Surviving As A Mage In A Magic Academy [EN]: Chapter 643

“What are you blathering about?” Yoner snapped, annoyed.

“Are you even a dark wizard?!” Yihan added at the same time.

“I’d rather roll on the floor!” Gainando insisted, still huddled on the ground. “A mental spell can mess you up inside!”

“He’s right,” Yoner agreed, firing a bolt of fire at a crawling sentinel. “A scratch is easier to fix than a scrambled brain.”

“Okay, okay! I get it!” Gainando said, looking around nervously.

Yihan, while scolding Gainando, quickly assessed the situation. The air around them shimmered with Ogonyan’s Mist, a spell meant to confuse enemies attacking from a distance. But the stone sentinels, crawling from the walls, seemed unaffected, their blank eyes fixed on the intruders. They kept casting mental magic, those invisible attacks that made Gainando whimper.

*Zzzzzing!*

Yoner unleashed a bolt of fire, a streaking comet of heat that slammed into a sentinel, incinerating it. Another fell to Nilia’s swift arrows. But more kept coming.

“Yoner, save your mana!” Yihan called out. “There’s no end to them!”

“Got it!” Yoner grabbed a crimson potion and hurled it. A wall of flames erupted, roaring crimson and orange, licking at the ceiling, blocking the sentinels’ advance.

“Arsil! Arsil! We’re in trouble!” Gainando cried.

“Gainando, stay down!” Arsil’s voice barked back. “Frost, shield us!”

Yihan cast another spell, his eyes scanning the grotesque carvings on the tomb walls. *There!* The largest carving, more ornate than the rest. Mana pulsed from it, flowing like a dark river, bringing the sentinels back to life.

“Perkontra…” Yihan began to charge his lightning spell.

*Crack!*

Lightning scorched the wall, leaving a jagged black scar across the stone. But the carving remained untouched, absorbing the magic.

“Perkontra, it’s not working!” Yihan exclaimed in frustration.

He thought quickly. The mana hammer was too slow. He needed to reach the carving, but that was too dangerous. He needed something faster, something… a counter. He remembered a lesson from the Skull Headmaster about ‘magical counters’ – a way to fight magic by understanding how it works, not just with brute force. Reverse magic. Could he really do it? It was incredibly difficult.

Then, he heard it. A faint, haunting melody, the chorus of darkness from when the door opened. And he understood. The song. It was the song that guided the sentinels, that allowed them to see through the mist, to cast their illusions.

“■■■, ■■…” Yihan began to hum, then sing, the strange sounds echoing in the chamber.

“Yihan’s singing?” Gainando whispered, bewildered. “Is he… is he going mad?”

“No, you idiot!” Yoner kicked him lightly. “Look at his eyes. He knows what he’s doing.”

Yihan’s song grew stronger, mirroring the tomb’s chorus. He watched, heart pounding, as the sentinels faltered, their movements becoming uncertain. Nilia breathed a little easier. Even Gainando looked around with less panic.

*It’s working!*

Luck was on his side. Music magic. He had faced it before, with Siren’s song. Song against song. He could do this.

“■■■… ■■!” Yihan sang louder, feeling the tomb’s song weaken, his own voice taking control of the chamber. This was his domain now.

Earlier, they had learned that the tomb was protected by magical stone guardians. These sentries would rise from the floor, their eyes glowing blue, and aim directly at anyone who entered without permission. They also used illusion magic, making the tomb seem to twist and change around you.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the deep, echoing Song of the Tomb stopped. Silence fell. A heavy, complete silence, where moments before the tomb had vibrated with the strange music. At the same moment, the stone guardians lost their blue glow and vanished, sinking back into the floor as if they had never been there.

Gainando, covered in mud and with his cloak torn, looked at Ihan with wide, scared eyes. “…It’s over, right?” he whispered, his voice shaking.

Ihan nodded slowly, breathing deeply. “Yes,” he said. “I think it is.”

“I’m never going into a tomb again!”

Ihan approached the carving from which the Song of the Tomb had come. It was the largest and most decorated carving, but now, it had lost its color and become silent.

Creak.

Ihan, looking closer, was puzzled to see the carving of the musician shaking as if it were about to break.

With a soft pop, the carving broke away, and a rolled-up piece of parchment fell out.

‘What’s this…?’

Ihan didn’t recognize the writing or format, but he could tell it was a musical score.

‘Is this the score that recorded the chorus from earlier?’

Arsil, who had been talking with Hecatoncheires outside, was shocked to see the chaotic state of the tomb inside.

Gainando was covered in mud, and his cloak was torn, showing that something had happened. The others were mostly unharmed.

“Suddenly, guards popped out from inside… Were you alright, Brother? Well, you have spirits protecting you, so that dark chorus probably didn’t affect you much.”

Arsil apologized to Ihan and his friends sincerely. He had thought the tomb would be calm, never imagining such an accident could happen.

“It’s alright, Brother. It couldn’t be helped.”

“I’m not alright…” Gainando muttered as he brushed off the mud, but his friends ignored him, pretending not to hear.

Arsil smiled, relieved by Ihan’s words. Then, he praised his younger brother.

“…No. Brother. That’s not right. Don’t say such ridiculous things.”

Ihan immediately turned serious.

Nilia, curious because Ihan was so stern, asked, “What did he say?”

“He said he knew this tomb wouldn’t be a problem for me.”

Nilia also turned serious and glared at Arsil. Arsil, upset by the reaction of his sister and her friends, drooped his shoulders.

While Ihan and his friends were still inside the tomb, miles away, another person was traveling towards Udamhwa Village.

Ratford skillfully soothed the old horse.

Sometimes, nobles traveled in luxury with many horses, but in the eyes of an expert like Ratford, that was like saying, ‘Please rob me.’

The best way to ensure a safe journey was to look poor. Ratford deliberately chose an old, small horse and wore shabby clothes. He looked like an ordinary traveler to anyone who saw him.

“Excuse me, may I ask something?”

“Ask away.”

“Is this the way to Udamhwa Village?” Ratford was cautious.

He didn’t ask about the Wodanaz family name directly. He feared the other person might think, ‘A relative of the Wodanaz family must be rich!’

“That’s right. If you follow this main road, you’ll see a pomegranate tree, and then you’ll have arrived at Udamhwa Village. What brings you to Udamhwa Village?”

“A distant relative sent me a letter, asking me to come and help with some work. I am a locksmith.”

“Whoever it is, you have a very good relative! If you have some time, please come visit the red brick house near the Bridge of Ruin. I happen to be looking for a good lock.”

“Haha. Thank you.”

Ratford ended the conversation perfectly. He had gotten information and even gained the favor of a villager; he was the perfect traveler.

‘But did he say the Bridge of Ruin?’ Ratford wondered if he had misheard.

Village bridges were usually named after famous heroes, events, or the terrain.

How did they end up with the Bridge of Ruin?

‘Did something ruinous happen in the village?’

Ratford arrived in the village and entered an inn.

He tossed a copper coin to the stableman to take care of his horse, then sat down in a corner of the inn.

‘Hmm. A good village,’ Ratford smiled at the energy he felt everywhere.

The atmosphere in the inns of poor and wealthy villages was different. A noisy inn with loud singing meant the village was doing well.

“Bullshit! Are you trying to cheat me?!”

“Sir, you can’t do this here.”

“Shut up! I swear, if you don’t return my silver coins, I’ll shoot you!”

A dwarven traveler was yelling, grabbing the innkeeper by the collar. He probably lost a game of wizard cards with the villagers.

‘Should I intervene?’ Ratford wondered.

If it was a good village, it wouldn’t be a problem even if they knew he was a wizard. What else could happen before he got to the Wodanaz family?

“Sir, please stop!”

“You stop and shut your mouth!”

“I won’t stand by either.”

“What are you going to do?!” The dwarven traveler shouted, still gripping the innkeeper’s collar tightly.

He was no ordinary fellow, likely having seen battle. The innkeeper coughed and called out to a clerk, “The hat, bring the hat!”

Ratford wondered what hat he was talking about. The clerk hurriedly brought a hat and placed it on the innkeeper’s head.

At that moment, the innkeeper effortlessly lifted the dwarven traveler with one hand and slammed him down.

“You brat! Causing trouble here!”

‘Why does the village innkeeper have a magic hat that makes him strong?!’ Ratford was very confused.