Volume 2
Chapter 1: The Fake Hot-Blooded Instructor Bursts Onto the Scene
After school at the Alzano Imperial Magic Academy, on the second floor of the East Wing.
The classroom of Magic Studies Year two, Class two was, at that moment, depressingly lifeless.
“Hey, does anyone want to join the ‘Flight Race’ event?”
Sistine, standing at the podium, called out to the class, but no one responded.
Her classmates all stared downward, the room as silent as a funeral.
“…Okay, how about the ‘Transformation’ event? Anyone?”
Still, no reaction. The classroom remained deathly quiet.
“Ugh, this is tough… The festival’s next week, and we’re nowhere near deciding anything…”
Sistine scratched her head, glancing at Rumia, who was acting as scribe by the blackboard.
Rumia nodded once and addressed the class in a gentle yet surprisingly clear voice.
“Hey, everyone. Glenn-sensei said we could ‘do whatever we want’ for this festival, so why not give it our all together? It’s a great chance, especially for those who didn’t get to participate last year.”
Even so, no one spoke. They avoided eye contact, the atmosphere awkward.
“…It’s pointless, you two.”
Fed up with the stalemate, a bespectacled boy stood from his seat.
His name was Gibul, the class’s second-best student after Sistine.
“Everyone’s intimidated, and no wonder. The other classes are, as usual, sending their top performers. No one wants to fight a battle they know they’ll lose… Right?”
“…But it’s such a rare opportunity,” Sistine started, frowning, ready to argue.
Ignoring her, Gibul pressed on.
“Plus, this time, Her Majesty the Queen is attending our second-year Magic Games Festival as an honored guest. No one wants to make a fool of themselves in front of her.”
His snide tone hit the mark, perfectly capturing the class’s prevailing sentiment.
“Anyway, Sistine, isn’t it time we got serious about this?”
“I am trying to decide seriously, you know?”
“Haha, good one. You’re seriously suggesting we give deadweight a chance to compete?”
Gibul smirked sarcastically, casting a glance over the class.
“Look at this. Your absurd idea has made even the qualified high-achievers feel awkward and shrink back… Enough already, don’t you think?”
“I-I didn’t mean it like that! And calling everyone dead weight is—!”
Sistine’s brows shot up, her voice rising.
Gibul brushed her off smoothly, piling on with unfiltered words.
“Spare me the idealism. Instead, we should fill every event with top scorers like you and me. That’s the only way we stand a chance against the other classes… especially Class one, led by Harley-sensei.”
“Winning isn’t the only point of the festival! Besides, we did that last year, and… it was honestly kind of boring…”
“Winning’s not the point? Boring? What are you talking about?” Gibul scoffed at Sistine’s reasoning. “The Magic Games Festival isn’t about fun. In an academy where we rarely get to test our magical skills against each other, it’s one of the few chances to prove who’s truly the best.”
“That might be true, but…!”
“And don’t forget, alumni—bureaucrats from the Ministry of Magic, members of the Imperial Court Mage Corps—attend as guests. The festival is a prime opportunity for students aiming for those careers to show off. Don’t you think top performers like us deserve more chances to shine?”
“Are you seriously saying that…?” Sistine glared at Gibul, her anger plain.
But Gibul, like usual, continued laying out his argument.
“Besides, the winning class gets the honor of receiving a medal directly from Her Majesty. You understand how valuable that is, don’t you, Sistine? So stop being stubborn and let’s fill the roster with top scorers. It’s for the good of the class.”
“Gibul, you need to—!”
The atmosphere was about to turn ugly. Unable to hold back any longer, Sistine was ready to shout—when suddenly…
Thud-thud-thud! The sound of running footsteps echoed from the hallway. The next moment, BAM! The classroom’s front door flew open with a dramatic crash.
“I heard everything! Leave this to me, the great Glenn Radars-sensei-sama!”
His robe, worn without sleeves and flapping pointlessly, billowed behind him.
There, in the open doorway, stood Glenn—pointing forward, chest puffed out unnaturally, body twisted, striking a bizarre pose with a sidelong glance.
“…Here comes trouble,” Sistine muttered, clutching her head with a sigh.
The class, stunned by his incomprehensible entrance, stared as Glenn shoved Sistine aside and took the podium.
“Stop fighting, you lot. Quarrels lead nowhere… Above all—”
Glenn flashed a dazzling, radiant smile.
“Aren’t we comrades, fighting together toward the single goal of victory?”
(—Gross.)
In that moment, the class’s thoughts aligned perfectly. It was a tragically unified sentiment.
“Well, anyway. Looks like you’re struggling to decide on events, huh?”
Completely oblivious to the awkward atmosphere, Glenn carried on at his own pace, as usual.
“Geez, what’s with you? Got no motivation? The other classes already picked their events and are training for next week’s festival. Man, talk about a gap in commitment.”
“You’re the one with no motivation!” Sistine snapped, unable to let his gall slide. “When I asked you about the festival the other day, you said, ‘Do whatever you want!’ Why are you acting all involved now!?”
“…Huh?” Glenn blinked, genuinely baffled. “Did I say that? Honestly, I don’t remember.”
“Ugh… You were just brushing it off and not listening at all, weren’t you…?”
Sistine collapsed onto the desk, drained by Glenn’s typical behavior.
“Whatever, doesn’t matter. Since you can’t decide on your own, I, your supreme commander and ultra-charismatic magic instructor, will use my decisive genius strategies to assign your events. Let me be clear—”
Glenn’s eyes blazed with ambition and fervor as he declared grandly.
“With me in charge, we’re going for the win. I’ll lead you to victory because of it I’m building the team for that and here will be no playing around in this. So, you all get ready.”
A murmur rippled through the class. This fiery passion was unimaginable from the usually lethargic Glenn, and the students exchanged glances.
“Hey, White Cat, hand me the event list. Rumia, sorry, but write down the names and events I call out on the blackboard.”
“Don’t call me a white cat!” Sistine grumbled, handing over the list.
“Yes, understood, Sensei,” Rumia said, readying her chalk.
“Hmm…” Glenn scanned the list of events and rules with a serious gaze.
“Hey, White Cat, are the events the same every year?”
“No. Except for things like ‘Team Battle,’ they rarely repeat exactly. New events get added out of nowhere, and even familiar ones often have different rules…”
“I see. So it’s partly about testing students’ adaptability. In that case… Hmm…”
Sistine glanced at Glenn’s focus, letting out a small sigh.
(Seriously, why’s he suddenly so motivated?)
Glenn, after many twists and turns, had become this class’s instructor. While he delivered high-quality lessons, he showed no interest in his own magical research, was lazy, and even mocked the sanctity of magic with problematic remarks—a failure of a mage and a hopeless human. That was the academy’s consensus about him.
But Sistine knew better. Beneath his deadbeat exterior, Glenn could risk his life for others when it mattered—a passionate soul.
Because she knew this side of him, Sistine nagged him constantly but could never fully give up on him. This time, too, she found his sudden drive rather endearing.
(But… his timing’s awful…)
Sistine felt a twinge of bitterness.
Glenn had said he’d go all out to win.
In the Magic Games Festival, going all out meant benching average students and overusing the class’s top scorers across all events—the standard, predictable strategy.
(Ugh… Did he have to get motivated now?)
Sistine was, in fact, among the top five students in her year. Naturally, she’d followed that strategy in last year’s first-year festival, but… it wasn’t fun. It was far from the stories her father told her. Back then, the whole class participated, everyone reveling together in a true festival. But that tradition had faded away.
So when Glenn told them to “do whatever,” it felt like a chance.
If everyone joined in, it could be fun.
It could be the lively festival her father described—she’d believed that.
But seeing Glenn’s intense focus on the list, it seemed this year wouldn’t be that festival either.
With a resigned sigh, Sistine was lost in thought when—
“…Alright, got it.”
Glenn looked up, ready to announce the roster.
“Listen up. First, the high-scoring ‘Team Battle’—Sistine, Gibul, and… Kash, you three are in.”
“Huh?” The class tilted their heads in unison.
The ‘Team Battle,’ a three-on-three magical combat event, was the festival’s highlight, always featuring each class’s strongest trio.
But by grades, after Sistine and Gibul, Wendy should’ve been next. So, class students' confusion was obvious as Kash, who ranked below her was chosen?
Kash himself seemed baffled by the odd choice.
Ignoring the class’s confusion, Glenn continued.
“Next… ‘Code-Breaking.’ Wendy’s the obvious pick. ‘Flight Race’… Rod and Kai are perfect. ‘Mental Defense’… Yeah, Rumia’s the only choice. Then, ‘Detection & Unlocking’ for—‘Granzia’ is—”
As he listed names, the students noticed something. No one was being reused across multiple events. Even for high-scoring events, Glenn casually assigned lower-ranked students over top performers. It dawned on them: Glenn planned to have all forty students compete in at least one event.
Wasn’t he supposed to go all out to win? No playing around?
As the class puzzled over his intentions—
“—And finally, ‘Transformation’ goes to Lynn. Alright, that fills all the slots.”
Glenn’s roster was complete. Not a single student was left out. All forty would participate in at least one event.
“Any questions?”
“I absolutely object!”
Amid the murmuring, Wendy, a prim twin-tailed girl with an aristocratic air, stood abruptly, refuting with a sharp tone.
“Why am I excluded from ‘Team Battle’!? My grades are better than Kash-san’s!”
“Well, about that…” Glenn scratched his temple, looking reluctant. “You’ve got tons of spells, magical knowledge, and mana capacity, sure, but you’re a bit… clumsy. You’re weak to sudden accidents and sometimes flub your chants.”
“Wha—!?”
“So, while Kash knows fewer spells, his athleticism and quick judgment make him stronger for ‘Team Battle.’ Sorry if that stings. But for ‘Code-Breaking’? You are the only one I can think of being good because your [Read • Language] skill is unmatched in this class. I’m counting on you to rack up points there.”
“Well… if you put it that way… Your phrasing irks me, but…”
Unable to argue or stay mad, Wendy sat back down grudgingly.
Others, curious about their assignments, raised their hands to question Glenn.
“[Levitate • Fly] and [Gravity • Control] are both gravity-based black magic, and all black magic—manipulating motion and energy—shares the same roots. Rod and Kai, you can handle it.”
“Teresa, during that alchemy lab, you caught a falling flask with [Psy • Telekinesis] on reflex, right? You don’t realize it, but you’ve got a knack for telekinetic white magic, especially remote manipulation.”
“‘Granzia’ is more about teamwork than individual skill. You three, always with a strong bond, are probably the best fit. Your synchronized chanting’s solid, too.”
Glenn answered each query with reasoned explanations.
In short, he’d crafted a roster that maximized each student’s subtle strengths, even those that usually went unnoticed.
Why he’d suddenly gotten motivated was unclear, and it felt inefficient for someone claiming to aim for victory, but Glenn seemed to have devised what he believed was the strongest lineup.
(And… this is…)
Sistine looked at the blackboard’s list of names. The assignments leveraged each student’s strengths, and even when outside their expertise, they were tasks they could handle through adaptation. This required deep knowledge of the students’ abilities and weaknesses—something only possible by observing them closely. Despite acting disinterested in his students, Glenn had clearly been paying attention.
(He’s such a hopeless guy… but every now and then, he does stuff like this…)
Sistine watched Glenn answer questions with a faint, fond smile.
“—Alright, any other questions?”
Glenn scanned the room.
No one had objections to his roster anymore.
“So, we good with this?”
Inwardly smirking, Glenn addressed the class.
(Phew, that went well…)
Glenn’s goal was simple: win. He had to win. Winning meant the special bonus, and the bonus meant survival. Starving was not an option. Celica, cold and ruthless, wouldn’t lift a finger to help.
To win, he’d needed to push through the optimal lineup, even if it meant being forceful. Letting students pick events for fun would’ve been disastrous. He’d had to be cunning.
So far, his primary goal was on track. For this class of forty to aim for victory, his proposed lineup was undoubtedly the best.
(Heh… Call it cunning if you want, but victory’s all that matters. Winners write history… Though, if I could, I’d reuse Sistine for every event…)
He’d tailored the roster to maximize strengths, but he knew it wouldn’t bridge the gap with top performers’ raw skill. It only made them competitive, a small comfort. To truly win, he’d need to stack every event with high-achievers.
(…But that’d be cheating, right? Oh well, gotta make do with these forty and maximize our odds…)
As Glenn mulled this over—
“Geez, Sensei, can you cut it out already?”
One student stood slowly. Gibul.
“What’s this about going all out to win? This lineup can’t possibly win.”
“Hm…?”
Could Gibul have a lineup that raised their odds even higher?
If so, Glenn would jump on it. This wasn’t about pride or dignity as an instructor. He was on the brink of starvation.
“Oh? Gibul, you saying you’ve got a better lineup? Alright, let’s hear it.”
“…Sensei, are you seriously saying that?” Gibul snapped, not bothering to hide his irritation. “It’s obvious! Fill every event with top scorers! That’s the tradition every year, and that's what every class does!”
“…Huh?”
Glenn froze.
What? That’s allowed? His thoughts raced as he stood rigid. He’d gravely misunderstood.
(Ohhh, I get it. You can reuse students across multiple events. It’s tradition, everyone does it, huh, wow, really, hmm…)
Hearing this, Glenn mentally pumped his fist.
(Hell yeah… I thought this lineup was already sneaky enough to raise eyebrows, but if that’s the deal, I won’t hold back. I’ll make an even sneakier one…!)
Especially Sistine—he’d work her to the bone. That cheeky white cat was infuriating, but her excellence was undeniable. Infuriatingly excellent. If she competed in multiple events, their victory odds would skyrocket.
“Right… If that’s the case…”
As Glenn started to nod at Gibul’s suggestion—
“What are you talking about, Gibul!? You’re picking a fight with the lineup Sensei worked so hard on!?”
A girl shot back defiantly. Sistine.
(Wait—why are you arguing with Gibul-kun!?)
Unaware of Glenn’s rising panic, Sistine turned to the class, her expression earnest.
“Everyone, look! Sensei thought carefully about everyone’s strengths and weaknesses to make sure we all get a chance to shine!”
Her passionate plea stirred the class.
“Now that you mention it… Yeah, you’re right…” Whispers spread.
(No…Don’t get convinced…Please…)
“Sensei put in all this effort, and you’re still hesitating!? Scared of looking bad in front of Her Majesty? That’s the real embarrassment! You’d be the ones unable to face her!”
(I don’t care about embarrassment or facing her, just stop talking, please…)
“What’s the point of a victory where only top scorers compete? Sensei said he’d go all out, that he’d lead us to victory! That only means something if we all do it together!”
Then, turning to Glenn, Sistine said.
“Right, Sensei!?”
Her face, rare for addressing Glenn, was bright with a genuine smile.
“Y-Yeah…”
It was all he could manage. Denying it would make him a monster.
“Y-Yeah, Sistine’s got it right…”
“Right… We can do this…”
The class’s mood clearly swung toward Sistine.
(No—I can’t back out now!? Hold on, you lot! This is life-or-death for me! I’ll starve! Don’t you get it, damn it!?)
His last hope was Gibul.
(Come on, don’t give up, Gibul-kun! Shut down White Cat’s nonsense!)
Glenn stared at Gibul desperately, but—
“Hmph, whatever. You’re as stubborn as ever, Sistine… Fine. If that’s the class’s consensus, do what you want.”
Gibul smirked sardonically and sat down.
(You spineless pushover, you herbivore!?)
“Well, let’s see what you’ve got, Sensei.”
(Shut up! I’ve got nothing to show!)
Gibul’s taunting words left Glenn screaming silently.
Then, to Glenn—
“Haha, looks like it’s going your way, Sensei.”
Sistine said this with a chuckle.
(She’s mocking me!? Laughing at me with that smug grin!? And piling on the sarcasm…!?)
To Glenn, her smile looked like the devil’s smirk.
(No way… Did she figure out my plan and do this on purpose!? What a jerk, that White Cat…!)
“Well, since you finally got motivated and worked so hard, we’ll do our best, too. Look forward to it, Sensei.”
“Y-Yeah… I’m counting on you…”
Sistine, unusually cheerful, contrasted with Glenn’s strained smile.
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“Something… feels off about those two, like they aren't on the same page, wonder why?”
Rumia watched the pair with a wry smile.
*
At the Alzano Imperial Magic Academy, the week before the Magic Games Festival was designated as a practice period for the event.
Specifically, all classes during this time were condensed into three periods—first and second in the morning, and third in the afternoon—leaving the after-school hours free for students to practice magic under their instructor’s supervision.
“Ugh…”
After school, in the academy’s courtyard, surrounded by coniferous trees and blanketed with lush grass, Glenn slouched against a tree, sitting with a weary expression. He gazed distantly at his class practicing for the festival.
Some students chanted spells, practicing flight in the air.
Others used telekinetic magic, playing catch with objects.
A few fired offensive spells, shooting lightning at the trees.
Across the courtyard, Sistine and Rumia sat on a bench, poring over spellbooks with serious faces, scribbling on parchment. Several classmates surrounded them, discussing something—likely fine-tuning magical formulas for the competition.
Glenn’s class was quietly buzzing with anticipation for the festival a week away.
“Geez, so enthusiastic… Completely clueless about my feelings…”
A stark contrast to yesterday’s fiery zeal, Glenn’s mood today was rock-bottom.
He’d seen it, after all—the formidable rosters of the other classes.
Using the summoning spell [Call • Familiar] to conjure a rat familiar for scouting, he’d confirmed his suspicions, the other classes, as expected, were stacking their lineups with the year’s top students, reusing them across multiple events. While his class’s specialized strengths might keep them from being totally outclassed, the raw power gap was undeniable. Even optimistically, their chances of winning were slim.
Glenn’s fate of starvation was rapidly becoming no laughing matter.
“Damn it, that’s unfair… Using only the best students? Are they all just obsessed with winning!? There’s gotta be something more important than victory, right!?”
The fact that he’d planned to stack his own roster with top scorers had already vanished from his memory.
“Tch… Should I just force a roster change now? Use my authority as instructor…”
The devil’s whisper tempted him from deep within.
But then, Glenn glanced at his students.
They looked like they were having fun. Yesterday, they’d been hesitant, intimidated, but deep down, they all wanted to participate, even a little. Now, they were lively, eagerly practicing for their events.
The sight faintly stirred a corner of Glenn’s old memories, sparking a realization.
“The Magic Games Festival… Oh, yeah, now that I think about it… Back when I was a student here, there was something like that, wasn’t there…?”
Watching his students practice joyfully, Glenn finally remembered. He’d completely forgotten about the academy’s traditional Magic Games Festival until this very moment.
“Well, no wonder. After graduating, I went through some insanely intense years… And I never even participated in the festival, not once…”
His thoughts drifted to his time as a student, years ago.
Back then, the toxic custom of selecting festival participants based on grades was already taking root. At the time, only below-average students were cut, and Glenn, being one of them, was naturally excluded. In hindsight, being three or four years younger than his peers might’ve fueled some clique-ish resentment, too.
So, he’d always watched his classmates revel in the festival from a distance, alone. It was a dull, lonely memory. After repeating that for a couple of years, by his third, he’d lost all interest in the festival.
It was only natural he’d forgotten such a grim memory. If he hadn’t been tasked with overseeing his class for this festival, he might never have recalled it.
“Tch… Digging up stuff I didn’t wanna remember…”
Grumbling, he turned his gaze back to his students, diligently practicing.
“Pfft… What a bunch of amateurs… Yeah, no way, this is hopeless, totally hopeless…”
They probably wouldn’t win. A week wasn’t enough to change that.
And yet—
Not a single student was standing alone in a corner, watching enviously.
“Ugh… Whatever.”
Glenn scratched his head roughly and stood up.
“…Guess it’s fine.”
Muttering to no one in particular, his expression seemed oddly refreshed.
“For now, I gotta scrounge up some food. The special bonus is a pipe dream, but I’m not starving. Isn’t there a Shirotte tree around here…? Its twigs could tide me over until payday…”
He hadn’t eaten anything but water since yesterday. With no other choice, Glenn started toward the academy’s forest to forage for edible plants or twigs when—
“Quit acting like you own the place! Cut it out already!”
A sudden, heated shout hit his ears.
“…What’s that?”
Glancing over lazily, Glenn saw a group of his students arguing with students from another class in a corner of the courtyard.
“…Hey, what’s going on now?”
Unable to ignore it, Glenn sighed and headed over. The students were on the verge of a brawl, the tension palpable.
“Sensei! These guys showed up late and started acting all high and mighty—!”
Kash, one of Glenn’s students, explained in fury.
“Shut up! You Class two losers are hogging the space with your mob! We’re practicing next, so get lost!”
A boy from the other class, equally worked up, spat back.
“What’d you say—!?”
“Alright, alright, enough~”
Glenn grabbed Kash and the other boy by the scruff of their necks, forcibly pulling them apart.
“Gah… My neck… Ow…”
“Ugh… Can’t… breathe…”
“Geez, fighting over something so stupid? You guys have way too short a fuse.”
Confirming they’d calmed down, Glenn let go.
The two, freed, coughed and collapsed to the ground.
“Let’s see… You lot, with those badges… You’re from Class one, right? Here to practice, too?”
“Uh… Y-Yes, that’s right… Harley-sensei told us to secure the space…”
The Class one students, cowed by Glenn effortlessly subduing two larger boys with brute strength, lost their earlier bravado and answered meekly.
“Hmm, got it…”
Scratching his head, Glenn looked around.
“Well, yeah, we might be taking up too much space… My bad. I’ll have everyone shift over a bit, so let’s call it even, yeah?”
“If you’ll clear some space, then… sure…”
The situation seemed to be resolving amicably, and the watching students breathed a sigh of relief—but then—
“What are you doing, Kreis!? I told you to secure the space! It’s still not clear!?”
A furious voice rang out as a man in his mid-twenties approached. He wore a robe emblazoned with the owl crest of an academy instructor, his bespectacled face sharp and neurotic. His name was—
“Hey, Yurei-senpai, what’s up?”
“It’s Harley! Harley! Not Yurei or Harem! Harley Astley! Glenn Radars, how many times do you need to butcher my name before you’re satisfied!? You don’t have any intention of remembering it, do you!?”
This exchange was clearly a routine between them.
Glenn’s casual greeting was met with Harley charging at him, livid.
“…So? Uh, Har… something-senpai, your class is practicing for the festival now, too?”
“You really don’t want to remember my name, do you?”
Harley’s fists trembled, but he pressed on, too exasperated to dwell.
“Hmph, fine. Festival practice, you say? Obviously. My class will take the championship this year, too. Under my guidance, anything less than victory is unacceptable! Her Majesty herself is attending, bestowing a medal on the winning class. I’m the only one worthy of that honor!”
“Haha! Wow, that’s some serious passion! Good luck, Senpai!”
Harley clicked his tongue irritably at Glenn’s clownish attitude.
“More importantly, Glenn Radars. I heard you’re having your entire class participate in some event or another for the festival?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, that’s how it turned out… Not exactly my choice, but yep.”
“Hah! Throwing the fight before it starts? Setting up an excuse for losing? Or are you just terrified of the class I’m leading?”
Glenn scratched his head, looking troubled.
For some reason, this Har-whatever guy seemed to have it out for him. He always came at Glenn like this, one-sidedly picking fights. Glenn hadn’t exactly been on his good side from the start, but it felt like the hostility had ramped up since Glenn, back as a part-time instructor, had gotten serious about teaching. The reason? No clue.
Whatever, best to brush him off as usual.
“Well, maybe you’re right! I mean, Har… something-senpai’s class is packed with the year’s top students. Geez, you guys might as well have the championship locked down! Man, I’m jealous of that medal from Her Majesty.”
Harley gnashed his teeth at Glenn’s relentless clowning.
“Tch… Pathetic. Fine. Just clear the practice space already.”
“Yeah, yeah, on it. How about we free up to that tree over there? That enough?”
Glenn proposed a division that generously accounted for the space Harley’s class would need, but—
“What are you talking about? I’m telling your entire Class two to get the hell out of this courtyard.”
Harley’s unilateral demand froze Glenn’s students in place.
Even Glenn, grimacing, pressed his temple and protested.
“Senpai… Come on, that’s too much. That’s just tyranny.”
“Tyranny, you say?”
Harley spat the word.
“If you were actually serious, I’d consider splitting the space fairly for practice. But you’re not serious at all, are you? I mean, you’re using those bottom-tier students… that dead weight!”
“—!?”
“A class with no intention of winning, bunching up with useless weaklings and hogging space, is nothing but a nuisance! Get it? Then scram!”
At his cruel words, Glenn’s students shrank, their faces darkening…
—No way we’d let a failure like you compete in the prestigious festival, Glenn.
—Get lost. You’re just dead weight!
Their dejected figures somehow overlapped with someone, somewhere, from long ago…
“Ugh… Man, today’s just one bad memory after another… Geez, enough already…”
Muttering cryptically, Glenn ignored the confused students around him and thrust a finger at Harley’s nose. His sleeveless robe flared dramatically.
“If I may, Senpai. Our class? This is our strongest lineup. Not serious? Throwing the fight? Hah, don’t make me laugh! Of course we’re aiming for it—the championship. So, you’d better not let your guard down, or we’ll take you out.”
Grinning cockily, Glenn radiated an odd intensity.
Overwhelmed by his strange aura, Harley broke into a cold sweat.
“…Tch, talk is cheap, isn’t it? But fact is, your class is wasting talents like Sistine and Gibul…!”
“Oh? So… Har-something-senpai, you’re saying our lineup is just some stunt or whim, is that it…?”
“Y-Yes… What else could it be!? Reusing top scorers is the festival’s standard! It’s not just my class—every class does it every year!”
“Kukuku… Seems not just you, but every instructor in this academy is a clueless incompetent. To think… you actually believe stacking top scorers guarantees victory?Fuhaha! Ridiculous!”
After a villainous cackle, Glenn boldly declared to Harley.
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“Got it, Senpai? We’re going for the win—all of us. In pursuit of a single goal, it doesn’t matter who’s the star or the dead weight. Everyone’s for one, and one’s for everyone. That unity? It’s the ultimate strategy. Don’t you get it?”
“Grr… You think such irrational idealism will actually work…!?”
Harley’s retort was cut off as Glenn puffed out his chest, dismissing him confidently.
“Three months’ salary.”
“Wh-What…!?”
“My class is gonna win, I bet three months’ salary on this.”
Glenn’s declaration sent a shockwave through Harley and the surrounding students.
Especially Glenn’s class, who stared at him, dumbfounded.
“Are you insane!?”
“So, what’ll it be, Senpai? You in? Three months’ pay is a big deal, right? If you lose, your magic research might stall for a while… huh?”
“Guh… Urgh…!”
For instructors, salary was critical. Professors received hefty research grants from the academy, but lecturers got mere crumbs. To advance their magical studies and make a name for themselves, lecturers had to fund research out of their own pockets. Despite seeming well-paid, magic instructors were perpetually strapped for cash.
Naturally, Harley wanted to avoid risking three months’ salary. Losing that would undeniably delay his research.
He didn’t expect to lose, but competitions were unpredictable. Anything could happen.
And then—there was Glenn’s bizarrely confident expression, his smug demeanor.
Did he have some kind of plan—?
“Tch… Fine!”
But with students watching, Harley couldn’t back down.
“I’ll bet three months’ salary that my class wins!”
Sweating profusely, Harley declared it with venom.
“Heh… As expected, Senpai. That’s some guts. I like it. That’s the spirit… Heh heh heh… Thanks for the easy pickings, Senpai.”
Glenn grinned cockily, exuding effortless confidence.
“Damn it…! You’ll regret crossing me…!”
Harley glared at Glenn with burning resentment.
The students watched the exchange with bated breath.
And then—
(…I screwed up—!)
Maintaining a flawless smirk on the surface, Glenn was clutching his head in panic internally.
(They insulted my students, I got pissed for some reason, and I went and did it! But seriously, what now? No joke, three months without food? I can’t survive that! I’ll die! I’m not some ascetic monk from the East…!)
In short, despite his grandiose bravado, Glenn was utterly terrified.
A plan? Of course, he had none.
“You bastard, Glenn Radars…! A third-rate, third-tier mage with no pride or dignity as a magician, daring to mock me…!”
(Whoa, he’s pissed… Like, really pissed… Haha, crap, what do I do!?)
Glenn deeply regretted letting his temper get the better of him in a war of words.
(Alright… Time to grovel. It’s my only option. If I apologize sincerely now, he’ll forgive me—behold! My ultimate unique spell, [Moonsault Jumping Dogeza]—!)
As Glenn prepared to chuck his pride, shame, and dignity into the stratosphere, a voice intervened.
“That’s enough, Harley-sensei.”
A clear, resolute voice cut Glenn off, silencing Harley’s tirade.
“Insult Glenn-sensei any further, and I won’t forgive you.”
The speaker was Sistine, who’d appeared out of nowhere.
(What kinda timing is this, you damn White Cat—!?)
Glenn wanted to cry.
“You—Sistine Fibel!? Of the prestigious Fibel family… Tch!”
Harley visibly faltered at Sistine’s intervention.
“Your claim to this practice space has no legitimacy whatsoever, and your insults toward Glenn-sensei are unjust! If you persist, I’ll raise the issue of an instructor’s unfit character to the academy’s higher-ups. Are we clear?”
“Guh…! You spoiled brat, riding your parents’ coattails…!”
Sistine met Harley’s obvious loss of composure with a confident smile.
“There’s no need for such petty disputes here. Glenn-sensei won’t run or hide. In one week, at the Magic Games Festival, he’ll face your class fair and square…”
With a gleeful, expectant expression, Sistine turned to Glenn.
“Right, Sensei!?”
“Y-Yeah…”
It was all he could say. Denying it would make him a outright villain.
“Damn it, you’ll pay for this, Glenn Radars! In the team events, I’ll crush your class first! Wash your neck and wait!”
(Why does the bar keep getting raised? Someone help…)
Shedding silent tears internally—
“Come back the day before yesterday.”
Glenn could only point his thumb down, mimicking a throat-slitting gesture with a glare. Sometimes, you just had to go with the flow.
Harley stormed off, snorting and fuming.
One crisis averted, but left with a massive ticking bomb, Glenn’s shoulders slumped.
“…I’m kinda impressed.”
Sistine spoke to him. The silver-haired girl brushed her hair back, looking off to the side. Was that a blush on her cheeks? Maybe a cold?
“I didn’t expect you to go that far to defend our practice space… I knew you’d put yourself on the line when it counted, but… well, you’re usually you, so seeing this side of you again… it’s, um…”
“It’s not like I did it for you guys…”
“Hehe, being modest?”
It wasn’t modesty—it was the unvarnished truth.
“Staking a prize to compete with one’s skills is the essence of a mage… Yeah, you’re a true mage at heart, Sensei!”
(Why’s she so happy about this…)
“Leave it to us, Sensei! You believe in us this much, so we absolutely won’t lose! Right, everyone?”
Sistine’s rallying cry was met with vigorous nods from the class.
(Where do you guys get that confidence…? Must be nice having nothing to lose, damn it.)
It was entirely his own fault, but Glenn was fully committed to pretending otherwise.
Sistine, unusually cheerful, flashed Glenn a bright smile.
Glenn returned a strained, resentful grimace.
“Something… feels off about those two. I wonder why?”
Rumia watched the pair with a wry smile.
The practice days for the Magic Games Festival flew by.
Despite the circumstances, everyone wanted to participate in the festival, and Glenn’s (apparent) consideration for his students (or so it seemed) had unexpectedly rallied them. The class’s morale was remarkably high, and they threw themselves into practicing and studying magic to win. Their insecurities about facing other classes’ top students, hesitation, or their fear of embarrassing themselves before the queen is gone and in exchange of that a fierce determination to win has taken root in their mind.
Everyone was giving their all for this once-in-a-lifetime second-year Magic Games Festival.
Meanwhile, Glenn matched their enthusiasm (because he couldn’t just sit and starve). With an almost desperate fervor, he coached their practice and studies.
“Let’s see… ‘Granzia’… It’s three-person teams this time. With one team per class, that’s ten teams total. But the festival schedule doesn’t allow for round-robins or tournaments, so it’s a single match against an opponent drawn by lot, with the point differential determining the class’s score… Hmm.”
Glenn muttered, poring over the festival’s rulebook.
That day, in the classroom, he was strategizing with the students assigned to ‘Granzia’—a traditional mage game of territorial barrier control—for Alf, Bix, and Sisa.
“If that’s the setup… Alright, listen up. Use conditional activation formulas.”
Something clicked, and Glenn looked up from the rulebook, addressing the trio.
“You get that ‘Granzia’ hinges on how fast you can construct barriers, right? So, I had some familiars scout the other classes… and, no surprise, they’re all faster at barrier construction than you. They’re training to max out their construction speed. If you face them head-on, they’ll overrun your territory in no time.”
The three exchanged glances, wondering what to do.
“That’s where conditional activation comes in. It’s a passive magic activation method that triggers a spell automatically when preset conditions are met. We’re building our strategy around it.”
“Conditional activation formulas…?”
The students grimaced at the term.
Mages didn’t exactly have fond associations with conditional activation.
“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t like it,” Glenn said. “As I taught in Magical Tactics class, conditional activation formulas have a notorious history, used for curses and restrictions—like ‘Do X, or you die.’ But forget that for now.”
Regrouping, Glenn dove back into explanation.
“Let’s review conditional activation. Once the formula’s set, activation is automatic, and since it’s in a pre-activation standby state without mana excitation, it’s nearly impossible for opponents to detect. The downside? You can’t control the timing—it depends on the opponent’s actions.”
Glenn began sketching the strategy on the blackboard.
“For three-person ‘Granzia,’ the standard is two offense and one defense: two build barriers to claim territory, one disrupts the enemy’s. But you three? All defense. Focus solely on ‘Field • Break’ to destroy enemy territory. Breaking is easier than building.”
“But that won’t win…”
“Yeah, at best, we’d just tie…”
“You make them think you’re aiming for a tie.”
Glenn scratched his head, reluctant to resort to such a sneaky tactic.
“I hate to say it, but to them, you’re underdogs. Their pride won’t let them settle for a tie, and since point differential determines the class score, they’ll want a crushing victory. If you drag it into a stalemate, they’ll inevitably go for an [Absolute • Field.]”
“You mean the barrier that takes tons of effort to build but can’t be touched once it’s up?”
“Exactly. And they’ll probably make it bigger than necessary to rack up points. Here’s the plan: you set up a conditional activation barrier that triggers when ‘the enemy constructs an [Absolute • Field] worth a certain point threshold,’ designed to dominate a massive area…all while disrupting their efforts. They’ll never suspect underdogs playing for a tie are secretly aiming for a one-shot, point-heavy upset… Probably.”
Glenn’s voice wavered slightly, betraying a hint of doubt.
“No way, a Silent Field Counter!?”
“That’s way too advanced for us…”
“But it’s your only shot. Going straight-up? You’ll lose 100%.”
Faced with harsh reality, the students fell silent.
“That said, if they stay calm, you’re done. If they play it safe and build a smaller [Absolute • Field], the condition won’t trigger, and you’re out. Setting a small field as the condition won’t yield enough points either—the activation’s effect scales with the condition’s difficulty. If time’s short, they can easily overtake you.”
Scritch-scritch. Glenn scribbled a rough diagram of the strategy on the blackboard.
“The key is forcing them to rely on a big move by quickly destroying their normal fields. Your success hinges on mastering [Field • Break]. Honestly, just drill that. Got it?”
“G-Got it, Sensei!”
Sistine and Rumia watched Glenn from a distance.
“He’s really into this… He’s seriously planning to win with all forty of us…”
“Hey, Sisti, doesn’t Sensei look kinda cool when he’s so focused like that?”
Sistine, visibly impressed, was met with Rumia’s delighted smile.
“…Not really. He’s such a slacker normally, so he better get serious sometimes, or we’d be in trouble.”
“Fufu, so dishonest.”
“…W-What’s that supposed to mean?”
Still, one thing puzzled them both.
“But… why does Glenn-sensei look more haggard by the day?”
“Hmm… Maybe a cold?”
It was the greatest mystery surrounding this Magic Games Festival debacle.
And just like that, a week flew by.
Today was the day of the Alzano Imperial Magic Academy’s Magic Games Festival.
And the day Her Majesty, Queen Alicia VII of the Alzano Empire, would visit as an honored guest—
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