"Screet, screet… tek, screet."
The sound of chalk scraped softly against the board.
Kael was the one holding it, drawing a pattern in neat, deliberate strokes.
"Done, Kael?" the teacher asked, taking the chalk he handed over.
"Yes, sir," Kael replied quietly.
"Alright, take your seat."
The teacher stood, studying the board carefully.
"Looking at this, the core pattern is very simple. But what makes it complex is the surrounding batik lines that wrap around it," he said, his eyes fixed on the design.
"I won't ask where or how you learned this," the teacher added. "But let me ask again—just to be sure."
He turned toward Kael. "In your view, what allows a batik pattern like this to be used for everything? Especially for magic?"
Kael didn't answer right away. His expression tightened slightly—not out of confusion, but consideration. To answer that question properly, several conditions had to be clear first: how the pattern was meant to manifest, and what purpose it was designed for.
"Hmph. He doesn't even know something that basic? If you don't know, go back to first year," said a boy near the window—Setnov, the same one who had mocked Kael on his first day.
The teacher looked at him. "Then tell us, Setnov. What do you think the answer is?"
"Obviously, it's arkanum," Setnov said confidently.
"That's only half right," the teacher replied.
"What? How can that be wrong? Everyone here knows that's the answer!" Setnov shouted, pointing around the room.
Kael spoke calmly without turning his head. "That's true—if you think a batik pattern activates because of arkanum. But if you don't first understand its purpose, it won't respond to anything at all."
The class murmured quietly. "Whoa… is that true?" someone whispered.
"Looks like Setnov's not as smart as he thinks," another giggled.
The quiet laughter made Setnov's jaw tighten. To him, it wasn't chatter—it was mockery.
"Bang!"
His hand slammed the desk. "What did you just say?!"
"Alright, enough," the teacher cut in sharply. "Calm down."
The teacher took a deep breath. "Many of you probably think Kael was only placed in this class because of Ruby—because Ruby's grandfather is the head of the foundation."
No one spoke. Silence meant agreement.
"If that's not the case," Setnov said through clenched teeth, "then how did he get in?"
Ruby sighed, and the teacher looked toward Kael.
"I have no obligation to answer," Kael said, unbothered.
The teacher shook his head, smiling faintly. "Alright. Then I'll explain, so you all stop fighting over a misunderstanding."
Every eye turned toward him—not out of academic curiosity, but out of sheer intrigue. Everyone wanted to know how Kael had jumped straight to year seven.
---
A Few Weeks Earlier
"How can a boy who's never been to school enter directly into year seven? It makes no sense! How am I supposed to explain this to the staff and principal?"
The voice of Ruby's grandfather—Risto—echoed in his office, a small room filled with books and a heavy desk at the center.
Lina sat across from him, calm but firm. "You're the one who runs the school, Father. That should make it easy."
"It's not about that! I have a reputation to maintain. And this isn't something I can justify as an example to others."
"If Kael starts from first year, he won't be able to socialize properly. The age gap alone would make him an easy target," Lina said firmly.
"That's your reason? Just that? Then I can't approve it."
"No," Lina replied. "That's not the only reason."
"Then what?"
"You'll understand when you see him."
"I don't have time for that!" Risto snapped.
"You'll regret it if you don't," Lina said, standing her ground. "He's not the kind of child you can understand through words."
"What makes you so sure?"
"I just have a strong feeling about him."
"What? A feeling? You're asking me to make an exception based on intuition?"
"Yes."
"You've lost your mind. Get out!" he barked, rising from his chair and escorting her to the door.
"Father, please—listen to me or you'll regret it!" she shouted as the door slammed.
"Father!"
No answer came.
"Fine," she muttered under her breath. "Stubborn old man. You'll see."
---
That night, Risto couldn't sleep. He didn't know why Lina's words lingered in his mind, but they did—so much that the sunrise felt like an intrusion.
He washed his face, changed clothes, and tried to shake the thought off. His assistant greeted him outside, ready with the car.
"Good morning, sir. Everything's ready."
Risto only nodded. "Let's go."
"You seem tired, sir. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Just get me to the office. I need something to distract me."
When he entered his office, he froze. Lina was already there, sitting comfortably in his chair.
"What now?" he sighed, palm over his forehead.
"You already know why I'm here," she said, smiling mischievously.
He groaned. "Out of my chair."
Risto lifted her easily, setting her aside like a child before sitting down.
"I'll make a decision," he said finally.
Lina smiled triumphantly, rubbing his shoulders. "And your condition?"
"Two of them," Risto said. "First, I want to see the boy myself."
"That's easy. I'll take you now," she interrupted.
"Wait. The second—if I'm convinced, he still has to pass an exam prepared by the teachers. The material will be from year eight."
"Year eight?" Lina's voice rose. "I only asked for year seven! Why test him above that?"
"If you don't like it, we're done here."
Risto didn't say it aloud, but part of him was genuinely curious. He wanted to know why this boy had occupied his thoughts all night.
"Fine," Lina said. "When do we start?"
"After work. I'll visit your house."
That evening, Risto kept his word. He asked only to observe Kael from afar.
From the car, he watched Kael swing a wooden sword with flawless focus and precision.
"Oh, Lin… where are his parents?" Risto asked.
Lina told him everything—from Kael's parents' disappearance to how she had promised Selaphine to look after the boy.
Risto said nothing at first. But after a moment, he sighed. "Alright. I'll keep an eye on him for a few days."
And he did—watching from the same spot at the same hour, day after day.
On the final day, he called Lina. "Bring the boy tomorrow. We'll have him tested by the teachers."
The exam didn't just prove Kael capable—it astonished everyone. His answers aligned with advanced research concepts that went beyond the standard curriculum.
---
"That's how Kael entered this class," the teacher said, finishing his brief retelling.
He didn't go into detail—he didn't need to. The message was clear: Kael had earned his place.
Some students looked relieved to finally know the truth. Others—like Setnov—looked even more irritated.
The teacher clapped his hands once. "Alright. Let's get back to the topic."
He turned toward Kael. "So, what do you think?"
Kael straightened slightly. He organized the information in his mind before answering.
"First, it depends on the function of the pattern," he began. "Second, once you know its purpose, analyze the mechanism. Third, once you understand that, determine how much arkanum is required for activation. If activation succeeds, you can link the command through your mind."
He continued. "Some batik patterns look identical and even serve similar functions, but the activation threshold can differ depending on the arkanum capacity."
His conclusion was simple: arkanum was the final stage, not the cause—and that was why most children under twelve failed to use it properly. It required deep understanding and precise control.
The teacher nodded in satisfaction. Not everyone in the room understood, but that was expected.
"Alright," he said. "Since we know this pattern functions as a key or seal, the next question is: what's it made from? And how much arkanum does it need?"
Kael hesitated.
The teacher smiled faintly. "It's made up of symbols—marks, carvings, inscriptions, and so on. But think further: what's it made of? Blood? Ink? Something else? If it's blood, then whose?"
Kael froze. The question hit him like a realization. He had overlooked that part entirely.
He tried to recall the intricate design on his mother's sealed envelope, every groove and contour.
"If you're not sure," the teacher said, "then let's explore some possibilities together."
As he continued explaining, Kael's thoughts drifted far away. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't clearly picture it. His focus returned only when the sound of chairs scraping broke the silence.
"Come on, Kael," Ruby nudged him with his elbow.
Kael rose and followed the others as the lesson came to an end.
"If you ever need help or a hint, come see me," the teacher said as Kael reached the door.
Kael nodded, smiling faintly in thanks.
Outside, Ruby waved before pedaling away. The rest of the students followed, bicycles clattering down the road.
Kael, as always, chose to run. To him, it was part of training—just as his father had taught: keep training, even if your leg is broken.
"Bang!"
A loud crash echoed behind him.
"Aah—sorry, boss! Maybe I did that on purpose, haha!"
Setnov's mocking laughter filled the air as his bicycle bumped hard into Kael's back.
---
To be continued...