Poison Magic Class
Having finished their meal, the students of Class A arrived at the Poison Magic lecture hall for their final class of the day.
More precisely, it was the Poison Magic Second Practice Room — a space where a large magical cauldron sat beneath each desk that still allowed for note-taking.
The students unpacked their things and filled the room to capacity.
Then the Poison Magic professor himself entered.
"Eh— who's the class representative for this group?"
The professor's name was Lang Strauss: a gaunt frame, a stooped back, and a face mapped with deep wrinkles — an elderly necromancer who looked every bit his advanced years.
Appearances aside, Professor Lang was a legend. In his prime during his thirties, he had established countless foundational frameworks of Poison Magic and was credited with advancing the entire field by more than twenty years.
"We don't have a class rep!"
"Then you there — come forward and give the greeting."
"Yes, sir!"
Jamie Victoria shot to her feet.
"Class, attention! Salute the professor!"
"Good afternoon, sir!"
"Yes, yes. Welcome, all of you."
Lang was the only professor at Kizen who made students stand at attention and salute. Leaning on his cane, he climbed the platform with slow, measured steps.
"Eh— which class are you lot again?"
"Class A, sir!"
"Oh, right. Is this Class A's first session, then?"
"Yes, that's correct!"
Lang opened the textbook.
"Eh— then everyone open to page one."
In a slow, dragging tone, he began reading the textbook aloud, line by line.
Within ten minutes of the start of class, students' eyes were already fluttering shut.
"Eh— so you see, Poison Magic isn't merely the study of toxins. It's about combining various compounds, arranging them—"
Dick's head dropped sharply. Other students were fighting the same drowsiness.
The tedious theoretical lecture, disguised as textbook reading, dragged on for forty minutes. Before long, half the class had their heads planted on their desks.
Lang turned his head.
"Eh— now then, we'll be brewing the lower-grade poison potion from the textbook…"
At last — practical work. One by one, the dozing students lifted their heads.
For the first time since class began, the teaching assistants sprang into action, swiftly setting potion ingredients down in front of each student's desk.
"Eh— we'll begin, then. Let's see… potion preparation requires thorough — measurement — through…"
Precise measurement and the correct order of addition were paramount. The students carefully weighed each ingredient on the scales set up along one side of the room.
The assistants filled the cauldrons with water, and under Lang's direction the students first sliced and added gurodan poison mushrooms and frog tongues.
"And next… cough! Cough!"
Suddenly Lang doubled over, seized by a violent fit of coughing.
"Cough! Cough! Keee—eeehk! Gahk! Khk!"
The symptoms looked severe.
Students' eyes went wide. Assistants rushed over in a cluster to check on him. Even as he coughed, a purplish, blood-like fluid pooled in his palm.
"Professor, you've overexerted yourself. You should rest."
An assistant spoke. Lang shook his head even through the coughing.
"Ah, nonsense. Without me, the class will…"
"It's practical work now, isn't it? We can manage and supervise the practice ourselves. You need to think of your health."
After the assistant's repeated, earnest persuasion, Lang finally allowed the other assistants to support him and lead him out of the lecture hall.
The students blinked, wondering what on earth had just happened — while Ainz fixed a cold, heavy gaze on the head assistant who had been so earnestly persuading Professor Lang only moments before.
Ainz knew that Lang was dying. He also knew exactly why those symptoms were appearing. And he had no intention of simply letting the man die.
While Ainz was thinking this, the red-haired head assistant who had taken Lang's place on the platform let out a small sigh — then spotted a male student still nodding off among the class.
She casually lifted a heavy textbook in one hand and hurled it straight at him.
The book slammed into the boy's desk and toppled over; he jolted awake with a start.
"Everyone, on your feet!"
Students who had been lagging behind snapped upright one after another. The red-haired assistant crossed her arms and fixed the class with a long, hard stare.
"What kind of disgraceful attitude is this toward your professor, Class A? Falling asleep with your faces planted on the desks because the lecture was boring? Rotten from the bottom up — and you call yourselves students of Kizen?"
The force of her presence was overwhelming. Every student in the room stiffened, spines locked straight with tension.
She pressed a hand to her forehead, as if trying to rein in her temper.
"Let us at least observe the bare minimum of courtesy toward each other. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am! Understood!"
"Be seated."
The students, now thoroughly disciplined, sat down. She let out a heavy sigh and tied her hair back tightly with a cord.
"I am Francesca Belmond, Professor Lang's assistant. From this point, I will conduct the practical in his place. As the professor stated, the product for today's practice is a lower-grade poison potion. Close your textbooks."
Looking somewhat dazed, the students closed their books. Francesca picked up a piece of chalk and approached the blackboard.
"The most critical element in brewing a lower-grade potion is the caster's ability to adapt fluidly. By now, the water in your cauldrons should be boiling. From the ingredient pouch on your left, add salamander powder and barley flour."
A student shot a hand up.
"How much should we add?"
"Go by feel. Add as much as seems right."
Following Francesca's instructions, the students freely added their ingredients. Blue smoke began rising from Ainz's cauldron.
"Those of you whose cauldrons are producing blue smoke, raise your hands."
About half the class, including Ainz, raised their hands.
"You will be brewing a poison potion with a nerve-paralysis effect. Next — those whose cauldrons are producing green smoke?"
The remaining students, including Simon, raised their hands.
"Those with green smoke will brew a poison potion with acute headache and hallucinogenic effects."
Students blinked and glanced at one another. This was know-how that appeared neither in the textbook nor in any prior study materials.
Francesca stepped down from the platform and moved among the students, pouring out information as she went.
"Those with green smoke, remove your uniform jackets and hang them on your chairs. The assistants will prepare additional materials for you."
"From here on, the steps are shared. Skim off the thin layer of oil spreading across the surface with a ladle. Plant-based fatty acids reduce the potency of the toxin."
"Keep stirring. You must stir steadily until the potion develops a thick, clinging viscosity. If the heat is too high the mixture may solidify, so mind your flame control as well."
The students were captivated by Francesca's skill and began following her with bright, eager eyes.
"My potion is taking on a yellow tint — is that all right?"
"Excellent, student. A slight yellow cast marks a premium product. At that quality, you could even sell it in Rochester."
The unexpected praise lit up the student's face. Friends beside him clapped him on the arm in congratulations.
"I—I'm Catherine Meyer! It started with blue smoke, but it changed to green!"
"When you stirred with the ladle, the ingredients settled on the bottom rose up and shifted the reaction. You'll need to pivot toward the hallucinogenic effect. Please prepare the green-smoke materials over here."
Francesca continued circulating among the students, inspecting each cauldron.
"Hey. Hey, Simon."
Dick leaned toward Simon and whispered.
"I think I get why old man Lang has survived at Kizen. His assistant is ridiculously competent!"
"…Yeah."
Several students, Claudia among them, had become completely absorbed in Poison Magic — some even going so far as to ask about majoring in it.
Ainz kept watching Francesca with that same cold, heavy gaze as she warmly answered the students' questions.
Then the class drew toward its end.
Francesca granted free time to those who had successfully completed their potions, and patiently coached those who had failed to try again.
Having finished his poison potion without issue, Simon was leafing through the textbook when Dick spoke up.
"Simon! Should we bring these for the cyclops fight? Don't you think a poison potion would help?"
Simon grinned — he'd been thinking the same thing. But then—
"Idiot. These won't work."
Maylin approached with her arms crossed, cutting in.
"Lower-grade poison potions don't affect medium-sized monsters and up. A cyclops is obviously out of the question."
"That so?"
Simon silently flipped through the textbook until his hand stopped on a page with a familiar set of ingredients.
After reading through the entry, he pointed at the page and spoke.
"Maylin, what about this?"
"What is it?"
Maylin came over and examined the section he indicated.
"…"
After a stretch of silence, Maylin's head snapped up and she bolted for her own seat.
"Simon! What page is that?"
"Two fifty-four."
Maylin frantically opened her textbook and began reading the relevant passage with intense focus.
"Guys! If we can make this, I think it'll work!"
"It'll work?"
Dick approached with interest. The page Simon had open described a potion that temporarily paralyzed tendon function and contracted the muscles.
"It's called Nervie, apparently."
Maylin circled the potion's name.
"Looking at the symptoms, it's a nerve-paralysis toxin that weakens physical strength, and it says it works broadly on small- and medium-sized monsters of Rank Three and above. It won't be some dramatic effect, but it should at least slow a cyclops down."
"Application method?"
"Either make it drink the stuff, or apply it to a wound. If we open a wound first and then throw a glass vial of the potion, something ought to get through."
Everyone nodded with serious faces. If it could help take down a cyclops, it was worth preparing. Camibarez, who had joined them at some point, was listening in as well.
"We can reserve a practice room for the cauldrons. The problem is the ingredients…"
Maylin studied the materials list in the textbook and lightly bit her thumb.
"The basic ingredients are easy to get at Kizen. The tricky ones are rehak mushrooms, blood slime, and silkvine."
"Let's see…"
Dick ran his eyes down the list.
"If I head down to Rochester and put in the legwork, I should be able to track them down somehow."
"Wait, for real?"
Everyone's eyes widened. Dick nodded with confidence.
"While we're at it, let's just go for it. Once class ends in a bit, I'll head down to Rochester and come back."
Simon, still studying the materials list, tapped one item with his finger.
"This one — rehak mushrooms. I've seen them at Kizen."
"Huh? Where?"
"The Forbidden Forest."
At that, Maylin's expression tightened slightly.
"How would you even know that— no, that's not the point! Are you planning to go into the Forbidden Forest?"
"It won't take long. Dick's risking disciplinary action just to go to Rochester — I should at least do this much. I'll harvest them quickly before it gets dark."
"Ugh…"
Maylin's brow furrowed. The Forbidden Forest was a dangerous place — monsters appeared there.
But given the deal with Nephthys, Ainz would never simply stand by and let Simon fall into danger.
In the end, Maylin nodded, and Dick spoke up.
"Okay, so in Rochester I just need to grab blood slime and silkvine? Rehak mushrooms were the hardest part — that buys me some time too."
"We'll gather the basic ingredients and wait in the practice room."
Right on cue, the bell rang to signal the end of class. Poison Magic assistant Francesca made the announcement.
"That concludes today's lesson."
"Thank you for your hard work!"
The students poured out of the lecture hall in a rush.
Group Seven, now with tasks of their own, moved quickly as well. Dick headed for Rochester, Maylin and Camibarez for the practice room, and Simon for the Forbidden Forest.
As everyone filed out, one student who had been lying motionless across a desk — presence suppressed, breath held — quietly rose from his seat.
He started toward Hector, who was calmly packing his things — but Ainz casually cast Dominate, compelling the student to trespass into a suitable professor's research office instead.
Ainz had carefully selected a professor known for having quite the temper. Even with the student protection period in effect — meaning expulsion was off the table — the boy would not be getting off cleanly.