Internet Mage Professor-Chapter 42: Complaints

The tension in the air thickened as Class A prepared to enter the arena. But even before the first boot could touch the ground, murmurs began spreading like wildfire across the stands.

The crowd, already uneasy from the repeated failures of the previous classes, finally began to unravel.

Questions flared to life in hushed whispers, then grew bolder and louder as more voices joined in.

"Why did they all collapse like that?"

"Did you see how fast it happened?!"

"They didn’t even fight anything! What sort of assessment is this?"

"Where’s the creature? What is it?"

"I couldn’t see anything! Could you? Did anyone see it?"

"Why are the Mana Knights wearing different colors?"

"Those aren’t our city’s guards. Who are they?"

One older man, cloaked in a fur-trimmed coat, stood up, veins visible in his neck.

"My son is in Class Four! What happened to him?! Why was he carried away?!"

The panic spread like ink in water. More stood. More yelled. Parents and patrons, nobles and commoners alike—all stirred with the same unrest.

A low roar of confusion and dread built itself into a wall of noise.

A merchant woman began to cry. "My daughter... She didn’t even scream. She just... fell. Why are they taking them away like prisoners?!"

"Why aren’t the Silver Blade guards helping?"

"Are we being lied to?"

"They’re hiding something!"

"What are they hiding?!"

"What is in that cage?!"

"SHOW US THE CREATURE!"

"SHOW US!"

It was chaos.

The announcer, still standing on his platform, tried to keep his expression neutral, but his discomfort was obvious.

His lips pressed into a tight line as more and more voices rose, echoing in the stone coliseum.

When he finally raised a hand to speak, the crowd barely quieted. The jeers continued.

He spoke, but his answers were vague.

"The assessment is proceeding as scheduled."

"The creature is under control."

"All precautions have been taken for your safety."

"These students are undergoing healing procedures."

"They are in no danger."

But the more he spoke, the more uncertain he seemed. His eyes flicked toward the Black Vale knights more than once, as though waiting for some invisible cue. And though his words were intended to comfort, they did the opposite.

Because he didn’t answer any of the real questions.

Not once did he name the creature.

Not once did he explain what happened to the students.

Not once did he tell the truth.

The crowd turned.

"LIAR!"

"Tell us the truth!"

"You’re hiding it from us!"

"Are our children being used for an experiment?!"

More voices joined.

A wave of fear and fury rolled through the coliseum.

Some parents rushed forward, pressing against the barrier runes at the front of the audience sections, banging on them with fists, canes, weapons, whatever they had.

Magic sparked against the edges of containment fields. Even a few rogue spells fired upward before the Academy’s defensive enchantments blocked them.

And then—"SILEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNNCEEEEEE!!!"

Boom.

A sound louder than thunder—yet devoid of force.

It wasn’t a crash or a roar, but a silence so vast and heavy that it replaced sound itself.

It swept over the arena like a tsunami, washing away all screams, cries, shouts, and curses in an instant. The entire coliseum froze.

No one dared speak.

No one could.

Even the wind halted its breath.

From the sky, a figure descended.

A solitary shadow spiraled down from above, gliding through the sky like a slow-moving star falling from heaven.

As he neared the ground, he became clearer, his form tall, robed in deep violet lined with midnight gold.

He hovered for a moment—just enough to command attention—before gently touching down beside the stunned announcer.

The platform shook slightly under his weight.

The runes around the cage dimmed in reverence.

The crowd leaned forward, straining to see.

Nolan narrowed his eyes. He whispered under his breath.

"Principal Duldor..."

The arena shifted.

Where fear had raged before, now came awe.

Old Duldor was a legend—not just of the Academy, but the entire region. He was old beyond reckoning, older than many of the noble houses that ruled the cities.

It was said his mana roots touched the abyss and the stars alike. Few had seen him in public in the last few decades. And now, here he was.

His presence calmed the crowd in ways no knight or runic shield ever could.

He raised one hand, and his voice boomed—not loud, but deep, echoing straight into the bones.

"I understand your fear."

He paused, letting the silence settle again.

"You witnessed your children fall. You saw them taken. You saw no enemy. You saw no threat. You were left in the dark. And I apologize."

He turned slightly, facing the north section where most of the nobles sat.

"The creature you cannot see is not of this world. It is a curse, given flesh—a seed from a forbidden line of unknown origin, born not of natural magic, but of corrupted realms."

The audience murmured, stunned.

Duldor continued.

"To see it with unprepared eyes is to invite that curse into your mind. It slips past the senses, burrows into the soul, and infects one’s essence. Your children are not weak. They are not cowards. They were merely unshielded."

He stepped aside and pointed toward the exit gate where the students had been carried.

"They are being taken to sacred healing chambers maintained by the Black Vale Territory for full recovery. Their knights are trained in curse-breaking disciplines that no one in Silver Blade possesses... That is all... they are not in danger..."

Gasps.

Mouths opened in realization. Others in shame.

Duldor then did something unexpected.

He turned.

And bowed.

Bowed deeply, with his hand pressed over his heart, facing the group of armored Black Vale Mana Knights that stood quietly near the rear platform.

"I offer Silver Blade Academy’s formal apology and deepest gratitude to the Black Vale Territory for their assistance, their protection, and their sacred arts. Please forgive us for this chaos unfolding in front of you."

The entire arena stared.

The bow was not ceremonial.

It was real.

It was low.

It was humbling.

One of the nobles stood up in disbelief. Another fell back into their seat. The announcer’s mouth hung open.

For a moment, even the ambient mana in the air stilled, as if the very world awaited the Black Vale response.

Then the Chief Mana Knight stepped forward.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, clad in deep obsidian armor etched with gold veins, his helmet resembling the open maw of a dragon.

He said nothing for several seconds.

Then he nodded once.

And spoke.

"I do not mind."

His voice was calm, smooth, unshaken. It cut through the air not with volume, but with weight. The weight of authority. Of power. Of someone who knew the world’s darkness and walked through it unfazed.

That single phrase—"I do not mind"—was enough.

The tension drained from the crowd.

They relaxed. Not out of trust, but out of sheer, overwhelming realization.

They were in the presence of powers far beyond their understanding.

And the powers had, for now, come to aid them.

Duldor raised his hand again.

"Let the assessment continue."

The audience didn’t cheer this time.

They nodded. They sat back. They breathed.

Still uncertain, still afraid, but willing now—to wait.

But then—

From the teacher’s box, a voice rose.

"Waiiiiiiitt!!!"

A different kind of question. One less fearful, more personal. It was raw, confused, and sharp like a dagger turned inward.

A woman stepped forward.

Her robes were simple, blue-trimmed, a teacher of the practical classes.

A Mana Specialist.

Her face was pale with grief and her hands trembled.

Her student had been one of the first dragged away.

She raised her hand and shouted, voice cracking:

"What about us?"