Aeron Araxys was hiding in the academy bathroom.
Not because he needed the toilet.Nor because he was sick.But because the professor was about to tell the class to control their mana—and he had absolutely no idea how.
"This is bad…"
He stared at his hands as if they had personally betrayed him.
"We live in a magic world."
His gaze flickered between his palms.
"So why can't we do any magic?"
He paused.
"Was there a tutorial I missed?"
Aeron had enough. He went over to the last stall and locked himself in.
"No one's leaving until I make sense of mana."
He sat on the toilet seat with his back straight and imagined a sphere of water. He pictured it travelling down his arm, pooling in his palm. He pointed his hand outward and muttered seriously,
"Go."
Nothing happened. Two minutes passed.
"Mana."
"GO."
Then he started trying every hand sign he could remember from his past life and cursed nonstop for ten minutes.
'Did this body come with missing instructions?'
Then he thought back to the moment he had been flattened by the witch.
The moment he saw the strings of mana.
He replayed the memory again and again.
Eyes closed.
Strings.
Fibres.
Strands.
Filaments.
He quickly pulled up the mail from earlier that day and reread his traits.
Mana Filament Control
The bearer can divide mana into delicate filaments, allowing them to weave, connect, and manipulate mana with extraordinary precision.
"Hm."
He thought back to what Eliza had said earlier.
Push the mana from the mana core to the fingertips.
The mana core was like a heart pumping blood. No one consciously could consciously control their heart, yet blood still flowed where it was needed most.
When you ran—
your legs.
When you threw—
your arms.
Once again, Aeron closed his eyes and focused.
Mana to the fingertips.
Just like the professor said.
For a moment—
nothing happened.
Then a strange sensation spread across his palm.
It wasn't cold.
Nor warm.
Not heavy.
Not light.
It felt…
thin.
Weightless.
Aeron slowly opened his eyes.
Thin strands of pale blue mana stretched across his fingers.
They looked extremely delicate.
Like spider silk.
Somehow he instinctively knew their presence would be hard to detect.
Just like himself.
As if the mana carried the same quiet strangeness that defined Aeron Araxys.
Aeron blinked.
"…Wait."
He wiggled his fingers.
The strands followed.
They didn't swirl like normal mana.
They wove.
Aeron frowned.
He was sure he had fire and lightning affinities. Normally, elemental mana carried a sensation tied to its nature.
Fire felt warm.
Lightning felt sharp – adrenaline-like.
But his mana felt…
pure.
"Why did the stone only show those two affinities then?"
He stared at the delicate threads between his fingers.
"So everyone else gets fireballs…"
He sighed.
"…and I get sewing supplies."
He waved his arm around, watching the silk-like strands follow his hand. As his concentration slipped, the mana fibres began to fade. It was time to return to the training hall before anyone suspected anything.
Anyone? Who was he kidding? Only one person even knew he had been gone, and he felt a subtle reluctance to return to training.
"Ah, damn it. I probably missed the snow show."
It was unfortunate, but he had his own circumstances.
Such as sitting in a toilet stall fiddling with strings.
There was a strong desire to skip the rest of the session, but he needed to understand himself better. The next part of training was target practice. He wanted to watch how everyone else used their mana and perhaps take inspiration from it.
Even though Aeron had missed Lyra's performance, there would still be a duelling event at the end of the session. In the show, it had served as a proper introduction to the cast.
Now he got to watch it in real life.
Aeron smiled sinisterly and rubbed his hands together.
Like a goblin that had found something fun to play with.
A true pioneer of the arcane, Aeron had unlocked his powers on a toilet.
.
.
.
By the time Aeron made it back, target practice had already begun. A faint chill still lingered in the air, and more than a few students seemed distracted.
'The aftermath of Lyra's snow show.'
'I really did miss it.'
He sighed and made his way to the far end of the training hall, where his assigned dummy stood waiting for him in a rigid boxer's stance. It was built from some obsidian-black metal, vaguely humanoid and just ugly enough to be irritating. Through the academy watches, students could adjust its durability, combat role, and even the rank of its mana core. The metal was some form of rune-assisted nanotechnology, so unless it was completely vaporised, the dummy would simply reconstruct itself.
Aeron tapped through the settings and selected Normal Civilian.
'I mean, I basically learned mana five minutes ago.'
'Yeah, exactly. So don't look at me like that.'
He stared at the dummy.
It continued to look at him exactly the same way.
He narrowed his eyes.
'Why did they have to call it "Normal Civilian"?'
'Why not "petty criminal" or "thug"?'
His silent dispute with the machine ended abruptly when an explosion of fire drew his attention across the hall.
A target dummy had just been blasted apart, sparks and flame scattering through the practice zone. Murmurs of approval spread almost immediately.
Aeron barely noticed them.
He was too busy staring at the flaws.
The attack had looked impressive, but only at first glance. Too much mana had been poured into it. Nearly half of it had been wasted on output that served no real purpose. Traces of fire mana and raw residual energy still lingered in the air around the student.
'You'd never get away with that on a covert mission.'
The student crossed his arms afterwards, but Aeron doubted it was pride. More likely, he was hiding the slight tremor in his hands.
Inefficient.
He shifted his gaze to the next demonstration.
Scarlett Draven.
Her firepower was less explosive, but cleaner. Each attack carried better precision and sharper penetrating force. There was still leakage—thin remnants of mana trailing from each bolt—but it was more contained. Even the strain in her arm was subtler, visible only in the small twitch that followed each release.
Aeron watched a little longer and realised the difference was not just talent.
It was method.
The previous student had relied on a flashy fire-infused punch.
Scarlett fought with a blade.
Different style. Different structure. Different flow.
And the longer Aeron observed, the more something in his mind began to sharpen.
Observer'The bearer demonstrates heightened awareness and analytical perception when observing others.'
At first, he noticed only fragments.
A shift in stance.
Tension in the shoulder.
A slight turn of the wrist before mana release.
But the fragments did not stay separate for long.
His mind began linking them together, drawing lines between movement and outcome, cause and response. One pattern led into another. One tell narrowed the possibilities of what would come next.
Slowly, almost without realising it, Aeron began building a private library of patterns.
'A kick. Then a flame-infused swing.'
'Too wide. She'll miss.'
A bolt of lightning cracked through the air a second later and veered left, stunning another student instead of the target.
Aeron blinked.
He had been right.
And once it happened once, it began happening again.
His success rate climbed rapidly, but even then, he understood the gap.
Seeing was not the same as reacting.
It was like watching a horror film. You could know the jumpscare was coming and still flinch when it happened. Prediction did not automatically grant the body the ability to keep up.
Besides, these were only students.
Their movements would sharpen with time. Their habits would become less obvious. Their emotions would settle. Someday, reading them would be much harder if he didn't keep up.
But for now—
this was enough.
A first step.
Aeron turned back to his dummy.
If Observer could dissect others, then there was no reason it could not dissect him too.
'Left foot back.'
'Lower the angle a little.'
He raised his arms and aimed at the target. Inside him, mana shifted at his command, loosening into something thin and delicate before crawling down his arm toward his palm.
Then he released it.
Several silk-like strands shot forward and struck the dummy.
Aeron froze.
'I hit the dummy.'
'YESSSSS—'
The dummy remained completely unharmed.
His three threads slid off the metal and dropped limply to the ground, all momentum gone. It looked less like an attack and more like someone had thrown yarn at a wall.
And yet Aeron still stood there with his chest slightly out, absurdly proud of himself.
Because, ineffective or not, he had done it.
He had projected mana.
Well.
Three mana strings.
His celebration died the instant he felt eyes on him.
Aeron tensed.
'What is WRONG with her? There are SS+ monsters in this class!'
He dismissed the strings at once, abandoning all further ambition for the time being. Spade privileges included private training rooms. So he would experiment later. For now he would just watch and be a spectator. He shook his head in bitter resignation.
'She's lucky my max is only C-rank. Otherwise...'
His fists were clenched and shaking as he looked up at the ceiling, eyes closed, imagining what he would do.
"Hey look, Kyle's about to do something." His bitter thoughts were interrupted by voices nearby.
"I wonder what he's gonna do. And did I mention?"
"He is sooo hot." Aeron ignored the rest of the conversation and followed their gaze instead.
'Yeah... they were right. He is pretty handsome,' he thought while rubbing his chin.
But the humour faded the moment Aeron really looked at him. Kyle's stance was flawless. His shoulder tensed as he raised his hand as if he were summoning something.
The null attribute was one of the rare ones, spoken of in the same breath as space and light. It governed raw mana itself—dangerous to learn, though still less suicidal than space.
Kyle was heir to the rank one guild, the Empyrean Covenant. He had access to resources Aeron could only dream of.
At that point, Aeron had fully given up on pretending to be normal. Kyle was clearly about to show off.
'He's gonna do it!'
Then the air itself seemed to hold its breath.
All eyes turned to Kyle.
And he moved.
His eyes opened, revealing an intense ruby red.
They gleamed with imperial intent.
Residual mana was normally invisible.
That was, until Kyle.
He was a monster of a genius.
The null attribute governed raw mana itself, and every spell left behind scattered traces of elemental residue.
Under normal circumstances, that residue would drift away.
Under Kyle's command, it gathered.
Colours formed from emptiness.
Crimson. Gold. Azure. Violet.
Condensed fragments of elemental residue swirled above him like a living galaxy.
There was no strain in his expression.
No visible effort.
Only effortless composure.
Then Kyle lowered his hand—
like an emperor finalising a decree.
Emperor's Decree
What followed was blinding.The gathered force touched the dummy's head, and the world turned white.
As it disappeared, students gasped.
Xavier frowned.
Lyra narrowed her eyes slightly.
Luke's jaw hung open.
Scarlett grinned.
The dummy had been adjusted to C+ rank and it had been erased from existence.
Nothing else needed to be said.
This was the rank one.
While the rest of the hall stood stunned, Aeron was internally losing his mind.
'Oh, it's over. That was insane. No way I got to watch that live.''Did I just ascend as a spectator?'
Aeron looked over at Eliza and her face was neutral as if she expected this from the rank one. Aeron rolled his eyes but this time she was looking at him.
He blinked.
Then looked away.
'Nothing's happening here...'
Thankfully, Eliza did not press him.
She turned her attention to the still gawking class.
"That's enough target practice," she said.
Her voice cut through the lingering whispers with ease.
Several students straightened immediately. Others reluctantly pulled their attention away from Kyle.
"You've all had time to test your control against stationary targets. Now let's see how well that control holds against a moving opponent."
At once, the atmosphere in the hall changed.
This time, it was no longer excitement.
It was tension.
At the centre of the training hall lay a large square arena.
"We will now observe a duel."
"The only rule is this: no killing blows. The match ends when one fighter loses consciousness. Surrender is not an option."
Several students frowned.
Others tensed, shifting uncomfortably where they stood.
Most of them had been raised in privilege. To them, rules like these sounded brutal.
A quiet boy raised his hand.
Eliza's presence crashed over him before he could speak.
"There is no room for discussion."
He trembled and lowered his head, teeth clenched in humiliation.
"Catheryn Krown and Ruth Flare."
A wave of relief passed through the class at not hearing their own names.
At the same time, the students Catheryn had previously helped frowned in concern.
She was kind. Too kind.
And not nearly enough of a fighter for what this place demanded.
"Step forward."
'Damn. I feel sorry for what's about to happen to her.'
Aeron watched quietly.
'But this is Caelis.'
'If she doesn't change, this place will break her.'
Catheryn stepped into the arena.
Her straight rose-blonde hair swayed gently with each step. From where most stood, her lowered head hid her expression.
But Aeron could tell.
She was scared.
Her shoulders shuddered ever so slightly, and each step she took was just a fraction off rhythm. She hid it well. Her back remained straight, and when she finally turned to face the crowd—
she smiled.
It was overwhelming.
In an instant, any lingering doubt seemed to disappear. The mood around her lightened almost automatically. Catheryn's cherry-pink eyes shone with a soothing warmth, and her smile carried the kind of comfort that made people want to believe everything was fine.But Aeron could tell it was only a mask. Behind it, something in her was screaming for help.
For once, his thoughts fell silent as he watched her.
Then Ruth approached the arena.
Ruth was one of the Flare twins. Both siblings had black hair and mismatched eyes, but Ruth's were blue and brown, each concealing dangerous abilities. He was the tank and brawler of the pair. Kind by nature—
but ruthless in a fight.
This would be a hard watch.
Still, this was Caelis, and Aeron needed to get used to what that meant.
Ruth's broad frame stopped a short distance from Catheryn. He looked her in the eyes and lowered his voice.
"If it becomes too much, I'll knock you out gently."
Catheryn nodded enthusiastically, still smiling.
"Good luck, Ruth!"
At the edge of the arena, a rack carrying a myriad of weapons rose from the floor.
The two made their choices.
Ruth selected a heavy flail and a gauntlet for his left hand.
Catheryn chose a crown, a wand, and two daggers.
A dome of mana formed over the arena before turning completely transparent.
No interference.
The silence from the spectators grew heavy.
The two faced each other.
"When you're ready."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then Ruth moved.
He crossed the distance in a burst of force and brought his flail crashing down onto the spot where Catheryn had been standing. The instant it struck, three rings of jagged metal burst outward from the impact point.
Catheryn was already airborne.
Her crown hovered above her head, spinning as it converted mana at an alarming rate.
Ruth gave her no time to breathe.
He hurled the flail at her, then jumped backward in the same motion.
A layer of wind formed around Catheryn, catching the weapon before it reached her.
Then the flail imploded.
Jagged shrapnel exploded outward.
Some pieces were stopped by the wind barrier.
Some were not.
Thin cuts opened across Catheryn's legs, and one shard buried itself deep into her hip.
Before she could recover, Ruth twisted his empty right hand.
The embedded shrapnel rotated.
A gut-wrenching cry tore through the arena.
Catheryn collapsed to her knees, hair falling over her face as tears streamed down beneath it.
Aeron grimaced.
A pool of blood had already begun spreading beneath her.
And Ruth still moved.
He clenched his hand, and every shard of metal flew back toward him—
including the one lodged inside her body.
A wet, bloody squelch echoed through the hall, followed by another scream of pain.
The returning shrapnel wrapped around Ruth's left arm, forming a silver shoulder guard. One piece, still stained with Catheryn's blood, rested near the top of it.
He planned to end it now.
Ruth launched himself into the air. The metal from the shoulder guard flowed down and reinforced the gauntlet on his left arm.
Then he let gravity do the rest.
A thunderous crash shook the hall.
Smoke flooded the arena floor, swallowing the sight of both fighters.
When it finally cleared, the students were met with something unexpected.
Ruth's left arm hung limp at his side.
The gauntlet was gone.
The sleeve of his training uniform had been torn to rags.
'Here it comes,' Aeron thought.
'The reason she's number seven.'
The broken, kneeling girl from moments ago was gone.
Catheryn stood upright now.
Her hair had paled dramatically, and both of her eyes were completely black. Not a single wound remained on her body.
Beside her, another Catheryn was still kneeling in the blood.
Then that figure dissolved into mist.
Ruth looked down at his limp arm.
Smoke curled from it for a moment—
and then the image peeled away.
His arm was perfectly fine.
The gauntlet was intact.
Only the shoulder guard had vanished.
Ruth's eyes narrowed.
Aeron pouted.
'Yep. She's broken.'
'She literally has four affinities. This world is so unfair.'
'At least she can only use one in her normal state.'
He reasoned with himself.
Illusion.
The same element Eliza wielded.
Catheryn had tricked Ruth into burning mana and somehow removed his available metal in the process. Since he was not strong enough to materialise metal himself, he had to rely on whatever the academy provided.
His jaw tensed.
Above Catheryn, the crown spun again—
even faster this time.
Ruth did not interrupt her. He focused on steadying his breathing instead.
Then Catheryn moved.
She snatched up both daggers and slashed.
Two compressed blades of wind tore across the arena.
Ruth crossed his arms and let the gauntlet absorb most of the impact.
As he lowered his guard, he narrowly avoided the first dagger aimed at his throat.
The second followed immediately after.
But Catheryn had already vanished.
Ruth's eyes widened.
A palm pressed lightly against his back.
Then gravity multiplied.
His body buckled under the force.
The arena floor cracked beneath his feet as the pressure drove him down. Muscles strained across his frame, but even Ruth could not move properly while pinned like that.
The second dagger curved back toward him.
Straight for his eye.
His blue eye flared.
Stored momentum surged through his body—the force from his earlier slam, the impact of Catheryn's wind blades, everything he had endured up to that point—
compressed.
Then released.
Everything within five metres exploded outward.
Catheryn was thrown back violently, taking the full backlash of Ruth's stored force along with the recoil from her own attacks.
'One of his eye abilities,' Aeron noted.
'Repel.'
Catheryn slammed into the barrier and dropped to the floor.
Her body went limp.
Her pale hair slowly returned to rose-gold as unconsciousness claimed her.
Ruth remained standing, bent over with one hand braced against his knee, breathing hard.
"Ruth wins."
Silence followed.
Some students looked pale. Others avoided the arena entirely. A few stared at Catheryn with new understanding.
Aeron exhaled slowly.
'So this is what rank means here.'
Eliza did not give the class time to recover.
"Next. Angelina Mephloena Jackson—"