Chapter 97: Folks, This One's on Us
The entire Arcane Hall instantly descended into chaos, students fixing their eyes on the arena with hearts full of anticipation.
A student on the arena slowly began to chant, gradually constructing a Formation in the air.
【1st-Tier Magic: Fla Bolt】
Very quickly, a mass of raging flas ca hurtling toward Viktor.
Viktor did nothing more than raise a finger. The high-speed fireball instantly changed direction and went surging back toward the student.
Boom!
A thunderous blast rang out. The students watched as Viktor, utterly untroubled, dusted off his hands—and a vine shot abruptly into the cloud of smoke before him, coiled around the student, and flung them off the arena.
The student hit the ground with a jolt of pain, slowly got back up, and found themselves already off the stage—looking up to see the letter 'D' appear on the fiery canvas above Viktor's head.
'Failing grade.'
On another canvas, a running tally was tracking the numbers for each rating tier.
All the students could see was the headcount in the 'D' row ticking up by 1.
The counts for A, B, and C remained entirely at zero.
The student could only shake their head, let out a sigh, and quietly walk away.
Countless students felt the incomparable pressure emanating from Viktor.
He hadn't even attacked on his own initiative—pure passive defense alone was enough to make his immovable, mountain-like strength felt.
"Next."
His cool, detached voice rang out, unhurried.
Rather than being cowed into inaction by Viktor's strength, the students seed only to have their fighting spirit ignited further, rushing eagerly toward the arena in a scrambling press.
Because Professor Viktor had said he wouldn't make the first move—and so every single one of them wanted to be the person who could make him take a step.
Just 1 step. Just make Viktor take a single step!
The end-of-term exam—everyone passes!
Both inside and outside the Arcane Hall, the queue had long since stretched into an enormous line, winding from within the hall all the way to the center of the Academy plaza.
Ever since the news had gone out that morning, many students had abandoned their classes entirely—tossing their books aside and rushing to join the queue and wait for their chance to challenge Viktor.
The commotion had likewise drawn in the other Professors and lecturers.
After all, with all the students gone, it was impossible not to notice.
A crowd of Professors poured into the Arcane Hall and watched the unending stream of battles taking place on the arena, puzzled expressions on their faces.
Once they learned the full story, they were even more astounded.
Viktor's test, placed in any academy anywhere, was nothing short of explosive.
The other Professors, while certainly possessing the strength to steamroll their students, wouldn't be the sort to not even budge a single step.
After all—this was a war of attrition.
Under the students' rotating challenges, any Mage's Magic Power would eventually run dry.
The longer it dragged on, the less energy one would have to deal with those who ca later.
And none of them would have dared, like Viktor, to lay down terms like these.
That if he was forced to take even 1 step, it counted as his loss.
"What can I say—Professor Viktor is... genuinely incredibly strong."
"He really is. And a bit sadistic about it too."
The other Professors pressed together in the audience below the stage, watching the spectacle with great relish.
They nodded in appreciation, one after another.
Viktor's teaching thods struck them as genuinely novel.
Under normal circumstances, they simply delivered the appropriate magical knowledge during lessons—as for how students studied on their own ti, that was entirely down to their own self-discipline.
After all, Professors simply didn't concern themselves with such things.
Mages studied for their own benefit. If students were unwilling to apply themselves to dry, tedious magic coursework, they could answer for that themselves.
And so every end-of-term exam would wash out batch after batch of underperforming students.
The Royal Magic Academy maintained its quality precisely through this kind of natural selection—ensuring only the most capable students graduated.
Which was to say: an approach like Viktor's, directly engaging both the mind and the will of his students, was genuinely rare.
The number of challengers was growing at a visible pace, and Viktor had not yet moved a single step from where he stood.
The students who had been knocked from the stage felt the vast gulf between themselves and Viktor acutely—astonished, yet also deeply deflated and aggrieved.
Every one of them had stepped onto the arena brimming with confidence, only to have that confidence rapidly crushed by Viktor the mont they challenged him.
Through the attempts of countless students, Viktor hadn't shifted so much as an inch.
It was as though Professor Viktor standing on that arena felt no fatigue whatsoever.
His composure, steady as a mountain, had entirely broken the spirit of countless students.
At last, the students ca to a realization: a one-on-one war of attrition was simply no match for Viktor.
And so several students jumped onto the arena together and asked him:
"Professor—teaming up is fine too, right?"
Viktor gave a cool nod.
One-on-one or a pile-on.
Made no difference to him.
In an instant, the lead students waved a hand to the audience below—and a dense mass of figures surged up onto the arena.
Viktor swept a glance across them. About 20, by rough count.
Fortunately the arena was large enough to accommodate the challengers before him.
The 20 challengers on the stage were already positioned and ready. They spread out evenly across the stage, constructing various Magic Formations of different kinds in the air above.
Different chanted incantations echoed and blended in the air, and elental magic of varied colors began to take shape and manifest.
In this mont, the students seed to catch a glimpse of hope.
One at a ti they had no chance—but surely going all at once would finally be enough?
With this many Mages attacking the Professor simultaneously, surely he couldn't stand completely still without moving a single step?
But Viktor truly didn't move. No one saw him do anything—only the hem of his Coat began to glow faintly with green light.
Vine after vine crept outward from Viktor's body, trailing along the ground. The vines coiled and knotted, and one after another, wooden figures began to erge from within them.
They moved as though alive, a green light igniting atop each of their heads.
As if having gained a form of consciousness, they began to act on their own.
The very mont the students' magic was on the verge of completing its formation, countless tendrils erupted from the wooden figures' feet, binding the students where they stood—and the magic being shaped in their hands was forcibly interrupted all at once.
A female student found herself pinned to a wooden figure's arm, struggling with all her might. But her Magic Power, in the eyes of the wooden figures, was as fragile as a bean sprout—utterly incapable of breaking through their defenses.
The students were thrown into a panic, scattering left and right to dodge the wooden figures bearing down on them, and the scene descended into montary chaos.
Viktor stood in place, his voice flat:
"Pathetic."
"If this were a real battle, do you honestly think you'd still be standing there unscathed?"
Listening to Viktor's rebuke, the students could only press their lips together—humiliated and flushed with sha.
Viktor clapped his hands, and the vine-wrapped wooden figures set the female student down.
Then they retreated neatly back to Viktor's side, motionless—like loyal guardians.
"Reset and prepare yourselves. Co at together."
His gaze swept across the students, his tone cool—so neutral it was impossible to tell whether any contempt lay beneath it.
The students exchanged a look and ultimately moved to the front.
This ti, Viktor made no move to interfere. He watched, calm and detached, as they resud chanting their magic.
Whoosh whoosh whoosh—
In an instant, elental magic of every kind ca rushing at Viktor like a rainbow condensed into a single wave, all at once.
Viktor didn't even look. His Coat swayed gently.
It was as though an impassable cliff had suddenly descended—intercepting and sealing off that converging torrent of multicolored light.
All they could see was that magical impact breaking against Viktor's vicinity, scattering brilliance of every hue.
And then—gone, every last trace of it.
It all happened so abruptly.
The students felt the ground slip out from under them. Dozens of vines coiled around their ankles and flung them off the arena.
As a crowd of bodies hit the ground together, a large 'D' was drawn on the fla curtain above Viktor's head.
"Next."
This ti, the countless watching students all went silent.
In the course of a single morning, Viktor had continuously received challenges from more students than anyone could count.
Not 1 person had managed to make him take a single half-step.
This last attempt had seed so promising—and yet it turned out that grouping up was equally futile. They had lost even more disgracefully.
So students couldn't help turning their expectant gazes toward Erika, who was likewise among the spectators.
Last year's Top-ranked Freshman. Currently the youngest 2nd-Tier Mage.
Almost certainly the strongest student in this year's cohort.
Perhaps she had a chance—to force Professor Viktor to take even 1 step.
"Miss Erika! Won't you give it a try!"
Soone beside Erika called out eagerly.
Very quickly, more and more students around her began to echo the sentint.
"That's right, that's right! Miss Erika—your strength is sothing we've all witnessed!"
The students' voices, one expectant plea after another, didn't produce so much as a flicker of movent from Erika.
She sat quietly below the stage, paying no mind to the students around her.
She simply asked, in a cool tone:
"Why?"
One of the students spoke up.
"If you went up there, you could definitely make Professor Viktor take a step..."
"And then everyone here could pass the end-of-term exam. That's what you an, isn't it."
Erika finished the sentence for them.
They looked at each other, exchanging glances—and heard nothing from Erika but a faint, indifferent scoff.
"Trying to use this flimsy, illusory hope to claim an achievent that isn't yours?"
"I see now. I understand what the Professor intends with this test."
More than a few students were left completely baffled by what Erika said.
They just didn't want to fail the end-of-term exam. What had they done wrong?
"People who are truly capable never place their hopes in soone else."
"Whether you pass the assessnt or not—what does that have to do with ?"
"It's not as though I'm the one who can't pass."
With those words said, Erika didn't spare those students another glance. She rose to her feet, held her head high—proud and elegant as a white swan with golden plumage—and walked through the crowd, departing the Arcane Hall.
Watching Erika leave, sothing dawned on them.
The Academy was not short of talented students—Erika was far from the only one.
But why, up until now, had not a single top-tier student appeared to challenge Viktor?
Their gazes drifted gradually across the faces of the crowd around them.
And then they saw it.
A handful of students with a distinctly different bearing stood with arms folded, watching the arena in silence.
Many of them were familiar faces—likewise talented students of the Academy.
In fact, so of them were even more accomplished than Erika, having been enrolled longer—they held positions in the Academy's Student Council, each one an outstandingly gifted individual.
Yet not a single one of them had stepped forward.
Compared to the other students, their attention seed directed at sothing entirely different from the question of how to make Professor Viktor take 1 step.
Instead, they watched the comical antics of the students on stage with sharp focus—as though observing so enormously amusing spectacle.
The look on their faces seed to say:
"How entertaining."
A chill ran down the spine. Guided by Erika's words, these few students finally understood.
This test, from start to finish, had never been a shortcut.
Quite the opposite.
"This is a lesson."
Why had no Professor stepped in to stop Viktor? Why had even the Principal paid no mind to Viktor's conduct?
The answer was simple.
Students who genuinely had the ability to pass the exam would never try to seek so kind of dispensation from Viktor.
Because every one of them understood perfectly well: no one could make Viktor take even 1 step.
So they would never embarrass themselves by stepping up to spar with Viktor. There was simply no point in humiliating themselves.
Only those who fully grasped the inadequacy of their own abilities would attempt to challenge Viktor—clinging to the hope that they might sohow squeeze a bit of advantage from him.
From the very beginning, Viktor had made it perfectly clear.
Make him take 1 step, and everyone gets to pass the end-of-term exam.
But he had never once said that if no one made him take a step, everyone would fail.
This was a performance.
A spectacular performance by those who sought to reap without sowing.
One after another, students who couldn't even last 3 minutes stepped down from the stage. The numbers above Viktor's head kept climbing.
Yet not a single one had managed to break through from 'D' to 'C'.
Viktor still stood where he was, unmoved.
His Coat swayed ceaselessly on the arena, where scattered petals and green leaves drifted through the air—the whoosh whoosh whoosh of the wind almost like a taunt aid at every failing student.
He stood on the stage, watching one student after another continue to step forward—and his cold voice rang out, again and again, without end:
"Next."
User Comments
0 comments from readers