Ethan stood there like an idiot, his hands hovering in front of him, palms up. His mouth felt dry, and his heartbeat was slamming against his chest like a caged beast trying to break free.
All around him, students were already summoning flames. Small, flickering orbs of fire danced above their palms, some wobbling and sputtering while others blazed with steady brilliance.
Even Amara, who looked like she was on the verge of passing out, managed to produce a tiny, trembling flame that hovered over her palm like the world's most fragile ember.
And Ethan?
His hands were as empty as his brain.
"Come on, Ethan. Just... do it," he muttered to himself, his eyes fixed on his own useless hands. "Visualize the flame. Channel your mana. Release it."
He tried to remember what Professor Ignatius had said earlier, about feeling the mana, guiding it, and molding it into something real. The instructions had sounded simple enough, but trying to actually do it was like trying to juggle knives with his eyes closed.
And that was when his mind clicked onto something.
A memory. One of those scenes he'd written for Lucien Ashford back when he was crafting the novel's training arc. The moment when Lucien had been struggling to get his mana to flow properly, unable to form the flame he wanted.
And the solution? A technique called "Mana Threading."
It had been a simple trick. Instead of just forcing mana to gather all at once, the character had learned to guide it slowly, weaving it through his body like threads being drawn together into a single, cohesive point.
He'd written it as something only the protagonist figured out because of his sheer talent and brilliance. But right now, Ethan couldn't afford to be picky about where he was stealing his own ideas from.
"Alright... Mana Threading. Let's give that a shot."
He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. Deep, steady breaths. His mind latched onto the concept of mana threading, his imagination painting the process with a clarity born from desperation.
He pictured the mana like threads of light tangled within him, scattered and wild. Slowly, he started to draw them together, guiding them toward his hands, letting them pool just above his palms.
The warmth came first. A tingling sensation that spread through his fingers like sparks dancing along his skin.
His eyes snapped open, and to his utter amazement, there was a flicker of orange light hovering above his right palm.
"Holy crap... I actually did it."
The flame crackled and sputtered, but it was there. And it was growing.
The warmth intensified, swelling from a flicker to a blaze as Ethan kept forcing more mana into it. But he'd forgotten one crucial detail.
He had no idea what the hell he was doing.
The flame wobbled, its edges growing jagged and wild. The heat was starting to sting, the air itself rippling with the intensity of the unstable fireball.
"Uh... whoa, whoa, whoa! Okay, too much! Way too much!"
He panicked and tried to pull back, but instead of dispersing, the fireball expanded, the flames licking hungrily at the air.
"Let go, Wycliffe!" Professor Ignatius's voice cut through the chaos, calm but firm. "Stop forcing your mana into it and release the spell before you burn your own hands off."
Ethan did as he was told, yanking his mana away from the fireball like he'd just touched a hot stove. The flame exploded outward in a harmless puff of smoke, leaving him panting and feeling like he'd just survived a near-death experience.
The classroom had gone dead silent. Everyone was staring at him.
Fantastic. Absolutely freaking fantastic.
"Well," Ignatius said, a grin curling at his lips. "That was... interesting. A bit like trying to light a candle by throwing it into a bonfire, but interesting nonetheless."
A few scattered chuckles rose from the students, though most were still gawking at him like he'd just tried to set himself on fire. Which, to be fair, he kind of had.
Ethan's cheeks burned. "Uh... sorry."
"No need to apologize," Ignatius replied cheerfully. "You managed to produce an actual flame, which is more than I can say for some of your classmates. You just need to work on your control."
The professor's golden eye seemed to gleam with curiosity. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were actually trying for once. Progress is progress, even if it comes with a few singed eyebrows."
"Y-Yeah," Ethan mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. "Progress."
He slumped back into his seat, his nerves still buzzing from the experience. And then it happened.
A soft chime echoed in his head, followed by a sudden, blinding flash of blue.
His eyes widened as the glowing blue screen appeared in front of him, sleek and shiny with elegant lettering.
[System Activation Complete.]
[Skill Registered: Fireball (Basic-Grade)]
His brain nearly short-circuited.
"A System. I actually have a System?"
Excitement shot through his veins like caffeine on steroids. He'd read enough novels to know that having a System was basically the best possible cheat code anyone could get.
"Okay, okay. Think. How do I—"
The screen shifted, displaying a simple Skill List.
[Skills Learned: Fireball (Basic-Grade)]
He reached out and touched the skill name.
A new description popped up.
Fireball (Basic-Grade): A simple ball of fire formed by gathering mana and igniting it. Limited power and short range.
Ethan's excitement froze.
"That's it?" he whispered. "That's the whole damn thing?"
No stats. No skill enhancement. No options to modify or break down the skill. Just a stupid description of something he could barely control.
"Are you kidding me?" he groaned internally. "What kind of pathetic System is this? It just shows me what I already know! It's a freaking skill log!"
He was torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to punch something. Of course his luck would be this terrible. Of course he'd end up with the most useless System imaginable.
His frustration boiled in his gut, but before he could curse the world any further, a folded slip of paper appeared on his desk with a tiny burst of flame. It was small, precise, and burned away the moment Ethan finished reading it.
"See me after class." — Prof. Ignatius
Ethan swallowed hard.
He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a very, very bad thing.
Ethan spent the rest of the class in a haze of panic and embarrassment. Every time he glanced up, he could feel people staring at him, their whispers echoing in his mind.
"That was Wycliffe?"
"Did you see that mess he made?"
"I thought he was supposed to be some noble prodigy. Guess that was just hot air."
He kept his gaze locked on his desk, the System screen still floating in his peripheral vision like some cruel joke. His amazing, broken cheat ability was nothing more than a fancy skill list. Just a basic log of what spells he already knew.
And right now, the only thing in there was a single pathetic Fireball spell he could barely control.
The rest of the lesson dragged on like someone had strapped a lead weight to time itself. Ethan tried a few more times to cast the fireball, but all he managed were weak flickers and the occasional puff of smoke.
Every failure felt like a nail being driven into his ego. And yet, he couldn't stop trying. Because if he couldn't even do this, then he was as good as dead when the First-Year Spellcraft Examination rolled around.
"Alright, that's enough for today," Professor Ignatius finally called out, his voice cutting through the sea of murmurs. "Those of you still struggling, keep practicing. Those of you feeling cocky, practice twice as much. Fire doesn't care how talented you think you are."
He flashed a smile, eyes dancing with mischief. "Class dismissed."
The students started filing out, some chatting excitedly about their progress, others groaning about their failures. Ethan stayed glued to his seat, his gaze fixed firmly on his own hands.
He glanced down at the System screen again, as if hoping it might suddenly reveal some hidden function that would magically fix all his problems.
It didn't. Of course it didn't.
He almost wanted to laugh. "I'm stuck with a magical pop-up window that basically says, 'Congrats, you suck.'"
Ethan buried his face in his hands. And then he remembered the note.
"See me after class." — Prof. Ignatius
His stomach twisted. That was either the best news he'd gotten all day or the worst.
By the time the last student trickled out, the classroom was nearly empty. The only ones left were Ethan and Professor Ignatius, who was casually stretching his arms like he'd just finished a morning jog.
"Well, Mr. Wycliffe. I suppose I should congratulate you," Ignatius said, his voice light and easy.
Ethan blinked. "Congratulate me? For what, exactly?"
"For not setting the entire classroom on fire, of course." Ignatius grinned. "A little wild and uncontrolled, sure, but there was actual power behind it. Which tells me you were trying something interesting. Something I definitely didn't teach you."
Ethan swallowed hard. "Uh... what do you mean?"
Ignatius folded his arms, his mismatched eyes practically gleaming with curiosity. "You were using a technique to gather your mana before releasing it. And while your execution was... let's say, overzealous, the power you drew out was impressive. Care to explain where you learned something like that?"
Panic rose in Ethan's throat. The answer of "I wrote it as a training method for the protagonist of my novel" wasn't exactly going to cut it. "I, uh... just sort of... figured it out?"
The professor raised an eyebrow. "Figured it out, huh? Interesting. Most beginners wouldn't even think to use something like Mana Threading, especially not at your level."
Ethan's eyes widened. "Wait, so it's an actual technique?"
Ignatius chuckled. "Of course it is. Quite an advanced one, actually. The basic idea is to draw mana into yourself gradually, letting it flow and accumulate before releasing it as a spell. The problem is, you were doing both at the same time. Trying to gather and release simultaneously is like trying to fill a bucket while also pouring it out."
Ethan felt his cheeks heat up. "Oh. That... makes a lot of sense."
"It does. And if you keep doing it like that, you're going to keep having your spells blow up in your face," Ignatius said with a shrug. "The trick to making Mana Threading work is to keep the flow constant. You need to gather the mana, let it build up, and then release it all at once. Not force it all out like you're trying to break down a door with a sledgehammer."
"Right... Constant flow. Got it."
Ignatius's grin turned almost predatory. "Good. Because if you're serious about improving, you're going to need to get a lot better than that little mess you made today."
Ethan's shoulders slumped. "Yeah, I figured."
The professor's expression softened. "You know, Mr. Wycliffe, the First-Year Spellcraft Examination is two days away. And judging by your current skill level, you'd get absolutely demolished in front of everyone."
"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence."
"Just being honest. But you did show some potential today. If you're willing to put in the effort, you might actually stand a chance."
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "A chance? How?"
"Well, the examination is split into two parts. First, you'll have to demonstrate your proficiency in basic elemental spells. If you fail that, you're done. No duel. No second chances."
"And the second part?"
"The duel," Ignatius said, his smile fading. "Every first-year student is paired up against another student. The goal isn't to kill your opponent, obviously, but to demonstrate your mastery over your spells. And if you walk in there with only a half-baked fireball, you're going to be humiliated. Possibly injured."
Ethan's throat went dry. "Great. So I'm already doomed."
"Not necessarily," Ignatius said with a shrug. "You've still got two days. And I'm willing to give you some extra guidance. But just learning how to control your fireball won't be enough."
"What do you mean?"
"You need versatility. Something that can counterbalance your fire spells. What you need, Mr. Wycliffe, is something like "Aqua Sphere.""
Ethan's eyebrows shot up. "Aqua Sphere?"
Ignatius nodded. "It's a simple, defensive water spell meant to conjure a ball of water that can be launched, shaped, or used to defend yourself. It's not flashy, but it's incredibly flexible and can save your skin when firepower alone won't do the trick."
"Alright. That... actually sounds useful."
Ignatius chuckled. "Good. Because if you're serious about not getting flattened at the examination, you'll need to learn it. And quickly."
For the first time all day, Ethan felt a tiny flicker of hope.
"Alright. Let's do this."