Chapter 93
Chapter 93
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 93
Chapter Title: Dissolution Match Challenge
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“One side gets a total of three touches. Touch it four times or more, and it’s a foul—you lose the point.”
As Owen explained, Melanie from Rohwinen Academy was visible on the court, expertly receiving Illin’s serve.
Weiber, who’d been waiting right in front of the net’s center, then sent that wobbly ball on a sharp trajectory to the giant nearby.
“He’s setting the ball in a weird way.”
“Weiber’s the setter♣”
“Setter?”
“The position that sets up the spikers for their spikes. They call it setter because they do the setup♪”
The giant who’d leaped high into the sky then smashed the ball down viciously… and in the next instant, it plunged with a sharp *whoosh*.
Incredibly fast and crisp.
But Logan dove at tremendous speed to save it! Watching with Bell Sidias made the match rules even clearer at a glance.
“Professor, you’re not presenting any formulas when receiving?”
“Damn it, Rain! I get wanting to shit on the poor monkey who trusts a devil like you as a teammate, but we still need to win the game!”
“!!!”
“What good does it do the team to toss them garbage? If it’s just to show off your vicious personality, sure, it works!”
Owen’s command of language was genuinely fascinating. I really wanted to know where he’d learned it. Was it part of Chaihak Academy’s successor training?
“So if you hastily set it during a receive and it goes over the net, it becomes a free ball♬”
“Got it. No formula needed for that one. It’s a free attack chance handed right over?”
“Yeah, exactly~♣”
Magic volleyball’s position names were pretty straightforward, so picking up the other key ones took less than a minute.
・Wing Spiker: Position that spikes from either wing of the net.
・Middle Blocker: Position that blocks at the net’s center.
・Hard Receiver: Position dedicated solely to receiving from the back row, without joining attacks. Usually subs in when the middle blocker rotates back.
I see.
Minimum six players, and you need seven to run a hard receiver.
“From that smug grin, you think mastering one set of rules is enough to beat Griffinballer?”
“Won’t it be?”
“There’s a saying in magic volleyball.”
Owen snapped his fingers twice.
It takes three months to handle the basics, three years for the team to move as one.
“And Griffinballer’s third-years are exactly that—perfectly drilled, just like Elin the professor trained them!”
Owen was right.
In the long tug-of-war between nobles and academies, talent had always been unevenly distributed.
While first-years were dominated by academy disciples, third-years were ruled by noble scions.
“And that talent imbalance carries straight over to magic volleyball—no team at <Delaiten> can stop Griffinballer right now.”
Unable to argue, Lionheart’s disciples bit their lips in shared frustration at the grim reality.
“But how do you plan to beat them, you monkey who’s barely learned the basics? You don’t even have teammates yet?”
“……!”
“Spit it out easy, you shit-for-brains young master.”
As Rain seriously stroked his chin in thought, Weiber snorted derisively.
As if.
Against Griffinballer, no less.
But moments later, when Rain looked up with a grin, there wasn’t a trace of hesitation or despair on his face.
“Too soon to give you the answer.”
“Unbelievable! Just admit you’re screwed! Even the stray dog passing by knows it!”
“I am screwed, sure, but that doesn’t mean there’s no solution at all? Just like any math problem.”
“What kinda bullshit is that?”
“You know it too, Professor. Math teaches us there’s always a right answer to any problem.”
Owen’s eyes widened for a moment, then his lips twisted as he burst into huge laughter.
“Ha, ha, hahaha! Hahahahaha!”
His laughter echoed through the gym, leaving the academy disciples to exchange stunned glances.
‘The professor’s…’
‘…actually laughing for real…?’
‘He only laughs when mocking people…’
How long did he laugh?
Finally wiping the grin from his face and back to his fierce scowl, Owen jabbed Rain’s forehead with his index finger.
“You’re the first in my 32 years to entertain me this quick, Rain Ludwig. I salute you on that.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
“But don’t get cocky. For making me laugh, I’ll pray to the seven gods for your defeat starting today, refuse to teach you magic volleyball, and mock you sincerely every time you pull some nonsense!”
Of course, his real intent was elsewhere.
If Lionheart went all-in to help Rain Ludwig, it’d destabilize Rain Ludwig’s future standing.
‘Rain Ludwig might make friends across nobles and commoners alike, but at root, he’s nobility…’
To solidify his future support base, he couldn’t get tangled in weird rumors already.
So as leader of the Eight Great Academies, Owen figured it was best to draw a clear line now—for this genius’s own future.
Plus, even if they helped, Lionheart cadets harbored resentment toward nobles—except Logan and Nora—so they wouldn’t commit fully anyway.
“It’s fine, Professor. You’ve already taught me plenty.”
Owen let out a short “Hmph” of laughter, then thrust out his massive hand for a shake.
“I sincerely hope for the day you meatheads get utterly crushed—even if you’re a slight step above these idiots.”
Clasping that hand and smiling back, Rain replied confidently.
“I’ll do my utmost to live down to your expectations, Professor.”
* * *
“What did you just say?”
Elin Ludwig, overseeing the noble cadets’ training, furrowed her brow and glanced back.
Maya Snark and the other third-years who’d been away for the executive committee had returned sooner than expected.
Along with Sandra Kepel, student council officer and scion of a magic house.
“We need to schedule a match, Professor. A dissolution match.”
“What dissolution match?”
“Master Rain declared he’d disband us Griffinballer and quit the student council.”
Unaware of the context, Elin’s mind went blank for a moment.
Dissolution match?
By Rain Ludwig?
Student council resignation?
Three bombshells in a row—even a normal person’s brain would’ve frozen for minutes.
“Hey, what’s going on? What mess did my pathetic wimp of a nephew cause now? Quitting the student council? Disbanding the royal club Griffinballer?”
No third-year could answer proudly. They’d pulled a dirty trick, and Rain had boldly called their bluff.
“Not talking?”
So the scruffy-looking, small-framed male student, Lowinbelt, rubbed the back of his neck and played dumb.
“Why not ask the young master himself, Professor? Anyway, what do we do?”
“What do you mean, what? Nothing.”
“To avoid embarrassing him, we’ll need to hold back, but I’m not sure how much…”
Stifled chuckles rippled through the second- and third-years.
“If we go too easy, Griffinballer’s reputation—”
“—You think this is a joke?”
Elin’s glare at Lowinbelt burned with murderous intent.
Her eyes blazed red from Bell Sidias’s potential, an inexplicable pressure crushing the second- and third-years, making their hair stand on end.
“Who’s holding back who? Ridiculous.”
Not just Elin Ludwig.
He was a genius among geniuses, acknowledged even by old-guard peak Skalji Ludwig and current peak Madelia.
“Hold back? If you don’t want to be humiliated, step up. Training time’s doubling from now on—know that.”
“……!”
“What’re you standing around for? Change and get moving!”
* * *
Leaving the gym, twilight had already faded, leaving only bright moonlight tangled with dusk blanketing the campus.
“Now do you get that the young master’s no joke?”
Logan, seeing him out, spoke in a worried tone.
“I don’t like nobles like Maya or Lowinbelt, but their skills are the real deal.”
“Figured as much.”
“I’m not doubting your skill, Young Master, but… volleyball’s a six-player game. Being good alone won’t win it.”
Rain whistled and turned back at Logan’s earnest voice.
“You say some cool shit sometimes.”
“Who do you think I am? Logan, Chaihak Academy successor!”
Logan proudly thumped his puffed-out chest. Nora, watching from the side, smiled.
“What Logan means is we gotta pick five teammates who are skilled from the start★”
That was spot on.
Narrowing candidates…
Ones with magic skill to rival the Ten Great Families *and* volleyball experience… Wait, only one group fits?
‘The Eight Great Academies’ disciples…!’
But Owen said he wouldn’t help?
Problem just got trickier—he swallowed dryly as Logan scratched his chin awkwardly.
“Still, if we hustle from now, we can find four, right? Takes at least a week or ten days to schedule anyway.”
“Four?”
Did he missay five?
When Rain asked, Logan tilted his head, more puzzled himself.
“With you and me, that’s two—so four more? You planning to grab a hard receiver or pinch server too?”
“No, it’s not that… You’re saying you’ll help? You, me?”
“Why so surprised? We’re comrades exploring the art of muscle—helping when needed’s natural.”
Logan’s innocent grin hit Rain with a warm surge in his chest, leaving him speechless for a moment.
*Lean on us all you want, Lin. We’re comrades.*
It recalled Rista saying something similar three hundred years ago… back when he tried handling everything alone.
“Watch your math, Logan. It’s not four—it’s three★”
The surprise reinforcements weren’t just Logan.
Nora’s remark, delivered with a beaming smile, left Logan wary and Rain baffled, both blinking in surprise.
As if answering their stares, Nora explained her reasoning with a sly grin.
“Cuz fun stuff always happens tagging along with you, Young Master♣ That’s all.”