Chapter 120
Chapter 120
Translator: True Detective
Chapter 120: Lan Qi and the Bond with the Institute of Magitek
Monday morning.
As the first rays of sunlight spilled across the campus of Ikerite Academy, golden beams rose at an angle, glinting against the red-brick walls of its ancient buildings, making them shimmer faintly.
Native trees of Ikerite swayed in the morning breeze. The grass and branches glistened with dew, and the crisp fragrance of dawn filled the air.
Birdsong echoed all around. The grand doors of the main library creaked open, and students began appearing on campus—some hurrying to their morning classes, others leisurely enjoying breakfast. Laughter rang out now and then.
Crossing the green lawn where the old Humanities Building marked the border of the Magitek Institute, and walking a few minutes further, one would see a tower-like glass façade—modern, artistic, dazzling as the morning sun reflected across its surface.
The fifth floor of this grand Magitek main building.
Inside the dean’s office.
Professor Bolao sat at his work desk, surrounded by blueprints, mechanical components, and assorted tools.
He had barely arrived when he was already sketching rapidly on a translucent blueprint with a mechanical pencil, occasionally pausing to inspect a tiny, delicate part through the enchanted lenses of his Magitek spectacles.
His slightly upturned pale hair gleamed under the office lights. His eyes were focused, utterly absorbed in his work.
Just then—
A cautious, almost apologetic double knock sounded from the door, as if whoever stood outside was trying their utmost not to disturb him—yet clearly bore urgent business.
“Come in.”
Bolao did not lift his head. His deep voice was calm, practiced. Clearly, he was used to being interrupted during his research.
The door opened slowly. A shaft of light slipped in before a young Magitek instructor stepped through. He closed the door carefully behind him, then greeted Bolao respectfully:
“Good morning, Professor Bolao. We’ve just received word from the Cardmakers’ Association. During Saturday’s Registered Cardmaker Exam, one of the students was assessed at…”
The young teacher’s hesitant voice echoed across the wide room filled with inventions and designs, as though he himself doubted what was written in the file he carried. He glanced at it again before finishing.
“Silver?”
Bolao asked absentmindedly, still staring at his blueprint. Clearly, such trivial reports did not interest him nearly as much as his research.
“No… it says Platinum.”
The teacher’s voice carried disbelief.
“Oh.”
Bolao gave the same disinterested response—
Then froze.
“…Platinum?”
He finally lifted his head. Removing the silver-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, he placed them on the desk and fixed the teacher with a doubtful stare.
In all his years, he had never heard of a student being directly rated Platinum.
From Gold onward, promotion required extensive achievements: published research, recognized patents, sales of completed works, professional reputation—the qualifications alone demanded years of effort.
And even then, an Epic-grade card was an indispensable prerequisite for Platinum.
Without exception.
For someone to bypass all of that and go straight to Platinum, it could only mean one thing—
“He created an orange Epic during the exam?”
Bolao asked, almost certain of the answer.
After all, even his most brilliant student, Migaya, had produced three flawless pink Sacred cards during her exam—a spell, a summon, and an equipment. A display of stability and versatility that stunned the entire field. Yet even she had been rated Gold, only one step away from Platinum.
“Yes. He made one orange Epic, along with three white Commons. The single Epic’s evaluation score was so extraordinary that it carried him straight to Platinum.”
The young instructor nodded, stepping forward to hand over the thick dossier stamped with the seal of the Ikerite Cardmakers’ Association.
Many of these documents required Bolao’s review and signature as dean of the Magitek Institute, and some might even necessitate discussions with the dean of the Sage Institute.
Bolao accepted the heavy, brown leather folder and immediately flipped to the evaluation sheet for the finished card.
Creating an Epic during a registration exam was, to him, nearly unthinkable.
Almost no cardmaker at such an early stage could possibly achieve it.
Even with rarest materials and a flawless performance, a genius would, at best, reach the level of a pink Sacred.
“This doesn’t make sense… it doesn’t make sense at all.”
Bolao muttered, staring at the creation details for the Epic [Radiant Virtue].
Every Epic card was unique—anchoring itself in the world, weaving into history. To create such a card was to leave a mark upon legend. It was not something a teenager could—or should—be capable of.
“Do we really have a student this talented?”
Bolao frowned. He knew his students’ abilities inside and out, old and new alike. There was no such prodigy in the Magitek Institute.
Strictly speaking, direct Platinum evaluation still technically meant Gold. But once approved, it was only a matter of time—months at most, a year at longest—before the student became a true Platinum Cardmaker.
“…He’s from the Sage Institute. Name’s Lan Qi Wilfort.”
The instructor, standing like a page before his lord, spoke hesitantly, seeing Bolao still absorbed in the analysis report.
“—!”
At that name, a vein twitched across Bolao’s forehead. He slowly set the file down.
The name was seared into his memory.
“Like the morning sun rising…”
Bolao muttered, gazing at the dawn beyond his office window.
It was that boy who had wrecked the Shadow World terminal, forcing him—at Sage Dean Loren’s begging—to drop his research and rush into overnight emergency repairs.
And most importantly—
The enormous Magitek funds they had fronted for that disaster had still not been reimbursed.
“The Association usually works with our Institute on processing registrations. Since the Sage Institute isn’t familiar with the procedures, Dean Loren has requested an appointment with you later. He’ll also be bringing Lan Qi Wilfort along.”
The young instructor, sensing the tension in the room, bowed quickly and prepared to withdraw.
He knew full well—last year’s one-hundred-pound monthly budget cut from the Hedon Kingdom had already driven Bolao into a fury. And now, because of Lan Qi, the Institute had eaten a catastrophic eight-thousand-pound loss even before the school year began.
“…I understand. Have Loren come straight here.”
Bolao spoke through clenched teeth. His eyes glinted with the barely restrained urge to stab someone.