The first-year students followed the professor to the center of the Arena grounds after he asked them to.
"Before we begin the Staff Succession Ceremony, let me ask you this." His voice carried effortlessly across the students, commanding their attention. "How does a Magian release mana?"
"By performing the Mystical Arts," someone answered confidently.
The professor gave a small nod. "That is correct—partially. But did you know that a Magian's mana, even when they are at rest, is constantly escaping their body? Have any of you ever considered that possibility?" Professor Fuchs asked, scanning the crowd.
A few students exchanged uncertain glances, some whispering among themselves.
"If you have," he continued, "then tell me—how does a Magian's mana flow out of their body, aside from when they actively perform the Mystical Arts?"
A brief silence followed before someone hesitantly spoke up.
"Mana is like body heat," a voice called out. "It leaks out naturally, even when a Magian is at rest, since we also absorb mana from our surroundings subconsciously."
The professor turned toward the speaker. It was the girl who had vomited earlier, her voice steady and confident despite her earlier incident.
"That is a Good analogy," he said with a satisfied nod. "Body heat is a byproduct of energy expenditure, released by our physical form, while mana is a byproduct of spiritual energy, released by our mystical core. And much like heat, mana naturally rises. But there is one crucial difference."
The professor paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the students before continuing.
"Unlike heat, which dissipates passively, mana can be controlled, suppressed, or directed—but never completely stopped." He lifted a hand, palm facing the students. "And just like heat, mana interacts with everything around it—objects, the environment, and most importantly, other sources of mana."
A few murmurs passed through the crowd, some students nodding in understanding while others exchanged thoughtful glances.
"Now," the professor continued, his tone shifting slightly, "many of you have been wondering why we instructed you to come here immediately after your Class Placement exams, only to wait for the others to finish."
This caught the attention of even the most restless students, their curiosity reignited.
Austin, standing near the front, crossed his arms, already piecing together the answer before the professor even gave it.
"The reason is simple," the professor said. "A staff is one of 'those', sources of mana."
Then the students started to puzzle the whole picture as well.
"Magians does not actually choose their staff. In fact, they cannot."
A hush fell over the arena. Some students looked surprised, others skeptical.
"The staves themselves," the professor went on, "are the ones who choose their masters."
A ripple of confusion spread through the crowd.
A few students whispered to each other, clearly struggling to grasp the idea after thinking that they almost have the answer.
"It is a complicated process but it's telated to how two sources of mana interact with each other," the professor admitted, "but the simplest way to put it is this: Staves resonate with the mana of a Magian they deem worthy. This resonance is how a staff registers its master."
The revelation left many students speechless.
"But how does that happen?" a student asked, unable to hold back their curiosity.
The professor clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze sweeping across the gathered students.
"The moment you stepped into this arena, your mana began interacting with the dormant staves around you. Each staff possesses a unique presence, and if your mana lingers near them long enough, one may choose to acknowledge you. However, if multiple staves resonate with you, you won't receive more than one. Rather, the stronger staff will claim you. And once you form a bond, attracting a stronger staff later will become significantly harder."
"""..."""
He let his words sink in before asking, "Are you able to follow me?"
Austin's eyes flickered with both understanding and suspicion. Staves only gather in places where their previous masters have perished... He clenched his fists subtly. So that's why they wanted us here so quickly after the exam.
"The longer you remain in this environment," the professor continued, "the stronger your presence becomes in the eyes of the staves. And thus, the higher your chances of attracting a better one."
A wave of murmurs spread through the students—some suddenly looking uneasy, others more determined than ever.
"But," the professor added, his voice cutting through the noise with finality, "simply standing here will not guarantee anything. The true test comes in the next phase of the ceremony."
Before anyone could ask what that meant, a sudden shift in the atmosphere made the students turn their heads.
From the far entrance of the arena, groups of upperclassmen were entering, their laughter and chatter filling the space.
They moved in familiar groups.
The professor let them observe for a moment before his voice rang out once more.
"Eyes on me," he commanded.
The upperclassmen quieted as well, their presence no longer just a casual gathering but a sign that the ceremony was about to begin.
"Now," the professor said, his gaze sharp, "let us see which among you are already chosen."
The students were dumbfounded by the sudden remarks.
The professor suddenly chuckled, a deep, amused sound that echoed across the arena. "Look up."
His words carried a strange weight, and instinctively, the students tilted their heads toward the sky.
That was when they saw it.
Floating staves hovered high above them, suspended in the air. Some swayed gently, others remained motionless.
A wave of gasps and whispers rippled through the crowd.
"How did I not notice this before?" one student blurted out, eyes wide.
"What? But they were just there this whole time?" another disagreed.
Yet, amidst the shock, a handful of students frowned in confusion.
"I... don't see anything," one muttered, squinting at the empty sky.
That remark sparked a debate among the first-years. Some boasted that they had seen the staves from the very beginning, while others swore that they had only just noticed them. And then there were those who, no matter how hard they tried, saw nothing at all.
The professor let them bicker for a moment before he raised a hand, signaling for silence. "Those of you who see them," he said, "congratulations. But for those who cannot—do not panic." He turned his sharp gaze across the students. "The reason some of you only noticed them now, and why others still cannot see them, is because the 'independent' staves are invisible to the naked eye unless they wish to be seen."
A stunned silence followed.
"Each staff holds its own consciousness to a certain extent. The fact that some of you see more than one means you are being considered by multiple staves."
Students immediately began comparing their experiences.