Internet Mage Professor-Chapter 60: More comfortable weapon

"Why did it change so much, Teacher Nolan?"

The question came from Selin, hesitant but sincere. Her voice cracked slightly, still shaken from her sudden failure in the simulation.

Around her, the other students slowly gathered, their expressions a mix of shock and confusion.

The brightness in their eyes had dulled, tempered by the unfamiliar taste of abrupt defeat.

"Seriously... why did it suddenly get that difficult?" Erik asked, looking down at the lingering interface of his ’Game Over’ screen as if it had betrayed him.

"We weren’t ready," muttered Ruvin. "That wasn’t a simulation—that was a massacre..."

"The wind was faster, the infected were like ghosts," Calien added, furrowing his brows. "Was it always like this, and we were just lucky before? Or did you change something?"

All eyes turned toward Nolan, who stood at the edge of the room with his arms crossed and a crooked smirk playing on his lips. He looked amused... or annoyed. Possibly both.

He raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything.

The silence stretched just long enough to make the students feel like they’d asked something wrong.

Then, slowly, Nolan’s voice rose.

"Ohhh, I see! It changed, huh? That’s strange! You poor, poor children. It was supposed to be fun, right? Easy? Predictable? Something like... a tutorial, perhaps? And now it’s not. Well, well, well... what does it feel like now?"

He stepped forward, a taunting glint in his eye.

"You wanted a challenge, didn’t you? You said it was too easy. You said I wasn’t quite on the level of second-grade academy instructors. Or third. Or fourth. Isn’t that what you said? Hm?"

Nolan began pacing in front of them like a lion circling its prey.

"I mean... I agreed, didn’t I? You’re heading to a fancy new academy. You’ll have real instructors soon. Real trials. Real monsters. Real pain. Me? Oh, I’m just Nolan. Good ol’ Nolan. Who could never possibly match those ’real’ teachers in noble academies."

He threw up his hands, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Those instructors probably have titles, don’t they? ’Archmage of the Western Wing!’ or ’Warden of the Four Realms!’ Sounds glorious, doesn’t it? They wear robes that cost more than this whole building. And me? I just slap you with system screens and say, ’Pay me in crystals, kids.’ Hah!"

The students shifted uncomfortably.

Nolan suddenly stopped pacing, whirling toward them. "So, tell me. Now that I’ve given you what you asked for—something harder, something new, something sharp enough to cut you down in the first five seconds—how’s it feel?"

His gaze swept over them.

"What now? You said I couldn’t compare to the Second Stage instructors. Or the Third. Definitely not the Fourth. Not those noble-born, high-class, rune-etched instructors with reputations passed down through textbooks."

He tapped his own chest.

"So what about now?"

There was a long, tense pause.

Then, one of the students burst out laughing.

"Pffft! Hahaha! Teacher, we didn’t mean to offend you!"

"Yeah! We weren’t trying to anger you!"

"You really thought we were trying to compare you to those teachers we haven’t met yet? Haha!"

"I’m sure once we meet them, you’ll still be way more funnier than any of them could ever be!"

"You’re the first teacher we actually liked!"

"You’re grumpy and greedy, but you’ve never treated us like dirt!"

"You always challenged us! We were just... teasing!"

Nolan’s eye twitched. His jaw clenched. His face, already red from speaking, darkened further.

"Angry?" he growled. "Angry? Me? Impossible. I don’t get angry. That’s not in my system interface."

He forced a laugh, but it came out strained.

"I’m not mad. I’m not mad at all. I’m perfectly composed. I am the embodiment of serenity. I’m a damn lake—peaceful, unmoving, and—AND I’M NOT ANGRY!"

His voice cracked near the end.

The students broke into laughter again, this time louder and with zero restraint.

"Ahahahaha!"

"Teacher! Please stop—my stomach!"

"He’s definitely angry!"

"That’s the angriest ’not angry’ I’ve ever heard!"

"We love you, Teacher Nolan!"

"You’re better than any noble academy teacher could ever be!"

"I didn’t know rage had levels, but this is definitely Tier Four!"

"Damn! He’s about to combust!"

Nolan’s brow twitched so hard it looked like it might pop off his skull. He didn’t know what was happening to him, but somehow he was so angry!

Was it because he had a system, and being compared to those unknown teachers from higher-grade academies was getting to him?

But then, he took a deep breath and held up a hand.

"Alright. Fine. Fine! I’ll say it just once. If... if you admit that this teacher—yes, me—is better than those noble-tiered, marble-halled, rune-scribbling, sword-waving poseur instructors... then maybe I’ll teach you how to handle that new game."

He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Silence.

Then—

"No way!"

"HAHAHA!"

"Teacher! You just want more mana crystals!"

"You’re addicted! You need help!"

"We’re poor, Teacher Nolan!"

"Do you know how expensive anything is in a Fourth Grade Territory?"

"We need food, you monster!"

"I had to sell my magical boots just to afford this week’s lunch!"

"You’re trying to drain us dry!"

"We’ll be living on magic moss at this rate!"

"You want crystals? Go mug someone richer!"

"Our wallets have seen war!"

"Teacher Nolan’s gonna make us pay rent in our dreams!"

They laughed so hard some of them had to lean against chairs.

Nolan stared blankly at the sea of chuckles and mockery. He blinked twice, then gave a heavy sigh.

"Well, I can’t blame you," he said, slumping like a deflated balloon. "I get it. Mana Crystals are more valuable out there. I really do understand."

He turned dramatically, waving one arm as if dismissing them. "Go ahead, then. Go suffer through the simulation again. I swear, it’s very hard. Even I wouldn’t—"

"Seeing Teacher Nolan like this brings pleasure to my heart," Calien declared suddenly, standing tall like a hero facing a villain. The others howled.

"Yes!"

"So satisfying!"

"He tried so hard to look noble and generous, and failed!"

"His face is priceless!"

Nolan’s jaw dropped. He looked between them, caught somewhere between flabbergasted and offended.

"You... you brats..."

Calien sat back down, calm and collected. "At first, we were confused. Shocked, even. But Teacher, you forget—we’re weapon handlers. We’ve never really trained with daggers and knives, yes, that’s why we failed last time in your game but now..."

He paused dramatically.

"This new simulation? Although I—no, we admit that you got us there... But we were just surprised. Especially with the new weapon. It’s not just a Pathogen knife anymore. It’s bigger. Sharper. Wilder. But it’s still a weapon close to where we are more comfortable with."

The students nodded with pride and confidence building in their voices.

"A machete is like a sword!"

"We know how to use swords!"

"We’ll adapt!"

"This isn’t the first time you’ve tried to break us!"

"We’re not going down that easy!"

"We’ll complete this game, Teacher!"

"We’ll clear it without your help!"

"We’ll show you our talent!"

Nolan opened his mouth to speak—but nothing came out. His hand raised half-heartedly, then dropped.

"I didn’t say I was above second or third or fourth grade teachers! You all—! That’s not what I—!"

Calien simply smiled, calm and smug. "We heard what we heard."

The students roared with laughter and rallied around Calien, pumping their fists and shouting enthusiastically.

"We’ll prove we can do it!"

"Let’s go!"

"This is our dream!"

"To humble our Teacher!"

"That thinks he’s some kind of god!"

Nolan was utterly dumbfounded, standing in the middle of the chaos like a statue struck by a bolt of confusion.

"A machete... like a sword... Are you all serious?"

They didn’t even hear him.

The room pulsed with energy, laughter, and the strange, chaotic love shared between stubborn students and their equally stubborn instructor.

Nolan blinked.

Then he muttered, "This is a circus..."

And yet—deep inside, though he’d never say it aloud—they sound right.