First Magic Class Monday
Monday. First magic lesson. Just like in any world, plenty of people were suffering on the threshold from holiday to weekday. And for a different reason, so was I.
The teacher stood in front, and I was reaching out, channeling mana into the magic circuit.
"Reduce the mana output, and flow it properly along the formula. A bit more. A bit more. A little stronger!"
If I translated that into easy-to-understand terms, it felt like this. Just one more time. One. One. One...! No, it's not going in! She's telling me to shove it in like a rod, but to me, this is water, okay? If I try to force it, it just leaks out! I screamed internally, but I couldn't speak because I was focused on this bizarre sensation of moving the mana.
In a pathetic fizzle, the circuit—what's commonly called a magic circle—shattered, and the half-formed shape of mana scattered into the air. Aigoo, there it goes again. Even a slight increase in difficulty, and I'm like this.
"Hmm. No issues from internal circulation right up to the release... but once it leaves the body, control drops off in an instant."
Instead of scolding or nagging, the teacher examined the paper with the torn circuit drawn on it, her face serious. Then she reached out and traced over the rip. A faint blue mana glow flowed across it like a patch, and the electric orb that should have appeared originally floated up about a handspan above the paper, shimmering.
"Doesn't seem like a concentration issue or unusual mana... that's strange."
No, if you're pondering it that seriously, it makes me embarrassed. It's just that this is an organ I never had in my previous life, and since I rarely used it, I'm clumsy with it. Of course, sensing mana itself came quickly, but using it like in the fantasies I'd seen was hard. Or rather, let me put it this way: How the hell do you guys do that? It's like trying to use chopsticks with your toes. At least the internal mana moves well, but mess that up and your organs burst, you puke blood—no room for recklessness. Like an accident from involuntary muscles acting up. Yeah.
Beyond the teacher, who was grabbing my arm and pushing mana into it to test, Phaenax had already surpassed the lesson requirements and was making something else entirely. But most eyes weren't on her. Nor on me or the teacher. They were on the back row.
The kid I'd saved from that food-splatter near-miss last time. To me, it was just a unique sensation, but maybe her mana field felt different to others. Come to think of it, rumors said that kid in the back had unusually strong mana even compared to other noble families.
"Mana resistance is on the lower side, but aside from that, no real problems..."
But the teacher ignored the back and said instead, "Want to try once more? This time, even if it's slower, focus on gently pushing the mana in."
"Won't the timing be off and it won't activate?"
That's why magic is a bit harsh for thick-headed folks like me. Between converting mana into a formula and inserting it, there's this physical performance element, like playing an instrument in arts class. Play heavy metal slow, and it's not heavy metal anymore—failure is the norm.
"This isn't complex magic; it's just linking the most basic formulas, so it'll be fine. Try it slowly."
I nodded and fed it in slower than the written formula. When you need to fill a rod's volume, I can't shove it all at once, but scooping it in by hand works—so I could complete it. Zzt. A blue orb floated up. Much smaller and dimmer than intended, but it definitely appeared.
"Good. You're just not used to handling mana precisely yet, so with lots of practice, you'll improve quickly."
This is a teacher? "So, I'll give you a special assignment. Use it 100 times by next class. Open your student handbook? I'll show you how to log it."
Okay, she is a teacher, but... do you have to go that far...? While I mourned my sudden homework, she opened my student handbook and explained how to record the count. Surprisingly, it wasn't about filming yourself with the camera on; practicing in a specific spot auto-counted it. She even bragged that since basic spells like this were fully researched, it pointed out any errors in the activation process.
The faint pride in her tone suggested she'd contributed to that system. Of course, I wouldn't ask outright—just a hypothesis.
Then the teacher left my desk to check other students. But seriously, 100 times? Scooping it in by hand takes effort! It's like moving beans between plates using only your toes! So that's why the seniors hinted yesterday that assignments explode.
As chills ran down my spine from the foreshadowing clicking into place, lime-green eyes met mine. Phaenax, in other words.
"Don't laugh..."
"Why would I?"
"With that diamond-shaped splitting magic right in front of you, that's what comes out."
This was a simple combo from home worksheets. No specific form designated, so it defaults to a sphere, but she's giving it shape, multiple cores, and making it replicate and divide. That thing.
Of course, besides Phaenax, some kids were changing it to various shapes or colors instead of plain orbs. Probably only me failing completely; half the class made basic orbs. The other half seemed to have passed that level ages ago, all chill about it.
Ughhh. Most surpassed my little sister level, so yeah, I'm below average. Yep. If affiliated school first-years are like this, the future's dark. But I'm not aiming for Grey Ark Research Institute, and low grades are fine as long as I graduate, scrape by in the city— just don't flunk. Gotta try hard.
"Not laughing."
Phaenax replied matter-of-factly. Wait, that was half-joking, no need to take it so seriously? Then it hit me: she's not the type to chat much with others. Can't be helped. Conversation basics are sharing sincerity, so Phaenax is right. You learn manners and consideration here, but at core, it's conveying your thoughts to others.
"Thanks then!"
Short reply, back to practice. I drew mana from the non-physical mana heart organ. With skill, you can cast within your mana dominance range without hand gestures, but newbies like me are told to use hands for linkage. To me, "casting externally" barely made sense, but it's possible—I'd seen it. No need to go far: our Rubella village elder could summon a beam barrage overhead with just his staff and blast occasional mana beasts.
Anyway, no more stray thoughts—I moved mana to my arm, copied it from my hand to the circuit ahead. Not Ctrl+C. Replication, as in emitting light. Here comes the musical element: sensorily, it's like playing mana "notes" on the circuit as a score stand. Mana amount and intensity like pitch and volume.
But since I suck, per teacher's advice, I scooped it in again to complete the circuit. Once the magic circle finished, a blue orb popped up. It discharged a small blue electric spark and vanished. Exhausted...
Taking a breather as an excuse, I glanced back. The kid who'd saved me sat with a bored expression. Wait, yesterday's gym clothes made me think boy, but uniform says girl. No "magic favors women" fantasy law here, huh. Oh right, this world has zero gender discrimination. Simple reason: racial differences overshadow gender. Biologically optimized to distinguish us like yours, but it's seen as classification, not discrimination.
And a stark racial example: that kid. Overwhelmingly alien presence. Well, bred in the old kingdom era as a specialized fighter race for tribal systems protecting weaklings from mana beasts in exchange for tribute— that's normal. The senior always getting "noble flu" is probably noble-born too; maybe prestigious families send kids here like to top unis. So, not that weird.
I turned back, channeling mana into the magic circle on the paper. Like sheet music—get used to it, cast without looking. But that's far for me. Fine mana control is the issue. Pzzt. Instead of forming properly, it collapsed midway again.
Wish failures counted. But teacher's assignment seems to require a proper form for success. Sad. Anyway, being the only failure draws eyes! This kind of attention... hmm. Not bad? If it was a merit-based society or strict grade-ranking school, maybe not, but this isn't.
So in times like this, you say: "I can solve my own problem. Hands?"
Hands shot up quick. Surprisingly, Phaenax didn't raise hers. Looked confident too. I picked a nearby one; the kid eagerly explained their tips, like they couldn't hold back.
Yeah yeah. Dumping your knowledge feels good. I'm feasting on your techniques too.
Till class ended, I got tips from several, but no skill improvement. And point two: teacher encouraged this. As I learned from peers, she didn't interfere—instead, subtly made space. Feels like an open educational space.
And so, today's magic lesson passed.