Is this fucker faking it?
How the hell am I supposed to prove what he's showing is real?
Ionnoman… I have no clue how to.
Well… Even if he looks like he's pretending to be weak, it should be fine for the time being. He's still just Caelum Veldt, a soyboy loser with all the presence of a cuck chair.
God, I fucking hate this type of MC.
Isaac watched as the boy fumbled with his utensils, nearly upending his goblet of water, a mistake that drew snickers from his surrounding classmates. His shoulders hunched, as though he intended to fold himself small enough to escape notice. When a butler dropped a platter nearby, he startled so violently that his elbow struck the Esyphyr student beside him, earning a sharp glare and initial hatred.
Isaac tried not to stare at this loser.
To him, he was but a generic protagonist who hid his true power with none figuring it out, somehow. Yes, this awkward fool sat among the Esyphyr. And yes, Isaac disliked the unwanted attention his clumsiness was already attracting.
Tsk… Hey~ For a pretender. He's doing a fucking great job at rage-baiting me to scold his immature ass into a man. He won't even meet anyone's eyes, let alone rally them to his cause in the future T-T.
How the fuck did this guy pull three of the world's baddies?!
He looks like a damn twink!
It's painful to watch!
The future Unifier currently looks like he'd rather be at home playing games.
Speaking about 'games'... God fucking help me… Putting me in this shitty game…
What a bloody joke…
Isaac knew how the story ended.
One day, that boy would stand tall.
One day, that hesitant voice would sound with conviction, and those nervous hands would wield power capable of shaking planets if not galaxies. One day, the very nobles who laughed at him now would laugh with him without hesitation, their pride replaced with his kindness.
For the moment, Caelum remained nothing more than the lowest, clumsy commoner at a crowded table of the best of royalty and non-royalty.
Mr Destiny supporting him, hidden beneath his boots and secondhand cloth.
Ughhh…
Today, he's just a loser boy. A boy who—
Behind You.
The message shouted in his head. The first time the System had made a legitimate sound. One that breached Isaac's five senses, causing an instant reaction. Isaac's head snaps toward the Yves tables, and a primordial instinct kicks in before his logic catches up.
Isaac doesn't fight in a Southpaw Stance.
But for the time.
He immediately threw his guard up into it.
"Temporal Anchor: Activate!"
His world shifts to grids of blue.
There.
A flicker of something sharp in the dim hall light, a gaze whose interest lingered a second too long. It was from the First-Years' section, where the Yves Students sat all staring at him. In fact, every student in the Dining Hall was staring at him, taking all the mockery from Caelum and all the respect from the nobles.
When Isaac tried to pin it down—
Nothing.
There was nothing but a sea of eyes that stared with equal intent of curiosity.
Yet his skin prickles.
Someone was watching me.
It was so… so potent to the point that this shitty, useless, fucking trash System had to deliberately use 'Authority' to both warn me with a message and with a voice…
First, what the fuck was that voice, it was similar to the H̵̡͉̪̱͇͙̙͔̯̘̜̬͎̘̮̏̆͒̾̔̒̂̃͂̎̕͜͝͝a̸̢̞̭̰̦͊͗͆̐̇́̿́͂̈́r̶̨̦̞͙͋́̑̃̔b̴̦͙̠͔̱̳̣̬͙̻̦̜͈̂̃̀̀̂͆̈́͊̄͜ͅͅi̴̟̱̩̯͔̳͍̟̅͌͊͝ṋ̴̢̝͔͉͚̯͈͔̲̝̯̤͊̈́͌̑͛͂̾͌̂͛́̃̍̆̍͜͝ģ̵̧̛̲̥̩̦̙͎͕͎̮̟͚̩̋̀̑̽͆̇̕͠e̶̬͍̼̬̠̓̔̈́̅̒̓͂͆̏̆̔̌̚͝͠ṟ̷̈͂͛͆s̶̻̝̻͖̱̮̬͙̻̮͖̓̈́̓̂̇̌͗̿̓ but with even more power that my body moved without me thinking.
Second… Who the fuck had such a glare? Was it killing intent?
What the fu一
"Is he good?"
"No way they let a schizo into the Institute, right?"
Ah… Shit…
FUCK! MY SOCIAL IMAGE!
Fortunately for Isaac, a gong reverberates through the hall.
"Temporal Anchor: Disable," Isaac mutters under his breath.
Conversation dies mid-sentence as chairs scrape against the marble floors; every head turns toward the raised dais at the front of the room.
Headmaster Orthellius steps onto the stage.
He moves elegantly, like a man who's never hurried in his life.
His broad shoulders squared beneath robes of midnight blue embroidered with stitched constellations and sigils that shimmer like battlefield medals. In fact, they were battlefield medals.
At first glance, you'd mistake him for a retired general, with a sharp jawline and silver-streaked black hair cropped close to his skull. His posture is parade-ground perfect, accentuating his hard-earned body. Knuckles scarred and one finger slightly crooked from an old phalangeal fracture, yet they rested on his cane.
The scholar who met Isaac now adorned himself with his well-deserved awards and prizes.
Isaac realizes, contradictory to his description in Original EAA, that the Headmaster wasn't a frail, old scholar; Orthellius Sol Tharis is a man who's marched through countless battles and duels. A person who wrung wisdom from the universe by intellectual force.
Orthellius Sol Tharis.
The—
"THE HEADMASTER!!! YEAHHHH!!!"
The title detonated through the hall.
Every student rose in acclaim. Hands collided in cadence. Voices of students varying in backgrounds and class, together into a reverent roar.
They revered him.
They feared him.
They believed him.
Because.
Headmaster Orthellius.
Is HIM.
The sound struck Isaac's chest like a physical force, compressing his breath. His ribs vibrated beneath the pressure of his classmate's collective shouts. Pain bloomed quietly in his sternum.
But it did not matter.
The glory of the Headmaster eclipsed all lesser sensations.
Even his suffering.
God… Stop aurafarming…
He smiles and spreads his arms.
"IT'S ME!!! MY DEAR STUDENTS, AND TO BE STUDENTS!!!!" The Headmaster matched their ferocity. "WELCOME! To the first night of your lives at MY Institute!" A hearty laugh to follow.
His eyes swept across the hall, a general surveying his troops. He waited for the applause to calm down before continuing.
"Some of you come bearing names that echo through history. Others carry only your ambition and the clothes on your backs."
His gaze lingered briefly on Caelum before continuing.
"Here, those distinctions mean nothing. They. Mean. Nothing. You are to treat each other as of the same status, even the nobles and royals. It was clearly stated in the matriculation contract that under Clause VII — Equalization of Standing, all prior titles, bloodline, and hereditary rights, and external authorities are rendered administratively null for the duration of enrollment.
Within Academy jurisdiction, every enrolled individual is recognized solely as a Registrant of Orthellius. Rank is reassigned uniformly. Influence is suspended.
Lineage is irrelevant. Respect and biased reverence are allowed; however, any attempt to invoke noble status, royal decree, or ancestral entitlement constitutes a BREACH of contract and will be met with corrective sanction at the discretion of the Headmaster.
Here, you are not sovereigns. You are MY students."
The First Years looked quite shocked; this was the first time that their status would be deemed completely meaningless. The older noble upperclassmen giggled at them, looking as if they were used to the Equalization of Standing.
The cane struck the stage with a crack.
"In other words, equal steel will be equally forged in fire. The arrogant will be humbled by the wind. The rigid shall learn to flow like water, and the reckless will find their roots in earth."
He leaned forward, the constellations on his robes pulsing faintly.
"You are aspiring Wave Binders, Kynetics, Catalyxi, and Concordants in a world overflowing with them, yet woefully short of truly exceptional ones."
The lights of the hall dimmed as if anticipating his next words.
Wait.
Kynetics? Concordants?
The fuck? Okay nevermind.
Kynetics sounds similar to Kinetic, so I can assume they're the Mana Swordsman.
Concordance means an agreement, so Concordance would then be the remaining Spirit Tamers.
Hey.. Actually, it would be quite a good pun if it really were Spirit Taming.
Conc-or-dance.
Conclude Contract or Dance.
Tsk… Fuck I'm getting distracted… Jeez… Media always trying to make the simplest things sound cool, but it's so fucking complicated for what?
Just say Mana Swordsman and Spirit Taming, bru!
"Before you feast, meet those who will teach you the remarkable... or watch you crumble under the weight of your own mediocrity."
With a wave of his hand, the shadows behind him parted to reveal the Institute's elite professors. All of them were a figurehead in their own respective masteries, so much so that their respective subject students clapped with the same respect as the Headmaster.
"Professor Aldrick St. Clair — Head of Practical Noësis, Concordance, and the infirmary."
DAMN… He's a mountain of a man.
A permanent lightning burn across his left cheek, Aldricks St. Clair's very presence was that of a retired War-Wave Binder who still wore his military greaves over academic robes, similarly to Orthellius.
Ironically, the head nurse of the school due to his Concordance with a multitude of Nature Archetyped Concordees.
"Archivist Orlan Peña Quintana - Head of Noësical Theory and History."
The oldest among them, his 'robe' was actually a tapestry of parchment that constantly rearranged itself with theorems.
Super crucial for my development in Magic for later… Gotta get on his good side.
"Magister Silas Ren - Head of Kynetism."
Hmmm… Mr Hidden Intent himself.
The Kynetic stood with his hands folded behind his back because letting them rest at his sides had proven too dangerous for nearby objects. A well-built man with an exquisitely crafted sword.
And a terrifying secret.
"Doctor Chessie Harrington - Head of Catalyxical Studies and Chemistry."
Ooh… Chessie Harrington.
Her protective goggles and dozens of vials clicking at her belt contained things that were definitely, absolutely, not allowed in civilised company, but still trusted in her hands.
She'll eventually develop great creations and contributions to MagiTech. I'll try to get closer to her, too, so I can do that trope where the MC finds hidden talent and gets on their good side to exploit them in the future.
What Isaac could never anticipate would be the following Professors.
There's more?
"Professor Eamon Ó Cinnéde - Head of Noësical Mathematics."
Huh?
A hawk-like man whose presence suggested calculation. A sharp nose, pale eyes, and neatly ordered hair. His authority was less imposed than inevitable, a power born when one represents the discipline they have practised.
He wasn't in EAA...
"Doctor Azucena Esquivel - Head of Biothaumic Studies."
A woman of striking poise, tall and lean. She carried herself as though every motion was grace, internalized by her own body; it seemed part of her very anatomy. Knowledge of biochemistries so deeply ingrained that her brain would pop out differently.
She wasn't in EAA…
"And finally, Doctor Hao. Hao Zhenxu - Head of Noësical Physics."
A man with a narrow face with equally narrow eyes, as precise as his physics. In him, Noësical Physics had not only a scholar but an oscillating and vibrating wave of every ontology.
He wasn't in EAA…
Three teachers who were not in the original story.
Three extra probabilities…
Sighhhh…
FUCK!!!
I hate this shit, man!
The Headmaster's smirk returned, wider this time.
"Study their syllabus well. By year's end, you'll either thank them... or curse their names in your nightmares and waking moments."
He brought his cane down with a thunderous crack.
"Now. Feast. Tomorrow. Orientation at 7:30. To the future scholars of the world!"
The headmaster's voice boomed through the grand hall. The chandeliers above flared brighter, casting golden light upon rows of long, wood tables brimming with platters of newly refilled foods and desserts dusted with sugar as the second round of feasting arrived.
Everyone raised their cups high as their voice mingles in a thunderous chorus:
"To us!"
Isaac sulked.
He felt extremely annoyed.
Three people took notice.
Thus, the second supper began.