The dust settled, but the silence remained. It was a thick, heavy thing, pressing down on the training grounds with more force than the disintegrated golem ever could. Hundreds of pairs of eyes were locked on the lone figure walking away, his hands back in his pockets, his posture radiating an aura of utter nonchalance as if he'd just completed the most mundane chore imaginable.
In the instructors' booth, the tension was a physical entity.
"Report!" Professor Alistair snapped, his voice tight. He was a man of logic, of numbers and established magical theory. What he had just witnessed did not compute. "Borin, you're our foremost combat specialist. What was that? A vibration-based resonance spell? A high-frequency disintegration hex?"
Instructor Borin, the mountain of a man with the scarred face, slowly lowered the spyglass from his eye. His knuckles were white. He was a veteran of three territorial wars and had faced down Platinum-Rank battlemages. He knew fear, and he knew power.
"Alistair…" Borin's voice was a low, gravelly rumble, stripped of its usual bravado. "That wasn't a spell. There was no chant. No runic circle. No mana fluctuation on the diagnostic scale." He tapped a floating crystal screen next to him, which showed Kael's mana output during the entire event as a flat, unwavering line at zero. "There was… nothing. The golem charged, and then… it stopped existing."
"That's impossible!" Alistair retorted, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Things don't simply 'stop existing'! There's a cause, an effect! Conservation of energy! Basic principles!"
"The hell with principles," Borin growled, his gaze still fixed on Kael's retreating form. "Did you feel it? Just for a second? It wasn't energy. It was… pressure. Like the entire sky was pressing down on that one spot. Like reality itself was told to get out of the boy's way. I've never felt anything like it."
Alistair fell silent, staring at the pile of fine gray powder in the arena. He was a scholar. He believed in what could be measured and categorized. But Borin was a warrior. He believed in what his instincts screamed at him. And right now, both their beliefs were in shambles.
The whispers began to spread through the student body like wildfire, a rising tide of confusion, fear, and wild speculation.
"It had to be a trick!" one of Marcus von Adler's cronies declared, his voice a little too loud, a little too shaky. "The golem must have been defective! It was probably about to fall apart anyway!"
Marcus, who had gone deathly pale, seized on the explanation like a drowning man grabbing a log. "Yes! That's it! A faulty golem! The academy's standards are slipping, letting a commoner get lucky with a piece of junk. It's a disgrace!"
His words were meant to be mocking, but they rang hollow. They saw it. They saw the golem stop dead an inch from Kael's face. They saw the contemptuous flick of his finger. Deep down, a terrifying seed of doubt had been planted in their arrogant hearts. A commoner… did that. It was a violation of the natural order of the world as they knew it.
The commoners, on the other hand, were in a state of shock and awe.
"Did… did you see?"
"How is that possible? He has zero mana!"
"Who is he?"
Among them, a girl with messy blonde hair and large, smudged spectacles pushed her way to the edge of the arena, her eyes not on Kael, but on the dust. This was Lia Sparkwright, a scholarship student accepted for her unparalleled genius in the field of magical engineering, or 'Artifice'. While others saw an act of inexplicable power, she saw a physics-defying puzzle.
'No impact crater. No outward blast vector. The structural integrity of the enchanted granite simply failed on a molecular level simultaneously,' she muttered to herself, her mind racing. 'The runes weren't overloaded; they were nullified. Erased. It's like their foundational logic was contradicted. But what principle can contradict the laws of mana itself?'
She surreptitiously scooped a small amount of the gray powder into a sample vial, her heart pounding with intellectual excitement, not fear. This dust was the most interesting thing she had seen in her entire life.
As Kael approached the exit archway, a figure blocked his path. The air temperature rose by several degrees.
Seraphina Valerius stood before him, her arms crossed, her fiery red hair seeming to crackle with contained energy. Her usual mask of cool indifference was gone, replaced by a burning intensity that made her golden eyes glow.
"Hold it," she commanded. Her voice was low and dangerous.
Kael stopped, regarding her with a placid expression. "Can I help you, miss…?" He tilted his head slightly. "Ah, right. The loud one from the orb test. Valerius, was it?"
Seraphina's eye twitched. The loud one? The sheer disrespect was staggering. "Don't play dumb with me. No one with zero mana can do what you just did. The orb, the golem. That wasn't a spell. What did you use?"
"Maybe I'm just strong," Kael said with a lazy shrug.
"'Strong' doesn't make a Silver-Rank golem turn to dust with a touch," she shot back, taking a step closer. The heat radiating from her intensified. "Was it a forbidden artifact? A relic that consumes life force instead of mana? Tell me. What is your secret?"
Her proximity allowed Kael to get a better look at her. She was, objectively, a masterpiece of mortal genetics. Flawless skin, fierce eyes, a figure that the academy uniform failed to conceal. In his past life, beings of her caliber would have been, at best, minor regional commanders in his legion. At worst, battlefield decorations. Here, she was considered the pinnacle of her generation. It was… quaint.
He gave her a small, infuriatingly calm smile. "A secret is only a secret if you don't tell people, isn't it?"
Seraphina's jaw clenched. She was used to people cowering before her, fawning over her, or challenging her with pathetic bravado. She was not used to being treated like an amusing but ultimately irrelevant child.
"This is the Valerius Academy," she hissed, her voice dropping to a whisper. "My family's academy. I don't tolerate cheats or anomalies. Whatever you are, whatever trick you're using, I will find it out. And I will expose you."
"Good luck with that," Kael said, his voice still maddeningly casual. He made to walk around her. "Now if you'll excuse me, all that… standing around has made me tired. I'm hoping to find a good spot for a nap."
He brushed past her. For an instant, the searing magical aura she constantly projected touched his personal space. For Kael, it felt like a puff of warm air. But for Seraphina, the moment his presence passed by hers, she felt an instinctual, primal jolt. Her fire magic, the very essence of her being, recoiled. It didn't feel threatened; it felt… like it had just met its conceptual opposite. It was like a candle flame flickering in the face of an infinite, silent void.
She spun around, her eyes wide, but he was already walking away, not giving her a second glance. Her fists were clenched so tight her knuckles were white. The mystery of the commoner named Kael had just become a personal obsession.
An hour later, all the students were gathered back in the Grand Assessment Hall. The broken orb had been discreetly removed, replaced by a smaller, secondary crystal. The mood was thick with anticipation. It was time for the final judgment: the class assignments.
Professor Alistair stood at the podium, his face a grim mask. "The assessments are complete. Your placements have been decided based on a combination of your mana metrics, combat performance, and theoretical aptitude. Your class will define your academic path for the next four years."
A giant, ethereal screen materialized in the air above him. Names began to appear.
[Class A-1]
- Seraphina Valerius
- Marcus von Adler
- Orion de Solis
- Isabella Rothschild
… and 16 others.
No surprise there. Class A was the domain of the elite—the high nobles, the prodigies. Marcus shot a smug look around, his fear from earlier buried under a fresh layer of arrogance. Being placed in the same class as Seraphina reaffirmed his status.
[Class B-1]
- Elara Vance
- …
From across the hall, the silver-haired swordswoman, Elara, watched the board with her usual stoic expression. She had seen Kael's display and then Seraphina's confrontation. While Seraphina saw a puzzle to be solved, Elara saw something different. She saw a goal. An unreachable summit. She had dedicated her life to the pursuit of absolute strength, and she had just witnessed something that transcended every known parameter of it. Her placement in the top combat-focused B-class was an honor, but her mind was elsewhere, replaying the image of a golem turning to dust.
The list continued, filling out Classes B, C, and D with nobles and the more promising commoners. Then came the final announcement.
Professor Alistair cleared his throat, a flicker of something—pity? Annoyance?—in his eyes. "Finally… due to special circumstances regarding aptitude assessment, one student will be placed in the provisional curriculum."
The screen flickered.
[Class F]
- Kael
The hall was silent for a beat, and then it broke. Not with the gasps of shock from before, but with snickers and outright laughter, mostly from the noble sections.
"Class F? Does that stand for 'Failure'?"
"They actually have a class for mana-less freaks? I thought they just sent them home!"
"He broke the orb and disintegrated a golem just to end up in the trash heap! What a joke!"
Marcus von Adler laughed the loudest, a cruel, vindicated sound. "See? I told you it was a trick! The instructors saw through his pathetic charade. He belongs in the gutter, right where he started!"
Class F. The Forsaken Class. It was a little-known, rarely used designation at Valerius. It was the dumping ground for students who, for political or contractual reasons, couldn't be expelled but possessed zero magical talent or redeemable combat skills. It was a class with minimal funding, a single, perpetually bored instructor, and a classroom in the oldest, most dilapidated building on campus. It was, for all intents and purposes, academic exile.
The instructors had been in a bind. Kael's mana score was zero. That was an automatic F. His combat score was… incomprehensible. They couldn't fail him, but they couldn't possibly place him in a normal class without understanding his abilities. So they took the path of least resistance: stick him where he couldn't cause any more trouble or break any more priceless artifacts.
Seraphina stared at the board, her brow furrowed. Class F? It didn't make sense. If he was a cheater, he should have been expelled. If he was genuinely powerful, he should be in Class A under heavy observation. Placing him in F was like finding a live nuke and shoving it in a dusty broom closet, hoping it just goes away. It was an illogical, cowardly decision by the faculty, and it only deepened the mystery surrounding him.
Amidst the jeers and pitying looks, Professor Alistair announced, "That is all. Find your assigned dormitories and classrooms on your student tablets. Orientation begins tomorrow at dawn. Dismissed."
The students began to file out, chattering excitedly. Kael remained where he was for a moment, watching them go. He looked at his name, sitting alone under the 'Class F' heading.
He didn't look angry. He didn't look humiliated or disappointed.
A slow, genuine smile spread across his face. It was the first real smile anyone had seen from him.
'A class for failures and outcasts?' the ancient, cosmic voice echoed in his head, filled with a sound that could almost be described as delight. 'A place where no one expects anything of me? Where I can be left completely alone, away from arrogant peacocks and fiery, inquisitive girls?'
He stretched his arms above his head, a contented sigh escaping his lips.
'No responsibilities. No expectations. Maximum nap potential.'
The Strongest Demon Lord in all of creation looked at his designation as the academy's biggest failure.
'Perfect.'