“……?”
Acela wore a dumbfounded expression.
Her usual blank face.
Yet Adium’s attitude was completely different.
The man was on his knees before Evan.
“How on earth can you come up with such broad and revolutionary ideas?”
“???”
“Please teach me, Young Master. I have devoted my entire life to research alone, yet I have never seen results quite like your… experimental subject.”
“It’s not an experimental subject; it’s Number 2. And it’s just ordinary alchemy.”
“Then everything I’ve seen until now must have been fake alchemy. How is the synthesis of shadow and golem even possible?”
Who was Adium, after all?
A man so notoriously ill-tempered and finicky that people jokingly called him the Sin of Pride from the scriptures.
Former Master of the Blue Magic Tower.
He had led one of the Empire’s representative magic towers and was a once-in-a-century prodigy in ice magic.
Though he had stepped down from the Tower Master position, it wasn’t due to lack of skill or age.
Shockingly, it had been his own decision.
He handed the seat to the current Tower Master—someone he had secretly raised—and became a professor, claiming he wanted new inspiration.
Naturally, no one complained.
He was a Tower Master!
His research output couldn’t compare to professors who churned out papers like madmen.
Yet the few spells he had personally developed were enough to make ordinary professors unable to even lift their heads, and his personal combat power reached the 8th circle.
He wasn’t qualified to attempt ascension yet, but he was at the level where he could prepare for the attempt itself.
…So thrilled students frantically signed up for his classes.
Nothing but trash.
Everyone except ten students was expelled.
All of them had been hailed as “elites” and the greatest rookies—the kind of talents the Empire separately dubbed “supernovas.”
Anyone below that level was ruthlessly dropped!
Th-this is a lie! I failed?!
Of course protests and mental breakdowns flooded in when the ambiguously high-ranking students—all complete top-tier—were failed en masse.
Hearing that a single low-ranking student had somehow slipped into the class only fueled the outrage.
Protests from numerous students and nobles turned the Academy into chaos, severe enough that even the Chancellor had to step in.
Adium finally opened his mouth.
I have no need for those lacking in my class. Those who have already reached a certain level or show exceptional talent are enough.
Pardon?
Making me repeat myself. You must be a goldfish. Congratulations. You have now become a goldfish with an intelligence of 70.
???
Making me say it a third time. You’re worse than a carrier pigeon. You lot are useless for my class.
Then that low-rank brat is exceptionally talented?!
Exactly.
???
Adium’s tyranny didn’t end there.
He forced a low-ranking student named Lucia into his class.
A mere first-year.
Since every other student was second-year or higher, she was effectively the youngest.
She had been the subject of endless gossip from the moment she entered.
The proctors all praised her unanimously, yet anyone who had done a single group project or lived with her refused to believe she possessed such talent.
Laziness.
The perfect word to describe her.
Yet this girl had not only beaten out numerous high-rankers but even pushed aside one of the absolute top-tier students to secure a spot!
…And she hadn’t even applied herself.
If one word described Lucia, it was “cat.”
Not just because of her appearance.
She was clearly a commoner, always covered head-to-toe in mud-like grime.
Naturally, she was the target of endless contempt.
Many students couldn’t accept that her grades were higher than theirs.
So they secretly “sparred” with her—writing “sparring” while meaning “ambush.”
Gyaaaaah!
Sh-she was definitely low-rank!
She has talent in ice attributes. I noticed and put her in my class. Any complaints?
Lucia overwhelmingly won.
She didn’t even do much.
Lying on the floor in her long witch-like hat, Lucia merely flicked her fingers a few times and the students collapsed like dominoes.
If Adium hadn’t intervened, a few would have died without it being strange.
N-no way… she had that kind of talent?
As expected of the former Tower Master… Professor Adium’s eye is truly impeccable.
I have to protect my seat here!
…After that, Adium continued his classes.
The more classes he held, the higher his reputation rose.
More precisely, his infamy.
There’s too much homework!!
You think I only take this professor’s assignments?!
Ten assignments a day.
Assignments that were humanly impossible to complete—he deducted points without mercy if you failed.
The strange thing was that Lucia completed every single one perfectly.
Seeing that, a few students began to suspect.
Isn’t this deliberate favoritism?
Even the exams: Lucia finished in one hour while others took two.
Some brave students with grievances protested.
Professor! Why do you only tailor the tests to Lucia’s level?!
That’s what I want to ask you. Why is your level so low? Why is your learning speed so slow?
?
Lucia grasps in five hours what takes you two full days—why are you slowing down the entire class?
It was utter nonsense.
But perhaps Adium had accumulated too much resentment; he revealed his original plan.
An insanely intense curriculum that would raise students an entire circle in a single semester.
Thanks to leniency, it had been watered down to reaching the 1st circle in the second semester while solidifying foundations.
The students quickly changed their protest tactics.
Instead of the class itself, they complained about the assignments.
They claimed the homework was preventing them from raising their circle!
Of course…
And?
?
Why should I care whether you have too many assignments or too few? I’m merely doing my duty as a professor. You can’t even handle these basic spells yet dare to walk the path of magic?
Gyaaaaaaah! Those aren’t basic spells! How can 3rd-circle magic be called “basic”?!
C-calm down!
It didn’t work at all.
The protests eventually died down, and Adium’s infamy soared.
Yet because he still published papers, researched magic, and created new spells—achieving numerous feats—his fame rose alongside his notorism.
That was how high his standing as a mage was.
His pride was equally immense.
He quickly recognized his shortcomings but put in tremendous effort to overcome them and forced the same on others.
In his eyes, there was only one true genius: Lucia.
And even she had been kept under his wing only because she was a student.
But now.
Kneeling?
Adium had never shown such a lowly posture.
Even in his excessively honest autobiography, the word used for Adium was “arrogant mage.”
A mage wrapped in outstanding talent and arrogance.
That very Adium was on his knees.
And not to just anyone.
To Evan—the very person Acela had thought possessed “fake talent.”
“Ah. I was rude. I didn’t use honorifics. Young Master Evan, will you grant me your teachings?”
Why are you like this…
All Evan had done was memorize a few of the spells Adium had shown him, and when Adium showed interest in golems, Evan casually brought out Number 2.
He gladly allowed Adium to study it—“just a quick look” had been the request.
And instantly this reaction.
The moment Adium saw the golem, his face displayed cultural shock, and he begged to know if magic had been infused into it.
“I merely synthesized them. Using shadow life as the base for the golem.”
“How is that even possible?”
Adium spoke with an expression of hitting a wall for the first time.
“Life and golems cannot be combined. Even chimeras—fusing inorganic and organic matter to create a new living being—is impossible. No magic has ever achieved it.”
It just… worked.
Feeling it wasn’t something he should explain, Evan skipped it.
“…If I remember correctly, I carefully inserted the fragments until the wavelengths of the shadow and golem pieces matched perfectly.”
“Wavelengths?”
“When the wavelengths overlap, the two undergo a ‘resonance’ phenomenon. I forged them together at that moment, and this is the result.”
“Resonance… the instant wavelengths overlap… forging… Aah, I see.”
“?!”
He understands this?
Honestly, even I don’t know what I just said.
More than half of Evan’s alchemy fell into the realm of pure intuition.
Explaining it with knowledge felt… insufficient, like language itself was lacking.
Yet Adium wore an expression of sudden enlightenment.
“Bypassing taboos in this manner to birth a new type of golem…! Ohhhh! Young Master, have you ever considered becoming a professor at this Academy?”
“?”
“Professor is the bare minimum! Department chair—no, I can secure an even higher position for you! Just once a year, show us that golem!”
Adium was now clinging to his leg.
Acela watched with a shocked face, Aegis with a “told you so” look.
Everyone else wore “as expected of Evan” expressions.
Only Professor Moriarty sent an unreadable gaze.
“…I belong to my family, so that will be difficult. More importantly… I’ve memorized all the spells you showed me earlier.”
“Ohh, I see. How regrettable…”
“I’ve memorized them all…”
“Let’s talk tomorrow… tomorrow… Ah, before you go, about Lucia…”
“No, thank you.”
Evan firmly refused.
For some reason his instincts screamed that he must never meet this student named Lucia.
If he had to put it into words—it felt like the premonition he got before meeting a new Sin.
There were no more Sins left in the capital, but still, it meant another massive burden would latch onto him!
He rejected it vehemently, and fortunately Professor Adium accepted.
“I see…”
Adium looked half-soulless.
He seemed like a man who wanted to sprint to his laboratory and go insane with research right that instant.
Before he completely lost his mind, Evan hurriedly asked a question.
He could verify the memorized spells later.
First things first.
“I have a question. Any tips for lecturing?”
“Lecturing? Hmm. The process of making those barbarians understand…”
Evan ignored the faint mutter he overheard.
“Just show them one golem.”
“?”
“That’s it. Now… I’m sorry, but please leave. I have too many thoughts right now…”
Thud!
The group was practically chased out.
In the end, Evan and company trudged back with almost nothing to show for it…
Perhaps bored on the way back, Lapis suddenly brought up a new topic after returning from wherever she had wandered off to.
“Ah! Evan, did you know?”
“?”
“They say a ghost appears here. You won’t believe me, but…”
Fuck?
A ghost?
Of course the Korean everyman Evan was terrified of ghosts.
No, forget being Korean—real men would be scared of ghosts too, right?
But the reaction didn’t come from Evan.
“Was that ghost perhaps a little girl? Or a woman?”
“Huh?”
“How tall was she? Body type? Hair? Rough appearance? What did her scream sound like? Where was she spotted, and what was she muttering?”
“How should I know? Ask your precious disciples.”
“…Ah, my apologies.”
Professor Moriarty had suddenly gone into overdrive midway, but fortunately it wasn’t a big problem.
“It’s a misunderstanding. I only asked because I hope the students stay safe.”
“That doesn’t seem right…”
Once again, Lapis’s opinion was ignored.
Evan returned.
He roughly checked the magic, tested adapting it to golems, then went to bed early.
Morning came.
Evan gave his lecture.
Well, he did give it. The problem was he remembered none of the content.
He had been far too nervous.
So when several letters flew his way, he grew nervous again.
They’re not going to say it sucked, right?
“…Evan. You’re not angry, are you?”
“No.”
He unfolded the letters.
Evan froze.
To the Young Master.
Thank you for the wonderful lecture.
Thanks to Young Master Evan, my new dream has become an alchemist like Evan—
To Young Master Evan.
Thanks to your lecture, we have decided to establish a new “Department of Golemancy.”
Alchemy is far too sacred for us to touch, but golems appear researchable even for mages like us. Thank you for the excellent lecture.
As compensation, we will pay at least 100 million gold, so please visit and grant us your teachings…
“???”
…I didn’t even lecture anything special?