Succubus Magician Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The clothes Lancelot personally helped Allen put on for the ball were personally taken off by him afterward.

The youth peeled out from the layers of complicated clothing resembled a beautiful night spirit, his eyes more brilliant than emeralds.

Lancelot seemed bewitched and kissed him.

Starting with the first kiss, Lancelot kissed almost every part of the youth’s body.

He then held the youth tightly in his embrace, claiming him as his private possession.

In the early morning, Allen opened his eyes.

The morning breeze blew in from outside, carrying with it the sound of birds chirping.

He was alone in the bed.

He rolled over on the spacious, soft bed; the spot where Lancelot had slept was ice cold.

It was clear that Lancelot had been up for a long time.

“Oh, that terrifying swordsman,” Allen mumbled, climbing up and pulling his sleeping robe around him.

When he stood up, his legs felt weak, and he almost collapsed back onto the bed.

They had shared an equally wonderful night, yet his legs were still weak, while Lancelot was already out practicing his swordsmanship.

Allen sighed, got up to wash, and then took a book to the terrace facing the backyard to recite his lessons.

Lancelot was indeed practicing his swordsmanship by the lake.

Allen dragged a chair over and sat facing the lake, staring at Lancelot’s handsome face and his slender body full of explosive power. Images of himself sitting on Lancelot involuntarily flashed through his mind.

He took a deep breath, suppressing the distracting thoughts.

Lancelot was wearing a shirt and trousers, practicing with his usual sword.

Again and again, every movement was standard, without the slightest deviation.

The lake water produced more mist due to the sword energy, and Lancelot’s body was covered in sweat.

Allen took a deep breath, glanced at him, and then focused on reciting his book.

Whenever reciting his lessons became particularly painful, he liked to watch Lancelot practice his swordsmanship.

As a noble, Lancelot still got up at the crack of dawn every day to practice his swordsmanship until his clothes were soaked with sweat, repeating the cycle.

Whenever Allen felt frustrated and tired, looking at him always served as a source of motivation.

With the magic aptitude examination over, most students had become magic apprentices, and the difficulty of the classes at the Magic Academy had increased significantly.

Everyone was studying hard, which also brought a sense of calm to the entire Magic Academy.

“…Who knows the origin of transportation magic?” the professor asked from the podium.

Allen raised his hand; several others around him did too.

The professor scanned the room. “Allen, please share with us.”

Allen replied, “Transportation magic mostly originates from the Ancient Giants, with some portion coming from the Magic Sprites.”

The professor said, “Very good. Perhaps you can demonstrate a transportation spell for us?”

Allen picked up his wand, pointed it at the book on the desk, and softly chanted an incantation. The book floated steadily in the air.

He looked up at the professor.

The professor’s eyes lit up. “Excellent! That spell comes from the Magic Sprites. Do you know any Ancient Giant transportation magic?”

Allen nodded, faced the podium, and chanted another spell, causing the massive podium to levitate.

The professor applauded him with admiration. “Superb! When I was learning magic, I didn’t learn to move something that large until my third year. I will give you and your class extra points.”

As the professor spoke, he turned to the assistant standing nearby. “Miss Thea, please record this for me. Allen gets ten points, and Magic Class One gets ten points.”

Before the professor finished speaking, the classroom erupted in enthusiastic applause.

Allen heard Adeline whistle a long, drawn-out sound from behind him.

The applause did not subside until the end of the class.

When the bell rang, everyone packed their things and clustered around Allen, walking together toward the next classroom.

“By the Goddess, Allen, where did you find the time to memorize so many spells?”

“How can you remember so many complex incantations? I recite mine every day, but I forget as soon as I learn them; I only ever master the simplest one.”

“Oh, me too. I can only remember spells from the Ancient God language family, and that’s only because many of us are descendants of the ancient gods specific to the Banu Island region, so our language is a variant of the Ancient God language.”

Magic spells were particularly difficult, and their origins were vast, including Ancient God language, Ancient Dragon language, Ancient Elven language, Ancient Giant language, and so on—mostly dead languages that had been lost.

If they wanted to remember the spells, they could only rely on rote memorization.

The terrifying part was that even after memorizing them, they would forget; even reciting them daily didn’t guarantee retention.

Allen said, “My brother gets up at the crack of dawn every day to practice swordsmanship, and I follow him up to recite spells.”

“At dawn? That’s terrifying; I was still in sweet slumber then.”

“I can’t get up either. I’m thinking about dropping out.”

“By the Goddess, when I tested into the Magic Academy, I had no idea it would be this hard. If I had known, I would have studied mathematics and become a tax collector.”

“I can manage memorizing spells, but casting magic is too hard. I know the incantations Allen recited in class today, but I’ve never successfully cast them.”

For a mage to cast magic also required extensive practice.

Everyone’s affinity for the magical elements differed; the speed, accuracy, and power of casting the same spell varied, and even the same person’s magic differed under different conditions. This required a huge amount of practice and adjustment so the mage could continuously understand their own state.

Before becoming mages, many people thought being a mage was incredibly cool.

Once they truly entered the Magic Academy, everyone realized this profession was not cool at all; every day started with large amounts of tedious material.

After a few mutual sighs of despair, the group shifted the conversation to future magical careers.

Adeline said, “Of us here, if anyone manages to become an Intermediate Mage or higher in the future, it will probably be Allen.”

Spurt agreed. “I concur. Given our current abilities, we probably don’t need to worry about future magic professions.”

Adeline shrugged, “I’m not continuing anyway. After becoming a Junior Mage, I plan to switch toward the Magic Swordsman path.”

Spurt said, “Your swordsmanship is a bit better than your magic; becoming a Magic Swordsman isn’t a bad idea.”

Adeline shrugged again. “I think so too, but I’ll wait until I become a Junior Mage. Maybe I’ll be stuck as an Apprentice Mage my whole life.”

Another student said, “Apprentice Mage is already quite good. I heard that students from the second year onward have been dropping out one after another.”

Allen found this unbelievable. “Why? Is the tuition too expensive?”

“Of course not!” Adeline glanced at Allen. “It’s probably because learning magic is too hard, and when many people can’t keep up, they choose to drop out, go home to get married, inherit a title, or start working or something.”

Spurt sighed. “Learning magic is too hard and too boring. It’s better to inherit a title, host balls, and go hunting.”

The group chatted gloomily but still had to hurry to the next classroom.

After a full day of classes, Allen was also drained. His robe even had scorch marks. He didn’t want to say a word once he got into the carriage.

Lancelot wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him into his lap to check him over. “What happened?”

Allen leaned softly against Lancelot’s chest. “Someone lost control of a fire spell today, and the entire classroom was burned.”

The incident happened too fast; the professor and assistant had no time to react.

Allen ducked under the desk; since he didn’t know any defensive magic, his only immediate action was to shield his face.

Many students weren’t as quick as him and had their faces blackened by the smoke.

Lancelot’s rough fingertip stroked Allen’s cheek. “Poor little thing.”

Allen snuggled into Lancelot’s embrace and fell silent.

In the days following the incident, Lancelot gave Allen a magic book.

When Allen opened it, he discovered the book was from the Royal Library.

“Brother?” Allen flipped through the pages.

Lancelot said, “I borrowed it from the Prince. You need to return it when you’re done reading.”

Allen had already read several pages.

Even though he was only at the beginning, he was completely captivated by the magic book.

This book explained the origins and precautions for several basic magic incantations. It answered all the questions Allen had while memorizing spells before.

It was written so well.

Allen had never read such an insightful and easy-to-understand book!

By the Goddess, if the textbooks were always this good, memorizing them wouldn’t be such an agonizing ordeal.

After reading a few pages, Allen suddenly felt Lancelot pinch the back of his neck.

Allen realized Lancelot was still standing there and flashed a sweet smile. “Thank you, Brother! You are the best, Brother.”

Lancelot held the back of Allen’s head and examined his expression. “Little liar.”

Allen leaned forward and kissed Lancelot’s lips, murmuring, “I’m not lying. In this world, Brother is the person I love the most.”

Lancelot cupped Allen’s head and deepened the kiss. “You better be.”