Foundations of Fire and Shadows

We began the training with something simple: mental imagery. I instructed the students to clearly visualize every word I said, shaping it into a vivid image within their minds. For me, it was effortless—being from Earth, I had a scientific understanding of most natural phenomena. When I imagine fire, I don't simply see flames. I see fuel and oxygen, the conditions of ignition, the rapid friction that creates combustion, and finally, the fire produced from that explosive reaction.

But for the students? Fire was something else entirely.

To them, fire was born from heat, conjured through incantations or magical techniques. It was the product of spellwork, not science. Their understanding was superficial—blurred. I could only assume that alchemists or mana researchers were among the few who truly grasped the nature of fire.

"Professor, this is hard!" Lyla exclaimed, panting from mental exertion.

"It will be difficult at first," I replied, my tone calm but firm. "But once you can picture it perfectly, chantless magic will come naturally. Chantless casting is the pure manifestation of thought and will. That's why your mental image must be flawless—down to every detail. You must know what you're summoning into reality."

While they struggled to build a clear mental construct, I decided to check on the other classes. I left a mild formation behind, cloaking their presence from prying eyes without disrupting the surrounding mana flow. It was subtle—intended only to avoid attention, not to shield from detection by higher-ranked mages.

My first stop was the Garden Room, where the nature magic students trained. The air was thick with floral essence and drifting spores. Vines coiled lazily around stone pillars, and mutated plants—twisted by mana exposure—quivered in oversized planters. The room was alive in every sense.

Satisfied, I moved next to the Combat Room. Here, students engaged in mock battles against automated golems. The method was ingenious—students would first fill a mana core with both raw energy and a chosen elemental attribute. Once activated, the golem would awaken and mimic magic of that element.

The golems varied in complexity, ranging from Level 1 to Level 10. A Level 10 golem could withstand techniques from a 6-circle mage. Not bad for training purposes.

I found myself wondering about one particular student. That girl... I hoped she wasn't recklessly applying the techniques I had given her. Though considered "disciple-level," those arts were still powerful—some of the strongest available in the game world from which I'd come.

The next day arrived, but the students still struggled with chantless magic.

So I tried a different approach.

I demonstrated how fire was made without mana. Using dry twigs, flint, and the friction method, I ignited a small flame in front of them. The simplicity stunned them. And in that moment, something clicked. Within hours, they were able to produce flames without chanting, runes, or talismans. They still had a long road ahead—complex techniques required more than a clear image—but the first step had been taken.

Then I felt it: the weight of a familiar gaze. The headmaster was watching us. I subtly adjusted the formation shielding my students, reinforcing it just enough to mask any signs of unusual activity from outsiders.

A week passed, and my students were now capable of casting 3-circle techniques without uttering a word. Their growth was astonishing. Lyla, Ahren, and Delia especially showed talent beyond my expectations. As a teacher, it made me wonder—how far could they go?

With their training progressing smoothly, I left them a set of scriptures—carefully selected to match their current level of understanding. These texts would aid in their cultivation while I explored the academy further.

During my stroll, I came across an unassuming wall deep within the academy grounds. Rumors had circulated about it—a secret place said to house users of dark magic, hidden within a spatial construct formed from mana. Dark magic, associated with curses and demonic arts, was outlawed in many kingdoms, including the Luminos Kingdom.

"To think the rumor was true," I murmured, running my hand across the wall's surface.

A ripple spread through the stone, and I stepped through.

The room beyond was dim, lit only by flickering glyphs etched into the floor. Twelve students stood in a loose circle, each practicing dark-attributed magic. The atmosphere buzzed with sinister energy—whispers of the dead, the chill of spectral presences, the weight of concentrated fear.

"[Shadow Binding]!" one kid shouted, and dark tendrils erupted from the floor.

"Heh… Quite the welcome for your new teacher," I said, stepping forward with a smirk.

"Don't underestimate us just because we're kids! [Dawn of the Moon]!" yelled another.

A two-circle restraint spell followed by a three-circle beam attack. Not bad. Certainly aggressive. But lacking finesse.

I remained still.

As the beam of dark mana raced toward me, I stared at it calmly—and the magic dissipated midair.

"W-what just happened?! Why did [Dawn of the Moon] cancel out?" the caster asked, eyes wide.

Simple. Just as I was teaching my students, I had manipulated the ambient mana—gently unraveling the constructed particles in the technique. Without its framework, the spell couldn't manifest. Magic is still mana, after all. If you understand how it's shaped, you can unmake it.

If these kids learned that principle, they could surpass the current limit of magic in this world.

But their potential needed direction.

"You planning to dissolve our club because we use dark magic?" one of them growled.

"No," I replied evenly. "Because I, too, am a user of dark magic."

"What? But teachers aren't allowed to teach dark magic in this academy!" a girl protested.

"Don't worry. Join my club instead. I'll show you what real dark magic is."

There was silence. Then nods. The moment I spoke the words dark magic, they were swayed—starved for acknowledgment and validation. They didn't hesitate.

As they filed out behind me, I couldn't help but smile.

This is the beginning of something greater.

A new sect.

A new legacy.

And these kids? They would become its first disciples.