First Day, Elite Pain

I woke up to the sound of screaming.

At first, I thought it was a nightmare. But no, it was very real — and it was coming from the kitchen.

"Get up or get cursed, your choice!" a voice shrieked. It sounded like a kettle. A haunted kettle.

I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes. "This dorm is trying to kill me."

Dorm 23, my new home, had a personality of its own — and that personality was loud, cursed, and probably chaotic-neutral.

In the kitchen area, Ren was already busy. And by busy, I mean he was flipping bright orange eggs that let out tiny, high-pitched screams each time they hit the pan.

"Morning!" Ren grinned. "Want some soul-toast? Or maybe the eggs of despair?"

"I'd like to pass on both," I said, dragging myself out of bed. "Why do the eggs scream?"

"They're mana-infused. Pain adds flavor," Ren replied cheerfully.

Evan was calmly slicing fruit with scary precision. His plate looked like something out of a five-star restaurant. He didn't say anything — just gave me a small nod.

I stared at the kitchen, then at the magical cocoa that seemed to glow faintly on the table. "Is this a magic school or a budget horror rental?"

My system pinged in my mind with a familiar sarcastic tone.

[Daily Quest Activated: Survive S-Class.]

[Bonus Reward: Not dying in front of cool kids.]

[Recommended action: Look less pathetic.]

"Gee, thanks," I muttered. "Really motivating."

I scarfed down a piece of toast that didn't scream — thankfully — and followed Ren and Evan out the door.

We were already running late. Naturally.

Getting to class was supposed to be simple. I'd memorized the map, planned the route, and even set a mental reminder to follow the blue torches.

But no one warned me the hallways would move.

"I swear this staircase wasn't here five seconds ago!" Ren shouted, spinning in place.

"The door was right there—did it just teleport?" I asked, staring at a wall that used to be an exit.

"The academy architecture is... unpredictable," Evan said calmly, as if this was normal.

We sprinted through a twisting corridor that turned into a spiral, then flattened back into a straight hall. The ceiling shimmered, and for a moment, I thought I saw stars above me.

"This school needs an exorcist," I said, panting, "not an architecture award!"

Finally, a floating orb lit up and directed us to our classroom.

The door opened to reveal something I wasn't ready for.

The classroom — labeled Aetheris Prime — was more like a shrine than a place to learn. Dark obsidian walls lined the room, and glowing runes hovered in mid-air like lazy fireflies. The air itself buzzed with magic.

At the front, seats were already taken by four students who looked like they belonged on the covers of magical textbooks.

Lira sat with her arms crossed, shadows curling faintly around her fingers. Her eyes were sharp, unreadable.

Kael leaned back in his chair with fire flickering in his hair, looking like he owned the place.

Seris sat perfectly straight, her gaze cold and distant. Even her posture felt icy.

Rhydan had his feet up, spinning a spark of lightning between his fingers with a grin.

I froze.

"Why am I in the final boss lounge?" I whispered to Ren.

"I don't know, man," Ren said, equally stunned. "Are we in the wrong class?"

Evan didn't answer, but his brow furrowed slightly.

The system spoke again in my head, sounding way too cheerful for the situation.

[You have entered S-Class.]

Estimated survival rate: Statistically… unfortunate. Have fun! :]

I groaned quietly. "I hate you."

The classroom grew quiet as a tall figure entered through a side door.

A tall woman stepped into the classroom.

She moved like someone who had never been late a single day in her life. Her long silver hair was tied back, and crystal glyphs floated around her shoulders like obedient satellites. Her robes shimmered slightly with each step.

"Welcome to Magical Theory 201," she said, her voice calm but sharp enough to slice through stone. "I am Professor Mythras."

I straightened in my chair without thinking. Everyone else had already fallen silent, and for good reason. There was something about her presence that made the air feel thinner.

"This is the Language of Mana," Mythras continued. "A subject that most of you will fail. Not because it is too hard—" she glanced around, "—but because most of you are too used to treating magic like a toy."

No one dared to interrupt.

I swallowed hard. "Great. First class and we're already being told we're disappointments."

She turned to the blackboard, which was actually a dark panel of swirling shadows. As she spoke, glowing runes wrote themselves into the air.

"Magic is not just energy. It is emotion. Memory. Intention. Every spell you cast is not simply a command — it is a negotiation."

Ren leaned toward me and whispered, "She's like if a philosophy professor and a sword had a baby."

I almost laughed, but Mythras's head turned slightly.

"Mr. Han," she said.

I froze. "Yes, ma'am?"

"If fear controls your mana," she said slowly, "what is the result?"

I blinked. Was this a trick question?

I thought back to what she said about magic responding to emotion. If you were scared while casting...

"Magical self-sabotage?" I guessed. "Possibly spontaneous combustion?"

A few students snorted quietly.

Professor Mythras raised an eyebrow. "Astute. And probably fatal."

I gave a weak smile. "I'll try to avoid combusting, then."

"I recommend that you do," she said, turning back to the board.

I sighed in relief. One question down. Thousands to go.

Next came the exercise. Each student was given a piece of enchanted parchment and a vial of mana-infused ink. The goal: draw a stable mana thread using only willpower and control.

"This will show me how well your mana listens," Mythras said.

I stared at my blank paper. "Listen, mana. Be nice."

Everyone else was already working.

Seris's paper glowed with icy blue lines, forming intricate snowflake-like patterns.

Kael's glyph burned hot red, crackling slightly as flames danced at the edges.

Rhydan's looked like a miniature thunderstorm had settled onto the page.

Lira's was subtle — elegant black ink moving like smoke across the parchment.

Evan, as always, made it look easy. His glyph was a clean spiral of gold, precise and symmetrical.

I dipped my brush into the ink. I tried to focus — to push my mana gently into the brush. I pictured a simple symbol. Something easy. A circle?

The ink responded.

It glowed faintly… then burst into life.

But instead of a rune, glowing butterflies exploded out of the page. They fluttered up into the air, circling the class in a quiet, shimmering dance.

My eyes widened. "Wait. Wait, no. Stop that!"

Ren looked up and laughed. "Dude, your mana's a fairy on caffeine."

Kael scoffed loudly. "We're letting circus tricks into S-Class now?"

Ren raised his hand, casually summoning a micro-fireball near Kael's paper. "Oops. My hand slipped."

Kael growled. "Watch it, flame-boy."

"Make me," Ren replied with a too-innocent smile.

Professor Mythras didn't flinch. "Settle down. Save the duels for after class. Or at least don't ruin the furniture."

The butterflies faded slowly. I sat there, stunned, my paper clean again.

At least I hadn't exploded. Small victories.

Lira gave me a long, unreadable glance. She didn't say anything, but her eyes followed me for a moment longer than anyone else's.

I looked down. "Great. I'm the magical clown."

The system chimed quietly.

[New Trait Unlocked: Unstable Creativity.]

Interpretation: Mana listens… just not to instructions.]

"Helpful," I muttered.

Class ended without further explosions, but my head was spinning. I barely understood half of what Mythras had said, and I was pretty sure the other half was threatening.

As we left the room, we moved past a long hallway filled with portraits and plaques.

I paused, drawn to the display.

The wall was lined with old paintings of students in proud poses — past S-Class members, according to the sign.

Beneath them were names, achievements, and terrifying magical titles. These weren't just students. They were legends.

"Every single one of them looks like they graduated with a boss battle," I whispered.

Ren stopped beside me. "Yeah… I don't see any butterflies here."

I walked a little farther and spotted a section labeled Legacy Candidates. There were only a few spots, and one of them was a carved frame with nothing inside. Just empty space.

For some reason, that hit harder than expected.

The system pinged softly, less sarcastic this time.

[You don't belong here... yet.]

I stared at the blank frame.

"I know," I said quietly. "But I'm not leaving, either."

Author's Note:

Congratulations, dear reader — you and I have survived Day One at Dragonspire Academy. Barely.

Today's lessons included:

• Never trust a kettle that screams threats at dawn.

• Magical ink is not your friend.

• And if your spell creates butterflies, lie and say it was on purpose.

I may have accidentally impressed a terrifying professor, made an enemy out of a walking bonfire (hi, Kael), and sparked magical butterflies instead of actual magic — but that still counts as progress, right?

Also, shoutout to Dorm 23 for once again proving it's more chaotic than my system's personality.

🦋 QOTD (Question of the Day):

If you had mana that responded to your emotions, what spell would accidentally burst out when you're:

• Angry 😡

• Nervous 😬

• Sleepy 😴

(Example: I'd probably summon a pillow army when tired. Completely useless, but comfy.)

💬 COMMENT CHALLENGE:

Write a fake "student review" for Dragonspire Academy in the comments!

Example:

⭐☆☆☆☆ – "Almost died because the hallway turned into a riddle. No refund." – Definitely Not Jihoon