The first rays of dawn filtered through the narrow dormitory window as Marcus completed his morning meditation. He had risen before Edwin stirred, using the quiet early hours to center himself and prepare for a day that would shape his initial reputation at Eldavia Academy. First impressions in class would be critical, particularly given his visibly obvious disadvantage.
"Are you always up this early?" Edwin mumbled, finally blinking awake as Marcus finished a series of one-handed stretches.
"Usually," Marcus replied, already dressed in his silver-trimmed uniform. The A-Rank insignia gleamed on his collar – a silver triangle within a circle, marking him as part of the academy's elite despite his commoner status.
Edwin stumbled out of bed, fumbling for his glasses. "First day of actual classes. Nervous?"
"Prepared," Marcus corrected, checking his schedule one final time. Advanced Magical Theory with Professor Reed first, followed by Practical Applications of Counter-Magic with Professor Voss, then Dimensional Studies with Professor Eldritch after the midday break.
As they made their way to the dining hall for breakfast, Marcus observed the carefully delineated social hierarchies already establishing themselves among the student body. Tables seemed unofficially designated by rank and family status – noble S-Ranks occupying the prime position near the enchanted windows, commoner F-Ranks huddled at the far end of the hall. The divisions were not officially mandated but appeared to be understood and enforced through social pressure.
Marcus spotted Lia's distinctive green hair at the S-Rank table, where she appeared to be animatedly explaining something to several bemused-looking noble students. Lysander sat nearby, maintaining a carefully cultivated distance while still clearly part of the elite group.
"Where should we sit?" Edwin asked anxiously. "B-Ranks usually claim the east tables, but as my roommate, you might be welcome..." His voice trailed off as he realized Marcus was already heading toward a relatively empty table in the A-Rank section.
Several noble students already seated there looked up with surprise as Marcus set down his tray. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to barely concealed disdain as they noted his missing arm and commoner background, evident in his less polished mannerisms.
"Phoenix, right?" asked one student – a tall, aristocratic young man with perfectly coiffed dark hair. "Thorne Blackwell. Second-highest ranked in our cohort." His tone made it clear this introduction was merely a formality, not an invitation to friendship.
"Marcus Phoenix," he confirmed with a polite nod, focused more on his breakfast than the social maneuvering.
"Quite unusual to see a commoner in A-Rank," observed a silver-haired girl beside Blackwell. "Especially one with... physical limitations."
Marcus met her gaze directly. "Fortunately, magical aptitude isn't measured by birth or limb count."
An uncomfortable silence followed, broken only when Cassandra Brightwood, the highest-ranked A-Class student, approached the table.
"Antagonizing classmates before first period, Blackwell?" she asked mildly, setting down her tray beside Marcus. "A rather inefficient use of energy, I'd think."
Blackwell's expression soured slightly, but he offered Cassandra a deferential nod. Within A-Rank, at least, the hierarchy was clear – and Cassandra's position at the top apparently commanded respect even from the nobility.
"Simply making introductions," Blackwell replied smoothly. "Ensuring our unusual classmate feels... welcome."
"How thoughtful," Cassandra said dryly. She turned to Marcus. "Reed's class first, correct? I hear his opening lecture sets the tone for the entire semester. We should probably arrive early."
The suggestion was clearly as much about extracting him from an increasingly tense breakfast exchange as academic preparation. Marcus accepted the diplomatic exit, finishing his meal and departing with Cassandra while acutely aware of Blackwell's calculating gaze following them.
"They'll settle eventually," Cassandra remarked as they walked toward the Theoretical Studies building. "New hierarchies always experience turbulence during initial formation."
"Speaking from experience?" Marcus asked.
A small smile touched her lips. "Family tradition. Brightwoods have been A-Rank at Eldavia for three generations. We understand our position in the ecosystem."
Before Marcus could respond, a familiar voice called his name. Lia jogged toward them, her customized S-Rank uniform drawing admiring and envious glances from passing students.
"Morning!" she greeted cheerfully. "Ready for Reed's infamous first lecture? They say last year he reduced two students to tears with his opening assessment questions."
"Looking forward to it," Marcus replied with genuine interest.
Lia grinned at Cassandra. "You must be Brightwood. Top of A-Rank, right? I'm Lia Verdant, enhancement specialist."
"I'm aware," Cassandra replied with polite reserve. "Your entrance demonstration has become something of a legend already."
Lia beamed at the recognition. "Just the beginning! I'm working on something even more impressive for the mid-term demonstrations." She turned back to Marcus. "Want to compare notes after classes? I want to hear how that counter-magic adaptation is coming along."
"Library, after dinner," Marcus agreed.
As Lia bounded away toward another S-Rank student who had called her name, Cassandra gave Marcus a curious look. "Childhood friends?"
"Something like that," Marcus confirmed. "We trained together at Emberfall before I left for independent study."
"Interesting," Cassandra mused. "No wonder Blackwell seems concerned about your presence. A commoner with S-Rank connections challenges the natural order he prefers."
They reached the lecture hall just as Professor Reed arrived, a tall, thin man whose scholarly appearance belied the sharp intelligence in his eyes. Students quickly filed in, instinctively arranging themselves by rank and status. Marcus took a seat in the second row, conscious of the curious glances his missing arm continued to attract.
"Advanced Magical Theory," Reed began without preamble, his voice carrying effortlessly through the hall, "is not merely about understanding the principles that govern conventional spellcraft. It is about recognizing the underlying patterns that connect seemingly disparate magical disciplines."
He gestured, and the air before him shimmered as complex magical formulas appeared, floating in three-dimensional arrays. "These are the foundational equations of transmutation, enhancement, elemental manipulation, and dimensional theory. At first glance, entirely separate fields of study."
With another gesture, the equations began to move, rearranging themselves until connections became visible – shared components and parallel structures that suggested deeper relationships.
"Your task this semester is not to memorize formulas or replicate established workings." Reed's gaze swept across the room. "It is to look beyond the surface, to find the connections that others have missed, and to develop theoretical frameworks that expand our understanding."
What followed was the most intellectually stimulating lecture Marcus had experienced since his private studies with Zephyrian years before. Reed moved seamlessly between topics that most instructors would consider entirely separate disciplines, drawing connections that illuminated the unified nature of magical energy regardless of its application.
When Reed began discussing counter-magic theory, Marcus found himself leaning forward with particular interest. The professor's understanding of formulation nodes – the critical junctures in magical constructs where disruption proved most effective – aligned perfectly with Marcus's practical experience but provided theoretical context he had previously lacked.
"Mr. Phoenix," Reed called suddenly, fixing Marcus with an evaluative stare. "You specialize in counter-magic, correct? Explain the relationship between dimensional barrier integrity and counter-magic efficacy against transdimensional entities."
The question was clearly designed to challenge, perhaps even to test whether his theoretical knowledge matched his placement scores. A ripple of interest passed through the class, many students turning to observe how the one-armed commoner would respond to such an advanced query.
Marcus answered without hesitation, drawing on both his formal education and his experiences with dimensional anomalies during his independent work. "Counter-magic against standard spellcraft targets formulation nodes within the caster's dimensional framework. When applied against transdimensional entities, effectiveness varies based on the integrity of the dimensional barrier at the point of manifestation."
He continued with growing confidence, outlining how thinner barriers required adapted counter-techniques that addressed both the manifestation itself and the dimensional breach enabling it. Reed's expression remained impassive, but his eyes revealed growing interest as Marcus concluded with practical applications of the theory.
"A comprehensive answer," Reed acknowledged when Marcus finished. "Though I note you've integrated practical applications beyond standard theoretical frameworks. Experience-based adaptations, perhaps?"
"Independent research," Marcus replied carefully.
"Fascinating," Reed murmured before returning to his lecture.
By the time the session concluded, Marcus had answered three more challenging questions and contributed meaningfully to a theoretical discussion about barrier mechanics. As students gathered their materials to depart for their next classes, he noticed several reconsidering glances from those who had initially dismissed him based on appearance alone.
"Impressive performance," Cassandra commented as they exited together. "Though I suspect you've just painted a target on your back for certain classmates who prefer theory to remain safely abstract."
She nodded discreetly toward Blackwell, who was watching Marcus with barely concealed resentment. The aristocratic student had attempted to answer one of Reed's questions and received a lukewarm response, his theoretical understanding proving somewhat superficial despite his privileged education.
The pattern continued in Professor Voss's Practical Applications class, where students were required to demonstrate basic counter-magic techniques against standardized spell constructs. The challenge was clearly greater for Marcus, who had to adapt techniques normally requiring two hands to work with his single remaining arm.
"Phoenix," Voss called when his turn came. "Neutralize the illumination construct."
The magical light hovering in the practice area was deliberately complex – a standard test case used to evaluate counter-magic aptitude. Normally, Marcus would use a two-handed approach, his dominant right hand identifying formulation nodes while his left executed the counter.
Now, he had to completely rethink his approach. Drawing on his Left Hand Dominance skill, Marcus extended his awareness into the light construct, identifying its structure and weak points. With a single, precise gesture from his left hand, he sent a pulse of crimson counter-energy that unraveled the spell at its core.
The light flickered and died, neutralized more efficiently than any previous student had managed.
"Unconventional technique," Voss observed, making notes in her evaluation crystal. "But effective. Adaptation born of necessity, I presume?"
"Yes, Professor," Marcus confirmed.
"Approach the reinforcement construct next," she directed, activating a more complex magical formation designed to resist counter-measures.
This presented a greater challenge. The reinforcement construct contained redundant formulation nodes specifically designed to survive initial counter-attempts. Normally, Marcus would use a sequential approach, targeting primary nodes with his right hand while his left maintained counter-pressure on secondary systems.
With only one hand available, he needed a different solution. After a moment's consideration, he manifested his crimson construct arm, drawing surprised murmurs from classmates who hadn't yet seen this capability. The glowing limb allowed him to employ his standard technique, though maintaining the construct while simultaneously executing counter-magic required significant concentration.
"Interesting solution," Voss commented as the reinforcement spell collapsed under his coordinated counter-attack. "Though I note the energy expenditure is considerably higher than standard approaches."
"A temporary inefficiency," Marcus replied. "I'm working on more streamlined adaptations."
Voss nodded thoughtfully. "See me after class. I may have some references relevant to your... unique circumstances."
As the practical session continued, Marcus became aware of Blackwell watching him with growing animosity. The noble student had performed adequately but without distinction, his counter-techniques textbook-perfect but lacking the adaptability Marcus demonstrated.
By midday, a pattern had emerged. In theoretical contexts, Marcus excelled beyond most of his A-Rank peers, his understanding enhanced by both formal education and practical experience. In practical applications, his disability created obvious challenges, but his innovative adaptations—particularly his construct arm—allowed him to perform at or above average despite the disadvantage.
Professor Eldritch's Dimensional Studies seminar proved the most immediately relevant to Marcus's long-term goals. The elderly professor—a wild-haired, eccentric figure with robes covered in astronomical symbols—focused specifically on dimensional barrier mechanics and detection of anomalies.
"The boundaries between dimensional planes are not uniform," Eldritch explained, manipulating a complex three-dimensional model of overlapping realities. "They thin naturally at certain nexus points, allowing for observation and occasionally transfer of energy between adjacent dimensions."
This aligned perfectly with Marcus's understanding of the approaching convergence. When Eldritch began discussing methods for detecting dimensional thinning, Marcus paid particular attention, recognizing tools that might prove invaluable for monitoring the convergence timeline.
After classes concluded, Marcus visited Professor Voss as requested. She provided scrolls containing alternative counter-magic techniques developed by practitioners who had lost limbs in magical accidents—valuable reference material not available in the standard curriculum.
"These were developed by Master Tallarin after he lost both arms fighting a corrupted elemental," Voss explained. "He eventually became renowned for his adapted technique, which some argue proved superior to conventional approaches in certain contexts."
"Thank you, Professor," Marcus said, genuinely appreciative of the unexpected support.
Voss fixed him with a penetrating stare. "Your disability creates obvious challenges, Phoenix. But limitations often drive innovation in ways comfort cannot. I'll be watching your development with interest."
By the time evening arrived, Marcus had garnered both respect and resentment from various quarters. His academic performance had established him as a serious student deserving of his A-Rank placement, while his adaptability in practical contexts demonstrated resilience that many found admirable. Yet this very success had also cemented Blackwell's animosity, the noble student clearly viewing Marcus as an unwelcome challenge to established hierarchies.
The Advanced Research Library of Eldavia Academy was a marvel of magical architecture. Three stories of knowledge spiraled around a central atrium where a massive crystal chandelier hung, its facets enchanted to direct perfect reading light to every corner of the space. Rare tomes floated in special preservation fields, ancient scrolls unfurled themselves at a reader's approach, and reference materials automatically arranged themselves based on a student's research focus.
Tonight, he occupied a secluded alcove on the second level, surrounded by floating reference materials on dimensional barrier mechanics. His left hand moved steadily across a page of notes, his handwriting having improved significantly thanks to both practice and his Left Hand Dominance skill. Occasionally, he would manifest his construct arm to manipulate multiple texts simultaneously, though he used this sparingly to conserve energy.
Professor Eldritch's special seminar had proven even more valuable than anticipated. The eccentric, elderly professor specialized in dimensional anomalies and had taken immediate interest in Marcus's unusual theories. What had begun as a daily class was rapidly evolving into something approaching a mentorship, with Eldritch providing access to restricted texts that might otherwise have remained beyond Marcus's reach.
"Well, look what we have here," came a voice dripping with aristocratic disdain. "The one-armed wonder, still pretending to belong in A-Rank."
Marcus looked up from his research to find three students in gold-trimmed uniforms standing before his alcove. Blackwell stood in the center, flanked by the silver-haired girl and the broad-shouldered young man from House Ravencrest who had been watching him throughout the day's classes.
"Blackwell," Marcus acknowledged flatly, returning his attention to his notes. "Library's open to all A-Rank students. Find another place to study if my presence bothers you."
Blackwell's perfectly manicured hand came down on Marcus's open book, forcing him to look up again. "That's the thing, isn't it? The question of whether you should be A-Rank at all." His cold smile didn't reach his eyes. "There are... rumors about your placement."
Marcus raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for Blackwell to continue.
"Word is, you scored exceptionally well on the theoretical portion," the silver-haired girl added, her tone suggesting this achievement was somehow suspicious. "Suspiciously well, one might say."
"Especially for a one-armed commoner with no family connections," Ravencrest chimed in, his family crest—embroidered ostentatiously on his sleeve—catching the light as he leaned forward. "Makes one wonder what... accommodations were made."
Marcus set down his pen with deliberate calm. "Are you suggesting I cheated on my assessments?"
"I'm suggesting," Blackwell replied, leaning closer, "that standards were lowered in your case. A pity placement. After all, how could someone missing a limb possibly qualify for Advanced Class on merit alone?"
The insult was calculated to provoke. Marcus felt a flash of anger but kept his expression neutral, years of self-discipline serving him well. Rising to their bait would only validate their assumption of superiority.
"Fascinating theory," Marcus replied evenly. "Does harassing fellow students help with your own studies, or is it just a hobby?"
Blackwell's eyes narrowed. "Mock all you want, Phoenix. But remember your place here. A-Rank you may be, but you're still a commoner playing in a world built by and for nobility."
"And a crippled commoner at that," the silver-haired girl added with a smirk.
Something in Marcus—perhaps the accumulated stress of adaptation, perhaps simply fatigue from constant awareness of his disability—snapped slightly. He manifested his crimson construct arm with a sudden flare of energy that caused the nearby books to flutter. The glowing limb reached out faster than the nobles could react, grasping the edge of the table between them.
"Fascinating," Marcus said, his voice dangerously quiet. "I'd never noticed my disability before you pointed it out. How observant of you."
The nobles took an involuntary step back, Blackwell's composure momentarily cracking at the unexpected display. The construct arm wasn't threatening them directly, but its sudden manifestation made clear that Marcus's missing limb didn't necessarily equate to reduced capability.
"Your concern for academic standards is touching," Marcus continued, allowing the construct to dissipate after making his point. "But perhaps focus on your own development. I believe Professor Voss mentioned yesterday that your combat forms showed, what was it? 'Concerning hesitation when faced with unpredictable opponents.'"
Blackwell's face flushed with anger. "Spying on my evaluations now?"
"Hard to spy on something announced to the entire class," Marcus replied. "Perhaps you were too focused on my apparent shortcomings to notice your own being discussed."
The standoff might have escalated further if not for the timely arrival of another student. Cassandra Brightwood, the highest-ranked A-Class student, approached with an armful of research materials and a look of mild annoyance.
"Is there a problem here?" she asked, her tone suggesting she was perfectly aware there was one and expected it to cease immediately.
Blackwell straightened, reassuming his mask of aristocratic dignity. "No problem at all, Cassandra. Simply welcoming our... unique classmate to Eldavia's academic community."
"How thoughtful," Cassandra replied dryly. "Though the library has strict rules about noise levels, which your welcome seems to be approaching."
Taking the hint—or perhaps simply unwilling to create a scene in front of the class leader—Blackwell and his companions withdrew with final contemptuous glances toward Marcus.
"Don't take it personally," Cassandra said once they were out of earshot, setting her books down at the adjacent table. "Blackwell does this with everyone he perceives as a threat to his standing."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "He sees a one-armed commoner as a threat?"
"He sees the student who outscored him in theoretical assessment as a threat," she corrected. "Your arm is just convenient ammunition."
Her matter-of-fact tone was refreshing after Blackwell's affected disdain. Cassandra Brightwood was noble-born herself—her family known for generations of accomplished enchanters—but seemed to lack the reflexive classism of many of her peers.
"I didn't need intervention," Marcus noted, returning to his notes.
"Obviously," she replied with a small smile. "But I did need this study area, and your confrontation was becoming disruptive."
They worked in companionable silence for several minutes before Cassandra spoke again without looking up from her research. "You know, Blackwell's not entirely wrong about one thing. There are rumors about your placement."
Marcus continued writing. "Oh?"
"Mmm. Some say you should have been S-Rank based on your theoretical scores alone, and that only your injury prevented it." She glanced up, studying his reaction. "Others say you're quite unique in your approach to counter-magic, having developed techniques that aren't taught in the standard curriculum."
Marcus kept his expression carefully neutral. "People enjoy speculation."
"They do," she agreed. "Especially when a commoner with one arm demonstrates aura manipulation advanced enough to maintain a functional construct limb. That's not exactly standard curriculum at provincial schools."
Before Marcus could respond, a familiar voice called his name. Lia bounded up the library stairs with characteristic energy, drawing disapproving looks from students attempting to study. Her S-Rank uniform had undergone even more modifications since the first day, now sporting emerald trim alongside the standard gold.
"There you are!" she exclaimed, dropping into a seat at Marcus's table with complete disregard for library etiquette. "I've been looking everywhere. You won't believe what happened in Advanced Enhancement today!"
Marcus glanced apologetically toward Cassandra, who merely smiled and returned to her own research with remarkable focus despite Lia's interruption.
"Professor Harmon was demonstrating multi-layer reinforcement, right?" Lia continued without waiting for encouragement. "And he asked for a volunteer to demonstrate the maximum sustainable enhancement under controlled conditions. Obviously, I volunteered—"
"Obviously," Marcus interjected with a small smile.
"—and I managed a five-layer simultaneous enhancement! Five! Harmon said he's never seen a first-year achieve more than three!" Her eyes sparkled with triumph. "Even Lysander looked impressed, though he tried to hide it."
Marcus offered genuine congratulations while attempting to steer Lia toward a more library-appropriate volume. Her enhancement achievements were truly remarkable, even by the standards he remembered from their shared childhood.
As Lia continued describing her accomplishment in exuberant detail, Marcus caught sight of Blackwell and his companions watching from the level below, their expressions darkening at the sight of an A-Rank commoner casually socializing with an S-Rank student. The class divisions at Eldavia were meant to be rigid, with limited fraternization between ranks unless sanctioned by academic requirements.
Her eyes narrowed as she followed his gaze to where Blackwell and his companions still lingered, watching their interaction with obvious disapproval.
"Those three?" she asked, her voice dropping to an unusually serious tone. "Want me to talk to them? Or better yet, demonstrate what a five-layer enhancement looks like when applied to someone's attitude adjustment?"
"I appreciate the offer," Marcus replied with genuine amusement, "but I've handled worse than academy bullies."
Lia's expression softened into something almost like pride. "I know you have. Just..." she leaned closer, her voice uncharacteristically quiet, "you know that if you wanted to, you could wipe the floor with them, right? Don't let them make you feel less than what you are."
The simple vote of confidence—from someone who had known him before his injury, who understood what he was truly capable of—meant more than Marcus would have expected.
"How are you settling into S-Rank?" he asked, deliberately changing the subject. "Everything you hoped for?"
The obvious deflection worked. Lia launched into a detailed description of the S-Rank facilities—private practice arenas with advanced simulation capabilities, personalized instruction from senior faculty, access to the restricted sections of the Eldavia archives. Her enthusiasm was contagious, though Marcus noted the occasional envious glance from nearby A-Rank students forced to make do with more limited resources. ranks unless sanctioned by academic requirements.
"—and then Lysander said he could probably manage six layers if he really tried, which is obviously just him being competitive, but I'm going to master it before the month is out anyway," Lia was saying when Marcus tuned back into her monologue. "Speaking of competition, have you looked into the Proving Trials yet? First one is at mid-semester, just eight weeks away."
"I'm aware," Marcus replied, closing one of his reference books to give her his full attention. "Need to maintain at least 85 points to qualify for consideration."
Lia nodded enthusiastically. "And you'll need a faculty sponsor. I already mentioned you to Professor Harmon—he's interested in your aura manifestation techniques, even with..." Her eyes darted briefly to his missing arm, her usual confidence faltering for just a moment.
"You should be there too," she said, her voice dropping to an uncharacteristically serious tone. "Everyone knows you would have placed S-Rank if not for..."
"If not for my arm," Marcus finished simply. "Perhaps. But A-Rank has its advantages too."
"Like what?" Lia challenged.
Marcus considered the question seriously. "Fewer expectations. More freedom to pursue independent research without constant scrutiny. And," he added with a small smile, "the opportunity to prove people wrong about what a one-armed commoner can achieve."
Lia studied him for a moment, then nodded with understanding. "The Blackwells of the world."
"Among others."
Their conversation was interrupted by the library chimes signaling the approaching curfew. Students began gathering their materials, the previously quiet space filling with the shuffling of papers and the murmur of postponed conversations.
"Combat practicals tomorrow, right?" Lia asked as they descended the library steps. "A-Rank has the morning session?"
Marcus nodded. "Assessment matches to establish baseline capabilities."
Lia's grin turned mischievous. "I might come watch. Want to see how you're adapting that arsenal of yours."
"Don't you have your own classes to attend?" Marcus asked, though he already knew the answer.
"S-Rank privileges," she replied with exaggerated smugness. "Flexible attendance for high-performing students."
As they exited the library into the cool evening air, Marcus spotted Blackwell and his companions loitering near the path toward the dormitories. Their postures suggested they hadn't abandoned whatever grievance they harbored, merely postponed it.
Lia noticed his attention shift and followed his gaze. "Friends of yours?" she asked sarcastically.
"Admirers of my theoretical scores," Marcus replied dryly.
"Want me to enhance their understanding of manners?" Lia offered, flexing her fingers demonstratively. "Five-layer reinforcement can be quite persuasive."
Marcus laughed, genuinely amused by the image of the aristocratic Blackwell facing Lia at her most enthusiastically enhanced. "Tempting, but unnecessary. Some lessons are learned better through example than force."
They parted ways at the junction leading to their respective dormitories—Lia toward the S-Rank residence with its private rooms and luxurious amenities, Marcus toward the more modest A-Rank accommodations he shared with Edwin.
Blackwell and his companions made no move to intercept him, perhaps deterred by his association with an S-Rank student or simply waiting for a more opportune moment. Either way, Marcus knew their confrontation in the library wouldn't be the last. Class prejudice and resentment of his placement despite his disability would continue to make him a target for those who believed rank should correlate with social standing rather than ability.
As he entered his dormitory room, finding Edwin already asleep surrounded by theoretical texts, Marcus couldn't help but reflect on how his circumstances had changed. From an independent student pursuing his own path to a one-armed academic navigating complex social hierarchies—all while preparing for a dimensional threat that most around him couldn't even comprehend.
Tomorrow's combat practicals would present the first real test of his adapted techniques in a formal academic setting. Maintaining his A-Rank status would require demonstrating that his disability did not fundamentally compromise his magical capabilities—and perhaps, proving to observers like Blackwell that his placement had indeed been earned on merit.
Marcus settled at his desk for a final review of combat theory before sleep, his construct arm briefly manifesting to adjust the position of a reference text. Eight weeks until the first Proving Trials. Eight weeks to not merely adapt to his limitations but transcend them, developing new approaches that might eventually earn him access to the resources he needed.
And beyond that, still ticking inexorably closer—the dimensional convergence that all of this preparation ultimately served to address.
[Status Update] [Name: Marcus Phoenix] [Age: 15 years, 2 months] [Level: 80] [HP: 520/520] [MP: 870/870] [Class Placement: Advanced Class, A-Rank] [Right Arm: Missing] [Arsenal Manifestation: 10 simultaneous constructs] [Construct Arm: 14 minutes duration at full articulation] [Left-Hand Swordsmanship: Level 16] [Skills:] [Left Hand Dominance - Level 1] [Construct Stabilization - Level 1] [Mana Efficiency - Level 1] [Arsenal Expansion - Level 1] [Remaining Skill Points: 4] [Quest Update: Eldavia Integration - In Progress] [Current Merit Points: 47/50 Theoretical, 38/50 Practical, 85/100 Total]
[System Message: Nothing completes the prestigious academy experience like classist bullying! Shall we add some stolen underwear and a swirly in the enchanted toilet to really nail the tropes? At least you've got the competition-obsessed green-haired girl and the snooty rival with a fancy name. All you need now is a training montage and you've got yourself the perfect magical academy story!]