Editor 87

Final Exams (1)

The next day.

Before finals, there was Professor Maria Gentile’s Magic Basics II class.

It was a lecture that summarized the entire semester’s material.

Unlike Zebedi, who pushed students off a cliff and made them climb back up, Professor Maria explained key points in a way that was easy to understand, step by step.

Zebedi was a classic genius type.

His lectures were hard to follow. Because he skipped over small steps in learning and jumped straight to the results as a student, even as a professor now he often skipped details and only explained the outcomes.

In contrast, Maria’s lectures were easy to understand. It seemed to be because she was a late-blooming hard worker who reached level 7 in her 50s, and her specialty—building reinforcement and defense—required diligence.

Cleio paid special attention to Maria’s lecture notes, which were always clipped together due to new pages being added each year.

Evidence of her diligent nature, the notes were rich not only in magical theory but also in examples and anecdotes to help students understand concepts.

‘Thanks to that, even slow students can keep up. Honestly, isn’t magic a practical art? Zebedi’s the one doing it wrong by making it hard. Ah, a professor like Maria would write excellent textbooks or popular science books in her field.’

Cleio licked his lips, thinking—almost out of professional habit—that if those lecture notes were published someday, they’d become a bestseller.

Professor Maria, who had written the important points on the board in beautiful handwriting, ended class five minutes early when she saw the students had copied everything down.

“Well, that’s the end of class. The Magic Basics II written exam is next Monday, and the practical exam is Friday. The order for the practical is posted on the bulletin board, so make sure to check.”

“Yes!”

“Thank you!”

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Asher, busy with royal events at the end of the year, went to the palace with a gloomy face.

Model student Ishiel disappeared into the library, carrying her notes and books. These days, with no assassins around, she didn’t need to follow Asher everywhere as before.

In the studious atmosphere, only the relaxed Chel and Cleio remained, heading down together for lunch.

Today’s menu was brandade gratin—salted cod mashed with potatoes, cream, and herbs, then baked in the oven—and sautéed winter spinach.

The wine served alongside was a bright lemon color, with no sweetness and marked acidity, along with notes of apple, peach, and herbs.

‘It goes shockingly well with the brandade gratin. Starts tart, then finishes rich, like it’s coated in butter. Hah.’

Brandade is a dish where salted cod is desalted, then mashed with cream, potatoes, and herbs.

Chel, seeing Cleio silently focusing on the food, nudged him for no reason as Cleio alternated bites of brandade and sips of wine.

“Ray, at this rate, you’ll barely scrape by in fencing. Are you okay with that? Stop drinking and at least swing your practice sword around.”

“You want me to stop drinking after tasting this?”

Chel tipped his own glass lightly and showed off the advanced skill of identifying the wine’s type with just a taste.

“Hmm, Tolitum Glycine, right? Not bad for a school cafeteria. Must be because it’s the end of the year.”

It was a comment befitting an old noble of Carolinger and the child of a hotel magnate. Cleio thought it was way too delicious to be dismissed so blandly.

“I should tell my wine merchant and buy a few bottles myself.”

Cleio had already finished all the wine he’d brought from home. Now he just ordered directly from the wine merchant.

Though Cleio preferred making money to spending it, he spared no expense on alcohol. Maybe it was the Muse’s blessing, but he was really glad to live in a society tolerant of drinking.

“The 1879 vintage is one of the best you can get… No, wait, now’s not the time to talk about wine. Want me to check your fencing basics this afternoon? With your scores, there’s no way you’ll make third place. You made a fuss about not wanting to go to the army.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t get it, Chel. I’m in the magic division, so from next year I won’t have to run endless drills at the training ground with you lot. I already found out they pick exemptions based on graduation rank alone.”

“Ha, just like with the Public Safety Corps rules, your brain works like a charm for things like this.”

Cleio smiled faintly and refilled his glass from the generously filled carafe.

From second year on, the scoring by subject was different than in first year.

For the magic division, the core Magic Theory was 100 points, and Magic Practice was increased to 150 points.

Common subjects—Classics 50 points, History 50 points—were still taken with the swordsmanship kids.

The remaining 50 points could be chosen from electives, 25 points per subject.

Electives included military science, mathematics, geometry, as well as modern foreign languages like Brunner and Carolinger, and geography—a wide range of options.

“Since major subject scores count the most for graduation ranking, it’ll be fine.”

“Hey, Sir Cleio. So you’re a magic elite now? Oh? I heard you put the deputy commander of the Capital Defense Force Magic Corps, who came to restart the outer barrier, in his place. You’re full of confidence.”

“Chel, you always bring up those titles whenever you want to shut me up.”

“Because you twitch every time I say it. You’re actually easy to provoke. I heard you even made a bet with Deputy Commander Sergeyev.”

“How’d you hear about that?”

“Is there anyone in the school who doesn’t know? Ezra Sergeyev is a legendary madman. Everyone’s talking about it behind your back. Some even placed bets.”

“Legendary madman? That’s quite the nickname. He did look unusual, though.”

The behind-the-scenes story Chel told in the quiet school cafeteria was beyond imagination.

“About his white hair and ivory eyes—those are aftereffects of a magic experiment he did at nineteen. His ether vessel shattered and healed, and he was in a coma for four months. During that time, all the color left his body, and he could never increase his ether sensitivity again.”

“What?!”

Ezra Sergeyev reportedly reached level 4 at age nineteen while at the Capital Defense Force school, and was a promising wizard.

But he lacked common sense, had a lot of curiosity and drive, and was Zebedi’s headache.

He was an even more unusual wizard than Cleio, who used offensive magic.

He had no interest in healing or defense, only in recreating legendary mythical creatures.

‘No wonder that max-level rabbit appeared. Ugh.’

“Even before the accident, he was harassing classmates, trying to make chimeras. That last experiment was the final straw after all sorts of incidents.”

“How did he even think of messing with his own ether vessel? I mean, wizards can’t use magic directly on their own bodies, right?”

“So he used a national treasure-level mana stone. The Sergeyev family had a giant alabaster mana stone passed down for generations. He tried to use dual-casting in a complicated way to magically reconstruct it as his ether vessel inside his body.”

“So didn’t the royal family ban that magic? And how do people know all these details?”

“There was nothing to ban—there’s only one mana stone of that size on the continent. It was said to be a treasure given by Leonid II to the founder of the Sergeyev family after slaying a griffin.”

“So he destroyed a family heirloom to reach level 6? His ether is strong and he’s talented; if he’d just done things normally, he could’ve reached level 6—or maybe even higher.”

“Everyone regrets it except him. His goal wasn’t to raise his ether level.”

“Then what?!”

“After moving the vessel into his body, he tried to create a griffin. There was a legend that the alabaster mana stone had received griffin’s blood.”

“Wow… seriously…”

“He’s a lunatic. Probably the biggest problem child the Capital Defense Force school produced in the past thirty years.”

“I heard he dropped out. Does that count as being a product of the school?”

“Who said he dropped out?”

“…He did.”

“You believe that? After waking from his coma at nineteen, Professor Zebedi refused to teach him further, so after finishing the course, he went straight into the Capital Defense Force Magic Corps. Since then, he’s been deployed everywhere, getting rapid promotions.”

At this point, Cleio had a pretty good sense of how things worked in this world.

Wizards who went into the field directly tended to have higher ranks than those who stayed in the Capital Defense Force just doing research.

The riskier the job, the more opportunities to achieve, or so he’d heard. But usually, it was low-level wizards of commoner background who did that work.

‘The higher the level, the more likely you are to be an older research wizard, or so I’d heard…’

“A wizard working in the field. He didn’t seem like the type to do it out of noble self-sacrifice.”

“Right. He just enjoys weird ether-related incidents. Travels the country looking for materials to make chimeras.”

“If the founder was a hero of Leonid I, that’s a pretty big family. They just let him run around like that?”

“The Sergeyev family’s domain has the biggest marble quarry on the Dernier continent—wealth and status, they have it all. But so what? Even their family gave up on their crazy fourth son long ago.”

Cleio, eating the last bite of now-cold brandade gratin, fell into serious thought.

‘Was it wise to choose him as my line to the Capital Defense Force Magic Corps? Maybe I should look for another wizard, even now?’

---

The finals schedule proceeded step by step.

For the magic exam, there was no need for Behemoth’s help. Writing out formulas and usage cases was a piece of cake.

For history, too, this time he avoided common traps and felt he did well.

And finally, Friday arrived.

Behemoth circled around Cleio as he buttoned up his cape coat.

“Nothing could be more clownish than this. You have to light up the area and shower gem snowflakes like at the Festival of Lights?”

The Festival of Lights was held in the last week of December, a holiday in Albion before the new year.

Four days after the winter solstice, it was considered the day the spring sun was reborn. Every household kept lights burning all night, and the streets were decorated more brilliantly than any other time of year.

“Well, I agreed to it. If I can use this chance to make use of Ezra, it’s worth it.”

“Ezra really is insane. Is it really worth it… I’m very skeptical. Is that all? There’ll be knights, princes, and all sorts of people in the audience. You want to do that in front of them?”

Cleio had thought about that. His magical abilities had already drawn all the world’s attention.

No matter what magic you use, a rumor will spread regardless.

‘If I show something too weak, they’ll think I’m hiding my power. I want to avoid showing attack spells directly, so this is perfect.’

Thanks to Ezra’s suggestion, he could choose a harmless but powerful spell.

After buttoning his coat and pinning on the Capital Defense Force badge, Cleio took the snow quartz mana stone ring from his pocket.

The ring, carved from a whole mana stone, was heavy. The polished facets sparkled like snowflakes.

Inside the ring, there was an ornate initial, probably the Sergeyev family crest.

‘If I use such a fine mana stone ring for the spell, people will debate whether it’s the ring or my real skill, and the discussion will probably move elsewhere.’

Deng— deng—

The bell for 11 a.m. rang.

Cleio, now wearing gloves, picked up the wand from his desk.

“Shall I go?”

“I, in this cold, have to go watch your antics. What a life.”

“You don’t even get cold. Don’t complain.”

Behemoth, even fluffier and softer now that it was winter, didn’t look cold at all.

Besides, he was the one who taught Cleio dual-casting and insisted on seeing his unworthy disciple’s achievement.

‘He’s so dishonest.’

Cleio opened the bedroom and front doors for the dignified temple cat and left the dorm.

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The parade ground was crowded with spectators and parents.

Magic division assistants could be seen restarting [Heating] magic under the audience tent.

There was so much to prepare that the assistants and staff looked more tired than the students taking finals.

It was understandable.

‘Lots of VIPs.’

Although there was still a long time until the highlight of the finals—the swordsmanship finals—the audience seats were almost full.

‘Let’s see, there’s Chief of Public Safety Ronald Furnival, that inspector whatever, even Count Ramsdale? Those are big shots, right? Don’t they have anything better to do?’

Behind all the unwelcome faces, Dione could be seen waving slightly.

Her lips seemed to be moving, so Cleio turned on “Perception” and saw she was mouthing ‘Good luck.’

At some point, Behemoth had climbed onto Dione’s lap and was being fed canapés. He’d grumbled, but was now fully prepared to enjoy the show.

Looking around the parade ground, Cleio saw Ezra standing with his hands on his hips, face full of anticipation, on the opposite side of the stands.

His party was gathered around, each voicing their opinions.

To be exact, Ezra seemed to be taking one-sided flak.

‘What were you thinking making a kid do that!’

‘A test subject? Haven’t you done enough crazy things to yourself?’

‘Deputy Commander, if you harm Baron Asher’s second son, it could affect the family marble business…’

And so on.

Hearing these words through “Perception,” Cleio’s lips curled faintly.

‘Hmm… so they all think I’ll fail.’

Then it would be a bit of fun to defy their expectations.

“Next up, first-year magic division, Cleio Asher. Please enter the exam grounds.”

At the assistant’s call, Cleio felt all eyes in the audience turn to him as he stepped into the center of the exam ground.