Chapter 78
Chapter 78
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter Title: 078. Shout - (Complete)
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During the demonstrations from the Knight Faculty and the Divine Faculty, the grand hall buzzed like boiling water.
It was because the top student of the Knight Faculty, Sophia Veronica, and the saintess candidate of the Divine Faculty, Elise de Lua, had given identical testimonies as if by prior agreement.
Naturally, all eyes in the audience turned to the man seated in the front row with his bronze skin. He was the only one in the vast hall wearing the academy parish priest's robes, making it an inevitable conclusion.
"Hmm... Is that the priest?"
"Looks like it. From what I know, after Archbishop Balua's outrage last time, the church purged most of its personnel, leaving just that one cleric in the academy parish."
"No doubt about it."
Garak, the high-ranking mage from the Yellow Earth Tower who had heard the story from an assistant professor, nodded deeply. He stroked his goatee, his eyes gleaming with interest.
"By the way, his skin's pretty dark. A westerner like me?"
"...Hm. With that golden hair, I doubt he's from there. Probably just tanned from the sun."
"A priest getting a tan. What an eccentric guy. More interested in looking stylish than faith—some flashy monk type, huh?"
Garak chuckled and clicked his tongue. Truth be told, swordmasters and saintesses were outside his field, so he couldn't care less.
"Anyway, next up is the Magic Faculty demonstration?"
"Yes."
"Wonder what kind of mage merits dragging an elder out here."
Garak had come to the academic conference after hearing from an elder of the Yellow Earth Tower about an unusual student in this term at Erebos.
"Ihen Dorp's daughter, right? From that fallen mage family?"
"Correct. Word is she's been making waves lately."
Ihen Dorp.
Garak knew the name well. Before his own golem school had truly shone, that house had already laid the foundational theories for golems—a pioneering lineage.
The Yellow Earth Tower elder had received word that an heir of Ihen Dorp had made an invention at Erebos that could contribute to golem research, and so dispatched Garak.
"Next, it's the turn of the Magic Faculty cadets."
At the staff member's words, the Magic Faculty cadets stepped up one by one to demonstrate their spells.
Of course, it was just the tricks of green freshmen who hadn't even shed blood yet.
Garak watched the display with boredom.
"Meh. That sword aura from the Knight Faculty kid earlier was more entertaining."
He couldn't fathom why the elder had sent a high-ranking mage like himself to this kiddie show.
He was yawning expansively, his disappointment plain, when it happened.
"...Hm?"
A petite girl and a slender woman walked onto the platform.
The attendant explained.
"According to intel, the short mage there is Ihen Dorp."
"And the one beside her?"
"...The top student. Isolde. Erebos's first commoner top rank."
"Hmm. That's impressive."
Sure enough, the surrounding mages were focusing on the Magic Faculty's top student, Isolde. She must be quite the promising talent.
"Why are both of them up there?"
"Joint research presentation."
"Ah, right, they do that."
The Magic Faculty's academic conference centered on joint research.
Which meant Ihen Dorp had teamed up with the faculty's top student.
Garak watched their performance with a peculiar curiosity.
Soon, Ihen Dorp's daughter swept aside the curtain on the platform, and the murmurs grew louder.
"A doll?"
"Like a golem?"
"No... the outfit it's wearing..."
What Otilie had strained to bring out was a doll half human-height, dressed in flamboyant dancer's attire.
Just as he thought the craftsmanship was excellent, the Magic Faculty top student, Isolde, gave her staff a slight wave.
———.
In that instant, the elegant melody of a waltz flowed.
"Illusion magic for sound... Pathetic."
For the faculty's top student to show off mere music playback in a demonstration.
As Garak turned away, unable to hide his disappointment—
Kirrik.
The doll began to move.
And in the next moment, Garak was captivated.
"...How in the world..."
The other visiting mages saw it as just a dancing doll show. But to Garak, the golem school's authority, it was different.
'No mana core. Hydraulic cylinders? But how is it moving so fluidly?'
Conventional golems were limited to jerky, mechanical motions.
Yet this doll moved with lifelike elasticity, like contracting and relaxing muscles. Especially the expressiveness of its fingertips—it was as if someone were inside puppeteering it.
"...And it's public magic, no less."
Not even proprietary or secret arts. She'd achieved such delicacy with basic public spells any cadet could learn from a book.
Revolutionary. He understood why the Yellow Earth Tower elder had sent him here.
Garak shot to his feet unthinkingly. The moment the demonstration ended, he rushed to the platform, forgetting decorum.
"Isolde, and... Ihen Dorp!"
"...Who are you?"
"You two! Pack your bags right now! Forget this Erebos nonsense and come to our Yellow Earth Tower! Funding? Grants? Whatever you want, we'll shower you! Want high-ranking mage and researcher posts on the spot? Done!"
Garak shouted, beaming.
It was worth the investment.
No mage would refuse such an offer.
"No thanks."
There was one.
The black-haired girl with twintails right in front of him.
"I'm... not really tempted either."
Make that two.
The brown-haired woman.
"...What?"
Garak's eyelids twitched as he was rebuffed outright.
"Th-the Yellow Earth Tower is one of the kingdom's five great towers."
"Don't know it."
"We know."
"Above all, backed by the western region's immense wealth, the Yellow Earth Tower lets you pursue any research without financial worries."
"Don't know it."
"Not interested."
"You could become a high-ranking mage overnight. Skipping a good ten years of apprenticeship."
"Don't know it."
"Well, I have no intention of becoming one anyway."
"..."
Garak blinked several times.
What did this Ihen Dorp heir even know?
And why was the Magic Faculty top so detached about everything?
Pondering, Garak found a clue.
"I see. Someone's already recruited you. Everett Ruttinger, by any chance?"
Everett Ruttinger. One of the Mage Guild's top oddballs. Was she the one who'd produced these talents?
Isolde just shook her head with a faint smile.
"No. I happened to find a life advisor. Letting go of my burdens since then has helped a lot."
"L-life advisor? Who's that?"
"I just confessed to God."
"..."
Garak's eyes narrowed.
He naturally recalled the earlier faculty demonstrations.
The swordmaster candidate, the cathedral saintess, and even Ihen Dorp's heir and the Magic Faculty top—all their statements aligned.
Garak turned and glared at the dark-skinned priest in the front row, who was sinking into his seat and avoiding gazes.
"Hmm..."
With that, Garak summoned his attendant.
"Find that priest somehow and bring him before me."
Perhaps he'd stumbled on the biggest catch of this Erebos trip.
After the academic conference, one hot topic dominated Erebos Royal Academy.
A tremendous talent was hiding out in the academy.
A saint, a grand mage, and a swordsmanship master, no less.
It was no longer just chatter among Magic Faculty cadets. Talk spread through the Knight Faculty, the Divine Faculty, and even the faculty staff.
"..."
What more was there to say.
It was me.
That was the problem.
"...Whatever, what do they expect me to do?"
I crouched in the chapel backyard, clutching my head.
My original plan coming to Erebos was to lay low like a dead rat and bolt.
But what was this? Now eyes followed me everywhere. I couldn't even go out.
And disguise? How do you hide skin this dark?
"Shit."
Whether from the rumors or not, shady visitors to the chapel had spiked.
A few days ago, a high priest dispatched by the church barged in demanding to see my face, forcing me to entertain him with a fake smile.
Yesterday, I spotted a royal guard scout eyeing the place.
Today, some guy in mage robes was sniffing around the chapel, so I had to hole up in the attic holding my breath.
"This won't do."
Before the protagonists saved the world, I'd collapse from stress.
After some thought, I took drastic measures.
I marched straight to the dean's office and declared,
"Closing the chapel."
"...Pardon?"
Dean Cornelius's glasses slid down his nose.
"For a while. Don't come looking."
Strategic retreat first.
Vanish until the end of Act 4.
"Er... may I ask why...?"
"Burnout."
"..."
Cornelius tilted his head but reluctantly nodded.
The next day, a huge sign reading "Temporarily Closed" was plastered on the chapel fence.