Chapter 12

  The morning air was crisp as Ren made his way to his first class of the day—Magic Theory. The Academy halls bustled with students, some moving purposefully while others lingered in small groups, chatting or anxiously reviewing notes.

  Leo walked beside him, yawning. "First day, and they’re already making us wake up early. This is cruel."

  Ren smirked. "You should’ve slept earlier."

  Leo shot him a glare. "Says the guy who was up just as late. You kept mumbling about sigils in your sleep, by the way."

  Ren rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. The excitement of finally learning magic properly had kept his mind racing well into the night.

  The lecture hall for Magic Theory was one of the larger ones, filled with long rows of wooden desks arranged in a semi-circle around a raised platform. The moment they stepped inside, Ren felt the weight of countless eyes on them. Most students had already arrived, chatting among themselves. The nobles sat in the best spots—front and center—while commoners took the edges or found themselves forced to the back.

  Ren and Leo found a pair of seats in the middle. A few minutes later, a sharp voice silenced the room.

  Instructor Bernard entered, his presence alone enough to command attention. Without preamble, he launched into the lesson.

  "Magic Theory is the foundation upon which all sorcery is built. Without understanding, power is meaningless." He wrote a series of complex sigils on the board. "Today, we will be covering the nature of mana flow and how different schools of magic manipulate it."

  Ren sat up, fully engaged. As the lecture continued, he scribbled notes with precision, absorbing every word. He noticed that, unsurprisingly, the nobles had an easier time keeping up, their backgrounds providing them with prior knowledge.

  Leo, for all his complaining, was attentive, though he occasionally shot Ren exasperated looks whenever the explanations got too dense.

  When class finally ended, Leo groaned. "That was a lot for a first lesson."

  "You’ll survive," Ren said, standing and stretching. "Now we split up. You’ve got Body Enhancement, and I’ve got Alchemy."

  Leo snickered. "Don’t blow yourself up."

  Ren ignored him and made his way toward the alchemy classroom.

  The Alchemy wing of the Academy had an odd scent—earthy herbs mixed with sharp, acrid notes. Despite being less lavish than the other departments, the classrooms were still impressive. Rows of workstations lined the walls, each equipped with cauldrons, glassware, and enchanted burners.

  The professor, a wiry man with ink-stained hands, introduced himself as Master Garek. "Alchemy is more than mixing ingredients and hoping for the best," he said, eyes scanning the students. "It is the precise science of magic, requiring control, intellect, and patience."

  Ren found himself drawn to the subject immediately. While he had little experience, the structured nature of alchemy reminded him of sigils—rules, patterns, and refinement.

  The first task was simple: brewing a minor rejuvenation potion. Some students fumbled with measurements, while others, particularly the nobles, worked with practiced ease. Ren focused, following the instructions precisely. His potion wasn’t perfect, but it was close.

  As he cleaned up, he noticed the quality disparity among the equipment. While usable, some workstations were clearly older models. It wasn’t outright neglect, but the difference between this and, say, the Elemental Magic department was clear.

  Still, he learned something valuable: Alchemy rewarded precision.

  After lunch, Ren met up with Leo and Davian outside their Elemental Magic class.

  "How was punching things for an hour?" Ren asked.

  Leo grinned. "Fantastic. You should’ve seen me—natural talent. The instructor said I had a real knack for it."

  Davian rolled his eyes. "He said you had potential, not that you were a prodigy."

  "Same thing."

  Ren shook his head in amusement as they entered the Elemental Magic hall.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The moment they stepped inside, the air shifted. The class was larger than the others, and the instructor—a tall, severe-looking noble with a sharp gaze—stood at the front.

  "Welcome," he said. "I am Professor Callidus. This is not a class for the weak or the incompetent. Elemental Magic is power, and power does not tolerate failure."

  Leo muttered, "Sounds friendly."

  Callidus continued. "You will demonstrate your current aptitude immediately. Form a basic elemental sigil—any element you prefer."

  Whispers ran through the class. Some students looked nervous, others confident. Nobles stepped forward first, their sigils forming smoothly, though with varying degrees of strength.

  Ren exhaled slowly. He had studied elemental sigils before, even if he hadn’t formed one himself. Now was the time to see if he could replicate it.

  His fingers traced the lines of the fire sigil, carefully channeling his mana. The glowing shape formed—unstable, flickering—but it held. A small flame sputtered to life before vanishing.

  Not perfect, but progress.

  Davian, beside him, formed a water sigil with better control, a small sphere of water floating briefly before splashing to the ground.

  Leo, grinning, chose lightning. His sigil crackled, a faint spark jumping between his fingers before fizzling out.

  Professor Callidus’s eyes swept over them. "Adequate," he said, clearly unimpressed. "You will improve. Or you will fail."

  Ren resisted the urge to roll his eyes. So that was how this class was going to be.

  After the grueling Elemental Magic session, Ren made his way to the Runic Magic classroom. Unlike the grand lecture halls or combat arenas, this space was quieter—lined with workbenches covered in half-etched sigils, enchanted tools, and shimmering scraps of failed rune engravings.

  The instructor, a middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed beard and an air of quiet authority, stood at the front. "Runic Magic is not for the impatient," he began. "It is the art of permanence—where magic is bound, stored, and shaped into lasting form."

  Ren immediately straightened in his seat, hanging onto every word.

  "As beginners, you will not be forming complex sigils yet. Your first task is to engrave a basic mana-conducting rune onto a surface—wood, stone, or metal. The goal is simple: make it stable."

  That was easier said than done. Engraving a sigil wasn’t just about drawing the right shape—it was about channeling mana into it correctly. If done wrong, the rune would be inert at best… and explode at worst.

  Nobles had an advantage here, many of them having worked with runes before. Ren, however, had only studied them, never attempted actual engraving.

  He chose a small metal plate as his medium, steadied his breathing, and started the process. His fingers traced the first strokes of the sigil, mana flowing carefully into each line. The metal vibrated faintly beneath his touch.

  Around him, some students struggled, their runes flickering or failing to hold mana. Others—particularly the more experienced nobles—finished quickly, their sigils glowing with controlled energy.

  Ren wasn’t the first to finish, but he wasn’t the last either. His rune glowed steadily—a stable success.

  The instructor observed his work, nodding approvingly. "Well-formed. Your control is precise. Continue refining it."

  Ren exhaled, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. He wasn’t just memorizing sigils anymore—he was making them.

  As class ended, he lingered for a moment, already eager to push further. Runic Magic wasn’t just about following rules. If he could master it, he could create something truly his own.

  With that thought, he finally headed to meet up with Leo and Davian for dinner.

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  Ren made his way to the dining hall, the scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread filling the air. He spotted Leo and Davian at a table near the center, already halfway through their meals.

  "Finally," Leo said, waving him over. "I was about to eat your share."

  "Wouldn’t be the first time," Ren said dryly, setting down his tray.

  Davian leaned back in his chair, smirking. "So? How was Runic Magic?"

  Ren took a bite of his food before answering. "Interesting. Difficult. But I managed."

  Leo snorted. "You say that like you didn’t ace it."

  "Didn’t ace it," Ren corrected. "But I didn’t fail either. Engraving is harder than I thought."

  Davian raised an eyebrow. "Most commoners can’t even form a stable rune on their first try."

  Ren shrugged, not bothering to comment.

  Leo stretched. "Well, Illusion Magic was… weird. Lots of theory. Apparently, mastering illusions is less about the magic itself and more about how you manipulate perception. The instructor kept going on about how ‘a proper illusionist doesn’t cast spells—they tell stories.’"

  "Sounds frustrating," Davian said.

  Leo groaned. "It was." He turned to Ren. "How was Alchemy?"

  Ren hesitated, sorting through his thoughts. "Not bad. The facility isn’t as well-funded as Elemental or Runic Magic, but the instructor knew what he was talking about. We started with basic potion mixing—not just magic, but the chemistry behind it. Honestly, I think I’ll like it."

  Leo made a face. "Can’t relate."

  Davian smirked. "Because you have the patience of a brick."

  Leo rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

  They continued eating, discussing their first day—who had the worst instructor, which nobles were already throwing their weight around, and what to expect moving forward.

  As the meal wound down, Ren leaned back, stretching. "Tomorrow’s going to be harder."

  "Obviously," Leo said. "But that’s fine. We’re here to get stronger, right?"

  Davian raised his cup. "To surviving the first week, then."

  Ren and Leo clinked their drinks against his.

  With that, the first day at the Academy came to an end