Surviving As A Mage In A Magic Academy [EN]: Chapter 281

“What’s all the commotion?” Cohalti asked, squinting through the smoky air.

“Look,” Dirette hissed, pointing. “Can’t you see his face?”

“Smoke’s too thick,” Cohalti complained. “Wait… is that… a first-year?”

Cohalti fumbled in his robes and pulled out a monocle. Its jeweled lens glittered as he held it up. “Ah! It *is* him!”

“Who?” Dirette asked impatiently.

Cohalti gasped. “It’s that freshman! The one Professor Muze wrongly accused!”

Dirette scoffed. “Or maybe,” he said coldly, “the freshman who cleaned up *your* mess. Don’t forget who helped you.”

Cohalti flushed red. He cleared his throat. “Right, right, grateful. I am. It’s just… Professor Muze was so… impressive.”

*Impressive and terrifying*, Dirette thought, remembering the time Professor Baegreg had forced a first-year to face a Frost Giant. He still shuddered at the memory. *I almost wrote to the Emperor about that.*

“Anyway,” Cohalti continued, “he’s just… unusual. No need to stare.”

“Unusual? He’s brilliant at dark magic too, I hear. Professor Mortum will be thrilled!” Cohalti sounded genuinely excited. “Imagine, a first-year so skilled already! Professor Mortum always says one genius is worth a hundred ordinary students.”

Dirette hesitated. “Well…”

Cohalti frowned. “What is it?”

Dirette lowered his voice. “He might not *stay* with dark magic.”

Cohalti looked confused. “What nonsense are you talking about? With that much talent? Dark magic might be unpopular, but who could resist being so good at it? Spells practically jump off the page for someone like him!”

“Maybe,” Dirette said, his gaze troubled. “But that’s the thing… he’s too good at *everything*.”

*Will he even be here next term?* Dirette wondered.

Gainando bounced on the balls of his feet as Imirgue and Raphaelle emerged from the exam room. “Well? Well? How did it go? Did you ace it? Tell me everything!”

Imirgue remained quiet, but Raphaelle’s face darkened. Gainando’s eyes widened with mischievous glee. “You didn’t! You failed!” he crowed.

*Is he really this happy about our failures?* Raphaelle thought, fuming. “You’re enjoying this way too much,” she snapped.

“Aren’t you?” Gainando pressed, grinning. “Admit it, you messed up!”

“Shut your royal trap, you spoiled brat!” Raphaelle exploded. “Just because you’re good at dark magic…” She trailed off, annoyed that she’d even given him that satisfaction. He *was* surprisingly good at it, even if he struggled in other subjects. It was infuriating that he was so pleased with himself, especially after moping around after every other exam like the world was ending.

Imirgue spoke quietly, trying to defuse the situation. “I… I didn’t do too badly. The exam was quite challenging.”

Gainando turned to him, his grin softening slightly. “Really? Oh. Well, yes, it was a bit tricky, I suppose.” He tried to sound modest, but his smile still shone.

“I managed the curse and poison on the first try,” Imirgue continued, almost shyly, “but the bone magic took me three attempts…”

Gainando blinked. “Wait… first try?” He hadn’t expected Imirgue to do so well.

“Yes,” Imirgue nodded.

Raphaelle, who had been listening with a growing frown, suddenly asked, “What about the curse and poison for you, Gainando?”

Gainando’s face went stiff. “You haven’t even told us how *you* did, and you’re already asking me? Honestly, Raphaelle, you’re supposed to be a knight!”

“You are unbelievable,” Raphaelle muttered, rolling her eyes.

Imirgue, sensing the tension rising again, quickly changed the subject. “So, how did Wodanaz do?”

Gainando’s cheerful expression vanished, replaced by a mask of solemnity. “It’s simply not polite to ask such things,” he declared, with an air of false dignity.

Imirgue and Raphaelle exchanged a look. *Typical royalty,* they both thought, hiding their smiles. He’d clearly done even better than them and couldn’t bear to admit it.

Professor Milrei stood before them, her face as unyielding as granite. “This classroom,” she announced, her voice sharp and clear, “is now under a spell that cancels all magical contracts.”

A wave of nervous murmurs rippled through the students. They shifted their weight, eyes darting around the room. Professor Milrei’s usual sternness seemed amplified today.

“You all remember making contracts with beings from other realms,” she continued, her gaze sweeping over them. *Mostly spirits,* she thought, *but young Wodanaz, of course, had to choose something… less conventional.* She glanced briefly at Ihan, who stood calmly at the front. *Undead realm, naturally.*

“Today,” Professor Milrei declared, “you will summon those beings again. One at a time.”

A hand shot up from the middle of the room. “Professor?” a student asked, voice trembling slightly. “But… if the contracts are cancelled… isn’t that dangerous?”

Spirits, even minor ones, were unpredictable creatures. Bound by contracts, they were manageable. But without those magical chains… who knew what they might do? Even the low-level spirits they had been assigned – spirits meant only for tasks like lighting fires or filling water bottles – could be troublesome if they decided to be. And first-year students were hardly equipped to handle rampaging magical beings.

“An excellent question,” Professor Milrei said, a hint of something that might have been approval in her voice. “Precisely why this is the exam. You will learn to protect yourselves when no contract shields you.”

A collective gulp went through the room. Despite Professor Milrei’s reasonable tone, the students exchanged worried glances.

“Isn’t this a bit much?” whispered one student. “It’s like throwing us to the wolves!”

“We had something like this in swordsmanship,” another muttered. “But summoning magic? I didn’t sign up for monster fighting!”

While his classmates whispered their anxieties, Ihan calmly reached into his pockets and pulled out a handful of bone fragments. He turned to his friends, a practical look on his face. “What are you waiting for? Are you going to stand around complaining, or are you going to prepare?”

“Well, we’re going to prepare,” one friend grumbled, “but we can still complain a bit!”

“Complain later,” Ihan said, his voice firm. “Every second wasted is less time to get ready. Your choice.”

His friends sighed, but started rummaging in their own bags. Ihan was impossible. Never a word of complaint, even when faced with what seemed like madness. *He’s completely focused on magic,* they thought. *Nothing else matters.*

*This will be easier than I expected,* Ihan thought to himself, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. The exam, to him, seemed surprisingly straightforward.

“Spirit of the wind,” Asan began, trying for a gentle tone, but his voice trembled with nerves. “I… I trust you.”

He barely got the words out when *whack!* A gust of wind, solid as a fist, slammed into his stomach. Asan gasped, doubling over.

*Oh dear,* Ihan thought, watching from the side. He didn’t sense any real malice from the wind spirit. Having faced creatures filled with genuine hatred, this felt more like… a playful shove. A prank. The wind spirit, a swirling, shimmering shape, seemed more interested in showing off than causing harm.

“Stop! Please, stop!” Asan cried, dropping his staff as he scrambled backwards, trying to dodge the persistent gusts that now seemed to be aiming for his head.

Professor Milrei watched for a moment longer, then with a flick of her own staff, the wind spirit dissipated. “Even with kindness,” she said, her voice carrying across the room, “words alone are not enough when there is no bond. Remember, students, sometimes a firm hand is needed when persuasion fails.”

“S-sorry, Professor,” Asan stammered, rubbing his stomach.

Asan’s painful lesson hung in the air. The next student stepped forward, clutching their staff tightly. This time, there was no gentle coaxing.

“Magic!” the student began, staff raised defensively.

*Whoosh!* Before the spell could form, a cloud of gritty sand erupted from the ground, thrown by the earth spirit.

“Cough! Cough! Ptoo! Ptoo!” The student choked, spitting out sand as the earth spirit continued its sandy assault. Blinded and coughing, the student stumbled backwards, tears streaming down their face.

“I… I trusted you!” the student sobbed.

A low, rumbling voice seemed to echo from the sand cloud. “You were going to attack me.”

Student after student tried, confidence quickly turning to frustration. Professor Milrei directed the failures to wait at the back of the room. She hadn’t expected many successes on the first try.

*Carrots alone won’t work, but neither will just whips,* she mused, observing the chaos. *The key is understanding.* How well did these students truly know the spirits they had summoned? Those who had simply issued commands without any real connection were now being exposed. They hadn’t bothered to learn the spirits’ habits, their personalities, their moods. Understanding, whether through kindness or firmness, was paramount. The failures today, she hoped, would spark a genuine curiosity in their summons.

“Please,” Nilia pleaded, her voice soft and a little shaky. “Don’t hurt me. I’ve always been nice to you, haven’t I? Just listen to me this once, okay? If you’re unhappy, we can talk about it later…”

Ihan recognized the shimmering, watery form that appeared before Nilia. It was the same water spirit that had avoided him on the island, the one that had chosen to make a contract with Nilia instead. *Hmph, I don’t like spirits anyway,* he’d said to Nilia then, but a small, unexpected pang of something like… envy?… pricked at him now.

“Isn’t that… a bit much?” Gainando whispered, watching Nilia’s almost pleading tone with a puzzled frown. “So… pathetic?”

And then, a gasp rippled through the room. “It… it worked!” someone exclaimed.

Even without a contract, the water spirit obeyed Nilia’s gentle request, performing the task without hesitation.

*They are truly close,* Ihan observed. Unlike the others, he could sense the subtle magical emotions emanating from Nilia’s spirit – a gentle affection, a sense of trust. His own innate sensitivity to magic, honed by years of illusion training, made it almost impossible for him *not* to feel it. Nilia’s water spirit clearly regarded her with a warmth that was absent in the other spirit-magician pairings.

“Indeed,” Professor Milrei murmured, nodding slowly. “I see.”

“What is it?” Gainando asked, still confused.

“Nilia,” Ihan explained, “must have spent time talking to her spirit, even when she wasn’t practicing. That’s why they are so connected.”

“Talk to a spirit… for fun?” Gainando looked genuinely bewildered. “Why would anyone do something so… lonely?” He clearly couldn’t grasp the idea.

Professor Milrei, however, beamed. “Excellent, Miss Nilia! A perfect demonstration of building true intimacy from the beginning.” She praised Nilia’s method, pointing out that while her approach lacked confidence, the deep connection she had forged with her spirit was undeniable. “A spirit that feels understood,” Professor Milrei explained, “will not refuse a reasonable request.”

Inspired by Nilia’s success, the next students tried a different tactic. “Great spirit!” one student boomed, bowing deeply. “I… Cough! Please, just help me once… Hack!” But the spirits, unimpressed by forced politeness, simply reacted as before, scattering sand or gusts of wind. Professor Milrei sighed, shaking her head. *Oh dear,* she thought again.

“Wodanaz, you’re next,” she announced.

“Ah, yes, Professor,” Ihan replied calmly. He stepped forward and began to weave his magic, not with words of pleading or commands, but with a silent, focused intent. Orbs of water began to float around him, shimmering with magical energy.

As Ihan worked, a subtle shift occurred in the room. The other summoned spirits, who had been confidently tormenting their magicians, suddenly seemed to shrink back, trembling slightly, seeking shelter behind their masters. Even Professor Milrei felt a flicker of… something… Not frustration, not exactly. But something else. *Of course, that’s one way to do it,* she thought, a hint of exasperation in her voice. *But that’s not quite the point of the exam, is it?*