As the class wrapped up, Professor Veyne opened the usual Q&A session.
This time, as Yuna submitted her group's profiles, there was a subtle pause.
His expression, though hidden beneath the white mask, grew noticeably more serious as his gaze skimmed through the documents—especially when he reached Cerise's.
There, nestled within the words, was something faint yet unmistakable—a vague outline of a goal, an intention, something elusive yet promising. If nurtured, it could very well evolve into a genuine 'Path'.
Cerise had written that he wished to develop his illusion abilities not in pursuit of realism, but through embracing fallacy—creating illusions that distorted perception rather than mimicked it.
Unwittingly, the boy had already begun laying the foundations of his own path. Fallacy....
"Cerise," Professor Veyne called out.
Cerise raised his hand immediately, his tone light and eager. "Yes, Professor?"
"Did this goal come to you through an epiphany?" the professor asked coolly, his voice neutral as ever, betraying no emotion.
"Kind of," Cerise scratched his cheek, tugging slightly at his collar. "Yuna and I had a talk. She gave me a whole new perspective on what I could do with my illusions."
Cerise smile sweetly.
"I see," was all Veyne replied.
He shifted his attention to another student. "Theo."
"You succeeded in mutating your mana." His tone was flat, as if reading from a list.
"Yes. Yuna helped me," Theo said shortly, clearly uncomfortable with the subject, especially since it reminded him of when Yuna had been upset with them.
One by one, Professor Veyne continued calling out students, asking them brief, targeted questions.
Unbeknownst to them, most of the class had already stepped onto the threshold of forging their own Path. Some had begun shaping it more clearly, while others had just taken their first step—but the progression was undeniable.
True, there had always been prodigies capable of discovering their Path at an early stage… but this many at once?
That was unprecedented. A quiet miracle.
"You've done well guiding your classmates," Professor Veyne said to Yuna, his tone as bland as ever. He made no mention of Paths or epiphanies.
After all, when it came to the forging of a personal Path, the best approach was to let nature take its course. Interference often did more harm than good.
Yuna's guidance couldn't be counted as interference either. Neither she nor her classmates realized the significance of their breakthroughs—it had all happened organically.
Yuna and the Heart Class were, in every sense, one of a kind.
It was no wonder the principal had a soft spot for them—she eavesdropped on them more than she should.
Not that she ever leaked any of her findings to the other teachers—that, at least, was her only redeeming trait.
Although Professor Veyne was curious about the exact details of Yuna's conversations with her classmates, or how Theo managed his mana mutation, he wasn't the type to pry. He simply wasn't that nosy.
As the instructor of the Heart Class, he had his own quirks too.
Where others might have raved in awe or launched into lengthy analysis, Veyne simply offered calm suggestions for improvement.
And—perhaps most mean-spirited of all—he didn't even bother to explain that his instruction for Yuna to "guide her classmates" on their Path was nothing more than a bit of teasing on his part.
After Professor Veyne finished reviewing the profiles and giving his recommendations, Yuna quietly slid another sheet of paper onto his desk and asked, "Professor, do you know how to translate this?"
He glanced at the page and slowly enunciated, "Krdlstdusottl."
Yuna blinked. She had absolutely no idea what that garbled string of sounds was supposed to mean—let alone how to ever repeat it.
As if sensing her internal distress, Professor Veyne continued calmly, "In the Empire's common tongue, it translates to 'Achlys.' It means death."
"Oh," Yuna responded, tilting her head slightly.
The name sounded cool—elegant, even—but its meaning didn't exactly match her cute little raven. So her raven was called Achlys, huh? Well, she could work with that. Maybe she'd even give him a nickname... Ach Ach, perhaps?
Even though the name felt a little dramatic for such an adorable summon, Yuna figured it suited his personality just fine. After all, her little raven liked to strut around acting high and mighty in front of other summoned creatures. Out of respect—and affection—she'd give him the dignity of his fancy name.
…..
Yuna arranged for her classmates to practice independently throughout the week. Then, at the end of the week, they would all gather at the combat hall to test their improvements against the brand-new combat puppets the academy had generously provided—mostly because they had, ahem, completely wrecked the last set.
With everyone busy on their own, Yuna, for once blessed with free time, made her way toward the academy's lake.
Today was the day she would practice her elemental abilities.
Well… practice was a strong word. More like poke around until something worked.
She had a rough idea of what she wanted her water element to evolve into. It wasn't fully formed yet—more like a vague, blurry concept hovering in her mind—but hey, that's already pretty impressive by Yuna standards.
First step: Pressure.
In her fire element, the key force was heat. For water, she decided, it wouldn't be its fluidity or any poetic nonsense like that—it would be pressure. Solid, simple, aggressive pressure.
Of course, Yuna could've spent some extra time thinking up a fancier concept, reading more books and shit...but her lazy brain, lounging like a smug cat in her skull, told her "Pressure is already perfect. Why overcomplicate it?"
Besides, the elemental book itself mentioned the importance of pressure, so she was practically being a model student by going with it, right?
Absolutely.
If anyone dared to blame her for being underprepared, Yuna decided in advance that she would simply point an accusing finger at 'Lazy Yuna'—the true villain who refused to let her become a hardworking, book-devouring prodigy.
Really, she was the victim in all this.
Yuna had given it some thought. While normal pressure might have it's limits, once she created a named water element, it's special trait would evolve, transforming simple scientific 'Pressure' into a completely new and enhanced non-scientific magical ability
Yuna dipped her hand into the cool lake water, quietly gathering a portion under her control. As planned, she began applying pressure, her elemental energy churning wildly in response.
Well, wildly was putting it nicely—it was more like an uncoordinated riot of energy rampaging through her system.
It was her first time trying to precisely control water molecules and compress them under pressure, so of course things were going to be a little... messy.
Thankfully, her body was practically swimming in elemental energy. Her elemental plate worked overtime, greedily absorbing stray elementals from the air around her every minute, like some bottomless pit. So, at least she didn't have to worry about running out of energy anytime soon.
Sure, applying a massive surge of elemental power could strain her body, but with her current reservoir, she was still a long way from that kind of dramatic collapse.
'Good. Wonderful. We are thriving', Yuna thought, feeling extremely pleased with herself.
Then she—very nonchalantly, very lazily—spread the pressure outward without much thought.
That was when the lake started… changing.
A suspicious red tint began spreading through the crystal-clear water like someone had dropped food coloring into it.
Alarm bells blared in Yuna's mind. She immediately leaned over and looked down into the water—
And froze.
There, beneath the surface, the fish were floating lifelessly—no, not floating—squashed. Like someone had cranked up the world's most vicious hydraulic press. Their bodies had literally turned into fish paste under her casual pressure.
Yuna: "..."
There were no words.
Just stunned silence and the crushing weight of guilt.
She yanked her hand out of the water as if burned.
I'M SORRY, I'M SO SORRY!!! she cried internally, bowing to the imaginary spirits of the innocent fish she had just... annihilated.
Feeling like the worst scum on the planet, Yuna stiffly stood up. Then, in the most suspicious, guilt-ridden manner possible, she walked away without glancing back—like a scumbag who'd abandoned their partner the morning after a wild party.
As she power-walked farther from the scene of her crime, she suddenly heard a scream echoing across the lake.
"AHHHH—FISHY!!!! Who killed the fish I painstakingly caught and raised!??!! WHO!??! I'm gonna kill you!!!"
Yuna's steps immediately turned into a full-blown sprint.
No hesitation.
No looking back.
She was already halfway to the horizon, violently discarding all responsibility like a champion coward.