The morning sun poured through the academy's open courtyard, casting long shadows on the stone paths where Class F and Class S gathered together.
The atmosphere was… different.
Their teacher wasn't there.
Instead, a man in a deep blue robe stood before them young, confident, with spectacles that glimmered faintly whenever the light hit. A faint mana aura pulsed from him, calm yet disciplined.
"I am Professor Aldrin," he introduced himself, voice composed. "I'll be your substitute for the next week while Miss Mila recovers. Let's do our best to maintain her standards, yes?"
The students glanced at each other nervously.
A few whispered under their breath
"Professor Aldrin? The one from the Magic Department?"
"He's one of the Sage's assistants!"
Class F, on the other hand, simply looked uncertain.
One of Milly's closest students, a short girl with auburn hair, raised her hand timidly. "Sir, will Miss Mila be okay?"
Aldrin smiled faintly. "She's just resting. You all did well bringing her to the infirmary. That was quick thinking."
The girl lowered her hand, still uneasy.
"Now," Aldrin continued, clasping his hands, "since Miss Mila's methods are… unorthodox, we'll take a more traditional approach for a few days. Physical training in the mornings, theory in the afternoons."
Groans rippled through both classes, but Aldrin's tone left no room for complaint.
"Let's begin with a warm-up. Fifty laps-"
"FIFTY!?" half the students cried out.
Aldrin's smile sharpened just slightly. "That's less than Miss Mila's usual. You should be grateful."
The collective silence that followed said it all.
As the students reluctantly started running, a light breeze swept through the grounds almost like someone unseen was watching from afar.
Meanwhile, far from the academy's walls
The city of Berbeign was alive with its usual noise.
Merchants called out their wares, the smell of roasted bread and mana-forged metals filled the air, and carriages lined the cobblestone streets.
Among the crowd, a woman walked quietly, her steps measured, her hair shining silver under the light.
Her blue eyes scanned the street markets with calm detachment.
Milly, still in her human disguise, wore a simple white blouse and a long coat, her usual teaching uniform replaced by casual attire.
She carried a small bag slung over her shoulder, occasionally glancing at the goods displayed by the stalls.
Children ran past, laughing, and for a brief moment, she smiled softly until a faint pulse of pain struck her temples.
She stopped, holding the side of her head.
The world seemed to ripple faintly for a second.
"Not… again," she muttered under her breath.
It wasn't the meteor's power, nor Arthianos this time. It was something… deeper.
Something that tugged at the back of her mind like an echo she couldn't silence.
As she steadied herself, she caught sight of a familiar reflection in a nearby window.
For a split second, she saw herself not with silver hair and blue eyes, but with red-black hair and maroon irises.
Then it vanished.
She took a step back, heart pounding. "I'm… still not stable."
The crowd moved around her, oblivious.
She inhaled deeply, straightened her posture, and began walking again blending into the city's flow.
Her faint smile returned, though it didn't reach her eyes.
"I just need a few days to breathe…" she whispered.
Unbeknownst to her, a faint pink shimmer glowed briefly from her coat pocket the crystal she thought she'd destroyed still pulsing faintly with life.