued.
"Espionage."
"Monster hunting."
"Military warfare."
The possibilities expanded rapidly.
Kel listened.
Somewhat impressed.
Because they had finally reached the point.
The actual value of the technique.
Not the mythology.
Not the stories.
Not the spoon.
The principle.
Then a young woman nearby suddenly asked.
"Have you practiced it?"
The noblewoman paused briefly.
Then nodded.
"A little."
The crowd immediately became interested.
"What happened?"
The noblewoman sighed.
A rare expression of annoyance appeared.
Then she answered.
"I accidentally shattered my brother's window."
Several people laughed.
The noblewoman continued.
"Then I shattered another one."
More laughter.
"Then my father banned me from practicing indoors."
The entire group burst into laughter.
Even the noblewoman herself smiled slightly.
The atmosphere relaxed immediately.
Meanwhile—
Kel quietly observed her.
Interesting person.
Very observant.
Very analytical.
Most importantly—
She looked beyond the story.
Beyond the reputation.
Beyond the myth.
And examined the mechanism itself.
A rare quality.
Then Seiren suddenly spoke.
"You should tell her she's correct."
"No."
"Why?"
"No reason."
"Coward."
Kel ignored her.
The Guardian laughed.
Far away, waves rolled gently across Scarder Lake.
Then the teleportation line advanced again.
Closer now.
The coastal gate stood ahead.
Brilliant runes illuminated the enormous structure.
Travelers gradually entered the departure area.
The journey continued.
Yet Kel's mood had improved slightly.
A very small amount.
A nearly invisible amount.
But enough.
Because after hours of listening to increasingly absurd theories—
Someone had finally understood.
Not the legend.
Not the rumors.
Not the spoon.
The technique.
The actual technique.
The simple principle hidden beneath layers of mythology.
And for the first time since entering the eastern teleportation hall—
Kel felt a rare emotion.
Relief.
The world wasn't completely hopeless after all.
Only mostly hopeless.
Inside his mind—
Seiren immediately ruined the moment.
"You should marry her."
Kel nearly walked into the person ahead of him.
The Guardian exploded into laughter.
And the brief relief vanished instantly.