SMMA 107

Chapter 107

Even with his eyes covered, Ihan knew exactly what was happening. He wanted to deny it, but he could feel it with every nerve in his body.

Professor Volady wasn’t just summoning lightning elements anymore—he was calling forth others as well.

Which means…

In truth, even dodging the lightning bolts blindfolded was already an extraordinary feat. He might have been too focused to notice, but Volady was not the sort of man who smiled at casual success.
Predicting the lightning’s trajectory before it fired was difficult even with open eyes.

His keen dynamic vision from sword training, combined with his innate mana-sensing ability—without either of these, it would have been impossible.

But since Ihan had managed it too easily, Volady simply, nonchalantly, raised the difficulty.

Had Professor Garcia Kim happened to pass by, he would have surely shouted, “What on earth are you doing?!” at the sight.

To make someone attempt something that was difficult even in light—while blindfolded in total darkness—was madness.

The problem was that Ihan had once again succeeded perfectly.
Which, naturally, led Volady to raise the difficulty again.

Neither teacher nor student seemed capable of hitting the brakes.

And because of that, on his first day of elemental detection training, Ihan found himself enduring a trial of near-fatal difficulty.

In a sense, it was his own doing.

…Are the other elements a trick?

Unaware he was digging his own grave, Ihan focused with all his might.

He could sense not only lightning but also the auras of other elements swirling around him. This was no time for idle thoughts.

There was only one reason for Volady to mix other elemental energies into this darkness—
deception.

Ihan’s success in dodging before came down to a single method:
With his sight blocked, he relied solely on pure mana perception.

Even a seemingly straight bolt of lightning contained countless microfluctuations within.

By realizing that the mana condensed slightly before discharge to maximize its explosive force, Ihan learned to detect that precursor sign—and evade the bolt just in time.

But now, as multiple elemental signatures blended together, things became far more complex.

He would have to distinguish each energy source by attribute—
Sense which of them was the lightning—and isolate only the moment when its mana condensed.

And knowing Volady’s deranged teaching style, there was always a chance the “decoy” elements might actually attack too.
He couldn’t ignore that possibility.

Can I even do this?

Facing the crackling presences hidden in the dark, Ihan lifted his head.

Honestly, it seemed impossible.

And if that was the case, then—

I’ll just make sure it hurts as little as possible when it hits me!

But his prediction was wrong.

Amazingly, Ihan succeeded yet again.

“……”

For once, even Professor Volady—who normally spoke with immediate, emotionless precision—was silent, clearly surprised.

He’s a natural.

The boy of House Wardanaz possessed not only immense mana but also innate adaptability.

To be born with that level of mana was both a blessing and a curse.
Controlling such abundance alone was an enormous challenge, especially for a first-year student.

Though Ihan humbly believed his progress in magic was not exceptional, that was only because he compared himself to the Empire’s legendary prodigies.

Yet if one accounted for the sheer volume of power he wielded, his growth rate was truly extraordinary.

Usually, that massive mana reservoir concealed his raw skill. But when sensing external mana—where quantity was no burden—his natural talent shone through clearly.

Snap!

Volady made the blindfold disappear.

Despite the impossible feat he had just accomplished, the boy from House Wardanaz remained calm.

So too did the professor, who spoke flatly.

“I didn’t expect you to pass everything on the first day.”
“Perhaps that’s because you provided… all the assignments at once, sir.”

Ihan’s polite tone hid the true meaning: Please, for the love of the gods, pace yourself next time.

Unfortunately, subtle hints rarely worked on professors.

“No need to thank me.”

“?”

For a brief moment, Ihan didn’t understand. Then realization dawned.

Volady had interpreted his words as, ‘Thanks to you giving me everything at once, I managed to complete it all.’

Unbelievable.

While Ihan was internally despairing, Volady continued,
“Normally, I would have spent more time developing your elemental detection skills gradually. But that won’t be necessary.”

Ihan quietly exhaled in relief. That at least sounded like the lesson was over.

Then Volady handed him a small bundle wrapped in cloth.

“You seem fatigued.”

“…!”

Ihan froze in shock.

Indeed, after dodging lightning with open eyes, and then again blindfolded, fatigue was expected. But he had never imagined Professor Volady would acknowledge it—let alone with such words.

What is this, a trap?

He half-expected the package to explode, but Volady was not like the Skeleton Headmaster—cruelty wasn’t his intent.

Cautiously, Ihan unwrapped it.

Medicinal herbs?

Inside was a book. Volady nodded approvingly.

“A study of basic lightning spells and their applications. Read it thoroughly before next class.”

“……”

So he wasn’t being kind at all.

Volady might not have the Headmaster’s malevolent streak, but he was still completely insane.

Only now did Ihan realize: when the professor said “You must be tired,” he hadn’t meant it as empathy—just an observation before dropping another workload on him.

The words and the gift had been completely unrelated.

“…Understood, Professor.”

Composing his face into neutrality, Ihan tucked the book away. He could curse later, after leaving the room.

Wait… wasn’t this week quiz week?

Suddenly he remembered. The lightning study wasn’t the problem—the other classes were.

■ ■ ■!

From outside the classroom, a monstrous roar pierced the air. Ihan turned toward the sound.

“What’s happening out there?”

“The professors are handling escaped summons.”

“??”

Ihan was bewildered. Just last week, summoned beasts had been roaming freely through the halls without anyone caring—why the sudden urgency?

“Did something happen?”
“They’d disrupt the exams, that’s all.”

“……”

Ihan bit back a sigh.
Shouldn’t have asked.

The book Volady had given him—On the Fundamentals and Practical Applications of Lightning Magic—turned out to be surprisingly good.

Who even wrote this?

Most magic textbooks completely ignored the fact that first-years would be reading them, but this one was remarkably friendly.

It didn’t just present the incantation and gestures for Lightning Creation, a 1st-circle spell; it detailed safety measures and common novice mistakes:

“Unlike other 1st-circle elements, lightning is uniquely difficult to stabilize after creation. The most common blunder of novice mages is losing control and scattering discharge erratically.
To prevent this, prepare as follows: wear thick, nonconductive clothing and practice only in isolation…”

Curious, Ihan turned to the back to check the author—but found none listed.

A magic-school publication, maybe?

In the Empire, many magical texts weren’t mass-produced but hand-copied in small numbers, often passed down individually.

Especially within the academy, organization was nonexistent. The library’s books were stacked in chaos, and more than half were barely legible.

In general, mages were self-satisfied creatures who cared little for others’ convenience.

If I were a bookseller, I’d toss out every one of those gibberish tomes.

Setting aside his resentment toward Volady, Ihan resolved to study this one further. The book itself wasn’t at fault.

And since the next lesson would undoubtedly assume he had mastered its contents, he had little choice anyway.

“Wardanaz! Fancy meeting you!”

A bright voice called from behind, startling him. Never a good sign around here.

Thankfully, it was a familiar—and safe-looking—face: Professor Kirmin Ku, one of Volady’s few friends.

“Heading to Basic Understanding of Magic, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent! We can go together—I’m on my way there as well.”

Kirmin was so cheerful it was hard to believe he was friends with someone like Volady.

Seeing him, Ihan couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

Professors who were young, sociable, and well-liked generally treated students more kindly.
Whether that rule applied within this madhouse of an academy remained to be seen.

“You teach illusion magic, don’t you, Professor?”
“That’s right. Professor Bagrek may dislike illusion study, but it’s an immensely versatile field.”

Indeed, every branch of magic could go infinitely deep.

Setting up barrier illusions to guard against intruders, projecting deceptive images to confuse enemies—these were just the basics.
Some combined illusion with spatial magic to create labyrinths physically impossible within reality; others fused it with mental magic to fell opponents with a mere glance.

Listening, Ihan thought privately,
Sounds perfect for thievery.

Cloaking oneself in an illusion to slip past detection, or dismantling someone else’s traps—it was a practical art indeed.

No matter how kindly Kirmin explained, such uses inevitably came to mind.

“Wardanaz, when I saw you before, I sensed you had real talent for illusion magic.”

Ihan blinked in alarm.
Compliments like that from professors were dangerous. Lowering one’s guard often led to being forcibly recruited as a disciple.

But it was too late for such worries; enrolling here already meant he’d end up under someone’s supervision either way.

What mattered was finding one who was both competent and sane.

And Professor Kirmin Ku might just fit that description—maybe.

Illusion magic’s not bad, Ihan mused. Master it, and you can make a living anywhere.

“Success in illusions doesn’t depend on great mana reserves, rare affinities, or even sharp intellect,” Kirmin explained. “What matters most is precision of control. From what I see, Wardanaz—you have that quality.”

“…???”

Ihan was puzzled.
Precision? With his overflowing mana reserves? Surely the man was mistaken.

Is he mixing me up with someone else? Maybe because of that assignment…?

He had just been beaten into fine control by Volady’s brutality—hardly innate talent.

“Th-thank you, Professor.”

“Tell me, what branch of magic interests you most? Talented newcomers like you often explore multiple fields instead of focusing on one.”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Kirmin smiled and rephrased,
“Then let me ask differently—outside of class, besides Professor Bagrek, which professors have you interacted with?”

It was a clever question. He wasn’t asking what Ihan was interested in—he was asking which professors were interested in Ihan.

After all, students weren’t the only ones who chose mentors; mentors also chose students.

“Well, Professor Thunderstep…”
“Ah, alchemy.”
“Professor Boltstride.”
“Animal studies.”
“Professor Willow.”
“Botany.”
“Professor Mortum.”
“Black magic, of course.”
“Professor Milley as well.”
“Summoning magic. Wait… wait a moment.”

Kirmin paused, blinking in disbelief.

That was… far too many.