Magic Academy - Unknown Origin

Jace walked alone through the eastern corridor, the afternoon light spilling through the arched windows in narrow beams. His footsteps echoed softly against the polished stone, but his mind was far noisier.

He couldn't stop thinking about what Professor Meralda said.

"Go to the principal."

"I've never seen this before — not in scrolls, not in books."

It was supposed to be a routine class on mana amplification, and now here he was, holding questions no one seemed to have answers to.

As he turned a corner, his thoughts drifted back—not to the classroom, but to the Forest of Death.

That battle.

That moment.

The spell he'd created when he was out of options.

A reverse flow pattern.

He remembered how it had saved him—reversing the healing circle's outflow, compressing it inward, turning his body into a conduit of regenerative power and, for a short while, invincibility. It had come from nowhere. No theory. No logic. Just instinct.

He slowed to a stop, eyes narrowing.

Let's see it again.

He opened his palm and traced the same lines in the air—careful, slow. His mana responded, thin threads of light coalescing into a floating pattern. And there it was.

The reverse circle.

Alive. Breathing.

Jace stared at it, stunned.

It was complex. No—it was far too complex.

There were rotating resonance lines, a triple-spiral core, stabilizers formed in unorthodox positions. It twisted and layered in ways no beginner spell should. Compared to the basic formation he'd shown to Professor Meralda, this one was…

"…twice as dense," Jace whispered.

How…?

He'd made this back in the forest, bleeding and desperate. With no time to think. No textbooks. No theory.

And yet, this was more advanced than anything the academy had shown him so far.

He clenched his fist, the glowing circle vanishing into mist.

If this was what he created by instinct…

What would happen if he learned to build properly?

His gaze flicked up. The principal's office was just ahead—an ornate wooden door marked with silver runes, unmoving and silent.

Jace exhaled deeply.

He had no idea what he was anymore.

But he was about to find out what they thought of him.

Jace stood before the principal's door, his hand still hovering after the knock.

A deep, composed voice from within responded.

"Come in."

He pushed the door open.

The office beyond was quiet and refined. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, filled with thick tomes, aged scrolls, and glimmering magical instruments sealed in glass. A tall window cast long rays of afternoon light across the polished floor. Behind a wide rune-inscribed desk sat the principal—a silver-haired man in deep blue robes, embroidered with gold and faintly glowing symbols. His eyes were sharp, the kind that missed nothing.

He looked up from a stack of papers, his tone even.

"You must be Jace. Professor Meralda said you'd be coming."

Jace stepped forward with a respectful nod. "Yes, sir. She asked me to show you something."

"Let's see it."

Jace raised his hand.

With slow, deliberate motion, he drew glowing lines through the air. A magic circle began to form—one that shimmered with quiet power. Its structure was stable, pulsing with balanced mana, but the pattern was unfamiliar. The loops curved unpredictably, the core spiraled in a way that defied standard formations. It wasn't crude. It was precise. But strange.

The principal stood from his chair, stepping around the desk to get a closer look.

His expression darkened slightly—not in disapproval, but in focused curiosity. He circled the floating glyph, arms crossed behind his back.

"This isn't academy-standard," he murmured. "Where did you learn this?"

"I didn't," Jace replied. "It's just… how I've always cast spells. I grew up in the North. No books. No formal training. Just instinct and mana."

The principal gave a short exhale through his nose.

"You've been casting healing spells with this formation?"

"Yes."

He stared at it a moment longer, then reached forward. His fingers didn't touch the magic, but they traced near its edge—feeling the mana radiating from it.

"It's refined… but strange. Not wild. Not unstable. Just… something else entirely."

Jace didn't move.

The principal finally turned back to his chair and sat down, his face unreadable.

"You were right to bring this to me. I haven't seen anything like this before. Not in records, nor in royal archives."

Jace stayed quiet.

"This stays between us for now," the principal said after a pause. "I'll have Professor Meralda guide you through standard formations. But if you create more spellwork like this—especially if it happens during instinctive casting—you come to me immediately. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Principal."

He nodded. "You may go."

Jace gave a short bow and turned to leave.

After leaving the principal's office, Jace made his way back to the dormitory.

The halls were quiet by then, the evening sun casting long shadows through the arched windows of the academy. His mind was spinning—not from stress, but from memory. As he climbed the stairs to his floor, he wasn't thinking about the academy or the students. Instead, he was drifting back… to the Frozen Forest.

A memory surfaced—the cold winds slicing his coat, his breath fogging in the air, and his body trembling as he tried again and again to push mana through his fingers. Alone. Hungry. Carving symbols into frozen bark with numb hands, trying to control his flow without any guidance. The first time he successfully healed a wound was after he collapsed in the snow, too cold to feel his own fingers, forcing mana into a crude circle sketched with frost.

He laid down on the dormitory bed, eyes half-closed.

And without realizing, sleep claimed him.

---

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the dorm window.

Jace woke up early, as usual. Quietly, he moved through his routine—washing, preparing his materials, and heading out for class. Several of the other male students in his section trailed behind him in the hallway, throwing glances his way. A few whispered, impressed by his reserved, composed demeanor and good looks. But Jace ignored the attention.

At the hallway intersection just before the class wing, he spotted a familiar figure leaning against the wall—arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Lyra.

She looked up the moment he approached. "You look tired."

"Didn't sleep much," Jace replied.

She tilted her head slightly. "What did you do yesterday? You suddenly went to the principal's office."

Jace hesitated, then replied honestly, "Professor Meralda told me to show him my magic circle."

Lyra blinked. "Your circle? The one you always use?"

He nodded.

"I didn't know it was that special," she said, falling in step beside him as they entered the classroom.

"It's not… special. Just different. I never learned from scrolls. I made it myself."

Lyra didn't say anything else, but her eyes lingered on him longer than usual.

Inside, Professor Meralda stood in front of a wide chalkboard. Various magic circles were drawn behind her in clean, glowing white lines. Today's lesson had already been posted: "Advanced Circle Control: The Foundation of Efficient Spellcasting."

The room filled quickly with chatter and scribbling. Meralda turned as the bell chimed and began.

"Today's topic is about maximizing efficiency within structured formations," she said. "You'll all be using a standardized kingdom-grade Tier 1 casting circle. I want you to pour your mana in and observe the response. No spell output. Just mana flow."

With a wave of her hand, rune-inscribed slates appeared on every desk, each etched with a glowing replica of the basic kingdom spell circle.

Jace looked at his.

It felt… foreign.

He placed his palm on the slate and began to send mana into the formation.

And instantly, the resistance hit him.

It was subtle—but real. Like trying to pour water into a pipe that refused to open. The lines pushed back against his mana, rejecting the flow. He frowned and tried again, more carefully this time, but the circle refused to harmonize.

Professor Meralda passed behind him and paused.

"…Is something wrong, Jace?"

He looked up at her. "It's not accepting my mana. It won't flow."

She raised a brow, intrigued. "Try again. Don't force it. Just guide it gently."

Jace did as instructed.

Again, the mana wouldn't settle. It writhed and rolled inside him, refusing to pass through the kingdom-standard formation. It was like his core itself couldn't recognize the design.

All around him, the other students were lighting their slates with ease. Even Lyra's glowed steadily.

But Jace's remained inert.

Meralda crossed her arms. "Interesting…"

She said no more, but her eyes held a spark of deep thought—as if something just confirmed itself.

Jace looked down at his slate once more. That circle may have been perfect for the rest of the kingdom…

…but not for him.

Professor Meralda's eyes lingered on Jace's slate a moment longer before she finally spoke, her voice low but firm.

"For today… just observe how the others cast. Don't force your mana into the circle again."

Jace gave a small nod, and Meralda added quietly, "After class, come see the principal again. I'll be joining."

He didn't respond, but his eyes stayed on the glowing slates of the others. One by one, they poured mana effortlessly into the standard circle—clean, efficient, and obedient.

Unlike his.