"Very well, open your books to page one hundred and eighteen, please. Today's topic will be related to the Magic of the water attribute and how to effectively use it against fire-type monsters."
In front of a vast procession of finely crafted wooden seats and chairs, a man with a badge hanging around his neck commanded attention.
Amidst the enormous crowd, he was the only one brave enough to speak up.
All the others, seated resolutely in their chairs throughout the grand room adorned with paintings and other artifacts, seemed dazed; some engulfed in their robes, others grinding their teeth, and a few too nervous to even blink.
"Well," he said, "as you can see, I have taken the lead and written down some of the branching elements of water magic. Does anyone spot anything amiss?"
By the way he carried himself, his method of communication, his intricate attire, and even the objects he held in his hands, it was evident what occupation the man in question pursued.
He was a professor. An influential one, I must say.
Standing there, just a few steps away from his countless students, Professor Rogertis Buscost—as his badge read—paced back and forth in front of the blackboard.
A pale, white chalk in his right hand swung tirelessly as the words flowed onto the surface of the board, and a book held in his left hand, titled "The Principles of Magic," was used at his discretion.
"..." Even after a dozen seconds had passed, no one responded to him.
The man scratched his head awkwardly, restraining himself from erupting in frustration.
He had an image to uphold, for goodness' sake.
With a few gentle taps on the cover of the book in his left hand, he raised his voice slightly.
"Come on now, folks. Do me a favor and open your books. Or would you prefer that I deduct points from your respective households?"
It didn't take long.
At the sound of the threat, the students obeyed, each one moving almost synchronously, opening their books to the exact page one hundred and eighteen as suggested.
With a smile on his face, the man finished writing whatever the water attributes or its magic meant.
The students around seemed to understand each and every thing written there.
But honestly, I didn't.
"Miss Madrigal," the man said, extending his hand with the chalk towards a girl seated in the middle of the class. "Since your classmates didn't do it, I would appreciate your help."
The girl nodded in agreement. Everyone watched her, including myself.
"So, as you can see, I took the liberty of writing a few things here. Can you tell me which attributes related to water magic are missing?"
"Yes, professor," she responded without hesitation; her voice determined.
"Excellent! Come up here and take the chalk."
Without saying another word, the girl gracefully rose from her chair, allowing her long, curly bluish-hued hair, which cascaded past her slender shoulders, to fall beyond her waist region.
The intermittent sunlight, streaming through the gaps in the towering purple curtains, glinted at that moment in her sharp and shining black eyes.
A spark of determination burned within her round, half-closed pupils, akin to that of a cat.
"Please, the chalk," she earnestly requested, taking the chalk from the professor's hand.
Silence fell over the room.
The already quiet classroom now carried an air of anticipation among the students.
I refused to let such emotion invade my mind and focused solely on trying to comprehend what was unfolding before me.
For a moment, she gazed at the blackboard in front of her, adorned with words about the element and its attributes.
They were all in order, based on when and how they were discovered: Water, vapor, mist.
Two secondary attributes were still missing. I knew it, and she did too.
"I see..."
With a gentle whisper, the girl delicately moved her fingers with a drastic tenderness, clear evidence that she had never trained rigorously in her life.
At least, not physically.
She was like a refined diamond, placed under the protection of a translucent dome; born with the purest of talents for magic and its kin, filling the empty spaces on the blackboard with two important words.
The two most powerful branches of the 'water' element, recently discovered by the scientists of the Coalition: Blood and Cloud.
"Spectacular! As always, an excellent response, Miss Madrigal," the man encouraged. "I will award 10 points to the Griffin's House!"
Some people in the back of the room, wearing pendants of a majestic golden Griffin soaring on their chests, gestured in celebration; the bravest ones clapped for the girl.
Turning around, she smiled slyly, pushing her curls back as she descended the steps from the stage.
Though she tried to conceal it, she clearly relished the attention she was receiving. The praises pouring in from all sides also appeased her inflated ego.
In a moment of distraction, on the path between the stage and her chair, her black eyes clashed with mine.
It was instant, as if by magic.
The smile that once graced her face from ear to ear faded, replaced by a cold expression that conveyed nothing but disdain.
'You bitch', I thought. 'Is this how you look at your classmates?'
She took her seat, but even as I gazed intently at the professor, I could feel her gaze piercing through me like a knife slicing through my skin, muscles, and fat.
"Alright, attention!" Rogertis said, adjusting his oversized glasses. "As our dear Fryz has answered, the remaining two attributes for the water element are blood and cloud." He surveyed the room like an eagle about to swoop down on a hapless turtle. "Who among you can explain the usage of these two elements?"
Once again, the room fell into complete silence. Not a single available soul could be counted among the over 50 students present.
Frankly, it was ridiculous that such a situation would occur.
I mean, you would expect a first-year classroom at the most renowned magic academy on the planet to be prepared to answer such a simple question.
And indeed, everyone was.
Especially considering the fact that we were already in the early stages of the second semester. It wasn't as if they had gotten lucky or anything.
But this room was different from the others.
Even with its harsh and implied rules, and of course, the pretty words used to insult someone in a heated debate among peers, this place was no different from a battlefield.
So what if Poulir Disen, the fifth-ranked student in the theoretical exams for first-years, was here?
Wasn't Amalia Doug here too, the genius girl?
Well, whoever the person was, clearly it didn't matter in the slightest at all.
Everyone here knew the unwritten rule. A rule more dangerous than any of the rules the academy and student body demanded of the students.
Everyone was fully aware that challenging Fryz Madrigal when it came to proving her intelligence was not advisable.
She was the one who should answer all the questions posed by the professors of Class 2-A. The others should just keep quiet and observe as she showcased her sharpness.
Not that I expected anything different from that megalomaniac.
She craved attention, no matter where she went. At every moment, the girl liked to prove herself and show everyone that she knows about everything and anything.
Even though she was only the second-ranked student in the entire Academy in the theoretical aspect.
And if you dared to answer in her place...
Well, it's contradictory, but extremely simple.
Your life would become hellish. All your academic efforts would crumble before your eyes.
The spoiled little rich brat would simply use the influence of her powerful family to torment your stay here at the academy until you gave up studying.
Or perhaps even living.
Of course, this was no secret to anyone. Most of the professors were well aware of it, but they ignored it as much as they could since Fryz came from a powerful family.
They nurtured hopes that one day the favors they fulfilled for the "wonderful" Fryz Madrigal, a ''genius among genius'', would be rewarded by the Madrigal family itself.
Nevertheless, of course, all of that would be for nothing. I knew that better than anyone.
In fact, I knew everything about this place. From the people to the elements, to the powerful families and their schemes of corruption.
And a fucking lot of different subjects & topics.
Just like other spoiled brats, her pretty face was nothing more than a mask that was constantly being pushed to its limits before shattering into pieces.
I'd encountered many people like her in the real world.
However, all of this was a fictional world; an impressive recreation of lines and texts from an unpublished manuscript.
And she, Fryz Madrigal, a sixteen year-old girl, was one of the villains of the novel; a disposable one, after all.
Well, as you can see, I'm not from here. I never was.
If I recall correctly, about a week and a half ago, I woke up in this world. Not just any world; it was the world of the novel that my younger brother, David, wrote when he was 13 years old before...
... Before he died.
He passed away in a car accident along with my mother and father.
I can still remember, albeit vaguely, his cute smiles and laughter.
He seemed to enjoy what he was writing. I used to read the scripts he wrote during class and had fun with his elaborate and cliché texts.
With his dreams on my mind, I encouraged him as much as I could.
He wanted to be an author.
His dream was to make a lot of money and take our whole family to a good place where we could enjoy the best things.
Anyway, I don't quite understand what really happened, but I've been trying to use the free time I have to figure out how I ended up in this wretched place.
I have a few theories.
Actually, to be sincere, I do have a very solid foundation.
May 7th, 2123.
A week ago, just before opening my eyes here, I was with my tactical special operations team on the border between China and Russia. After working hard and achieving some accomplishments, I quickly rose through the ranks.
I was a captain in the Italian Special Forces. The "Sapientia" team was under my command.
I vividly remember leading a rescue mission for some worthless politician from the Italian consulate.
The spark of the War for Sovereignty, most commonly refered as World War III, had just occurred. A war between humans and monsters; and, of course, influenced by greed, between humans and humans as well.
Everything was in complete chaos, and it seems to be affecting my memories.
Things appear jumbled in my mind. If I try to force my mind too much, a throbbing headache threatens to split my brain in half.
It's a really painful experience.
There's a gap in my memories; in the next instant, shortly after giving orders, I'm on the ground, leaning against a concrete wall, surrounded by the bodies of my comrades and friends, bleeding to death.
I knew at some point that would happen to me. I thought I would die alone after all the harm I caused in those illicit operations.
It seemed quite foolish, but I believed in Karma. Dying a painful death would just be my Karma, wouldn't it?
But surprisingly, fate seemed to have other plans for me.
"Leonardo. Wake up. Now."
That creepy sensation refuses to fade from my mind.
A cold, deep voice, one that I wouldn't even be able to conjure in my nightmares, invaded my ears amid the sounds of incessant gunfire and explosions.
"That's quite a sight, huh? But your life shouldn't come to such a tragic end," the voice echoed, its words hanging in the air.
I tried my best to respond, to deny the inevitable, to say 'no', but my vocal cords refused to cooperate.
Powerless, I became a mere observer in my own fate.
"I can imagine your answer, even without words. It's instinctual, isn't it? I won't pass judgment," it declared, a hint of amusement in its tone. "That's why I have a proposition for you. No need to reply; even if you desired to, your voice would fail you. Pfft."
A swirling miasma of emerald mist materialized around me, casting an eerie glow.
It was as if the very essence of life itself was coalescing, a shimmering veil between me and the unknown.
"Your vocal cords have been silenced, victims of the shots that pierced your throat. Your limbs, once agile and responsive, now lie motionless. It's a marvel that you cling to life in this fleeting moment, teetering on the precipice of eternity. I truly admire your efforts, human."
From the depths of the encroaching shadows, a peculiar creature emerged.
Taking the form of a wolf, its eyes burned with a crimson intensity, mirroring the rivulets of blood cascading from my wounds.
A surge of dread coursed through me.
"Inferno," I thought, for I could only fathom that my soul was to be condemned to hell by that diabolical entity.
Nevertheless, as I had foretold, destiny had far greater plans in store for me.
"From the moment they draw breath, all creatures know of my existence. You may call me 'Death,' though I possess no true name."
My thoughts gradually dissipated, as if carried away by the wind, while the words of the talking wolf coursed through my mind, much like the blood that continued to trickle from my wounds.
"I have come to claim your soul, Leonardo. Or so I was."
Blood dribbled from my mouth, akin to a tap left forgotten and open through the night. My strength waned relentlessly, my life essence draining away.
"However, it appears that 'they' have deemed you worthy. It is a lamentable twist of fate; how I would have reveled in consigning you to the depths of hell," the wolf sighed. "Nevertheless, here lies my proposition. Death is inevitable for your vessel in this realm. Yet, your soul shall be transported to another world, inhabiting a soulless body. You shall be reborn, Leonardo."
With every ounce of will I could muster, my eyes fought to stay open. But in the blink of an eye, they closed shut, never to behold the world again.
I had departed, much like my family. Leonardo Grasso's life had come to an end. I had met my demise, that much was certain.
And yet, even in death, I could hear the creaking of gears as the wolf's voice echoed in my troubled mind:
"Soul collected. Transference confirmed."
In the blink of an eye, my eyes fluttered open once more. It defied all reason, for I had just succumbed to death's embrace.
That's when I realized.
I wasn't myself anymore. Not the "true" me.
I had been reborn. And sadly, as an f*cking extra.