Internet Mage Professor-Chapter 99: My job is done

Nolan’s fingers tapped rhythmically against his desk, his grin sly, the kind of grin that warned of incoming chaos.

With a single, offhanded flick of his wrist, the lights dimmed.

The windows blacked out with a shimmer of mana seals.

The temperature dropped, just slightly, just enough to raise goosebumps.

A low hum filled the air, distant and strange, like the buzz of an engine that didn’t quite belong in this world.

"Relax," he said, almost too softly. "Just a car ride. You’ve been here before."

Before the students could respond, the world shifted around them.

They were no longer in the classroom. The magic of Nolan’s illusion spell engulfed them in its totality—sights, sounds, temperature, even smell.

A rusty car door creaked open.

They were sitting in a vehicle from another age, its interior musty, leather cracked, the dashboard barely clinging to its shape.

The world outside was a blur of ghostly trees, roads wet with rain, a pale moonlight illuminating the soaked asphalt.

The students would be surprised.

"Are we seeing this from another point of view?"

"Why does it feel the same but different?"

Nolan would casually say, "You’re all in a similar situation, but with different points of view to scare you all off..."

But the students would be proud.

"As if!"

"They wouldn’t scare us!"

"Yeah! We won’t be scared!"

Nolan would just roll his eyes.

The car moved forward, its speed constant, unsettlingly smooth, like it glided rather than drove.

And then came the soft tapping.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

From the rear window.

A shadow stood in the middle of the road behind them, barely visible at first.

A humanoid figure, head twisted at an unnatural angle, one arm dragging limply behind.

As the car drove forward, the shadow remained behind. Until the next turn.

It was standing ahead now.

As if space itself had folded.

The windshield wipers screeched. Static crackled through the old radio. A woman’s voice whispered nonsense in reverse. The fog grew dense. Shadows moved in it—barely, just barely. Then came the sound, the wet, dragging slop of feet coated in mud and rot.

Suddenly, the zombie appeared beside the car window.

Its face peeled and torn, one eye drooping from its socket, jaw hanging loose. It pounded on the window, screaming—a sound so visceral, it vibrated in their skulls.

The illusion amplified everything—the scent of decay, the tension of locked seatbelts, the sense that the car was not under their control anymore.

Then the zombie shattered the window. Glass flew inward. The creature reached for them—

But the students didn’t scream.

Not one.

Not even the ones who had once fainted from this exact illusion.

They sat there. Silent, still, their breathing steady.

The zombie clawed and shrieked and howled—and yet, not a single soul flinched.

And after a long, long moment, the illusion cracked.

The scene blinked out like a broken filmstrip, the car, the road, the creature—gone.

The students were back in Nolan’s classroom.

The lights returned. The warmth returned. And the students looked at each other. For a full breath, no one said a word. Just stunned silence.

Then it came.

A collective eruption of joy.

"We did it!" Emily shouted, pumping her fist into the air.

"We weren’t scared! Not even a bit!" James yelled, practically leaping onto his desk.

"I stared that zombie straight in its nasty face!" Sophia laughed, twirling in place.

"I felt its breath on my neck and I didn’t even blink!" Liam added, grinning.

Dozens of voices joined in.

"I didn’t cry this time!"

"I didn’t pee my pants!"

"I—I actually saw the illusion ending before it ended!"

"I even reached for my spell array mid-illusion!"

"This means we passed, right?! Right?!"

"Granfire was right! He trained us well!"

"And we proved it!"

"We’re not scared anymore, Professor Nolan!"

"You hear that?! Not scared!"

They surrounded Nolan’s desk in victory, cheering, shouting, celebrating. Faces beamed with pride, some students hugging, others throwing imaginary confetti. For the first time since this class began, they felt like they had truly won. Not just survived—but won.

But then the energy shifted.

Their cheering began to die down when they noticed Nolan.

He wasn’t saying anything.

In fact, he wasn’t even looking at them.

His eyes were fixed on his desk, lips pursed, brows lowered ever so slightly, a finger tapping at some sort of device—or maybe a screen—that they couldn’t quite see from their angle.

"Professor?" Emily called.

No response.

"Professor Nolan?" Liam tried, louder.

Still nothing.

"Hey!" James banged a palm on the desk. "We beat your illusion! Come on! You gotta say something!"

"Don’t ignore us now!" Sophia added. "You said we were weak, scared little babies last week! And now we’re not! Admit it!"

"Yeah, admit it!" another student joined in. "You were wrong!"

"We proved it!"

"Say we were right!"

"Say Granfire was right!"

"Say you lost!"

Their voices began to grow louder again, not in celebration this time, but in a kind of desperate need for validation.

But Nolan just yawned, still not looking at them.

"Yes, yes," he muttered finally, his tone dry, flat. "You are all right. Incredibly so. Fantastic."

The students paused. For a moment, the energy wavered. That wasn’t the response they expected. It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t excited. It was... bored?

He didn’t even look at them.

Instead, he kept staring at whatever screen or interface was open on his desk, fingers slowly scrolling through whatever he was seeing. The glowing glyphs shifted slightly, reflections dancing in his eyes.

"...Professor?" one student asked softly, stepping forward. "What are you doing?"

No answer.

The others exchanged glances.

"What now?" Emily finally voiced the question they were all thinking.

A few students nodded. "Yeah... what now?"

The question lingered in the air, thick and unacknowledged.

They hesitated. Maybe they were being rude. Maybe he was testing them again.

But the silence only grew more awkward.

Then they raised their hands.

Nearly the entire class, arms up like they were back in elementary school. ƒгeewebnovёl.com

"Professor?" James called.

Nolan didn’t look up. "Huh?"

"What now?" James asked again, this time slower.

Nolan blinked, eyes finally shifting from the screen to the students, as if seeing them for the first time. "What?"

Sophia lowered her hand slightly. "We passed, right? We’re not scared. We endured your illusion. You said we were all right."

"Yes, I did," Nolan replied with a half-hearted nod. "You proved you’re not scared anymore. Congratulations."

Then he looked back at his screen.

Silence returned.

The students didn’t know what to say.

It didn’t feel like a victory anymore.

It felt... flat. Cold.

A few looked at each other uncertainly.

"Teacher... is that all?" one of them asked at last.

Nolan’s eyes flicked up for a moment from the translucent screen hovering over his desk, then back down. "Huh?" he muttered, barely acknowledging the students.

Several of them stood, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in frustration.

"We paid you," one of them said bitterly. "You said you’d teach us. So, what are you doing now? Just watching... whatever that is?"

Nolan gave an exaggerated shrug, not bothering to turn his head. "Well, let’s be clear—you all said you didn’t want me to teach you. You wanted the Relaxing Car Ride, remember?" His tone was casual, almost too casual. "You wanted to prove something. You wanted to show me how brave you are. That’s what I gave you."

His gaze remained on the screen, indifferent. "So that’s that. You proved your point. Great job. Want a trophy? I didn’t force you to pay me, remember? You tossed your Mana Crystals like it was a pride auction. So unless you do want me to teach you now—which I was under the impression you didn’t—I suggest you let me enjoy my movie in peace."

The room went dead quiet.

The truth of his words settled like dust across the room.

He was right.

They had gone out of their way to prove something to him. Had shouted over each other in excitement, full of pride, full of righteous noise. They hadn’t asked to be taught. They just wanted to prove him wrong. To win.

But now that they had... it felt hollow. Cheap. Worse—manipulated.

They stood there, unable to look each other in the eye, the silence heavy, their hearts heavier. Then it happened.

A soft sniffle. Then another.

One by one, students began crying—not in loud, dramatic sobs—but in quiet, exhausted tears. Shoulders trembled. A few turned their backs, ashamed. They mumbled things under their breath.

"This was a waste..."

"Stupid..."

"We spent everything..."

"For what? For this?"

And Nolan?

He didn’t even look at them.

He just leaned back, adjusted his seat slightly, and increased the brightness on his screen, watching what looked like a floating holographic film of some ancient war documentary. Explosions lit up the screen, but the classroom remained cold and empty, devoid of emotion—except theirs.

Time passed. Minutes? Maybe more. But then something shifted.

A few students began quietly moving the desks. One by one, pushing them to the sides of the room with slow, dragging effort. No words were spoken. No plan announced.

But somehow, they all began doing the same thing.

By the end of it, there was a wide space in the center of the classroom. Open. Empty.

They stood within it, not quite looking at Nolan. Still not saying a word. Then, they began to move.

Sword-stance drills. Armored footwork. Basic Knight-class movement skills. Some fluid, some awkward, but all practiced with intense concentration. They pivoted, turned, lunged, aligned their forms with the embedded logic of their skills. Mana sparked in small bursts beneath their feet.

Nolan’s ears twitched.

He groaned, irritated. "What are you all doing now?" His eyes remained on the screen. "Can’t you see I’m watching something?"

Still, the students didn’t speak.

They just kept moving—focused, quiet, mechanical.

The silence this time wasn’t empty. It pulsed with determination.

They weren’t doing this for Nolan. Not anymore. This was for themselves.

"I said what are you all—" Nolan raised his voice, but stopped when he actually looked.

They weren’t even that loud. Their movements were sharp, but restrained. Even their mana emissions were controlled. There was no chaotic surging, no boastful displays. Just... pure training.

He squinted. "Didn’t I say, don’t be loud if you’re going to practice?"

They stopped briefly, startled. A few turned to look at him.

"We weren’t," someone said, voice steady.

"Hmph." Nolan looked away. "Whatever. Just don’t make noise."

Back to his screen.

Or at least he tried.

But he found himself glancing back every few seconds. Watching. Observing. Something about the way they moved—messy, rigid, inefficient—yet driven.

Annoyance crept up his spine. It shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t care.

And yet...

Again, a foot slipped out of rhythm.

Again, a movement terminated too early.

Again, a stance broken just before execution.

He clenched his jaw, fingers tapping rapidly now—not out of boredom, but calculation.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Until he slammed his hand flat against the desk. "Alright, stop!"