SMMA 55

Episode 55

At least it was a relief that the students, who had been bickering endlessly about “we must move on,” and “we should find the path now,” had finally quieted down after Ihan’s words.

There was weight behind his voice.

Nillia realized anew that her Blue Dragon Tower friend was remarkable: with only a word, he could silence dozens of clamoring peers.

Is this the charisma carried only by those born into an imperial magical house—the bloodline of Wadanaz?

“Since everyone has been soaked by the rain, we need to warm you up. Gather around, I’ll cook something.”

Faces brightened. The drenched, miserable freshmen crowded close.

Nillia, watching them lean toward Ihan like chicks to their mother, suddenly thought of someone familiar.

…Mother?

She shook her head at the thought. Surely it was just her imagination—but Ihan’s behavior exuded a warmth utterly at odds with the cold charisma she imagined of a Wadanaz heir.

Had Gainando been present, he would have teased: “Why carry such a full pack?”

For Ihan had loaded enough provisions to weather disaster.

Not because he loved caution, but because he distrusted the academy absolutely. If stranded in the mountains, he intended to survive a month.

Thus he had plenty to feed the students gathered here.

“Spring forth.”

After so much abuse from Professor Volady, his water-conjuring spell now flowed effortlessly, even with shortened movements and simpler chants.

So this is it. The more one masters the craft, the more simplified the words and motions become.

He’d heard this truth before in family lessons, but only now, through pain and experience, did it make sense.

Magic was the art of imposing will upon the world. Precision steps and incantations existed to dispel doubt: Can I really do this? What if I fail? The complex form grounded the mage.

But familiarity allowed freedom.

Still… must practice by being struck with metal beads? Surely that’s excess.

Bubble bubble—

A pot boiled on the fire. Ihan poured water into tin cups, brewed coffee. The shivering, rain-chilled students clutched them with faces of bliss.

Clack—

He cracked eggs into a small skillet. Nillia blinked.
“Where did you even get those?”

“Bought them from the Turtle students at the market.”

“?!”

Of course. She recalled hearing rumors of a “huge trade” at the bazaar. That had been him?

He made quick scrambled eggs, cutting them to share.

The steady patter of rain.
Warm coffee, hot eggs.

Souls relaxed. Students grew suddenly poetic.

“This isn’t so bad.”
“Yes… perhaps my happiest moment since enrollment.”

They’ve gone mad… Stockholm syndrome… Ihan thought, troubled, for the food had no intoxicants—yet now they waxed nostalgic.

At that point, a figure approached: Rowena, the White Tiger elf sworn to the Princess.

“Her Highness wishes to thank you.”

“Oh. Very well.”

Beside him, Nillia muttered.
“Couldn’t she say so herself—does it cost a curse?”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

Rowena tilted her head suspiciously, but let it pass.

“Wadanaz, the Princess also asks: when will you next make your vegetable stew?”

“…???”

“What? You will cook it again?”
“The legendary stew?”

Turtle students jolted up in excitement.

“No… I won’t.”

“……”

Their shoulders slumped. Even Rowena held faint disappointment. “I see… we had heard and hoped.”

Ihan was speechless. How had rumors spread so quickly?

Besides, would it even taste the same? That dish was all ingredients thrown together by chance.

Rowena whispered to the Princess. Though expressionless, Ihan swore he saw disappointment flicker.

Yonellia sighed. “That’s just forced loyalty. The Princess probably isn’t even demanding it. It’s others pressing.”

“…Is that so?”

But Ihan frowned in doubt. He had served her food before, and she had eaten with genuine appetite. Her hunger was… very real.

Thinking of Gainando, he almost laughed—then regretted the comparison.

At that moment the Princess—Adenart—stood. Ihan twitched, fearing she had somehow read his thoughts.

Rowena spoke for her. “Her Highness wishes to help in return, since you gave food and drink.”

“That would be welcome.”

Ihan smiled. The Princess possessed talent famed even before her admission. Her aid could only mean fortune.

Murmurs rose in amazement as she raised her staff, chanting.

The earth stirred. Chunks of clay and flickers of flame danced, coalescing.

Spirits!

Ihan recognized it instantly. With no formal training, only books and rumors, she had summoned elementals! Already she communed and drew from the Spirit Realm itself.

Jealousy pricked him. Compared to this, Volady’s bead-throwing had been a waste.

Boom—

“!!”

While the others marveled at the Princess’s spirits, from the rain advanced a colossal silhouette—

A golem.

Knights’ scions were often considered “brutes with swords”, but in truth far more capable. To survive in borderlands rife with monsters and raiders, one needed varied skills.

Among them, dwarves of the Bark family had earned renown for their alchemical mastery.

Bartrek, scion of Bark and White Tiger Tower, was foremost. His remedies soothed the bruised and battered, his salves so potent that even Giselle, leader of White Tiger, praised him.

Now, pouring tea laced with secret herbs, his comrades sighed in comfort.

“Thank you, Bartrek. You’re the best.”
“Better than even Priestess Siana perhaps—”
“Ha, ha, ha!”

They laughed, oblivious as Siana’s face tightened in fury.

Their jokes carried no true weight—but for her, it stung.

Still, their banter silenced when rain slackened. Confidence welled.

“Time to carve a path?”

“Rain hasn’t eased!”
“We can do it!”

Tiger youths, brash as ever, felt empowered by their numbers.

They conceded only slightly to the Phoenix priests they traveled with.

“Fine. We’ll find the others. We can’t leave them.”

“Still… where is Professor Ingerdel?”

Boom—

Their answer came: a golem appeared before them as well.

Three meters tall, a muddy juggernaut. Students froze.

Rowena hissed, “Do not move rashly! Golems act by rules. Do not breach the rule, and it will not strike.”

Unlike beasts, these were crafted. Earth, clay, metal formed around a mana core, then set into motion.

But if a core was broken, discarded, and bound itself anew—feral golems were born. Their “rules” twisted, unpredictable.

This school’s security is hopeless, Ihan cursed silently, raising his staff.

The clay titan scraped its foot, carving a deep line before the drenched youths.

“??”

“Is that the line? Not to cross?”

“What happens if we do?”

A brave soul muttered, “Test it.”

“Don’t! Not without Wadanaz!” Asan screamed. But Ihan himself had no intention—

Clatter—

His bone summon lurched forward, crossing.

Crush!!

The golem’s fist obliterated it.

“……”

Students blanched.

But moments later, the bone hand reformed, rattling alive again.

Rowena frowned. Wait… a summon reviving so fast? Impossible. Once shattered, it should take long minutes and much mana to rebind…

Something about Wadanaz’s strange pet was not normal.