The following week, the Dark Magic instructor walked into the classroom looking as though he were preparing to personally officiate a funeral.

  To be fair, the topic of the lesson was equally grim.

  He slammed his palm flat against his desk. "Today, you will touch the most dangerous, ancient, and... alive form of Dark Magic." He let the silence stretch. "Blood Magic."

  The entire class fell dead silent. Even Finn, who usually lacked the physical ability to keep his mouth shut, swallowed hard.

  "To prevent you all from accidentally bleeding to death before lunch, we will start with the absolute basics," the instructor continued. "First: you must feel the blood within your own body. Feel its movement. Its pulsation. Its heat. Feel your own life force."

  He slowly traced a finger down his own wrist.

  "Blood Magic is not merely about opening wounds. It is about seizing control of the very essence of life. If you make a mistake today, you will faint. You will disrupt the rhythm of your own heart. Or worse."

  More than a few students audibly gulped.

  Tara straightened her posture, looking as rigid as a soldier bracing for impact. Astra nervously adjusted the collar of her robes. Elinia, for the first time in weeks, was completely serious—no arrogant smile, no competitive fire. Lucille listened with cold, clinical concentration.

  And me? I already knew this was going to be insultingly easy. Too natural. For a demon, manipulating blood was like breathing. But I absolutely could not let anyone see that.

  Exercise 1: Sensing the Blood

  "Close your eyes," the instructor ordered. "Feel the movement of blood in your fingertips... in your palms... in your chest."

  A minute later, the classroom was filled with tense, uneasy sounds. Someone was breathing heavily. Someone was grinding their teeth. Several students looked visibly panicked by their own heightened internal sensations.

  But for three people, the exercise was flawless.

  Elinia was in a state of absolute concentration, her breathing slowing to an almost imperceptible rhythm. Lucille was steady and calm, analyzing her own biology as if reading a mathematical formula.

  And I... I felt everything instantaneously. The rhythm, the hydrostatic pressure, the temperature, the kinetic force of the flow... It was child's play. But I made sure to twitch slightly, playing the role of a normal, slightly uncomfortable student.

  Exercise 2: Halting the Flow

  The instructor handed out small, enchanted scalpels.

  "Make a small incision on the pad of your index finger," he instructed. "Just a drop. Your task is to block the flow of blood from the wound without physically touching it."

  The class erupted into nervous murmurs.

  "How are we... supposed to even do that?!" Finn demanded.

  "You apply mana pressure to the localized bloodstream," the instructor explained. "You contain it. You halt it. But do not constrict the flow to your heart. Otherwise..." He left the threat hanging in the air.

  And then, the disaster occurred.

  Finn confidently sliced his finger. He watched the first bead of blood well up. "Ha! Easy! Watch me just... ugh..."

  His face drained of all color. He swayed on his feet. "Um... guys... I think something's..."

  He collapsed onto the floor like a sack of bricks. A second later, blood erupted from his nose like a ruptured geyser.

  Kairen yelled in panic. Astra sprinted toward him. Edgar dove to catch his head before it hit the stone. The instructor was there in a fraction of a second.

  "You absolute idiot!" the instructor roared, pressing his glowing hand to Finn's chest to violently stabilize his blood pressure. "You tried to clamp down on the blood flow of your entire body! Are you trying to give yourself a fatal aneurysm on the first day?!"

  A minute later, Finn was revived. He sat on the floor, pale as a ghost and shaking violently. "Um... I... I just wanted to impress everyone..."

  Elinia shook her head in sheer disgust. "You should try impressing your own brain first."

  When it was my turn, I made a small cut. A single drop of blood surfaced. I exerted the absolute bare minimum of mana control, and the bleeding stopped instantly. No effort. No delay.

  I immediately forced my face into a grimace of strained concentration. "Hhh... did I get it?"

  The instructor looked at my finger. Then he looked at my face. He stared at me for a very long time... but said nothing.

  Elinia succeeded quickly as well; her blood seemed to naturally obey her royal will. Lucille's success was clean and precise.

  The rest of the class, however, was a chaotic mess.

  "Tara, do not apply so much pressure, your entire finger is turning blue!" "Reynar, you have reversed the localized flow! Stop immediately!" "Astra, you are instinctively healing the tissue, not controlling the blood! Stop casting Light magic!" "Noah... why is your blood disappearing?" "...It's an illusion, sir." "BRING IT BACK, LEVANDER!"

  The instructor aggressively rubbed his temples.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  How I Accidentally Became the Blood Magic Tutor

  The next day, Finn approached me in the corridor. He wasn't loud. He wasn't arrogant. He looked slightly embarrassed and deeply humbled.

  He scratched the back of his neck. "Hey... Zen... You're... uh... really good at that thing, right? Stopping the blood. Could you... like... explain it to me again?"

  At first, I thought he was joking. But he wasn't. He looked at me with the honest desperation of a teenager who had nearly accidentally assassinated himself the day before.

  I sighed. "Alright."

  But I completely underestimated what would happen next.

  We were standing near the lower training grounds. "You are applying too much pressure with your mana," I told Finn plainly. "That's your fundamental mistake."

  Finn blinked. "Then how... am I supposed to do it?"

  I raised my finger. "Look. Stopping blood is exactly like controlling ambient water. You don't crush it. You contain it."

  Other students who had been walking past stopped in their tracks and turned their heads. Elinia. Siren. Astra. Reynar. Even Noah, who usually pretended to be entirely above such mortal struggles.

  "You create a microscopic mana-film right at the edge of the wound," I demonstrated, using a tiny wisp of visible mana. "Not across the entire finger. Just the edges. It's like holding water in a cup—you aren't forcing the water to disappear. You are simply refusing to let it spill."

  Finn stared at my finger as if I had just revealed the secrets of the cosmos.

  Astra leaned in closely. "Wait... so the wound should technically still be bleeding internally?"

  I nodded. "Yes. The blood must continue to circulate beneath the surface. If you completely block the localized kinetic movement, the wound will never naturally seal. It will just remain an open, stagnant hole."

  Edgar smacked his forehead with his massive palm. "So THAT'S why my skin wouldn't close! I was acting like a tourniquet and cutting off the entire supply line!"

  Miella frowned. "I thought we were supposed to just... crush it with magic."

  I chuckled. "No. Blunt pressure is a mistake. Blood hates being pushed. It is a living current. It obeys when you provide it with boundaries, not when you give it an aggressive command."

  And right then... everyone started practicing. Simultaneously.

  Some made tiny nicks on their fingers. Others just simulated the mana control.

  And within minutes: "I did it!!" "Are you serious?!" "It actually worked!" "I got it on the first try!"

  Even the swordsmen—the most physically reliant and stubborn students in the class—mastered the technique with shocking speed.

  Siren nodded thoughtfully. "It is very similar to the micro-management of breathing and muscle tension... highly logical."

  Astra was beaming. "I can isolate the epidermal layer without disrupting the internal circulation! This changes everything about triage healing!"

  And then, Princess Elinia walked over. Not proud. Not arrogant. Just deeply curious.

  "Helvard," she said calmly. "Your explanation was infinitely better than the instructor's."

  I shrugged. "I just... understand the underlying principle."

  Lucille turned to me, her analytical eyes narrowing. "You said exactly one sentence, and the entire technique became simple. How do you... notice these microscopic details?"

  I nearly answered, Because I am a Demon King who has manipulated the blood of thousands exactly as I manipulate water.

  Instead, I smiled softly. "I just treat blood as if it were a warmer, slightly more stubborn form of water."

  Finn punched me in the shoulder—in a friendly, non-lethal way for the first time ever. "Zen! You're an absolute monster! In a good way!"

  The summary of the day: Blood Magic was considered one of the most terrifying and lethal subjects in the Academy. But in a single afternoon, the Elite Class stopped fearing it, mastered the absolute basics, and started looking at me... not as the "cowardly weakling," but as a boy whose understanding of magic was terrifyingly deep.

  It was highly dangerous for my cover. But... I couldn't deny that it felt nice.

  The final trial of the week took place in the heavily warded arena of the Medical Ward.

  The instructor walked to the center of the room. His face was grim. He carried a sterile metal case filled with surgical instruments.

  "Today," he announced, "is your true examination. No more child's play with pinpricks. No more controlling a single drop. This is a legitimate test of magical maturity."

  The class fell silent.

  "Each of you will receive a magically enhanced laceration. A hand's-breadth wide. Deep enough to expose the muscle tissue. Your objective: halt the blood flow entirely for exactly three minutes. After the three minutes are up, the Royal Healers will restore your tissue completely."

  The silence in the room became suffocating. Even Finn stopped pretending to be brave.

  One by one, the students were called to the center. A specialized medical ward cast the laceration—not with a blade, but with a precise slice of pure, surgical mana.

  The wounds weren't life-threatening... but they looked absolutely horrifying. They were the kind of wounds that made you want to scream and immediately pass out.

  But, astonishingly... almost everyone endured.

  Siren handled it calmly, as if deep in meditation. Miella gritted her teeth, practically holding her blood inside through sheer willpower and swordsman's grit. Edgar cursed loudly the entire three minutes, but his control held. Lucille was flawless, acting as if she possessed a mechanical shut-off valve in her abdomen.

  Finn... well... he collapsed onto his back dramatically, whining the entire time, but he technically passed the time limit.

  And then, it was Elinia's turn.

  The Crown Heir. The girl who wielded the power of four elements. The prodigy who never, ever lost.

  She lay back on the medical slab. The instructor activated the surgical seal. A deep, horizontal laceration appeared across her stomach—wide and vivid, like a brutal scar from a battlefield.

  Elinia flinched violently. Her eyes widened in pure shock.

  She desperately tried to clamp down on the blood... but instead, her panic caused her heart rate to spike, and the blood surged faster.

  "Elinia!" someone cried out.

  Even the instructor took a rapid step forward, his hands glowing with stabilization magic, ready to intervene.

  The Princess didn't scream. But her shoulders trembled violently.

  She had never experienced the visceral, agonizing pain of true, life-threatening combat. She had never seen so much of her own blood spilling out of her.

  She was panicking. The blood was escaping faster than her frantic mana could build a barrier. Her aura was shaking, as if the magic itself was terrified.

  For the very first time, the entire Elite Class saw her true, unmasked weakness.

  And right at that exact moment... her panicked eyes locked onto mine.

  I was standing near the back of the room, my arms crossed over my chest. Completely relaxed. Absolutely calm.

  And, I must admit... I smirked at her.

  Just a little bit. Barely noticeable. But enough.

  A smirk that clearly communicated: Well? Are you going to pass the exam, or are you going to cry?

  Her eyes flared.

  Her royal pride ignited, burning instantly hotter than her pain and her fear.

  In a fraction of a second, her trembling mana stabilized. The frantic blood flow slowed to a crawl. The stream narrowed. And with an almost perfect, viciously precise motion, she sealed the massive wound beneath a flawless film of high-density mana.

  "Time!" the instructor called out.

  Elinia let out a massive, shuddering exhale. The Royal Healer immediately rushed forward, casting a high-tier restorative spell that knit her flesh back together without a scar.

  The Princess sat up slowly. She covered her mouth with her hand, desperately trying to hide the lingering... emotions threatening to spill over.

  As she walked back to the group, passing by me, she discreetly drove her elbow hard into my ribs.

  "You... are an absolute bastard," she whispered fiercely. "...But thank you."

  I offered a polite, shallow bow. "Always happy to be of service, Your Highness."

  She scoffed quietly. But she wasn't trembling anymore.

  Everyone passed the exam. Even Elinia.

  But only one distinct moment was burned into everyone's memory that day.

  The Crown Heir had, for the very first time, experienced true fear. And for the very first time, she had overcome it... entirely because I had pissed her off.

  Zenkhald Helvard... I am going to utterly destroy you, she was undoubtedly thinking.

  And me? I just smiled.