The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower
Chapter 23: The Star Instructor, Oscar (2)
In the stunned silence of the lecture hall, bound by the spell, the students' minds raced as fast as their wide-open eyes.
‘A spell that blocks all sound in the area? Could it be 『Silence』?’
‘If it’s another spell, then... does that mean a mere Level 2 mage created a similar spell?!’
‘...Unbelievable. It's more plausible that he just cast 『Silence』.’
The man standing at the podium made them feel the weight of his presence anew, his overwhelming skill undeniable despite his supposedly lower level.
Oscar Crucian.
A man once courted by every magic tower in the world, someone countless archmages had wished to take on as their apprentice.
The greatest genius in history, they said—a genius among geniuses.
"...Perhaps," He finally spoke, eyes briefly scanning the attendance sheet.
His voice was calm and gentle, carrying an inexplicable persuasiveness.
"Some of you might be disappointed that I’m your lecturer."
Nods followed.
The students couldn’t make any sound, but their thoughts were clear: they had expected a high-ranking mage, maybe at least an intermediate one, as their instructor.
‘Sure, he was once called a genius... but that’s in the past.’
‘Even if he’s a senior, isn’t it a bit much for a mage weaker than us to be our lecturer?’
Seeing their conflicted expressions, Oscar spoke the words they were eager to hear.
"If my class doesn’t meet your expectations, you’re free not to attend. You’re no longer academy students under your professors' control."
The students’ faces brightened.
Contrary to the rumors, he seemed to make quite reasonable decisions.
But Oscar wasn’t done yet.
From his pocket, he pulled out an hourglass and placed it on the podium.
"However, there’s one condition."
The soft thunk of the hourglass hitting the desk was the only sound.
"Just as aging doesn’t make one an adult, graduating from the academy and joining the magic tower doesn’t make one a true mage. You need skills to match the title."
"Proving your skill is simple. Just say you won’t attend my class. You have ten minutes."
With that, he flipped the hourglass.
The grains of sand began to fall, slowly but steadily.
Some students opened their mouths in disbelief, while others glared silently in frustration.
‘Is he insane?’
‘...This is basically forcing us to stay.’
‘At least lift the spell so we can speak.’
But a few perceptive mages caught on, their eyes gleaming with realization.
‘Ah... this is a test.’
‘He's a Level 2 mage. I don’t know the principle behind this spell, but...’
‘It shouldn’t be beyond our ability to break.’
‘If we can’t undo the spell and speak for ourselves, he’s telling us to shut up and take the class.’
Quickly understanding the situation, the mages began analyzing the spell, each employing their unique approaches to decipher the『Sound Binding』spell.
‘Let’s see what you’ve got.’
Oscar crossed his legs and leisurely observed his students.
‘I deliberately left weak points in the spell’s structure, but that doesn’t make it easy to break.’
Frankly, a Level 3 mage with no real talent wouldn’t stand a chance of undoing it by luck alone.
If anyone could break this spell on their own, they would be considered at least a prodigy.
However, as the hourglass neared its end, no one had succeeded.
Oscar, realizing the current state of the tower’s mages, let out a bitter chuckle.
‘They’ve got a long way to go.’
Just as he thought so—
"I-I did it!"
A voice finally broke through.
A boy raised both hands in triumph.
His small frame was noticeably shorter than his peers.
Oscar’s eyes sparkled as he immediately recognized him.
"Damian Proud. The only son of the Proud Count’s household, one of the most prestigious mage families.’
"Congratulations."
"Hmph. It was so easy I had to slow down to make it interesting."
"Oh, impressive."
Oscar replied dryly, snapping his fingers.
Snap!
The tightly bound spell unraveled, and sound returned to the world.
"Huh? I can hear again."
"Wait, is the time up?"
"Darn it! I was almost there!"
The lecture hall buzzed with activity, but Oscar stood up, silencing the room with his presence alone.
"Quiet, everyone."
Despite using no magic, the room fell silent as if by command.
In just ten minutes, this supposedly low-level mage had seized control of the room.
"The only one to pass the test is Damian Proud."
"He really broke the spell?"
"I figured. Annoying as he is, the guy’s got skill."
Damian brushed off their envious stares and said,
"So, I passed. I don’t have to attend your class anymore, right?"
"Of course. Do as you like."
But now, being dismissed so easily left an unexpected sense of regret.
‘...If this is just the introduction, how advanced will the actual lectures be?’
Where else could a beginner mage get hands-on experience with spell structures of this caliber?
Moreover, the problem-solving process had been incredibly engaging.
For once, he had immersed himself fully in magic, free from distractions.
But having already declared he wouldn’t attend, it felt awkward to take it back now.
Watching Damian’s conflicted expression, Oscar smirked.
"Still, as the sole person to pass, you deserve a reward. I’ll teach you a spell. Come up to the podium."
"...A spell?"
Even Damian couldn’t help but perk up his ears at that.
After all, he’d just experienced firsthand how unique Oscar’s magic could be.
"Ahem, this is just a fair reward for my effort..."
Pretending to be reluctant, Damian descended the steps and approached the podium.
With a curt tone, he asked,
"So, what spell are you teaching me?"
"Damian Proud, what’s your favorite basic spell?"
"Wind Cutter."
The answer came without a second of hesitation.
"Show me."
"...Fine."
Clicking his tongue, Damian raised his hand, and in an instant, a blade of wind formed in his palm.
It took the shape of a dagger, simple yet sharp and efficient.
The other students murmured in amazement.
"That looks way better than my Wind Cutter."
"The casting speed, the structure—it’s flawless."
"Well, Wind Cutter is his signature move."
"With a blade that sharp, it could cut through almost anything."
As Damian lowered his hand, the Wind Cutter began orbiting him like a satellite.
"There, happy?"
"Hmm."
Oscar nodded after briefly examining his Wind Cutter.
"Good. Today, I’m going to teach you the spell Wind Cutter."
"......Excuse me, but are your eyes just for show? Can’t you see these things floating around me?"
"Sorry, but that’s not a Wind Cutter by my standards. At best, it’s a half-baked version."
A half-baked spell? Damian’s eyebrow twitched at the remark.
"...You’re making me curious now. Care to explain exactly what’s so wrong with my Wind Cutter?"
He looked ready to challenge Oscar to a duel if he didn’t get a satisfactory answer.
"If you’re curious, I’ll tell you. Listen carefully. Your Wind Cutter has two major flaws."
Oscar extended his hand and grabbed the Wind Cutter barehanded.
"W-what are you...!"
Who in their right mind would grab a Wind Cutter with their bare hand?
Damian imagined Oscar bleeding profusely as—
Whoosh!
The Wind Cutter, which had been exuding a fierce energy, dissipated as if it were a mere illusion.
Everyone held their breath, staring at the platform.
"...Huh?"
A deflated sound escaped Damian’s lips.
Wind Cutter was his signature spell.
It made no sense for it to dissipate so effortlessly, caught barehanded no less.
‘And he wasn’t even infusing his hand with mana?’
Damian knew because he had seen it up close.
So, how?
As questions swirled in his mind, Oscar asked:
"Damian, what is wind?"
"...What?"
"Exactly what I said. What do you think wind is?"
Damian flinched at Oscar’s calm, piercing gaze.
His eyes seemed to exude the wisdom of an elder, reminiscent of Damian’s own grandfather.
"Uh, wind is... moving air, right?"
"Correct. Wind is moving air."
Water is still water, and fire remains fire even when it flickers.
But wind is only called wind when air moves and flows constantly.
Oscar’s eyes softened.
"That’s why what you created isn’t a Wind Cutter. At best, it’s more of an Air Cutter."
"...Ah!"
Something clicked, and Damian let out a gasp of realization.
"Remember this. The White Tower specializes in wind-based magic. In other words, our spells must flow constantly. Otherwise, they’ll collapse as easily as just now."
Just as stagnant water rots, magic formed of unmoving air is inherently fragile.
Damian, shaken, pressed on.
"...What’s the second flaw?"
"You’re using more mana than necessary to cast the spell. It’s causing unnecessary mana expenditure."
Damian couldn’t help but be impressed.
Oscar had pinpointed the exact flaw he himself had vaguely sensed.
"How... how did you figure all that out from seeing the spell once?"
"Let’s just say I have a good sense for these things."
Once a mage reaches a certain level, they can glean a lot just by observing another’s magic—personality, habits, even hints of their past.
"For example, being from the Proud family, which has produced high-ranking mages for generations, you must’ve grown up watching your grandfather or father use Wind Cutter. Even before formally learning magic, you probably tried hard to imitate their Wind Cutter. But since it’s one of the harder basic spells, you compensated by using more mana to force it. That habit stayed with you."
The flashy appearance of his Wind Cutter was likely a subconscious way to mask his insecurities.
Damian let out a dry chuckle.
He hadn’t expected Oscar to deduce so much from just one observation.
‘There’s no arguing with him.’
As Oscar had said, what Damian had been wielding wasn’t a true Wind Cutter.
It was a poor imitation, a relic of childhood mistakes.
‘This is the difference in talent... No, it’d be pathetic to blame it on that.’
Oscar was an elite who had published several papers on fundamental spells.
Dismissing him because of his lower rank was Damian’s own prejudice.
Feeling a pang of shame, Damian lowered his head.
"But if you can fix those flaws, you’ll create the perfect Wind Cutter."
Oscar looked genuinely regretful.
"It’s such a shame that a promising student like you doesn’t want to attend my classes."
A few kind words from the start wouldn’t sway someone as prideful as Damian.
‘You have to first prove you’re on a higher level, then appeal to their desire for recognition.’
Sure enough, Damian’s ears perked up, and he slowly raised his head.
"...Well, if you think that highly of me, I suppose I’ll stick around for a bit longer."
Oscar watched as Damian returned to his seat and smiled silently.
From then on, the students’ focus improved remarkably.
Two weeks after Oscar’s lectures began, a strange rumor spread around the White Tower.
"Hey, have you heard? Oscar Crucian. They say he’s completely nuts."
"That’s old news. Everyone knows that."
The mage chatting in a corner of the second-floor cafeteria shook his head vigorously.
"Not his personality—his Reinterpretation of Basic Magic lectures."
"Oh, the ones he started recently? Yeah, seemed like a tough gig for a mere Level 2 mage."
"Opposite, actually. Haven’t you heard anything?"
The friend lowered his voice conspiratorially.
"They’re calling him a teaching prodigy."
"...What does that even mean?"
"Apparently, he pinpoints every flaw in a mage’s technique and even provides tailored advice on mana control and circuit setup."
"Come on, that sounds too good to be true."
While Oscar Crucian was once hailed as a genius, he was only a Level 2 mage now.
How could he possibly fix everyone’s flaws?
Seeing his friend’s skepticism, the mage sighed and continued.
"I’m serious. You know Damian Proud?"
"That arrogant little noble? What about him?"
"Oscar publicly pointed out all of Damian’s issues and how to fix them."
"...And Damian didn’t lose it? Sounds like something he’d throw a fit over."
"Surprisingly, he calmly went back to his seat. He’s been attending every lecture since."
"What? That can’t be right."
The class must be exceptional if even someone as difficult as Damian was impressed.
"Still, it’s probably only effective for lower-level mages, right?"
"Who knows? Even some Level 4 and 5 mages are planning to attend his next lecture, just in case."
The mage gulped nervously at that.
"If it’s true, we should check it out too."
"My thoughts exactly. Let’s meet Thursday morning at 6 in front of Lecture Hall 4."
"Wait, I thought the class starts at 9?"
"Don’t be stupid. We need to line up early. Otherwise, we won’t get in."
Rumors about Oscar’s lectures were spreading rapidly throughout the White Tower.

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