SMMA 69

Episode 69

By now it almost went without saying, but the Magic Academy was not a safe place.

Even setting aside the professors’ antics, danger crept from a dozen directions.

And, inevitably, novice magicians brought accidents simply by learning.

The current rampaging summons were such an example—upperclassmen had failed to control their conjurations meant for semester experiments.

…But no, even failed control shouldn’t allow them to wreak havoc openly on school grounds, should it? That points to a flaw in the very system, Ihan thought grimly after hearing Professor Garcia’s explanation.

Still clinging to a shred of hope, he pressed, “Some of the summons have escaped too, I hear… but they’ll be resolved quickly, won’t they? This is the Empire’s finest school, with its greatest magi.”

“Of course,” said Garcia smoothly.

Ihan let out a breath of relief. So they’ll contain it after all.

“In about a month, everything will be under control.”

“……”

His face froze stiff. Focused on the vine monster and the dark, Garcia didn’t notice.

“A month…? And until then?”

“Be careful. Move with caution.” Garcia’s tone was sober, not cruel.

But to Ihan it was outrageous.

This proves it—every professor here carries their own streak of madness.

Slish!

“Thank you! Thank you!!”

Garcia’s wind-ring spell sliced the monster’s tendrils, severing its grasp, while her mental magic rattled its instincts and her gravity distortion caught the falling Tiger student like a net.

One seamless chain, nearly motionless, like a ballet—complex spells folded together in effortless elegance.

Amazing.

Only now, in calm context, did Ihan truly watch Garcia’s art. She was like a ballerina—able to create awe with a single raised arm or step.

“Are you alright?” she asked gently.

“Waaaaahhhh!”

The rescued Tiger wept, knightly pride forgotten. Or perhaps it was simply that never before in this school had a professor spoken to them so kindly.

“But why, student, are you out here in the night?”

“S-sob—Wadanaz! He stormed our lounge… stole our flag…”

“……”

Garcia blinked. Student intruders, breaching Tiger wards? At night? How…?

But when she looked—Wadanaz was long gone. Already vanished.

Though they brought back flags, Dragon Tower students weren’t celebrating.

The announcement resounded over the grounds:

“Summons have escaped into the campus grounds. Students be cautious. I repeat…”

It was the same every week, the school dropping absurd shocks.

Just when you think it cannot get stranger… it does.

Already exhausted, Dragons muttered.

“Couldn’t it have been freed by a professor?”

Once, such words would be mocked. Now the suspicion held weight.

“Surely. Probably the Headmaster…”
“No, more like Thunderstep…”
“Never mind blame—why not capture immediately?”

Ihan thought silently: Because they don’t want to. They’ll just shove it onto us.

A month to subdue? Ridiculous. With the Academy’s scale and professors’ raw power, they could cage even a dragon in days—unless, of course, professors had no intention to do the work themselves.

Better push it to their apprentices.

If I say this aloud, it’ll crush morale. Best keep silent.

Students grumbled louder.

“At least tell us what escaped! The seniors are useless!”

“Exactly!”

Rage targeted faceless upper-years now, as novices cursed their absent “seniors.”

“Quiet now. Eat,” Ihan instructed, lifting the soup pot settled at the hearth.

Scarlet steam rose—tomato beef stew.

They gaped in awe. In chaos, this was salvation.

He’d carried much food from town, but wouldn’t waste. Who knew when he’d leave again? Still, tonight, generosity was warranted—they’d all risked much.

I should expand the garden, he mused—sweet potatoes, potatoes, wheat, fruit trees. Maybe chickens, maybe pigs—though if Thunderstep saw pigs, he’d call him mad.

Nevertheless, he had learned: fresh vegetables meant life. They transformed meals.

The stew brimmed not only with meat chunks and sauce, but deepened flavor from onions, garlic, carrots, potatoes, mushrooms.

He smirked. How absurd—at the Academy, I learn more wisdom in cooking than in spellcraft.

They ate warmly, sunlight filtering through stained glass, as though at home.

“Summons escaped… students, be cautious… we repeat…”

“…Appetite’s gone…” sighed one.

“Then I’ll take it,” said another.

“Lay a hand and I’ll duel you,” came the reply.

Ihan carried a bowl to the princess’s chambers. She hadn’t answered, doors locked despite his calls. Her attendants assumed she slept—no one questioned it, not after yesterday.

But Ihan frowned. She doesn’t hold my little hostage stunt against me, does she?

Princess Adenart had strength, followers, and influence; if she chose later to name him her captor, life could get… complicated.

For safety, he’d loaded her stew with extra beef.

One attendant nodded gratefully. “She’s picky—but she always takes what you bring.”

Picky? Looked more like she devoured it, Ihan thought.

Gainando, spoon scraping at his own bowl, asked: “Isn’t it better to wake her? Sleep comes anytime. Eating can’t wait.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Her Highness isn’t like you.”

“Right! She’s not obsessed with food.”

And yet Ihan privately agreed with Gainando. But fine—he let it go.

Then Yonellia reminded him: “Morning class… are you alright?”

“Class… oh.” He froze, glancing at the schedule.

“Should be fine.”

Yonellia’s eyes said plainly: It won’t be fine.

Basic Swordsmanship class.

Of all days, after last night’s bold raid—he sat amidst the glowering fury of White Tiger Tower.

Only Derregue spared him words.

“You didn’t need to do that for me, Ihan.”

When Derregue was struck unconscious, he realized: Wadanaz had acted to preserve his place among his Tower.

Now, despite his peers cursing Ihan, Derregue stood firm.

“If a friend worries over peers’ opinions instead of truth—that is no friend. True ones respect both honor and loyalty.”

“Poignant, Derregue.”

Ihan nodded out of respect—even as he thought privately, That raid had nothing to do with “honor.”

But the victim forgave. Silence was wisest.

“Thus, never shoulder the villain’s role for me again.”

“Of course,” Ihan said lightly. But inwardly conceded he’d do exactly that again—whenever necessary.

Other Tigers glared.

“Derregue’s bewitched.”
“Stop him going near that snake!”

Some even blocked him bodily. To outsiders, it looked like Ihan had brainwashed him.

“Good morning, all.”

Professor Ingerdel, elven swordsman, entered with blade held like a staff.

Voices died. They bowed.

He smiled faintly. “When I woke this dawn, I found wild summons stalking the grounds. Truly, what a bizarre place this is.”

Everyone nodded grimly. That, at least, united them.

“Yet you students must endure here. And so I wondered—what might best train you.”

“…?”

Ihan twitched uneasily. Professors pondering “what helps students” rarely ended well.

“So I captured one. We’ll spar against it now for practice.”

“……”

For the first time, Ihan feared even the gentle swordsman was succumbing to the madness.