Chapter 3 Farce

The next morning, when Panini awoke, his spirits were notably uplifted. The events of the previous night had not cast any shadow over him, and the precognitive abilities he experienced during sleep gave him a sense of anticipation—something good was bound to happen today.

Such vague premonitions rarely proved false. Panini had once hoped that this mystical ability would lead him into the realm of prophecy—an area of study quite distinct within the Scarlet Robe Mage system. The prophecy discipline was unique in that it focused predominantly on non-destructive spells and specialized in mystical divination abilities. The atmosphere within the discipline was so harmonious and serene that it astonished members of other schools. It also boasted the smallest number of practitioners among the eight major schools, a place Panini ardently longed to belong to. However, that dream was cruelly shattered by the bald-headed overseer of the testing grounds for a deeply humiliating reason—Panini's lack of intelligence.

Mages were a high-ranking profession, not one just anyone could aspire to. Being a mage demanded high intelligence, or more precisely, creative thinking ability. While training could sharpen the mind and bring it more in tune with the laws of magic, innate creative thinking was difficult to enhance.

Diviners needed to unravel the causal nexus of the past and future, seeking desired answers from the vast sea of information, making them the most intellectually demanding among the eight major schools. They also required considerable perceptiveness as an adjunct. Hence, their numbers were naturally the fewest.

This creative thinking, something scarce even in the era of relatively developed mental faculties on Earth, was possessed by few. Panini could only be considered of average intelligence, and his true nature was revealed after a few rounds of testing, barely meeting the standards to become a mage, let alone have a chance in the divination discipline. This left him in a state of melancholy for quite some time, but ultimately, he had to accept it.

Well, those past events were certainly unrelated to Panini's good mood this morning. Soon enough, his good omen was confirmed. At the entrance of the academic building, Nimits, the servant of Rung Jangwar, one of the three deans of Lakeside Academy, informed him of a very important experiment scheduled for today, specifically requesting his assistance. Panini Sean naturally agreed with great pleasure.

Rung Jangwar had delved into the fourth layer of the magical network, an achievement that usually took around two decades of study in the arcane arts, even with sufficient talent.

This is a relatively unique sorcerer. Generally, sorcerers tend to be arrogant, enjoying issuing commands with a lofty air, displaying their extraordinary influence—much like the nature of sorcery, such as the iconic summoning series. Perhaps due to compatibility with necromancy, this Jangwar is usually reserved and taciturn, quite different from the overall style of sorcery. Among the three deans, he is the most low-key, preferring to immerse himself in the laboratory, hence his familiarity with Panini.

Due to this, Jangwar has granted Panini many privileges, such as arranging for him to reside in a separate dormitory and tacitly allowing him to retain this delicate status. Panini is also happy to serve this silent middle-aged mage because he is not as domineering as other mentors, making working with him very relaxed.

However, Panini dares not underestimate this genuine Scarlet Robe. Do you remember that genius classmate whom Panini regarded as an anomaly? That life was forfeited to this perennially silent mentor.

So when he received the message, he hurried to the laboratory entrance, patiently waiting. This wait might be long or short, but it must be endured.

The weather by the shores of Lake Serlanpo is always misty. Although cool, within the Scarlet Robe Academy, there is always a chilling feeling. Panini tightened the black robe on his body—he is just an apprentice. In Serlan, without formal qualification for a Scarlet Robe, wearing any red clothes would prompt the Serlan Knights to seize and mutilate. So, in Serlan, one should never provoke those wearing red clothes; it's common sense.

These Scarlet Robe apprentices are, of course, clad in black robes.

When Panini felt the chill, a group of apprentices clad in black robes walked past the laboratory. These apprentices were slenderer than usual, with long hair peeking out from beneath their hoods. They were a group of female apprentices.

The leading apprentice walked with an unusual demeanor, her black robe embroidered with red threads, signifying her access to the inner layers of the magical web. She would soon be promoted to a formal apprentice, unlike Panini, who was just a hapless fellow. Thus, when she saw Panini, her eyes were filled with the arrogance and disdain typical of a sorcerer, as if saying, "Look at this fool."

For a sorcerer in scarlet robes, this was normal. Growing up in such an environment would naturally warp one's psyche, redirecting the pressure and depression onto others. Panini had become a convenient target.

Panini remained unperturbed. He naturally averted his gaze, while the other female students also curiously stared at him. They were not yet daring enough to look at Panini too brazenly. Among them was one particularly petite and timid-looking girl, her gaze toward Panini tinged with complexity.

This complex gaze gave Panini pause. It took him a moment to recall that she was the unfortunate girl from last night. It was a bit awkward for a moment.

However, this situation incensed the formal apprentice in scarlet robes. Her temperament was that of a typical sorcerer, accustomed to being the center of attention. Panini's lack of respect or interest in her infuriated her. How could she not be angry?

She immediately conceived the idea of reprimanding Panini. However, she was not foolish; she knew that within this academy, Panini was not someone she could confront openly. So, she shifted her gaze to the girl whom Panini was looking at and said, "Well! Nephis, it seems that Senior Sean values you greatly. You and you and you should greet Senior Sean!"

After a few seconds of hesitation, several middle fingers were simultaneously raised, pointing towards Panini.

The childish squabble certainly did not irk Panini; on the contrary, he found it immensely amusing. If it weren't so chilly, he might even have burst into laughter.

However, the demeanor of the formal apprentice was evidently displeased because her companions were not entirely cooperative. For instance, Nephis kept her head down, fidgeting with her fingers, and keeping her feet tightly together, appearing quite awkward.

So, a slap struck the little girl's face: "Despicable creature, I told you to greet Senior Sean. Haven't you heard?"

Nephis immediately crouched down, starting to sob softly.

"What a despicable little waste," the formal apprentice muttered, unsatisfied, about to continue her assault. Suddenly, she heard subdued laughter from the surrounding apprentices. Turning around, she saw Panini raising his right middle finger in the direction where Nephis was huddled.

"Hahaha! Nephis, do you see? Trash with trash, hahaha." The tense atmosphere dissipated as another person joined in. The group of female apprentices laughed louder, not noticing Nephis's sobbing abruptly ceasing. Panini Sean smiled as he withdrew his middle finger, then turned to see a red-robed middle-aged man with large glasses standing behind him, unsure how long he had been there. He respectfully nodded to the middle-aged man, who nodded silently back, tattooed head shining, and led the way into the laboratory. Panini Sean followed, as if nothing had happened in the corridor.

"That's Dean Janwashi," but the arrival and departure of the middle-aged man in the red robe evidently did not escape the keen eyes of these apprentices. The formal apprentice seemed like a cat with its tail stepped on, wanting to scream but suppressing the panic: "Damn it, what did he see?"

The group of young apprentices fell silent. When someone of that stature witnessed such an event, it was difficult to imagine what might happen. Due to the vast class difference, they had no way to gauge the thoughts of those above them, feeling nothing but fear in their hearts.

The trivial drama, scarcely worth mentioning in the eyes of the higher-ups, would be forgotten in the blink of an eye. However, these poor apprentices, shrouded daily in repression and fear, were oblivious to this. Their hearts filled with dread and helplessness, urgently needing an outlet, as several pairs of cold, menacing eyes fixated on the trembling figure on the ground.

"You, Nephis, have caused us great trouble. What are we to do?"

Several hands dragged the pitiful little girl into a secluded corner of the corridor.

"Please... have mercy on me, I beg of you, have mercy!" Nephis's heart was engulfed in shadows, knowing what might be in store.

The formal apprentice cast a disdainful glance at Nephis but noticed something amiss. Upon closer observation, she realized that the pitiful girl's gaze was no longer as scattered as before; instead, it seemed to focus on a central point, her plea gaining newfound strength.

This inexplicably irked the formal apprentice, who, while gesturing thoughtfully, deliberated, "Let me think. I can access a few spells from the magic web... I've got it! Minor Electric Orb!"

Snap!

A loud snap, and a plethora of electrical sparks struck Nephis. She immediately let out a scream, as the pain coursing through her body reached a numbing intensity. The apprentices proceeded to unleash various low-level spells on her — while such spells had laughable lethality in the hands of low-ranking mages, they proved exceedingly effective at inflicting pain. Witnessing Nephis's exposed skin turn black and cracked, cruel smiles spread across the faces of the apprentices.

Nephis's throat had grown hoarse; her ten pale fingers clenched tightly into the earth. The agony coursing through her body had dulled her senses, her mind plunged into chaos, leaving only a few fleeting thoughts: I will not die. I cannot end up on his dissecting table. I must survive.