"Show-off—"
"How did he know about the surface tension—"
Adom slid back into his seat, and Sam immediately leaned over. "Dude, how did you get this good at alchemy?"
"I've always been good at alchemy," Adom reminded him. "It's one of my favorite disciplines."
"You're good, but not that good. That's Mia Storm level good!"
Adom was about to explain when—
"Mr. Harbinsky."
Sam froze mid-whisper.
"Mr. Harbinsky?" Professor Mirwen repeated, more firmly this time.
"...Me?" Sam squeaked.
"Are there two Samenel Harbinsky in this class that I'm unaware of?"
The class erupted in laughter as Sam, his face almost matching the color of his hair, stumbled to his feet and made his way to the front.
Sam's presentation was a study in controlled chaos - he dropped his notes twice, accidentally added ingredients in the wrong order, then somehow saved it with quick thinking and rapid stirring.
His Resonance Draught ended up a shade too turquoise but still produced the required tones, if slightly off-pitch. Professor Mirwen awarded him 16/20, making him beam with pride as several classmates congratulated him on scoring third highest.
The rest of the day flowed like a well-worn stream. In Theoretical Magic, Professor Thane went off on another tangent about the proper geometry of ancient incantations, only to be interrupted by his own demonstration backfiring and turning his mustache bright pink.
During Magical History, half the class dozed off while Professor Hans enthusiastically detailed the Rise of House Borealis in 3832 BR, though they perked up considerably when she mentioned it was likely to appear on next week's test.
At lunch, a malfunctioning spell made the cafeteria's self-serving plates get into an argument with the floating drink pitchers about proper meal sequencing, resulting in several students getting their dessert before their main course.
Adom found himself repeatedly explaining that no, he hadn't used any forbidden magic against Damus, while Sam helpfully deflected the more persistent questioners with increasingly outlandish theories about hamsters being involved.
Where did that even come from?
The afternoon brought Practical Applications class, where a student managed to accidentally merge his chair with his desk while attempting a simple transformation spell. It took three teaching assistants and a very amused Professor Kirna to separate them, though the chair maintained a distinct desk-like aesthetic afterward.
By the time the final bell chimed at 3 PM, Adom had answered forty-seven questions about yesterday's duel, declined twelve more challenges, and somehow acquired a small fan club of first-years who trailed him between classes until Sam scared them off by claiming Adom was contagiously radioactive.
"Library?" Sam asked as they packed their bags. "We could start prepping for the exams. I found this great corner where the bookshelf actually suggests relevant readings based on your stress levels."
"Think I'll pass," Adom said, suppressing a yawn. "Still feeling yesterday in my bones."
"Really?" Sam studied him with genuine concern. "Then yeah, definitely go rest. You look kind of pale anyway."
"Says the guy planning an all-nighter."
"Hey, these runic sequences aren't going to memorize themselves. I still can't tell if Professor Thane was saying 'ethereal manifestation' or 'eternal constipation' in her drawing."
"We'll see each other tomorrow then," Adom said, watching Sam hoist his overstuffed bag. All-nighters, he thought with a slight shudder, remembering the years of caffeine-fueled study sessions that seemed to stretch into eternity. Some experiences he definitely didn't miss from his first time around.
They parted at the corridor junction, Sam heading toward the library's towering spires while Adom turned toward the dormitories.
Adom gratefully shed his school uniform - the black robes, white shirt, tie, waistcoat and his ring that marked him as a Xerkes student - and changed into his own clothes: worn leather boots, comfortable dark pants, a soft gray henley, and his favorite navy blue jacket with brass buttons. Simple, practical clothing that helped him blend in with the city crowds.
Arkhos, the capital of Lumaria, the Borealis Duchy, sprawled across its island like a living thing, equal parts ancient stone and modern innovation. The city had grown around Xerkes Academy over the centuries, until the two became inseparable - much like magic and progress themselves.
Steam-powered trams wound through cobblestone streets. Ancient buildings with their weather-worn gargoyles stood shoulder-to-shoulder with sleek new constructions of glass and steel. The air hummed with both mechanical and magical energy, the scent of sea salt mixing with coffee from countless cafes and the ever-present undertone of alchemical experiments.
In the older district, where the streets still followed their original meandering paths, tourists and locals alike gathered around the preserved Farm of Law - a humble plot of land that had somehow survived millennia of urban development. Its simple wooden fence and modest farmhouse seemed almost impossible amid the city's grandeur, yet there it stood, protected by both law and legend. Children pressed their faces against the fence, hoping to spot some sign of the mysterious farmer-mage who had reintroduced magic to humanity before vanishing without a trace. Some 3000 years ago.
The markets were in full swing as Adom walked through the city center, where merchants sold everything from mundane vegetables to bottled starlight. Street performers entertained crowds with minor illusions while automated brass musicians played on street corners. Students from Xerkes, easily identifiable by their rings despite their civilian clothes, mingled with the crowd, taking advantage of their freedom to explore the city until classes.
Above it all, the great lighthouse of Arkhos stood sentinel at the island's edge, its eternal flame - said to have been lit by Law Borealis himself - still burning after all these centuries, guiding ships through the often treacherous waters around the Lumaria archipelago that consisted of an impressive 12,025 islands with 4,672 Dungeons scattered throughout.
Adom wandered through familiar streets that existed now only in his memories - and wouldn't exist at all in about forty years when the bombardments began. But today, those same streets pulsed with life: merchants haggling over the price of enchanted trinkets, children playing hopscotch with chalk that changed color with each jump, elderly couples sharing spiced tea at corner cafés.
There were so many restaurants to try here. More than he ever cared to count. But he wanted to discover them.
He stopped at the crowd gathering around a street performer named Old Jack. The man was creating elaborate fire dragons that danced above the audience's heads, weaving between floating rings of blue flame. Adom remembered this act; he used to be so entertained back when he would visit Arkhos with his parents as a kid.
A child in the crowd gasped as a fire butterfly landed on her nose, warm but not burning. "Are you a real mage, mister?"
Jack smiled. "The Seeker's stone turned silver for me when I was your age, little one. Should've gone straight to Xerkes then." He created another butterfly, this one changing colors as it flew. "But I made some bad choices, unfortunately."
The girl's mother pulled her closer, whispering something about "generational opportunity" and "secure future." It was true - having a mage or knight in the family meant wealth and status for generations to come.
It was why the Empire sent Seekers every five years to test children across every province, every island, every remote city and village. Missing a potential mage was considered a tragedy.