Chapter 221: Rude Professor Azel was nervous. Now that he was done with the whole shenanigans concerning speeches and his brand-new role as Class Representative, a different kind of problem weighed on his shoulders — one that felt, somehow, even bigger than the first. He didn’t want to go to class. Reading about other academy protagonists fumbling their way through first days in novels had always been entertaining. Watching them try to settle into desks, meet classmates, and suffer through boring lessons — it was hilarious. But now? Now it was his turn to live through it, and he wasn’t laughing. ’If I remember correctly,’ he thought, tugging on the edge of his black jacket, ’this thing has the authority to let me skip class whenever I want.’ The thought was tempting. He could already imagine hiding out somewhere, sneaking off to eat good fish, or even taking a nap. Anything sounded better than sitting through a lecture. But the jacket also came with expectations. He wasn’t just some ordinary First Year anymore; he was the Representative. If he disappeared from class on the very first day, his reputation would crumble before it even had time to shine. So, with a sigh, he resigned himself. When he had gone back earlier to collect the Representative’s jacket, Miss Brown had also given him a sleek black watch. It was standard issue, apparently. Every student wore one — it kept track of their classes, schedules, and even pointed them in the right direction if they got lost. Azel tapped on the surface. The dark screen flared to life, glowing faint blue letters forming across it. [Spellcraft Theory] He stared at it, expression flat. ’Spellcraft Theory, huh? I guess I should head to class then.’ ... Soon, he stood outside the classroom. The watch had guided him directly here, the glowing arrow on its surface ensuring he couldn’t make excuses about being lost. Azel sighed again, staring at the tall door. His fingers hesitated on the handle. ’I just have to learn, right?’ he told himself, forcing his nerves down. ’Just... sit down, listen, take notes. That’s all.’ He pushed the door open. The classroom was already buzzing with life. Almost every seat was filled, and they looked excited. Of course it was packed. This was their first real class, their first taste of the academy’s teachings. One could feel the nervousness and eagerness radiating from every corner. "Class Rep!" someone shouted. "I left a seat for you!" "Class Rep! Sit here!" another voice called. "Class Rep! Over here!" Heads turned, hands waved, and voices piled over one another. Half the class was trying to claim him. Azel blinked, overwhelmed. ’Are these... the perks of being famous?’ he thought. The enthusiasm was flattering, sure, but he also caught the sharp stares of several boys glaring daggers at him. Their forced smiles and clenched jaws screamed jealousy. ’What did I do to offend them already?’ Azel wondered, baffled. He had barely even said a word to them. Scanning the room, his eyes landed on Sybil. She sat near the middle, one leg crossed over the other, waving him over with an easy smile. She patted the empty chair next to her. The desks were paired, two seats to each table, so sitting with Sybil meant claiming his spot. The alternative was choosing a stranger... or worse, sitting next to one of those scowling boys. It wasn’t a hard choice. Azel made his way to Sybil, ignoring the protests of the other students. "Good morning, Class Rep," Sybil greeted smoothly as he sat beside her. She tilted her head, her smile sly. "Missed me?" Azel gave her a side glance but didn’t bother answering. It wasn’t out of malice but because at that exact moment, the room itself demanded attention. The podium at the front glowed suddenly. A roar of wind spiraled from above. The ceiling itself seemed to split, a violent tornado tearing down into the middle of the room. Papers and books went flying. Students shouted in surprise, fumbling to catch their belongings before they scattered across the floor. The whirlwind slammed into the ground and dispersed, leaving behind a middle-aged man who stood tall at the podium. He had long black hair and he wore spectacles, Azel would have called him a handsome individual if he didn’t have that scowl on his face. Though he recognized him instantly. ’So... he’s the one teaching Spellcraft?’ The man had sharp features and hard eyes that swept over the students like a predator scanning prey. It was actually unnerving, but again he was meant to be a professor so he couldn’t harm them directly in class. ’I guess that’s okay?’ Azel thought and focused. "Good morning, mongrels," the man barked, his voice deep, cracking like thunder. "I am Professor Calvess Drake. I will be the one teaching you Spellcraft." The room fell utterly quiet. Professor Drake sneered. "I’ve taught hundreds of mages — men and women who now hold seats of power across the Empire. Thea Martha, the famous Thread Mage? Yes, she sat where you sit now, once upon a time. Do not delude yourselves into thinking you are special. If you fail in my class, the problem is not me. The problem is you." He let the silence hang before spitting his next words like venom. "You are nothing but unsharpened blades. Useless lumps of raw iron. And most of you..." his eyes darted toward the section filled with well-dressed noble children, "are rusted already, corroded with arrogance and privilege. Don’t expect me to bow to your family names. In this classroom, you are not heirs, you are not nobles, you are not lords or ladies. You are mongrels, same as the rest. And I will grind you down until you are worth something." A murmur of outrage stirred among some noble-born students, but his glare silenced them instantly. Despite his harsh words, it was clear: Professor Drake hated nobles. His contempt rolled off him in waves. ’Well at least I’m not a noble right?’ Azel thought in relief. "Even your Class Representative, Azel will always be a noble in the end. He talks big, but unless he proves it here, his words are just air with nothing to back them." ’Eh what did I do?’