The schoolbell rang, and I was already halfway out of my wits, chalk dust on my fingers, voice hoarse from talking way more than any sane person should on a Tuesday. I slapped the board one last time. "So yeah, plug the numbers here, carry the mana, and boom, that's your answer. Got it?"
Eight faces stared back like I'd just told them the sky was falling. After Rudas dueled me, we'd shuffled from the arena back to the classroom. I'd planned to plant my face on the lectern and call it a day, but these kids latched on like burrs.
"Just one trick," they'd whined. "Please, sensei." I caved. Now my throat felt like sandpaper, and all I could think about was getting out of here, to the sweet silence of my pillow.
Turns out their whole "we hate class" routine was a filter. When every new teacher walked in, saw the fancy crests, heard the scary last names, and either kissed the floor or droned straight from the textbook.
The kids figured they'd learn more on their own and ran the rest off like stray cats. I was the first idiot to say, "Fine, duel me." Guess that made me "different." Cool. I didn't sign up for a fan club. Seno (front row, loads of makeup, almost as if you could scrape off with a spoon) leaned over her desk. "Okay, but you lost me at 'baby spell beats grandpa spell.' Use smaller words."
I rubbed the back of my neck. "Look, magic fights are usually a 'who's got the bigger tank' contest. More mana, you win. Same type of spell? Run the math, this equation spits out the winner. Easy." "Easy?" She flailed. "I've never heard of a **Fireball** beating a supreme incantation!"
I sighed, flicked my wrist, and popped a softball-sized **Fireball** into my palm. Basic stuff, the magical equivalent of "see spot run."
"Alright, pretend I chuck this at Rudas.Even if he had his Hellfire flames activated. What happens?"
Rudas folded his arms, answering meekly. "My fire spell would be incinerated. My barrier would get destroyed. Touches me, poof, I'm gone." I nodded, strolled to the window, and checked the courtyard. Empty. Perfect.
I lobbed the **Fireball** outside like I was tossing a baseball to a dog. **BOOM.** The windows rattled in their frames. A mushroom cloud of dirt and smoke punched into the sky. When it cleared, there was a crater you could park a carriage in. The room went dead quiet.
Then someone whispered, "Holy…" I shut the window. "Beginner spell, big mana. Power doesn't care about the label." Seno blinked. "But you can't overstuff low-tier spells! Push too hard and the mana leaks out like a busted hose!" "That's the trap," I said. "You treat the chant like gospel. Step outside the recipe and your brain panics, image collapses, mana gone. Textbook kids fall for it every time."
I learned the hard way, sneaking into forbidden libraries, dodging guards, reading until my eyes crossed. Got caught once, stuck fetching tea for the batty curator.
Learned the spell, then ghosted before the biscuits got cold. Worth it. "Higher-tier spells usually pack more punch," I added.
"Compatibility, limits, whatever. Too much to unpack. Grab a book. Bell's ringing, I'm out." I was two steps from freedom when Seno's voice cracked. "Sensei! Hold up!" "No questions." "Not a question." She pointed out the window. "Look, that."
The courtyard was a circus. Teachers sprinted in circles, students gawked, and someone was yelling about "demon breach."
My little experiment had turned the lawn into a war zone. Cold sweat slid down my spine. I'd yeeted the spell without a single thought about cleanup. Now the place looked like a meteor's final resting place. "…Oops." That night I waited until the patrols doubled, then slipped back under an illlusion spell. Filled the hole, smoothed the grass, erased every scorch mark. Clean as a whistle.
Next morning the academy paper screamed: **DEMON ATTACK? MYSTERY OF THE VANISHED CRATER** Security barriers jumped three levels by lunch. Aldi probably framed the headline and hung it over his litter box. I just wanted a nap.