Eliza Clark POV
The youngest S-Rank mage.
That was Eliza Clark.
And yet, when she stepped into the gymnasium, even she could not hide her surprise.
She had already heard the rumours.
But hearing them and seeing the truth with her own eyes were two entirely different things.
Lyra Draven had reached C-Rank.
A first-year.
Eliza's gaze lingered on the girl for a moment longer than it should have.
A C-Rank in the first term.
Not at the end of the year.
Not after some long period of steady refinement.
Now.
It was unprecedented.
Even among the talented, the academy's progression had always followed an unspoken pattern.
First years were generally D-Rank, with only the better among them brushing against C.
Second years settled into C-Rank, with the exceptional beginning to approach B.
Third years stood at B-Rank, and only the true monsters touched A before graduation.
That was the expected order.
That was the pace genius was supposed to move at.
And Lyra had stepped beyond it in her first term.
'Monster.'
The thought came without exaggeration.
Eliza exhaled slowly, then looked at the girl again.
The change was not limited to Lyra's core.
Her entire presence had shifted.
Heavier.
Colder.
More distant.
It pressed faintly against the room like winter air slipping through an open door.
Not loudly.
Not carelessly.
But with the quiet certainty of someone who no longer stood on the same ground as everyone around her.
As Eliza stepped further into the gymnasium, the students' attention shifted to her at once.
The low murmur of conversation faded.
"It seems everyone is here."
'Except Xavier.'
A black rift opened near the back of the room.
'Even he came.'
The thought passed through her mind and was dismissed just as quickly.
Iori showed no visible interest in Lyra's advancement, but that was hardly surprising.
If Lyra was a monster, then Iori existed somewhere beyond comparison.
Eliza had long since stopped trying to measure him against anyone else.
He stepped through the rift without urgency, as though appearing late to class through a spatial tear were the most ordinary thing in the world.
Eliza continued as if nothing had happened.
"So. Casting."
Her gaze swept across the class.
"It is the foundation of all mana users, and therefore the foundation of nearly all human magic."
"In this class, you will not simply learn how to cast."
"You will learn what mana actually is."
A few frowns appeared among the students.
Some looked confused.
Others leaned forward.
Eliza would have continued without pause.
But for the first time in years, she felt her shadow stir.
Her focus sharpened at once.
Since childhood, her grandfather had never allowed her to move through the academy entirely unguarded. Something had always remained in her shadow.
Silent.
Hidden.
Watching.
An SS-Rank guardian.
One of the few protections in the academy Eliza had long since stopped consciously noticing.
That was how constant it had been.
How quiet.
How absolute.
Most days, she forgot it was there at all.
Until moments like this.
Her shadow bristled faintly against the floor.
Not enough for the students to notice.
But enough.
Eliza's eyes narrowed.
Then she felt it.
A pressure in the room.
Faint.
Focused.
Intent.
Not killing intent.
Not hostility.
Something warier than that.
It came from the being in her shadow.
And it was directed at the rift.
'Did something happen?'
Eliza sent a voice transmission.
No response came.
Outwardly, her expression did not change.
She continued speaking to the class.
But a portion of her attention remained fixed on the open rift.
Then she felt it.
No—
that was not correct.
She felt nothing.
That was what made it wrong.
A boy stepped through the portal.
Average height.
Brown hair.
Unremarkable features.
He looked around once, then casually made his way toward Iori.
Aeron.
Eliza's eyes sharpened.
'What happened to him?'
She could not sense even a trace of his presence.
Not suppression.
Not concealment.
Not the strained absence of someone trying desperately to hide.
There was simply...
nothing.
Then a voice touched her mind.
Sharp.
Controlled.
Female.
"He can see me."
Eliza froze for half a breath.
A few students shifted, no doubt noticing the slight pause in her lecture.
The voice came again, quieter this time.
"He knew where to look."
Eliza swallowed her surprise and continued the lesson without letting a word falter.
But her eyes returned to Aeron again and again.
Whenever he left her direct line of sight, her mana senses failed to place him anywhere in the room.
It was not concealment.
It was absence.
Aeron looked ordinary.
That was precisely the problem.
"Have you ever wondered why you cannot use mana in its pure form?" Eliza asked. "Why the mana you release is already attributed by the time it leaves your body, even though your core itself is made of pure mana?"
Brows lifted across the class.
A few students nodded faintly.
"In fact, all of you possess every affinity within your mana," Eliza continued. "But as you grow, one or more begin to manifest more strongly than the rest. That is why affinity testing is done later in life rather than at birth."
She paused, letting the words settle.
"Those attributes shape your mana signature. They form the imprint that makes your mana recognisably yours."
Her gaze swept across the room.
"You may think of it as the world's way of acknowledging your own private mana DNA."
A few students frowned.
Others looked more intrigued than before.
"Understood?"
A hand rose.
"So then... could we all use pure mana at birth?" a student asked.
"Theoretically, yes," Eliza said. "But Caelis does not allow it."
A ripple of confusion passed through the class.
"The only way for humans to use pure mana directly is through traits."
Her eyes shifted briefly.
"For example, Luke's shield."
Luke straightened at once, chest puffing out as several heads turned toward him.
Eliza continued without pause.
"The only race capable of using pure mana freely are dragons."
Her voice remained level.
"The children of Caelis."
There was something sharp beneath the final words.
Too slight for the students to notice.
But it was there.
Eliza had always hated the idea of privilege.
And yet even Caelis, it seemed, had offered that freedom to every race but humanity.
"Your first task is simple."
"Pair up with someone."
"Then, using your attributed mana in its rawest state, push against theirs."
The students shifted.
Eliza's gaze swept across the room as they began to pair off.
Lyra. Luke. The boy near the eastern wall with the fire affinity.
Then her eyes moved on.
A breath later, her brows drew together.
'There was something else.'
The thought hovered for only an instant before thinning into nothing.
Eliza continued speaking.
"Understand your mana. Grow closer to it. Don't just force it or increase your output."
Her eyes passed over the room again.
Then stopped.
Aeron.
The moment she saw him, the faint irritation in her mind sharpened into clarity.
'Right. Him.'
Her gaze shifted to correct another student's stance.
And just as quickly—
the certainty vanished.
'What was I just—'
Eliza had taught enough classes to divide her attention without effort.
One part of her watched the room.
One part listened to the flow of mana.
One part corrected mistakes before they fully formed.
It should have been effortless.
Eliza's eyes snapped back across the room until they found him once more.
There.
Average brown hair. Unremarkable face. Standing beside Iori as though there had never been anything strange about him at all.
'If I do not look at him, I lose him.'
For the first time in a long while, Eliza felt something dangerously close to unease.
She had no choice.
Even though she remembered telling him to meet her, he had not come.
'I need to speak with him after this.'
'I do not usually ask this of you,' Eliza murmured inwardly, 'but remind me when class ends.'
'There will be no need. I was already going to.'
Eliza looked at Aeron once more and frowned.
He did not participate.
He simply moved from pair to pair, stopping beside students only long enough to watch their demonstrations before moving on.
Iori did not follow him.
But his eyes tracked him.
Eliza's gaze sharpened slightly.
A conclusion began to form.
'They were in on it together.'
'Whatever happened in that dungeon, they must have done something beyond the fight.'
He claimed he had been there.
But there was not a single ounce of information on him.
No record of the way he fought.
No record of the spells he cast.
Not even a trace of how he used his affinities.
Nothing at all.
And still, no one seemed to truly acknowledge his presence, even when he stood close enough to observe them directly.
It was as if the eye noticed him—
but the mind refused to keep him.
Eliza had no clear idea what Aeron's ability was.
Only that it was wrong.
Her attention shifted to the rest of the class.
Lyra's control was as sharp as expected.
Luke's output was sturdy, if inelegant.
Several others were already making the predictable mistake of shaping their mana too soon.
Eliza corrected them one by one.
But before Aeron slipped fully from her line of sight, one final thought settled into place.
Aeron looked ordinary.
That was precisely why she could no longer afford to ignore him.
.
.
Kyle POV
'How?'
Ice-cold mana pressed against his own grey current.
Kyle was already sweating.
Both arms were outstretched, every muscle in them locked tight as he tried to force her back, his mana straining against hers with everything he had.
'How is this possible?'
Lyra's posture remained casual.
She stood there with only one arm raised, as though this entire exercise meant nothing to her.
As though he meant nothing.
'How did she advance faster than me?'
His thoughts churned.
When he had first heard the rumours, he had dismissed them at once.
No one should have risen above him.
'Not the Lightbearer.'
'Not anyone.'
'I am not destined for mediocrity.'
'My place was never beneath others.'
And yet the impossible stood in front of him.
With each passing second, his mana lost more ground.
The grey current around him flared harder, pushing desperately against the cold, but Lyra's mana did not tremble.
It only pressed forward.
Sharp.
Steady.
Merciless.
Kyle's jaw tightened.
His arms began to shake.
He poured more mana into the clash, forcing his core to answer him, forcing the grey to surge thicker, denser, heavier—
and still it was not enough.
It gave ground again.
And again.
And again.
'No.'
A pulse of freezing pressure bit into his mana, and his breath hitched.
She still had only one arm raised.
Kyle felt heat crawl up his neck.
His heart hammered harder.
This was wrong.
He should not have been the one yielding.
He should not have been the one straining.
He should not have been the one drowning beneath someone else's ease.
'I refuse.'
His grey mana lashed harder, but its resistance had already begun to lose shape.
Not calm.
Not empty.
Only force.
Only refusal.
Only wounded pride.
Kyle could not stand it.
Not being outmatched.
Not being surpassed.
Not being beneath someone else.
'Push harder.'
'More.'
'I said more.'
But the more his emotions swelled, the less his null answered him.
He did not realise it.
Did not understand that with every flare of pride, every spike of panic, every desperate need to overcome her, he was stepping further away from the truth null represented.
Absence.
Neutrality.
Stillness.
He was no longer reaching for null.
He was only reaching for himself.
And then, through the noise in his skull, that old seer's voice returned.
"Remember this, child—the day you seek to stand above another is the day null will cease to stand with you."
Kyle's eyes sharpened.
'No.'
The answer came at once.
Cold.
Instant.
Instinctive.
'Then null is wrong.'
His grey mana flared harder.
His eyes shone a deeper red.
For a moment, he forced it forward through sheer will, teeth clenched, veins taut beneath his skin.
He would not accept it.
Would not accept a power that asked him to be lesser.
Would not accept a path that demanded he lower his head just to walk it.
'I was not born for that.'
'I was born to stand above.'
But the harder he pushed, the more his mana frayed.
The grey current lost its stillness entirely.
Its shape wavered.
Its resistance cracked.
And Lyra's cold mana drove into it without pause.
Steady.
Absolute.
His breath hitched.
Another step lost.
Then another.
Kyle's jaw trembled with the force of what he was trying to suppress.
Humiliation.
Fury.
Disbelief.
Why?
Why was null failing him now, of all times?
Why did it retreat the more desperately he reached for it?
Then the seer's words echoed again.
Only clearer.
"The day you seek to stand above another is the day null will cease to stand with you."
Kyle's eyes shook faintly.
And for the first time, the meaning struck somewhere deeper than pride.
To stand above another...
Was that not exactly what he wanted?
No—
more than that.
It was what he had always wanted.
To rise above all.
To reign.
To become the one no one could surpass.
His fingers twitched.
Then his gaze sharpened.
And slowly, painfully, the flaw in his thinking began to reveal itself.
'If I cannot overcome what stands before me...'
'Then what right do I have to seek the place above it?'
The thought dug into him.
Not like surrender.
Like truth.
Raw and unwelcome.
A king who could not conquer the steps before the throne was not a king.
Only a fool staring upward.
Kyle's breath slowed by force.
His shoulders trembled once.
Then stilled.
'To stand at the top...'
'I must first cross what stands in my way.'
'Not rage at it.'
'Not deny it.'
'Overcome it.'
His eyes fixed on Lyra.
For the first time since the clash began, he stopped seeing her as an insult.
Stopped seeing her as a theft.
Stopped seeing her as something impossible that should not exist.
She was simply a wall before him.
A hurdle.
A truth.
And if he wished to become number one—
then this too was part of the path.
Kyle exhaled.
Long.
Slow.
His thoughts quieted.
His anger did not vanish.
Neither did his pride.
But they sank.
Settled.
No longer thrashing at the surface.
No longer poisoning the grey.
Absence.
Neutrality.
Stillness.
His mana answered.
The cracks running through his null mana resealed, and the wavering grey current became still once more.
No—
still was not the right word.
It had become empty.
So empty that the beam itself looked frozen, as though all motion within it had been stripped away.
'Yes.'
'A king who cannot govern his own emotions will never rule anything.'
Kyle's back straightened as he drew in a slow breath.
Mana drifted toward him from the air in quiet waves.
Lyra turned fully toward him.
Her purple eyes settled on him alone.
Not the class.
Not the lesson.
Not anything else.
Only Kyle.
'Yes.'
'Watch me ascend.'
The mana entered his core seamlessly, as though it had been waiting for him to become worthy of receiving it.
Then a pulse of grey spread through the gym.
C-Rank.
The second-fastest rise in human history.
But Kyle spared no thought for that.
His gaze remained fixed on Lyra's purple eyes.
Cold.
Proud.
Untouched.
And for some reason, that only made them more beautiful.
'I will be the first to reach B-Rank.'
'And when I do—'
His lips almost curled.
'One day, even those eyes will lower before me.'
.
.
Eliza Clark POV
Another C-Rank had ascended before her.
'This is good.'
'If it continues...'
'Then perhaps, just perhaps, we can—'
"Eliza."
The voice from her shadow interrupted her at once.
She blinked.
"Focus. You wanted to meet the boy after class."
Eliza frowned.
"The boy?"
Silence followed.
A small, unpleasant blank lingered in her mind.
Then, all at once, it returned.
Aeron Araxys.
The bell rang, signalling the end of class.
Her eyes went to the boy.
He was already there, waiting for her.
Iori was slumped in the corner of the gym, seemingly asleep.
'How did he know?' Eliza transmitted to the presence in her shadow.
'You are the one who deals with people, not me.'
The dry reply caught her off guard.
She had not realised her shadow could be snide.
Aeron walked toward her and stopped at a respectful distance.
His expression was composed, a faint, neutral smile resting on his face.
"Miss Clark," he said, "I assume you wished to see me after class."
Eliza's eyes narrowed slightly.
"And why would you assume that?"
Aeron coughed once into his fist and lowered his gaze, almost politely.
"It's not every day two beautiful high-rank beings keep staring at me."
He paused.
"Well. One S-Rank and one SS-minus."
Eliza said nothing.
She had heard more compliments than she cared to remember.
This one felt different.
Aeron meant every word.
There was no lust in it.
No flattery.
No expectation of a reaction.
Only simple, respectful honesty.
For the briefest moment, the vigilance in her shadow faltered.
Then it steadied again at once.
"Yes. Well, you guessed correctly, Aeron."
"How can I help, Miss Clark?"
His eyes shone as he looked at her.
No—
that was not quite right.
It was not the shine itself that unsettled her.
It was the way his attention settled on her with unnatural clarity while still feeling impossibly far away.
"I will be direct."
She paused.
"Let us begin with the first question. Where were you in the dungeon?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"And do not lie. I can tell if you do."
Aeron opened his mouth.
"I went in, found Iori, and stayed with him. The roots and vultures didn't notice either of us, so we wandered for a while."
He paused, as though searching for the simplest version of events.
"Eventually, we found a room filled with treasures. We took what we could and left."
Eliza stared at him.
It was the truth.
That was what made it worse.
The answer had been simple.
Far too simple.
"And if I asked what you took," she said, her voice level, "would you tell me?"
Aeron's smile widened slightly.
"Not unless you sign a mana vow with me."
For the first time, Eliza's silence held weight.
Not because she was shocked.
Because she was measuring him again.
Carefully.
Aeron met her gaze without hesitation.
"And if I do?" she asked.
"Then," he said softly, "you get a handful of secrets in return."
The corridor went still.
And somewhere within Eliza's shadow, the guardian's presence tightened.
Because that was not how a student spoke to an S-Rank mage.
It was how someone spoke when they believed they held something worth bargaining with.
Eliza's eyes narrowed.
Aeron's smile did not fade.
And in that moment, she understood one thing with perfect clarity.
This meeting had never been under her control.