Internet Mage Professor-Chapter 43: All fails

"What happens to us, the teachers undergoing assessment?!" she cried out again, voice nearly breaking. "We don’t carry our own results! You all know how the assessment works! It’s based on our students’ performance! And now they’re gone! Taken! Not even allowed to finish!"

A hush fell across the coliseum once again—this time not imposed by magic, but by realization.

"In this Academy," she continued, her voice more strained now, "Mana Specialists who are still in assessment are bound by their students’ results! So if the students... if they fail..." Her lips quivered. "Does that mean we fail, too?"

She didn’t need to finish.

Everyone understood.

Some began to look around, whispering quietly, uncertain whether to feel pity or not.

Others glanced at the Black Vale knights, then at Old Duldor, expecting him to respond.

He did.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t turn.

Didn’t even sigh.

He simply said, in a voice low and ancient:

"Yes."

It was not cruel. It was not kind. It was simply a fact, spoken without any desire to soften its edges.

The moment the word was uttered, the woman felt her entire body froze.

Not long, she collapsed to her knees, her strength vanishing as if her mana had been drained completely. Her eyes were wide, disbelieving, glassy. Her hands trembled. She tried to speak again but no sound came out.

Then another teacher staggered.

A man with deep lines around his eyes, who had taught strategy and support for over three weeks without ever gaining tenure, dropped to one knee. Then another. Then two more. One clutching her chest. Another with wide eyes of disbelief. They collapsed—not from magic, not from curse, not from injury—but from despair.

Their students had failed. And so had they. Now, they cannot stay here. They failed.

But the audience barely blinked.

Because while the teachers wept, the parents of the failed students were beginning to relax.

They didn’t care about who trained their children.

They only wanted them safe.

A nobleman leaned back in his seat with a sigh of relief, whispering, "So they can be cured."

A woman wept into her hands and laughed at the same time, saying, "Thank the stars, my daughter is fine."

Hope bloomed.

But only for the families.

Meanwhile, in the instructor’s section, Granfire leaned on the railing, watching it all unfold. His golden mane rustled in the breeze, and his arms were crossed tightly against his chest.

"Hah," he muttered bitterly, a half-smile curling at the edge of his mouth. "It seems... we’re all going out this year."

His tone was not surprised. Not angry. Just resigned.

Beside him, Nolan stood still.

Silent.

Brows drawn.

Something inside him itched.

A feeling—not yet a thought—scratching at the edge of his consciousness.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. But before he could put it into words, before he could even trace the feeling to its source, a flash of light ignited the arena below.

Then—figures appeared.

A group of students stepped forward into the arena, emerging from the tunnel gate that should’ve been closed for the final round.

The silver sigil of the academy shimmered behind them as they walked out in synchronized steps.

The entire arena shifted.

Every eye turned.

Gasps rang through the crowd.

Old Duldor, standing at the center near the announcer, turned sharply. His eyes widened with something not often seen on his aged features—surprise.

From the west wing, several collapsed teachers looked up weakly.

Nolan’s eyes suddenly widened.

Mission: Ignite the Blades

Objective: Ensure all 13 students attend the Mana Knight Assessment tomorrow.

Reward: Unknown

Failure Consequence: Game world experience gain will no longer transfer to your real-world body for 1 year.

Status: Completed.

Nolan’s heartbeat quickened.

Reward unpacked: 27 seconds later movie, 27 minutes later movie, and 27 days later movie!

Nolan didn’t know what it was used for, but he’s sure it would surely benefit him. Thank the heavens for giving him access to the internet!

Thank the students for coming here in the assessment!

Looking at the familiar students, he recognized them instantly—Calien, tall and poised, his coat hanging off one shoulder in that same lazy style.

Erik, with his mop of silver hair and the glint of mischief in his eyes.

Selin, quiet and sharp-eyed, scanning the arena like it was a battlefield. And others—boys and girls who, just weeks ago, were labeled unteachable.

They had arrived.

Not one short.

And then—

"Teacher!" Calien called out, raising his hand with a firm voice, as if to salute. "We apologize—it took us almost forever to come here!"

Heads snapped toward the instructor’s platform.

Nolan’s heart thumped.

"They couldn’t find your name on the voucher," Calien shouted, "so we had to go through a different process! We had to use our own background to—never mind! We sorted it out! Rest assured!"

Then Erik grinned and waved. "Yo, teacher Nolan! We made it!"

Selin nodded softly. "We’re here."

One by one, the others joined in.

"Hi, Teacher Nolan!"

"Sorry we’re late!"

"We’re ready now!"

They were loud, proud, unapologetic.

The crowd turned again—this time, toward Nolan.

And for a moment... time held still.

People recognized him.

The civilians.

The instructors.

The announcer.

Whispers broke like waves:

"That’s... that’s Nolan, isn’t it?"

"Wait, that’s Nolan? The one who had no students for a month that my son was talking about and laughing about?"

"He didn’t even show up for the instructor’s panel last month..."

"That’s the guy who teaches no one and gets paid with our taxes?!"

"I thought they were going to fire him and leave this city already, how come he’s still here?"

"Oh stars... that’s him?! My son told me about him! Said he just naps on the roof!"

"And now these kids are his?!"

"Who are these kids?"

"They are the class of devils!"

"Shhh... don’t say that, they’re heirs of Silver Blade City nobles!"

The wave grew louder.

Longer.

Deeper.

The nobles muttered among themselves, appalled.

The commoners hissed.

Some of the students who had previously failed sat stunned in their medical wards, whispering Nolan’s name with confusion, disbelief, and scorn. The name carried all kinds of rumors. All kinds of truths.

Nolan didn’t flinch.

He stood straight.

Shoulders back.

Eyes forward.

His hands clenched behind his back so no one could see the twitch in his fingers.

Of course they were right.

He had been useless.

But not anymore.

Not now.

In his mind, he whispered to himself.

I may have been useless back then... but now... I have the internet.

A breath escaped his lips.

I’m not useless no more.

But even then, he mumbled out loud, almost wistfully.

"This is the last day I’ll be here anyway."

A bittersweet smile curled on his face.

He didn’t fight the whispers.

He didn’t argue with the insults.

He simply stood there, looking shameless.

Unmoved.

Unashamed.

On the lower platform, the Chief Mana Knight from the Black Vale Territory studied him quietly, expression hidden beneath his dragon-etched helmet.

A subtle shift in his posture hinted at recognition. Familiarity. But he said nothing.

And then—Old Duldor turned to the students.

His brows narrowed.

Voice low, uncertain.

"You vouch... for Nolan?"

It was not scornful. But it was laced with disbelief.

"You—the most problematic students in the entire Academy—vouch... for the most problematic instructor?"

There was a silence that followed.

One breath long.

Two.

And then—just as the dust began to settle—

The atmosphere changed.

Suddenly, as if a new pressure had descended onto the arena itself, a ripple of raw, unseen energy swept through the stone floor.

The runes along the walls flickered.

The wind twisted oddly. Even the sun above seemed to darken by a shade.

From somewhere—nowhere—a voice rose, sharp and cutting like a blade across silk.

"What do you mean by that?"