All the students were already seated when I stepped into the classroom.
The door hadn't even clicked shut before it happened, that subtle shift in the air. Heads turned almost in unison, like I'd triggered some invisible alarm. Dozens of eyes settled on me, measuring and assessing.
They didn't feel hostile though. No one sneered or whispered loudly enough to be called out.
But they sure as hell looked wary.
Like I was a variable in an equation that hadn't been solved yet.
'Great. My first impressions are truly something: potential threat or social anomaly. Love that for me, I suppose.'
I scanned the room, weighing my options. The back row would look defensive. The front row would look overeager. The middle was political territory.
'Where should I sit…?'
"Lord Atlas!"
A voice cut through the tension.
"Come, sit next to me!"
Oh. Thank everything.
Someone had saved a seat for—
My relief died the second I saw who it was.
Elinor.
Of course I don't want to sit next to him.
But declining would be worse. Publicly avoiding him would turn curiosity into rumor within the hour.
At least this way, I didn't look unwanted?
I forced a polite smile and walked over. "Thank you, Lord Elinor."
The moment I sat down he was already watching me.
Not casually or idly.
He was straight up staring.
'Seriously, will you stop looking at me like that? I'm not a specimen in a glass case.'
Which was ironic, considering he literally experiments on humans.
And I just so happen to be completely different from any human he has ever encountered.
My soul never belonged here whatsoever.
If he ever finds out, I'm not making it to graduation.
I scratched the back of my head, pretending to look relaxed. "Congratulations on your impressive attributes, Lord Elinor."
Might as well humor him. If I didn't say something flattering, he'd keep staring until I combusted from self-awareness.
He blinked.
Then he chuckled softly.
"Truthfully," he leaned closer, lowering his voice, "I already knew."
My brain stalled.
…?!
Huh? what?
And why are you telling me that like we're sharing tea and secrets?
In the original story, his early awakening was never public knowledge. Not once. Not even Sybille knew until the end. It was mentioned one time in a developer note on social media, an extra detail meant to emphasize his genius and recklessness.
It was trivia.
Background lore.
So why was he saying it out loud?
Was he testing me?
"Is that so…?" I laughed lightly, keeping my tone airy. I don't know if I even sound casual and harmless enough. "You must be joking."
He tilted his head. "Is that all?"
"I mean," I shrugged, "I can't exactly respond differently if you're teasing me, Lord Elinor."
If I hadn't known the truth, I probably would've laughed for real anyway.
"Just because it's illegal doesn't mean I'm lying," he said quietly.
Illegal.
Right.
Channeling kinetic energy before eighteen is prohibited for a reason. The body isn't ready enough before then.
"Even if it were true," I replied, lowering my voice as well, "it would be more concerning that you were allowed to risk your body so young."
Adulthood isn't symbolic here. Eighteen isn't arbitrary, either. It's such an imposter occasion, because your attributes awakened.
For a brief second, something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
"Good morning."
The voice was clear and composed, cutting through the room like a blade.
Instant silence.
"I am Ellencia De Sylsima, instructor of kinetic energy studies. You will address me as Professor Sylsima."
Ah!
The professor from earlier.
She stood at the front of the room with perfect posture, dark hair drawn neatly back, expression cool enough to frost glass.
"Good morning, Professor Sylsima!" a boy near the front called eagerly. "May I ask a question?"
She didn't even glance at him.
"I will answer preemptively. Today's lesson will introduce the program and clarify foundational concepts. There will be no practice."
Just like in the game she's calm, concise and merciless...a shame she got involved into a bully arc.
She turned to the blackboard, chalk already in hand.
"As you all know, every individual possesses kinetic energy. Lord Elinor, provide a short definition."
Of course she would pick him.
He sighed faintly, eyes drifting upward as if bored. "Kinetic energy is the boundary between the soul and the body, with the capacity to initiate, sustain, and survive magical motion."
"Correct."
She began to draw.
The circle she sketched wobbled slightly.
I blinked.
That…is surprisingly uneven.
"This," she said, tapping the center, "represents the core. The origin and storage point of kinetic energy."
From it, she drew branching lines outward. Some curved more than others.
"These are channels. They direct the flow of magic."
At the end of each branch, she added small circles.
"Nodes. Points of convergence, release, or redirection."
I leaned forward despite myself.
The final drawing, though imperfect, carried a strange sense of structure. Like a living blueprint.
The game never really explained it this clearly. Like, none of it.
Meta-magic.
Not spellcasting.
Not elements.
Movement.
"Understand this," Professor Sylsima continued, "kinetic energy governs how magic moves. It does not determine what magic is."
As she raised her arm, faint vein-like patterns shimmered beneath her skin.
"This is what I call the kinetic lattice."
Seeing it in reality felt different from reading about it in dialogue boxes.
"Despite appearances," she said, "the lattice is not physically fused to your organs. However, it exists within your body. When you begin practical training, you will experience pain. This is normal."
How comforting.
"Kinetic channels run alongside nerves, muscle groups, and vital systems. Emotional instability affects manifestation. Lack of control results in injury."
She paused.
"Control is not optional."
A student raised their hand. "Professor Sylsima, why can someone have a subtype as an attribute?"
"Legitimate question."
She began pacing slowly between the rows.
"As you know, humans cannot exist with a soul devoid of kinetic energy."
For a split second, it felt like every gaze shifted.
Toward me.
Um, why are they all staring at me so openly?
"Fire, water, air, earth, light, darkness," she continued evenly, "are primary forces structuring reality. Living beings resonate with one. Some resonate with two or three, or all of them, for that matter. But most humans can exist with one."
She stopped walking.
"Subtypes emerge from the interaction between universal laws and individual identity."
Identity.
"Some souls are not defined by a single principle, but by the tension between them."
That sentence lingered longer than the rest.
The lecture moved on to semester expectations, required readings, disciplinary policies, and theoretical frameworks. She divided the material cleanly: foundational structure first, elemental alignment later, practical application in stages.
It wasn't dull, but dense.
And I couldn't focus.
Because every explanation circled back to one inescapable truth:
Everyone here has kinetic energy.
Everyone here can defend themselves.
Everyone here belongs in this system.
If someone attacked me, I'd have nothing.
Not power.
Not resistance.
Not even the illusion of potential.
When the bell finally rang, the sound felt distant.
Students rose in coordinated movement, chairs scraping softly against the floor.
I stood slower than the rest.
Elinor stepped up behind me.
"Lord Atlas," he said smoothly, "let's walk together."
…Why.
Why me.
"Of course," I replied, because apparently self-preservation means aligning with the most dangerous person in the room.
One thing that irritated me more than it should have: there's no flexible scheduling here.
No wandering between electives.
No rotating classmates.
I am locked in with the same twenty-five students every day.
Four of them are male leads.
Four.
What kind of probability nightmare is that?
As we exited into the corridor, I tried to keep my expression neutral.
"What class is next, Lord Elinor?"
"Potions."
I stared ahead.
Of course it is.
I can't manipulate kinetic energy.
I can't defend myself.
And now I have to survive chemistry with walking red flags.
This day is going to be very long.