The noise of the students did give Nanami some things to wonder about. "A full on, laboratory?" She questioned.
After a while, the calm of the morning gave way to chaos. A bell rang—louder than expected—and teachers began shouting across the courtyard, herding students like cattle.
"Move it! Lecture hall A4, let's go!" one barked.
The group fell into the stream of rushing students, keeping their heads down. Kaito led the way, eyes flicking from corridor to corridor as they were swept into a massive auditorium carved from stone and glowing with softly pulsing sigils.
As they took their seats among hundreds of others, Rika slouched into her chair with a groan.
"Ugh," she muttered. "I came here to find Yukki, not deal with school again."
The lecture hall felt more like an amphitheater than a classroom, stone tiered seats curving downward toward a circular platform lit by gentle sigil-light. Hundreds of students buzzed quietly, the occasional burst of elemental energy flickering between impatient fingers.
Then the lights dimmed. A single figure stepped into the center of the hall. The silence that followed was immediate and total.
He was tall, robed in layers of midnight blue lined with gold trim. His presence quieted the very Elara in the room. He didn't raise a hand. He didn't speak for a full ten seconds.
Looking down at him though, Kaito could tell, this man was powerful.
And then his voice rang out, calm, measured, and infinitely sharp.
"Magic is not a gift. It is not a trick. It is the expression of the self. The shape of your soul given force."
The professor turned slowly, surveying the crowd.
"Most of you believe power comes from shouting louder. That is true... for a fool's level of strength. But today, I will show you what comes after the shouting."
He raised a hand—no words, no movement. The air shimmered.
A flame bloomed in the center of the stage, spiraling upward without heat. Then it turned to water, to earth, to wind, to nothing. Pure transitions. Chantless, effortless. Controlled with thought alone.
Kaito leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Magic without moving?"
"Now," the professor said, finally pacing. "Let us speak of Incant Magic—the most formal and most dangerous style. You may have seen it used in the field. Structured chants, complex glyphs. The longer the verse, the more destructive the result. And yet... even the strongest spell, when miscast, can hollow out your body or reduce you to ash."
He waved his hand. A circle appeared midair, filled with twisting script. The words began to chant themselves, glowing brighter with each syllable. "But of course, you children will have to verbally chant."
"A master may hide verses in tattoos, grimoires, or staves. Some even use anchor points, fixed runes placed days before a battle, allowing them to invoke disaster in seconds."
The projection vanished. Another formed, a quick blur of light and sound as a barrage of fireballs spiraled across the ceiling.
"But speed has its place," he said. "Enter Chantless Magic. Instant. Reflexive. Limited only by your flow and focus."
Nanami scribbled furiously beside Kaito while Rika slumped in her seat, frowning.
"Can't believe I'm actually back in school," she muttered.
"Shh," Kaito whispered.
"Chantless casting is common," the professor continued, "but not easy. Most of you can only command one or two kinds. Trying for more? You'll tear your circuits. Burn out your Elara. Worse."
He raised two fingers.
"And if you're fast enough—clever enough—you can link spells together. Quick Chains. Defense into attack. Wind into fire. Ice into water. Done right, you control the rhythm of battle."
The air rippled as a spectral mannequin appeared. It exploded into a barrage of chantless spells, flashing like a storm before vanishing.
Dante folded his arms. "This is inasne, they learn this daily?!"
The professor smirked slightly, as if hearing him. Then, he paused.
And suddenly, the platform around him warped.
The space bent. A sword that wasn't there a second ago appeared at his side.
"Spatial Magic. The silent cast. The invisible hand. No words. No motion. Just thought."
The weapon vanished again. Then appeared above the crowd. Then reappeared by the professor's back.
"Hard to learn. Impossible to detect. It takes a mind like steel and will sharper than a blade. Use it wrong, and your brain will cook itself."
He stepped forward, his voice dropping low.
"But perhaps the most personal form of magic… is what lives in your hands."
He reached to his side—and a long, silver staff materialized.
But it was no ordinary staff. It pulsed with flame as he held it, and when he swept it forward, the flames arced in perfect harmony with his movement.
"Weapon Magic. Your will, infused into a weapon. Fire in a blade. Wind on an arrow. A weapon becomes more than a tool—it becomes an extension of your soul."
Kaito's eyes widened. The way the professor moved... He'd seen it before. He'd done it before—that time in the forest, when his blade infused with wind. It hadn't been a spell. It had come from inside him.
"Weapon magic… I've used that? Without knowing?"
The professor continued.
"But this—this is not to be confused with Weapon Artes. Those are something else entirely. No magic. No spells. Just you… and your weapon… and your resolve."
He took a stance. Calm. Poised.
Then he moved.
The staff struck the ground with a thunderous crack, sending a wave of pressure through the room. Not magical. Not elemental.
Pure force of will.
Rika jolted upright. Dante blinked. Toni too was stunned.
"Weapon Artes are manifestations of instinct and intent," the professor explained. "You can't borrow them. You earn them. Through training. Through pain. Through survival."
Kaito's pulse quickened. His mind flashed back—Terra. That brutal moment when she'd driven her blade through the Graith like lightning from heaven. That hadn't been a spell. That had been real. Pure, undeniable.
He wanted that.
He needed that.
"And yes…" the professor said, raising his voice as he turned to the final arc of the lecture, "...when combined—when fused—you can chain Weapon Magic with Weapon Artes. Or even embed incant spells into a blade, set to release on impact. The combinations are endless."
He extended both hands. Three spectral figures appeared.
One stood in a stance, runes burning along his arms.
Another launched a chantless spell mid-swing.
The third erupted into a Sacred Form, wings of silver fire sprouting from his back.
"Some of you will go further," the professor said. "You will learn Stances. Forms. Traditions passed down by blood and legacy. You will shift them mid-fight, weaving your style into rhythm and response."
Silence. No one breathed.
The professor gave a slight bow.
"And now you know the truth: there is no ceiling. No cap to your power. Only the limits you accept."
"Now then can two students come down and demonstrate, your skills will be much more realistic."
The professor scans and calls down two students at random. To Kaito's delight, one of the students called to the front, was Yukki.