Chapter 18
Chapter 18
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Class Assignment Test (2)
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The Black Mage Tower Lord, Yetoal, was a flexible sort of man.
He judged situations swiftly. He wasn't rigid. He valued efficiency over formality. He wasn't bound by rules.
Unlike the elders who had grown conservative and stiff after climbing to high positions.
Yetoal had always pursued only the Mage Tower's interests. Even if it went against propriety. Even if it drew the public's ire, he didn't hesitate.
'That's why I was able to find that child.'
Belnoa, the nightmare of Dusk, who had annihilated it.
The greatest talent Yetoal had discovered.
Recalling his first meeting with that child, Yetoal let out a sly grin.
Yetoal held no ill preconceptions about Dusk, the organization lurking in the slums. Of course, he knew they were filthy. He also knew they engaged in illegal activities.
But so what?
Their black market offered materials impossible to find elsewhere. For the right price, they'd handle any dirty job without qualms. To Yetoal, Dusk was merely a useful hound.
It was one such day.
As usual, Yetoal visited the slums to procure materials. But that day's slums felt off somehow.
The magic lanterns illuminating the slums were shattered.
The thick shadows in the alleys reeked of blood.
No organization members came out to guide him.
-Stab.
And then.
-Thud, splurt!
From somewhere, the relentless sounds of something being struck down and liquid spraying echoed.
-Squelch.
Approaching the source of those noises.
Yetoal came face-to-face with a boy.
'Like a ghost.'
The boy stood alone atop a pile of trash, drenched head to toe in blood. Yetoal clearly remembered that ghost-like figure.
This child could do it.
A child who had bloomed with talent even in the filthy back alleys could chase Raniel's shadow.
Yetoal would never forget the thrill he felt that day.
"People always get it wrong."
Recalling that day, Yetoal smiled bitterly.
The common misconception was that Belnoa destroyed Dusk after becoming the disciple of the Black Mage Tower Lord.
But the truth was different.
Belnoa had already been a completed monster before entering Yetoal's tutelage. That boy had annihilated the slums without learning a thing.
'A monster.'
A child who hadn't properly learned anything.
Had crushed Dusk, which had ruled the slums for decades. No one could match that ghostly talent.
"I hear the White Mage Tower Lord raised the Northern Duke's heir."
Rumors swirled that this Northern Duke's heir was the strongest among the new students. Whispers among mages claimed no one could beat him in real combat.
"What nonsense."
Yetoal scoffed at the rumors.
They spoke without knowing Belnoa.
Sure, in a head-on fight, he might even lose. But if it was 'real combat'—a fight to the death?
Belnoa wouldn't yield to anyone.
"Hmm."
Yetoal stroked his chin and eyed the documents on the table. The progress of the class assignment test. As he'd requested, Belnoa was facing Rak alone.
'A chance to flatten the White Tower's nose.'
As he grinned slyly at that thought, his gaze caught one item on the document.
"...Huh?"
An entry that should have been blank.
The northern sector assigned to Belnoa and Rak—the assistant professor overseeing it was filled in.
'...Someone's taking that spot?'
It wasn't a position for an assistant professor. At least a full professor would be needed to mediate that fight.
'Must be some cocky young punk with a swollen head.'
Out of curiosity, Yetoal glanced at the name in the entry.
And then.
"Ah?"
Yetoal froze briefly.
'La...nia...?'
Lania van Trias.
His pupils quivered faintly at the name. But only for a moment—Yetoal quickly sorted his thoughts.
'...Can I still execute the plan?'
The plan he'd fronted. The one using the test as cover to target the White Tower's disciple—did it need revision?
Yetoal pictured Belnoa, Rak, and this assistant professor Lania together in one place. No need to imagine, really.
Just recalling the girl's prowess from the platform gave him the answer.
The volume of spells she'd Stocked.
Dozens, hundreds of spells under perfect control.
'At minimum, on par with the Ashen Mage Tower Lord.'
Someone with that level of skill.
'Can Belnoa's shamanism activate under the watch of such a person?'
No, impossible.
No matter how arrogant Belnoa got, nothing would work in front of her.
'She must be confident she can control any situation.'
That's why she'd taken that sector.
A justified confidence born of skill.
"Hoo..."
Yetoal pressed his temple and sighed.
"...I'll have to scrap the plan."
He'd meant to poke at the White Tower's prized disciple under the guise of the test... but this changed things.
'No need to make enemies prematurely.'
Yetoal pulled out a letter.
A note to send to his disciple.
2.
Two days after the entrance ceremony.
I'd been spending every day in leisure. Each one felt so fresh.
Aphria Academy.
The kingdom's top academy surpassed my wildest imaginings with its facilities.
Palace chefs from the old court whipping up meals, master alchemists from famous workshops brewing coffee. The luxury and extravagance could fill volumes.
Who knew meals could come out on time—and hot?
It felt indulgent. On the battlefield, cold canned rations were the norm.
"Here you go, Professor."
"Ah, thanks."
Sipping the master-brewed coffee, I propped my chin and gazed out the window.
The sun bathed everything in a lazy warmth.
Petal danced on the breeze.
It was so peaceful; this unfamiliar scene was starting to feel normal.
"Blissful."
Savoring the rare downtime, I watched students milling about the campus, dotted with assistant professors.
'...Like the undead.'
Hollow eyes.
Limbs dangling limply as they shambled—pity hit me first.
Me? Master hooked me up, giving just the right workload for a leisurely life. But was that standard for assistants?
'Ah, so that's why they nitpicked me?'
No wonder they cracked under endless work.
-Um, Assistant Professor Lania, you seem awfully relaxed?
-Pardon?
-Have you finished your paperwork? You've been hitting cafes and napping on campus benches. So leisurely...
-I submitted it yesterday?
-...Pardon?
The one who always picked at me... what was his name? Caesar?
'He seemed exhausted too.'
Endless nagging about thorough oversight, preparing for injuries... but honestly, it didn't resonate.
'Just watch the kids fight and step in if someone's about to die, right?'
Regrettably.
I had tons of experience mediating such fights.
-Aren't you keeping distance from Kyle? Are all elves like you, vulgar and lewd?
-Isn't the Saintess supposed to love only God? Mind your own business, you vulgar human.
Early in the journey, Sara and Remia fought bloodily over Kyle.
-This pointy-eared bitch has no filter?
-This fanatic bitch has no filter?
...
-We're settling this today, right?
-Aha, if you can even run properly?
Yeah.
'It was horrific.'
Arrows flying everywhere.
Holy Missiles or whatever—divine magic that blew limbs off on hit—painting the sky.
'Come to think of it, Sara used more Holy Missiles on Remia than on demons.'
I remembered being dumbfounded as their skill proficiency rose with every brawl.
Probably lasted three months into the trip?
Around month four, after Kyle, Sara, and Remia shared a fancy inn room, the fights tapered off...
'Huh? Thinking about it, that's fucked up?'
Maybe I should've let one die back then.
"Sigh."
I smiled bitterly at the sudden memory. No watch duty, wonder if they still act like that.
Eh, they'll manage.
Lost in idle thoughts while sipping coffee, I heard a jingle at the door. A customer entered.
"......"
I looked at the customer.
He looked back at me.
Snow-white hair, sharp features.
And the axe handle at his waist.
Face looked familiar.
'Ah, one of the top new student reps.'
Rak van Grace, the Northern Duke's son, Battle Mage.
As I recalled his name, he suddenly shuddered.
-Hic.
And started hiccuping.
Rak, hiccuping violently like he'd choked, whipped his head away from me. Obviously avoiding my gaze.
'...What's with him?'
Rak loitered at the entrance for a while.
The shopkeeper finally addressed him.
"Hey, student."
"Wh-what?"
"You came in, why not order? Anything special you want?"
Rak's eyes darted around, then he mumbled in a tiny voice.
"Bl-black water."
"Huh?"
"Th-that black water that guy's drinking. I want some too."
"...Coffee?"
"...Something like that."
He's not all there either.
The thought crossed my mind.
3.
Rak van Grace, son of the Northern Duke.
Having spent his 17 years on the northern snowcapped mountains, since entering Aphria, he was experiencing 'civilization.'
'The capital is so vibrant.'
He somewhat understood why his father had told him to spend time here.
'Was I truly a frog in a well?'
Everything was unknown.
All new.
Yet Rak enjoyed it.
Thanks to the teachings from northern warriors since childhood.
-Young master, don't fear the new.
-Staying in this northern backwater hardens the mind. We can swing swords and be fine, but... you must rise higher.
The warriors, laughing heartily, had advised never to stop learning from the new.
Recalling those lessons as he wandered campus, it was natural his eyes fell on the cafe.
'A cafe must sell...'
The 'black water' northern warriors said only wise scholars drank.
"Hm."
Rak nodded slightly and strode confidently into the cafe. As a student at the kingdom's top academy, he could now call himself a man of intellect.
'I want to try that black water.'
But as Rak stepped inside.
"...!"
He caught sight of a predator coiled in the corner and swallowed hard.
"...?"
The predator looked at him.
Those blue eyes felt like those of a beast met on a midnight snowy peak.
"Hic."
Suppressing the hiccup, Rak turned away.
'That one is definitely...'
Professor Rosel's assistant, Lania van Trias.
The mysterious powerhouse he'd encountered before.
'To run into her so soon...'
Rak trembled.
He spun to flee, but as his hand touched the doorknob, the warriors' voices rang in his ears.
-Showing your back is a warrior's shame!
-It's not dying while fleeing or dying in battle. Face it and win, young master!
Indeed.
"Hmph!"
Rak took a deep breath and lifted his head. Boldly ordering the 'black water'—beverage of intellectuals—from the staring shopkeeper.
"Here you go, student."
"Thanks."
Holding the drink, Rak faced the predator. She seemed uninterested, gazing out the window.
'Fear is to be overcome.'
Rak nodded firmly and marched to the seat beside the predator with his black water.
Thud!
He sat with a loud bang.
The predator slowly turned her head.
"H-Hello."
"...Huh?"
"I'm Rak van Grace, new student this semester."
A student must respect professors.
Rak bowed politely. Meeting her eyes drained his willpower, but he was satisfied with completing the greeting.
Throat dry from nerves, perhaps.
Rak gulped down the black water.
'Hot!'
But bearable.
Draining a third in one go, Rak grimaced at the bitter aftertaste flooding his mouth.
"Urp."
It tasted bad.
Did the capital's intellectuals drink this?
'Another unknown.'
Rak nodded with a hum.