Internet Mage Professor-Chapter 58: One last class

Lirazel’s golden eyes shimmered with something between curiosity and calculation as she floated closer, her wings gently flapping in rhythm with her measured breaths.

The space between them was thick with unspoken tension.

Finally, she spoke again, her voice returning to that careful tone Nolan had come to recognize as her ’serious’ mode.

"Considering that the creature you killed was weaker than the average native spawn of this realm," she began, "it’s likely that whoever sent it was only testing the waters."

Nolan tilted his head slightly. "Testing?"

"Yes," she said, nodding once, slowly. "A preliminary probe. They were gauging whether this territory is safe for more substantial deployment. It’s standard strategy. And now that you’ve killed their spawn so easily—and without even using a weapon I provided—they’ll likely assume that you’re a threat."

Nolan raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Lirazel elaborated, her tone quickening with excitement. "They’ll think the one who killed that creature was just a strong native. An aboriginal. It’s the safest assumption for them. And if there are aboriginals strong enough to kill one of us, even the weaker ones, then their own spawns will retreat."

"Wait..." Nolan narrowed his eyes, "You’re saying that they might actually back off?"

Lirazel nodded again. "For now. Demon God spawns or not, we’re not stupid. If there’s a chance this plane holds native threats strong enough to injure or kill us, we’re trained to retreat and observe. Only come back when we’re strong enough to handle it."

Nolan blinked, utterly thrown. "But... I thought mortals couldn’t hurt you guys?"

"Well," she said with a small shrug, "that used to be true. That’s what I believed... But seeing you kill the two easily, maybe because of the Arcane Planes leaking. More and more mana from the higher planes seeped into this one every decade. Boundaries shift. And sometimes, when mana saturates a lower realm enough, it changes the rules. Something did change. Maybe the mana concentration here isn’t what we thought."

Nolan slumped in his chair again, overwhelmed. "This... succubus is ridiculous," he muttered. "You’re all contradictory. Every answer just leads to five new questions. I feel like it’s your own idea."

Lirazel grinned, clearly not offended. "Welcome to the chaos of higher-plane politics."

But her amusement didn’t last long. Her eyes sharpened and she leaned in slightly. "Speaking of contradictions... where did you get that weapon? That energy—whatever it was—didn’t come from me. That wasn’t part of our pact. So where did you find something that could kill a demon spawn?"

Nolan scratched the back of his neck, feigning ignorance. "What weapon?"

"The one you used earlier!" she pressed, voice quickening. "The strange force, the ripple in space—it wasn’t raw mana. It was... something else. Is it a bloodline heirloom? A relic? Did you inherit some old, buried power from your ancestors? That would explain the anomaly! Maybe this plane has secrets we don’t understand yet!"

Nolan stiffened slightly. "You guys... are afraid of stuff like that?"

"Terrified," she replied flatly. "We’re warned. The elders told us before we were created: if you find something in a lower realm that can injure you, flee. Hide. Reassess. And only return once you’re strong enough to destroy it completely. There’s no honor in dying to an anomaly."

Her words hung in the air.

Then, she suddenly froze.

Immediately, Lirazel flapped her small bat wings backward. Scrambling mid-air.

Nolan noticed immediately and leaned back with a subtle grin. "Relax," he said, trying not to laugh. "I already tried using that weapon on you. But it still hurt me, too. So I stopped."

Lirazel jolted backward in the air farther, her eyes wide and hands instinctively rising to her neck as if feeling for some unseen scar.

"You WHAT?!"

Nolan cleared his throat. "It was early on. A reflex. Don’t blame me... Don’t blame me..." he sounded like it was not big thing.

She continued hovering backward, still visibly rattled. This guy is shameless.

"I didn’t mean it," he added. "Let’s move on."

There was silence.

"...So," Nolan ventured, "what now?"

Lirazel said nothing. She simply hovered, her arms wrapped protectively around herself, still trying to process what he’d said earlier.

"Alright," Nolan muttered. "That’s... fine. We can just—yeah. Cool. Good talk. That’s it."

Time slipped by.

An hour passed in relative silence, interrupted only by the occasional creak of wood, the boiling gurgle of the kettle, or the distant rustle of trees outside the cabin.

Then, without warning, a sharp caw rang out.

Cawk! Cawk! Cawk!

Nolan perked up. His eyes narrowed, already on alert.

Outside his new home, perched on a nearby branch, a black raven stared in through the window. Its eyes glowed faintly with arcane shimmer—clearly not a normal bird.

"A message?" he muttered, standing and moving toward the door.

The moment he stepped outside, the raven flapped its wings, hovering momentarily. With a loud shriek, it dropped something into the air.

A scroll.

Nolan caught it instinctively.

He turned it over in his hand. Elegant, silver-threaded patterns wove across the edges, marked with the sigil of Silver Blade Academy. No mistake—this was official.

The moment he opened the scroll, a rush of energy whooshed outward, and the world around him shifted.

In an instant, a shimmering magical room assembled around him in a dome of light.

Though hazy, the illusion was distinct enough to see the wooden panels of a training hall—Room 33.

And within that illusionary room stood a group of familiar figures.

Calien. Selin. Ruvin. Erik. And nine others.

All thirteen of his most advanced students.

Nolan blinked, stepping inside the magical projection. "Hey. What are you all doing here? The assessment just ended. Shouldn’t you be preparing for your placements? There’s no class today."

Calien stepped forward. "Sir... we requested a final class."

Nolan raised an eyebrow. "A final class?"

There was hesitation. Then Calien spoke slowly, his voice thick with emotion. "After what happened at the Arena earlier... after I showed them how to fight those creatures with the weapon you crafted carelessly... somehow, I defeated one because of it. Our families were summoned by the chief of the Black Vale Territory Mana Knights to prepare."

Nolan remained quiet.

"They are planning to wipe out these strange creatures tomorrow in one go. At the same time, they wanted to transfer us. The Silver Blade Council approved our group for early transfer too. We’re leaving for a Fourth-Grade Territory that is under the Black Vale Territory. The best academies for us. The best equipment. The real battlefield."

Nolan’s chest tightened. "You’re... leaving?"

Calien nodded. "Not just me. All thirteen of us. We’ve been offered positions under our major noble banners. We’re going where we can grow faster—and hopefully survive what’s coming."

Another student stepped forward. Selin this time. "But before that... we just wanted one more class. One last time. With you. If it’s okay, teacher Nolan sir."

Nolan’s gaze fell to the floor, he stared at the clean floor and then lifted his view again.

He hadn’t planned to stay here long.

Not in this academy. Not in this place. He was ready to vanish, move on quietly, like he always did when things became too complicated. But now, looking at them... hearing their voices through the illusion... something was pulling him. He couldn’t explain what...

Sudd, he rubbed his forehead. "I see."

They waited, standing in the illusion like statues of patience.

Then Nolan sighed, his voice soft, almost reluctant—but clear.

"...Wait for me."