Basics Before Broomsticks
The sky was dark, and the worn-out sails whispered of the great academy! A magic school with 2,000 years of history! The cradle of sages who schemed behind the curtain of history. The sacred ivory tower that decided the fates of countless nations and continents, safeguarding humanity's wisdom! What would the students learn in this place where all the world's mysteries and forbidden knowledge lay dormant? Riding broomsticks through the skies? Alchemy that bends the mind of the imbiber? Or cruel curses that turn people into powder kegs?
Of course, those were all vital achievements in the curriculum. But this impenetrable ivory tower, standing for 2,000 years, demanded something far more persistent and fundamental from us fresh first-years before we ever swung our fancy wands.
Before wielding those flashy staffs, the true mystery kids had to face first in the ink-scented bookshelves was something else entirely.
Lingua Latina, Mathematica, Philosophia Naturalis, Civitas et Lex.
Subjects that had made students worldwide back away in terror for thousands of years—universal and utterly ruthless. In modern terms: language arts, math, science, social studies. Or as we called it, gu-su-sa-gwa.
Yes... first grade was an age that needed well-rounded education before diving into the mystical study of magic!
No matter how great a grand wizard you became, spouting nonsense like the Earth being flat would be the ultimate shame in magic society.
"Well... well-rounded education is important, yeah."
True to a Western advanced school's reputation, it pursued future-oriented education focused on kids, escaping exam-hell careerism. Whether that was really for the kids... uh... dunno?
"Alright, let's see... hmm..."
I glanced down at my neatly organized weekly timetable for the semester's classes. First, check tomorrow's schedule?
[08:30 - 11:00: Basic Latin]
[11:00 - 13:00: Lunch]
[13:00 - 15:30: Magic Ethics]
[16:00 - 18:00: Basic Arithmetic]
"...Latin, huh. It's important... super important... I don't know much, but it looks cool and important."
Doesn't a wizard have to chant some ancient tongue no one understands?
Two hours for lunch? As expected from the elite. Perfect for eating and napping.
Ethics—gotta learn that well. Mess up with magic, and the damage is insane. Better drill morals early to avoid accidents.
Yeah, even wizards need math. Can't just dig holes and live off the land solo.
"Guess they don't teach magic right from day one."
I distinctly remembered breezing through the first schedule feeling good. But...
"Ugh, screw this—!"
Sigh—I wasn't expecting abracadabra from the start, but this was too much.
Even the few magic classes weren't that fun. Because...
Fwoosh—a pathetically honest, feeble sound. Like a dying lighter spitting its last flame, the pitiful spark on my wandtip drew hotter reactions from the kids around than the magic itself.
"Pfft... heh!"
"Hahahahahaha!!!"
The blonde twerp sneering like he was judging pulled his gut and collapsed laughing.
"What is that?! A candle flame?! Hahahaha!!!!"
Me, the lazy genius model student, officially the class dunce at magic school? The guy who'd cheesed past-life hacks to conquer cram schools and elementary in one go—now, starting from the same baseline, my lack of foundation was exposed raw.
"Puhahahaha!!!"
I brushed it off with feigned nonchalance, but my wand-grip hand trembled.
While others blasted head-sized fireballs with gusto, I clung to a matchstick glow that'd snuff out in a sneeze. The dignity of my second life flickered out with that candle—fwoosh.
'Fucking pricks, just you wait.'
Everyone sucks at magic sometimes—laugh like that? I vowed brutal revenge inwardly. Scars on a young heart last forever. No matter how much time passed, I'd never forget this humiliation.
"Kyaaaa!!"
The laughter ocean in the training grounds shattered with a piercing squeal slicing through the chaos.
A petite, fragile girl, trembling in terror, her wandtip spewing a firestream that ripped the air—whoosh!
KABOOMMM—!
What the hell, a flamethrower? Hunched shoulders, timid back—looked like Lily with her reddish-brown curls.
She was something else. Her pitiful, on-the-verge-of-tears face tugged at me. Felt too much like looking in a mirror—solidarity.
"W-what do I do..."
"Uwaaaak!"
Every panicked twitch from Lily swung the "barrel" like a rookie soldier; kids dove screaming.
The prof finally intervened, severing her mana flow to end the mini-riot.
With the mood soured and nerves frayed, short break time. Fellow student love is national love, right? I approached isolated Lily, her confidence shattered.
'Yeah, I get that feeling.'
I squatted by her doodling in the sand and patted her shoulder lightly.
"Sigh—magic mishaps happen."
"Hing—"
"Hey, your firepower was nuts, though. Thought you were a flamethrower. Mine was barely a candle, and a breeze snuffed it. You're way better."
"...Really?"
Half consolation, half truth. No pyro affinity, yet entry-level spell with that output? Not average talent. Hidden genius maybe? I peered into her innocent, sparkling green eyes.
Thus, rumors of Gratia dorm's shortstack duo spread far and wide.
The professor stood at the podium, slowly scanning the classroom. Wordlessly, his piercing gaze swept every student. Heavy silence crushed the air—like one cough would draw all eyes, suffocating.
"Mana."
The single word sliced the room.
"How do you define it? Mere power? Consumable energy? A dog that comes when called?"
His eyes drifted over the front row.
"Foolish."
Unwavering assertion.
"Don't pin it down rashly. Mana is possibility. As dumb as caging infinite cosmos in your puny vessel."
He elegantly smoothed his rumpled sleeve—every motion refined leisure.
"Expecting proper answers from you is foolish too, so I'll dumb it down to your level."
Leaning on the podium, arms crossed.
"Mana flows. Like a river. Force it, and it slips fingers. Empty the vessel for it to fill. Obvious, right?"
His gaze flicked to some kids.
"Sadly, plenty of goblin idiots here waste lifetimes failing to embody that simple truth."
Targeted? Or general? Unclear tone.
"Don't clog the circuits. Calm mind, steady breath. Tension walls the flow. No room in closed circuits."
Pause.
"Some circuits don't open right. That's not effort—pure incompetence."
"........."
Silence.
"Some believe effort beats talent."
Faint smirk.
"Belief's free. Reality usually disagrees."
Tap—finger on podium.
"Prove your levels. Let's check."
Hmm...
"Expected it, but still sucks."
Mana control practice. Tried pulling ambient mana in—progress glacial.
Glanced around: others vacuumed it like invisible cleaners.
"Tch—"
My stagnant mana pool highlighted the gap brutally. Not smarts—pure, incomprehensible talent diff.
Even usual slackers outshone me. Pure talent ranking? I'd scrap for last or second-last.
Kept focus, but mana stuttered on circuits, turtle-slow.
Anyone who's commuted knows. Reaction tests—click on color change. Felt instant, but scores three digits slower. Brain signal lags before fingers move. That's talent gap.
...Or aging. But not me, right?
"Boring as hell."
Why's English hard? Cram words, grammar, problems—still freeze face-to-face. No progress feel, like pouring into a sieve.
Stacks up, then boom! dramatic shift? Easy to say—most stall at thresholds, lose interest.
My mana training exactly. Grinding for vague breakthrough—boredom killed motivation first. Like slaving over a fic: no views despite effort, decent follows/sub but rankings tank. Self-delusion crumbles, graph cat-like, abandoned to die.
Hey, why's the snake darkening?! I squashed the rising head in my mind.
"Focus. Someone's daydreaming in this crucial time."
Eek—! Strict-looking prof's glare yanked me back. Face-reading big data says: fatigue-inducer type.
'Fine, don't disturb growing sprouts—meditate instead.'
"Suru suru maha suru asura balbalta!"
⟨ Meditation Chant ⟩