A few days later, on a late morning, warm sunlight gently spilled through the window panes. Unlike his usual lectures on engineering structures or the principles of magical devices, Professor Stephen wrote a different title on the blackboard today:
[Introduction to Mana: Principles of Magic and Sensory Training]
The classroom immediately fell silent.
Professor Stephen set down his chalk, adjusted his glasses, and smiled. "Don't be surprised, everyone. Once you reach your second year, magic will become part of your curriculum. The ability to sense, use, and control mana—on the battlefield, this could still determine whether you live or die."
The students began whispering among themselves as the atmosphere gradually became lively.
Serena blinked curiously and raised her hand. "So, Professor, what kind of magic do you use? You don't look like someone who would throw fireballs."
The class chuckled, and Professor Stephen laughed as well. "I'm certainly not a fire-type. My main attribute is water."
With that, he extended his right hand and gently twisted his fingers. Instantly, the air rippled with a moist wave of magical energy. The next moment, a stream of clear water flowed from his palm like a spring, swirling around his arm like a spirit snake, gracefully twisting before dispersing into a fine mist and evaporating into the air.
A wave of astonished gasps burst from the class.
"That's amazing… Is that really magic?"
"Professor's magic is incredible..."
Professor Stephen waved his hand dismissively, his expression turning serious.
"Magic isn't just the privilege of geniuses, nor is it merely a noble inheritance. At its core, it's the art of mastering yourself. Each of you has a 'mana core' within your body—this is the source of your magic. As long as you can sense and control the mana inside you, anyone here has the potential to perform magic."
He drew a simplified human diagram on the board, marking the heart, abdomen, and head as possible "mana sensing centers." Then he continued:
"Mana flows differently for everyone. For some, it's concentrated in the hands; for others, the chest or the lower abdomen. Finding your personal mana 'locus'—your mana sensing point—is your first step."
The class was captivated. Serena looked down at her own hands, wondering to herself, "What kind of magic would I have?"
In her previous life, Serena had dropped out of school early and was demoted to Class E before she even had the chance to awaken her magic. Even in the future, she had never thought of trying to awaken it.
At that moment, Aiden was already waving his arms around excitedly, while Elena rolled her eyes beside him. "Stop waving around. It's useless."
Serena remained silent, gazing at Professor Stephen with a distant look in her eyes. She finally remembered—why, in her previous life, the classroom had become so gloomy starting from the second year. Even she had lost all motivation and was ultimately relegated to the bottom Class E.
The chaotic memories resurfaced. At that time, a new instructor had arrived—Janil Crotte.
On the surface, he was a renowned magical scholar from the Imperial Capital. In truth, he had been privately appointed by the Marchioness as Lucien's personal tutor. To ensure Lucien became the "most outstanding heir," the Marchioness had forcibly planted him into the academy, using noble power to have Professor Stephen removed.
Janil Crotte had an extremely vile personality, especially for someone meant to be a mentor:
Overwhelming elitism: He pampered high-ranking noble students, while mercilessly mocking or humiliating commoners or underperforming students.
He frequently demoralized students by saying things like, "People like you will be useless in the future."
He publicly read out poor grades and criticized students harshly, spreading anxiety across the class.
Hostile to creativity and rigid in teaching: He dismissed anything "unrelated to exams," and even criticized Stephen's methods as a waste of time.
Under his tyranny, the once-vibrant Class A fell into oppressive silence. Students feared asking questions, making mistakes, or being compared. Everyone became like voiceless cogs trapped in the rigid cage Janil built.
As for Serena, after scoring poorly on one test, she was publicly scolded as a "worthless failure" and labeled "hopeless." He personally recommended she be transferred to Class E—thus, she fell from elite Class A to the bottom in everyone's eyes.
Professor Stephen, who had always tried to protect his students despite being strict, was also forced out for refusing to follow Owen's rigid teaching policies and left the academy entirely.
Serena's gaze unconsciously drifted toward Lucien, seated in the right row.
He was unusually quiet today. Normally silent but attentive, today he simply stared at his desk, not even listening to the lecture.
—Of course Serena knew why.
That future "tutor" was likely preparing to enter Lucien's household already. In her past life, it was Lucien's cold, haughty mother—the Marchioness—who had arranged it all. Under the pretense of "grooming an heir," she actually subjected Lucien to psychological and physical abuse. That man flogged Lucien daily. If he hadn't been enrolled at the academy—where striking students was banned—he might have been beaten to death.
From then on, Lucien's last shred of freedom and brightness was erased, replaced by obsession, coldness, and eventual madness.
Serena clenched her fingers gently—she would not let history repeat itself.
At that moment, Professor Stephen put away his magical demonstration and grew stern:
"Class, I know many of you are still riding the emotional high from the Art Challenge, but—your first academic year is about to end."
The room fell into silence. Everyone looked up.
"Before that, you must face an important exam." His voice fell like cold water. "This test will determine whether you remain in Class A."
"Don't assume that just because you've won awards or done well so far, you can relax. In this academy, only consistent performance allows you to stay in the elite class."
Professor Stephen's gaze was sharp, offering no room for comfort.
"I don't want to see any of you fall into Class B—or worse, Class E—due to carelessness. Give it your all. Don't waste the effort you've made to get this far."
The classroom turned solemn. On everyone's face was an expression of nervousness, seriousness, or quiet resolve.
——
As the final exam drew nearer, Serena and the others gathered once more in a corner of the library, surrounded by stacks of books, tension hanging thick in the air.
Aiden lay slumped on the desk, clutching his head and muttering miserably, "I'm doomed, Serena, totally doomed! I'm definitely getting kicked to Class B this time… Maybe even Class E is waving at me already!"
"Don't panic," Serena soothed, flipping a thick study guide to a key section. "Relax. I'll help you review the subjects you're weak at."
"Serena…" Aiden looked at her with teary eyes, overwhelmed.
"But," Serena added with a raised eyebrow, "I can help you improve, but whether you pass or not… that depends on your own effort."
"I understand..." Aiden nodded solemnly, as if enlightened.
"Hmph, good," Elena said flatly from the side, her voice calm with a hint of mockery. "You keep wailing, but what good is it if you just rely on others? If you don't try, even ten notebooks won't save you."
Despite her harsh tone, she handed over a neatly compiled summary list. She simply refused to admit she was helping too.
Aiden blinked and was almost moved to tears.
Lucien, sitting nearby, said nothing. He quietly slid his immaculate notebook toward Aiden. Its cover was neat, with tiny categorization stickers on the edges. Even Aiden couldn't help but gasp, "This is a miracle of note-taking…"
"Your memory's been awful lately. Looking through these should help," Lucien said evenly, without emotion.
Aiden was already crying, "My friends… You're like second parents to me!"
Serena smiled and reminded them, "Don't worry, since we won awards before, we have some baseline points secured. Even if we do get downgraded, it won't be all the way to Class E~"
"Oh… I see…"