At this moment, no one cared about talent or genius—when the question from the boy who had broken the classroom's silence landed, all eyes immediately turned to Allen.
Even among wizards, a sense of competition exists. Since the lecture was conducted in the local language, the students from the host school now had a major advantage over those from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons. The material was already difficult and complex, and the language barrier only amplified that difficulty. In these circumstances, the locals were undeniably ahead.
This was also part of the reason the professor had stepped back—after all, the majority who would benefit were his own students. The meat was already in the pot.
Still, Allen, who had just emerged from deep thought, hadn't had time to observe the environment. He was still delighted by the massive gains he'd just made, so without hesitation, he blurted out the truth, completely lacking modesty.
"Hmm, this problem is actually quite simple. Talking and discussing with the professor was incredibly rewarding. His theories resolved so many of my questions. Based on his approach, I think I've found a breakthrough in the magic I'd been stuck on before. After some experiments, it should work perfectly."
Allen's radiant smile made those around him nearly want to hit him—everyone had assumed he was still digesting the professor's theories, but he was already actively applying them?
The earlier questioning student, still skeptical, repeated, "Wait… Allen, are you saying you understood it from the start?"
"Of course! I spent the entire class discussing with the professor—how could I not understand? Many problems were practically solved on the spot." Allen nodded, noticing the atmosphere turning sour. Half of those who had been thinking intently now wore glum expressions, packing their things to leave.
Seeing this, Allen quickly gathered his own belongings and coaxed a few familiar classmates to leave with him. He could have toyed with the others, but interrupting someone's learning is a cardinal sin. Perhaps they had made new discoveries too—disturbing them would have been asking for lightning bolts.
Of course, this was overly cautious—almost everyone in the room was absorbing the professor's ideas. Allen, having fully grasped and even innovated on them, was why the others left feeling deflated.
They had intended to see how much Allen could understand and compare it to themselves, but the result was disheartening—he simply wasn't playing by the old rules anymore.
Once Allen and his group left, most of the remaining students quietly followed suit, too demoralized to continue.
By the end, only three students lingered, seemingly unaffected by external interference. After realizing little progress was being made, they shared a bitter smile and headed back to their respective school camps—desperate, like martial artists training decades only to have a sudden gust of wind sweep away their hard-won advantage atop a mountain.
======
Outside, things returned to normal. Allen's "eccentricity" had long been acknowledged; extreme behavior didn't change the status quo.
Compared to Allen's quirks, the group was more concerned about Marshall—what on earth had happened to him?
Naturally, they couldn't ask in front of the female student. Not only were they not that close yet, but she was the prefect—a status that commanded respect and caution. Don't mess with a prefect.
Fortunately, while the girl was bold, she wasn't reckless. After a simple greeting with Allen and the others, she used a small excuse to leave—nothing strange, considering today she had already mustered the courage to approach them first.
Once the prefect was well out of earshot, Marshall—still dazed, staring blankly into the distance—was surrounded by grinning companions.
"Spill it—decide if you're sleeping on the floor tonight."
"Or maybe we should send you to the school infirmary?"
"Ah—this morning's performance of yours was really something. You tricked us all. Here—take this quill and parchment, make a will."
Marshall clearly lacked the courage to stand up to his roommates. After paying the price of a full meal, he finally got a chance to explain.
The reason was both ridiculous and laughable—he had blacked out from drinking the previous day!
Apparently, his usual secret training in alcohol tolerance had been useless. He was easily overpowered by his companions—hence his unusual bold behavior.
Later, he suspected something was wrong but mistook the bruises for the effects of sleeping on the floor. Beyond that, he dared not speculate, and what followed spoke for itself.
"Tch—so that's why things flipped back again!" Shane rolled his eyes in disdain.
"How was I supposed to know? I thought I was dreaming… Wait!" Marshall suddenly realized something was off. "How did you guys know? This was supposed to be a secret!"
"Obviously—who could miss someone drunk like you wandering around? We had to follow. We thought you suddenly got smart, but it turns out it was just the alcohol—tsk tsk."
Marshall wanted to hit them, but the numbers were overwhelmingly against him, and he reluctantly gave up.
The group joked and returned to their quarters, then resumed work on modifying the tents. Allen noticed that some of Marshall's hidden alcohol had been taken and divided among them.
Before Allen could say anything, one portion was handed to him: "Keep this safe—I suspect it helps with… social life. Look at Marshall, he survived that ordeal; it must be connected."
Seriously? They're just using that as an excuse to mess with him! Allen ignored Marshall shouting after them, "Bastards! You said only half was for you! How could you take it all!" He stored it anyway—collective decision, Marshall. Endure it; you'll regret it even more later.
Why say that? Because news of today had already spread—Marshall's treasured alcohol probably wouldn't survive.
As for Allen, he packed up and prepared to meet the organization introduced by the twins, as scheduled.
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
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