Jiran’s thoughts raced as the packed auditorium followed his every move.

Are all these people here because they figured out who I am? Did I really attract that much attention over the last year?

It doesn’t matter. I’m here to teach the students, not these old bastards. Kicking them out isn’t the best option, that would cause way too many problems. So I should find a room with more space. Maybe the cafeteria? No, definitely not.

The Garden. Yes, that’s perfect.

With his decision made, he took a deep breath and spoke loud enough to be heard over the low murmuring of the packed room.

“We are moving today’s class to The Garden.”

Without a moment's hesitation, Jiran turned toward the exit and pushed his way out of the room.

A chorus of dissent was shouted from the stands.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“I’ve already been waiting here for thirty minutes.”

“How dare you waste my time!”

“Who do you think you are to order me around?!”

Outside the now tumultuous auditorium, Jiran faced the two brothers who still stood in the hallway blocking traffic.

“Please direct anyone who wants to take part in my class to The Garden.”

“Uhh, sure okay. You need me to clean your boots too? Maybe wipe your ass for you?”

Jiran grinned and laughed, punching the mouthy one lightly on his beefy shoulder. “I like you!”

I would probably be annoyed too if I were in his position.

Jiran raised his voice again, this time amplifying it with mana.

“Class will be held in The Garden in ten minutes,” His booming voice swept down the hallways and blew back the hair of those standing closest to him.

Both brothers clamped their hands over their ears while giving him a glare that promised retribution.

With a smirk and a wink in their direction, Jiran floated above the heads of the students in the packed hallway.

The Garden was empty when Jiran arrived. He found a flat space not far from the main stairs leading into the vast underground chamber. He hovered high enough in the air that it would be easy to see him no matter how many people came.

Students and military officers filed into The Garden in droves. Soon there were well over five thousand people present.

A group of four men in military uniforms hovered into the air, stopping in front of Jiran.

Two of the men wore the brighter green uniform of the royal guard. They floated in the back of the group, their hard faces and jutting jaws reminded Jiran of a drill instructor about to sentence some unfortunate cadet to a thousand push-ups.

The two in front were the epitome of arrogance. They looked at Jiran like he was a bug to be squashed. Their uniforms denoted them as a Colonel and a Lt. Colonel. The third and fourth highest-ranking officers in the Imperial Army.

The Colonel had black hair and eyes, a small mouth and nose, and the straight-backed stance of someone accustomed to command. His scrunched lips and squinted eyes gave Jiran the impression of a shrewd diplomat, rather than a powerful warrior.

“Show me this blue flame,” His confident tone demanded Jiran comply immediately, and that disobeying him was an impossibility.

Woohoo, let the political posturing begin.

“Class begins in two minutes, please take a seat,” Jiran responded with complete disinterest.

Ignoring the pretentious Colonel, Jiran cast his gaze about the gathered crowd. He smiled happily upon seeing a large portion of the student body in attendance.

“You are making a huge mistake young man. If you knew who I am and who I represent, you would be on your knees begging for a command to obey!”

“Colonel Oushatt!” The shout that pierced the air was a combination of command and shrill that caused the hairs on Jiran’s arms to stiffen.

The Colonel’s eyes widened as he and his entourage looked over their shoulder at the offending interloper.

Olive was barreling toward them, fully decked for battle in the heavy white armor he had seen her use the day she first attacked him. The huge lance had been replaced by a much thinner variant that was still double her body-length.

Olive?! Enough is enough, if you try to disrupt my class, I’m going to put you down.

The Colonel turned to confront Olive, his teeth were clenched so hard Jiran could hear them grinding.

“Princess Oliviala. As you can see, I am currently engaged in an important negotiation. Whatever tantrum you are throwing, this time, take it elsewhere.”

Olive didn’t back down from his venomous tone. The Colonel's aura thickened the air as his barely constrained fury mounted.

Students and lower-tier military personnel alike backed away as the tense atmosphere above them felt like a bomb primed to explode.

“Don’t think for a second I’m going to let you sink your filthy claws into my Jiran.”

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

What did she just say? Why can she never open her mouth without saying something ridiculous?!

Silence descended on The Garden as her words echoed through the air.

Even the Colonel was speechless.

For the first time since her sudden arrival, Jiran got a good look at Olive’s face. Her bloodshot eyes were sunken with dark bags hanging beneath them. Her posture drooped in a way he had never seen before.

Her hunched shoulders and bobbing head gave him the impression she was about to fall asleep at any second.

I don’t think she realizes what she just said. She must have stayed up all night working on something.

It doesn’t matter, they are almost out of time for their little drama.

“One. Minute,” Jiran broke the silence, his voice was the embodiment of a reaper wielding the promise of death.

The royal guards tensed with bent knees. Jiran could feel the thrum of their mana activating. It snapped through their bodies as they each activated a mana forcing, the same technique he had learned from Samris as a child.

The Colonel and his second in command snapped their heads back toward Jiran as the danger he represented suddenly loomed above their heads.

“A-a-are you threatening me?!”

Jiran didn’t respond to his terrified blustering. Instead, he continued to watch the students with interest, curious to see their reactions to Olive.

“Colonel, that’s far enough. If you insist on disrupting Jiran any further, there will be consequences. I’m sure you understand what that would mean for you.”

Olive’s words elicited a snarl from the incensed Colonel.

“Now that the truth is out, don’t expect Dominus to intervene any further, Princess. This is not over,” With his promise hanging in the air, he descended and joined the ranks of soldiers waiting patiently below.

“Thanks, Olive. I’m going to start my class now,” Jiran nodded with his head to an empty space below him.

She blinked at him uncomprehendingly for several seconds before the light of understanding shone in her eyes. She returned his nod and deactivated her aura, falling to the ground with a heavy thud.

Guess I should expect a lot more nonsense with all this political infighting going on. Would it be too much to ask for everything to go smoothly for a change?

Squaring his shoulders, Jiran stood up straight and raised his voice.

“Good Morning, everyone. Thank you all for coming.”

I need something to write on, like a chalkboard. Ahh, I’ve got it, that should work great.

Jiran condensed layers of pressurized aura into the shape of a bucket and gouged out a three-meter scoop of dirt from The Garden’s floor. He then flattened the dirt with another application of Aura and held it firmly in the air behind him.

With a final thought, he pulled the darker shaded rocks out of the dirt and crushed them into dust inside another panel of pressure, just in front of the makeshift board.

“Today’s class will cover the basics of mana communication, as I understand them. If you have a question at any point, raise your hand and I will call on you at my convenience.”

As he spoke, Jiran formed letters in the air with the crushed black rocks. The letters stood out nicely against the light-brown dirt. ‘Mana Communication.’

Shocked murmurs escaped the lips of several officers.

“How is that possible?”

“I’ve never seen an aura controlled to that extent!”

Jiran forged ahead, doing his best to ignore their reactions to something he had been doing for over a year.

“Many of you will find my lecture disturbing, even heretical. I would like to invite everyone present to let go of your preconceived notions and open yourselves to other possibilities for the short time I have you here.

“If you are incapable of doing so, you will leave quietly, or I will remove you.”

He let the threat hang in the air for a short moment. When nobody moved, he continued.

“It is common knowledge that density is a natural part of us and this world. It is not.”

Several people in the crowd gasped at his blatant opposition to the teachings of every religious and academic group in the empire. Hands were raised, but Jiran ignored them for now, pressing on with his introduction.

“It is also a widely held understanding that density must be absorbed and naturally converted to mana. This is also false.”

More hands were raised and again he ignored them.

“When you come to accept that density is an outside force and that our bodies have merely acclimated to absorb and use it, then you will come to the first truth of mana.

“Control requires connection,” As he spoke the words, Jiran formed them on the board behind him.

“To illustrate my point, I would like to invite anyone who is confident in their mana control to step forward for a demonstration.”

Only two academy students raised their hands, while over fifty military personnel with cocky grins full of contempt stepped forward.

“Since we have so many volunteers, you might as well all participate. If everyone would please release their best fire shaping into the air, that would suffice.”

Hands rose into the air as nearly one hundred people joined in to blast the air with waves of fire. The red conflagrations of mana turned to heat and sizzled the air.

Each flame uniformly matched the tier of the wielder. Those at Tier three had flames around two meters in height, while at Tier five the fires raged closer to twelve meters.

The clear difference in power between tiers was on full display as the air heated, causing some in the crowd to back away from the stronger participants.

Once the last fire died down, Jiran continued.

“Obviously, the strength of any shaping is greatly affected by the quality and quantity of the mana involved. Those at higher tiers will have hotter and larger flames with the same mana expenditure.”

Several of the Tier five participants took his words to mean that he was impressed, maybe even cowed by their display. Their grins widened as Jiran spoke.

“There are several other factors that play a role in any molding, shaping, or casting. The one I will demonstrate now is control. Specifically, control brought about by effective communication with mana.

“By understanding that mana is a tool no different than a hammer or chisel, and then grasping that tool through proper communication, it is possible to do far more than create a common flame.”

Jiran held his right hand above him in the air. The emotions from the earlier drama with the Colonel were still spread throughout his body giving him an easily accessible bridge between the thoughts in his brain and the mana in his chest.

Molecules excited into a state of frenzy, therefore friction, creating heat. These thoughts formed the image.

The image of his shaping crossed the distance between thought and mana instantaneously and his flame was born.

His demonstration was no larger than the tier five’s. However, that was where the similarities ended.

Jiran’s mana flowed smoothly through the entirety of his twelve-meter-tall flame. He rapidly changed the gasses used, each changing the flame's color between red, blue, orange, yellow, and green.

The strobe light effect caused the crowd to gasp in awe. But he was not done yet. Carefully controlling the contorting, wild, and flickering wicks of wildfire, he formed it into the shape of a twelve-meter-tall word.

“Control.”

The word hung in the air for all to read as clearly as any written on a page. Even though it danced and writhed like a natural bonfire, the letters never faded from view.

As a thousand hands lifted into the air, the same phrase resounded in every mind present.

That’s impossible.