“I just got here,” Professor Verdus replied, his gaze critical. “Are your ears clogged?”

“Apologies, Professor. Must be exhaustion from all my courses.”

“Hmm. You really need to take better care of your health.” Verdus reprimanded him lightly.

“With all the classes, I haven’t much choice,” I-han replied smoothly.

“Is that so?”

“Perhaps if you cut back on assignments, I could focus on my health.”

“Oh. No, that won’t happen.”

I-han offered a resigned smile, clearly expecting the response.

“So, what did you need?”

“Right, that!” Verdus suddenly remembered. “Originally, I was going to ask you to help set up the final exam.”

“But then Garcia told me not to!”

“What a surprise!”

“Isn’t that strange, though?”

“It truly is!”

“Right?” Verdus grumbled, “Garcia’s really changed. He never used to be like this.”

“Oh, indeed!”

“Anyway,” Verdus continued.

“Yes?”

“Could you talk to him for me? Garcia seems to listen to you.”

“Oh, I’ll do my best, but Professor Garcia is very strict, so there’s no guarantee he’ll heed my words.”

*I’ll definitely not mention it,* I-han thought, smiling politely.

“Fair point; he is rather strict.”

“Is that so?”

“He actually punched through a magic barrier the other day.”

“Goodness! …What did you do to make him do that?”

“Nothing at all!” Verdus replied indignantly, pulling a hefty coin pouch from his pocket. The jingle of silver and gold coins chimed as he lifted it.

“What’s that?” I-han asked, his interest piqued.

“What? I told you back in the punishment room. Did you forget already?”

Verdus looked at him as if concerned for his intelligence.

“Wait… is that payment for helping with the final exam?”

Verdus nodded, “Yep.”

“And… how did you get it?”

“Sold a few artifacts.”

I-han paused. “Were you allowed to do that?”

Verdus stopped as well, suddenly looking uncertain.

“Huh… was I not? Hold on.”

“……”

“Now that I think of it, the Principal might have mentioned not selling them,” Verdus muttered.

“Well, as long as you don’t get caught…” I-han replied, shrugging.

“Exactly.”

I-han nodded in agreement. If it was discovered, Verdus would be the one in trouble, not him.

“Well, Professor, if helping with the final exam means this charming little pouch is mine…”

“Wardanas, that’s a bit disturbing,” Verdus said, grimacing.

“Understood. But just to confirm—this is mine, right?”

“Yes, yes, but again, Garcia told me not to set a final exam with you. Better to listen to him.”

‘What *did* he do?’ I-han wondered, curious about how Garcia had managed to convince Verdus.

“I’ll try again with Garcia.”

“Great, thanks.” Verdus handed him a small, intricate dagger imbued with multiple layers of magic.

“Here, take this, too.”

“Thank you.”

I-han was taken aback. It seemed that, thanks to senior Kettle, Verdus had grown more generous, not only offering coin but even handing out artifacts.

“Tell the students to make one of these today.”

“Professor, shouldn’t you be teaching the class yourself?” I-han asked.

“What!? Really?!”

---

“Isn’t the freshman final exam a little… bland?” Coholty remarked as he perused Professor Mortum’s workshop.

Typically, the freshman exams were laden with summoned undead, curses, bones, poisons, and dark elements galore—a test of skill and a rite of passage to prepare for the grueling path of dark magic.

Yet, this year’s exam seemed quite ordinary, with Mortum’s desk stacked with papers.

“Choose the creature that lives in the Undead Domain…” read one question, and Mortum’s students glanced at each other, bewildered.

Coholty felt something was missing.

Professor Mortum let out a raspy cough. “After nearly collapsing the whole school’s dark magic tower last midterms, you’re questioning my decisions?”

“……”

The dark magic students around them blushed, recalling the incident. Some even glared at Coholty in disapproval.

‘Why bring that up?’

“Sorry, Professor.”

“Not to mention begging juniors for ingredients…” Mortum added with a harsh glare.

“I sincerely apologize!” Coholty lowered his head, abandoning his pride as a fourth-year.

“Good. Now get back to the potions.”

“Yes, sir…”

Coholty sighed and turned to the table, measuring ingredients for the *Dragfoot Poison*—a relatively mild concoction that slowed movement.

“What’s next?” he asked.

“*Bone Decay Poison,*” Mortum answered.

The potion would stimulate bone overgrowth to the point of weakening the flesh around it, essentially degrading the limbs of the target. Coholty completed it with a couple of deft moves and an added ingredient.

“What’s after that?”

“*Red Poison of Ahrak.*”

Ahrak was an infamous dark magician whose legacy lived on through his creations, though he met a gruesome end by one of his own poisons.

Coholty carefully measured out the ingredients, for any misstep would result in hemorrhaging from every pore for days.

“Done,” he said, holding up the mixture. But then he paused, looking over the vials in his hand. “Wait… why are we making all of these for the exam?”

Deeret, who had been working in the back, emerged to clarify. “They’re not for the final. It’s for today’s lecture. We’ve got a few juniors with strong resistance.”

“Oh, the half-giant from Black Turtle Tower?”

One student, recalling a certain first-year, chuckled.

“Perfect.”

“Let’s not take our rivalries out on the juniors,” Deeret warned.

In Einroguard, rivalry among towers was fierce. Even the smallest inconveniences were cause for blame.

The half-giant junior was a valuable ally, especially when other towers started trouble.

“Besides, he doesn’t even like fighting.”

“Since when does a half-giant not like fighting?” a student countered.

“You’re learning dark magic; I guess that means you dig up graves and feast on corpses,” Deeret replied dryly.

“No, I don’t…” the student trailed off, looking guilty. “I mean, I’ve *dug* up graves but never *eaten* anything. I’m not a ghoul.”

“That’s… not the point. Anyway, don’t go spreading nonsense to the juniors,” Deeret continued, exasperated.

“Oh, are you advancing to fifth year, Deeret?” a student asked eagerly.

“Yep, I’ve decided.”

In Einroguard, students could end their studies after two or three years, but those serious about magic typically completed four years. Graduating after four years allowed one to use their knowledge to pursue independent studies.

A few, however, opted to continue to a fifth year.

Taking on the title of traditional “disciple,” a fifth-year student became almost like an apprentice.

Most professors were meticulous in whom they invited to the fifth year, so it carried a certain prestige.

“Are you sure?” another student asked, looking worried.

“Your professor will load you with work!”

Deeret laughed, “Professor Mortum is one of the kinder ones.”

Mortum nodded, pleased. “Thank you, Deeret.”

Other students glanced away guiltily, realizing how they’d taken their professor’s patience for granted.

Deeret sighed, “Honestly, it’s not Mortum’s workload I’m worried about. It’s the research. I’ll probably have no time to show my face here next year.”

“We’ll come to you!” a junior exclaimed.

Mortum scoffed, coughing out a laugh. “Some help that’d be.”

“Enough with the dramatics,” Mortum continued. “Once you’re gone, I expect you all to treat the juniors well—no hazing, no bullying.”

“Oh, and make sure you’re not the ones getting bullied either,” Coholty added.

The juniors looked at each other, confused.

‘Who would bully us?’

“Actually… he’s not wrong. Did you finish that *Red Poison of Ahrak* yet?”

“Yes, but isn’t that a bit much for the half-giant?”

“No, I’ve got *Bone Decay Poison* for him.”

“Oh, right.”

The student prepared to move on but froze as a realization hit him.

‘Wait… if *Red Poison of Ahrak* isn’t for the half-giant… who’s it for?’