Austin entered the lecture hall for the S-Class minor subject: The Evolution of Mysticism: History of the Mystical Arts.
The room was spacious, lined with shelves filled with books and illuminated by candles.
At the front of the lecture hall stood a professor.
"Good afternoon students, I am Professor Constantine Finch." He was an elderly man in his sixties, with short white hair, deep blue eyes, and skin lined with wrinkles.
Despite his age, there was a certain warmth to him, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle yet firm.
He clasped his hands together and smiled. "Welcome, everyone. Before we begin, let's start with introductions. I'd like to know your names, but fair warning"—he let out a light chuckle—"I'm terrible with names. Still, I'll do my best to remember."
A few students exchanged amused glances before the introductions began.
One by one, each student gave their name, some adding small tidbits about themselves, while Professor Finch listened with genuine interest.
After the students introduced themselves, Professor Finch clasped his hands behind his back and smiled knowingly.
"Names," he mused, "are more than just words we use to call each other. Every name carries a story—your family's legacy, your own ambitions, the weight of past generations, and the hope for the future. Some names are passed down through bloodlines of scholars and warriors, while others are newly forged, waiting to carve their place in history."
The students were intrigued.
He glanced around the room, his blue eyes sharp yet kind. "As students of history, remember this: the past is not just in books—it lives within us. Each of you is a walking chronicle of those who came before. And one day, students will study your names as part of history."
Letting the words settle, he turned to the blackboard, picking up a piece of chalk.
"Now, let's begin."
Someone yawned but he didn't let it bother him.
"First question of the day," he said, writing in bold letters: How did the Mystical Arts begin?
He turned back to the class, eyes scanning the room with curiosity. "Who wants to take a guess?"
Silence hung in the lecture hall as the students exchanged glances, unsure of how to answer the professor's question.
Seeing no response, Professor Finch let out a soft chuckle and shook his head. "I expected as much. The truth is, there is no definitive record of how the Mystical Arts began. In fact, Mystical Arts is just what us Humans call it after our ancestors established a system for it. The deeper we search, the further the origins stretch—so far back that they intertwine with the ancient arts, languages, and civilizations we can no longer decipher."
He let the weight of his words settle before continuing, his voice carrying the gravitas of history. "But let me tell you something that is well-documented—something that many of you may not know. This Academy, the very institution that shaped the Mystical Arts as we know it, was not founded by a Mystian."
That piqued the students' interest, murmurs rising among them. Austin, who had been listening passively, suddenly straightened in his seat.
"The one who laid the foundation of our teachings called himself a Magian," Professor Finch continued, his blue eyes scanning the room. "His name was Fai."
Austin's breath hitched who quickly raised a hand. "Professor, did Fai have a last name?"
Professor Finch smiled at the question but shook his head. "No. In all accounts, he introduced himself simply as Fai. He was a mystery in his own way, a man whose origins were never recorded, yet he was the catalyst for everything we now call the Mystical Arts."
A student raised his arm as well. "If what your saying is true then what is the Mystical Arts called before it was systemized?"
"Magic," the professor answered calmly.
The student shot up from his seat, his voice rising in disbelief. "That's an insult! Why are you teaching this nonsense?"
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the lecture hall. Many students frowned, their pride as Mystians wounded by the professor's words.
Yet the professor remained unfazed. He simply smiled, his gaze sweeping across the room before he spoke again.
"When faced with the unknown, we often call it either a miracle or a trick. Before we, humans, understood it more deeply, we simply called it magic." Professor Finch stood his ground.
"That's a lie!"
The professor let the unrest settle before he calmly addressed the class.
"I understand your frustration," he said, folding his hands behind his back. "After all, you have been raised to believe that the Mystical Arts are the pinnacle of human advancement. But let me ask you this—why does the word magic offend you?"
The students hesitated. Some crossed their arms, others exchanged uncertain glances.
"Because it sounds primitive," one finally answered.
The professor nodded. "Exactly. And that is where history humbles us. Before there were structured spells, before we could calculate mana flow and categorize Mystical Laws, what do you think humans called the forces they did not understand?"
Silence.
"They called it magic. And those who wielded it? They were feared, revered, and sometimes even hunted. It was not until Fai, the Magian, and his four disciples—Valdoris, Cressarion, Solvian, and Erynior—organized and systemized its study that we became what we are today. They created the Academy, the disciplines you now study, and the foundations of our entire world. But at its core, before laws and theories—before Mystians—it was just magic."
He let the words sink in. "Now tell me, is it truly an insult? Or is it a reminder of how far we have come?"
The classroom remained silent, but this time, it was not out of outrage—it was contemplation.
He then gestured toward the blackboard, writing four names in careful strokes.
[Valdoris. Cressarion. Solvian. Erynior.]
"These four individuals were the ones who did establish the foundation of the Mystical Arts system. Fai did not name himself a Mystian, but these four did. They took what they learned from him and built upon it, codifying magic into a structured discipline. They were the co-founders of the Academy, the ones who ushered in the first era of Mystians and the Mystical Arts."
The professor turned back to face the class. "In other words, the birth of Mystians did not begin with a Mystian—it began with a Magian."
The weight of the revelation settled over the students.
But Austin could barely hear the chatter around him. His mind was elsewhere, replaying that single name over and over again.
A student furrowed his brow. "Then why didn't they call themselves Magians like Fai?"
"Because they weren't Magians." The professor clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing slowly. "Fai wielded magic instinctively and as easily as he breathed, and according to the records, he was not using mana. He did not need theories or studies—he simply knew. That is what a Magian is. But the four founders? They had to learn, to experiment, to uncover the mysteries of mana before they could master it. They built the foundation for what we now study. That's why they called themselves Mystians—scholars of the unknown, seekers of truth."
A hush fell over the class as the weight of his words settled in. The professor let the silence linger before speaking again.
"This is the difference between a Magian and a Mystian. A Magian is, while a Mystian becomes."
A student hesitated before asking, "What do you mean by not using mana?"
The professor smiled knowingly. "Exactly as I said—he wasn't using mana. His power came from something else, possibly a higher form of energy."
Another student leaned forward. "What kind of energy?"
The professor's expression darkened slightly. "That... is still unknown."