One morning I found myself in the Academy’s arboretum, enjoying a rare moment of quiet. The vibrant greenery and beautiful flowers reminded me of how long it had been since I’d simply appreciated the beauty of nature.

My reverie was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. I turned to see Elira Veylin, one of the Academy’s younger instructors, striding toward me.

“Archmage Eldric,” she greeted, inclining her head. Her green hair was tied in a ponytail, and her robe bore faint scorch marks. She must have just come from teaching one of her elemental mastery classes. “Do you have a moment?”

“For you, Instructor Veylin? Always,” I said, gesturing for her to join me on the bench. “What brings you here?”

She hesitated, clearly weighing her words. “I need your help with a problematic class. Many teachers have tried to make them behave but they all failed.”

“And you think I can succeed?” I said, a wry smile tugging at my lips.

“Your teaching lecture made the situation, improve a bit,” she said. “Besides, if anyone can command their respect and show them the value of discipline, it’s you.”

I considered her words. It had been decades since I’d dealt with a truly unruly class. But seeing how she came to me, she really seemed about to give up on the class entirely.

“I’ll take them,” I said finally. “On one condition.”

Elira blinked. “Condition?”

“You stay to observe. If I succeed, you’ll see how to handle them yourself. If I fail, you can gloat and remind me why I usually avoid teaching classes like these.”

A smirk played across her lips. “Deal.”

The next morning, I stood before the classroom, its door bearing the unmistakable scars of countless explosions and magical mishaps. Elira waited beside me, her arms crossed and an expression of dubious anticipation on her face.

“Last chance to back out,” she said.

“Not a chance,” I replied, pushing the door open.

When I entered, the scene was exactly what I expected: chaos. A pair of students were dueling with ill-formed fire spells in the corner, their flames sputtering dangerously close to the wooden desks. Another trio was huddled together, giggling over something they were inscribing into the floor—a poorly drawn summoning circle, by the looks of it. The rest of the class was either lounging or arguing over who had the “coolest” magical focus. One student stood out from the messy surroundings, a little girl sat quietly at her desk clearly not knowing what she was doing here.

I cleared my throat, amplifying the sound with a subtle spell. The resulting boom reverberated through the room, instantly silencing the commotion.

“Good,” I said, stepping to the front of the room. “At least you’ve mastered the art of stopping whatever nonsense you’re doing when someone important walks in.”

A few of them had the audacity to laugh. Others just stared at me, unimpressed.

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“Let’s get something straight,” I continued, fixing each of them with a hard stare. “I’m not here to babysit you. If you want to waste your potential and fail out of this academy, be my guest. But if you’re in this room, you’ll do things my way. Understood?”

A hand shot up from the back. It belonged to a boy with unruly black hair and a smirk that practically screamed troublemaker. “And what if we don’t want to do things your way, Professor?”

The class chuckled, clearly emboldened by his bravado. I smiled thinly. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“What’s your name?” I asked, folding my arms.

“Jace,” he said, leaning back in his chair as if he owned the place.

“Well, Jace,” I said, walking toward him. “Why don’t we see just how far your way gets you? Come up here.”

He hesitated, but the jeers and encouragement of his classmates goaded him into rising. He swaggered to the front, his smirk widening. “What’s the challenge, Professor? A duel? A test of spells? Or maybe you just want me to show off my amazing summoning skills?”

The class whooped and hollered, clearly expecting me to put him in his place with some flashy display. But I had other plans.

“Summoning, you say?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Very well. Summon something. Anything. Impress me.”

Jace blinked, clearly not expecting me to agree so easily. But he quickly recovered, showing exaggerated confidence. “Watch and learn, everyone. I’m about to show the Archmage how it’s done.”

He began chanting, the summoning circle at his feet glowing faintly. The mana in the room stirred, and for a brief moment, I thought he might actually manage something halfway decent. But then the circle flickered, turning an ominous shade of red.

“Uh... that’s normal,” Jace said, his voice wavering as the air grew thick with heat. “Totally under control.”

It wasn’t. With a deafening crack, the circle erupted in a burst of fire, and a small, shrieking imp materialized in the middle of the room. It immediately began wreaking havoc, overturning desks and snapping its sharp teeth at the nearest students.

The class screamed, scattering in all directions. Jace stood frozen, his bravado evaporating as the imp lunged toward him.

“Enough,” I said, snapping my fingers.

The imp froze mid-leap, its body encased in a sphere of light. With another spell I banished it back to whatever infernal plane it had come from. The room fell silent, all eyes on me.

“Well, Jace,” I said, turning to him with a pointed look. “That was certainly... memorable. But I’m afraid you’ve just demonstrated exactly why summoning is an advanced art—one that requires discipline and precise knowledge. Qualities you, and the rest of this class, sorely lack.”

Jace swallowed hard, his earlier confidence nowhere to be seen. “I... I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to?” I interrupted. “Tell that to the students who might have been injured by your carelessness. Magic isn’t a toy, Jace. It’s a responsibility. A dangerous one, at that.”

I let my words hang in the air, then turned to address the rest of the class. “If any of you think magic is about showing off or cutting corners, you’re in the wrong place. Now, take your seats. We’re starting from the basics.”

They obeyed, their earlier defiance replaced with quiet apprehension. Good. That was step one.

By the end of the session, the class was exhausted but attentive. I’d drilled them on mana control, dispelling any illusions they had about magic being easy. There were no flashy spells, no grand demonstrations—just hard, unrelenting practice.

As they filed out, I caught Jace lingering by the door. He looked sheepish, his earlier arrogance replaced with something closer to humility.

“Professor?” he said hesitantly.

“Yes, Jace?”

“Thanks. For, you know, not letting me screw up too badly.”

I smiled faintly. “That’s my job. Just don’t make me save you from yourself again, or I might not be so forgiving next time.”

He nodded, a spark of determination in his eyes. “I won’t. I promise.”

As he left I caught Elira watching from the doorway, her arms crossed and a faint smirk on her lips.

“Well?” I asked, approaching her.

“They’re not perfect, but they’re better,” she admitted. “You’ve managed to do in one lesson what most of us couldn’t in weeks. And just so you know, many teachers have tried their hands with that class.”

“I wouldn’t celebrate just yet,” I said. “They’ve got a long way to go.”

“True,” she said, her smirk widening. “But I’ll admit—it’s fun watching you work.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” I replied with a chuckle. “I’m handing them back to you tomorrow.”

Elira laughed, shaking her head. “Fair enough. But don’t think you’re off the hook. They’ll be asking for you again soon—I guarantee it.”