Internet Mage Professor-Chapter 49: Granfire’s turn

Meanwhile, the tension in the air hadn’t yet faded when the Chief of the Black Vale Territory Mana Knights turned slightly to the side, his voice cutting through the quiet like a dagger.

"Old Duldor," he said. "Is there more?"

The elder flinched, as if someone had tugged his beard mid-prayer. His hands, already gnarled with age, seemed to tremble even more as he nodded.

"There is... one last group," Duldor admitted, hesitating.

The Chief narrowed his eyes. "Go on."

"They’re not truly students of Silver Blade Academy," Duldor said carefully. "They were only here temporarily. Sons and daughters of noble families from this region... They came for a brief training stay before being transferred to a higher education center in one of the upper cities."

The Chief raised an eyebrow but gave a small nod of recognition. "Ah yes. I remember now. Those students earlier that I saw. I didn’t pay much attention. They were too green to warrant it."

He paused, then added, his voice low and grim, "Bring them anyway. If the curse spreads further and we fail to contain it, they won’t be leaving this city—or the other two. It’s best if we use them too."

Duldor bowed and turned swiftly to carry out the order.

The nobles of this family were not worthy in the eyes of the Chief of true nobility, and if the Chief desired, he could order their deaths!

"The class of ’33, call them up; it’s their turn now!"

Soon, a professor would nod, turn his back, and leave to fetch them.

Across the courtyard, Nolan’s face went pale.

His thoughts surged like a flood.

This bastard... you bastard... I’m gonna kill you! He thought, eyes locking on the smirking Granfire. Does he want to die?

The ones Duldor mentioned—Class ’33’—weren’t ordinary students. They were scions of Silver Blade’s nobility. Heirs to merchant dynasties, minor lordlings, children of military aristocrats. Their future didn’t lie in this province. They were here only because their families could afford to give them early exposure to local field training.

And now Granfire, with his smug grin and bouncing arrogance, was about to throw them into a furnace.

Does he even know who he’s dealing with?

Does he realize what happens when you gamble with noble blood?

If they froze in fear, what can he do?

But Nolan wasn’t stupid.

He narrowed his eyes and thought it through.

The Chief had hinted at something—something he hadn’t said directly.

That he might have the means to lift the curse, or at least suppress it.

Was that Granfire’s angle? Banking on the Chief’s desire to cure the afflicted students in exchange for cooperation? Gambling that they’d be protected, even if they failed?

’Damn it, that succubus is not here to confirm my questions... just where the hell is that bat thot?" Nolan muttered under his breath. Then louder, "They cannot. I won’t allow them to take the test."

Granfire, ever so theatrical, tilted his head to the side.

"Oh?" he said with mock concern. "You don’t want them to be hurt... or you just don’t believe they’ll pass?"

Nolan widened his eyes and glared at him.

He knew it’s going to be like this.

He could see the trap forming in Granfire’s eyes like an intricate puzzle box—built from condescension and confidence.

You bastard.

And just as Nolan feared, Granfire stepped forward, lifted his arm as though addressing a crowd in a colosseum, and began.

"A true Mana Specialist," Granfire intoned, "must not only teach, but trust. For what is mana if not the purest expression of one’s inner spirit? And how can that spirit flourish if it is not believed in?"

The words echoed, but Granfire didn’t stop.

"To believe in your students means giving them the stage to shine—even if it trembles under their weight. Even if the wind howls and the shadows loom. Because if a Specialist cannot trust their own class to stand when the world is crumbling, then what good is our craft?"

He began to pace dramatically, his robes fluttering with every self-important step.

"We do not cultivate mana merely for protection or strength! No! We cultivate for truth! To awaken what lies dormant! For each student is a seed—and the teacher, the soil. If the soil is afraid of the storm, then how will the tree ever grow tall enough to pierce the sky?"

Murmurs of awe passed through the students.

"He’s right..."

"That’s... actually deep."

"I never thought of it that way..."

Nolan clenched his fists. Granfire was turning the crowd against him—and worse, he was using Nolan’s own logic. The very speech Nolan had given to his students earlier—almost word for word—was being flung back at him, polished, dramatic, and now coated in a layer of smug righteousness.

And it worked.

He felt the weight of gazes now shifting toward him, curious, accusatory, unsure.

Just then, a loud voice rang from the edge of the gathering.

"Teacher Nolan!"

He turned.

There they were—his students.

Calien, bold and sharp-eyed, his hair glinting silver in the sun.

Selin, her expression steady, clutching a small artifact pendant tight in her hands.

Erik, arms crossed with the usual brooding calm but the faintest trace of a smirk.

Ruvin, bouncing nervously but determined, his eyes locked on Nolan’s.

"Teacher!" Calien said. "We’re here!"

Selin stepped forward. "We’ve been briefed by Old Duldor. We accept the assessment."

"We’ll pass," Erik added, voice like iron.

"With flying colors!" Ruvin chimed in, a little too loudly.

Nolan’s throat dried. He didn’t want this. They were bright, talented—but untested. Throwing them into whatever nightmare awaited was not something he could take lightly.

Where the hell are their parents?

Why didn’t they accompany their children here?

Damn it!

But then Granfire’s voice, oily and smooth, slithered in again.

"Look at them, Nolan," he said, his arms wide as if showcasing a portrait. "They believe in you. They trust that you’ve trained them well. That your wisdom and care brought them this far."

He leaned in closer, dropping his voice into something almost gentle.

"Do you really want to deny them this chance? When they’ve come so far? When all they need is your approval?"

Nolan remained silent.

Granfire pounced.

"It would be a shame... truly a shame... if the only reason they couldn’t stand among the other passing students was because you were too afraid to let go."

The words hit like a slap.

Nolan opened his mouth to retort. Closed it. Opened it again.

The students watched, confusion starting to shift into something else. Doubt?

He cursed under his breath.

"Fine," he snapped. "You want a bet?"

Granfire grinned. "Now we’re talking!"

"I’ve got plenty to wager," Nolan said, straightening. "Mana Crystals. A whole lot of them. 150 to be exact, just like always!"

"Oh ho ho! Just like always," Granfire clapped his hands with a grin. "To prove that you believe in your students, I, Master Granfire, will reluctantly accept your challenge!"

He winked at the crowd, as if it were all just sport to him. "What a responsible Specialist you are, Nolan."

"I’ll bury you," Nolan muttered, but the crowd had already erupted in laughter and cheers.

Suddenly, a voice echoed through the courtyard, clear and official.

"First student: Calien of the Silverhart family!"

Everyone turned toward the stage.

"Come up now for your assessment."