When the final dummy dissolved into mist, the room felt different.
Some students stared at Silvia with awe.
Others with irritation.
Most with a strange mix of fear, confusion, and denial.
But Silvia stood quietly beside Mira, her expression as calm as if she'd merely taken a walk.
Professor Arceus tapped his staff once.
A sharp note echoed throughout the Great Hall.
"That concludes your first evaluation," he said, voice even. "For beginners, you all performed adequately."
Adequately.
Which meant no one had truly impressed him.
Except, perhaps, one person he said nothing about.
A faint chime rang—the academy's signal for class dismissal.
"You are dismissed for a short break," Arceus continued. "I expect you all to return with clearer minds. Magic is not shaped by panic… nor pride."
His gaze flickered—just for a second—toward Silvia.
Then he turned away.
Students began dispersing in buzzing groups.
Some whispered excitedly about their results.
Some complained.
Some kept glancing back at Silvia as though she were a puzzle missing several pieces.
Mira puffed her cheeks. "They can whisper all they want. That was amazing. Seriously—amazing."
Silvia blinked. "It was a small spell."
"A small spell that vaporized dummies."
"…Yes."
Before Mira could retort, a shadow blocked their path.
Riven Heatflare.
The fiery-haired boy stood with his usual cocky grin, arms crossed, chin tilted arrogantly.
"Well, well," he drawled, "if it isn't the mystery girl herself."
Mira whispered, "Oh no."
Silvia looked up at him, entirely unbothered.
"...What do you want?" she asked flatly.
Riven blinked.
He was clearly expecting something else—surprise, awe, maybe gratitude.
Not this.
He recovered with a grin. "Relax, I'm here to compliment you. Most commoners barely make sparks, but you—" he whistled—"you nearly shot the roof off. I like strong people."
Silvia stared at him.
"…You should see a healer," she said quietly.
"Huh?"
"You're hallucinating."
Mira choked on her breath. Nyx flicked its tail with smug approval.
Riven froze, grin twitching.
"Wow. That's… cold. Really cold." He leaned in, smirking again. "But I don't mind a little attitude. You're pretty, strong, and interesting. You should be grateful you caught my attention."
"I'm not," Silvia replied immediately.
Riven's grin faltered.
"O–oh? Playing hard to get?" he said, trying to regain control of the conversation. "I guess you don't understand how much higher I rank. The Heatflare name holds weight here. One of the powerhouse families of the kingdom."
Silvia stared, unimpressed.
"…And?" she asked.
Riven blinked.
"...And?" he echoed. "What do you mean and?"
She tilted her head slightly, eyes calm and sincere in their confusion.
"Why should I care?"
Mira slapped a hand over her mouth to hide a laugh.
Several passing students froze to watch.
Riven stood stiff for a moment.
He had never—never—been spoken to that way in his life.
But instead of snapping, he let out a low chuckle. "You're either the bravest girl here… or the dumbest."
Silvia blinked. "Neither."
"I wasn't asking—"
"Then why say it?" she asked.
Riven's mouth opened.
No sound came out.
Mira whispered, "Silvia… you're going to kill him at this rate."
Silvia blinked again. "I didn't attack him."
Nyx meowed, agreeing completely.
Riven ran a hand through his hair and forced a smirk.
"Hah… alright, fine. You're interesting. I'll let you off today."
Silvia frowned faintly. "…You didn't catch me."
"Huh?"
"Why are you letting me off?"
Mira was now wheezing silently.
Riven, utterly defeated in conversation, spun around with a dramatic "Tch!" and stormed off.
But before he left earshot, he grumbled:
"Just you wait… I'll figure you out!"
Silvia watched him go.
Then turned to Mira.
"Was he… angry?"
Mira wiped her eyes. "Oh, Silvia. You have no idea."
Silvia tilted her head slightly.
Nyx hopped back onto her shoulder, purring smugly as if it had won something.
And as the students continued to whisper, stare, and gossip around her—
Silvia remained completely unmoved.
Students filtered back into the Great Hall after the short break, most still buzzing about the earlier test. Some cast sideways glances at Silvia, whispering behind cupped hands. Others stole quick, uneasy looks—unsure whether to fear her or dismiss her.
Silvia didn't seem to notice. She simply followed Mira to their spot, Nyx draped around her shoulders like a living scarf.
The air shifted as Professor Arceus walked in once more, his presence instantly commanding the room back to silence.
"I trust you all used your break to rest," he said calmly, hands clasped behind his back. "And to reflect."
No one dared speak.
"Now," he continued, stepping forward with steady, deliberate steps, "we begin the foundation of all magic: mana control."
A faint hum of interest ran through the room.
"Mana," Arceus said, pacing slowly along the front row, "is the essence of every mage. Your magic—whether Fire, Air, Water, or… any other kind—relies entirely on your ability to command your own mana."
His gaze passed over Silvia for a split second before sweeping onward.
"It does not matter how powerful or unique your magic is. Without control, it is unstable. Wild. Dangerous."
Some students shifted uncomfortably.
Arceus lifted a hand and a soft blue aura gathered around his fingers, swirling like a miniature galaxy.
"With mana mastery, you can sharpen your spells, reduce wasted energy… and even sense other beings from great distances. The strongest mages in history could track a person's presence simply by their mana trail."
Silvia's eyes widened a fraction—almost imperceptibly.
Mira whispered, "That sounds… complicated."
"It is," Arceus replied sharply, without even looking her way. Mira jumped, startled he'd heard.
Then—
"Mira Faylen," he called.
Mira stiffened. "M–Me?"
"Yes. Come forth."
She shot Silvia a panicked glance. Silvia nodded once in encouragement.
Mira swallowed hard and stepped forward, her braid bouncing nervously as she walked.
Professor Arceus gestured to the center of the hall. "Show me how well you can gather and contain your mana."
Silence fell.
Mira closed her eyes, placing a hand over her heart the way she'd seen older mages do. A soft warmth flickered around her—tiny sparks of orange and gold, like drifting embers.
Students murmured quietly.
"She's Fire, right?"
"Looks decent."
"Better than her wielding a frying pan."
Mira gritted her teeth, concentrating harder. The embers grew brighter, swirling faster, forming a tiny flame that hovered above her palm.
Professor Arceus observed her with a critical eye.
"Your mana flow is strong," he said. "But your containment is uneven. Too much energy leaks outward."
Mira winced. "S–So… not good?"
"It is your first try. You did well enough." He nodded once. "Return."
Mira hurried back, slumping next to Silvia.
"I did terrible," she whispered.
Silvia shook her head. "…It was pretty."
"That's not helpful," Mira groaned.
Arceus continued calling names—Water mages forming trembling droplets, Air mages gathering tiny gusts, Fire mages igniting sparks.
Some students succeeded.
Some failed spectacularly.
Some fainted instantly.
But every time someone stepped forward, Silvia could feel eyes drifting back toward her.
Whispers rising.
"Imagine if she can't even control her mana."
"Maybe her magic blast earlier was a fluke."
"She'll probably make the room explode."
Nyx hissed softly.
Silvia exhaled slowly, grounding herself.
Her grandmother had always said mana was like breath—first you learn to feel it, then to guide it.
Arceus called another name.
Then another.
Then—
His gaze settled on Silvia.
Her fingers tightened around her staff.
The hall felt suddenly too quiet.
"Silvia Soren," Professor Arceus said.
"Come forth."