SMMA 97

Chapter 97

Fourteen multiplied by nineteen is 266 — not 417. Not even a single digit matched.

Ihan asked in a skeptical voice,
“Gainando, how do you brew a low-grade mana recovery potion?”

It was the same question the others had asked before.
If this really was a wisdom potion, Gainando should have answered correctly again.

“Cut the root of Galamaldu, then chop the remaining part together with your pinky finger. At the same time, shred Seolhyang grass into thin strips…”

He answered calmly and confidently, but Ihan didn’t fall for it.
The image in his mind was clear — the root and finger separated on the cutting board together.

“It’s not a potion of wisdom. It’s a potion of confidence.”

“……”

The Blue Dragon Tower students sighed in genuine disappointment.

If only it had been a true wisdom potion, they could have breezed through every assignment and exam effortlessly.

“But… can’t we call it a wisdom potion and sell it to the White Tiger Tower?”

“Ooooh…”

“What do you mean, ‘ooooh’? Absolutely not.”

Ihan cut them off firmly.

Princess Adenart, who had just picked up the flask, froze midway and quietly sat back down at his words.

“Why not, Wardanaz? You know how rude and arrogant those brutes are!”

“They insulted you again just recently!”

“I’m aware. But hold on—what exactly did they say this time?”

Ihan hadn’t intended to ask, but curiosity got the better of him.

“They said your dark magic is better than that of the upperclassmen.”

That’s… not really an insult, Ihan thought.

He could imagine what they meant, of course, but as far as insults went, that was awfully mild.

More offensive remarks would have been things like,
‘Wardanaz will starve after graduation,’
or ‘He won’t even graduate—he’ll get dragged off by the professors.’

“That’s fine. Let me handle my own affairs. Don’t waste your anger on such things. Right now, the lake is what truly matters.”

“!”

The reminder hit everyone at once. They had almost forgotten—or rather, tried to forget—the assignment given by the skeletal Headmaster.

“Do we really have to go all the way to the lake?”

“Couldn’t we just skip one assignment? Working with those jerks isn’t worth it. What matters is honor, not grades.”

The moment he finished speaking, Ihan, Yoener, the princess, and Asan all turned to him in disbelief.

How could anyone say grades aren’t important?!

“Grades are honor. What nonsense are you spouting?”

“Right. Grades are the key to promot— I mean, honor.”

Ihan had nearly blurted, “Grades are the key to success,” but stopped himself.

Most of these students likely thought, ‘Who cares about grades? We have noble families!’
Convincing them otherwise would take more than logic.

Besides—

Better to keep that ambition quiet, he reminded himself.

After overhearing Professors Volady and Kirmin’s conversation last time, Ihan had realized that openly declaring, “I aim to become an imperial administrator,” within a magic academy seemed extremely unsafe.
At least until he could leave this place for good, discretion was the wisest path.

“S-sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

The student lowered his head under their collective stare, realizing something profound.

So grades… are everything!

*        *        *

I really thought we’d get something useful from those potions…

Ihan gazed out over the vast lake, disappointed.

He had been hoping to find something like a Water-Walking or Underwater Breathing potion.
With the Headmaster’s little “lake assignment,” he had a feeling trouble involving water was guaranteed.

Sinking, drowning, or both.

But out of the stolen potion crate, the confirmed ones were merely:
Western Imperial Wine (tasty),
Cantus Potion (temporarily enhanced singing ability), and
the now-infamous Potion of Confidence.

He briefly considered testing the rest on the White Tiger students.
It would be quicker than experimentation in the lab.

Though if any of them turned out to be Strength or Giant’s Elixirs, they’d come kill me first.

Deciding it wasn’t worth the risk—or the moral compromise—he let the idea drop.
Testing unverified potions on humans, even rival students, crossed an important line.

“Shield, unfold!”

He raised his staff toward the lake.

Water elemental magic was said to grow stronger near natural bodies of water.
The closer the source, the less mana required.

…At least, that’s what the textbooks claimed.

But Ihan felt no difference at all.

Maybe I’m just inexperienced.

Whether conjuring water from air or drawing it from the lake, it felt the same.
Maybe the effect only showed with higher-grade spells.

He formed the shield into various shapes, experimenting.

Anyone watching would have seen only a lone student, waist-deep in study, by the lake on a peaceful Sunday morning.

But Ihan had a simple, desperate purpose—
He was trying to find a way across the lake.

It’s absurdly huge…

Students from inland towns had mistaken it for an ocean, and Ihan couldn’t blame them.
From where he stood, he couldn’t even see the opposite shore.

He had to find a crossing method before next week. The Headmaster wasn’t the merciful type to excuse failure.

“Boat—manifest!”

He altered the formula of his water spell, trying to give it the shape of a small ferry—
to literally conjure a water boat.

Professor Garcia would’ve fainted on the spot if she saw it.

“No matter how confident you feel, do you have any idea how absurdly hard it is to maintain the structure of a boat made of water?!” she would have yelled.

Creating a simple water shield and shaping an entire water boat were worlds apart in scale.

A shield and a ferry differed vastly in size, density, and complexity.
Not to mention the difficulty of maintaining the structure on water instead of in air.

It didn’t take long for Ihan to realize the problem himself.

Sure, he could form the boat—but sustaining it would drain too much mana.

“No good. Even if it floats, I’ll never keep it stable…”

If some lake monster or the skeletal Headmaster himself attacked mid-crossing, things would only get worse.
Clearly, a fragile water boat wouldn’t do.

He sighed and let it dissolve into the lake.

Once again, Garcia would have screamed in outrage.

“You finally managed it—and you just let it go?!”

Enchantments, then?

If not potions or elemental structure, maybe Enchantment magic.

Spells that imbued properties directly onto objects—such as water walking or underwater breathing—fell into that category.

The issue? Ihan had only studied enchantments indirectly in theory.
Courses like Basic Imperial Geometry and Arithmetic touched upon formulas, but he hadn’t received true instruction yet.

And even if taught, casting such high-level magic in his first year was unrealistic.

Black Magic isn’t very practical for this sort of thing. Enchantments and alchemy are far more useful day to day.

For a moment, he imagined Professor Mortum sobbing despairingly.

Then another thought came.

Thunder spirits are useless for this kind of task too. If only I had an ice spirit like Professor Thunderstep’s—then I could just freeze a path across.

He pictured Perkuntla sulking somewhere out there.

Magic really can be awfully limited sometimes…

“Careful!”
“Relax. Just push slowly.”

“?”

He dropped low as voices drifted through the brush nearby.

Peeking through the reeds, he spotted two figures working on something by the lakeside.

White Tiger Tower students—building a makeshift raft.
And judging by its near-complete state, they were almost done.

“Think it’ll float?”
“Of course. I’ve tested this before.”

The goat beastman, Angrago, answered with pride.

Whenever knights were granted long leaves, he accompanied his parents to his mother’s seaside homeland.
He’d grown up around small boats. Repairing them, sailing them—he knew his craft.

“When it’s ready, we’ll report back.”
“Yeah! Everyone’s counting on us. Hey… what if we find a route all the way to the island?”

“That’s a great idea. Moradi will be thrilled.”

Angrago nodded.
Even more than the thought of impressing Moradi, however, what excited him was the prospect of that Wardanaz staring at him—eyes full of reluctant admiration.

“Tch… Angrago Alpha, I acknowledge you. You found a route even I could not. I misjudged you, you magnificent fool.”

No dark sorcery could teach seafaring—that was a knight’s domain.

Rustle—

A noise in the bushes. Ihan stepped out, staff raised.

“Hey.”

Startled, both students instinctively raised their hands.
That staff’s presence was like a blade pointed to their throats.

“Y-you bastard…!”
“Coward!”

Angrago trembled with suppressed fury.

He had spent days building this boat. Slept barely at all.
He had even named it Baphomet.

And now—
to lose it to a staff-wielding thief? Outrageous!

He wanted to fight, but memories of Ihan’s previous spells kept him rooted.
That staff would strike faster than any sword.

“My boat! My boat—!”

“Don’t move.”

The words slipped out before Ihan realized it.

…Why am I threatening them? he thought.

He’d come over merely to ask how they planned to cross—maybe even cooperate.
But their raised hands had made him react on instinct.

Old habits die hard…

“No, no. Wait.”

He lowered his staff.

“There’s a misunderstanding. I’m not here to steal your boat. I was just curious how it’s going.”

“R-really??”

“But you pointed your staff at us and said you’d curse us unless we surrendered it!”

Angrago trailed off mid-accusation—realizing that, in fact, Ihan hadn’t said any such thing.
He’d just panicked.

“My mistake.”
“Agreed.”

Both dropped their hands awkwardly. Ihan nodded as if nothing had happened.

“My interest was just professional curiosity. You built this raft yourself?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Ihan studied it closely.

This guy made it?

It looked… surprisingly stable.

Or maybe dangerously stable.

If Gainando built a boat, I’d instantly refuse to board. This might be even worse…

“What?”

Angrago blinked, puzzled by the thoughtful stare.

He had no idea of the rude thoughts running through Ihan’s mind.