"You're worthless! I've taught you so many times, yet you still can't produce a perfect specimen!"
"Wasting all these materials… I think you'd make a fine addition to my collection of experimental materials."
"Oh, fresh meat… My little Lada will certainly be pleased, hahahaha!"
Master Kosorong's raspy laughter filled the classroom as he clasped the neck of a male apprentice, his protruding eyes gleaming with madness and menace. The unfortunate apprentice's downfall? He botched his specimen.
Unlike Saen, who served as Kosorong's assistant at the podium and was provided with a complete apprentice cadaver, the available materials for the rest of the class were limited scraps, like fragments of limbs. Whether due to nerves or some other reason, this apprentice had severed three major vessels in the arm fragment he worked on, rendering his material unusable.
A sharp squeak echoed from the sleeve of Kosorong's black robe. An ugly rat, mostly devoid of fur and showing grotesque scarlet flesh, leapt out. Its appearance silenced the classroom, causing even Saen to tense.
In the ten years he had spent at the dark magic academy, Saen had witnessed this rat devour the living numerous times, and it had haunted his dreams on countless occasions. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that over 70% of the academy's students lived under the shadow of this terrifying creature.
Having witnessed the combat between two official dark mages, Saen suspected that this rat might exceed even Keserson's plant monstrosity in battle prowess.
The rat's eyes, shining with a cruel red glint, scanned the room. In an instant, it expanded from its palm-sized form into a two-meter blur, engulfing the apprentice whole. Before anyone could react, it shrank back and slinked back into Kosorong's sleeve.
That haunting squeal resounded again, as if the rat's glowing red eyes were watching everyone, waiting for its next victim.
"Gulp." Someone swallowed audibly, and the rest of the apprentices quickly cast their eyes down, focusing intently on their work. They redoubled their efforts to ensure their specimens were without flaws, fearing even minor errors might spell their doom.
Saen, too, was completely focused. In alignment with Kosorong's earlier praise, he handled his specimen with precision, lacking even the slightest mistake. Perhaps he had a natural talent for this—had he chosen to study under Kosorong, he might rival necromancers like Mike. Yet, aware of Kosorong's penchant for using students as experimental fodder, Saen did not regret his decision to follow Mosido.
Absorbed in his task, Saen noticed from the corner of his eye a female apprentice in the front row trembling, her face turned towards him with a look of desperation.
He didn't know her well, only by face—she was a two-year-entry apprentice, perhaps not even ten years old. Her specimen, a hand, was flawed, containing at least two visible errors in Saen's expert assessment.
No wonder she seemed so terrified; the sight of Kosorong feeding an apprentice to his pet had once more driven fear into these children. Three obvious mistakes meant certain death, two was teetering on the threshold of doom, while a single misstep might be grudgingly overlooked by Kosorong.
Apprentices like Saen, showing a flawless performance without even minor blunders, were a rarity in the entire black magic academy.
Observing the girl's plea for help stirred memories in Saen. He recalled another novice years before—Melie, also on the brink of failure—who had turned to him in desperation. Back then, as a mere low-level apprentice and new to the dark lands, he hadn't yet acclimated to the academy's harshness and chose to help her, against his better judgment.
Would he assist this girl now?
Glancing at Kosorong, who was busy evaluating the others, Saen calculated that he had a bit of time before it was her turn. Taking a deep breath, he picked up a scalpel.
He didn't intervene directly but instead used his perfect specimen as a model, subtly demonstrating in the air the corrective actions she needed. The class's focus on their own specimens allowed Saen's discreet guide to go unnoticed, except by the girl who'd roped in his aid.
No apprentice at the dark magic academy could afford to be slow-witted. On Saen's second demonstration, the girl comprehended his instructions and quickly began rectifying her errors.
Before Kosorong arrived at her station, she had completed her corrections, sitting respectfully as if nothing were amiss.
"Hmm, impressive. You used the 'cross-stitch method' to amend an error." Kosorong muttered. "But did I ever teach this cohort such a method?"
"Ugh, must be my age getting to me," he shook his head and moved on to the next student.
Though the incident was brief, both Saen and the female apprentice broke into cold sweats. It was a reckless gamble, after all. Had Saen known beforehand that Kosorong hadn't taught the 'cross-stitch method' to this batch, he'd have never dared intervene in the first place.