The bell ring across Rome Arcana Academy, and with it, a tide of apprentices spilled into the corridors. Jazz kept pace with the stream of students as they funneled toward the central grounds.
"Hey—what's your name?"
"You keep staring at me, don't you?"
It was Chris, slipping from the middle ranks of the crowd until he was shoulder to shoulder with Jazz.
He wasn't in the mood for this ill-fated classmate.
Though wielders of the Thunder Path often drew attention, it wasn't enough—yet—to attract the eyes of the Cult of the Black Sun, those zealots who haunted the darker canons of the Demon Mage universe. Still, in his current weakness, he couldn't afford trouble he wasn't ready to face.
"Nothing. You're imagining things," Jazz replied curtly. He edged forward, Disappearing into the crowd.
"Pfft. Just pretending," Chris muttered, but his bravado wilted. He hadn't even awakened his mage-vein yet—no point pressing further.
Everyone's fate would be revealed soon enough.
The students gathered on the Grand Convergence Field, where the headmaster's droning speech had stretched for nearly two hours. Finally, the words every soul had been waiting for rang out:
"Let the Awakening Ceremony begin!"
The restless hum of chatter stilled. Even Class 8 quieted, where James companions—Justin and Clerk—had a chaotic fight minutes before.
Names were called. One by one, apprentices stepped to the front, pressed their palms against the Awakening Compass, and awaited destiny.
"Jason—Water Path!"
"Cole—Wind Path!"
The crowd stirred, straining to glimpse each glow.
"Jazper!"
At the sound of his name, Jazz moved forward, calm but tense.
"Place your palm on the seal. Still your mind. Seek your spirit world," instructed Instructor Agustin, voice steady with ritual.
Jazz pressed his hand upon the compass, eyes sliding shut. Years of meditation made silence come easily—his spirit world smoothed into tranquil waters.
Then, like a spear, a foreign pulse surged along his arm, ramming into the depths of his consciousness.
A spark—then a mote of stardust unfurled into a field of faint radiance. His heart seized. This… this was the Mind Path!
Agustin blinked, stunned. A pink-hued flare? That nearly never happened. He scrubbed his eyes, focused, and then—yes—there it was, faint but undeniable: a psychic ripple blooming outward.
"By the Ancients… it's the Mind Path!"
Gasps rippled through the students.
"Mind Path? There's a Mind Path in the schools of magic?"
"It's not even listed among the Elemental Paths!"
From the neighboring class, Instructor Rex strode over. "Agustin, you lucky devil." His eyes narrowed on the compass glow, then widened in disbelief.
The instructors exchanged looks—one grinning in triumph, the other rolling his eyes.
"Jazper, return to your line," Agustin said, voice warm with suppressed glee.
As Jazz stepped down, whispers and stares followed him—jealous, admiring, hostile. Chris passed him with a glance burning with disbelief.
"Mind Path…! By the Netherflame…" James muttered from Class 8's ranks. He had crammed late into the night, memorizing magical theory. He knew what that meant. If Thunder was rare, then Mind was the rarest of the rare.
"James!" Instructor Rex barked.
James hurried forward, nervous but resolute. Yet before his palm even touched the compass, the hall blazed with a sudden surge of violet lightning—the Awakening of Chris.
"The Thunder Path! Incredible!"
"Why was I stuck with Light?"
"Unfair!"
The crowd erupted as Instructor Agustin nearly leapt with pride. If the Mind Path was enigmatic, the Thunder Path was raw power incarnate. Both had emerged from his class. The envy of the other teachers was palpable.
By dusk, the furor had cooled. Apprentices filed home, their fates freshly branded upon them. But the academy still buzzed with the names of the day: Jazz, bearer of the Mind Path, and Chris, wielder of Thunder.
Chris strutted, arrogant with new strength. Jazz kept quiet. He knew what he carried.
His spiritual force had always been unusually potent—of course the Mind Path had answered him. Space, perhaps, would come later, if luck allowed. For now, secrecy was his shield.
Mounting his battered e-steed, he whispered: "Time to go home."
Chris, following behind, called after him but stopped. He'd learned from Instructor Agustin just how rare the Mind Path was—even rarer than Thunder.
A rivalry began to take root.
"Even if you work in silence, Jazper… I won't be outdone," Chris vowed, turning away.
Jazz never heard it. And perhaps that was for the best.
(End of Chapter)
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