"What were you thinking?"
She hissed, her voice low but intense.
"I told you never to associate with that guy, didn't I?"
Cecilia blinked at Elysia, taken aback by the intensity in her voice.
Elysia had never gotten this angry with her before—no matter what she did.
"But… he looked like he needed help," she replied, her voice soft but firm.
Elysia's grip tightened on her arm.
"I warned you for a reason," she said sharply.
"Kael Ashford is a very dangerous individual."
Elysia said this while trembling slightly.
She clearly remembered his cruelty and ruthlessness—because to her, it was just yesterday that he had done all those horrible things to her and the others.
One of the reasons she hadn't killed Kael Ashford yet might also be the deep, lingering fear she still felt toward him.
Cecilia stared at her friend, surprised by the reaction shown by Elysia.
"You're afraid of him?"
She asked, her voice laced with confusion and concern.
Elysia flinched—but didn't deny it.
"I'm not sure what he's hiding. But if there's even a chance he's the same person I remember—then yes, I am."
Cecilia looked back toward the training field, where Kael still lay sprawled on the ground, blinking up at the sky like someone just grateful to be alive.
Then she looked back at Elysia—who genuinely feared that same person.
It was already rare for Elysia to show weakness, not to mention admit it like this.
"He didn't seem dangerous to me."
She murmured.
"That's what makes him dangerous," Elysia said quietly. "You don't see it—until it's too late."
A long silence settled between them.
It seemed Elysia was serious. Perhaps more serious than she had ever been.
Cecilia had no choice but to fold under her pressure.
"Okay, okay! I won't approach him."
Cecilia could only comply.
"You must promise me this time. Earlier, I warned you, but you ignored it."
"Okay! I promise to stay away from Kael Ashford."
Elysia was a bit relieved—she knew Cecilia wasn't someone who broke her promises easily.
She thought she could prevent Cecilia from associating with Kael Ashford.
But with Cecilia's personality—and Kael looking so pitiful—it was nearly impossible for her to turn away.
(Wait!)
Then, a dangerous thought crossed Elysia's mind.
(Is Kael Ashford pretending for Cecilia? So that she'll let her guard down and he can take advantage of it?)
That would explain why Kael Ashford, who should be powerful, was acting so pathetically—like he couldn't even finish 100 laps.
(As expected of such an evil person. His schemes run deeper than I could have ever imagined.)
Elysia believed this with absolute certainty—because that was the kind of person Kael Ashford had been.
***
At the moment, the one Elysia thought was scheming didn't even have the energy to properly lift his head.
Still, he was back in class and was either ready—or had no choice—but to continue.
Unless you were dead or nearly dead, there was no way to avoid taking classes.
And if you deliberately tried to skip one? Let's just say the punishment was worse than running 100 laps around the training ground.
Kael Ashford knew about this from the novel, where a few students had tried to skip class.
Kael dragged himself into the classroom, limbs still aching, and collapsed onto a seat in the back corner.
His vision blurred at the edges, but he tried to stay upright.
He wasn't alone. Most students looked like they had just crawled out of the afterlife.
Only a few—Elysia, Edwin, and a couple of others—appeared without any fatigue.
"Hah… Can I survive three years here?"
Kael Ashford muttered.
A few moments later, the door creaked open.
An old man walked in, cane tapping rhythmically against the floor.
He wore long gray robes, frayed at the edges, and a simple brown sash. His beard, white and wispy, reached his chest, and his back was slightly hunched with age.
His eyes—pale and sharp—swept across the room slowly.
"Good Morning!"
The old man greeted, voice low and gravelly, yet clear enough to carry through the room.
"Everyone seemed to have done a good warm-up with Mrs. Sylvia?"
Kael Ashford couldn't tell whether the old man was serious or making a joke.
That "warm-up" had nearly killed him and several others—and he dared to call it just a warm-up?
The man walked to the center, where a simple pedestal stood, and tapped it once with his cane.
"It seems some of the seats are empty? Well, I hope they aren't skipping the class!"
The old man muttered with a wicked smile.
"Anyways, I am Orwen," he said.
"I will be teaching you everything regarding mana and how to properly utilize it."
Kael Ashford tried to pay attention, despite the burning pain in his legs.
After all, in this world, what he was most unfamiliar with is mana which is essentially for everything here.
"I don't expect you to remember my name," the old man added, "but you will remember what I teach—assuming you survive long enough."
He tapped the pedestal again.
This time, a glowing diagram formed in the air above it: a silhouette of a human body with glowing blue lines branching through it like veins.
"The basics of mana should already be known to you," Orwen continued. "It is the lifeblood of every mage, knight, and being capable of wielding power in this world."
He paused, scanning the students.
"However, knowing it and understanding it are very different things. So today, we will reiterate the basics—not because you are ignorant, but because even the wise forget what is simple."
The diagram expanded—veins became channels, and nodes appeared at the joints and along the spine.
"This," Orwen said, pointing at the glowing image, "is the mana circuit—your internal pathway for mana flow. It connects your core to every part of your body. If this is damaged, you're crippled. If it's blocked, you're weak. If it's broken… well, I hope you've written a will."
A couple of students swallowed audibly.
Kael stared at the diagram.
The only saving grace was that Mr. Orwen was teaching from the very basics—something even Kael could begin to grasp.
Still, he had no knowledge of how this body worked. No idea how to sense, move, or control mana.
Orwen's voice brought him back to the present.
"Today, we begin with sensation. By now, you should already know how to circulate your mana—but it's crucial to learn how to do it efficiently."
He turned back to them, his gaze sweeping over every face.
"Now. Close your eyes. Feel the core. It is not in your head. It is not in your limbs. It lies deep—just beneath your navel. The dantian, for those of you from the East. The heart-core, for others. But here, we call it the source."
Kael followed along awkwardly, sitting cross-legged.
(Feel mana? That's easier said than done…)
Still, he closed his eyes.
And tried.
And tried.
And…
Nothing.
Just darkness and the dull ache in his body.
But somewhere, deep within that stillness, there was… a flicker. Like the faintest breath of wind, moving through his gut.
Was it his imagination?
Or… had he really felt something?