Internet Mage Professor-Chapter 97: Provocation

On the other hand, not far away from the marching army of the Black Vale Territory knights...

A creature slithered slowly, forth from the broken ridge like something dredged from a forgotten abyss, it’s following them.

It towered over most of the already grotesque spawns that surrounded the Black Vale army’s path, but unlike them, it didn’t snarl or groan.

It walked with a slow grace, as if it were underwater. Its skin shimmered, deep navy-blue, coated in salt and brine, glinting under the overcast sun.

Frilled fins curled from its shoulders and back, moving like the delicate folds of deep-sea coral. Its arms were long and muscled, tipped with talons too refined to be savage.

Razor-sharp, yet elegant.

Along its ribs, gills pulsed open and closed, breathing in something unnatural from the surrounding air.

Its face was long and angular, shaped like an eel’s snout but far more intelligent.

Its eyes—two abyssal pearls—gleamed with cold amusement as they glanced toward the withered, cloaked man hunched beside it, leaning on a crooked cane made of stitched bone and blackened iron.

The man coughed, long and wheezy. .

He wore rags and smelled of blood and burned sage, his teeth yellow and missing in places.

Despite his appearance, there was something unnerving in the way his back never quite fully bent—too straight for a beggar, too alert for a cripple.

The demon clicked its tongue and turned, its gills fluttering slightly. "What do you think, my human master?"

The cloaked beggar leaned forward, his cloudy eyes narrowing as he stared across the field of death and ruined corpses. "Are you certain the thing—the thing—that slaughtered your previous spawn is not among them?"

The demon chuckled, deep and wet, like laughter filtered through murky water. "Yes. I’m sure, my master."

The beggar’s voice turned sharp. "Are you sure?"

"I am not some blind insect, scraping through mud," the demon replied. "I felt the pulse of it. When that... presence ended my spawn, it tainted the surrounding aura. I examined each spawn that returned—what few escaped the purge of the Black Vale knights—and not one carried traces of divine corruption. None bore the bloodline resonance."

The beggar tilted his head, skeptical. "The bloodline of demon gods."

"Exactly," the demon said, nodding slowly. "If it had been present, I would have known. It imprints—it stains. Every spawn I tethered to this region returned either broken, silent, or clean of the god-scent. That can only mean one thing."

"That the one who has it... isn’t here... Could it be that he’s some sort of important being of the Silver Blade City? That’s why it’s very likely he killed it," the beggar muttered, finishing the thought.

The demon’s frilled fins fluttered softly, like a predator’s tail coiling before a strike. "Yes. Likely, it’s back in that silver city—closer to the heart. Maybe he’s also the one called Silver Blade... Kekekeke... Whatever it is, it’s not with this army."

The beggar grinned, a brown, cracked smile. "Then... it’s safe to kill them?"

"Yes... but not now," the demon replied coolly. "We needed to trap them first or else, they might escape once we hunt them."

His gaze swept over the soldiers still moving in their well-practiced formations. "Black Vale is too organized to be met with brute force. Their line won’t break by chaos. But they follow command—orders from a mouth. Remove the tongue, and the limbs forget what to do."

The beggar let out a shrill laugh and tapped his cane once against the ground. "A trap, then. Let us cut off the head... Hunt them one by one, and maybe, just maybe, we can test how powerful the inhabitants of this lower realm are, since they are capable of killing the scouts..."

The demon didn’t respond.

His abyssal eyes were fixed far ahead, as if he knew what would happen next, already imagining the stillness after the scream. freёwebnoѵel.com

---

Back in the lecture hall, the tension was as thick as resin.

Emily slammed her desk, eyes wide with disbelief. "What do you mean, ’lesson’?!"

James stood up, pointing directly at Nolan. "You’re gonna scam us again, aren’t you?"

Sophia folded her arms tightly. "We refuse to be taught by you."

Liam echoed the sentiment with a huff. "Yeah. Not after that. That car ride was trauma in disguise."

All around the classroom, students grumbled and nodded in agreement, voices rising in volume until it became a chorus of pointed resistance.

For a moment, Nolan just stood there, blinking.

Inside, he flinched. His expression didn’t change much, but his insides twisted.

As a full-fledged Professor at the Silver Blade Academy, he technically no longer needed to extort students. His salary, though modest, arrived monthly. But modest wasn’t enough.

Modest didn’t cover the crystal drain he’d suffered yesterday.

Especially not after using his interface’s ’internet data’ spell—a universal information-gathering cheat code that can see through anything about them, but which burns through his Mana Crystals faster than fire through dry silk.

His mana storage was bone-dry. He needed this.

And now this class, his new batch, was about to mutiny.

So he leaned forward and gave his best smirk. "So what are you all saying?"

Instantly, chaos exploded.

"We’re saying NO!"

"You can’t trick us again!"

"We’re not scared of your illusion tricks anymore!"

"Granfire already trained us, you’re useless now!"

Nolan blinked again. "Huh? You mean you can handle my scare illusion now?"

"Yes!" came the unified reply.

One of the students, a lean boy with burn scars on his arms, stood up with proud defiance in his voice. "Professor Granfire trained us over the past two days. It wasn’t easy. But we did it!"

The room buzzed, students nodding furiously.

"He said we needed reflexes. If we can’t respond in under 1.2 seconds, we fail."

"He gave us impossible drills! One mistake, and he starts over!"

"We had to dodge rune bursts, sprint across narrow beams with illusions flying at us!"

"Professor Granfire activated emergency drills while we were sleeping!"

"He said a real knight doesn’t get to ’prepare’—a real knight reacts!"

"We’ve been vomiting from exhaustion, but it worked!"

"I had to learn to cast while spinning upside down, blindfolded, and being shouted at!"

"He made us run on ice!"

"With weights!"

"While reciting arcane formulas backward!"

"Our hands cramped. Our mana veins trembled!"

"But we adapted!"

"Now, we’re ready."

Nolan’s expression didn’t shift. He remained still, but his brow slowly furrowed.

He looked at each face.

Determined.

Bright-eyed.

Confident.

He frowned.

"You all did that... in just two days?" he asked, tone flat.

No one answered.

He laughed.

A slow, sarcastic chuckle.

"You’re all lying," he said finally.

Several students gasped. Some scoffed.

But Nolan’s eyes gleamed as he took a step forward, and then another, until he was standing directly in front of the bold boy who’d spoken first.

"Tell me," Nolan said, voice suddenly cool and sharp, "if I summoned that exact illusion right now—the Relaxing Car Ride—you’d survive?"

The boy lifted his chin. "Yes."

Nolan’s grin widened, but his eyes darkened.

Good.

He wanted this.

He wanted them to fight him again—not with fists, but pride.

A student with pride was easier to shape than one who begged for help. Arrogance meant there was something to crush—and rebuild.

And if they had grown stronger in just two days...

Well.

He would find out.