The instructor was a man carved from mediocrity. He was of average height, dressed in plain robes void of vibrant colors. Though some youth lingered in his features, it was obscured by a permanent furrow around his eyes, a testament to years of scowling. Still, he was decent-looking enough.
"Welcome to Magic Foundations. I will be your primary instructor for the term," he began, his voice dry. "This is my eighth year. I have seen every type of student and heard every excuse. I am not your parent. I am not your guardian. I am your educator and disciplinarian. Do not try to take advantage of me; it will not work. I treat you as adults; act like them. This is your first day. Perhaps other instructors will waste time with introductions and pleasantries, but Magic Theory stops for no one."
He paced the front of the room. "I am required to cover logistics first. Schedules may change after the first semester based on midterm scores, but the general format remains constant. The Academy bell rings at 07:00. Magic Theory runs from 08:00 to 10:00. If you are not in my class by 07:59, or if you leave before 10:00, you are absent. Academic subjects run from 10:00 to 13:00, resuming after lunch from 14:00 to 16:00. Magic Combat runs from 16:00 to 18:00. You are free until the 01:00 curfew. Meals are served at 07:00, 13:00, and 18:00."
"Food is provided only at those times. Attendance at meals is optional; additional sustenance costs Academy Credits. You receive a weekly stipend of 1,000 Credits. Save it, spend it—that is your choice. Attendance in class is technically not mandatory if your grades are satisfactory. However," his eyes narrowed, "instructors reserve the power to cut your stipend if grades slip. I do not know how lenient others are, but I will not hesitate to cut your funds if I see a correlation between absence and poor performance. If you skip my Magic Theory for even a day, you will fail. My supplementary classes cost 3,000 credits to start, plus 500 per session. They are available at lunch on weekdays and Sundays, barring religious obligations. I am unavailable Saturdays."
He leaned against his desk. "Skipping class to work on your Research Project is the only remotely justifiable excuse, but I do not condone it. You must submit your research before your fifth year to graduate. Time is allocated in your fourth year for this. Understanding the fundamentals is more important. It may seem impossible. If you lack an imaginative mind, it is impossible. Many former students—brilliant minds—failed to complete their Research Paper."
"They failed because they lacked commitment. It does not matter how smart or talented you are; if you become slothful, you will fail. Those who dedicated themselves graduated with their Diploma."
For the first time, the instructor's face shifted. He smiled.
"With this diploma, you can do anything. You can accelerate your apprenticeship at a Magic Tower or Knight Order. With your Research Paper, you can publish through the Intellectual Society or Mage Association, gaining recognition and riches. But contributing to your field is the greatest accomplishment. You will be remembered as a pioneer. A hero."
He placed a hand over his chest, glancing up at the faceless copper statue above the door, before quickly rearranging his expression into its default severity.
"Ahem. Research guidelines. Your fourth year is clear of classes. You may request your third year for research if you have the credits. If you fail to complete it in time, your fifth year will be spent here, not externally. I do not recommend this unless you are on the brink of a monumental breakthrough. As long as you submit by the end of the fifth year, you graduate. The topic must be a Magic field. If you wanted to research something else, you should not have enrolled in the School of Magic."
"Grading. It is not proportional to time. The five hours of academic subjects comprise 40% of your grade. The four hours of non-academic classes—Magic Theory and Combat—make up 60%. Magic Theory is required. You may change the other non-academic course to Swordsmanship or Divinity."
He paused for a single second. "Any questions?"
Before he could continue, a student spoke up. "What grade is considered passing?"
"I was just about to get to that." The instructor stared at the student for five long seconds. "What is your name?"
The student hesitated.
"I'll remember that."
The instructor turned back to the class. "Technically, 65% is passing in individual classes, but you must maintain a 70% average across all classes." He glanced at the interruptive student. "And regarding punishments: If you get anything less than a 90 in my class, your stipend will be cut."
He blinked slowly. "You would have to fail all academic subjects to be expelled. But if you fail any Magic class this semester, your spot is nullified. It will be as if you never set foot in this Academy."
Arthur felt his chest tighten. His feet dug into the floor, hands latching onto the desk edge as if gravity had suddenly reversed. He buried his head, desperate to hide.
"Introduction over. Unit One: The Definition of Magic. Magic is the manipulation of mana. This is the only universally accepted definition. Everything is made of mana—it gives life, it constitutes the earth, seas, and skies. But simply manipulating mana does not mean you can manipulate stable matter. Most mages only manipulate invisible, formless mana to imitate natural elements. Only the most skilled, like our Headmaster, can manipulate terrain. Only the Progenitor, the Human God, could manipulate life."
The instructor adjusted his tie, looking over the class. "You will learn more about the Human God in history. Mana manipulation takes infinite forms, but common applications—Elemental spells, Magic Shields, Body-Aura—fall under General Practice. We will discuss this in your second year. Priesthood students may take Divinity instead."
He shuffled his papers. "That is all. Take the homework from my desk. Proceed to your next class."
As the class filed out, the instructor's gaze snapped to the person ahead of Arthur.
"You."
Arthur froze.
"Don't think you'll be able to pass if you continue sleeping, Arthur. This is your first warning. Let it be your last."
"Of course, sir. I won't let it happen again."
Arthur tried to look sincere, but his facial muscles felt foreign, unused to the contortion of genuine emotion. He looked as he always did: brown eyes turned void-black under the shadow of his hair, eyes that pierced through everything yet allowed nothing to pierce them in return.
"Insolent," the instructor spat. "If you ever get anything less than perfect in my class, I will make sure the only food you eat is the free swill for the rest of your time here."
Arthur lowered his head and walked through the door.
My first day, and I've made an enemy of a professor already, Arthur thought, forcing his face into a grimace that wouldn't quite stick. Why won't you move the way I want you to?
He dropped his arms to his sides as a group of students approached.
He acted strict, but he sounded passionate. I really wanted a good relationship with him so we could discuss Magic Theory together, Arthur mused, his internal voice shifting to a cold, mocking cadence. Well, I guess the only thing I can do now is show him how dedicated I am. If he wants a perfect score, that's exactly what I'll give him.
A smile plastered itself onto his face, holding steady until 16:00.
This is fun! Everything here is so fun—
THUD.