Elise allowed the silence to settle for a moment longer before continuing, her expression returning to that same calm precision. "Arcane is not something you will grasp today," she said, almost dismissively, as if placing it aside for now. "So we return to what you can control."
Her grey eyes swept across the class.
"Mana."
She raised her hand once more, but this time there was no abstract construct, no shifting symbols—only a faint, almost imperceptible distortion in the air.
"Mana operates through three fundamental stages," she began. "Absorption. Circulation. Manifestation. Most of you have already practiced these unconsciously. Now, you will begin to understand them consciously."
A small pause.
"Your core," she continued, "is not merely a reservoir. It is a converter. Ambient mana exists everywhere—within the air, the ground, even within living beings. Your core refines it, aligns it with your affinity, and distributes it through your body."
She stepped forward slightly.
"When you enhance your body, you are circulating mana through your muscles. When you cast, you are forcing that refined mana outward, shaping it into a concept."
Her hand lowered.
"But before control—comes perception."
A faint shift passed through the room.
"Close your eyes."
This time, there was less hesitation. The cadets obeyed more readily.
"Direct a small portion of mana from your core," she instructed, her voice steady, guiding, "and guide it upward… toward your eyes."
A few students tensed.
"Do not force it," she added. "Let it flow. Like a current finding its path."
Rio's eyes closed.
He could feel it instantly.
The core within him stirred—vast, layered, far deeper than most would ever realize. He suppressed it instinctively, allowing only a thread of mana to rise, controlled, precise.
Through his channels.
Upward.
Toward his vision.
"Now," Elise said softly, "open your eyes."
The world changed.
A collective gasp echoed through the classroom.
"What… is this…?"
"Those colors—"
"I can see it—"
Even Rio's eyes narrowed slightly.
The air itself had transformed.
What had once been empty space was now alive—filled with countless streams of light, flowing endlessly like rivers across the sky. Colors intertwined and separated, shifting in currents that defied logic. Blues flowed into gold, crimson threaded through violet, strands of silver drifted like mist between them.
It was beautiful.
Overwhelmingly so.
Mana.
Not invisible.
Not abstract.
But alive.
—
Clara's eyes widened, her breath catching as she stared upward. "It's… so beautiful…"
Around them, students reached out instinctively, as if they could touch it.
Some tried.
Failed.
The currents flowed undisturbed.
Elise stepped forward.
Unmoved.
Unaffected.
She raised her hand—
and gently passed it through one of the flowing streams.
The mana parted.
Not violently.
But like water yielding to motion.
"This," she said calmly, "is mana."
Her voice carried clearly despite the quiet awe that had taken over the room.
"What you see is the ambient flow—the raw state before refinement. Each color represents different attributes, densities, and affinities. What you absorb depends on what resonates with you."
She turned slightly.
"Most of you have used mana your entire lives."
A pause.
"But this…"
Her hand moved again, the currents shifting faintly around her fingers.
"…is the first time you've truly seen it."
Rio remained silent.
His gaze fixed on the flowing streams.
Yet beneath that calm—
his mind moved.
So this is the world… as it truly is.
…
The shimmering currents of mana gradually faded as the flow to their eyes weakened, the vibrant rivers of color dissolving back into nothingness as if the world itself had chosen to conceal its truth once more.
One by one, the students blinked, some in awe, others still dazed, their minds struggling to process what they had just witnessed. Soft murmurs spread across the room, voices filled with disbelief and fascination.
Clara remained still, her eyes lingering just a moment longer than the others, as though she feared the beauty she had seen would disappear entirely if she let it go.
Rio, however, stood quietly, his expression composed.
Yet beneath that calm—
his thoughts stirred.
So that is how mana reveals itself to most…
It was beautiful.
Undeniably so.
Yet to him—
it felt incomplete.
Elise stepped forward once more, her presence grounding the room as her calm voice cut cleanly through the lingering whispers.
"The class comes to an end today."
The murmurs quieted almost instantly.
"Tomorrow," she continued, her grey eyes scanning across the students, "we will move forward into a more complex subject."
A slight pause followed.
"Spirits."
The word alone shifted the atmosphere.
Curiosity sharpened.
Interest deepened.
Even those who had seemed uninterested straightened slightly.
"We will discuss how spirits function, how they interact with mana, and how contracts are formed."
Her gaze grew a fraction more serious.
"More importantly… you will begin learning how to manifest a spirit beast."
A subtle tension formed in the room.
Anticipation.
Expectation.
Perhaps even—
unease.
"The spirit world is not separate from ours," Elise continued. "It overlaps, responds, and observes. Whether you are acknowledged by it…"
A brief pause.
"…depends entirely on you."
Silence followed.
Then—
"Dismissed."
The structure of the class dissolved. Chairs shifted, voices returned, and the quiet order of the room broke into scattered conversations.
Yet Rio did not move immediately.
His mind had already drifted elsewhere.
Spirit beasts…
His crimson eyes dimmed slightly in thought.
With his affinities—light, ice, lightning, darkness, fire, water… and space—
there was no clear answer.
No predictable outcome.
A faint curiosity rose within him.
Slow.
Deep.
Unsettling.
What kind of spirit… would answer me?
Not whether he could summon one.
That much—
was certain.
But what would respond…
That—
was a different question entirely.
…
I stretched my arms, a faint stiffness lingering in my muscles. The exhaustion from earlier hadn't fully left, and the thought of another practical class didn't help.
My eyes shifted to Leon.
He looked… annoyed.
Not mildly.
Not subtly.
Genuinely irritated.
"Hm?" I muttered. "You seem annoyed."
"Why wouldn't I be?" he scoffed, rolling his shoulders. "That was the most boring class I've sat through in years. I already knew everything."
A pause.
"And the next one?" he clicked his tongue. "Even worse."
My eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Ron Graves?"
"That fucker," Leon muttered under his breath.
I let out a quiet sigh.
Pathetic.
Clara had already left earlier for her archer class, her schedule separating from ours at this point.
Which meant—
it was just us.
We stepped into the training room.
The moment we entered—
a voice cut through the air.
"You idiots are late. Once again."
That same sharp, grating tone.
Ron Graves.
I heard it.
That faint—
tsk.
Leon smiled.
Not casually.
Not lazily.
But dangerously.
"I'm going to kil—"
I immediately covered his mouth.
"Sorry, sir," I spoke quickly, dragging him forward slightly. "We'll get in line."
Ron stared at us for a moment, then clicked his tongue again.
"Whatever."
His grip tightened slightly around the wooden sword in his hand.
"Today," he continued, his voice carrying across the room, "you will spar among yourselves. I'll observe, correct, and point out every flaw you idiots have."
A faint grin formed on his face.
"So don't disappoint me."
A pause.
"Find a partner."
The room shifted instantly.
Students moved, eyes scanning, some confident, others hesitant.
I glanced at Leon.
Should I just spar with him?
Before I could decide—
a voice came from behind me.
"Can we spar?"
I turned.
White hair.
Sharp eyes.
A calm, composed presence.
Darius Whitemere.
A faint smile formed on my lips.
"…Sure."
---
Across the room, others had already paired up.
Yelena Zephyr stood opposite Silver Ryker, both of them already radiating confidence, neither willing to back down even before the match began.
---
But what caught my attention the most—
was elsewhere.
Leon.
Or rather—
Nick.
He stood across from Reinheart Verilian.
An odd pairing.
Unnatural.
Almost… ironic.
Leon stood in front of Reinheart, his posture loose, almost careless, as if the entire situation bored him. "Huh? I paired up with you?" he muttered, tilting his head slightly. Reinheart's lips curved into that same mocking smile, the kind that carried pride sharpened into arrogance. "I suppose so," he replied coolly.
Leon let out a small scoff, rolling his shoulders as he picked up the wooden sword. "Whatever. I'll just get this over with quickly. You noble trashes are never entertaining anyway."
Reinheart's smile twitched. Just slightly. Yet it was enough. Even father has never been spoken to me like this. His grip tightened around his sword, veins faintly visible along his wrist. "Dirty commoner," he said, his voice low, edged with something darker. "Come at me."
Meanwhile, Rio stood across from Darius, his gaze calm yet observant. His posture… steady. Balanced. Not bad at all. There was discipline in the way Darius held himself, something refined yet not rigid. A long sword would suit him better, Rio thought instinctively. Then—his eyes widened just a fraction. Darius drew his weapon. A rapier.
Interesting.
Rio slowly unsheathed his own blade, the faint scrape of steel echoing lightly. The contrast between them was immediate—his standard blade against Darius' slender, precise weapon.
Ron's voice cut through the room. "Remember—this is pure swordsmanship. There is no mana inside this room, so don't even bother trying." His eyes swept across the cadets, sharp, watching. "Now—start!"
The moment the word fell—movement exploded.
Darius moved first.
A blur of precision. The rapier shot forward, thrust clean and direct, aimed straight for Rio's center. No wasted motion. No hesitation.
Rio stepped back—barely. The tip grazed past him, close enough to feel.
Fast.
Another thrust followed immediately, sharper this time, angling upward. Rio deflected, the clash ringing lightly, but the force behind it was unexpected. Darius pressed forward, his footwork smooth, relentless, each step flowing into the next. The rapier darted like a serpent, unpredictable yet controlled.
Rio slid back again, his expression sharpening.
"You aren't bad at all," he said calmly, deflecting another strike. "Your swordsmanship is almost perfect." A pause as he shifted his footing, analyzing. "But why a rapier? You seem like someone who would suit a long sword."
"Shut up and fight," Darius snapped, his eyes narrowing as his thrusts grew faster, sharper.
Rio exhaled softly. "Sigh… fine."
He moved.
This time—not retreating.
He stepped in.
The distance closed instantly, his blade intercepting the rapier at its mid-point, disrupting its flow. Darius reacted quickly, twisting his wrist to redirect, but Rio had already shifted angles. A feint—low to the side—then a sudden upward strike.
Darius blocked—but slid back slightly.
The first push.
---
Elsewhere, Silver Ryker and Yelena Zephyr clashed.
Yelena moved first, her speed impressive, her strikes sharp and aggressive. Yet—she was already being pushed back. Silver stood almost casually, his movements efficient, precise, every strike forcing her further on the defensive. His expression remained unchanged. Calm. Confident. Almost… bored.
Yelena gritted her teeth, her attacks growing faster. He's not even trying…
Silver stepped forward again, overwhelming her guard, his strikes relentless, leaving no room to breathe.
Then—Yelena feinted.
A sudden shift.
Her blade angled differently, her movement breaking pattern—
It worked.
For a moment.
"Yes—!"
Her eyes lit up—
"No."
Silver's voice cut through calmly.
He moved instantly. Jumping upward, his body twisting mid-air as his leg struck her wrist. The sword flew from her hand. Before she could react—he landed behind her.
Silence.
The match was over.
Yelena let out a breath, a bitter smile forming. "It was a good fight."
Silver gave a small nod, already turning away, his attention shifting.
Toward Rio.
His eyes sharpened.
---
Meanwhile—Reinheart and Leon.
"Idiot, what are you doing?" Reinheart snapped, his blade cutting forward.
Leon kicked it aside.
"Shut up, monkey."
Their swords clashed again, neither holding back their insults. Reinheart's strikes were refined, noble, carrying trained elegance—but Leon's movements were wild, aggressive, unpredictable. Each clash felt less like a duel and more like a brawl barely restrained by form.
Ron watched from the side, his expression… embarassed.
This is our prince?
Reinheart's form was clean, yet his emotions bled into his strikes, disrupting his rhythm.
Then his gaze shifted to Leon.
And that commoner…
His eyes narrowed slightly.
I knew something was off.
Leon moved again, faster this time, his blade crashing against Reinheart's guard with surprising force.
He isn't bad at all.
Another clash.
He even comes close to the heirs…