The Treasure Hunt Lecture
I stared into the mirror. My gaunt face looked a full ten years older. Exhaustion had blackened the skin under my eyes, the dark circles trailing all the way down to my jawline. It was the mark of three sleepless days and nights spent wrestling endlessly with my thoughts. I still had no clue how to run that damn lecture.
I glanced around the room. Explosive mana permeated the air. This was one of the rooms on the fourth floor, so saturated with my mana over time that it had half-turned into my personal workshop. If I kept infusing it steadily for another month, I could fully tame it. It was incomparable to the basement workshop back at my old shop—thousands of times more efficient in mana usage, ironclad security, and vast enough to do anything. It was the perfect workshop of my dreams.
But I couldn't smile. It was all because of that lecture. I had no idea how to structure it.
I considered heading outside for help, but dismissed it just as quickly. I knew no one, and with nothing but mountains around, I wouldn't even know where to go. Besides, how could I pay for help without any credit to my name? In the end, I had to wring every last drop from what I'd been given and somehow finish that lecture plan.
I'd brainstormed countless ideas so far. First up: a lecture on spellbooks. Those ancient tomes in the library. What if I shared them with the students and had us discuss the knowledge and spells inside? It seemed promising. All I'd have to do was hand out the books. The students could interpret and learn them on their own.
But there was a huge problem. I lacked the ability to oversee it. How could I lead the class or grade them? I couldn't even fully understand those spellbooks myself. With my pace—barely mastering two spells after a month of study—it was impossible. So, shelved.
What about skipping theory for practical combat? I toyed with a battle-focused lecture: pit the students against each other in spars to build experience and hone skills. Sounded great. But same issue. How would I supervise or evaluate? Passed.
Dozens of ideas like that came and went, each hitting the same wall. And amid them all, one brutal truth emerged: I was the problem. My weakness, my low realm—they blocked every path.
I finally faced it. I didn't have what it took to teach. It was obvious, really. I was just a freshman who'd barely scraped into the university. How could I instruct mages who'd been grinding here for years? No matter how I spun it, impossible.
So I'd run through every scenario. The surest bet was the professor's help. With even a little from her, I could swing something like a survival seminar or hands-on practice. But after declaring she'd leave it all to me, she'd holed up at the top of the tower without budging.
I'd tried submitting proposals just in case, but her mana came roaring down the tower and smashed my head. The throbbing pain killed that idea. A flicker of resentment toward her rose. Why dump this on me? You know I'm not ready.
That resentment looped back to my past self. Why'd I push so hard? If I'd slacked off, none of this would've happened. But it was done. This haggard face in the mirror was proof. On the verge of collapse from fatigue. This wouldn't do. No answers in sight.
But I couldn't quit. I had to present something by week's end.
"Damn it, if I could just dump it on someone like the professor does..."
I grumbled and hurled the mirror. It shattered on the floor. A waiting doll scurried over to clean the shards.
Wait. Something clicked. I'd just said something huge.
What was it? I replayed the moment. Tossed the mirror. It broke, doll cleaned it. Before that? I griped about dumping it like the professor.
Yeah. That hit like lightning. She dumped everything on me, leaving an incompetent like me to suffer. So why not do the same?
The idea took root. Maybe it was desperation talking. But it was my only hope. I lacked the skill and knowledge anyway. So find someone else to run it.
Problem: who? Thinking stalled there. No connections at the university. No clue how it worked. Mention it to her? Instant beating.
Who, then? The question rattled my skull, shaking my already fragile soul and sparking pain. I gritted my teeth. Damn it—far from recovering, the overwork had left my body and soul unstable.
That cursed eye... thinking of it made my soul scream.
"Hold on."
I examined my broken body and soul. Then I remembered her words: it was one of her milder treasures. I was an ant before it.
Sure, I was lacking, but others weren't leaps ahead. Even stronger students would just be slightly bigger ants to it.
What I needed was power. And the tower brimmed with it. Treasures. Her treasures. From the sixth to ninth floors, the ones she'd curated pulsed with mana on each level. Terrifying just passing them. Even "stabilized," their mana made my heart pound. They were beyond me—casual leaks could melt me. Weakened through layers of barriers, it nearly broke my mind.
And the sixth floor—first time cleaning, that grotesque mana warping the whole level. Overwhelmed, I fled.
Just toss students in there. The treasures would "handle" them. They'd learn... somehow.
Ideas exploded. I unrolled parchment and scribbled furiously. Three days' frustration unleashed a torrent.
All mages love treasures. Lose their minds at the sight—lifelines worth dying for.
So dangle them for students. Make the lecture a treasure hunt. I didn't even know what was inside. Toss 'em in; whoever grabs something keeps it. Crowds would flock, and I'd do nothing.
Staring at the finished plan, I trembled. Perfect. Did she foresee this? She knew my limits better than I did.
Thinking of her deflated me. Great plan, but her treasures—lifelong collection. Handing them out? Disaster. Wrong words, and I'd be dead.
I needed a way to run it without pissing her off. Another day gone.
Cautiously skirting the menacing treasures, I headed to the tenth floor. Stairs blocked by barriers, a small bell hanging beside.
Ring it, I guessed. Infused mana carefully. Explosive flow inside—a wraith screamed out. I jumped back. It got sucked beyond the barrier.
I stared at the bell. Now I recognized it—from her bragging. Packed with souls, horrific mana. Now a doorbell. Ridiculous.
Barrier parted, stairs appeared. I climbed slowly to the tenth.
Still stunning room. Walls framed the view, blending it with nature.
At the center, the professor lounged on her bed, getting a massage from her butler. Tenth floor: her bedroom, workshop, office. Tower's massive mana surged from the mountain, channeling into her per the workshop's flow. Watching it heated my brain.
Clutching the thick stack—book-sized—I approached quietly. Gauged her mood. Beaming, blissful.
"Sorry to disturb your rest, Professor."
"It's fine. What's up?"
"Finished the lecture plan. Came to have you review it."
She cracked an eye, beckoned. I floated the parchment before her. She gripped it with mana, reading slowly.
"Treasure hunt?"
"Yes. Students hunt treasures; finders keepers. Fits our tower perfectly."
"You mean my collection?"
Her mana surged violently. I bowed fast— it grazed past. Reflex from too many hits.
More coming; I raised hands. "Just hear me out!"
It halted inches from my face. Cold sweat. That would've...
"Speak. If I hate it, out the window you go."
Glanced outside. Sheer drop. No flying through that mana—splat.
Deep breath. "Planning it, I felt my inadequacies to my bones. You assigned this to teach me that. So, per your intent, I sought help. What's most helpful in the tower? Your treasures."
She stared, irritation lingering. Had to hook her fast.
"Treasure hunt's the result. Open the vaults from six to nine. Students will swarm!"
"Then they take them."
Expected that. I'd brainstormed counters, tailored to her personality.
Arms wide dramatically: "We stop them. Load it with traps."
Bingo. Her eyes sparkled with interest. Explorer like her knew the drill—treasures guarded by traps. She'd suffered them firsthand. Sadistic streak? She'd love tormenting others.
Spot on. She half-rose, scanning the plan. "Oh, this'll be fun."
"Tease them—close but miss. Next class, they come hungrier. Despair at the traps, treasures in sight but untouchable."
I painted their agony vividly. Her face lit up; she clapped delightedly.
"I'll make the traps!"
Yes! Biggest worry solved. My traps? Meh. But hers? Lethal. Students in trouble, my burden light. Just guide arrivals.
If she disliked it, back to square one. But she seemed thrilled. Still, no relaxing. This delegated most to her, against her "all yours" decree. She'd notice.
Tense, watching her. She just grinned over the plan. Good sign.
Deep bow. Pitied the students. Knew her traps' viciousness. No way I'm taking this class.
Something felt off. Unease crept in. Why?
Peeked up. She smirked at me.
"Then you've got nothing to do. You'll take the class. Punishment for dumping it back on me."
Damn. Didn't see that coming. World went dark.