SMMA 99

Chapter 99

With no time to stop or change course, the raft slid up onto the island’s soft sandbar.
But Angrago and Dukema, instead of realizing what had happened, hunched low and kept rowing furiously atop the sand.
They were terrified that the enraged water spirits might attack again.

Ihan was beginning to regret ever boarding with these White Tiger Tower fools.
Derrghe at least had some sense, and even Moradi seemed smarter than this…

“We’re grounded, idiots.”
“!”
Only then did Angrago realize his oar was plunging into the harmless sand instead of water.
Flushing with embarrassment, he muttered,
“Ahem. But… we did manage to get away.”
“See, Wardanaz? Focus on the positives—we escaped the water spirits.”

Ihan said nothing, merely flicked his staff.
The signal was clear: get off and push the raft back.
Reluctantly, they concluded that pushing was better than arguing.

…And if they were honest, fleeing the spirits had only been possible thanks to Wardanaz anyway.

“Wardanaz,” Angrago said once ashore, “Listen—”

“Speak.”

“Could we… rest a bit on the island? I’m not exhausted, but my arms are sore from all the rowing…”
“Me neither, but you’ve used a lot of mana, there might still be spirits nearby… so…”
In short: Let’s take a break.

Ihan clicked his tongue inwardly. These two had a talent for wasting words instead of just saying what they meant.
“Do as you like.”
“T-thank you!”

Angrago seemed strangely grateful.
Did he think I wouldn’t allow it? Ihan thought sourly.

Then his gaze narrowed on Dukema, the dwarf. Something felt off.

“Hey.”
“W-what? Ready to leave already?”
“You look shorter.”

At that, Dukema stiffened, face flushing with anger.
“How dare you?! Just because no one’s here to witness, you think you can insult me? Are you implying you can attack me unchecked?!”

Should I just hit him?
Ihan felt his grip on the staff tighten. If you know no one can stop you, you’d better watch your mouth.

“No, Dukema! You’ve actually gotten shorter!” Angrago shouted.

“??!!”
Only then did Dukema realize the truth.
He wasn’t shorter—he was sinking.

“…!”
Ihan’s face hardened. He’d been surveying the island’s interior and hadn’t noticed that the raft was already halfway submerged.
Danger.
He felt his boots sinking into the soft sand as well. Angrago moved to sprint.

“Everyone! Jump forward! Get off the sandbar!”
“Wai—”
Before anyone could caution him, Angrago stepped too soon and sank faster, the sand swallowing him to the waist like a swamp.

Too late.
Ihan quickly gave up on saving them.
His only telekinetic spell—Lower Control—could manage small objects at best. Its spell structure couldn’t handle lifting a person his size.

But—
“Move!”
He fixed a steel orb in place overhead and gripped it with one hand, hauling himself up like an aerial pull-up. His body rose out of the sinking sand.

If Volady could see this, he’d be thrilled.

In principle, Lower Control was meant for practice—controlling quills and small spheres—not combat.
Anyone wanting telekinesis for battle simply used slower but more robust higher-circle spells.
No one insisted on using low-level control in a fight… except Volady.

He valued the fast cast time. High-circle or low-circle, a hit to a vital spot was equally lethal—why waste time chasing bigger spells when efficiency worked?

And with training, low-circle control could be deadly.
Ihan was proving it with his own body now. The orb held firm in midair under his weight as he flew slowly over the sandbar.

From holding the orb to using arm and back muscles to cling—it was taxing.

Thud!
He landed safely on solid rock, turning to glance back.

The raft was gone, swallowed by sand—
And so were Angrago and Dukema.
That too was unfortunate.

The Headmaster’s trap.
—There is no coincidence; all is inevitable.
Ihan thought he’d carve that above the school gates as a warning to freshmen.

This island was one the skeletal Headmaster himself had directed them to—and he’d tossed the exit permit into it. Of course the sandbar was his trap.

Slide—
A voice rumbled from beneath the sand, and a summoned creature emerged.
The air reeked of negative energy.

Ihan recognized it immediately: undead.

“Well met.”
…You’re not surprised? Not shocked?

The undead had the shape of a great turtle walking upright, and it was taken aback by Ihan’s composure. Freshmen usually shrieked or fainted.

“I am surprised. Now, why are you here? What must I do?”
The question threw it off-balance—it had expected to explain first.

Steadying itself, the undead continued,
“Normally, you too would’ve sunk beneath the sand.”

“……”
Ihan had no intention of doing so but let it speak.

“Down there is where the trial begins. Students must cooperate to pass it.”
“I see…”
Ihan gripped his staff. There was no gratitude for the Headmaster’s “kindness.” This was his trap.

“Since you escaped, I’ll explain directly,” the undead said magnanimously. Normally it would drag you in, but skill was worth rewarding.

“Now, go back in. You must pass the trial.”
“What if I refuse?”
“Do you want me to take you by force? Get in.”

“Understood.” Ihan rose, and the undead nodded approvingly—
Just as Ihan’s staff swung.

“Move!”
The orb slammed into the undead’s skull with a crack.

*        *        *

Ihan’s ambush wasn’t purely out of irritation at the beast’s arrogance.

I can’t trust those two.
If it had been Derrghe, Ihan might’ve joined the underground trial willingly. But Angrago and Dukema? Madness.

Better to fight the undead here.

Smash!
Bone shattered. But an undead wouldn’t fall from a cracked skull alone. It roared in fury.

Freshman, how dare you?!
“My apologies. It was a mistake.”
For a moment the undead wondered if it was true—until the next projectile hit.
The steel orb whirled past its sand wall, curving to strike its head again.

Smash!
It staggered, rage boiling.
You dare mock me?!

“I dwell in shadow at night!”
Ihan cast invisibility and sprinted, layering another spell.
Feet, wrinkle the earth!

The Headmaster’s magic triggered, shocking the undead—
How do you know my master’s magic?! Did you steal it, insolent wretch?!

Summoned beasts really do idealize their masters too much, Ihan thought, pushing the speed boost to flee.

He summoned the leopard bone familiar, now much larger, which charged across the sandbar with a fierce growl.

You’ve no body yet you dare it?! the undead bellowed, smashing it aside with a sweep of its claw.

It began scattering sand in all directions, searching the island.
You’ve got cunning, freshman—but that’s the end.

It was only trying to scare him into revealing himself—it made loud noises and cast sand into likely hiding spots.

But Ihan had never intended to flee inland.
What could possibly be inside worth trusting?

Slash—
From the side, Ihan burst forth.

The black-purple stone blade, Dawnstar, cut across the undead’s leg, absorbing its necrotic mana. The limb destabilized and de-summoned, pitching the beast sideways.

You brat…!
It was so astonished at the ambush it roared,
A mage using anti-magic weaponry?! Are you insane?! And still call yourself a mage?! Freshman!

“……”
Ihan simply ignored it—not from lack of an answer. He had decided to ignore it from the start.