Morning came treacherously fast.

  I opened my eyes and realized two things.

  First: Alfus was gone. Probably bolted at first rooster crow just to avoid breathing the same air as me.

  Second: I was late. Badly.

  I slid off the bed and shuffled to the mirror.

  “Alright, what’s on today’s menu?” I muttered, peering at my reflection.

  My right eye was stable — a black abyss. My signature look.

  But the left one…

  “Yellow? Seriously?”

  My left eye was bright amber, with a vertical slit pupil, like a cat’s or a dragon’s.

  “Fantastic. Yesterday I was human, today I’m half demon, half cat. Meow, damn it.”

  I glanced at the chair.

  A spotless white uniform lay there. Pressed trousers. A vest with gold buttons.

  “Yeah, no,” I snorted. “I’ll look like a marshmallow in that. And I’ll stain it in five minutes.”

  I balled the uniform up, shoved it to the bottom of the wardrobe, and pulled on my favorite worn dark hoodie-jacket and rough boots.

  “There. ‘Elite hobo’ style. Perfect.”

  I walked through the Academy corridors.

  Students bustled everywhere — all of them in white, clean, combed, polished.

  Next to them I looked like an ink blot on a tablecloth.

  People stared. Someone snickered.

  “Look, it’s that savage,” some guy whispered. “No uniform. They’ll throw him out.”

  I reached classroom 908.

  The door was shut. A strict voice carried from inside.

  I yawned and kicked the door open.

  BANG.

  Silence hit the room.

  Thirty pairs of eyes locked onto me.

  Everyone sat straight, wearing their white uniforms.

  The princesses were at the front desk.

  Alexia saw me, slapped her palm to her forehead, and slid under the table.

  At the board stood an elf.

  Magister Elandr. The one.

  Tall. Silver-haired. With a stare sharp enough to cut glass.

  He slowly turned toward me.

  “You are late,” he said in an icy tone.

  “Yeah, happens,” I shrugged, strolling into the room. “Traffic. Corridor’s packed.”

  “Stop.”

  The elf’s voice made the window glass tremble.

  “Where is your uniform, cadet?”

  “Oh, that…” I looked myself over. “Nah. Too easy to stain. Too tight. And it’s not my style. I decided what matters is your inner world, not clothes. Isn’t that what Academies teach?”

  The class gasped.

  Someone from the back row (pretty sure it was Alfus — apparently he bought his way into this class) squeaked in horror.

  Elandr narrowed his eyes.

  “Arrogance. Tardiness. Dress code violation. And…” he studied my face. “What’s with your eyes? Different colors? Are you a clown?”

  “No. Just… versatile,” I snapped. “Can we start already? Standing around is boring.”

  Elandr set the chalk down slowly.

  “Boring? You think you’re bored here? A rankless nobody with no name?”

  “Yeah. Kind of.”

  The elf smiled.

  And that smile promised nothing good.

  “Good. If you’re bored, it means you can already do everything. Let’s check.”

  He raised his hand.

  The air in the classroom instantly heated.

  A fireball flared into existence in front of his palm.

  But not a normal one.

  It hummed, shifting color from red to white.

  Plasma.

  Pure, concentrated destructive energy.

  The students pressed into their chairs.

  “This is a fourth-circle spell,” Elandr said quietly. “‘Solar Pulse.’ Your task is to disperse it. Right now.”

  He threw it at me.

  Not hard. Slowly.

  Just to scare me.

  “If you can’t — you’ll fly out the window along with that fire.”

  The fire drifted toward my face.

  Heat singed my bangs.

  “Disperse?” I echoed in a bored voice. “Too lazy to untangle the structure…”

  I simply stuck my hand out and spread my fingers.

  “Easier to just turn it off.”

  The sphere touched my palm.

  Everyone waited for an explosion.

  Screams.

  The smell of burning flesh.

  Instead, a strange sound rang out.

  A dull, wet crack.

  Like someone crushing an eggshell.

  Black haze burst from my hand, wrapped the white fire and… squeezed.

  The huge sphere collapsed in an instant into a tiny black dot the size of a pea.

  I closed my fist.

  Pff.

  The dot vanished.

  No smoke. No heat.

  Nothing.

  Absolute emptiness.

  The silence in the classroom was so deep you could hear someone’s pocket watch ticking.

  Elandr stood with his arm extended.

  For the first time, his calm face twitched.

  His eyes widened. His ears jerked.

  “That…” his voice went rough. “That wasn’t dispersion. Dispersion unweaves mana. But you… you destroyed it. You erased the fire’s very existence.”

  I yawned and wiped my hand on my pants.

  “Well, you asked me to remove it — I removed it. Can I sit down? My legs are getting stiff.”

  I walked past the frozen teacher and dropped into an empty seat next to Alexia.

  She stared at me with wide eyes — horror mixed with awe.

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  “You…” she whispered. “You’re insane. You just ate a Magister’s spell.”

  “Oh come on,” I whispered back. “It was weak. Warm like a heating pad.”

  Magister Elandr slowly lowered his hand.

  He looked at me now not like a troublemaker…

  …but like an unexploded bomb.

  “The lesson… continues,” he said hoarsely. “But after class, Greg… you will stay. We need to talk. Seriously.”

  “Again?” I groaned loud enough for the whole class. “Let me eat first…”

  When the classroom emptied, I was left alone with the Magister.

  “Listen, what’s your name again…” I scratched the back of my head. “You’re an elf, so your hearing’s good, but I’ll repeat it anyway: my name’s Greg.”

  “I remember,” Elandr replied coldly. “I have a proposal for you, Greg. I want you to represent our Academy at the upcoming Combat Magic Tournament.”

  “Uh, no.” I turned toward the exit. “Don’t need it. I came here for one reason: to find that old, really old elf. I’ll ask him a couple questions about my past and I’m gone. You won’t see me again. I won’t be an eyesore.”

  Elandr laughed.

  Dry, like the rustle of autumn leaves.

  “To Magister Elvindor? Just like that? Young man, even professors book appointments a month in advance. He accepts no one.”

  “So what’s so special about him?” I snorted. “Another old man with a beard?”

  “He is a Legend. But…” Elandr narrowed his eyes slyly. “If you win the Tournament, he will personally want to meet you. That is tradition.”

  I froze.

  “…Uh. When are these competitions of yours?”

  “In a week.”

  “WHAT?!” I exploded. “You want me to sit here for a week and wait?!”

  “You have no choice,” the elf shrugged. “Also, you’re late for your next class. Fencing.”

  “Oh for—!”

  I shot out of the room like a bullet.

  Ran ten meters.

  Then slammed on the brakes.

  Turned around.

  Back into the classroom.

  “Uh… forgot your name, pointy-ears. Where’s fencing?”

  Elandr sighed, looking at me with pity.

  “I’ve heard humans are intelligent creatures and don’t forget that quickly…”

  “Gym. End of the second floor. Left. Run, Greg.”

  “Thanks!”

  I tore down the corridors like the wind.

  Burst into the hall, nearly taking the door off its hinges.

  The students were already lined up, neat as a chessboard.

  Two figures stood before me: a harsh male trainer with a scar on his cheek, and a woman with a valkyrie posture.

  “WHO DARES BE LATE TO MY LESSON?!” the man roared so loud my ears rang.

  “Name!”

  “Greg.”

  “Oh gods…” the female trainer grimaced. “Where’s your fencing uniform?”

  “There’s a fencing uniform too?” I asked honestly. “You people have a separate outfit for every sneeze?”

  Someone in the line snickered.

  It was Alfus.

  He stood there gleaming in pristine white gear.

  “Alright,” the trainer pointed at us. “Shedor and… Greg. Pair up. Now.”

  Alfus stepped out, curling his lip with disdain.

  “Me? With him? Trainer, do you want me touching that dirty-blood?”

  I looked myself over.

  “What do you mean?” I honestly didn’t get it. “I showered yesterday. Washed my face this morning. I’m clean. What are you on about, kid?”

  The whole hall erupted in laughter.

  Alfus flushed with rage, realizing his insult had flown right past the target.

  “Enough talking!” the trainer barked. “Prove what you’re worth. Alfus, wipe out this upstart.”

  We were handed training swords.

  Alfus took a beautiful stance.

  “I’ll destroy you, savage!”

  He lunged.

  I lazily parried.

  Then parried again.

  He swung prettily — and stupidly.

  Too much pose, not enough sense.

  “Why are you huffing so hard?” I asked, yawning. “You’re about to—”

  He made a wide slash.

  I just stepped aside.

  Alfus caught his own foot and slammed onto the floor with a crash, dropping his sword.

  Silence.

  “ALFUS!” the trainer roared. “You disgraced your House! To lose like that… to an amateur!”

  That actually annoyed me.

  “Hey, that was rude,” I told the trainer. “I’m standing right here.”

  Everyone froze.

  The female trainer stared at me like I was suicidal.

  “Well, aren’t you brave… Since you like talking so much — move! Five hundred push-ups and ten laps around the Academy! Go!”

  I shrugged.

  “Easy.”

  I went outside.

  Ran ten laps at a light pace (for me it was basically a stroll).

  Came back in five minutes without even breathing hard.

  Dropped to the floor and did 500 push-ups in twenty minutes — calm, unhurried.

  Stood up, dusted my hands off.

  “Done. Back in line?”

  The trainers exchanged a look.

  Shock sat in their eyes.

  A normal person would be bedridden for a week after that.

  “Hm…” the man drawled. “I’m surprised. Fine. Maybe you are worth something. Next time don’t be late.”

  Class ended.

  We stepped into the corridor.

  The princesses immediately swooped in on me.

  “Are you insane, Greg?!” Lianelle hissed. “Lower the bar at least a little! You’re not supposed to do 500 push-ups like a machine!”

  “How much lower?” I snapped. “I was barely moving. Nearly fell asleep. I need to finish this fast, talk to that elf, and leave.”

  “You look thin and weak,” Lianelle said thoughtfully, scanning me. “But there’s way too much strength in you.”

  “That sounded like an insult,” I noted.

  “Relax,” Alexia said. “Today’s the first day. It’s easy. Only two classes. Tomorrow there’ll be four.”

  “WHAT?!” I froze. “Four classes?! You want me dead?”

  “But right now— lunch!” she announced triumphantly.

  I instantly perked up.

  “Lunch! Let’s go!”

  “Wait, Greg!” Alexia yelled after me. “Do you even know where the cafeteria is?”

  “No. But I can smell it. It’s the call of nature!”

  I hit the cafeteria first.

  Saw a counter piled with food: meat, pastries, fruit.

  My eyes nearly crossed from joy.

  I reached for a juicy chicken leg.

  SMACK!

  A wooden spatula cracked down on my hand.

  “Where do you think you’re reaching, you rude animal?!” yelled the cook — a woman of enormous proportions. “Where’s your card?!”

  “My what?” I rubbed my sore hand. “What card? I’m hungry!”

  The princesses arrived, out of breath.

  “Sorry!” Alexia quickly shoved a plastic card at the cook. “He’s new. Still wild.”

  “Greg, the card comes with the uniform,” she whispered to me.

  “Oh…” I remembered the balled-up white clothing in my wardrobe. “Guess I missed that.”

  We sat down.

  Alexia grabbed food for two.

  Her tray was overflowing.

  “Hey,” I stared at the mountain. “Do you eat this much every day? How does it even fit?”

  “Yeah,” she said lightly. “But I don’t eat much. I’ll pick at it and throw half away.”

  “WHAT?!” I nearly choked on air. “Throw it away?!”

  Something inside me clicked.

  Ancient, forgotten rage woke up.

  “How can you treat food like that?” My voice turned serious — almost frightening. “Food is sacred.”

  Alexia froze, fork halfway to her mouth.

  “‘Food isn’t the main thing,’” she suddenly said, staring at me. “You said that. ‘Food isn’t the main thing.’”

  That line hit me like a hammer.

  The world went quiet for a second.

  Déjà vu flared.

  I went still.

  That phrase… echoed inside me, hollow and deep.

  As if someone had cracked open a truth I’d always known — and forgotten.

  Images flashed: cold, an empty bowl, trembling hands… and joy at a piece of bread.

  “Yeah…” I said quietly. “Throwing food away is wrong. You can’t.”

  We started eating.

  By habit I grabbed meat with my hands.

  “GREG!” Lianelle hissed. “Spoon! Fork!”

  “Why? Hands taste better.”

  “But you ate with utensils at the palace,” Alexia said, surprised.

  “I don’t know…” I shrugged. “It just happened there. Reflex. In a tavern I ate with my hands and nobody said a word.”

  They exchanged a glance — remembering I was “nameless.”

  “Fine,” Alexia sighed. “Eat however you want. Just don’t smack your lips.”

  Then she reached out again, absent-mindedly combing through my hair while reading a book.

  I froze with the chicken leg in my mouth.

  That feeling again.

  Warmth. Calm.

  Like someone… cared?

  Is she taming me? Like a wild animal? So I become the Crown’s obedient puppy?

  Or… is it just genuine?

  I side-eyed Alexia.

  Is she doing it on purpose?

  Manipulating me?

  Or… just doing it?

  The thought was both nice and terrifying.

  Don’t get used to it, Greg, I told myself. In a week you’re leaving. Don’t get used to it.

  “Ugh,” I shook my head, knocking her hand away. “Stop scratching me. I’m not a cat.”

  “As you wish,” she smirked without looking up from her book. “But you liked it.”

  All the way back to my room, I walked like I was in fog.

  My hand kept reaching up to my head by itself.

  That feeling… when Alexia ran her fingers through my hair…

  It was scary-good.

  I wanted it again.

  “Spit,” I muttered. “Stop being pathetic.”

  I walked into the room.

  Alfus sat at the desk surrounded by books.

  When he saw me, he dramatically turned away, but I noticed he’d been waiting.

  I dropped onto my bed.

  “Hey, ‘Cloud,’” I asked, staring at the ceiling. “How’d you even get into Class S? You’re… kinda weak.”

  He snorted without turning around.

  “In the same class as you? Don’t flatter yourself, savage. I asked my father. He used influence.”

  “Yeah…” I drawled. “But you don’t match the class — not in power, not in brains. It’ll be hard. They’ll eat you alive.”

  Alfus hunched.

  His shoulders trembled.

  “It’s already hard!” he snapped. “Unlike you, I’ll try! I just need to hold out a year, show myself well, and Father will take me back under his wing — into the capital administration.”

  “Oh,” I nodded. “So you’re basically… the unwanted one? Sent away so you’re not underfoot?”

  Silence dropped into the room.

  Alfus slowly turned.

  Tears of humiliation stood in his eyes.

  “Oh.” I realized I’d said too much. “Sorry. That was rough. I didn’t mean to.”

  “Whatever,” he muttered, turning away. “Not surprising coming from you. You’re an animal.”

  I felt a bit ashamed.

  Not a lot.

  “They gave us homework,” he changed the subject, sniffing. “Combat Magic.”

  “WHAT?!” I shot upright. “Homework too?! I thought people just fight here!”

  “Are you stupid or pretending?” he looked at me like I was insane. “Task: create an A-rank magical barrier. There’s a whole book on it. Tomorrow Elandr will throw the same plasma at us he threw at you.”

  He snorted.

  “Guess it’s easy, since even you managed. Though you did it wrong. You broke every law of magic.”

  I looked at him.

  “Alfus… are you dumb?”

  “What?!”

  “You’re clueless about magic. What I did was top-tier. And you… you don’t even understand the basics.”

  He exploded, red as a tomato.

  “Why did I even start talking to a savage?! I’m sick of it! ‘Savage, savage’! Screw you!”

  I stood up.

  “Whatever. Sit here and rot. I’m going for a walk. I’ll find that ancient elf and get out of here.”

  I wandered the Academy for three hours.

  The place was a huge labyrinth.

  But for me the walls felt almost transparent.

  I found hidden passages behind tapestries, concealed staircases, dusty corridors unused for centuries.

  “Empty,” I muttered. “Empty, empty… Where is that Ancient one?”

  It was deep night.

  I passed the Combat Magic classroom when a figure stepped out of the shadows.

  “Cadet Greg?”

  I flinched.

  Elandr stood there, leaning against the wall.

  “Why are you wandering so late?” his voice was calm, but sharp. “And stop prowling around the Academy opening secret routes even the rector has forgotten. You should’ve hidden your presence better.”

  “Uh… damn,” I scratched my head. “Busted. I’m looking for that old elf, Elvindor.”

  Elandr smirked.

  “I told you. You won’t find him. He’s away for now. He’ll return only for the Tournament.”

  I groaned.

  “Great. I wasted three hours. Should’ve slept.”

  “Go sleep, Greg. Tomorrow will be a hard day.”

  I returned to the room.

  It was three in the morning.

  Alfus was still hunched over the book.

  Pale, messy-haired, zombie-like.

  “Damn it…” he whispered, flipping pages. “Why is this so hard… The structure won’t hold… The refraction angle… Aaaah…”

  I lay down and covered my head with a pillow.

  “Buh-buh-buh…” came from his desk. “I’m worthless… Father will kill me… Plasma will burn me…”

  “WILL YOU SHUT UP ALREADY?!” I snapped, sitting up. “I’m trying to sleep, whiner!”

  Alfus flinched and looked at me with bloodshot eyes.

  “I can’t! If I don’t make the barrier, I’m done! I’ll be expelled!”

  I sighed.

  Got up, walked over, yanked the book out of his hands, and tossed it on the floor.

  “Listen up, victim of education. You’re trying to build a wall against plasma. Plasma will burn through any wall no matter how dense it is. You’re wasting mana on density when you need dynamics.”

  He blinked.

  “What…?”

  “Start with a basic Water Dome. The simplest one. D-rank.”

  “Water? Against fire? Are you insane?! It’ll evaporate in a second!”

  “Don’t interrupt!” I barked. “Make the dome. Then spin it. Fast. Centrifugal force creates an air layer, and the water pulls heat away. The plasma will just slide off tangentially. Got it?”

  Alfus froze.

  A complicated mental process showed on his face.

  “Spin… water… heat transfer…” he whispered. “But the textbook says—”

  “The textbook is for idiots with lots of mana and no brains,” I cut him off. “Do what I said. I’m sick of you. Go to sleep.”

  I collapsed back into bed.

  Alfus sat in silence for a minute.

  Then I heard a quiet whisper:

  “How… how can you even know that?..”

  He turned off the lamp.

  Finally.

  Silence.