The morning sunlight filtered through the cracks in the curtains, warm and gentle, like a soft whisper waking Matisse from her slumber. She slowly opened her eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun, and stretched lazily with a touch of reluctance. The sounds outside grew clearer as the city seemed to awaken from its slumber, beginning a new day of bustling activity.
Listening to the noise outside, Matisse felt a wave of unease wash over her. She walked to the window, gently pulling back a corner of the curtain to look down at the street. A troop of soldiers hurriedly moved through the busy streets below, their steps disorderly and hurried, lacking the disciplined and imposing aura of a well-trained army. Their armor gleamed in the morning light, making them particularly conspicuous, yet their movements were chaotic and lacked rhythm. Each soldier’s face was marked with anxiety and tension. They forcefully pushed aside pedestrians blocking their way, even knocking some down without a second thought, drawing complaints and gasps from the crowd. Matisse's heart sank slightly. Such scenes had become more frequent since the change in power, and each time the soldiers moved with such urgency, it meant another disturbance was brewing in the city.
She watched the disorderly troop disappear around the street corner, feeling a growing sense of apprehension. Matisse knew that today could be different from any other day. She quickly gathered her things, hastily ate a simple breakfast, donned her cloak, and rushed out the door. The streets were crowded with people, and Matisse moved through them, her eyes unconsciously scanning the crowd, searching for the figure that had left a deep impression on her—the mysterious man in the blue coat with hair as white as frost.
But no matter how hard she searched, that familiar figure was nowhere to be seen. Her heart sank slightly, as if that person had been just a dream, gradually fading away like the morning mist. Time waited for no one, and Matisse had no choice but to quicken her pace toward the magic academy, carrying a tinge of regret.
The entrance of the magic academy looked particularly imposing in the morning light, with dew droplets lingering on the stone steps, sparkling in the sunlight. Matisse walked into the academy with mixed feelings. This place had once been a symbol of her aspirations, but now it had become her workplace. She silently reminded herself that today would be crucial in establishing herself here.
When she was led to a classroom filled with old bookshelves, Matisse's heart began to beat a little faster. The light inside was dim yet warm, and the air was thick with the scent of books. As she stood at the lectern, dozens of pairs of eyes turned toward her, filled with curiosity, doubt, and a hint of unease. These gazes made her feel a surge of nervousness. Although she had explained magic countless times to her younger brother, this was the first time she would be teaching in a formal setting.
Matisse took a deep breath, trying to remain composed. She smiled slightly, her voice gentle yet carrying an undeniable firmness and confidence, "Good morning, everyone." Her voice echoed in the classroom, filled with a kind yet strong energy. "I am Mika Bekara, and from today onwards, I will be your professor for magic studies."
Her words flowed like a breeze, gently dissipating the tense atmosphere in the classroom. The students exchanged glances, and soft murmurs began to rise from the corners, as if they were trying to assess this new professor.
“I didn’t see her name on the professor evaluation board. Did you?”
“A new professor? I’m so nervous! I wonder what her grading standards are like.”
“I got an F in this subject last semester. If I don’t at least get a C this time, I’m done for. Please, let her be a good one!”
“She looks about our age; I didn’t expect her to be so young.” The whispers grew louder, filled with curiosity and doubt about the background of the new professor.
Despite the murmurs and skepticism, Matisse showed no outward signs of disturbance. She recalled the composure and confidence she had while standing by her father's side, having faced far more complex situations than this. In her eyes, these students’ reactions were trivial. She reminded herself, "If I can remain calm in the face of thousands of soldiers, I should not fear these students."
She quickly adjusted her mindset, exuding the calm and confidence expected of her, and began introducing the course outline and fundamental concepts of magic. Her speech was fluent, and her tone was infused with enthusiasm and understanding of magic, every word steeped in her deep affection for it.
“We will explore the mysteries of magic together, not just through the knowledge in books but through real-life practice,” she said, standing at the lectern, lightly twirling her wand before setting it down and demonstrating some basic magical incantations. As her fingers moved through the air, the temperature in the classroom rose slightly, as if a gentle magical wave was responding to her power.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“First, we will review some basic concepts of magic. State magic is a crucial branch that grants specific properties to objects.” Her voice was soft yet guiding, gradually drawing the students into the world of magic.
“Next, we’ll discuss elemental magic…” Matisse continued explaining while performing spells. Her movements were light and graceful, like a conductor orchestrating a magical symphony. Colorful orbs spun around her fingertips, filling the classroom with a rich magical aura. In her palm, a flower of flame bloomed suddenly, only to transform into a crystalline ice flower moments later, as if playing a piece of ever-changing music.
“Magic without a wand and without incantation!” one of the students, who had previously doubted her, whispered in amazement.
“It’s rare enough for someone to accomplish even one of those things, but she managed both!”
“Maybe she has a unique understanding of magic,” another student quietly responded.
While the students might not have fully grasped the complexity of the magic she demonstrated, the performance was enough to dispel their doubts about her. Matisse had proved her strength and capability through action.
To further engage with the students, Matisse continually encouraged them to participate in discussions, ask questions, and try new magical techniques. Her teaching style was unique and open, focusing on inspiring creativity and curiosity rather than merely imparting knowledge. As the lesson progressed, the students began to realize that Matisse was more than just a teacher; she was a mentor willing to share insights and explore problems with them. Her passion and dedication gradually inspired these young minds, fostering a growing respect and trust for their new professor.
After the class ended, Matisse gathered her notes and prepared to leave the classroom. She could feel the students’ attitudes toward her slowly changing, bringing a sense of comfort to her heart. She knew she had taken the first step in earning their trust and respect.
As she reached the doorway, a student suddenly approached her. Matisse noticed his name tag read "Charles." Charles looked slightly nervous, but his eyes shone with determination. "Thank you, Professor. Today's lesson was very interesting. May I ask you a question? My sister is about your age, but she is still an apprentice mage. She's struggling with the exam to become a full-fledged mage, so I wanted to ask for your advice on her behalf."
Matisse smiled slightly and nodded, "Of course, Charles. Becoming a certified mage requires not only skills but also a deep understanding of magic and confidence in one’s abilities. I’d be happy to share my experiences and hope they help your sister." Her voice was gentle yet firm, as if she were both responding to the students' trust and encouraging herself to continue forging ahead in this new environment.
She continued with a warm smile, "If you ask me, the most important part of learning magic is practice. The reason I mastered so many spells is that I often helped my parents with magical issues in the past. Over time, I naturally learned. Also, reading classic works by accomplished mages could offer you new perspectives."
"Professor, could you recommend any particular books?" a student asked expectantly.
Matisse gently rested her chin on her hand, pondering for a moment before replying, "If you want to quickly grasp the basics and pass your exams, I recommend The Creator God and Magical Power by Lei Selindal. Unfortunately, only an abridged version is available in Nova. If you are interested in alchemy or herbology, you might look into The Encyclopedia of Potions by Lilian Hawthorn. I’ve recently been reading Dragons and Elemental Magic by Sheryl Flake. It might be a bit advanced, but it’s still worth a read. By the way, this book is restricted, but I recently found a copied version in the library."
A student holding a notebook cautiously asked, "Professor, could you teach us magic without a wand?" The other students' eyes immediately lit up; clearly, the question had struck a chord with them.
Matisse heard this and a faint glint appeared in her eyes. Her lips curled into a slight smile, and she nodded, "That's an excellent question. In fact, magic without a wand, or 'wandless magic,' is a technique commonly used by advanced mages. This form of magic does not rely on a wand but instead depends on the mage's own control of magical power and mental focus."
She walked to the blackboard, picked up a piece of chalk, and began to draw a few symbols and diagrams. "Look here, traditional magic uses a wand because the wand serves as an amplifier and conduit for magical power. Through specific materials like diamonds, magic stones, or enchanted metals, it can concentrate and enhance a mage's power. However, if you master the skill of internal magic control, you can achieve the same effect."
Turning back to face the class, Matisse's gaze slowly swept over each student's face, "Wandless magic requires you to establish a more direct connection with your own magic. This requires continuous practice to sense the flow and fluctuation of magic within your body. Imagine your body as a great wand, and your mind and will as the core guiding this power."
As she spoke, she demonstrated a simple gesture, slowly opening her palm, concentrating her mind on the center of her hand. "First, try to feel the magic within you and let it gather in your palm. Don’t rush to release it; learn instead to control its flow steadily." As she focused, a faint blue light gradually appeared in her palm, growing brighter and steadier.
"When you can control this power and prevent it from dissipating easily, you will have taken the first step toward mastering wandless magic. With continuous practice, you will gradually find that you can guide and release magic through gestures, gaze, or even sheer thought."
The students watched the blue glow in Matisse's palm with bated breath, their eyes filled with awe and longing. "This is the skill you will all strive to master. It may seem difficult at first, but I firmly believe that each of you has the potential to become an exceptional mage."