Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Class (2)
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Shock. Everyone was shocked.
They said extracting emotions stored in a flask was far easier than pulling them directly from a person, but even so, drawing out that much all at once...
It was something even low-grade—no, mid-grade disciples would struggle with. And yet, Oliver didn't look strained at all, no matter how you looked at him.
The higher the quality and quantity of the emotions, the more burden the sorcerer should feel, but Oliver showed no sign of it. If anything, he looked like a child playing with a toy, thoroughly enjoying himself.
"...".
"...".
"...".
"...".
"...".
As everyone fell silent in astonishment, Oliver sensed something off and asked in his usual halting manner.
"... Um, did I do something wrong?"
"... No, it's brilliant. Right?"
Joseph asked Andrew, who was watching from the back, and Andrew slowly nodded.
"Yes... yeah, that's impressive. Really."
The chaotic atmosphere settled back into order, and Joseph continued the lesson.
"Alright, what you just did is extraction. It's the first step in black magic. There are two ways to extract emotions. Who can tell me?"
Marie raised her hand again. She looked extremely shaken.
"... Uh, the first is extracting emotions stored in a flask, and the second is pulling them directly from a person."
"What are the common points and differences between the two?"
"The common point is that both extract emotions from real people. The difference is one is pre-extracted and stored, while the other is done on the spot."
"Which is harder?"
"The second one. Extracting directly from a person causes resistance—different from stored emotions—so it's much tougher. In battle, it could even be dangerous if you're not careful."
Satisfied with her answer, Joseph nodded and praised Marie.
But to Oliver, it was a bit puzzling. He'd only done it once, but extracting directly from a person hadn't been that hard. In fact, it had even been fun... at least for him personally.
Joseph spoke again.
"As Marie said, extracting from a person is harder. Even ordinary people resist instinctively. Mess it up, and you might fail the extraction or take a hit yourself. That's why black magicians always carry a certain amount of stored emotions. But a true black magician shouldn't rely only on pre-extracted ones. Not just for skill, but because emotions pulled fresh from a person are higher quality. Got it?"
""""Yes, Master.""""
"So don't get complacent just because you extracted some. Strive to master it. And those who couldn't even manage that—feel the shame and train harder. Time won't wait for you."
The kids who failed slumped their heads. Inside them, lights of anxiety, fear, jealousy, and resentment churned wildly.
"Now, back to the lesson. Those who extracted emotions, follow me."
Joseph gathered Black Light at his fingertips and formed a circle, just like when they first met. It wasn't long ago, but it no longer felt novel. Following his words, everyone shaped their extracted Black Light into circles.
"Ughhh..."
"Nngh..."
"Uwaa..."
Grunts of effort rose here and there as they formed circles one by one. They were more like squished blobs than perfect circles, though. Only Tom, Marie, and the supervisors made proper ones. Oh, and one more. Oliver.
Oliver compressed his extracted Black Light into a circle the exact same size as Joseph's. A perfect circle, without a hint of wobble or distortion.
Joseph manipulated his Black Light again, turning the circle into a square. Tom and Marie managed it relatively easily, but the others struggled, their shapes collapsing midway.
Joseph changed the square to a triangle. Then a cone, a star, a donut, a Möbius strip. By now, only the three supervisors and Oliver remained.
"Good, you're keeping up. Now for the last part. Make the most difficult shape you can. The bigger and more complex, the better."
They had the basics down, so now it was time to show individual talent. Knowing they needed to leave a good impression, everyone gritted their teeth.
Tom was first to show off. Soon to become a formal disciple, he solidified his position with the hardest shape he could muster.
He shaped the Black Light into a cylinder, stretched it long, twisted it like a spring into a serpentine pillar. Everyone gasped in admiration.
Marie, next to him, tried to mimic it—clearly conscious of him—but lost control midway and it crumbled.
"Ah..."
Marie's regretful sigh and Tom's snicker echoed.
"What about you?"
Joseph asked Oliver, who stood quietly at the back. Oliver pondered for a moment, then looked at Joseph as if he'd made a decision.
"... So, big and intricate, however I want?"
"Yeah."
At Joseph's curt reply, Oliver—unlike the others—cupped the Black Light with both hands. Everyone wondered what he was doing, inwardly hoping he'd fail. No, praying for it.
The Black Light in Oliver's hands churned. Like an egg about to hatch. Soon, it stabilized into a perfect sphere.
"Heh... just a ball?"
That was when it happened. The stabilized Black Light shrank to the size of a marble in an instant, then expanded explosively, filling the entire classroom.
Everyone was dumbfounded, unable to process it. Then, an unbelievable sight unfolded before their eyes.
An ivy vine model made of Black Light covered the whole classroom. It was so lifelike and intricate that no one could speak. They just stared at Oliver in stunned disbelief.
Oliver looked around at his creation and murmured softly.
"Huh, so it works."
The next morning, Oliver sensed something had changed.
Not just the fellow workers who'd looked down on and ignored him until yesterday—even the supervisors were subtly cautious.
They pretended otherwise, but the lights emanating from their bodies told the truth.
They feared Oliver. And mixed in were jealousy, with a few even showing hints of admiration.
He couldn't understand it. His treatment had shifted at the orphanage and the mines before, but never this quickly. And there was no obvious reason. He'd just attended class.
But he didn't dwell on it long. Oliver shrugged it off and went about his routine: cleaning the factory, eating, working as usual.
Making friends or feeling superior was beyond his interest. His sole focus was learning black magic.
Since he'd had the day off for class, the pile of meat was over twice the usual. Oliver shouldered the chunks and carried them to the grinder.
The meat was big, heavy, and mostly rancid—the worst part of the job, smell-wise—but compared to the mines, it was downright pleasant.
Best of all, the simple labor let him work mechanically while thinking other thoughts. Like reviewing yesterday's lesson, for instance.
As he worked, Oliver endlessly replayed the class, questioning and refining it.
Like, why was extracting directly from a person harder? What was the most efficient way to store emotions? Why use flasks when they were inconvenient? He pestered himself with why like a three-year-old, seeking answers.
Sometimes he found satisfying ones, sometimes not. When he didn't, an indescribable frustration built—like an itch he couldn't scratch. He wanted to grab someone and ask.
"Hey... need a hand? I can help if you want."
Oliver looked up at the sudden voice. A worker stood there.
"......"
Thinking Oliver hadn't heard, he repeated himself.
"Moving meat alone must be tough. Want some help?"
"Why...?"
Oliver asked, genuinely curious, not mocking.
"Uh... 'cause it's hard alone? Easier together. And... we're coworkers, right? Yeah! Coworkers..."
Oliver knew he wasn't particularly smart, but even he sensed something off. Suddenly calling him a coworker and offering help? Suspicious.
Especially the light. He smiled, but the light inside twisted like a snake, sly and cunning. He'd seen it before.
Yeah, the light from those fawning over the orphanage director or mine supervisor to curry favor. But why on him?
"That kid?"
"Yeah, that's him. New guy, week's in, and yesterday's class..."
"For real?"
"Andrew said..."
Oliver turned at the mosquito-like buzzing, sensing wariness and hostility. Strangers stood at a distance, eyeing him—faces and lights full of caution, like dogs whose territory was invaded.
His head started to ache. He just wanted to do his job quietly and learn black magic. Why were these annoyances suddenly swarming?
Then he spotted Marie. Maybe she could help? He approached, but she scowled at him.
It wasn't just her face. Rage, jealousy, anxiety—negative emotions poured out, their lights halting him in his tracks.
Unsure how to handle this sudden shift, Andrew appeared and called him.
"Oliver?"
"... Yes?"
"Master's summoning you. Come on."
Oliver followed Andrew to his master's room. Like the classroom, it was underground in the factory, but its luxury was incomparable.
Finished walls and ceiling, massive bed, citrus scent in the air, unfamiliar furniture... Yeah, like the opulent office of that mine union boss he'd glimpsed once.
Luckily, Oliver had little interest in such things, so he stayed composed. His only concern was why Joseph had called him.
"Brought him, Master."
Oliver bowed politely to Joseph. Joseph poured whiskey into a fancy crystal glass and replied.
"Good, come in. Doing well?"
Oliver tilted his head. 'Doing well'? He didn't grasp the intent.
"Uh, yes. Doing fine."
"Really? Is that so? For real?"
"Yes... Though, I'd like more classes."
Joseph furrowed his brow at that, then burst out laughing. Andrew joined in.
"Yeah, that sounds like you. Nothing else tough? Coworkers, food, bed—anything inconvenient?"
Oliver recalled the mocking coworkers, the daily bread and soup, the damp moldy mattress.
"No, nothing. I'm deeply grateful for your grace, Master."
He mimicked the kids flattering the supervisors. They liked it even if they knew it was fake. Joseph seemed pleased too.
"Good attitude. Well, not sure if it's good, but it's good. Excellent... Good boys deserve rewards. Got good news for you."
"More black magic lessons?"
"No, but I'll give you a chance. To become a formal disciple."