The next lesson

Mr. Quills stood at the center of the field, his sharp eyes sweeping over the gathered students. At forty-two, he was no longer the young prodigy he once was, but his reputation as a master of shooting still remained. After all, he had earned that title at just nineteen—back when his arrows never missed their mark.

"Today, we will be testing your magic range and precision," he announced. His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. "And let me make this clear—no more skipping lessons."

Helk tensed.

That last part.

It was as if Mr. Quills had shot an arrow straight through his soul. He swallowed and pretended he hadn't heard anything, suddenly finding the ground very interesting.

"Watch closely."

With a flick of his wrist, Mr. Quills conjured a shimmering ice-blue arrow at his fingertips. It pulsed with raw energy as he pulled back an invisible string, as if drawing a bow that wasn't there.

Then, in a flash—

CRACK!

The arrow shot forward, slicing through the air like a streak of lightning. It struck the training dummy several meters away, and the moment it made contact—

SHHHK!

Ice erupted from the point of impact, crawling over the dummy's body in an instant. Within seconds, it was completely frozen—a flawless, crystalline statue.

The students let out a chorus of gasps, some whispering in awe, others staring with wide eyes.

Jellin, however, simply scoffed. He had seen this too many times to be impressed.

Helk, on the other hand, was impressed. Not because he had never seen magic before—he had—but because Mr. Quills' skill was on another level. His precision, his control, the way he made it look effortless… It was completely different from what Helk had seen before.

In his past life, there had been no magic. The closest thing was that one time his teacher made them watch a drama about a magic academy. It was full of over-the-top special effects and flashy battle scenes—completely unrealistic.

But this?

This was real.

Mr. Quills turned back to the students. "Alright, you've seen how it's done. Now it's your turn."

The lesson was about to begin.

One by one, the students took their turns at the shooting range. Each person had their own style—some launched sharp, concentrated bursts, while others created swirling, unpredictable projectiles. The shapes and techniques varied, but the goal remained the same: accuracy and control.

Some students struggled, their shots veering off-course or fizzling out before reaching the target. But they kept trying, adjusting their form and focus with each attempt.

Of course, the bullies were always there—hovering at the back, whispering snide comments and scoffing at those who missed. "That was pathetic," one of them snickered as a nervous student barely managed a weak spark.

Helk rolled his eyes. Typical.

Then, it was Jellin's turn.

Jellin turned to Helk, grinning. "Wish me luck."

Helk smirked. "You won't need it, but good luck anyway."

Jellin stepped forward, exuding confidence. He squared his shoulders and flicked his wrist. Instantly, tiny droplets of water formed in the air around him, floating weightlessly like stars in the night sky.

The air grew cool.

Then, in a seamless motion, Jellin stretched his hand forward. The droplets condensed into a single, sharp bullet of water, gleaming under the sunlight.

FWIP!

The shot was so fast that Helk barely had time to register it. It streaked through the air and struck the dummy with pinpoint precision—right at its core. The impact sent a rippling effect through the dummy's body, and for a moment, Helk swore he saw it in slow motion—the way the water bent and compressed before piercing straight through.

A clean hit.

The class murmured in appreciation, some nodding in silent approval.

Helk let out a low whistle. "Damn… that was something else."

Jellin casually dusted off his hands and turned back with a smug grin. "Of course. I am amazing, after all."

Helk snorted. "Show-off."

Jellin just shrugged. "What can I say? Talent speaks for itself."

The bullies, who had been full of smug remarks earlier, now had nothing to say. Their faces were stiff, their egos bruised. Helk caught one of them gritting his teeth, clearly annoyed by Jellin's flawless execution.

That alone made this whole lesson worth it.

Next, it was the bullies' turn. There were three of them.

Big muscles? Definitely.

Personality? A solid ten on the I-enjoy-being-annoying scale.

The first to step up was Len, the mischievous one. He had a cocky grin plastered across his face as he rolled his shoulders. "Watch and learn," he said, cracking his knuckles dramatically.

Len's magic revolved around rock manipulation. He summoned a small chunk of stone from the ground, shaping it into a jagged projectile. With a confident flick of his hand, he launched it at the dummy.

THUNK.

The rock hit—but barely. Instead of a clean shot, it bounced off the dummy's shoulder, leaving only a minor dent.

Len blinked. "Uh…" He coughed and straightened. "I meant to do that. Precision testing."

The class gave him a blank stare.

Jellin snickered. "Yeah, sure. Maybe next time try aiming at the actual target."

Len scowled but stepped aside for the next participant.

Vulka was up next. He was taller, bulkier, and had an ever-present smug look. His magic revolved around manipulating veins—which, to Helk, sounded both fascinating and mildly disturbing.

With a deep breath, Vulka clenched his fists, and thin red energy tendrils emerged from his fingertips, slithering like living wires. He twisted his hands, guiding the energy forward. The tendrils shot toward the dummy like whip-like spears—fast and precise.

CRACK!

The dummy shook slightly as the tendrils struck dead center. A clean hit.

The class murmured in approval. Even Helk found himself nodding.

"Not bad," Jellin admitted. "Creepy, but not bad."

Vulka smirked. "Wouldn't expect you to understand real power."

Jellin rolled his eyes. "Right, right, scary vein guy. Moving on."

Finally, the leader of the trio, Malk, stepped forward. Unlike the other two, Malk wasn't the loud, obnoxious type. His presence alone commanded attention. He had short, silver-streaked hair and piercing eyes that held a certain sharpness—like a predator sizing up its prey.

He raised a hand, and the wind around him shifted. The air thickened.

Malk's magic was wind manipulation, and he wielded it with unsettling ease. He exhaled slowly, raising his other hand. A faint gust picked up around him, rustling his uniform. Then, in an instant—

WHOOSH!

A razor-thin blade of wind shot forward. It was so fast, so precise, that it was nearly invisible. The moment it struck, the dummy wobbled slightly—before a thin, clean cut appeared along its torso.

A hushed silence fell over the class.

Even Jellin's expression grew more serious. "Huh," he muttered. "That was… decent."

Helk, though not particularly fond of the trio, found himself slightly impressed. They're annoying, but they're not talentless.

Malk turned, his sharp gaze landing on Helk. "You're next."

Helk tensed slightly. Right… my turn.

Everyone's attention shifted to Helk as he stepped up to the designated spot. The atmosphere tensed, anticipation crackling in the air. Jellin shot him a worried glance but still gave him an encouraging nod.

"You'll be fine," Jellin murmured.

Helk nodded back, but deep down, he knew it was going to be bad.

The bullies were smirking, their arms crossed as if they were watching a show about to go horribly wrong. Mr. Quills had heard about Helk's condition, but he still needed to see for himself if it was truly serious.

Helk exhaled and closed his eyes. He tried to recall what he had learned in his past life. That one time in high school when their relief teacher brought the class to watch a drama about a magic academy. He remembered how the actors portrayed students gathering mana—how they had to feel the energy in their surroundings, let it flow into them, and form it into a concentrated mass. But it had also been made clear: mana had limits. Absorbing too much, pushing beyond one's capacity, could lead to severe consequences. Nausea, internal damage… even death.

That part had stuck with him.

Back in the present, Helk focused. He imagined the flow of magic around him, the warmth of power brushing against his skin. It was peaceful. For a brief moment, golden energy shimmered in his mind, a flickering presence that felt familiar yet foreign. In his mind's eye, the training dummy formed before him, standing exactly where it was in reality. His body moved instinctively—his arm lifted, aiming as if something deep inside him knew exactly what to do.

Then—

BAM.

Helk's eyes snapped open. The world rushed back into focus.

Nothing happened.

Silence.

A cough. A snicker.

Then, Len, the first of the bullies, let out a dramatic sigh. "If you can't do it, just say so, man. No need for the whole 'mystical concentration' act."

Laughter rippled through some of the students. A few pitied him. Others just sighed, understanding his situation. Jellin immediately stepped forward, placing a hand on Helk's shoulder in silent reassurance. Mr. Quills simply nodded, acknowledging Helk's effort without saying much.

Helk stood frozen for a second, completely dumbfounded. He had felt it—something had happened, he was sure of it. But outwardly, nothing had changed.

With a deep sigh, he stepped away to grab some water. Jellin, however, was watching him closely.

Flashback—

While Helk had been concentrating, Jellin had sensed something. Just for a split second, a pulse of energy rippled through the field. It was fleeting, barely noticeable, but it had been there. A raw, untamed force, like something had almost surfaced but didn't fully manifest.

Jellin had quickly glanced at Mr. Quills, who had also looked momentarily shocked, his brows furrowed in thought. But then—nothing. The moment passed, and Helk stood there, looking just as lost as the rest of them.

Back to reality—

Helk wiped his face with his sleeve, disappointment settling in his chest. He didn't even know if he had powers. Being in this body felt familiar, yet at the same time, completely foreign.

Jellin suddenly pressed an ice-cold water bottle against Helk's cheek.

"Agh—! Cold!" Helk flinched, scowling at him.

Jellin just grinned. "Mission accomplished."

Helk blinked, then sighed. Jellin had managed to snap him out of it. A small smile tugged at his lips despite himself.

"You're annoying" Helk replied in a good way.

Jellin smile and say with a proud face "Your welcome"