Chapter 13

  The days at the Academy blurred into a steady rhythm.

  Mornings began with Magic Theory, the one class all students were required to take. While some of their classmates groaned about the lectures, Ren found them fascinating. The professor—an aging scholar with an encyclopedic knowledge of magic—dove deep into the mechanics of mana flow, spell formations, and the intricate relationships between different magical disciplines.

  Ren absorbed it all like a sponge. His photographic memory made recalling information effortless, but understanding the underlying principles required actual effort. The discussions on mana efficiency and spell layering particularly caught his attention—could sigils be optimized the same way spells were layered? He hadn’t worked out the answer yet, but the idea nagged at him.

  After Theory, they split up for their specialized classes.

  Leo threw himself into Body Enhancement Magic with reckless enthusiasm. He quickly developed a reputation as a natural brawler, earning grudging respect from both his peers and their instructor. He wasn’t the strongest or the fastest yet, but his ability to read movements and adapt in combat made him a formidable opponent. His side focus on Illusion Magic was progressing as well—he wasn’t creating grand mirages yet, but his control over subtle distortions was improving.

  Davian, on the other hand, was making waves in Force Magic. He had a raw, instinctive grasp of applying kinetic energy, something that became very clear when he accidentally sent a training dummy flying into the ceiling during their third lesson. His progress in Empyrean Magic was more reluctant—he was talented, but his disdain for its noble-centric ideology meant he only did what was necessary to pass.

  As for Ren, his time was divided between Runic Magic, Nature Magic, and Alchemy.

  Runic Magic was where he truly excelled. Though he still couldn’t create sigils of his own, his understanding of their structure deepened with every lesson. The process of engraving runes into objects—crafting wands, reinforcing weapons, inscribing enchantments—was a slow, meticulous art. Ren’s photographic memory and precise mana control made him an ideal student, but even he struggled with some of the more advanced techniques. Still, every time he successfully inscribed a rune, it felt like unlocking a piece of a much larger puzzle.

  Nature Magic was a challenge of patience rather than knowledge. The fluidity of the discipline was difficult for someone so used to rigid systems, but he was adapting. Professor Ilvara had a way of guiding them without giving direct answers, forcing them to figure things out on their own. “Nature doesn’t rush, but it always moves forward,” she reminded him more than once.

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  Alchemy, despite being an afterthought in his initial selection, turned out to be unexpectedly rewarding. The structured nature of potion-making appealed to him, and while the budget for the class was lower than others, the instructors were passionate. Ren found himself enjoying the methodical nature of ingredient preparation, the delicate balancing of reactions, and the small moments of triumph when a potion was brewed correctly.

  But outside the classrooms, tensions were building.

  The divide between nobles and commoners had always been present, but as the weeks passed, it became impossible to ignore.

  Petty disputes turned into outright hostilities.

  Commoners were deliberately excluded from study groups. Some found their materials tampered with. A few nobles went as far as using their influence to pressure instructors into favoring them during evaluations. Davian nearly got into a fistfight when a noble accused him of “wasting a spot” in Empyrean Magic. Leo had to be physically restrained when he found a group of highborn students mocking a commoner who failed an advanced spell.

  Ren wasn’t exempt either. His performance in Runic Magic had drawn attention—not all of it welcome. Certain nobles saw him as an anomaly, a commoner excelling in a field they considered their birthright. More than once, he caught sneers and muttered insults as he worked, but he ignored them.

  For now.

  Because there was one event that could change everything.

  The Summer Tournament.

  It was the Academy’s most anticipated competition, held every year before the summer break. Officially, it was meant to showcase the talents of young mages, a chance for students to test their skills in both combat and magical craftsmanship. But for the commoners, it was more than that.

  It was an opportunity.

  A high placement in the tournament meant recognition. It meant prestige. More importantly, it was one of the few ways a commoner could rise through the Academy’s ranks without noble blood. The instructors and faculty had no choice but to acknowledge skill when it was displayed in front of the entire school.

  Nobles, of course, treated the tournament as their personal stage. For them, it was a means of proving superiority—both to their peers and to the lesser-born students. They held nearly every advantage: better training, better resources, and years of preparation.

  But that didn’t mean they were untouchable.

  Ren, Leo, and Davian had no illusions about their chances. They weren’t prodigies. They weren’t born into power. But they had talent, and more importantly, they had something to prove.

  And as the days crept forward, as the tournament loomed ever closer, one thing became clear:

  This was their chance to change everything.