This world… is idealistic.
As everything is powered by Mahika.
By the age of ten, you're expected to bloom your first Mahika. And the earlier you received one, the better.
Did you know?
Your specialty is shaped by how you perceive the world around you.
Some bloom roses, bringing beauty wherever they go.
Some clear the sky, parting storms with a flick of their hand.
Some heal the sick, a blessing probably everyone would want to have.
And so on.
And so forth.
But not everyone is blessed with creation.
Some are born with a Mahika meant for destruction.
There are those whose only gift… is the ability to kill.
And someone like that...
And a person born only to create weapons—
Should never have become a teacher right?
****
(2 hours after the explosion)
"Phew… that took a while."
"Seriously... I'm so glad I got away with just a warning haahhh..."
Professor Sean exhaled, standing in front of the mirror. His exhausted reflection stared back at him. Dark circles framed his eyes, his brown bangs were a mess, and his glasses sat slightly askew.
With a sigh, he fixed his hair, adjusted his glasses, and straightened his robe, making sure every crease was in place. Lastly, he tilted his signature witch hat to the perfect angle.
Then, with both index fingers, he pushed the corners of his lips upward, forcing a smile.
"Rule No. 1: No matter what happens, you gotta keep smiling in front of them."
Letting out a breath, he turned to his desk, double-checking the book in his hand. Right subject? Check. Notes prepared? Check. Speech ready? Somewhat.
"Rule No. 2: Always be prepared for class."
With one final glance in the mirror, Sean squared his shoulders and stepped out of the restroom.
Ahead of him stood a worn-down, barely-holding-together door.
Class F.
He took a deep breath, stretching his muscles.
"Rule No. 3: No matter what happens, be a professional teacher."
"...Good luck, me," he muttered under his breath.
And with that, he pushed the door open.
BAAM!
"Good morning, class!" he announced with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.
His voice, however, was instantly drowned out by the sheer chaos unfolding before him.
At the far end of the room, a group of girls was huddled together, enthusiastically flexing their makeup collections and newly painted nails.
At the back, a small gang of thuggish students had someone cornered.
In the middle of it all, some students had completely abandoned the idea of "class" and were throwing their own personal parties at their desks.
Sean's smile twitched.
'Okay… great. I want to quit teaching.'
Actually, maybe it wasn't that bad.
They were just kids, right? Young, full of life, naturally a little rowdy. They needed to have fun sometimes.
That's what Sean told himself as he calmly walked to his desk, hoping—praying—that his presence alone would bring silence.
It did not.
If anything, they got louder.
Like a ghost, his existence was completely ignored. The students continued their various questionable activities without even acknowledging him—until a voice suddenly called out.
"Ah, professor! How's the experience in the headmaster's office? Did she gave you a suspension too? Haha!"
'Why are you even here????' Sean's mind screamed as he saw Elijah peacefully sitting with his legs crossed. 'You're having 3 days suspension though?'
That single sentence instantly gained everyone's attention.
"Huh? What happened? Professor got in trouble?"
Sean began to sweat.
"Hmm, I wouldn't say he did anything wrong," Elijah spoke up nonchalantly. "He just blasted that baldy professor in the hallway. Like—KABOOM!"
Silence. Then....
"Wait. So the huge explosion earlier… was from Professor?!"
"NO WAY. THAT'S SICK—AHAHAHAHA!"
"So that's why Profess Eldwin is in the nurse's office?! HAHA!"
For the first time ever, the class was united. Not in academics, not in discipline, but in sheer admiration for their allegedly explosive professor.
Sean watched as their collective excitement grew. His temple throbbed in annoyance.
"What's up with these kids…?"
Veins popped on his forehead as he inhaled deeply before turning to the culprit.
"Elijah Noe Shahrazad."
"Yes sir?"
"Get out."
******
"Goddammit... where is it?"
The academy's dumpsters weren't exactly the most pleasant place to be. The air was filled with the scent of rotting leftovers, crumpled papers, and questionable sludge that no one dared to identify.
Yet, in the middle of all that filth, a young man with messy green hair was rummaging through the piles like some desperate guy.
It's Varden.
His uniform was still relatively clean—aside from a few suspicious stains—so he clearly wasn't actually homeless. But the way he was frantically digging, muttering under his breath, and occasionally sighing made him look… well.
Pitiful...
A few students passing by glanced at him in mild horror before walking very quickly in the opposite direction.
And then—
"Hey, kid."
Varden froze and slowly, turned to see a real homeless guy—grizzled, wrapped in layers of mismatched clothes, and holding a tin cup with a few jingling coins inside.
He doesn't seem to look old, rather he looks like someone of Varden's age. With gray hair, red eyes, and elf-like pointed ears.
But of course... one thing for sure...
He is a hoboe... hobbo? Anyways, I would like someone who lives inside but wasn't a student but a worker in this academy as well.
"I know what you're thinking but I'm not homeless, I'm a student."
"Eh really?!"
"..."
"...."
The gray-haired lad gave him a slow nodding look before continuing.
"You good?"
Varden blinked. "...Yeah?"
"You sure?"
"...Yeah."
The suspicious student squinted. "You don't look good."
"I am good."
"Are you?"
"YES."
A tense silence settled between them as the two continued to stare at each other.
Then—
"...You need a coin?" The shady-looking student shook his tin cup, jingling the few coins inside. "You look like you're struggling."
"Oh, for god's sake, I am not struggling!" Varden snapped, clearly offended. "I'm just searching for something!"
"Searching for what exactly?"
"Well, uh... my dear roommate must have 'accidentally' thrown my stuff in here..." Varden grumbled. His eye twitched, his expression twisted in a way that suggested it was not an accident.
"Ah." The other student nodded sagely. "Was it Elijah?"
"Yeah—wait, you know him?"
"Hmm… He's famous for something." The student scratched his chin. "Also, I saw him burying a bunch of stuff over there."
Varden's eye twitched harder. "That little—" He inhaled sharply trying to maintain his composure. "Thank you for the information. I'll pay you back somehow."
"Great!" The student's eyes lit up. "If you wanna pay me back, I could really use some meal coupons, so please give me one or two or all if you find one. And also..."
"Also?"
The student suddenly handed him a black gem.
"Keep it."
Varden blinked. "Huh? What is this?"
"Don't worry about it. Just a normal accessory."
"Oh... sure. Thank you?" Varden simply accepted before waving him goodbye. "See ya"