Jane straightened, giving me a brief nod before heading to her seat. I leaned back in mine, my eyes blankly fixed on the teacher as he scraped his chair back and took a seat. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with a neatly trimmed beard—mostly brown except for the streak of grey in his moustache. His long hair bore a single streak of white along the side, giving him a distinguished appearance. Broad-shouldered with a triangle-shaped build, he had sharp yet kind eyes that showed authority. His hands were gloved in pristine white, a uniform detail among the teachers here.

As he prepared to address the class, his gaze landed on me. My stomach twisted as I immediately sensed he was going to call me out. Hoping to deflect attention, I tilted my head and scratched the back of my neck, avoiding his eyes.

“I see you’ve finally joined us, Mr…” His voice was firm but not unkind.

“Axel,” I replied, lifting my gaze reluctantly. “Axel Millo.”

“Mr. Millo,” he repeated, his tone curious. “Ms. Hawke mentioned you were attacked in the forest. How are your wounds, may I ask?”

“I’m all healed up, sir,” I assured him, keeping my voice even.

“Good to hear,” he said with a small nod. Then, leaning forward slightly, he added, “Would you kindly stand and introduce yourself to the class?”

I rose hesitantly, turning to face the sea of curious eyes staring back at me. My throat tightened as memories of a similar moment from my old school flooded back—introducing myself to a roomful of strangers, only to pass out mid-sentence. The teacher back then had been so spooked she never called on me again.

I took a slow breath, trying to piece together a plausible story. Telling the truth—that I was yanked into this world by a giant eye in the sky and desperately wanted to leave—wasn’t exactly an option. Lying, it seemed, was once again my only choice.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a movement on the rooftop, but I didn’t think much of it, as I was focused on how to lie to the entire classroom.

“My name is Axel Millo,” I began, my voice steady but low. “My village was destroyed by a goblin attack. I wasn’t attending any school before, so… all of this is Greek to me.”

“Greek?” a student called out, confusion rippling through the room.

“Unfamiliar,” I clarified quickly, suppressing a sigh. “Anyway, I hope we can all get along.”

“Thank you, Mr. Millo,” the teacher said, his expression softening. “I’m Ju Poley. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, Mr. Poley.”

“You may sit down,” he instructed, watching as I quickly obeyed. “Since this is your first time at a magic school, I’ll briefly go over the basics for your benefit, Mr. Millo.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Clearing his throat, he stood and clasped his hands behind his back. “Those blessed by the gods can wield magic naturally. Others may only access magic through books or tomes. If someone has an active mana pool, it will show on the tests. Those without mana are not required to attend magic schools.” He paused, his sharp eyes scanning the room as if daring anyone to interrupt. “The five main types of magic are elemental, arcane, nature, celestial, and shadow. Each has subclasses—for example, elemental magic includes pyromancy, hydromancy, geomancy, and aeromancy.” He turned his gaze to me. “Did your test reveal any magical affinity, Mr. Millo?”

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I hesitated before answering. “No, sir. I… I didn’t show any affinity.”

A brief silence hung in the room before quiet chuckles rippled through a few students. Mr. Poley’s expression hardened slightly as he tugged at his cravat, straightening it with care.

“These things happen,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the snickers. “You’ll simply need to work harder than others, Mr. Millo.”

“Y-yes, sir,” I stammered, nodding quickly.

Satisfied, he smoothed his cravat once more, then brushed his hands down the front of his impeccably tailored waistcoat. The navy-blue fabric was flawless, so crisp it seemed freshly pressed. His grooming was meticulous—his beard, neatly trimmed, and his polished boots catching the faint light from the windows. Everything about him radiated order and precision, as if imperfection was his greatest foe.

For the last time, Mr. Poley adjusted his cravat before he turned his sharp gaze back to the class. He surveyed the room, letting his eyes linger briefly on each student before landing on me again.

“One can cast a spell by channelling their mana and visualising the intended effect,” he explained, his tone steady and authoritative. “Some advanced spells, such as Hellstorm, require chanting to maintain control. As first-years, you won’t touch those until your second year.”

A hand shot up from the back of the room. “Mr. Poley, could you cast an advanced spell? I’ve never seen anything like that before!”

The teacher hesitated, rubbing his chin as if weighing the request. “Mm, very well,” he said at last, a small smile breaking his otherwise serious demeanour. “We’ll try something harmless yet effective. This spell is called Rabbit, a support spell that enhances jumping ability. Now… who wants to volunteer?”

The same student practically bounced in his seat. “Me! Please, sir!”

“Alright, stand up,” Mr. Poley instructed.

“Yes, sir!” The student leapt to his feet, brimming with enthusiasm.

The teacher raised one gloved hand, his fingers curling slightly as he chanted softly:

"Grant this body lightness,

Boundless energy within.

Rabbit’s Leap, take flight!"

A faint purple glow enveloped the student’s body, shimmering for a moment before fading. The student examined his hands, his expression lighting up with excitement. Without hesitation, he crouched low and sprang upward.

The class collectively gasped as he shot toward the ceiling, his head nearly colliding with the beams. Before disaster struck, Mr. Poley raised his other hand and cast another spell in a fluid motion. An almost invisible gust of wind spiralled upward, catching the student’s leg like a lasso. With a gentle tug, the teacher pulled him back down to the desk with precise control.

The student landed safely, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he climbed off the desk. He muttered something to his friend, his cheeks flushed.

Mr. Poley’s brow furrowed. “Clean the desk,” he instructed, his voice sharp. “Dirtiness is humankind’s worst enemy.”

“Yes, of course,” the student said, wiping the desk with the edge of his uniform. “Thank you, sir. That was amazing.”

“Anything for my students,” Mr. Poley replied, clasping his hands behind his back.

Another hand shot up. “Sir, are we continuing with barrier casting today?”

“Ah, yes,” the teacher said, stepping down from the platform. “This will be an excellent exercise for our new student. One partner will cast a protective barrier while the other practices offensive ice magic.”

“I can pair with Axel,” Jane offered, her hand raised.

“Very well, Ms. Hawke,” Mr. Poley agreed, motioning for the class to stand. “Everyone, follow me to the practice area.”

Chairs scraped against the floor as the students shuffled to their feet, murmuring among themselves while they gathered their belongings. I followed quietly, mentally preparing for whatever awaited me next.