The classroom was filled with the soft scratch–scratch of mana pens gliding across the special parchment. Students leaned forward, brows furrowed, some biting their lips, others muttering under their breath as they tried to maintain steady mana flow.
Zane walked between rows like a silent shadow, hands behind his back, correcting a wrist angle here, adjusting a mana output there, his calm voice drifting lightly across the room.
"Mana is not muscle," he reminded softly. "Don't force it. Guide it."
Gradually—painfully—triangles began to form on paper. Left hand clockwise. Right hand counter-clockwise. For many students, the shapes looked more like drunk mountain peaks, but after several attempts… they finally managed it.
A small spark of pride flickered through the room.
And as expected, Selene once again finished first.
