CHAPTER 37 — The Classes (1)
In the Class S training grounds—
The air itself felt sharp.
Controlled.
Heavy with presence.
At the center of the vast arena, several students clashed in fast, precise exchanges. Their spells weren't wild or chaotic like the lower classes—each movement carried intent.
Controlled clashes unfolded across the arena. Fire met water with calculated force, wind curved around attacks instead of blindly cutting through them, and earthen constructs rose and collapsed with deliberate precision.
Each movement carried intent.
Each spell had purpose.
There was discipline in their clashes.
Even in conflict, there was structure.
At a distance from the battlefield—
A boy sat alone.
Silver-white hair fell neatly over his forehead, shifting slightly with the passing currents of mana in the air. His posture was relaxed, but not careless—his back straight, one arm resting over his knee, fingers loosely interlocked.
His golden eyes sharp and Unblinking.
They followed every movement on the field with quiet intensity, as if he was dissecting each exchange rather than simply watching it.
"Aren't you going to fight too?"
A voice broke the stillness beside him.
Lyren turned his head slightly.
A girl stood there, The faint breeze lifted strands of her hair, catching the light like flickering embers. Her arms were loosely crossed, her weight resting on one leg—casual, yet composed.
"I don't fight for meaningless reasons."
His tone was calm. Flat. As if the matter wasn't even worth elaborating on.
He looked away again.
"What about you?" Lyren added after a brief pause. "I thought you'd be the first to jump in for the class leader position."
Seraphine let out a quiet scoff, waving her hand dismissively.
"Please."
Her gaze drifted toward the battlefield.
watching two students exchange a rapid sequence of wind and earth spells.
"Class S isn't that fragile. We don't need a leader to function."
Her voice carried a faint edge now.
"And even if someone wins…" she continued, her gaze narrowing slightly, "Who exactly would follow them?"
A short pause.
"There are members from multiple factions standing here already. Why would any of them bow to someone else's authority instead of their own?"
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Honestly! This whole tradition is pointless."
She shifted her stance,irritation slipping through her composed demeanor.
"At the very least, it shouldn't apply to Class S. Watching them fight like this—"
Her voice faltered mid-sentence.
Her eyes narrowed.
"…Wait."
She leaned forward slightly, squinting toward the far end of the arena.
There—
Among the spectators near the edge of the battlefield—
A boy with flashy golden hair stood out like a stain on polished glass.
Not because he was fighting.
But because he wasn't.
The boy with messy golden hair stood near the edge of the battlefield, completely detached from the seriousness of the moment. He tossed something into the air—
Coins.
They clinked as they scattered across the ground
"…Zephyr?" she muttered.
Lyren tilted his head slightly in confirmation.
Seraphine exhaled slowly, pressing her fingers against her temple.
"…Of course."
Her shoulders dropped just a fraction.
"So that's why this is happening."
Her gaze returned to the battlefield, now carrying clear annoyance.
"No wonder it's only the non-affiliated ones fighting seriously."
She lightly tapped her temple, as if trying to contain a headache.
---
YES! That's it!"
Zephyr clapped loudly, laughing as another clash erupted.
He stood at the edge of the arena, tossing coins into the air with a carefree grin.
"Come on! Show me a real fight! I want to see some blood– Real blood—not this half-hearted nonsense! You know how the real blood looks?!"
Coins scattered across the stone floor as he tossed another handful, the metallic clinks echoing beneath the sounds of battle.
"Hey! Zephyr!"
He turned at the voice.
Seraphine stood a short distance away, one hand raised slightly.
Zephyr's face lit up instantly.
He lifted his arm high, waving exaggeratedly before casually making his way toward them.
"Heyyy, Sera~"
"What are you doing?" she asked, her tone flat. "You do realize this could get you expelled."
Zephyr shrugged lightly, his grin never fading.
"Aww come on, Relax. It's just a little fun."
Zephyr's smile didn't waver in the slightest.
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.
"And besides… I'll only get expelled if someone reports me."
Seraphine stared at him for a second—
Then looked away with a quiet click of her tongue.
Before she could respond—
"Just how long are you planning to embarass the Houses?"
Lyren's voice cut in, Calm and Cold.
Zephyr turned his head toward him.
"Hmm? Oh Lyri."
He grinned faintly.
"Maybe you didn't hear it." Zephyr continued lightly, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. "I was the winner of my group."
"That doesn't excuse your behavior."
Lyren's gaze didn't shift.
His tone remained unchanged.
"You are a heir of one of the Great Houses. Yet you act like a spoiled child seeking attention."
A brief pause.
"I don't understand how someone like you belong among us."
The words landed cleanly.
Without force.
Without emotion.
Seraphine's eyes moved between them, tension settling quietly in the space.
For a moment—
Silence.
Then—
"Hah…"
Zephyr chuckled.
Soft at first.
Then it grew.
"Hahaha~hahahah…"
He stepped closer and casually placed a hand on Lyren's shoulder, patting it lightly.
"Oh, Lyri…"
His voice lowered.
Still smiling.
"Do you actually think this whole cold, emotionless act makes you look superior... or even cool?"
The laughter faded.
But the smile remained.
"And you're really the one saying this to me?"
His eyes sharpened slightly.
"Weren't you the one, a year ago, running around like a madman on some crazy campaign of expansion? Expanding House Aerilon's influence?"
Seraphine's eyes flickered.
Zephyr continued.
"Going from institute to institute, forcing smaller institutions to bend the knee… saying you would rule over all—"
He stopped patting the shoulder.
"But then you suddenly decided to stop and came here."
His tone stayed light.
Almost playful.
"What happened on the way, huh?!
Did someone gave you a through beating for you to —"
He stopped Mid-sentence.
Because Lyren's expression hadn't changed,not even slightly.
No anger.
No irritation.
Nothing.
Seraphine looked at Lyren then Zephyr her gaze shifting between the two, carrying worry and tension
"…Wow."
Zephyr blinked once.
Then leaned back, studying him more closely.
"Seriously… what happened to you?"
He tilted his head, curiosity replacing
mockery.
"I thought you would snap. At least react."
A pause.
"But this?"
Zephyr let out a soft scoff.
"Hah. Now I'm really curious…What happened back then?"
Lyren didn't answer.
Instead—
He lifted his gaze.
Looking past Zephyr.
"—?"
Zephyr frowned slightly, then turned to follow his line of sight.
At first, he assumed Lyren was watching the battlefield again.
But no—
His focus was elsewhere.
At the far side of the arena—
Sitting alone—
Was a boy.
Black hair.
Straight posture.
His presence didn't demand attention—
But it held it anyway.
His eyes were directed toward the battlefield… or perhaps beyond it. It was difficult to tell. There was a strange distance in his gaze, as if what he was observing wasn't just the fight in front of him—but something else, something deeper.
'Hmm... That guy. Was his name Damon? An unaffiliate.'
Lyren's thoughts moved quietly beneath his calm exterior.
'He is the winner of group 9.'
His fingers tapped lightly against his knee.
'I have to admit it. There are many strong people in Grand Aetherion. Especially the winners of each group of areana battles.'
His gaze shifts briefly, looking at Seraphine and Zephyr.
Then back to the field.
'Five of the ten winners are from us elemental Houses.'
'Then two from Skyrend and Pyrestone'
His eyes narrowed faintly.
'…and the rest.'
'Unaffiliated.'
His fingers stilled.
'Each one… different and unique in their own way.'
Then—
A faint flicker of amusement crossed his otherwise still expression.
'But the most interesting one…'
'…is that boy.'
'The winner of Group 8.'
'The one who uses an axe.'
A quiet exhale. Almost a laugh escaped his lips.
'Most of them are already in Class S… or A.'
His gaze lifted toward the sky for a brief moment before returning forward.
'I wonder what they're doing right now.'
His lips curved ever so slightly.
"I can't wait to meet the other winners."
---
The sunlight spread warmly across the academy grounds, filtering through tall ivory pillars and reflecting softly against the polished stone floors, creating an atmosphere that felt almost peaceful—like the kind of day meant for a quiet walk or idle conversation.
But Rowan was not walking.
Instead, he sat cross-legged on the training field along with the rest of Class B, his posture slightly slouched, his attention divided between the lesson in front of him and the lingering confusion still clouding his thoughts.
And as he sat there, trying to make sense of everything—
His mind drifted back—
The classroom had been filled with noise earlier, a constant hum of overlapping voices and shifting bodies as students spoke among themselves, some excited, some nervous, and some simply trying to act like they belonged.
Rowan sat somewhere in the middle row, his back straight but his attention entirely elsewhere, as his fingers lightly brushed against the fabric of the uniform he had been given.
The Grand Aetherion uniform wasn't just clothing—it was a statement.
The outer coat was a deep midnight blue, tailored perfectly to the body with sharp, clean lines that gave off an immediate sense of discipline and authority, while the inner layer was a crisp white shirt that contrasted elegantly against it.
Fine silver embroidery traced along the edges of the coat, forming intricate patterns that subtly resembled flowing mana currents, almost as if the fabric itself carried a quiet echo of magic.
The collar stood firm around the neck, not uncomfortable, but structured enough to force a proper posture, while the emblem of the academy was stitched onto the chest—a refined crest that shimmered faintly when light touched it, as though it wasn't entirely mundane.
"You've been staring at it for quite some time now."
Ritvik's voice came from beside him, calm and slightly amused, though his gaze remained fixed forward.
"Hm…?" Rowan blinked, snapping out of his thoughts as he turned his head slightly.
"Ah… yeah. This uniform—it's… good."
Ritvik let out a short breath that almost sounded like a suppressed laugh, his lips curving just slightly as if he found Rowan's reaction mildly entertaining.
"Hah… good,"
"What?" Rowan frowned, about to question him further—
"Shh."
Ritvik cut him off immediately, his tone low but firm as he tilted his chin forward, signaling him to look ahead.
Rowan followed his gaze.
And that's when the room changed.
Thud.
The classroom door opened with a firm push, and the sound alone was enough to slice through the noise like a blade, instantly drawing attention without the need for any words.
A woman walked in.
Her long orange hair flowed behind her in a smooth, controlled motion, tied loosely near the end so it wouldn't interfere with movement, while sharp amber eyes scanned the room with a presence that didn't demand silence—but expected it.
And the class obeyed.
Not out of fear... but instinct.
"Hello, students."
She placed a rectangular metal case on the desk with a deliberate thud, the sound echoing just enough to settle the last remaining whispers.
"My name is InstructorValeriaDraxen," she continued, her voice steady and
commanding, "and I will be responsible for Class B."
Rowan leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing just a bit as he observed her more closely.
She wasn't overly tall, but her posture made her seem taller than she actually was, every movement controlled, every gesture precise.
Her uniform was slightly different from theirs—more refined, more fitted, with subtle gold linings instead of silver, marking her authority without needing explanation.
She was beautiful.
But not in a soft or gentle way.
There was sharpness in her presence.
A kind of intensity that made it clear she wasn't someone you relaxed around.
She was someone you stayed alert for.
"All of you must feel proud for making it into Grand Aetherion," Valeria said, her gaze sweeping across the class once more.
A few students straightened instinctively.
Some even smiled.
But then—
Her expression changed.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop, not physically, but in the way her voice carried a sudden, heavy weight.
"But now is not the time to feel proud."
The words landed harder than expected.
"You are in Class B," she continued, her tone now colder, sharper, cutting through any lingering excitement. "Which means, by this academy's standards, you are barely average… and only one step away from being considered inadequate."
Rowan swallowed unconsciously.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
"You are not exceptional," she added, her amber eyes narrowing slightly. "Not yet."
A long pause stretched across the room, thick with tension.
"So instead of celebrating," she said, turning toward the door again, "you will start fixing that immediately."
She didn't raise her voice.
She didn't need to.
"Everyone—outside."
And that was how they ended up here.
Back in the present—
Rowan sat among the other students on the open training field, the grass beneath him slightly warm from the sunlight, while a large blackboard had been set up in front of them using reinforced stands.
Instructor Valeria stood before it, chalk in hand.
"Let's begin with something fundamental,"
She said, tapping the board lightly as she wrote a single word.
Resonance.
"As most of you should already know," she continued, turning back toward them,
"Resonance is not simply your ability to use mana—it is the degree to which your existence aligns with it."
Rowan blinked slowly.
'Hmm...? Resonance.' He thought as he remembers how Eldric has also taught him the same thing.
"Mana exists everywhere," Valeria went on, her tone shifting into something more instructional, yet still carrying that same intensity.
"It flows through the air, rests within the earth, circulates through living beings, and forms the foundation of everything you see and everything you don't."
She paused briefly, letting that settle.
"But mana itself is meaningless without direction."
Her gaze sharpened.
"That direction… is Resonance."
She stepped forward slightly, her presence pressing against the students.
"Resonance is the synchronization between your mind, your body, and your intent with the natural flow of mana. The clearer your understanding, the deeper your connection—and the more efficiently you can shape it."
Rowan stared blankly.
'What is she even saying…?'
"There are no rigid levels like you may have been taught in lesser institutions," she continued, her tone carrying a hint of disdain. "Instead, Resonance is categorized into five stages, each representing a deeper level of understanding and control. Though there are technical names to adress them but in simple language they can be called—"
She raised her hand, counting slowly.
"Perception."
"Alignment."
"Assimilation."
"Dominion."
"And… Manifestation."
Each word carried weight.
"Every stage is further divided into three depths—low, mid, and high—because progress is not a leap, but a refinement."
Rowan's brain had already checked out halfway through.
He stared blankly, then turned his head looking around at the other students.
Everyone else were looking forward and nodding. Being focused and attentive.
'…Are they even understanding this? Or just nodding their head.'
Then—
A sudden chill ran down his spine.
He slowly turned his head.
Valeria was staring directly at him.
Her eyes narrowed.
Her fists clenched slightly at her sides.
'…Wait. Is she looking at me?'
Rowan was startled for a second but an advice from Eldric came to his mind about how to handle these kinds of situations so he choose to maintain his calm.
Rowan straightened himself immediately.
'Stay calm. Don't react.'
His face went blank,Completely neutral.
They stared at each other for a moment—
Then—
Sigh…
Valeria exhaled, turning away.
"…Right."
She tapped the box beside her.
"I'll assume you've grasped the basics. But still—"
"Most of you," she added, glancing across the group, "are still stuck at low-depth Alignment, barely aware of mana beyond the act of forcing it into form."
A few students shifted uncomfortably.
"Which is why," she said, walking back toward the metal case, "we are going to fix that."
She opened the case.
Inside—
Rows of metallic bands glinted under the sunlight, each one engraved with faint, pulsing lines that subtly distorted the air around them.
"Take one."
Students hesitated for a moment before moving forward, each picking up a band and securing it around their wrist.
Rowan looked at his, narrowing his eyes slightly.
"This is…"
"It's a Level 5 Mana Suppression Band," Valeria said, answering the unspoken question as she closed the case. "It will restrict your ability to draw and manipulate mana to a significant degree."
Rowan's expression stiffened.
'Level 5…?'
Even in the dojo, he had only ever seen Level 3 bands.
"Now," she continued, crossing her arms,
"cast a spell."
A student raised his hand slightly.
"Which spell?"
"Any," she replied simply.
The students slowly extended their hands, each one trying to gather mana and shape it into a spell just as they had done countless times before, but this time the result was completely different, because no matter how much they focused or how hard they tried, nothing formed in their palms.
There was no spark.
No movement.
Not even the faintest response.
Rowan frowned slightly as he raised his own hand, his focus sharpening as he attempted to draw mana toward himself, but the moment he reached out, it felt as if something invisible pushed it away, as though the very flow of mana around him had been disrupted beyond his control.
It wasn't resistance.
It was rejection.
For a brief moment, he just stood there, confused, trying again with more force, but the result remained the same, leaving him with a strange emptiness in his palm where mana should have been.
And just like that—
His battle with the Level 5 Mana Suppression Bands began.
---
As time passed, the initial confusion slowly turned into frustration, and that frustration began to show clearly on Rowan's face as his brows tightened and his jaw clenched.
'Ahhhh… what the hell is this?'
He tried again, this time forcing more effort into it, attempting to pull mana more aggressively, but instead of responding, the sensation only worsened, making it feel as though the mana itself was slipping further away the harder he tried to grasp it.
It felt unnatural.
Like trying to grab water with a closed fist.
Nearby, Instructor Valeria walked calmly between the rows of students, her gaze sharp as she observed each of them struggle, her footsteps steady and unhurried as if she had seen this exact reaction countless times before.
"Brute force will get you nowhere," she said, her voice firm yet controlled as it carried across the field. "If pushing harder solved everything, none of you would be stuck here right now, so instead of forcing it, start thinking about what you're doing wrong."
Rowan inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself as he followed her words and attempted again, yet the moment he reached out for mana, the same hollow resistance greeted him.
Nothing.
"Ahh—!"
The frustration slipped out of him in a low groan before he quickly turned his head toward the sound of a similar reaction nearby.
Ritvik sat a short distance away, his usual composed expression slightly cracked as he too struggled, his hand extended forward while faint traces of mana flickered and disappeared before they could take form.
Even he couldn't do it.
Rowan let out a tired sigh, his shoulders dropping slightly as he glanced around at the others, only to realize that no one—literally no one—had succeeded yet, and the entire group was stuck in the same frustrating loop of trying and failing.
Then—
His gaze shifted.
And landed on Sarina.
---
She sat there quietly, her posture straight, her breathing steady, and her expression far too calm compared to everyone else around her, as if the chaos of failure surrounding her had no effect on her focus whatsoever.
Rowan narrowed his eyes slightly.
'How is she so calm…?'
At that exact moment—
A compressed swirl of wind began to form in her palm, small but clearly defined, spinning tightly as if it had finally taken shape.
Before—
It vanished.
Gone in an instant.
"—?!"
Rowan's eyes widened in genuine surprise.
'She almost did it…!'
That single moment was enough to shift something inside him.
Without wasting another second, Rowan straightened his posture and focused again, determination replacing frustration as he prepared to try once more.
More time passed.
Gradually, a few students began showing results, faint and unstable spells flickering into existence before disappearing just as quickly, yet even that much was enough to prove it was possible.
Sarina, this time, succeeded in forming her spell, a small but stable manifestation of wind resting in her palm before she let it dissipate calmly.
Meanwhile—
Rowan was still struggling.
"Ahhh…!"
The frustration returned, sharper this time, as he clenched his teeth and tried again, only to be met with the same failure.
"Come on!" Valeria's voice rang out again, louder now, carrying clear impatience.
"How long are you planning to sit there like this? You were taught the basics before coming here, so use them. Reflect on what you already know instead of blindly repeating the same mistake."
Rowan's face tightened.
'Reflect…? What does that even mean…?'
"Hey, Rowan…"
A low whisper came from beside him.
"Yeah…" Rowan replied without turning, his focus still forward.
"I think I figured it out," Ritvik said quietly, though there was a hint of confidence in his tone now.
Rowan's eyes flickered slightly.
"…Then kindly tell me how," he said immediately.
Ritvik exhaled softly.
"Don't rush into it," he replied. "Stop trying to force it first. Think about it properly. The answer is simpler than you're making it."
Rowan froze for a second.
Then—
"Ahh—!" he groaned in frustration, clenching his teeth as irritation flared again. "What kind of help is that supposed to be…?"
He closed his eyes anyway.
Forced himself to stop.
Forced himself to think.
'If it's simple… then I've already learned it somewhere…'
His breathing slowed.
His thoughts turned inward.
Memories surfaced.
Rowan kept his eyes closed and started thinking looking back at his memory the things that he have learnt.
the first thing that came to his mind was the memory when he was little and was learning wood cutting.
"Carrying a tree is difficult." His father had said back then his voice calm yet firm.
"But if you cut it in small logs then it's easy to carry them."
Then, A memory of the dojo flickered.
It was when he was training with the suppressing bands there too.
Eldric's voice rang.
"You're trying to pull everything at once,"
Eldric had said, shaking his head slightly.
"That won't work under suppression. Start small. One particle at a time. Build it slowly."
His eyes snap open.
"Gather particals slowly." The words came out of his mouth without him realising.
"Oh!" Ritvik said beside him, a faint smirk forming." So you have also figured it out."
Rowan didn't respond.
He took a deep breath instead.
Then focused.
This time—
He didn't reach out forcefully.
He didn't grab.
He felt.
Slowly, carefully, he searched for the faint presence of mana in the air, sensing how the suppressing band pushed it away the moment he tried to draw it in.
So he adjusted.
Instead of fighting against it directly, he began pulling gently, drawing in the smallest traces, one particle at a time, even as the band resisted and pushed back against him.
It became a quiet struggle.
A balance.
Push.
Pull.
Push.
Pull.
Time stretched as the two forces clashed against each other in silence.
Until—
Fwoosh.
A small flame flickered to life in his palm.
It was weak.
Fragile.
But real.
Rowan's eyes widened slightly as he stared at it, the soft glow reflecting in his pupils as a slow smile spread across his face.
The flame danced gently, like a firefly glowing in the darkness, delicate yet alive.
From a distance, Valeria observed him closely, her arms crossed as her fingers tapped lightly against her upper arm in a slow, rhythmic motion.
Then—
She uncrossed her arms.
And clapped once.
Sharp and Clear.
"Alright," she said, her voice cutting across the field. "That concludes the first lesson."
Rowan blinked.
'…That's it?'
"First lesson…?" a few students muttered in confusion, their expressions shifting as they looked at one another.
'Wait… what does that mean…?'
And then—
Valeria spoke again.
"This," she said calmly, though a faint edge had returned to her tone, "was only the beginning."
A pause.
"Now… we move on to the second lesson."
Silence.
Then—
"Whattttt?!"
The reaction erupted instantly, disbelief spreading across every face present.
---
CHAPTER ENDS