The first day of the new school year began with an air of anticipation. The students, dressed in crisp uniforms, shuffled into the grand, imposing building that loomed like a fortress of secrets. For many, this marked the beginning of a dream—their first steps into the world of magic.
Inside, the halls buzzed with excitement, nervous chatter, and hushed whispers about the unknown trials ahead. In one classroom, 30 students—bright-eyed, yet unsure—sat waiting.
The door opened, and a striking blonde woman stepped inside. Her very presence seemed to command the room. The idle conversations ceased instantly, and all eyes turned to her.
"I am Hashimoto Evangeline," she began, her voice calm but brimming with authority. "To you, I am Hashimoto-Sensei. From this day forward, I am your homeroom teacher. I will be teaching you English and Mana Control, but before we get to that, there's something more important you must do."
The room grew still as her piercing gaze swept over the students.
"Each of you must choose an Archive. Every mage is defined by their Archive and the theme they draw from it. It doesn't matter if you find your theme first or your Archive first—they are intertwined. But without both, you will never become a mage." Her tone grew sharp. "You have one week to find yours. For the next seven days, you'll only have lessons with me. If you fail to choose an Archive by the end of this week, you will be expelled. No exceptions."
Her words fell heavy on the room. Some students exchanged nervous glances, while others sat frozen, absorbing the weight of her declaration.
Finally, one student raised her hand. Her voice trembled slightly as she asked, "Sensei… what is *your* Archive?"
Evangeline paused, her lips curving into a small, enigmatic smile.
"I am one of the rare few on this planet who possess more than one Archive," she said, her tone lighter, yet still commanding. "Most of the time, I only use one. The others… remain my secret." Her smile deepened, radiant and disarming, making the boys in the room blush furiously.
"The Archive I use most often is from *Ira*—Wrath. It's called *Ruina*. With it, I can draw runes whose effects I control logically. A rune from me can make you 50 kilograms heavier, freeze you where you stand, or even set you on fire. But," she added, her tone serious, "it has its limits. It cannot do impossible things, like changing someone's gender or altering fundamental truths."
Her words hung in the air, and the students looked at her as if she were an invincible force. For a moment, some dreamed of choosing *Ira* as their Archive, but the sheer intensity of her explanation made them hesitate.
Then another hand rose. This time, it was a girl whose beauty seemed to leave the boys momentarily speechless.
"Sensei," she said in a calm, clear voice, "what other Archives are there?"
This was Liara Liurnia, the eldest daughter of the prestigious Liurnia family, one of the twelve great magical houses. The room shifted uneasily as her presence reminded everyone of the high stakes. For decades, laws had forbidden the study of magic outside official schools, forcing families like hers to wait for moments like this.
Evangeline's gaze met hers, and her expression softened slightly. "There are seven Archives," she said, her tone steady. "They align with the seven deadly sins:
- *Superbia*—Pride
- *Ira*—Wrath
- *Acedia*—Sloth
- *Invidia*—Envy
- *Avaritia*—Greed
- *Gula*—Gluttony
- *Luxuria*—Lust."
Her gaze swept over the entire class.
"It doesn't matter which you choose. What matters is that it fits who you are at your core. Without that alignment, your magic will be useless. So think carefully. This decision will shape not just your future, but your destiny."
Her words settled over the room like a heavy fog, the reality of their task sinking in.
Over the following week, the classroom was a hive of effort and self-discovery. By the end, 26 of the 30 students, all between the ages of 15 and 16, had found their themes and chosen their Archives. The remaining four, pale and shaken, were quietly expelled.
It was a stark reminder that this school was not for the faint of heart, and failure was not an option.