The dorm room erupted into chaos the second the screeching bell sounded.
Darius sat up with a jerk, sheets tangled around his legs, blinking against the morning light slanting through the window. Across the room, Kai was already halfway into his robes, trying to yank his boot on one foot while hopping in a small circle.
"We’re late," Kai said, not panicking—yet.
Aiden groaned from the top bunk and rolled over before pushing himself up, bleary-eyed. "Bell rang early or we slept like rocks again?"
Darius glanced around and scrambled out of bed. The room was a ss—robes flung over chairs, boots half-kicked off near the foot of the beds, soone’s journal pages scattered on the floor. He grabbed for the cleanest-looking uniform shirt he could find, yanking it over his head while trying to locate his belt.
"I swear I heard nothing," Darius muttered.
Kai pulled his jacket over his shoulders and summoned his schedule scroll with a flick of his fingers. A neat projection floated mid-air, shimring faintly with golden lines. He squinted at it and groaned.
"Elental class first thing."
Aiden, now brushing his teeth with his hair still sticking up like a brush, made a noise that could only be interpreted as despair.
Darius grabbed his own scroll and activated it. Sure enough, the sa glowing text stared back at him: Elental Manipulation – Professor Ignatius – Room 5, South Wing.
"Of course it’s him," he muttered.
"What?" Kai asked, strapping on his belt.
"Nothing."
They rushed down the hallway, practically jogging down two flights of stairs. The academy’s morning buzz was already in full swing, with students walking briskly in every direction, robes flaring behind them. Soone bumped into Kai in the hallway, muttering a quick apology as they disappeared around a corner.
The three of them slowed just enough to grab sothing from the breakfast kiosk—so kind of warm, wrapped bread and fruit drink—before heading toward his class.
"You think Ignatius will roast us if we’re late?" Aiden asked, biting into his wrap.
Kai snorted. "He probably already has the speech morized."
"Maybe he won’t notice," Darius offered, though even he didn’t believe that.
They reached the hallway outside the classroom just as the rest of the students were filing in. The door was still open, thank god, and Darius exhaled a small breath of relief.
The classroom was as he rembered it: rows of desks arranged in precise lines, the glow-crystal lights set into the walls casting a warm, balanced hue across the space. The center of the room was empty, reserved for spell demonstrations, while the blackboard shimred faintly with lingering glyphs from whatever had been taught the day before.
The air felt charged.
Darius stepped inside, not bothering to hide how relieved he was they made it before the door sealed. Aiden and Kai flanked him, casual as ever.
From the front of the class, Professor Ignatius looked up.
His robe, as always, shimred between fla-toned gold, ocean-blue waves, and drifting wind patterns, catching the light like sothing alive. His mismatched eyes—one golden like sunlight, the other oceanic and deep—locked on Darius imdiately.
Professor Ignatius raised a brow, but didn’t smile this ti.
"Find your seats, all of you," he said, voice even but firm. "You’re lucky class hasn’t begun yet."
Darius, Aiden, and Kai slid into the nearest available desks, and Darius murmured a quiet, "Apologies, sir," as he bowed his head slightly. He could feel the eyes on him. Again. But he stayed calm.
Ignatius studied him for a mont longer. His gaze dipped—not with judgnt, but with sothing almost analytical, as if asuring sothing beneath the surface.
"Hm," the professor said thoughtfully. "Second ti this week, Wycliffe. I expected better."
"Yes, sir," Darius answered quickly.
The professor didn’t press further. He stepped back toward the center of the room, but his expression lingered in subtle interest. "See after class."
A few murmurs rippled among the students.
Darius straightened in his seat, trying not to show the wave of nerves building in his stomach.
Ignatius raised a hand and, with a single pulse of mana, the blackboard shimred to life. Glyphs rearranged, forming the four core elental symbols—fire, water, earth, and wind—each surrounded by faint diagrams of defensive formations.
"Let’s begin."
He turned back to the class, his expression now fully settled into teacher-mode—intense, charismatic, absolutely in control.
"You’ve all spent ti launching spells at targets, setting things on fire, breaking stone tiles, and feeling quite proud of yourselves for it." His tone had just enough sarcasm to draw a few quiet chuckles. "But any fool with a mana core and decent lungs can cast an offensive spell. The real question is: can you survive one?"
Silence.
Ignatius paced slowly across the room, hands clasped behind his back. "Magic isn’t about who hits first. It’s about who’s still standing at the end."
He gestured to the board. The elental glyphs began to animate, showing stylized figures conjuring basic shields, dos, and barriers.
"Let’s talk defense. Each elent can serve in a defensive capacity—but how depends on your approach."
He snapped his fingers, and the fire symbol flared bright red. "Fire: the most misunderstood elent. People think of it only as chaos, destruction, raw power. But it can burn away spells mid-cast, create radiant walls to blind, or redirect heat to absorb impact. A defensive fire mage can ward off hexes before they take shape."
The symbol shifted to water. "Water, often mistaken as purely passive, is the art of redirection. It absorbs, it flows, it deflects. Defensive water mages can coil spells around themselves like armor—or disperse impact by manipulating pressure."
He moved to earth. "Earth is the fortress. Reinforcent, grounding, resistance. But more than that—it’s predictive. A good earth mage feels the vibration of the battlefield before anything hits. They don’t block. They prepare."
And finally, wind. The glyph swirled into a loop, like a moving current. "Wind is evasion. It bends. Disperses. Undoes. It’s the art of misdirection and delay. You don’t stop the spell—you make it miss."
He let that hang for a beat, then snapped again. All four glyphs reset.
"Now. Let be clear. None of you are true elentalists. Yet. You wield affinities. You play at control. But to truly defend yourself using an elent—one must beco a part of it. That brings us to today’s focus."
The glyphs faded, and a new one erged—different, more complex. A series of interwoven sigils surrounding a core node, almost like a heartbeat in a web.
"Elental Body."
That got reactions.
A few students sat forward. Others whispered. Even Kai looked intrigued.
Ignatius didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.
"This technique is ancient," he said. "And difficult. Very few mages achieve it, even fewer in their first decade of serious study. But it is, without question, one of the most powerful defenses in existence."
He extended his hand. A flicker of electricity sparked up his wrist, then vanished beneath his skin. "It requires you to circulate your mana through every part of your body—not just to cast, but to beco. And then, you must infuse that flow with elental essence."
He closed his fist.
"When done correctly, the body becos a conduit. It mimics the behavior of the elent so completely that other spells—especially elental ones—pass through it as if it were part of the environnt."
A student near the back raised their hand.
"Yes, Lysa?"
The girl adjusted her glasses. "Isn’t that just elental resistance? Like using gear or buffs to reduce damage?"
Ignatius shook his head. "No. Elental resistance is passive mitigation. A reduction. Elental Body is deception. The spell doesn’t just hit you less—it doesn’t register you as a target at all. You beco the elent. Fire cannot burn fla. Water does not drown itself."
That drew a low murmur of understanding from around the room.
Another hand rose—this ti from the boy next to Kai.
"Can anyone learn it?" he asked.
"In theory," Ignatius replied. "But theory and reality often part ways. It requires extraordinary control, constant mana threading through your body, and near-total alignnt with your chosen elent."
Darius swallowed hard, his skin tingling faintly.
The professor walked slowly down the center aisle.
"This isn’t just about survival. It’s about transformation. The ones who master Elental Body are the ones who reshape magic itself. If you ever hope to beco a visionary in your field... you start here."
The word landed heavy in the room. Visionary.
He returned to the front of the class and waved a hand. The glyphs faded. "Today, we begin with foundational defense forms. Stances, channeling posture, basic responses for each elent."
Another wave. Symbols for the four elents appeared again—this ti connected to basic footwork diagrams and gesture positions.
"Pair up. You’ll cycle through each elent’s defensive form, even if it’s not your affinity. We start with understanding before specialization."
The students stood, chairs scraping softly.
But before the class began to fully move, Ignatius looked once more at Darius.
Not with warning. With expectation.
And Darius knew—whatever ca next—he’d be watched closely.
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