The practice field shimmered beneath the morning sun. Rows of students stood ready, lined a few meters apart, facing a massive boulder that loomed like a silent challenger. Kazuki strolled in front of them, one hand resting in his pocket, another holding a cracked mug, his tone calm yet firm.
"You've learned theory," he said, the breeze carrying his words across the field.
"Today, you practice that theory in a more realistic fashion."
The students straightened. Energy hummed faintly in the air as their Auras began to stir.
"That boulder," Kazuki gestured toward the hulking stone,
"is your target. Prepare your spells—"
— Flashback — Lecture Hall —
"Spellcasting," Kazuki had said, standing before the same students a week earlier,
"is the art of convincing the world to listen. The most basic method is through Chanting."
Kazuki paced around the hall. Strands of darkness coiled around his arm, eventually forming a perfect sphere.
"Words give structure to thought. The tongue makes intent audible," he had explained.
"You can use chants as short phrases, long liturgies, poems, songs—anything that helps your mind shape the Mana."
— Present —
A young fire mage steps forward, raising his hand at the boulder.
"O flame that dwells within the breath of Arcana, take form through my will and strike true—"
He thrust his hand forward.
"Fireball!"
A burst of orange light tore through the air, striking the boulder dead center. The explosion left a blackened scorch, but the rock barely chipped.
"Good," Kazuki nodded. "But not stable enough."
Another student raised his hand, eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Aen valthien ser'a, thur valen tora'sh—"
— Flashback — Lecture Hall —
"Foreign phrases are acceptable," he said, leaning casually on the podium.
"And yes," his tone dipped into a teasing grin,
"they do sound cooler. Use what calls to your soul."
The hall erupted in laughter.
— Present —
"Ael miren, ael vorath—Ra'thien Voltaris!"
A jagged bolt of lightning struck the boulder. Dust scattered, leaving a faint crack across its surface.
"Good," Kazuki said with a slight grin. "But I recall Lightning strikes faster."
Then his gaze shifted toward a girl standing near the center. Her hands were steady, her stance grounded. Earth affinity, if he remembered correctly.
The young girl stepped forward, her stance low and centered.
"Soil beneath, awaken," she whispered, pressing a hand to the earth.
— Flashback — Lecture Hall —
"The next method," Kazuki continued,
"uses Seals. Seals are physical language for magic—hand signs, stances, written glyphs, circles on the ground, even martial forms."
He raised two fingers in demonstration, spears of darkness manifested around him.
"Seals hasten the flow, simplifying your chants. But they tie you to motion. A broken gesture is a broken contract."
He shifted his finger, and the spears began to fizzle away.
— Present —
The girl shifted her footing.
"Harden, sharpen, strike—"
Each word brought a new gesture, fluid yet deliberate.
"Terra Spicula!"
The earth rumbled. A sharpened stone spike launched from the ground—only to snap midair, its tip embedding shallowly into the boulder's surface.
The class collectively winced. Kazuki smiled faintly.
"Progress. The structure's correct, though fragile. Let your Mana breathe, do not rush."
The girl nodded, determination lighting her eyes as he continued to monitor the students.
Kazuki stopped behind one of the students—a quiet, tall boy with dark hair. Beads of sweat clung to his brow as he faced the boulder, hands trembling faintly. A faint shimmer of blue Mana pulsed around his fingertips—restless, uncertain, like a river struggling to remember its course.
"O current of still moonlight, mirror of the tranquil deep—"
He hesitated. The words faltered, his rhythm broke, and the water bubble he had gathered burst into a soft splash at his feet.
Kazuki exhaled, not disappointed—merely patient.
"Silence your thoughts," he said, his tone low but steady.
"Do not force your will. Let it flow. Your affinity is Water."
The boy nods.
"Then, be water."
The boy blinked, confused but listening.
— Flashback — Sagiri's class —
"Forget the diagrams and structures and what-not. Now check this!" Sagiri announced.
She held up a bowl of pale-blue fluid that wobbled strangely in her hand.
"This—" she grinned, "is Oobleck!"
A murmur of curiosity rippled through the students.
"You see, if I hit it…"
She slapped it, and the fluid held firm like a solid.
"It's kinda hard." She said as she poked it. "But if I let it flow…"
Sagiri tilted her hand, letting the fluid pour gracefully into a glass jar. It shimmered in the sunlight.
"That's how your Mana works!"
The students' eyes lit up.
"...Kind of," she added after a pause.
"Kind of..?" one of the students repeated, bewildered.
"She's not very good at teaching, huh?" whispered another, earning a few nervous laughs.
Sagiri winked.
"You'll get it when you stop trying so hard to get it."
— Present —
The boy closed his eyes, inhaling slowly, relaxing his shoulders. He let his thoughts fade, and in their place came rhythm.
"O current of still moonlight, mirror of the tranquil deep, gather upon my hand and heed my call—"
The Mana pulsed, no longer erratic but steady, fluid. It spiraled outward, tracing lines of glimmering blue across the ground. The air shimmered as droplets formed, swirling and merging until a stream coiled around his arm.
It moved with him—not as a weapon, but as an extension of will. The water hardened, edges glinting like crystals.
"Aqua Lance!"
He thrust his arm forward. The lance shot through the air, spiraling in a perfect arc before crashing into the boulder.
A burst of steam erupted, leaving behind a clean, gleaming crater where the rock had been scorched smooth.
The boy's eyes widened. For a moment, silence. Then quiet cheers rose from his classmates.
Kazuki blinked, genuinely caught off guard. A quiet laugh escaped him—half disbelief, half admiration. He'd heard students nod along to Sagiri's eccentric metaphors before, pretending to understand her "fluid logic," but this… this was different. The boy had actually gotten it.
"...Huh, someone actually understood Sagiri."
He took a slow sip from his coffee, watching the boy stand there with awe still in his eyes.
"I'll be damned, maybe she can teach after all."
Something caught Kazuki's eyes—a shy, timid girl standing near the end of the line. Her posture was stiff, her fingers twitching nervously as she took a hesitant stance. Her eyes darted toward her classmates before she exhaled shakily, cheeks faintly flushed.
This is so embarrassing… but I want to try it.
Kazuki tilted his head, intrigued. Her Mana shimmered faintly around her feet—a soft, uneven glow like flickering embers uncertain if they wanted to burn.
She lifted her arms, taking a dancer's pose, then began to move—slowly at first, swaying to a rhythm only she could hear. Her voice was quiet, trembling, but it carried through the training ground.
"O serpent of burning veil—"
A ribbon of crimson fire flared to life around her body, spiraling like a living thing responding to her motion. The flame twisted and twirled as she did, the air rippling with heat, each motion painting streaks of light across the sky.
"coil, hiss—"
— Flashback — Sagiri's class —
"Each sorcerer's Mana behaves differently,"
Sagiri said to her class, her tone half-lecturing, half-dramatic. She stood at the front of the room, gesturing with both hands as diagrams of Mana waves hovered midair.
"Kaz explains it as a combination of wavelengths and harmonics and all that boring stuff. But to me—"
she grinned, striking a pose with exaggerated flair,
"It's like a personality!"
The students laughed, and she started pointing around the room. She pointed at a serious boy near the front.
"Your Mana likes to argue."
Then at a bright, chatty girl.
"Yours sulks most of the time."
And then at the shy, timid girl sitting at the back—the same one now dancing on the field. Sagiri tilted her head, studying her aura curiously.
"And yours…"
she said softly, with a mix of wonder and mischief,
"Your Mana likes to dance!"
The students giggled. The girl flushed red and sunk deeper into her seat.
— Present —
Kazuki smiled faintly as the girl found her rhythm again. Her movements flowed more freely now—graceful, almost entrancing. The ribbon of flame followed her steps like a partner, spinning and snapping with growing intensity.
"—and strike—
Crimson Lash!"
The flame serpent coiled once around her, then lashed forward with a thunderous crack that echoed across the field. The boulder shuddered from the impact. A chip of molten stone burst from the impact, glowing droplets floating briefly before hissing against the scorched earth.
A stunned silence followed. Then, a few gasps—someone clapped, others murmured in awe. The girl blinked, dazed, the flame around her fading into shimmering wisps.
Kazuki crossed his arms, a small, approving smirk tugging at his lips.
"Now that," he said quietly, "is a worthy display of will."
The girl lowered her hands, cheeks flushed but eyes gleaming with pride.
Then, Kazuki felt the air shift. A faint gust brushed past him, swirling toward one of the students—a lean boy with sharp eyes and wind-green mana rippling faintly around his arms.
Wind, huh? Kazuki thought, his brow furrowing slightly. Hardly the ideal element for this kind of job.
The boy took a deep breath, fingers brushing against the small pouch at his belt. In one swift motion, he unfastened it and tossed its contents into the air. Tiny metallic glints caught the sunlight, spinning in slow arcs before being caught by the gathering wind.
Kazuki raised an eyebrow.
"...Are those—nails?" he muttered under his breath.
The boy lifted his hand, wind coiling tightly around him.
"O gale unbound, seize the scattered, sharpen the unseen—"
— Flashback — Sagiri's class —
"See, one thing Professor Kazuki is bad at teaching—"
Sagiri's voice rang across the lecture hall. The class instantly stirred.
"—is creativity!"
The students gasped, some giggling, some exchanging glances as if unsure they were allowed to agree. Sagiri grinned.
"He's too technical, right?"
Whispers spread through the seats.
"Now that she mentioned it…"
"Yeah, he kind of is…"
"Magic," Sagiri said, hopping onto a desk, "is what you make it to be!"
The students' eyes lit up at that moment.
"So—improvise, adapt, overcome!"
— Present —
The boy's chant intensifies, voice steady and confident.
"—scatter, pierce,
Vortex Shard!"
The air howled. The nails shot forward like shrapnel, spinning and slicing through the air. Some veered off course, another clinked harmlessly against the ground—but two struck true, embedding deep into the boulder's face with a satisfying thunk.
The boy exhaled, his hands trembling slightly from exertion. The wind dispersed, leaving only the faint metallic hum of the nails cooling in the rock.
Kazuki gave a faint nod, the corner of his mouth lifting.
"Heh… Unorthodox, but effective."
The sun climbs higher above the academy, bathing the courtyard in gold. The boulder stood firm as countless spells battered its surface. The once gray boulder is now scorched and scarred—a battlefield of learning.
In the academy building, Saki strolled down one of the upper corridors. The rhythmic click of her heels echoing through the stone hall. Her gaze drifted lazily out the window, her crimson eyes glistening as a breeze tousled her pale hair. From her vantage point, she saw Kazuki standing among the students—arms crossed, posture calm. Watching over them as if herding a pack of fledgling wolves. The corners of her lips curved into a teasing smirk.
"Don't get too chummy with them, Kaz," she murmured under her breath, the words laced with amusement.
Down below, Kazuki watched the students tirelessly practice their spells. The training field is alive with bursts of color and sound. Sparks fizzled, laughter erupted, and the faint hum of Arcana filled the air like a second heartbeat.
"Beauty, huh…" he muttered, recalling Saki's—or rather—his own words.
He clapped his hands once.
"Alright, that's enough for now. Take a break. Hydrate, grab something to eat, and—"he glanced at a pair of students still arguing over spell accuracy—
"no dueling during lunch."
A small chorus of laughter broke out. The young sorcerers retreated to the shade of a nearby tree, collapsing onto the grass, pulling out canteens and small rations. Their chatter filled the air—lively, hopeful, human.
Kazuki turned his eyes to the sky, the light filtering through the leaves, and his mind wandered back—long ago.
— Flashback —
The sound of tools striking soil echoed across a quiet hill.
Thunk. Thunk.
Each impact broke the silence of an untamed world.
"Another tower, is it? You do love building monuments to your own ambition."
Kazuki asked, leaning lazily on his halberd, watching the woman kneeling in the dirt.
"Are you mocking me?"
Saki shot him a look over her shoulder, her hands smeared with earth.
"I'm tilling the ground." She said as she continued to strike the ground.
"Huh? What for?"
"A farm, obviously."
Kazuki blinked.
"A farm? We have plenty to eat from the hunt."
Saki sighed through a laugh.
"Kazuki, Kazuki… still hung up on old habits, huh?"
He frowned.
"Am I to take insult, or jest?"
She stood, brushing the dirt from her palms.
"If you want to live alongside mortals, you need to act like one. Monkey see, monkey do."
He tilted his head.
"So you would liken yourself to a monkey, then?"
"Shut up and give me a hand," she said, shoving a small sack of seeds at him.
Reluctantly, he knelt beside her. The two began planting—awkwardly at first, Saki guided him to leave enough space between each seed. When they were done, they watered the soil, watching the droplets darken the earth.
"Now what?" Kazuki asked, looking unimpressed.
"Now we wait," she said simply.
"How long?"
She hummed, tilting her head in thought.
"A couple of months, maybe."
"A couple of months? We're to tend them that long? The hunt proves far more efficient."
"That's part of the joy," Saki replied, smiling faintly.
And so they waited. Days turned into weeks. Kazuki, at first skeptical, found himself watching the soil every morning, observing the subtle changes—the faint green shoots pushing through dirt, the smell of wet earth after rain, the sight of small sprouts reaching toward the light. Saki would often stand silently beside him, eyes soft.
"Watching the seeds you planted grow, knowing you watered them every day, kept them safe… it's kind of—" she paused, looking over the field of tender shoots—
"Beautiful."
The memory fades.
— Present —
The green of the sprouts blurred into the image of the young sorcerers resting beneath the trees, laughing, eating, comparing notes. The field around them was filled with the faint traces of magic—the air alive with the aftertaste of spells, the scent of burned stone and ozone.
Kazuki exhaled slowly, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.
"Is this what you meant by 'Beauty,' Sak?" he murmured.
The students laughed beneath the shade, trading stories and snacks, their voices carried by the afternoon breeze. Kazuki stood apart, gaze fixed on the boulder scarred with cracks, burns, and fragments of embedded nails. Imperfect marks. Yet each told a story — a trace of will, of effort, of life.
He exhaled softly. The sunlight caught on the dust rising from the ground, glinting like motes of gold.
"Perhaps beauty isn't found in perfection."
His fingers brushed against the coarse earth, warm from the day's heat.
"Perhaps it's in the trying — in the cracks, the burns, the growing."
The bell tolled in the distance, echoing across the hills. The students turned toward him, faces bright with exhaustion and pride.
Kazuki smiled faintly.
"Alright," he said, voice steady, calm as dusk.
"Break's over. Show me the shape of beauty in your next attempt."
Kazuki walked toward a long wooden table covered neatly in white cloth, set near the edge of the training field. The students, curious and still recovering from their exercises, watched him in silence.
"This time," Kazuki said, a faint grin tugging at his lips,
"you get to play with toys."
He took the edge of the cloth and pulled it away in one swift motion.
A collective gasp rippled through the class.
Before them lay rows of finely crafted wands—each one a masterpiece of precision. The shafts were carved from polished wood and silver, etched with faint, glowing lines forming spiraling patterns along the handle. At their tips rested crystalline gems—Arcane Crystals—that shimmered like captured starlight.
Even under the shade, the crystals pulsed with life, responding faintly to the ambient Arcana in the air. Some glowed soft blue, others golden, green, or crimson, refracting the sunlight in mesmerizing ways.
"These," Kazuki said, resting his hand on the table,
"are training wands made by Professor Sagiri and the Headmistress herself."
The students murmured with awe.
"The Arcane Crystal embedded at the tip has a Neutral Affinity," he continued, pacing slowly before the table.
"Which means any one of you can use it. You've all been casting barehanded, and I see your Mana reserves running thin."
He paused, glancing across their tired but eager faces.
"So now, we use tools to bridge that gap."
He lifted one of the wands, holding it delicately by the base.
"These are not simple sticks of wood. Each wand is an Arcane Device, designed to resonate with your Mana and guide it into shape. Inside this wand is a complex network of Arcane Circuits—tiny pathways that channel energy efficiently, like the veins of a living creature."
The students leaned closer, wide-eyed.
— Flashback — Kazuki's lecture hall —
"Arcane Devices," Kazuki's voice echoed in a room filled with floating diagrams projected by glowing runes.
"They are both a catalyst and a storage device. The Arcane Crystal within holds Tactica—Mana that has already been processed and stabilized within an object."
He gestured to a schematic showing a wand's inner structure—layers of circuits, conduits, and crystalline nodes.
"The Tactica provides you with additional Mana, while the catalyst—like a wand, staff, or ring—acts as an amplifier. It helps you cast faster, channel more efficiently, and stabilize unstable Mana flows."
One student raised a hand.
"So… it's like a magical battery?"
Kazuki smirked.
"If it helps you understand, yes. But remember—they are tools…"
"A tool cannot exceed its own mechanical threshold."
"Overload it, and it will crack, fracture, or even explode."
— Present —
The students each took a wand with careful hands. The air shimmered faintly as they held them—each wand resonating to its holder's Mana signature, giving off a soft hum like a heartbeat.
"Channel your Mana from your hands into the wand," Kazuki instructed, voice calm but commanding.
"Do not force it. Let your Mana flow. Feel the circuits under your touch—trace their rhythm. The wand is alive in its own way."
He walked among them, hands behind his back.
"Do not pour Mana too fast. The Arcane Crystal is delicate. Fracture it, and you'll destroy the balance of Tactica within."
A flicker of blue light pulsed from one wand, followed by a faint crackle of energy. The student flinched but held firm.
"Good," Kazuki said softly.
"Now, feel the pulse. The wand doesn't serve you—it works with you. Treat it like a partner."
As he spoke, faint lights began to shimmer across the field—students' wands glowing one by one, each color reflecting their affinity.
Kazuki folded his arms and watched, his reflection glimmering faintly in the wands' crystals.
A hand shot up from among the rows of students.
"Professor! Do you use Arcane Devices too?"
Kazuki turned, one eyebrow slightly raised, a faint smirk forming.
"Why yes, I do."
He reached into his coat pocket and drew out a pair of gloves. They were worn and weathered, the leather creased from years of use. Jet black with exposed fingertips, they looked anything but new—yet the faint shimmer of embedded runes traced their surface like veins of silver light.
"These," Kazuki said, holding them up,
"were made for me a while back by Professor Sagiri and Professor Renge."
The students leaned closer, murmuring among themselves. One of them, a boy with wind-green eyes, squinted curiously.
"Huh? It doesn't have a crystal on it?"
Kazuki paused, lips quirking as he scratched the back of his neck.
"Oh—well…"
— Flashback — Long Ago —
The workshop was dimly lit, filled with the smell of oil and molten metal. Sparks danced in the air as Sagiri hunched over a workbench, her hair tied messily with a ribbon. Across from her, Renge sat in silent focus, etching fine circuits into black leather.
Kazuki flexed his hands, marveling at the way the gloves hummed faintly with his Mana.
"They resonate well," he said, his tone almost impressed.
"Feels strange… it's almost effortless now."
Sagiri puffed out her chest.
"Hmm~ hmm~ That's the work of Yours Truly!"
Renge didn't even look up.
"Most of it was my work, actually."
Sagiri froze mid-pose.
"Urk—ehehee…"
Kazuki chuckled.
"But why doesn't it have a crystal? You two put those on everything."
Sagiri turned to him, frowning as if he had just asked whether water was wet.
"Matsuo Kazuki…"
"Y-yes..?"
"Darkness Crystals are super rare! There's basically nowhere for them to grow!" She gestured dramatically with her tools, scattering sparks in the air.
"And besides—do you hear yourself??"
Kazuki blinked.
"...What?"
"Compared to normal people, you're basically a bottomless pit of Mana!" she exclaimed.
"Adding a Crystal to that is like dropping a bucket of water into a lake!"
Renge nodded quietly from her bench.
"She's not wrong. It's redundant."
— Present —
Kazuki rubbed the back of his head, smiling faintly.
"It went… more or less like that."
The students fell silent. Their gazes fixed on him, expressions caught between awe and disbelief.
A bottomless pit of Mana.
The words echoed quietly in their minds, and for the first time, they looked at their calm, tired-looking professor and wondered just how deep his power truly ran.
"Professor," one of them finally said—a small voice, hesitant yet sharp.
"When you demonstrated spellcasting for us… I noticed you barely chanted. Is that because of your gloves?"
Kazuki blinked, surprised by the observation. His lips curled into a quiet, approving grin.
"Oh… right." He slipped the gloves back into his pocket.
"I guess I went ahead of the syllabus."
He stepped forward. The playful air vanished. Each step he took pressed down on the world around him—not with malice, but with sheer presence.
The students straightened instinctively. The field seemed to quiet. Even the breeze stilled.
"That," Kazuki said, his voice low but resonant,
"is the pinnacle of spellcasting."
The air shifted. The weight grew heavier, as if the world itself leaned in to listen. Their bodies trembled under a pressure that wasn't physical—it was as though reality itself acknowledged him.
"When you understand the world, the world responds—and in turn, it tries to understand you."
As he spoke, the shadow beneath his boots began to ripple, slow at first, then steady. The wind seemed to still. The hum of life—the rustle of leaves, the calls of birds, the murmur of breath—fell silent, as if the world itself leaned closer to listen.
He did not move.
He did not raise a hand, nor form a seal, nor utter a chant.
He merely stood there.
And the earth vanished.
The students could still feel it beneath their feet—the firmness, the familiar weight of soil—but their eyes saw nothing. Beneath them stretched a boundless void, swallowing all color, all light. Yet, strangely, they felt no fear. Only a quiet reverence, as if standing before something vast and eternal.
"Silent Casting,"[1] Kazuki said softly, with a finger pressed to his lips.
From the abyss, orbs of darkness began to rise—one before each student. They hovered at eye level, trembling faintly, as if alive, inviting their touch. Shadows pulsed from within, flickering like distant heartbeats.
A girl near the front hesitated, her breath caught in her throat. Then, cautiously, she extended a hand. Her fingertips brushed the surface of the nearest orb. It was cold. She felt warmth being drawn from her skin, the faint sting of heat escaping her veins. The orb rippled at her touch, then stilled, as if acknowledging her presence.
She looked toward Kazuki. He hadn't moved an inch. His expression unreadable, eyes distant, his hands buried in his coat pockets.
The orbs shimmered once, then unraveled—streams of black mist curling upward, dispersing like smoke in sunlight. The shadows underfoot began to retract, folding inward until all that remained was a faint trace of darkness fading into the soil.
"After countless repetitions," Kazuki said, his tone softer now,
"you no longer need to convince the world."
He lifted his gaze to the bright sky above.
"You just…"
"Let the silence speak a thousand words."
For a moment, no one spoke. The students stood in stillness, their minds caught between awe and disbelief, between wonder and a quiet longing.
Finally, one voice broke through.
"Professor—how long do we need to train to reach this peak?"
Kazuki's eyes softened, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Who knows?" he said.
"It wasn't until I finished my theory that I began to truly understand the world."
He paused.
His gaze drifted over the young faces before him—each filled with the spark of curiosity and potential.
"But you," he said,
"You've had this theory from the very beginning. You just need to learn to listen."
The last traces of darkness drifted upward, dissolving into the sunlight. For an instant, they shimmered—black and gold, shadow and light intertwined.
It was—in its own quiet way…
Beautiful.
[1] I have yet to come up with a better name