“I swear, I have nothing to do with her! Really!”
Ray’s silver short hair stood on end like a prickly hedgehog, even more noticeably so.
Putting aside the rumors circulating outside, even his own people were looking at him with subtle, knowing glances—and that was particularly unbearable.
In his dormitory, a few of his close friends had gathered.
But everyone else was sitting at ease, while Ray alone stood like a prisoner on trial, pacing back and forth. His usually serious and composed expression was, for once, showing rare signs of cracking.
Someone pressed him back down into his seat.
“Alright, we believe you. That girl is too cunning—she didn’t give us any time to react, and we were all misled. By the time we figured it out, the rumors had already spread across the academy.”
“What exactly is she trying to achieve? Doing this is basically making an enemy of you to the death—it does her no good.”
“Maybe it’s the final frenzy of someone with no way out? She might think that Ray, for the sake of his own pride, would give her a boost and carry her through the freshman assessment.”
But with Ray’s personality, that was simply impossible. Once the assessment was over, Lily’s true colors would be fully exposed.
Ray frowned. “So the only way to prove my innocence is to wait until the freshman assessment?”
One of his friends let out a stifled snort of laughter. The word “innocence” applied to Ray was a bit amusing.
Ray shot him an unfriendly look, and the friend immediately coughed twice. “Ahem, yes, your innocence is very important.”
Another person suggested, “If you don’t want to wait, there’s a simpler solution. Find a chance to deal with her covertly—let her know the consequences of offending you. Once she’s scared, she’ll slink back home in disgrace.”
Ray pressed his lips together and remained silent. Everyone understood what that meant: he was unwilling.
There was no helping it—they knew Ray’s character well. He might seem unapproachable, but he was actually so upright that it bordered on excessive, placing great importance on principles and boundaries.
“Then you’ll just have to endure it a little longer.” His friend—no, his so-called “friend”—said in a teasing tone.
Ray pretended not to hear. He shifted the subject. “I feel like she’s acting abnormal.”
“She?”
“Lily. She was bold before, but never to this extent.”
Ray’s description was vague, but the others quickly grasped his meaning.
Being involved in the bet between Chris and Ray was one thing; dragging Ray into the mud and creating misunderstandings was another entirely.
In the former, Lily treated herself as a pawn. In the latter, she treated Ray as a pawn. Only someone with absolutely no reverence for Ray would dare to use him as a chess piece. Precisely because normal people wouldn’t dare, the rumors spread all the more fiercely.
The Magic Holy City revered magic above all else, and there was no need to bow to nobles from various domains in daily life. But Lily should at least have some basic awareness of social status, shouldn’t she? How dare she?
“Ray, could it be that Chris, just to see you make a fool of yourself, promised her benefits in exchange for dragging you down?”
“That possibility can’t be ruled out.” Ray thought for a moment, then added, “Have someone keep an eye on her—just in case she stirs up even more trouble.”
Previously, Ray had completely dismissed Lily as someone irrelevant, even though she was involved in the bet between him and Chris. But now, Ray was genuinely a little afraid of her.
He wasn’t afraid of those of high status, nor of those of low status—he was afraid of people who suddenly pulled off something unexpected! Lily had that potential, so he had to stay on guard.
…
At her desk, Lily, who was frantically writing, suddenly let out a loud sneeze. Even with her toes, she could guess who was thinking about her.
She didn’t know exactly what Ray was saying about her—and that didn’t matter.
It was true that she felt no reverence toward Ray and the others. She wasn’t the native-born Lily of this world; the education she had received was “kings and nobles, are they born any different?” Although in the end, she hadn’t managed to overthrow that damned boss of hers, some beliefs had long been deeply ingrained.
Still, she remained cautious of those people. She had already made up her mind to stay in her dorm as much as possible outside of class hours, to avoid being jumped and thrown into a sack.
Taking risks was necessary, but so was playing it safe and focusing on growth.
Fortunately, she also needed time to learn about this world’s magical system and knowledge. Lily still had all of the original Lily’s memories, but if she didn’t familiarize herself with them and adapt, her magical abilities would only be worse than before.
The gold coins in her pocket were her last safety net. For someone as destitute as her, exchanging money for credits was a losing deal. Lily still wanted to take a shot and pass the freshman assessment on her own merit.
The world’s basic magical elements were four: Water, Fire, Earth, and Air—giving rise to water magic, fire magic, earth magic, and wind magic.
The higher one’s affinity for a certain element, the easier it was to cast spells of that type.
Beyond the four basic magics, there were also ice magic, lightning magic, light magic, dark magic, and others.
Casting ice magic required a higher affinity for water elements; lightning magic required higher affinities for both fire and air elements…
Light magic and dark magic were the most unique—compared to elemental affinity, they depended more on other requirements. Light magic, for instance, required the caster’s sanctity. Dark magic required sacrifice and paying a price.
Mages used incantations, magic circle drawings, and other means to gather the free-flowing magical elements and transform them into their intended form, thereby completing the spell.
Thus, a mage’s aptitude was typically judged by three major traits.
Elemental affinity—this was mostly innate and very difficult to change later in life.
Comprehension, or imagination—if you couldn’t understand a spell’s existence or visualize its manifestation, you couldn’t cast it. Deconstructing magic was a key focus of the academy’s curriculum.
Mental strength—the “imagination” during spellcasting wasn’t daydreaming; it consumed mental energy. The more complex and higher-level the spell, the more mental energy it required. Meditation classes were also a required course at the academy.
Incantations, drawing magic circles, using compatible magical mediums, etc.—all of these were merely aids that helped mages communicate more smoothly with magical elements, made the magic conversion more fluid, and reduced mental energy consumption. If a mage was skilled enough, they could completely skip these processes.
Among the three items of the freshman assessment—mentorship—Lily decided to set aside for now.
The problem remained: Chris and Ray’s factions couldn’t possibly cover the entire academy, but if Lily didn’t demonstrate corresponding value, why would an instructor willingly invite trouble?
Once she established a foothold here, finding a mentor wouldn’t be difficult.
For the theoretical exam, Lily had initially planned to rely on her extensive test-taking experience. But she quickly realized that wouldn’t work.
It wasn’t the kind of exam where you could “highlight key points”; it was more like a test of knowledge reserves. As the saying goes, going beyond the syllabus wasn’t scary—what was scary was having no direction when it did.
Two years ago, there was a deconstruction question on intermediate magic, such as “Deconstruct the star-shaped magic circle in the Explosion spell.”
Last year, the out-of-syllabus questions were about magical beasts, such as “Precautions when encountering a Shadow Wolf in the wild.”
What would the academy use to stump the students this year? Who knew?
The theoretical exam was widely recognized as the hardest section to score points in—and for good reason.
As one instructor put it: This is the academy’s way of giving the freshmen a wake-up call. “Kid, the road ahead is long, you’re still green—learn from this.”
Lily silently circled the rules of the practical assessment. Her best chance at earning credits indeed lay here.
During the practical assessment, all freshmen could challenge any assessor. Assessors could freely choose three challengers as opponents. If no one challenged them, assessors could proactively challenge others. Three consecutive wins earned one credit.
Most people would arrange their opponents in advance, and barring any surprises, that credit was secure.
Of course, with instructors watching, slacking off too blatantly would leave a bad impression. Even if it was just sparring and practice, students would still strive to perform at their best.
Those who were confident enough, however, didn’t like exhibition matches—they actually hoped to encounter strong challengers.
Lily’s dilemma was this: she didn’t have the confidence to overpower her peers, nor could she find an opponent willing to hand her a free win.
The moment she stepped up, a whole crowd of classmates who could easily crush her would likely stand out. That was why the original Lily had pinned her hopes on dark magic.
If the current Lily wanted to win, she also had to prepare one or two trump cards.
She began practicing her spellcasting: “Spirit of water, heed my call in the name of the water arrow!”
Was magic incantation too cringey and embarrassing? Lily had thought so at first. But then she shifted her perspective: just think of these elemental spirits as AI robots, and she was loudly activating their programs.
That suddenly made the whole scene feel much more reasonable.
This was a basic water-element spell—Water Arrow.
Of course, the same Water Arrow spell could take many different forms depending on the caster’s level of control.
The original Lily had learned four basic spells: Water Arrow, Fireburst, Gentle Breeze, and Earth Mound. Among them, Water Arrow was the one she was most familiar with, and she had also mastered some simple variations.
“Spirit of water, heed my command—bend the water arrow!”
As Lily formed hand seals, a stream of water burst from her fingertips, shaping into a slender arrow that shot forward, made a sharp turn, and struck the mirror in the corner of the dorm.
With a crash, the mirror shattered.
The water dissipated from Lily’s fingertips.
Lily felt a bit helpless. The evidence showed she hadn’t gotten the “transmigrate and instantly become a genius” script—her elemental affinity was pretty much the same as before. Maybe affinity was tied to the body’s genes rather than the soul?
At any rate, when she cast spells, she could see countless specks of light floating in the air. The corresponding specks were drawn to her incantation, but they seemed rather indifferent and reluctant to respond. There was a clear sluggishness in her spellcasting.
Lily tried all four basic spells, and her face turned pale from the mental energy expenditure. Her conclusion: this was going to be tough!
Earth Mound—she could only raise a tiny pile of dirt. What was she supposed to do with that—trip someone up at a critical moment?
Gentle Breeze—probably best used if her opponent was getting too hot and needed a cool-down.
Fire magic generally performed well in combat. Fireburst was a favorite among many freshmen for practical battles, often paired with Gentle Breeze to let the wind fuel the flames for greater damage.
But Lily’s Fireburst produced such a small flame! Who knew whether the wind would end up fueling the fire or extinguishing it? She didn’t dare pin her hopes on that.
Her best spell, Water Arrow, had the potential to catch someone off guard with a sharp turn at the last moment, but its damage output was too low.
Lily felt the muscles on her body and started considering the viability of going down the path of a battlemage.
Should she just rush in and punch people while they were still chanting?
The practical rules prohibited the use of magical items, but they didn’t say victory had to be achieved through “magic.” Turning a magic duel into a brawl wasn’t entirely out of the question.
Unfortunately, her physique didn’t give her a crushing advantage…
Thinking of that, Lily couldn’t help but smack her own forehead. What a shame she wasn’t the kind of STEM prodigy with the hands-on skills to pull off something questionable—otherwise, she could have cobbled together a homemade revolver, and the assessment would have been in the bag.
Gun-fu was still “fu,” and as a mage, she ought to be inclusive, right?
If guns were useful, could her modern knowledge come in handy elsewhere?
Lily’s mind started racing.
For instance, her Fireburst was too weak, and even paired with Gentle Breeze it wasn’t much use—but what if she added gasoline? Well, this world didn’t have gasoline, but it did have fire oil, which worked just as well.
Still, Lily had to consider two problems.
One was controllability. Could she ensure the fire wouldn’t spread back onto herself? That was tricky.
The other problem was: in a duel between classmates (even if others might not see her as a classmate), was it really necessary to go that hard? Could the supervising instructors control the fire in time and rescue the students? They probably could. But what if they couldn’t?
Lily quietly moved that plan to the very bottom of her list—a last resort she didn’t want to use. She might not revere a certain noble, but she did revere life.
Dragging Ray into the mud and publicly embarrassing him—Lily could do that without any psychological burden. But arson and murder were another matter entirely.
What if she focused on practicing Water Arrow, aiming for vital spots to maximize lethality?
Actually, the magic world did have the common sense of “aiming for weak points,” but did they know where the major arteries were?
Uh, she seemed to be drifting toward one-hit-kill territory again… Lily hastily reined in her thoughts.