Chapter 84: The Lecturer’s Resolve

Growth is the process of creating a better version of oneself.

Ascent is the act of surpassing one’s former self and transforming into something new.

The desire for such growth and ascent existed in everything.

It was not a concept limited to just wizards.

The moment magic was contained within something, it would instinctively strive to hold even more.

That was why the world was teeming with magical creatures.

Animals absorbed magic into their bodies more easily and instinctively imprinted it upon themselves.

The magical creatures that underwent such mutations formed new species, passing down their enhanced traits to their descendants.

Following their innate instincts, they longed for ascent.

That was why magical creatures went berserk at the sight of a wizard.

To them, a wizard was no different from a nutritious meal.

Thus, the empire’s borders were in a constant state of battle against these creatures.

But this phenomenon was not limited to living beings.

Ascent occurred in non-living things as well.

In lands where magic had accumulated over centuries, in rocks struck repeatedly by lightning, in lingering shadows that had remained undisturbed—over time, they too grew and ascended.

Some perished in their ascent, some crumbled under the pressure.

Among the countless remnants of those that failed, only a select few survived to the present day.

And it would undoubtedly continue this way in the future.

Wizards were no exception to this rule.

Knowledge and magic were a form of record-keeping.

The current system of magic was built upon the deaths of many before, refined and improved over time.

Yes, anything that possessed magic inherently sought growth and ascent.

That truth applied to me as well.

***

On the seventh day after returning to the Tower, something unusual happened.

At first, Cassian had intended to leave the moment we entered.

The Tower was forbidden to her, after all.

But we stopped her.

Bringing Cassian into the Tower was not difficult.

The professor was asleep, and thus his magic lay dormant.

Within the mist of Mira, Cassian’s presence would go unnoticed.

So, as it was now, Cassian roamed freely, rolling about the Tower.

In the central hall on the first floor, she sat idly, watching the busy movements of the dolls.

A dreamy light flickered in her vacant gaze.

Now that I thought about it, letting people into the Tower might not be as difficult as I had assumed.

If I deemed it necessary, the professor would not object.

I had simply never considered doing so before, as there had never been a need.

‘Why allow outsiders into the Tower?’ They would undoubtedly be untrustworthy.

But Cassian was different.

I had assessed her character, and she was bound by a promise.

She had no reason to betray us, and even if she did, Mira could control her.

That was why I was considering asking the professor to allow her permanent entry.

It would be a waste to use her talents for only five years.

If her abilities were exceptional, then it was only right to keep her here, to study and utilize them.

A mutually beneficial arrangement.

A path that ensured happiness for all.

Mira had mentioned something earlier.

She had said that Cassian’s body could only withstand up to the sixth floor.

But that was fine.

For now, I had no intention of going beyond that.

One day, however, I would face those eyes again.

And when that time came, I would return the suffering I had endured.

I vowed it.

***

The dolls Cassian and Mira were observing were not under my control.

I, too, silently watched them.

The shadow dolls moved naturally, their two stars of consciousness gleaming as they carried out their tasks.

During the two months I had been away, they had undergone remarkable changes.

At the center of it all was one figure.

I looked at Zero.

He moved swiftly, issuing commands to the dolls.

They responded to his will, coordinating effortlessly to reshape the Tower.

The statues he had created were displayed throughout the halls.

I studied the sculptures carefully.

Each had its own unique form—some had dozens of legs, others dozens of arms, and some had countless heads.

Residual magic lingered within them, and their many eyes stared directly at me.

Zero had asked for permission to redesign the first floor, and I had allowed it.

I was curious to see how far his capabilities would reach.

Now, he was skillfully leading the shadow dolls.

I observed him closely.

Since he was modeled after me, he bore an uncanny resemblance.

Even his attire matched mine—his robe, formed from shadows, reflected my taste perfectly.

But now, something new was embedded in his chest.

Something I recognized well.

A fake tree.

I let out a wry smile.

He had embedded it into himself.

Before leaving for the Rift City with Cassian, I had entrusted Zero with the fake tree and left him in charge of the Tower.

He was the only one I could trust.

And he had done exactly as I had hoped—managing the Tower flawlessly.

He had resolved abnormalities, fixed magical errors, and ensured stability.

It was an astonishing feat.

However, in the process, the fake tree had fused with him.

When I first saw it, I was bewildered.

It made sense.

Both Zero and the fake tree possessed individual consciousness.

I had never considered merging them, fearing the unpredictable consequences.

But after two months away, this was the result.

Zero had conveyed his reasoning to me—this was the only way.

For the first month, things had been fine.

But after that, problems arose.

My prolonged absence had caused the shadow consciousnesses to stagnate.

They clung to the fake tree, preserving their existence, but they could no longer grow.

Without purpose, they had begun to solidify, their potential fading.

I had anticipated some of these issues before I left and had reduced their numbers to mitigate the problem.

Zero, however, could not bear to watch his “siblings” wither away.

That sentiment touched me.

Siblings—he truly was my firstborn.

He had sought a solution.

And then, he recalled my shadow tree.

He thought, since he was created in my image, if he connected himself to the fake tree, he could serve as its core.

It was a perilous experiment.

He did not detail the process, but the scars on his body spoke for themselves.

It must have been agonizing and arduous.

In the end, he had succeeded.

Now, he was connected to the fake tree, just as my shadow tree was connected to me.

The fake tree, once artificial, had transformed into something real, uniquely his own.

***

Suddenly, he began coughing.

It was as if something inside him was trying to escape.

From his mouth, a wraith emerged, hovering briefly before returning inside.

He swallowed it back down, his mouth twitching slightly.

A minor side effect of the fusion.

Mira watched, amused.

Aside from that, there were no serious issues.

After numerous adjustments and experiments, this was the stable outcome.

The shadow dolls moved in perfect harmony under his command.

Their consciousnesses had evolved—where once they had only a single star, now they possessed two.

This crisis had led to growth.

They enriched my shadow tree further.

My approach had not been in vain.

I smiled in satisfaction.

Zero’s shadows now held dozens, even hundreds of stars, forming a unified self.

That was the goal I sought.

Of all the constructs, the one with the most stars was the bear doll.

It had six—two from me, and four from Cassian.

Next was the butler, who had five, derived from the professor’s magic.

Then the turtle.

I brushed my fingers over the small turtle clinging to my chest.

It playfully nipped at me.

It had been born with two stars, now it had four—carefully cultivated growth.

Each construct developed its own constellation of stars, forming unique identities.

Most still had only one, but that would change.

For that, I needed more interaction, more exchange, more knowledge.

And that meant more lectures.

I sighed.

The lectures had their limits.

The reviews made that clear—abysmally low scores.

After returning, I had spent much time reflecting.

‘Over the past five years, what mistakes had I made?’

There were three key issues.

The first issue was that I never intended to give away treasure.

I had written the course syllabus as if there was an opportunity to obtain treasure.

Many students had enrolled because of that promise.

But aside from the first bait I had given to Jun, no one else received anything.

‘Did the students truly not see through our intentions?’ Their dissatisfaction was reflected in the reviews.

The second issue was related to the first—I failed to provide them with sufficient benefits.

I thought of Professor Heisen’s tower.

Even Zero, my reliable pillar, had originated from there.

As he was demonstrating now, his potential was extraordinary.

As expected of the professor’s creation.

Other courses likely followed similar patterns.

Students, or at least the successful ones, needed some form of tangible reward.

But that never happened.

Jun was the only one who had gained something from this course.

There was little I could do.

When even the professor refused to hand out treasure, what could I possibly offer?

The third issue was me.

‘Where exactly did I stand in this class? Was I a student? A teaching assistant? I was in an ambiguous position.’

As the reviews had pointed out, I provoked them.

I incited conflict.

And I even used those conflicts to extract points.

Their hostility toward me stemmed from that.

It reflected in the evaluations.

These were the three problems.

To be honest, I didn’t know much about lecturing.

I had only directly experienced one course myself.

Now that I thought about it, even Professor Heisen’s course had only cost 5,000 points to enroll.

And that was despite the fact that he provided valuable shadows.

Of course, the environment was brutal.

Once high-ranking students secured rooms in the shadow world, those below them had no room to grow.

The lower-ranked students kept feeding magic into their shadows, only to eventually fail.

Five years of struggle ultimately amounted to nothing.

That explained the poor reviews.

And the course price reflected that reality.

Yet, many still flocked to his lectures.

Those confident in their abilities took the class for the chance to obtain a shadow.

The rewards for passing were clear and significant.

Every course had its own unique appeal.

I had discovered this while gathering information about other classes.

So, what was our course’s defining feature? Treasure.

And by withholding it, we had created a major problem.

I crossed my arms, thinking back to when I first worried about this issue while researching other lectures.

I had no clear solution, so I let it slide.

But now, it had come back to haunt me.

I recalled the moment we had first conceptualized the course.

It had been when I arrived at the university.

‘The professor had told me to design a lecture. I had searched desperately for a way and came up with the idea of a treasure hunt. It had been the only viable option at the time. But now, it had reached its limits.’

‘The reviews had already spread the truth—our course would not provide treasure. If I conducted another treasure hunt, it would only attract disinterested participants. That would stifle my own growth. I needed something better.’

‘Something beyond a simple treasure hunt. I needed a new, innovative lecture format that would let my influence take root across the entire tower. Based on the concept of treasure, I considered numerous possibilities.’

I looked at Mira and Cassian.

My limitations had been clear before.

‘But now? Now, I had enough power to handle it.’

So, my vision expanded dramatically.

And at the end of my thoughts, I began to shape a new direction.

Now, I just needed to verify if it was possible.

And I was certain it was.

***

A faint presence approached me.

I glanced at it from the corner of my eye.

A wraith with a hazy body beckoned toward me.

It had come from the professor’s doorbell.

As it neared, its gaze flickered to Zero.

Just then, Zero coughed and expelled a wraith from his mouth before swallowing it again.

The approaching wraith flinched at the sight and carefully avoided him.

Zero grinned, baring his teeth.

The wraith, now wary, bowed politely toward me.

It seemed the message I had left three days ago had finally reached the professor.

He had been in deep sleep for the two months we were gone.

I had requested to be contacted when he woke.

And now, he was awake.

“I’ll go see the professor for a moment.”

I told Mira and Cassian.

They nodded and waved as I followed the wraith up the stairs.

The tenth floor—the professor’s domain, which I had not visited in a long time.

It had been tightly sealed before, but now, a small gap had appeared.

I stepped through the opening the wraith indicated.

As I entered, a powerful magical presence swept over me.

The space around me rippled slightly.

The magic carried a dreamlike quality.

It had undoubtedly originated from the professor’s dreams.

Just looking at it made me feel as if I would soon fall asleep.

No, I already had.

***

I looked around.

I was no longer in the tower but in a strange palace.

I moved my hand slightly, and ripples formed like waves.

I felt no physical sensation.

Yet, at the same time, my body distinctly recognized the movement.

A strange feeling coursed through me, as if I existed in both dream and reality.

I carefully examined the palace.

This was undoubtedly the professor’s dream.

The structure pulsed between clarity and blurriness, like a steady breath.

The dream was slowly unraveling.

The professor was waking up.

That must be why I had been summoned here.

I advanced deeper into the palace.

It was eerily silent.

I checked for alternate paths, but there was only one forward.

The other areas were blocked by mist-like walls.

At the end of the passage, I found a massive bed.

The professor lay there, sleeping peacefully.

Her golden hair shimmered under the influence of ambient magic.

I approached carefully.

Since this was a dream, her magic felt subdued.

In slumber, she looked just like an ordinary girl.

“Professor, are you awake?”

I whispered.

Her eyelids twitched slightly before slowly opening.

Drowsy emerald eyes gazed at me.

She yawned lightly and rubbed her eyes before patting the space beside her.

Still half-asleep, her movements were sluggish.

She smiled faintly at me.

She was telling me to sit.

I stiffened slightly.

In her drowsy state, she seemed different from her usual self.

Softer.

Warmer.

It felt… unnatural.

Cautiously, I sat beside her.

She promptly rested her head on my lap, using it as a pillow, and looked up at me.

“Mmm, this isn’t bad.”

She smiled contentedly and closed her eyes again.

I sat frozen, unable to move.

“So, what’s the matter?”

She asked lazily.

I hadn’t expected to say this out loud.

But I had to.

I swallowed and steadied myself.

Then, quietly, I spoke.

“I will take over the lectures from now on.”

At those words, the professor slowly opened her eyes.

She blinked, gradually shaking off her drowsiness.

As she awakened, the surroundings began to collapse.

The world crumbled around us, and in the midst of it, she gazed at me silently.