The lecture hall went dead silent when Asher walked in.
Twenty-five pairs of eyes locked onto him. Some looked excited. Some looked curious. A few looked skeptical. All of them were waiting to see what the famous Professor Kane would do.
Asher felt his heart hammering in his chest, but his face stayed calm. Rule number one of running a con: never let them see you sweat.
The lecture hall itself was impressive. Rows of seats arranged in a semicircle, rising up so everyone could see the front. A massive chalkboard covered one wall, and next to it was some kind of mechanical contraption with brass arms that looked like it could write on its own. Steam vents lined the walls, keeping the room warm. Magical lights floated near the ceiling, casting steady illumination without any visible source.
Steampunk magic academy. Still weird to see.
"Good morning," Asher said, his voice carrying easily through the room. He walked to the professor's desk at the front and set his staff against it. The silver runes dimmed but didn't go out completely. "Welcome to Advanced Magical Theory. I trust you all had a restful break?"
Murmurs of agreement. A few students nodded.
Asher's con artist instincts kicked into overdrive, scanning the room and reading the students like he'd read marks for six lifetimes. Body language, facial expressions, the way they held themselves – it all told a story.
Front row, left side: a young woman with sharp eyes and worn but clean robes. She sat with perfect posture, a notebook already open in front of her. Scholarship student, probably. Working twice as hard to prove she belonged here.
The borrowed memories supplied a name: *Elena Frost. Nineteen. Common background, father's a steam engine mechanic. Brilliant theorist. Sharp as a knife.*
Front row, center: a young man tinkering with some kind of brass device even as class was starting. He had that distracted genius look, like his brain was always three steps ahead of his hands.
*Theo Blackwood. Eighteen. Son of Professor Victoria Blackwood. Talented magical engineer. More interested in building things than politics.*
Third row, right side: a young woman with her arms crossed, watching him with an expression that clearly said "prove yourself." Noble bearing, confident posture, the kind of student who respected strength and nothing else.
*Lyra Ashford. Twenty. Minor noble family. Combat magic specialist. Hot-headed but skilled.*
Back corner, observing quietly: a young man with Eastern features who sat perfectly still, taking in everything without drawing attention to himself.
*Jin Park. Nineteen. Foreign exchange student from the Eastern Empire. Different magic system. Quiet but dangerous.*
And in the center of the room, surrounded by other students: a young woman who was clearly the social hub. Even sitting still, she radiated that kind of charisma that made people gravitate toward her.
*Sophie Moreau. Eighteen. Merchant guild daughter. Illusion and enchantment specialist. Information gatherer.*
Those five stood out from the borrowed memories. The original Asher had considered them his best students. The ones with real potential.
Which meant they were also the ones most likely to notice if their professor suddenly acted completely different.
"Before we begin," Asher said, buying himself a few more seconds to think, "I want to acknowledge that I've been absent due to illness. I appreciate your patience."
"We're glad you're recovered, Professor," Marcus said from where he stood near the side of the room. Ever the dutiful teaching assistant.
Asher nodded at him, then turned back to the class. "During my recovery, I had a lot of time to think. About magic. About teaching. About how we approach the fundamental concepts that underpin everything we do."
He was making this up as he went, but that was fine. He'd given plenty of speeches with zero preparation before.
"Tell me," he continued, pacing slowly in front of the chalkboard. "What is mana?"
Several hands shot up immediately. Asher pointed at a student in the second row.
"Raw magical energy that flows through everything, sir," the student said.
"Good. And how do we access it?"
Elena's hand went up. He nodded at her.
"Through our internal mana circuits," she said. Her voice was clear and confident despite her worn robes. "Everyone has circuits running through their body like veins, but for magic instead of blood. The quality and quantity of our circuits determines our magical potential."
"Excellent." Asher seized on that explanation like a drowning man grabbing a rope. Internal circuits. Like magical veins. That made sense from a logical standpoint. "And these circuits – can they be improved?"
"Through training and practice, yes sir," Elena said. "Though some people are born with naturally superior circuits."
Like the original Asher, probably. Child prodigy with exceptional natural talent. That would explain how he became a professor so young.
"Precisely," Asher said. "Now, let's think about this from a different angle."
He grabbed a piece of chalk and drew on the board. A simple circuit diagram – the kind you'd see in an electrical engineering textbook. Except instead of labeling it with voltage and current, he labeled it with "mana flow" and "channeling points."
"Imagine your mana circuits like the wiring in a building," he said, drawing on his modern knowledge. "The mana is like electricity flowing through those wires. You can have the best power source in the world, but if your wiring is poor, you'll never get full output."
He could see several students leaning forward, interested. Good. The modern analogy was working.
"But here's the important part," Asher continued. "Just like with electrical systems, it's not just about raw power. It's about control. Efficiency. Knowing when to use a lot of power and when to use just a little."
Theo's hand shot up. "Professor, does mana flow follow the same principles as mechanical engineering? Pressure, resistance, flow rates?"
Perfect. Professor Blackwood's son was giving him an opening.
"Excellent question, Theo. Yes, there are absolutely parallels between magical energy flow and mechanical principles." Asher had no idea if this was true, but it sounded logical. "In fact, that's precisely why magical engineering works. You're combining two systems that operate on similar fundamental rules."
Theo's face lit up like Asher had just validated his entire existence. From the corner of his eye, Asher saw Marcus making a note. Probably recording that he was teaching differently than usual.
Couldn't be helped. He'd just have to sell it as "evolved teaching methods" or something.
"Now, let's talk about practical application," Asher said, turning back to the board. He drew a simple diagram of elemental magic – fire, water, earth, air. "Your circuits naturally resonate with certain elements more than others. This is your affinity. Most mages have one or two strong affinities."
"Professor," Lyra called out without raising her hand. "With respect, we learned all this in our first year. When do we get to the advanced theory?"
There it was. The challenge. Testing him to see if he was actually worth their time.
Asher smiled. He'd been dealing with skeptics his whole life.
"You learned the what, Miss Ashford. Now I'm going to teach you the why." He set down the chalk and faced the class. "Tell me – why does your circuit resonate with fire instead of water? What determines affinity?"
Silence. Several students glanced at each other uncertainly.
"Anyone?" Asher prompted. "This is advanced theory. Someone must have a hypothesis."
Elena raised her hand tentatively. "Personal temperament? Fire mages tend to be more aggressive, water mages more adaptable?"
"Close, but that's effect, not cause." Asher was completely bullshitting now, but he committed to it fully. "Think deeper. What makes you, you?"
Jin spoke up from the back, his voice quiet but clear. "In the Eastern tradition, we believe affinity comes from the soul's resonance. Your fundamental nature determines which element answers your call."
"Exactly!" Asher pointed at him, grateful for the assist. "Your soul – your essential self – resonates at a certain frequency. Elements that match that frequency respond more easily. It's not about personality. It's about fundamental resonance."
He had no idea if any of this was true, but it sounded good. And more importantly, it seemed to be new information for the students. They were taking notes furiously.
"This is why some mages can develop new affinities later in life," Asher continued, making it up as he went. "Significant life experiences can shift your fundamental resonance. Trauma, enlightenment, profound change – these can alter your soul's frequency and open you to elements you couldn't access before."
That was actually kind of poetic. He was proud of that one.
Sophie raised her hand. "Does this apply to illusion magic too, Professor?"
"Illusion is unique," Asher said, stalling while he thought. "It's less about elemental resonance and more about... perception manipulation. Which requires a different kind of circuit entirely. Miss Moreau, you're an illusionist, correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then you know illusion magic draws on the observer's own mana as much as yours. You're not creating something from nothing. You're manipulating how others perceive what's already there."
Sophie nodded slowly, considering that. "So an illusionist's circuit specializes in... bridging? Connecting to other people's circuits?"
"Precisely." Asher had no idea if that was right, but Sophie seemed satisfied with the answer.
The lecture was going better than expected. He was finding a rhythm, using his con artist ability to read the room and give people what they wanted to hear. Mix in enough real magical theory (stolen from the students' own answers) with logical-sounding extrapolation, and you could fake expertise pretty convincingly.
He spent the next twenty minutes leading a discussion on mana theory, letting the students do most of the talking while he played moderator. It was a classic technique – make them think they're learning from you when really they're learning from each other.
But eventually, the moment he'd been dreading arrived.
"Professor Kane," Lyra said, that challenging tone back in her voice. "This is all interesting theory, but can we see a demonstration? Theory only takes you so far. We need to see how it applies."
Damn it.
Several other students murmured agreement. They wanted to see their famous professor in action.
Asher's mind raced. He could barely create a spark, let alone do anything impressive enough to satisfy a class of advanced students.
"A demonstration," he said slowly, buying time. "Of what specifically?"
"Basic elemental conjuration," Lyra said. "Fire would be fine. We've been struggling with the transition from channeling to manifestation. If we could see your technique..."
Double damn.
Twenty-five students were looking at him expectantly. Marcus was watching from the side with an expression that suggested he was curious how Asher would handle this.
No way out. He'd have to try.
"Very well," Asher said, projecting more confidence than he felt. "But first, let me explain what you should be watching for."
More stalling, but useful stalling. If he failed, at least he'd have set it up as a teaching moment.
He picked up his staff and moved to an open space at the front of the room. "Fire conjuration requires three elements perfectly aligned: mana, will, and formula. Most students focus too much on the formula – the mental structure that shapes the magic."
He was repeating back what he'd read in the grimoire last night.
"But formula without will is just mathematics. Will without mana is just intention. You need all three in perfect harmony."
Asher closed his eyes and tried to remember the tiny flame he'd created yesterday. It had been weak, pathetic really. But he'd done it by thinking about his medieval life, when he'd made candles dance without understanding how.
He reached for that memory now. Not the memory of this body, but the memory of his soul. The fragment of a different lifetime when magic had flowed through his fingers like water.
He felt something stir inside him. The mana circuits the students had talked about. They were there, running through his body like rivers of energy he'd never noticed before.
Asher focused his will on a single point above his palm. Fire. He needed fire.
The staff in his hand grew warm. The runes along its length began to glow brighter. It was amplifying something, channeling his intent.
Come on, he thought. Just a little flame. Just enough to not embarrass myself.
Heat gathered in his palm. He could feel it building, the mana responding to his will even if he didn't fully understand how.
And then – a flame.
Small, barely bigger than a lighter flame, but real. It flickered in his palm, dancing on nothing but magic.
It lasted for three seconds before exhaustion hit him like a wave and the flame died.
The students erupted in applause.
Asher blinked in surprise. That was it? That tiny flame impressed them?
"Professor, that was amazing!" one student called out.
"The control!" another said. "Did you see how stable it was?"
Wait, what?
"Such efficiency," Elena said, leaning forward intently. "You barely drew any mana at all. That's master-level control."
Theo was practically bouncing in his seat. "The way the staff's runes lit up in sequence – you were channeling through the focal points in perfect order. I've never seen it done so smoothly."
Asher realized what had happened. His weakness – his inability to produce a big, flashy fire – had been interpreted as masterful control and efficiency. They thought he was demonstrating restraint and precision, not struggling to do the bare minimum.
Never interrupt when a mark is convincing themselves.
"Exactly," Asher said, managing to keep his voice steady despite his pounding heart. "In combat, a small controlled flame is often more useful than a large uncontrolled one. Efficiency matters more than raw power."
He was pulling this directly from his ass, but the students were eating it up.
"Can we try it, Professor?" Lyra asked, and for the first time, she sounded respectful rather than challenging.
"Absolutely. That's why we're here." Asher gestured to the open space. "Everyone, spread out. Give yourselves room. Remember – control over power. Start small."
The students moved into position, and for the next thirty minutes, Asher walked among them offering advice as they practiced fire conjuration.
The beautiful thing was, he didn't actually have to know what he was talking about. He just watched what they were doing, used his con artist observation skills to spot obvious problems, and made helpful-sounding suggestions.
"Your stance is too rigid, you're blocking your own flow."
"Don't force it, let the mana come naturally."
"The formula is in your head, not your hand. Relax your arm."
Generic advice that could apply to almost anything, but it worked. Students adjusted their techniques and several managed to improve their results.
Lyra created an impressive burst of flame that made other students step back. Pure raw power with minimal control, but undeniably strong.
"Very good, Miss Ashford," Asher said. "Though remember what we discussed about efficiency. That flame would work once, but it drained you significantly. In a real fight, you'd be exhausted after three or four casts."
Lyra frowned but nodded, clearly taking the criticism seriously.
Elena's flame was smaller but incredibly precise. It hovered exactly where she wanted it, moving in perfectly controlled patterns as she directed it with minute gestures.
"Excellent control, Miss Frost. The theory student shows her practical skills."
Elena smiled, a rare expression that transformed her serious face.
Theo's approach was completely different. He'd pulled out the brass device he'd been tinkering with and incorporated it into his casting. The device seemed to help channel and stabilize the flame, making it easier to maintain.
"Innovation," Asher said approvingly. "Using tools to enhance natural ability. That's the mark of a true magical engineer."
Theo beamed like Asher had just given him a knighthood.
Jin's technique was unlike anything the others were doing. Instead of conjuring flame from nothing, he seemed to be pulling heat from the air itself, condensing it into fire through some method Asher didn't recognize at all.
"The Eastern method," Asher observed. "Different approach, same result. Excellent."
Jin gave a small bow without interrupting his concentration.
Sophie's flame kept flickering in and out, unstable and unreliable. But Asher noticed something – sometimes it was hard to tell if the flame was real or an illusion.
"Mixing illusion with reality, Miss Moreau?"
She grinned. "If they can't tell which fire is real and which is fake, they can't effectively defend against either."
"Devious. I approve."
By the time class ended, Asher's exhaustion had faded and been replaced by a weird feeling he didn't immediately recognize.
He was actually enjoying this.
Teaching, he realized. He was enjoying teaching.
It was strange. In six lifetimes of cons, he'd manipulated people, tricked them, used them. But this? This was different. These students were actually learning. Getting better. And he was helping them do it.
Even if he was faking half his knowledge, the results were real.
"Excellent work today, everyone," Asher said as students began filing out. "Practice the efficiency techniques we discussed. Remember – a mage who can cast twenty controlled spells is more dangerous than one who can cast five powerful ones."
More ass-pulling masquerading as wisdom, but it sounded good.
Students thanked him as they left. Several looked excited, energized by the class. A few lingered to ask follow-up questions, which Asher handled with carefully vague but encouraging answers.
Elena was one of the last to leave. She paused at the door and looked back at him.
"Professor? Can I ask something?"
"Of course, Miss Frost."
"Today's lecture was... different from last term." She said it carefully, not quite an accusation but definitely an observation. "You explained things more clearly. Used more practical examples."
Dangerous moment. Asher kept his expression neutral and interested.
"It's as if you suddenly understood how we think," Elena continued. "Last term you were brilliant but sometimes hard to follow. Today you were accessible."
Asher chose his words carefully. "Illness has a way of changing perspective, Miss Frost. When you face mortality, it reminds you of what really matters."
He was using the truth – his actual death – to explain the change in teaching style. The best lies were built on truth.
"Teaching isn't about showing off how much I know," he continued. "It's about making sure you understand. I lost sight of that for a while. Consider this my return to proper form."
Elena studied his face for a long moment, those sharp eyes seeing more than most people. Then she nodded slowly.
"I think I understand, Professor. Thank you. Today was... really helpful."
She left, and Asher let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
That had been too close. Elena was smart and observant. She'd be a problem if he wasn't careful.
Or potentially an ally, if he played things right.
Marcus approached once the room was empty.
"That was well done, sir," the teaching assistant said. "Though I must say, your methodology has definitely evolved."
"Change keeps things interesting," Asher replied casually. "How do you think they received it?"
"Very well. Several students commented that they understood concepts today they'd struggled with before." Marcus paused. "Though Professor Blackwood passed by and heard some of the les