Academy’s Undercover Professor-Chapter 218: Mana Path (2)

"Does that even make sense?"

Erendir stepped forward as she asked.

"Erendir. Can you bend and straighten your arm?"

"Huh? Of course, that’s easy."

Erendir did exactly as Ludger instructed.

"Then tell me—what muscle are you using to do that?"

"My arm muscles, obviously?"

"Then let me ask you this—do you know the exact name of the muscle you’re using to bend your arm?"

At that, Erendir looked flustered.

She probably wanted to ask why a mage even needed to know the anatomy of the human body.

"That’s the point."

"What do you mean?"

"People pay no real attention to the parts of their body they use every day. They just use them. Because it’s normal."

When someone tells you to move your arm, you naturally do it, because it’s a familiar action. But if someone told you to focus all your strength on your forearm and bicep, you wouldn’t know how.

Because there’s never been a need to do that.

"It’s the same with the mana path. There’s never been a reason to try using magic with your mana suppressed, so no one ever realized it."

You can still cast magic even without a mana path.

At that, the students’ reactions were half shock, half disbelief.

They didn’t voice it, but the skepticism in their expressions was obvious.

And I understood.

Because I had felt the same way once.

‘It’s already strange enough that a mana path even exists, but now they’re being told that someone found it through a completely ignorant method no one had ever used? Of course they wouldn’t believe it.’

Modern magicians focused their studies on more optimized magic, more streamlined formulas.

How could they cast spells faster?

How could they refine magic to reduce mana consumption?

How, and then how again, could they achieve optimal efficiency?

Endless research, challenges, and pursuit.

But the subject «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» of that pursuit was always magic.

In contrast...

Ancient mages were the opposite.

Their focus was always on themselves.

Instead of refining and advancing spells, they chose self-contemplation.

To wield stronger magic, one must become stronger.

That’s what people believed back then—and that they needed to strengthen themselves to manifest magic.

Let’s compare it to something.

A person cannot lift something heavier than their limit.

So, they invented compound pulleys—tools like cranes.

When faced with physical limits, people invent tools.

But the ancient mages didn’t do that.

—You can’t lift heavy things? That just means you’re too weak. Train your body until you can lift them!

To anyone else, that would sound completely idiotic.

But that stubborn, hardheaded thinking unexpectedly carved out a path.

A way to use mana in the most optimal, efficient way possible.

A miracle made possible only in a world where magic exists.

"If such a method existed, then why don’t mages today know about it?"

I looked over—Freuden had asked the question.

His sharp eyes waited for my answer.

"Because it’s impossible to know. The language to interpret it is lost, and the lineage was completely severed."

"Even so, couldn’t the method have been passed down orally?"

"Even if it had, it might’ve been dismissed as superstition. And the method of creating mana suppressants can’t be passed down orally. As for the rest, they’re what modern mages would simply call ‘barbaric.’"

And the most fundamental reason was external... No, I won’t say that. They wouldn’t understand anyway.

"The obsession with maximizing efficiency ironically led to the rejection of all other paths."

As a result, people began denying the very existence of shortcuts they didn’t know about.

"So you’re saying we were wrong, and the ancients were absolutely right?"

"It’s not unreasonable to think that—but not absolutely. Even the ancient mages, according to their own records, went through countless failures and trials."

While translating their texts, I found so many ridiculous things.

One famous case was a mage who tied themselves to a stone and sank beneath a river to increase their affinity with water magic.

That was the sole reason: to enhance water magic.

And according to the records, the mage never surfaced again.

They drowned.

Can you believe this is just one of many methods from the past?

Because they sought to strengthen themselves through bodily strain, the ancients tried every absurd method and failed often.

Many died.

Even so, they never stopped their pursuit.

Even the now-lost mana suppressants, which increase output, were perfected through those countless trials and errors.

—What a bunch of fools. Mages acting like circus clowns. Still, it was entertaining to watch.

My master once told me that as a child.

She was the one who first taught me the branching structure of the Larsil language.

She was also the one who helped me expand my mana output.

"Let go of the notion that people in the past were dumber than we are. If anything, it’s perfectly valid to say they knew better than we do now."

Just look at the ‘relics’—ancient artifacts.

No one knows who made them, where they came from, or how they were created.

The only thing whispered in academia is that they might be connected to the ancients.

"Then this research we’re doing right now... it’s a monumental discovery, isn’t it?"

Rine spoke up, eyes shining.

In a way, she was right—but I didn’t see it that way.

"It’s not a great discovery. We’ve merely restored a method that had been forgotten."

"But it’s still amazing!"

"It is amazing, sure. But the truly amazing thing is the wisdom of the ancient sage who conceived of this method in the first place."

I had no intention of claiming the credit for that great original discovery.

There’s only one thing I must do.

To offer it my sincerest respect.

"Don’t forget the path you’ve discovered. And continue to hone that method through endless training."

"So what do we do next?"

Julia asked calmly, having listened without interruption.

"Now that you’ve opened the path, you need to widen it. You’ve only just become aware of the mana path’s existence. The mana you can channel through it is still weak."

A mana path isn’t something you open once and then ignore.

If neglected, it will fade away again—but the more you use it, the stronger and wider it becomes.

That’s why you must work tirelessly.

"And mana paths develop most when you try to expand them under mana-suppressed conditions. That’s why I gave you a week."

The students let out impressed murmurs at my explanation.

Of course, setting a one-week timeframe was meant to quickly produce visible results.

Even a 10% increase in mana output is something the academic world would salivate over.

I had planned to teach each of them individually if they failed to realize the mana path themselves—but to my surprise, they all succeeded in just one day.

‘Well, that just means I have less to explain and more time saved.’

Still, I couldn’t help feeling a small tinge of disappointment.

"Now that I’ve explained the mana path, try releasing your mana again. This time, start by consciously using your mana path."

At my words, the students turned their focus inward once more.

* * *

‘How strange.’

Julia Plumehart studied Ludger with half-lidded eyes while channeling her mana through her newly awakened mana path.

‘So I had something like a hidden optimal route within my body all this time...’

It felt like discovering a small, glowing pebble that only appeared after nightfall—something that had been invisible in the bright daylight.

And it resembled her dream magic—ethereal, elusive—almost surreal.

‘But there’s something oddly familiar about Ludger Cherish...’

Unless she was mistaken, she could clearly sense the lingering trace of dream magic.

As the most talented mage in the School of Dream Studies, Julia could detect such things instantly.

‘Judging by the trace, it doesn’t seem like he actually used dream magic himself. Maybe he’s connected to someone in my discipline?’

But what drew Julia’s curiosity even more was that, just now, Ludger’s dream—previously unreadable—had begun to faintly appear to her.

‘The dream of one who does not dream... is it really a dream? Or something else?’

It must have been after that contact with something during the dream magic last night that a new path had opened.

Just like how he was now teaching them about the mana path.

‘Now I’m a little... no, a lot curious.’

Knowledge of all sorts of fascinating, mysterious magic—origins unknown.

The absence of even a single dream, something most people possess—and his presence even influenced Sedina Roschen’s dreams.

He was a man completely veiled in the unknown.

‘Sedina.’

Julia’s gaze naturally drifted to Sedina Roschen, who stood silently beside Ludger.

She was pretending to be composed, but her gaze had been fixed on Ludger this entire time.

And Julia, perhaps just a little, felt irritated by that.

‘So you’re not even going to pretend to care about me anymore?’

Julia had never been one to grow close to others—but Sedina had been the exception.

Back then, when no one else could be trusted...

Sedina had been her first real friend.

Julia, who had once trusted no one, had truly opened up to Sedina because of her kind and pure nature.

But at some point, Sedina had changed.

She avoided Julia—and they had drifted apart.

And when they met again at Seorn...

Sedina had changed.

No longer bright and pure—she was darkened, broken.

‘And yet...’

She had changed again.

Ever since she began spending time with Ludger Cherish, she had slowly been regaining the brightness she once had.

‘I need to find the right opportunity and look into it.’

Julia was planning to peek into Ludger Cherish’s dreams.

She wanted to understand—

How exactly he had changed Sedina.

* * *

The research into increasing mana output was progressing rapidly.

Once the students confirmed that the research method was genuine and not fabricated, they committed to it with full effort.

After all, good results meant improving one’s own mana output, which in turn meant greater growth as a mage—there was no reason to refuse.

"Drink it, Freuden."

"......."

Freuden frowned at the mana suppressant Ludger handed him.

"Why aren’t you drinking it?"

"......Give me a different one."

Freuden wasn’t unaware that Ludger was deliberately handing him the most bitter concoction every time.

"This one’s yours, though."

"There are others left, aren’t there? If they’re all the same, at least let me choose."

"Is that so? Then I suppose I’ll give this one to Rine."

"......Fine. I’ll drink it."

In the end, Freuden had no choice but to down the specially bitter mana suppressant.

“Kh!”

The taste was even more intense than before, and Freuden grimaced, covering his mouth with one hand.

Ludger looked at him and spoke with his eyes.

‘No matter how much you act up, you’re just a young wolf.’

‘Tch. Damn this guy.’

Ludger completely ignored Freuden’s glaring eyes.

Each student, having taken their dose of suppressant, focused their minds entirely on mana output.

It was now the fourth day of research.

The students who had broken through their mana paths on the first day were already showing progress that exceeded Ludger’s expectations.

‘Especially these two.’

Two students, in particular, had captured Ludger’s attention the most.

Julia Plumehart.

And Flora Lumos.

The two undisputed top-ranking students of their respective years were proving that their reputation as geniuses was no exaggeration, displaying remarkable results.

‘Their basic mana output is already nearly perfected. More than that, they’re starting to form the foundational threads of mana required to cast actual spells.’

It was no different from trying to paint delicate brushstrokes while having heavy weights dangling from both arms.

Becoming accustomed to such a thing required intense repetition and training over a long period.

‘The same process that took me a month of brutal Spartan instruction under Master... they’ve reached that point in just three days?’

The expressions on their faces were calm—far more composed than the other students.

Performing such intricate work under the mana suppressant’s influence meant that they had already made the mana path their own.

‘Just three days. Truly a god-given talent.’

It was the kind of talent that would make one envious.

But Ludger didn’t cling to that.

He had long since accepted that he wasn’t born with talent. Aware of that, he didn’t feel any particular sense of self-loathing.

‘To be number one in a place where talent from all over the world gathers—that’s essentially a declaration that you’ll reach the realm of an Archmage someday.’

There’s no point in comparing yourself to people born on a completely different level.

If anything, Ludger was satisfied simply by being the one to teach them.

Push the gifted forward, so they can keep going.

Extend a hand to the less gifted, so they can walk.

The pace might differ, and they may never reach the same destination.

But ensuring that they don’t give up on walking that path—that is the duty of an educator.

‘These two are progressing just fine. No need to watch them too closely.’

Naturally, Ludger turned his attention to the students who had not yet fully mastered the process.

“Rine. You’re putting in too much force. In this case, I’d advise you to reduce your output.”

“Huh? Really?”

“When it comes to the mana path, if you try to forcibly widen the entrance, it creates a backlash. You’ve only just realized your path and begun expanding it. You need to be a bit more careful.”

Following Ludger’s advice, Rine noticed that the previously stiff mana flow had become noticeably smoother.

“It really worked! Just like you said, Professor!”

“Well done. Keep it steady like that. Once you’ve broken through the path, the following process won’t take long. Don’t rush.”

Just then, Erendir, who had been watching from nearby, spoke up.

“Professor... I don’t think I’m getting this.”

The gentle look in Ludger’s eyes, directed at Rine just a moment ago, turned sharp in an instant.

“Foolish child. You can’t even do this? You don’t even know how to handle mana, and you think having a lot of it will solve the problem?”

“.......”

The stark contrast to how he’d treated Rine left Erendir not just frustrated, but completely dumbfounded.

‘Why is the way he treats me and Rine so different?’

Rine was a commoner—and Erendir was a princess.

Of course, rank meant nothing in the face of instruction. Erendir herself actually disliked being treated according to her status.

Even so... wasn’t this a bit much?

“Professor, aren’t you being unfairly harsh with me?”

“What are you talking about? I treat everyone the same.”

“Professor, can I ask another question? Is that okay?”

“Of course, Rine. What are you curious about? Questions are always welcome.”

“See?! Anyone can tell it’s different!”

Erendir shouted, and Ludger shot her an irritated look.

“What’s the problem, Erendir?”

“It’s the tone, the attitude! How can you treat me and Rine so differently?!”

“Erendir. You’ve been studying here a full year longer than the first-years. And you’re upset because I was a little kind to a new student?”

“A little?!”

“Besides, aren’t the others doing just fine? Look at Julia. She’s your junior, and she’s doing better than you.”

“B-but she’s top of her class!”

“Then look at Aidan. He’s working hard all by himself. And he doesn’t even bother me with needless questions.”

“Uh, me? Actually, I do have a few things I wanted to ask—”

“Erendir. Do you truly think your behavior is justified?”

“Excuse me? Professor Ludger?”

“Tch.”

Erendir bit her lip.

No matter how she looked at it, she was on the losing end of this.

“If you understand, then at least try something. If you really can’t manage, I’ll give you advice.”

‘Ugh! So frustrating!’

Beaten down completely by logic, Erendir could do nothing but grind her teeth in silence.

“Professor, I have a question.”

Someone else called out to Ludger at that moment.

It was none other than Flora Lumos, staring intently in his direction.

“What is it?”

“My mana threads suddenly became unstable. I’m having trouble maintaining manifestation.”

She had been doing just fine only moments ago, and now she wasn’t?

Ludger narrowed his eyes in suspicion—but Flora brazenly kept a straight face, playing dumb.

“Could you tell me what I should do, Professor?”