Arcane Heir: History's Strongest Mage

Michael glanced at Melody—now in his arms—before raising his gaze. The curly-haired teen standing opposite him was visibly seething, as if Michael had insulted him simply by existing.

He cursed inwardly and adjusted Melody so she was no longer leaning against him.

"So now you're just throwing yourself at me?" he muttered, shooting her a glare.

With her back turned to the curly-haired boy, Melody casually returned to her usual composed self, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Don't act like you weren't happy to have me in your arms."

Michael's brow twitched. His patience was nearing its end. Not only had he made an enemy before even setting foot in the Academy, but now he was being used as a human shield by the very girl who caused the trouble.

"Listen here…" he said, his voice low and sharp. "I only agreed to this situation because it was mutually beneficial. Using me like this is unacceptable."

Melody turned to him with a raised brow. "You've benefited from my family's hospitality for the past three years. But now that it's time to repay your debt, you want to back out?"

Each word landed like a slap, precise and deliberate.

"H-Hold on, the agreement with your father was that I protect you inside the Academy…" Michael stammered. Then he froze, realization crashing over him.

This was his plan all along…

What once seemed like a clumsy attempt to push Michael and Melody closer now appeared carefully orchestrated. From the moment he'd signed the peer contract, the lord had likely set this in motion.

He didn't need to be subtle, Michael thought grimly. Even if he hadn't asked, the contract would've forced me to protect her from all this suitor drama anyway…

He brought a hand to his forehead, massaging the space between his brows in an effort to stave off the growing headache.

"The door's opening. Complain later," Melody whispered, nudging him in the ribs.

A deep creak echoed through the courtyard, instantly silencing the crowd. All heads turned toward the source of the sound.

The grand doors slowly parted inward, revealing an opulent lobby with twin spiral staircases stretching up toward opposite wings of the Academy. Two figures emerged through the opening—visually and atmospherically opposed.

On the left strode a tall, slender man in a traditional black mage's robe. His back was straight, hands clasped behind him, every step purposeful and precise.

Beside him was a much shorter man with a thick, red beard and flowing crimson robes. Unlike his austere companion, he wore a warm smile and exuded an aura that was both welcoming and grounded.

"Welcome, my little seedlings," the bearded man announced. His deep, resonant voice carried effortlessly across the courtyard. "Today marks a new beginning for those of you ready to step into the Arcane."

"My name is Bartholomew Arcadius," he continued, spreading his arms wide. "I am honored to serve as the 103rd headmaster of our humble Academy."

Arcadius? Is that a coincidence? Michael wondered, eyeing the amiable man with quiet scrutiny.

"Unfortunately, to maintain our standards, we must first subject you all to an examination before I can offer a proper welcome," the headmaster declared, his gaze sweeping slowly across the open courtyard.

For a fleeting moment, Michael caught something peculiar—Bartholomew's brown eyes shimmered, a sparkle flashing across them as if touched by a spell, before settling back to normal.

"But fear not," he continued smoothly, "for those of you who do not pass this examination, there are plenty of other Academies more suited to your… talents."

Michael frowned slightly. Despite describing the institution as "humble," this was perhaps the most arrogant statement he had ever heard—thinly veiled in civility.

We will only accept the best and brightest, huh? he surmised, easily peeling back the veneer of politeness to see the truth beneath.

"Now, I'm sure many of you are getting impatient," Bartholomew added with a knowing smile.

He raised his hand, and for the briefest moment, a flash of deep violet flickered in the air like lightning caught in silk.

Michael's feet buckled. The world around him warped and tilted, and for an instant, he feared he'd collapse. Uneasy shouts erupted throughout the courtyard as others stumbled and grasped at nothing.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, the sensation passed.

Michael blinked.

I'm inside the castle!?

His eyes darted around. The once-distant entrance doors now loomed behind him, and he stood in a grand hall lined with crimson carpets and shadowed alcoves. A massive chandelier hung overhead, its countless crystals shimmering in the golden light. Oil paintings lined the walls—moody landscapes and solemn portraits that seemed to shift ever so slightly in the flickering glow.

"Spatial magic?" a voice asked in quiet awe.

"Ah… Melody." Michael muttered, glancing toward her. For a moment, he'd forgotten he was meant to be watching her. Not that it mattered—she seemed completely absorbed in the castle's majesty.

A sudden thud reverberated through the marble floor, drawing startled gasps. Around four hundred young teens stood huddled in the center of the vast hall. Their parents, guardians, and escorts were nowhere in sight.

"My little seedlings," a calm voice called from the top of the twin staircases, "do not be afraid."

Bartholomew stood at the peak, descending one step at a time, hands tucked neatly behind his back. The warm smile never left his face.

Now that he'd revealed his ability to bend space, many of the students were visibly awestruck. Spatial magic was a domain reserved for legends—mages of unimaginable strength and skill.

Michael, too, couldn't help but be impressed. Still, a question tugged at the edge of his mind.

Why not simply lead us inside? Why go through the trouble of transporting us?

His gaze swept the hall once more, a sliver of unease worming its way into his thoughts.

"Your entrance exam will begin shortly," Bartholomew announced, his tone as pleasant as ever. "But first… there are a few weeds among you."

Before anyone could react, he lifted his left hand.

A glow burst into life—two radiant violet rings encircled his wrist.

Without warning, three students were yanked into the air, suspended by invisible force. Screams echoed through the hall.

"W-What is happening!?"