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

Joseph recognized the weasel at a glance.

This person is Professor Maurice Brewster from the training area. He obtained the title of Grand Mage at the same time as the original owner, but their research directions are completely different.

Joseph focused on the theoretical history of magic, while Brewster focused on practical applications.

In this age of waning magic, practitioners have a natural hierarchy of disdain for theorists, and Brewster has made this prejudice his personal trademark.

At every college meeting, whenever Joseph spoke, Brewster would have a "you don't deserve it" look on his face.

"Professor Brewster."

Joseph's face instantly broke into a flawless, professional smile.

Thank you for your concern.

How are your students doing lately? The results of the last practical training assessment should be out by now.

Brewster's mustache twitched; he clearly hadn't expected Joseph, who usually didn't utter a word, to ask him that question.

The results of the practical training assessment have indeed been released, but one student was caught cheating during the exam and got into a fight with another candidate. This incident has become a laughing stock in the teachers' office of the practical training area, and he has been avoiding it for the past few days.

"...Not bad," he said dryly, then abruptly steered the conversation back on track.

"As for you, you've been holding back for half a year and only managed to recruit these two promising talents. Your standards must be ridiculously high, right?"

It sounded like a compliment, but paired with Brewster's affected, hoarse voice, it was even worse than being insulted.

Joseph, of course, understood what he meant.

Brewster was referring to his student enrollment; after so long, he'd only recruited two, which was less than a fraction of what other professors recruited.

Not to mention that both of them were dropouts.

That's enough.

Brewster wore an expression that suggested he couldn't be bothered to argue with him. He waved his hand and turned to leave, but after taking two steps, he turned back and gave Joseph a cryptic smile.

Mia tilted her head, watching Brewster walk away, and asked, "Sir, was that the professor from the practical training area?"

"Maurice Brewster," Joseph said, "the person in charge of combat applications in the training area."

He and I received the Grand Mage title in the same batch, but he focused on practical application, while I focused on theory.

"And when he said he would teach me properly," Mia pressed.

"Are you waiting to see him make a fool of himself?"

Joseph glanced at Mia.

This guy may be a bit slow to react, but his intuition is pretty accurate.

"There's a demonstration lesson next week," he said.

  

"Each professor sends a student to demonstrate their teaching results, which serves as a phase assessment within the college."

It wasn't a big event; just a few professors sitting together to check on the students' progress.

Brewster probably thinks I've just hired people and can't produce anything worthwhile yet.

He casually added:

"However, it is normal for the new magic system to be slow in the early stages as it is just starting out."

Just do things at your own pace, there's no need to feel pressured.

Anyway, the new magic was something he made up, so it's normal that it didn't work out.

In academia, the more mysterious something is, the more likely it is to be perceived as profound and unfathomable.

Then he'll add a few lines about how the essence of the new magic is the construction of its internal structure, and that its external manifestations are not obvious in the early stages, and that'll be enough to fool people during the first demonstration.

Brewster wants to see a joke? Go ahead and watch.

Joseph's shamelessness is directly proportional to the age of the experimental tower.

Anyway, once he runs away, who cares about any demonstration class? Let those old bastards have their fun.

"Let's get something to eat first," he said, pointing towards the buffet area.

"Grilled ribs are available today, but they'll be gone if you go too late."

Mia's attention was immediately diverted, and she grabbed a plate and rushed towards the dining table.

Grace watched Mia rush to the grilled ribs before leisurely picking up her plate and following her.

She took a few steps, then noticed that Joseph hadn't followed, and looked back.

"Aren't you coming along, sir?"

"You guys go ahead and get some drinks."

Grace nodded and turned to walk towards the dining table.

She walked over to Mia first. Mia was holding tongs, studying the angle of the cut ribs in detail, muttering to herself as she compared which piece had a more even color in the sauce.

"Miss Taylor."

Mia looked up: "Hmm?"

Grace spoke in a voice only Mia could hear:

"You heard what Professor Brewster said earlier. He's waiting to see you make a fool of yourself in next week's demonstration lesson."

"Of course I heard it," Mia said, placing the tongs on the plate.

"His expression was exactly the same as when my old teachers said to me, 'Miss Taylor, you're dragging the class down again.' I know it all too well."

"So what do you plan to do?"

Mia was stunned for a moment: "What? What do we do?"

Grace was having a bit of a headache. She should have known better; she couldn't beat around the bush when talking to this Miss Taylor.

"What I mean is, although the gentleman just said there's no need to feel pressured, it was because he was being considerate of us."

Her blue eyes were fixed intently on Mia.

"Although the gentleman won't put pressure on us, we can't let him lose face."

Mia blinked, then her expression slowly turned serious.

"You're right. The teacher is such a good person. If we can't produce any results in next week's demonstration class, Brewster will definitely take the opportunity to laugh at him."

The fact that the teacher doesn't put pressure on us shows his consideration, but we can't be unaware of our own limitations.

She placed the tongs on the table and put her hands on her hips:

"Then we'll practice and show him. He wants to see results, right? Let him see as much as he wants. Before next week's demonstration class, I'm determined to practice until I can project something using that crooked frame!"

What about you? What are you planning to do? Your basket is neater than mine, you'll definitely be faster than me, right?

Grace, holding the plate, calmly said:

"My box is indeed neater than yours. But it's still empty for now. You're faster than me at this step of magic traffic generation."

As she said this, Grace's lips twitched almost imperceptibly. Admitting she was behind Miss Taylor was more painful than misreading a magic formula.

"Haha, I knew it!" Mia grinned, but then scratched her head.

"But a neat empty frame is useless; it only counts if you fill it with magic. How about this: you teach me how to fix the frame, and I'll show you how to infuse magic into it, okay?"

Grace raised an eyebrow slightly. It was quite unexpected for her to hear this suggestion from Miss Taylor.

"...I can consider it." She paused, then added, "But only before this demonstration lesson."

"You think I want to train with you forever?" Mia rolled her eyes.

"Then it's settled. During this period, we'll arrive at the experimental tower two hours early in the morning. Before the teacher officially starts the class, I'll tell you about my lead generation method, and you can help me correct the framework structure."

"Can."

The sir is under immense pressure to revive the new magic.

Their eyes met for a moment in the air, and they reached a rare, silent consensus.

They may dislike each other, but they cannot embarrass their husbands.

Absolutely not!