Academy’s Undercover Professor-Chapter 39: Flora Lumos (1)

Ludger’s mana gently wrapped around the surging, unstable mass of magic.

His calm, blue aura coiled around the brilliant white glow that looked ready to explode at any moment.

The volatile mass of overlapping elements, which had been expanding and on the verge of detonation, began to contract—rounding into a sphere—and slowly stabilized.

Flora thought she might forget how to breathe as she witnessed it.

Then, Ludger’s voice snapped her back to her senses.

“It’s not over yet. Don’t lose focus.”

His firm voice carried both the warmth of his thick, steady hands holding hers, and the sharp edge of reprimand.

Flora, regaining her composure, centered herself and focused on controlling the magic again.

“If you stop now, your magic will vanish, having accomplished nothing. Is that what you want?”

At those words, Flora clenched her jaw.

The magic that had been spiraling out of control was slowly settling, but if she stopped here, it would all be for nothing.

Ludger had told her—

Now that she’d come this far, she had to see it through to the end.

Right. If it’s going to fail ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) anyway, then—!

She couldn’t let the spell she’d tried so hard to manifest disappear like this.

To meet the expectations of Ludger—who had stepped in to help her—she had to complete the spell.

Hummmmm.

The spherical mass of three elements began to shrink further, and before long, it started to take a faint shape.

Flora’s eyes widened as she caught a sweet fragrance brushing past the tip of her nose.

The colors—

Previously scattered and chaotic—returned to their rightful places.

No.

They did more than that—they began to harmonize beautifully.

Ah.

With trembling lips, Flora stared at the magic that was taking form before her eyes.

It had started from a place of stubborn pride and sudden, greedy impulse.

Attempting a triple-elemental overlap—something she had failed at in the past—had been, in truth, a childish act spurred by her desire to hear a word of praise from Ludger, who had ignored her until now.

Flora was born with an innate talent for magic, and even difficult high-tier spells had always felt like eventual stepping stones to her.

That’s why magic had always seemed so easy, so natural.

She never felt joy in success,

Nor did she dwell on failure.

Because she believed she would get there eventually.

That mindset, she thought, hadn’t changed.

She believed that even if she succeeded at something she’d failed before, it wouldn’t bring her any real joy.

But then—

“You did it.”

At Ludger’s words, Flora found herself unable to speak.

It felt like something deep in her chest was overflowing.

Her eyes were fixed, almost nailed to the elemental form she had created.

At the center of a frozen flame, sharp and crystalline as an icicle, a pure white wind spun fiercely in orbital patterns.

A fusion of fire, ice, and wind—three elements perfectly overlapped.

At the dazzling beauty of it, Flora felt not just her eyes but even her soul being drawn in.

“...It’s beautiful.”

Cheryl, who had been watching nervously beside her, whispered the words in awe.

Yes.

The magic she had created was beautiful—like a work of art in and of itself.

Especially for Flora, the sensation was overwhelming.

It wasn’t merely the visual or olfactory pleasure that stirred her.

It was the emotional high, bubbling like foam from the depths of her heart.

The feeling of breakthrough—of having finally succeeded at a spell she couldn’t complete before.

It wasn’t something she had accomplished alone, but the joy... she couldn’t deny it.

Shhhhhhh.

The completed magic eventually dissolved into radiant motes of light and disappeared.

As Flora stared, entranced, Ludger spoke again.

“Flora Lumos.”

“Yes, Professor Ludger.”

Flora replied calmly to Ludger’s call.

But that calm was only on the surface. Inside, she was anything but.

If Ludger were to praise her now, she might burst into tears from sheer joy.

That’s how elated she was.

“You acted foolishly.”

“...Yes. ...Sorry—what?”

But those cold words from Ludger brought her crashing back to reality.

Ah.

She realized then what she had done.

In her greed, she had put every student in the classroom at risk.

Blinded by the thrill of success, she had forgotten that.

Now forced to confront the reality she had ignored, Flora lowered her head in shame.

“Challenging a new spell and failing—that’s something anyone can do. But you alone must bear the consequences of that failure. Not the other students—you.”

“...I’m sorry.”

Ludger was absolutely right.

She had nearly endangered her classmates.

Sure, she had put up a mana barrier at the last moment out of responsibility—but would that really have been enough to contain the damage?

If Ludger hadn’t stepped in...

Someone might have died.

“But more than that, what I’m reprimanding you for, Flora Lumos— is the immaturity of your magic.”

“...Excuse me?”

Immaturity?

What was he talking about?

“When you first began the elemental overlap, you combined fire and ice, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I did.”

“Fire and ice are opposing elements. Naturally, it’s difficult to blend them. It’s not just about avoiding their conflict—it’s about harmonizing their spells to draw out an even stronger effect.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

And Flora had succeeded in doing that.

She had combined opposing forces and manifested a singular spell from them.

“...Then how is my magic immature?”

She couldn’t help the bitterness in her voice.

If he were going to scold her, fine—let it be about recklessly attempting a triple overlap.

But why criticize her for something she had perfectly accomplished?

Flora began to wonder if Ludger was trying to use her earlier mistake as an excuse to diminish even her successful magic.

But even so...

When she was in danger,

Ludger had broken through her mana barrier and helped suppress her rampaging spell.

Understanding not only the structure of spell formulas but also controlling the raging mana itself—without enough command over mana, such an act could have endangered him as well.

Ludger had taken that risk to help her.

Someone like him had no reason to cut her down without cause.

And yet, she couldn’t help feeling wronged.

All she had wanted... was a little praise.

Just as she was about to sink into disappointment, Ludger raised his mana and conjured orbs of fire and ice.

“I’ll show you why your magic was immature.”

He adjusted the spell formulas to prevent the opposing attributes from clashing.

Then, he merged the two formulas into one,

And created a harmonious elemental overlap.

Flora stared, eyes wide, refusing to miss a single detail.

Everything he did looked nearly identical to what she had attempted.

And yet the result—was not the same.

“...What?”

The elemental fusion she had performed, which had simply made fire look beautifully like ice, was fundamentally different from Ludger’s.

Flora compared her own creation to Ludger’s.

Fire and ice—identical elements, in theory.

But the result was entirely different.

Appearance? That, too—but more than that, the very essence of the fusion felt different.

Flora, whose senses were more attuned to mana than most, could feel it clearly.

The color. The scent. Everything was distinct from her version.

Clearer. Richer.

“Flora Lumos. Do you know what this fused element I created is?”

Flora hesitated, then slowly nodded.

There was no way she couldn’t recognize it.

“...Yes.”

“Then explain it.”

“...The fused element you created contains a different kind of magical will. It holds the spreading, consuming nature of fire, and the piercing chill of ice—coexisting in perfect balance.”

“And yours?”

“...Pardon?”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“I asked what yours is like.”

Flora’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

In the end, Ludger spoke in her place.

“Flora Lumos. The overlapping element you created is beautiful in form, but it’s a spell with not even a speck of practicality.”

At that cutting remark, Flora flinched.

Did he really have to go that far?

The retort rose to her throat, but it vanished the moment her gaze met Ludger’s—sincere and unwavering.

“Magic must be practical. Even if it’s not, at the very least, a spell must carry meaning. That is a fundamental premise of all magic.”

Ludger had said this before the class even began:

That magic should be used to create, not destroy.

To build something—accomplish something—so that the world could move in a better direction.

“But Flora. What did your magic do?”

“I... I...”

“‘Frozen Flame.’ A basic flame formation wrapped in an exaggerated layer of ice. Yes—it’s beautiful. You’ve captured the shape of a burning flame and frozen it in place.”

Ludger spoke in his usual calm tone.

“But that’s all there is to it.”

“......”

Flora had no words to defend herself.

Because everything he said was true.

“Were you planning to join a traveling circus with that magic? Or go exhibit it in the Crystal Palace of the capital as some dazzling decoration?”

“...No, that wasn’t my intention.”

“Then what’s the point of your spell? Was it just self-indulgent display—to show off that you can use overlapping elements?”

Self-indulgence.

There was no arguing against Ludger’s words.

A spell, beautiful but with no discernible use or direction.

It had been nothing more than a boast—that she could overlap elements. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I’ll give you credit for trying to add wind to give it some functional purpose... but even that ended in failure.”

With that final nail, Flora bowed her head deeply.

Cheryl, sitting beside her, looked at her with a worried expression, but in a moment like this, there were no words of comfort to offer.

Ludger released the [Scorching Cold] he had created into the air.

The fused element rose toward the high ceiling of the classroom—then exploded like a firework.

Fwoooosh!

In that instant, every student in the room could have sworn they heard the sound of ice... burning.

The frost-like chill spread wide through the air, scattering soft, powdery sleet without ever touching the ceiling.

The flakes dissolved into nothing before they reached the students.

But everyone present could feel it clearly:

That this was the ultimate counter-magic to fire.

That it was the most optimal spell for extinguishing flame.

“Flora Lumos. Your element overlap was intriguing. I’ve never seen a mage your age demonstrate such technique.”

Flora, who had been mesmerized by Ludger’s magic, turned her eyes toward him again.

The moment she met his gaze—genuine concern instead of mockery—her chest tightened with guilt.

“But the direction you’re headed in is wrong. I’m not criticizing your skill. I’m addressing something far more fundamental.”

“......”

“Don’t use magic just for show. Doing so only diminishes your value, Flora.”

“My... value?”

“Yes. Consider this sincere advice—for your sake.”

He had just scolded her harshly, and now he was talking about her value?

But Flora couldn’t help but agree with him.

The spell she had created was indeed just a flashy display meant to draw admiration—a vain expression of ego.

By contrast, Ludger’s spell—using the same elements—was overwhelmingly more practical.

The true power of fire isn’t just in its heat.

It’s in its ability to spread rapidly and uncontrollably once ignited.

Disasters caused by fire always stem from how quickly and widely it can spread.

Ludger had taken that exact nature and embedded it into ice.

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When the spell detonated, the chilling frost burst outward like an epidemic—designed not to damage, but to consume and extinguish fire.

In the past, ice-based spells were either shaped into weapons to fire at targets, or used to create blizzards across wide areas.

But what Ludger had created was entirely different.

It was practical to the core.

...I lost again.

Flora had believed—this time for sure—she would be acknowledged.

But she hadn’t been.

Rather than pride, she was forced to realize how desperate and immature she had been.

This has never happened before.

More than anything, it was Ludger’s sincere gaze that wouldn’t leave her mind.

He hadn’t mocked her.

He hadn’t looked down on her.

He had genuinely worried for her.

Has anyone ever looked at me like that?

No. Never.

There had only ever been two kinds of eyes directed at her:

Admiration.

And jealousy.

Her family—siblings she couldn’t stand—were no exception.

Even upperclassmen had been envious of her.

Even the instructors at Seorn were the same.

Despite having studied magic far longer, they had been overtaken in an instant by Flora’s natural talent.

Their eyes always burned with jealousy—flames she had learned to ignore.

Because real talent didn’t need to react to jealousy.

But that didn’t mean she just let it slide either.

She crushed their pride with even greater displays of dominance.

That’s what she thought was natural.

But today—

Ludger’s unfamiliar attitude had shaken her for the first time.

Professor Ludger.

He had saved her when her magic nearly exploded.

Helped her surpass the wall of the triple-elemental overlap that had eluded her until now.

And then, he had looked her in the eye and scolded her—clearly and directly.

Only now did Flora realize her head felt dizzy, her breath short.

Mana depletion.

She had used up too much mana trying to manifest a triple-element spell.

Even though I feel like I’m going to collapse, how is he totally fine?

Ludger had helped suppress a mana explosion—he must have spent far more mana than she had.

And yet his breath hadn’t faltered once.

This was a first.

The first time she had truly felt a wall.

And that wall—was so high, so thick—she couldn’t even be sure if she could surpass it.

But she didn’t want to give up.

A surge of competitive fire rose in her.

Next time, I’ll definitely surpass him, she swore to herself.

What the—

Crack.

As Ludger secretly bit down on the mana recovery pill he’d hidden in his mouth, his body involuntarily trembled.