SMMA 47

Episode 47

At that moment, Professor Thunderstep finally recalled what Garcia had once told him.

—“That boy Ihan has an absurd amount of mana.”
—“Absurd? How much exactly?”
—“Stretch out both arms wide and make a circle.”
—“…That much?!”
—“Yes.”
—“…”

He had heard Ihan’s mana was beyond ordinary, but this was madness.
If he couldn’t feel recovery even after drinking a mana potion, then there was no further argument to be made.

“I apologize, Professor.”

“No… no need. You did well. Truly. Well done. Behold! We have a student who has perfectly brewed the potion!”

“Wadanaz…!”
“As expected of House Wadanaz.”

Rather than gasp in shock, the other students only murmured as if it were natural. Of course, if he’s a Wadanaz… No surprise for a genius like that.

Ihan felt uneasy under their whispers.

What is this? Why the exaggeration?

He judged himself much more harshly. He wasn’t a genius. Only someone conditioned in the grind of laboratories longer than other students had even known student life.
And yet—now they hailed him as extraordinary.

“When did this happen?”

“Truly remarkable, Wadanaz,” said Asan Dalkard, carefully transferring his own potion—a slightly clouded blue—to a flask. His brew was decent, but beside Ihan’s masterpiece, it felt lacking.

“Even the one made by Siana of the Phoenix Tower wasn’t equal to yours. Look.”

“!”

Ihan’s gaze shifted.

There—wearing priest’s robes, a serpent beastkin girl lifted a crystal flask. Inside swirled a fluid of clear sapphire.

The Plemonn Order?

Ihan remembered Yonellia explaining them: An order that worshipped alchemy. Naturally their priests produced fine alchemists.

That Siana achieved this result was no surprise.

Shuffle—

Siana walked over, graceful and calm, extending her hand.

“You must be Wadanaz. A pleasure. I’m Siana.”

“Likewise. Call me Ihan.”

He shook her hand. Her reptilian skin was cool to the touch.

“I never thought I’d meet such a natural alchemist. Did you train in House Wadanaz?”

“Alright, enough chatter,” Thunderstep cut in. He had returned to the podium.

“Today you all attempted the Lesser Mana Recovery Potion. Some succeeded, some stumbled. But do not be swayed! This is only the beginning. Ahead lies a world of endless complexity.”

Truly professors are masters of crushing enthusiasm, Ihan mused.

“For next week—you will brew Lesser Spirit Affinity Potions. Each of you will test your own, so take care.”

The freshmen scribbled notes furiously. Mercifully, Thunderstep at least provided the recipe; he did not say “discover it yourselves.”

“But Professor—the recipe needs evolvine herb. There’s none here. Upstairs, perhaps?”

The students searched shelves and drawers fruitlessly.

“What nonsense? Of course you’ll gather it yourselves.”

“Oh… right. We’ll check.”

“Not here.”

“??”

“There.”

His finger pointed out the window—toward the thick forests rising behind the academy.

“……”
“……”

“Go fetch them. You remember what I said the very first day.”

Faces twisted—half despair, half fury.

Thunderstep wasn’t the only one revealing true colors.
Professors as if in competition vied to assign the most overwhelming tasks.

—“Take these books. Read them all. Find at least five logical flaws within.”
—“But there aren’t enough copies.”
—“Nonsense. That pile is for one person. Lift them, more will appear beneath.”
—“……”

Each stack a dozen volumes or more. <Basic Imperial Language and Logic>.

—“This is a design of a magic circle I submitted in my youth. Calculate its cost. No exact answer needed—yet those giving the farthest wrong will be punished.”

Even Asan, noble-born son of a financial minister, tore at his hair in despair at <Basic Imperial Geometry and Arithmetic>.

—“You must love and harmonize. What? You refuse? Your will is meaningless—you will love and harmonize. Homework: by next class, each Tower will capture the banner of another’s freshman lounge.”

What such a task had to do with education at all… unclear. <Basic Magical Ethics Training> seemed a farce.

After each class, the students’ faces grew paler.

“How do we even take White Tiger Tower’s flag?”
“Why them, of all groups? They’ll never agree.”

Had it been Black Turtle Tower or Phoenix Tower, diplomacy might suffice. But relations with White Tiger Tower were too bitter. Their mockery was certain.

“Their goal’s our flag, too. Want to trade perhaps?”
“You’d trust them? They’re barbarians without honor.”
“I asked earlier—they refused outright.”

“It’s hopeless. Let’s give up.”

The Dragons despaired.

This is bad, thought Ihan.

Surrendering a grade so quickly was folly. Especially here, where insane courses at times gave insane credits. To risk it was too dangerous.

“Wait! Don’t give up.”

“!”
“Wadanaz!”
“You have an idea?”
“As expected, he’s got a plan.”

In under three seconds, their eyes shifted—from doubt, to wonder, to faith.

Ihan almost laughed. So gullible…

“What’s your plan, Wadanaz?”

“Hold on. I know.”

Asan grinned with confidence.
“It must be infiltration. Secretly sneak into White Tiger Tower and seize it yourselves. Ninety-five percent certainty.”

“Oooh…!”
“Yes! Count me in!”
“Let’s humble those brutes!”

“What’s happening?”
“Wadanaz is leading us to storm White Tiger Tower’s lounge!”
“Brilliant!”

In moments, they were organized. All eyes turned back to Ihan.

“You must lead us, Wadanaz.”
“Only you can command this plan.”

“……”

He considered protesting—then gave up. Far too much hassle.

Well, we’d have to fight them anyway. They’d never hand it over—not after that mass punishment incident.

“Alright.”

“Wadanaz! Wadanaz!”
“White Tiger Tower—prepare yourselves!”

Is this really moral education? Ihan wondered. These assignments only deepened feuds rather than teaching virtue.

At long last, dinner.

Ihan, smiling slyly, once again tricked Tijiling into sharing a meal.

Sipping her soup, she felt Ihan’s gaze and frowned.
“What troubles you?”

“Hehe… nothing.”

Puzzlement flickered. Could he be happy merely because he tricked me into dining… Nah. He’s nobility, a Wadanaz. Surely, this is about keeping priestly pledges of honor.

No way he was gloating over something so petty.

“There you are, Wadanaz.”

“!”

Siana of the Plemonn Order greeted him—the very student from alchemy class. Others followed in her group.

“What is it?”

“As you know, we’ve all been tasked with Lesser Spirit Affinity Potions. Alone, our strength is limited. What if we gathered resources together?”

“That’s excellent.”

Ihan’s eyes lit. He’d thought of this before—but others always avoided him. The robe of a priestess—ah, perhaps that compelled their obedience more than anything.

“Would you assemble your Blue Dragon Tower mates? We’ll collect together.”

“Very well.”

As she departed, Ihan overheard her peers sigh in relief. “We’re lucky. Did you see his eyes? I thought I’d die.” “He was more polite than rumor said.”

Ihan scowled inwardly.

Returning, Tijiling tilted her head.
“What’s wrong?”

“Hm… about Siana of Plemonn.”
“Yes. We had class together.”
“…Forget it.”

She bit back further words.

Classic suspense—hint, but silence, Ihan thought.

Of course, he knew priests abided by strict restraint. To gossip without one present would seem slander.

But Ihan didn’t care. He wanted to know anyway.

So he shifted tactics. Pulling a silver cross used in Pleasinga prayers, he set it upon the stone before them.

“?” Tijiling tilted.

“Speaking ill when absent is wrong. But in prayer, one may confess alone before God, may we not?”

“…Are you seriously disguising gossip as prayer…?”

“I hear nothing. I am in prayer.”

“……”

“Not long ago, White Tiger ambushed me. If on this mountain Siana plans the same, I might die. But I trust God protects me.”

“……”

Sighing heavily, Tijiling at last knelt beside him, bowing to the cross.

“Lord Prisinga, this is not meant to slander nor accuse…”

“Thank you.”

“I hear nothing. I’m in prayer.”

“……”

Indeed, Tijiling had a streak of spite.