Lessons as Students

Chapter 35 Lessons as Students

Rorschach glanced at his timetable; the next class was dark green, which meant he would be attending as a student.

"A chanting art class? What kind of easy class is that?"

Rorschach's double standards are not without their fallacies:

Although he was an engineering student in his previous life, he still liked and valued history. However, regarding chanting, the Imperial Academy believed that chanting was an inefficient and easily interrupted method of casting spells. Students were only allowed to cast low-level magic using hand gestures. As for art, sorry, I'm a boorish person and can't appreciate it.

This was, in fact, Rorschach's first magic class since his transmigration. Sigh, should he pay attention or slack off in his first lesson?

Luo Xia was struggling with his thoughts in the back row of the classroom. There was still some time before class started when a group of people came in noisily.

It was so noisy. Luo Xia recognized the guy immediately. The thugs were surrounded by the big guy who had been misbehaving in class before.

He still wore his aristocratic attire underneath, especially his gold shawl and fine crimson woolen sweater. The young men and women surrounding the burly man were all talking to him.

Rorschach was looking at him, and he saw Rorschach too: "Hey, isn't this our teacher? What brings you to class?"

Rorschach nodded: "Yes, I'm here to attend the class."

The burly man deliberately sat down next to Rorschach and lowered his voice: "Hey Yankee, don't get cocky just because you've hooked up with a fat professor. Be careful you don't get taken advantage of when you're unfamiliar with the area!"

Threatening him outright? What kind of thug is this? Rorschach was a bit shocked and asked his henchman, "Is this guy a nobleman?"

Rorschach successfully enraged the big man: "You're questioning me! Questioning the direct bloodline of Grand Duke Melovenga! You're insulting my family!" His roar attracted the attention of others.

"For the sake of the Merovenjia family, you should duel with the Imperials! Teach them a lesson!" The number of apprentices watching increased, and someone in the back of the crowd fanned the flames.

"That's right, that's right. My ancestor was a dueling master! The Merovingian family earned their titles and fiefdoms by beating up the imperialists!"

"Remember my name and surname: Philippe de Merovingian," Philippe said, pulling a white silk glove from his breast pocket and tossing it toward Rorschach. Rorschach caught it, recalling the dueling rituals he had heard about, and then realized he didn't seem to have a glove.

Oh, I do have one. I also have an alchemical protective glove that I used to carry stew pots when escorting caravans. I haven't used it since I learned [Mage's Hand].

He quickly rummaged through his storage ring, then threw out his thick, greasy leather gloves. *Thud!* He slammed them into the other person's face.

Everyone was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter.

"You really humiliated me!" He took off his gloves, wiped his face, and now Philip's face was shiny with oil, like a ripe tomato.

"Um... a duel isn't about throwing gloves at each other; you just pick up the glove the initiator throws at you."

Philip roared and lunged forward: "What are you talking to this little brute for?!"

Although Rorschach was only sixteen years old, he had experienced battles with the Order's knights. He coldly observed his opponent's movements, and without chanting before casting a spell like the other apprentices of the magic tower, he silently stepped back and unleashed "Qilin Arm".

Under the watchful eyes of the other apprentices, Philip was lifted into the air by an unseen force. His already flushed face turned even redder, gradually deepening to a purplish hue.

"In the magic tower, what's wrong with being big? You want to be a melee mage, you idiot? Then just learn a Light spell and you'll graduate!"

As Philip was being strangled, he not only felt suffocated, but also felt a wave of heat wash over him. The firelight was reflected in his blue irises, and rings of flame outlined a giant hand larger than the boy, gradually approaching him, as if to ignite the fuse of life.

Just as Philip Merovingian's temples were about to burst and his urge to urinate reached its peak, both his strength and fire vanished.

It's like a pile of mud thrown between tables and chairs.

If only he had the same abilities as the knight Leshborough of the Holy Mother Order. Thinking this, Rorschach couldn't help but sigh.

He glanced around at the stunned crowd and slowly said:

"Even though this isn't my class, you all address me respectfully in many ways, such as Your Excellency, Master, or, well, classmate."

"Yes, sir," someone on the outer edge responded weakly.

Rorschach used his "Mage's Hand" to lift the mud from his feet onto the seat. Philip lost his balance and rolled back onto the ground, so Rorschach had to help him up again.

He seemed to have hit something when he fell; his nose was crooked, and a liquid rich in iron was leaking out.

Meanwhile, Rorschach sat down and tidied his books: "You all saw it, Philip fell down by himself. Let's go back to our seats and start the lesson, okay?"

This time, all the apprentices responded, "Yes, Master Rorschach."

"I'm the teacher for this class!" Sophia, a middle-aged woman, entered the room just as she came in with her wavy, fluffy hair flowing freely, and happened to witness this scene.

For some reason, she assumed the burly student with a bleeding nose and disoriented was the one who had fallen: "Did Mr. Philip bump his head?"

"Yes, teacher."

"Everyone, please be careful." Ms. Sofia then used a personal demonstration as a good start to the lesson.

She tossed a branch toward Rorschach, who recognized it as mistletoe. At the same time, the woman recited:

"Abundance grants you health."

Sophia's Yaberian language was melodious and pleasant to listen to. As she sang, the mistletoe received her ether, which gathered, grew, and swelled into ten plump and tender berries.

"【Divine Berry Spell】, a useful minor healing spell in the Nature tree."

Mr. Rorschach asked him to pick three berries for Mr. Philip, and the remaining branches and berries were to be passed around among the students.

Rorschach did as he was told, picking three and stuffing them into Philip's mouth, then patting his bottom and chin to make him start chewing.

The berry was bitten open, and juice spilled from the corner of Philip's mouth. He gradually regained his spirits, and the red liquid stopped coming out of his nose.

Seeing that Philip had recovered, one of the more daring students picked one and put it in his mouth to taste it.

"So sour!"

Sofia said cheerfully, "A touch of sourness will help you stay alert in class." The classroom was instantly filled with a cheerful atmosphere.

"Good singing should be accurate, clear, elegant and pleasant to listen to."

We generally believe that excellent chanting has a significant bonus effect on magic involving elements such as 'summoning' and 'spirit'.

The [Divine Berry Spell] I just cast is a nature-based spell, an old Druid spell. According to Druid beliefs, it should belong to the divine arts of nature.

Although we monks don't worship nature in this way, good chanting can still bring us abundant, restorative berries.

Sophia noticed that the last berry had been eaten by some busybodies and frowned: "You didn't leave a single one. What are you looking at, students in front?"

She walked over to the students' seats, retrieved the mistletoe branch, and took out another one: "Then I'll demonstrate it for everyone again. This time I'll adjust the incantation."

She cast the spell again, this time chanting in the relatively obscure Yabbi, with melodious and varied tones. Fortunately, as a basic skill, everyone present could understand: "O Abundance! May you reap health and new life!"

I was writing this late at night, fell asleep, woke up and started writing again. My mental state isn't great, so please feel free to point out any bugs.

(End of this chapter)