The canteen was crowded and loud. All the students stared at Arion.
Arion ignored the noise. He sat at an empty table near the center, happily chewing on a premium cut of steak.
Beside him, the blonde Senior from the arena stared blankly at him. He had lost the Stationary Exchange duel and promised to pay for Arion's lunch and dessert for a month. It was only day one, and his spirit was completely broken.
Directly across from Arion sat Kara Abyssos. The Student Representative sat with perfect posture. Her tray was empty. Her pale, whirlpool eyes were locked onto Arion.
"You manipulated the earth with just a single tap," Kara said. "You did not chant, and you did not use a geometric circle. Explain the methodology."
Arion swallowed his meat. "I tapped my foot. The stone became slippery."
"A physical trigger does not bypass the need to invoke the elements," Kara said flatly.
"It does if you push hard enough," Arion said. He pointed his fork at the Senior. "Hey, you said you were buying dessert too. Go get me some!"
The Senior flinched, but he stood up and walked toward the dessert counter.
Kara stared at Arion. "Every student here uses a chant to command. You treat the laws of magic as suggestions."
"I just use what is there," Arion said, cutting another piece of steak.
Kara's eyes shifted down to Arion's left hand. She stared at the thick silver ring. She remembered how the mana had adjusted instantly during their mental clash in the field that morning.
"Your stability is artificial," Kara stated. "That ring regulates your output. It is a limiter."
Arion stopped chewing. He looked at Kara.
"It is a gift from my master," Arion said. "I am not taking it off."
Before Kara could respond, sharp footsteps echoed nearby. Sophia Irene marched toward their table. Her usual lazy demeanor was completely gone. She looked incredibly stressed.
"Arion," Sophia said loudly, stopping at the edge of the table.
Arion looked up. "Hello, Teacher Sophia. Do you want some steak? The Senior is paying."
Sophia ignored the offer and looked directly at Kara.
"Kara Abyssos," Sophia said carefully. "Is my student causing a problem?"
Kara stood up smoothly. "No, Teacher Sophia. We were having a conversation about magic. I will look him closely."
Kara turned and walked away. The other students quickly stepped out of her path to let her through.
Sophia let out a long breath and dropped into the seat Kara had just vacated. She rubbed her temples.
"Arion," Sophia groaned. "I leave you alone for some hours, and you have a public duel in the Training Grounds?"
"He started it," Arion said, pointing at the Senior who was returning with a chocolate cake. "And I was hungry."
Sophia slammed her forehead onto the wooden table. The loud thud made a few nearby students jump. "My career is a disaster. The Principal already called me into his office today because of the rumors about us."
"About my ring?" Arion asked, immediately digging into the chocolate cake.
"Yes! And now you used chantless magic in front of the entire student body and the Student Representative!" Sophia groaned, keeping her face pressed against the wood. "We have our first actual theory class this afternoon, forget about practical. You are going to sit in the back, keep your mouth shut, and act completely normal."
"Normal is boring," Arion said, scooping up more cake.
Sophia snapped her head up. "If you do not act normal, Kara Abyssos is going to dissect you to find out how you cast magic. Do you understand?"
Arion sighed and looked at his empty plates.
"Fine. But I should have asked for seconds first."
"We have a problem," Sophia said as they walked out of the canteen.
"I didn't get my second cake?" Arion asked.
"No," Sophia said, rubbing her temples. "General Theory. I am a specialized combat instructor. I don't teach basic theory. That means you have to attend the main lecture hall with the other students."
Arion put his hands in his pockets. "So? I just sit there and sleep."
"You cannot sleep," Sophia said sharply. "Arion, listen to me. The other professors do not know the Grand Orb turned black. That is a secret. But they all saw your practical entrance exam. They saw you obliterate the testing target with sheer force. Every single one of them petitioned the Principal to take you as their student. And you chose me. The teacher with zero prestige and zero students."
"You looked peaceful," Arion said.
"They don't care about that!" Sophia groaned. "They are jealous. The professor teaching the General Theory class today is a strict traditionalist, and he was the loudest one demanding you join his faction. He is going to test you."
"I will just act normal," Arion said.
Sophia looked at him. "I don't know your definition of normal. Just read from the textbook if he asks you a question."
Ten minutes later, they entered the main lecture hall. It was massive, with tiered rows of wooden desks filled with hundreds of first-year students.
Arion sat in the very back row. Sophia sat in the desk right next to him. As his chosen instructor, she was required to monitor his progress in general classes.
At the front of the hall, an old professor with sharp eyes was writing long sentences on a large chalkboard. He turned around and immediately locked eyes with Arion.
The lecture hall went quiet.
"Ah," the professor said, his voice carrying easily across the room. "Arion. The student who destroyed the entrance exam target and bypassed a fundamental earth chant in the courtyard not two hours ago."
Exousia and Sebastian, sitting in the middle rows, both turned around to look at Arion.
"I petitioned the Principal personally to have you in my class, Arion," the professor continued, his eyes narrowing. "I wanted to refine your monstrous raw power with actual discipline. But you chose Teacher Sophia. So, let us see what her tutelage has taught you."
The professor tapped the chalkboard with his wooden pointer.
"Magic is a language," the professor said. "The standard invocation for a basic flame requires precisely twelve words of ancient chant. The first nine words gather and shape the element. What is the purpose of the final three words?"
Sophia kicked Arion's ankle under the desk. "Textbook," she whispered.
Arion stood up. He looked at the board. "They act as a binding contract. They force the fire to leave the caster's space safely without burning their own mana pathways."
"Correct," the professor said, looking slightly disappointed that Arion knew the standard answer. "So, tell me. If you bypass the words of binding—as you seem so fond of doing—how do you negotiate with the raw element? How do you prevent the fire from burning your internal organs?"
Arion blinked. "You don't negotiate. You just let it hit you."
The professor frowned. "Excuse me?"
"If your internal pathways are thicker than the fire, you don't need a binding contract," Arion said plainly. "Chanting twelve words just wastes time. You let the heat hit you, absorb the recoil, and shoot the fire twice as fast."
The lecture hall went completely dead silent.
Sebastian immediately opened his notebook and started writing furiously.
The professor stared at Arion. He took a step back, looking horrified. "Absorb raw elemental backlash? That is not magic! That is physical self-mutilation! A normal mage would burn from the inside out!"
"It only burns the first ten times," Arion said. "My Master made me do it fifty times a day. After a month, your body builds a tolerance."
The professor slammed his pointer on his desk. "Preposterous! Words of binding are absolute laws of magic! Without them, the raw elemental backlash would instantly incinerate your hand! You are speaking nonsense!"
"Nonsense?" Arion raised his right hand. "Like this, for example."
"Stop!" Sophia hissed, reaching for his arm.
She was too late. Arion didn't speak a single word of ancient chanting. He simply opened his palm.
A loud, violent sound echoed through the lecture hall, like a whip breaking the sound barrier. It was the sound of raw thermal backlash—the exact backfire the textbook warned about. A sudden shockwave of pure heat blasted out from Arion's hand, fluttering the hair of the students in the rows ahead.
But Arion did not scream. His hand did not burn. He didn't even blink.
Instead, a perfectly compressed, blindingly bright fireball hovered an inch above his palm. It wasn't the standard orange flame taught in basic theory. It was white-hot. The temperature in the massive lecture hall spiked instantly, causing several students to sweat.
The professor dropped his wooden pointer. It clattered against the stone floor. He took a stumbling step backward, his eyes wide with horror.
Exousia jumped out of her seat. Sebastian kept writing blindly in his notebook.
Arion casually closed his fist. The white-hot fireball snuffed out instantly. The oppressive heat vanished.
"See?" Arion said, lowering his hand. "Wastes time."
The lecture hall went completely dead silent.