Some of the scholars couldn’t hide their expressions. A few openly gaped, mouths parted in disbelief. Others leaned toward one another, exchanging glances, trying to piece together how someone from the lowest class had just dismantled a question the whole room had quietly given up on.

Silvena, only then realizing she had been holding her breath. The sound was quiet, almost inaudible, but it marked her incredulity. Plenty of scholars had solved that problem before. Plenty had memorized formulas, drilled patterns into their heads until they could recite them backward. But this wasn’t that. Ruvian hadn’t solved the equation in the traditional sense. He had taken it apart piece by piece, restructured it mid-process.

The room started to change. The quiet snorts and dismissive scoffs that were previously heard whenever Class E was brought up were no longer present.

Then, without waiting for permission, Ruvian spoke.

“Professor.” The words came out naturally. “I apologize for my tardiness.” (+20PP)

He said it plainly, like the words were simply a formality. Professor Marthias folded his arms, studying the boy with a cautious gaze. “Is that all you have to say?” the professor asked.

Ruvian tilted his head by the smallest degree. “I believe it is only fair to clarify the circumstances of my delay.” Ruvian said courteously. (+20PP)

“The class I attended before this extended beyond its scheduled time,” he said, each word clear and measured. “The professor held us back for additional instruction. I did not have the authority to refuse. And, as I am the only Class E scholar enrolled in this elective, I have no fellow classmates who can corroborate my explanation.” (+20PP)

Silvena noticed he wasn’t asking for leniency. There was no plea in his voice, no hint of desperation.

Professor Marthias finally broke the silence. “Very well.”

There was no apology or acknowledgment that his earlier judgment had been hasty or unfair. That was not a luxury a man like him ever offered. His pride was tightly bound in years of discipline.

He turned away from Ruvian, his robe sweeping slightly as he faced the rest of the hall with a clipped precision.

“Take your seats. We are already behind schedule.”

The command came clean, without emphasis, but it cut off all remaining whispers. And just like that, the moment dissolved. Ruvian gave a slight nod, then walked quietly toward the nearest empty bench. He sat down with the same measured ease he had shown from the moment he entered, unaffected by the lingering stares that trailed him.

He sighed. 'Almost got me there, if not for him giving the hints, I would have gotten kicked out of this elective forever.’

Ruvian wanted to complain, but all in all, he managed to overcome the question so he didn't want to dwell on it too much.

‘Apart from that, I was planning to reap the Plot Points from the start anyway. There’s no better way than proving the doubters wrong to engrave a deeper impression.’

Before entering the hall he had already weighed the good and consequences. Knowing how Marthias usually behaved, he had expected way ahead of time that he needed to answer a question to get out of the scenario. So, Ruvian was mentally prepared. The room hadn’t forgotten what just happened, but he acted like none of it mattered.

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Silvena’s eyes followed him.

Ruvian looked neither proud nor relieved on his face.

‘A Class E scholar had walked into Mathias’s dent, dismantled the trap he had been fed, and defended himself without sounding arrogant or pitiful?’ Content originally comes from novelFɪre.net

‘Hooo~ this is something. Really something.’ she thought to herself.

That alone would have been enough to leave an impression.

Professor Marthias made no effort to dwell on it. Without hesitation, he turned back to the manaboard and lifted his hand, inscribing another sequence of symbols across the surface.

Letters and mathematical structures bloomed in pale blue light, dancing with rigid clarity.

The lesson resumed as usual.

But the eyes that occasionally flicked toward Ruvian suggested the memory would not be forgotten quite so easily.

***

Ruvian’s eyes stayed fixed on the manaboard, watching every stroke of mana coiled and shaped itself into glowing structures.

This was what he had come for. Not the merit points, although they would serve as a useful buffer later on… but this. The opportunity to observe Professor Marthias’s methods in action. To understand how someone so precise could manipulate raw mana into logic-bound frameworks. And above all, to keep a quiet watch on Silvena D’Elvoire.

Mathematics by itself had never been an obstacle for him. It was nothing more than a game of patterns, a system built on rules and consistency. But magical mathematics? That was an entirely different battlefield. His fingers tapped against the wood of the desk, slow and idle. The earlier moment still played back in his mind. The truth was that he barely understood what he had answered.

His knowledge was patchwork, stitched together from scattered texts and distant concepts. Some borrowed from ruthless logical sequences, some from the basic principles of mana flow, and others taken from gut feeling. ‘Well. None of it had been enough on its own.’

The rest, he filled in on instinct. He had no interest in bluffing for its own sake, but survival often demanded the same tools as deception. ‘Getting removed from the elective would have been more than inconvenient. The demerit points would have put a dent in my record, but the real problem wasn’t administrative…’ he contemplated silently.

It was Marthias. The man had a reputation for calculating spell matrices so accurately that even failure bowed to his designs. To someone like Ruvian, who lacked even the basics of formal magical computation, that kind of precision was a goldmine. The trick was simple: stay close, and keep learning before his door shut. He cast a glance around the room. Eyes met his from several directions.

‘By the way, what's wrong with this girl? I mean, why is she still staring at me? Focus on the damn lecture in the front!’

Silvena didn’t bother with subtlety. Her gaze was menacing, steady, and utterly unashamed of its focus on him. He didn’t need to check twice to know she was still staring.

He didn’t return the look.

‘Is she planning to watch me for the entire lecture?’

‘Hah. What a twisted kind of person. Whatever.’

He had no time to think about that.

The professor had shifted subjects, moving on to the theoretical core behind advanced teleportation. The hall filled again with movement, the scrape of pens, and the occasional cough or shuffle of fabric. Ruvian leaned forward and began to write, carefully, transcribing every word he understood and sketching out diagrams for those he didn’t.

Time slipped past unnoticed, until at last Marthias closed the manaboard with a flick of his fingers.

The lecture was over.

Students began to rise and flood toward the exits.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the noise. “Castelor.” (+20PP)

The room was enveloped by silence once again. Half-turned heads paused in motion. Ruvian looked down, eyes falling to the front where Marthias stood, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“If you’re the last person through that door again, you won’t be coming back. Do you understand me?”

Ruvian met the professor’s gaze and gave a single nod. “Understood.” Ruvian stood, gathered his things, and walked toward the exit without once looking back.

The corridor beyond was alive with motion, students flooding out of lecture halls, their chatter echoing through the high stone arches.

He moved through them like smoke slipping past flame, his thoughts already shifting to the next elective class.

Herbalogy.

PP = 2050

ME = 195