Lucien didn't acknowledge the boy. He didn't acknowledge the stares that felt like daggers wrapped in velvet. Instead, he simply glided to the nearest empty desk, pulled out the chair with a graceful scrape, and sat down. The smile never left his face. It just... settled. Like a predator realizing the cage door was unlocked.
The boy in the back opened his mouth to speak again, perhaps to demand an answer for the Prince's odd behavior, but the heavy oak door at the front of the room slammed open.
Bam.
Silence didn't just return; it was enforced.
Stiding into the room was a man who looked like he had argued with a hurricane and won. His robes were pressed with military precision, and his eyes scanned the room like a barcode reader. This was Instructor Varen. He didn't care about royalty. He cared about results.
"Welcome to Brownton," Varen barked, his voice gravel and iron. "Forget your titles. Forget your daddy's money. In this room, you are nothing but vessels waiting to be filled. Or broken."
He turned to the blackboard. He didn't pick up a piece of chalk. Instead, he simply waved a hand, and a glowing blue script began to burn itself onto the slate.
"Tell me," Varen said, not turning around. "What is the source of our power? What is the fundamental law of the Continent of Dinatis?"
A girl in the front row, trembling slightly, raised her hand. "Essence, sir?"
Varen whipped around. "Essence. A simple word for a complex reality." He walked to the center of the room, looking at every student, his gaze lingering for a split second on Lucien. "But what is Essence?"
He didn't wait for an answer.
"We exist in three dimensions," Varen lectured, pacing the room. "Length, width, depth. We are bound by these axes. However, the Soul... the Soul is not so limited. The Soul is a four-dimensional construct."
He paused to let that sink in.
"Your bodies are merely 3D cages for a 4D entity. Because the soul cannot fully manifest in this lower plane of existence without tearing reality apart, it leaks. It bleeds energy into our world to sustain its connection to you. That leakage? That is Essence."
The class was captivated. Even the rowdy boy in the back was leaning forward. Lucien, however, was looking at his own hand, flexing his fingers as if seeing them for the first time.
"Because Essence is the raw stuff of the Soul," Varen continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, "it is malleable. It is infinite in potential. Spells, blasts, constructs, healing, manipulation of matter anything conceivable can be achieved if your will is strong enough to shape the leakage."
"So we can do anything?" a student blurted out.
"In theory," Varen sneered. "In practice? You are incompetent children."
He snapped his fingers, and a holographic chart appeared in the air above his desk.
"To shape Essence, you need a "Technique". A formula. A cognitive pathway that tells the energy how to behave. Most of you will spend your entire lives merely learning the techniques of others. Copying. Mimicking."
He pointed to the chart.
"Techniques are ranked by complexity and lethality: F, E, D, C, B, A, and S."
"Creating a new technique," Varen said, his eyes narrowing, "is an act of rebellion against the established order. It requires an understanding of the 4D soul that most minds cannot handle."
He held up one finger.
" The probability of a mage creating a functional, original technique even a lowly F-rank is approximately 1 in 100,000."
A gasp went through the room.
"And an S-rank?" Varen chuckled darkly. "To create a technique capable of rewriting the laws of physics or bending space-time? The probability is 1 in 1,000,000,000."
One in a billion.
To the rest of the class, these numbers were discouraging. They were walls. They were a sign that they should stay in their lane, learn their family's trade, and keep their heads down.
But to Lucien Luka Adrek?
For the first time since entering the room, the Prince looked up. His rainbow eyes locked onto the Instructor. The smile on his face shifted. It wasn't just joyful anymore. It was hungry.
One in a billion, Lucien thought. Finally, A game worth playing.
To anyone else, the lesson was a warning. To Lucien, it was an invitation.