The classroom door crashed open with a loud bang, and a blond boy with a sneer sharp as a dagger strutted in. "So, you're the new lecturer? Pfft! Some weak-looking old geezer! I'm ten times better than you!"
A few days after Aldi's trap snapped shut, I stood in the grand halls of Royal Magikos Magic Academy, already itching to flee back to my bed.
"Don't act all high-and-mighty just 'cause you've got a title," the kid spat, jabbing a finger at my chest. "Cross me and I'll break you myself!"
I never wanted this. One more tearful plea from Shar and I'd crumbled, so here I was, surrounded by tiny tyrants, dreaming of sleep.
"Hey! Listen up, geezer!" He barked, voice climbing higher. "Are you ignoring me? You're done!"
Gods, just take me home. Why was I wrangling brats when I could be napping? This was exhausting, soul-crushingly exhausting.
"Shut it, you noisy little gremlin," I growled, slicing through his rant. "I'm thinking. And I'm eighteen. Call me big brother, not geezer."
His face bloomed crimson, rage doubling his volume until the windows shook. Annoying didn't even scratch the surface.
I let out a long, bone-tired sigh.
In the end, Aldi had chained me to the academy until the tournament, my name officially on the roster like a curse. I'd planned to coast, a ghost in the system, but that smug cat dumped an entire class on me with a cheery "Good luck!" and vanished.
A class of pure chaos: the academy's worst troublemakers, herded together like sludge in a drain. Talented, sure, but personalities so vile every prior teacher bolted within two days. Not my problem.
Aldi clearly wanted me to fix them. Not a chance.
I swept my gaze across the room.
One girl sat lost in a thick book, lips moving silently as she read. Another had turned her desk into a vanity, filing nails amid scattered makeup. A boy perched cross-legged on his chair, eyes shut in deep meditation, breath slow and even. And the loudmouth, still yapping like a broken siren.
Eight students total, average age twelve, each lost in their own world. Class was in session, yet not one acknowledged me. Did they even know I was here?
Perfect. If they didn't care, I wouldn't either. Nap time.
I scrawled **SELF-STUDY** across the magic blackboard in huge, sloppy letters and sank into the chair, ready to let the world fade.
But the blond menace wasn't finished. "I said STOP IGNORING ME, GEEZER! I could crush you! One word to Father and the Gloire family will bury you!"
I rubbed my temples. "I've got zero interest in playing teacher. Our goals align. Leave me alone."
"Don't care!" he snapped. "I hate your smug face!"
I waved him off like a buzzing fly. He only dug in deeper, eyes blazing.
I flicked my gaze to the roster on the lectern.
**Name:** Rudas Gloire
**Age:** 13
**House:** Second son of House Gloire
**Magic Rating:** Institution B-Rank
House Gloire, major nobility, a lineage of legendary mages. A B-Rank at thirteen screamed prodigies, the kind spoiled until arrogance was their backbone.
No wonder teachers fled. One complaint to the family and your career was dust. The academy swam in their donations, so even Aldi couldn't push back. Politics at its ugliest.
But the real reason everyone ran? Every kid here was nobility or merchant royalty. Cross one, and your life ended in ruin.
"I'VE HAD ENOUGH!" Rudas roared, face purpling. "DUEL! DUEL ME! I'LL PULVERIZE YOU!"
He reminded me of someone, then it hit. That insufferable B-rank adventurer, Cain. Same swagger, same venom. Mini-Cain in the flesh.
I raised a brow. "A duel? What's in it for me? Sounds like a chore."
"Win and we'll respect you as a teacher!" he crowed, spinning to the class. "Right, guys?"
A lazy chorus of agreement rippled through, "Sure," "Fine," "Okay." I opened my mouth to protest, but—
"I don't wanna—"
"You're not gonna chicken out, are you… *geezer*?" Rudas sneered, bait dangling like a shiny lure.
I was twenty years old. An adult. Above childish taunts. My maturity was ironclad.
"Geezer…! Running away? Scared?" he pressed, voice dripping mockery.
No matter how he prodded, I wouldn't bite. Never—
"Geezer…! Hey, murky-eyed geezer…! Too scared to—"
"I'll make you cry," I cut in, voice low and deadly. "I swear, I'll have you bawling."
I couldn't take it anymore. He'd been chanting "geezer" like a battle cry, didn't he hear? I was a fresh, vibrant eighteen, in my prime!
The classroom erupted into pandemonium. Desks scraped as the other seven leaned forward, eyes gleaming with bloodlust and glee, the air crackling with the promise of chaos.