Chapter 118
Chapter 118
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 118
Chapter Title: Group Project Presentation (2)
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Fundamentals of Mana Trading lecture hall.
The room was shrouded in silence. No one dared to speak. Only the sound of dry swallows echoed hollowly.
"What are you doing?"
There was no need to ask the reason.
"Return to your seat. Student Mac."
Mac, the first presenter, stepped down from the podium in a daze. His footsteps lacked strength. His shoulders, once tense, now slumped.
'Disqualified.'
It was a shocking result, but Mac couldn't utter a word in protest. There was nothing to say. His plagiarized assignment had been exposed.
"......"
The watching students fell silent.
Berfi, the leader of Group B and the next presenter, broke out in cold sweat. Seeing the first group get utterly demolished right before his eyes didn't feel like someone else's problem.
'W-what do I do.'
Professor Lania's voice was icy, her critique razor-sharp. The circuit had seemed flawless at a glance... but she had spotted the flaw in an instant.
As if nothing was ever perfect.
'Our group's circuit... it should be okay, right?'
He couldn't be sure.
Gulp.
Berfi swallowed dryly and stole a glance at Professor Lania. She was examining the circuit sheet Mac had submitted before stepping down.
"...Hmm."
She furrowed her brow. Then, with a flick of her fingertip, she tapped the sheet.
Whoosh.
Flames erupted from her fingertip, devouring the circuit sheet. Ash scattered across the desk. Berfi's face turned pale as he watched.
Sweep.
She brushed the ash off the desk with the side of her hand and looked up. Her expression blank, she called the next presenter's name.
"Group B leader, Student Berfi."
As if nothing had happened.
"Begin your presentation."
"Y-yes, ma'am......"
Berfi ascended the podium with trembling steps.
His face ashen, he scanned the room and slowly opened his mouth.
"O-our group......!"
His voice sounded on the verge of tears.
The moist, wavering tone was painful even for listeners.
2.
The group project presentations continued.
Contrary to fears, no one else suffered public humiliation like the first group.
"Why did you add this restriction here?"
"Ah, that part is......"
Her questions remained sharp, but they were at a level answerable by anyone who had drawn the circuit themselves. Students tensed at the first questions... but...
"Not bad. But this part seems erroneous. What do you think?"
"Ah, connecting it this way would be better......"
"Yes, connecting restrictions is important, but a circuit is ultimately a 'contract.' It must always be clear—clutter is no good."
As questions and answers flowed, they relaxed and responded conversationally. They even gained insights from the questions.
'Ah, so that's why it's done this way......'
Answering revealed oversights. Though grading time, it doubled as a lesson.
And it didn't end there.
"I've refined the overall circuit layout. Take a close look."
After each presentation, she distributed revised circuit sheets. They featured her corrections.
Grading, presentation, and revision happened simultaneously.
Students blinked at the immediate feedback. To them, the submitted circuits seemed perfect... but after her touch, they were even cleaner.
Concise, pristine circuits.
Near-perfect circuits.
Including their own hand-drawn curves and lines. A strange sense of accomplishment bloomed.
"Our group......"
"Ours is impact-based......"
"Through this form......"
Presentations continued, various spells adorning the air. Their power varied.
Groups that cracked resistance stones, left mere scratches, or spiderwebbed them...
And.
Boom!
One group pulverized a resistance stone to dust.
"That's all."
C Group leader, Resti Eleanoa.
She casually flicked her hand, dusting off the powdered stone. Students gaped at her.
Resti glanced aside.
Her gaze fell on Professor Lania. Who always revised immediately after... but not this time. Her pen showed no sign of moving.
Clack.
She set down her pen with a faint smile.
"Nothing to revise. It's perfect."
A de facto perfect score.
Resti descended beaming. Her steps light. Next up was Belnoa.
"E Group leader, Belnoa."
After a brief intro, he raised the circuit sheet. It projected into the air. Students unwittingly held their breath.
Not an ordinary circuit.
An bizarrely shaped one.
Belnoa based his on shamanistic circuits. Naturally unfamiliar to students. He skipped explanations of the strangeness.
Instead, he added briefly.
"A spell our group developed ourselves."
Developed.
Students blinked.
Spell development was pinnacle magecraft. And they'd already done it?
"We'll demonstrate first. Explaining after should make it clearer."
Belnoa snapped his fingers.
Shadows writhed from the assembled circuit. They coalesced into stakes.
A form no one had seen.
Even Rak, familiar with Belnoa's shadow thorns, sensed unfamiliarity. Belnoa swung his finger lightly.
Thud!
The stake shattered the resistance stone.
It devoured the fragments, leaving no trace.
"......"
Students fell silent.
Eyes wide at the spell.
Unbelievable power for a basic spell.
Surpassing C Group's.
"This spell centers on 'Shadow Thorn'..."
Seizing the captivated audience, Belnoa began explaining.
"I handled the core framework, collaborating with group members on reinforcement and refinement..."
He rattled off like a machine gun.
Emphasizing 'group members' and 'collaboration'... because even Belnoa felt a pang there.
"...That's all."
Finished, Belnoa exhaled briefly.
Glancing at Professor Lania, awaiting judgment, he swallowed.
"Hm... Belnoa."
Professor Lania, who had watched silently, spoke. Troubled expression, she said curtly.
"Group projects aren't solo efforts."
A direct hit.
"...I'll be careful."
His habits shone through the circuit. No hiding it from her. Belnoa sighed shortly and stepped down.
Time now showed noon exactly.
All leaders had returned to seats. Belnoa was last; presentations done.
"Looks like presentations are wrapped up."
As class ended, Professor Lania took the podium. Grading sheets stacked aside, she spoke.
"This group project aimed to let you indirectly experience spell creation."
She gestured to the lined resistance stones.
"Some developed spells outright, others successfully modified them, some failed but came close."
Everyone achieved something.
She smiled at that.
"Yes, good work, everyone."
And then.
"No assignment this week."
Incredible words.
Delivered with a bright smile, students blinked. No one grasped it fully.
Ding, dooong.
The bell rang; class ended.
Professor Lania gathered sheets and left. Remaining students exchanged looks.
"Just now..."
"Yeah."
"No assignment."
"Yep."
Only after a while did it sink in.
A cheer—first and last—erupted in the Mana Trading Fundamentals hall.
3.
Early summer heat blazed.
Blazing sun: vacation for some, travel for others... but not at Aphria.
Finals period.
Aphria's early summer meant enduring semester-end trials before break.
'Almost there...!'
Students' attitudes differed from midterms. Unlike zombie-like months past, they burned with warrior resolve.
Inevitable.
What follows finals?
End of term—semester's close...!
The awaited end neared. Break like honey awaited.
Students envisioned it.
Freedom from hellish assignments. No early mornings for crammed classes. Leisurely rise at noon for brunch.
How beautiful.
Imagining sustained them daily.
Thus, students navigated finals their way: library haunts, cramming fury... or untimely worries.
To: Rak van Grace.
A letter arrived at the central hall.
Signaling the incident's start.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"......Hmm."
Rak van Grace.
He stared piercingly at the letter on the table. Coarse paper sealed with House Grace's crest.
"Hmm......"
Groaning at the letter.
Family letters weren't rare. But the sender was the issue.
Family crest with a sword.
Rough paper.
Only one person used it.
'Why is Father writing...'
House Grace's lord.
Eryahel van Grace.
A man like a drawn northern warrior rarely wrote. He'd rather visit than waste letters.
'What on earth?'
Had to check.
Riiip.
Rak steeled himself and tore it open. Unfolded the fallen sheet.
It's me.
Special guest at home.
Come down.
Short sentences, bold strokes.
Pressed so hard the ink bled. Pure Father.
'Come down, huh.'
He'd planned post-term anyway. Unlikely for such a trivial reason.
"......"
Tilting his head, eyes drifted lower. More lines.
Bring the strongest professor.
Send fewer, I'll invite separately.
...Suddenly?
Intent unclear.
Letter ended. Rak blinked, grabbing the envelope. Mother's notes always accompanied Father's.
Sure enough, another sheet fell.
Rak, are you well?
The reason for the letter is...
Soft handwriting.
Rak read through. Mother's explanation clarified.
'Special guest staying, so return home for break.'
First point.
'If a professor taught you at Aphria, invite north to entertain...'
Second reason.
Rak stroked his chin, recalling northern 'hospitality.' Father's words clicked.
"So, the strongest one."
Hm, Rak nodded.
Strongest. In north, strength wasn't mere force. Survival equated strength; wisdom measured it too.
'Strong person, strong person...'
But not in Rak's head. He interpreted 'strong' simply.
'Who’s strong.'
Only one came to mind.
"Hm."
Rak took quill, wrote a name.
Lania van Trias.
Rak nodded vigorously.
Perfect choice.
'Someone to enjoy warriors' 'hospitality.'
No other professor fit.
Author's Note
I couldn't help infusing personal bias into the end-of-term description, wrote over 2,000 characters then deleted it all. I could probably spin thousands more just on the beauty of semester's end...