Some days later, Sherry appeared in my office, her expression unusually troubled. I raised an eyebrow, setting aside the enchantment I was fine-tuning.

  “What’s up, Sherry? You look like you’ve been wrestling with a particularly nasty mana knot.”

  She sighed, pulling out the chair across from me and sitting down heavily. “It’s about the first-year Problematic Class.”

  I leaned back, folding my arms. “Ah, my favorite little disasters. What have they done now? Summoned another imp? Accidentally set the library on fire? Convinced the campus griffins to steal lunches again?”

  She didn’t laugh. That alone told me how serious this was.

  “Dad, they’re... failing,” she said bluntly. “Not just academically, but as a group. Their grades are abysmal, their teamwork is nonexistent, and their attitudes are worse than ever. The other instructors are ready to throw in the towel.”

  “Typical,” I muttered, though I felt a twinge of sympathy. The faculty didn’t exactly sign up to deal with unruly kids who thought rules were suggestions.

  Sherry looked me dead in the eyes. “I want you to teach them.”

  I blinked. “Sherry, I already handled one session with them. If you’re asking me to take over permanently - ”

  “I am,” she said, cutting me off. “They need more than a lecture or a scolding. They need someone who knows how to push them without breaking them. Someone who can get through to even the most stubborn of students. You’re the only one who can do that.”

  I stared at her, searching for any hint that this might be some sort of elaborate prank. But her expression remained serious.

  “Sherry, they’re not just a ‘problematic class.’ They’re chaos incarnate. Do you know how much mana suppression I had to use to keep them from blowing up the training room last time?”

  “I know,” she admitted, rubbing her temples. “But that’s exactly why I’m asking you. They’ve already started listening to you. Jace, the ringleader, has shown noticeable improvement since your session. If anyone can whip them into shape, it’s you.”

  I sighed. “Sherry, I retired from teaching for a reason. I don’t have the patience to deal with a group of overconfident novices.”

  “You have the patience when it counts,” she countered. “And let’s not forget, you used to enjoy teaching. You were the one who always said that seeing a student’s making a breakthrough was the greatest reward.”

  I grimaced. She wasn’t wrong. But there was a difference between teaching a bright, eager pupil and managing an entire class of walking disasters.

  “Fine,” I said at last, exhaling heavily. “I’ll take them on. But only until the end of the semester. After that, they’re someone else’s problem.”

  Sherry smiled, relief washing over her face. “Thank you, Dad. You won’t regret this.”

  “I already regret this,” I muttered under my breath.

  *** The next day***

  I walked into the Problematic Class’s classroom. Four students looked up as I entered, which didn't add up. They were eight the last time.

  “Good morning. As you’ve guessed, I’m your new instructor for the foreseeable future. If you’re wondering why, it’s because the other teachers have given up on you.”

  Three of them exchanged sheepish glances at that. The last one looked at me while hiding behind her book.

  “I won’t give up,” I continued. “But let me make one thing clear: I will not tolerate laziness, recklessness, or any of the nonsense you’ve been pulling until now.”

  Jace, sitting in the back row, raised his hand with exaggerated slowness. “Does that mean we’re getting the ‘Archmage Special’ every day now?”

  Two students snickered, but I silenced them with a glare. “Yes, Jace. And by the time I’m done with you, you’ll wish you’d never stepped into this academy."

  That got their attention. I crossed my arms. “But before we begin, I want to know why the other three boys aren't here today."

  Jace blushed. "They are my friends. I invited them to witness well, my summoning..."

  I frowned. “You invited other students to come during class?”

  A girl chuckled, while selling him out. “More like he bragged about how he was gonna summon something ‘way cooler than anything the second-years could manage.’”

  Jace groaned, while giving the girl a death glare. “I just wanted to show them that we’re not completely hopeless! Everyone thinks we are just a bunch of walking disasters—”

  I gave him a flat look. “Jace.”

  “—Okay, fine, mostly a bunch of walking disasters, but I thought if we pulled off something impressive, people would take us seriously.”

  I sighed. “That's not the point. You are forbidden from bringing outsider in class," I raised a brow. "Are we clear?"

  "Hum, yes. I won't do it again." He answered while scratching his neck. Look like he could be obedient when he wanted. This was good news.

  I clasped my hands together. "Alright, now that the issue has been cleared, I want each of you to introduce yourselves. I refuse to address anyone as ‘hey’ or ‘you.’ Let’s start with our wind and fire duelist.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  The boy and girl exchanged a knowing grin before turning toward me.

  The red-headed boy stood first, his movements brimming with confidence. “I’m Aaron, a fourteen years old fire mage.” He smirked. “I love pranks, and when I grow up, I want to be a teacher just like you, sir.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Just kidding. That sounds awful. I’m going to be a combat mage at the magic tower. Teaching sucks.”

  The class chuckled at his blatant provocation. The only one who didn’t react was a girl with her head buried in a book.

  I fought back a smirk. A cheeky bunch, indeed. “That’s an admirable goal, Aaron. But from what I’ve seen, your current level of elemental mastery is far from sufficient.”

  The laughter that followed was sharper this time, and Aaron huffed but said nothing.

  I turned to the tall silver haired girl beside him. She met my gaze with confidence. “I am Elaine, sir. A fourteen years old, wind mage. I want to make magical artifacts when I grow up.” She gestured toward Aaron with a feigned look of exasperation. “And this troublemaker is my twin. We can’t stand each other.”

  Jace laughed, and even I found myself chuckling.

  This was going to be interesting.

  I gestured toward Jace. "Your turn Jace."

  The tall black haired boy scratched the back of his head as he stood up from his seat.

  "Well you already know me, but I will give a small presentation. I am fourteen, thunder mage. I don't really know what I want to do later, but I want to travel around the world, see different places and go on adventures."

  Aaron and Elaine nodded in approval, and even I found myself intrigued. “A wanderer’s spirit, huh?” I mused. “That kind of goal requires not only strength but also intelligence and adaptability. Have you started preparing for that?”

  Jace shrugged. “Not really. I figured I’d just learn as I go.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “That approach might work for some, but power without direction is wasted potential. You might want to think about how to refine your skills.”

  He grinned. “I’ll consider it, sir.”

  “Alright, what about you? Can you introduce yourself in a few words please?" I asked the last student of the small class.

  The shy girl moved her head up from her book and stammered a bit. "My name is Mira. I am fourteen and I love magical research. I want to work under Lady Griselda on the mana conversion domain when I grow up."

  I nodded approvingly. “A scholar in the making. That’s a noble path, Mira. Lady Griselda is one of the most respected researchers in the field. You’ll need dedication and an inquisitive mind to follow in her footsteps.”

  Mira’s face turned slightly red, and she quickly buried herself back in her book. The class chuckled softly at her reaction.

  I clasped my hands together. “Alright, now that introductions are done, open your books to page fifty. We’re starting with advanced mana regulation.”

  Aaron groaned. “Advanced? We can barely manage basic spells without—”

  “Without blowing something up?” I interrupted. “Yes, I’ve noticed. That’s why we’re starting here. By the end of this week, you’ll not only control your mana, but you’ll be able to cast without embarrassing yourselves. Now, less whining, more learning.”

  The students groaned collectively. I ignored them, striding to the front of the room and summoning an orb of mana above my palm.

  “Today’s lesson is about mana shaping.”

  “Mana shaping, is the foundation of all spellcasting. It’s not enough to have power; you need precision and control.”

  I reshaped the orb into a perfect cube, then into a series of intricate geometric patterns before finally letting it dissolve.

  Aaron smirked. “This isn't a big deal. We’ve all seen flashy tricks before.”

  I smiled inwardly. Perfect. He reacted exactly like I wanted.

  “Have you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Then let’s see you do it.”

  Aaron blinked, clearly not expecting to be called out so directly. “Uh, sure.”

  He raised his hand, conjuring a fireball that flickered uncertainly. He concentrated, his brow furrowing, but the ball wobbled furiously.

  “Stop!” I commanded sharply, stepping forward and dispersing the mana before it could detonate. “What did I just say about precision? If you’d let that go for another second, we’d be peeling singed students off the ceiling.”

  Elaine laughed uneasily, and Aaron’s face reddened. “It’s harder than it looks,” he muttered.

  “Of course it is,” I said, my tone firm but not unkind. “Magic is hard. That’s why you’re here. To learn how to do it right, not to half-bake your way through it and hope for the best.”

  I turned to the rest of the class. “Mana shaping starts with focus. Close your eyes. Feel the flow of mana within you, steady, calm, like a river. If you approach it with impatience or doubt, it’ll lash out like a storm.”

  The students hesitated but complied. I walked watching as they struggled to summon even the simplest forms. Elaine and Jace managed spheres of light that crumbled quickly; Aaron conjured flickering, unstable shapes.

  Suddenly, a small explosion took place in the corner. I quickly dispelled the energy before it could do real damage.

  To my surprise the source of the explosion was none other than the timid-looking girl named Mira. So that’s why she ended up in this class, huh.

  She stuttered with an ashamed expression on her face. “Sorry, I… I keep messing up…”

  I crouched slightly to meet Mira’s gaze. Her hands were trembling, and a faint trace of mana still crackled at her fingertips.

  “Well, Mira, let me tell you something. Messing up is part of the process. The only way to learn control is through practice, and sometimes, through failure.”

  She looked at me with wide eyes, clearly taken aback by the lack of reprimand.

  “Now. Show me what you were trying to do.” I continued.

  Mira hesitated, glancing at her classmates, who were either watching curiously or pretending not to listen.

  “Don’t worry about them,” I said, motioning to the class. “This is about you and your mana. Take a deep breath and try again.”

  She nodded slowly, closing her eyes and extending her hands. A flicker of light began to form between her palms, wavering like a candle in the wind. Her brow furrowed with concentration, but the shape began to destabilize again.

  “Stop,” I said gently, raising a hand to intervene before another explosion occurred. The light faded harmlessly, and Mira looked ready to shrink into herself.

  “Alright. Let’s start smaller. Instead of forcing the mana, let it flow naturally. Imagine a thread of light, thin, steady, unbroken.”

  She blinked, looking at me uncertainly, but then closed her eyes again. This time, her hands moved more delicately, and a faint thread of light appeared. It wobbled slightly but held its form.

  “Good job Mira.” I congratulated her.

  The thread steadied, and Mira opened her eyes to see her success.

  “I did it?” she asked softly, as if afraid to believe it.

  “You did,” I confirmed. “Now keep practicing that. Once you can hold it steady for a full minute, we’ll move on to shaping it into other forms.”

  The class had grown quiet, looking at Mira with interest. Even Aaron, the fire duelist, looked mildly impressed.

  “Alright, everyone. Let Mira’s success be an example. You’re not going to master mana shaping in a single lesson, but each time you practice, you get better.”

  I clapped my hands. “Now, let's go back to work. I want to see stable shapes from all of you by the end of this session. And remember: focus, patience, and control.”

  The room filled with mana as the students resumed their attempts. Mira’s success seemed to spark a bit more determination in the others, and for the first time since taking over this class, I felt some hope.

  By the end of the lesson, most of them had managed to hold a stable sphere, though the effort had left them visibly drained.

  “Good,” I said, nodding approvingly. “This is just the start. Tomorrow, we’ll move on to shaping those spheres into more complex forms. And remember: practice tonight. If you can’t hold a sphere for a minute by morning, you’ll be doing remedial drills until your arms fall off.”

  The twin groaned again, but I caught determination on their faces. Even Jace looked less smug and more thoughtful as he gathered his things.

  As they left, I couldn’t help but feel satisfied. They were rough, undisciplined, and frustrating as hell, but they weren’t hopeless. Not yet. And if I had to drag their potential out of them one lesson at a time, I would.