I Became The Academy’s Narrow-Eyes

Anyone could see that the magic division was in a favorable position.

In that situation, Phibian, confident of her victory, provoked Ceylon with all of her conviction.

But what returned to her was a sincere word of thanks.

So predictable.

Whether sincere or not, it didn’t matter.

Surely, that was just another infuriating tactic by that annoying man.

Phibian tried to ignore him.

“What do you mean by that?”

But when she actually tried to, her curiosity got the better of her, and she asked with an irritated expression.

“Ha-ha, what else could a word of thanks mean, other than to express gratitude?”

“That would be normal, yes. Ordinary people use words of thanks only to express gratitude. But you, it seems like the kind of word you would use more often to mock others or stir up anger, right?”

“Ow! Quite sharp, aren’t you? Hit the nail on the head.”

Ceylon clutched his chest and grimaced in mock pain, pointing at Phibian approvingly.

“So, what on earth does it mean?”

“But! This time, it truly was a word of thanks, filled with nothing but genuine gratitude.”

Ceylon bowed with grace, like an actor giving a curtain call to the audience on stage.

“It was truly out of respect for you, Phibian, taking responsibility to lead as the last contestant for your division.”

Unwittingly, Phibian thought his posture was impressive, and even now, his act seemed to carry sincere respect.

Which is why Phibian loathed it.

By this point, Phibian simply despised everything about him.

Every move he made seemed to be a ruse to irritate her.

Ha!

She scoffed as if not to be outdone, her snicker laden with defiance.

“So, you do realize this could be the end?”

Regaining her haughty smile, Phibian exuded absolute confidence.

Upon reflection, there was no need to be swayed by that man here and now.

The momentum had swung entirely in favor of their magic division.

Victory in the representative fight was as good as determined.

“I am well aware it could end here. Thus, I’ll endeavor to prevent that from happening. Who knows what demands an irate Phibian might make upon us of the swordsmanship division.”

“I have never been irate!”

Phibian retorted angrily, denying she was ever angry.

“Oh, my apologies. After all, one sees only what one chooses to see. It seems in my anger, I’ve mistakenly viewed you, Phibian, in that light.”

“Urgh…!!!”

She knew there was no reason to be swayed by him.

But then Phibian realized she had been caught in his rhythm.

She belatedly recognized the reason this fight had come together: the only way to break this irritating man’s persistently high nose was to show him the stark difference in their abilities.

“Enough chitchat! Professor Korn!?”

Professor Korn, with a weary expression that could be interpreted as kind or soft, snapped his fingers.

At that, a dense, delicate mana, incomparable to any of the freshmen present, gently enveloped Ceylon and Phibian.

“Are both sides ready?”

“Absolutely!”

The readiness was established well in advance.

The tense silence formed by the other nervous freshmen.

In that quietude, Phibian immediately concentrated and heightened her mana to a full battle-ready state.

“Wait a moment, please!? Uh, now that we’re about to start, I’m feeling a bit nervous. May I take a deep breath first?”

“Yes, Ceylon. Take your time.”

Yet, despite that preparedness.

Their relaxed air, spawned by the dimwit man and the easily-handled professor, seemed to deflate Phibian’s focus.

“Professor Korn!”

“Yes!?”

“It’s not ‘take your time,’ but ‘hurry up!’ No! Ignore that and just proceed!!!”

An exasperated Phibian scolded the amenable professor, her concentration faltering.

“Ah, but as it’s a representative match between the representatives, shouldn’t we ensure utmost preparedness…”

Meanwhile, jeers came from the swordsmanship camp.

“Boo~ Don’t rush him~”

“Distracting with talking and then wanting to start right away!”

“Swordsmanship isn’t as simple as your magic! We need delicate concentration!”

“Do you think this is like swinging tools around like in your magic!?”

In response, the magic camp immediately shot back.

“What rushed? Your representative is clearly the sluggish one!”

“How much concentration can swordsmanship possibly require?”

“Just a bunch of brutes swinging swords around, and now they prattle about ‘delicate concentration’!”

“Stuffing mana into their bodies to move is something even orcs can do, acting like they’re so great!”

“Of course, for brutes like you, that must be tough, right!”

The serene calm of the surroundings swiftly dissolved into noise and commotion.

“Ugh…”

Phibian rubbed her forehead in annoyance.

Concentrate.

Concentrate.

As she tried to focus, the irritating man’s self-satisfied smiling face caught her eye.

Phibian was stunned.

“Could it be… on purpose? Such despicable—”

“Ha-ha, my master taught me that provocation is an effective tactic. Even if it wasn’t—”

Ceylon spread his arms wide.

“Isn’t a little chaos more fun? Feels like the main event, doesn’t it?”

“Ha! Enjoy writhing as much as you like. See if the outcome changes. Professor Korn!”

“I shall begin the countdown.”

Phibian!

Phibian!

Phibian!

Ceylon! Ceylon! Ceylon!

The rhythmic chanting of the magic division, merged with the surging cheers of the swordsmanship division, echoed through the air.

Amidst the disarray and tumult, Professor Korn’s mana-infused countdown commandingly maintained its presence.

Three.

Two.

And then, one.

“Urgghh!”

“Ahhh!”

At that moment, a sudden gust swooped into the area, sweeping away the cheering voices.

The Lady of the Green Magic Tower, from the house of Leolalian, a genius wind magician, Phibian had just amassed a surge of mana instantaneously.

***

“Ho.”

Professor Korn of the Magic Division.

Magnus, who was second-in-command of the magic division and was present at the duel, showed interest, now blatantly lighting up with excitement.

‘As expected of a Leolalian…’

Both Phibian and Magnus were situated at the three-star tier.

Their mana sensitivity and the amount of mana they could handle at one time were similar.

However, the density of the mana that Phibian currently summoned.

And the skillfulness with which she had amassed that dense mana instantly.

In terms of the caliber of a magician, Phibian was several degrees superior to Magnus.

The whirlwind that had once swept through the place now lingered only around Phibian.

Her ponytail-like hair and the hem of her skirt fluttered in the breeze.

Korn instantly assessed the extent of Phibian’s capacity for battle and the type of combat style she would showcase.

“Indeed, she proved herself worthy of taking the top spot among the magic division freshmen,” he thought.

Among the freshmen of the magic division, none could rival Phibian.

Even the talented Magnus would only manage to hold out at best when up against Phibian.

‘What about the swordsmanship division freshmen then?’

Korn envisioned Agion Morci, the current top talent of the swordsmanship division, and his performance in combat.

‘It’s no use.’

It was the same conclusion.

Agion would not be able to defeat Phibian.

Wind magic may be less powerful compared to other magics, but its indistinct and broad nature of attack made it difficult for even the most physically capable warriors to avoid.

Magicians could defend their entire bodies with mana barriers or disrupt the control of the atmosphere with dispelling spells, providing various options and strategies.

But what about warriors?

They had no choice but to withstand it head-on.

And to do so, mana was paramount—first and foremost.

Agion, with a two-star status, couldn’t possibly claim victory over Phibian given his lesser mana sensitivity.

What about Kasha Hanahan and Drin Lebringer then?

Perhaps those matches would be competitive.

In a battle against a wind magician, what a swordsman needed was the endurance and stamina—essentially, mana sensitivity—to withstand the wind magic.

In that regard.

Ceylon, the representative from the swordsmanship freshman, had an unfavorable matchup.

If rumors were to be believed.

He compensated for his relatively low two-star mana sensitivity with his instinctual combative abilities.

Moreover.

Phibian was no ordinary wind magician.

She was a legitimate magician of the Leolalian lineage, foundational to wind magic.

Leolalian arcane magic, passed down only within the true lineage of the Leolalian family.

As far as Korn knew, Ceylon had no means to counter that arcane magic at this moment.

‘How will this unfold…’

Korn was curious to see what this freshman, who had even surpassed Hanahan and Lebringer in the entrance exams, would reveal in terms of how he chose to face defeat, not victory.

***

“What an exquisite spell. There’ll be no concern of feeling hot in summer, right!? Ah! It would also be great for drying laundry.”

“Yes, like the convenience you swordsmanship division kids experience when cooking.”

“Hmm? Ah! That’s what you meant! Sorry!”

“No need to apologize. It’ll soon be my turn to feel remorse. Now—”

Phibian lifted her chin.

Once engaged in combat, her confidence was unshaken by any playful banter.

She smiled at Ceylon arrogantly, filled with absolute confidence.

“Let’s see what you can do, Ceylon, the representative of the swordsmanship division freshmen.”

“Ha-ha, please view it compassionately.”

The conversation ended there.

Ceylon took his stance and watched Phibian intently.

After a short while.

“…!”

Phibian was taken aback.

‘What is he up to?’

As if reading her mind, at the very moment Phibian’s concentration wavered, Ceylon made his move.

Suddenly, Ceylon’s body staggered like a drunkard.

He had executed a feint filled with the talent of an assassin.

Phibian’s relatively inferior senses, when compared to a swordsman, were completely deceived.

While Phibian still watched a staggering Ceylon.

He had already approached within three steps of her, crouching down from the side, aiming for the blind spot in her vision.

If he had been a swordsman of similar skill to Ceylon, he would not have been able to react.

Neither could Phibian.

But.

The airflow roaming around her was different.

A mana barrier was an indispensable defense for magicians in combat.

However, legitimate magicians of the Leolalian lineage did not rely on mana barriers in battle.

They had access to a stronger and more refined method of defense than mana barriers.

Leolalian arcane magic.

The Green Counterwind.

“…!”

Just as Ceylon was about to close within two steps.

His foot halted before touching the ground.

-Whoosh!

The current swirling around Phibian detected Ceylon’s motion and transformed into a violent blast to repel him.

It was Phibian’s pre-cast arcane spell, the Green Wind.

This moment illustrated why Korn considered mana sensitivity important in a magician’s battle.

Ceylon, with merely a two-star rating, couldn’t penetrate the resistance of Phibian’s three-star graded Green Counterwind.

Like entangled in an invisible net, Ceylon’s movement came to a halt.

His clothes and hair flapped about unimpressively.

In contrast, Phibian’s hair, tied in a ponytail, and skirt hem fluttered stylishly.

She looked down at Ceylon, slightly raising her chin.

The absolute defense provided by the Green Counterwind.

An arrogant smile borne from the resultant absolute confidence.

She raised her right hand, spreading her slender, long fingers.

She then bent her middle finger and pressed it with her thumb.

Directing it at Ceylon’s face, she mimicked the motion of flicking him.

“Snap.”

-Thud!

In that instant, Ceylon’s head jerked backward as if struck by a giant’s flick, and his body flew through the air.

Compressed wind timed with Phibian’s flick struck Ceylon’s face.

-Thump

Following Phibian’s flick, Ceylon plummeted to the ground, spending a few seconds swimming through the air.

Ceylon unintentionally fell flat onto the ground.

“Wow, now this…”

Letting out an insinuating chuckle.

Such a foolish appearance.

Yet, no one there could mock him.

Not a soul present could replicate his bewildering movement.

A grand familial arcane spell that had captured and completely neutralized it.

Everything happened in an instant.

At some point, the freshmen, who had been silently observing the skirmish, erupted.

“Wowww!!!”

They burst into cheers, forgetting any animosity and rivalry, stunned by the skirmish far surpassing the level of mere freshmen.