With a full week of classes under his belt, the backing of his friends, and a clear set of goals, Kor tore into the new day with fresh energy. Each step toward the classroom felt lighter yet more purposeful, echoing the resolve he’d once had when he decided to attend university with his parents. This week marked a crossroads. By Genday, he would need to submit his elective choices, and while he’d read through the list of options multiple times, a decision still eluded him. He couldn’t commit until he understood himself—and his magic.

Specialisation. The word lingered in his thoughts, an anchor and a challenge. Terra had reassured him and his classmates that most students didn’t unlock theirs until midterm, but Kor’s focus had already shifted in that direction. The Logos lay in his bag, and along with it, the keys to unlocking his future.

Every spare moment had become an opportunity to improve his control. Even now, as he walked through the bustling corridors, he cradled a flickering sphere of mana between his hands. The orb radiated a gentle warmth, its surface humming faintly as it shifted and shimmered with his efforts. Concentration furrowed his brow as he worked to stabilise the glowing orb, its shifting light reflecting his wavering focus.

Arriving at the Fundamentals of Mana classroom, Kor pushed open the door. Inside, Lena sat alone, her attention on the delicate patterns she traced with her fingers over an open notebook.

“Morning.” Kor let the sphere dissipate with a subtle sigh of relief.

She glanced up and smiled. “You’re early.”

“Not early enough.” He dropped into the chair beside her. “We’ve only got until Genday to choose our electives, and it’s impossible to decide when I know so little about magic.”

Lena closed her notebook and leaned her chin on her hand, violet eyes warm with understanding. “I get that. Even though I only started practising magic recently, I’ve been surrounded by it my whole life. It helps a little.”

“What about you? Have you decided what you’re going to specialise in?”

Her gaze grew searching, as though weighing how much to share. “Not entirely. I’ve been looking at a few courses. Meta-Casting is one I’m seriously considering.”

“Meta-Casting? What’s that?”

“It’s a mix. Magical philosophy combined with a deeper dive into each person’s specialisation. Terra teaches it too, which is another reason I’m interested.”

“That sounds useful.” Kor scratched the back of his neck. “But attending without knowing my specialisation might be a bad idea.” A thought struck him. “Wait... does that mean you already know yours?”

A hint of colour rose in her cheeks, and she gave an embarrassed nod. “My parents made sure I figured it out before coming here. Back home, there’s a big emphasis on it. But…” She hesitated, as if reluctant to continue. “I haven’t developed enough control to use it reliably yet.”

“That’s still really impressive,” Kor said, his admiration genuine. He caught the faint blush that deepened her complexion, and it made him grin. “Any advice for someone who’s still fumbling around?”

Lena’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “You’ve got your specialisation book, right?”

“Yeah,” Kor admitted, his shoulders sagging slightly. “But my control isn’t where it needs to be. I can’t advance yet.”

“Then practise,” she said, her tone light but pointed, earning a laugh from him.

“Fair enough,” Kor said, shaking his head. Students trickled in, their voices and footsteps weaving into a growing hum. Kor glanced at Lena, ready to ask a question, but Terra Firefall stormed inside with her usual blaze of energy, stealing everyone’s attention.

Kor mentally kicked himself. Knowing how many courses Lena was juggling felt almost as important as knowing which ones. ‘Next time,’ he promised himself. For now, he settled in, his mind whirling with possibilities.

Terra’s lecture covered mana dynamics with her usual fiery enthusiasm. She explained how first-year students could expect substantial growth in their mana pools as they trained, which drew murmurs of interest from the class. With this growth in mind, she would soon begin teaching them how to open themselves to the flow of mana. Briefly, she touched on advanced techniques for accelerating recovery, her tone suggesting that those topics were still far ahead.

“Any questions?” Her gaze swept across the room, intense and eager.

Kor’s hand shot up, his mind racing as he considered how best to phrase the question. He knew it might make him stand out—but not necessarily in a good way. Still, curiosity won out over caution. “Uh, what if… hypothetically speaking… someone already had an advanced technique?” The question tumbled out awkwardly, and as soon as he spoke, he wished he could take it back. He stumbled over the words, realising too late how obvious he sounded.

Terra’s amber eyes sparkled with amusement as she crossed her arms. “Trying to rush ahead again?”

“I didn’t mean—I thought—” Kor trailed off, his cheeks reddening. A few students snickered, and he sank lower in his seat.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Her tone softened, the warmth in her voice easing the tension in Kor’s shoulders. “But I’d hold off until you’ve got the basics down. Ambition’s good, but you’ll get a lot more out of it if you learn to walk before you run.”

Kor gave a quick nod, relief washing over him. With so many demands on his time, the advanced technique he’d received could remain untouched—for now.

The rest of the morning flew by in a haze of practice. By early afternoon, Kor found himself standing at the threshold of the Basic Spellcraft classroom alongside Talen, eager to test his new skills. The classroom, filled with soft magical glows and faint glyphs on the walls, seemed to buzz with anticipation as Professor Moss’s monotone voice announced their focus for the day: barriers.

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“Today,” Moss began, his expression as lifeless as ever, “you will create and stabilise a basic barrier. Simple. Dense. Functional.”

More than a few students exchanged nervous looks. While some Lexicans still struggled to maintain a basic sphere, Kor stood straight-backed, steady. The past weeks of relentless practice had lifted him from dead last. He was ready for another challenge. Moss, to everyone’s surprise, actually walked them through the process step-by-step, detailing the principles of stability and reinforcement.

Unlike forming a sphere or cube, barriers needed to be dense but not thick, their structure reinforced like woven threads. Kor had mana to spare, and shaping the spell wasn’t difficult. Stabilising it, however, was another matter entirely. His first few attempts crumbled into shimmering fragments or wobbled like a flag in the breeze before collapsing.

Beside him, Talen’s voice cut through his frustration. “Focus on anchoring the edges first,” he suggested, his tone easy and encouraging.

Kor tried again, this time paying closer attention to the edges of his construct. Slowly, it began to hold, resembling something close to a proper barrier.

“Okay, Talen,” Kor said, wiping his brow. “Give it a shot.”

Talen’s grin widened as he formed a perfectly round mana sphere in his palm. Without warning, he tossed it at Kor’s barrier. The sphere collided with a sharp spark, and though his shield dissipated immediately, it had absorbed the impact.

“Hah! Not bad, Kor. Would’ve thought it’d take you weeks to get this far,” Talen clapped him on the shoulder.

Kor puffed up at the compliment, his chest swelling with pride—only for Professor Moss to appear behind them, his scowl as severe as ever.

“No spell-throwing in class without my permission,” Moss growled, his voice low and pointed.

“Sorry, sir.” Kor and Talen bowed their heads in unison.

As Moss turned away, grumbling under his breath, Kor glanced at Talen and grinned despite himself. Talen returned it with a wink.

As they returned to their dorm, Kor dropped his pack onto his bed and peered around. He hadn’t been imagining it.

“Talen.” Kor folded his arms with mock sternness.

Talen looked up from his growing garden of plants, his usual cool demeanour intact. “Yeah?”

“You’ve added more plants, haven’t you?”

“What? No... well, maybe. Why?”

Kor gestured at the greenery taking over their shared space. “Yesterday, I thought it was my imagination. But now? Those vines are practically climbing above my bed! And is that a new bush at the foot of yours?”

Talen stepped to the side, as if shielding them with his body. “Uh, I mean... they’re decorative. Practical, even! You know, for air quality.”

“I’ve read the student rulebook.” Kor wagged a finger. “No more than two plants per room. Or a single pet. What is this? Twelve? Fourteen?”

“They don’t—I mean, that rule is probably more of a... suggestion...”

Kor burst out laughing, doubling over as Talen’s expression shifted from panic to realisation.

“You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Kor wiped his eyes. “I couldn’t help myself. But you have been sneaking in more plants, haven’t you?”

“You’re not going to rat me out, are you?”

“Of course not. But I swear, if one of those vines tries to snuggle up with me tonight...”

“Only the crystal palm seems to like you, and if you’re lucky, it might even let you have one of its fruits.”

Kor’s stomach rumbled. He glanced at the palm, its shimmering leaves catching the light. “I don’t see any.”

“They take a few years to grow.”

Kor shook his head and pulled the mana puzzle from his pack. Talen whistled low.

“Where’d you get the money for that?”

“Gift from Marcus.”

“He’s the rich kid you came with, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Be careful, Kor. Some presents come with hidden strings.”

Kor frowned. Marcus had been nothing but kind and supportive. Sure, many rich kids were like that, but Marcus was different.

He turned the puzzle over in his hands, but a new thought interrupted his focus. “How are we supposed to get money, anyway? Those chips I keep seeing around... Do we have to take a part-time job or something?”

“Sort of. Most kids just beg their parents for funds.”

Kor groaned.

“But others sell things they make or take on paying jobs from professors. Lots of them have ongoing projects that need assistants. Think about those spires—a lot of the workers there are actually students.”

“Maybe that would be worth looking into. Once I’ve made some progress with the Logos.”

He resisted the urge to reach for the book. Instead, his attention returned to the puzzle. If he could just get past a few more corners, perhaps the rest would fall into place.

It was the next day before Kor remembered to ask Talen about electives. His friend had opted for the obvious choices: Magical Botany, Environmental Magic, Ecology of Mana, and Advanced Combat.

“Advanced Combat? You?” Kor raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were all about plants, nature, and stuff.”

“I am, but Advanced Combat is a must for most students. If you can’t provide anything of value, like the crafters, enchanters, or healers, you really need to be able to fight.”

“Wouldn’t your plants count for something like that?”

“If you hadn’t told me you were already taking Advanced Combat, I’d have advised it myself. Even if you’re going to get crushed like a sapling, it’s still critical.”

“Still, four extra electives? That feels like a lot.” Kor fell into step beside Talen as they headed toward the training fields.

“Most students choose three or four. Don’t stretch yourself too far. Three is more than enough, especially with how much you’ve got to learn.”

“But there’s a lot to cover, and we all need at least 300 credits to advance to the second year. Shouldn’t I do all that I can?”

“There are more ways to earn points as the term goes on. The teachers don’t want to overwhelm us right out of the gate.”

“How come you know so much about all this? One of your parents work here or something?”

Talen grinned. “Something like that.”

There had been no time to press the issue as he raced off for the training field. A surge of excitement racing through him; today, he was ready to fight. He could at least form a basic barrier now, even if it was weak and unmoving. Also, his mana spheres were coming along splendidly thanks to his improved control. The puzzle’s relentless challenge had sharpened his focus like nothing else.

Master Terrak’s booming voice brought them to order, setting the tone for the day. The lesson was gruelling but marked steady progress. In duels with his classmates, Kor still lost most matches, but he’d finally claimed a victory—beating Erran in their rematch. The boy’s stubborn reliance on forming a barrier had left him wide open to Kor’s relentless barrage of mana spheres. The spheres hadn’t been perfect, wobbling in flight and barely holding their shape, but they’d made contact with Erran’s badge shield, spelling victory.

The rest of the week blurred into a cycle of study and practice. Each class felt a little less overwhelming, each spell a bit more stable. By the fifth day, Kor had clawed his way up from the bottom of the pack. His relentless practice had paid off, but he knew this was just the beginning. Today was do or die.

He sat alone in his dorm, pulling the Logos from his pack before carefully placing it on his bed. The deep blue cover shimmered faintly, radiating an aura of magic that seemed to hum in his ears. Strange recursive imagery etched into its edges glowed dimly as he opened the book to the page where he’d been stuck.

He traced the lines with his finger; the symbols shifting subtly under his gaze. Taking a deep breath, he read aloud: “To grasp the Logos is to demonstrate mastery. Reason alone does not suffice. No more shall this book be read with mortal instruments.”

Kor stared at the words, tantalising and challenging. This was it. Time to find out if all his practice had been enough.

He sucked in a deep breath, steadying his hands as he reached out with his mana. Energy swirled from within him, questing toward the corner of the page. The symbols seemed to pulse in response; the hum growing louder. Kor’s heart pounded. Everything he’d done this past week had led to this moment.