SMMA 58

Episode 58

He had lost count of how many hundreds of times he had attempted it.

Only after endless effort had the sphere finally been complete.

“Ihan…?”

“?”

“I don’t know much about that magic, but don’t you think it’s gotten a little… too big?” Yonellia asked, her face caught between awe and doubt.

The other students shared the same bewilderment.

What had begun the size of a fist had swollen—until it loomed like a massive boulder.

At this point, could it still even be called a sphere?

Whish—whish—whish—whish—

The gigantic orb of spinning water howled like a storm, a chilling noise.

Asan dismissed their concerns.
“Don’t be foolish. Wadanaz would never lose control of a spell. Clearly it’s supposed to be like that.”

“I-is that so? For a freshman’s spell, it looks… horrifyingly dangerous.” Rowena stammered.

Outraged, Nillia snapped on his behalf.
“How dare you doubt him! If it’s Wadanaz, of course he can control it!”

“……”

Their faith was touching—but also suffocating. Ihan suddenly felt the weight of it.

Perhaps I’ve pushed too far.

There was an old piece of advice, oft-repeated to fledgling magicians:

“Never meddle with a spell too well-crafted. Magic itself is already a perfected formula. Tampering recklessly never ends well.”

What Ihan had attempted was only a modification, not a reinvention. Still—it was a modification.

Was I wrong to attempt it?

Condensing water into a sphere and sustaining rapid rotation was something even seniors required specialist training to touch. The kind of advanced—that is to say, second- to third-circle—discipline demanded months to master.

And yet, Ihan did not know this.

So he simply pushed in more mana.

Push, to maintain the spin. Push, to stop collapse.

But the orb, overloaded, bulged and distorted.

Cornered, Ihan drew even more ambient water to fuse with it, enlarging it outright.

Now the mass was vast. But as it swelled, its spin weakened.

So he poured more mana in again.

Ordinarily—this sequence should have ended in one of two ways: the mage collapsing, or the spell exploding.

But Ihan carried too much mana to faint, and his concentration was fierce enough to stabilize what should have shattered.

Thus, minute by minute, after half an hour of punishing strain—

It stabilized.

Complete.

The water sphere, now dozens of times larger, spinning like a roaring planet.

Strange. But I feel… I can still control it.

Jaw clenched, he aimed it at the golem.

Targeting was agony in itself, holding so much mass intact.

Fly—!

BOOOOM!

The deafening shot tore from him, the orb careening forward under its own colossal strength. Its size betrayed him—it skewed off, missing the golem’s back and slamming its shoulder instead.

Damn! Ihan cursed inwardly.

He had meant to target its central core.

Can I even make another? My skull feels like it’s splitting…

Crack—

The massive orb smashed into its shoulder.

And then—

“……”
“……”
“?????”

Every student blinked, frozen by disbelief.

The mud golem, struck—did not stagger. It exploded.

Its entire form burst apart, crumbling to muddy ruin.

“Wooooooaaaaaahhhhhh!!”

“WADANAZ! WADANAZ! WADANAZ!”

“Didn’t I say so?!”

“……”

Stunned himself, Ihan gazed down at the demolished wreck.

Had it been his orb’s sheer might? Or had the golem simply been too frail? He could not be sure.

Either way—Volady, your lessons weren’t in vain. They saved my life today.

(Not that Volady had ever exactly taught him this.)

“Ihan—you okay? Let me carry you.”
“No, I will.”
“No—I’ll carry him.”

He stumbled back, drained. The students mobbed, grasping his limbs, insisting on carrying him bodily. It gave him a headache worse than the magic itself.

“I can walk.”

“Oh… alright.”

After a gulp of the last coffee, his dizziness faded miraculously. His absurd recovery almost made him laugh.

Maybe coffee itself is the true magic potion.

Slurp—

“Mm. The rain’s lightened. Nillia, safe to march?”

“Normally, I’d still wait, but…”

“Move out!”

“Wadanaz says move!”

“Finish your sentences, idiots!” Nillia growled, exasperated.

She bristled as they nearly raced forward. Ihan hurriedly brought them back to order.

“Listen. Yes, waiting would be safer—but that golem showed we can’t relax. The rain’s lighter—let’s move now. Follow directly behind me. Don’t scatter, don’t stop for curiosities…”

“Oh! Are those wild melons? Delicious—”

Smack!

His staff cracked against the back of a Turtle student.

“Ah! Forgive me, Lord Wadanaz!”
“Sorry!”

Instant discipline. Straightened clothes, upright march.

Nillia cast Ihan a grateful glance, though internally he sulked.

Damn. I ended up as the strict teacher, and she the nice one. I wanted her role.

But so it was often in school outings: one stern, one kind—a balance.

He led them with light.

“Radiance!”

Orbs floated, marking the road. Others who could use magic added spells to aid.

And Ihan reflected: Perhaps this is the moment I should finally test fire magic…

The rain left them chilled. Fire could warm.

Professor Garcia had warned him not to meddle in flame conjuring until he had stronger control. But under rain? Little risk of fire spreading.

The concern was not burning himself—but whether flame could even ignite here. Already, other freshmen who knew the <Ignite> spell had failed—the cold rain breaking their focus, the drenched world smothering spark.

Dare I?

“Burn!”

He spoke. He remembered—hundreds of glances at classmates, jealous as they succeeded in class. Their gestures were etched in him.

Fwoooosh!

“!!!!”

“!!!!!!”

Nillia jolted like struck by lightning, pointed ears twitching madly.

Ahead, a wave of fire surged, then sputtered out.

The air burned. Mercifully brief, leaving heat but not damage.

“?!?!?!”

“Sorry—!”

Nillia, ever a Shadow Patrol child, did not shriek aloud. But her body said it all: flailing arms, wide eyes, waving hands—terror incarnate.

“Really—I didn’t know it’d be so big. Now, see—I can keep it small.”

Hovering before his palm, a flickering flame modeled itself. Controlled.

Warmth spread, thawed cold limbs. Nillia’s glare softened.

“Burn!”

“??”

“What?”

“Nothing…”

She wanted to ask—could a first-circle fire spell really be cast so often? But she stayed silent. Friendship meant trust.

More flames arose, gentle and steady. Each one lit the march, warmed the procession.

Through cold woods, students’ pace quickened—hearts eased.

They soon reached where Ingerdel had last stood.

He was gone. Ihan wasn’t surprised. His suspicion hardened:

Yes. The professors’ trap for certain.

But then—

Clink—

His bone summon whimpered, hiding behind him, shaking in fright. Afraid of this place.

Why?

Ihan drew deep, probing the mana residue. It was… familiar. He knew he had felt it before—

Boom!!

“?!?”

From behind them, across the storm-lashed path—

A mud golem, charging furiously.

Meanwhile…

The Phoenix and White Tiger Tower students, unblessed by a leader like Ihan, faced their own golem.

Their response? Chaos.

“Throw potions!”
“Attack from all sides!”
“Use magic! All of it!”
“Do everything!”
“Great idea!”

So they did.

Disorderly, but vigorous. Bartrek’s salves and Siana’s mixtures splashed, burning holes in its body. Swords and spears hacked with real skill. For a moment, they seemed composed.

But small wounds were not enough. The alchemical weakens ended. The hulking beast reared fresh.

Then came panic.

“Fall back! Retreat!”
“Run! Live if you want to live!”

And so they did. Screaming, scattering.

In the worst strokes of fate—fleeing toward Ihan’s group.

As they came running, shrieking, flailing through the rain, Ihan muttered under his breath.

“Truly… no matter what happens, useless.”

Nillia chose—for his dignity—to pretend she had not heard.