Research Life of a New Professor at Magic University

Arien was an elf so beautiful that it made one doubt their own eyes.

Seeing an elf serving as a teaching assistant was strange, but some students saw her occasionally last year.
Because of this, the female students concluded that looking at the Professor’s face directly was more comfortable and enjoyable than admiring the elf behind them.

Professor Atwell flicked his hand to activate the magical devices on the classroom ceiling.
As he raised his hand again, several faint blue magic circles appeared before him.
Four beams of light descended from the ceiling and illuminated four students accurately.

All four were male students, and it was immediately apparent why they were illuminated.
The embarrassed students adjusted their posture when they realized the reason, and their respective lights went out each time.
When the last light went out, the magical light source in the classroom returned.

The sequence of actions flowed as smoothly and gently as water.

To those with shallow knowledge, it seemed like ordinary spellcasting.
However, to students who are well-versed in magic, the magic demonstrated by the professor a while ago was almost like a performance.

Magic of the light element usually spreads from its source. Sending it in a specific direction is traditionally done by focusing it from the caster to a point.

However, Professor Atwell emitted the light from a distance of at least ten meters without using any auxiliary tools or spellcasting equipment.

The beams of light had low intensity but clear boundaries.
The size of each light was also tailored to fit each student’s physique.
This would have been impossible without precisely refracting the light to contain its shape.

But that wasn’t all.

Professor Atwell had the spells instantly cast them with precision.
He also maintained multiple spells at once, dispelling each of them individually after the student reacted.

Such concentration was something not everyone could imitate.

It was common for magic professors to showcase such “shows” to leave a strong first impression.
However, they usually employ spells that “look” impressive in such cases.
Spells that are difficult and bland are typically not used.

Moreover, seeing how he comfortably displayed this in front of the class in the first session, he was confident in doing it again.
It was so meanlessly difficult that it was easier to chalk up to his skill rather than meticulous preparation.
That was Roger Atwell, the young prodigy who was more a subject of admiration than jealousy for the magic users of his generation.

Most importantly, the students not illuminated by the light could mock the foolish classmates who came to gaze at people’s faces rather than attend the class of such a person.

***

After he had completed the introduction of himself and the elf assistant, Professor Atwell announced it to the class.

“Since it’s the first day, I’d like to discuss something other than covering the curriculum. I want to explain why you need to learn about magical ingredients and tools in such depth and why you should continue taking this course.”

Some students murmured in anticipation of the class ending early.

“Some of you might just be taking this course to fill credits. Perhaps those majoring in elemental or spellcasting fields might think of this as a class for the alchemy department.

“But know this: I, the one teaching this course, am a major in spell casting. This course is offered in the Department of Magic, not the Department of Alchemy. I hope you’ve thought about this point a little more.”

Some students wore puzzled expressions. They waited for the professor’s words with a hint of interest in the story.

“We are wizards.”

The students waited for the continuation of that statement, but after a long pause, the following words were completely different.

“I don’t know about your career aspirations. The paths open to a wizard, just off the top of my head, could number in the hundreds.

“You could work in a workshop, enlist in the military, go on adventures with your comrades, or pursue academic research like myself. But regardless of where you go, the expectations placed on you won’t be significantly different.”

In fact, among the energetic students, many dreamed of becoming adventurers.
Perhaps it was due to the backlash of spending four years buried in books even after graduating from the academy.
Some considered standing opposite the boring and tedious magical researchers as the epitome of being a wizard adventurer.

“What do you think that image is? You’re not just wizards; you’re students of ‘Magic University.’ Please keep that in mind.”

Professor Atwell paused for a moment as if urging the students to think.
The students waited for the professor’s words.
What did the professor want to convey?

“What do workshops, adventurers, nobles, and nations expect from you? Imagine yourselves as those romanticized adventurers.”

Professor Atwell also seemed to understand the students’ interests, using adventurers as an example.

“For four years, while you were sitting in a narrow room burying your nose in books, other wizards were gaining practical experience by rolling around on the ground.

“What they expect from you, surpassing those wizards, should be something that can’t be obtained through four years of combat experience.

“But what could that be exactly? Is there anyone who can answer?”

The girl in the front row cautiously responded.

“Magic, perhaps?”

“What kind of magic are you referring to?”

“…Then is it knowledge?”

“What kind of knowledge?”

“Uh, magical knowledge… or maybe wisdom?”

“It’s not wrong. The answer is always simple. Yes, you’re correct. Ultimately, wizards are expected to possess magic, knowledge, and wisdom. However, think a little more. Isn’t that answer too vague?”

Professor Atwell didn’t intend to embarrass the girl further, so he continued speaking promptly.

“What is expected of you, surpassing those wizards, must be something that cannot be attained through four years of combat experience.”

Some students nodded in agreement, expecting that a wizard who has spent more time accumulating knowledge and practicing should be able to cast more potent spells.

“You must know what will happen.”

“Is that the role of a wizard?”

This time, the same girl from before asked the question.

“Yes. That’s correct.”

“Isn’t that the job of a rogue or a hunter?”

“Once again, I’ll need to explain a bit more.”

Professor Atwell paused momentarily, folding his arms, then spoke again.

“Determining where to go is usually the prerogative of the leader, who usually carries a sword and wears armor.

Guiding which path to take. That’s the responsibility of agile and dexterous friends.

Explaining why one should go. That’s the job of the eccentric individuals who create altars and mutter prayers at every meal, letting the food go cold in the process.

Then what about ‘how’ to walk through the predetermined path, both in terms of destination and rationale? Yes, that’s precisely the role of a wizard.”

Understanding something in your mind and truly comprehending it are two different things.
They had merely been vaguely thinking about it until now.
Just by simplifying and explaining it, one could make others understand.

Now, the students could envision what society expects from graduates of Magic University. And they also understood why religious figures despised Roger Atwell so much.

“Execution can be handled by someone who has spent four more years in the field than you. You are not ‘spellcasters,’ you are ‘wizards.’

There’s no need to ponder over what knowledge and wisdom are required. It’s literally ‘everything.’

There is a saying I like a lot.
‘Let’s hope a nearby wizard knows everything about the universe.’
So be prepared to come up with from nothing.”

The students felt a slight discomfort and unfairness.
A wizard cannot know everything, nor can they solve everything.

“A moment ago, I used the example of an adventuring party, but the same applies to other situations as well. Wizards are commonly called ‘those who turn the impossible into possible’ or ‘those who explore the essence of the world.’ The intent behind these descriptions is obvious.”

That was a non-wizard perspective on wizards; most wizards felt pride in it.
However, Professor Atwell’s thoughts were different.

“Warriors and knights believe they should decide which direction the world should take,
Priests and paladins claim to understand why everything in the world exists,
Wizards are naturally responsible for directing the world ‘how’ to go in that direction and understanding ‘how’ the world operates.

Sometimes, people seem to have more faith in wizards than in gods. But those who don’t receive answers from gods blame their inadequacies, while those let down by wizards blame the wizards’ shortcomings.”

Pausing briefly after this statement, Professor Atwell cleared his throat once and raised his voice slightly. Now, he was getting to the point.

“There is a reason why you should take this course. It’s literally about learning ‘how.’ What you’ll learn in this class is magical materials and tools, simply put, ‘magical items.’ Their characteristics vary widely, and even items of the same type are not always identical.

As graduates, you’ll need to find your way in cities, plains, forests, swamps, underground, tundras, and deserts. You’ll need to find solutions in your belongings, your comrades’ supplies, the environment, waste, loot, and enemy corpses.”

The students were already deeply engaged in Professor Atwell’s speech.
No one had spoken from this perspective about the profession of a wizard.

“You must know all the possible methods for each situation. Not only the best method but also the second best, the third best, and even the worst method. Safe and sure methods? Many times, those cannot be used in real situations. In the worst-case scenario, you must know what you can sacrifice. You must assess the cost of sacrifice and the reward.”

According to him, what the world wanted was closer to an all-around problem solver than a wizard.

“Learning about magical items and their applications is not just about cramming fragmented knowledge into your mind. That knowledge broadens and deepens your overall understanding of magic. You need it to become a wizard, not just another spellcaster. Underestimating the importance of this knowledge because your area of interest lies outside of alchemy or enchantment would be a mistake.”

Now, everyone understood the intention behind Professor Atwell’s discourse.
The pride of magic students and being a ‘wizard.’
He had stimulated that pride.

“That concludes today’s lecture. I hope it has been helpful for your future studies.”