“…….”

Adrian Askanian’s voice echoed in my head.

It was the first time I’d heard him speak since that fateful day in the basement.

I tapped the desk lightly, a smirk tugging at my lips.

‘This is worth keeping.’

Hearing him again reignited the resolve I’d felt on that first day.

Adrian’s smile radiated from the filter’s recording:

[Congratulations. I’m truly happy to see you doing so well.]

[Ah, have you heard the news about Lucas Askanian?]

[Of course. I heard about his first-place win while we were dismantling our second outpost in Ravenna.]

[That was around the same time one of your team members was seriously injured, wasn’t it?]

[Yes. My younger brother has always been my “aching finger,” but hearing about his hard work and success gave me strength to do even more for my team.]

‘Aching finger,’ huh?

In a normal family, maybe. A younger brother, seven years his junior, born with a debilitating condition, might indeed be seen that way.

But in reality, that condition doesn’t even exist.

Far from being a cherished family member, I’m a target marked for elimination.

‘I expected this.’

Adrian couldn’t come back to the Empire and actively block my path, not with my achievements now widely known.

And with my participation in the Experimental Tournament, any plans to keep me confined to the family estate had been ruined.

The Imperial Second Academy’s semester had officially ended the day of the competition. I’d already informed the Askanian household that I wouldn’t return home for at least a week.

‘It’s a power play.’

Adrian knows that I wouldn’t take this as a pure gesture of encouragement.

I removed the filter and crumpled the newspaper into my bag.

Just then, the door opened.

Leo walked in, raising an eyebrow when he saw me.

“Hmm? You’re already up. It’s only 6:30.”

“I wanted to check today’s papers.”

“Ah.”

Leo must have already seen the article about Adrian Askanian. He nodded awkwardly, as though unsure of what to say.

To change the subject, I pointed to the basket he was holding.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, letters from the secretary’s office. I only brought today’s batch.”

He placed the basket on my desk.

For the past week, Nicolaus had been inundated with letters—just like Elias.

I sat on the bed and began opening them one by one.

‘Such dedication.’

People of all ages and backgrounds had sent these letters, a thought that made their gesture even more touching.

‘It’s a shame I don’t have time to reply to them all.’

After reading one letter, I carefully put it back in its envelope and reached for another.

‘Hmm?’

One letter felt unusually thick. It was stuffed so full that the envelope looked ready to burst.

“Was this all checked before being delivered?”

“Of course. Everything entering the palace gets screened.”

In other words, no blades, powders, or other harmful substances were inside.

Still, it paid to be cautious.

‘What could possibly fill so many pages?’

The letter began innocuously enough:

[To the esteemed Sir Nicolaus Ernst,]

The first few pages read more like a formal report than a letter. Only after flipping through three or four pages did the sender’s personal thoughts emerge:

[…Sir Nicolaus, you’re just like me. I’m sure you understand how I feel. We’re both people dedicated to eradicating Pleroma.]

I checked the sender’s name, but it wasn’t familiar.

The letter contained nearly ten pages, meaning at least seven were filled with personal commentary.

‘Hmm.’

Though I appreciated the passion, the intensity was a bit unsettling.

Fortunately, the content focused solely on me and Pleroma, with no mention of anything potentially incriminating.

As I read the last page, commotion erupted outside the door, followed by loud knocking.

Bang, bang, bang—

“Captain, let’s go! Time to start experimenting!”

“…Sounds like one of the students from Class 1,” Leo remarked.

The captain of Class 1 hadn’t made it here due to their academic standing.

So, clearly, they were calling for Leo.

It was amusing to see students from different classes acting so familiar just because they attended the same school. The national stage seemed to foster camaraderie beyond class divisions.

Leo chuckled dryly and walked to the door.

“They’ve been calling me that for a while….”

When he opened the door, two students from Class 1 stood there.

“Oh, you’re both awake already. Let’s go. We can’t miss out on those 10 bonus points!”

Our school had managed to place every participant in the top 50, earning our team an additional 10 points.

But that wasn’t enough.

Our academy wasn’t a specialized school for magical pharmaceuticals.

While we weren’t novices—we’d been studying the subject for nearly a decade—many students here came from schools renowned for sweeping awards in this field.

Starting practice at 6 a.m. made sense.

Leo grabbed his bag and headed to the common area.

“Alright, let’s get to it.”

***

“Alright, let’s begin today’s practice.”

Leo tapped the desk at the front of the lab, standing confidently before the blackboard.

Though this lab had a more vintage aesthetic than modern facilities, it was well-equipped, with all the tools and safety devices I’d expect.

The two Class 1 students whispered to each other, clearly proud of their early start.

“Man, we’re so diligent.”

“We have to be. If we’re going to beat the Bavarian Magical Medicine Academy, we can’t slack off.”

“Why did you have to bring up reality?”

Leo raised a hand to quiet them and began explaining.

“Exactly. What we learned at school is just the basics. The problems here will be much more advanced, so let’s focus on adapting to their format.”

“Alright! Let’s give it our all!”

“Okay. Anyone here planning to apply to the Imperial First Academy’s medical department?”

No one raised their hand.

It wasn’t surprising. If they had been interested in magical medicine, they’d likely have enrolled in a specialized high school.

One of the Class 1 students let out a nervous laugh.

“Oh man, I was hoping someone would be, but it’s all general-track students. If we’d gotten the notice earlier, we could’ve prepped properly for this competition.”

Most of the students here weren’t familiar with magical medicine—Leo was the exception.

“It’s not surprising,” Leo said. “But we’ve come this far, so we can’t afford to half-ass the exam. Right?”

“Of course! If we’re capable, let’s grab every award we can!”

“Good. Let’s start with previous questions. Last year’s 64-team round involved a potion for treating stab wounds.”

“Oh, that’s easy.”

“Seems easy, doesn’t it? But… what part of the body does the standard potion for stab wounds work on?”

“Isn’t it just… for all parts of the body?”

“Wait, does it depend on the location?”

“You use it on limbs—only if the arteries aren’t damaged.”

At my response, the Class 1 students turned to me with wide, startled eyes. Meanwhile, the Class 2 students gave them puzzled looks, already accustomed to me speaking up.

It made sense—the Class 1 students had never taken lessons with me.

“That’s correct,” Leo said. “The potion required for the 64-team round assumes the patient has received a tetanus vaccine, but the arteries are damaged.”

‘They already have tetanus vaccines here?’

I vaguely remembered hearing about it before. Magic really was something else.

One of the Class 1 students frowned and asked, “So… what are we supposed to do? We didn’t learn that.”

“True. But the problems won’t require knowledge beyond high school level. Any ideas?”

Narce raised his hand.

“We could make a vascular growth potion first, then apply the stab wound treatment potion afterward?”

“Exactly. That’s the kind of problem you’ll see in the 64-team round. Manageable, right?”

“Oh, that’s not too bad.”

Quick thinking and improvisation would be critical in handling these scenarios. Fortunately, both Narce and Leo seemed sharp enough to handle this, so I wasn’t worried about them.

The real issue, however…

‘The time limit’s pretty short, isn’t it?’

If you didn’t have the recipe for each base potion thoroughly memorized, you’d run out of time even if you knew what to do.

I asked quietly, “What’s the time limit for this problem?”

“For this one… seven minutes.”

At that, one of the Class 1 students gaped in shock.

“…What?! When are we supposed to heat anything?”

“Heating only takes five minutes. Two of you focus on making the potion to control severe bleeding, and three work on the stab wound potion,” Leo explained.

“Wow, this requires perfect teamwork.”

The Class 1 students shook their heads in disbelief.

Leo smiled wryly at their reactions and continued, “Here’s another thing to consider. How long does it usually take for a standard stab wound potion to take effect?”

“About 30 minutes.”

“Right. But in last year’s first round, you needed a potion that worked within 60 seconds to pass.”

“……”

Silence fell over the room.

A Class 1 student finally managed to ask, “…Those aren’t sold commercially, are they?”

“Nope,” Leo replied. “And for good reason.”

As he spoke, he skillfully mixed and heated ingredients, then grabbed a piece of experimental skin from the lab bench.

Using an awl, he pierced the synthetic skin, and artificial blood began to flow freely.

After extinguishing the flame, he poured the boiling potion onto the wound. Within 10 seconds, the damaged tissue began to close.

“It worked?!”

“Wait a second.”

The students recoiled as the surface of the skin began to bubble violently, the epidermis swelling unnaturally.

“A small miscalculation can cause severe side effects, making this potion too dangerous for general use. But the competition requires you to make these without any side effects—from the 64-team round all the way to the finals.”

Since most competitors could make standard potions easily, the organizers introduced non-commercial recipes to raise the difficulty.

‘This is starting to feel like a dark mage training program….’

Unfortunately, this was just another part of the competitive system.

As standards continued to rise, the problems grew more bizarre and difficult each year.

Leo addressed the group again, scanning their faces.

“Honestly, just making it to the 64-team round is a miracle for us. Up until last year, every team that advanced to the 32-team round was from Bavaria’s specialized magical medicine schools.”

“…So this is the first time non-specialized students are participating?”

“Pretty much. That’s why our goal is simple—make it to the quarterfinals.”

Everyone nodded earnestly.

Reaching the quarterfinals came with substantial support from the Royal Bavarian Academy, making it a coveted milestone.

It was my goal as well.

To maximize the final week of the tournament and earn the Royal Academy’s special training during the break, we had to reach the quarterfinals.

I stood from my seat and said, “Let’s start right away. It’ll take time to get used to this.”

“Alright. Everyone, put on your safety goggles and gloves. I’ll time you,” Leo instructed.

“What’s the topic?”

“Same as this problem. I’ll sit out for now—let’s see how you all handle it.”

Leo held his hand over the stopwatch.

“Ready… go!”

“Who’s making the vascular potion?”

“I’ll work with Lucas.”

Narce poured the base potion into a beaker.

“The layers need to separate, so let’s start with the outer membrane and work inward. Ugh, these ingredient names are so confusing.”

“For the outer membrane, use tissue duplication potion and a bit of induction agent,” I said, reading the labels aloud.

“Got it. Thanks! For the inner membrane, I’ll use the 1.5 cm variant—it’s the widest we’ve got.”

“Agreed.”

Within three minutes, we finished our potion.

However…

“Argh, we’re supposed to be heating it by now!”

“Oh no, should we just crank the heat? Let’s set up two alcohol burners.”

“Huh?”

“…What do you mean, huh?! We’re already at four minutes!”

Leo interjected with a dose of reality.

But even without his reminder, the Class 1 students were visibly panicking. Their earlier playful banter had vanished, replaced by guilt-ridden expressions.

“…For 100 mL at 3%, how much do we need to add?”

“What? Are you seriously asking that?”

“Oh! Right! 3 mL!”

Their panic was understandable. The ticking clock made them freeze up, unable to think clearly.

Even their hands hovered uncertainly over the ingredients.

Since the recipe was covered at the beginning of the semester, it made sense that they’d forgotten it after several months.

Without a strong foundation in magical medicine—and without being in a related major—memorizing such details long-term wasn’t easy.

It wasn’t fair to call it negligence.

‘I get it, but this isn’t good.’

Normally, I’d let them handle things at their own pace. But not today.

I broke the silence.

“Hey, guys.”

“…Huh?! What?”

The Class 1 student flinched, expecting criticism.

“I’m not here to scold you. How’s your math?”

“Uh… decent, I guess?”

“You couldn’t figure out 3% of 100 mL a second ago. Should I trust that?”

“S-sorry! I was just too nervous, okay? Why?”

“Do you think reviewing the recipe will make you less nervous?”

“Of course.”

The student’s eyes grew serious, a stark contrast to their earlier demeanor.

Good—that’s the response I needed.

I nodded and gestured toward the table.

“I’ll read it out. Let’s go through it step by step.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep