WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Surviving the Assassin Academy as a Professor

Translator: Touch

Editor: Grass

Join our discord to check out the official illustrations: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 59: The Bell Rings Over Snow-Covered Ruins (4)

┃ Bond Increased: Balmung [35] (▲21)

┃ Reward: Star Shard ×21

I checked the game log as I descended the mountain. The reward was quite to my liking.

In fact, I liked it much more than I expected. The addition of 21 Star Shards brought my total to a perfectly round number.

< Star Shards in Possession: 300 >

How beautiful.

I had diligently collected Star Shards one by one all this time—like a squirrel gathering its winter stash—without any unnecessary spending. And now, I had 300 of them.

By spending 200 to 250 shards, I could learn a level 8 ability if I wanted to.

Currently, I am regarded as a formidable figure around the academy. Indeed, I possess a certain degree of power in specific, exceptional situations that require illusions.

However, my fundamental weaknesses and physical limitations haven't improved significantly.

If I spent the 300 Star Shards to learn a level 8 Combat Art—or distributed them evenly across all my stats—I would gain a considerable amount of combat strength and survivability.

Still… It’s too soon.

I needed to prepare for the future… The far future.

A level 8 ability would ultimately become powerless in the face of a level 9 ability of the same type.

To give an example: in a one-on-one fistfight, I would certainly lose to any of the professors specializing in Illusion Arts at this academy. However, if it were a duel using Illusion Arts, even if they all ganged up on me at the same time, I would completely overwhelm them.

That was the insurmountable gap between level 8 and level 9 abilities.

So, I decided to keep saving my Star Shards for now and moved on to the next topic of interest.

I should finish writing the final exam.

As I arrived at my office, I found a couple of letters waiting for me on the desk.

The first was a thank-you note for becoming a VIP at the central auction house in Hiaka’s capital city, along with a statement for the proceeds from the items I had auctioned off.

+++

▷ Auction Sales Proceeds

　- 14,939,006 Ħ

It was the payment for the loot I had picked off the bodies of the Kreutz assassins who had tried to murder Forte.

I ended up selling 12 Rare and 5 Heroic-grade items all at once. Even after the auction house took its cut, I had obtained nearly 15 million Hika.

It was about the same amount a cadet could earn by killing a professor.

I became rich overnight.

There was only one item I had kept from the loot: a Legendary Ⅰ-grade accessory.

A ring, to be exact.

I had sent it to the capital’s clergy for purification. And it had just returned, tucked inside the second letter on my desk.

▷ The curse has been lifted from the ring 「Echo」. Thank you for using our services.

　- Fee: 552,000 Ħ

After transferring the payment to the account they specified, I picked up the ring and inspected it.

Thankfully, no one had swapped it out with another item. It seemed no one wanted to attempt any shady trickery with a professor from the Assassin Department, since it would put their lives at risk.

＊ Echo [Legendary Ⅰ]

At a glance, the ring was a simple gold band with a teal gemstone. But its real value lay in its special effect.

And I had gotten extremely lucky. This ring was exactly what I needed.

The ring’s special effect was [Amplification] of mana.

Any mana channeled through this ring would be greatly enhanced in its manifestation. The amplification was about 4.3%—an absolutely massive number in this game.

In this world, mana was an extremely independent element. The game had a few key differences from others.

Firstly, the only way to recover mana was with time.

Technically, there were some extremely rare conditions and scenarios in which it could be restored without waiting for time to pass, but those were exceptions. There were no other methods people could use in general besides waiting patiently. That was why items like mana potions didn’t exist.

Thus, assassins, for instance, would unleash a burst of power in a short time, releasing all their mana, only to be completely drained and vulnerable afterward.

Secondly, there were hardly any means to support mana itself.

Supporting mana included concepts like [Amplification], [Maintenance], [Alteration], or [Condensation]. The caster could accomplish these on their own, but finding special equipment to help with this was like reaching for a star in the sky, hoping to grasp it with luck.

And I was one such lucky bastard.

One of those stars now lay in my hand—this ring called「Echo」.

I immediately put it on.

< Overall Combat Power: 159,036 → 165,837 (▲6,801) >

Very nice.

To think an accessory alone could add almost 7,000 combat power.

This was one of the better Legendary Ⅰ-grade items.

Now, enough about money and equipment.

It was time to get back to crafting the question for my final exam.

* * *

I spent nearly ten days in complete seclusion, dedicating myself entirely to research and illusion structuring.

I delved deeply into 『World Forgery』, reaching a level of understanding of Illusion Arts higher than anything I had ever achieved before.

So far, Illusion Arts had merely been a tool for me—like flint or scissors. I simply used them to create whatever I needed in specific situations.

But this exam couldn’t be approached that way.

After attending numerous funerals, killing ghouls, talking to Balmung, and watching countless cadets and professors leave the academy, I had been reflecting deeply on what people truly needed during this time of turmoil.

Having spoken to other faculty members, many expressed the same sentiment: the cadets—and the academy—needed hope.

And I fully agreed.

That was why I had approved giving Gray all the credit for stopping the airship and supported the idea of getting her featured in The Assassin Times.

This exam paper was the same.

For the first time in a long while, I—a selfish man—was dedicating myself to something that would not profit me.

Why?

Because there are certain things in life that one can never understand by considering only profit and loss. That was something I already knew… something I had known since I was ten years old.

I may be a professor, a man obsessed with money and climbing the academic ladder.

But before being a professor, I was also a teacher. Someone who had lived longer than the cadets. Someone who could guide them in the right direction.

As someone who had experienced despair before, I had also learned from it. I had learned how to cling to hope and not let myself be consumed by darkness.

And as a teacher, it was only natural for me to share that method with others.

⋮

< 『World Forgery』 Proficiency: 89.12% (▲0.01%) >

< 『World Forgery』 Proficiency: 89.45% (▲0.01%) >

< 『World Forgery』 Proficiency: 89.89% (▲0.01%) >

After over a week of research and preparation, I finally completed my exam paper.

The result… was a mere single sheet.

But it was a sheet that had cost over ten million hika in materials, filled to the edges with illusion formulas, magic arrays, circuits, and symbols.

Still, I couldn’t say for certain whether it was truly flawless. Since this Illusion Art was an implementation that had never existed in this world before, it carried experimental elements unique to my own methodology.

I believed it would work, but whether it actually would was a different story.

We all know how authors often get excited while writing, thinking they’ve created a masterpiece, only to be humbled the moment they share it with the public. Flaws, sometimes subtle, sometimes critical, are always waiting to be found. 

That was the nature of academia: progress through scrutiny.

So I decided to send my exam paper to another professor in Illusion Arts Studies for verification.

The problem was, I only knew one.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Professor Collider.”

“Hiakapo? Why are you calling me?”

“May I ask for your help checking a paper?”

“A paper?”

I sent a copy of the exam paper to Collider, the neutral senior professor, along with a note:

‘Please complete it within five days.’

I couldn’t give him too much time. It was a timed final exam, after all.

I didn’t expect a call from that bastard…

Senior Professor Collider of Illusion Arts Studies had devoted his life to the field.

He first discovered the allure of Illusion Arts forty years ago, at the age of seven. Back then, the capital city of Hiakium held events known as “Illusion Shows,” where performers dazzled the audience with spectacle, much like a circus. The young Collider had been completely entranced.

Soon after, he began studying Illusion Arts in earnest, excelled at the academy, and earned a scholarship to study abroad at the Imperial Academy Hattengraj. There, he even had the opportunity, brief though it was, to learn under the legendary Elder Professor Abraxas. (Although it was only for three days…)

Now, Collider was one of the few rare individuals capable of wielding two different level 8 Illusion Arts. He had published over forty academic papers as the primary author. In short, he was fundamentally different from the other ragtag professors who had crawled into this place merely for the salary.

He was an elite.

And this elite professor was currently feeling... conflicted.

Dante… that bastard’s asking me to verify his exam?

Among the faculty, it had become well known that Professor Dante Hiakapo possessed a deep understanding of Illusion Arts.

It wasn’t the baseless fantasy the cadets believed. Professors like Collider had watched him closely during the recent incidents and had come to an unsettling conclusion: Dante’s proficiency in Illusion Arts was not just high. It was disturbingly high.

That was the problem.

Because his ability was beyond what they could grasp. When something couldn’t be evaluated, the mind naturally imagined it to be greater than it probably was, which created unease.

But there’s obviously no way he’s better than me…!

Sure, Dante’s output appeared extravagant, but Illusion Arts was not about flash. Their essence lay in intricacy—and in that, Collider still believed himself superior.

Even so, with that silent rivalry burning, he had received the exam for verification.

“…Tch.”

Collider opened the envelope and pulled out the sheet.

Fine. Let’s have a look.

He’d grant that arrogant upstart his request—just this once. But he’d be applying very! very!! VERY!!! strict standards.

“…Wait, it’s just one page?”

A final exam consisting of a single page. And not only that—there was only one question on it.

“What in the…?”

What kind of pompous stunt was this? Did Dante think he was some kind of chief professor reviewing dissertations?

Still, Collider began reading. But as he read line by line, his head tilted sideways.

“…What the—?”

Had he misread something?

Frowning, Collider started over. He even put on his magical reading glasses for clarity.

But even on a second read, all he found in his head were question marks.

“…What kind of question is this??”

The content itself wasn’t difficult.

There was an initial “framework,” and the cadets’ task was to add “flesh” to it.

Both the frame and the flesh were, of course, illusions. The cadets had to meet specific criteria in how the illusions were added, and their scores would be based on those parameters.

“So then… basically, it’s like this…?”

Zap—!

A spark of mana crackled from Collider’s fingertip.

『 Dream’s Embrace 』

Mana gathered in the air for a moment.

Professors of Illusion Arts Studies always kept plaster busts in their offices. Collider had a curly-haired statue right next to his desk.

With a few deft casts, he added a mustache, a hat, and a cigar to the statue.

“With this, the mustache is 3 points, the hat is 4, the cigar is 7.”

That was essentially what Dante’s exam asked for. Collider understood the gist.

But here was the issue: that part of the question took up only three lines.

The entire page had 45 lines, meaning 42 lines remained filled with formulas, circuits, and complex symbols.

Collider could not, for the life of him, figure out the purposes of the other 42 lines.

Could Dante just be an idiot who wasted space? No, that didn’t seem right either.

“…That bastard’s actually good at Illusion Arts, so that can’t be the case…”

If some random teaching assistant had written this, those first three lines would have taken up 30 lines, easy.

But Dante had compressed, interwoven, and condensed them into just three.

Collider had to admit… He was impressed.

Dante’s work was far more intricate than he’d imagined.

But the 4th to 45th remaining lines… they made no sense.

What in the world is this…?

Expansion? Extension? Duration enhancement? Well, yes, but actually no… That didn’t seem quite correct.

It doesn’t feel like it was written with such simple concepts in mind…

He was lost. 

Some parts he could follow, but the overall idea simply eluded him. It wasn’t as if Dante had created something entirely mystical or never before seen. Everything in the question already technically existed.

Line 14 is simply a restructured Parheron equation. Line 24 refers to the third Gitian matrix. Additionally, the magic circle is a modified version of Hegal’s inequation…

That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was how it had all been combined. 

It was as if this lunatic had thrown chocolate chip cookies, pickled radish, grilled beef, and smooth pebbles into a blender and hit purée.

…No, seriously, what the hell? This is driving me crazy! Why on earth is the third Gitian matrix here?!

Dante had asked him to verify the exam, but how could he confirm something he couldn’t even comprehend?

“…”

In the end, even as the whole day went by, Collider still couldn’t make sense of those 42 lines.

3 a.m.

A single candle flickered in his office.

Overcome with frustration, Collider lit a cigarette.

But then, a memory flashed through his mind.

“Hello.”

“Hiakapo? Why are you calling this esteemed elder?”

“O Great Professor Collider, may I ask for your kind help checking a paper?”

“A paper? Hmph. Since you’re asking so nicely, I’ll have a look.”

(The conversation may be somewhat biased since it’s recalled from Collider’s memory…)

The man had even added a deadline.

“If possible, I request your verification within five days, please.”

At the time, Collider had scoffed.

“Five days? For some stupid final exam for cadets? That’s way too much. One or two days should be plenty!”

“It’s a bit of a tricky exam since it deals with an unfamiliar type of implementation for Illusion Arts,” Dante had explained. “The formulas are fairly complex, so it won’t be easy.”

Collider had scoffed. “How insulting! Are you questioning my capability?”

“N-Not at all, sir.”

“I’m just messing with you! No need to be so nervous. Don’t worry, I can check an exam like this with my eyes closed!”

“…With your eyes closed?”

Ah.

Collider realized his mistake too late. However, the Collider at that time couldn’t have possibly known what he was getting himself into.

“As I expected of an elite senior professor like you, sir.” Dante had said. “How reassuring. I will be counting on you, then.”

Ah, shit… Shit!

Collider’s face turned pale.

Why the hell did he have to show off like that?

One or two days, he’d said… And one day had already passed!

“Uuuuugh…”

In all his twelve years teaching at Hiaka Academy, he had never felt this thoroughly screwed.

“…Fuck.”

This elite senior professor was currently facing the biggest crisis of his life.

If you wish to read ahead, there are 10 advanced chapters available right now!

Join our Discord for the official illustrations and the fastest updates on releases! https://dsc.gg/wetried