SMMA 50

Episode 50

Fortunately, Ihan would not bear the disgraceful title of Professor Killer.

Professor Mortum soon rose to his feet.
“…Cough. You all saw? That was the effect of a Lesser Paralysis Curse.”

In truth, his limbs still felt stiff. The moment he fell, he had quickly activated his mana and forced the curse back out—but Ihan’s output had been so great that lingering effects remained.

Had other black-magic majors who studied under Mortum witnessed this, they might have fainted outright. A first-year had dropped their professor with a simple first-circle curse—
Even if he had been careless, it was unthinkable.

“……”

Professor Garcia, knowing the truth, stared at Mortum in disbelief. Mortum, avoiding his eyes, pretended he had seen nothing.

“Thank goodness, Professor.” Ihan’s voice was full of relief. At first he had been terrified, but now he understood—Mortum had only collapsed to properly demonstrate the curse’s effects.

That explained it.

“You have talent for curses…”

“Really? Thank you.”

“You have… talent for curses.”

“…Thank you?”

For a professor to repeat himself twice was never a good sign. Ihan realized sharply.

So either I truly impressed him… or annoyed him. Given professors’ dispositions, probably the latter.

Was my curse weaker than expected? What a shameless man. Did he expect perfection on the first try from a freshman?

“Now, as you saw, curses are not confined to black mages. Even those who do not study the field deeply often know a curse or two.”

Garcia stepped in, steering the room.

“Lesser curses are not difficult to learn. Most importantly, they help you defend against other curses. Refusing to study them won’t stop others from using them on you.”

Black magic was notorious for offense that could be learned swiftly. Compared against flame? The difference was clear.

A flame spell required conjuring fire, controlling it, stabilizing it, then hurling it.
A curse required only: focus, then bestowing. Simplicity itself. Everyone had once felt cramps or numbness—a perfect mental image.

Thus many mercenary mages, poorly trained, still picked up a curse or two to survive on the battlefield.

The best defense against a spell was knowledge of it. If someday one would be cursed, wasn’t it better to understand its structure?

That was why Garcia had invited Mortum—not to push anyone into black magic, but so students would not shun it entirely.

“Now, pair up.”

Despite their initial dread, the students grew suddenly curious. After all, they were young. Dark rumors aside, a simple offensive spell that was easy to learn was enticing.

Garcia’s reasoning—that “you should know curses for your own defense”—was persuasive, too.

“This way? Swing the staff like this?”
“Seems right…”
“I hear it’s not only paralysis curses. Some can blind, choke breath, ruin balance.”
“Woah. Wait—you plan to learn black magic?”
“No.”

Intrigue was one thing, lifelong commitment another.

“Pleased to work with you.”
“And with you.”

Ihan’s partner—Gainando. The two exchanged noble courtesies, raised staffs.

The rules were simple: one attacks, then the other. To practice both casting and receiving.

Gainando struck first.

“Hup!”

Mana gathered, quickly twisting into negative aspect.

“Oh?”

Ihan blinked. Surprisingly, he was fast with the conversion.

Does he actually have talent for black magic?

Perhaps coincidence. Yet compared to his struggles with light, with fire, with water—that he moved so easily into shadow stood out.

Or maybe negative is just… easier than I thought. Both of us completed it swiftly.

“Not bad,” whispered Mortum to Garcia, astonished. Not only Ihan, but another gem had appeared.

“Gainando indeed. He has aptitude,” Garcia admitted. Unlike Ihan, his gifts rarely found fit elsewhere. Perhaps black magic suited him.

“Paralyze!”

Gainando cast—the syllables imperfect, but the curse landed regardless. Mortum nodded, pleased.

Swiish—

Ah. So this is why he told us to feel it, Ihan realized as the net of curse-energy wrapped toward him.

A curse was but a woven net, flung quickly. Accurate, fast, but weakly structured.

Other spells required stable structures and targeting; curses were sloppy but effective.

Thus, a single swipe, shield, counter-spell could repel them. So many counters came to his mind—no wonder Garcia insisted everyone practice.

It was crucial. Experience a curse and you understood it. Then, next time—resist.

Still infuriating, though, that Volady’s insane torture taught me to spot this so easily.

His beads, whip-fast, hit like a sword’s thrust. Volady’s assaults—unceasing, pierce through, relentless. A curse was laughably crude by comparison.

Zap!

The curse wrapped him, but he felt nothing. Gainando whooped.
“I did it!”

“Congratulations.”

“…But where is it paralyzing?”

“Good point.”

Scanning himself, Ihan felt no stiffness.

“Hm?”

“Did it fail?”

“Maybe…”

Gainando raised his wand again.
“Paralyze!”

Zap—same as before. Ihan, same as before. Unharmed.

The two conferred in confusion.
“Was it my gestures?”
“No, you output fine. Perhaps the chant? Too polite? ‘Please be paralyzed’ doesn’t sound right.”
“Sh-should I add force? ‘Paralyze, you bastard’?”
“…Just ‘Paralyze’ will suffice.”

Hearing the two, Garcia sighed and approached.
“The curse did not fail. Ihan simply has too much mana. It overpowers minor curses. Gainando, your casting was correct.”

“!”

Gainando blinked.
“Really? But if it doesn’t affect him at all, perhaps I lack talent…”

“Don’t leap to conclusions,” Garcia soothed.

“No matter. I wasn’t interested much anyway. More stylish spells suit me. Why bother with curses?”

Coolly dismissing himself, Gainando shrugged.

“Then my turn to cast.”

“Alright—go ahead.”

Ihan limited his mana deliberately, recalling how Mortum had crumpled before.

“Paralyze.”

“!”

The shortened chant startled Mortum.

Cutting incantations condensed spells severely. Words carried great influence over spellcasting. Few dared shorten them.

But Ihan dared.

“Aaagh!”

Gainando shrieked and hurled himself sideways. Students gasped.

“…What was that?” Ihan blinked.

“R-reflex…”

Mortum trembled again. To feel the negative mana so sharply— Gainando sensed it instinctively. That sensitivity was a rare gift in the Dark Arts.

…Never mind the undignified dodge.

Class ended amicably enough. Students, having hurled petty curses at one another, found unusual delight.

Generously, Garcia assigned no homework—winning their gratitude.

“Did everyone enjoy today?”

“Yes, Professor!”

“Applause for Professor Mortum!”

Clap clap clap—

“So, many of you are now surely eager for black magic?”

“……”

Garcia regretted it instantly. Better he had stopped at the applause.

“Professor Mortum, some closing words?”

Cough—“I trust you grasped now the allure of black magic. I already see a few here whose eyes gleam with interest…”

“?”

“??”

Students exchanged blank looks.

You?
Not me. You?
Definitely not.

“Hahaha. Who’d seriously study black magic?” Gainando laughed, dismissive.