Practical Magic Materials Lab: Week 1 Class (2)
The experiment I'd assigned wasn't something to hand out on the first day, at least. It demanded a solid baseline of knowledge, practical skill, and hands-on experience. Even the students tempted to play dumb just to get a peek at the elf's help quickly shelved the idea.
The alchemy majors stayed relatively composed, not rushing into anything. But theory and application don't magically appear from mere pondering. More than a few ended up staring at their worksheets for over half an hour, heads in hands.
"Not starting?"
"You?"
"Was hoping to watch you first, but no dice."
"Senior! You've made this before, right?"
"Nah, haven't. Hey! No cheating."
"Unfair."
The magic majors were a spectacle. Some wore their panic on their sleeves, and inexperience turned it into synergy for disaster.
"No!"
"Ah, shit! You scared me! Careful!"
"Hey, this right?"
"You think? Dump it quick."
One kid knocked over their cauldron in a frenzy. Another heated without water, ending up with ash. Miracles happened too—like turning prep into nauseating sludge. That one went full defeatist, pushing through with the half-baked mess. Arienael broke into a cold sweat watching the liquid morph into something sinister.
"Keep the students next to them still."
Thankfully, no major incidents. Spillers just wasted time cleaning up. I had no intention of helping unless real danger loomed. Arienael and I only stepped in for collateral damage victims—fresh materials from me for ruined batches, her spirits whisking away the fallout. I even threw up a mystery spell to shield a potion on the verge of ruin.
One alchemy girl gawked in awe.
"Student?"
"...Ah! Yes, TA!"
Arienael warned her the potion was scorching—half because she figured it was my fault. I didn't hold it against her.
"Ack! Th-thank you!"
"You're welcome. Careful now."
But the culprits? No lifelines. They handled full cleanup. Botch your time away, no third chances. I saw value in the mistakes themselves—and overcoming them. No direct deductions for flubs, but you ate the losses.
After an eternity of wrestling, the first submitter emerged. Alchemy major guy, brimming with artisan pride. It fueled a fierce rivalry against the magic kids in lab courses. He rushed the antidote, dumping catalyst on the fly, aiming to finish first and bounce.
At my desk, I cast a sound barrier. Anti-cheating measure. Even sharp-eared Arienael couldn't eavesdrop.
"Confident?"
"...Yes."
"Walk me through it."
"Yes. First, processing the thornweed—to balance toxicity and potency..."
I skipped the toxicity test after his rundown. Obvious pass; no point dragging it out. He passed the quick check anyway, a touch disappointed—he'd dosed meticulously to dodge poison signs. Lucky break, not gripe material.
"Now efficacy."
I pipetted venom drops into the vials. He was solid on tox but shaky on detox. Those drops looked like waterfalls to him. Scorpion venom wisped into smoke on contact, scattering. Snake venom clumped, turning milky white. Slime venom, though? Kept fizzing mana, unyielding after minutes.
"Two out of three. Final words?"
He rattled off his prep spiel, admitting he'd skimped materials chasing zero tox.
"Smart there. But one efficacy fell short. Saw it coming?"
He froze—admit ignorance and look dumb, or claim foresight and invite "then why?"
"I suspected as much."
"The slime one?"
"Yes..."
"Got it. Submit as-is for B+. Cool?"
He asked, uneasy: "Retrying won't tank the score?"
"Grades on your best run. No sweat."
"Then I'll retry."
"Off you go. Best not share results with others. Your loss if you do."
"Understood."
No plans to help rivals anyway. He slunk back to his station.
Second girl couldn't even test venom—paper test strip turned yellow in her brew.
"Pity. Nailed the core, botched the big one. Dial back the volume; overdid it."
"Thanks for the tip!"
She scurried off.
Third guy? No detox, barely explained. I dunked the strip sans rundown—sizzled black.
"Told you antidote, not poison. Neutralizing that at undergrad level? Tough."
"Sorry..."
"Knew it'd be hazardous, should've prioritized safety. Recipe's memorable; I'd study it."
"Sorry! Redoing!"
He cradled the vial like shame incarnate, tucked it away, and shuffled off. Reckless with that toxicity—I watched till he sat.
Fourth girl passed tox, bombed all detoxes. Her potion got pinned as failure exhibit beside Arienael's model.
"D0. Redo?"
"Yes....... But can I take that?"
"Nope."
"Please! I didn't do anything wrong!"
"Not shaming you; I need it. Forgot examples. Extra catalyst batch as trade."
Bonus shot, but no envy—some mistook it for efficacy-fail punishment, overdosed, sealing their tox disqualification.
Fifth guy nailed only scorpion. C- sender wore a "no way" face retreating.
Sixth arrival? Even I recognized her. Stella Rackton, the try-hard.
Stella beamed a greeting at me. She'd snagged a spot near my desk again, and familiarity meant I'd eyed her process. Flawless; nothing to see.
"Hi, Professor?"
"Let's go."
"Professor! Professor! I'm here!"
"Got it, Rackton."
I'm no social butterfly to begin with, but Stella Rackton? Extra tricky. Same age throws it off. Everyone I met in school till my PhD was older; undergrads here skew younger. Except her. How do you boss around a peer? Her beaming clinginess? Uncomfortably off-putting. Harmless, sure, but pressure.
"Confident?"
"Yes!"
Fairness meant full tests despite familiarity. Tox, all three detoxes. Perfect as expected.
"No explanation?"
"Don't need it. A+."
Measurements, sequence—impeccable. Priorities spot-on. Prime talent. Recruitment bait. First alchemy guy was sharp, but no match. How to pitch grad school? Plans fizzled. Noblewoman. Family dictates over wishes. Unmarried or not, no idle master's for her. Raised for magic from birth? Different story. But academy then late uni entry? Nah. Not even senior year. Kid-like streaks, but no undergrad researcher idiocy.
Regret tinged. Slave—er, grad student like that next year? Gold.
"Good work. Dismissed."
"Oh~ Thanks, Professor! Report due when?"
Only then hit me: forgot lab report announcement. Blunder. Crucial oversight. No notice, kids assume none due.
'She asks first?'
First lab, tougher than expected—figured leniency. My fault anyway. Framed it intentional.
"This one's optional, makeup for deductions. Perfect scores skip. Mandatory from next. Take the breather."
Her reply? Beyond imagination. Revived wariness from our last chat.
"Got it! So I can submit? Not forbidden, just optional!"
No misunderstanding. Arienael nailed it. Not sword bits—me. Deliberate cling. Or psycho.
"What's your angle?"
I glared; she just grinned, unflinching.