Chapter 15

  Ren sighed, closing his notebook with a soft thud. The sigil irregularities were undeniably intriguing, but he wasn’t going to risk his academic standing chasing after something he barely understood. If even the Academy’s top students and instructors hadn't spoken about it, then it wasn’t something a first-year could solve overnight.

  No, he had more pressing concerns—like making sure he didn’t fail the upcoming midterms.

  He couldn't afford to get distracted. Not with midterms looming over them. If he got himself expelled for poking into something he wasn't supposed to, he wouldn't be able to uncover anything at all.

  He ran a hand through his hair and stood, rolling his shoulders to shake off the unease settling over him. He’d revisit this later—after midterms, after the summer tournament, when he actually had the standing to investigate without risking everything. For now, he had more immediate concerns.

  He glanced across the room at Leo, who had long since fallen asleep, sprawled out on his bed with one arm hanging off the edge. His training orb sat forgotten beside him, its faint glow pulsing in the dark.

  Ren sighed. He should get some sleep too. Tomorrow was another day of preparation, and if he wanted to stay ahead, he’d need every bit of focus he could muster.

  —

  Morning arrived all too quickly, sunlight spilling through the high dorm windows and casting long golden lines across the wooden floor. Ren rubbed the sleep from his eyes, blinking as Leo groaned and buried his face in his pillow.

  “No,” Leo mumbled, voice muffled. “Five more minutes.”

  Ren shook his head and grabbed a pillow from his own bed before smacking Leo square in the back with it.

  “Up.”

  Leo made a noise somewhere between a growl and a whimper before sitting up, glaring through half-lidded eyes. “You’re a menace.”

  “And you’re slow. Come on, we’re meeting Davian for breakfast.”

  Leo grumbled under his breath but got up anyway, stretching before grabbing his uniform. Ren was already dressed, so he waited by the door, idly flipping through his notes to keep himself from going back to the sigil patterns. The irregularity nagged at him like an itch in the back of his mind, but he shoved it down.

  Focus. Midterms first.

  By the time they reached the dining hall, the morning rush was in full swing. Students bustled about, some grabbing food in a hurry while others lounged at their usual spots. Nobles sat together in their preferred corners, while commoners and scholarship students clustered in their own groups. The lines between them had become more defined over the past few weeks, tensions rising in small but noticeable ways.

  Davian was already at their usual table, idly stirring his drink as he read through a book. He barely looked up as they sat down.

  “You’re late.”

  Leo groaned, flopping into his seat. “Why is everyone so obsessed with time?”

  Ren ignored him, grabbing some bread and dried fruit from the tray. “Anything new?”

  Davian shut his book. “Not much, but there was a notice posted this morning. Summer Tournament details are coming soon, and apparently, it’ll be a big event this year. The professors are going all out.”

  Ren raised a brow. “Because of the rising tension?”

  “Most likely. The tournament’s a way for commoners to gain prestige. Winning or even performing well could help bridge the gap—at least for those who prove themselves.”

  Leo smirked. “So we just have to make sure we do prove ourselves.”

  Ren nodded but stayed quiet. It made sense. The nobles had their status, their family legacies, but skill was the great equalizer. If commoners could show their worth in front of the nobles and the academy at large.

  “Anyway,” Davian continued, pulling out a folded paper, “I ran into a third-year noble named Alden this morning. He’s actually not half bad—one of the few nobles who doesn’t act like we’re beneath him.”

  Ren raised a brow. “And?”

  Davian adjusted his posture, as if mimicking Alrend’s usual composed demeanor. “‘The ten tiers of magic are not just about power,’” he recited. “‘They represent a sorcerer’s ability to refine and control mana. If raw strength alone dictated rankings, then every noble with a massive mana pool would dominate, but that’s not how it works.’”

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  Ren nodded slightly. That aligned with what they’d already been taught. The system wasn’t just about strength—it measured precision, understanding, and application.

  Davian continued, still quoting Alrend. “‘The first three tiers are called the Foundation Tiers. This is where a caster learns to manipulate mana efficiently. Most people remain stuck in these early tiers because they never refine their control enough to progress.’”

  Leo crossed his arms. “Makes sense. So the middle tiers—four to six—are the next step?”

  “Yeah,” Davian said, slipping back into his own voice. “That’s called the Development Stage. That’s when magic stops being something you use and starts being something you wield. Runic modification, spell fusion, personalized magic styles—it all starts here.”

  Ren frowned slightly. “Personalized magic styles?”

  Davian nodded. “Alrend said this is something the academy barely touches on. They teach magic like it’s a strict formula, but once a sorcerer reaches a certain level, it stops being about memorizing spells and starts being about making them their own.”

  Ren absorbed the information, cataloging it in his mind. That made sense. Every powerful mage he had read about had their own unique casting method—this was probably why.

  “And then there’s the Mastery Stage—tiers seven through nine,” Davian continued. “This is where magic stops looking like magic and starts looking like reality bending. Casters at this level don’t just manipulate mana—they integrate it into everything they do. It’s not about casting spells anymore; it’s about commanding the very nature of magic itself.”

  Leo let out a low whistle. “So that’s why high-tier mages seem like monsters.”

  “Exactly,” Davian confirmed. “A tier-nine fire mage isn’t just creating fire. He’s making his fire—something that follows his personal rules, ignoring normal limitations. If a tier-nine mage wants fire that only burns his enemies and never fades until he wills it, then that’s exactly what happens.”

  Ren leaned back, processing. That was beyond anything the academy had explicitly taught so far. The idea of magic following a caster’s own rules… that was huge.

  “But here’s the real kicker.” Davian’s grin widened. “Alrend said there’s one more stage above Mastery.”

  Ren and Leo both straightened.

  “The tenth tier?” Ren guessed.

  “Yeah,” Davian said, lowering his voice slightly. “‘The Ascension Stage.’”

  Leo raised an eyebrow. “That sounds dramatic.”

  “Oh, it is,” Davian muttered. “Because nobody really knows what it means. Alrend said the academy doesn’t even acknowledge it, and even among high-ranking nobles, information about it is vague. But apparently, those who reach this stage… stop being bound by normal magic theory.”

  Ren narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”

  Davian shook his head. “It means they don’t need sigils. They don’t need incantations. Hell, some of them don’t even need mana.”

  Silence settled over the group.

  Leo blinked. “That… should be impossible.”

  “Should be,” Davian agreed. “But Alrend was adamant. He said only a handful of people in history have ever reached this stage, and each of them became something completely different from a normal sorcerer.”

  Ren stared at the table, mind racing. Casting magic without mana? That wasn’t just impossible—it was absurd. The entire foundation of structured magic revolved around controlling and shaping mana through sigils. If someone could bypass that entirely…

  That was more than just power. That was rewriting the rules of magic itself.

  “And here’s the part that really got me,” Davian added, his voice lower now. “‘The academy’s ranking system is a lie.’”

  Ren’s eyes snapped up. “…What?”

  Davian unfolded another sheet of notes. “Alrend said that while the ten-tier system is real, the academy deliberately teaches a restricted version of it. They don’t acknowledge the full potential of each stage, and they definitely don’t talk about the Ascension Stage.”

  Leo frowned. “Why?”

  Davian shrugged. “Control, probably. Alrend made it sound like those at the very top—the royal family, the Grand Magisters, the High Council—they know about it. But they don’t want just anyone figuring it out.”

  Ren exhaled slowly, absorbing everything. If what Davian was saying was true… then the academy wasn’t just a place of learning. It was a place of restriction.

  And the more he learned, the more he realized just how much was being hidden from them.

  “He also mentioned something interesting about how magic rankings work.” Davian unfolded the paper, revealing a rough outline of the tier system. “So we already know magic is classified into tiers based on power and control, but Alden explained that there are also unranked classifications—magic that doesn’t fit neatly into the system. Forbidden magic, lost techniques, and things still being researched.”

  Ren’s fingers twitched at the mention of forbidden magic. Could the sigil irregularities be related to that?

  Davian tapped the page. “Alden thinks the ranking system we’re taught is intentionally simplified. That there’s more to it, but lower-year students aren’t given the full picture.”

  Leo scoffed. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Ren exhaled slowly, letting the pieces settle in his mind. First the hidden sigil patterns, now the idea that magic classification itself wasn’t as straightforward as they were told. There was a bigger picture here, one they weren’t seeing yet.

  But he’d figure it out.

  One step at a time.