Internet Mage Professor

However, nothing really happened.

The shimmering light faded.

The strange sensation ebbed. Nolan’s breath steadied, and his vision cleared.

The classroom somehow looked as it had always been—bright, humming with mana energy, and filled with laughter, light footsteps, and the occasional shout of "I dodged that!", "No way, that hit me?", "Watch me, I will defeat it with my eyes closed!", "Huh? That’s impossible!", "I will do that too!", "Hey! Don’t copy me!", and "Hah! I will beat you to it!".

Nolan would shake his head. And then, he looked around slowly, his gaze resting on the students, caught in the throes of victory and playful rivalry.

Their eyes sparkled, cheeks flushed with excitement, and their smiles—those wide, unguarded, youthful grins—carried a kind of purity that Nolan hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

A very long time.

The sight stirred something in him.

Something familiar.

Before he could stop it, his mind drifted—slipping quietly from the present moment, drawn by the warmth of the scene.

His body stood still, but his thoughts traveled, spiraling backward, back on Earth. Back on the day of his youth. Back to the smell of used keyboards and snacks. Back to dust-specked monitors. Back to an old computer shop tucked behind a narrow alleyway in his neighborhood.

Nolan could almost hear the fans spinning, the whirring of the old desktop towers, the ticking noise from the cheap wall clock above the entrance.

He remembered the sound of fingers frantically tapping keys, muffled cheers, and competitive roars from across the shop.

The memories came flooding in, raw and vivid, clear and in an unbelievable clarity.

He saw his younger self sitting in the corner unit, headset lopsided, yelling at his friends across the room while playing an old tactical shooter.

"Bro, flank left! LEFT! What are you doing?! Don’t do that! Do what I told you to do instead! Hurry! Aaaahhh!"

"I’m lagging, man! You bastard! I told you my cousin’s downloading again!"

"Excuses! Excuses! I don’t believe that noob!"

They’d trash talk each other mercilessly, all in good fun. Losers would be punished with buying cold cola or instant noodles from the little counter run by the kind, ever-patient owner, Mang Elmo.

Mang Elmo.

Now that was a name Nolan hadn’t thought about in years.

A wiry man in his late fifties, glasses always sliding off his nose, with a kind smile that never left his face. He never minded their shouting or mess. He even gave them discounts if they cleaned up before they left.

"Here, eat this before your stomach protests louder than your games," Mang Elmo would say, handing over plastic plates of spaghetti or hotdogs to Nolan and the others. "Just wash the dishes after, okay? And make sure it’s thoroughly cleaned or else, I would make you go back in line."

And they would. It was their second home.

For a while, everything was perfect.

But as time passed, Nolan watched that small world unravel.

One by one, his friends began to leave.

It started with Joemar.

"Tol," Joemar said one evening, pulling off his headset after a wild match. "My dad wants me to work at the shop full-time now. Grocery deliveries. I can’t come anymore after this week."

Nolan tried to laugh it off. "Come on, man. Just one night a week. That would not take much of your time, right?"

Joemar smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Wish I could. But it’s different now. My family needs help. I need to grow up, I guess. I’m sorry, tol."

He bumped fists with Nolan and walked out. That was the last time Nolan saw him in-game.

Then came Rachel.

She was one of their best players—sharp, calculating, always one step ahead. But then college entrance exams loomed.

"I’ll be buried in prep books," she sighed, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. "Gaming? Gotta stop. I want to get into med school."

"You’ll make it," Nolan said, forcing a grin.

She smiled back. "Thanks. Don’t stay here forever, okay? Life’s bigger than just... this. I believe in you."

Even their usual in-game rivals began to disappear. The rowdy boys from the next neighborhood who’d always bet sodas on matches just... stopped coming.

Nolan remembered one of them—Arvee.

They used to banter like mortal enemies. Every time they crossed paths in the shop, the tension could’ve powered the routers.

But one day, Nolan ran into him outside, dressed neatly in a tucked-in shirt.

"Arvee?"

"Oh, hey. Nolan. Didn’t recognize you without the headset." freёwebnoѵel.com

They laughed awkwardly.

"You don’t play anymore?" Nolan asked.

Arvee shook his head. "Nah. My girlfriend... You remember her?"

"Yeah... Isabelle?"

"Yeah... She’s pregnant..."

Nolan’s eyes widened. "Holy shit, really?"

"Yeah, man. Life comes at you fast." He smiled, but there was a tiredness behind it. "I got a job in construction. Pays okay. I don’t have time for games now. Gotta be a dad soon."

He walked away slowly, and Nolan stood there, stunned, watching his so-called enemy disappear with a plastic bag of diapers in his hand.

The chairs at the computer shop began to stay empty. The monitors didn’t light up as often. The noise—the beautiful, chaotic, passionate noise—grew quieter every week.

Nolan?

He stayed.

He didn’t have family responsibilities. No girlfriend. No big goals. He just kept playing. Waiting for the days. Waiting for something he’s not even sure of what it is.

While everyone around him moved forward, Nolan stayed in the corner of that shop, headset on, fingers moving like muscle memory, numbly cycling through games, day after day.

And then... the pandemic.

The lockdowns.

The computer shop closed.

Temporarily, the sign said. But everyone knew it meant forever.

Nolan’s real world crashed, his father died. It was devastating. He needed to work part-time while still in college.

The computer shop he used to frequently go to?

He remembered walking past it after the lockdowns eased, mask on, heart heavy, and seeing the shuttered windows. The sign above the shop faded, the paint peeling. He remembered placing his hand on the door one last time, as if touching a grave.

That was the end of an era.

And after that?

He continued college.

He forced himself through it. Took up education, mostly because it was what people around him said made sense. Graduated. Became a teacher. He accepted it because... what else was there? The world had moved. He was already so late to everything.

He thought maybe, just maybe, life would begin there.

But it didn’t.

Because the very next thing he remembered was waking up in this world—a magical world, bound by mana, filled with mystical beasts and impossible systems.

And now?

Here he was.

In a classroom again.

Nolan blinked. The laughter of the students broke through the memory fog. The chatter, the energy, the life in their voices pulled him back to the present.

He exhaled softly.

Then, he smiled.

It wasn’t bitter. It wasn’t sad. It was a small, tired, but genuine smile.

He shook his head slowly and muttered under his breath, "Where am I again?"

He glanced at his hands, then at the students, still playing, still joking, still shouting joyfully at every minor victory.

"Right," he said to himself, rolling his shoulders back. "I’m just testing my Mana Specialist rank improvement on these students."