The moment Helen stepped through the classroom doorway, a hush rippled through the students. Conversations faltered mid-sentence. Heads swiveled. Dozens of gazes fixed on her, bright, curious, hungry.

  Helen straightened the golden Prefect badge pinned to her navy-blue uniform and brushed one of her braids over her shoulder. She walked toward her seat with practiced poise, fully aware of the anticipation simmering around her. Thankfully, the students restrained themselves long enough to let her sit.

  Pretending to be nonchalant and oblivious to the tension-filled classroom, she pulled her textbook and notebook out of her bag and opened them with deliberate calm.

  "Helen, you were at the exam, right?"

  "I heard the new student got a near-perfect score on the written test—is that true?"

  "Dmitry said the mana reading was insane—almost blinded him—"

  The barrage of questions poured over Helen, like a waterfall.

  Ah, Dmitry. So that's how the rumors spread so fast? I should have known.

  Helen's gaze flicked toward the empty seat in the far left row.

  Dmitry was a troublemaker who constantly poked his nose where it didn't belong. But his grasp of magic was extraordinary; that was why he was in the same advanced classes as Helen.

  "Do you know what his mana level was? Can you tell us?"

  Helen couldn't help but smile.

  Despite her serious demeanor, she thrived on this sort of attention. Information was power here—real power. In an academy where every student's family owned at least one mansion and could purchase any material item their hearts desired, such knowledge was a unique currency that elevated Helen to a stature above being merely a Prime Minister's daughter and a Prefect.

  Having all the answers elevated her above them all.

  "It's true," Helen said, taking her time, savoring how the crowd leaned in, hanging on her every word. "He scored ninety-nine out of a hundred on the written exam."

  Gasps echoed around her.

  "Is that a new record?"

  "What grade will he be placed in, I wonder?"

  "And as for his mana level," she continued lightly, and the crowd grew silent, for fear of missing her insight. "Professor Scholz said he was a once-in-ten-thousand-years talent."

  The reaction was instant—a burst of chatter, awe, disbelief.

  "But what was his level?" someone dared to ask.

  Helen's smile faded. She turned toward the voice, a faint frown crossing her face.

  "The mana level reader was unable to record it," she said.

  A hush fell over the students.

  "But… isn't it capable of recording up to a thousand belden?" a boy asked hesitantly.

  Helen held his gaze and nodded solemnly.

  "Yes. It can measure up to a thousand," she stated.

  Another murmur rolled through the crowd. There was an electric unease.

  "Doesn't it mean his level is beyond it?"

  "Obviously—that's why Professor Scholtz said he was a one in ten-thousand-years talent."

  "Or maybe the reader malfunctioned."

  "It wasn't broken," Helen said firmly.

  The students murmured in awe amongst themselves.

  That's when Helen decided it was the opportune time to drop the absolute bomb, one that even Dmitry hadn't been able to spread.

  "The most unusual part," Helen said casually, "was that he had never practiced magic before that moment."

  The effect was instant. Faces scrunched in confusion. A few jaws dropped.

  Helen glowed in satisfaction at the confused faces of her peers.

  "How is that possible?"

  "That doesn't make any sense—"

  "He channeled that much mana with no training?"

  Questions poured in, chaotic and overlapping, but Helen didn't need to answer them. She had one final card, and she intended to play it with flourish.

  "Given his extraordinary mana level and total lack of training," Helen said, lowering her voice for dramatic effect, "half of the professors argued he should be sent straight to Glimver Dungeon. The other half insisted he must be accepted as a student and trained."

  A collective shiver ran through the group.

  Glimver Dungeon was a place reserved for the worst of the worst criminals. Even the wealthiest children went pale at the name and what its mention indicated: he was dangerous.

  The crowd's opinion split immediately, as did the professors' in the exam hall. Half were terrified at the idea of someone like that walking free, while the other half was outraged that such a talent might rot away in a hole underground.

  "What was ultimately decided?" someone finally posed the question to Helen, and the crowd was silenced, eager to hear Helen speak. All eyes turned toward her.

  Helen smiled. This—this moment right here—was why she loved being a Prefect.

  "The headmaster—"

  But she didn't have the satisfaction of finishing her revelation.

  Someone had entered the classroom, and every head swivelled toward this new arrival.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  A hush fell over the class, different from before, heavy with shock.

  "Hey… those are Black Mana Cuffs," someone whispered.

  "Aren't they worn only by the highest grade criminals. They reduce one's mana to that of a dead man."

  Helen stood up to get a proper view over the crowd surrounding her desk.

  There he was. Black-haired, pale, and golden-eyed. Thick leather mana-suppressing shackles were clamped around his wrists, ankles, and even neck.

  She missed her opportunity to reveal the verdict, but she could still do the honors of introducing the person under discussion. Besides, she was the only student who had any conversation with him.

  "Ah, you must be Luca Frey—"

  However, even that bit of satisfaction was pulled out from her like a rug.

  "I'm Dmitry Oliynyk," the blonde troublemaker announced brightly, striding into the room with uncanny timing, stealing her thunder. "Come on, you can sit with me."

  He smiled and motioned for the black haired monstrous mage to follow him to a seat at the front, on the far left.

  Helen's jaw tightened.

  The murmurs roared back to life, but before anyone could approach Luca, the instructor swept into the room, her purple robes fluttering.

  "Alright, class," she said briskly, not sparing even a glance at Luca and his Black Mana shackles, "open your textbooks to page fifty-seven."

  And just like that, the classroom snapped back into routine.

  * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  "You can reference my textbook," Dmitry said, pulling out a book that looked like it'd been through a battle and its corners chewed by a dog.

  "Thank you," I replied.

  I recognized him immediately; he was the blonde boy that I saw an instructor pull away by his ear a few days back, and the same one who peeked in on my exam from the second-floor window.

  "How are they?" Dmitry whispered, nodding toward the leather cuffs on my wrists and neck. "I heard those things suppress your mana down to fifty belden."

  I strained from breaking out into a laugh.

  Fifty? My actual mana was at a mere four. A limit of fifty was nothing.

  "It's not too bad," I said lightly. "They're more comfortable than they look. The neck one's a little annoying, though. And I can't remove any of them, so that is a bit inconvenient."

  The Black Mana Cuffs were the compromise the headmaster devised—restrictive enough to soothe the paranoid professors, and permissive enough to allow me to utilize magic. In this realm, the common belief was that even a fresh corpse had at least fifty belden to its mana core. Luckily, limiting someone below fifty was considered downright uncivilized torment.

  Buttery soft black leather wrapped around my wrists, ankles, and throat. Tiny black mana stones were embedded throughout the leather and intricate silver runes were etched along the cuffs. Visually, they could have passed off as an eccentric accessory back in my realm. They constricted the flow of mana along the meridians, ensuring no spell I cast could exceed a tightly regulated threshold.

  For a normal mage, wearing these was supposedly agony—like trying to breathe through a thick blanket.

  But with my mana core sitting at a pathetic four belden?

  The suppression barely registered. The only real discomfort came from the physical presence of the cuffs themselves… and even these were crafted for extended use, smooth and flexible against the skin.

  All in all, I'd been in far more discomfort compared to now.

  I adjusted the navy blue blazer and the striped tie over my white shirt, which indicated my being a student of this prestigious academy. Apart from my tuition being covered, everything from food and lodging, down to my attire had been provided free of charge. And best of all? No expectation that I use magic. None.

  Honestly, these constraints were a reasonable tradeoff.

  "Where are you staying, by the way?" Dmitry asked as the class came to an end. I had grasped a quarter of all that the instructor taught.

  ~Is it finally over? Apophis hissed from my shoulder. Such a basic class. I fell asleep.

  Tsk. I'll have to have Apophis explain it all to me later then.

  "Has your dorm been decided on yet?" Dmitry added.

  I nodded and pulled out the folded slip of paper. "Got it today. Haven't moved in yet, though."

  Until now, I'd been living in Professor Sullivan's office—a strange but surprisingly cozy arrangement. Apparently, my housing had been a matter of heated debate. The academy deemed me too "unstable" to room with an unsuspecting student. Personally, I thought the concern was excessive. With my mana muffled to nothing, I posed as much of a threat as a decorative vase.

  But the academy was concerned regarding potential complaints from the influential parents of my privileged peers. Which… was understandable. I had been one vote away from being locked up in some high-security prison after all.

  Dmitry leaned over the paper. "Ah, that's in the east wing. I can show you—"

  "Where are you going, young man?" The instructor grabbed my new friend by the scruff of his collar. "You're to help me clean all the vials after class, remember?"

  "Right! Sorry, Luca!" Dmitry called helplessly as he was dragged away.

  I glanced around, but everyone else seemed to prefer to keep their distance.

  And the Prefect girl that I saw at the exam—the lone familiar face—had already left for her next class.

  Oh well. It's not like I had time to go check out my new dorm yet, either.

  I reviewed my schedule and map. My next class was upstairs. Turning on my heel, I followed the wide stone corridor.

  Students did double-takes as I passed.

  "That's him, isn't it?"

  "Scary…"

  "I heard from a friend of a friend that he almost blew up the exam hall—"

  Their stares and whispers were expected, though still uncomfortable. I climbed the stairs toward my classroom when a voice rang out, sharp and directed at me.

  "So you're that monstrous mage, huh?"

  I turned and saw three guys, roughly my age.

  The center one had wavy brown hair, a self-satisfied smirk, and, interestingly, a mechanical arm where his right one ought to have been. It was of polished metal and had several glowing runes. Behind him were two others that reminded me of the two Bobs from my misadventures in Genise's palace dungeon: one as thin as a stick and the other broad as a boar.

  The trio was clearly not here to make friends and show me around.

  ~Ah, youth. There are always these sorts. How refreshing.

  I knew precisely what Apophis meant. I'd met many like them during my turbulent life in East Genise's back alleys. Such types were eager to establish dominance, push others down, and carve out a hierarchy with themselves on top.

  "Aegus," the boar-like one whispered, "isn't he supposed to have over a thousand belden?"

  "You believed that rumor?" Aegus scoffed. "Even if it's true, with those cuffs on, he's harmless."

  "Yeah, fifty belden is nothing," the stick-thin boy added.

  I smiled at the preposterous words I was hearing.

  What could I do? Honestly, not much. But back in my realm, a mage with a mana core of fifty belden was considered quite exceptional. Sure, there was a lack of powerful mages, but they all made the most of what little they had. In retrospect, the mages in this realm seemed to squander their mana, utilizing more than needed, on useless things like taking down their notes.

  I motioned my right hand's fingers and activated the Random Character Checker for Aegus.

  [ Aegus Matrinovo: Lost his right arm at age eight while protecting his grandmother from intruders. The arm was burned to ash. ]

  I raised a brow. The contrast between the heroic child and the pompous bully before me was… amusing.

  I suppose we all change with time, and have our good and bad characteristics.

  "You think this is funny?" Aegus snapped, stepping forward.

  "Yes," I stated, not bothering to correct him. "You're picking a fight with me despite knowing who I am and why I'm wearing these?"

  I lifted my wrists slightly, allowing my sleeves to reveal more of the Black Mana Cuffs.

  This guy could mop the floor with me, given my actual tiny mana core. But he didn't need to know that.

  "And? You can't do anything with those—?"

  "Apophis, is there anyone else I need to be aware of apart from these three?" I didn't bother with Illusion magic, speaking aloud to avoid unnecessary mana expenditure.

  I wasn't speaking the language of this realm anyhow, so no one else would have understood me. And from my experience, playing the crazy card and confusing my opponent in such situations was the best approach.

  ~No, it's just these three.

  Good. I can do this without expending much mana then.

  "What'd you say?" Aegus squinted.

  I focused on the three sets of eyes before me. And for Aegus, I prepared something… special.

  "Let's reintroduce ourselves, shall we?" I said brightly, extending my right hand.

  Then illusion met perception. I clasped his right hand. Not his metallic arm, but his actual blood and flesh right hand, which I produced in an illusion for all three to see. But for Aegus specifically, I ensured that he felt his fingers around mine.

  His gaze flickered downward in shock as he felt fingers where none existed. Warm. Soft. Alive. A sensation he probably hadn't felt in over a decade.

  "My name is Luca Frey," I said pleasantly, holding his hand firmly in place. "And you're Aegus Matrinovo, right?"

  His breath hitched.

  "What would your grandmother think," I added softly, tightening the illusion of warmth and the hardening clasp of my hand, "if she saw you now?"

  Aegus's face drained of color. The stick-thin boy froze. The boar-like one swallowed loudly.

  I smiled wider.

  "Let's get along instead. Hmm?"

  Ch 262 on Patreon. :)