Internet Mage Professor-Chapter 75: Mana Specialist path

Before the strange lights had started shimmering from his skin, before the room fell silent and the students’ stunned eyes locked on him, Nolan had been confused.

Not just surprised—truly, deeply, profoundly confused.

Not because of the mana.

Not even because of the weird instinct that let him break down high-level tactics like a master strategist with decades of elite combat experience.

No, Nolan was confused because he genuinely had no idea how he was doing any of this.

How the hell was he explaining everything so smoothly? In his old life, he was good at games—hell, brilliant. But explaining them? Teaching others? That had never been his thing.

Back then, he just played. Streamed. Button-mashed his way through the hardest levels until he beat them, then shrugged when people asked how.

He was the kind of guy who made victory look effortless—but only because he had zero patience to walk anyone through it. Strategy? Maybe. Coaching? Nope.

And now here he was, practically lecturing like a seasoned professor of game theory and tactical combat.

Not just explaining—it was like the knowledge poured out of him naturally, without effort, as though the game world were a living thing inside his brain, and he instinctively knew where its heart was hidden.

Like he could trace the map of the maze with his eyes closed, feel every dead end and secret passage as a soft echo in his bones.

How the hell am I doing this?

That was when he saw it—the glow on his skin.

The faint, silvery light dancing across his fingers like static, soft pulses of energy swirling just beneath the surface.

His thoughts paused.

His instincts screamed one word:

Mana.

He knew it instinctively.

The lights weren’t normal. Not in this world. Not from his body. They meant something.

He blinked rapidly, eyes darting toward his desk, as if an answer would be scrawled on his notes or etched into the wood. And there it was—not in a book, not on the wall, but floating just above his desk:

A System Window.

Hovering in the air, bright and clear, as though it had been summoned by confusion itself.

---

Nolan Flamire

Mana Specialist: 2nd Stage

Mana Knight: Ninth Stage

Familiar: Lirazel / Dragon Succubus

Mana Crystals: 1024

---

His eyes went wide.

Wait, what? He blinked again, leaned in, squinted.

That was not a typo.

His Mana Specialist rank had gone up. First stage, now second.

When?

He hadn’t fought anyone. He hadn’t meditated. He hadn’t touched a spellbook.

The only thing he did was watch a movie and teach students how to survive a game simulation.

No...

His pulse quickened. Could it be because of that?

He thought back to the scene. To how vivid it had felt. How natural his explanations had been. How every word had spilled from his mouth like he was reciting something not memorized but lived.

Holy shit.

He leaned back slowly in his chair, breath catching slightly as realization dawned.

So if I’m understanding this right... watching that zombie movie, ’27 Seconds Later’... and then applying what I learned to teach them teamwork inside the simulation... He swallowed.

Does that count as Mana Specialist experience?

He felt like laughing, screaming, running out into the courtyard and flipping over a table.

Instead, he just muttered, "No way... is it really that easy?"

His eyes gleamed.

Then what happens if I finish the movie?

What if the last part of the strategy was buried in the climax?

Would finishing it push him to the third stage? Fourth?

He turned slowly toward his students, who were still watching him with curiosity and awe—more than a few of them still nervously eyeing the subtle glow around his hand.

"You guys," he said calmly, "can continue. I’m just going to... watch."

Selin looked at Ruvin. Calien exchanged a glance with Erik.

They understood what he meant—but they were hesitant.

"Watch?" Ruvin echoed. "But we just figured out how to—"

Calien raised a hand to cut him off. "He’s watching us too. It’s fine. Let’s finish it."

There was a pause. Then, slowly, each student nodded.

They understood what he hadn’t said: this wasn’t about copying anymore.

They had learned something deeper from him—something real. And now it was their turn to prove it.

So, as Nolan turned back to the projector, flicking the movie back on and reclining slightly in his chair like a man who just discovered passive XP farming, the students prepared to fight once more.

They reloaded into the simulation, and this time—it was different.

Not because of their weapons. Not because of some cheat code or glitch. But because they were a team.

Calien didn’t shout anymore. He directed.

Selin didn’t cover just herself. She watched the entire left flank, eyes calculating.

Ruvin didn’t hesitate. He backed up, rotated, adapted.

And Erik—once wild, impulsive Erik—held the line like a steel wall, soaking hits, repositioning in rhythm.

They reached the third floor again.

They heard the bloater’s groan before they saw it, the thick, mucus-choked breathing echoing through the corridor.

Then came the wet dragging of its feet. Its shadow fell across the broken tile floor, huge and heavy.

And when it appeared—misshapen, pulsating, twitching with tumors—they didn’t flinch.

Calien moved forward first, bottle in hand, luring the creature’s path to the left.

"Selin, angle three. Erik, hold midpoint. Ruvin, you rotate."

"Got it."

"Understood."

"Ready."

The bloater charged, lumbering, arms swinging like tree trunks.

Calien dodged right as planned, the monster twisting slightly as it overextended.

Selin fired at its flank, rupturing a cluster of tumors with a pressurized hiss.

Ruvin slid underneath its wild arc, slashing at the stretched seam between its ribs.

The bloater let out a gurgling scream.

Erik stood his ground, shield braced, taking a grazing blow to prevent the creature from spinning again.

They rotated like gears in a perfect machine.

One baited, two struck, one reloaded.

They moved as one.

The bloater reeled, staggered, lurched—but didn’t fall. It bled from multiple points, its sickly skin torn and sagging, but it fought on, blindly swinging in a frenzy of rot and pain.

The students did not falter.

They maintained their formation. Adjusted. Pressed. Calien coordinated the final push.

"NOW!"

Three blades sank in as the bloater twisted to respond—one in the neck seam, one in the underarm, one straight through the spine.

It gurgled one last time, then collapsed in a disgusting heap, the bloated frame deflating in chunks as fluid leaked in every direction.

They stood still for a moment, panting, watching it dissolve.

And then, the screen flashed bright white.

MISSION COMPLETE.

Confetti flickered across the simulation HUD. A synthesized voice spoke:

BLOATER ELIMINATED. TEAM RATING: A-

They blinked.

And then they shouted.

"WE DID IT!"

Selin laughed—actually laughed. Erik dropped to his knees dramatically. Ruvin raised both fists in the air and shouted something unintelligible. Calien exhaled, not smiling—but proud.

Nolan, watching from his desk, in his own world, half-way through the whole movie, raised his brow.

The screen dimmed beside him as the credits of the movie rolled in the background.

He glanced at his hand again. The glow had intensified just slightly.

And then, with a chime, another System Notification appeared:

...

You have completed Stage 1 of ’27 Seconds Later’.

Applied Knowledge bonus achieved.

Mana Specialist +1 Level

Current Rank: 3rd Stage

...

Nolan stared at the screen for a second. Then leaned back.

"...What the actual fuck."

A grin slowly crept across his face.

"This is too good."

All he had to do was Watch. Learn. And boom—his rank increased. No grinding. No meditation. Just applied understanding.

This world really was his playground.

And if this was just the beginning—just the first movie—then he was going to turn every genre, every piece of media, every scrap of his Earth knowledge into his own private ladder to the top.

He looked up at the students, still cheering, still excited, still basking in their earned win.

Nolan smiled softly.

Not bad for a team of rookies.

Not bad at all.