The so-called “S Class” system at Crescent Academy was essentially no different from the special classes that existed under various names in other academies.
While the academy officially calls itself an educational institution, its ultimate goal remains unchanged: nurturing talent. And as the gifted students cultivated within each nation’s academy ultimately become national assets, it was only natural that these academies would lavish special treatment on those individuals who showed early promise.
After all, investing more resources into talented students to cultivate even greater talent is both reasonable and practical. Hence, S Class was… surprisingly exhausting.
“This is not what I expected from academy life.”
Whether I liked it or not, after realizing that the Arkaria Continent where I’ve arrived is essentially the setting of a stereotypical academy story, I decided to make the most of it.
My idea of an academy was something akin to a modern university where one could relax and enjoy their time. With a bit of leisurely motivation, I thought university life could be quite the adventure. After stepping away from my role as the leader of the Black Shadow Guild for a while and becoming a regular academy student, I intended to enjoy classes, make friends, and embrace the easygoing life of true academy living.
And if I happened to fall in love during my school days, which are often called the flower of youth, that’d be even better. But the schedule in front of me had just crushed all my expectations.
“This is ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“For first-years, this is still on the easier side. I’ve heard that second-year S Class students have it even worse.”
“Dear…”
The main difference between university and high school, if I had to pick one, is that in university, you have the freedom to choose your own courses and create your own timetable. Yesterday, I’d heard about a special curriculum specifically tailored for S Class students, but I hadn’t realized that this curriculum would completely strip me of that freedom.
The timetable Professor Amillion handed out this morning was relentless—practically seamless.
At least the one consistent thing was that all classes ended at 5 PM.
“Is it normal for first-years to have this many classes?”
“…Sometimes, sir, you don’t seem like a commoner.”
“Suddenly?”
“Well, commoners usually consider studying at an academy a great honor. More classes for the same tuition can even be seen as a financial benefit.”
“Ah…”
That’s true, I suppose, but that’s not what I meant. And money isn’t the issue at all here.
“Anyway, class is starting soon. Our first lesson is ‘Basics of Magic.’”
“Basics of Magic…?”
Just recalling those long nights buried in spellbooks sent a brief stab of nostalgia-driven pain to my head. But it also triggered another thought: hadn’t I forgotten something important?
Oh, right—I’m an ‘Academy Beginner Wizard’ now.
“Ah, that’s right. I haven’t checked my skills yet?”
Around this time yesterday, during the system’s mandatory career selection message, I picked the ‘Wizard’ profession, gained a title, and even unlocked a skill window—but then promptly forgot about it. While I did know that a status window existed, it hadn’t been a priority to check since there’s been so much happening recently.
I pulled it up to see what magical skills I’d been granted, even with Elaine sitting right beside me, eager to learn.
<Skill>
You have not yet learned any skills.
“Ugh…”
I clearly remembered choosing the wizard class yesterday and seeing a notification about my skill window being activated. But when I opened it, there was nothing but a single line: “You have not yet learned any skills.”
After so much time with this system, I should’ve expected this underwhelming and impersonal response. Nevertheless, a small wave of frustration bubbled up this time. If I’d chosen the wizard class, shouldn’t I have gotten some kind of basic skill for it?
“Alright, let’s stay calm.”
It seems the phrase “you haven’t learned any skills” implies that I need to actively learn some. And if I had to guess, the system isn’t going to hand these out easily—likely requiring reading spellbooks, designing magical circuits, or arranging mana.
Considering I already know several spells but none showed up on the list, there’s probably a condition I haven’t met yet.
“Sir?”
“Hmm? Yeah?”
“Our Basics of Magic class takes place in the practice room.”
Elaine had already started packing her things and stood up as if inviting me to join her.
Checking my skills must’ve taken longer than I thought.
“Alright, let’s go.”
No point overthinking it now. Let’s see how incredible these exclusive S Class lessons truly are.
*
“Hmmm…”
As he inspected the air where magical energy had already dissipated, Landgar shook his head with a troubled expression.
Branch 7, the location of the hourglass theft, was absolute chaos. The buildings were devastated, and upon breaching the barrier he personally designed, he discovered that the hourglass had indeed been stolen.
“To think they didn’t even take the box.”
Landgar stared in shock at the empty container, its security designed so that only he could unlock it. Finding the hourglass missing from inside the box was an unsettling revelation.
“No one but the Honored One could’ve pulled it off so quickly.”
“Shen and Max were present in this space.”
“Yes.”
“Hm…”
Though Landgar felt sick to his stomach, he tore his eyes away from the empty box and began surveying the area. It was too clean—not a trace of destruction in sight, despite Shen’s signature shockwave magic and Max’s tendency to devastate everything during a fight. Not only was there no visible damage, but there were hardly any traces of leftover mana. This was a perfect crime.
“Hmph. Of course.”
Surveying the scene, Landgar had no choice but to admit his subordinates were right: the Black Shadow Guild was likely involved. Few people on the continent could pull off such a clean theft.
“Was it really the Black Shadow Guild leader? The rumors about them nullifying any barrier are true, it seems.”
Moreover, the methods used bore resemblance to how the same leader had stolen the Dragon Heart from the O’Neil Kingdom years ago—entering and leaving without leaving a trace of mana or battle.
Shen and Max’s disappearance was the icing on the cake.
“Ugh…”
Landgar sighed deeply.
When he received the news about the stolen hourglass last night, it was shocking, but he’d been confident about retrieving it. To that end, he had a plan to reverse-trace his own mana through the transparent box where the hourglass was stored, secured with his bl**d and magical essence.
However, the box remained behind as a useless medium for his tracking plans. He had incorrectly assumed that the thief would take the container and all, giving him a way to trace it.
“This is really… hopeless.”
“d*mn it!”
He flinched.
When Landgar cursed aloud, a subordinate assisting him instinctively flinched. It was easy to understand why—the mana around Landgar was beginning to swirl with increasing intensity.
“If this goes on… ugh. Why, Black Shadow Guild?”
Landgar’s anger only intensified as he realized all the preparations for the upcoming ritual had been rendered useless. So much effort from the organization had been put into this ritual, and even the Great One himself had personally issued the directive for it. This wasn’t just any ritual; it was a moment the entire organization awaited—finding a name.
With the ceremonial artifacts ready, they planned to shatter the Demon Hourglass and hear the voice of the Nameless One. That voice might’ve been the foundation for revolution and salvation.
Now, all of it had been derailed by a group of mere thieves.
Intellectually, Landgar admitted that the Black Shadow Guild likely acted on someone else’s commission, but emotionally, he couldn’t accept that excuse. They were directly responsible for stealing the hourglass and ruining the plan.
“Grr…”
“Whoa!”
As Landgar took a step, his mana exploded outward, shaking the ground beneath him. His subordinate who had been walking beside him now screamed and fled in terror from the heavy, oppressive energy.
Landgar’s inability to do anything about this situation only fueled his rage. If he could’ve pursued and retraced the thief, that’d be one thing, but even that wasn’t possible after examining the crime scene.
This was the worst possible scenario—utter helplessness. This was exactly what Landgar loathed most: being powerless.
“d*mn it…”
With another explosion of mana, Landgar let loose his frustration. Each step he took sent ripples of energy outward, shaking the ground, but it was all for naught. His only recourse at this point was to stomp his feet angrily while staring helplessly at the hourglass’ empty traces in the void.
“This… must be reported.”
Realizing there was nothing left to do, Landgar decided he had no choice but to report this to the Great One. He had attempted to handle it himself, but it was now out of even his hands as an elder.
“Aaargh!”
Inside the empty building, Landgar’s scream of frustration echoed eerily throughout the hall.
