Voluntold

Lawrence and Eva entered the lecture hall to see it descend to the professor’s desk. Each row had about ten to fifteen students. As soon as the door opened, everyone turned to look at him, mimicking owls almost.

“You would think I’d be used to being stared at by now,” Lawrence whispered to Eva as they sat at the end of the middle row.

“It’s only normal since everyone, including myself, thought you died.”

Oh, I wish I could tell her that was the case. It bothers me having to lie to all of Lawrence’s friends and family. Would they even believe me?

Before he could respond, the professor walked in and set his binders on his lectern. He had silver hair, glasses, and a suit in colors similar to our uniforms but with gold accents.

“Mr. Blackwood, so nice of you to join us so quickly after recovering.” The professor spoke in a light but authoritative tone.

“O-of course, sir.”

“Your doctor already forwarded your diagnosis to the academy, so your professors will ease you back in. Although, from what he told me, you may require further guidance.”

“I understand, professor.”

“I believe Miss Wagner will be delighted to help bring you up to speed outside school hours.”

W-what? What does he mean? I hope he didn’t have an ulterior motive for saying that. To my knowledge, the princess and I are close friends.

“O-Of course, Professor Macias,” Eva replied before Lawrence could.

“Great. For now, we’ll pick it up from where we left off before spring break.”

Everyone opened their books and flipped through the pages. Eva nudged Lawrence’s arm and pointed to the page. Silently thanking her, he flipped to it. It was about the usage of complicated and impractical magic.

“As you all know, the fifty-first Paladin, Edward Blackwood, revolutionized the use of magic nearly seven hundred years ago. Technically, everything is a unique spell based on the mental image you create and unconscious suggestion through chanting.” Professor Macias set his book down and walked over to the wide chalkboard, writing something on it.

“But what about half-assed chanted spells? Or perhaps no chant at all?”

He echoed the question he wrote on the board, turning to face the class.

“Uh, Professor, we answered this question in our first year." One of Lawrence’s peers said out loud. Their appearance was nothing notable. They looked like an average noble kid.

“Hmm. Quite true. However, your first-year professors didn't ask, "Why are some mages capable of incantation-less magic while others are not?” The professor folded his arms, tapping the tip of the chalk against his bicep.

“Because some people are more talented than others.” A girl with long, dark purple hair, raising her hand, answered.

“Well, that’s the easy answer.”

I would’ve thought the same…Lawrence thought, despite knowing the answer already.

Conveniently, this is the topic of discussion that interested Lawrence the most. He hoped he could learn something to fill the gaps in his memory.

“Crystal clear memory.” The professor answered after no one else seemed to be able to come up with a different answer.

Some people talked amongst themselves. From the tone, it was clear they were confused by his response.

“Being able to recall a spell quickly without needing to take the time to reprocess the image of what you want is efficient.”

He started drawing images of a mouth with an arrow pointing to a brain. “Chants are simply verbal propositions that strengthen the unconscious formation of mental images, as you all know.”

“It’s an aid. Not a necessity. Partial or incantation-less magic for a few spells is only possible by having a good memory.”

Professor Macias then drew a simple rendition of a person thinking to themselves. He was a magnificent artist.

“Magic is like all aspects of life. Things you should already know, like your birthday, names of your parents, things that anyone should be able to recall just like that.” The professor snapped his fingers at the end of his statement.

“Spellcasting is the same. Habits and memory are what make you a more effective mage. Some people, like Miss Clark, are more adept at this.” He waved the chalk towards the girl who answered before.

“But anyone who can wield mana can cast spells with only a single word if they put their mind to it.”

He then pointed his index finger towards the ceiling as sparks of fire mana formed around it. Without saying a word, a faint fireball shot out and impacted the roof, leaving no damage. Some students gasped softly as the embers slowly fizzled out after the display.

“I didn’t want the damage repairs to come out of my paycheck, but what you just learned is true.” He laughed softly as the rest of the class joined in. “Now, let’s switch to magic circles…”

…

It wasn’t long after the class ended, and everyone packed their things and left. Lawrence was pretty surprised by the professor's material, which aligned with much of what he discovered through the memory fragments.

Eva poked his shoulder, which broke his focus. She had a slightly sad expression on her face. “I’ll see you in third period.”

He nodded as he checked his watch to see the time. It was about 9:30 Day Standard. After she left, he began searching for his next class.

Combat Applications…Combat Applications…

He opened the door to his class, and the stares of most of his classmates, who were already seated, greeted him. Luckily, a seating chart was taped to the chalkboard so he could see where to sit as he passed by. His seat was in the far back next to a classmate wearing a charcoal version of the school uniform with a red armband on his left arm.

He had short, light-gray hair and lime-green eyes. A taped-on cotton ball taped to his left cheek was barely visible. Leaning beside him was a blade that looked like a katana.

A katana?? I had no idea they existed here. So surely there must be a version of Japan somewhere, or perhaps, another transmigrator who’s Japanese…? If I can find them, maybe they’ll have the answers I'm looking for about the world.

Lawrence remained composed as he took his seat. The professor entered and greeted the class. Everyone did the same in unison as he began taking attendance.

Soon after finishing, the professor clapped his hands, gathering everyone’s attention.

“So, since it’s been a while, I figured we’d start the semester with mock duels to shake off the rust.”

Oh crap.

“Would anyone like to volunteer to go first?”

Crap. I’m not prepared for physical combat.

Even if he applied everything he’d read, from fighting manuals and training videos to brief practice with Bernard, he doubted he could contend with anyone in class.

The only reason he could defeat the bandits was that they were largely untrained and used to fighting people who couldn’t defend themselves, but even then, there were a few close moments in that encounter.

Lawrence scanned the room, eyeing anyone who could be a possible opponent. The class was a mix of mages with swords, knives, and axes, but many had wands, indicating there was a chance he’d be fighting someone inexperienced. He’d have to bet on his luck.

“Mr. Blackwood, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind going first, especially to commemorate your return.” The professor innocently called out, holding up a wooden sword.

“O-of course not…” Lawrence hesitatingly obliged, getting up and walking down the steps toward the front.

“I’m surprised he had the gall to return.”

“He wouldn’t want to waste daddy’s money.”

“Must be nice, damn bastard.”

Lawrence ignored the whispering gossip among his peers, took the long wooden sword from the professor, and stood beside him. It was like being on stage with a spotlight shining, and not many people enjoyed his presence.

“Anyone willing to be Mr. Blackwood’s sparring partner?”

Lawrence looked around as his classmates returned his gaze, silently insulting him. No one was willing to volunteer.

The squeak of wood rubbing against the smooth floor echoed as the guy with the katana stood up.

“Ah, Mr. Arno WhiteHart. I appreciate your participation. I’ll give you extra credit for it.” The professor clapped softly as Arno approached.

“No need,” Arno replied, his voice calm but stern.

He went to the opposite end of the room, picking up a wooden katana from the bin near the board. Turning around, he stared deeply into Lawrence’s eyes. They were ice cold.

It was difficult to discern what he was thinking, but he was an opponent Lawrence didn’t want to underestimate.

“As usual, no elemental magic is allowed. You may begin!” The professor shouted.

This should be easy. I’ll take that noble out with one swift strike. Arno thought as he pretended to sheath his wooden katana, gripping the handle tightly. In front of him, Lawrence held his sword with both hands near the height of his head. His focus was intense, as if they were silently communicating solely with their eyes and movements.

Whoever strikes first wins.

Building up mana in the tips of his feet, Arno dashed forward instantly, doing a horizontal strike. Lawrence attempted to block it, but it was too late.

“Easy.”

Arno had assumed wrong as he watched Lawrence’s grip on his weapon reverse. His sword blocked Arno’s strike with ease. They applied as much pressure against each other as possible, their weapons trembling.

It worked precisely as Lawrence hoped. Arno was caught off guard by the unconventional block, as evidenced by the look of shock on his face.

Arno charged at Lawrence again, this time much more cautiously, as they parried each other’s flurry of strikes.

Surprisingly, Lawrence could hold his own, but there was no telling if Arno was holding back.

If I wanted to have a stake in this duel, I’d have to take it a step further…

Lawrence thought now would be an excellent opportunity to develop a unique combat style that combines attack and defense techniques, incorporating powerful kicks, in a relatively safe environment.

In the old world, it would’ve been impossible for him to test due to the physical limitations. But here, he was in a body that far surpassed the requirements for his experiment, and with his limited perception of detecting mana flow, this was the perfect opportunity.

The pair briefly separated as they stared one another down from each end of the room.

What is that strange stance? Arno thought, carefully watching Lawrence as he bent his knees to lower himself and cocked his sword arm back, pointing the tip of his blade toward Arno.

The wary swordsman’s eyes widened in surprise as the image of a blue tiger surrounding Lawrence like energy began to form before him.

What is this, mana? No, this is battle aura. How could someone like him have one? It’s not sumptuous nor refined, but it’s undoubtedly there…

The uncertainty made Arno a bit nervous as he anxiously watched his opponent.

“What was that? When did Daddy’s boy learn to fight?”

“Maybe that freak was responsible for the attack last night. Did you see those claw marks? The timing is almost too convenient.”

Arno attempted to block out the useless gossip as he focused on Lawrence.

Before the duel could continue, the classroom door opened, and a secretary stepped in.

“Sorry to interrupt, but the Chancellor requires Lawrence Blackwood’s presence.”

“Of course.” The professor replied, bringing the duel to a close.

Both of them relaxed, as Lawrence’s battle aura disappeared from Arno’s vision. Lawrence returned his weapon as he walked past Arno and left with the secretary as his opponent swung around, staring at the back of the Blackwood son as he disappeared around the corner.

What…was that?