I made up magic and taught a world-destroying witch?

But Brewster was clearly in a good mood today, nodded to him, and followed the group into the assessment tower.

Inside the examination tower, it resembled a tiered classroom used for public executions, even more so than Joseph had imagined.

The interior of the entire tower was hollowed out into a semi-circle, with seats arranged in concentric circles upwards. The higher you go, the higher the position becomes. When the person sitting at the very top looks down at the demonstration platform below, it's as if they are looking at an experimental frog placed on a plate.

In the center is a circular demonstration platform. The floor is paved with gray-white stone slabs, with circles of silver magic wires embedded in the gaps between the slabs. The lines spread outwards from the center and finally connect to the magic fluctuation detection crystals on the wall that look like eyeballs.

The walls are covered with protective runes left over from the old era.

That thing climbed all the way from the corner to the dome, and although it still looked imposing, Joseph strongly suspected that more than half of it was just holding on by its historical significance.

But that's normal, it's an academy after all.

The older something is, the less likely anyone is to demolish it.

If nothing happens after demolition, it means that the previous generation's funds were wasted.

If something goes wrong after the demolition, it means the current government hasn't spent enough money.

  

It's troublesome no matter which way you look at it.

When Joseph walked in with two students, there were already quite a few people sitting in the audience.

In the front row were several professors, dressed in various colored monk robes. The older, theoretical professors, each wearing monk robes of different shades, had already begun eating the desserts prepared by the administration office, seemingly more interested in attending a culinary academic salon.

In front of them were teacups, notebooks, quill pens, and even an old professor who pulled out a pair of small glasses from somewhere. After putting them on, the first thing he did was to carefully examine the number of layers in the frosty berry shortbread on the dessert plate.

Joseph watched with awe. This was a true veteran of academia, with the demeanor of his former mentor, who would never get angry even if his students turned out like shit, as long as the tea and snacks were delicious!

The situation is clearly different for those who focus on practical training.

They sat closer to the front, with several teaching assistants next to them holding evaluation sheets, their expressions increasingly serious.

Brewster sat in the front row of the training group, his crimson mage robe spread out on the back of his chair, his cane resting on his lap, and the archmage badge on his chest polished to a gleaming shine that Joseph thought was probably working even harder than he was.

Grace and Mia followed him in, and their expressions immediately tensed up as soon as they entered the assessment tower.

Joseph noticed that the two students were getting nervous again and was about to give them another dose of toxic positivity when a clear bell rang out from ahead.

The demonstration lesson has begun.

The meeting was chaired by a white-bearded vice dean of the college. Joseph couldn't quite remember his name, but he did remember that the old man always liked to say a few words at meetings, and then he would talk for two hours straight.

However, this time he clearly controlled himself. He first briefly mentioned the significance of today's demonstration class, and then mentioned a few meaningless but necessary platitudes about the college's teaching reform, the integration of theory and practice, and the cultivation of young students.

Joseph nodded repeatedly as he listened.

That's pretty good; you can tell from that you're a veteran administrator.

After all that talk, not a single word was useful, but none of his statements could be considered wrong.

This is what true academic fundamentals are all about!

Next, students from the previous professors came up to the stage one after another.

The first to take the stage was one of Brewster's students, who demonstrated the basic fireball spell.

The student walked to the center of the demonstration stage, raised his hands exaggeratedly, and recited a long string of standard incantations.

After a few seconds, a small orange-red fireball about the size of a fist actually condensed in my palm. It didn't look very stable and gave the impression that it might go out at any moment.

But to be honest, in this era of great decline in magic, for a student to be able to steadily and successfully create a fireball without any mishaps in a public demonstration class watched by so many people is definitely an excellent performance that is above the passing grade.

Several professors in the audience nodded slightly in agreement, and Brewster, sitting in the front row, also had a smug smile on his face.

The student fired the fireball at the defensive target, and the flames were quickly absorbed by the barrier.

A few scattered, moderate rounds of applause rang out from the audience.

Mia stared at the fireball, her eyes filled with envy.

The second student demonstrated wind blade control.

A semi-transparent wind blade circled the edge of the demonstration platform, eventually severing several thin ropes suspended in mid-air.

The aim was passable, but towards the end, the wind blade went out of control and almost veered to the side, nearly slicing the teaching assistant in charge of recording the scores. The assistant was so frightened that he scrambled back several steps.

Someone in the audience couldn't help but laugh.

The professor in charge of teaching ethics looked a little embarrassed, but he still forced a comment to save face, saying that the student's ability to make on-the-spot corrections to changes in wind direction was very commendable.

Joseph thought this rhetoric could be copied.

Making a mistake isn't called a mistake; it's called the ability to correct it on the spot. Doesn't that sound much more sophisticated?

The third demonstration showcases the stability of the water-based variant's magic shield.

A chubby student stood on the stage, sweating profusely as he erected a light blue light shield, while another teaching assistant stood beside him, launching continuous attacks with a training magic bullet launcher.

The shield wobbled like a jelly seven or eight times, but it held up and didn't break, though a few fine cracks appeared on its surface. This time, the applause from the audience was noticeably louder than the previous two.

Several professors from the practical training school huddled together, whispering amongst themselves, clearly quite satisfied with the outcome of being beaten up.

Joseph watched with a pounding heart while secretly plotting his next move.

In comparison, his new magical revival project is somewhat like someone serving dishes and he presents a menu, saying that everyone should first study the structure of the dish names.

Fortunately, the dishes that the theorists served next were no different from simply reciting the names of the dishes.

An elderly professor's student presented a paper titled "Observation of the Reverberation Frequency of Low-Order Runes under the Background of Magic Decay."

The core content was that he took three old pictures that he had dug up from who-knows-where and spent a long time on stage talking about why those old runes are getting dimmer and dimmer.

Towards the end, the theoretical professors in the audience nodded earnestly, while some from the practical training side had already started poking at the corners of the grading sheets with quill pens.

Another group of students from the theory group presented an analysis of errors in the old-fashioned incantation rubbings, spending a full fifteen minutes explaining exactly how many degrees the same incomplete symbol was tilted to the left.

Joseph listened with great respect, realizing that the theoretical school was not entirely useless after all.

At least when it comes to how to hypnotize people, they have long since developed a very mature and unsolvable academic system.

They tormented each other on and off stage for almost two hours. Finally, the vice president in charge looked down and squinted at the list in his hand.

"Next group, Professor Joseph Grantham, New Magic Revival Project."

The air in the room noticeably changed as soon as those words were spoken.

Several senior professors from the theoretical school in the front row looked up, while some from the practical school put down their teacups, and the people listening in the back row began to whisper among themselves.

"Is it that new magic project?"

"I heard that the funding was approved for two million gold coins."

"Isn't he a researcher specializing in theoretical history of magic?"

"His students seem to be... Her Highness the Third Princess, and Mia Taylor, who dropped out of the training area?"

"Really? What can this combination possibly demonstrate?"