WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Surviving the Assassin Academy as a Professor

Translator: Touch

Editor: Grass

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Chapter 65: The Bell Rings Over Snow-Covered Ruins (10)

He had been smoke-free for three years. Even so, Professor Collider held a cigarette between his lips.

The scenery made it impossible not to.

He drew the smoke deep into his lungs and looked up at the awe-inspiring sight above—at the enormous tree that rose into the heavens.

Now I understand.

After days of arguing with his fellow professors, nearly breaking into fistfights, he finally understood the true purpose of this massive illusion that had begun revealing itself.

The other professors beside him also held cigarettes in their mouths, silently.

[Maintenance], [Scale], [Expansion]… Which of the three subjects had been the core of this exam?

Well, they now realized it had been a pointless debate. It had been all three, all along.

“How big is that thing?”

“It’s about a thousand meters tall at the moment.”

“But there’s that circuit in the design that’ll expand the illusion once it’s complete, right?”

“Right, there is.”

“How many times bigger will it get…?”

“About twentyfold, I believe.”

Twentyfold.

So that 1,000-meter-tall tree floating high in the sky would expand twenty times in height alone.

In terms of volume, it would grow exponentially, roughly eight thousand times larger.

…And the fact that it can continue to expand afterward… means outsiders could also participate.

Why had Dante Hiakapo created an illusion that anyone could participate in?

“…Why?”

The more they understood, the more they saw.

And the more they saw, the more they realized how little they truly knew.

As they began to grasp Dante’s intentions, new questions surfaced.

It was said that he had invested ten million hika into this project—a ludicrous sum for a professor to pour into a mere final exam.

And yet, Dante had pushed forward.

“…For what, exactly?”

Still lost in thought, Collider felt something cold brush his cheek.

“It’s snowing.”

“Ah, it is.”

As the end of December neared, snow began to fall for the first time that year at the academy.

* * *

During that time, Gray had also fully grasped Professor Dante’s intent.

As a result, the speed of her Illusion Arts accelerated.

By the time she had created nearly 600 branches on the giant tree, she had already taken an overwhelming lead in the rankings.

But by that point, her score no longer mattered much to her.

The illusory subspace had expanded multiple times, lifting her ever higher to continue crafting the branches.

From then on, Gray was completely immersed in the professor’s assignment.

Her mana stabilized. Her emotions no longer wavered.

This was a framework he had pre-designed—an illusion the professor had long pondered and constructed.

With what thoughts and emotions had he built this world?

Why, of all things, had he chosen a tree?

As she entered this trance, Gray felt something strange.

It was as if the tree were alive, moving, and growing.

It was quite a strange thought.

Illusion Arts were nothing more than sophisticated puppetry, tricks designed to deceive the senses.

That was why House Habanero had once been known as the “House of Puppeteers.”

Thus, a living, moving illusion shouldn’t be possible.

And yet, Gray felt motion. A pulse. The life force of a tenacious entity that could pierce even concrete to lay down roots.

With that sensation lingering in her chest, Gray finally created the last branch.

And the moment she attached her illusion to the framework and gave it flesh…

The final exam was complete.

The illusory subspace surrounding the cadets began to shatter.

As the hazy white space faded, reality emerged once more.

All the cadets instinctively looked up to the sky… where a marvelous sight awaited them.

“…!!”

Gray clutched her chest.

An indescribably massive tree was growing in the sky, kilometers away.

And it was still growing, stretching upward as if to pierce the clouds.

Ezekiel was not a man who spoke of regrets.

He was an archmage who wielded 9th-level spells, a Challenger-rated combatant ranked 171st on the continent, and a man with royal blood coursing through his veins.

He was tall, and his attractive face was widely admired throughout the continent.

“Unfortunately, Dean Ezekiel…”

For a man with no shortcomings anywhere in the world, this meeting was grueling.

“With all due regret, the Council of Elders remains skeptical.”

“…”

He had just proposed expanding Professor Dante Hiakapo’s grand illusion to a nationwide scale.

He had even submitted a petition to the palace for an executive order.

Yet the Council of Elders was refusing.

Ezekiel pushed up his silver-framed glasses with a straight finger.

“…May I ask the reason?”

“To be frank, there isn’t just one. In fact, if anyone other than you had made this proposal, it wouldn’t have even reached the Council.”

“And yet, it is I, Ezekiel Hiakium, who made the proposal. Therefore, I will carefully listen to your reasons for refusing it,” the Dean snapped back.

Even in front of the elders, Ezekiel’s royal dignity never wavered.

As he calmly demanded an explanation, one elder responded with irritation.

“First of all, shouldn’t this ‘Chief Professor Cain’ fellow show up in person to make this proposal?”

“…I believe I’ve already explained myself. Professor Cain is under special protection, being the academy’s most critical and important figure.”

“Well, that’s good to hear, especially considering our nation’s foundation in Illusion Arts Studies crumbled after the traitor Gloomy defected. However, this still isn’t proper etiquette toward the royal court.”

“Also, this national event involving Illusion Arts practitioners and the grand illusion—we remain skeptical. Is it truly worth the effort?”

“It certainly is. As the documents I’ve submitted show, this isn’t an ordinary illusion.”

“Oh really? I’m sure it’s impressive to you researchers who stay shut in your rooms all day.”

The elder dismissively tossed the meeting papers aside. The pages fluttered and landed messily on the table.

“After the recent ambush by Kreutz, public sentiment is unstable. The economy’s taken a hit. And you want us to sign off on… participation in a giant illusion?” the elder scoffed.

“Please review the documents. About 20 years ago, when Abraxas, the former 「Radiant Constellation⁺₊⋆」, succeeded in the first 『Virtual World Forgery』, there were significant economic impacts throughout the Empire.”

“Well, that was because of Abraxas. Are you saying this ‘Chief Cain’ is on the same level as him?”

“The illusion he unveiled this time is of comparable scale. If you read the—”

“No. No, no, no.”

The elder refused with a sigh.

Ezekiel’s expression twisted ever so slightly. But the old man would not yield.

“I’m sorry, but we won’t be reviewing the documents. The royal court—and this Council—remains skeptical of your unproven claims.”

Ezekiel said nothing.

Back in his youth, he had once tried a food called a sweet potato—a humble root eaten by the poor. He had nearly choked on it with a single bite, put off by its leathery dryness, and never touched it again.

But now, after spending 30 minutes in this meeting room, it felt as though someone was forcefully stuffing three of those sweet potatoes down his throat, leaving him to choke to death.

No matter how thoroughly he tried to explain the project, he was met with nothing but rejection. The dean’s frustration was reaching its limit.

He knew how incredible that illusion was. Even the cadets knew. In fact, anyone who witnessed it would know.

But he had no way to make the elders understand it with words. And now, they refused to even look at the documents.

“To make a proposal to the Council, you must prove its value,” the elder repeated.

“But to prove its value, doesn’t the Council need to give some permission first?” Ezekiel replied sharply, irritation beginning to seep through his tone.

“I’ve already mentioned multiple times that we only have a week left, and yet you keep demanding proof of its value, even though we only have a week.”

“There you go again, Dean, getting all emotional. You never change, even after decades.”

That comment struck a nerve.

If he caused a scene, it would only give the Council more reason to reject him. And he knew that was their aim from the start.

But what else was he supposed to do when it was this infuriating?

“Why do you think I’m getting emotional?! You’re sitting here rejecting me and asking questions in bad faith!”

“So, can you prove its value?”

“Do the elders enjoy repeating themselves?”

“So you’re saying you can’t prove it?”

“Are you toying with me?”

SLAM!

The scattered papers on the table moved on their own, reorganizing themselves into a neat stack before slamming down again.

The elders flinched. This was none other than an ultra-high-level display of telekinesis.

“There’s a limit to how much you can scorn others,” Ezekiel growled.

Even in his anger, he maintained a haughty posture, arrogantly crossing his legs as he began to shout.

“How many times do I have to repeat myself—?!”

Just as the rage threatened to break loose from his throat, something brushed against his senses.

“…?”

His perception was so sharp that he could detect even a few drops of blood falling into a lake.

Ezekiel turned toward the disturbance.

And then—

“I’m curious too.”

A booming voice echoed through the chamber.

Ezekiel immediately stood and bowed. “You’ve arrived, Your Majesty.”

Every elder and attendant rose and lowered their heads.

With golden hair, bright pink eyes, and a stern expression reminiscent of a stubborn dragon, the wise king strode into the room.

He was the most revered ruler in Hiaka’s history—the one who had revived a crumbling nation.

He was Rebecca’s father.

Even Ezekiel—who considered himself inferior to no one—regarded this man as the one mountain he could never surpass.

His Majesty, King Hiaka III, stepped into the council chamber.

The king swept his gaze over the elders, stern as an incensed dragon.

“The Council of Elders ought to be ashamed.”

The elders visibly flinched.

“You all know just how temperamental this boy is, and yet you still provoke him into leaving in a fit of rage? Has age withered your bodies but left your minds immature?”

“…Our most sincere apologies, Your Majesty,” said the main elder, bowing.

“Our most sincere apologies,” the others echoed in unison.

“Ezekiel. That goes for you as well. When will your mind ever grow? This is exactly why these old fools continue to look down on you.”

“I am ashamed, Your Majesty.”

“Foolish boy.”

The king naturally made his way to the seat of honor and sat.

He was a blunt man, one who always went straight to the point.

“So. Is this illusion truly as great as you say? Great enough for you, who left the palace over fifteen years ago out of spite, to come crawling back on your own?”

“…Yes, Your Majesty.”

“An archmage like you should have been able to bring back at least a fragment of this incredible illusion to demonstrate its greatness.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty, but I was unable to retrieve it.”

“Why not?”

“Even at my level, it was impossible to replicate the illusion.”

The king’s expression softened slightly. He leaned forward.

“Those who ask others to believe in the unseen are usually charlatans or scammers. What, then, can you show me to change my mind?”

It was the same demand the elders had made—to show the illusion. And it was something Ezekiel had consistently failed to do.

But he had known this would happen. Their demand was reasonable.

People only believed what they could see.

That was why he had held back... until now.

“…If Your Majesty wishes to see it for yourself,” he said quietly.

Ezekiel stood and strode toward the curtain covering the tall window.

He waved away the attendants who rushed to help and pulled the curtain aside himself.

“I shall show you directly.”

The elders frowned, confused.

Show it directly?

Even if it were a giant tree, the royal palace was nearly 25 kilometers away from the academy. There was no way they’d see it from here…

Fwoosh—!

The curtain flew open, and the chamber plunged into utter shock and stunned silence.

“T-This can’t be…!!”

“Eh…?!”

“W-What in the world is that…?!”

The moment the illusory subspaces shattered, Forte recoiled in horror. A chill ran up Dominic’s spine as goosebumps prickled across his skin. Hwaru collapsed, her legs giving out beneath her.

During one of Dante’s lectures, he had once explained:

“Illusion Arts can only recreate what one has experienced.”

If that was true, then what in the world had Chief Professor Cain experienced? How could he create something like this?

Far in the distance, roughly 4,000 meters above Zone 9, near the edge of the Forest of Magic, there stood a tree so colossal it nearly covered the entire sky.

Its roots spread vast and deep, branching into the open air as though embedded in the sky itself, large enough to blanket the entire city.

Its towering form rose higher than any mountain range could ever reach.

No one said a word.

Faced with a phenomenon so massive it defied logic, the students stood in stunned silence, overwhelmed by its presence.

What they felt went far beyond awe or fascination.

It was the sensation of witnessing something unknown, something cosmic, an entity far greater than humankind.

And yet, they weren’t afraid.

The tree radiated warmth, as if a god who loved mankind had descended into the mortal realm.

Everyone knew it was just an illusion—that even the warmth brushing against their skin was fabricated. Still, it felt deeply familiar… like a mother’s embrace or a beloved tree from one’s childhood backyard.

This illusion had been crafted by the 1,200 cadets gathered here.

And the ones who had participated in its creation recognized the part of the tree they had made.

Then, suddenly…

Flash!

Tens of thousands of pre-installed lights flickered to life across the vast branches.

As the colorful glow enveloped the clearing in gentle light, Dominic finally understood the true meaning behind this final exam.

“A Holy Tree…”

Holy Trees were, essentially, Christmas trees in this world.

And now that he thought about it… Tomorrow was the Holy Day.

The hour was already late. Midnight was drawing near.

Over 1,200 cadets stood together in the clearing, their illusory subspaces now completely gone.

30 examiners appeared midair, suspended in a neat formation. Each wore the black uniform of an exam proctor.

At the center stood Professor Dante Hiakapo.

He raised his voice, calm but commanding.

“This concludes the exam,” he declared.

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