Chapter 181: Assistant Professor
"Good afternoon, Assistant Professor Rucian," the staff greeted. "They’re students who received direct offerings from Professor Langga."
"An offering? But wasn’t he still in that backwater village?" The man looked dismissively.
"It wasn’t a village, sir. It was a small town—"
"Same thing. Backward and small all the same," Rucian cut her off. Both Madha and Gara instinctively furrowed their brows at the words of the so-called assistant professor.
"They’re students who received offerings last year," the staff explained politely.
"Last year?" Rucian barked, his voice rising without warning.
Gara flinched at the sudden outburst, though the staff remained calm, clearly used to this kind of behavior. She gave a small, steady nod.
"The ones with Unlimited Water Talent and a Giant’s bloodline?"
The staff nodded again.
"Don’t be ridiculous! Last year’s offerings don’t apply this year!" Rucian’s neck suddenly bulged outward, forming a hood-like shape.
"But sir," the staff replied evenly, "Professor Langga never said he was withdrawing his offering."
"Offerings are reserved for those with truly extraordinary talents or bloodlines. The Giant’s bloodline makes sense. But Unlimited Water?" Rucian sneered, then went on with scorn, "Train him for massive attacks, is that the idea? This year, we have the Deputy Head’s grandson—with Water Stormblade Talent.
He trained directly under the Headmaster before enrollment. His strength is undeniable. Are you saying this boy is on his level? How many years would it take before he can even form a single proper attack?"
"In fact, he already can, sir. According to his initial mission record, he accepted a boar-hunting quest and used his Talent offensively. On top of that, he’s registered as both a healer and a herbalist."
Gara couldn’t help but glance at the staff with admiration, impressed by her professionalism.
Rucian faltered for a second but quickly fired back, "So what? Does his attack match Revan Soren, the Deputy Head’s grandson? Even Karina, the healer family, sent their daughter this year. Despite her clear skill in healing, she still has to pass the entrance test!"
This time, the staff fell silent, and Rucian’s smug expression deepened.
Then—footsteps echoed from behind.
Before Gara could turn, he caught sight of Rucian glaring toward the newcomer, hatred burning in his eyes. The assistant professor’s hair even began to stir, lifting slightly as if under some unnatural force.
"They’re the students who received Professor Langga’s offering last year, Sir Pere," the staff addressed the bespectacled man who had just arrived.
At those words, Rucian exploded. "You called him here?!"
Gara felt like he was watching a drama unfold—amazed. No wonder the staff had stayed calm and stopped arguing; she had already summoned backup.
"Thank you, Mrs. Anna. I’ll take it from here," Pere said matter-of-factly. "The offerings from Professor Langga last year still stand. They remain valid this year."
"What? That’s absurd! His Talent is far too ordinary to bypass the test!" Rucian protested, still refusing to let go.
"Assistant Professor Rucian," Pere replied calmly, though his words cut deep, "it’s not the place of an assistant professor to question a professor’s judgment."
"Y-you—!" Rucian’s neck bulged again, stretching hideously. But no one else reacted with shock.
Pere brushed past Rucian and went up the stairs, Gara and Madha following close behind. Rucian could do nothing to stop them. Mrs. Anna had already turned back toward the registration hall.
Rucian’s glare burned in both their directions.
With a sharp turn, he stalked down another corridor, muttering under his breath, "Damn it! Beastkin only got one candidate exempt from the entrance test this year, while those weak humans weren’t supposed to have any at all. And suddenly two of them show up? Ridiculous!"
His mutters grew more bitter. "How am I supposed to convince the Beastkin Elders if we lose to humans again this year? They’ll never support me for a professor’s seat unless I do something."
"Pah!" He spat into a flowerpot, and the blooms hissed and melted as if doused with acid.
...
The long-haired man with light-brown hair gathered Gara and Madha’s files, checking their Liner IDs one by one. He didn’t ask questions or offer explanations.
For an hour he wrestled with the paperwork, until finally he lifted his head.
"All done. You can return now. Be here for the new student acceptance ceremony with your belongings. Travel light—no need to drag too much with you."
The two young men nodded.
"Follow Little P so you don’t get lost."
Before Gara or Madha could ask who Little P was, a crow swooped down and perched on Gara’s shoulder. Gara, already used to Rea perching on him, hardly flinched.
The bird took off again, and the two new students trailed after it.
Pere watched them leave, then shut the door. He pressed the crystal ring on his finger.
"Professor Langga, the two students who received your offering last year—Gara and Madha—just arrived at the Academy today."
Far from the capital, a silver-haired man jolted upright from his seat at those words.
The Awakening Ceremony had only just ended, and he’d been planning a stroll through Suruta Village. Pere’s call changed everything.
It seemed he had no reason to linger. He might as well return straight to the capital.
"Gara is there?" His tone carried no real need for confirmation.
"Yes, Professor. I’ve finished processing their files."
"Good job." Langga nodded with a smile, though Pere couldn’t see it.
When the connection fell silent, Langga shifted his gaze to the clear blue sky beyond the window of the chamber prepared for him in the Mayor’s Hall.
"I came here hoping to meet him, and it turns out he came to me instead." A faint smile curved his lips.
That evening, the community hall beside the Mayor’s Hall had been transformed into a grand ballroom.
Carpets covered the wooden floor, wallpaper was laid to mask the walls and windows, chandeliers glittered from above. The dining tables were laden with dishes, while plush settees lined the walls.
Unlike last year, when Professor Langga requested his presence remain low-key, this time he hadn’t objected to the commotion.
...