Great Teacher in a Defense Game

#24 Cancel, Cancelled

The aftermath of the explosion subsided after a while.

Enoch commanded Lacrima to use her magic to extinguish the blaze.

Then, through the comm-unit, he summoned the guard.

The soldiers, answering the call, logged the incident according to Enoch’s statement, sweeping away all the remaining wreckage.

The half-destroyed automobile was included.

Enoch’s own car, the Askuta, barely three months new, vanished so futilely.

“…”

“Um… Teacher…?”

“……”

“Th-That… cheer up. Should I sing you a song?”

“…”

“I see you don’t want to…”

Enoch watched with dead eyes as his car was loaded onto the truck.

Lakrina tried her best to console him, but alas, it was to little avail.

What bloomed within his heart now was only one thing.

Endless fury.

‘Whoever you are, you *will* pay the price for this, without fail.’

“Let’s go, Lakrina.”

“Ah, yes! Where are we headed now?”

“To the commercial district. First, we’ll have to get new clothes fitted.”

Enoch spoke in a rigid tone, matter-of-factly.

Lakrina belatedly noticed her own disheveled state.

The neatness from before was nowhere to be seen, torn in several places and smeared with black grime.

Going to the Academy dressed like this would draw all sorts of attention.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t entered through… less than conventional means.

Enoch had no desire to attract undue attention and stir up trouble.

‘Might as well relieve some stress while we’re at it.’

“Welcome, Enoch. You’ve returned quite early.”

“Good to see you, Master Belten.”

The two had traveled to the commercial district and sought out the tailor, Belten.

As always, Belten welcomed them with open arms, extending a hand for a handshake.

Enoch, holding the other’s hand in a firm grip, spoke with a resolved tone.

“Belten, I entrust Lakrina’s attire to you.”

“Understood. Judging by her state, it seems something has happened.”

“I regret I cannot explain. And… I ask that you take on mine as well. Not a staff member, not an apprentice, but the Master himself.”

“!”

Belten’s eyes widened at the words that followed.

He was a tailor renowned not only within Magnus, but across the entire continent.

Even some of the Emperor’s garments were born from his hands.

To commission him directly.

It was something unattainable with any ordinary sum.

“Enoch, are you in earnest?”

“It matters not.”

Enoch responded with an undisturbed composure.

Belten’s hand trembled as he removed his spectacles.

“…Very well, I understand. I shall do as you ask. What are your requirements? Any desired nuance or concept?”

“No, nothing particularly. But, there is something I wish for.”

“A wish?”

Belten tilted his head, puzzled.

At that moment, Enoch, as if declaring it to Belten and the other shop owners who glanced their way, proclaimed loudly.

“Hearken, everyone.”

-…?

“Here, there is a spring that never runs dry.”

Enoch connected to his inventory within his coat pocket, as he often did.

Soon, he flung open his soot-marked coat, and from within, wads of money tumbled forth.

-…!!!

“Master Belten himself will handle my garments. However, other attire remains unchosen.”

-……

“I find myself in a state of heightened avarice today. Be it a watch, necklace, ring, or scarf. Anything will do, so long as it pleases my eye.”

As he spoke, Enoch raised a finger.

An index finger extended towards the ceiling, as if to emphasize.

The eyes of the shopkeepers followed the line of his fingertip, rippling like water.

“My single request is this.”

-……

“Astonish me. The reward will not disappoint.”

@

Enoch’s sudden flexing, a pronouncement of wealth.

A quiet tremor ran through the crowd at his declaration.

Belten, sensing the coming commotion, hastily departed to attend to his own affairs.

Next to move was the master of the clock shop beside.

“Welcome, Enoch. I am Galta, proprietor of Chandrion.”

“Pleased to meet you, Master Galta. Do you have something prepared for me?”

“But of course. I’ve never quite approved of you only visiting Belten’s shop. I always knew a day like this would come.”

Galta was a middle-aged man with hair the color of wine.

He lightly stroked his Pringles-esque mustache, then flicked his finger at an employee behind him.

A moment later, the employee reappeared, wearing gloves, carrying a golden case.

The employee handed the case to the master.

Galta, with an air of confidence, opened the golden case.

-creak

“Behold. An Anser Philip Brown Knives Steel. The movement comprises one hundred wheels, forty-eight bridges, four hundred sixty screws, eighty springs, one hundred twenty mechanism parts, eighty-six jewels, two dials, nineteen hands. Furthermore, the gold case itself weighs approximately four hundred twenty grams.”

“Hoo.”

“With so many complications built in, the weight is quite considerable. What do you say? Is it not quite satisfying?”

What Galta presented was a clock of the highest value, crafted by a master craftsman among masters.

Not a single character was carelessly engraved.

At its center, as if containing the universe itself, a black and blue wave endlessly intertwined and undulated.

“It catches my eye. What is the price?”

“Fifteen point four billion Croyl.”

“Give it to me. No need for wrapping.”

Enoch paid on the spot, in cash.

No installments, just a hard hit of cash.

Galta’s face split with ecstasy.

“Hahaha!! I was not the one attempting to startle you, but rather you who have startled me!”

Galta erupted in booming laughter, clearly pleased.

That was the beginning.

Following Galta’s lead, the masters of the market, one by one, approached Enoch, eager to speak.

-“A coat fashioned from mink’s hide, I have. Fed on apples, those beasts were, rolling amongst the fruit. A mere brush against it, and the scent of apple fills the air. Does it intrigue you?”

-“A purse, perhaps? Not of exorbitant worth, yet one might catch your fancy.”

-“By chance, are you considering the purchase of a private airship?”

“Hold now, please. One at a time, or I shall understand nothing,” Enoch cautioned, calming the throng of eager masters.

Order was restored, eventually.

Lachryma, casting a wary glance, asked cautiously, “…Teacher. I know there’s little use in asking such a thing, but I must. Are you truly alright with this?”

“Alright with what, specifically?”

“The coin. What if we find ourselves lacking later?”

“Fear not. My funds… they replicate.”

“Replicate?”

Lachryma squinted, clearly puzzled.

A more thorough explanation seemed necessary.

But Enoch refrained.

He simply *couldn’t*.

How could he possibly reveal that the source of his wealth stemmed from the vaults of Orban, the Golden Magician?

‘Orban, after all, is a creature of monopoly and malice, hoarding coin. He amasses wealth and then dedicates himself to honing his magical prowess. It is far better to release his wealth into the market than to allow it to stagnate.’

Orban, the Golden Magician, was a dualistic and perilous figure.

His magical aptitude was undeniably exceptional.

His status as a Fundamental-class magician, a step below the Realm-class, was well-deserved, not merely a title.

Yet everything else about him was problematic.

The Golden Magician held near-absolute control over the medical market, where lives hung in the balance.

To count him as an enemy would be vexing, but to count him as an ally was unsettling.

Better to distribute funds now than leave them at the disposal of a man who could only use them for harm.

Thus, Enoch felt justified.

He told himself anything he did would be better than what that Orban b*stard would come up with.

He was almost completely certain of it.

“Teacher?”

“…Lacrina. I have but one thing to tell you. Don’t even think about the money. My pockets are not so light as to trouble you.”

Enoch said that and turned his back.

Lacrina tried to say something more, but then shook her head.

‘Teacher must have his own plans.’

Lacrina truly believed that.

Would he really spend tens of billions just to relieve stress?

That was something even His Noble Majesty the Emperor wouldn’t dare to do so carelessly.

Lacrina had never seen the Emperor in person, but for now, she assumed that was the case.

-Two hundred million, paid!

-Four hundred million, paid!

‘…Even so, this can’t be good for the heart.’

The amounts she was hearing seemed to swell larger and larger.

Lacrina pondered blocking her ears for a moment, but ultimately used magic instead.

-Zzzzzzzzz

‘…Much better.’

Lacrina’s eyes turned cold.

A frosty glint had formed in her eyes before she knew it.

She was now using the side effects of magic in reverse.

In other words, she was infusing herself with ice magic.

Originally, it was a situation where she would have been consumed by the magic, her very personality altered.

But perhaps because she had grown accustomed to it through training.

Or perhaps it was a matter of talent.

Lacrina was no longer consumed by magic as she once was.

Quite the opposite.

Now, for her, the side effects of ice magic felt like a perfected technique.

‘My mind isn’t wavering like it used to. At this point, it shouldn’t be a problem even in real combat.’

Lacrina surveyed her surroundings with a frigid expression.

Even amidst all the din, her awareness remained steadfast.

Not a tremor, not even the slightest shift.

As firmly set ice cannot be swayed, so too had her spirit solidified, becoming like ice itself.

‘Noisy, clamorous. That is all. My heart does not waver. Perhaps I’ve grown accustomed to the Headmaster’s lavish spending?’

-220 billion Crowe settlement!!!

“……”

Lacrina quietly averted her gaze.

Scratch that previous thought.

@

Artemia, the Empire’s prestigious academy.

Baltro Ulligan, the chairman of that very Artemia.

He and Antoni, the academy’s headmaster, were now preparing to greet a guest.

“…Chairman?”

“What is it?”

“Did… Did Your Imperial Majesty mention visiting today?”

Headmaster Antoni asked, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

He was, after all, a mage of the ruling class, a man who had risen to the position of headmaster.

Yet, even he found the situation unfolding before him frankly disconcerting.

Because.

A colossal airship was brazenly landing on academy grounds, without so much as a by your leave.

“The Emperor, you say. If he were coming, the entire faculty would be standing at attention.”

“Precisely. Which makes this all the more puzzling. Just who is this person visiting today?”

“I haven’t the foggiest. I’m off to find out now.”

Chairman Baltro grit his teeth and turned away from the window.

He donned his coat, checked his attire, and then swiftly strode towards the grounds where the airship had landed.

‘Enok… because of you, I haven’t been home in two days.’

The present time was nearing the end of autumn.

Ordinarily, students who’d completed the academic year would be preparing for the next semester.

Yet, amidst all this, they’d forcibly added one student to the first year.

A far cry from his usual self, the man who would reject even the requests of nobles if they lacked the qualifications.

Naturally, complaints poured in from the nobles who’d heard the rumors.

With a new student arriving so suddenly, whispers amongst the students were inevitable.

The full weight of that responsibility fell squarely on the shoulders of the Headmaster, who charted the school’s course, and the Chancellor, who managed its administration.

For the two of them, there was little else to be done.

They couldn’t very well send ordinary teachers to deal with the nobles.

In any case, Baltro’s fury was thus both reasonable and justified.

He sincerely desired to see the face of this wretch, Enoch.

‘This insolent pup… Let’s see what sort of countenance he dares to show.’