Chapter 3
I stood before a class filled with students, most of them in their early teens or slightly older.
The room buzzed with a heavy silence, every eye fixed on me, waiting—some with curiosity, others with doubt, and a few with open amusement.
The reason I hadn't spoken yet was simple:
I was shocked.
Not by their gazes, or by the pressure of standing here, but by what I saw when I glanced over their status tiers.
There were twenty students in total.
Five of them were already at Tier 1—just like me.
The rest remained at Tier 0, yet even that was telling.
This… was supposed to be a beginner's class.
The previous Lucas Von Maximilian, the one whose body I now inhabited, must have been incredibly lazy.
To be surrounded by peers—yet remain stagnant in growth?
That was inexcusable.
Suppressing a sigh, I finally stepped forward and addressed the class.
"Let me introduce myself," I began, my voice calm but clear, echoing lightly off the stone walls. "I am Lucas Von Maximilian, of the Silvery House, and its next head."
That alone drew a murmur through the room.
Of course it would.
The Silvery House was one of the most famous noble families on the continent, known for its vast magical library and deep roots in arcane tradition.
And Lucas—myself—was supposed to be a 'genius.'
I could feel the shift in the room: some gazes turned expectant, others resentful.
I didn't care.
Their thoughts were irrelevant to me.
As long as they listened and passed the course, that was all I required of them.
"I will now begin today's lecture," I said, adjusting the cuffs of my uniform. "Our focus will be magic. Specifically: what makes magic work, what is the source of the power we wield, and how one might improve magic itself."
A few students straightened in their seats, clearly intrigued.
Others looked bored already.
Typical.
"Magic," I began, "is the mentalization of a spell. In simple terms, it's the ability to impose your will onto mana. This is done either through chanting and imagination, or—if your control is precise enough—imagination alone."
I paused to let the words sink in before continuing.
"Those who struggle with controlling the flow of mana often rely on chants as training wheels. With repeated use, however, the flow becomes second nature, and the chant becomes unnecessary. Eventually, all that is required is thought—clear, directed, and unwavering."
I walked slowly along the front of the classroom, letting my eyes pass over each student.
"Now, let's talk about spells. The basic elements: Water, Wind, Earth, Fire, and Lightning. As we all know, a mage can only use the elements they have an affinity with."
I stopped and turned to face them fully.
"But I'll ask you this: What exactly is stopping us from using elements outside of our affinity?"
The room went quiet.
Completely silent.
Some blinked, others frowned.
The silence stretched for a moment longer until a student raised his hand hesitantly.
I gave a small nod.
"Professor, it's… impossible," the student said. "A mage can't use an element they don't have an affinity for. Everyone knows that."
A fair answer—but still wrong.
I looked at the class, letting my eyes pass over them before replying.
"That's both true… and false."
The confusion in the room deepened.
A few students exchanged glances.
"Yes, it's true that your affinity determines which elements you can control most easily.It's also true that trying to use magic outside of your affinity is incredibly difficult. But it's false that it's impossible."
I raised a finger.
"You must understand what an affinity truly is. It's a connection—a resonance between your mana and the elemental particles in the atmosphere. Those with a Fire affinity, for example, naturally attract and influence fire-aligned particles more easily. It's like breathing for them."
"But," I continued, "that does not mean the other elements do not exist for you. They simply do not respond as easily."
Then, to demonstrate, I raised my hand.
A hush fell over the room.
My eyes shifted, taking on a brilliant cyan hue, glowing like the surface of a burning sun.
I could feel the raw mana in the air—more than that, I could see it, particles of energy flickering around like stardust.
My connection surged, and I guided it.
"Touch."
A small flame ignited in my palm.
Gasps rippled across the class.
They weren't just surprised.
They were shocked.
Because everyone in this academy knew the truth—Lucas Von Maximilian has no elemental affinity.
"Control," I said softly, letting the flame dance in my hand. "With high mana control, it becomes possible to command other elements—to a limited degree. It will be unstable, inefficient, and short-lived... but not impossible."
I let the flame fade away and returned my gaze to the students.
"So, yes. You can use other elements. And also no—you cannot, at least not with the same ease or depth as your affinity allows."
I smiled faintly, watching their reactions—some were inspired, others troubled.
A few seemed to be re-evaluating their entire understanding of magic.
"But remember this above all…"
I turned back to the front of the room and raised my voice, letting it echo with certainty:
"The limit to a mage's power is their own imagination."
"Now," Lucas continued, letting the tension from his earlier demonstration fade as he clasped his hands behind his back, "let's briefly talk about the Tier system."
He paced slowly in front of the chalkboard, eyes scanning the class again.
Many of them were still shaken from the revelation about affinities.
Good—it meant they were actually listening now.
"As most of you already know," he began,
"Tier 0 is the stage of Novice Mages—those who have just begun to sense and manipulate mana. Tier 1 are Adept Mage."
He turned, tapping a piece of chalk against the board as he spoke each tier aloud, writing as he went.
"Tier 2—Master Mages. Tier 3—Archmages. Tier 4—Grandmages. And beyond them, there's a rumored Tier 5… Though only a handful have ever reached that level."
He paused, tapping the chalk once more for emphasis before underlining the final tier.
"Those who do… are called Monarchs. Or Supreme Mages."
A murmur of awe passed through the room, though one or two students looked skeptical.
That was fine.
Most of them wouldn't come close to even Tier 4 if they stayed on their current paths.
Lucas dropped the chalk onto the podium with a faint clack and turned to face the class again.
"Now, many think the only difference between these tiers is the amount of mana one has," he said, shaking his head slightly. "That's only part of it. The real difference lies in the quality of mana—its purity, density, and how efficiently you can wield it."
He paused again, checking the time.
"I'd go deeper into this… but we're short on time."
He let his words linger for a moment before raising his voice slightly. "So—any questions before we end the lecture?"
He already knew the answer—or rather, he hoped he did.
Lucas had only learned this system minutes before the lecture himself.
He was walking a tightrope, speaking with all the calm confidence of a seasoned professor while barely staying a step ahead of his students.
The room remained silent.
He almost sighed in relief.
Almost.
Just as he relaxed, a hand went up.
Then a girl stood.
Her Golden hair was long and silky, though a little unkempt, and her sharp Golden eyes locked onto his.
There was something wild about her presence, something untamed.
Her beauty was undeniable, but it was the way she held herself—unapologetically—that made others take notice.
Lucas's eyes, now back to their normal hue, met hers.
"Professor," she said, her voice clear and unwavering,
"if what you said is true… then why do some people have more talent than others, if the only limit to a mage is their imagination?"
The class went still again.
It was a good question.
Too good.
Lucas's expression didn't change.
He didn't blink, didn't flinch.
He didn't know the answer.
Not really.
So he did what he had to do.
With an emotionless mask, guided more by the strange pull of his fate and fortune lines than any plan, he met her eyes and said coldly:
"Did I assign you to speak?"
The words cut through the silence like a knife.
"Next time, learn manners."
Gasps and chuckles filled the room.
Most came from the nobles, who snickered openly.
To them, it was just another commoner girl being put in her place.
Lucas turned on his heel and walked toward the door, not bothering to look back.
He needed to leave—fast—before another idiot asked a question he couldn't answer.
Behind him, the girl sat down slowly, her fists clenched.
The laughter didn't seem to reach her.
Her voice, quiet but sharp, carried under her breath as she glared at the back of his head.
"You just didn't know the answer."
Her frown didn't disappear as she leaned forward, eyes burning with resolve.
"What genius are you? Just you wait. I'll be the one shining."