Things were moving fast — too fast.
Liam's first day at the Arthur Royal Institute was met with whispers, stares, and Heath Carter's unnerving attention.
Something about the man's gaze… sharp, knowing… told Liam that the decision for Professor Heath Carter to set the final exam for Conjuration personally wasn't coincidental. It was, most likely, because of him.
The second day hadn't helped.
His brewing of a quality Rehydration Potion — meant to be a quiet attempt at participation — had ignited a new storm of rumors. If he'd known how much noise it would make, he might've failed on purpose.
Might've.
Then again, knowing this place… that might have backfired too.
And now — the third day.
The Tower Master of the Azure Spire had come to the Institute for a chat.
With him.
Liam sat quietly at the back of the classroom, his usual spot, tucked away from view but never from attention. This time, however, he wasn't practicing Heart Frailty. There was no need. Master Caelus was on the campus, and he probably had tried to enquire about his well-being this morning.
Now, if anyone in the Specialist Realm or higher tried to peer into his realm through the basic enchantment of Mana Ripple, they'd feel it instantly:
A First Blaze Mana Heart but that of an Apprentice — a Seeded Apprentice.
And that changed everything.
Not that the students had shut up.
"…you're telling me he brewed a perfect potion on the first try? Seriously?"
"I was in the class. I saw it. The flame was stable — like, stable stable. Emberlain looked like he saw a gem."
"My father told me he has no mana talent when he attended the rite and speculated him to be an Initiate, clearly he is not, he is — "
"Guys, did you not see Carter talking to him on day one? They stared each other down like two wolves."
"Carter is the same that way, with all of us"
"Lily, you saw him yesterday with Serena near the girl's dormitory, right."
"You what?"
"Uh… I saw them. Talking. Just the two of them. You think something's going on?"
"No way. Serena barely talks to anyone."
"Well, he is going to be her fiancé—"
"Wait. They're going to be engaged?"
"That's what I heard — "
Liam slouched slightly in his chair, biting back a sigh.
I miss the peace of Ironhelm Castle, he thought miserably. Even the training grounds were quieter than this place.
"You guys are making it seem like these four months are going to be very long…"
He shifted his gaze toward the front of the class, where Serena was seated.
First bench. As always.
She looked calm, focused — flipping through her notes, completely ignoring the mess of gossip behind her. If she heard any of it, she didn't show it.
Liam almost envied her discipline.
Then —
The door creaked open.
The noise died. Instantly.
No footsteps yet. Just the sound of soft leather boots and the heavy, unmistakable stillness that entered before him.
Heath Carter walked in.
The floating quill immediately began scrawling across the chalkboard with elegant strokes:
Lecture 33 — Mana Theory
Topic: Veno-Occlusion Crisis
This was the second lecture in two days by Professor Heath Carter. And despite Liam's composed expression, one question burned in his mind — a sentiment shared, he suspected, by every other student in the room:
Why was Heath Carter teaching again instead of an associate professor?
Why him?
The quill paused, and so did the room.
Heath's voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"Today's lecture will cover the Veno-Occlusion Crisis in Mana Breathing," he said, tone as crisp as ever. "A phenomenon that, if misunderstood, may cost a mage not only their spell — but their life."
He took two slow steps forward.
"Also… we have a special guest today. The final quarter of the last hour in this class will be taken by him."
Eyes widened across the room, but before excitement could ripple through the class, Heath's voice dropped cold and sharp:
"If any of you go out of line today, I swear to the Towers, I will go to lengths beyond your imagination to have you expelled. Consider this your only warning."
Silence.
You could hear a feather drop.
Everyone straightened up, eyes forward. No whispers, no glances sideways. Just tension, heavy and sharp like a drawn bowstring.
Heath Carter's eyes swept the room, and then — they landed on Liam.
He paused, his brows furrowed in a flicker of recognition and thought.
Liam didn't flinch.
Then, as if nothing had happened, Carter turned and began the lecture.
He explained the Veno-Occlusion Crisis as a rare but severe complication that occurs when a mage attempts to pull too much mana too quickly into their body during high-pressure combat or ritual casting. It causes the mana channels around the veins—specifically those around the neck, arms, and temples — to contract involuntarily, which can lead to suffocation, blood pressure collapse, and even stroke.
It could also occur if an Ascendant has a hereditary predisposition to constricted veins, but that's not his area of expertise. He intended to delve into the field of Mana Theory to elucidate the cause of this phenomenon.
"Most common among mages in the Apprentice to Adept Realm, when the body's refinement is still catching up to the mage's raw mana capacity," Carter explained. "Especially in those who rely too much on external mana without proper internal circulation."
He continued, illustrating with diagrams that were scribbled on the board, and hovering diagrams of bluish radiance — arterial mana veins, choke points, and energy compression. He warned about mana seizures, taught a simple counter-pressure breathing method, and emphasized calibrated channel expansion exercises as prevention.
No one dared to look away.
Not with him teaching.
At last, Carter closed the spellwork display with a snap of his fingers, and the diagrams were also erased.
"That will be all for today's lecture… except—"
He turned to the door and extended a hand.
"— our guest."
The door creaked open as if on cue.
The classroom bustled. Gasps, rustling, soft exclamations. Everyone had been waiting for this moment since Carter had hinted at it.
Heath Carter's tone shifted — still firm, but touched with formality.
"Class… allow me to introduce Master Caelus Francis Verhiem — Tower Master of the Azure Spire, and one of the Ten Archmagi of Ironhelm."
An electric energy surged through the room.
The man who stepped in exuded presence. His eyes — ageless —seemed to measure the entire class in a heartbeat.
Liam sat straighter, expression unreadable.
This was no longer just a lecture.
This… was a test.
Master Caelus scanned the room as he spoke with calmness and authority.
"You are the future of Ironhelm."
The room, already quiet, seemed to lean in.
"This institute," he gestured broadly, "is not merely a place of learning. It is a crucible. One that forges scholars, warriors, tacticians, and healers who may one day protect — or rule."
His eyes passed over each row of students.
"Among you sit those who will define the next age. Some of you may find greatness in battle. Some in diplomacy. And some… in the quiet art of restoration."
He paused, voice softening only slightly.
"Should I find one among you who shines brilliantly in the art of healing — one who understands the flow of life itself, and learns to guide it, not command it — you may one day walk the steps of the Azure Spire… and learn beside me."
There was a hush. Not of fear, but of awe.
"There are opportunities in this realm — open only to those with discipline, resilience, and a mind untouched by arrogance."
The warning bell for the next class rang, and Master Caelus smiled faintly.
"Your time here is short. But your future… may be vast."
He gave a small nod.
"Do not waste it."
With that, and a final glance toward Heath Carter — and perhaps, just a flicker of a glance at Liam— he turned and exited the classroom, his footsteps silent despite the weight of the power he carried.
For several heartbeats, no one moved.
Then, in a murmur, the classroom exhaled.
As the rest of the students shuffled out of the classroom in a quiet wave of awe and chatter, Carter's voice cut through the air.
"Student Liam. With me."
Liam rose, gathered his satchel, and followed Carter. They climbed the grand spiral stairway leading to the third floor — on towards the Mana Theory Department. As they reached a long hallway, Carter stopped before a door etched with shifting runes.
Without looking back, he said simply:
"He's waiting." Then he walked away.
Liam stood before the door. He exhaled, centered himself, and entered.
Inside, the space was not grand, but neither was it simple. A single table, chairs, and a series of old, towering shelves filled with tomes. And at the center of it stood Archmage Caelus — flanked by three individuals, all wearing the same shade of silver as he did. Their robes shimmered faintly under the gentle light of the mana lamps.
"Prince Liam," he said, his tone warm but precise. "Come. Let us talk."
Inside one of the quiet chambers of the Mana Theory Department, with the runed walls humming faintly from residual enchantments, Liam sat across from Master Caelus. Despite the modest furnishing, the space was anything but ordinary — Carter had likely picked it intentionally: private, silent, secure.
Archmage Caelus broke the silence first, folding his gloved hands over the polished desk between them.
"King Elijah wrote to me personally, you know. Said you'd need help with your condition. Said it was urgent."
Liam nodded, calm but guarded.
Caelus arched a brow and narrowed his eyes. A flicker of silver light passed over his irises. He was scanning. Feeling. And then he stopped.
"You've broken through?"
Liam tried to act unbothered, his voice casual. "It came quite late. His Majesty was just two years old by the time he advanced to be an Apprentice."
A pause. Then a soft chuckle from the Archmage.
"Well, His Majesty is a one-in-a-billion genius. You don't have to compare yourself to the king. No one can."
Liam leaned slightly forward, more curious than proud. "So… what do we do now, Master Caelus?"
With a sigh, removed one glove and gently tapped two fingers against the wooden armrest.
"I was sent to assess your health. But I see a boy in perfect condition. An awakened mana heart. Stable flow. Seeded. Apprentice realm. You seem far from frail. I was told otherwise."
"…Pardon?" Liam asked quietly.
"Hmm? Nothing," Caelus replied with a faint smile. "Seems like my visit was entirely unnecessary. A waste of a good morning walk."
Liam hesitated, then decided to push the question that had been bothering him since the day he arrived.
"Master Caelus… may I ask you something?"
"Yes, absolutely. I've nothing else to do anyway."
"Why is no one in the institute above the Master realm?"
The room fell still.
Caelus didn't answer immediately. His expression turned thoughtful, the playful ease in his tone giving way to something heavier — older.
"That… is a good question," he said at last, tapping his fingers again.
Caelus gave Liam a long look, then slowly rose from his chair and walked to the narrow window that overlooked a portion of the institute's training fields.
"Don't take the professors here lightly, Liam. They are the peak of what Ironhelm has to offer. Specialists. Masters. In some cases, those on the verge of breaking through even higher. But when they're ripe — when their knowledge deepens or their blades grow too sharp — they leave."
"Leave to where?" Liam asked, though he could guess.
"The Towers. The Borders," Caelus said simply. "All of them. Some join the grand spires — like the Azure Spire, my own. Others are sent to reinforce our diplomatic strongholds. Many are stationed along the outer walls of our kingdom, where peace is… never guaranteed."
Liam exhaled softly, trying to process that.
"All of them?" he repeated.
"Yes." Caelus turned from the window. "Peace, Prince Liam, is not the natural state of the world. It is engineered. By individuals like those who taught you Potion Brewing yesterday, or the ones teaching Runecrafting tomorrow. Once you reach the Master realm… you will be expected to carry that burden as well."
Liam stared at him, lips slightly parted. "Do we really need to? I mean… can't we go our own way?
Caelus smiled gently, almost wistfully.
"Prosperity and diplomacy in Ironhelm have never been as easy as you assume. Peace doesn't last by faith alone. It is held in place by people who are willing to anchor it. People with power… who choose to bear the weight rather than chase freedom."
Liam leaned back slightly. "Tower research, maybe. That makes sense, Master Caelus. But the borders? Arvandor? Valtoria? I saw those states as I flew in. They look like cracked bowls trying to pass for palaces. What could they possibly threaten?"
There was silence for a moment—then Caelus's eyes narrowed, not in anger, but in something closer to… regret.
"You will know when the time is right, Master Liam," he said softly. "Just remember this — Ironhelm needs you more than you need Ironhelm."
Caelus stepped away from the window. He opened a small satchel hanging from his belt and retrieved three vials — each filled with a glowing liquid of azure blue.
He placed them gently in front of Liam.
"Well, it looks like you're in excellent health after all," Caelus said with a nod. "These are minor potions I brewed myself. Not too strong, but refined. They'll help you in tempering your mana heart — should you ever feel instability or wish to deepen your connection safely."
Liam reached for them, his fingers brushing the cool glass. "Thank you, Master Caelus."
The Archmage smiled faintly and turned toward the door. Just before stepping out, he paused, glancing over his shoulder.
"Good luck, Prince Liam. Whatever path you take… walk it with clarity. That's more important than power."
And with that, the door shut behind him, leaving Liam alone in the quiet chamber, the three vials glowing softly in his palm.