Arcane Heir: History's Strongest Mage

"So, in conclusion," Professor Max stated, streaking his chalk across the blackboard with emphasis, "different tiers of mana have a direct impact on the spells we cast, due to their varying levels of density and a mages control over it."

"This is why, technically, a mage's combat ability is at its weakest right after ascending. Until one adjusts to their new tier of mana, they will struggle to cast their spells as intended," he continued, his gaze sweeping over the class.

His eyes lingered on Michael and Melody for a moment before the sound of a low dong echoed throughout the academy, signaling the end of the class.

"It seems that's all we have time for today," the professor remarked, a hint of disappointment in his voice. With a slight wave of his hand, he cleared the blackboard, which was filled to the brim with text.

"I hope I've been able to ignite a few curious minds about the wonders of mana," he added with a smile.

"Professor… I wasn't done writing down the notes," Lilly in the front row said, looking distraught, as if someone had stolen her homework.

"Hm? All of the lesson's notes can be found within your emblem," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "Ah… I probably should've mentioned this earlier," he muttered to himself, loud enough for most of the class to hear.

"Ahem, the emblem on your hand also has a small storage capability—though it's probably only enough to carry your textbooks around," the professor announced. "But keep in mind, you can only use it while on Academy grounds."

With that, he gestured for the students to begin moving. "Hurry up, my next class will be here soon."

At his insistence, everyone began rising from their seats and making their way to the exit.

Meanwhile, Michael was deep in thought about the man's last words.

Does the emblem stop working if we leave Academy grounds too? he thought slowly. If that's the case, it must be connected to something that only the Academy has…

He suddenly recalled the mention of the Aetherheart by one of the sprites. If it was a magical treasure that provided mana to all of Arcadia, he wouldn't be surprised if the emblems were linked to it.

Michael's curiosity about the Aetherheart was piqued even further.

"Oh man, I couldn't understand half of what he was talking about…" Rudy said grimly, still wearing a confused expression.

"Don't worry, this is one of my best subjects. I'll help you out later," Michael replied, patting Rudy on the shoulder as they stood up from their seats.

"You're a lifesaver!"

As they walked down the stairs toward the exit, Michael could feel the professor's gaze lingering on him with interest. Though the feeling was slightly uncomfortable, he sensed that the professor's interest was purely professional—though it didn't make it any less awkward.

"I'm looking forward to teaching you in the coming years, Blondie…" Professor Max remarked, uncaring of how it might sound.

"It's Michael, sir…" Michael replied for what was probably the third time since the start of the class. However, the professor had already moved on, returning to his desk and flipping through one of the textbooks.

The three of them followed the rest of the crowd out through the weathered doors and into the hall, where the sound of chattering met their ears. The first-years were discussing the lesson, some with interest and others with complaints—typical of teenagers in a new environment.

"What's our next class?" Rudy asked.

"Combat." Braydon appeared beside Rudy like a ghost, smacking him on the back—hard enough to make an audible slap, but not so much that it seemed like an attack.

Rudy's face turned pale in an instant, his body bending over with a small groan escaping his lips.

Michael's eyes went wide before fury overtook him. Remembering the scars and wounds that marred his friend's back, a surge of anger rose within him—ready to burst.

Without a word, he made a beeline for the arrogant-looking noble, getting right in his face. "How about you back the hell up before I send you flying?" he said, his tone icy, his fury unmistakable.

Braydon flinched, taking a step back, clearly not expecting the reaction.

However, he quickly composed himself, a sneer creeping onto his handsome face. "What? Could it be that you're not actually interested in Melody, but this commoner instead?" he mocked, amusement dancing in his voice.

"Michael, what are you doing?" Melody whispered harshly, shocked by his reaction.

Michael ignored the taunt, his eyes locked onto the antagonizing noble, wanting nothing more than to teach him a lesson.

"I'm okay, Michael…" Rudy's voice called from behind him.

Only after hearing this did Michael regain his logical mind.

"Touch my friend again, and I won't hesitate to send you to the infirmary," he said coldly, his gaze lingering on Braydon for a few moments before walking away.

"We'll see who sends who to the infirmary," Braydon called after them, his mocking laughter ringing out as his cronies joined in.

Once they were far enough from the arrogant noble, Michael checked on his friend. He had seen Rudy's pale face and heard the groan that escaped his lips. There was no doubt that the slap had hurt.

"Do you need to go to the infirmary?" he asked, concern in his voice.

Rudy shook his head. "I'm fine… I'm used to it by now."

This answer brought a wave of sadness over Michael. Just what had Rudy endured after the loss of his family? He had guessed that Rudy had been found by slave traders—similar to the ones he'd seen after leaving Velmara City. There would be no other explanation for his wounds.

"Why did you do that?" Melody grabbed his arm, whispering harshly, "Didn't we agree not to provoke Braydon unless he provoked us first?"

Michael's righteous anger flared again at her words, causing him to snatch his arm away from her hold. "He did provoke us. Did you not see him slap Rudy on the back like that?"

Now Melody's expression turned angry in response. "That small slap on the back? You think that was enough to threaten to put Braydon in the infirmary?" she replied, her voice sharp.

"If you're going to react like this to every little thing, maybe you're not as capable as I thought you were," Melody spat, her words like a lash. Without waiting for a response, she stormed ahead of them.