Academy’s Undercover Professor-Chapter 255: Seridan Ironfeet (2)

“Ugh.”

War Mage Frank Buckler let out a sigh of irritation as he downed his now-cold beer.

“Damn it. Just how long am I supposed to be stuck in this suffocating underground mine?”

It had been over three months since he started overseeing the demi-human slaves mining rare metals underground.

He didn’t even have to manage or monitor them himself—underlings took care of that.

Still, spending over three months in a place with no sunlight was enough to drive anyone mad.

Damn. At least when I could blow off steam by torturing those slave bastards, it wasn’t so bad.

Since there were few pleasures to be had in a place like this, Frank had vented his frustrations by tormenting the slaves.

That ended about a month ago.

As the number of slaves dwindled and mining output decreased, Frank had been ordered to leave them alone.

Of course, if any of them acted out, he could still claim “self-defense.”

But even the slaves weren’t dumb. They kept their heads low in his presence.

That made it hard for him to even find an excuse to lash out.

So for the past month, Frank had been spending his nights drowning in booze.

He found himself reminiscing about the good old days.

Back then, as a War Mage, he had nothing to fear.

He was talented—especially when it came to combat, he had a natural gift.

Of course, his talent bred arrogance. That arrogance eventually caused problems within the military.

He disobeyed orders. Killed a superior.

His official charges: insubordination and the murder of a commanding officer.

Under military law, he could’ve been executed on the spot—but he survived.

The country valued his skills too much. So they erased his identity and put him to use in covert, illegal operations like this.

They promised that if he completed this job successfully, he’d be allowed to return to his old life.

Frank had endured the long years for that promise alone.

Not that it was all bad.

He received fewer orders, had more freedom than in the army, and the support wasn’t half bad either.

Plus, I’m not the only one. I’m pretty sure there are two others here who ended {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} up like me.

Two other War Mages—just as problematic as him—had their records erased and were put to work on filthy assignments like this one.

You could call them comrades, but Frank had no interest in associating with them.

Even if they were all in the same sewer, he believed himself cleaner and better than the rest.

They probably felt the same.

Frank was just about to lie down on his cot in the makeshift barracks when—

“...Hmm?”

He opened his eyes wide.

He felt it.

The presence of someone strong.

It wasn’t just a vague sensation.

The person was deliberately sending a wave of mana his way, practically calling out to him.

Frank immediately got up and stepped outside the tent.

A wide underground plaza filled with artificial light.

It was a restricted area—off-limits for everyone during off-hours.

Yet someone was standing there.

What the hell is that?

It was a man shrouded in shadow.

Like flickering fire, the shadows draped down his shoulders like a cloak. He wore a black crow-shaped mask over his face.

“Tch. What the hell are the patrol guys doing? Unbelievable.”

Frank spoke as though annoyed, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

He was genuinely pleased.

“I don’t know where the hell you came from, but you do know this area’s off-limits, right?”

“......”

The figure said nothing.

Frank clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“Well, judging by how you’re leaking mana all over the place, you’re clearly not here for anything friendly.”

It didn’t matter.

In fact—

That made it even better.

“Don’t die too quickly. I’ve been bored out of my mind, and it’s been a while since I’ve had fun. If you drop dead right away, it won’t be any fun.”

Magic formations began to glow around Frank.

Five spears of flame formed around him and shot toward the shadowed man.

The figure moved.

At first it seemed like a simple spell—but then, at a speed incomparably faster than Frank’s own casting, a counter-spell was completed.

Chunks of ice collided with the fire spears, extinguishing both.

Frank’s eyes gleamed.

“So you’ve got some real skills.”

No one without confidence would just walk into a place like this and pick a fight.

Frank had acted cocky, but he was calculating.

He hadn’t expected his first strike to succeed—he had already prepared the next.

The shadowed man moved.

The cloak of darkness flared out as he rapidly closed the distance between them.

It looked more like wings than a cloak.

Close combat? Good call.

Frank grinned to himself.

He quickly leapt back and formed a new spell as he moved.

As a War Mage, Frank had no problem constructing spells on the fly while in motion.

Another spell formed.

This time, it was stronger than the last.

A serpent of flame opened its jaws wide to devour the shadowed figure.

At this rate, the intruder would throw himself right into the serpent’s mouth.

Then the shadow-cloaked man activated his spell.

Crack! Crack-crack!

Inside the serpent’s mouth, countless ice spikes burst out like spiny bristles, shredding its head from within.

“Combat casting? Don’t tell me—you’re a War Mage too?”

Frank asked, but got no response.

The flaming serpent disintegrated, scattering embers in all directions.

Frank reached into the air.

Whoooosh!

The floating sparks were sucked into his palm and condensed into a glowing orb.

He was just about to throw it—when suddenly, the figure was right in front of him.

A flash of silver light—a blade aimed straight for Frank’s throat.

Frank grinned.

Clang!

The flaming sphere in his hand elongated and transformed into a sword, blocking the intruder’s strike.

“Did you think you’d win just because it’s close combat?”

Normally, mages are powerful at range but weak up close.

Even magical duels followed that logic.

You form spells, cast them, counter them—at a distance.

It was a largely static, cerebral kind of fight.

That mages were vulnerable to melee wasn’t a prejudice—it was fact.

But War Mages were different.

They invented ways to make magic work in real combat.

They weren’t scholars expanding the knowledge of magic—they were madmen researching how to kill more efficiently.

Naturally, the idea that mages were weak in melee didn’t apply to War Mages.

Some even preferred it.

Frank was one of them.

“Sword in hand, close-range combat? If anything, I prefer it this way!”

His sword—made of tightly compressed flame—gleamed as he grinned at his opponent.

“You used combat casting and rushed me. You’ve probably had your share of battles, maybe even another War Mage. But even so—compared to me...”

At that moment, the crow mask’s eyes narrowed into a crescent shape.

...He’s smiling?

Their blades locked, Frank suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.

What the hell? Did I miss something?

Something felt off.

Whenever I’ve had this sensation crawling up the back of my neck... things never ended well.

Frank tried to suppress the unease bubbling up from within and focused on the enemy in front of him.

Whatever the case, there was no escaping this fight.

No chances. I’ll go all out and kill him now!

With bloodlust flashing in his eyes, Frank swung his flaming sword.

* * *

Sensing the surge of mana from afar, the other two War Mages stationed at the mine arrived at the scene of the battle.

One was short-statured, almost childlike. The other towered tall like a pillar.

“This is Frank’s post.”

“How many people got in? Did someone breach security?”

The two dark-skinned War Mages stood at the site and looked around.

The waves of magic that had flared only moments ago had completely vanished.

Which meant the fight was already over.

“Hey. Look there.”

The shorter War Mage pointed to a spot on the ground.

A single blood-soaked corpse lay there.

“Frank.”

Frank Buckler, one of the War Mages stationed at the rare metal mine.

He was sprawled out, stone-cold dead.

His eyes, wide open, seemed to refuse the reality of his own defeat.

“Frank’s dead? Whatever else he was, the guy had real skill.”

“Seems like the intruder wasn’t an ordinary one.”

“From the traces, he wasn’t attacked by multiple people. A single mage did this. And up close, no less.”

“You’re saying Frank lost in close-quarters combat... against another mage?”

“The result speaks for itself. And if someone took down Frank, that means the enemy is also a War Mage.”

The two War Mages naturally pressed their backs together, scanning their surroundings.

The magic had only faded recently.

Which meant the one who ended Frank’s life—

Was still here.

Pop!

It happened then.

Not terribly strong, but enough to light the cavern—every artificial light in the underground plaza went out.

Darkness flooded the space, swallowing their vision whole.

“Trying to block our sight?”

“Clever trick. But too obvious.”

The tall War Mage pulled a metal canister from his belt.

He yanked the cord on its end—pshh!—and a flare burst into the air, bathing the plaza in even brighter light than before.

Bathed in harsh white illumination, the two War Mages scanned their surroundings.

From the stark overhead light, deep shadows formed beneath their feet.

Those shadows twitched.

“......!”

The War Mages, trained to sense subtle shifts in battle, immediately realized something was wrong.

They broke apart and threw themselves from the spot.

Chzzzzkkk!

A split-second later, countless black spikes erupted from the ground, skewering the space they had just occupied.

If they had been even a moment slower, they would’ve been impaled.

“Magic? From where?!”

The smaller War Mage furrowed his brow.

The taller one gripped his quarterstaff tightly and glared at the thorns.

Magic typically spreads outward from the caster.

That was why the two of them had stood back-to-back—to react the moment any magic was activated and counter it.

Even if they didn’t land a hit, locating the enemy’s position would allow them to pin them down together.

But this magic—emerging from the shadows beneath their feet—was like nothing they’d seen before.

Creaaak...

As the black thorns dissolved, a man appeared in their place.

Clad entirely in black, his face hidden behind a crow-shaped mask.

The intruder had revealed himself at the exact spot they had just been standing.

The War Mages were momentarily stunned.

Was he hiding underground? No... That wasn’t an attack from beneath—it was from the shadows themselves.

What kind of sorcery was this?

As they hesitated, the shadow—Ludger—spoke.

“Not going to come at me?”

“......!”

The two War Mages exchanged glances—and nodded.

The shorter one drew twin daggers.

The tall one enveloped his quarterstaff in mana.

And the two of them charged toward the masked man in unison.

* * *

“Boss!”

Hans ran toward Ludger’s location, Seridan close behind him.

“Boss, where are you? We’re done over here!”

While Ludger kept the War Mages busy, the slaves had armed themselves and launched a surprise nighttime raid.

The patrol units had already been wiped out.

With most of the guards still asleep, the rebelling slaves caught them completely off guard.

The uprising had succeeded.

No sooner had Hans confirmed that than he rushed to find Ludger.

There had been three War Mages in the mine.

No matter how capable Ludger was, taking on all three was dangerous.

Of course, Hans trusted that his boss would know when to pull back if things got out of hand.

If Ludger had escaped, the War Mages would’ve shown up elsewhere—yet they hadn’t.

Which meant the fighting was still going on.

“Bo... Boss?”

Hans burst into the scene, breathless—then fell silent at the sight before him.

The place bore all the marks of a fierce battle.

But Ludger stood perfectly still in the center of it all, unscathed.

Scattered around him were the corpses of War Mages.

The short one who had wielded daggers had a blade driven into his vital point—by his own weapon.

The tall one, who’d wielded the quarterstaff, had his skull crushed—and his own staff rammed through his solar plexus.

“You’re here?”

Ludger turned to Hans and asked calmly.

“Y-Yeah. I... came to help, but...”

Hans stared blankly at the remains of the War Mages, then let out a hollow mutter.

“...I guess I worried for nothing.”