The classroom remained unnaturally quiet long after Instructor Seraphina Valencrest finished her introduction.
No one dared whisper now.
She stood at the front of the room with her arms crossed, staff resting lightly against her shoulder, sword at her waist—an embodiment of contradiction. Magic and steel. Discipline and chaos. Her presence alone pressed down on the room like an invisible weight, making even breathing feel deliberate.
"Sit properly," she said suddenly.
The sharpness of her voice snapped several students straight. Someone fumbled, another knocked a book to the floor. Seraphina didn't raise her voice again—she didn't need to.
She began pacing slowly across the front of the classroom, boots clicking against the polished stone.
"This academy produces elites," she said. "Not because it is kind, not because it is fair, but because it is unforgiving."
Her eyes swept across us.
"Talent," she continued, "is a lie you tell yourself to sleep better at night."
A murmur rippled through the room.
She stopped walking.
The murmur died instantly.
"Those of you born with overflowing mana think effort is optional," she said calmly. "Those of you with strong bodies think technique is decoration. Both are wrong."
She turned, writing a single word on the board with a flick of mana.
FUNDAMENTALS
"Everything," Seraphina said, tapping the board, "returns to this."
She faced us again.
"Today's lesson is simple. Disgustingly simple. So simple that most of you will fail."
A few students frowned. Some scoffed quietly.
I leaned back slightly in my chair.
This is going to hurt.
"Stand," she ordered.
Chairs scraped across the floor as the entire class rose.
"Mana users," she said, "circulate mana through your core. Slowly."
Several students complied immediately. Soft glows flickered—blue, red, green—mana responding obediently.
"Warriors," she continued, "assume a basic stance."
Feet shifted. Shoulders squared. Some stances were decent. Others… less so.
Seraphina walked between the rows now, her gaze merciless.
"You," she said suddenly, stopping beside a tall boy. "Your stance is garbage."
The boy flushed. "I—"
She tapped his knee with the end of her staff.
He yelped and nearly collapsed.
"Locked joints," she said coolly. "You'll shatter your own body before your enemy does."
She moved on.
"You," she said to a mage. "Your mana flow is sloppy."
"I've been told my control is above average—"
She snapped her fingers.
The mage's mana sputtered and dispersed instantly. He gasped.
"Overconfidence causes more deaths than demons," Seraphina said. "Fix it."
My turn came sooner than I expected.
She stopped in front of me.
Red eyes met steel-gray ones.
"You," she said.
I straightened instinctively. "Yes, Instructor."
She studied me in silence for a few seconds. Too many seconds.
"…Your mana," she said slowly. "Circulate it."
I swallowed.
Carefully, I guided mana from my core. It was faint—embarrassingly so—but steady. A weak shimmer barely visible to the naked eye.
Several students nearby glanced at me, some with barely concealed disdain.
Seraphina did not laugh.
Interesting.
She crouched slightly, bringing her eyes level with mine.
"Small," she said. "But controlled."
She stood. "Painfully controlled."
Then, unexpectedly—
"That is not a flaw," she said. "It is a foundation."
My breath caught for just a moment.
She turned away before I could react.
"For the next hour," Seraphina announced, "you will do nothing but breathe."
Confusion spread.
"Breathe?" someone repeated incredulously.
"Yes," she said flatly. "Breathe."
She demonstrated, inhaling slowly, mana gathering faintly around her chest, then exhaling as it dispersed smoothly.
"This," she said, "is how you learn control. Not by throwing spells like children playing with fireworks."
Groans filled the room.
I closed my eyes.
This… I can do.
Time passed strangely.
At first, it felt pointless. Students fidgeted. Mana surged unevenly. Sweat formed on brows. Frustration mounted.
Then—slowly—something changed.
I felt it first.
My mana responded more easily. My breathing steadied. The ache in my core lessened, just a little.
I opened my eyes briefly.
Seraphina was watching.
Not just me—everyone.
Her gaze lingered on those who endured. Those who didn't rush. Those who didn't complain.
When the hour ended, she clapped once.
"That," she said, "was the easy part."
Several students groaned openly now.
She smiled faintly.
A dangerous expression.
"Tomorrow," she continued, "we move to applied fundamentals."
She glanced at Aurelius. "Prince or not, you bleed the same."
Then her eyes flicked to me again.
"And some of you," she added, "will discover exactly how fragile your assumptions are."
The bell rang.
Chairs scraped back as students exhaled in relief.
As people began filing out, Viola glanced back at me briefly. Our eyes met for half a second. She hesitated, then turned away, following Aurelius.
That strange tightness returned to my chest.
I ignored it.
As I gathered my things, a shadow fell across my desk.
I looked up.
Seraphina stood there.
"Rias von Leonhart," she said.
"Yes, Instructor?"
She studied me for a long moment.
"You are weak," she said bluntly.
I nodded. "I know."
Her eyebrow twitched.
"…And you are aware of it."
"Yes."
She turned away. "Good."
She paused at the door.
"Come to the training ground tonight," she said. "If you're serious."
Then she left.
I sat there for a moment, heart pounding.
Slowly—
I smiled.
Looks like… I caught the wrong kind of attention.
And for the first time since entering the academy—
I felt genuinely excited.