A Student's Class

Rorschach looked at his schedule. The next class was marked dark green, meaning he would be attending as a student.

"Chanting Arts? What kind of pointless class is that?"

Rorschach's double standard had its own twisted logic:

Although he had been an Engineering Student in his previous life, he had quite liked and valued history. But as for chanting, the Imperial Academy's philosophy was that it was an inefficient form of spellcasting that could easily be interrupted. Students were only allowed to use gestures for low-tier magic. And art? Sorry, he was too uncultured to appreciate it.

Come to think of it, this was the first magic class Rorschach had attended since crossing over. Sigh, should he pay attention in his first class, or slack off?

Rorschach wrestled with that question in the back row. There was still some time before class began when a noisy group entered the room.

They were so loud. Rorschach looked over and saw familiar faces—the hulking fellow who had misbehaved in class before stood at the center of a gang of street punks.

He still wore noble clothing beneath his outer garments, especially that golden shoulder cape and fine crimson wool shirt. The young men and women around him all chimed in with whatever he said.

Rorschach was watching him, and he noticed Rorschach too. "Well, if it isn't our esteemed teacher. Why are you attending class too?"

Rorschach nodded. "Yeah, I'm here to listen."

The hulking boy deliberately sat beside Rorschach and lowered his voice. "Northerner, don't get so cocky just because you've latched onto some fat professor. Watch out—you're unfamiliar with this place, and you might get hurt."

He was threatening him right away? What kind of petty thug was this? Rorschach was a little stunned. He asked one of the boy's lackeys, "Is this guy a noble?"

Rorschach successfully enraged the hulking boy. "You're questioning me! Questioning the direct bloodline of Grand Duke Merowinger! You're insulting my family!" His roar drew everyone's attention.

"For the Merowinger family's honor, you should duel that Imperial bastard! Teach him a lesson!" More apprentices gathered around, while someone at the back egged them on.

"That's right, that's right. My ancestors were duel masters! The Merowinger family earned its title and lands by beating up Imperial bastards!"

"Remember my name and family: Philip de Merowinger." As he spoke, Philip pulled a pristine white silk glove from his breast pocket and flung it at Rorschach. Rorschach caught it, recalling the duel rituals he had heard of. Then he realized he did not seem to have a glove of his own.

Oh, wait, he did have one. He had an alchemical protective glove he had used to handle stew pots while escorting merchant caravans. Later, after learning Mage Hand, he had stopped using it.

He quickly dug it out of his storage ring and tossed the thick, grease-stained leather glove over. Smack! It hit the other boy squarely in the face.

Everyone froze for a moment, then burst into laughter.

"You really are humiliating me!" Philip took off the glove and wiped his face. Now his whole face was slick with grease, like an overripe tomato.

"Um. In a duel, you just need to pick up the glove thrown by the challenger. You don't throw one back."

With a roar, Philip lunged at him. "Why explain anything to this little savage?!"

Though Rorschach was only sixteen, he had fought Holy Mother Cult knights before. He coldly tracked Philip's movements. Rather than chanting before casting like apprentices from the other Magic Towers, he sidestepped back and silently cast Kirin Arm.

Before the watching apprentices, Philip was lifted into the air by an invisible force. His already flushed face grew redder, then gradually darkened to purple.

"What does being a little bigger matter in a Magic Tower? Do you want to be a melee mage, idiot? Then just learn a Light Spell and graduate!"

With his throat constricted, Philip not only felt suffocated but was hit by a wave of heat. Firelight reflected in his blue irises. Rings of flame outlined a giant hand larger than the boy himself, slowly closing in as though it were about to light the fuse of his life.

Just as Philip de Merowinger's temples were about to burst and his urge to urinate reached its limit, both the force and the flames vanished.

He dropped between the desks like a lump of mud.

If only he had possessed his current strength when facing that Holy Mother Cult knight, Bode. At the thought, Rorschach could not help sighing.

He swept his gaze around the stunned crowd and spoke slowly.

"Even if this is not my class, you still have plenty of respectful ways to address me. Mage, sir... hmm, classmate works too."

"Yes, sir." Someone on the outer edge answered timidly.

Rorschach used Mage Hand to prop the mud at his feet back into a seat. Philip failed to sit steadily and rolled to the floor again, so Rorschach had no choice but to lift him back up.

He seemed to have struck something when he fell. His nose was crooked, and an iron-rich liquid was flowing from it.

Meanwhile, Rorschach sat down and arranged his books. "You all saw it. Philip fell down by himself just now. Let's return to our seats and have class, all right?"

This time, all the apprentices answered, "Yes, Teacher Rorschach."

"I'm the teacher for this class, though?" Sophia, the teacher who had just entered, was a middle-aged woman. Her thick, wavy hair swayed as she walked in, just in time to see the scene.

For some reason, when she saw the hulking student with a bleeding nose and a dazed expression, she simply assumed he had fallen on his own. "Mr. Philip, did you bump into something?"

"Yes, Teacher."

"Everyone should be careful." Sophia then gave a personal demonstration as an excellent opening to the lesson.

She tossed a twig toward Rorschach. He recognized it as mistletoe. At the same time, she chanted:

"May abundance grant you health."

Sophia's Yabberish was melodious and pleasant. Accompanied by her chanting, the mistletoe absorbed her aether, gathered it, grew, and swelled into ten plump, fresh berries.

"Divine Berry Technique, a useful restorative Minor Spell from the Nature School.

"Mr. Rorschach, please pick three berries for Mr. Philip. Pass the remaining branch and berries around among the students."

Rorschach did as instructed. He plucked three berries and stuffed them into Philip's mouth, then patted his backside and chin to make him start chewing.

The berries burst between Philip's teeth, juice spilling from the corners of his mouth. Gradually, some life returned to his eyes, and red liquid stopped flowing from his nose.

Seeing that Philip had recovered, a few bold troublemakers plucked berries themselves and popped them into their mouths to try them.

"So sour!"

Sophia said cheerfully, "A little sourness will keep you alert in class." The classroom immediately filled with laughter.

"Good chanting should be precise and clear, elegant and pleasing to the ear.

"We generally believe that excellent chanting significantly enhances magic involving elements such as 'summoning' and 'spirit.'

"The Divine Berry Technique I just cast belongs to the Nature School, an ancient druidic spell. By druidic beliefs, it should be considered a divine art of nature.

"Although we mages do not worship nature in that way, good chanting can still give us plump berries with strong restorative properties."

Sophia noticed that the last berry had been eaten by a troublemaker as well, and she could not help frowning. "You didn't leave a single one? What are the students in front looking at?"

She walked over to collect the mistletoe branch from the students, then took out another one. "Now, I'll demonstrate it again. This time, I'll adjust the incantation."

She cast the spell again. The language of her chant became relatively obscure Yabberish, its tones melodious and varied. Fortunately, as a fundamental skill, everyone present could understand it. "O abundance! May you harvest health and new life!"

I fell asleep halfway through writing in the middle of the night, woke up, and continued writing. I'm not in great shape mentally, so please point out any typos or mistakes.