The next day, the grand halls of Elarith's Royal Academy of Thaumaturgy reverberated with students preparing for their morning lessons.
There were large archways stretched over polished floors and banners of different magical houses hung between crystalline chandeliers.
Outside, in the courtyard of fountains, students practiced incantations, magic circles appearing beneath their feet, but amidst the bright, promising future mages, one child stood out; she was different than the others.
Elizabeth Rozenheart stood quietly in the back of the room with her fingers resting on a blank sheet of paper while the other students scribbled Magic circled across theirs with enchanted ink.
The tutor, a tall elf with pale skin and long gray hair, was going on about magic circles, and chantless casting; a subject that meant absolutely nothing to her.
"Magic circles are important, and why is that class?" Asked the tutor.
One boy raised his hand.
"Xycor, can you answer for us?"
"Yes sir! Magic circles are concepts formed into reality from the merging of information particles. Every mage can use them through willpower."
"Precisely!" Said the tutor, pointing his chalk at the student. "And who was the one who created the system of Magic for Yggdrasil?"
"Ymir!" Said another student raising her hand. "He was the first one to inhabit Yggdrasil 100 years earlier than the other races in Jotunheim, including the Elohim! He was also the one to name his race the Giants."
"Indeed, Jenniko! And how did he create the System of Magic? Does anyone know?"
Jenniko raised her hand again.
"With his body! It is said in lore that he used his body to create all of Yggdrasil. His flesh became the land, his blood became the oceans, and his nucleus broke apart and was engraved into each one of us, which is how we learned how to use the system of magic."
The tutor nodded his head.
"That's exactly what happened! Each and every one of us has a piece of Ymir inside of us, and as inhabitants of Ymir's Nucleus, we operate differently compared to other mages from different worlds. We have the ability to create Catastrophe Magic; a magic that no other mage from any other world can perform. This magic rivals the Elohim themselves!"
Elizabeth's pen didn't move as she heard everything from her tutor.
She stared at the page, then at the ink well beside her that hadn't glowed once since class began; most magical ink responded to the user's mana flow, glowing softly the moment it was held. But for Elizabeth, the ink remained dead.
She could feel the stares behind her, and whispers that weren't even trying to hide.
"Poor Elizabeth..."
"No mana at all... even her name is wasted."
"She just eats up space."
Elizabeth curled her hand tighter around the quill.
"Miss Rozenheart," the tutor said from the front of the class with a firm voice. "Have you completed the transmutation array?"
Liz's eyes flinched.
She didn't speak before slowly looking up, meeting his gaze.
"I... I tried, sir."
"Hmm?" He walked toward her desk as his long robe dragged across the floor, now leaning over her paper.
There was nothing but a faint imprint from the pen's pressure.
He said nothing for a moment then turned to the class.
"Everyone, take a five-minute recess."
The classroom suddenly filled with shuffling and quiet chuckles as students stood up and moved toward the exit, glancing at Elizabeth as they passed.
She remained seated with her fists clenched in her lap.
Once the room was empty, the tutor pulled the chair from the desk in front of her and sat.
"Elizabeth... this isn't punishment. But I need to understand. Did you feel anything at all when you attempted the flow?"
She shook her head slowly.
"It's always like this."
He sighed, not with disappointment, but with a quiet pity.
"You're a kind child. But this academy is designed to foster gifted spellcasters. Without mana..."
"I know..." She whispered.
"I've spoken with the High Instructors. They're considering... placing you into an adjusted program. One that focuses more on support roles."
"You mean... giving up."
"No, I mean adapting." He stood back up. "But you should talk with your family. There's still time to—"
"I don't want to talk to them!" Elizabeth almost shouted.
He blinked, taken slightly aback by her tone. She stood too now, gently pushing in her chair.
"I want to stay. Even if I can't do what the others can, I want to learn. I'll find a way!"
"...That's admirable." The tutor said, adjusting his sleeves. "But please understand... this path may never reward you the way you hope it will."
She lifted her chin slightly with sharper eyes.
"Then I'll make a new path."
The tutor stared at her for a moment, then gave a slow, respectful nod.
"Very well, Lady Rozenheart. But please remember, the Kaizamei cannot succeed in magic."
Elizabeth nodded before leaving the classroom.
She walked down the quiet hallway, keeping her hands tucked behind her back in thought.
She walked past students flying between the courtyards, dueling with magic circles, or crafting enchantments midair; she was surrounded by brilliance, and yet, she didn't belong in any of it.
But she remembered what Kyto said: "You might not be Manaless for too long after I heard about that one special place..."
She smiled softly, remembering the Mythical Valley. Even if it was a fairytale, it gave her hope.
And right now, that hope was stronger than any spell.
"Hey, Rozenheart!" All of a sudden, a voice called from behind.
Elizabeth stopped in her tracks, turning slowly to see three students leaning against a column with magic uniforms. She recognized one of them: Lioran. The son of a mid-ranked Archmage.
The other two boys flanked him, both grinning like they'd already decided how the next few minutes would go.
"Did you hear?" Lioran smirked, striding up to her with mock surprise in his voice. "They say you're going to be transferred to the special division, I wonder what it is, maybe something made for servants!? You could polish our boots if you're lucky."
The others chuckled.
Elizabeth stared, saying nothing with her fingers curling at her sides.
"C'mon, don't give me that look. You're Rozenheart, right? The daughter of Lady Augbren Rozenheart? You're supposed to be noble." He leaned in closer as his tone sharpened. "But you're not, are you? You're a broken noble. A Kaizamei."
That word, Kaizamei, was like a slur born from ancient mages. Meaning "Cursed Shell." Used for those born with no mana, seen as empty vessels.
He shoved her shoulder.
Elizabeth stumbled back a step, clenching her jaw.
The corridor was empty at this time of day, there weren't any tutors around to see this.
"I bet those Monk stories you always talk about are fake too." He grinned. "You're just too pathetic to admit that you're nothing! You think a bunch of monks are gonna let you train with them? You're too useless."
Elizabeth would have had enough of his rambling. Lioran's grin hadn't even faded before her elbow slammed straight into his ribs with a quick pivot.
The breath shot out of him like a popped wineskin as he doubled over, gasping.
"H-Hey?!" The two others rushed in, startled, but Elizabeth ducked under the first's swing; her hand-to-hand training came through like flowing water.
Her foot twisted, sweeping his leg out from under one of them before they slammed into the ground, choking on dust.
The last boy hesitated—panic in his eyes—and raised a trembling palm to cast a spell.
"N-Nulma!"
But she was faster—
Elizabeth leapt forward, knocking his arm aside and driving her palm into his chest with a forward-step strike. He went tumbling back into the column, crumpling in shock.
Lioran tried to rise, coughing violently, but she stood above him with her fists still up, taking a stance.
"I may not have mana..." She said quietly. "But my last name is still Rozenheart. And I don't need magic to humble you jerks!"
The boys stared at her, breathless, bruised, and utterly humiliated.
"H-How did we lose?" One of them mumbled.
"I've been ridiculed all my life, so I've learned how to fight! I may not be as strong and talented as a Monk, but I'll get there soon, and prove to you jerks that I'm good at something."
Elizabeth furrowed her brows and turned away, walking down the corridor.
She didn't want to admit it, but their words got to her. Lowering her hand, she curled her fingers into a fist, feeling tears swell up in her eyes.
She wished she was born different and just like the others, but the only thing she was good at was destroying the very source that made up the world; Magic.
She couldn't control it—Antimana was always active—always surrounding her body.
Elizabeth was a walking anomaly, destined to bring the information of the world into annihilation.
"Just five more years… Elizabeth… five more years before Mythical Valley…" Tears finally fell down her cheeks as she sobbed. "I can… do this…"