The Nature-Friendly Professor

The Gift Academy faculty was rife with eccentrics.

It was, after all, an institution overseen by a dragon headmaster who could pursue world conquest in earnest and actually stand a chance of pulling it off. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠It served as a paradise of opportunity, granting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠professors lavish financial backing and freedom to conduct forbidden research that would be unthinkable at any institution beholden to a single kingdom or organization. Yet while many scholars salivated over that endless funding and experimental leeway, Professor Weird of the Magic Faculty—who taught the third-period Monday lecture, Basics and Understanding of Mana Usage—sought something rather different.

Her grand ambition was simply to spread the unmatched glory of dryads, the wood spirits, as far and wide across the world as possible. And Gift Academy happened to be the premier stage on the continent from which to preach her ideals.

Fufu. Becoming a professor here was truly the best decision of my life.

From the very first lecture for first-years, her hall was packed to the brim. The room overflowed with students eager to witness the wonders of nature magic.

Whoa, look at the professor’s outfit.

Good grief… How can anyone walk around looking that scandalous?

That settles it. I’m becoming a druid starting today.

Instead of traditional clothing, Professor Weird draped herself in an artful tangle of vines and broad leaves. It was not out of exhibitionism, but rather the intrinsic nature of her kind. As dryads born directly of flora, spirits possessed zero inhibitions about displaying their natural forms. Mesmerized by that ethereal grace, students of all genders had flocked to the lecture hall in droves—yet one particularly earnest young woman harbored enthusiasm of an entirely different sort.

A forest keeper taking a lecture from a dryad is just common sense!

She was one of the rare intellectuals in the room who had not registered solely to gawk at their instructor's physique: the plucky apprentice forest keeper, Dorothy. Her eyes shone brightly from the front row as she listened with rapt attention. She genuinely believed Professor Weird had granted her a prime seat out of appreciation for her scholarly zeal, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but Orknodi, sitting right beside her, held no such illusions.

Making me sit in the front row just because I'm too short to see over everyone else… Now I can’t even slack off.

Back in the game, she had towered over everyone at two hundred and thirty centimeters, allowing her to claim the back corner every single time. By contrast, sitting in the very front at a meager one hundred and thirty-three centimeters was nothing short of a humiliation. Whenever lectures grew dull in the past, her favorite pastime had been leaking faint murderous intent at the students seated ahead of her just to watch them jump out of their skins.

“Mana is akin to a puzzle,” Professor Weird proclaimed. “Even without memorizing and comprehending the puzzle in its entirety, mastering a single fragment is enough to recognize mana for what it is. For an ordinary mage, locating that fragment proves extraordinarily difficult. A nature mage, however, is an entirely different story. We can detect nature-aligned mana puzzle pieces far more effortlessly and at a much higher frequency than any other caster. In short, our speed in assembling the puzzle vastly surpasses that of ordinary mages.”

A hand shot into the air. It belonged to an Imperial student from Group B whose face practically screamed arrogant self-importance.

“I am Rosini, an apprentice mage of the Red Magic Tower. May I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Isn’t that simply a universal trait of elemental mana? Even if one does not specialize in nature, wouldn't pyromancers and cryomancers track down fire- or ice-aligned fragments just as easily?”

Filthy fire-spinner.

Confronted by an insolent freshman wielding an element diametrically opposed to the natural world, Professor Weird felt a twitch of irritation.

“Well… perhaps to a minor degree? To some extent? One might mimic something vaguely resembling nature magic, but other elements face strict limitations. They simply are not ubiquitous in the natural order.” Her voice swelled into a stirring, zealous declamation. “Have any of you ever stopped to contemplate the reason for your own survival? The very soil upon which your feet tread originates from nature. The sustenance you consume daily is a blessing granted by nature’s grace.”

“Meaning we should always remain grateful to nature, right?” Dorothy chimed in with a bright, sunny grin.

A sinister smirk curled the corners of Professor Weird’s lips.

“Indeed. Pray remain eternally grateful—grateful that the earth beneath your feet has not split wide open to swallow every living soul whole.”

“……”

“Nature possesses the power to devour every breathing creature on this terrestrial plane in a single bite whenever it pleases. It simply chooses to grant you mercy.”

What is with this woman? She's terrifying.

“The supreme strength of nature magic resides in its universal versatility—it can be harnessed anytime, anywhere. Today, we shall verify that truth right here within this very room. That concludes the fundamental overview. Next, we shall practice directly sensing nature-aligned mana puzzle fragments. Everyone, equip the monocles distributed to your desks.”

Contrasting with her borderline unhinged paean to nature, Professor Weird was surprisingly generous when it came to providing educational tools so her students could keep pace. She might be a certified lunatic, but her class was relatively easy to follow.

“Your objective is to identify nature-aligned mana puzzle fragments across ten distinct objects within this lecture hall. To the student who successfully identifies all ten first…”

“Will we receive Points?”

“Or bonus points toward our grade?”

“I shall bestow the privilege of becoming the teaching assistant for my lectures.”

Her one glaring flaw was a habit of nudging students off the edge of a cliff as casually as breathing. Unaware of how soul-crushing an assistantship could be amidst an already brutal academic schedule, students buzzed with excitement, assuming it came with grade perks, and eagerly adjusted their monocles to scour the room. Dorothy swiveled her head around with boundless enthusiasm, only to spot the single student seated nearby reacting in an entirely different manner.

“Orknodi! What are you doing? You have to search fast if you want to become the assistant!”

“Let whoever wants it take it.”

While the rest of Groups A and B glared at each other in fierce competition, Orknodi, Group A's foremost talent, merely clicked her tongue with the weary detachment of a sage who had seen through the world's illusions.

“Dorothy. We have to take two academy-wide mandatory courses, three major courses, and two electives. That’s seven classes in a single semester.”

“And?”

“Each class is two hours long, seven subjects, usually meeting twice a week. That caps our actual lecture time at twenty-eight hours a week, right?”

“Uh-huh! It's wonderful—we attend class so little and learn so much!”

“Do you honestly think the professors don’t know that?”

“Huh?”

“There are one hundred and sixty-eight hours in a week. If lectures take only twenty-eight, that leaves one hundred and forty hours wide open. What do you think happens then? They can drown you in twenty hours of homework per course without blinking.”

“Wait… what?!”

“Get it now? Professors are merciless time-killers. If you volunteer to be a teaching assistant on top of that, you won't even have time to finish your regular assignments.”

Dorothy’s jaw dropped. “Then… when do we sleep?” she whimpered.

Having dropped that grim dose of academic reality, Orknodi turned away with an indifferent shrug.

Not that it’s any trouble for a veteran gamer.

Lacking even the slightest desire to become an errand girl, she deliberately feigned ignorance and dragged her feet, slowing the pace at which she tapped the monocle’s capture button.

Creep, creep…

A thick curtain of vines had quietly crawled over the doorways, sealing the exits shut. Judging by the sight, Professor Weird was every bit as unhinged as Professor Bronze. Confining students inside against their will until class ended so they couldn't physically escape—what kind of hostage game was this?

Seriously, what’s so hard about finding ten fragments that everyone is struggling this much?

Her initial worry that she might fail to perceive mana in this reality had evaporated the moment she cast wand magic without a hitch. It had been effortless during her training sessions with Jona, and now, boosted by the monocle’s Mana Detection Support function, she felt practically invincible.

I can see everything.

The polished timber of the wooden desks.

The damp soil packed into the flooring.

The portable mirror ball toy some idiot had brought to class.

A sticky-fingered squirrel scurrying beneath the furniture to pickpocket students.

A horned beetle clinging to a girl’s trouser cuff, evidently mistaking her floral perfume for tree sap.

Targets holding nature mana fragments were scattered everywhere she looked.

Can someone hurry up and log ten so we can wrap this up?

Just by casually glancing around out of sheer boredom, she had already spotted well over fifty puzzle pieces.

“Hehe! I've found seven already!”

While Dorothy clicked her monocle’s button in giddy excitement like a fish returned to water, a student from Group B stepped forward to flaunt his results.

“Is this really that difficult? Are the rest of you just pretending not to see them when they're right in front of your eyes?”

“……”

“Ugh, I want to punch him.”

“Hold back. He’s in our group.”

“Mages are always so insufferable.”

The speaker was Sandcooker, an apprentice geomancer hailing from the Yellow Magic Tower. A prodigy destined to flourish into Professor Weird’s prized pupil in the original game's storyline, he was already laying on the condescension thick.

“Professor, I have located all ten.”

“First-year Sandcooker. Splendid work. I hereby grant you the role of teaching assistant to aid my instruction moving forward.”

“It is an honor to be of service, Professor.”

“Ah! I finished all ten too!” Dorothy cried, stomping her feet in disappointment at arriving a fraction of a second too late.

Professor Weird’s eyes glittered.

“My, this year’s cohort possesses a remarkable abundance of natural talent.”

“Excuse me, Professor… Wasn't the assistant position reserved strictly for the first to finish?” Sandcooker asked, shooting Dorothy a wary, competitive glare.

Professor Weird nodded solemnly.

“The role of an assistant is an esteemed honor—a privilege reserved solely for the most exceptional talent.”

“Naturally!”

“Once today’s lecture concludes, I would like Student Sandcooker to pack all one hundred monocles neatly into their designated cases, stack them securely into storage crates, and haul them up to my laboratory.”

“...On second thought, sharing the glory of this role with a peer would bring far greater joy than monopolizing it for myself. Please, grant this young lady the title of assistant as well!”

“Cooperation and symbiosis… A mindset well-aligned with the natural order. If you insist so earnestly, I shall appoint Miss Dorothy as an assistant as well.”

“P-Professor? Um, I don't really need to be an assistant…”

Craaaack.

With a subtle flex of Professor Weird’s fingers, the sturdy lectern caved in with a sickening splinter.

“What did you say just now?”

“...I-I was just saying how much I wanted to do it, even if it cuts into my personal time! Truly, from the bottom of my heart!”

“How delightful to see my students so brimming with zeal. I shall be counting on both of you once class concludes.”

Poor Dorothy.

Orknodi sighed internally. She had warned her as clearly as she could, yet the girl had worked herself to the bone anyway. When Dorothy sent a desperate, pleading gaze across the desk begging for rescue, Orknodi coldly averted her eyes.

Following the conclusion of the lecture, Professor Weird sat reviewing the visual logs captured by the monocles, which had synchronized directly with her magic chronometer. As she skimmed through the performance metrics of her new cohort, a peculiar data profile caught her eye.

“What in the world is this student?”

Though she had kept it a secret from the class, the monocles possessed an automatic capture function. During the exercise, she had instructed them that pressing the side button was required to log a fragment, but in truth, merely focusing one's gaze upon a piece was enough to register an automatic snapshot. It served as a fail-safe to detect unpolished diamonds—students who subconsciously detected mana without yet possessing the theoretical knowledge to define it.

Yet the log generated by this fail-safe defied all sanity.

Ten pieces over thirty minutes. In an institution teeming with prodigies like Gift Academy, that was a respectable, unremarkable performance. But in terms of raw sensory potential, her baseline comprehension left both apprentice geomancer Sandcooker and apprentice forest keeper Dorothy eating her dust by miles.

“Where on earth did this child come from?”

Was she a secret disciple sheltered by the Master of the Yellow Magic Tower? Or a feral child raised in the deep wilds by a Guardian of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Forest? Unable to curb her surging curiosity, Professor Weird pulled up the academy student file for Orknodi.

“...She eats rocks? What is she, a stone golem?”

Did force-feeding children stones enhance their natural elemental affinity? A sinister spark of scholarly curiosity flashed across Professor Weird’s eyes.

“I suppose I should run a few experiments on the seniors.”