Chapter 16: Cha‑Bao Hates Getting Beaten

Basic Magic Class was… surprisingly interesting.

Of course, what Jiang Cha found interesting wasn’t the tedious spell models themselves—studying is against nature, no matter the world.

No matter the species, slacking off is a universal instinct. Even in research-obsessed societies, the joy comes from the results or the rewards—not the hair-pulling agony of the process.

What made this class “fun” was the instructor: a tall, hot-bodied woman with sun-kissed skin and a fiery personality, wearing what could barely be called clothes. A pair of ultra-short hotpants showed off long, toned legs, while her top was nothing but a frayed strip of denim wrapped around her chest—leaving little to the imagination.

This was Carol, their Basic Magic instructor, and a high-level witch.

“Yo! Miss me, you little brats?!”

The moment she entered, she leaned half over the podium—her giant chest threatening to break free under the pressure. From Jiang Cha’s angle, she could even see the peachy curve of her butt.

Spicy.

“Today’s lesson—second-tier fireball spell model! Don’t roll your eyes at me, Lina! I know your innate magic is Chain Fireballs and you think you don’t need this. But you’ll learn it anyway! I’ll be testing you by the end of class. Anyone who can’t cast it better think long and hard about the consequences!”

What made the class truly fun was Carol’s teaching style. She looked like she was in her early twenties—fiery figure, gorgeous face, and a way of speaking that was street-level casual.

Less like a teacher, more like that hot-headed big sister who looks delicate outside but would pop your skull open with her bare hands at home.

“Ugh, fine, whatever—it’s just a fireball spell.”

Unlike the simpler Lightning Bolt, Fireball was a second-tier spell—stronger and more mana-intensive. Naturally, its spell model was also more complex.

To the untrained eye, the model looked like a tangled mess of geometric shapes.

But Jiang Cha, who had already pre-studied, knew these weren’t just pretty patterns—they were runes.

Runes had meaning, sure, but they weren’t a language or incantations. They were mathematical constructs used to simulate magical effects—a process called Magic Analysis.

In the early days, witches didn’t have such neat spells to study. Most standard magic was reverse-engineered from the innate magic of powerful witches. Only by the late 20th century did witches discover the foundational rules behind magic construction, finally turning magic into something you could optimize, modify—or even create from scratch.

While the class struggled to shape the Fireball model with their mana, Carol kept up her teaching—tone filled with gleeful sadism.

“Fireball’s the simplest model among second-tier spells. Just wait till you try the harder stuff. Those models will make your head explode!”

“Hehehe, suck it up, kiddos!”

Now, if this were a serious class, the teacher would’ve taught them the meanings behind the runes before asking them to memorize the model.

But not Carol.

She dumped the rune memorization assignment as homework on day one. Classic slacker teacher move.

As for Lina…

She didn’t memorize any of it!

Way too complicated, way too many meanings, and the contamination levels in the higher-tier spells? Whoever memorizes that is nuts! She wasn’t trying to create her own magic anyway—just wanted to use what worked.

Just memorize the spell model, brute-force it into your brain, and get better through practice!

—That’s how most battle witches approached magic. Academic witches learned fastest, but battle witches were better at actual combat.

So the gold-haired gremlin turned to Jiang Cha with sparkling puppy eyes:
“Cha-Bao, Cha-Bao, you get it already?”

“More or less.”

Jiang Cha hadn’t memorized all the runes yet. But during her pre-study of Magic Theory Basics, she had already memorized many of the common core runes.

The rest she’d pick up gradually—no rush.

As it happened, Fireball’s runes and structure were covered in her materials.

—It was the go-to example in the textbook, after all.

“Teach me, please~!”

Who could say no to a starry-eyed gold-haired gremlin acting all cute?

Certainly not Jiang Cha. With a small sigh and a glance from He Qin (who looked exasperated but didn’t intervene), she began explaining in a whisper:

“Based on Construction Rules 1 and 3, the Fireball model can be divided into four segments. The outermost part is segment one.”

Her slender fingers flew as she drew the Fireball model on paper, switching pen colors to divide the whole thing into four asymmetric zones.

“According to Construction Rule #8, the outermost runes are for spell stabilization. So we can infer their meaning—”

“‘Circular’?” He Qin leaned in, having followed along quietly until this moment. She suddenly got it.

“Yep, it means ‘circular.’”

“Once you understand segment one, you can tackle segments two and three. These describe the nature of the fireball itself—so here we get: ‘Scorching’, and then ‘Ionic’. The final core rune? That’s easy. It’s a fireball—of course it means ‘Explosive.’”

It was a bit like combining cloze tests and physics word problems:

• Identify the formula or principle

• Analyze the context

• Deduce the missing meanings

Totally up Jiang Cha’s alley.

“Cha-Bao, you’re totally gonna be a great teacher! Love you~ muah!”

Lina happily kissed her on the cheek, and with a flip of her hand, summoned a searing fireball with a proud grin directed at Carol.

“Not bad, huh?”

Carol raised an eyebrow.

She knew Lina’s level. Sure, she could brute-force the model into her brain in two hours, but not twenty minutes. So naturally, she looked over at Jiang Cha—still holding a pen.

And the piece of paper with the model drawn out.

“You’re Jiang Cha, right?”

Ignoring Lina’s childish showing off, Carol went straight to the “culprit.”

“Yes, Professor.”

Jiang Cha didn’t flinch—nothing wrong with tutoring a classmate, right?

“Think you can cast Fireball at full mastery before the end of class?”

Spell Mastery—a term used to gauge how well a witch controls a spell. A spell’s “maximum” form means:

• Stable model

• Max mana infusion

• Use of advanced techniques like Power Casting, Multi-Cast, and Instant Cast

“Uh…”

Jiang Cha looked hesitant.

“Cha-Bao doesn’t know Multi-Cast yet, Professor Carol!” Lina jumped in protectively, placing herself between them.

Earlier that day, Jiang Cha had cast a quad-Lightning Bolt combo, but that wasn’t real Multi-Cast. Legit versions required five or more instances—hundreds, even, for low-tier spells. Jiang Cha had simply split her power and control to fake it.

“Oh, Multi-Cast, huh? Just means drawing multiple models at once and firing them off… How many thinking threads can you run?”

“Cha-Bao just enrolled yesterday…”

“Wasn’t asking you.”

WHAM!
DOING!

With a flick of her hand, Carol smacked the gold-haired gremlin across the room—straight into the wall, stuck like a poster.

Carol, being a combat instructor, knew exactly how durable Lina was—and didn’t bother holding back.

Thud.

Jiang Cha swallowed hard.

She wasn’t nearly as tough as Lina, so she immediately straightened her posture and respectfully replied:

“Normally around 30 threads. Peak around 80.”

“Oh? You joined the Combat Club?”

Carol’s expression… actually softened?

“Um… yes. But I’m more interested in pursuing a support profession, so—”

“Come to the Combat Club this weekend.”

She tried to explain, but Carol wasn’t listening. Tossing a line over her shoulder, she turned and walked out:

“What’re you looking at?! Memorized the model yet?! Cast it perfectly yet?! No?! I’ll wall-slam you all next!”

Jiang Cha: “…”

“You okay?” He Qin looked worried. As another non-combat witch, she knew how Jiang Cha felt. “Professor Carol is actually pretty reasonable. If you don’t want to go…”

“It’s fine,” Jiang Cha sighed.

She didn’t actually dislike combat. After learning about the nature of the world of witches, she really did want to travel and explore.

But in a dangerous multiverse, you can’t go sightseeing without power.

“It’s just… does getting smacked by Professor Carol hurt?”

“What?”

He Qin tilted her head, confused by the mental leap.

But Jiang Cha just sighed again and dropped it.

She didn’t hate fighting.

She just hated being the noob that gets stomped.

—Being fish food is the worst.