My Magus Academy is Run by Players?! [Western Cultivation LitRPG]

All the information that Victor had regarding this creature came from ancient records, so he wasn’t sure how much of it held true. After all, the grand library in the Arcane Radiance College hosted tens of thousands of books on the lowest floor accessible to acolytes, and it was practically impossible to read everything… Besides, this species was said to have been extinct in Seraphia.

Regardless, the species of the spider-like magical beast was known as “Lesser Hiveborne Arachnid.” Despite having the word “Lesser” in its name, underestimating these creatures would be a grave mistake. What scared Victor the most was their hive-minded nature — kill one of their kind, and you would have the whole nest knocking at your door the next day.

Unlike normal spiders, which were solitary insects, these arachnids operated under a hierarchical structure akin to ants, making fear of these vengeful magical beasts deeply ingrained among Magi. Their queen, much like the ruler of an ant colony, possessed combat prowess comparable to a full-fledged Elemental Adept Magus. Although a magical beast’s might couldn’t compare to a genuine Magus with their strange array of spells, it wasn’t an opponent that Victor could easily confront. Moreover, if an entire nest came swarming, even a Nexus Temporal Magus would be forced to retreat.

As such, this one here must be a stray. Or else, the players wouldn’t have prevailed with only one casualty, let alone dispatch it at all.

Stray or not, it was for a fact that one was killed just outside the magic barriers of the academy. Sooner or later, their queen would detect this loss.

A side mission about finding the sources of the academy’s barrier’s magic formations, and now an incident involving a menacing magical beast in close proximity to the academy… Why does it feel like they both correlate with each other?

“Don’t tell me…” A sudden spark emerged, widening his eyes. He realized he was in a race against time!

“Something’s wrong, sir?” Prominence inquired.

“It’s nothing for you to be concerned about.” Victor brushed him aside with a dismissive gesture. “I’ll handle the disposal of their remains. Return to your tasks, and remember not to take any unnecessary risks; the forest holds dangers beyond your imagination.”

Naturally, Victor issued a stern prohibition against venturing into the Thornwood Flower field until he deemed it safe. The aim was to prevent any further casualties, if at all possible.

“Yes! Headmaster!”

The other players echoed their agreement and obediently nodded their heads. This harrowing encounter had obviously left an impression on them about the perilous nature of magical beasts.

With the matter addressed, Victor departed from the scene, making his way directly to the Nexus Tower with the lifeless bodies of both the player and the spider in tow. He planned to do some experimentation by converting the fallen player’s body into essence points. As for the spider’s carcass… though it was theoretically edible, the idea of consuming such a grotesque creature made his stomach turn.

Putting the spider’s corpse into the converter first, the essence points on the digital display promptly increased to “64” (ten of which had already been utilized in today’s fresh incubation process). Next, Victor stripped Locktekei’s body of its possessions before depositing it into the converter. Strangely, there was no perceptible increment in the digital readout. Upon closer inspection, he discovered that the increase was, in fact, a decimal value — 0.5, to be exact — equivalent to half of what was typically required to incubate a mortal body.

“Guess it’s better than nothing.” No matter how tiny a mosquito was, it was still meat, as the old adage said.

Returning his focus to the task at hand, Victor attended to his duties. Because he was in a rush, he left the assortment of tools and weapons contained within a sizable animal skin sack just outside the Headmaster’s Building.

These tools and weapons made by Eleanor boasted superb quality and distinctive designs that exuded a certain charm, as if a master blacksmith had crafted them. They were sharper and more durable than their run-of-the-mill iron counterparts. While the materials used came from a magical beast, being able to utilize and process them showed that she had incredible talent and skill. In the future, he planned on relying on her to supply him with more equipment as needed. 

Although, having had to make this delivery multiple times had Victor contemplating his profession: Was he a headmaster or an Uber driver? Maybe he should send players to do it in his stead.

“Nah, that’s not a feasible option, at least not currently,” Victor mused. Such an approach could inadvertently lead to complications with how players interacted with the local inhabitants. Suspicion might arise if he didn’t handle the situation delicately. On top of that, considering the players’ current weak prowess, sending them into the forest was not worth the risk. Even though the southern forest was relatively safer, complete safety couldn’t be guaranteed.

It wasn’t Victor being soft or anything, but there was a difference between building experience and sending them on a suicide mission. On the contrary, bringing individuals he could trust to the academy seemed like a more prudent course of action than sending players outside to interact with locals. Hm, establishing the smithy should be a priority, then.

In any event, initiating the construction of the earthen wall around the academy, particularly its northern section, was a pressing matter. While he couldn’t predict the precise nature of future threats, preparing for a confrontation, especially with the queen spider, appeared inevitable. Having one or two cards up his sleeve would provide a welcome layer of security. 

“That’s right. I ought to devise security measures should such a situation arise.” What was of utmost importance now was to finish the side mission and convey the urgency of the situation to the players. Perhaps their collective insights could yield innovative solutions to tackle this impending challenge.

***

In the heart of the Thornwood Forest, a sprawling cave concealed a hidden world. Countless spiders filled every corner, and every spot was covered in intricately woven silk, glistening with iridescence.

At the center of it all stood a creature of nightmarish grace. A fusion of a human-like upper body and arachnid lower body, covered in shimmering black scales — she was the undisputed queen of this spider domain. Yet, despite her humanoid appearance, she had not a shred of human compassion or intelligence, only bloodlust and savagery.

On this night, a tremor of dread coursed through the queen spider’s senses the instant she was awakened from her slumber. Across the threads of their shared connection, she felt a void — a rupture that sent tremors through her very being. One of her precious offspring had been torn from her embrace, and a sense of loss pierced her heart.

The last memory of its assailants was vivid. The killers were none other than the most hateful beings of the spider queen: humans! 

“SKREEE!!”

The queen spider let out a long grief-stricken screech. Her eyes, a blend of fury and determination, glinted with a chilling intensity. Strong, supple, silken legs carried her forward, the air pulsating with chaotic magic that mirrored her wrath. Even the forest itself seemed to acknowledge the disturbance; its rhythm disturbed by her wrathful presence.

Emerging from her sanctuary, the spider queen stood poised before her kin. Moonlight filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled shadows on her ebony exoskeleton and human upper form.

“SKREE!”

A high, guttural growl rumbled forth as it transformed into a command that echoed through the chamber. In response, her subjects quivered with a mixture of fear and reverence, their numerous eyes reflecting a primal understanding.

“SKREE!”

“SKREE!”

“SKREE!”

“…!”

As if attuned to her will, the spiders joined with their voices and became a symphony of feral cries that echoed through the cave. With purposeful movements, they began to pour forth from their silk-laden sanctuary to the outside world with a sole purpose:

Vengeance for their brethren.

***

Unaware of the recent events in the Thornwood Forest, Victor sat in his office, engrossed in the holographic projection of the official website forum. There was a thread that caught his attention, which was posted by none other than the recently deceased player, Locktekei. The thread bore the somewhat anxious title, “First Time Dying in the Game. Have I Lost My Qualification?”

Conveniently, locating him didn’t seem to be an ordeal. As soon as he opened the forum, he saw Locktekei’s username on the forum’s homepage, and his post had already garnered over one hundred replies.

The post read:

“Darn, luck just wasn’t on my side. A nasty bite to the neck, and the next thing I knew, I was staring at my bedroom ceiling. I can’t help but wonder, do I have enough merit points for a resurrection? What happens if I don’t? Please answer me, O’ game devs… Ahh! This is driving me nuts!”

Locktekei then went on to recount what he had gone through, detailing it much like Prominence had explained it to Victor. However, the more he read, the more he didn’t know whether to chuckle or sigh in exasperation; these players were newbies in every sense of the word, no matter how abundant their gaming experience may be. Sure, the way Locktekei explained it made it seem like he had done a great deal, but in his eyes, they were just a bunch of noobs.

Locktekei: “When I saw Prominence pinned to the ground by the spider, I shouted and brandished my axe before rushing ahead to kill it… Who would’ve guessed that I was discovered and thus met my demise?”

Locktekei: “I didn’t die in an instant, though, as it took a few seconds before I lost consciousness. And there wasn’t any pain, so it didn’t quite register at first. My initial thought was that I’d been disconnected. But the message in my helmet read ‘connection interrupted,’ which then became ‘restricted login.’ So, I could be pretty darn sure that I’d just bit the dust in the game. Talk about unlucky.”

What do you mean unlucky? You literally shouted when you should have snuck in and attacked silently… No wonder the spider would dodge and bite back at you. These players sorely needed a crash course or tutorial in hunting.

As though echoing Victor’s sentiments, the responses from other players weren’t particularly sympathetic. Among those who had already met the qualifications for the closed-alpha test, opinions were mixed between supportive and ridicule. Meanwhile, many who were still unable to get into the game expressed their grievances and made some jabs at Locktekei. Every death meant one fewer spot for new players the following day, and it would take a full day to respawn.

ButaYaarou: “Bro, did you miss the memo from movies and novels about not shouting when sneaking up on an enemy? That’s like day one stuff.”

Squadzell: “Locktekei, If you’re here to throw the game, you might as well hand your account over to me…”

Prominence: “Come on, folks! Let’s show some support. He did help distract it and give us the opportunity to kill the spider, at least.”

Locktekei: “Wait, so we managed to kill the spider monster?”

Prominence: “Yup!”

Locktekei: “Woohoo! It seems that my sacrifice is not in vain. ヽ(ヅ)ノ”

Other than this, there was one particular tidbit that made Victor raise his eyes in amusement.

“Seeing that the other players were too embarrassed to call the assistant fairy through the feature in the Shadowlink Mark, I summoned the courage to do it myself. But, well, it might’ve been a tad too late because our friendly neighborhood spider monster had already set its sights on us with a devious trap.”

Embarrassed to call Lizbeth? What was really going on here? Also, this was the only post that garnered positive reactions from the players for some reason. 

Then again, these past few hours, Victor felt as if Lizbeth had been avoiding him. This raised his suspicions, and now seemed a good time to confront her about it. Before addressing this problem, however, Victor first replied to the thread:

“You don’t have to worry about the resurrection. Upon checking the internal data, we’ve confirmed you have more than enough merit points to initiate a resurrection, which is set at a minimum of one hundred points. But remember, even if you lack the required merit points, you can still resurrect, albeit with consequences to compensate for the lack of points. A drop in amity points with the headmaster NPC will be one of them. Further details will be addressed later today on the official website.”

His message was swarmed with replies the second it was posted.

Standing up, Victor approached the bedroom door and swung it open. With a swift flick of his finger, he sealed every potential escape route using simple magic manipulation. He had a hunch that Lizbeth had been hiding here, and his intuition was spot on. There, behind the wolf pup, which had grown to the size of an adult Pomeranian, Lizbeth was peeking at him with tiny eyes full of guilt.

“Liz, care to explain what you did to make the players embarrassed to call on you?” Victor advanced toward her with a menacing face and displayed the holographic thread on the screen for her to see. This was all a calculated move.

“Eek!” She flinched and began to explain herself through broken words, “I-It’s just a little mischief I erred. Yes. Nothing too important.”

“Well, your ‘little mischief’ caused the death of a player.” Victor’s words were technically a lie since casualties were likely to appear in such an encounter, and no one could have anticipated this happening. Thus, this was all an exaggeration to scare and prank her.

“F-Fine… I confess that I did that for a reason; the players were getting overly energetic when they called for me. They even poked me as if I were just an object! So, I did that to make them only call me when absolutely necessary.” Lizbeth looked up at him with the most endearing expression she could muster, her eyes wide and innocent as she pleaded, “Umm, you’re not going to do harm to this cute fairy. Right, Master?” 

“Woof?” Even Lumen joined in on her side with her puppy dog eyes.

The combined cuteness nearly got to Victor, who despite having confidence in his poker face, couldn’t help a slight twitch. It was clear she was trying to avoid punishment with her adorable act.

“I’m not going to harm you, per se, but a deduction from your ‘salary’ is in order. Naturally,” Victor replied, his tone half serious, half amused. Lizbeth’s “salary” consisted of the food he provided her; she had no need for money or mana crystals. This seemed like the fairest way to discipline her, given his past life experiences with exploitative companies.

“Nooo! Anything but that!” Lizbeth protested in an exaggerated, melodramatic fashion. She then added with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “But hear me out, dear Headmaster. I might just have a valuable piece of information for you. Something worth more than the deduction to my little pay.”

“Ho?” Intrigued and slightly amused by her sudden change in demeanor, Victor questioned, “What is it? If this information holds real value, I will consider it.”

“Well, I may have remembered where the magic formations of the academy’s barrier might be placed…”

The revelation caught Victor by surprise. While he had intended to investigate this as soon as possible, there was something else he needed to take care of first…