Chapter 8

  The lecture hall fell silent the moment the instructor raised a hand. His presence alone commanded attention—tall, with streaks of silver in his dark hair, and eyes that held the sharpness of someone who had seen far too much.

  “I am Instructor Bernard,” he said, voice even but firm. “For the next six years, this Academy will shape you into something more than the raw potential you hold now. Some of you will rise to greatness. Others will fail.” His gaze swept over them, lingering just long enough to make a few students shift uncomfortably.

  Ren met his eyes without flinching.

  Aldric continued. “Regardless of your background, understand this—skill and knowledge will determine your future, not birthright. However, do not mistake that for fairness.”

  Leo scoffed under his breath. Ren almost smirked. At least the instructor was honest about it.

  “To begin, you must understand the foundation of all magic—sigils.”

  A murmur ran through the room. Everyone already knew that, of course, but no one dared interrupt.

  Aldric turned to the massive chalkboard behind him and, with a flick of his hand, drew a simple Tier-1 sigil in precise strokes of white mana. “This is the most basic form of structured magic—a Tier-1 sigil for light.” The glowing lines pulsed faintly. “It requires minimal mana and little control, which is why it is often used in early training.”

  Ren’s eyes locked onto the sigil, analyzing every line. He had seen it before, of course, but watching it be constructed with such precision gave him a new perspective.

  “Sigils function by channeling mana through predefined structures, allowing the user to produce consistent effects. Without this structure, magic would be wild, unstable, and—more often than not—fatal to the caster.” Aldric let that last part sink in. “The complexity of a sigil determines its tier. The higher the tier, the more intricate the design, the more mana required, and the more expertise needed to wield it.”

  Leo whispered, “Yeah, yeah, we know that. When do we get to the actual spells?”

  He was interrupted as Aldric snapped his fingers, and the sigil vanished. “Now, for your first task. You will each attempt to form this sigil on your own. Failure is expected.” He smirked slightly. “Some of you will not even produce a spark.”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Leo winced. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  Ren replied “Me too” in a dark voice

  Around them, students were already attempting to recreate the sigil, some with quiet determination, others with obvious frustration. A few managed to produce a flickering glow, though unstable. Many couldn’t manifest anything at all.

  As expected, the nobles had little trouble. Their movements were confident, practiced—most of them had been learning sigil formation long before arriving at the Academy. A few even experimented with slight variations, refining their output.

  Among the commoners, the results were mixed. Some, like Leo, were struggling to maintain the proper flow, while others managed to form flickering lights that barely held their shape.

  Ren, however, wasn’t focused on his own sigil just yet. His sharp gaze scanned the room, breaking down each student’s technique in an instant. Most of the nobles’ sigils were functional, though inefficient in minor ways—excess mana being wasted at unnecessary connection points, slight irregularities in the flow. Nothing catastrophic, but noticeable.

  One student in front of him, though, was having a much harder time. His mana was erratic, flickering along the outer edges of the sigil like a candle about to go out.

  Ren leaned forward. “You’re feeding too much mana into the outer lines. Try to regulate it more.”

  The boy startled, glancing back at him. “Huh?”

  Ren gestured subtly toward the forming sigil. “Your distribution is uneven. Keep the mana flow steady, not in bursts.”

  The student hesitated, then adjusted his technique. The instability lessened immediately. His eyes widened slightly in realization.

  Ren sat back, eyes narrowing as he turned his attention to his own work.

  With a steady breath, he reached inward, pulling at his mana. His reserves weren’t large, but they were stable—more than enough for something like this. Carefully, he traced the sigil in the air, his fingers moving with precise control. The lines of mana flared to life, forming a simple but stable structure. The glow was softer than some of the others around him, but it was balanced.

  Leo, meanwhile, was still struggling. “Come on, come on…” His mana flickered, then sputtered out completely. He groaned. “This is impossible.”

  Ren glanced at him. “Your strokes are too slow. You’re letting the mana pool in certain areas instead of keeping it moving evenly.”

  Leo shot him a look. “That easy, huh?”

  Ren didn’t answer—he was too focused on something else. There was… something about the sigil. Nothing he could quite place, just an odd feeling at the edge of his awareness.

  Before he could dwell on it, Instructor Bernard’s voice cut through the room. “That is enough.”As expected, most of you succeeded—though some barely.” His gaze swept over the room, lingering on the students who had failed entirely. “Do not let this first exercise fool you. Sigil formation is the foundation of all structured magic. If you struggle with this, you will not last here long.”

  Leo slumped. “I really hope we don’t get kicked out on day one.”

  Ren exhaled, pushing the thought aside. Maybe he was just imagining things. Either way, there would be plenty of time to figure it out later.

  “Me too buddy, me too”