Surviving the Assassin Academy as a Genius Professor-Chapter 59: On the Snow-Covered Ruins, the Christmas Bell Rings (4)

┃ Relationship Increase: Balmung [35] (▲21)

┃ Reward: Star Shard × 21

As I descended the mountain, I checked the log. Not a bad number—it was quite satisfying.

Actually, more than satisfying. It landed perfectly on a double-zero.

< Star Shards Owned: 300 >

A wave of mental pleasure swept over me.

One, two, three... like a mouse hoarding grains of rice, I had tirelessly collected them—and now I had 300.

From 200 to 250 shards, you can start learning 8th-level abilities. Which means, I could finally pick one up myself.

Currently, I was being hailed as a formidable force in some circles, and under certain circumstances, I could indeed exert a decent amount of power. But the truth was, my core weakness remained largely unaddressed.

If I were to evenly distribute 300 Star Shards into a [Combat-type] ability or stats, I could gain a substantial combat boost.

But not yet.

I had to think long-term.

Far ahead.

After all, an 8th-level ability becomes utterly helpless when facing a 9th-level of the same kind.

To illustrate—

I would lose in a one-on-one fistfight against any of the illusion professors here at the academy. But if we entered an illusionary duel, and every last one of them attacked me at once? I could crush them all with overwhelming force.

That’s the gap between level 8 and 9.

So I decided to hold onto the Star Shards a little longer.

I should get back to writing the exam problems.

Around that time, I arrived at my lab—and a letter had come in.

A thank-you note for becoming a VIP at Hiaka’s Central Auction House, along with the proceeds from a recent sale.

+++

▷ Auction House Sale Proceeds

14,939,006 Ħ

+++

That was from selling the spoils I collected after killing the Kreutz dark ops unit that had tried to assassinate Forte.

Twelve rare items, five heroic-grade items—all gone. Even after the fees, it amounted to nearly 15 million Hika.

Roughly the same amount a student would receive for killing a professor.

Looks like I got rich overnight.

There was just one item I didn’t sell: a [Legendary I]-grade accessory—a ring, to be exact.

I sent it to the cathedral in the capital for curse removal.

It returned with the second letter.

+++

▷ Ring "Echochime" – Curse Removal Complete

Cost: 552,000 Ħ

+++

I wired the funds from my linked account, then inspected the ring.

Thankfully, they hadn’t pulled any dumb tricks like swapping it with a decoy from an Assassination Department professor.

The ring looked simple—a plain gold band with a teal gem.

But what mattered was the effect.

I got lucky.

This was exactly the kind of ring I needed.

＊ Echochime [Legendary I]

The ring’s ability was [Mana Amplification].

Any magical output channeled through this ring would increase in potency. The exact figure was around 4.3%—which, in this world, was immense.

In this system:

“Mana” was...

A highly independent entity.

It was a little different from other games.

The only way to recover mana is time.

Technically, yes, there are some obscure methods—but practically, there’s no reliable way to restore it. That’s why there are no mana potions. Assassins here are designed to explode in short bursts and then burn out.

There are almost no tools that assist mana directly.

By that, I mean things like [Amplification], [Sustain], [Transformation], or [Condensation]—you can do them by yourself as a caster, but finding gear that helps with that? Might as well try catching starlight in your hand.

And this “Echochime” was that starlight.

I slipped it onto my finger.

< Combat Power: 159,036 → 165,837 (▲6,801) >

Not bad.

For an accessory to raise combat power by nearly 7,000?

Definitely top-tier even among [Legendary I].

Now then, that’s enough about money and equipment.

Time to return to writing the final exam questions.

For the next ten days, I practically became a recluse—pouring myself into research and design.

I dove deep into 『World Forgery』, to a degree beyond anything I’d ever attempted. I reached a realm of [Illusion] far beyond what I had ever created.

Until now, I had treated [Illusion] as nothing more than a tool. Like a flint or a pair of scissors. Something to cut what needed cutting, to shape what needed shaping.

But this exam problem couldn't be created with that kind of mindset.

After attending the funeral. After killing the ghouls. After facing Balmung. After watching countless cadets and professors walk away.

I kept thinking: What do the students need?

And after talking with the other professors, they said—there had to be hope. Hope for the students, and for the academy.

I agreed.

It was why I approved when the department wanted to credit Gray for the airship incident. Why I consented to the idea of putting her on the cover of Assassination Daily.

This final exam follows the same line of thought.

For the first time in my life, I'm devoting myself to something that won’t make me any money.

Because there are things in this world that can’t be understood with numbers alone...

My ten-year-old self knew that well.

Before I am a professor, I am a teacher.

That means someone who lived before, and has seen more.

If there’s anything I’ve learned through despair,

If that thing is how to hold on to hope—

Then I’m willing to share it.

⋮

< 『World Forgery』 Proficiency: 89.12% (▲0.01%) >

< 『World Forgery』 Proficiency: 89.45% (▲0.01%) >

< 『World Forgery』 Proficiency: 89.89% (▲0.01%) >

⋮

After a full week of research and revision—

The final exam was complete.

“...It’s done.”

The result was no more than a single sheet of paper.

But that paper alone had cost over 10 million Hika in materials—covered in intricate illusion formulas, magical circuits, and symbolic matrices.

And yet, I wasn’t entirely sure it was perfect. Since it was a form of [Illusion] that had never existed before, there were parts that felt experimental.

It seemed viable to me.

But whether it would actually work was a different matter.

We all know how it goes—an author writes something with passion, only to be humiliated in front of an audience.

Someone might find a flaw. That’s how academia evolves, isn’t it?

So I decided to send it to another illusion professor for verification.

Unfortunately, I only knew one.

“Greetings.”

– Hiakapo? What brings you to me?

“Would you be willing to assist with a proofread?”

– A proofread?

I sent a copy of the exam to the neutral senior professor, Kollider.

A replica, of course.

And I added one line:

“Please return it within five days.”

It is the final exam, after all.

***

‘Unbelievable. That bastard...’

Professor Kollider, senior illusion instructor of the neutral faction.

A man who had dedicated his entire life to [Illusion].

He first fell in love with illusion at the age of seven—nearly forty years ago.

Back then, in the capital of Hiakium, there was a thing called an Illusion Show—performers who dazzled audiences with illusion magic, much like a circus.

Little Kollider had been utterly entranced by the beauty of that spectacle.

He began formally studying illusion soon after, excelled at the academy, earned a scholarship, and studied abroad at the Imperial Academy Hattengrage—even spending three full days under the legendary elder assassin of illusion, Professor Abraxas.

(Three days... but still.)

Now, he was a master of two distinct 8th-level illusion spells. His name topped more than forty published papers as first author.

He wasn’t like the other professors who had crawled into Hiaka Academy chasing money—he was an elite.

And this elite was... conflicted.

“Dante... that punk is asking me to proofread?”

At this point, it was common knowledge among the faculty that Professor Dante Hiakapo had deep proficiency in [Illusion].

It wasn’t some baseless rumor whispered by starry-eyed cadets. Kollider had seen it firsthand. Up close, he had realized that Dante’s level was disturbingly high.

Yes. Disturbing.

And it was disturbing precisely because it was unquantifiable.

The unknown is unpleasant. Because it makes the mind inflate with imagined scale.

“Of course! He’s still below me, though...!”

Sure, maybe his output was impressive—but wasn’t the essence of illusion finesse?

And in that regard, Kollider had every confidence in his superiority.

So, with that internal rivalry quietly festering—

That punk had dared send him a test paper for verification.

“...Tch.”

Kollider tore open the envelope and pulled out the paper.

He decided he’d take a look.

After all, this was a problem written by a rootless upstart of a professor.

He would review it with a standard of scrutiny so harsh—so utterly severe—

Just once. That’s all.

And then—

“...What the? Just one page?”

This was supposed to be a final exam?

Just one page?

One single question?

“What the hell...”

Look at this pretentious fool.

Does he think he’s some kind of head professor?

Still, Kollider began reading the question.

“......”

As he read, he started tilting his head.

“...What the hell is this?”

He thought he’d misread it. Started over from the beginning. Took out a mana magnifier and fixed it to his eye.

Even reading it slowly, he found his mind clouded with nothing but question marks.

“...What kind of problem is this...?”

The test itself wasn’t complicated.

It presented an initial ‘framework’.

The goal was to build upon that framework—flesh out the structure.

Of course, both the framework and the additions were to be crafted through [Illusion].

There were strict guidelines for how the additions were judged. Points were assigned accordingly.

“So it’s like, hmm... something like...”

Zap!

A crackle of energy sparked at Kollider’s fingertips.

『Dreamfold Embellishment』

A swirl of mana gathered in the air.

In the corner of the lab, as was customary for illusion professors, there was a plaster bust.

Kollider used [Illusion] to give the curly-haired bust a mustache, a fedora, and a cigar clenched in its mouth.

“That’s 3 points for the mustache, 4 for the hat, 7 for the cigar.”

So that was the gist of Dante’s question.

The format was clear enough.

The problem was...

It only took three lines of explanation.

Yet the exam page contained exactly forty-five lines of circuits and formulae.

The remaining forty-two?

Kollider could not, for the life of him, determine what they were for.

Had Dante just wasted the paper? Thrown in useless fluff?

That wasn’t it either.

“...The bastard really does know his [Illusion]...”

If this were handed to an average assistant, those three lines would have bloated into thirty.

But Dante had compressed them masterfully—interwoven with unbelievable precision.

Even Kollider had to admit—it was exquisitely delicate work.

Up to that point.

But then came the remaining forty-two lines. And with them, utter confusion.

“What the hell is... all this...?”

Extensions? Mana threading? Duration multipliers?

No... yes? Not exactly?

“It doesn’t feel like it’s based on any simple principle...”

He was lost.

He could grasp some of the individual parts.

But the overall structure was incomprehensible.

It wasn’t like Dante had created some unfathomable mystical force. Every element used was real.

“Line 14 is just a reformatted Parheron Equation... Line 24 references the 3rd Gittian Matrix... The magic circle’s a twisted variant of Hegal’s Inequality...”

But the problem was—he blended them all together.

Imagine someone throwing chocolate chips, pickled radish, grilled beef, and polished stones into a blender and hitting “purée.”

“...No, seriously—why the hell is the 3rd Gittian Matrix even here?!”

Dante had asked for a verification—

But you can’t verify what you can’t comprehend.

And Kollider couldn’t comprehend this.

“......”

By the end of the day, he had still failed to decode those forty-two lines.

“......”

3:00 a.m. One flickering candle in the lab.

Kollider lit a cigarette, suffocated with frustration.

“...Damn...”

And then it hit him—his phone conversation with Dante.

– “Hello?”

“H-Hiakapo? What’s someone like you want from [N O V E L I G H T] me?”

– “Esteemed Professor Kollider. Might I ask for your help verifying something?”

“Verification? Hmph. Let’s hear it, then.”

That’s how the conversation had gone.

And then Dante had set a deadline.

– “Please return it within five days.”

“Five days? For a measly final exam problem? I could do that in one or two!”

– “It deals with unfamiliar applications, so the equations are a bit complex. Not the easiest.”

“Hah! Are you doubting my abilities?”

– “Not at all.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I could proofread something like that with my eyes closed!”

– “...Eyes closed?”

– “...As expected of an elite senior professor. Reassuring indeed.”

– “I trust I can count on you.”

Oh no.

“Shit.”

Kollider stared blankly into space.

Why had he said that?

Why had he acted like such a pompous idiot?

He only had a day or two—and one was already gone.

“Urrrgh...”

Twelve years as a professor at Hiaka Academy.

And never had he felt this royally screwed.

“.............................................................”

As an elite senior professor—

This was the crisis of a lifetime.