Episode 998

-Um, well…

-…Professor Verdus was there too!

Fortunately, among the knights there was one especially quick-witted.

The other Death Knights looked at their comrade with admiration.

In such a situation, showing that kind of composure was the true wisdom of a knight.

Of course, Professor Verdus hadn’t willingly participated—he’d been kidnapped. But if you were an Einrogard professor, even being kidnapped was a crime.

And if you were Professor Verdus, it deserved aggravated punishment.

Biblle, that rascal… Fine. At least he wasn’t ruined. But what do you mean, the clone punished Biblle? Did he die?

The skull headmaster asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Unlike his own kind and generous self, a pride-driven clone would have no mercy. With someone like Professor Verdus, just foolishly messing around could really have led to death.

Even if the magic of the domain protected its inhabitants, there were always loopholes, and archmages were experts at exploiting such loopholes.

-No, he didn’t die.

It might’ve been fine if he’d died once or twice…

The Death Knights continued as if they hadn’t heard the skull headmaster’s mutter.

-Professor Verdus just had a rough time. Some of his works were broken…

As expected.

Hearing the report, the headmaster sighed regretfully.

The fact was, if you weren’t going to kill Professor Verdus, there weren’t many forms of punishment. One of them was smashing his works.

For that beaver beast magician, breaking his works hurt far more than cutting off his limbs.

The skull headmaster understood this well—he’d used that method a few times himself in the past.

It’s meaningless.

There’s a simple reason why he said it was meaningless.

Even if you broke his works, the pain only lasted a few days—and if you broke too many, Einrogard would go bankrupt first.

Most of Professor Verdus’s works were either under contract or commissioned. Owing so many debts, he didn’t have many purely personal pieces.

‘Still, it feels pretty good, right?’

One Death Knight thought to himself.

It was rare for students and knights to share opinions, but when it came to Professor Verdus, the feeling of “I wish I could kick that guy just once” often aligned.

Still, everyone probably felt good. Shame I couldn’t see it for myself.

-!

Index.

-Here you are.

A Death Knight respectfully handed over a list: Professor Verdus’s ongoing artifacts, and those broken this time.

At the sight, the skull headmaster grew deeply troubled.

…You sure broke a lot.

-There’s more on the next page.

One clueless knight got sent to the punishment room.

The skull headmaster shook his head in disgust and spoke up.

The rest, just write them up and report. If you tell me everything one by one, the semester will be over before you finish.

-What’s the punishment?

Just send Professor Biblle to the punishment room and leave the rest alone.

If you wanted to nitpick, Professors Garcia and Voladi had omitted reports and committed relic theft, while Professor Verdus failed to protect his artifacts and allowed himself to be kidnapped.

But that was no crime for the first two.

They had important matters outside, but Professor Verdus could work even in the punishment room.

After all the knights left, the skull headmaster stared at a blank letter.

This plain white paper, with more presence than the archdevils of burning hell, was for writing letters to the emperor, the imperial treasurer, and various noble families.

The skull headmaster called a Death Knight from outside.

…When Bat-naz wakes up, bring him in. If the empire’s future pillar makes the request, maybe they’ll ease up a little.

-They might not cooperate, after what you did, Master.

The skull headmaster sent that loyal knight off to the punishment room, then called another.

Do it.

-Yes, sir!

• * *

A wizard’s dreams were different from an ordinary person’s.

In fact, in the School of Divination, dreams were a powerful tool. Through this ambiguous domain, they could peer into the future, bypassing all sorts of rebound.

Even if you weren’t in the divination school, a wizard might experience profound dreams in the course of life.

A wizard who made a bad contract could be chased by otherworldly entities in a dream (and if you made a misstep, even your real self suffered), and a magician who experimented with overly complex spells might see visions in dreams as if having taken hallucination-mushrooms.

In this way, it wasn’t surprising that Lee Han had vivid dreams while he was unconscious.

In those dreams, there was a young, healthy, human version of the skull headmaster, a skull headmaster thirsting for honor, and the current wicked skull headmaster.

Arna the guest star, the Small World, the Personal World, the Yaksha King, countless archspells and transcendents all tangled together, making the dream all the more bewildering.

-…Take care of the world.

-Hmph. Bat-naz, you’re not the first nor the last of my disciples to fling curses at me.

-The one who played magic cards during my lecture, that guy?

-That’s Gainando…

-…Take care of the world.

-Don’t forget the Small World. Keep striving forward.

-Nobility for others.

-You little hamster brat. Egging him on from the side?

-…Take care of the world.

The magic Lee Han had rapidly mastered lately melted into his mind like thawing ice, and as the three skull headmasters spun like Senior Hormasi’s Cerberus, Lee Han woke up in a cold sweat.

“!”

What he felt upon waking was exhaustion like being beaten, a head not working as if drunk, and a baby basilisk coiled around his arm.

‘…I’ll have to insist later.’

If the baby basilisk woke up, Lee Han planned to claim that tossing it had been the fault of that wicked wine, not his own will.

Giant-giant liquor had, as expected, sinister and underhanded side effects befitting that race.

“……”

As he was about to leave his private room, Lee Han recalled what had happened.

No matter how empty and futile he felt, it couldn’t be helped. The vanished wizard wasn’t coming back, and Lee Han had to do what he needed to.

‘…I should send in a petition to the empire.’

Still, Lee Han thought he might as well send in at least one complaint to the empire.

A wicked tyrant is ruling the magic school, never listening to the students’ voices…

“Wardanaz!”

When he came down, his friends, studying for tests in the lounge, were surprised to see him.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just feel heavy. What’s that over there?”

Seeing an unfamiliar betting board hung on the wall, Lee Han was puzzled.

On the board, split into “possible”/”impossible,” Blue Dragon Tower students had written their names on their chosen side.

Seeing that “possible” outnumbered “impossible”…

“I get it. It’s a bet on when I’d wake up, right?”

“No. We bet on whether you’d take first place in the final exams even if you didn’t show up.”

“…Thank you all. How long did I sleep?”

“Over a week.”

“!??!”

Lee Han was shocked.

He thought it had been long, but not that long??

“There are still a few days until the test, Wardanaz.”

“And we didn’t mess around just because you were gone.”

His friends wore proud expressions.

This time, the second-year students had refrained from slacking off purely because of friendship.

With a conscience, you couldn’t enjoy yourself when a friend had collapsed.

“No, it’s not the test that startled me.”

“What?!”

This time his friends were startled.

They had assumed the first thing Lee Han would talk about upon waking was the exams.

“What happened after that? The headmaster’s clone disappeared.”

“Oh, that…”

“Everyone was sad, and Gainando even ended up in the punishment room.”

“?!”

Lee Han was startled.

Sure, feeling sad and regretful was normal, but Gainando in the punishment room?

“Why? Did he try to attack the headmaster or something?”

“Well… kind of, but not quite.”

When the clone disappeared and the skull headmaster returned, even the Einrogard students quickly noticed the change.

-Huh. Where did the headmaster’s clone go?

-Yeah? Why can I see the headmaster… but where’s the clone? Headmaster, do you know where your clone went?

-He’s dead.

-…Murderer! Murderer!!

The fearless seniors threw filth at the skull headmaster and were beaten and chased out.

After hearing this, Lee Han cocked his head.

“Wait. The seniors just got chased out, so why did Gainando end up in the punishment room?”

“He tossed an egg by himself.”

Throwing rocks or filth could be forgiven, but eggs could not.

Gainando was instantly dragged to the punishment room for the crime of wasting luxury.

“…Anyway, I’m glad everyone remembers Teacher.”

“Wardanaz. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. It’s a shame, but it couldn’t be helped.”

Lee Han spoke bitterly.

Maybe, as the skull headmaster said, for the mad clone himself this was the better ending.

Even if he denied it, a thought-form bound to the world was surely in pain.

‘Still, I’m sending the complaint.’

On second thought, he’d send more than one—maybe two.

Lee Han resolved to send two, under false names.

“The Enchantment Magic School seniors built a memorial at the mountain workshop—want to go see it?”

“…What? Which school?!”

Lee Han nearly spilled the coffee he’d been pouring into a tin cup over the fireplace for his recovery.

Of all the schools at Einrogard, wasn’t that the least suited for memorials?

“I was surprised too, but the seniors said they built it.”

“Huh. So even the Enchantment School seniors were moved…”

‘They probably just did it because they got to beat up Professor Verdus.’

Lee Han’s friends thought so to themselves, but seeing him happy, said nothing.

• * *

Though all traces of the battle had vanished, the giants still lingered nearby, mourning their loss.

Some students left letters by the memorial—“Thank you for beating up Professor Verdus,” “Please come back and become the headmaster someday”—then turned to go.

The giants hugged those students tightly as they wept.

Crunch!

As the students staggered away, Lee Han appeared. The giants all rushed over to him.

-Wardanaz. Drink this. Makes sadness leave.

“Isn’t that giant liquor?”

-Wizards can’t get rid of grief for long because they don’t have this. We can let it go quickly because we have it.

“I’m alright.”

Flaming giant liquor could send away not just sorrow, but a wizard’s sanity as well. Lee Han firmly refused.

-Right. Wardanaz. Old Yaksha is waiting for you.

“!”

Surprised at the unexpected name, Lee Han turned at the voice from behind.

-You finally made it.

The familiar old Yaksha walked out from among the giants, carrying a bundle.

-Do you know how long I waited among these fools because of you?

“What is it?”

-The attendant left you something. Asked me to pass it on.

“…Why you, elder?”

As far as Lee Han knew, the attendant had no particular connection with the old Yaksha.

-Well, there were only the giants and me around, and between the two, I was the better option.

At the old Yaksha’s words, the giants booed in protest.

-The wizard judged wrong by the race.

-We could’ve passed it on just fine!

“Anyway, thank you.”