SMMA 70

Episode 70

“You speak truly, Professor.”

“If we retreat every time we feel fear, we will never prevail! A true knight faces fear head-on!”

What lunatics… Ihan shook his head.

Were there Dragons or Phoenixes here, he might have joined them and begged, “Professor Ingerdel, please come to your senses.”

But unlucky him—he stood among White Tiger Tower, students so stubborn they would never hear him out. That they welcomed fighting escaped summons instead of practicing evasion was insane.

Sometimes, Ihan felt he was the only sane soul in the whole Academy.

“I am blessed with good disciples,” Ingerdel said warmly, nodding at the eager students.

He had been watching for fear, for resistance—but no, these cadet-knights showed only iron will.

Then his gaze fell upon Ihan. Reflexively, the boy barked out, “Professor, an excellent decision!”

Smiling, Ingerdel basked in the praise. For a thought improvised, it seemed to be a hit.

“Now, divide into groups of three.”

At least Ingerdel still had some humanity left. He didn’t demand they fight alone.

But even so—

Ah. I’m doomed.

Such groupings were suffocating for loners. He wasn’t Nillia, but among White Tigers, who would team with Wadanaz?

One can be Derregue. Another… shall I knock one unconscious and drag them? Can I distract the professor long enough to coerce someone…?

“Professor, do we choose freely?”

“No. I’ve prepared straws. Draw to see.”

Ingerdel gave Ihan a subtle look. He knew Dragons weren’t warm with Tigers. This was a concession to spare him isolation.

Professor… Ihan was touched—though warped. If he meant to care, why not teach them sword forms instead of live summon combat? Such “care” was so very professorial.

Ihan drew—“4.”

Derregue raised his hand. Relief softened Ihan’s face. Tigers glowered, He’ll use him as a pawn again!

“Anyone else?”

The third: Giselle of House Moradi.

“……”

Stunned silence. Dragons, Derregue, Tigers—all.

Among them now:
Wadanaz Ihan—essence of sinister arcana.
Giselle Moradi—charismatic scion of northern knighthood, near-leader of Tigers.

Two sworn enemies, confined to one team.

This ends in blood, many thought.

Yet Giselle only smiled faintly, lips curved in mysterious mirth. Ihan found it even more ominous.

“Shall we forget childish mistakes and move on?”

“You can’t be serious, Ihan.” Derregue looked aghast.

Blame could be argued both ways, but by harm alone—no contest. Giselle had plenty to resent: being stunned, tricked, publicly humiliated. Her pride would not forget.

Derregue knew well the temper of such aristocrats—charming face, savage will. He muttered aside:

“Ihan. If you must, put me in between you two. And never turn your back to Moradi.”

“Thanks, Derregue. That’s reassuring.”

When all groups formed, Ingerdel continued:

“Every party needs a leader. The one whose slip bears a red mark shall lead this squad.”

Ihan frowned—his slip had no such mark.

“Derregue… might you claim you have the red—?”

“No. Sorry. I don’t.”

And then—Giselle raised hers, mark flashing.

Her smile grew sharper. “Call me chief.”

“Chief.”

“No, add honorific.”

“Chief… sir.”

Her smile widened with hunger.

“Good. Then follow my orders—or find a knife in your back.”

“……”

Derregue shivered. He’d fought in northern blizzards, stared down monsters. Yet seeing the two glare sparks at each other chilled him worse.

“What summon do we fight?”

“That, I cannot say.”

“…?”

Confused faces all around. Ihan’s gut knotted.

“The point is to learn to face unknown summons. If I tell you first, how would you learn?”

Students actually nodded, impressed—except Ihan and a few who felt their skin crawl.

“You’ll each enter the annex hall. Inside, a contained summon awaits. Defeat it and exit from the other side.”

Nervous hands rose. “Surely give us some hint—else we might face something impossible…”

“Yes, professor, even a clue—”

For the first time Ingerdel faltered, considering. Too dangerous? Should he at least provide groundwork?

But before his reason could win, Tigers roared:

“Shameful cowards!”
“If he gives us hints, he’ll think us weak!”
“No, teacher—we need none! With sword and will, we succeed!”

Ihan slapped his own forehead. Are we not in a MAGIC academy? Use spells, you lunatics!

Giselle muttered, “Idiotic trash…” then glanced sidelong at Ihan. For him, no need to feign politeness.

“I quite agree,” Ihan said calmly.

“See? You can sound wise. That’s how I expect you to answer orders. Do so and we’ll have no trouble.”

“I don’t reject orders without cause. Why should I seek quarrel?”

“……”

“……”

Derregue gawked. Says the boy who beats rivals into the ground…

Giselle snorted. “This from the one who betrayed us to the Headmaster’s dungeon?”

“…We weren’t allies, so—was it betrayal?”

Derregue hurried to hush Ihan. You’ll make her kill you before the fight even begins.

“I was clearing misunderstandings.”

“Not all misunderstandings can be cleared, Ihan.” Derregue bit back his next words: You have talent for infuriating enemies.

Either way—only he could stand between them.

So he tried. “Both of you. If you chafe at each other, we all suffer. Better to work the task faithfully—”

“We will, Derregue. Don’t worry,” Ihan cut him off.

“Pointless words,” Giselle sneered.

They scolded him together. He huffed, unjustly maligned.

The annex resembled a great gymnasium—a wide hall, though darker purpose awaited within.

No sound leaked out. No screams. No clatter. Ominous.

Worse silence than cries—it’s as if sealed with magic.

“Once inside, don’t rush. Survey first. If it’s hostile, split left and right immediately, understood?” Giselle ordered curtly.

Derregue sighed. He’s standing right here—why say it through me?

“And if dark, light spells immediately—don’t be startled.”

“If you waste mana, I leave you behind.”

“Light spells—I’m best. I’ll do it—”

“I know light too—don’t overboast!”

“Dear gods, help me,” Derregue thought.

None of the warnings in stories prepared one for this.

Creak—

The door swung open. Inside was darkness.

Ihan exhaled. Of course. This Academy’s pattern is always the same: subvert expectation.

“Light, arise!”

A sun bloomed from his palm, washing the pitch black with radiance. Even his foes admitted silently—his magic was flawless.

Grrrrr…

Within waited the summon: a bull, but fused with elemental spirit essence, visibly radiating enchantments, potion vapors steaming off its hide.

Ihan only thought of one man.

Thunderstep… no. Don’t tell me…