Going at The Right Path

I exited the classroom with measured steps. The echoes of the day's lessons reverberated in my mind, each student's performance seems to be a piece in the larger puzzle I need to constantly try to solve. As I moved through the hallway, I saw the headmaster and another professor approaching.

"Senior Professor Draven!" The headmaster's voice carried a note of respect that I found simultaneously gratifying and unnecessary. Respect was a tool, much like mana, to be wielded with precision.

"Headmaster. Professor Larin," I greeted them with a slight nod.

"We noticed a significant surge of mana from your classroom. Everything under control?" Professor Larin inquired, his curiosity thinly veiled behind a mask of professional concern. How daring.

"Indeed," I replied smoothly, "It was merely part of the class exercise. The students are progressing well." My eyes met Elara's as she passed by, her face a mask of neutrality. I held her gaze for a fraction longer, conveying a silent challenge: 'Say whatever you want if you dare.' I was confident she understood the implications of exposing Amberine's mistake. I had allowed the situation to pass with minimal punishment, an unusual leniency that needed no further explanation.

It's not a surprise if she found my treatment towards Amberine's mistake looks like a form of favor.

The headmaster nodded, seemingly satisfied, and the two men continued on their way. I moved towards my office, each step calculated, each thought a deliberate evaluation of the day's events.

Inside my office, I was greeted by my assistant, Yuli. She was a timid creature like always, always careful in her movements and words around me.

"Good afternoon, Senior Professor," Yuli said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I-I have examined the attendance forms and placed them on your desk for review."

I nodded curtly. "Very well."

Yuli hesitated, her eyes flickering with something akin to admiration. "I... I wanted to say that your handling of today's lesson was—"

"Enough," I cut her off mid-sentence with a sharp stare. Her face turned a deep shade of crimson, and she quickly retreated, mumbling something about an errand she needed to attend to.

Left alone, I settled into my chair, the weight of the day's events pressing on me. I reached for the pens, the present from the king of heroes, Gilgamesh, that lay neatly arranged on my desk and responded to my summon. Each pen represented an element I had mastered to a degree: fire, water, darkness, and psychokinesis. I summoned them with a flick of my wrist, and they floated before me, each glowing faintly with the energy it contained.

To summon a pen, a specific condition needed to be met. I could feel the unique presence of each pen, a manifestation of my mana, like extensions of my own limbs but more autonomous, almost like clones. Each pen had its own capacity for mana, yet all were inherently connected to my core energy.

I felt the fire pen first. It pulsed with a fierce, almost impatient energy. Controlling it was like taming a wild beast, requiring constant vigilance. The water pen, by contrast, felt smooth and fluid, its energy calming yet deceptively powerful. The darkness pen was the most elusive, its mana cold and unpredictable, while the psychokinesis pen resonated with precision and control.

Despite my mastery of these elements, I knew my capabilities were still limited compared to the potential threats I might face in the future. The partial strength granted by Gilgamesh that appeared as the skill [The Seed of The King of Heroes] was formidable, but it was merely a seed that needed to be nurtured and grown through rigorous practice and discipline.

I began my practice, each pen moving in synchronization yet performing distinct tasks, summoning magic circles, and performing several kinds of magic. The fire pen traced complex patterns in the air, each line a testament to my control over its volatile energy. The water pen created intricate shapes, flowing seamlessly from one form to another. The darkness pen manipulated shadows, bending them to my will, while the psychokinesis pen levitated objects around the room with pinpoint accuracy.

As I practiced, my thoughts wandered to Draven's students. Amberine's near-disastrous mistake had been a stark reminder of the dangers inherent in their studies. Her ambition was commendable, but without control, it was a double-edged sword. Elara, on the other hand, possessed an innate talent that bordered on arrogance. Balancing these two would be a challenge, but one I welcomed.

And I could see the skill [Villain's Fate] on Amberine. The thick amount of dark clouds emitted from her is something that only I could see, and is a variable showing that I might get killed by her.

But that's not surprising, considering my relationship with her. No, it's Draven's relationship with her.

She's the daughter of the man who got killed by Draven because of his research and his talents.

"But she's not evil,"

I focused back on my pens.

The pens moved faster, their trails of light and shadow intertwining in a dance of elemental magic. I felt the strain on my mana reserves, a familiar yet invigorating sensation. I pushed harder, testing the limits of my control and endurance. The room seemed to hum with energy, the air thick with the scent of ozone and the cool mist of conjured water.

Suddenly several glimpses appeared before me. The rigorous training that had shaped Draven into the magician, how he spent lots of hours training only to fail because of his curse that made him lack talent. His journey had been one of relentless pursuit of power and knowledge, each step a calculated move in the grand game of survival and dominance. But he died because of it.

I need to take a different approach.

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. I halted my practice, the pens returning to their inanimate forms on the desk. "Enter," I commanded.

Yuli stepped in, her eyes wide as she took in the residual energy in the room. "Senior Professor, I have the reports you requested," she said, holding out a stack of papers.

"Thank you," I replied, taking the papers from her. She lingered for a moment, as if she wanted to say something more, but thought better of it and left quietly.

I scanned the reports, my mind already shifting gears. This was part of my role as a magic professor at the Magic Tower University. Just like a normal professor, my duties extended far beyond merely teaching lectures. I had to conduct cutting-edge research, publish my findings in reputable journals, and engage in various projects outside the campus to apply my expertise in the real world and supplement my income.

It turns out that teaching was just one facet of my responsibilities as a magic professor. Lectures were vital for imparting knowledge to the next generation of magic practitioners, but the real work happened in the lab and in the field. My research projects ranged from developing new spells to harnessing elemental energies in innovative ways. Each discovery not only advanced the field of magical studies but also added to the university's prestige.

In addition to teaching and research, I was involved in numerous projects that utilized my magical expertise. For instance, I consulted for several guilds and magical corporations, providing them with insights that could only come from years of rigorous study and practical experience. These consultations were not only lucrative but also enriched my understanding of how magic could be applied in various industries, from agriculture to defense.

Another significant part of my job was overseeing the research conducted by my team of technicians and assistants. As I assessed the reports Yuli had brought me, I noted the progress on several fronts. One team was making strides in enhancing the efficiency of mana crystals, which could revolutionize the energy sector. Another group was delving into ancient magical texts, deciphering forgotten spells that could provide new avenues for our research.

My role required a balance of administrative oversight and hands-on involvement. I had to ensure that the experiments were conducted ethically and safely, while also mentoring my assistants and helping them navigate the complexities of magical research.

This is something so complex that even in the game, I didn't write them.

"I guess this really is a magic world,"

No. That fact is no longer important.

I need to be stronger for me to live.

The practice session had left me physically drained but mentally invigorated. I knew that my current strength was just a fraction of what I needed. The enemies I would face in the future would not be easily overcome, and the skill bestowed upon me by Gilgamesh, [The Seed of The King of Heroes], was both a blessing and a curse. It offered great potential but demanded relentless effort and precision to fully realize its power.

I stood and stretched, feeling the familiar ache of exertion in my muscles. I walked to the window, looking out over the academy grounds. The students milling about below were oblivious to the true nature of the world they were preparing to enter. They saw the academy as a place of learning and growth, but for me, it was a battleground, each lesson a skirmish in the larger war for dominance and survival.

My mana has dwindled. I guess I should use my brain to guess several scenarios and group up the things that I should be doing to ensure effectiveness. Using the magic pens that despite of their weight which is about 20 kg each, and their capabilities in magic, all of them could still be used as pens, and have an exquisite and beautiful ink that seems to be generated by my mana.

Time seemed to blur as I worked, the room filled with the soft hum of magical energy. I lost myself in the rhythm of my practice, each movement a step closer to mastery. I could feel the strain on my body and mind, but I welcomed it, knowing that each moment of exertion brought me closer to my goal.

Hours passed, and finally, I allowed myself to stop. I was drenched in sweat, my muscles trembling with fatigue, but my mind was sharp, my resolve unbroken. I looked at the pens, now lying still on the desk, and felt a sense of satisfaction when I saw the thick paper that could become a book that was produced by my thinking. I had pushed myself further than ever before, and though there was still much to learn and achieve, I was on the right path.