"Mana potion infused with ice magic can cure the poison from mana turbulence…"
The sentence floated at the edge of Baston's thoughts like a whisper that refused to fade. That was the reward for his bad performance. It was just a single line. The old book didn't reward him with power, new ability, or tangible artifact. It only gave him an information.
He stared at the old book resting on his lap, fingers hovering above the faded parchment. The letters had already dimmed, returning
to their usual lifeless ink as though the revelation had never existed. He indeed had failed. The performance was rated bad. He had expected punishment instead, the old book gave him this.
When he received an excellent result, it granted him ice element affinity. When he achieved perfect, it bestowed the puppet, an obedient extension of his will. Those rewards had weight, presence, and influence. This
one by the way felt different.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" he murmured.
Regarding mana turbulence, he had heard of it only in passing which was rare cases when mana inside the body turned unstable and
poisoned its wielder from within. Most who suffered it either lost their magic or their lives. Why would the book give him knowledge about curing something so specific? Was it a warning or a hint? Was it a preparation for the incoming event? The more he thought about it, the colder the room seemed.
He closed the old book and exhaled slowly. There was no further explanation. There never was. The old book never clarified itself. It judged, rewarded, and observed. Baston had the unsettling feeling that it always knew more than he did.
He dismissed the puppet back into the shadows of his consciousness. There was no point keeping it active now. The earlier
conversation had turned toward family matters regarding alliances, reputations,
and obligations. He had grown bored listening through borrowed senses. Still,
boredom did not mean safety.
He stood and left for class. The moment Baston stepped into the classroom, the air changed. It was subtle but noticeable. The conversations around slowed with eyes turned to him and whispers shifted direction. He felt it before he understood it. They were watching him.
The noble boys exchanged glances, the merchants pretended indifference, and even some commoners stole curious looks. The reason was simple. They believed he had an appointment with Alicia and they had not
forgotten the pressure from earlier. Such invisible weight that silenced an entire courtyard. It had not been ordinary mana. It had been something heavier, denser, and deliberate.
Whoever had invited Baston possessed strength beyond what these students could comprehend. The range alone was proof. In this academy, connections were currency. A poor and slightly fat boy with mysterious backing was not a comfortable contradiction.
"How could he possibly know someone like that?"
"He must be hiding something."
"There's no way someone like him has no background…"
Their pride prevented them from approaching him openly. Yet, suspicion lingered in their eyes. Baston felt irritation prick at his thoughts. Their attention was dangerous. He preferred invisibility and he preferred to be underestimated. If they approached him now and if they attempted forced friendliness, he would need to respond. He would need to perform. That all
meant risk.
Fortunately, their arrogance restrained them. They hesitated even after comprehending the situation. For Baston, it was very good. Let them hesitate. He took his seat quietly, grateful that distance still served him. The
lesson began but he barely listened.
The subject was popular about advanced mana stabilization theory but his thoughts wandered elsewhere. His mind went to mana turbulence and ice potion from the old book. He was still pondering. He replayed the
encounter with Angus in his mind. The suspicion in the man's eyes and the probing questions. The way he observed Baston like a puzzle missing pieces.
The old book never wasted rewards that even bad performances had purpose. Perhaps, the book anticipated something. Baston leaned back slightly with unfocused gaze. If unpredictable variables emerged again like Angus, he needed preparation. He could not convince everyone through words
alone. His current image limited him. A poor and fat student had boundaries which meant he must cultivate influence carefully and selectively.
Panto and Alicia were examples. They knew fragments of his abilities, yet they kept silent. That secrecy was valuable. If he chose someone loud, reckless, and talkative, his constructed image would unravel. He needed shadows and not spotlights.
"Everyone, I have good news!"
The teacher's sudden enthusiasm snapped the class from lethargy.
"In the afternoon, the great wizard Angus will visit our classroom. He will share some of his experiences. Do not be late…"
Before questions could form, the teacher fled. The atmosphere was full of silence. Then, an eruption washed the classroom.
"Great wizard Angus?!"
"Is this real?"
"He's coming here?"
Excitement flooded the room like a broken dam. Even Baston recognized the name though only vaguely. He knew the man was powerful, influential, and dangerous. But still, the magnitude of reverence startled him. One student pinched his own cheek.
"I'm not dreaming, right?"
"I heard he once held back a mana storm alone."
"They say he reached enlightenment without ancient artifacts!"
"I need to look presentable!"
"Don't leave your seat! Someone will take it!"
The scramble for position began immediately. Nobles and merchants clung to their chairs like territorial animals. Poorer students exchanged resigned looks since they would end up in the back regardless. Some clever opportunists began offering to buy meals for those unwilling to move. Coins exchanged hands discreetly. A marketplace was soon formed within minutes.
Baston observed quietly. He considered participating since it was easy money. Unfortunately, he no longer needed it. Someone was already paying for his meals at the small restaurant. That kindness weighed heavier than the food itself. How long would it last? How expensive was it? The thought troubled him more than he expected. He did not like dependency and debt. He possessed only ice magic and secrets. What could he offer in return? It seemed nothing for now.
Regardless, he left for lunch with restless mind. When he returned, the classroom was unrecognizable. It was packed fully. Students from other classes filled every available space. Even seniors lingered along the
walls. His seat, fortunately the least desirable, remained untouched. A noble
boy soon approached with arrogant expression and calculating eyes.
"Hey, you!" he said, pointing to him, "Get up!"
Baston looked at him calmly, "Why?"
"I need your seat."
His friend snorted, "You're reading an old book? How fitting."
"Someone without talent doesn't need valuable lessons."
Another noble nearby intervened mildly, "At least pay him. I paid for mine."
"Why would I?" the boy scoffed, "He should feel honored."
Murmurs rippled through the room. The noble did not threaten directly. He didn't need to because just social pressure was enough. Baston felt heat rise in his chest. He wanted to refuse, embarrass the boy, and fight back but retaliation carried consequences. Today's humiliation could prevent future complications.
Slowly, he stood. He surrendered the seat while the noble smirked triumphantly. Some students frowned but said nothing. Reputation among nobles mattered but not enough to defend a poor boy publicly. Baston stepped further back. Humiliation tasted bitter but this bitterness was survivable.
Minutes later, silence descended. Angus entered and the shift was immediate. All the conversations quickly died. Everyone breathed slower that even the air seemed heavier. The man was tall, composed, and his aura was restrained yet unmistakable. He wasn't flashy and theatrical but dense like
a mountain disguised as a man.
"Good afternoon," Angus said calmly.
"Good afternoon, great wizard Angus!" the room echoed.
Without wasting much time, he spoke of his journeys. He told about near-fatal failures and enlightenment found through hardship. He avoided technical instruction and respected academy curriculum. Instead teaching different class of magic, he shared philosophy.
"Resources alone do not create strength," he said, "Effort does."
He paused before he continued, "If you eat endlessly without discipline, you will only grow fatter and heavier."
Laughter erupted and even some poor students chuckled. Meanwhile, Baston did not follow everyone. He felt eyes flick toward him. The metaphor was casual but supposedly, it pointed to him. Angus's gaze lingered for long time and Baston stared back blankly. He was unimpressed and unmoved. Inside of him, however, calculations churned.
How strong was Angus? Was there a ranking system? What defined a great wizard? What about his mana density? How about his combat history? What is his method of recognition? Baston wanted metrics and comparisons. Understanding power meant understanding survival. Unfortunately, he failed to notice one detail.
Angus had noticed him. Not because of interest but because of absence. Every student leaned forward and was captivated. Alicia listened with respect, absorbing every word. Only Baston appeared distracted and detached. As though he was evaluating rather than admiring. That dissonance intrigued Angus. Midway through the lecture, something shifted. It was faint yet subtle.
It wasn't in the words Angus spoke. His voice remained steady, controlled, and measured. The students still listened with admiration
with nothing outwardly had changed. Still, the air felt heavier. It was not enough for panic and not enough for anyone to notice consciously except for Baston. The pressure was delicate like a hand placed lightly on the back of the neck. This magic was testing him. This magic was also measuring him.
Angus continued speaking about perseverance and enlightenment, yet Baston sensed that the lecture was no longer entirely for the class. It was directed at someone. His eyes lowered slightly, hiding his awareness. If this was a probe, he would not react carelessly. The invisible pressure increased. It was not violent and oppressive. It just focused on his body.
It brushed against each student in turn almost affectionately. Some straightened unconsciously and others felt a surge of
motivation. A few nobles lifted their chins proudly, mistaking the sensation for inspiration. But when that subtle current passed through Baston, it paused for the briefest fraction of a second.
Angus's words did not falter yet something behind them sharpened. Baston felt it clearly now. He was being examined. Not about his
posture and not about his clothes. The examination was about his mana. A thin thread of perception attempted to slip past his surface like mist searching for cracks in a window. Cold instinct answered before thought.
The ice within him did not flare violently. It simply thickened, stabilized, and became still water beneath frozen glass. There was nothing to see and nothing to disturb. Just a mediocre student with weak circulation and dull mana flow. Angus's gaze drifted across the room naturally. He did not look directly at Baston but he had already reached him.
"Interesting…" Angus thought.
Ordinary mana signatures always had irregularities with small leaks, uneven pulses, and fluctuations tied to emotion. This boy's mana was muted. Not powerful, not refined, but just carefully restrained. Angus did not believe in coincidences. He shifted topics smoothly, speaking now about control.
"Power is not measured by how much mana you release," he said calmly, "But by how much you can conceal."
A ripple of curiosity passed through the class. Some interpreted it as a lesson about humility while others assumed it was about
battlefield tactics. Only Baston understood the weight beneath the words. Their eyes met briefly. This time, Angus did not disguise it. The look was not hostile. It was not warm either. It was recognition.
Baston forced his breathing to remain slow. His heartbeat tried to betray him but he suppressed the impulse. Fear was heat, heat was fluctuation, and fluctuation was visibility. He remained dull and unremarkable. He was just a fat boy standing in the back.
Angus continued, "There are those who shine brightly and burn out quickly. And there are those who choose to remain unseen until the moment is necessary."
The classroom hung on every word. Baston wondered whether anyone else felt the invisible duel occurring beneath the surface. Alicia's brows furrowed slightly. She sensed something unusual though she could not
define it. The air between her uncle and Baston felt tense. The noble who had taken Baston's seat shifted uncomfortably though he did not know why.
Angus allowed the pressure to recede gradually. It was enough for now. The boy had not panicked. He had not resisted aggressively and he had not exposed hidden reserves which meant one of two things. Either he truly possessed nothing remarkable or he understood concealment frighteningly well. Both possibilities were worth observing.
The lecture resumed its earlier warmth. Students relaxed again. Some even laughed when Angus made another casual remark. But eventually, Baston did not relax. He felt it clearly. The great wizard had marked him. It
was not publicly and not officially but mentally. That was more dangerous.
He lowered his gaze to the old book beneath his robe. For a fleeting second, he thought he felt warmth. It was not heat. It was just
awareness. As if the book, too, had noticed the exchange. Two watchers and one
concealed student. The balance was shifting and no one else in the classroom even realized it.