Surviving As A Mage In A Magic Academy [EN]: Chapter 377

This black magic poison wasn’t like ordinary poison from nature; it was more like a magic-made poison, created by a magician’s power.

A skilled black magician could link and mix several of these magic poisons to create even stronger, deadlier versions.

The undead magician was definitely a magician of that level.

The undead magician’s voice echoed, “-To make the Engraving Poison, you need fifteen basic poisons to begin.”

Ethan blinked, his mind still racing from the fight.

“-First, you must mix three…” The words were just sounds to Ethan, like a language he had never learned. This poison magic was on a level he couldn’t grasp yet.

The undead magician’s voice sharpened, “-Did you understand? Do it now!”

Ethan repeated the words as best he could, stumbling over the strange sounds, “…Poison, bloom and boil… the blooming poison…” He hadn’t understood the meaning, but panic pushed him forward.

As he spoke, strange vapors began to twist in the air before him, like dark smoke taking shape. They swirled together, colors shifting from sickly green to deep purple.

“-Shoot it now! Hurry!” the undead magician yelled.

“…Move!” Ethan commanded, and the swirling mass of poison shot forward, faster and more powerfully than the undead magician’s own magic.

The undead magician watched, surprised. Ethan’s poison flew with a speed and precision he couldn’t achieve himself.

While the undead magician had focused on powerful spells, neglecting the finer points of control, Ethan had honed his skills through constant practice.

“-Excellent!” the undead magician exclaimed. But he was wrong about why Ethan was so skilled. He believed Ethan’s control came from natural talent, from being a more gifted magician from birth.

So, when Ethan’s poison only burned the berserker’s muscles instead of destroying its entire torso, the undead magician’s face fell in disappointment.

*Sssssss-* “-No!?” the undead magician shrieked. “Why even bother with black magic if you’re so clumsy with poison and undead!” He stamped his foot, frustrated.

He had seen Ethan’s magic flow, the speed of his spells, his control – it had looked better than his own! Why were there so many errors?

“I’m sorry,” Ethan mumbled. He knew it wasn’t perfect, but he thought he had done well considering everything.

Anyone else might be angry at the criticism, but Ethan was used to it. Years of dealing with demanding, unreasonable professors had taught him to just apologize and move on.

But then, Ogoltos exploded. “Don’t apologize!” he roared. “Why should you apologize to this crazy undead idiot!”

“-What!?” the undead magician sputtered.

“I don’t care if you’re centuries old,” Ogoltos continued, his voice shaking with anger, “it’s wrong to yell at a student when you taught him badly! Even the Headmaster wouldn’t be so unfair!”

“-Wh-what…?” The undead magician blinked, completely taken aback. From their words, he realized these two were very young, indeed.

*Whoosh!* Suddenly, a wave of heat washed over them as flames erupted in front of the passage.

The undead berserker, in a horrifying display, spewed a stream of thick, black liquid from its own body and rubbed its limbs together, igniting the foul substance.

Ethan stared, speechless, as the creature set itself ablaze. It was a terrifying, desperate act, a madness only the undead could conceive – burning itself to fight the cold.

*It’s coming!* he thought, heart pounding. The burning berserker swung its flaming arms, smashing into the skeleton warriors, sending bone fragments flying.

It was still slow, lumbering, but they all knew it was only a matter of moments before it broke through.

“Senior, any ideas?” Ethan cried out.

“What could I possibly do?!” Ogoltos groaned, feeling a knot of panic tighten in his chest. He was just a second-year student! What brilliant plan could he possibly have?

Curse magic? Bone magic? Poison? None of it seemed strong enough. That berserker was relentless, its stamina terrifying. The ice barrier was gone, the barricade shattered. Normal spells wouldn’t hold it back.

*Summoned beasts… maybe… if we could summon something strong to block it…* If Sharkan couldn’t stop it, and it charged straight for them… they were doomed. He had to find a way to create a powerful barrier.

Then, like a spark in the darkness, an idea flashed in his mind. “Wait!” he exclaimed, “Can’t we… can’t we make fewer skeletons, but make them stronger? Combine them!”

“Huh?” Ethan asked, confused.

“Combine them!” Ogoltos repeated, louder. “We don’t need lots of weak skeletons now. We need one strong one, something that can actually stand against it!”

Normally, summoned creatures were bound by contracts, fixed in their form. But Ethan’s black magic was different. He summoned them directly, from raw magic and bone. If he used more magic, more bone, but for fewer skeletons… they might become much stronger, easier to control.

“Return,” Ethan chanted, raising his staff. “And… arise, warrior of bone!” As he spoke, the skeleton warriors around them crumbled into piles of bone dust, the reagents they were made from.

Then, the dust began to swirl and rise, drawn together by Ethan’s magic. The bone fragments fused, compacted, reforming into a single, towering figure. It was a skeleton warrior, but unlike the frail ones before. This one was massive, its bones thick and dense, as if the strength of ten skeletons had been squeezed into one.

*It… it actually worked?* Ogoltos stared, jaw dropped. He had just blurted out the idea in desperation, but now, seeing it real, he was stunned.

He knew how difficult it was to pour so much magic and material into a single spell, how risky it was to gamble like that. But Ethan, the rumored genius, had pulled it off. Just the sheer size of the skeleton warrior was proof of its power.

Ogoltos breathed a sigh of relief he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Thank goodness…” he murmured, then his brow furrowed. “Wait a minute! Why was he fighting with ten weak skeletons before when he could do *this*?” It made no sense. If Ethan was capable of this, why hadn’t he done it from the start?

The undead magician, his skull-like face tilted in curiosity, also turned to Ethan.

“I… uh… I forgot,” Ethan said, scratching his head sheepishly.

“What?!” Ogoltos yelled, incredulous. “I was practicing summoning lots of them earlier, and I just… got stuck in that mode, I guess. Sorry!” Silence.

Ogoltos and the undead magician exchanged a look of utter disbelief. They both wanted to scream, to ask if he was serious, if he understood the danger they were in. But the words caught in their throats.

The berserker was upon them. *Wham!* It slammed into the giant skeleton warrior, the force of the impact shaking the passage. Despite the wounds, the poison, the cold, the burns, it was still a monstrous force.

The skeleton warrior groaned, bones grinding against each other, as it was shoved backwards, inch by inch. Ethan raised his staff again, “Be shot forth!” With a surge of magic, bone shards erupted from the skeleton warrior’s chest, like a burst of white shrapnel.

This was possible because Ethan had made it himself, not just summoned it. But the berserker seemed to barely notice the bone fragments embedding themselves in its flesh. It kept pushing, relentless, its burning body pressing against the skeleton.

*Crack! Crack! Crack!* The sounds of bone breaking echoed through the passage. Ethan clenched his teeth, pouring more magic into the skeleton, trying to reinforce its crumbling form.

“By the ancient laws,” Ethan chanted, focusing all his will, “power, flow forth! Cold, bite deep! Poison, bloom and boil!” He channeled the magic-boosting enchantment Professor Verdus had taught him, forcing more power into the skeleton’s bone fragments, then layering cold magic and poison on top.

Power, cold, poison – a volatile mix. The skeleton warrior shuddered, its bones groaning under the strain, threatening to shatter. It was on the verge of collapse. Desperately, Ethan poured in even more magic, a frantic surge of energy, somehow holding the unstable magic together, patching the cracks in the skeleton’s form.

Now, bone shards laced with freezing poison flew from the skeleton in a constant stream. The undead berserker, finally showing a flicker of fear, redoubled its efforts, trying to smash through the magical onslaught.

Suddenly, Ogoltos yelled, “Wait! Dark magic! You said you could use dark magic! Why aren’t you using it!”

“…I forgot!” Ethan admitted again, his face flushing.

“Just do it! Please!” Ogoltos pleaded, unable to even muster anger at Ethan’s forgetfulness in this moment. As dark magic flowed into the skeleton warrior, a wave of shadow seemed to wash over it.

The bones shifted, turning a deep, obsidian black, edges sharpening into wicked points, the whole structure hardening like iron.

“Be shot forth! Be shot forth! Be shot forth!” Ethan repeated, and now, black bone shards, like deadly darts, hammered into the berserker’s already ravaged body. *Tap tap tap!*

“-Can I detonate it?” the undead magician asked suddenly.

“Detonate… what?” Ethan was confused.

“-The skeleton! I can make it explode!”

“Yes! Do it!” Ethan yelled back. The undead magician nodded, focusing his remaining magic. A strange energy pulsed from him, reaching out to the bone fragments embedded in the berserker.

Then, with a deafening roar, the skeleton warrior erupted. *BOOM!* The passage filled with fire and force. The air cracked and twisted as the skeleton, infused with volatile magic, detonated outwards.

Just as the explosion ripped through the passage, the undead magician grabbed Ethan and Ogoltos, throwing them bodily into the next room. The shockwave slammed into them, the air itself swirling around them in a chaotic vortex.

Ethan, despite the ringing in his ears, was genuinely impressed. “Wow,” he breathed, “I didn’t realize it would be *that* strong…”

“-How much insane magic did you pump into that thing?!” the undead magician shrieked, his voice echoing in the suddenly quiet room. He stared at Ethan, eyes wide (or where eyes would have been), yelling at the top of his lungs. He had meant for a small explosion, a distraction, not… *this*.

So many questions swirled in the air – the berserkers outside, the secret of the super skeleton, why the undead magician hadn’t stopped the explosion. But the first thing the undead magician could manage to say was about Ethan’s age.

“-…You’re not even *twenty*?” he croaked, voice filled with disbelief.

“Is it that surprising?” Ogoltos snapped back, still tense.

“-Do you have any idea how long I’ve been undead?” the magician wailed.

“…No?” Ethan answered hesitantly.

“-Well, just like you can’t guess my age, I can’t guess yours! You all look like… like fresh-faced children to me!” He shook his head, a rattling sound in his bony frame. He had thought Ethan was some master magician, a prodigy of the kingdom, and he was just a *kid*.

“Wait,” he stammered, “how did you even copy the Engraving Poison spell if you’re so young…?”

*Rumble!* The sound of more debris falling echoed from the passage. The undead magician peeked cautiously back out. “-!!!” He recoiled in shock.

Ethan joined him, peering over his shoulder. “Senior,” Ethan said, his voice almost too calm, “I have good news and bad news.”

“Wh-what now?” Ogoltos groaned, exhaustion setting in.

“The good news is,” Ethan said, a faint smile playing on his lips, “the explosion blew a hole in the ceiling. We can climb out using the rubble.”

“Really?! That’s… wait. Bad news?”

“-More berserkers are coming,” the undead magician finished grimly. Ogoltos just stared at Ethan. He was starting to suspect his junior’s sense of humor was deliberately terrible.

“-How much magic do you have left?” the undead magician asked, turning back to the immediate problem.

“None used,” Ethan replied.

“-None *used*? You mean you have none left?”

“-None *used*,” Ethan repeated, patiently.

“-…Right. Okay. Can you make that super skeleton again?”

“I used all the bone fragments,” Ethan said, “the reagents are gone.”

“Here!” Ogoltos thrust the reagent pouch at Ethan, his voice cracking with stress. “Take mine!”

Ethan took the pouch, a flicker of something like gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you, Senior,” he said, “for your help, just now and before.”

“Don’t mention it,” Ogoltos muttered, “Just summon it! Now! Before they get here!”

“-But,” the undead magician interrupted, “that explosion was pure luck. I can’t promise it’ll be safe to do it again.”

“Of course it’s dangerous!” Ogoltos shouted, “But what choice do we have?”

“-I’m talking about detonating the skeleton again,” the undead magician clarified.

“…Oh,” Ogoltos said, his voice deflating.

“…Can’t we just use it like… normally? And run?”

“-I told you, luck! Can you control the explosion perfectly?”

“How am I supposed to control it perfectly when I just did it for the first time?!” Ethan retorted, finally showing a hint of frustration.

The undead magician clicked his tongue. He couldn’t argue with that. *Why is he not even twenty yet…*

*Thud-* A rock slammed into the wall beside them, showering them with dust. The undead magician yanked them back.

“…?” Silence. Cautiously, he peeked out again.

The berserkers were gathered at the base of the rubble, pointing upwards, murmuring in their guttural language.

“What are they saying?” Ethan whispered. “Are they… offering a truce?”

The undead magician stared, his skeletal jaw dropping. “-They’re telling us…” he said slowly, “to go up… first?”