Trapped like an extra in a blatant cliche

"Beneath the mantle of stars, where time dissolves, someone takes their place in the eternal cycle; neither hero nor villain, just the echo of a will that refuses to be forgotten." —Excerpt from Volume 1 of the Reborn Hero.

Brian Morningstar's Point of View

Well... I had two pieces of news: the strange one and the stranger one.

His green eyes, the color of a sunlit swamp, scanned the vast hall with calm indifference. He sighed. The place was imposing and radiated that characteristic extravagance money so often afforded in such establishments. The high ceilings of polished stone, walls, and floors of the same material exuded a calculated elegance, giving off a chill that kept the hall refreshingly cool. To the left, an entire wall had been transformed into a large window of fine glasswork. Natural light streamed through, reflecting on the floor and illuminating the room, revealing an inner courtyard on the other side. A meticulously maintained green space stood in stark contrast to the austere architecture the Academy favored.

The classroom's layout was as minimalist as it was simple—moderate in decor, yet the details spoke of an ostentatious luxury that made his empty pockets feel even lighter. The desks, long and made of varnished oak, were arranged in a gentle, gradual arc, giving the impression of being in an amphitheater. The chairs, cushioned with rich dark upholstery, were spacious and comfortable enough to make classes almost enjoyable. He counted sixteen desks in total, each capable of seating six students, arranged in ascending levels to ensure an unobstructed view for everyone, which immediately reminded him of the lecture halls at his university.

The desks were divided by a carpeted staircase in a dark hue, and at the front, a slightly elevated platform dominated the room. On it sat a large desk that seemed plucked straight from a presidential office, and behind it stood a chalkboard more like a wall—massive and eye-catching, contrasting with the understated decor of the rest of the space. Everything about the room exuded perfect opulence, which brought a wry smile to his face because, if anything wasn't lacking in this place, it was money.

Without much thought, he had seated himself in the front row, by the window. He didn't do it to appear like a diligent student but out of practical lessons learned the hard way. From there, he'd only have to face the professor, which was beneficial when it came to answering questions—less hassle, less annoyance. Having to practically shout his responses wasn't his style, and he found it nightmarish; add to that his shy and antisocial tendencies, and... well, you had a winning combination. Better to sit in the front row, where things seemed simpler, and he didn't have to stare at the backs of other students' heads.

Anyway... where was he? He rubbed his chin. Right, the news. The first piece was sitting right next to him: a strange young woman with a peculiar appearance. Her hair was grayish, like that of an elderly lady, her eyes a nearly hypnotic silver that reminded him of a full moon. She wore large round glasses, and her skin, so pale it seemed almost translucent, spoke of a severe lack of vitamin D. And then, there were those... things.

Yes, what had truly captured his attention wasn't her fantastical appearance but her ears. No, they weren't human—that much was certain. Those ears were large, almost animal-like, protruding from her head, and unable to hide his curiosity, he stared at them with unabashed fascination.

The girl, noticing his gaze, quickly lowered her face. Visibly uncomfortable, her hands began to fidget with the hem of her clothing. For a moment, he wondered if there might be another pair of ears hidden beneath all that short, messy hair. Two human ears and two animal ones? The thought was both disturbing and fascinating, but he knew he shouldn't keep staring. He didn't want to seem rude, and he wasn't the unpleasant type, so with conscious effort, he looked away. This seemed to bring the young woman a measure of relief, grateful that her discomfort had ceased and that her pale cheeks hadn't turned pink.

The other piece of news, the stranger one, was... why the hell were all the other students in the hall staring at him with wide eyes? It was almost as if they'd seen their parents—uh, better not finish that thought, kids might be listening. He pushed his hair out of his face, his smile lingering, as he felt eyes shamelessly watching him. Stares bore into his back, faces filled with confusion—or worse, revulsion, which was hard to ignore. Every time he looked back, they quickly averted their gaze, as if caught watching something indecent. He couldn't help but feel like a pariah or something of the sort.

Counting quickly, he spotted over ninety faces. Ninety people who, except for the peculiar young lady beside him, hadn't sat anywhere near him. Scratching his cheek, he thought: starting off by making enemies wasn't his style, but if that's how it was going to be, so be it.

High-pitched squeaks and what he guessed was a poor attempt at communication came from his left ear—from the peculiar young woman, of course. His face turned toward her once again, and this time, he tried to ignore the animal ears crowning her head. Instead, he focused on her face. To his surprise, she seemed to be sweating bullets; her cheeks were pink, and her eyes wide with nervousness. That made him smile a little more. "Well, aren't you quite the sight?" he thought, doing his best to avoid glancing at those ears that turned Mendel's work to dust.

"By the way, I'm Brian. Nice to meet who I assume will be my seatmate for the rest of the year—unless, of course, you find me annoying and decide to move," he said warmly. Raising his hand, he waited for it to be shaken. The young woman with the beautiful eyes shyly lifted her own hand, and after a moment of hesitation, accepted the handshake. But from her lips escaped something she should've kept to herself: "I know," she said, only realizing her mistake afterward.

Like lightning, she covered her mouth, broke into a sweat again, her eyes resembling two frightened beacons, and her face turned bright red. Brian, drawing on ancient knowledge, decided to employ an unfailing ancestral technique: yes, he pretended not to have heard anything and ignored it all. He kept smiling at her, always ensuring he didn't look too forward, as he didn't want the situation to feel awkward.

"Could you tell me your name?" he asked, discreetly wiping his now sweaty hand against his pants.

"So-soy Em-Emerly Lin-Linton," the young woman stammered, her voice almost a squeal, her eyes on the verge of tears over her disastrous first impression. He wanted to continue the conversation and help ease some of her anxiety, but unfortunately, he couldn't. The noisy classroom, filled with chattering students, suddenly fell into a respectful silence. Their professor had arrived.

And it was no wonder this educational institution was considered the best in Eldoria; that was proven immediately.

With slow, dragging movements, a teenager with an almost childlike appearance entered the room, as if every step took tremendous effort. Her walk was sluggish, aided by a large staff she used as a crutch. She wore an atrocious pointed hat, and her demeanor resembled someone who had barely managed to crawl out of bed. He observed her closely, trying to remember where he had seen that figure with purple hair and matching eyes before, but eventually shook his head. Well, if it was important, he'd remember sooner or later.

It took nearly two minutes for the person who would be their professor to reach the podium. When she finally sat down at the desk fit for a presidential office, the sight was quite comical. Yet none of the students dared say anything—after all, if she was to be their teacher, it was clear she was more than qualified for the job.

The purple-haired, purple-eyed teenager calmly set her staff aside and placed her ugly leather hat on the desk.

"To start, let me make it clear that I'm not thrilled about this situation, so please behave. I don't want to do extra work," she spoke slowly and deliberately. Her lethargic gaze drifted over each student, and for a second, he thought her eyes lingered on him longer than necessary.

What a great icebreaker, he thought amused, something not many shared, as several of his classmates wore spasmodic expressions at such unprofessional conduct. The silence grew uncomfortable, broken only by the sound of breathing.

Their professor sighed in resignation, and a piece of white chalk, from who knows where, floated to the chalkboard and began writing on its own. Seconds later, the name Aurora Vortex could be read, prompting a few extra gasps from those who hadn't previously had the honor of seeing or recognizing her.

"I'll be your teacher from now on. My job is to teach you the principles and art of prana manipulation," she said in a bored monotone, indifferent to the astonished stares of her students.

"For your convenience, today you'll learn how to form a mental screen of your personal statistics, both physical and spiritual," she explained in that lazy, almost apathetic tone that already defined her personality. "Though, given where we are and your lineages, I imagine many of you can already do this." She paused, as if even speaking was exhausting. "Those who can't, raise your hand. Those who can, don't do anything."

At that, only a few raised their arms, including him and his peculiar desk companion. Aurora scanned the students, counted six who couldn't do it, and blinked tiredly.

"Alright, even though we're the worst class of all, at least that eliminates a problem. So, if you already know the basics of prana, I want you to try projecting that information outward. Your task is to make it visible and stable for others to understand. The form of expression doesn't matter, as long as it's clear. If you don't understand or can't manage it, ask."

Exhausted from speaking so much, their teacher fell silent to regain her strength.

"Those who can't do it, stand up and come forward. I'll give you a quick lesson on the basics, and we'll work from there. If you can't manage it quickly, don't be discouraged—you'll probably be stuck on that problem for a week."

In the silence that followed, an eager hand shot up. A student with brown hair couldn't contain her curiosity.

"Professor, a question. Is it true you're a powerful sorceress? If so, what's your rank? Also, could you explain the different power classifications or if it's possible to raise one's affinity percentage with prana?"

Aurora resisted the urge to let her eye twitch; this was precisely what she wanted to avoid. Even so, she held back her annoyance and replied:

"To start, increasing your affinity percentage isn't impossible, but it is exceedingly arduous. You would need years of constant practice to achieve it, and at best, historical records indicate you might only add four to nine additional points." She paused, scanning the room with her gaze before continuing.

"And don't misunderstand—a low affinity percentage doesn't mean you can't perform the same magic as someone with a higher affinity level. The fact that you can perceive and manipulate prana already places you among the 12% of the population capable of doing so. It's a gift many would envy, so don't waste it."

"The complexity lies in how much harder it will be for you. For example, if others take days to learn a spell, it might take you weeks. Still, it's nothing to be discouraged about. In modern times, there are many alchemical tools available to help compensate for these disadvantages… though I must warn you, they are absurdly expensive."

The next question came from a young man at the back of the classroom, who asked with a mix of longing and respect, "Professor, is there anyone with 100% affinity?"

Aurora refrained from making an ironic expression; she didn't want this job, and yet here she was, wasting her valuable time. She sighed and continued her explanation.

"There are no modern records of anyone with such a level of affinity. The highest recorded was 91%, achieved by the Great Blue Mage. But if we go back to the ancient legends of our world, we can find mention of something like that."

"As many of you may have heard or read, we have the mythical stories of the great heroes who saved our world from an ancient evil that threatened it for eons. Among them, one figure stood out regarding prana: Morgana Le Fayre, the mother of modern magic and sorcery."

"It is said her affinity with mana was absolute, that her power could terraform entire countries, and that her understanding of prana was unparalleled. Many conventional spells, magical barriers, seals, and raw knowledge we use today came from her generosity in sharing that information with the world. To this day, her teachings remain popular for their ease of learning and practical use."

"However, it's up to you whether you believe in those old tales and myths. There are no records to confirm their existence—only stories passed down through generations."

Aurora's slow explanation, characteristic of her lazy personality, didn't diminish the intrigue of her lecture. No one dared to ignore her.

"So, hypothetically speaking, if someone did possess such an ability, based on those old myths, we would be talking about a person with a unique perception of prana and the capability to modify, learn, and design magic at will, as if they were a deity."

She blinked a few times to shake off her drowsiness, her purple eyes scanning her students, who bore expressions of awe.

"Now… ranking classifications, or power ratings, as you may prefer to call them, originate from the old profession of adventurers. They used—and still use—materials from those ancient times as general classifications, ranging from copper, iron, silver, gold, platinum, mithril, orichalcum, and adamantite. As you can see, they range from inexpensive materials to the most costly."

"Today, adventurers don't hold the same glory as in the past, but they continue dealing with beasts or monsters born from environmental prana. As a rule, these creatures always contain an evolutionary core within them, also known as mana stones. These beasts are categorized by danger levels using skull ratings; the higher the level, the better the mana core, which can be sold for high prices in the market."

"Now, let's move on to the star-ranking system, the most modern method used by our generation. It requires evaluation by qualified personnel and is typically imposed by local, national, or even global authorities, as well as specialized academies. If you're dissatisfied with your evaluation and star ranking, you can request a reassessment, as the number of stars often determines benefits in your respective fields."

"This system is used by battle mages, fencers, all types of warriors, magic swordsmen, and magic warriors."

Exhausted from speaking so much, the young professor took her time to let the information sink in. When she believed enough time had passed, she continued before another question could be asked.

"Lastly, battle mages, specifically the subclass of sorcerers, are categorized by grades, starting from seventh grade, sixth grade, fifth grade, fourth grade, third grade, second grade, semi-first grade, first grade, semi-special grade, and special grade."

"Their job is to fight against threats known as Chalseas Monturd Resem, creatures born from environmental mana combined with human emotions or those of any intelligent race. Their classification doesn't differ much from sorcerers, except their highest grades are considered semi-primordial and primordial."

"As for whether I'm a sorceress or my ranking level, that's irrelevant information for all of you. If you want comparisons, go look them up yourselves. Now… no more questions and get started."

The young professor concluded her lengthy lecture at last.

With the air thick with intrigue and a touch of reverence, everyone prepared to work in silence. Despite her seemingly indifferent attitude, Aurora had captured and held the attention of her students. None could deny that, reluctant as she seemed, she was a fascinating and competent teacher.