Chapter 223: Outdoing The Protagonist
The beam, however, disappeared before it ever made contact with the prince.
It broke apart into motes of harmless light, scattering like fireflies before bouncing across the air and brushing against the prince’s face.
The illusion collapsed in a shimmer, and the boy himself dropped to his knees, his entire body trembling with the sudden shock of what he thought was death.
The whole class gasped in unison.
Azel only rolled his eyes.
Of course. The man was still the kind to pull expensive pranks like this.
Professor Drake floated lazily above them, smirking as though he had just performed the greatest comedy routine of the century.
’I can’t wait for the day one of their parents beats this guy into a bloody pulp,’ Azel thought with a sigh.
"That is a spell," Drake finally announced, his voice booming across the lecture hall.
He paced in the air, hands behind his back like a smug general.
"Now, I know you want to say you know what spells are. You’ve studied. You’ve read the books. But do you really know what a spell is?"
The way he said it made many of the students shrink in their seats. Some actually looked like they were questioning their own lives.
Azel, though, wasn’t fooled.
’He’s just putting on an act. Trying to look mysterious, like some kind of enlightened master. Typical ragebait tactic.’
Drake raised his hand, and a ball of fire sparked to life above his palm.
"A spell," he said, "is your will in shape. If I will it to be small..."
The fireball shrank, dwindling until it was no bigger than a pebble, flickering softly.
"...then it becomes small. And if I will it to be big..."
The flames expanded at once, ballooning outward until the fireball was the size of a soccer ball, burning bright enough to cast dancing shadows across the walls.
"...then it becomes big."
The class murmured among themselves, his outlook on the matter was impressive.
"Your will," Drake continued, "and your mana... those two are what makes your spells stronger."
He flicked the fireball casually toward the crowd.
It zipped through the air like a comet and began dispersing, unfortunately it landed on a uniform of a hapless student in the front row.
The cloth ignited instantly, flames roaring to life.
"Professor!" the boy screamed, flailing desperately as he tried to pat out the fire with his hands.
Drake didn’t even move to help.
He just stomped the air, as though stepping down on invisible stairs, and pointed his finger at the boy.
"Beat it down harder, mongrel!" he barked.
The student panicked, smacking his chest wildly until the flames finally sputtered and died.
His white uniform was left scarred and blackened until, slowly, the charred fabric began to knit itself back together.
The burn faded like ink dissolving in water, the uniform returning to its original pristine state.
"See?" Drake said proudly. "That was just to demonstrate. Your uniforms can heal themselves from small damages. That is called an imbued spell."
The victim forced a shaky smile, though Azel could see the fear in his eyes.
’Yeah, sure. Totally intentional,’ Azel thought, shaking his head. Who even believed this guy?
But Drake wasn’t finished.
"However, that is not the main point of this class," he said, sweeping his gaze across the room. "Summon your elements. Let me see them. Depending on your rarity and control, you may earn extra marks in my class."
The air shimmered with dozens of flares as students obeyed.
Fireballs hovered, water globes rippled, wisps of wind swirled, and chunks of earth hovered in the air.
The classroom became a kaleidoscope of colors and lights.
But not everyone was content to just show their elements.
Some students, desperate to stand out, poured too much mana into their displays.
The result was simple... absolute chaos.
A whirlpool of fire erupted from one corner, flames surging outward in an uncontrolled inferno.
Students screamed as the blaze licked toward them, chairs screeched against the floor, and the heat grew unbearable.
Before panic could take over, Drake snapped his fingers.
The fire vanished in an instant, dispersed as though it had never existed at all.
"I did not ask you to burn down the classroom," he growled, his face dark with disdain. "Mongrels."
He floated forward, drifting between the rows of desks, eyeing each student’s summoned element.
He passed by an average-looking boy whose fireball hovered perfectly in place, it was steady despite flickering at the edges.
Drake stopped, placed a hand on the boy’s head, and muttered, "Good job. You can come to my office later."
The boy’s eyes widened, pride flooding his face.
Then Drake moved on.
He reached the prince’s desk. The boy was holding up a perfect orb of shimmering water, its surface was calm and flawless.
Drake sneered.
And then, without a word, walked past him.
The prince’s jaw clenched, his hand trembling as the water dispersed.
The humiliation was obvious.
Drake examined several others, dismissing most with a scoff, until his eyes landed on a tall, composed young man.
Reinhardt.
Reinhardt raised his hands, and three separate elements appeared... an arc of lightning sparking with energy, a steady ball of fire, and a solid chunk of rock.
Each floated evenly, perfectly balanced, with no sign of instability.
The classroom erupted in whispers.
"Three affinities?"
"How is that even possible?"
"What kind of prodigy is he?"
"He’s from one of the main clans. It’s expected."
"He looks kind of cute, though."
Even Drake had to pause, his eyes narrowing.
Three affinities were unheard of.
He hated noble brats like Reinhardt with a passion, but even he couldn’t deny what he was seeing.
’What kind of monster will this boy grow into?’ he thought begrudgingly.
And then...
"Look at Class Rep!" a young woman shouted suddenly, her voice grabbing their attention.
Every head turned at once.
The room froze.
Even Drake’s eyes went wide, his jaw slackening.
’What the absolute fuck?!’ he thought, staring as if his vision itself had betrayed him.
He couldn’t even believe his eyes.
[Author’s Note]
Happy new month 🙂↕️🖤Thanks for continuing and phew it’s my birthday today hehe, rain some castles on this poor author