Monday’s Spellcasting Theory css began with a calm, almost sleepy atmosphere—until Professor Lucian stood at the front of the lecture hall and cleared his throat, instantly commanding silence.

  “I want to begin by saying—well done,” he said. “Your performance on the st test was encouraging. Creating original spells is the foundation of what it means to be a capable spellcaster. And make no mistake, you will be expected to develop your own spells throughout your career. That’s why understanding runes is so important.”

  Ethan sat straighter in his seat, the words echoing what he had started to truly grasp only yesterday during his lesson with Lilith. It was validating—almost exciting.

  “But,” Lucian continued, “today, we’ll shift gears. Let’s talk about spell cssification.”

  A few groans and whispers followed, but the professor raised a hand, silencing them.

  “There are two common cssification methods. The first—and simplest—is by grade. To determine a spell’s grade, you count the number of runes in the construction, take the base-10 logarithm, and round down.”

  A moment of silence.

  “…So, a spell with up to 9 runes is grade 0,” he expined. “From 10 to 99 is grade 1. From 100 to 999 is grade 2. And so on.”

  The reaction was instant. Students turned to one another in disbelief.

  “Over a hundred runes?” someone muttered.

  “Is that even castable?”

  “I can barely manage six!”

  The professor chuckled, clearly expecting the reaction. “Yes, yes. I know. Every year, without fail, someone panics at the idea of casting triple-digit spells. But calm down. There are techniques to make things easier. You’ll learn them in time.”

  Eliza raised her hand. “Are you referring to the Memory Mana Circution Technique?”

  Lucian nodded with an approving smile. “That’s a very good example. Though not quite the one I was hinting at. Still, well observed. But today’s lesson isn’t about those shortcuts.”

  He tapped the board and summoned a glowing diagram of concentric circles.

  “We’ll get to higher-grade techniques in your second year. For now, let’s keep our focus on grades zero and one.”

  He gave the css a moment to take notes before continuing.

  “Now, the second way we cssify spells is by type. Anyone want to guess what that means?”

  Ethan raised his hand. “Magic and Dark Magic?”

  Lucian blinked—then ughed, heartily and without restraint.

  “That is one way, yes! But not the one I meant.”

  More chuckles passed through the css.

  “What I’m referring to is cssification by effect. The function of the spell. Let’s go through some examples. If a spell causes damage, what type is it?”

  “Attack spell,” the css murmured.

  “Correct. What if it heals?”

  “Healing.”

  “If it strengthens a target temporarily?”

  “Support.”

  “If the target isn’t living?”

  “Enchantment,” someone guessed.

  “Exactly. Now, what if it weakens the target temporarily?”

  “Debuff.”

  “And if the effect is permanent?”

  “Curse,” several said together.

  Lucian nodded. “Good. Now if it brings a creature into existence—?”

  “Summoning.”

  “And if it generates an element or object—?”

  “Invocation.”

  “Very good.” The professor beamed. “As you can see, there are many ways to sort spells by what they do. Some types even overp.”

  He waved his hand, and glowing keywords appeared on the board behind him.

  “For today’s homework: open your textbooks to pages 36 and 37. Each of you will provide one example for each spell type listed there. Real spells, mind you—not ones you made up on the spot.”

  The groans returned.

  “And no, ‘Fireball’ is not an example for every category,” Lucian added with a smile.

  The css ughed.

  “Now,” he said, stepping away from the board, “let’s dig deeper into how these types interact. There’s more to this than naming spells—and you’ll need to understand it thoroughly by the end of the term. Let’s begin.”

  And just like that, the lecture truly began.

  After a short lunch break, Geography css was next on the schedule.

  Ethan sat down, pulled out his textbook, and began reviewing the day’s topic as he usually did. His focus was unwavering—at least until the voices of his two friends drifted in from beside him.

  “Hey, Oliver,” Daniel leaned over with a grin. “You heard about that event coming up?”

  “You mean the annual competition with the Royal Academy?” Oliver asked, barely looking up.

  “Yeah, that one!”

  “Of course I know,” Oliver scoffed. “My cousin’s company is usually hired to prep the entire event. Food, logistics, everything.”

  Daniel blinked. “Wait, seriously? That sounds like a big deal.”

  “It is. Last year there was a huge problem with the delivery too. I had to step in myself.”

  Ethan gnced up from his book, mildly intrigued. Daniel leaned in. “Wait, what do you mean ‘step in’?”

  “I mean I had to help bake the damn food and deliver it to the venue,” Oliver groaned. “Half the staff was bedridden after the accident.”

  “What kind of accident are we talking about here?” Daniel asked, eyes wide.

  “Monster attack,” Oliver replied with a dramatic sigh. “The caravan got jumped on its way to the capital. Luckily, the cargo was fine and no one died, but a lot of the crew were injured.”

  Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Why even bring food in from outside? Isn’t the Academy fancy enough to have its own chefs?”

  Oliver snorted. “You wouldn’t believe the demands nobles make about their food. Fresh isn’t good enough. Everything needs to be from ‘the finest regions of the country,’ with a dozen quality seals stamped on it. The ingredients have to be transported in magically sealed containers so the quality doesn't degrade a single decimal point.”

  Daniel whistled. “That sounds like a nightmare.”

  “Nightmare doesn’t even cover it,” Oliver grumbled. “And that’s before they do the inspections. They inspect the food before it’s cooked. Then they inspect it after it’s prepared. And if anything’s off by even a hair? Boom—rejected. All that work for nothing.”

  Ethan just shook his head. “What else did you expect from nobles?”

  Oliver crossed his arms and muttered under his breath, “Still doesn’t make it any less painful.”

  Daniel gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Well, if it happens again this year, let me know. I’ll come and taste-test everything.”

  “Thanks,” Oliver deadpanned. “That’ll be so helpful.”

  Daniel leaned back in his chair, waving a hand dismissively. “Alright, enough about the picky nobles and food prep. Tell me about the event itself!”

  Oliver nodded, resting his elbows on the desk. “There’s not that much to say. It’s just the annual competition between our Adventurer Academy and the Royal Academy. Happens every year in April. Involves the whole school and sts three days.”

  “No csses during it, right?” Daniel asked, clearly perking up.

  “Yeah, as far as I know, none,” Oliver confirmed. “It starts with a long, boring speech from both schools’ principals—same canned stuff every year about ‘spirit of competition’ and ‘mutual growth through challenge,’ bh bh bh.”

  Ethan smirked. “Cssic ceremony nonsense.”

  “Exactly,” Oliver said. “Then comes a big feast for the opening ceremony. And after that, the real fun starts—competitions. First years vs first years, second years vs second years, and so on.”

  “Matches are one-on-one?” Daniel asked, eyes flicking between Ethan and Oliver.

  “And parties of four,” Oliver added with a nod. “Both formats are included.”

  Ethan frowned. “Isn’t it too soon for a tournament? I mean, it’s only been a few months since we started training.”

  “No, actually, that’s exactly the point of the tournament,” Oliver replied, leaning forward a bit.

  “What do you mean?” Ethan asked, curiosity piqued.

  “This tournament is designed to measure each student’s ability at the start of the year,” Oliver expined. “Then there’s another one six months from now where the same teams compete again to see how much they’ve improved. And the top four from each year get invited to a final tournament at the end of the year.”

  “Wait!” Daniel blinked. “So if we sign up for this one, we’re basically signing up for three tournaments?”

  “Two, if you don’t make it to the top four,” Oliver said, nonchantly putting his books in his backpack.

  “Cool. So how do we sign up?” Daniel asked.

  “No idea,” Oliver shrugged. “They don’t post that kind of stuff this early. But I’m sure we’ll hear more soon.”

  “There’s no need to worry,” Ethan chimed in. “These events usually get heavily announced before they happen. We’ll get the rules and everything in time.”

  Daniel grinned. “Then let’s make a team.”

  Ethan looked at him, bemused. “A team of three healers? What are we going to do, out-heal them?”

  “It’d be fun! We would be called The Immortals!” Daniel argued. “Anyway, most first years are still untrained. We might win a few rounds if we get lucky with our pairings.”

  Oliver shook his head. “From what I saw st year, we wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  Daniel refused to give up. “Okay, okay—what if we got Christopher on our team?”

  Ethan burst into ughter. “If Christopher joins, we could sit on the sidelines and eat popcorn. He’d probably win the whole thing solo.”

  “Exactly!” Daniel said, triumphant. “So we just have to invite him now before he joins a better team!”

  “Or any team,” Ethan added with a smirk.

  “No way,” Oliver said ftly. “Keep me out of that.”

  “Coward,” Daniel accused.

  “Realist,” Oliver shot back. “Better a healthy coward than a brave fool with a broken arm.”

  Daniel clicked his tongue, then suddenly threw an arm around Ethan’s shoulder. “Fine! Then it’s just you and me, Ethan!”

  “Wait, are we really doing this!? I th-”

  But before Ethan could worm his way out of the spontaneous commitment, the cssroom door opened and Professor Joren walked in, calling for silence.

  “Alright, everyone, take your seats. Let’s begin.”

  "Tch! We talk ter..."

  As soon as the css ended, Daniel shot out of his seat like a spring. “Alright! Time to hunt a Christopher!” he decred with dramatic fir, eyes gleaming with purpose.

  Ethan let out a ugh, grabbing his bag. “You make it sound like we’re tracking some legendary beast.”

  “Well, if the shoe fits…” Daniel grinned. “Come on, we’ve got to move fast. No doubt people are already trying to rope him into their teams.”

  “Hold on,” Ethan said, raising a brow. “Any idea where he even is right now?”

  Daniel didn’t hesitate. He gave a smug smile, confident as ever. “Oh, I have my methods.”

  Ethan followed his line of sight… and immediately frowned. “No. You don’t mean—Misha?”

  Daniel shook his head. “Nope. Her friend.” His finger pointed straight at Celica, who was right beside Misha, casually chatting with Anya near the cssroom exit.

  “…You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

  “That’s right!” Daniel cpped his hands. “Celica’s his biggest fan, remember? If anyone’s been keeping tabs on him, it’s her.”

  Ethan winced. “Isn’t that a bit of a stretch?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.” Daniel was already moving, motioning for Ethan to follow.

  Ethan sighed, dragging his feet after him. “I can already feel this blowing up in our faces.”

  Misha, Celica, and Anya stood chatting in a loose triangle, their voices half-drowned out by the usual post-css hallway noise. The girls were still in review mode after their Geography css, casually going over the material they’d just learned.

  “So, just to be clear,” Celica said, holding up her fingers as she ticked them off one by one, “the central mountain range is home to four main types of monsters: dragons, wyverns, goblins, and ice wolves, right?”

  “Yup,” Anya confirmed with a nod. “Dragons are mostly in the deepest regions. Wyverns prefer the ridges and cliffs, ice wolves stick to the snowline, and goblins... well, they’re pests. They’re everywhere.”

  Misha crossed her arms thoughtfully. “Professor said that in winter, the goblins get more aggressive because they fight over food. The ice wolves too.”

  “And that’s why adventurers get hazard pay during the cold months,” Anya added with a grin.

  “Still can’t believe dragons live up there,” Celica muttered, gncing toward the map folded under her arm. “I mean, I’ve seen sketches, but... a real dragon? That’s crazy.”

  Misha gave a small, thoughtful smile. “Well, we’ll have to deal with them someday, won’t we?”

  “Hahaha! Misha the Dragon-Syer!” Celica ughed. “I can’t wait to hear the full tale. ‘With a single strike of her bde, she took down the mighty beast!’”

  “C-Celica!” Misha’s cheeks flushed pink. “That’s not funny!”

  Anya raised an eyebrow and stepped in, trying to come to her friend’s defense. “She’s braver than either of us! You’d probably faint at the sight of a wyrmling!”

  “Oh please,” Celica scoffed. “They're just lizards with wings! What's there to fear about them!”

  “I want to hear you say that again when one's right in front of you!” Anya smirked.

  “Hey, girls!”

  The three turned as Daniel strode up with his usual swagger, Ethan following a step behind, looking slightly less confident.

  “Oh—hey,” Misha greeted quickly, straightening her posture as her eyes flicked to Ethan.

  He offered her a polite smile, and for a brief moment, Misha’s expression brightened.

  “Hey, Misha.”

  She took a tiny step forward, opening her mouth to say something—

  “Celica!” Daniel beamed, cutting in with the energy of a charging bull. “Quick question—since you’re Christopher’s number one fan... any idea where he might be right now?”

  The hopeful spark in Misha’s eyes dimmed instantly. She blinked, lips parting in silent surprise, before her gaze drifted down to the floor. Anya noticed and rested a hand gently on her friend’s shoulder.

  Celica blinked, caught off guard. “W-Why would I know that?”

  “Oh, come on,” Daniel grinned. “You’re practically his fan club president. You’ve gotta know where he trains.”

  “That’s not—!” Celica began, flustered, her cheeks already coloring.

  “Don’t lie, Celica,” Anya chimed in with a teasing smile. “You talk about him all the time.”

  “I do not!”

  Misha, staying silent, shifted her weight and gnced at Ethan. He wasn’t looking her way anymore.

  Daniel pressed on, unrelenting. “Look, we’re thinking of inviting him to our team for the tournament. We just need to talk to him.”

  Celica folded her arms, lips pursed. “No.”

  “Come on,” Daniel said, exasperated. “Wouldn’t you want to see him fighting in the tournament?”

  Celica opened her mouth to retort—but stopped.

  For a split second, her eyes unfocused, caught in a vivid daydream. Christopher, cd in shining practice armor, stood in the middle of the arena. The crowd roared as he parried a barrage of attacks with elegant precision, then dashed forward, his bde a blur, knocking his opponent clean off their feet. He turned to the stands, face lit by sunlight, and gave a confident smile.

  Celica blinked. Her arms dropped to her sides with a defeated sigh.

  “…Fine.” She looked away, cheeks faintly pink. “He usually trains past the west courtyard, in that old forest clearing by the aqueduct. But if he finds out I told you, I’ll deny everything.”

  Daniel gave her a thumbs-up. “Knew you’d come around.”

  “You didn’t hear it from me,” she added firmly.

  “You? Who are you?” Daniel said with a mock-confused blink. “Never met you before in my life.”

  Celica rolled her eyes. “Get out of here already.”

  Ethan gave her a grateful nod. “Thanks, Celica. Really.”

  The boys turned to leave, and only then did Ethan gnce back at Misha. Her arms were crossed again, her expression unreadable.

  “I’ll, uh… see you ter?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she replied quickly. Her voice was steady, but there was a tightness in her smile that hadn’t been there before.

  As the boys walked off, Anya leaned closer and whispered, “You okay?”

  Misha looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “…He didn’t even ask how I did on the test.”

  Celica, still flustered from the fan club accusations, didn’t notice the shift in mood. “Next time, you go talk to him first.”

  “I’ll pass,” Misha murmured.