The door creaked open, and the idle chatter in the classroom fell into a hush.

A man entered with his posture relaxed, his gait unhurried. He barely spared a glance at the gathered scholars as he strode toward the front of the room.

His long, dark coat billowed slightly behind him, revealing the simple yet refined attire of a Velthia Academy professor.

Though he carried himself with the dignity of an educator, there was an undeniable air of disinterest in his movements.

He reached the podium and exhaled out of the sheer lack of expectations. He twisted his wrist, the manaboard beeped to life, its circuits glowing faintly. But instead of displaying anything grand, the professor simply leaned against the podium, crossing his arms as he surveyed the room.

“Morning. I assume all of you can hear me.”

His voice was smooth but flat, as though he had long grown tired of this routine. He gave the class a long, unreadable stare before continuing.

“My name is Sirian Edvoss. You may refer to me as Professor Edvoss, Prof Ed or simply ‘Professor’—whatever suits your liking. I’m responsible for overseeing your academic progress in this class, though I highly doubt I’ll need to do much.”

His gray eyes swept over the students with vague amusement.

“Since today is the first gathering, you won’t be learning anything. My job right now is to make sure you understand how this academy operates, what’s expected of you, and why most of you will likely fall behind if you don’t start taking things seriously.”

“Let’s start with the basics. Velthia Academy functions on a meritocratic system. What does that mean? Simple. Your status outside these walls—noble, commoner, merchant, beggar… means nothing. The only thing that matters here is your ability.”

He tapped the manaboard, and a series of floating texts materialized behind him.

*———Key System———*

-Scholar Ranking & Class System.

-Scholars are divided into five classes: A, B, C, D, and E.

-Class A houses the highest-ranking students; Class E houses the lowest.

-Promotion between classes is possible but requires exceptional performance.

Points System.

-Every scholar accumulates Merit Points and Demerit Points based on their academic and practical achievements.

-Merit Points are earned through exams, combat trials, missions, and contributions to the academy.

-Demerit Points are given for rule violations, failures, or underperformance.

-Your overall standing in the academy is influenced by this system.

Examinations & Evaluations.

-Scholars are tested through both written exams and practical assessments.

-Performance in combat, magic, strategy, and academics determines promotions or demotions.

-Major evaluations occur at the end of every semester, with minor assessments happening monthly.

Dormitory & Living Conditions:

-Dormitories are assigned based on class ranking.

-Higher-ranked scholars receive better accommodations.

-Personal training areas, study halls, and dining privileges vary depending on rank.

===

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Professor Edvoss gestured vaguely at the list.

“In summary, your life here revolves around points. Earn enough, and you rise. Lose too many, and… well, I’m sure you can figure out the rest. You should also know that, historically, Class E has the lowest graduation success rate in the academy.”

The statement lingered ominously in the air.

“So adjust your expectations accordingly.” His words carried no malice, only blunt realism.

Then, Professor Edvoss exhaled sharply, as if moving on from a tiresome routine.

“Since today isn’t an actual lesson, we won’t be wasting time sitting here. Instead, we’ll head to the armory for your weapon selection. Velthia Academy does not enforce a singular combat style. Magic, swordsmanship, archery, or whatever else—you choose what suits you best. The academy provides the initial tools, but from there, it’s up to you to refine your skills.”

He glanced across the room, eyes scanning the unfamiliar faces.

“That said, let me remind you of something.”

“Not all of you will make it to graduation. Some will fail to accumulate enough merit points. However, knowledge is never wasted. Even if you fail to become a graduate of Velthia, what you learn here will still be valuable.”

“Some of you might end up as mercenaries, selling your skills to the highest bidder. Others might get scouted by an adventurer’s guild, settling for an average but livable career. That’s assuming, of course, you survive long enough to reach that point.”

“So, learn as much as you can. Even if you end up as nothing more than an average sellsword, it’s still better than dying ignorant.”

The cold logic in his voice left little room for optimism.

With that, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door.

“Enough talking. Now, follow me.”

…

The doors to the armory swung open.

From the moment Class E stepped inside, the sheer variety of weapons became apparent—swords, spears, daggers, bows, staffs, crossbows, whips, glaives, halberds, warhammers, throwing knives, chains, tonfas, scythes, and more.

Velthia Academy spared no expense when it came to its facilities, and even though these were only training weapons, the sheer variety was overwhelming.

Professor Edvoss stepped forward, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.

“Any weapon you like should be here. These are for training purposes only, so don’t expect anything too special. Still, they’ll be sufficient for learning the fundamentals.”

Most of the students had already started moving, scanning the vast selection. Some eyed the sharp glimmer of swords, while others tested the weight of bows and crossbows.

A few inspected the complex enchantments on staffs, sensing the faint traces of magic embedded within. But for certain individuals, especially in the higher classes, this selection meant nothing.

Many of the notable figures in the academy already had their own weapons—artifacts, heirlooms, and custom-forged arms that far surpassed what the academy could offer.

Born into wealth, their families had long since provided them with treasured blades, enchanted relics, and rare weapons crafted by master artisans.

For them, they wouldn’t need these standard-issue weapons when they already possessed equipment that could define their legacy.

But for someone like Ruvian, this choice was everything. He had thought about this for a long time, even before stepping foot in the academy.

What weapon suited him? What path would he take?

Although Ruvian had honed his swordsmanship in his previous life before transmigration, he felt that his body was still weak for that.

Weapons can be changed every semester but it’s rarely done by the scholars. So, as for now, he thought he needed a weapon that doesn’t require any strength or skills. For a temporary, until he builds enough strength.

Professor Edvoss crossed his arms, his expression unreadable as he spoke once more.

“Choose wisely. Once you pick a weapon, you won’t be allowed to change it until the semester ends.”

Ruvian’s steps were deliberate as he moved through the armory, weaving past students who were testing the weight of swords, adjusting the grip of spears, or drawing the strings of bows.

None of those weapons mattered to him.

His destination was clear.

At the far end of the room, in a less crowded section, stood a simple wooden rack lined with wands.

Unlike the extravagant weapons some students examined, these wands looked unassuming—plain, slender lengths, devoid of carvings or embedded gemstones.

Ruvian reached out and wrapped his fingers around one. The moment he lifted it, he noted the weight or rather, the lack of it.

It was light.

Almost too light.

It wasn’t as if a mage truly needed a weapon.

Spells could still be cast without one. However, a wand or a staff, served as more than just an accessory. They acted as focuses, stabilizing mana flow, refining control, and in some cases, enhancing spell effects.

Certain wands or staffs carried enchantments that could amplify magic, reduce casting time, or even bolster the wielder’s stamina.

A staff could offer stronger enchantments, but it was cumbersome. Long, unwieldy, and impractical for quick movement. Carrying one everywhere would be a hassle.

A wand, on the other hand, was compact.

Easy to carry. Easy to hide. And of course, easy to move with.

That was why he had no doubts.

Ruvian gripped tightly onto his wand. Check latest chapters at ɴovelfire.net

‘Now, I feel more like a mage.’

[You have been rewarded +10 Plot Points]