“So, Cyril, you no longer see things out of the corner of your eye?” the kindly healer asked with concern.
Cyril was once again sitting in the infirmary.
He calmly nodded in response to the weathered voice.
“I have no complaints.
You were right, a month was enough to remedy my situation.”
The healer smiled wider, her teeth showing.
“Haha, glad to hear it!
I have to say, I am surprised.
You truly can’t judge a book by its cover.
I thought you would be one of those people who think they know better than a professional.”
Cyril remained silent, his blue eyes focused on the healer without any apparent emotion.
“What professional?
Please tell us if you see one,” Rhamn exclaimed, smugly standing by Cyril’s side.
On Cyril’s shoulder, a red butterfly suddenly began twitching, giving the impression of a human laughing.
Rhamn’s head was raised a little higher, as her lips widened further.
The healer glanced at the butterfly, giving a satisfied nod.
“Getting a pet was a great decision too.
They are often better than any medicine.
I can see it as clear as day.
You look much more relaxed than a month ago.”
“She is not a pet,” Cyril dryly replied, showing towards the insect on his shoulder.
The red butterfly fluttered her wings a few times in complaint, though it is unknown if the healer understood her meaning.
“Her name is Morpho.” Cyril explained without a change in his expression.
A month ago, after Morpho just appeared, one of the first things Cyril did was show her around to the people he knew, to make sure others could see her.
That’s the only reason, of course.
The moment the people saw the red butterfly on his shoulder and acknowledged her was rather mystical for him.
It felt pleasant.
Rose Briar in particular was quite excited, pestering him for all sorts of information about Morpho.
The healer awkwardly cleared her throat before continuing.
“…Of course.
Anyway, I am glad a promising student like you was able to get better.
I’ve never expected my first patient of this year would be the first in his grade.
I was lucky in a way.”
“Maybe,” Cyril mumbled with a calm face, then got up from the chair.
“This will be my last visit on this issue.”
As a precaution, Cyril regularly checked his health, but not a single time was anything found.
So, after a month, he decided there was no point to it.
The healer got up as well, a touch of concern coloring her face.
“If the problem returns, remember to visit me right away.
It would be my pleasure to help.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.
Goodbye, I hope we won’t see each other here ever again,” Cyril said with a blank face, leaving the healer flabbergasted.
“…Ah, ahaha.
Right, hope you remain healthy!” The healer waved goodbye to him with an awkward laugh.
Cyril subtly nodded to her, then turned around to leave the infirmary.
On the way out, Rhamn turned back and stuck out her tongue at the old woman.
Thankfully, she wasn’t visible to others.
Ignoring her antics, Cyril began walking towards the exit of the dorm.
It was time to briefly separate from Morpho and start his studies of the day.
…
Close to a month had passed in the blink of an eye.
The lessons on magic turned into a mundane thing, and even the presence of a red-eyed specter didn’t seem that outlandish anymore.
Human adaptability was truly a wondrous thing.
The morning sun shone through the luxurious windows of the academy cafeteria, illuminating the crowds of students talking while at the same time filling their mouths with delectable dishes.
Cyril sat alone at a random table near the middle.
He quietly ate his lunch, passively listening to a red-eyed young woman in a business suit.
Rhamn lay on top of the table, staring at the ceiling with boredom.
“These lessons are so…
normal.
I thought there would be dangerous tests or exploring the dungeons of the castle.
All we do is practice, practice, and learn the boring theory!”
This academy is filled with young nobles.
Who would let them enter any danger?
Life is not like the stories.
“Laaaame!”
…We are still first-year students.
Maybe there will be something more in the future when the students get more competent.
Rhamn let out a long, frustrated sigh.
Then, suddenly two trays with healthy meals landed on the same table, phasing right through her.
Two humans have joined Cyril at his table.
Rhamn glared at the chicken leg phasing through her face.
She then disappeared, reappearing on the chair at Cyril’s side.
Her red eyes switched to glaring at the two girls, who just arrived.
“We are a bit late.
Rose was helping me with Potion Making class.
It’s much harder than I thought…” Myra said, her face completely exhausted.
“Don’t take it wrong, but it shouldn’t be that hard…” Rose said, looking at Myra like one would at a semi-annoying but endearing child.
“I am just not good with useless knowledge…” Myra’s face twitched as she crossed her arms in defense.
“I don’t plan on becoming a pharmacist.”
Rose rolled her eyes, raising her hands in surrender.
Myra hmphed, and they finally began their meal.
Cyril observed their interaction without speaking, then continued eating himself.
This wasn’t a rare occasion.
In fact, almost every meal in the cafeteria he spent with them.
After a month, these two continued to be around him, forming a regular group.
This was mostly initiated by Myra, who always used any chance to be around Cyril.
After a month, fighting Myra during Combat Training became something close to a habit.
Disregarding everything else, she was a wonderful training partner.
It felt like each fight noticeably improved his ability.
If Myra was indeed raised by some shadowy organization to get something from him, then Cyril wanted to say to them a heartfelt ‘thank you.’
Similarly, Rose was talented when it came to magic.
Her insights into the lessons proved themselves valuable many times already.
So, Cyril tolerated their presence without much hardship, for those reasons only, of course.
“I guess…
Although, I say we don’t need any outsider help.
You, me, and Morpho are enough to take on the whole world.”
I would rather not fight the world.
“…”
After a few minutes, just as they were finishing their lunch, another person elegantly sat at the same table.
“Spellmaking is so annoying!
How do you all do that so easily?
The convoluted patterns are already appearing in my dreams…” Edmund said with frustration, taking a seat by Cyril’s side.
It just so happened that’s where Rhamn was sitting.
She immediately reappeared on Cyril’s other side, fuming.
“When will this guy finally get some friends?”
Unfortunately, during this month Edmund hasn’t managed yet to pick himself up as he wanted.
He met up with the group during moments like these.
After a month, he didn’t forget about their friendship as initially expected.
Though, Cyril suspected it was because of one unaccounted detail.
“If you spent less time outside the academy, you could’ve done better,” Cyril said, wiping his mouth with a cloth.
Edmund’s eye twitched, but a smile emerged on his face in response.
“…Haha, you are right.
That’s the difference between us.
Geniuses like you have diligence, which I severely lack.”
Edmund spoke humbly, lowering himself to praise them as if they were some celebrities.
However, to Cyril, his green eyes didn’t share the warmth in his voice.
“Well, if I try hard enough, I’ll eventually join you guys at the top of the rankings!
I heard the academy is sending you high achievers to the Tower?
That makes me so jealous…”
Rose eagerly nodded, her eyes sparkling.
“Yes.
The top ten of the grade are invited to visit the Tower for a unique learning opportunity!
I still can’t believe I am not dreaming.”
Edmund’s words worked wonders on her, it seems.
The more he spoke, the more pleased the subtle smile on her face became.
Cyril, Rose, and Myra were among that top ten.
First, third, and forth in that order.
For an earnest mage like Rose, this must’ve been a dream come true.
Not even nobles can easily enter that place, so the news raised some commotion when the students first heard it.
And for an earnest socialite like Edmund, this also must be a dream come true.
The three people he got to know on day one turned out to be the best in the grade.
Edmund leaned into his chair, his eyes narrowing for a moment.
“Tell me all about it when you come back.”
“I don’t think we have to.
Didn’t you visit the Tower in the past?” Cyril suddenly said.
Edmund’s face twitched, but he quickly recovered.
“It’s been so long ago!
I don’t remember anything.
Besides, you think with my brain I managed to get something out of it?”
“Is that so?” Cyril casually said, not lingering on the topic.
“I’ll go first.”
With a simple goodbye, he stood up from the table and began walking out of the cafeteria.
Despite his status, Cyril’s never been to the Tower himself.
Myra excitedly waved at his back, yelling, “See you at Spellmaking.
We’ll be there soon!”
With that, she glanced at Rose, who was still eating her food with a certain urgency, as if to make her eat faster.
Rose’s hand holding the fork twitched as her face became somewhat helpless.
Edmund relaxed in his chair, only muttering something under his nose in disbelief.
“…Why is he so broody all the time?”
His voice was quiet, unheard by Rose and Myra close by.
However, Cyril, halfway out of the cafeteria, heard him loud and clear, though it took a bit of effort to discern them amid all the other noise.
Broody?
“Hah!
Dare he repeat that to your face?
Of course not!”
Cyril shook his head, finally leaving the cafeteria’s doors, where the noise subsided slightly.
The loud chatter and eating were replaced by the sound of heels striking the marble floors as the students walked the halls of the castle.
Recently his hearing improved somewhat, beyond what’s supposed to be normal.
…
Today’s Spellmaking lesson took place outside the castle, in a special field where they could practice combat-oriented spells without worry.
Cyril familiarly navigated the castle’s halls, reaching the fresh air outside.
For a minute or so, he stood still, observing the clear skies, feeling the wind on his skin.
He was waiting for someone, but that someone wasn’t a human.
Soon, a red blur streaked through the skies, heading directly for him.
Like a cannonball, it crashed right into Cyril’s chest.
It was a red butterfly, rejoining his party with joy.
With a vague smile lingering on his face, Cyril picked Morpho on his finger, then placed her on his shoulder.
The butterfly fluttered her wings, staying there like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Morpho!
You’ve come to observe us hurling a fireball or two?
You’ll be impressed!”
Morpho, the red butterfly, became a rather pleasant constant in Cyril’s life.
Every time he saw her wings, it was like something was lifted off his shoulders, instantly making him stronger.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t be present inside of the castle without a special permit, and Cyril couldn’t get it for now.
So she had to stay outside during most lessons.
Today’s Spellmaking took place in a field outside of the castle.
A certain distance away from the students stood a specially prepared target.
Around the dummy shimmered an obvious blue light.
Their professor, Richard, stood in front of the students, giving a long lecture about safety procedures.
It was no doubt now even longer than it might’ve been in the past.
Cyril stood slightly to the side of the crowd of students, a butterfly on his shoulder.
When everyone first saw Morpho, they were surprised, though it quickly passed.
Nobles were known to keep an exotic creature or two.
They only didn’t expect that Cyril Thorne would be one to keep pets.
“Morpho is not a pet.”
Indeed.
As Cyril was absorbed in thought, two people walked closer to him.
“Are you confident, Cyril?
I don’t see you practice spells much,” Myra whispered.
“I’ll be fine,” he replied without any concern.
“You don’t practice much either.”
Myra sheepishly smiled, looking away.
“Yeah…
Magic is just not my thing.”
He subtly nodded, understanding her completely.
Whenever mana was expended, be it through casting spells or otherwise, the feeling of the body becoming weaker was almost unbearable.
Cyril wasn’t sure how other students were able to handle it, but perhaps it was worse for martial artists like them.
Being weaker is unpleasant.
Just as they were having this moment of solidarity, another voice cut in.
“Myra, you live in the Empire.
How could magic not be your thing?
What can you do even against a proper mage in battle?” Rose said, raising her brow.
Myra’s eye twitched as she defensively crossed her arms.
“I can do plenty.
Rose, magic is not omnipotent.
A proper martial artist can easily defeat a mage.
I am also not saying I won’t use magic at all.
I will, just the bare minimum…”
Rose remained unconvinced.
“Uh huh, sure.
Just don’t cry about it when I start winning the duels in Combat Training in a year.”
“Hooo?” Myra looked Rose in the eyes, something sparkling in her black eyes.
“Those are big words.
When the time comes, how about we bet on who’ll win?”
A bead of sweat rolled down Rose’s forehead.
Her earlier confidence diminished under Myra’s black eyes.
She took a light breath and recovered, meeting the challenge head-on.
“Let’s do that!
A year is enough to completely transform a person!”
They stood as such, glaring at each other with pure competitive spirit.
Cyril calmly observed them from the side, patiently waiting until their professor was finally done with the speech.
Perhaps from boredom, his mind wandered towards this hypothetical duel.
Myra will win.
“Actually, I think Rose will.”
Really?
How so?
You’ve seen Myra in action.
Even I am yet unable to win against her.
A year would only make her much stronger.
“Would it really?
I don’t think Myra’s reign of terror will last that long.”
…We’ll see.
Thoughtfully, Cyril turned towards the red butterfly on his shoulder.
“Morpho, who do you think will win?” he whispered.
The red butterfly thought for a moment, her antennae twitching a few times.
Then, with complete confidence, she pointed her wing towards her choice: the auburn-haired girl, Myra.
Seems like she agrees with me.
Cyril gave Rhamn a side-eye, his blue eyes narrowing for a moment.
Rhamn playfully clenched her teeth, waving her fist at Morpho.
“Traitor!”
…
The heated atmosphere between them continued even when it was finally time to practice the spell.
When the professor finished with his speech, he called out people towards the target one by one.
This time, he stood a little bit closer to the students.
Slowly, the students had their first go at a combat spell: a good, old-fashioned fireball.
Their goal was to hit the target some distance away.
The shimmering barrier around the dummy would change color depending on how much damage was done to it.
The deeper the change the better, naturally.
However, few managed to even hit the target.
The overconfident students found controlling the path of the spell to be more challenging than anticipated.
One particularly outstanding student even managed to throw the spell in a completely opposite direction, prompting their professor to use a barrier spell with a helpless face.
Eventually, it was Cyril’s turn.
With a red butterfly on his shoulder, he walked out in front of everyone and aimed his hand towards the target.
A magic circle formed on top of his hand.
It was filled with a complicated pattern that appeared almost like a flame.
The next moment, the circle collapsed in on itself, transforming into a ball of fire.
The whole process of casting a spell took about six seconds for him.
The fireball flew out in a straight line, striking the target right in the center.
A small explosion rang out, after which the barrier’s color changed to deep red, a sign of it being close to breaking.
“Very good, next…” Professor Richard calmly nodded, casting a spell to renew the barrier.
He didn’t sound too impressed, perhaps already expecting such results from him.
The students reacted similarly, though some had a hint of jealousy on their faces.
During this month, Cyril already cemented himself as a talented mage.
People would’ve been more surprised if he failed.
“Some awe would still be appreciated…”
The red butterfly cheerfully fluttered her wings, as if a human were clapping for an encore.
“Thank you!”
Cyril imperceptibly nodded towards the insect on his shoulder, then returned towards his spot near the crowd.
“Morpho also wants to say your spell smelled nice.
It was a good one.
You are improving steadily!”
…Tell her I say thanks.
The red butterfly had a most peculiar sense of smell, it turned out.
The next to try casting the spell was Rose.
Her face grew a little tense.
She threw a competitive glance to Cyril on the way.
Standing confident in front of all, Rose stretched her hand forward and formed a circle.
Her casting took about seven seconds.
A spike of pure fire flew out, heading for the target.
It hit the barrier and persisted for a few moments, continuously burning the same spot.
With that, the barrier’s color changed to red.
“Very good, next…” Professor Richard reacted with the same face, using the same words.
Rose walked back to her spot.
There was a somewhat unsatisfied look in her eyes, though it quickly vanished, replaced by a challenging spark towards Myra.
The auburn-haired girl took it without faltering.
After a few names were called, it was finally her turn.
Without any worries on her face, Myra stood in range of the target and sighed.
Suddenly, she threw her hand forward, a magic circle appearing in a split second.
A small ball of fire shot forward, reaching the target in a moment.
The barrier’s color changed to yellow, not exactly the best result in comparison.
However, her casting speed ended up being at only four seconds.
“Very good, next…” Professor Richard remained unimpressed.
With a confident look, Myra walked back, throwing Rose a glance.
“How about that?
Nothing fancy, but in the heat of battle, a simple spell like this is all you need.”
Rose’s face recovered its composure as she cleared her throat.
“I don’t know about that.
If a mage is careful with his barrier, you won’t be able to defeat them with that power,” she said before looking away, no longer paying Myra attention.
“This is not enough.”
Myra smirked, raising her head a little bit higher.
Though after a few seconds that smile melted away as her gaze turned distant.
With something close to concern, she looked at Cyril nearby, trying to glean an answer from something on his face.
“Hey, Cyril.
Who do you think will win between us?”
She treats this so seriously…
…
A fireball was actually a more difficult spell for a newbie mage.
Most regular people would only be able to cast it successfully after a year of practice.
This truly was class I of an elite academy of magic.
The majority of students here were able to send some sort of fiery projectile flying through the air, even if it fizzled out mid-flight or deviated from its intended path.
Few people managed to hit the target, but that was already considered impressive enough.
At this display of talent and preemptive education, Cyril gradually zoned out from boredom.
My senses have been becoming sharper lately…
My mana capacity is growing faster than what’s usually recorded.
The more mana one puts into a spell, the more powerful it becomes.
Owning to his distaste of magic, Cyril didn’t use much during his attempt, yet the fireball still proved itself quite destructive.
He felt he could make it several times more powerful.
According to what he had heard, such a result at his age was outstanding, to put it lightly.
Talent was an easy explanation.
However, owing to his experiences, Cyril had an inkling there was more to it.
He subtly glanced at Rhamn nearby, his eyes narrowing.
Rhamn sheepishly smiled, twirling a strand of her black hair.
“These changes are good, aren’t they?
You are becoming like a superhuman!”
Right.
His thoughts wondered towards the stone he consumed a month ago.
With the help of a local library, he tried to find out precisely what stone that was, but his search ended up being fruitless.
Going at it from another angle, Cyril looked into the manarail incident using the newspapers and his own knowledge.
The Lapis members from back then were escaping after robbing a trading company’s cargo transferred through the manarail.
Specifically, that cargo was from their mining endeavors outside the city.
It was supposed to transfer crystals, ore, and other mundane minerals.
Nothing extraordinary.
Additionally, during this month, no representative of that company tried to find Cyril to recover the stone, even though he somewhat expected it.
Is the stone’s value lower than I thought?
Or is that something that the company knows nothing about?
Either way, I have no idea what that was.
“That was something really good.
Hope we encounter another one soon.”
…I am not eating any more rocks.
At this moment a wave of exclamations went through the crowd of students around him.
It was a mixed reaction from a crowd observing a dramatic spectacle.
“…?”
What did I miss?
Cyril looked in confusion at the field, finding a familiar student standing in the open with a furious expression.
There were no signs of harm anywhere on his body.
Leo Arken?
Cyril and Morpho glanced at Myra nearby, but she looked similarly clueless.
It seems she wasn’t paying attention either.
“Leo Arken has a rivalry with Cedric,” Rose whispered at this moment, helplessly observing their shared confusion.
“Earlier Cedric got a good result, but now it’s Leo’s turn, and he performed worse.
Now Leo is getting mad.”
“Thank you,” Cyril whispered back, nodding in appreciation.
Cedric is involved in this?
That goody-two-shoes student Cyril met back in the manarail remained at the center of attention in this class.
Somehow, despite him being a commoner, many students have taken a liking to him.
But those who didn’t seemed to hate him with a passion.
It was truly an interesting thing to behold.
Of course, if he had to choose, Cyril would say he belonged to the latter.
“Cedric is just plain annoying.
Probably pretending to be good for attention.”
Caught up to speed, Cyril and Myra now paid attention to the blond-haired student wearing a hate-filled expression.
Leo Arken pointed at Cedric, his other hand clenched into a fist.
“You!
You must have cheated somehow!
I challenge you to a duel.
Do you dare accept?!” he said, his teeth clenched tightly together.
“Duel each other in the next Combat Training.” Professor Richard intervened at this moment.
“I am sure Professor Rendel would love your energy.”
He dismissively waved his hand, treating this with all the gravitas of a playground fight between kids.
Leo scoffed, then sent Cedric one last glare.
“You better be ready when the time comes.”
A bead of sweat rolled down Cedric’s forehead as he kept awkwardly smiling.
He ignored all the questions from the people around them, not returning one bit of that hostility.
“Cedric is going to get into trouble at this rate,” Myra whispered at this moment.
Cyril only sent her a blank gaze, as if to ask, ‘So?’
It was a classic tale of a commoner getting targeted by a noble.
It would no doubt be filled with twists and turns, but it also had nothing to do with them.
What was he supposed to do here?
Protect the commoner as a more powerful noble?
He wasn’t interested, nor was he willing to involve his family in these petty squabbles.
“Besides, let Cedric suffer!
How is that naive idiot even ranked second?
I’ll be cheering for Leo!
Hope he does something vile to him!”
Cedric, despite being a commoner, was ranked second in their grade.
It was a thing that surprised Cyril when he first learned it.
Throwing the matter out of his mind, Cyril calmly gazed at Myra.
“Their matters don’t concern us.”
“True…”