Alden stood tall before the rows of kids, his deep-set eyes scanning the room. He let the silence stretch before speaking, ensuring all attention was on him.

  "The memory must be fresh, so I will start with the fundamental difference between magic fueled by mana and elemental magic," he began. "The most distinctive characteristic is that elemental magic requires no mana."

  A ripple of murmurs passed through the students, some exchanging puzzled gnces. Alden gave them a moment to process before continuing.

  "Instead, it depends solely on the user’s connection to their element and their mental fortitude. It is a power derived from attunement rather than consumption."

  He paced slowly, letting his words settle. "Some might think elemental magic is far simpler than arcane magic. And on the surface, it is. Shape that piece of metal, move that block of stone—compared to the complexity of arcane arts, these might seem rudimentary." He paused, his expression unreadable. "But let me make one thing clear: a spell that mimics these effects will never be as powerful as elemental magic itself."

  The students leaned in, hanging on his words.

  "Unlike mana-based spells, elemental magic has no limitations but the wielder’s own strength and control. There is no need to recite Ancient incantations or channel external energy. You are the conduit. You are the force."

  Alden stopped pacing and turned toward the students, his expression unreadable. "I recall an example from my younger days. A duel. My opponent was a mage who considered himself all-powerful because he had a vast plethora of spells he could cast in quick succession. He had trained in the arcane arts for years, convinced that his mastery over incantations made him unbeatable."

  A small smirk tugged at Alden’s lips. "He challenged me to a duel, and I agreed. The fool barely had time to open his mouth before I unched a stone at his head. He colpsed before he could utter a single word."

  A stunned silence fell over the amphitheater. Then, murmurs erupted as students turned to one another, processing the lesson.

  Cale watched Alden intently, fascinated by the contrast between raw power and prepared spellwork. There was power in limitation.

  A small girl in the front row hesitated before raising her hand. Alden caught the movement and nodded for her to speak.

  "Sir… are you not a metal mage?" she asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. "You said you used a stone. But stone isn’t metal."

  Alden offered a firm nod. "A good observation." His voice carried the weight of experience. "I am an earth mage. But that does not impair my ability to teach you."

  The students exchanged gnces, unsure of what he meant.

  "Earth and metal are close cousins—two sides of the same coin," Alden expined. "Metal is born from the earth, shaped and refined, but its essence remains the same. The principles behind their control are almost identical. Many mages, through training, develop dual affinity with both elements."

  A fresh wave of murmurs spread through the amphitheater, excitement and curiosity sparking in their voices. Some whispered about the possibility of expanding their abilities, while others seemed eager to test their own limits.

  Alden’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "This will be the foundation of your training. And by the time I am done with you, you will understand what true elemental mastery means."

  Alden let the murmurs settle before raising his voice once more. "Now, for the part everyone has been waiting for. It is time to teach you how to wield metal."

  From the side of the amphitheater, a group of grey-robed men entered, each carrying a wooden box filled with silvery metal beads. They moved in near silence, the soft clinking of the beads the only sound accompanying them. Their movements were precise, almost ritualistic, as they stepped in front of each row.

  "Each of you, take one," Alden instructed.

  The students hesitated at first but then eagerly obeyed. Cale and Davion exchanged gnces before looking at Tristan, who held up his bead. It looked exactly the same as theirs—small, metallic, no bigger than a marble but deceptively heavy for its size.

  A few minutes passed, and soon every student held a bead in their palm, their fingers curling around the cool metal.

  Alden let them settle before continuing. "Metal responds to intention. Your will, your connection to it, is what determines how well you can manipute it. For now, do not try to force it. Instead, simply listen to it. Close your eyes. Feel the weight in your palm. It is not just an object—it is an extension of you."

  The students hesitated, but under Alden’s unwavering gaze, they complied. Silence fell over the amphitheater, save for the occasional rustle of fabric as the students adjusted their posture.

  Cale closed his eyes, focusing on the bead resting in his palm. It was cool, almost unnaturally smooth, and as he concentrated, he swore he could feel something else—a faint hum, like a distant vibration deep within the metal.

  "Good. Now, do not try to move it with force. Instead, imagine it responding to you, the way your fingers would respond to a thought. Do not think of it as separate from you. Think of it as a piece of you, waiting for a command."

  A few beads trembled in the hands of some students, barely shifting, but it was enough to cause gasps of excitement. Others remained completely still, as if resisting their wielder's control.

  Alden nodded approvingly. "Some of you will succeed faster than others, but do not be discouraged. Metal is stubborn, but once you gain its trust, it will move as easily as a limb."

  Cale didn't hear Alden's words. He was completely captivated by the deep vibration resonating from within the metal. It wasn’t just a physical tremor—it was something more, something alive.

  Somehow, he began to feel the metal’s essence drifting inside his body. It felt natural—just like drinking water, like breathing. There was no effort, no resistance, only harmony.

  His eyes snapped open as he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

  Blinking, he turned and saw Alden’s hand resting there. The professor regarded him with a neutral gaze, though there was a flicker of something else—curiosity, perhaps?

  "What’s your name?" Alden asked.

  "Cale." He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on him.

  Alden’s gaze bore into him. "Cale, do you know what you just did?"

  Cale frowned in confusion. "No, sir."

  Alden gestured toward his hand. "Look at the bead in your palm."

  Cale lowered his gaze—and his breath hitched.

  The bead was gone. In its pce was a fine dust, slipping through his fingers like sand.

  A few students gasped, while others whispered among themselves.

  Alden studied the remnants of the bead before speaking. "What you just did is called Elemental Reinforcement. You absorbed the essence of the metal, integrating it into your own body."

  A faint frown appeared on Alden’s face. "I need to speak with you after I finish teaching the rest of the css."

  He lingered for a moment longer, eyes narrowed as though he was committing Cale’s face to memory, before turning and walking back to the ptform from which he had been instructing.

  A murmur spread through the students like wildfire.

  Tristan clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around his own bead. Envy gnawed at him, biting deep in his chest. Cale had just done something he didn’t even understand, while Tristan himself struggled just to make the bead twitch.

  They continued their lesson for at least two hours, focusing on feeling the metal, forming their first connections. Slowly, more and more students succeeded in moving their beads—some just barely, others making them hover and shift at will.

  Cheers and excited screams filled the amphitheater as students celebrated their progress.

  But Tristan wasn’t celebrating.

  He gritted his teeth as his bead remained stubbornly still. Every failure, every minute that passed without progress, felt like a tightening noose around his pride. His breath quickened, frustration boiling beneath his skin like molten steel.

  Why? Why couldn’t he do it?

  His eyes flicked toward Cale, who was still staring at his palm, lost in thought.

  Tristan looked away, his fists clenched.

  After the lesson ended, Alden dismissed the students. The amphitheater buzzed with movement as the young mages filed out, their voices carrying the excitement of their first successful training. But for Cale, there was no rush to leave.

  "See you soon," Cale said as he turned to Tristan and Davion.

  Davion waved with a small smile, but Tristan didn’t even spare him a gnce. His shoulders were stiff, his gaze locked forward as he walked away, frustration evident in every step.

  Cale sighed and turned back toward Alden, who now stood alone on the elevated ptform. The amphitheater, so full of life just moments ago, was now eerily silent.

  Alden's sharp eyes settled on him. "Do you have parents who are metal mages?"

  Cale blinked at the unexpected question. "No, sir. My parents are normal people."

  Alden hummed, his expression unreadable. "Do you have any mages in your family at all?"

  Cale nodded. "Yes. My grandfather was a fire mage, but he died before I was born."

  Alden didn’t respond immediately. He inhaled slowly, as if weighing Cale’s words against something in his own mind. Then, without another word, he stepped down from the ptform, his steps echoing in the empty space. He retrieved a wooden box and carried it toward Cale. Inside, dozens of silvery metal beads gleamed under the flickering torchlight.

  "Pce your hand on the beads and do what you just did before," Alden instructed.

  Cale hesitated only a moment before nodding. He extended his hand and touched the cool metal, closing his eyes as he felt for the hum again.

  And there it was. That deep, rhythmic vibration, a resonance that called to him, sang to him. It poured into him effortlessly, like water slipping into an empty gss, like air filling his lungs.

  The metal’s essence flowed into his body, spreading through his bones, his skin, his very core. It felt… right. Natural. Not a struggle, not a feat of concentration—just existence.

  Meanwhile, Alden’s frown deepened with each passing moment. His keen gaze flickered between Cale’s face—calm, unstrained—and the wooden box. Beads crumbled into dust by the dozen, dissolving almost instantly.

  Alden’s mind reeled. He recalled the first time he had attempted Elemental Reinforcement. He had been older than Cale, well into his training, and even then, it had taken him nearly a week of intense focus to absorb the essence from a compacted cube of earth. Yet, before him stood a child who had done it instantly, without the slightest sign of fatigue.

  "Elemental Touched," Alden murmured under his breath, realization settling over him like a heavy weight.

  Cale blinked as the resonance faded, his connection to the metal slipping away. He looked down at the box—only fine, silvery dust remained. His brows knit together in confusion before he turned to Alden. "Sorry, sir."

  Alden shook his head slightly, pushing away whatever thoughts were clouding his mind. "No. Do not apologize for what you’ve done. It is not a mistake—it is a talent. One that I need to think on."

  The professor stepped back, his posture once again composed. "Thank you for giving me your time, Cale. You can go now. Eat with your friends."

  Cale hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, sir."

  He turned and made his way toward the exit, his mind still buzzing with questions. He felt Alden’s gaze on his back the entire time. Only when the heavy doors closed behind him did the weight of that stare finally lift.

  Alden remained still for a long moment, staring at the pile of dust left in the wooden box. His fingers curled slightly at his sides.

  Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, the soft echo of his steps the only sound in the now-empty amphitheater.

  Cale made his way toward the canteen, his stomach twisting with hunger . The hall leading to it was dimly lit, the scent of baked bread and roasted meat growing stronger with every step. As he stepped inside, he was met with the sight of a grand stone dining hall, rge enough to house hundreds of students. Rows of long wooden tables stretched across the room, illuminated by the flickering glow of enchanted nterns. The high ceilings carried the murmur of conversations, the ctter of wooden trays, and the occasional bursts of ughter.

  A gray-robed man stood by the entrance, his face expressionless. "Grab a tray and move forward," he instructed, gesturing toward the stacks of wooden trays at the side.

  Cale obediently took one, following the slow-moving line of students. As he approached the serving station, rge metal pots filled with steaming food lined the counter. A server dled a generous portion of stew with thick cuts of meat and root vegetables onto his pte, followed by a piece of dense bread and a wedge of cheese. Cale nodded in thanks before stepping aside, his tray banced carefully in his hands.

  He gnced around, scanning the room. His eyes caught sight of Mirelle first. She was sitting with two other girls, deep in conversation. As if sensing his gaze, she turned, her wide green eyes meeting his. A soft smile graced her lips as she offered him a wave. Cale smiled back, feeling a sense of warmth settle over him.

  Shifting his attention, he searched for Davion and Tristan. He spotted them at a table toward the center of the room. Davion sat surrounded by a group of boys, their voices animated as they patted his back and grinned. No doubt they were praising him for his fight with Garret. Davion, humble, simply nodded, a small but pleased smile on his face. Tristan sat beside him, arms crossed, his usual sharp-eyed expression watching the exchange with quiet amusement.

  Cale quickened his pace, eager to join them—but then it happened.

  A sudden impact. A sharp jolt against his legs.

  Before he even registered what had happened, he found himself falling forward, his tray slipping from his grip. The food flew off, spttering across the cold stone floor. The loud ctter of the tray echoed through the canteen, silencing a few nearby conversations.

  For a moment, Cale simply stared at the mess, heat rushing to his face. Laughter erupted from a few tables, hushed whispers and amused snickers reaching his ears.

  Slowly, he lifted his gaze—and met Garret’s smirking face. The older boy sat casually at a nearby table, one leg stretched out, just enough to make it clear he had tripped him on purpose. His smug expression only deepened as he watched Cale struggle to collect himself.

  Cale swallowed hard, shame curling in his chest. He could feel eyes on him, the weight of humiliation settling over his shoulders.

  A gray-robed man approached, holding a cloth to clean the mess. His expression betrayed no sympathy, only routine efficiency. "Go and get another portion," he said simply.

  Cale clenched his jaw, forcing himself to nod in apology. "Sorry," he muttered before stepping away, leaving the man to clean the mess.

  He walked back toward the serving station, his movements careful, deliberate. This time, he avoided Garret’s side of the room entirely. He refused to give him the satisfaction of another smirk.

  With a fresh tray in hand, he finally made his way toward Davion and Tristan’s table.

  As soon as Cale approached the table, Tristan’s expression darkened. Without a word, he lowered his gaze and started eating, his posture rigid, his movements mechanical. He didn’t even gnce at Cale.

  Cale hesitated, a knot forming in his stomach. Did I do something wrong? The cold shoulder from Tristan was unmistakable. Not wanting to make things worse, he quietly took a seat beside Davion instead.

  "Nice plunge," a boy beside Davion snickered.

  Heat rushed to Cale’s face, his cheeks and ears burning with shame. The memory of his food spttering across the stone floor repyed cruelly in his mind, the echo of ughter still lingering in the air.

  Davion shot the boy a sharp gre. The smirk faltered instantly. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of Davion’s strength after seeing how he handled Garret earlier.

  Satisfied, Davion pced a reassuring hand on Cale’s shoulder. "If it makes you feel better, next time I fight Garret, I’ll go rougher. Even if it’s not my style."

  Cale let out a small chuckle, the weight of embarrassment lifting slightly. Davion knew how to make things better.

  Then they started to eat.

  Cale quickly noticed just how much food Davion had compared to him—a heaping portion of roasted meat, crispy potatoes, grilled vegetables, fresh cheese, and thick slices of bread. It looked like enough to feed four or five kids of Cale's size.

  "How did you get so much food?" Cale asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

  Davion chewed thoughtfully before responding. "Instructor’s reward for working hard."

  Without hesitation, Davion extended a piece of roasted pork toward Cale. "Here."

  Cale accepted it gratefully. "Thanks."

  They ate in silence for a while, the steady ctter of utensils and murmurs of conversation filling the air. For a moment, things felt normal again.

  But then, as Davion finished his meal, he wiped his hands on his trousers and stood. "I need to go."

  Cale blinked. "Go where?"

  "A css. I was told to attend."

  Cale opened his mouth to ask why just him, but before he could form the words, Davion was already gone.

  The moment Davion left, the boys who had gathered around him scattered. Without his presence, the energy at the table shifted.

  Cale turned back to Tristan, who still hadn’t looked at him.

  "He’s headed to a css for those who don’t know how to read or write," Tristan muttered, finally breaking his silence. His tone was ft, distant.

  Cale turned to him, his lips parting, but before he could say anything—

  "Don’t." Tristan’s voice was sharp, but not angry. Just tired. "I’ll talk when I feel like it."

  Cale frowned but didn’t push further. He understood.

  With nothing else to do, he turned his attention across the room—toward Mirelle.

  Alden:

  Varra: