At the edge of the upper corridor, she stopped.
Voices drifted from below—laughing, celebrating, whispering names.
Her lips moved before she could stop them.
"So… he chose the five of them."
The words tasted bitter.
She turned sharply, her shoes scraping the polished stone, and walked down the hallway toward the Grade Four classroom. Each step was steady. Controlled.
Inside, the scent of chalk dust floated thick in the air.
The classroom hummed with low conversation until the door creaked open.
Mr. Lang lifted his gaze.
"Mira. Go to your seat."
No warmth. No hostility. Just order.
Mira brushed invisible dust from her sleeve and walked between the desks. A few eyes followed her. She sat down without a word.
At the front, Mr. Lang faced the wide board.
With deliberate strokes, he drew two medium-sized circles. Between them, he carved a triangle.
Inside the left circle, he wrote:
POS – Positive
Inside the right:
NEG – Negative
Inside the triangle between them, he pressed harder, the chalk scratching loudly:
Magic
When he finished, he stepped back and sighed.
"Afternoon, class."
"Afternoon, sir," they echoed.
He clasped his hands behind his back.
"Today, I'll be teaching the fundamental core of Magic."
He began to pace.
"As you all know, I am B-ranked. That means I should possess knowledge of almost every possibility of magic usage… despite my low magic reserve."
A few students straightened at that.
"I will give you time for questions. Let me say my part first." His eyes sharpened. "I do not need responses. Just silence."
He tapped the POS circle with his chalk.
"You have been taught—or perhaps discovered on your own—that magic has a core. A source that generates everything you produce. But today, we discuss what makes that core."
Suddenly—
Shouting.
Running feet.
Metal clanging outside.
The noise grew louder, crashing against the classroom walls.
Mr. Lang's jaw tightened.
"Noise… noise…"
He flicked his fingers.
A bright brown glow sparked from his hand and spread like liquid light, sealing the open windows and doors. The classroom dimmed as the outside world was swallowed by a shimmering barrier.
Silence fell.
The students blinked.
He turned back to the board. Flick.
Every line of chalk glowed brown in the darker room.
"As I was saying…"
He drew a small plus sign between POS and NEG.
"The core of Magic is generated from the addition of Positive and Negative."
He paused. Let it settle.
"Understand this carefully. Magic already exists in your body. Positive and Negative are not magic themselves. They are how you use it."
He scanned their faces.
"Am I making sense?"
No one spoke.
He smiled faintly.
"Positive is the striking effect of your magic."
He coughed lightly. "Excuse me."
"When you create rocks from nothing… when you control water… when you generate or manipulate elements…" He tapped the POS circle again. "That is Positive. The outward force."
He walked across to NEG.
"Any question on Positive?"
Kiro's hand shot up instantly.
Mira scoffed under her breath.
Seouk raised his hand.
Leah followed.
Mr. Lang pointed. "Kiro."
Kiro sat straighter. "Sir, you said Positive is the effect of elements on the surroundings." He swallowed. "What about someone like me who has a hyper-element?"
The class shifted slightly.
Mr. Lang's lips curled. "Good."
He began walking slowly between the rows of desks.
"Hyper-elements are forces that balance cosmic systems. Powers such as Light. Sound." He glanced back. "And yours—Gravity."
A faint murmur rippled through the room.
"They still operate on Positive and Negative. They are still magic."
He stopped beside Kiro's desk.
"However… most wielders of hyper-elements cannot fully weaponize them. They struggle to use them purely for attack or defense."
He stepped back.
"They become support. Healers. Control. Balance."
"Do you understand?"
Kiro nodded firmly.
Mr. Lang pointed to Seouk.
"Same question, sir," Seouk replied quickly.
Leah lowered her raised hand. "Same here."
Mr. Lang gave a short nod and returned to the front.
He tapped NEG.
"Now… Negative."
His tone lowered slightly.
"Negative is also an effect of magic. But internal."
He drew a faint line from the NEG circle toward a rough outline of a human body.
"While Positive strikes the opponent… Negative strikes the user."
A few brows furrowed.
"On a very, very low damage scale."
He coughed again. Longer this time. "Excuse me."
Before he could continue, Mira raised her hand.
Mr. Lang's eyes lit up.
"Yes. Question time. Only Mira."
She sat upright, chin high.
"If Negative is the effect your body takes when you strike an opponent… can it be negated? Removed? Since it damages internally?"
Silence.
Then—
Clap.
Mr. Lang applauded once, sharp and loud.
"Beautiful."
The class exchanged confused glances.
"You see," he continued, "Negative cannot be removed." He lifted a finger. "At least—not to my knowledge."
His lips tilted.
"And I am not bragging… but I am the best B-rank on this continent."
A few students rolled their eyes quietly.
"You cannot remove Negative," he continued. "You can only heal the effects afterward."
He tapped the board again.
"It may not even hurt. But understand this…"
He looked directly at Mira.
"It is better to be zapped by electricity… than to be completely fried by it."
Mira gave a small nod.
Understanding.
Mr. Lang flicked his fingers once more.
The brown glow dissolved.
The outside world crashed back in—shouting, movement, wind.
He turned toward the class.
"Assignment."
Groans exploded instantly.
He laughed loudly.
"Ha! Ha! Ha!"
"Complain all you want. I will make it harder."
He erased a portion of the board and wrote one word in bold strokes:
REALMS
"Go and learn everything you can about Realms. You will present your findings to the Headmaster."
Gasps.
He grinned wickedly.
"Class dismissed."
Chairs scraped the floor.
Students poured out of the room, voices rising again—arguments, plans, nervous laughter. Groups formed instantly, already discussing how to approach the assignment as they headed toward the main campus gate and their dormitories.
Mira walked behind them, quiet.
Watching.
Far, far away—
At the opposite edge of Rokye, the continent they called home—
A man sat alone beneath a wide tree.
The bench beneath him was carved from the trunk itself, rough but sturdy.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
His eyes were dark, heavy, as though sleep had abandoned him for weeks.
His body remained powerful, composed—but his face betrayed exhaustion.
Kaku.
His fingers brushed his chin thoughtfully.
"I have half of my power back…"
A faint smirk touched his lips.
"I need the other half."
He leaned backward against the tree trunk.
"I need experience."
Wind stirred the leaves above him.
"Three days…" he muttered.
"Three days and I have already reclaimed fifty percent."
His brow creased.
"Am I too fast?"
He stared into nothingness.
A pause.
"No."
His grin returned—thin and sharp.
"If I hesitate… Ozaki will outsmart me."
The name lingered in the air.
His expression flickered.
Confusion crossed his face, subtle but real.
"Wait…"
His eyes narrowed.
"Why do I need to kill Ozaki again?"
Silence answered him.
Then—
The confusion faded.
The grin returned. Wider this time.
"Ah… it doesn't matter."
His fingers dug into the wood of the bench, splintering it slowly.
"If I have this much power back already…"
His eyes darkened.
"Then someone out there should be feeling scared.".