Internet Mage Professor-Chapter 89: New Professor

The crowd shifted, craning their necks and rising onto the balls of their feet to get a better look at the newcomer.

The air buzzed with curiosity, skepticism, and something else—something unspoken, like a tremor in the ground before a quake.

The seller leaned forward with a gleam in his eye, voice honeyed with performance, "Ah, and who might you be, young man?"

Nolan raised a hand casually, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes, and gave a mild nod. "Just Professor Nolan, I’m just new," he said plainly.

At first, silence.

Then, confusion.

Murmurs began in the second row, like the flick of a match, and spread into full whispers and gasps that spiraled through the crowd like wildfire.

"Professor... Nolan?"

"Never heard of him."

"Is he from a different academy?"

"Silver Blade City has only so many Professors... Why don’t I know this one?"

"Could he be newly appointed?"

"No, even then, news spreads fast here!"

It was a city where reputations were carved from stone. Names mattered—titles even more so. A professor of the Silver Blade Academy wasn’t someone you just missed.

They were figureheads, mentors, pillars of the city’s strength and pride. When one of them walked through the streets, they were usually greeted, sometimes even revered.

So how was it that no one here, in a bustling hub of mage society, had ever heard of a man called Professor Nolan?

A noblewoman standing near the front twisted her silk fan closed with a snap. "This isn’t just odd," she muttered to her companion. "It’s unheard of."

Even the beggars along the fountain’s edge whispered to one another, eyes narrowing, their senses as keen as rats in storm drains—untrusting, always watching for ripples in calm water.

The seller, ever the conductor of this small theatrical world, sensed the tension and smiled broadly, seizing the moment like an actor embracing his climax. He raised his arms.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Allow me to introduce our new player—Professor Nolan, from the Silver Blade Academy! And if no one knows him yet, he said he’s new!"

He motioned with a sweeping gesture toward Nolan, who simply bowed his head again, unfazed.

The murmuring redoubled, this time shaded with surprise rather than suspicion. People nudged one another, the name Nolan passed from ear to ear like a rumor too hot to keep.

"A new professor?"

"That must mean he passed the assessment—today?"

"He looks too young..."

"Could he be from a noble family? One of the hidden ones?"

"Maybe he’s from the capital? Transferred here?"

The seller leaned closer to Nolan, his smile sly and low. "You’re sure you want to join the game? You just got here. No shame in observing a bit more first."

Nolan shook his head lightly, his tone casual but confident. "No, I’d like to try. I’m not overly interested in the eggs, to be honest. But if I don’t get a real magic artifact, well... a consolation prize’s still a prize."

The seller grinned wide, showing pearlescent teeth. "A man with reason and taste! You hear that, folks? This one knows how to manage expectations."

He raised his hands dramatically. "Let’s welcome our new challenger! A professor from the prestigious Silver Blade Academy! Let the next round begin—"

But before he could finish, a familiar voice cut through the gathering. freёweɓnovel.com

"Wait—please, wait just a moment," said Professor Hein, stepping forward.

His tone wasn’t confrontational. In fact, it was laced with polite curiosity. "I don’t mean to interrupt... But I must ask—Professor Nolan, is it? I don’t recall meeting you. And I make it my duty to know every faculty member. It’s... rather important."

Nolan turned to face him, his stance easy, unthreatening. "I was just accepted earlier today. During the assessment conclusion."

Hein blinked once, then twice, and then his eyes widened with realization. "Ah. Of course! Today was the final session, wasn’t it? Forgive me—I wasn’t in attendance. I had a class scheduled at the same time. How thoughtless of me."

He bowed his head lightly. "Welcome to the faculty, Professor Nolan."

The crowd inhaled collectively.

"That explains it..."

"So it’s that fresh."

"I didn’t even know the new slots were being filled today..."

"He must’ve aced the trial. They don’t promote lightly."

"Still... he doesn’t look like he’s from around here."

People whispered with renewed fascination, their stares now a cocktail of curiosity, admiration, and residual skepticism. But there was weight in the title ’Professor.’ It carried an unspoken authority, and now that the known Professor Hein had acknowledged him, the audience’s doubt began to shift.

The seller, never one to waste momentum, clapped his hands once. "Shall we begin now?"

Nolan gave a small nod. "Yes."

Boxes were brought forward—small wooden crates lined in dark blue velvet, gilded with brass corners and etched with magical runes meant to protect the contents from external interference.

They were arranged in neat rows on the vendor’s table, each closed, each with an aura that pulsed faintly under the scrutiny of watching eyes.

Nolan reached toward the first set, choosing without hesitation.

A click. A lift of the lid.

Inside—nothing. Or rather, not nothing, but certainly not a real magic artifact. Just a hollow gemstone, dulled, its magic signature long faded. A trinket.

The crowd held their breath.

He moved to the second crate.

Another dud. A brooch with a cracked enchantment seal, barely holding together.

A third. A scroll so old it crumbled in his hand when touched.

A fourth. A warped ring with a broken circuit—useless.

Nolan frowned slightly, letting the tiniest hint of disappointment trace his expression. He sighed, low and quiet, shoulders slumping just a touch.

The image of a man who wanted to believe, who dared to hope, but found only silence in return.

He kept going, each crate revealing more of the same. Decorative items, faded runes, once-glorious tools turned to relics. Worth more as paperweights than arcane implements.

And yet, for all his outward disappointment, there was a flicker behind his eyes—calculating, cataloging, understanding.

Still, the crowd began to whisper again.

"Maybe his luck is just bad."

"Or maybe the seller ran out of real ones after Hein got his."

"Do you think this is rigged?"

Even Lirazel, watching from above, gave a small tilt of her head. "He’s pretending to be disappointed," she muttered to herself. "That smirk earlier... he knows something."

And at last, after Nolan opened the final box—another failure, a glass orb filled with mist that dissipated instantly—the seller stepped forward.

"Ah, what a shame," he said, shaking his head theatrically. "Sometimes the wheel of fortune smiles, and sometimes it asks us to be patient."

He reached beneath the table and brought out a smaller, locked chest.

"But! As stated in the rules—and because our new professor was such a good sport—we will provide a consolation prize!"

He clicked the lock open with flourish and swung the lid back.

Inside, resting on cushioned cloth, were three shimmering eggs. Each a different hue: one blue and silver like moonlit water, one deep green with flickers of amber veins, and one pale, almost translucent white that sparkled under the ambient mana like starlight caught in glass.

The crowd leaned in again, breath held.

"Three potential companions," the seller intoned. "Each born from a different lineage, each with the spark of life waiting to be awakened. Let it not be said that we don’t honor effort and courage."

Nolan stared at them, his face unreadable.

And then, slowly, a smile—tight, knowing, unreadable—touched his lips.