Magic Academy

The clash was brutal and short. The goblin general, already weakened by Lyra's spell, met the full force of Korr's wrath. The steel of his sword cleaved through the creature's ribs, and with a roar of defiance, Korr drove the blade deep into its heart. A final shudder passed through the beast before it collapsed, lifeless.

The battlefield fell silent, save for the crackling of flames and the distant groans of the wounded.

Dante and the others were still standing, though barely. They'd taken down nearly a hundred goblin generals in total. It had been a massacre on both sides.

They moved quickly. The bodies of the fallen goblins were burned—no one wanted cursed rot to spread—and the valuable monster cores and tongues were collected in silence. Jace, exhausted, sat on a stone, watching the flames consume the goblins' remains. His hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the weight of it all.

They reached a small village nearby and rested until their legs stopped aching and their minds could think straight again. They received food, clean clothes, and a night's rest.

The next day, they headed for the capital.

The report they gave the Adventurer's Guild sent waves through the city. The guild masters convened, and even representatives from the royal palace were called in. A goblin war on that scale, hidden in the shadows of the frontier, was no small matter. Thanks to the team's actions, the entire region was spared from what could've been a full-scale invasion.

Jace was summoned, not to be punished or questioned—but rewarded.

"You've shown great promise," said a sharp-eyed woman in a violet cloak, a member of the royal court. Her voice was calm, but every word carried weight. "Your magic isn't just strange. It's... untapped. Hidden. With the right training, it could become something unimaginable."

She handed him a scroll sealed with the royal emblem.

"A full scholarship. The Royal Academy of Magic accepts you."

Jace stared at the scroll. It felt heavy. Not because of the seal—but because of what it meant.

He was just a healer from the frozen northern forests. He'd never imagined stepping foot again in a place where nobles ruled, and mages shaped the world with their will. But now, that path had been offered to him.

"I need time to think," he said quietly.

"Of course," the royal court woman replied. "But think quickly. Doors like this don't open often."

That night, Jace stood outside, staring at the moon. His fingers brushed over the seal again and again. He remembered Willow Village. The smell of blood. The desperation to survive. The way his magic refused to follow the rules.

He wasn't like the others.

He didn't need to become a hero. He didn't care about fame or fortune. But maybe... just maybe, there was something waiting for him in that academy. A key to understanding himself. A reason his magic didn't fit into their neat categories.

The next morning, he gave his answer.

He would go.

---

The month that followed passed in relative calm.

Jace stayed near the city, recovering. He accepted only low-rank missions—E to G tier. Nothing dangerous. Herb collection, minor healing jobs, simple escorts. Enough to earn coin for food, shelter, and savings for supplies when school started. He didn't rush anything. His body still carried phantom pain from the battle, and his mana was unstable at times.

But each day, he got stronger.

He still didn't understand his power completely—but he felt it. Beneath the surface, like a deep sea that refused to be measured.

Then, the day came.

The academy gates opened.

---

The Royal Academy of Magic stood like a fortress of ivory and glass at the heart of the capital. Its towers pierced the sky, and its halls pulsed with the mana of centuries. Generations of mages had walked its halls—heroes, archmages, even kings.

Jace entered through the grand archway, wearing a simple black cloak, a satchel on his back, and a quiet determination in his eyes.

He didn't need to be the best.

He just needed to survive.

Inside the massive auditorium, new students filled the rows—hundreds of them. Robes of every color, voices filled with excitement and pride. Some families stood proudly at the back, nobles dressed in silk and gold, watching their sons and daughters ascend.

Jace spotted Lyra near the front. She wore the academy's ceremonial robes, but even beneath them, her aura shimmered. Elegant, refined, and leagues ahead of everyone else her age.

When she noticed him, her lips curled into a smirk.

"You made it," she said.

He nodded. "Would've been a waste not to, right?"

Before they could exchange more words, the room quieted.

Three students walked to the front stage. All wore badges denoting their status.

"The Student Council," Lyra whispered.

Aera, a third-year, stood with poise and grace. Her silver hair fell in waves, and her eyes were sharp as blades. The daughter of Duke Virelle, and the Student Council President. A Tier 5 wind mage, known for casting advanced spells without even a chant.

Beside her stood Corvus, son of Duke Renwalt. Taller, lean, with storm-grey eyes. Also a Tier 5 wind mage. Calm, analytical, the kind of person who dismantled enemies with precision. He was the Vice President.

Then came the royal twins: Amish and Amir. Both Tier 6 mages—young, terrifyingly talented, and uninterested in politics. They'd refused any leadership role, preferring to dive deeper into magical theory. Rumor said they were already studying Tier 7 material.

After the welcoming speeches, the placement exams began.

Three sections. That's how the academy sorted students.

Section 1 — Prodigies. Those who already had mastery and power.

Section 2 — Potentials. Students with room to grow, possibly future stars.

Section 3 — The Remedials. Students who could barely cast magic, often used as political placements or second chances.

Each student would cast a spell in front of a mana detection crystal. The examiners would determine their section based on output, control, and potential.

Lyra went first.

She extended her hand. Wind gathered into her palm, then burst into a beautifully shaped spiral that hovered mid-air. A Tier 4 spell—without a chant. The room murmured with admiration.

"Advance Tier," one examiner said. "Section 1."

She walked down, not even glancing at the crowd.

Jace's turn came soon after.

He stepped forward, the weight of everyone's expectations crashing down.

He didn't try anything fancy.

He simply focused and cast a basic healing orb—Tier 1 magic.

Soft green light gathered in his hand.

Murmurs broke out instantly.

"That's it?"

"Did he even try?"

"What a waste of space."

One of the examiners sighed. "Section 3."

Jace said nothing and walked off. He didn't care about their sneers. Power wasn't always loud.

---

The training hall was where students trained daily, casting spells and refining their control.

On their first day, each new student was asked to demonstrate again.

Lyra's Tier 4 spell summoned a gust that bent iron bars.

Jace, once again, used a simple healing orb.

Some laughed.

"Looks like we have a charity case," muttered one of the noble sons—a pompous boy named Felix, son of a viscount.

Beside him was Garron, son of a baron and an investor in the academy. Both had smug expressions.

"Bet his scholarship was just pity," Garron said.

Jace ignored them. He didn't need to prove anything. Not now.

But deep down, he promised himself something.

One day, they'd see.

Not just the academy, not just the nobles—but the entire world.

They'd see what kind of monster they let into their precious halls.

---

Later that day, the students gathered in the cafeteria.

It was a grand space—vaulted ceilings, rows of long tables, and enchanted chandeliers casting soft, white light. The scent of roasted meat, buttered bread, and sweet fruit filled the air. Most students chatted in groups, laughing and talking about their magic, their families, and which section they got placed into.

Jace sat alone at the edge of the hall, quietly eating his stew and bread. He didn't mind the silence. He preferred it, especially after the constant whispers and judgment he'd received earlier.

But silence didn't last long.

Felix and Garron approached, trays in hand, smirks already on their faces.

"Hey, look who it is," Felix said, voice loud enough to catch attention. "The miracle healer."

Garron chuckled. "Careful, Felix. He might throw a healing orb at you. You could get cured of something."

Laughter rippled from nearby tables.

Jace didn't respond. He kept eating, ignoring them.

Felix slammed his tray down on Jace's table. "Why'd you even come here? This is a school for real mages. Offensive magic. Power. Not... patching up scratches."

Garron added, "Maybe he should work in the infirmary instead. Heal scraped knees and bruised egos."

Jace looked up, eyes calm. "Are you done?"

Felix leaned in. "What's that? Gonna cry?"

Before it could escalate further, a gust of wind swept through the cafeteria.

A tray lifted and slammed down between them.

Lyra.

She stood beside Jace's table, arms crossed, her eyes sharp as ice.

"Enough," she said coldly. "You two think this is funny?"

Felix opened his mouth, but Lyra cut him off.

"This academy is part of the only magical country we have. We're all on the same side. You bullying someone because their magic is different doesn't make you strong. It makes you pathetic."

The room went quiet.

Felix scoffed but stepped back. "Tch. Whatever."

Garron followed. "Waste of breath."

They left, their pride wounded.

Lyra turned to Jace.

"You okay?"

He nodded. "They're not the first."

She smirked. "Then you must be used to idiots."

Jace looked at her for a moment, then smiled faintly.

"Thanks."

Lyra didn't reply. She just sat across from him and started eating like nothing had happened.

Around them, the room returned to normal. But the message was clear—he wasn't completely alone.

While they were finishing their meals, a loud voice echoed through the cafeteria. It was magically amplified, coming from the ceiling.

"All new students, report to the battle stadium after your meal! You are required to witness the combat demonstration of the top graduates from previous years. Attendance is mandatory."

The cafeteria erupted into chatter.

Jace and Lyra exchanged glances.

"Guess lunch break is over," Lyra said, standing up with her tray.

Jace nodded and followed her. Other students began pouring out in groups, some excited, others nervous.

They arrived at the battle stadium—a massive coliseum-shaped structure with high walls and a wide open center stage. The stands could hold thousands of people, and already, much of it was filled with students from all three sections.

Magic barriers surrounded the fighting stage, glowing faintly blue to protect spectators from stray spells.

As Jace entered, a faculty member handed him a small token with a number engraved on it.

"Hold onto this," the man said. "You may be called to participate in a mock battle."

"Wait, what?" Jace blinked.

Before he could ask more, the man had already turned to the next student in line.

Everyone was given a number.

They took their seats, Lyra beside Jace, Felix and Garron not far off. After a short wait, the demonstration began.

Second-year, third-year, and fourth-year students entered the arena one by one. Each one held a powerful aura. Their uniforms were adorned with magical symbols, and they moved with the confidence of veterans.

The first match started—a one-on-one between a third-year wind user and a fourth-year fire mage. Their spells clashed midair with explosive force, sending shockwaves through the stadium.

Jace watched silently, eyes focused. Lyra leaned forward, analyzing each move.

"They're using condensed mana cores... and that wind blade technique—Tier 5," she murmured.

Jace nodded slowly. "It's another world entirely."

After several rounds of matches, a new announcement came.

"For the next part of today's event, we'll be randomly selecting new students to form a team. You will engage in a mock battle against a group of top second-year students."

A murmur ran through the stands.

"The following students, please report to the arena floor: Number 12, 27, 42, and 59."

Jace glanced at his token.

Number 27.

Lyra stood as well. "Twelve. That's me."

Felix and Garron groaned as they stood. They were 42 and 59.

"What the hell?" Felix muttered. "Why do we have to fight now?"

"Don't expect me to cover for you," Garron warned Jace.

"Don't worry," Jace replied. "I never expected anything from you in the first place."

They walked down to the stage. A crowd had already formed, whispering and laughing.

"The healer's fighting?"

"Isn't that Lyra? She's actually good."

"Two nobles, one prodigy, and... him?"

The four of them took their position across the field. On the opposite side, four second-year students stepped forward. Their uniforms had silver emblems, marking them as top-rankers.

A fire mage. A water wielder. A lightning user. And a girl with twin short blades coated in magical runes—likely an enhancement or summoner type.

A professor's voice boomed across the stadium.

"This is a test of coordination and power. No lethal force. Match ends when one team is entirely disabled or surrenders. Begin!"

Lyra raised her staff, already preparing a spell.

Felix and Garron charged ahead, arrogance in their steps.

Jace stood still for a moment, quietly watching the enemy team.

This wasn't just another fight.

This was his first real test inside the academy—and the beginning of something much bigger.