A Returner’s Magic Should Be Special - Chapter 113


A Returner’s Magic Should Be Special Novel

Chapter 113. The Hypocrite (3)

The panic from the party competition had died down at the academy.

If it was like any other year, there would be rowdy arguments by party members boasting about how much better their party was, and others going around challenging people and holding rematches.  However,  none  of  that  was  present  this  year.  It seemed  like  this  dark  atmosphere  would  go  on  for  a  while longer.

At last, the seasons turned and the student body had to face up against winter.

The Runic lectures were soon taken over by another professor that was called in from another academy. In the beginning, the students   couldn’t   help   mourning   for   Benquick   during   the lectures, but the scars had somewhat healed by now.

Desir’s  party  committed  themselves  to  a  proper  school  life amidst the calm. Like always, Desir’s training didn’t stop.

As  a  result,  Pram  had  become  skilled  at  wielding  the  Aura Blade. A mere two months ago, his Aura could barely be called swordsmanship,  but  he  had  reached  the  point  where  no  one could criticize his Aura Blade.

Desir concluded that being pushed so close to his limit while he was surrounded by the Mother Worm and numerous Great Worms had been the fuel for this improvement.

The only thing left for Desir to do was simple.

Pram had always wielded a sword that exceeded his skill level. A Blankšum blade could penetrate through the defence of most foes,   and   Pram   had   begun   to   lean   heavily   on   the   blade’s abilities.

He had yet to battle someone who used Aura, but the time had finally  come  for  him  to  seriously  battle  against  a  formidable enemy  that  used  the  Aura.  Enemies  like  those  were  hard  to confront without having Aura too.

To force Pram out of his habit of relying on his sword, Desir temporarily sealed it away and made him learn how to use Aura with a normal saber.

Desir planned on teaching him how to change the form of his Aura once he got used to summoning one.

As for swordsmanship, a professor who’d been keeping an eye on Pram was carefully teaching him, so there was nothing else to worry about.

The accuracy of Romantica’s shots was increasing by the day.

It  hadn’t  been  long  since  she  had  advanced  to  the  Third-Circle,  yet  she  already  managed  perfect  control   over  it.  To further her success, she had managed to memorize most of the wind spells that could be invoked at the Third-Circle.

Although Desir had been the one teaching her the different types  of  spells  (to  the  point  where  he  was  absolutely  sick  of them),  it  was  Romantica  herself  who  honed  those  skills  and made them hers.

After the destruction of Prichella, Romantica worked tirelessly to polish her abilities. As someone who was originally gifted, her added diligence sped up her growth greatly.

Conversely, Adjest still faced a wall.

She was still struggling to conjure based on an image.

Feeling like she had plateaued while everyone around her was making substantial  progress and achieving goals, Adjest felt a surge of anxiety.

Desperate to see results, she asked Desir to start training with her more often, because he was the only person skilled enough to stand a chance against her.

Desir  was  more  than  willing  to  spend  time  with  Adjest  to support her in reaching a new level, so he accepted her request without hesitation.

The time the two spent stuck together naturally grew. Apart from  meal  and  rest  times,  the  two  were  almost  always  seen together.

Adjest made sure to listen carefully to Desir’s advice, since she didn’t want to miss even the smallest of detail.

‘An association somewhat like this should be fine.’

As  a  result,  she  was  able  to  come  across  a  meaningful  hint about the magic image she wanted to invoke.

Freechel wasn’t a particularly talented individual, but she was a hard worker who was serious about everything. If she focused on getting the basics correct, she had the potential to reach the Second-Circle within a few months. If she was lucky, achieving Third-Circle within 10 years would be possible.

Takiran’s achievements were also going pretty well.  He had never  gotten  the  chance  to  improve  because  there  had  never been a teacher to teach him proper swordsmanship.

The fact that he had been unable to do anything at the Party Competition seemed to have been a great shock to him.

As   a   result,   the   experience   made   him   eager   to   become stronger, and after immersing himself in daily training, he was able to enter the Pawn Class.

Takiran’s little brother eventually left the party. Not everyone had the willpower to bear Desir’s demanding training regimine.

He  had  initially  joined  not  because  he  had  a  goal  that  he wanted  to  achieve,  but  because  he  wanted  to  stick  with  his brother. As a result, he didn’t have the will  to endure the pain in order to achieve something.

Desir didn’t relegate himself to the role of tutor. After all, he needed  to  get  stronger  as  well  to  face  the  oncoming  storm. Whenever he had a moment of respite, Desir analyzed his new magic system from various perspectives.

If he wanted to invoke magic multiple times in a fight, he still had a lot of fine-tuning to do. He frequently cooped himself up in the library, and could be found up to his nose in stacks of books.  Whenever  he  felt  himself  approach  a  wall,  he  made  a point to converse with and bounce ideas off of Zod. Soon after, he’d  be  back  on  track.Through  their  combined  hard  work, Desir’s party improved smoothly and quickly.


“Good morning Desir.”

Kelt always greeted Desir when they crossed paths.  The Kelt that had turned his face away to avoid eye-contact during the Party Competition was long gone.

He wasn’t the only one who greeted Desir.  The Alpha Class students who’d worked with him to clear the third stage of the dungeon also said hello whenever they met Desir’s party.

The impression of commoners had changed drastically.

The Alpha Class students who had participated in the party competition were all  top rankers in their respective parties. As these students changed the way they interacted with commoners, the others naturally followed suit.

Of   course,   there   were   still many   nobles   that   detested commoners,  but  they  didn’t  openly  treat  them  with  as  much contempt as before for fear of drawing attention to themselves.

The most surprising change came from Prof. Pugman.

He had always harassed Desir, trying to take him down.  But after that day, he hadn’t acted in that manner even once.

It  was  to  be  expected,  as  Desir  was  the  very  person  who’d saved Pugman’s precious little brother. He was at least someone aware of his duty and standing.

It   was   only   the   attitude   towards   commoners   that   had changed, but even so, Romantica regarded it as a tremendous stride forward.

Although insignificantly, the school environment for the Beta Class  had  improved.  Although  it  wasn’t  quite  how  Desir  had planned, he had managed to show everyone at the event that commoners were capable too. By disproving the claims made by noble  professors  that  commoners  were  incompetent  head-on, the support for commoners had increased slightly.

The professors that continued to oppose improvements to the Beta Class eventually left the academy and new professors soon took their places.


Once  the  lecture  on  sparring  ended,  Hersaint-Blanc  called Desir into his office.

His  office  was  decorated  with  various  swords.   If  anyone entered it unknowingly, they would probably mistake it for a knight’s office.

Hersaint-Blanc offered Desir a seat, but quite a lot of dust had collected on the seat. It was evident that the place hadn’t been cleaned for the past couple of days.

“It’s a bit dirty but do excuse me for that.”

“That’s all right.”

Hersaint-Blanc cleared his throat before starting to speak.

“I’ll get straight to the point. I apologize for testing you thus far, Desir.”

It was an unexpected remark, but Desir maintained his poker face.

“You don’t seem too surprised.”

“I had a hunch.”

Desir just barely managed to recall  his past memories of the man in front of him when he had mentioned he had once served as the captain of the empire’s Golden Hawks.

Hersaint-Blanc Tistachia.

Active in the Shadow Labyrinth under the alias known as the Knight of Dawn. He was famous for contributing to the training of numerous talents even in the hell  holes known as Shadow Worlds. There was no way he was an Outsider.

Desir had been unable to identify him immediately, despite his fame, since he was more widely known for his alias, not his real name.

Hersaint-Blanc scratched the scar on his cheek as he spoke.

“Haha, did you notice? In any case, sorry for that. We needed to determine what kind of individual you were.”


Just  as  the  word  suggested,  it  meant  that  he  had  a  group supporting him.

“So have you made any progress?”

“Absolutely.  We’ve at least found out that you have hostile relations  with  the  Outsiders.  And  that’s  enough  because  that means one of our biggest worries is gone.”

“However,  I  advise  you  to  continue  being  careful  of  your actions.  Always  keep  in  mind  that  there  are  people  out  there paying attention to you.”

Desir answered firmly to his words.

“I’m grateful for your advice, but I’m only doing what I need to. That won’t change no matter what others say.”

“…Well.   That  will   change  once  you  find  out  who’s  been keeping their eye on you.”

“I   have   no   intention   of   finding   out.   No   matter   who’s watching,   nothing   will   change.   I   hate   having   to   walk   on eggshells around others.”

What Desir had to do could not waver, no matter the reason.

“Alright, I’m expecting a lot from you. Feel free to leave now.”

“Thank you for your time, professor.”


Hersaint-Blanc  looked  at  the  empty  chair  where  Des1r  was sitting before bursting into laughter.

Thinking  he  was  a  boy  that  truly  embodied  the  trait  of boldness, Hersaint-Black took his pen, and wrote a letter.

The opening of the letter started like this.

- Your Majesty, the great Sun of Hebrion, I report to you.



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