The next morning, it was time to choose their classes.
The Academy did provide a recommended list depending on each student's chosen Section, but nothing forced them to follow it. The only difference would be felt at the end of the year, during evaluations.
Some courses were harmless, others demanding, but all shaped the way a mage would become.
Students lined up before the steward. Some determined, others hesitant. And a few, like Naye… half asleep.
He handed in his form almost at the last moment, after spending the morning napping against a tree in the gardens.
The steward looked up at him, weary but resigned.
— You forgot your signature here… and here.
— Ah. Right…
They handed him his schedule. Naye walked out without even checking the rooms indicated. He folded the paper, tucked it into his pocket, and went to meet Eleanor at the dining hall.
On the way, he crossed paths with Vaelir, who was studying an engraved archway as if it held a secret.
— Are you also late for your course selection? Naye asked.
Vaelir raised an eyebrow, almost offended.
— Certainly not. I submitted mine among the first. I'm simply exploring the Academy's buildings.
Naye considered the answer. Then, as usual, he said nothing.
Vaelir suggested eating together, which he accepted without hesitation. They sat by a window overlooking the distant training grounds.
— So, what did you pick? Vaelir asked.
— I don't know. I didn't read it.
— I'm genuinely impressed that you're still alive.
Naye let a small smile escape. They talked about the coming months, the size of the library, rumors about professors… until a tray landed beside Naye with the delicacy of an explosion.
— You were supposed to join me, accused Eleanor, eyebrows drawn together.
Naye stared at her for several seconds.
— I… may have… forgotten, he admitted, slightly embarrassed.
Vaelir stifled a laugh, arms crossed.
— Princess, he greeted politely.
Eleanor blinked, only now noticing his presence.
— Oh! You're the elf from the alley.
— Stellar first impression, muttered Vaelir.
Ignoring that, she sat down. Her gaze drifted to the paper beside Naye's plate. She grabbed it without asking.
— You actually removed every History and Politics course?
— Based on my results, the professors decided it was… probably for the best, sighed Naye.
— Or to avoid a diplomatic incident, added Vaelir.
Eleanor leaned closer.
— Magical Theory, Artifact Study, Rune Analysis… You only picked these?
— And Mechanics, noted Vaelir. I'm impressed.
— They said we'd have access to the workshops.
Naye said that with absolute seriousness.
Eleanor laid her own paper on the table, almost proudly.
— Enhancement Magic, Fencing, Exploration in Hostile Terrain, Magical Creatures… And you took Applied Cartography? Vaelir repeated, surprised.
— I want… to see the world, Eleanor replied simply. If there are monsters, ancient ruins… I want to find them.
— You almost sound like an adventurer, commented Naye.
She turned toward Vaelir.
— And you, what do you… want?
Vaelir remained silent. Then placed his schedule on the table.
— Magical Theory, Seal Theory, Mana Perception, Artifact Studies, Ancient Literature.
— Sounds like you're studying to become a thief, grimaced Eleanor.
Vaelir slowly shrugged.
They stayed silent for a moment.
— You're together in nearly every class, Eleanor complained, slightly jealous.
— At least we're all together for this one: Magical Disciplines.
The amphitheater was circular, built in tight tiers around a platform of pale stone. The first years had taken their seats, excitement kept in check. Some whispered. Others turned the pages of fresh, empty notebooks, as if they already held their future.
Naye was staring at the vaulted ceiling, distracted. Eleanor was observing students from other sections. Vaelir, seated behind them, was calmly taking notes, even though nobody had asked him to.
Then the professor entered.
He wore a perfectly tailored dark suit — black vest, grey waistcoat buttoned up to the collar, and a neatly pressed white shirt. Upon entering, he removed a medium-brimmed hat and placed it on the desk.
His moustache was fine and precisely trimmed, his beard clean-shaven. His hair, black with a few grey streaks, was combed back neatly, without extravagance. His posture was straight, but not stiff. His movements were controlled, calm — like someone accustomed to speaking before students.
— I am Master Rian. I will not teach you how to cast spells.
A faint murmur.
— I will not teach you how to fight, either.
Soft nervous laughter.
He stopped at the center of the platform.
— Here… I will teach you what you might become.
Silence.
He drew three intersecting circles on the board.
— In this world, mana does nothing on its own. It is a possibility. An outstretched hand. You decide how to respond to it.
He pointed to the first circle.
— Arcanists. Those who shape magic. They study it, write it, sculpt it, contain it. They believe everything can be understood… even what shouldn't be.
Naye lifted his head.
Second circle.
— Enhancers — or Battle Mages. Those who do not separate body and magic. They believe there's no point casting spells at your enemy if you can strengthen your body and simply split their skull.
Laughter rose softly.
Third circle.
— Healers. Those who devote themselves to saving and protecting others.
Then he pointed to the overlap between Arcanists and Healers.
— The Weavers. They do not cast spells. They do not strike with mana… but they anchor it. Into symbols, objects, machines. There is no one more dangerous… than someone who doesn't look like a mage.
Next, between Healers and Enhancers.
— The Sentinels. They protect. Wall of flesh, wall of magic. Living shield, often the last line. A mage less spectacular… but when they fall, everybody falls.
Finally, between Arcanists and Enhancers.
— The Blade Mages. Those who dance between thought and steel. Their magic is neither thrown nor stored — it follows the movement. They do not separate intellect from combat. They are living duels.
He set the chalk down and looked over the hall.
— In this course, I will help you understand which path might be yours after your awakening. You may change, evolve, make mistakes… but remember: those who try to be good at everything often end up brilliant at nothing.
A student raised his hand.
— And… in the center? he asked. Where all circles meet?
Master Rian looked at him. Not sternly. Not amused either.
He did not reply immediately.
— What do you think we call someone who masters magic as well as the body?Who can heal… and forge legendary artifacts?Who understands… and destroys?Who protects… and strikes?
He let silence fall for a moment.
— In the center…In the center, we find the gods.