Q: My teacher is slumped powerlessly in their chair. As a student, what should I do?

[Outpost Transfer Station · Fortress City - Frich]

The next morning.

The master and disciple walked out of the city together, and after passing through the gate on the other side, an endless expanse of fields spread out before their eyes.

Bathed in the soft light of the morning sun, Guter propped his hands on his hips and stretched long and lazily.

After a pleasant night's rest at the inn, both Guter and Serie had their spirits greatly refreshed.

Now, with their energy full, they were ready for a long journey.

The coachman had already parked the carriage at the meeting point agreed upon the day before. When Guter and the others arrived, he was sitting in front of the carriage, gnawing on a piece of bread in his hand.

"Good morning, uncle."

Guter greeted the coachman as he and his teacher climbed into the carriage one after the other.

Hearing the employer's greeting, the coachman stuffed the remaining half of his bread into his mouth in two big bites, clapped his hands, and returned the greeting.

Once he saw that both employers were seated securely inside the carriage, the coachman lowered the curtain, turned back, grabbed the reins in his hand, gave a gentle tug, and directed the horses to start moving.

The draft horses, receiving the command, lifted their hooves and began walking briskly.

Inside the carriage.

After the carriage had stabilized, Guter moved to the window and gazed at the rural scenery slowly receding outside.

Perhaps because the season had passed midsummer and was gradually approaching autumn, the grains, fruits, and vegetables in the fields were already showing the first signs of a bountiful harvest.

The soft sunlight shone down on the greenish-yellow fields, and in the "waves" stirred up by the breeze, a faint echo of magic could be felt.

This was the [Magic that stops people from starving], cast by nature itself.

After enjoying the prelude to the harvest for a good while, Guter, feeling lighthearted, suddenly had a flash of inspiration.

In that moment of enlightenment, Guter immediately sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and began to meditate.

On the other side of the carriage, Serie, holding a Magic Book, suddenly paused her hand as she was about to turn a page, her gaze fixed on her disciple, who had started meditating on the spot.

"Such fluctuations in magical power growth..."

"How interesting."

Time passed, unknown how long.

When Guter became aware that he was meditating, his mind stirred, and he was about to open his eyes and wake from his subconscious state.

Unexpectedly, at that moment, a palm pressed against his forehead.

The warm hand pressed down directly over Guter's eyes, forcefully stopping his attempt to open them.

"Keep meditating. Sink your mind deeper. Don't interrupt this process."

"Alright."

Though Guter's consciousness was still a bit hazy, he wasn't so confused that he couldn't recognize his teacher Serie's voice.

Thus, following his teacher's instructions, Guter relaxed his slightly tense nerves, immersed his mind further, and continued meditating.

And just before his consciousness sank completely, the last thought that arose in Guter's mind was—

Actually, being touched by the teacher like this feels pretty nice... a little nice. I don't want to open my eyes anymore.

Inside the carriage.

Serie stood still, her body maintaining the same posture as before.

On her fingertips, as delicate as scallion roots, a soft glow of magic shimmered, soothing her disciple's spirit, calming his emotions, and deepening his meditative state to return to the earlier frequency.

As she channeled her magic, the surprise on Serie's face grew even greater than before.

"An enlightenment that allows such a magnitude of growth in magical power is already astonishing enough."

"But this soul intensity—soothing it makes me faintly feel my own magic being consumed... just what kind of monster is this disciple of mine?"

Time passed, unknown how long again.

When Guter regained consciousness and wanted to open his eyes, the hand gently resting on his face no longer blocked him, allowing his eyelids to part freely.

Because a person's spiritual intensity has an upper limit—or rather, the maximum daily expansion of magical capacity has a limit.

Any being with a soul and spiritual power—whether human, elf, or Demon, even the Demon King—cannot break this law.

Of course, according to the research and calculations of magic scholars.

Even if a person could meditate nonstop for twenty-four hours a day with full effort, they would still be far from reaching this limit.

In fact, in recorded history, the highest theoretical model calculated by magic scholars only reached half of that limit.

And someone like Guter, who had completely filled his daily maximum magical capacity, was a monster that even Serie had never seen before.

Opening his eyes, Guter rubbed his eyelids and found a large clump of eye discharge—what people call sleep crust.

Flicking it out the window casually, Guter looked at his teacher standing before him.

From Serie's gaze, Guter read a hint of difficulty, so he quickly asked.

"What's wrong, teacher? Are you feeling unwell?"

Serie: "."

After a moment's hesitation, Serie still spoke to her disciple. "I've been standing too long, my legs are a bit numb. Come help me sit down."

"Alright."

Guter received the order and stepped forward, letting Serie's arm rest on his own.

Seeing this, Serie gradually shifted her body's weight toward her disciple.

Unexpectedly, the next moment, Serie's vision blurred. By the time she reacted, she found herself already lifted into her disciple's arms.

"Mm—"

Though it was a somewhat surprising turn of events, it seemed fine this way too, saving her numb feet from having to walk on the ground.

Perhaps it was the elf's slowness, or maybe the mindset of a teacher, but Serie didn't find Guter's behavior particularly improper—only somewhat unexpected.

After setting his teacher down, Guter returned to his original seat and earnestly began to sense the changes within himself.

First, in terms of power.

This long period of meditation had most notably increased his mana capacity, a full thirty percent above his original upper limit.

Now, not only could he not suppress the mana leaking from his body, such an idea was simply impossible to achieve.

Even the mere thought of it caused his mana to unconsciously seep out a little more.

It was like being unable to control a fart when bloated, or failing to hold back gas when suffering from diarrhea.

At this moment, Guter felt as though every part of his body was filled with mana.

As if his entire being had been drenched in surging mana, completely taking on the shape of mana itself.

And in terms of spirit.

Unlike ordinary meditation, which constantly required effort to actively expand the mana cap, this sudden enlightenment was more like a passive process of unconscious growth. Not only was his mental energy not depleted, but it had actually been greatly rested as his consciousness sank deep.

Guter's current feeling was akin to lying on the most comfortable bed in the world, sleeping round after round, until he reached a point where he simply couldn't sleep anymore.

No exaggeration.

If you gave Guter a phone right now, he could climb from 1200 to 2100 in ranked matches without ever feeling drowsy.

After taking several deep breaths in succession, it took a good while before Guter gradually adapted to his current body. Then he turned his gaze toward his teacher Serie, who was now lying on the carriage bench, not even willing to move a finger.