Academy’s Undercover Professor-Chapter 61: Coordinate Designation Magic (1)

“Yes. Um, a teacher at Seorn handled the incident.”

[Do you know which teacher?]

Erendir responded without much thought to Terrina’s question.

“A new instructor named Professor Ludger Cherish. He just recently joined the faculty.”

[A new instructor, is it? I see. Thank you.]

“Was that helpful?”

[Yes. I’ll need to meet this Ludger Cherish personally sometime soon.]

“I hope your investigation yields results, Commander Terrina.”

[Thank you for your concern, Your Highness.]

“Yes, then—”

[Ah, Princess Erendir.]

“Yes? What is it?”

Just as she was about to end the call, Terrina Lionhowl called out again, as if something had come to mind.

[The First Princess wishes to speak with you. She’s been feeling a little hurt by the lack of recent contact, and asked me to pass that along.]

“......My sister? I understand.”

[Thank you. Then, I’ll take my leave.]

When the communication ended, Erendir let out a long sigh and slumped her shoulders.

Just hearing that her elder sister—the First Princess—wanted to speak with her was enough to fill her with dread.

But she couldn’t exactly complain.

The fact that the message had been passed through Terrina meant her sister had shown as much restraint as she was capable of.

Fine. A simple greeting wouldn’t hurt.

‘Still, is Commander Terrina planning to come to Seorn?’

It seemed the werewolf incident was more serious than it first appeared.

Otherwise, the Security Bureau—let alone its Knight Commander—wouldn’t be moving in person.

If she could gather something useful from Seorn while she was here, all the better.

That was as far as Erendir’s thoughts on the matter went.

* * *

“How did it go?”

Lloyd, who had been waiting for Terrina to finish the call, adjusted his glasses as he asked.

“They said the werewolf incident at Seorn was handled by a teacher.”

“A teacher at Seorn?”

“A newly appointed instructor, apparently. I need to meet him directly. See if he noticed anything strange at the time.”

“Shall we go at once?”

At Lloyd’s suggestion, Terrina shook her head.

“The investigation in Rederbelk isn’t finished yet. Enya—any special findings in your report?”

“Yes!”

Enya, who had been standing by, stepped forward with energy.

“The burned factory district definitely appears to have been a secret lab, used for research or development.”

“What matters is who was there and what they were doing.”

“We haven’t confirmed that yet...”

“What {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} else?”

“Hmm. Aside from that, there’s been some noise in Rederbelk’s underworld.”

“That place is always noisy.”

Knights lived under the spotlight, but the Security Bureau worked in the shadows.

They were so used to operating in secrecy and dealing with the dirtiest aspects of society that they often had stronger ties to the criminal underworld than to official channels.

In fact, the majority of the intel on this case had come from the underworld.

After a moment’s pause, Enya continued with slight hesitation.

“There’s something... unusual this time.”

“Unusual?”

“There’s a group called the Red Society that used to control most of Rederbelk’s underworld. Are you familiar with them?”

“I’ve heard of them. A little troublesome, but not enough of a threat to justify direct intervention. Still, they had quite the reach, if I recall.”

“Yes. But recently, the Red Society was completely wiped out—in a single day.”

“In one day?”

The criminal underworld is full of conflict and constant power struggles, so hearing that someone’s gone missing isn’t particularly surprising.

Often, “someone disappeared” is simply code for “someone was killed.”

But the Red Society wasn’t just any group.

They’d dominated the underworld of Rederbelk for years.

To hear they vanished overnight... even Terrina found it hard to ignore.

The source of this c𝓸ntent is freewebnøvel.coɱ.

“That is rather intriguing. Any signs it might be connected to our case?”

“U-um, I don’t think so. But it seems someone very skilled has appeared in the underworld. It might be wise to keep an eye on them—just in case they pose a threat to the Empire.”

Whoever had taken out the Red Society in one fell swoop had to be a formidable force.

A knight? Or perhaps a mage?

No one knew what their intentions might be.

Contrary to Enya’s concern, Terrina shook her head.

“No. Forget it. We’ve already got enough to deal with. No need to get involved in something that doesn’t concern us. Let them handle their own mess.”

“Ah, yes!”

“Once we confirm there’s nothing more to find here in Rederbelk, we’ll head to Seorn immediately.”

“Understood.”

As her subordinates withdrew, Terrina crossed her arms and tapped her forearm with her fingers.

‘Seorn, huh.’

She hadn’t said anything to her officers, but ever since speaking with the princess, her interest had been firmly drawn to Seorn.

A vague certainty that a vital clue in this case might lie there.

It was only intuition—but for a knight who had risen to the rank of Commander, even that kind of hunch was enough to act on.

‘I won’t know until I go myself.’

But she was convinced.

Something was there.

* * *

Even after the Headmaster told me about the Philosopher’s Stone, rumors about the wish-granting stone continued to swirl around Seorn.

No—if anything, they were spreading even more than before.

‘Someone must be fanning the flames behind the scenes.’

But figuring out who that was wouldn’t be easy.

The number of people residing in Seorn easily passed into the thousands.

It might be called an academy, but it was practically a small city.

Tracking everyone was unrealistic.

Especially since the rumors were spreading through a student-only network called the Akashic Record, which was tightly secured with strict anonymity. Tracing the source was nearly impossible.

‘At this rate, it might be faster to just relocate the Philosopher’s Stone and wrap this up.’

Lately, I’d started to hear students whispering things like, “Should we try looking for the stone ourselves?”

Apparently, the incident with the werewolf hadn’t taught them a thing—or they simply thought they’d be different.

More and more students were getting distracted from their studies by these strange rumors.

‘I’ve left them alone since no one’s crossed the line yet, but that won’t last much longer.’

The werewolf incident had been simple—I just had to drag back the kids who disobeyed and went outside.

But when it came to the Philosopher’s Stone, I wasn’t in a position to say much.

No one was getting hurt by searching for it.

In fact, if the faculty tried too hard to suppress things, it might only make the students more convinced the stone was real.

‘Whatever. This part’s the Headmaster’s responsibility anyway.’

Just like students have their role, I—nominally a teacher—also had mine.

And that role was to teach class properly.

“Alright. Focus, everyone.”

As I carried on with class like usual and projected a little more authority into my voice, the students’ attention returned.

Still, I could tell the same enthusiasm from earlier in the semester was fading.

And I had a pretty good idea why.

They’d built up too much expectation after the Source Code magic I’d introduced.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

In truth, ever since then, I hadn’t shown them anything new or flashy. I’d only been reviewing the contents of the textbook.

The only somewhat notable thing I’d taught was <Elemental Sensory Manifestation>, but for students in their prime learning years, that clearly wasn’t enough.

Some of them were probably starting to get bored with the classes.

Flap.

Eventually, I closed the textbook in my hands with an audible sound.

“Seems like quite a few of you are getting bored, so today, for a change of pace... I’ll show you something fun.”

“...?”

The students, many of whom had been moments away from slumping forward onto their desks, suddenly perked up at my words.

So now they’re paying attention.

‘Brings back memories.’

When I lived on Earth, I had also once been a student.

Waking up at 6:30 a.m. for early morning classes, staying in school until 10 p.m. for late-night self-study sessions.

Fifteen hours a day, spent entirely on studying.

I had been desperate back then—but even I’d had moments where I couldn’t bear the boredom of endless classes.

Back then, the teachers would often lighten things up with stories unrelated to class, just to break the monotony. Now that I stood in their shoes, I finally understood why they did that.

“Whenever a mage casts a spell, it always activates centered around the caster.”

As I began to speak, the students responded with confused expressions.

They didn’t speak, but their faces said it all.

Ignoring that, I continued.

“Elemental magic is a prime example. It always manifests around the user.”

To demonstrate, I cast [Pyro], a 1st-circle fire spell.

A small flame flickered to life at my fingertip.

A spell so basic that any of the students present could cast it with their eyes closed.

No complex incantation. Nothing impressive.

But—

“If you tweak this spell just a little, you can do something like this.”

I extinguished the flame at my fingertip and immediately cast another spell.

It was [Pyro] again—same 1st-circle flame magic.

Only this time, the flame didn’t appear above my hand.

It ignited in midair, a considerable distance away from me.

“Waaagh?!”

A male student, on the verge of falling asleep, screamed and jumped back when the flame suddenly burst into life right in front of his face.

But no one laughed at him.

Every gaze was fixed on the flame hovering in the air, transfixed.

Their reactions were all the same.

“What the heck is that?”

“That’s got to be at least 10 meters away. He cast it there?”

“How’d he do that?”

“Isn’t that cheating?”

I had expected such reactions. Without delay, I canceled the [Pyro] and began casting other spells.

Sparks of electricity crackled from thin air, droplets of water condensed in pockets throughout the room, and faint whirlwinds stirred gently.

Each one cast at a different spot.

Each one by me—and me alone.

Finally realizing that something truly unusual was happening, the students all turned their full attention to me.

The lecture hall fell into silence. The atmosphere grew so tense that I could even hear someone gulp.

“Do you have any questions?”

Suddenly, nearly every hand shot into the air.

A complete reversal from the disinterest of just a moment ago.

Smiling inwardly, I pointed to one of the students.

“Alright. What are you curious about?”

“H-how did you just cast those spells, sir?”

“Your question is vague.”

At my prompt, the student paused, then rephrased.

“Normally, spells activate centered around the caster—because the mana that powers them comes from the caster’s own body.”

I nodded.

That was the natural logic. The standard assumption.

“Correct.”

“But your spells activated at distances far beyond what should be possible.”

That was what had everyone curious.

So, I decided to show them again.

“Watch this spell.”

I conjured another flame above my palm.

“While it’s true that magic typically manifests around the caster, notice that this flame is not in direct contact with my skin. It’s suspended roughly five centimeters above my hand.”

“Still, there’s a limit to how far you can go.”

A female student interjected from the middle row.

I didn’t scold or correct her.

I just quietly—

—nodded.

“True. Most mages consider 1 meter to be the limit. Doing something like casting from this platform all the way to the back of the lecture hall would normally be considered impossible.”

“But Professor Ludger, you just...”

You just did it.

I understood what they meant.

That incomprehensible, inexplicable display.

The kind of magic that defied what their minds could accept.

That’s exactly what I’d shown them.

“In the end, the principle behind it is simple.”

I extinguished the flame floating above my hand.

“Even if 1 meter is the normal limit, it’s not impossible to exceed it. The mana cost just becomes immense. But if you alter the method, it becomes entirely feasible. Just like what I demonstrated.”

Not by casting spells centered on the caster.

But by setting specific coordinates and triggering the spell remotely from a designated point.

“This is what’s known as coordinate designation magic.”