Magical Practices Class — Professor Mila Fontayne
That's what was written on the schedule, and that's exactly where the cadets were right now.
The class was held in the famed White Auditorium — the largest hall in the Order of Knights — with its elevated rows of crescent-shaped seating and a vaulted ceiling that echoed every word with reverence.
"...but frontline mages have duties that go far beyond simple support," Professor Mila was explaining, her voice firm and commanding — a verbal storm that dominated the room. And, surprisingly, everyone was paying attention.
Everyone... except for one cadet, who absentmindedly twirled his pencil between his fingers, lost in distant thoughts.
"I can't focus on this class…" thought Samo, trying in vain to stop the pencil's hypnotic spin. "Is she going to punish me? And how?"
Mila went on:
"...take, for example, Archmage Hektros — currently the greatest figure in combat magic. He served on the border… back when the 'border' was nothing more than a badly stacked pile of bricks."
Her stern expression softened for a moment, a gleam appearing in her eyes, almost reverently.
"They say he faced two demon lords at the same time… and lived to tell the tale. A true living le—"
Yaaaawn...
A colossal yawn sliced through the air like thunder, cutting off the professor's almost reverent tale. The culprit? Take a guess. The same cadet, still spinning his pencil like he was in a world of his own.
Mila's expression changed instantly. With a swift motion, she pointed a finger at Samo and snapped. The pencil, which had been spinning so carelessly, burst in a small magical spark.
"What the hell was that?!" Samo shouted, jumping out of his seat, eyes wide, as the remains of the pencil still hovered in the air.
"You there!" Mila bellowed, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "Ten minutes. Ten laps around the Order!"
Samo stood up abruptly, disoriented, looking around as if to ask if she was really talking to him. But there was no doubt. Mila was pointing straight at him — and now her eyes were glowing with violet fury.
"What are you waiting for?!" she yelled again, her intensity making even the most attentive students shrink back in their seats.
An invisible alarm blared inside Samo. He saw the professor's magical energy — a blazing violet aura — and his survival instinct shouted louder than his pride. Without a second thought, he sprinted toward the door next to the stage and bolted down the hallway.
Mila let out a sigh and muttered, much calmer now:
"There's always one airhead…"
"Huff... huff... huff..."
Samo stood at the auditorium door, bent over with his hands on his knees, breathing like he'd just outrun a dragon.
"Well, look at that — nine minutes and forty-three seconds. A new record!" announced Mila, glancing at the watch on her wrist with a sarcastic smile. "Alright, back to your seat."
With shaky steps, Samo trudged back to his place. With each footfall, muffled giggles sparked around the room like embers threatening to ignite into full laughter.
"Silence!" barked the professor, slicing through the amusement like an invisible blade. "I doubt any of you could beat that time."
The words struck the cadets like a hammer to their collective pride. Instant silence.
Samo, on the other hand, allowed himself a faint smile of relief as he sat down.
"Now then, let's continue..." Mila turned to the magic board, where she began to write with quick, precise strokes. The students rushed to keep up, scribbling in their notebooks.
"You've already learned about Aura from Professor Cornelius, correct?"
She then closed her eyes for a second and, when she opened them, a purple energy began to manifest around her — subtle at first, then growing more intense, like a pulsing veil of living smoke.
"This is Aura, the living energy present in all beings. However, to cast spells, you'll need to transform it into Mana."
Mila raised a finger, pointing upward. In a blink, the aura vanished, replaced by a flickering flame dancing at her fingertip.
"To perform this transformation, the process is simple: you need to move the Aura outside your body... and then shape it. The form it takes depends on what you're imagining. The energy remains the same — but how you use it changes. So remember: shaping too much Mana will drain your Aura."
Samo tried to keep up, but his expression was one of pure agony.
"Shape... Mana... shape what, exactly?" he thought, already feeling like his brain was about to start smoking.
"Alright," Mila said at last, with the gravity of a judge concluding a trial. "Class dismissed."
It was as if someone had cast a collective relief spell. In seconds, students were already closing their notebooks and getting up like prisoners granted parole.
That class marked the beginning of the long-awaited free weekend — a sacred event among cadets, granted only once a month.
"Finally... the blessed weekend," Samo thought, packing up his things with near-religious enthusiasm.
"Oh, right..."
Mila's voice cut through the excitement like an axe. Everyone froze.
"Cadet 137... who's that?"
In a split second, all heads turned to Samo. Some even pointed discreetly, as if turning in a wanted criminal.
"Holy shit," Samo thought, freezing under the weight of every eye on him.
"Damn... I should've stayed in that damn infirmary..."
Samo muttered through gritted teeth, sweating and carrying a stack of boxes so tall it blocked his vision.
"Now I'm gonna lose my whole weekend... damn it!"
He was descending the levels of the Order — from the third floor down to the basement — struggling to keep the heavy load balanced. It was already night by the time he had finished half the task.
"Ugh... screw it, I'll finish tomorrow," he grumbled, dropping the last box with a muffled thud and stretching like a tired cat. He started heading back toward the ground floor, dragging his feet through the silent corridors.
That's when something caught his eye.
Far off, through the skylight overlooking the Training Field, a silhouette moved under the silver light of the moon.
Layla Darkwood. One of the few women to make it into the Order — and perhaps the most determined of them all.
She wore her training outfit: a tight white shirt, fitted black pants, and her hair pulled into a rough bun. In her hands, two short swords gleamed.
"So she's a dual wielder..." Samo thought, leaning against the nearest support pillar, eyes fixed on her.
Layla began to move. Sharp, precise cuts sliced through the air. This wasn't just training — it was as if she were battling an invisible enemy.
And then... something began to take shape. The dust stirred up by her movement formed into a shape.
A human silhouette emerged from the thin air: tall, holding a long sword. A construct made purely from her imagination and her Aura.
Samo was left speechless.
The battle between Layla and the spectral opponent unfolded with silent fury. She attacked and defended with an almost otherworldly grace — a deadly dance where every move was calculated. The dual grip allowed her to strike and parry in the same breath. A perfect balance between offense and defense.
"She's really something..." Samo thought, a chill crawling up his spine.
"What kind of focus does it take to make imagination... tangible?"
Suddenly, the figure vanished, dissolving like mist in the wind. But something remained in the air.
A grayish-purple blur shimmered faintly around Layla — subtle, but unmistakably there.
Samo's eyes widened.
"Is that... Aura?"
His heart started to race.
"She... awakened?!"
Layla opened her eyes with a calm sigh, like someone surfacing from a deep dream.
Yes. She had reached something all cadets longed for:
The Awakening.
This rare and unpredictable phenomenon could strike anyone at any time. Some reached it through years of training and meditation... others, as legend has it, simply woke up one day changed. Even a simple farmer could awaken — without ever touching a sword.
Without looking around, Layla turned on her heel and walked toward the west wing of the Order, where the women's dormitory was. Her steps were calm, but there was a newfound firmness in her stride.
Samo remained frozen, face bathed in moonlight.
"Man... now I want to train too..."
He took a deep breath and turned around, resolved.
"Alright. Tomorrow, after I finish those boxes... I'm training with Fäste."
And with that, he headed toward his room, carrying with him a new flame that had been lit that night.