Chapter 11: The Founding of Tokyo Magic University

A year and four months after the Gremlin Disaster, the Seer Mage heard the report from Ohinata that their long-sought goal—the resolution of the food crisis—had been achieved. Overcome with joy, the Seer Mage shouted, “So this is what those visions of a happy Ohinata were about!” He lifted Ohinata into the air in celebration, leaving the bewildered researcher wide-eyed and speechless, and cried tears of gratitude like a child.

Resolving the food crisis had always been the Seer Mage’s heartfelt aspiration.

The Seer Mage had originally been an ordinary office worker.
Living a frugal life, saving diligently, and dreaming of buying a modest countryside house to enjoy a quiet life of reading and farming after early retirement in his 40s.

But just as he reached his late 30s, when his years of patience were finally about to bear fruit, the Gremlin Disaster struck.

His savings, digital assets, and stocks disappeared overnight, and by the time he woke up from the coma he’d fallen into during the transformation into a mage, his company had already shut down, leaving only an empty building behind.

His life plans shattered, the Seer Mage spent some time in a daze.
However, as he found himself helping his neighbors fend off monsters, rescuing people trapped in shelters, accepting cookies as thanks from children, and sharing warmth with displaced refugees around makeshift drum fires, a sense of purpose began to grow within him.

He realized that he could see the future, had a body tough enough to withstand danger, and the ability to answer the cries of those in need.

In this post-apocalyptic world, if not me, then who?

No longer swept along by circumstance, the Seer Mage chose to use his abilities to help others.
As he became more well-known, the scale of his efforts grew.

Though some mocked him, calling it a “childish hero complex” or accusing him of “performative altruism,” or claimed he was “just a middle-aged man desperate for attention,” those who criticized him were often the same people who refused to help anyone else, prioritizing themselves above all. Hypocrites, who wouldn’t even stoop to false displays of kindness.

The Seer Mage was human and hurt by such words, but he also found joy in his work.

He wasn’t driven solely by altruism or a desire for societal peace.
The praise felt good, the act of helping others was satisfying, and the admiration boosted his ego. Though he could see the future, he often worked tirelessly for the immediate rewards of gratitude and recognition, focusing on improving the safety of his local Bunkyo Ward.

The one who gave the Seer Mage a broader perspective was the Vampire Mage, a key figure in coordinating the Witch Gatherings.
Through his advice and persuasion, the Seer Mage finally overcame his fear of feedback damage from magic overuse and employed a powerful future-seeing spell capable of peering three orbital cycles ahead (equivalent to three years in Earth terms).

This vision shattered his vague assumptions of “destruction by monsters” or “large-scale conflicts between witches” and made him acutely aware of an imminent, catastrophic famine.
Determined to prevent this, he poured all his energy into the effort.

The Seer Mage worked harder than he ever had during his time as an office worker.
At Witch Gatherings, he passionately warned of the impending food crisis. But ultimately, only he—having vividly “seen” the nightmare of humanity turning to cannibalism in desperation—truly grasped the gravity of the situation.

To combat the crisis, the Seer Mage proposed a slew of policies and relied on the Vampire Mage’s connections to have some of them implemented.
He worked tirelessly, from establishing communication with the intellectually impaired Mermaid Witch to restoring parts of Tokyo Bay’s fisheries, to turning the abandoned wasteland of Katsushika Ward into a large-scale farmland (though it was later devastated by magic pests).

He promoted composting and small-scale gardening at the household level and traveled extensively to secure seeds, protect farmers, and revive traditional farming tools and knowledge.

Yet even while dedicating himself to the food crisis, he continued his work maintaining Bunkyo Ward’s safety. He personally identified and discreetly eliminated a fraudster set to become the leader of a murderous cult with 100,000 followers, acting before the group could establish itself.

The workload was enough to cause ten ordinary people to die of overwork, yet his magically enhanced body endured.

Thanks to his efforts, Bunkyo Ward became known as one of the safest and most livable areas in Tokyo, rivaling even Ome City, where the Blue Witch swiftly eradicated monsters. Its reputation attracted a steady flow of migrants.

Infrastructure, though strained, managed to function due to the skilled freelance workers (carpenters, water system specialists, blacksmiths, and mechanics) who gathered in the area. Roads clogged with abandoned vehicles were cleared, and plans to reopen parts of the old Tokyo Metro Marunouchi Line for charcoal-powered vehicles were underway.

Still, even this beacon of hope, Bunkyo Ward, was fated to fall to famine in two years.

What changed that future was the groundbreaking achievement of a team of magic language researchers who had fled from Minato Ward.

The Seer Mage had been anxiously monitoring the situation, worried about whether the Blue Witch’s claimed “ace in the hole” could be trusted and whether Ohinata, the last researcher from Ome, might be abducted by her. But upon hearing the news of the completion of Fertility Magic research, all those concerns melted away.

Whatever had happened to solve everything in just one day no longer mattered. It was over, and that was enough.

The future in which Japan sinks into the calamity of a great famine has been averted.

That fact alone was enough.

The Seer mage, who had struggled through dark futures because of his foresight, trembled with joy at the prospect of a bright and open future.

If emotions could make one fly, he would have soared all the way to heaven. Overwhelmed by happiness, the Seer mage asked Ōhinata if there was anything she wanted.

Although the professor was already receiving special privileges—high-quality food rations, priority access to medical care, a private bath, and personal security for her lab and home—the mage felt that her monumental achievements deserved a unique bonus.

Ōhinata-sensei, who had accomplished a task too immense for a mere twelve-year-old girl, had done so with extraordinary skill. She had earned the right to any request she desired. And the mage was determined to grant it, as an adult’s sole way of repaying a child entrusted with the future of Japan.

When pressed, Ōhinata politely declined any additional reward, saying with a tearful sincerity, “Please use it for the sake of Bunkyō Ward.”

Her selflessness only spurred the mage further.

A child, who should naturally be rebelling or throwing tantrums to trouble her parents, was instead displaying a level of devotion rarely seen even in adults. It was admirable—but also deeply saddening.

The mage felt an indescribable sorrow for a society so harsh that it forced children to suppress their desires.

Relentlessly insisting, he eventually persuaded her by arguing that “not receiving a special reward would set a bad precedent, where hard work goes unrewarded.” Finally, Ōhinata timidly spoke up:

“Then… I want to become a university professor. Like my father.”

Hearing her shy and childlike aspiration, the mage was moved by her purity and immediately resolved to make her dream come true.

Fortunately, Bunkyō Ward was home to many educational institutions, and their state of preservation was quite good. Wielding the justification of “reviving formal education,” the mage dispatched personnel to one of the best-preserved universities, refurbishing it and renaming it “Tokyo Magic University.” Professor Kei Ōhinata was appointed its inaugural president and the first head professor.

What began as a pretext to fulfill Ōhinata’s dream grew into something much larger. Between the expectations of the community and Ōhinata’s enthusiastic inquiries—like, “Should I prepare entrance exam questions?”—the project became a major initiative.

The plan changed from simply enrolling children to making it an official policy.

In other words, Tokyo Magic University would teach bypass incantations for fertility magic.

The mage foresaw through his powers that if Ōhinata-sensei were sent on a nationwide tour to teach fertility magic, she would inevitably get caught up in a witches’ conflict and lose her life. Avoiding this fate would be exceedingly difficult—sidestepping one conflict would only lead to another.

In contrast, Tokyo, with its relatively stable law and order—thanks to the political legacy of the vampire mage and the protective watch of the Blue Witch—was much safer.

Placing Professor Ōhinata on the university’s podium and gathering students from across the nation to learn collectively was the most efficient and safest option.

After meticulous preparations and discussions, the information department’s printing section churned out countless advertisements: “Magic University Opens, Students Wanted!” With this, a talented inaugural class was assembled.

Until then, magic had been almost exclusively the domain of witches, mages, and monsters.

• First, its chants involved difficult pronunciations, often containing unpronounceable sounds, making it hard or outright impossible for most to master.
• Second, the majority of humans had little innate magic power. Even the foundational spell “Shoot Aaah!”—the least mana-consuming offensive spell—left most people drained and unconscious after a single use.
• Third, many witches jealously guarded their magic and refused to share their incantations.

Thus, magic was out of reach for ordinary people, fostering widespread dissatisfaction. Now, with the opportunity to learn magic at hand, people jumped at the chance.

Over 6,000 applicants vied for just 30 spots, and the mage conducted rigorous testing to select the most qualified. Age was not a restriction, but intellectual aptitude and teaching ability were.

First, candidates underwent intelligence and explanation tests.

The inaugural students had to master bypass incantations for fertility magic in a short time and then become instructors themselves. Professor Ōhinata could not teach the spell to everyone fast enough to avert famine. Instead, the goal was for 30 students to each teach 30 others, creating an exponential spread of knowledge.

The first class had to be the foundation of this chain—quick learners with high intelligence and the ability to effectively teach others.

Next was the magic capacity test.

While fertility magic, both in its original form and bypass incantation, is a low-consumption magic comparable to the spell “Shoot Aaah!”, it would be problematic if a prospective first-generation teacher faints after a single casting. They need to demonstrate their magic as an example for others.

The test venue echoed with the spell’s chant—resembling the screams of a frantic beaver. Only those who managed to cast it more than five times without losing consciousness were allowed to proceed, while those who fainted were disqualified and carried out of the venue.

The final test was articulation.

Even with intelligence and sufficient magic capacity, poor articulation makes the pronunciation of the difficult, non-Japanese magic language nearly impossible.

Although the bypass incantation for fertility magic is phonetically pronounceable for the human vocal structure and can eventually be learned by anyone with time, the first-generation students were expected to master it quickly and reliably, as future teachers. Poor articulation was a major disadvantage.

The articulation test, devised by Professor Ōhinata, was conducted, and ultimately, 30 first-generation students passed. Those who failed solely due to articulation issues were given provisional acceptance as second-generation students.

The entire process of recruiting, selecting, and training the first-generation students at Tokyo Magic University went smoothly. This was, of course, thanks to the future-seeing mage, who pre-emptively eliminated obstacles.

For instance, the mage foresaw a future in which a malicious rumor spread, claiming, “Ordinary humans who use magic will turn into monsters.” This falsehood gained traction among many residents. To prevent this, the mage fabricated appropriate charges and had the source of the rumor imprisoned in advance.

Although the mage’s magic power was not sufficient to foresee all potential dangers, and there were many cases where foresight alone couldn’t change the outcome, this time, everything was manageable.

Everything was progressing as planned. Efforts made to ensure progress were bearing fruit.

All that remained was to send the first-generation students—once their education was complete—to survivor communities across the country as teachers. Fertility magic practitioners would naturally multiply in those communities.

The food crisis was severe everywhere. Practitioners of fertility magic would undoubtedly become highly valued members of any community.

A single newly developed spell can change the world.

The potential for magic research is boundless. Until now, investment had been limited to magic linguistics, as there was no room to fund other research. However, solving the food crisis would bring some breathing room and allow for new investments.

Recruiting new researchers, filling out the framework of Tokyo Magic University, and elevating it as a hub for magic research could be worthwhile. After all, it wouldn’t do to leave the role of university professor to a single child forever, no matter how capable and enthusiastic she was.

It would be ideal if the research and human resources cultivated at the Magic University could become the foundation of peace.

It would be wonderful if the power of magic became more widely accessible to the general populace.

If this happened, society could maintain a certain level of peace without depending on the whims of individual witches and mages with their unpredictable personal agendas. And when that time comes, the mage could finally retire early and enjoy a slow life in the countryside, farming fields…

Smiling at the future he envisioned, the Seer mage placed his hopes in the path ahead for Tokyo Magic University.

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