Chapter 61 : Chapter 61
Chapter 61 : Incident
There was no reply.
But the faint warmth lingering on his shoulder was already enough to explain everything.
Ryan lifted his head and looked again toward the center of the explosion.
The experimental table at the back of the classroom, near the wall, was shrouded in a cloud of pale blue mist.
The mist rolled outward as it spread. Wherever it passed, fine frost crystals formed across the surface of the tables.
Several students scrambled backward in panic. Some stumbled and fell to the ground. Others knocked over their chairs.
Those who had been closest now had small cuts on their faces and hands. Blood mixed with ice crystals, forming strange red-and-white patches across their skin.
At the center of the mist stood Robert Fischer.
He remained frozen in place.
His right hand still held the posture of gripping a beaker—but his palm was empty.
No… it was not empty.
His palm and half of his forearm were encased in a thick, unnatural shell of ice.
The ice had a strange deep-blue hue. Beneath the frozen layer, the outline of skin could barely be seen—and deeper still, the dark red color of coagulated blood.
Fragments of the shattered beaker were scattered everywhere.
Some were embedded in the wooden tabletop. Others lay across the floor.
Each shard was coated in frost, gleaming dangerously under the magical lamps.
Ryan noticed that the girl standing closest to Fischer—Lillian, who usually sat in the front row—was crouched on the floor with her hand covering her face.
Bright red blood seeped between her fingers.
Her workbench had also been struck. A thin layer of frost coated the tabletop, and several shards of glass were embedded in the wood.
The spilled liquid across Fischer’s workbench spread outward in a radial pattern.
Wherever it touched the wood, the surface froze instantly, cracking with faint snapping sounds.
The liquid continued to spread slowly.
Where it flowed, ice crept forward like some living, frigid plague.
The entire classroom fell into silence.
Everyone stared at the swirling pale blue mist.
They stared at Fischer standing rigid in the center.
They stared at the thickening layer of ice encasing his arm.
No one spoke.
Even breathing had grown faint.
Then Professor Horne moved.
The old man strode toward the back row.
His steps were steady, but extremely fast.
At the very first moment of the explosion, his fingers had traced a gesture through the air.
A pale golden barrier instantly expanded, containing the spreading mist within a fixed boundary.
“Everyone stay where you are!” the professor barked. His voice struck the floor like a shard of ice. “Do not move! Do not approach!”
He reached Fischer’s side and examined the frozen arm, his brows deeply furrowed.
Then his attention shifted to the remnants on the experimental table.
The dark blue liquid that continued to freeze slowly.
The scattered glass fragments everywhere.
The professor crouched down and carefully picked up a small shard with a pair of tweezers. A trace of liquid still clung to it.
He raised it toward the light.
Under the magical lamp, the liquid appeared murky and deep blue.
Professor Horne stared at it for several seconds.
Then he leaned closer and smelled it.
The sharp scent of Ice Crystal Flower mixed with a faint burnt odor made his brows tighten further.
“Not quite right…” he murmured quietly to himself.
He placed the fragment down and began inspecting Fischer’s operating records.
Residual powder on the scale.
Water traces inside the measuring cylinder.
The distribution of frozen liquid across the shattered beaker fragments.
Everything indicated that the procedure had been correct.
The thermometer had shattered. Mercury beads rolled across the floor.
But the mana fluctuation recorder beside it remained active.
The needle was frozen at the moment of the explosion—far beyond the red danger threshold.
Professor Horne rose slowly and surveyed the entire experimental table.
The explosion had been far too powerful.
A loss of control in Ice Crystal Flower potions could indeed cause explosions, but normally the result was only localized splashing and a burst of mana.
This scale of destruction…
The wooden table had been blasted into radiating cracks.
Fragments had flown as far as five meters away.
Several shards were even embedded in the classroom wall.
This was not the kind of damage produced by a simple operational error.
“School medics!” the professor shouted toward the door. “Quickly!”
Several medical staff in white robes rushed in.
When they saw the thick ice encasing Fischer’s arm, they all inhaled sharply.
Nevertheless, they quickly began treatment.
One older physician knelt beside him, his hands glowing with a soft green light.
It was the sign of advanced healing magic.
The green light enveloped the ice shell. The frozen layer began melting slowly.
Very slowly.
“The cold has already penetrated the bone,” the physician said gravely. “He must be taken to the infirmary and treated with a purification array. Whether this arm can be saved… will depend on luck.”
Other medical staff began examining the surrounding injured students.
Lillian had three cuts across her face where shards had sliced her skin. Blood mixed with frost along her cheek.
Another boy had burns on the back of his hand.
Several students who had stood nearby had temporarily lost their hearing from the explosion and were standing in confusion, clutching their ears.
“Everyone follow me to the infirmary for examination,” one physician announced loudly. “The explosion affected a large area. We must confirm that no one has internal injuries.”
The students began moving slowly, like a frightened flock of sheep.
No one spoke.
Only suppressed sobs and sharp breaths of pain filled the air.
Ryan followed the crowd out.
As he passed Fischer’s experimental table, he glanced at the remnants.
The deep blue liquid had already frozen solid.
A strange cracked sheet of ice spread across the tabletop.
The infirmary smelled of disinfectant mixed with medicinal herbs.
Students lined up one by one for examination.
Most injuries were superficial: cuts, burns, bruises.
The physicians treated them with simple healing magic.
A flash of green light would pass over the wound, sealing the skin and leaving behind only faint reddish marks.
Only Fischer was placed separately inside a purification array in an inner chamber.
Through the half-open door, Ryan could see him lying in the center of the array.
Three physicians surrounded him, continuously releasing gentle healing light from their hands.
Runic symbols glowed on the floor, focusing mana upon the frozen arm.
The ice was melting slowly.
But every time a portion melted, Fischer forced out a suppressed groan from deep in his throat.
“The bone cannot be saved,” one physician said as he stepped out, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“The cold has already destroyed the marrow. The only option is to stabilize him first, and then attempt high-level regeneration magic… but that would require at least archbishop-level divine magic. Even then, the success rate is less than thirty percent.”
The students waiting in the corridor heard those words.
Their expressions changed immediately.
Some began whispering anxiously.
Others stared at their own hands in horror, as if they could feel the same bone-deep cold creeping into their flesh.
The examinations continued for more than an hour.
Ryan was confirmed to have no external injuries.
Only a slight disturbance in his mana perception remained.
The physician explained that this was a normal reaction after experiencing a nearby mana explosion. A few days of rest would resolve it.
When Ryan finally returned to the potion classroom, it was already afternoon.
Professor Horne was still there.
The old man stood beside Fischer’s experimental table.
Several people in dark-blue uniforms had arrived as well.
They were investigators from the academy’s disciplinary committee.
They were taking photographs, collecting samples, and recording evidence.