Damn Academy - Chapter 92

[Episode 92] The Shadow (15)

T h i s w as c opi ed f r o m k i n gm t l . o r g
Zverev headed north.

Th i s w as c o p i e d f r o m k i ng mt l .o r g
He joined a nomadic tribe in the Tentakel region of the north and for a time learned their lifestyle and alchemical traditions.

They were the Plandius tribe. A tribe that subsisted on fish and mare’s milk, maintaining primitive traditions, yet what was peculiar was their perfect adaptation to the capricious and extreme climate of the north over hundreds of years.

In a climate where hail fell one day and a blizzard poured the next, making survival difficult, there was one secret to their adaptability and prosperity—it was the power of the ‘mediums.’

Astoundingly, one-tenth of the Plandius population were mediums who resonated with nature and predicted the rapidly changing weather to direct the tribe to safety in advance.

From our perspective, these mediums were ‘summoners.’

While there was no exact explanation of what the ‘Tevris’ factor Zverev sought was, he mentioned a connection between the Plandius tribe and this ‘Tevris’ factor.

Zverev believed that this enigmatic factor played a key role in the manifestation of the mediums’ abilities.

The Plandius tribe’s territory bordered the ‘Land of Death,’ situated at the northernmost tip of the continent.

Thus, when he attempted to move further north for his research, all the tribal nomads tried to stop him.

And he heard a peculiar tale from the tribal chief.

The tribe, having witnessed Zverev’s magical knowledge, believed he too possessed the talent of a medium and warned him that ‘one with the power of a medium must never go to the Land of Death.’

Meanwhile, they showed Zverev something.

It was a young man, confined in a coffin, his limbs bound with chains, constantly muttering something.

When asked what the confined young man and the Land of Death had to do with each other, they answered.

There was a massive pit in the Land of Death, so deep its bottom could not be gauged, and within it, foul spirits and the energy of chaos writhed like an active volcano, they said.

They referred to it as ‘the Devil’s Pit.’

From it emanated a darkness that swallowed light. This wasn’t a metaphor; they claimed that in the vicinity, torches and light-emitting magical stones lost their power.

And they told an even more bizarre story.

‘All mediums who visited the Land of Death went mad.’

The young man confined in the coffin had accidentally stepped foot in the Land of Death and was a medium.

The symptoms were all alike. The mediums spoke of hundreds, thousands of thought-forms screaming and wailing in ‘the Devil’s Pit.’

Ever since visiting that place, they exhibited signs of mental derangement.

At first, they would hear voices, then see black apparitions, and finally, their minds would be dominated by something indescribable and rush toward ‘the Devil’s Pit,’ throwing themselves in.

‘The Devil’s Pit’ had such a strong pull on their bodies that they had no choice but to chain them and confine them in coffins.

It was a case mostly consistent with Luna’s symptoms.

The Plandius tribe sought Zverev’s help. They asked him to find a way for the tribe’s stalwart warriors to confront and fight the force that tormented the mediums—the black apparition.

Using knowledge acquired from the Tornika tribe that dwelled in the magical pressure zones, Zverev devised a recipe.

It required only two ingredients:

Maladirut and Dofler’s blood.

***

However, this was a recipe based on Zverev’s hypothesis rather than one verified in the laboratory. Furthermore, since the follow-up story of the Plandius tribe and that confined young man wasn’t recorded, it was hard to regard it as a definitive solution.

Still, it was worth an attempt.

The first ingredient, Maladirut, was a rare herb that thrived in areas where magical power erupted from the earth and strong magical pressure formed.

T hi s w a s c o pie d f ro m k i n g m tl . o r g
What was unique was its ability to grow in any terrain, climate, or even polluted environments, as long as the magical pressure was intense.

The specialty of this herb lay in materializing intangible energy and storing it in its roots.

If it grew in a forest abundant with spirits, it would feed on the energy left by the entities and materialize it in its roots; if it was a place full of thought-forms, it would consume and store their energy. It possessed the power to reduce spiritual energy to the physical realm.
T h i s w a s copi e d fro m k i ng m t l . o r g

Furthermore, during this conversion process, it also neutralized poisons and malicious energies.

Inhaling the smoke from burning this root temporarily increased one’s sensitivity to the energy contained within.

Some minority tribes used Maladirut to communicate and conduct sacrifices to the indigenous gods governing the circulatory system.

Zverev speculated that if Maladirut grew in the Land of Death or was nourished by the blood of Doflers, revealed to be otherworldly beasts, it would enhance sensitivity to the ‘black apparition.’

Finding a path was one thing, but another problem was obtaining the rare herb and the blood of an otherworldly magical beast.

I immediately set out in search of someone worth consulting for advice.

***

Art club advisor Georgia received a stack of documents handed over by the assistant and asked,

“What’s all this?”

“Documents related to the art club.”

“So why are there so many? What could be so demanding from this tiny specialty club?”

“Professor, half of it is applications for membership.”

“…What?”
T hi s w a s c o pi e d f r o m ki n g mt l . o rg

Georgia immediately took the documents and started flipping through them. It was true.

The number of applicants, which would typically peak at seven or eight per semester, had ballooned to thirty.

Among them were some with experience listed from the drama and dance clubs. The prospect of them leaving fiercely competitive clubs for the art club was rather suspicious. To top it off, there were only two male applicants Huck and Georgia had hoped for.
T h is w a s c o p i e d f r o m ki n g mt l . o r g

“Goodness.”

Georgia shook her head as if exasperated and asked the assistant,

“Kid, do you know what’s going on? Any rumors floating around the school? Or has the prince developed an interest in art and suddenly made it a fad in the empire?”

The assistant scratched his head, his expression indicating it was awkward to speak the rumors aloud.

“Well… you know, Professor. The guy who joined the art club this time… he’s quite noticeable.”

Georgia smacked her forehead as if she hadn’t thought of that possibility.

“I’m going to go mad. I’m literally going mad.”

“Um, Professor, if it’s okay to ask, can I… visit him later?”

“Hey! If you start this too, what am I supposed to do!”

“Ah, I’m sorry…”

She had seen countless men join female-dominated clubs just to see girls, but this was the first time women flocked due to the opposite.

She sighed. More applicants weren’t necessarily better. If art wasn’t their main goal, it would disrupt the atmosphere all the same.

“We need to be more thorough with the evaluations this time.”

T h i s w a s co p i ed f ro m ki n g mt l .o r g
In the midst of this, someone knocked on the office door. Massaging the back of her neck due to the membership issue, Georgia said,

“Come in.”

A boy entered the room, making Georgia’s eyes widen. Interestingly enough, the person was Damian, the very cause of the whole membership commotion.

“Good day, Professor. I’ve come because…”

She cut him off mid-sentence.

“Oh dear, perfect timing. Come here. Have a seat.”

She gestured to the visitor’s sofa and had him sit. Then she poured some herb tea from the pot and took a seat on the sofa opposite him.

“You’ve come at just the right moment. Since you’re here, let’s get our stories straight.”

“Yes?”

“You, you’ve left the art club.”

“……?”

“No, not really left. If someone asks, just say that for this week. Say you’ve left the art club.”

“Is there a problem…?”

“No worries, it’s nothing to do with you. Just do as I say, alright?”

If rumors spread that Damian had left, those with dishonest intentions would easily be weeded out.

Damian thought it over calmly and then nodded.

“I understand.”

“Ah, that’s right, what brings you here today?”

T hi s wa s c o p i e d f r o m k i n gm t l . or g
“I’ve come to ask about a certain herb I want to research personally…”

Georgia took a sip of her tea and then asked,

“What is it? As a member of our art club, I should listen. What kind of herb are you looking to study?”

“Maladirut.”

Georgia’s demeanor, which had been somewhat distracted, quieted in a flash, and a certain firmness entered her eyelids.

“Hmm… Maladirut.”

She leaned back into the armchair, resting her head on her hand, and stared intently at Damian.

She wanted to ask about his reasons, but she held back.

The first-year students would soon face joint classes. Many students were fiercely preparing to achieve top grades in that class.

Georgia knew that all this effort was utterly futile.

It wasn’t effort that mattered; the important thing was seeing the essence. Maladirut was one among many ways to approach that essence. Nobody, not even the students of the Alchemy Department, had even come close to Maladirut.

Yet here was a well-bred Combat Department student asking about it—a rather intriguing situation. Of course, knowing about Maladirut alone wouldn’t suffice, but the matter was certainly worth observing.

“Alchemy… no, you’re from the Combat Department, right?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Fascinating. So what do you want to know about Maladirut?”

***

“Dofler? Why Dofler?”
T h is was c o p ied f r o m k i ng mt l . o r g

“For research purposes.”

Ella continued to focus on the paperwork. More documents were spread out beside her than when Damian had last visited. She appeared to be incredibly busy.

“Where can I find a Dofler? Are you planning on hunting it down yourself?”

“If possible, that is what I intend.”

“There’s a special enchantment on the mask that Dofler can’t detect. If you put on the mask and go around Leaguebed speaking to each person, eventually you’ll catch one.”

“Isn’t there any other way?”

“That’s the surest method. Before Eternia’s research on Doflers advanced, they really resorted to that trickery to capture a Dofler.”

“…”

“You won’t need to find one yourself. The Magic Society’s lab is housing Doflers. If you want, I can help you, but the problem is… I need to know what you need them for. Do you need to see a Dofler with your own eyes? Or do you need materials derived from Doflers?”

“The latter.”

“Then it’s doable. Just promise me you won’t consume any of Dofler’s blood or excretions.”

“Is there a particular reason why I shouldn’t?”

“Simple. There is neurotoxin in it. Never put it in your mouth.”

“…I’ll be mindful of that.”

“Good. Come to the Magic Institute’s lab in three hours. I’ll let the beastiology researchers know to prepare for you.”

T his w as c o p i e d f ro m k i n g m t l . o r g
“Thank you.”

Ella waved her hand dismissively, signaling for him to leave.