Morning arrived, bringing a new wave of excitement and trepidation. A box was delivered to each of our dorms, containing the uniforms we would wear during classes. The uniforms, neatly folded and smelling faintly of lavender, symbolized the start of our journey at the academy.
Our first class was scheduled for eight o'clock a.m. It was the much-anticipated Magical Arts class. At this academy, all students were assigned the same subjects, but the quality and depth of education depended on the class tier to which they belonged.
Classes E and D would focus on basic elemental lessons, Classes C and B would cover intermediate elements, and the prestigious Class A received expert-level training. This division of curriculum, though pragmatic, underscored the disparities between us and made it clear that our designation dictated our opportunities.
Ms. Lenara, ever graceful and composed, guided each class to their designated classrooms. As we entered ours, I chose a seat in the back row, at the very left corner. This position gave me a full view of the room, allowing me to observe everything without drawing attention to myself. The classroom buzzed with anticipation as we waited for the professor's arrival.
The quiet murmur of voices was interrupted by a sudden, cheerful exclamation. A female student strode confidently to the front of the class, her white foxtail swaying gracefully behind her.
"Good morning, my classmates!" she announced, her voice bright and commanding.
The male students instantly shifted their attention to her, their gazes captivated. She was a beastkin, her snowy foxtail and radiant smile making her presence impossible to ignore.
"My name is Erna Ballidina. Let's behave properly for our professor," she said, her tone friendly but firm.
Her words sparked a wave of enthusiasm among the male students, their cheers echoing through the room. Just then, the professor entered, his presence silencing the class instantly.
"Take your seats," he instructed, his voice soft yet authoritative.
The professor was an elf with a scar running across his face a mark of experience, no doubt. His emerald eyes scanned the room as he placed a stack of books on the podium.
"I am Professor Ardan Vaelith, and I will be teaching you the fundamentals of Magical Arts," he began, his voice resonating with confidence. He turned to the blackboard and wrote the words "Magic Utilization" in bold, precise strokes.
"Magic Utilization," he repeated. "Today, we will learn how to use mana effectively when casting abilities."
With a simple motion, he conjured a flame in his hand. The warm glow illuminated his sharp features. "Mana is the resource you expend to cast spells. It also flows continuously through your prowess to sustain and control your abilities." The flame in his hand grew into a roaring blaze. "This is what happens when you channel a large amount of mana without focus."
The flame then shrank, its form narrowing into a concentrated torch. "And this," he continued, "is the result of directing mana into a single focal point. Now, which do you think is stronger: the overwhelming blaze or the focused flame?"
A student raised his hand confidently. "The large flame, of course! Its size and impact make it more powerful."
"That is incorrect," Professor Ardan replied, his tone calm but firm. The class gasped in surprise.
"If not the size, then what makes it weaker?" another student asked.
"When casting a spell, your mana flows through multiple paths in your body. The large flame is the result of mana being distributed unevenly, wasting energy. By contrast, the focused flame channels mana into a single, concentrated path, maximizing its efficiency and strength."
He rolled up his sleeve, revealing intricate lines glowing faintly under his skin. "Think of your body as a network of pathways. Mana flows through these paths, which are unique to each individual. By mastering control of this flow, you can increase the effectiveness of your abilities."
The class listened intently as he demonstrated, alternating between wide and focused flames. A female student raised her hand. "So, our bodies are like vessels with countless holes, and mana escapes through them?"
"Precisely," Professor Ardan replied. "Effective spellcasting requires channeling mana through the correct pathways to prevent wastage."
Another student adjusted his glasses and asked, "Does this flow improve as we level up?"
"No," the professor said. "While leveling up increases your mana pool, the strength of your spells depends on your ability to control mana flow. That's why this is one of the first lessons taught to mages."
Erna raised her hand. "So, could a lower-level mage defeat a higher-level opponent by mastering mana flow?"
"It's possible," Professor Ardan admitted, "but rare. Levels impact the base power of skills, and higher-ranked spells can outclass lower ones. However, exceptional mana control can create opportunities to surpass these limitations."
The lesson concluded with an assignment: to explore and sketch the structure of our personal mana pathways. It was a daunting task, akin to untangling a web of invisible threads within our bodies.
The next class was a combined session for all first-year students from Classes A through E. It took place in the academy's expansive backyard, a field that seemed more suited to battles than lectures.
A man strode into the center of the field, his presence commanding immediate attention. Scars crisscrossed his muscular frame, and his enormous sword, adorned with a gemstone in its hilt, rested against his back. His steps sent faint tremors through the ground.
"Is everyone here?" he asked, his voice booming. The students responded with a unanimous yes.
"I am Alaric Drayven, and I will be your Combat Instructor." He planted his sword into the ground with a resounding thud. "I don't care what weapons you wield. You'll all learn the same thing. No one is special here."
Regret washed over me as I realized I'd left Erythrotenebrae, my weapon, in my dorm. Other students had come prepared, their swords, staffs, and bows at the ready.
"Your first lesson is simple: learn to fight, or fail this class," Professor Alaric declared, a grin spreading across his rugged face.
The students exchanged nervous glances, the weight of his words sinking in.
"Move to the sidelines. I'll call names for sparring matches. Your task is to analyze and exploit your opponent's weaknesses," he explained.
The first match was between Tyr Valen of Class B and Inka Ventiar of Class C. Whispers filled the air as the two stepped forward. "That's Professor Alaric's niece," someone murmured, referring to Tyr. "And that's the troublemaker from the welcoming ceremony."
As Professor Alaric's sword struck the ground, the match began. Inka started with a barrage of fireballs, each aimed directly at Tyr. The scorching heat of the flames singed the air, but Tyr advanced without hesitation. His black sword, etched with diamond-like lines, moved like a blur, slicing through the fireballs with precision. Each cut seemed to neutralize the flames as though the sword was imbued with an anti-magic property.
Inka, flustered, conjured a volley of flaming arrows from the sky. The arrows descended like a meteor shower, their fiery trails painting streaks across the heavens. Tyr, unfazed, stood his ground, his swordsmanship impeccable. With calculated movements, he slashed through the arrows one by one, the sparks illuminating his focused expression.
The class watched in awe as he closed the distance, his footwork fluid and purposeful. Each step brought him closer to Inka, who desperately conjured a fiery shield. But Tyr's relentless offense shattered the barrier with a powerful horizontal slash, the impact sending a shockwave rippling through the field. The match ended with Tyr's decisive victory, earning him praise from Professor Alaric.
The next match featured Erna from my class and Liora of Class D. Erna's agility as a beastkin allowed her to dodge Liora's initial wind blade attack effortlessly. The razor-sharp currents of air sliced through the ground where Erna had been standing moments before. She countered with a flash step, her form blurring as she closed the gap between them. Liora responded by casting a lightning strike, the jagged bolt of energy forcing Erna to retreat.
The duel intensified as Erna activated a skill, summoning a second foxtail with a crimson hue. Her twin tails swayed hypnotically as she conjured a wave of fire, the intense heat causing the ground to smolder. Liora, undeterred, chanted an incantation that conjured a swirling vortex of wind to extinguish the flames. Their battle was a dance of elements, fire and wind clashing with explosive force.
Liora's expression suddenly changed, her eyes glowing unnaturally. The atmosphere grew heavy with static as she began chanting a powerful spell: Master Bolt. The sky darkened, and lightning surged ominously, the energy crackling with a ferocity that sent chills down my spine.
Professor Ardan erected a massive barrier to shield us, while Professor Alaric dashed forward and snapped Liora out of her trance with a sharp command. The spell dissipated, and both duelists were sent to the infirmary, their bodies exhausted from the intensity of the match.
After a brief break, Professor Alaric resumed the session. "Now for the final match: Luna Galadriel of Class A," he announced. The students whispered excitedly. Luna, known for her unmatched strength and angelic grace, stepped forward.
"And her opponent… Ezekiel Rhea of Class E."
The murmurs turned to mocking laughter as all eyes fell on me. My heart sank as I walked to the center, acutely aware of their disdainful gazes. My thoughts swirled as I faced Luna, her serene expression a stark contrast to the smirks around us. What a day this had become.
My mind raced, analyzing her stance. She held a silver spear, its tip gleaming with a faint, ethereal glow. Her posture was relaxed, yet every fiber of her being exuded readiness. I clenched my fists, my lack of a weapon painfully evident. This wasn't just a sparring match it was a spectacle for the others to enjoy at my expense.
"Stay calm," I told myself, recalling Professor Ardan's lesson on mana flow. I took a deep breath, focusing on the pathways within me. If I couldn't rely on raw power, then strategy and precision would have to suffice. Luna raised her spear waiting for Professor Alaric signal for the match began.
As the students returned from the break and settled back into their positions, an electrified tension hung in the air. Whispers of the earlier matches buzzed among them. Some marveled at Tyr's swordsmanship, while others recounted the elemental clash between Erna and Liora. The raw display of skill and power left a lasting impression on everyone.
Eager anticipation filled the air as they shifted their focus to the next event. Many cast curious glances at me, their eyes gleaming with a mix of skepticism and intrigue. A few whispered among themselves, betting on how quickly the match would end. Others leaned forward, their expressions showing cautious optimism, perhaps hoping for an underdog surprise.
"Do you think Ezekiel stands a chance?" one student murmured to another.
"With no weapon? Against Luna? Not likely," came the reply, accompanied by a chuckle.
Despite their skepticism, a palpable energy coursed through the group. This was not just another lesson; it was an unfolding drama, a chance for everyone to see how far the gaps in tiers could stretch or if they could be bridged at all.