Dawn training had become a routine of failure.
Enya knelt in the sand, picking up a small piece of glass—the only thing her lightning spell had managed to create. It caught the gold dawnlight, smooth and clear. Around her, the others looked equally defeated.
Mira blew sand from her mouth, looking like she'd wrestled with a dust devil and lost. Every movement sent more sand cascading from her hair.
Rohen resembled a clay golem, thick mud coating his arms and chest where his earth-water spell had turned against him. "At least yours makes something pretty. Mine just makes me look like I fell in a swamp."
"Everyone, please stay calm," Tomas said, clutching his wand. His voice strained with the effort of keeping them together while afraid to even attempt his own fire-earth spell.
"What can we do?" Enya stood, still holding the glass piece. "Go back to the books? I've been buried in theory for days. Nothing's working."
"Even the advanced stuff we learned didn't help," she continued, her voice carrying the weight of recent disappointment.
"The tournament is in a few weeks," Rohen said, giving up on the mud. "We'll face real magic that could destroy us while we're here harming ourselves and making pretty rocks. I can already hear them laughing.
Vel's gaze moved between his classmates, taking in each defeat. He sat apart from the group, his practice sword planted point-down in the sand.
"That's it." Mira threw herself backward onto the sand, arms spread wide. "I'm giving up. Good luck with the tournament." She stared up at the lightening sky. "Not that we can compete with the elite anyway."
The blade ground deeper with each twist.
Aqu-alea-voltis mino-retum. A simple incantation that would change everything for Enya.
He could end their suffering in minutes. Show them the proper incantation, explain the three-channel theory, watch their faces light up with hope instead of defeat. Just like that.
But then the questions would come.
How do you know this advanced theory, Vel? Where did you learn about chaos magic that even our instructor doesn't understand? Why do you have knowledge that doesn't exist in any textbook?
Vel's grip tightened on the sword hilt. He'd been sticking to his principles since revealing his understanding of Stormbringer, expecting some breakthrough his classmates could claim as their own.
He remembered that hollow feeling from his past life—copying someone else's solution versus working through the problem himself. The answer might be the same, but the understanding, the confidence that came from struggle—that was irreplaceable.
But watching Mira give up, seeing Enya clutch that glass shard like a symbol of her failure, hearing the defeat in their voices...
How long can I hold onto principles while my friends destroy themselves?
The class stagnated in defeat until footsteps approached across the sand. Lyvenna entered the training ground, her expression unreadable.
"Class," she announced, stopping before the scattered group. "I have good news and bad news."
Mira didn't even lift her head from the sand. Enya still clutched her glass shard. Only Tomas managed to look up with any real attention.
"The good news is, unstable students are allowed one team to enter the Academic Trials—the objective-based tournament."
That got everyone's attention. Even Mira propped herself up on her elbows.
"And the bad news?" Tomas asked, though his voice suggested he already suspected.
"We only have five students."
The group looked among themselves. Tournament teams required three members.
"Which means we need to find someone," Lyvenna continued. "Someone willing to join us."
"But who?" Enya asked, finally dropped the glass piece. "Who would join a band of outcasts?"
Rohen let out a bitter laugh. "By the look of it, Mira's already given up. We just need one more to do the same, right?"
The joke landed with a thud. Nobody smiled.
"Only one team?" Tomas confirmed, his voice carefully neutral.
"The Academy board suggested that having more would tip the balance of fairness," Lyvenna replied, her tone suggesting what she thought of that reasoning. "Some already objecting the idea. Reasoned that students were divided into classifications for a reason."
The students exchanged glances. Five students, one team slot. The math was simple, the implications less so.
Lyvenna let them process the information for a moment before continuing. "How has your spellcasting been progressing?"
They all shook their heads. Rohen wiped clay residue from his arms. Enya kicked the glass shard aside. Mira averted her gaze, still lying flat on the ground. Tomas just stared at his wand.
Vel remained sitting by his sword.
"Might as well give up," Mira said, staring up at the sky. "Join the Academic Trials. Accept our fate as failed magic users." She let out a bitter laugh. "Fight among ourselves for the spot while we're at it."
Enough.
Vel surged to his feet and drove the practice sword into the sand with resolute force, the blade standing upright like a banner of defiance.
"Enya," he called out, dusting sand from his clothes. "You mentioned you tried the spell. What went wrong?"
The group's attention shifted to him, surprised by his sudden intervention.
Enya's hands clenched into fists. "The spell was too powerful. I couldn't keep control and almost fainted." She looked down at her hands. "I felt like I was drowning in my own magic."
"Expected," Vel said, placing both hands on his hips. "That magic circle was too complicated. Not to mention it would lead to overcasting at your level."
He looked around at each of his defeated classmates. Then walked closer.
"Why don't we try starting small?"
Lyvenna fixed him with that same analytical stare, studying and judging. But Vel had no patience for it anymore.
"Start small?" Tomas asked, a flicker of hope creeping into his voice.
"We modify the spell. Make it smaller, more manageable. Use what we already know."
The group moved closer, drawn by Vel's sudden confidence. He reached for Tomas's wand—not to cast, but to sketch in the training ground. Tomas blinked in confusion but handed it over.
"What if we strip away everything we don't actually need?" Vel began drawing a simplified magic circle, his movements quick and sure.
Several students tilted their heads, studying his rough diagram.
"What are the core components that make this spell work?" Vel asked, tapping the center of the circle.
"The elements," Enya said immediately.
"Lightning and water," Rohen added.
"The scale control," Mira chimed in, sitting up from the sand.
"And?" Vel prompted.
"The chaos element," Tomas said slowly. "The randomness."
"Right. So we only need these essentials. No target acquisition, no wide-area coverage. Just lightning dispersing randomly in a small space."
"How small?" Enya asked, leaning forward.
"Size of a table?"
"In theory, we'd get a spell that scatters lightning bolts in a contained area," Mira said, understanding dawning in her voice.
"Now comes the hard part," Vel said, handing the wand back to Tomas. "The incantation."
The group fell quiet.
"Incantations aren't random, right? If a core function of a spell changes, the incantation seems to change too. We need to figure out how it applies to our chaos-modified spell."
"Do you remember the incantation for Stormbringer?" Vel asked.
"Aqu-alea-voltis Aretum," Enya recited without hesitation. She'd probably repeated those words countless times, trying to make them work.
"We already know it sounds different from normal spells, but we don't know why," Rohen said. "All our research came up empty."
"Because no one's been given the chance to research it properly," Vel replied. "If we're going to solve this, we need to put our own spin on it."
"What are you suggesting?" Mira asked, brushing sand from her hair.
"We try different incantations. Make educated guesses. See what happens."
Vel pointed to his diagram in the sand. "What would the incantation be for this spell without the chaos element?"
"It should be... Voltis Aquare Aretum," Tomas said slowly. "Lightning as main component, water as secondary."
Vel nodded. "What if that's not how we communicate with the Chaos Spirit? Our mana contains three different elements—what if we have to speak three languages at once? Not by choice, but because that's our nature."
Tomas's expression suddenly widened. "The -alea... the blending pattern."
Vel wasn't surprised to see Tomas catch on first.
"You're suggesting we follow the Stormbringer pattern with our own spell?" Enya asked, excitement creeping into her voice.
Vel simply nodded.
The implications dawned on each student. Even Lyvenna leaned forward, her analytical expression shifting to genuine interest.
"But will it work?" Mira asked.
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," Vel shrugged. "We have to start somewhere."
They gathered around Vel's diagram, working through the logic as a team.
"So following the Stormbringer pattern... Aqu-alea-voltis Aretum?" Tomas suggested.
"That's for the full-sized spell," Rohen pointed out. "We're making it smaller."
Vel's interface displayed the answer with crystalline clarity. The complete incantation hovered before his eyes, perfect and final. His hands clenched at his sides. Should he follow through? Should he break his own rule just this once?
Before he could wrestle with the choice any longer, Lyvenna approached. "You need to account for the size change. For contained spells, 'minor retum' becomes 'mino-retum' with the blending."
Vel exhaled slowly, tension bleeding from his shoulders. Lyvenna had given them the key without him having to abandon his principles. Thank you.
All eyes turned to Enya. She was the only one with air-water affinity who could attempt this spell.
Her hand stretched toward the vast empty training space. Then she took a deep breath, centering herself and holding her focus crystal steady.
"Aqu-alea-voltis mino-retum."
The instant those words left her lips, something responded. Her voice layered with impossible harmonies—echoes that had never been spoken, otherworldly resonance cascading from somewhere beyond the physical world. As if three different spirits were speaking through her throat simultaneously, transforming her simple incantation into an ethereal chorus.
Even Enya flinched, startled by the resonance coming from her own throat.
Above the sand, a small dark cloud began to form. Lightning crackled within its swirling mass, contained and controlled. The spell held exactly as she'd imagined it, lasting as long as she could maintain focus.
Never before had Enya cast magic that truly worked.
She stared in wonder as lightning bolts struck downward at random intervals, each crackling with contained power. Unpredictable, chaotic—yet exactly as she'd envisioned. The spell obeyed her will while embracing its wild nature.
Around her, jaws dropped. Here was the impossible—an "unstable" student casting magic with true intent and control.
Controlled chaos.
After nearly a full minute, Enya finally released her focus. The dark cloud dissolved with a gentle puff, leaving only scattered patches of glass in the sand where lightning had struck.
No one spoke.
Enya stared at her own hands, watching them tremble. The glass fragments caught the gold dawnlight like fallen stars—beautiful, intentional, hers.
Her knees buckled. She caught herself on one hand, the other pressed against her mouth as if to hold back a sob that had been building for years.
Tomas's wand clattered to the ground. Mira sat up slowly, afraid to move too quickly. Even Rohen froze, mesmerized.
"Did you see that?" Enya whispered through her fingers, voice breaking. "It didn't fizzle out. It didn't explode or turn against me or—"
She looked up at her classmates, tears threatening to fall.
"I'm not broken."
The silence that followed was profound. Years of self-doubt, of being told they were flawed, of watching other students succeed while they failed—all of it crumbled in the face of those scattered glass fragments.
Vel felt a surge of elation unlike anything he'd ever experienced—greater than any coding breakthrough, any solved problem from his past life. But more than that, he saw hope reborn in his classmates' faces. This wasn't just magical theory proven correct—it was validation of their very existence.
The reality of their breakthrough began to sink in across the entire class.
"In all my years..." Lyvenna whispered, unable to remove her gaze from Enya. For once, her composed instructor mask had completely slipped away.
Suddenly, every pair of eyes turned toward Vel with desperate hope.
"What about me?!" Tomas burst out.
"No, me first!" Mira protested, scrambling to her feet.
"Easy," Vel said, raising his hands with a grin he couldn't suppress. "We have time to figure out everyone's spells now that we know the approach."
For the next twenty minutes, the training ground buzzed with frantic energy. Students sketched experimental sigil patterns in the sand, compared notes, and debated incantation structures. The despair that had hung over them like a shroud was completely gone, replaced by electric anticipation.
"Remember," Vel called out as they worked, "every spell we cast needs to incorporate the Chaos element. Our magic will never be quite the same as other students'—but we could use it as our advantage."
The theoretical work had energized them, but now came the real test. One by one, they would need to prove their modified spells actually worked.
Mira volunteered to go first, raising her notebook with her focus crystal embedded in the cover.
"Terr-aer-lea orbis-agitare."
Small pebbles lifted from the ground—first one, then two, then dozens more. They hovered for a moment before beginning their dance, swirling around an invisible center like tiny planets in orbit. The stones followed no predictable pattern, their paths shifting and changing in controlled randomness.
With a sharp flick of her wrist, Mira sent the entire formation forward. The pebbles struck the training dummy in a chaotic barrage, each impact precise yet unpredictable.
"It worked," she breathed, staring at her own hands in amazement. "It actually worked."
"My turn!" Rohen advanced eagerly, barely able to contain his excitement. "Aqu-terra-lea formiz-etahn."
The sand beneath his feet darkened, transforming into rich mud before hardening into clay. The clay mass rose from the ground, growing into a formless lump. Then, with a sharp crack, it shattered into dozens of razor-sharp earth fragments.
Each shard hung suspended in the air for a heartbeat before launching toward the training dummy with vicious whizzing sounds. The impacts came in rapid succession—thunk, thunk, thunk—leaving the dummy bristling like a porcupine.
"Incredible," Rohen whispered, flexing his fingers as if seeing them for the first time.
"Let me try!" Tomas practically bounced on his feet. "Igni-terra-lea iter!"
A small orange-red sphere began forming at his wand's tip, pulsing with inner heat. The magma orb grew slowly, deliberately, until it reached the size of his fist. Then, with a small combustion from within, it shot forward at threatening speed.
But its trajectory was completely unpredictable. The orb zigzagged through the air, weaving left and right in a drunken pattern that defied all logic. Vel couldn't tell if it was the aerodynamics of molten rock or pure chaos at work—either way, it connected with the dummy in a spectacular explosion.
Flames engulfed the target instantly, sending molten debris scattering across the sand.
Tomas stood baffled, frozen by the aftermath of his own spell.
The entire group erupted. They jumped, screamed, embraced each other with wild abandon. Years of failure and self-doubt melted away in an instant, replaced by pure, unbridled joy.
"We did it!" Enya laughed through tears. "We actually did it!"
Lyvenna watched their celebration with deep satisfaction, pride evident in every line of her expression. But Vel noticed something shift in her demeanor—a distant look, as if their success had stirred something unexpected.
As the wild cheering gradually faded into excited chatter, Lyvenna's expression grow more thoughtful. She seemed to be weighing something carefully before she finally spoke.
"This is a revolutionary finding," she said, her voice carrying unusual weight. "This doesn't just affect you—it affects me as well. Not just as your instructor, but personally."
She paused, meeting each of their eyes. "I have a confession to make. Something I've never revealed to my students before."
"I'm also unstable—or was, during my Academy days."
Vel maintained a neutral expression, already knowing this from their private conversation.
After a moment of silence, Tomas spoke up with a grin. "We already knew that, Instructor."
"Absolutely," Mira added with a knowing smile.
"Only someone with unstable elements would understand us the way you do," Rohen declared, adjusting his mud-stained clothes.
Enya nodded earnestly. "You speak from experience, not just theory."
Lyvenna blinked, clearly taken aback. "You... all of you knew?"
"The way you explain things," Tomas elaborated. "And you never use that condescending tone when you say 'unstable' like the other instructors do."
Lyvenna's composed facade cracked, revealing genuine warmth beneath. "I thought I was being subtle."
"With respect, Instructor," Rohen replied with gentle amusement, "you weren't."
Vel smiled as his classmates voiced what he'd already discovered. There was something deeply satisfying about this moment—their small group of "outcasts" recognizing one of their own.
Without another word, Lyvenna stepped toward the practice area and extended her arm.
"Terr-aer-lea anexare vortum."
She ended the incantation with a crisp finger snap for effect.
A dust devil materialized where she pointed, small at first but rapidly expanding upward. The main vortex stabilized at twice Vel's height, impressive yet controlled.
Then came the innovation that made Vel's eyes widen. Multiple smaller tornadoes formed beneath the main column, each no larger than his forearm. Unlike the stationary parent vortex, these miniature twisters shot outward in completely chaotic patterns, zigzagging across the practice area like living things.
Elegant. Efficient. Beautiful.
The smaller tornadoes eventually dissipated, followed by the main column, leaving only dancing dust motes in the morning light.
No one spoke. The shared looks of appreciation said everything.
"If we keep this up," Mira declared finally, "we might actually have a fighting chance in the tournament."
A shadow of concern crossed Tomas's face. "Speaking of the tournament... we're still missing one person to form two teams. Each team needs three members, right?"
"That's right," Rohen acknowledged slowly. "How do we find the last person?"
"Maybe we vote and pick the best three?" Mira suggested reluctantly.
"But then two of us risk penalties for not participating," Enya pointed out.
"I have a better idea," Vel said. "What if we ask someone from another class? The rules never mentioned we need to be from the same class."
"That's true, but who would join us?" Tomas asked.
Vel hesitated. A face came to mind immediately—someone he trusted, someone with exactly the skills they needed. But the words stuck in his throat.
What if this ruins her standing completely? She's worked so hard to prove herself, fought for every bit of recognition she's earned. Maybe it would be better for her to stick with the safer route, team up with people who could actually help her career. We might not be broken anymore, but our futures are still as unpredictable as our chaotic magic.
The group fell quiet, sensing his internal struggle. Despite discovering their path forward through magical innovation, the harsh realities of Academy politics remained unchanged. Breakthrough or not, the social hierarchy would still judge them—and anyone foolish enough to associate with the branded failures.