The academy gates loomed ahead, and just as we crossed the threshold, the system window blinked to life, glowing in the corner of my vision like a notification from the universe itself.
[System Notice]
[You have placed 3rd in the Camp Event]
[Calculating reward…]
[Reward: Starheart Blossom]
My eyes widened as a tiny holographic image of a softly glowing flower appeared.
[Starheart Blossom] – A rare herb said to harmonize with the mana within one's core, promoting rapid growth. Proper preparation required. Use with caution.
"Whoa—no way!" I whispered, a grin spreading across my face. "I actually got this? Starheart Blossom?!"
This wasn't just some regular loot drop—this was premium-tier magic fuel, the kind that could catapult my two-star mana core straight to three stars with a single brew. I knew exactly what this thing was, too. All those late nights grinding the game back on Earth were finally paying off.
"Not bad," I muttered, brushing a hand through my hair. "Looks like I'm about to hit the next level."
I gave the herb's image another look, excitement bubbling in my chest. Starheart Blossoms were rare as hell in the game, and now I had one sitting in my inventory, just waiting to be used.
"Time to put those old pro-gamer instincts to work."
I glanced around, making sure no one was looking too closely, then dismissed the system window with a flick of my hand. The last thing I needed was some nosy student asking too many questions. What was I supposed to say? "Oh, this? Just a rare reward for surviving another day. No big deal."
I bit back a laugh as the anticipation surged inside me. Tonight, I'd boost my core, and tomorrow? The academy wouldn't know what hit it.
Back in my dorm, I summoned the Starheart Blossom from my magic storage. The translucent petals shimmered faintly, glowing as if they'd been plucked from the edge of a dream—delicate, brimming with untapped power. Just holding it sent a small ripple through my mana, like my core knew what was about to happen.
A grin spread across my face. "With this... I'm finally catching up."
I'd been the only one in S Rank Class—and even A Rank—still stuck at two stars. Everyone else had already hit three stars or higher, leaving me in the dust. Yet I'd held my own, even with a two-star core. Fought battles, aced tests, and survived a camp event that should've buried me. And now?
Now I was about to level up.
I set the kettle to boil. The petals felt impossibly light between my fingers as I dropped them into the water. Magic rippled out like silk threads unraveling, turning the liquid a glowing gold with faint hints of blue. The aroma drifted up—a minty, moonlit scent with a strange undercurrent of nostalgia. Something about it reminded me of summer nights on Earth.
I poured the tea into a small cup, staring at it for a second.
"Alright. Time to ditch that two-star life."
The tea went down smooth—like drinking a liquid breeze. For a second, I thought, "That's it?" And then the world tilted.
BOOM.
The power hit me like a thunderclap, spreading out from my chest in a wild, uncontrollable surge. My mana exploded, racing through my veins with the intensity of a wildfire. It wasn't a gentle shift—it was like being tossed into a river of pure energy and trying to swim upstream.
I stumbled, grabbing the desk for support as the room buzzed with invisible power. Every inch of me thrummed—as if my whole body was waking up from a long, dull slumber. My heart pounded against my ribs, faster and louder with each beat. This wasn't just a power-up—it was a metamorphosis.
My core cracked open, and I felt it shatter. A rush of energy burst from the broken pieces, swirling and coiling as it rebuilt itself—denser, sharper, stronger. I clenched my fists as the mana roared to life inside me, pushing against my limits, testing the new boundaries of my body.
It was done. I didn't need a system notification to tell me—I could feel it.
I'd hit three stars.
The power hummed inside me, steady and alive. I could feel it in my bones, in my muscles—every movement sharper, smoother. The magic that had always felt like a small stream now surged through me like a roaring river, ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice.
I rolled my shoulders experimentally. Everything felt lighter. Stronger. Faster. And the best part? I wasn't starting from scratch. I'd already pulled off more than most with just two stars. Now that I was on even ground? The possibilities were endless.
A wicked grin tugged at the corners of my mouth. "Yeah... now we're talking."
[Status Window]
Name: Lucius Ravenhart
Age: 17
Element: Dark
Mana: 7.5
Strength: 8.5
Agility: 8.2
Endurance: 7.0
Intelligence: 15.1
I exhaled slowly, riding the buzz of new power coursing through me. This was it—the beginning of something bigger. No more lagging behind. No more second place.
I caught my reflection in the small mirror above the desk. My eyes seemed sharper, darker—gleaming with the kind of confidence that only comes from knowing you're about to kick life in the teeth.
The next morning unfolded like any other: students dragging themselves through the halls, eyes barely open, clutching books as if sheer proximity to them might wake their brains. After the camp event's chaos, the peaceful routine felt... strange. No ambushes, no life-or-death duels—just lectures, assignments, and the hum of academy life.
I swung my bag over one shoulder, moving with the flow toward Basic Magic Development Class. It was held in the east wing—far from the flashier spellcraft halls. No battle arenas or conjuration chambers, just a quiet place where theory reigned supreme, and boredom loomed large.
When I arrived, Fiona was waiting by the door, her familiar sly grin already in place.
"So…" she said, rocking on her heels. "Third place, huh?"
I shrugged, letting the corner of my mouth tug upward. "What can I say? A man of endless surprises."
Her gaze narrowed with amused disbelief. "You're impossible."
"And yet here I am." I smirked.
The classroom felt like something out of a standard textbook—rows of polished wooden desks, runes scribbled on a blackboard, and dusty bookshelves crammed with tomes. It was a place for students hoping to polish their magical skills, or for people like me who hoped to fly under the radar without falling asleep.
The door clicked open with quiet precision, and in stepped Professor Noah Erickson. Even though it was the first day, it felt like he had been waiting for this moment his whole life. Everything about him was sharp and immaculate—neatly combed black hair, silver-rimmed glasses perched perfectly on his nose, and robes that looked like they had never dared wrinkle.
Ohhh. So this is the neat-looking instructor I remembered from the game.
Back when I'd read the novel and played through this academy section in the game, Noah Erickson was just a cold, minor NPC, the kind who could make students cry with nothing more than a pointed glare. But now, standing here in the flesh... he felt different—like he had real weight, real presence. There was something about the way he moved, every gesture calculated, that made him seem more commanding. This guy had charisma. Not the loud kind—but the type that made you think twice before slacking off.
His cold, analytical gaze swept over the room, measuring each student like we were variables in an experiment. Erickson wasn't the kind of instructor to inspire or motivate—more like the kind who'd crush your hopes with polite disinterest and call it character-building.
He glided to the front of the classroom with the efficiency of someone who'd done this routine countless times, the faint hush in the room deepening as if the very air had taken on his cold demeanor.
"Good morning," he said, his voice smooth but completely devoid of warmth, as though enthusiasm was beneath him. "This is Basic Magic Development. By the end of this course, you will understand the foundations of constructing spells—both theoretically and practically. Whether or not you succeed in mastering these skills will depend entirely on your efforts."
He gave the briefest glance toward the blackboard, and a piece of chalk floated into the air as if it knew better than to disobey. It sketched out precise diagrams of runes and spell circles, each glyph glowing faintly with enchantment. Water glyphs wove through the patterns, shimmering like droplets suspended in time.
Erickson adjusted his glasses with a smooth motion, his gaze never wavering from the diagrams. "Let's begin with the essentials. What is a magical construct?"
A heavy silence fell over the room. Most of the students exchanged glances, too nervous to speak on the first day. No one wanted to be the first victim of Erickson's attention.
Then his eyes locked onto me. It felt less like being chosen and more like being cornered by a predator. "Mr. Ravenhart," he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "Care to enlighten us?"
Oh, fantastic. First day in class, and I was already on Erickson's radar. Lucky me.
Fiona nudged me with her elbow, biting back a grin. "Enjoying the spotlight, genius?"
I shot her a look and cleared my throat, trying to appear like I knew exactly what I was talking about. "Uh... a magical construct is... kind of like a spell framework. It holds magic in place and gives it shape. Without it, spells would just, uh... fall apart."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees as Erickson considered my answer. His expression didn't shift—not a frown, not a smile—but somehow, it conveyed subtle disappointment.
"Adequate," he said flatly, the word landing like a backhanded compliment. "Constructs are the skeleton of any spell. Without them, your magic is nothing more than unrefined energy—a candle without a wick."
With a flick of his fingers, the diagrams on the board rearranged themselves, the glyphs shifting with delicate precision. The water glyphs pulsed faintly, and droplets of water floated from the diagrams, orbiting in perfect spirals as if synchronized to Erickson's will.
"There are two types of constructs we will study this semester—static and dynamic. Static constructs remain stable and predictable under most conditions, but lack flexibility. Dynamic constructs, on the other hand, adapt to their environment, but they require precise control. One mistake, and the entire structure collapses."
As the diagrams and glyphs rearranged themselves on the board, the floating water droplets moved in perfect harmony with the magic circles, forming miniature spell constructs right before our eyes. Erickson's lesson wasn't flashy—it was precise. Calculated. Every rune and symbol slotted into place like the gears of a well-oiled machine.
Even the students who had entered the room half-asleep were now sitting up, focused on the mesmerizing display. Erickson wasn't the type to demand your attention—he just commanded it by existing.
Fiona leaned over to me, keeping her voice low. "Told you this class would be interesting."
"Sure. If interesting means terrifying." I muttered.
Erickson's cold gaze flicked toward us for a brief second, and both of us snapped back to attention like we'd been hit by a stun spell. No words needed—that glance said everything.
I slouched a little lower in my seat, muttering under my breath, "I miss the camp. At least there, the enemies were obvious."
Erickson turned back to the class, speaking with the same clinical detachment. "For today's exercise, you will practice controlling your mana and constructing a rune spell. This will involve drawing a basic rune diagram that any element can utilize. While the process may take time, it's crucial for your development. I will monitor your progress."
The room stirred as students began to shuffle, looking for partners. I shot Fiona a glance.
"Think you can carry me?" I asked with a grin.
She smirked. "That depends. How good are you at not blowing things up?"
"I make no promises."
The classroom soon filled with the soft hum of whispered incantations and the faint shimmer of magic circles forming in the air. Erickson prowled the aisles, his cold gaze scanning for mistakes, ready to swoop in at the first sign of instability.
As I focused on gathering my dark mana, trying to channel it through my fingertips, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement beneath the usual annoyance. This class might actually be worth paying attention to.
And with Erickson watching every move, I had no choice but to keep up—or risk becoming his first casualty of the semester.
Fiona and I worked side by side, each of us drawing our respective runes on the scrolls provided. As I concentrated, a faint flicker of dark energy pulsed in the air, a testament to my control.
"Not bad," Fiona said under her breath, her arcane mana swirling as she shaped her own runes. "Just remember to keep it steady. You don't want to send it flying off the scroll."
"Shocking advice, really," I shot back, a grin creeping onto my face. "I should get an award for this."
Across the room, someone's mana flickered out with a disappointing fizzle, and Erickson's cold gaze landed on the poor soul like a sniper's scope. Without missing a beat, he stepped in, muttering a correction, and the offending spell reformed with unnerving precision.
Fiona leaned closer, whispering, "I think he enjoys this. A little too much."
"Oh, no doubt," I whispered back. "That man's got 'I thrive on crushing hopes' written all over him."
The minutes slipped by as I concentrated on my rune, feeling the dark mana coalesce into a more stable form. I let out a satisfied breath—until Erickson's shadow loomed over us. "Hmm," he murmured, inspecting our work with an unreadable expression. "Passable. Continue practicing."
"Passable?" I muttered as soon as he turned his back. "That's practically a love letter from him."
Fiona stifled a laugh, and I allowed myself a small victory smile. But as I stared at the runes on my scroll, a familiar sense of unease crept in. Moments like these—normal, peaceful—never lasted long. Not in this place.
I leaned back slightly, exhaling through my nose. "Haa... I hope every day could be like this."
Fiona gave me a questioning look, but I wasn't done yet. I glanced at my rune, knowing full well that peace was just a fleeting illusion in a place like Arcadia. "But no. The next episode is always around the corner. And you know what that means..."
Fiona raised a brow. "More trouble?"
"More trouble," I confirmed with a sigh. "Why can't I live in peace, just once?"
The dark energy shimmered slightly on the scroll, as if agreeing with my plight.