100x Rebate Sharing System: Retired Incubus Wants to Marry & Have Kids

Chapter 848: Chapter 847- Viktor being a good Teacher

”Is he not just a rune teacher?” Cedric said. His voice, smooth and dismissive, was the voice of a man who had already decided the new teacher was irrelevant. ”Runes are the most boring subject. Everything is already written in the book. We just have to read it.”

”Exactly,” Garrett agreed. ”We cannot just discover something out of the blue. There is no new language in runes. The symbols are fixed. The meanings are fixed. The applications are fixed. What is there to teach?”

”Nothing,” Cedric said. ”He will probably just read from the book and assign essays.”

”The runes are the most boring subject because there is nothing to discover,” Lila added. ”Everything is already known. Everything is already written. We just memorize and repeat.”

”Perhaps,” Yuki said. Her voice, quiet and precise, was the voice of a woman who did not make assumptions. ”Perhaps there is something we do not know.”

”Something we do not know?” Cordelia said. Her laugh, light and musical, was the laugh of a woman who found the idea amusing. ”In runes? The most studied, most documented, most catalogued field of magic? What could we possibly not know?”

Yuki said nothing. Her notebook, open, was ready. Her pen, poised, was waiting. Her eyes, dark and alert, were on the door.

Elena, at the far end, said nothing. Her book, open, was being read. Her face, composed and cold, showed no interest in the conversation. Her eyes, which had been scanning the page, lifted. Toward the door. For a moment. Then returned.

The door opened.

I walked in. My hand, in my pocket, was relaxed. My coat, dark and unremarkable, was buttoned. My mask, the half-mask, was in place. My violet eyes, behind it, swept the room.

The students, who had been chatting, went quiet. The silence, sudden and total, was the silence of confusion. They looked at me. At the coat. At the mask. At the face, which was young. Too young for a professor. Too old for a student.

”Is he a student?” Maren whispered. The question, barely audible, was the question on everyone’s mind.

”He is not wearing a uniform,” Lila whispered back.

”He is not wearing pajamas either,” Cordelia added. The reference, to the academy’s informal dress code, was a recognition that he was neither student nor faculty.

”Then who...” Garrett started.

I arrived at the podium. The spot, center and elevated, was the position of authority. I stood behind it. Placed my hands on the surface. Looked at the twelve faces that were staring at me.

”I never expected,” I said, my voice calm and clear, ”that students of the Valdris Royal Academy would be so mannerless as to not even greet their teacher.”

The silence that followed was nuclear.

Twelve faces. Twelve expressions. All variations of the same emotion. Shock.

”Teacher?” Cedric said. The word, which came out before he could stop it, was the word of a man whose brain had stalled.

”Is he... a teacher?” Lila said. Her fan, which had been waving, stopped.

”He is the new professor?” Maren said. Her book, which had been open, was forgotten.

”He is too young,” Garrett said. The protest, automatic and loud, was the protest of a man who did not like surprises.

”Forgive us,” Cedric said. The words, smooth and recovering, were accompanied by a smile that was more smirk than apology. ”We did not recognize you, professor. We assumed you were... a late arrival. A student, perhaps. One who had lost his way. The academy is large, after all. It is easy for new students to become confused.”

The taunt, wrapped in politeness, was double-edged. The implication, that I was a lost student pretending to be a teacher, was clear. The insult, delivered with a smile, was the insult of a man who was confident in his position.

I looked at him. My violet eyes, calm and patient, found his. The gaze, steady and unblinking, was the gaze of a man who had heard worse from better.

”Assuming,” I said, my voice unchanged, ”is the first sign of a weak mind. The second is speaking without knowledge. You have done both in the first thirty seconds of our meeting. I hope your academic performance is more impressive than your first impression.”

Cedric’s face went white. The flush, which had been the flush of confidence, became the flush of humiliation. His mouth, which had been smiling, closed. His hands, which had been relaxed, clenched.

The room was silent. The other students, who had been watching, looked at Cedric. At me. At Cedric. The tension, thick and sudden, filled the space.

Garrett, his jaw tight, started to speak. Leo, beside him, placed a hand on his arm. The gesture, small and commanding, was the gesture of a prince who had decided to handle this himself.

”Professor,” Leo said. His voice, smooth and royal, was the voice of a man who had been trained to speak in court. ”Welcome to Class A. We look forward to your instruction.”

The words, polite and correct, were a retreat. The prince, who had assessed the situation and decided that a direct confrontation was unwise, was falling back on diplomacy.

I looked at him. At the blonde hair. At the blue eyes. At the face, which was composed and calm and showed nothing.

”Let us begin,” I said.

I turned to the board. The chalk, white and thin, was in my hand. I wrote. The symbols, ancient and angular, appeared on the dark surface. The runes, drawn with precision, were the runes that every student in the room had seen before. The basics. The fundamentals. The alphabet of a language that had been dead for a thousand years.

”Who can tell me,” I said, turning to face the class, ”what this rune signifies?”

The rune on the board was simple. A vertical line crossed by two horizontal strokes. The most basic rune in the curriculum. The rune for ”flow.”

Maren’s hand went up. The motion, quick and eager, was the motion of a woman who knew the answer.

”Maren Ashworth,” she said. Her voice, clear and confident, was the voice of a woman who had studied. ”The rune signifies ’flow.’ The movement of mana through a channel. It is the foundational rune for all transfer-based enchantments.”

”Correct,” I said. ”And the secondary meaning?”

”The secondary meaning is ’connection,’” Maren said. ”The linking of two points through a mana channel.”

”Correct,” I said. ”And the tertiary meaning?”

Maren hesitated. The pause, brief but visible, was the pause of a woman who had reached the edge of her knowledge. ”The tertiary meaning is... ’resonance.’ The harmonic alignment of two channels.”

”Partially correct,” I said. ”The tertiary meaning is not ’resonance.’ It is ’recognition.’ The ability of one channel to identify another. This is the difference between a connection that transfers mana and a connection that transfers information.”

Maren’s eyes widened. The correction, which she had never encountered in any book, was new. The information, which was not in the curriculum, was something she had not considered.

”Professor,” she said. ”That is not in the textbook.”

”No,” I said. ”It is not.”

I drew another rune. This one, more complex, was a combination of three basic runes. The class, leaning forward, studied it.

”And this?” I said.

Maren answered. Her voice, still confident but now cautious, gave the textbook answer. The meaning, the function, the application. All correct. All from the book.

”And if I told you,” I said, ”that this combination, when drawn in reverse, creates a dimensional anchor?”