SMMA 74

Chapter 74

How did one stop a student from charging recklessly down a new magical path?
By showing them clearly that attempting it would bring death.
Professor volady swung his orbs like a madman. Not metaphorically—real killing intent radiated, unmistakable.
And…
The weight has increased!
Ihan realized from the force of each collision. volady had made the spheres heavier, pressing him to compress his water orbs more tightly instead of wasting mana on frivolous spins.
…but he could have just said that. Ihan would have understood.
The classroom flared with sparks. Tension coiled, broken only by the crack of colliding spheres. Eyes locked, teacher and student drove their mana into perfect control.
…Do I have to kill him?
Not for the first time, the thought flitted through Ihan’s mind. Not true murder—more like breaking an arm or two to stop the bloodlust.
This was not impulse. volady’s attacks were genuine killing blows. Ihan’s growing control was still no match for a veteran like him.
To live—he needed to strike back, not mortally, but enough to steal focus.
Can I manage it?
He committed. Holding his spinning water orb steady, he cast another spell.
“Spring forth!”
New water surged into being. For novices, simultaneous casting was forbidden—too taxing. But Ihan had confirmed, over and over, that his abnormally deep reserve could pay the cost. Better some squandered mana than death by volady.
“!”
For the first time, the professor’s neutral eyes glimmered faintly.
More orbs?
Predictable. Doubling up would only scatter control—volady could blast through extra targets with ease. Effort was good; the idea was poor—
“Unfurl the shield!”
Ihan’s voice rang out. A vast slab of water condensed around him into a heavy bulwark.
volady’s lips twitched. A Water Shield—2nd circle spell. Simple, not advanced. But this Wadanaz boy had never formally learned it. He had derived it—from <Water Generation> and <Lesser Manipulation> alone.
Few mages could invent spells from fragments of others. That he could draw parallels already was remarkable.
Still, volady thought, clever, but not ideal.
He sent a sphere rocketing. Even a real shield would crumble under his assault.
KLANG!
“!”
The professor’s pupils widened slightly.
The boy’s shield had not shattered. It had been forged unnaturally dense. Ihan had forced far more mana into the bulk than typical, compressing it brutally. Unlike orbs—which demanded agility—the wall only needed brute strength. Raw power shone best here.
And while volady registered that, a sphere slipped past, homing toward his head—Ihan’s counterattack.
He dodged with the ease of vast experience, but for the first time acknowledged a flicker of surprise.
“Bite, now!”
Ihan unleashed his skeletal familiar, snapping loose from the belt, charging. Simultaneously, he kicked a chair forward, combining bone and wood in a storm of harassment.
volady smiled—not kindly. Like a devil prince of the pit, amused by struggle.
A second orb appeared behind him. With scarcely a thought, it shattered the skeleton (clatter!), pulped the chair (CRACK!), and split the shield clean in two.
Then volady addressed him, calm as judgment itself.
“Well done.”
“……”
Or a devil king.

Only after seventeen precise questions did Ihan begin piecing together volady’s thoughts. Perhaps no mortal would ever truly grasp them—but he guessed.
Ah… so that’s it.
This wasn’t just training orb control. volady respected effectiveness. He had allowed the shield, the chair, the skeletal summon, because they worked as tactics. Creativity was to be encouraged—if useful.
Ihan idly wondered: if he set the classroom ablaze, would volady praise him too?
Then the Skull Headmaster would butcher me himself…
“Your thoughts of ‘spin’ have lessened, I see.”
“All thanks to you, Professor.” Ihan wrestled his voice into politeness, masking the killing edge beneath it.
“That allure is natural. But don’t rush. One day, rotations will be your focus. Sometimes the long road is shortest.”
“……”
Inspirational, perhaps—from anyone else. From the man who chased students with orbs like knives, dragging them down the shortest path by force? It was laughable.
I’m already on the short road, Professor.
“Yes. For now, I’ll focus only on present skills—no rotation.”
“You know, don’t you.”
“…?”
volady cut off. He often did.
Stay calm. Try to read him.
“Your next training shall be exactly that.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“What you just showed.”
When mastery of one orb sufficed, the next step was constant challenge. A mage must never stop walking forward.
volady’s hand flicked. Chairs, desks, all rose, swarming like threats.
“Now you learn focus amidst chaos.”
“…Wow.”
“You may use whatever you like—shield, summon.”
“Truly?” That shocked him. He had expected dismissal—Survive only by orbs. But no—this time volady allowed variety.
“Yes. I’ll raise the level appropriate. Don’t fear—just focus on your task.”
“……”
To juggle orbs while multitasking spells would indeed be greater growth.
“But wouldn’t abandoning crutches like shield or summons improve focus?” Ihan asked slyly.
“No. Spin alters the orb’s very quality. Your additions merely add distraction. The sooner you adapt, the better.”
Silence.
At least the Headmaster had not exposed his fire tricks. If volady knew he had burned a golem alive, new horrors would surely have been leveled.

Evening.
Professor Lightningstep watched Ihan working his hut’s vegetable plot. He looked unusually drained.
Every student bore fatigue in this cursed place—but the Wadanaz boy, normally stone-strong, now visibly sagged.
“What’s tiring you so much these days?”
“I’m fine, sir.”
He harvested potatoes, dropping them into the basket—yet even his fingers twitched greedily, clinging as if they hated to let go.
“Tell me your day.”
“It’s nothing…”
But he relayed anyway. Rising before dawn to drag his vicious-tempered horse to meals, to grooming, to forced walks. Then cooking meals with perishables stretched ingenious ways. Feeding his peers, then class. Returning at noon, cooking again, then more classes…
“……”
“Is something wrong?”
“…No. Continue. What classes, again?”
“Today, Professor volady’s ‘Repetitive Combat Basics.’”
“……”
Lightningstep’s lips twitched with horror. Of all lunatics—he had that one…
“And after—not much. Just work the gardens before bed.”
“You truly were born to be Dragon Tower’s figurehead.”
“?”
“…I mean. Doesn’t all this burden you? After such day, to still work the soil?”
Instant suspicion lit Ihan’s mind. Professors speaking “speak if you’re unhappy” usually prefaced traps. But—honestly? Farming had become solace.
“Not unpleasant, sir. Quite the opposite.” Two hands held potato and carrot. His payment was too handsome to resent.
Lightningstep felt a pang. Is this really worthy of the Empire’s elite?
“Well… alright. For that, take this. Behind the hut I’ve kept a cow. Milk it as you like.”
“Professor…!”
Genuine reverence filled Ihan’s voice. Lightningstep nearly cursed aloud.

As Ihan washed hands at the brook, questions drifted back and forth. Yes, spirits feared him still—even the wood spirit in his staff had not changed that. But it made the crops grow better with each passing week.
Then—hesitantly, he asked:
“Professor. Is it possible… to acquire a flying mount here at the Academy?”
“…Why do you ask that?”
Lightningstep’s voice cracked slightly. Ihan didn’t notice.