Academy’s Undercover Professor-Chapter 223: The Presentation (2)

Contrary to what the gathered mages had expected, the first presentation was not Ludger's.

Since the event wasn't dedicated to any one individual, it was only natural that multiple mages would take turns presenting.

The only issue was—

This particular conference was drawing far more attention than usual, all because of one person.

"Uh, so, um..."

The first mage to step onto the stage stumbled over his words, unable to continue under the barrage of arrow-like gazes from all directions.

He had prepared extensively, but the number of attendees had far exceeded his expectations.

His voice shrank, and his explanations became sluggish.

The more that happened, the colder the stares piercing his skin became.

Honestly, he wanted to cry out in frustration.

‘Why are there so many people here now, of all times—when I’m the one presenting?!’

The Arcane Chamber had seating for up to five thousand.

On regular thesis presentation days, even getting a thousand of those seats filled was considered a success.

On particularly slow days, it barely passed five hundred.

But today, not only were all five thousand seats filled, there were people standing in the aisles just to watch.

One could say this was a golden opportunity—to present one’s achievements before such a large crowd.

But this was just too much.

And it wasn’t just the sheer number of attendees.

Present in the hall were members of the Old Mage Tower, the New Mage Tower, the School Alliance, and even a 7th-Circle archmage—one of the continent’s most powerful.

Sharing the same space as that person was already overwhelming enough, but for them to be personally watching his presentation?

It felt less like nerves and more like his soul was shriveling up.

There’s a saying: it’s better to get it over with quickly if you’re going to be beaten.

But if the beating is done with a spiked iron club rather than a switch, that saying starts to fall apart.

In the end, the mage who had taken the stage first couldn’t even present half of what he had prepared before he had to step down.

He walked away with slumped shoulders, looking pitiful.

Still, not a single mage in the audience showed sympathy.

No one booed, but their eyes said enough.

True, the situation was as sudden and overwhelming as a natural disaster.

But overcoming that, too, was a matter of individual capability.

If one failed, then they simply lacked the necessary skill.

There was no need to feel pity for them.

[Next presenter. Please come up.]

As the first presenter left, the second one took the stage.

Having seen the previous presenter’s fate, he braced himself with steely resolve not to end up the same way.

“This one’s not bad.”

“Still, nothing that stands out.”

And so it continued, one by one.

Some managed to stir up a modest reaction with their presentations, but that was the extent of it.

Time passed, and the final presentation drew near.

A man stepped onto the stage.

‘That’s him.’

‘The main event has finally appeared.’

The audience, lulled into boredom by the tedious sequence of earlier presentations, immediately snapped back to attention.

Even sharper gazes than at the start concentrated on him.

Over five thousand of them.

Even the boldest of people would feel overwhelmed.

But Ludger Cherish was not.

In fact, his steps up the stage were calm and unhurried, as if he were out for a walk.

His steady gait, unwavering gaze, and the noble bearing that flowed effortlessly from him—

All of it harmonized with his long black hair and sculpted features to form a presence that defied belief.

The esteemed guests seated in the upper rows murmured in admiration at his composure.

“He’s clearly different from the riffraff who came before.”

“He’s not pretending to be confident. It’s like this kind of setting is natural for him.”

The audience’s response was electric.

Especially the female mages who had come with interest in magical research—at this point, they didn’t even care what his presentation was about.

‘Ugh. They’re all hopeless.’

Casey Selmore clicked her tongue internally at the sight.

They were mages, yet here they were, falling for someone’s looks?

‘Well... he is unusually good-looking, but still—this is ridiculous.’

She hadn’t expected such a strong reaction.

It annoyed her, and made the other mages seem ridiculous.

‘But how is that guy not even nervous?’

Just imagining standing up there made her palms sweat.

But Ludger radiated perfect calm.

She knew he’d experienced such events a few times in the Delica Kingdom.

But the Arcane Chamber's scale far surpassed anything there.

Ludger, standing at the podium, paused to survey the surroundings.

Because of the spotlight, the audience was cast in darkness, their faces faint and blurred.

But he could still feel them.

Every single person was watching him.

Ludger tilted his head upward, eyes lifting to the seats suspended in the air—the VIP section.

Even at a glance, the figures seated there were clearly exceptional.

‘People with influence ranking among the highest on the continent.’

Was Lesley, one of the First Orders, seated among them?

Perhaps not—maybe he was too busy preparing for the GeheimnisNacht summit to attend.

Whatever the case, Ludger had come here with only one goal.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Ludger Cherish, currently serving as an instructor at Seorn.”

He opened with a light greeting.

But by firmly stating his affiliation with Seorn, he had made his position clear.

His calm voice spread across the vast Arcane Chamber, amplified by the sound-enhancement magic installed on stage.

There was a distinct weight in that gentle tone that made the crowd hold its breath for his next words.

“Then I’ll begin the presentation right away.”

Contrary to the expected platitude of, ‘Thank you for coming today, everyone’, Ludger cut straight to the point.

The ones caught off guard by this were the mages in the audience.

Many distinguished guests were present, yet he hadn’t even bowed—just said what he came to say.

One could say he didn’t care for formalities.

Or, in harsher terms, that he was being rude.

But instead of offense, a general consensus took root:

That it somehow felt natural coming from him.

There’s a saying, after all—

When a handsome man does something, anything he does just feels right.

“As many of you have already heard, the reason I’ve come here today is to present the results of my research on increasing mana output.”

At last, the main subject.

Simultaneously, Ludger displayed the materials he had prepared.

A magic board activated behind him, projecting a chart of his research results.

The data magnified for the entire audience to see.

“As fellow mages, I’m sure many of you have measured your own mana output before. You should immediately understand what this data implies.”

The experiment lasted one week in total.

And in that short time, the mana output had tripled—that’s what the data showed.

“After conducting the experiment on six students, their mana output increased to nearly three times the original level. And this wasn’t a temporary effect. Additional tests over three days confirmed that the values remained consistent.”

Right from the start, the success of the results was driven deep into their minds—and the mages were desperate to know—

So what was the method?

“How exactly did you manage to increase the mana output?”

“And the key to this successful research lies in the mana suppressant,” Ludger answered.

“I have a question,” came a voice from the elevated seats.

It was Auguste, one of the elders of the Old Mage Tower.

“Yes, go ahead.”

“This term ‘mana suppressant’—I’ve never heard of such a thing. Are you saying it actually exists?”

That was a point of curiosity shared by many others in the room.

Why would a mage suppress their mana in the first place? Wasn’t amplification the goal?

Of course, there are similar drugs and tools in use.

Magical handcuffs used to subdue magic criminals are one example.

But those function by forcibly severing the mana flow—completely different from a suppressant.

Even dispersant incense, designed to interfere with spell concentration, spreads mana more aggressively rather than suppressing it.

In other words, no known method truly suppressed mana itself.

“Yes. It exists.”

“And you’re the one who created it?”

“I didn’t create it myself. I restored an ancient recipe that had been lost.”

“An ancient recipe?”

“I was going to explain that next. If you’ll look here.”

A new set of data appeared on the magic board.

Unlike the previous clearly organized chart, this one was a series of unfamiliar symbols that made viewers tilt their heads in confusion.

To those without any background in ancient languages, it just looked like an indecipherable mess of squiggles.

But those with even some familiarity in the field looked stunned, as if they couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

“That’s Larsil script.”

“Larsil? Are you saying that text contains information about mana suppressants?”

“How could he have deciphered that? No one’s managed to translate it before... Did he really succeed?”

The mages began to murmur in shock.

The Arcane Chamber filled with sudden tension.

Even those unfamiliar with Larsil could tell that something extraordinary was unfolding.

Then, from one of the floating VIP seats, the archmage Clinton spoke.

“Mr. Ludger Cherish. May I ask you a question?”

A voice from the highest-ranking mage in the room.

His tone was gentle and polite—like a neighborly old man—but the murmuring stopped in an instant.

Silence fell.

Clinton, stroking his beard, looked intrigued.

“What you just showed was certainly written in Larsil. Does that mean you’ve deciphered an ancient language no one else has been able to crack?”

“You may speak informally, if you prefer,” Ludger replied.

“Haha. I find this more comfortable.”

“Then I understand. And to answer your earlier question—yes. I completed the translation of Larsil, uncovered the recipe for the mana suppressant from its contents, and used that knowledge to discover a method for increasing mana output.”

Murmurs erupted.

Eyes widened at Ludger’s shocking reply.

The topic of mana output had turned out to be far grander than anyone anticipated.

Even the fact that he had deciphered an ancient language no one had ever fully understood before was enough to electrify the chamber.

“If that’s true, it’s quite the discovery,” Clinton remarked.

“It is. And so, I will continue the explanation from here.”

Even facing a 7th-Circle archmage, Ludger showed neither fear nor excessive politeness.

Clinton’s eyes curved with interest.

Most mages froze in his presence, struggling to even speak properly.

And that was understandable.

In magical society, rank wasn’t just a number—it was a visible marker of power and status.

His rank of 7th-Circle, the <Impera> level, was one of the highest known on the continent.

Most people were left speechless in his presence and considered it an honor just to exchange words with him.

But Ludger was different.

‘A Seorn instructor. I’ve heard he’s a 4th-Circle mage.’

Still, there wasn’t a trace of fear in Ludger’s demeanor—only composed respect.

At Clinton’s age, you learn to recognize such things.

In fact, Ludger’s unflinching attitude and calm speech impressed him.

‘Yes. This is what a mage should be.’

One shouldn’t cower before someone of higher rank—but instead, be prepared to claw their way upward.

That mindset is the foundation of what it means to be a mage.

Only those with that resolve could ascend to the top.

“As some of you may know, Larsil has remained an undeciphered script until now. Its structure is complex, and despite some similarities in its forms, full translation has never been achieved. There are many reasons for that—but the biggest is simple: we fundamentally misunderstood the nature of the language.”

What was supposed to be a presentation about mana output had now drifted into ancient language translation.

But none of the mages objected.

Only a fool would fail to see the connection—and besides, what was being shared now was a discovery in its own right.

Ludger continued.

He revisited the explanation he had given on the first day of clinical trials to the students and observers—but this time, the materials were even more refined.

Larsil, it turned out, was not a language built from a single script.

It consisted of three distinct scripts.

And by interpreting the other two, Ludger had managed to fully decode it.

“Three different scripts in one language?”

“And they even look similar—no wonder no one could tell them apart.”

“But how did he figure it out?”

As everyone puzzled over it, another person raised a hand to ask a question.

Not from the elevated seats, but from the very front row of # Nоvеlight # the audience.

A face Ludger knew well.

“I have a question.”

“Yes. Please go ahead.”

It was Altego Dantes.

One of the elders of the Old Mage Tower—and the same old man Ludger had humiliated at the banquet.

Altego cleared his throat.

And in that brief moment, Ludger caught the glint of hostility in his eyes.

“That research data... are you certain you were the one who discovered it?”