Magic Theory

Cinder's voice echoed through the room as she silenced the murmurs with a single, sharp glance. She cleared her throat before continuing, her eyes now focused intently on the class.

"Now, about spells," she began, her tone steady and commanding.

One of the students, a boy with messy brown hair and a confident smirk, spoke up, trying to ease the tension in the air. "Finally, something easy."

But Cinder's response was immediate, and it quickly deflated the student's excitement.

She gave a knowing look and calmly spoke, "All spells require high-level calculations, remembering complex formulas, and then using those formulas correctly."

The student's confident expression faltered, and a few others shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The reality of magic was beginning to set in—this wasn't just waving a wand and hoping for the best. It required precision, focus, and mental discipline.

Cinder's eyes scanned the room, ensuring everyone understood the gravity of what she'd just said. "Each spell you cast will depend on your ability to calculate the components of the formula in real time, and to execute it without error. One mistake can cause unpredictable outcomes, and in battle, that could cost you more than you think."

Arthur, sitting quietly in his seat, felt a slight knot tighten in his stomach. He had always been good with numbers, but the idea of having to combine calculations with magic was a whole different ballgame. It wasn't just about conjuring an image in your mind—it was about mastering the logic behind it, the science that made the magic work.

Cinder moved to the board, writing a complex series of symbols and equations. "This," she said, pointing to the first part of the equation, "is the foundational formula for a basic teleportation spell. It's all about calculating the space and energy required to move from point A to point B."

She paused for a moment, allowing the students to take in the symbols. "For those of you who think magic is simply about waving your hands and casting flashy lights, let this be a wake-up call. Magic is a science, and like any science, it requires understanding and discipline."

Arthur observed the board carefully, the equations making his head spin slightly. But he knew this was just the beginning. His mind immediately started trying to break down the numbers and variables that went into this, almost like a puzzle he had to solve.

Cinder's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "I will be assigning each of you a spell to practice. It will test your understanding of formulas and your ability to manipulate them. Remember, this is not just a theoretical exercise—this will be applied magic. Failure to grasp these concepts will reflect in your practical abilities."

Arthur looked around the room, seeing his classmates staring at the board with a mixture of confusion and determination. He realized that this would be just as much a mental challenge as it would be a magical one. But if anyone could figure it out, it was him—and maybe, just maybe, this complex, infinite magic of Pi could give him an edge.

"Now," Cinder continued, breaking his thoughts, "let's begin. Pair up, and I will assign your first spell."

Arthur's eyes met Ben's for a brief moment, and without words, they both knew they'd be working together. He could sense Ben's curiosity about his Magic Zone, but now wasn't the time to talk. They had spells to figure out.

One of the student then spoke. "Um Miss, if Magic is not waving a wand around what about the Fairy God Mother".

Cinder hit then set a fire ball, that missed trh Students head by near inches as she continued. "Never speak of that bitchs name in this ever".

The room fell into a stunned silence as Cinder's words hung in the air, sharp and unforgiving. The student who had dared speak up flinched, his face paling as he instinctively ducked when the fireball shot past his head, narrowly missing him by mere inches.

The fireball exploded against the wall behind him with a loud crack, but Cinder remained unphased. Her expression was cold and stern, her eyes locked onto the student, who now cowered in his seat. She held the flickering flames in her hand for a moment longer before letting them dissipate.

"Never speak of that... bitch's name in this class again," Cinder's voice was low and dangerous, a clear warning laced with venom. The intensity of her gaze was enough to make even the most confident of students shrink back.

Arthur's eyes widened slightly in surprise. He could feel the tension in the air; the class seemed to hold its breath, each student now far more cautious in their interactions with Cinder. The way she had reacted was extreme, but there was a clear authority behind her words that made it obvious she wasn't someone to be trifled with.

The student who had spoken hesitated, his face flushing with embarrassment and fear. "I... I apologize, Miss Cinder," he muttered, not daring to look up.

Cinder, however, didn't spare him another glance. She simply turned back to the board, her voice once again calm but firm. "Magic isn't a fairy tale," she continued, almost as if nothing had happened. "It's a science, and it's dangerous. So, if any of you think for one moment that you'll be learning some kind of 'waving-wand' nonsense here, you're mistaken."

Arthur sat quietly, his thoughts racing. He had never heard Cinder speak like that before, and it was clear that there was more to her past than she had revealed. It made him wonder what could provoke such a reaction. There was something about the way she spoke—almost like she had a personal vendetta against whatever the 'Fairy Godmother' represented.

Cinder finished writing on the board and turned back to face her class, her demeanor now back to normal, though there was still an edge to her presence. "Now," she said, her voice cutting through the thick tension, "let's continue. I will assign your first spells, and we'll see how well you handle calculations in real time."

The student who had spoken earlier remained quiet, clearly shaken. The rest of the class exchanged uneasy glances but dared not speak out of turn.

Ben then spoke looking at her. "Um Miss Cinder, why do you hate the Fairy God Mother".

Cinder stopped and looked as she spoke. "She is a.... Forget it".

Cinder's eyes narrowed at Ben's question, the shift in her expression so subtle that it could easily be missed if someone wasn't paying close attention. For a moment, the temperature in the room seemed to drop, and the air thickened with unspoken tension. Then, just as quickly, Cinder's features softened—though only just enough to return to her usual composed self. She sighed, almost imperceptibly, before turning away and continuing with the lesson.

"Forget I said anything," she muttered, her tone cool but carrying an undercurrent of something far more complex. "Focus on your training, not on my personal grievances."

The class fell into an uncomfortable silence, everyone feeling the weight of the words unsaid. Arthur could sense the sudden shift in atmosphere. There was something there—something that Cinder wasn't willing to share. It was like a deep scar, hidden beneath the surface of her otherwise controlled exterior.

Arthur's thoughts raced, his mind trying to piece together the clues. What did the Fairy Godmother do to her? He knew there had to be a story behind that fiery reaction. After all, Cinder wasn't the type to overreact without a reason. If her hatred was that intense, it had to be personal—something more than a simple matter of dislike.

As the lesson resumed, Arthur felt a flicker of empathy for his teacher. In that brief moment of vulnerability, he could tell that whatever had happened with the Fairy Godmother had left a lasting impact on her. And, for the first time, he wondered if there were more to Cinder than her strict demeanor suggested.

Ben, who had bravely spoken out, looked sheepish now, clearly regretting his question. His eyes shifted nervously toward the others, but nobody dared to comment further. Even the bravest of students knew better than to push Cinder any further on this.

Meanwhile, Arthur's mind continued to churn. I have to figure this out, he thought. What's Cinder's connection to the Fairy Godmother? Why does she react like this?

But the answers, for now, remained locked away, hidden in the shadows of Cinder's past. The only thing left for the students was to follow her lead and try to learn the spells she was about to assign them. The spell work and calculations ahead would have to be enough to focus their minds for now.

Cinder's gaze swept across the class as she began to write something complex on the board. The tension in the room still lingered, but she was determined to steer the students back to the subject at hand. She cleared her throat again, this time with an air of finality.

"Alright," she began, her voice now cold and efficient. "Let's get back to what we're here for. Spells require more than just a flick of the wrist or chanting some random words. It's about understanding the calculations that go into each one."

She turned to face the board, her chalk moving quickly as she wrote out a series of complex equations, each one tied to the fundamental aspects of magic. Arthur's mind, still reeling from the previous exchange, now found itself drawn back to the equations. He couldn't help but admire the precision in the way Cinder taught. Even though she had a personal grudge buried deep inside, she didn't let it interfere with her professionalism.

"The first spell we're going to focus on is Flame Orb. It's a simple offensive spell, but one that requires you to understand the basic principles of energy manipulation, as well as the exact moment when the spell must be released," Cinder explained, pointing to the formulas on the board.

Arthur squinted, recognizing the complexity behind the simple concept. Magic wasn't about force—it was about understanding the underlying principles of energy and how they could be manipulated. He knew he'd need to focus. The equations were no different from the ones he had seen in his previous life when studying advanced physics, but they were now connected to something far more dangerous and unpredictable: magic.

"You will need to calculate the amount of energy you can safely channel, and how quickly you can release it," Cinder continued. "The spell requires you to use precise amounts of both fire and air elemental magic. Too little, and it won't form correctly. Too much, and you risk losing control and causing an explosion. This is about balance. Understood?"

The class nodded, but Arthur could feel a slight shift in the energy of the room. Some of the students seemed eager to try, others looked uncertain, but Arthur was already mentally preparing for the spell. He could feel his Pi-shaped magic zone swirling inside him, constantly shifting, never quite settling. It was going to be challenging to align this kind of spell with his own magic. The precision required was more than just physical—it was mental. He had to learn how to weave the abstract with the practical.

Cinder turned to face the students, her expression cold and calculating. "Now, each of you will try to form your own Flame Orb. The formula is simple: fire magic in one hand, air in the other, and the energy needs to be condensed in a controlled sphere. If you fail, you'll get a lesson in fire control. If you succeed, I'll give you a bit of praise."

As the students stood, ready to attempt the spell, Arthur could feel his pulse quicken. He wasn't sure if his magic would align with the spell in the way Cinder expected, but he knew that this would be the first real test of his magical abilities in this world.

One by one, the students began their attempts. The first few produced small, flickering flames that sputtered out of existence after only a few seconds. A few students struggled, their magic unstable, causing small bursts of fire to shoot out of control before fizzling into nothingness.

When it was Arthur's turn, he stood, facing the open space before him. His fingers twitched slightly as he focused on the spell's formula, tracing the numbers in his mind. He was used to complex calculations, but this felt different—this was magic. His mind raced, thinking of how best to manipulate his Pi-shaped magic zone to create a stable spell.

Arthur raised his hands, one holding the fire element and the other the air, just as Cinder had instructed. He felt the energy in the air, and with a deep breath, he began to channel it. The Pi shape inside him began to shift and coil, molding itself into a spiral of sorts, mimicking the energy that he was trying to harness.

For a moment, nothing happened. He felt the pressure build, the energy swirling within him, but the spell wouldn't form. His Pi-shaped zone kept shifting, flowing like an abstract mathematical constant that refused to be captured. His face remained serene, though his mind was battling against the intangible force that made up his magic.

Then, slowly, the space before him shimmered. A small orb of flame began to form, but it wasn't perfectly spherical. Instead, it had a distorted, spiral-like shape—reflecting his own Pi-inspired magic zone. The orb flickered wildly, expanding and contracting like a pulse.

Cinder's eyes narrowed, watching his progress closely. "Interesting," she muttered under her breath. "A strange form, but it's still a Flame Orb, nonetheless."

The orb wavered in the air, its edges flickering between bright red and orange before stabilizing for a brief moment. Arthur held his breath, watching it carefully. The air around it felt charged, and he realized that his magic zone was constantly adjusting, recalculating, trying to bring the spell into balance.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the orb stabilized, albeit in a form far more unique than any of the others. The spiral shape began to dim slightly, holding its structure just long enough for Arthur to breathe a sigh of relief. It wasn't perfect, but it was controlled, and that was the first step.

Cinder gave him a measured look. "Not bad, Arthur. But don't get cocky. That form will need refinement."

Arthur nodded, walking back to his seat, feeling the weight of the class's gaze on him. He didn't feel pride, but he did feel a certain sense of accomplishment. He had managed to control his magic, and for the first time since coming to this world, he felt like he might actually have a chance here.

But as the rest of the students took their turns, Arthur couldn't shake the feeling that his real challenge was only just beginning. With a magic zone tied to the concept of Pi, he knew there was more to his abilities than simple spells. He would have to learn how to master the infinite. And that was a journey that would take far more than just one class.

Percival stood up, his expression focused as he activated his Magic Zone. The air around him seemed to hum with energy as his calculations ran through his mind. His fingers twitched as he manipulated the numbers, quickly running through complex formulas.

"2346 X 5672 + 6 = 13,306,518…" he muttered to himself, his eyes locked on the space before him. The numbers, precise and deliberate, began to crystallize in his mind. The equations were the key to creating his spell, and he was already channeling his magic accordingly.

Cinder watched him closely, her expression unreadable as the students began to gather around. Percival's method was different. While most students had to focus on the formula and slowly release their magic, Percival seemed to be running his numbers like a machine, aligning them to create a singular moment of intense energy.

As he finished his mental calculations, a fiery orb began to form in front of him. Unlike the others, the flame wasn't chaotic or flickering—it was incredibly controlled, its size large and perfectly spherical. The flame itself glowed intensely, but it was also stable, hovering in the air with a steady rhythm.

Arthur watched, impressed by the efficiency of Percival's magic. The way he combined raw numbers with his zone was different from his own more instinctive flow. Percival was treating magic like a science, while Arthur was finding his own balance of abstract theory and raw emotion.

Cinder gave a small nod of approval. "Interesting, Percival. You've used your calculations well to shape the spell, but remember that this isn't a mere math problem—it's magic. Precision is important, but don't forget about control. If you lose focus, that orb could expand beyond what you intended."

Percival didn't flinch. He knew the risks, but he was confident in his abilities. "Understood, Miss Cinder," he replied, his gaze unwavering as the orb continued to float before him, its flame undisturbed.

"Very well," Cinder said, turning back to the rest of the class. "You've all seen what's possible when magic is combined with logical precision. Now, let's see who can refine their Flame Orbs further. The true test is in control, not just creation."

As the rest of the students began their attempts, Arthur couldn't help but wonder about Percival. He was methodical, focused on the numbers and mechanics of magic in a way Arthur wasn't. It made sense, of course—Percival had a logical mind, someone who would thrive in a world where equations could define everything.

But Arthur's magic was different. It was abstract, unpredictable, tied to an endless cycle. How long could he rely on pure instinct before his magic became too chaotic? And how long would it take before he found a way to merge his abstract, infinite magic with the kind of control that Percival had displayed?

The answers weren't clear, but one thing was certain: in this world, magic wasn't just about spells and flames—it was about learning to master the intangible forces that governed everything. And Arthur was only just beginning.

To be continued

Hope people like this Ch and give me power stones and enjoy and see you all in Monday, these are the last Ch for this week, thank you for all the support so far, also I have new story out, it is called the United Pantion Of God's please check it out