Skyl rose to his feet and carefully studied the professor standing before him.
The man recognized him. Skyl could tell. The hostility was too obvious, and there was hatred behind it. Perhaps during Skyl's last visit to the Academy, he had injured either this professor or someone the man cared about.
It was entirely possible. Back then, the sorcerers had attacked intruders on sight without even bothering to ask why they had come. Skyl, meanwhile, had always been a very fair person. If the sorcerers attacked him with magic, he naturally returned the favor with spells of his own.
With both sides throwing roughly the same number of spells at each other, Skyl had shields to protect himself. Most Academy sorcerers, however, couldn't take one of Skyl's [Stupefy] spells and stay standing.
Back then, Skyl had been even more arrogant than the most conceited sorcerer in the Academy. He had strolled through the place without a care in the world, treating everyone around him as if they barely existed. He had been like a polished mirror. Show him hostility, and he responded with hostility. Show him goodwill, and nothing happened to you. But from beginning to end, he had never truly regarded the Academy's sorcerers as worthy of his attention.
The humiliation and crushing sense of defeat from that encounter remained fresh in the memories of many Academy sorcerers even now.
It was only natural that Skyl would encounter hostility and deliberate obstruction here.
But this time, he was a guest on someone else's turf. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Since the professor wanted to make things difficult for him, Skyl could only respond accordingly. Beating someone on their own territory while following their own rules sounded rather entertaining, anyway.
"Professor, I sincerely apologize. But could you please tell me exactly how I showed contempt for the class?"
"From the moment you entered the Debate Parlor, you polluted this sacred hall with noise, threatened the Academy's red wolf, whispered with others without restraint, defaced a desk, allowed your attention to wander, and disrupted numerous sorcerers around you. I see no devotion to sorcery in you, only disrespect. If you disdain our sorcery so much, then leave the Debate Parlor immediately."
Skyl had only just arrived and had unknowingly violated several of their taboos. What surprised him was that despite spending all that time writing on the blackboard, the professor had apparently been watching his every move.
Beneath the ceiling of the Debate Parlor floated a blue piece of glintstone carved into a sphere, glowing faintly. Skyl had assumed it was simply another glintstone lamp, but now it seemed to be some kind of surveillance device.
No wonder the professor knew everything he had done.
"Could you perhaps forgive a student who has only just arrived?"
The professor gave a cold, mocking laugh. "Yes, ignorance excuses everything, does it? After arriving at the Academy, did you ever make the effort to learn its rules and regulations? If you lacked even that much preparation, why did you come here to study in the first place?"
Melina frowned.
She had been at the Academy for more than half a year and had never heard of an apprentice being punished for such trivial matters. "Contempt for the classroom" had never been a clearly defined offense. It was simply a convenient basket into which almost any accusation could be thrown.
It was also a ruler, one used to draw a line between professors and students, leaving a thick barrier between the two groups.
Everyone might wear the same cold glintstone crowns, but within the classroom, the instructors were the unquestioned authorities.
Melina was about to speak in Skyl's defense, but he stopped her with a glance.
"In truth, I have shown no contempt for this classroom." Skyl raised his voice. "Quite the opposite. I offer the most sincere praise to all forms of wisdom, and everything you have taught today has been as refreshing as rain after a drought.
"If a student has already mastered the knowledge taught in class, can that student still be accused of contempt? Or is the standard for determining contempt entirely decided by the professor alone?
"If so, then this is not contempt for the classroom. It is contempt for the professor personally. In that case, you should impose a different punishment."
The instructor of the Karolos Conspectus froze.
He stood there stiffly like a statue, to the point that Skyl almost wanted to pour a bottle of basilisk oil over him just to see whether it would undo the petrification.
People who lived by rules were often trapped by those same rules.
And at times like this, the rules became weapons that could be turned against them.
"Professor?"
"...You're claiming that you completely understood everything I taught?"
"Yes." Skyl showed neither hesitation nor guilt. "You're free to test me however you like."
"Come forward," the professor said coldly. "Go to the blackboard and complete the equation I haven't finished."
"My pleasure."
Then the professor abruptly turned his attention toward Millicent.
"You too, apprentice. Go."
Millicent, who knew practically nothing about magic, could only resign herself to her fate.
She genuinely couldn't decide which was more frightening, a rampaging Magma Wyrm or a teacher determined to make her life miserable.
The only thing she knew for certain was that she was about to embarrass herself in front of an entire classroom.
It was an experience she had never faced before, and something she had never even imagined herself experiencing.
Millicent looked toward Skyl for help.
The young man smiled at her. The warmth in his eyes seemed to convey a silent reassurance.
Don't worry. I'm here.
Her steps immediately became lighter as she followed him forward.
They stopped before two different blackboards chosen by the professor, positioned far apart from one another, one at each end of the classroom.
Skyl only glanced at the equation once before he began writing rapidly. His reasoning flowed smoothly, his work concise and precise, drawing surprised looks from both the professor and the students.
Millicent, meanwhile, stood there holding a piece of chalk without moving.
At first, she remained perfectly calm and even found the situation somewhat amusing.
But as the seconds passed, nervousness gradually crept in.
She could clearly feel every gaze from both sides of the classroom. Through those glintstone crowns, countless eyes were fixed on her back with scrutiny and contempt.
They felt like cold, damp feathers clinging to her body, weighing down her shoulders.
Among all those gazes, only one belonged to Melina.
Her gentle, restrained attention was like a mild breeze, sending those damp feathers fluttering away.
The problem the professor had given Millicent was incomprehensible to her. Each unfamiliar mathematical symbol looked like some bizarre ancient eye staring back at her.
She blinked.
She still didn't recognize them.
And apparently, they didn't recognize Millicent either.
The feeling was mutual.
Stupid magical theory.
The swordswoman gritted her teeth slightly, and the chalk between her fingers crumbled into powder under the pressure of her grip.
Millicent's past had been spent in the company of disease, wandering across the wastelands of Caelid. She had never experienced life as a student.
Only now did Millicent realize, to her own astonishment, that she was actually afraid of making a fool of herself.
She had thought fear had long since been hammered out of her heart through countless trials.
Instead, it had merely been hiding in the deepest reaches of her Shehai.
The swordswoman stood motionless as her awareness sank inward.
What exactly am I afraid of?
Am I afraid that embarrassing myself will damage my reputation?
Or am I afraid of looking pathetic in front of Skyl?
The answer was the latter.
Millicent understood herself very well. She understood the affection and longing she felt toward Skyl, and precisely because she understood it, she couldn't tolerate the thought that her own poor performance might damage his reputation.
Millicent gazed at the dark shadow churning within her Shehai.
Her fear took the form of a venomous serpent.
It asked her:
Look at me.
What is my true form?
Understanding suddenly blossomed within her.
If she could see through the true nature of this fear and cut it down, her Shehai would undergo a transformation, allowing her to forge her spirit sword.
And once that happened, she would be one step closer to Skyl.
The serpent of fear hissed.
What am I?
I make you humble.
I make you pure.
I make you insignificant as dust.
I make you unyielding and unstoppable as steel.
What am I?
Say it!
Millicent knew the answer.
It surfaced in her mind without the slightest hesitation. All she had to do was speak it aloud, and she could sever her fear.
Yet the answer stuck in her throat.
It felt as though feathers had filled her windpipe, while bitterness smothered her tongue.
She couldn't say it.
She was truly afraid.
For the first time in her life, she wanted to run away.
The serpent swelled.
The shadow within her Shehai expanded violently.
[Warning! Player's spiritual attainment is regressing. End meditation immediately!]
The serpent roared.
Say it!
Who am I?
What am I?!
"Millicent."
A cheerful voice suddenly sounded beside her ear.
"If you can hear me, lift your left foot for a moment."
Only she could hear the voice.
Millicent jolted awake.
Her underclothes were soaked with sweat, and she was so dizzy she nearly lost her balance.
Still dazed, she lifted her left heel, then gently lowered it again.
Skyl's voice continued.
"Good. I'm talking to you through a private channel on the Silver Network. Open your messages. I've already sent you the reference solution. It doesn't matter if you don't recognize the symbols, just copy exactly what I sent you."
Millicent hurriedly opened her messages and began copying the answer, her chalk flying across the board.
Skyl turned toward the professor with a pleasant smile.
"Is there anything else you'd like to teach us, Professor? I believe this proves that neither of us has shown contempt for the classroom."
The professor clenched his fists and stared intensely at the two blackboards, desperately searching for any flaw.
There was nothing.
He knew Skyl had helped Millicent cheat.
He simply couldn't figure out how.
More importantly, he couldn't prove it.
In the end, the professor had no choice but to grudgingly accept Skyl's argument.
"Return to your seats."
Skyl casually walked away from the front of the classroom, his steps as relaxed as ever.
Wherever his gaze passed, the students either nodded to him or quietly looked away.
The contempt from before had vanished entirely.
Smiling, he turned toward Millicent, ready to share their little victory with her.
But the red-haired girl merely folded her arms.
Her eyes flickered uneasily, and the smile on her face was strained.
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