The Substitute Instructor's Passion
Simon offered his suggestion.
"The problem is that Meilin can't dodge the Cyclops's attacks, right? Then I can use summoning magic to help her."
"...How?"
"Skeletons. I bring out my undead and split the Cyclops's attention. While it's distracted, Meilin preps her Dark Flare and we strike."
There was no disputing that Meilin's Dark Flare was currently Group 7's most effective weapon. And if the problem was keeping Meilin safe, Simon could cover it on the summoning side. He could not only draw its gaze but also intercept attacks aimed at her with his undead.
"Ooh."
Meilin smiled with satisfaction.
"You actually make some sense, y'know. Guess a Special Admission really is a Special Admission."
"Ugh."
With the most critical issue—Meilin's survival—now showing a clear solution, and no better alternative on the table, Dick had no choice but to accept his own role.
Meilin's face brightened as she turned her head.
"What about you, Cami? Any bondage-type tricks in that blood magic of yours?"
Camibarez scratched the side of her head with an awkward laugh.
"Blood magic is mostly a discipline of ever-changing offense... I think it'd be better if I just use curses."
Meilin nodded, satisfied, then turned to Dick. Dick, who had been wringing ideas out of his brain, finally let out a deep sigh and spoke in resigned defeat.
"Exhaust. I'll spend the week practicing it."
"Yes! Yes! That's the way of the team!"
Meilin declared triumphantly. Simon smiled and gave Dick a reassuring word.
"Nothing's set in stone yet. We've got time until the strategy evaluation class, so let's keep brainstorming."
"Y-yeah."
Even as he answered, Dick was looking at Simon with fresh eyes. Meilin might hold the title of team leader, but it was Simon who actually played the part—mediating disagreements, steering the group's mood—while quietly securing his own practical advantage. As long as his undead could shield Meilin, the team's core attacker, a high teamwork score was practically guaranteed.
They were deep into hammering out the details when the bell signaling the end of class rang. Jane rose to her feet.
"For the next class, prepare a ten-minute presentation on how your team will take down the Cyclops. Each member's role and the dark magic they'll use must be clearly stated in your materials. That is all."
"Thank you for the lecture!"
Only now did Simon's serious expression finally ease. The moment class ended never got old, no matter how many times he savored it.
"Run, Simon!"
Dick grabbed his bag as he spoke.
"Cafeteria 3 has limited hamburg steak today!"
Simon got up, grinning.
"Never let a limited menu slip away."
After finishing their meal, Simon and Dick arrived at the classroom for the day's final lecture: Toxicology.
Or rather, it wasn't a lecture hall at all—it was a place called Poisonology Practice Lab 2, where beneath each note-taking desk sat a large magic cauldron.
Simon and Dick had just settled into seats somewhere in the middle and were unpacking their things when—
"Hey! Merchant!"
Meilin stormed into the room, glaring, with Camibarez trailing behind her with an amused smile.
"Your intel was wrong! You said limited hamburg steak at Cafeteria 3! There wasn't even a menu board!"
Dick snickered.
"It sold out in five minutes, so they pulled it off the board."
"...Ugh, annoying."
"That's what you get for not sprinting like a maniac through the shortcut, the way me and Simon did."
"How would I know that shortcut?! Why didn't you take me with you?!"
Dick waved a dismissive hand.
"C'mon, you want to eat with us too? Gross. Outside of Basic Dark Magic, we don't know each other."
"Fine by me!"
Saying that, Meilin set her things down next to Simon.
"But until the Cyclops assessment is over, I don't have a choice. Let me make one thing clear—if you two slack off and drag down my grades, you'll regret it."
"Wow, so scary. What exactly are you going to do to us?"
When she froze, mouth hanging open, Dick leaned in and cupped a hand to his ear.
"I'll listen real close! What are you gonna do, huh? What'll you do? Take your tiiime."
She growled.
"I-I'll curse you! I'll dump a hundred cursed dolls into your room!"
Dick burst out laughing.
"You'd get caught by my information network for trespassing in the men's dormitory before that. Or found as a desiccated corpse by an enraged Kajan Edvalt."
"Who's Kajan Edvalt?"
"Wouldn't you like to know."
Dick grinned and propped his arms behind his head.
"Tell me who he is!"
As Meilin shouted at him to spill it and Dick teased back, the two devolving into a childish squabble, Camibarez's eyes met Simon's.
Her eyes curved into a soft smile.
"Hello again~"
"Hey."
Before long the other students filed in, filling the room to capacity, and the Toxicology professor entered as well.
"Ahem—now, who is the class president of this class?"
The professor's name was Lang Strauss. Gaunt frame, hunched back, wrinkles crisscrossing his face—an elderly necromancer who looked every bit his advanced age.
"We don't have one!"
"Then from now on, that will be you."
"Yes, sir!"
Jamie Victoria sprang to her feet.
"Everyone, attention! Bow to the professor!"
"Good morning, sir!"
"Yes, yes. Welcome, everyone."
Lang was the only professor at Kizen who had his students stand at attention and bow. Leaning on his cane, he mounted the podium with slow, shuffling steps.
"Ahem—now then, which class are you... again?"
"Class A!"
"Oh, right. This is Class A's first lesson, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is!"
Lang opened his textbook and spoke.
"Ahem—everyone, please turn to page one."
And then he began reading the textbook aloud, line by line, in a plodding drone.
The impact was catastrophic. Within ten minutes of the class starting, the students' eyelids had begun to flutter. The destructive power of his soggy, drooping delivery and glacial class tempo was such that it would hardly be an exaggeration to say he was spraying sleeping gas straight from his mouth.
"Ahem—that is to say, Toxicology is not merely the study of poisons alone. A variety of substances are—combined and, arranged—"
Bob. Bob-bob.
Dick's head was dropping fast. Simon chuckled and poked him with his elbow until he jolted awake—only for the poor guy's head to start sinking again five minutes later, making the rescue entirely pointless.
Forty minutes of tedious theory disguised as textbook reading ground on. Before anyone noticed, half the students were face-down on their desks.
Lang lifted his head.
"Ahem—now we will attempt to brew the basic poison potion from the textbook..."
Finally, hands-on practice! The dozing students lifted their heads one by one.
The TAs, put to work for the first time all class, moved swiftly, setting potion ingredients down in front of each student's desk.
"Ahem—let's begin then... let's see. Potion brewing requires—meticulous—measurement of—"
Above all else, precise measurement and proper order of ingredients were critical. The students used the scales set to one side to weigh their materials exactly.
The TAs filled the cauldrons with water, and following Lang's instructions, the students sliced and added the Kurodan Poison Mushroom and frog tongue first.
"And next we'll... cough! Cough!"
Suddenly Lang doubled at the waist, wracked by violent coughing.
"Cough! Cough! Khh-aaaagh! Gahk! Kk—!"
The symptoms looked genuinely alarming.
The students froze, eyes wide as rabbits, while the TAs rushed over to check on Lang. In the hand he'd been coughing into, something purplish—like bloody phlegm—had pooled.
"Professor, you've pushed yourself too hard. You should rest."
A TA said. Lang shook his head even as he coughed.
"N-no, I can't. Without me, the class..."
"We've reached the practical portion, haven't we? We can supervise the practice ourselves. You must think of your health."
When the TA pleaded with him over and over, Lang finally allowed himself to be supported and led out of the room by the other TAs.
The students blinked, wondering what on earth had just happened.
Then, in Lang's place, a red-haired TA stepped up to the podium. She let out a small sigh—and spotted one male student still nodding off among the crowd.
With one hand, she hoisted the heavy textbook effortlessly and hurled it straight at him.
SLAM!
The textbook crashed onto the boy's desk and knocked it over. He shot awake, petrified.
"Everyone. Wake up."
"...?"
"Wake up!"
The students belatedly came to their senses and scrambled upright. The red-haired TA crossed her arms and glared at them, long and hard.
"What is this outrageous disrespect toward your professor, Class A?"
"..."
"So sleepy you have to face-plant into your desk? Rotten-to-the-core scum like you have no business calling yourselves Kizen students!"
The pressure was crushing.
Every single student sat rigid, face taut with tension. She rested a hand against her forehead for a moment, as if cooling her anger, and said nothing.
"Let's observe the bare minimum of courtesy toward one another. Am I understood?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Be seated."
The students, now drilled into proper discipline, took their seats. She heaved a sigh and yanked her hair back into a tight tie.
"I am Francesca Belmond, Professor Lang's TA. From this point forward, I will be conducting the class in Professor Lang's place. The practical product is a basic poison potion. Close your textbooks."
The students shut their books with dazed expressions. She picked up a piece of chalk and approached the blackboard.
"The true core of brewing a basic potion is not variable control through standardized quantities and ingredient order—but the caster's fluid adaptability. Your cauldrons should be boiling by now. From the ingredient bundle on your left, add salamander powder and barley flour."
One student shot a hand into the air.
"How much should we add?"
"The amount doesn't matter. Go by feel—add as much as seems right."
At Francesca's instruction, Simon and the rest of the students added the ingredients freely. Before long, Simon's cauldron too had turned green and begun to give off a bitter smell.
"Now—any student whose cauldron is emitting blue smoke, please raise your hand."
About half the students raised their hands.
"Those students will be brewing a poison potion with a neural paralysis effect. Next—blue... no, green smoke?"
The remainder, Simon included, raised their hands.
"Students with green smoke will brew a poison potion containing acute headache and hallucinogenic effects. It's useful against mages and necromancers."
The students blinked at each other. This was, without a doubt, practical know-how that appeared in neither the textbook nor any advance study material.
She stepped down from the podium and circulated among the students, firing off information like a submachine gun.
"Green-smoke students, please take off your uniform jackets and drape them over your chairs. The TAs will bring you additional ingredients."
"From here on, we all share the same steps. Skim off the oil spreading in a thin film across the surface of your potion with a ladle. Plant-based fatty acids degrade a poison's potency."
"Keep stirring. You must stir steadily until the potion develops a viscous, stringy texture. If the heat is too strong, the compounds can harden—so watch your flame as well."
Perhaps because it came on the heels of Lang's sleep-inducing lecture, Francesca's class felt dazzling—practically electrifying. Sweat beading down her face, she coached the students with unrestrained passion.
Perhaps moved by her skill and effort, the students soon began following her with shining eyes.
"My potion's turning yellowish—is that okay?"
"Excellent work, student. A faint golden tint marks a poison potion of exceptional quality. At that grade, you could even sell it in Rochest."
A potion I could sell?!
The student, flushed by the unexpected praise, beamed. The friends beside her thumped her on the arm in congratulations.
"I-I'm Catherine Meyer! It was blue smoke at first, but then it changed to green!"
"When you stirred with the ladle, the ingredients settled at the bottom rose up and changed the effect. You'll want to pivot toward the hallucinogenic side. Ms. Hesse—please bring green-smoke ingredients over here."
Francesca made her rounds among the students, checking each cauldron in turn. Then one female student thrust her hand up.
"Claudia Menzies! Professor, my compound seems a little off..."
Francesca's expression hardened. Claudia belatedly realized her slip of the tongue and hastily covered her mouth.
"I am not a professor, Claudia."
"I-I'm sorry, TA ma'am!"
"Right. What seems to be the problem?"
Her anger lasted exactly that long. Francesca put on a gentle smile and guided Claudia through her compound. When Claudia added more salamander powder as instructed, Francesca even patted her on the head for a job well done.
"Hey. Hey, Simon."
Dick tilted his head toward Simon and whispered.
"Now I get why that old fossil Professor Lang has survived at Kizen. His TA is insane! Insanely competent!"
"...Yeah, I see it."
Claudia, utterly absorbed in Toxicology, had gone so far as to ask for a major consultation. Watching Francesca answer her so warmly, Simon's eyes turned complicated and unreadable.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. It's nothing."
The class drew to its close.
Francesca granted free time to the students who had completed their potions successfully, and gave the ones who failed another chance, teaching them through it again.
Simon, having brewed his poison potion without a hitch, was leafing through his textbook.
"Simon! Should we prep this for the Cyclops fight? These poison potions seem like they'd be useful, right?"
Simon had been thinking the exact same thing, so he laughed.
"To face the Cyclops, you'll all need to push your abilities to their absolute limit over this coming week. Don't gloss over a single lesson—master each one completely, and put it to use in the assessment."
He was keenly aware that every scrap of class material could be woven into real combat.
Jane's mastery of curriculum design truly was formidable.
"Dummy. Basic poison potions won't work on it."
Meilin came over, arms crossed. Camibarez joined her at Simon's side with a bright smile.
"Basic poison potions stop working from medium-grade monsters on up. Against a Cyclops? Not a chance."
"Really?"
Simon kept flipping through his textbook in silence. Then, on a certain page, his hand stopped.
Rehark Mushroom as an ingredient?
It was the mushroom Anna Polentia used to use—sometimes she would neutralize poisons with it and cook it into dishes for him.
Head lowered, Simon read the entry straight through.
"Meilin. What about this one?"
"What is it?"
Meilin came over and looked at the section Simon was pointing to.
"..."
After a long silence, Meilin snapped her head up and sprinted back to her own seat.
"Simon! What page is this?!"
"254."
Meilin hastily flipped open her own textbook and began reading the passage with utter seriousness.
"Guys! If we can actually make this, I think it'll work!"