First Impression Matters

The next day scribe led Silas through the academy halls until they reached a massive set of double doors. The moment they opened, Silas' brows furrowed. 

He had expected a packed classroom, but instead, he found a vast auditorium with only sixteen seats—luxurious couches arranged in a semi-circle.

Fifteen of them were already taken.

'Doesn't that mean I am the 16th mage Loth produced this year?' Silas blinked with a slight look of shock.

Silas pushed his thoughts aside and followed the scribe up to the podium, where the homeroom magus stood waiting. The woman radiated confidence, her fiery amber hair framing a face that had unique razor-sharp teeth. 

Her robe, a deep orange with golden embroidery, was of the same high quality as Count Hugo's. The resemblance was too uncanny for Silas to ignore

The lady smirked as Silas climbed the podium, her sharp teeth flashing. 

"Welcome, young man." She said with a firm but kind voice. "I am Lady Fyra Emberfall, your homeroom magus. You may address me as Magus Fyra."

She turned toward the class, placing a firm hand on Silas' shoulder.

'Heavy.' Silas frowned at the weight of this woman's hand. He instantly guessed she must be a magic knight.

"This is Silas, the newest addition to our ranks. He is Loth's most talented magus and—" she grinned wider, her voice dripping with pride, "—the kingdom's first necromancer."

Murmurs rippled through the room, but one voice cut through it all.

A scoff.

Silas turned his gaze toward the source—Leonard Emberfall. The young man sat relaxed in his chair, his amber hair styled back, matching his fiery-colored jacket. 

A golden greatsword rested beside him, its surface gleaming under the soft magical lights. His arms were crossed, and an unimpressed smirk tugged at his lips.

"Tch." He rolled his eyes.

The room fell silent.

Everyone expected Silas to respond, to acknowledge the insult, but he didn't. He remained still, his face expressionless.

Fyra's gaze sharpened as she shot a warning look at her little brother, but before she could say anything, the ground trembled with heavy footsteps.

BUZZ!

A dark presence washed over the room and all eyes instinctively turned toward the entrance—Kar had arrived.

The orc's massive frame filled the doorway, his deep emerald eyes scanning the room with a slow, deliberate gaze. His mere presence sent a chill through the air—an unnatural, suffocating weight pressing down on every student.

Chairs scraped against the floor as students rose from their seats, some gripping their weapons on instinct. Even Leonard's hand moved to his greatsword, his muscles tensing.

"Stand down." Fyra raised a hand. "Relax, all of you. This is Kar, Silas' undead soldier."

She exhaled, shaking her head while hee words sent another wave of shock through the class.

A necromancer controlling a perfectly preserved orc corpse?

Its presence scared them deeply and that was proof of its strong will. Silas must have used his magic on it as soon as it died and it's will was completely intact.

That wasn't just rare—it was unheard of, especially for someone from a small village.

Silas didn't react to the stunned expressions. He simply walked past Fyra and into the classroom, his pace calm and unbothered. He found the last empty couch and sat down, crossing one leg over the other and Kar moved behind him without a word, standing tall like a guardian.

Gasps echoed through the room.

Every student was impressed by the sheer quality of Silas' undead. Their eyes flickered between him and Kar, trying to process what they were witnessing.

Only Leonard remained unfazed. He wore a deep frown.

Pa! Pa!

Fyra clapped her hands together, snapping everyone out of their shock. The students quickly sat down, though the tension in the room lingered.

She turned her attention back to Silas.

 "Since we've nearly completed the first quarter of the session, most students have already moved beyond theory classes and into practical training. You'll need to catch up quickly."

Silas didn't react, already expecting this.

"You'll be joining Team 2. Your team leader is Leonard, the team's magic knight. Owen Mash is your battle mage, and Isla Blackwood is your healer." Fyra suspicious rushed this part like it wasn't relevant.

Silas rolled his eyes—Of course the first necromancer in Loth's history somehow, has members of the ruling Emberfall family as both his homeroom teacher and his team leader.

 How convenient.

This wasn't about teamwork—it was about tying his success to the Emberfall name. Every achievement he made, every battle he won, they would claim it was thanks to their 'guidance.' 

He had expected Count Hugo to be many things, but not this shameless.

"Make sure Silas is properly briefed before he goes on his first mission with your team." Fyra continued

Leonard gave a short nod, his expression unreadable. At that moment, Kar's massive hand rose.

"My master has a question." He said in a hoarse tone.

BUZZ!

Everyone glanced up at Kar before looking at Silas. Only undead generals, known to be the strongest of a Necromancer's army should be able to speak.

How is a normal undead soldier able to speak?

Only now did they understand what the scribe meant by Silas' being an anomaly just like the empire martial saint.

"Your undead… has questions?" Fyra blinked.

"Yes." Silas nodded.

She hesitated before gesturing. 

"Go ahead."

Silas turned to face her fully before asking.

"Is it mandatory to work with a team?"

Fyra frowned. There were no rules forcing students to join teams—only encouraging it. Missions were dangerous, and most mages knew they wouldn't survive alone. That was why teams formed naturally. But if someone didn't want to be in a team, no one could make them.

Her silence was enough of an answer.

"Then it's settled. I won't be joining a team." Silas gave a small nod. 

The room fell silent again.

Fyra sighed, rubbing her temples before straightening. 

"Fine. But in that case, I will personally tutor you."

Silas narrowed his eyes. Another attempt to cling to him. If they couldn't tie his success to the Emberfall family through Leonard, they would do it through Fyra. They weren't giving up.

Still—rejecting this would cause unnecessary problems. He could already tell Fyra wasn't the type to let things go, and getting on Count Hugo's bad side this early wouldn't be wise.

Silas let out an exhausted sigh. He had only spent a day in Loth and he had been dragged into its politics.

"Fine."

Fyra's eyes lit up, her lips curving into an excited smile—before she caught herself and cleared her throat, forcing her expression neutral.

"Good," she said, folding her arms. "Then let's move on."