It was the seventh month of the year 894. Remlin Empire's most prestigious school, The Xalvador Academy for Knights and Magic, started its first day of school today.

In the first year students' building, a young man was walking through the hallway. His jet black hair was sticking out all over the place, evident of the bed hair he didn't bother fixing that morning. His gray eyes maintained a sharp gaze ahead, ignoring all the students staring at him.

"Is that him?

"Shhh. Not too loud or he'll hear us, but yeah, that's definitely him."

I can still hear you, you know.

"I heard he got perfect scores on all written tests in the entrance exam."

"Even arithmetic? Damn. Is he some kind of genius?"

Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.

"Apparently, he's been here since summer."

"Doesn't he have a life? He was probably doing some shady business in the school."

Now that I think about it, what I was doing could be considered shady.

"Shit! Why is he going to Class C?! I don't want to be in the same class as him!"

"Yeah, I thought he aced all the tests."

Trust me, I don't want to be in the same class as you, either.

The young man, Nicolas Wymark, entered Class C and sat on the seat next to the window at the back row. Soon, students began entering the classroom. From their animated conversations, it was obvious that everyone was excited about the school year.

Suddenly, a hush fell in the classroom. Everyone quickly rushed to their seats and straightened their things. A man in his 40s limped in, holding a folder in his left hand and leaning on his cane with his right. He was 6'11" with blond hair and blue eyes. His formal attire couldn't hide the muscles developed from decades of fighting in the battlefield.

"Ahem," the giant cleared his throat, "I am Arnold Caddell, former general of the Belin Corps. I will be your homeroom teacher this year. You, young'uns, may call me Sir Caddell."

A girl from the middle row boldly asked, "why not Sir Arnold?"

"You're not worthy yet," Arnold snorted.

Yet? That's interesting.

The girl sat back down, clearly confused by the answer.

"Now then," Arnold began as he waved the blue folder he was holding, "here are your class schedules this year. As you know, you can only take predetermined classes this first year."

The students grumbled at the reminder. It was expected since most if those classes were theory-based.

"Quiet."

Arnold didn't shout, but everyone felt the intensity of the word. The class fell silent.

"This system," Arnold continued, "is to help you figure out which skills you have the aptitude or talent for. If you wanted to be a wizard, for example, but couldn't even feel the mana around you, then why bother? You can choose your classes next year based on the occupation you want in the future and of course, the classes you got the highest grades in this year. And remember, your scores for this semester's final exam could get you to move up to either Class A or B so study hard."

Everyone immediately looked at him. A chance to be in Class A? This was what they've been hoping for. Class C was not the worst class per se, however, it was average. No one wants to be just average. In a world where knights could slay dragons and sorcerers could summon beings from another world, being average means sitting in the sidelines and watching someone else be the hero. And for children who have been dreaming of making a name for themselves, being in Class C is not enough.

As if their enthusiasm was ignited anew, the class shouted, "YEEESSSS!!!!"

Several students pumped their fists in the air. Some looked at the blue folder with determined faces while others were already daydreaming of the day they become a student of Class A. There was one student, however, who only looked at his classmates with bored eyes.

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If getting in Class A was that easy, everyone would be there. The school only assigns the best of the best there. The top 1%. Normal people wouldn't even be considered. Why did that guy raise everyone's hopes pointlessly like that?

"Okay, enough. Get your schedules and go straight to your first class."

Everyone took their schedules with suppressed excitement, eager to start the day. Even Nicolas seemed excited beneath his aura of boredom and cynicism.

Let's see. What are my classes this year?

Classes:

• History

• Arithmetic

• Language

• Basic Fighting

• Basic Weaponry

• Magic Theory

• Elementary Magic Application

• Introduction to Herbalism and Alchemy

Eight classes, huh. It doesn't look too bad. Although I only care about herbalism and alchemy.

With that thought in mind, Nicolas proceeded to his first class of the day, History.

____________________________________________________________________________

Or at least, he meant to go to History, but after turning left at the end of the corridor, going up two flights of stairs and following a teacher who looked like she would be teaching History, he found himself in front of the library.

"Shit!" he whispered harshly.

The teacher he was following turned sharply at him.

Damn. It wasn't a whisper after all.

He apologized to the teacher and went out of the library. However, this time he wasn't heading for the History classroom. In confident strides, he got out of the building, walked to the fountain at the back and turned left towards the garden. From there, it was just a straight path to the greenhouse.

I'll just skip History for now. I already know everything, anyway. The Morin plants I planted last week need my attention now. I just hope nothing was stolen this time.

The stealing began a month before school started. In the beginning, random plants were taken all over the greenhouse. The thief left broken pots, beakers, and flasks. Everything was a disaster. The thief even had the audacity to leave a note saying:

Thank you for the plants. I'll pay you back. Some day. :)

After reading the note, Nicolas decided to add Chokid vines to see if the thief will know what they are. He obviously didn't because he took those too. Nicolas felt good about achieving his little revenge on the thief, but he didn't stop there. He started adding unusual plants in the greenhouse to see what the thief would do. However, after eleven days, the thief started stealing only Morin plants.

So he's started studying up on what he steals.

Morin plants were normally grown for their tiny, berry-like fruits. The juice extracted from these fruits was the main ingredient for Healing Potions. They need highly specific conditions to grow, but only need two weeks to fully mature so alchemists and mages pay a hefty price for them. In fact, Nicolas has a couple of clients for his Morin plants already.

Anyway, I have to catch that thief soon or my supplies will run out.

With those thoughts, Nicolas opened the door to the greenhouse and saw a hooded figure kneeling in front of the Morin plants. It was grabbing the fruits rapidly and stuffing them in its mouth.

It's that bastard!