Internet Mage Professor-Chapter 90: Schemer’s POV

Meanwhile, in the shadows of his own thoughts, the seller was laughing.

Not the kind of laugh one dared to show on the surface—no, this was a seething, howling cackle that echoed in the deep caverns of his mind like thunder trapped inside a cavern.

His face on the outside maintained its smooth, businesslike smile, ever charming, ever professional, but behind those carefully curved lips, behind those glistening eyes and showman’s bow, was a storm of ridicule and scorn.

These Silver Blade City fools... they never disappoint... it was so easy to fool them... as expected of a backwater lowest territory... people here are dumb as hell... Next time, I’ll be back for more...

He barely held back the urge to clutch his stomach in theatrical glee.

These so-called "Mana Specialists," these "Professors," these respected figures of this pathetic, backwater territory—he would have spit on the ground in contempt if not for the need to keep up appearances.

It took every ounce of discipline not to laugh openly at the absurdity of it all.

Professor Hein, that trembling bag of bones... trying to be dignified and noble while sniffing around for scraps of prestige. He really thought he was being rewarded? Oh, the grandeur of that man’s delusion. And then there’s the new one. Nolan, was it? Stars help me... what a complete idiot... How did he get accepted as a Mana Specialist teacher? Must be the level of the Academy here, eh...

He stared at Nolan with a plastered smile, watching the young professor look down at the egg he had just received—the "Chaos Egg," as the seller had so grandly dubbed it, trying not to snort aloud.

Chaos Egg, my cracked backside. These are Rejected Eggs. Defective. They were tossed aside for a reason.

He remembered the words of his own master, a Peak Mana Specialist Beast Breeder with decades of experience who had inspected these eggs once, twice, thrice.

The conclusion had always been the same: the mana signature was wrong. Warped. Unstable. Not in a good way. Not in the "oh, mysterious power" way these ignorant cityfolk always dreamed about, but in the deadly way.

In the "these things shouldn’t even be kept in storage for long" kind of way.

They were alive, yes, technically. But even their flickers of life were like embers buried under frost—weak, struggling, suffocating. They wouldn’t last. The internal mana cycle was too damaged. No warmth would come from them, no loyalty, no growth.

They were half-dead, slowly drifting toward full death with no possibility of revival. Their master had told him so plainly: "Sell them if you must, but consider them already corpses."

And now?

Now these idiots were fighting over them.

Hein had practically begged for the egg. Nolan had just accepted his. It was like selling spoiled meat wrapped in gold foil. All show, no substance. But the people were eating it up. Hook, line, and sinker.

He kept grinning. "Thank you for participating, Professor Nolan, you our dearest player today," he said smoothly, lowering the Chaos Egg onto a small enchanted silk cushion and sliding it toward the young man.

To his surprise, Nolan bowed slightly, sincerity in his eyes, and replied, "Thank you. I feel lucky today... maybe not with the artifacts, but with these eggs... I can feel it as if it were fated to be in my hands..."

The seller’s face reddened as if he wanted to laugh, but he would immediately force a smile to hide his nearly uncontrollable reaction.

Then—without hesitation—Nolan lifted his head again. "Actually... I’d like to try again."

The seller froze.

"Huh?"

For a single breath, his mind blanked. Then the inner voice returned, louder, angrier.

Is this guy serious? What does he think this is? A fairground game? These aren’t beanbag tosses!

But profit was profit. And a customer still holding onto hope was a customer with an open purse.

Still, he needed to ask, just to be sure. "Are you certain?" he said, tilting his head with mock concern. "It’s quite rare for a participant to go again... Perhaps it would be better to cherish your current egg first—"

"Yes," Nolan cut in brightly. "I’m very sure... In fact, I could the Chaos egg in my hand whispering to me to take another try..."

The seller forced a tight smile. "Well, I suppose I could allow it, but only if you truly understand what you’re risking. You understand, don’t you, Professor? These games rely on chance. You could end up with another consolation... or perhaps something even more disappointing. Are you prepared for that?"

Nolan straightened. "I’m not worried."

The seller blinked. "Not worried?"

Nolan nodded. "I’ve been blessed," he said calmly. "By the God of Light himself. I had a vision not long ago. The sun broke through the clouds and lit my path while I was training. Birds flew in the shape of a flame. A child smiled at me and gave me a flower. All signs."

He spread his arms wide.

"The heavens are on my side. Surely, with their divine guidance, my next artifact will be a true one."

The seller was speechless.

This guy’s either a lunatic or a genius con artist himself.

But the crowd?

They ate it up.

Murmurs burst from every corner of the plaza.

"Did you hear that? A blessing from the God of Light?"

"He does have that glow about him..."

"Maybe he’s really lucky?"

"Could he be an oracle?"

"He passed the assessment in one day, didn’t he?"

"And he looks so calm, like he knows something..."

People leaned in closer, voices tangled together in waves of excitement and confusion. Even the vendor stalls in the background had gone quiet, sellers pausing their haggling to glance over.

In moments, whispers became reactions.

A nearby nobleman, wrapped in fine robes of shimmering sapphire thread, muttered, "Perhaps I should try too..."

A group of teenagers, already captivated by the spectacle, clutched their crystal coins tighter. "He’s gonna play again!"

"This is madness..."

"No, this is fate!"

"I want to see what he gets next!"

Even the guards stationed at the outer rim of the plaza were watching now, curious expressions replacing their usual stoicism.

The seller looked at Nolan again and realized, with a sinking sensation, that this was turning into something bigger than he’d planned. People were starting to believe in this man. And belief was a dangerous thing—it turned ordinary idiots into cult leaders, made fools into kings.

Still... the gold was flowing. And gold healed many headaches.

He cleared his throat, raising his arms again. "Very well!"

His voice boomed across the gathering.

"By special request and divine fate, our new professor—Nolan—will play again! Another round of the great Artifact Draw begins!"

The plaza erupted.

Cheers. Gasps. Anticipation. People surged forward, crowding tighter, eager to see what would happen next. All eyes turned to Nolan, the man with the calm smile, the man holding a dead egg like it was a gift from the stars.

The boxes were being prepared again. Curtains drew slightly back. Assistants scurried.

And amid it all, the seller’s heart pounded—not with joy, but with dread cloaked in gold.

Still smiling.

Always smiling.

As he loudly announced, "THE NEW GAME FOR PROFESSOR NOLAN... BEGIN NOW!"