Academy’s Undercover Professor-Chapter 225: Arcane Chamber (1)

More than ten years ago.

Before Ludger ever stepped out into the world, back when he lived alone with his master.

His teacher, Grander, took him in as a disciple and taught him many things.

Her methods were quite brutal, often arbitrary, and always accompanied by considerable pain.

Ludger followed them without complaint, but it wasn’t as though he always learned blindly without reason.

If he was curious about something, he had to ask—it was in his nature. And whenever that happened, he would persistently press his teacher for answers.

One such instance involved the method to increase mana output.

—Master. I have a question.

—What is it? Speak.

—How did you find this so-called mana path? Or rather, how did you discover the recipe for the mana suppressant?

—It’s written in a book.

—Which book? I’d like to read it too.

—Don’t bother. You can’t read it.

With that, Master reached out toward one of the bookshelves lining the wall.

From among the countless ancient tomes, one flew over and landed on her palm.

—This is the book. It's written in characters that no longer exist—no one knows them anymore.

With a mischievous smirk, perhaps amused by her own idea, Grander handed the book to Ludger.

—Still, since my little disciple is curious, I should at least let you take a look. Here, this is the book that contains the knowledge you’re asking about. Try reading it.

—Is there no translated version?

—Do you think there would be?

—But you can read it, can’t you, Master?

—I can.

—Then you could translate it for me.

—Me? That sounds tedious. Why should I go through the trouble of translating something I can already read?

—...How stingy.

—Seems my disciple has forgotten what it feels like to be struck by his master’s loving hand.

—So you're saying you have no intention of helping. Fine. I’ll try it myself.

As Ludger took the book and declared he would decipher it on his own, his master called to him from behind.

—Disciple.

—Why are you calling me?

—Do you really intend to translate it yourself?

—Yes. I do.

—You won’t succeed.

—I won’t know unless I try.

—I’m telling you this because I do know. Do you think deciphering ancient language is easy? Someone like me can manage it, but you? You’re nowhere near ready.

Coming from an 8th-Circle mage, Ludger couldn’t exactly argue, even if he was annoyed.

The gap between his own talent and his master’s was like the difference between a lightning bug and the sun.

—Still, since you’re determined, I suppose I can grant you one small mercy as your teacher. That language may look consistent at first glance, but it’s actually made up of three different scripts. Keep that in mind.

—That’s it?

—Yes. That’s all. The rest is entirely up to you.

There was no real reason Grander told him about the three scripts.

It wasn’t because she believed her disciple could actually decipher them, nor out of kindness.

It was simply because she was certain he would fail anyway.

So she figured it wouldn’t hurt to tell him that much.

A language made up of three distinct scripts.

There was no way a boy in his early teens could possibly decode that.

He’d give up soon enough and come crawling back for help.

—...Understood.

But Ludger, unaware of his master’s playful scheming, took the hint about the three scripts to heart and walked into his room.

With the Larsil book in hand.

—Tsk tsk, stubborn brat. He’ll be out soon enough once he gets bored.

Grander mused to herself.

Her disciple might be prideful and emotionally detached, but he wasn’t the type to cling stubbornly to the impossible.

At most, he’d last half a day.

And when he came slinking out, trying to save face, she’d tease him a little and offer help with a grin.

He was an obsessive learner—sooner or later, he’d beg her to teach him.

Of course, he’d hesitate out of pride.

She looked forward to watching him squirm and hesitate, relishing /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ his unease.

And when he finally gave in, she’d use it as a chance to really knock some manners into him.

With that expectation brimming inside her, she waited half a day.

Still, the disciple didn’t come out.

—He’s hanging in there longer than expected. But how long can he really last?

A full day passed.

Ludger still hadn’t left the room.

—Maybe he just fell asleep. He’ll be up tomorrow.

The next day came.

Ludger still hadn’t come out.

Well, he had—but only briefly.

Judging from the breakfast laid neatly on the table, he must’ve come out at the crack of dawn to prepare it.

She had been too deep in sleep to notice.

Grander grumbled as she picked at the food her disciple had left for her. Should’ve gotten up earlier.

But now she was too embarrassed to go and call him out, so she decided to wait again.

Another day passed.

—That brat. So he’s really digging in his heels now.

Now Grander was getting stubborn herself.

The kid wasn’t stupid—he was obviously trying to hold out as long as possible.

Fine. Let him.

To her, a day or even a year was but a fleeting moment.

—You’re nothing but a flea on the dinner table.

With that thought in mind, another day went by.

It was now the third day since Ludger locked himself in his room.

Creeeeak.

Just as she was thinking he wouldn’t come out again today, the door opened—and Ludger finally appeared.

—So, you’ve endured this long. Let me guess: you’re here to admit defeat and ask for help? Go on, show your boundless respect for your master first—

—I’ve finished the translation.

Ludger’s voice was calm, but his face was visibly worn from three sleepless nights.

—Huh? Did I just hear you wrong?

—What do you mean?

—What did you just say?

—I said I finished the translation.

—You little... Are you trying to mess with your glorious master?

—Why would I do that?

—Enough. I’ll check it myself. If you’re lying, I’ll make sure you regret it.

Grander stormed into Ludger’s room, ready to scold him for being cocky.

But the moment she saw one side of his wall, she stopped dead in her tracks.

—Ha...

A breath of astonishment escaped her lips.

One entire wall was covered with hundreds of paper fragments.

Each sheet contained sentences from the Larsil book, broken down not just by word but by individual characters—scattered like pieces of a puzzle.

The scattered bits had been rearranged and assembled to reveal full meanings.

—You really... did it.

She had thought it was a lie.

After all, it had only been three days.

Three days wasn’t nearly enough time.

Even with the tiny hint she gave, it was barely anything.

And yet Ludger had done it.

In three days, he had dismantled not only the Larsil text but also the two other scripts, uncovering their structural rules and reconstructing their meaning.

Ludger, who followed in after her, spoke in an indifferent tone.

—You told me it was composed of three scripts. That helped.

—That helped? Are you serious?

—I am. Is there a problem?

As she looked at her disciple—completely unaware of what he had just achieved—Grander had a thought.

He had no idea what he’d just done.

Not just his talent.

Even just the wall in front of her, the end result, showed the staggering amount of work it had taken.

It was more than effort—it bordered on obsession.

—Why are you looking at me like that?

Oblivious, the boy asked in his usual stiff voice.

Grander let out a breathless chuckle.

—Fine. I guess you’ve finally reached the level of... mediocrity.

—Mediocrity?

Grander thought to herself.

Ludger’s talent... was dangerous.

The direction this was headed was deeply abnormal.

And if that boy ever became aware of his own talent... there was no telling what might happen.

Which meant someone would always need to keep him in check—so he wouldn't become arrogant.

Because the moment that boy stepped into the world, it would, in one way or another, begin to tremble.

—So don’t get cocky just yet. Keep working hard.

—...Yes. This too is all thanks to your advice, Master.

My advice?

Grander couldn't help but laugh in disbelief.

That he would call that advice... and worse, that he genuinely believed it wasn’t a joke—just confirmed how warped her disciple’s thinking really was.

It was all so ridiculous, it made her laugh.

—...?

The young Ludger tilted his head slightly, not understanding why his master was laughing.

* * *

Ludger watched Malroso’s flustered expression and thought to himself:

‘Right. Of course he doesn’t understand. I wouldn’t have either, if my master hadn’t given me a hint.’

Still, seeing him that panicked didn’t stir any guilt.

Malroso had been the one to launch a public attack in front of everyone.

From that moment on, Malroso had made himself Ludger’s enemy—and there was no reason to go easy on an enemy.

“Have I sufficiently answered your question?”

“No. Not yet. Not yet!”

Malroso’s eyes were bloodshot as he desperately fired off a series of sharp, probing questions, looking for any weakness in Ludger’s research.

These were the kinds of questions only someone who had specialized in Larsil could ask—questions that no ordinary mage would even think to pose.

The linguistic depth of his questions proved that he hadn’t studied ancient language lightly.

But...

Even if Malroso was someone whose accomplishments earned him high status wherever he went...

Today, he had chosen the wrong opponent.

“There’s not much to say about that question. In fact, your interpretation is simply incorrect.”

“You’re saying I’m wrong?”

“I already told you. They may look similar, but the scripts are completely different. Here, take a look.”

As Ludger spoke, he conjured up the analyzed characters into the air using mana.

From the string of sentences, he plucked out a word that Malroso had misinterpreted and expanded it.

Shhhk.

The displayed word broke apart into its phonetic components.

Even those phonemes fragmented further, until they were almost unrecognizable.

“What is this...?”

“Look carefully at these two symbols.”

“What exactly am I supposed to be seeing?”

“Can’t you tell yet?”

Malroso squinted, focusing hard on the fragments Ludger had arranged.

And then his eyes widened.

There was a difference. Subtle—but there. The thickness of the strokes, the slight blunting of the ends where the pen pressure shifted...

“You do seem to have the eye to notice at least that much. Do you understand now? You can only spot the difference by breaking the language down to this degree.”

“Th-This is...”

“Are there any further questions?”

“...”

“I’ll take your silence as a no.”

Malroso had already lost the will to fight.

He had come face-to-face with a wall he could not climb.

Ludger’s gaze now drifted toward Altego, who was seated beside Malroso.

“Elder Altego. Are you now convinced? That all this research is my own work?”

“Y-You...!”

No. This couldn’t be happening. Something was wrong.

Just as Altego tried to voice that thought, a clear, elegant laugh rang out from the head of the hall.

Who dared to mock a mage tower elder?!

Veins bulged on Altego’s face as he turned his head upward—and immediately scowled with unrestrained hatred.

Bathed in light, looking down on him with regal confidence, was none other than Elisa Willow—his longtime rival.

“Elder Altego. I don’t mind that you had doubts... but I truly didn’t expect you to declare them so boldly in front of everyone. Especially considering you were wrong.”

Normally, she would have hidden behind her figurative mask and acted with formal courtesy—but this time, she didn’t bother to hide her delight.

The moment he heard her words, a cold chill ran down Altego’s spine.

He had openly questioned Ludger’s work in front of everyone.

And Ludger had shut him down flawlessly.

The backlash from that mistake was now crashing down on him, like a perfectly thrown boomerang.

“I assume... you’re ready to take responsibility for that?”

“T-This is absurd!”

He hadn’t expected this. Not in a million years.

How could any of this be real?

Altego’s mind spun with excuses and justifications, but none of them could be spoken.

He knew. Whatever he said now would only sound like a pathetic excuse.

Everything he had believed—his entire worldview—had shattered in this hall.

He needed help.

Desperately, Altego turned his eyes to the high seat where Auguste sat.

A fellow Elder of the Old Mage Tower. A mage even more skilled than he was.

Altego pleaded silently with his eyes:

‘Lord Auguste! Please, help me! We’re both of the Old Mage Tower!’

But Auguste ignored him completely.

You made this mess—so clean it up yourself.

Even as a fellow Old Mage Tower member, Auguste made it abundantly clear: there would be no help coming.

Altego looked around.

There were others here from the Old Mage Tower.

Surely one of them would offer a lifeline.

But most averted their eyes—or worse, stared at him in disapproval.

There was no one on his side.

And that realization brought a wave of unbearable shame crashing down on him.

Damn it all!

In the end, Altego Dantes could do nothing but hang his head low and retreat from the audience chamber.

He would later face formal consequences for having maliciously accused another scholar inside the sacred Arcane Chamber.

“Now then,”

As Ludger opened his mouth, all eyes naturally turned to him once again.

“If anyone has any more questions, feel free to ask.”

Anything at all.

But no one said a word.