Silas jogged through the hallways, trailing Cynthia until they reached Class 4-D.
He watched as Cynthia timidly entered, clearly embarrassed by her lateness. The professor inside wasted no time, immediately scolding her.
The game never really explored Cynthia's character beyond the surface. Nice to see more of her in this world, Silas thought with a smirk.
He shrugged and entered the room himself, but was immediately met with the professor's glare.
"Marcus Ravenfield, you're late as well, and even later than that commoner," the professor snapped.
Marcus Ravenfield? Silas's mind raced. So that's my name here in this new world.
The professor was an older man, his face lined with wrinkles, though his eyes radiated undeniable intelligence and power. Silas wasn't familiar with the magic system, given that he'd only played the game on its easiest difficulty as a child and never bothered to dive too deeply into the leveling system.
But standing in front of someone so deeply embedded in the game's lore, he could feel the power radiating off the professor.
"I apologize for my tardiness," Silas said, bowing slightly. He wasn't too worried about severe punishment—after all, he was just an extra, right?
The professor didn't soften. Instead, he pointed to Cynthia, who had already taken her seat at the back of the room, her face flushed from the earlier reprimand.
"You," the professor barked, "come to the front."
Silas raised an eyebrow, unsure what was about to happen.
Are we going to be punished?
Cynthia shuffled nervously to the front, a piece of toast still dangling from her mouth. She stood awkwardly next to Silas—now Marcus.
The professor turned to the board and began drawing a rune, inscribing it with symbols that, to Silas's eye, seemed oddly familiar. It's just like the game's magic system… but more complicated.
In the game, magic was little more than a glorified science class. He'd never paid much attention to the finer details, so the intricate symbols didn't mean much to him.
"Since you're both late," the professor said, his voice cutting through the tension, "I'm sure you won't mind being my teaching assistants for today."
Cynthia nodded eagerly, her determination to redeem herself evident.
Silas merely shrugged, nodding in agreement. Well, this will be easy.
The professor cleared his throat and spoke, his voice firm.
"Alright, everyone. First up is the basics of magic: a simple flame spell."
He drew three runic circles on the board with chalk, inscribing words inside each one: Heat, Fuel, and Breath
Silas couldn't help but chuckle under his breath.
Basic physics.
This magic system is easier than I thought.
Meanwhile, Cynthia stared at the rune, fixated on the intricacies of the circles, her brow furrowed in confusion.
The professor's sharp eyes caught the sound of Silas's laughter, and his glare turned steely.
"Marcus, what's so funny?"
Silas shrugged casually, his confidence unshaken.
"Well… I just find this class way too easy."
The professor raised an eyebrow, a chuckle escaping him. A new student at the academy? Thinking magic is easy? Preposterous.
"Fine then, explain how it works, if you're such a genius," he said, crossing his arms with a smirk, daring Silas to prove himself.
Cynthia, still distracted by the runes, glanced between Silas and the professor, bewildered by his unwavering confidence.
Silas strode confidently to the front of the room, grabbed a piece of chalk, and began sketching his own rune. He didn't bother with the conventional magical symbols—he was about to abuse modern knowledge.
"Pressure, heat, oxygen, and of course, recoil…" Silas murmured as he finished inscribing the rune, brushing chalk dust off his hands with a satisfied grin.
The professor coughed, clearly unimpressed.
"What even is that? That's just a bunch of random gibberish combined. What's it supposed to do?"
Silas's smirk only widened.
"How about activating it?"
The professor scoffed, skeptical. With a wave of his hand, he imbued the rune with his mana, expecting something insignificant to happen. To his surprise, the rune absorbed less mana than a typical fire spell would.
"It's efficient, I'll give you that… but what does it actually—"
Before the professor could finish his thought, the rune erupted in a controlled explosion of combustion, its force equivalent to that of dynamite.
Cynthia gasped in shock, instinctively stumbling back. Silas was faster, rushing to her side and shielding her from the blast with his body.
"Careful there," he said, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
The professor quickly moved, inscribing a rune in the air with symbols for air and pressure, creating a forcefield of wind that swirled around the students.
The class watched in awe, their eyes wide as they took in the raw power of Silas's crude but effective magic.
"That's insane! He just made combustion magic—the kind only the Braveheart family can control!" one student exclaimed.
"That's… incredible…" another whispered, clearly impressed.
Before any more comments could follow, the professor slammed his palm on the board with a sharp crack, silencing the room.
"Marcus!" the professor barked. "It's only your first day, and you've already destroyed the board!" His voice was sharp, but there was an undercurrent of genuine concern, more for the safety of the students than for Silas's display of power.
"You could have killed someone!"
Silas shrugged nonchalantly, releasing Cynthia, who had been huddled beside him, still shaken. "Well... you told me to explain it. I thought I'd make it a bit more interesting."
What's the big deal? To him, the knowledge was far more valuable than the safety of a few students. Silas's assassin instincts kicked in, making him view the situation through a cold, pragmatic lens. Life was expendable.
People were expendable. But as he turned his gaze away from the professor, a flicker of doubt crept in. Was that really how he should be thinking now?
The professor's glare could have frozen water. With a flick of his wrist, he sent Silas stumbling toward the door.
"Head to the guidance counselor's office," the professor ordered, his voice icy. "And don't come back until you've got an approval letter from her."
The door slammed shut with a magical thud as the professor sealed it with a wave of his hand.
Silas stood there, momentarily stunned. He had expected praise for creating such a powerful spell so efficiently, not being kicked out.
Then, a realization hit him.
I used to get praised for being an efficient killing machine. I guess normal people don't really operate like that.
A dark chuckle escaped him, and he turned toward the empty hallway.
I wonder… how I used to act before becoming an assassin.
"Guess I'd better find the guidance counselor..."