Elaine felt the coldness of their glares as they sliced into her like invisible blades of a storm. A piece of her wanted to submit to that hesitation, that fragile intimidation. Had she been herself a year ago, Elaine might have feigned ignorance, might have exerted guilty obliviousness. But she was different now. More importantly, however, these students were bothering her friend.

  One of them turned to face her, arms crossed defiantly, as she scrutinized Elaine with a look of utter disdain. The expression on her face suggested that what she saw was as repulsive as a dead rat rotting on the side of the street or a once-elegant dress marred by an unsightly ink stain. Elaine couldn't help but wonder how she was perceived through those rich, forest-green eyes—were they mocking her, or simply judging her appearance? The noble girl stood there, her ivory skin almost glowing in the dim light of the hallway, with a slender, triangular face framed by her grayish-brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders like shimmering silk. A tiny mole rested just beneath her right eye. She noticed that the girl was slightly taller than her, perhaps just a few inches, but it felt like a significant difference as she towered above her with an air of superiority. Though she had on her Glyph uniform no different than any other student, she also wore striking ruby-red earrings, and a polished silver ring adorned the middle finger of her left hand.

  The girl didn’t flinch as Elaine approached. The dull glint in her eyes suggested she was unimpressed, perhaps even disappointed by the interruption. No, it was clearer now—she was simply bored. The wide yawn that escaped her lips only reinforced that notion. "And who's this?" she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she leered at Fearne. "A friend of yours?"

  "...I...err..." Fearne stammered.

  It was then that Elaine noticed her roommate had already shed a few tears, tiny droplets glinting on her flushed cheeks. "Yeah, I'm her friend," Elaine declared, her voice tinged with anger, her brow furrowing deeper with each word. "And I demand to know what's going on here. What are you doing to Fearne?!"

  "Hey, watch your tone. She's the one that ran into us," said the lanky student with dark hair. He stalked in front of her with a raised chin, aiming a scowl that made his triangular-shaped face stretch. So it appeared that he bested her in both height and attitude. "We just wanted an apology, then she had to go start squirming and making noises."

  Elaine frowned at him. "And just how did she manage to wind up on the floor?"

  "Like I said," he smirked, "the fault was her own. She should have watched where she was going. If you ask me, someone as clumsy as her needs to pay better attention. One of these days, she might bump into the wrong person."

  "Fearne, is that true?" Elaine asked concernedly. Her roommate's posture was stiff as she stared at the floor beneath her feet, unwilling to meet Elaine's gaze. "Well, I don't buy it," Elaine continued, shaking her head. "Even if she really did trip into you, it was a simple accident. It could happen to anyone. And honestly, I don’t care whose fault it was—what matters is that you could have helped her. But you just laughed, right? That makes me question the reliability of what you've told me."

  "This is pointless," the girl with grayish hair said as she yawned. "It seems Father's presumptions were accurate."

  "Yeah, he was right on the money," the boy nodded. "Jeez, and after all the contributions our family has made to this academy. These days, I've got to wonder if Glyph Academy is purposefully trying to sully its reputation."

  "There were a few notable standouts at Orientation," remarked the other girl, her topaz blue eyes sparkling while her chestnut hair, neatly pulled back into a sleek ponytail, swung gently as she spoke. Her complexion was soft, reminiscent of rich cream. "However, from what I've gathered so far, it seems quite common for a few...undesirables to slip through the cracks in such large groups. Case in point."

  "Undesirables?" Elaine repeated angrily. "And just what do you mean by that?"

  "Shouldn't it be obvious? Clover's referring to mages like that one back there. Those who are unworthy of using magic, undeserving of the Gift they have unrightfully been bestowed," said the girl with grayish hair.

  Elaine's eyes narrowed as she scanned the group, lingering on each individual with a scornful gaze. “Unworthy?” she scoffed, her voice laced with incredulity. “Do you truly believe the absurdity you’re uttering? Or are you simply hunting for a flimsy excuse to justify what you did to Fearne?”

  "Elaine, don't!" Fearne gasped. "Just drop it..."

  "B...But..." Elaine hesitated.

  The girl with grayish hair fixed her gaze intently on Fearne. After a brief moment of scrutiny, she spun back to face Elaine, their eyes locking in a tense standoff. “So you’re the one, are you?”

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Rumors are going around," she said, "rumors involving a lowborn sorcerer from a no-name Family House randomly enrolling into this semester at the last second. At first, I thought that this sorcerer, in particular, must truly be someone special. I mean, why else would the headmaster make such an honorable exception? Now that I've met you in person, well, I'd say Glyph Academy has indeed lowered its standards."

  Elaine gulped at that. She had no intention of informing anyone on the nature of her enrollment. If possible, she'd graduate without telling a single soul. But now there were rumors of which she was the centerpiece. Was she to believe this girl's words for what they were, or was this merely her attempt at goading her? Elaine couldn't tell. In spite of that smirk that would make a goblin envious, it was hard to accurately pinpoint what she was thinking. Nothing good, Elaine could imagine. Inhaling, Elaine cleared her mind, calmed her emotions, and steadied her thoughts. This was no different from casting and regulating magic. If she couldn't control herself, how would she be expected to be a proper Professional Sorcerer? "I fail to see how my enrollment has anything to do with you."

  "Oh, trust me," the girl replied, placing a hand over her chest, "it hardly matters to me how exactly you wormed your way in. No, what bothers me is that you were accepted to begin with. And it isn't my fault if I overheard a few stories here and there. I mean, naturally, I'd be the first to be informed of any...revelations that occur within the academy."

  "Is that so?" Elaine grumbled. Just who is this girl?

  "Oh, where are my manners? I haven't even introduced myself, have I?" she said, almost like she had heard Elaine's thoughts. Flicking back her hair with a practiced motion, she said, "You may refer to me as Minerva Barrow, and it may serve you well to remember that my father is one of the main benefactors of this academy. But he is also a busy man. He can't always be here to crack the whip, so to speak. And so we take it upon ourselves to ensure everything in Glyph Academy is in order in his stead. What good is there in financing a dying business, after all?"

  "What? I thought the Arcanum funded the academy?"

  "Please, which loser told you that lie?" snickered the dark-haired boy.

  My brother, as a matter of fact, Elaine retorted in her head.

  "Easy on her, William," Minerva chuckled, fingers to her smiling lips. "She can't help it if she's misinformed, as so many lowborns commonly are these days."

  "Ha! I suppose you're right, sis."

  "And as for your friend," Minerva said, pointing a thumb over her shoulder and at Fearne, "I cannot help but wonder what possessed the staff to accept someone like her. I swear, Glyph just lets any sulmo with a wand in."

  Elaine bawled her fists. "Someone like her?"

  "A halfbreed," Minerva said, coldly.

  Wh…What? Of course, Elaine recognized the term. “Halfbreed.” It was a derogatory label applied to any mage who carried both the blood of magic and the mundane lineage of a dullard. In many ways, being categorized as a halfbreed was more stigmatizing than simply being an average lowborn dullard. In the unforgiving eyes of society, halfbreeds were often seen as vagrants, perpetually teetering between two worlds. They possessed neither the full mastery of true mages nor the straightforward simplicity of dullards. Instead, they existed as anomalies—jarring hiccups in the world of magic. Halfbreeds.

  Elaine had always thought of Fearne as someone with her own brand of quirks, but discovering that she was a halfbreed shocked her. Being a halfbreed would obviously attract a lot of negative attention, so it made sense why Fearne would keep such a significant part of her identity hidden. Yet, this situation also propelled Elaine into a deeper concern: who was behind the whispers and rumors that had surfaced about Fearne's lineage? The unknown culprits had painted her friend with a brush of scorn, and Elaine felt a surge of protective anger mounting within her. She could summon plenty of unsavory words for those who spread such toxic gossip—none of which would be particularly kind or forgiving.

  "A halfbreed and a lowborn," Minerva smirked. "Yes, I imagine the two of you will fit right in with that class of Crows."

  As Minerva muttered that word, Elaine caught sight of Fearne's embarrassment, her shame. She was but a sullen mage slumped on the floor with nothing to say, no defense to retaliate. "And so what if she's a halfbreed?" Elaine asked firmly. "She still managed to get accepted into the academy regardless, right? Then that means she has just as much of a right to be here as me or you!"

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "No, you don't get it," she muttered. "This world, it's defined by the pure and the filth, the dragons and the goblins. Magic is a divine Gift, and should only be cultivated by the worthy amongst the flock."

  There she went again. "You seem to have a twisted understanding of what makes one worthy."

  "I beg to differ," Minerva countered, her voice laced with unwavering calmness. "Halfbreeds and lowborns are not just a blight; they are tainting the very fabric of our society. This Era of Magic is one that should be defined by legends—those who possess the innate power and noble lineage that sets them apart. In this day and age, it should be an undeniable fact that only individuals of true worth, those who have proven themselves worthy with their inherent and exceptional talent, can hope to attain the esteemed status of a Professional Sorcerer. As for the rest of you? Your roles, while valuable in some aspect, are merely to assist when needed—nothing more, nothing less. Otherwise, I must ask you to kindly step aside and let true talent flourish. It’s plain and simple."

  Elaine lowered her head, shielding her face from view, concealing the disgusted scowl that twisted her features. It wasn’t the expression befitting of a woman. "No," she replied, her voice dropping to a near whisper, betraying her inner turmoil. "Where I come from, people are born with nothing. They have to labor tirelessly, day in and day out, just to scrape together the bare essentials of life. That struggle is potent and unforgiving, and every small achievement feels hard-won, a bitter reminder of the sacrifices made along the way. Worth? One's aptitude for magic? None of that is inherent! It needs to be earned! As far as I'm concerned, it doesn't matter if you're a mage born into privilege, a lowborn, or a halfbreed! Anyone can rise to become a sorcerer if they’re willing to work hard enough! To admit otherwise would be a betrayal of my ideals, the very principles that drive me!" She paused, her chest heaving with the weight of her conviction. "And I have no intention of doing so!"

  "Who do you think you are, talking that way to us!" spat the dark-haired boy. William, that was his name, wasn't it?

  Minerva raised her hand, and that was enough to silence him. "Elaine. That is your name, is it not? It's quite apparent that you aren't from around here," she said calmly. "You seem to be somewhat out of touch with reality."

  "Maybe," Elaine said. "There's a lot I have to learn. Even still, it doesn't change my stance on the matter. You can belittle and criticize others all you want, but it won't change how you fare as a sorcerer."

  "And therein lies the difference between you and myself," Minerva smirked. "I actually have the prowess to back up what I say."

  Elaine hesitated, her breath hitching in her throat as she watched Minerva's hand glide toward the wand holstered at her waist. The wand was a stunning piece, crafted from pale, polished wood, each detail enhanced by delicate light blue crystals that spiraled up its shaft like tiny, luminous vines. This was no ordinary wand; it was an Advanced Wand, a magical tool that could only be acquired by those with exceptionally deep pockets or powerful connections in the magical community. The sight made her own Common Wand—a simple, unadorned rod of dark wood—feel painfully bland and inadequate in comparison. Minerva, her green eyes sharp like daggers, pointed the tip of her wand directly at Elaine, her focused glare unyielding and suffused with an unsettling intensity. "You honestly believe that anyone can become a sorcerer? I think it's high time someone gave you a wake-up call before you get hurt," she said coolly. "Sorcerers aren't made, they're born."

  "Wh...What are you...?" Elaine stammered.

  "I'm curious: what exactly is it about you that captured the attention of our headmaster? Go on, draw your wand. Let's put your resilience to the test."

  Elaine stood frozen where she was. She could hardly comprehend the absurdity of her circumstances. Was she getting challenged to a sorcerer duel? Yes, most definitely. It was tempered by noble restraint, but Elaine saw the hostility in Minerva's eyes, flickering green flames.

  "Now hang on a moment, sis," said William, tugging her by the arm. "You're aware of the rules, as am I. We can't initiate a duel, not unless it's—"

  "Fret not, this won't take long. I'll finish her with a single spell." She sounded confident, and it aggravated Elaine to no end. "What's the matter? Catch cold feet, or are you merely a coward pretending to be something you're not?"

  Duels. She had witnessed her fair share. The thrill that accompanied combat was intoxicating, a dangerous dance that ignited the senses and sent adrenaline surging through one's veins. Yet she had only ever experienced the edges of that gleeful chaos—never had she been fully immersed in the ferocity of the fight. Now, as she stood on the precipice of becoming a participant, her emotions simmered like molten metal, while her heart throbbed with an exhilarating rhythm that felt both alien and familiar. It was a feverish melody, electrifying her nerves, coaxing her to embrace the anticipation that crackled like sparks in the air. Was this the same electrifying sensation that consumed Ellend each time he prepared to engage in a duel?

  Mother, why does Ellend like dueling so much? That question, Elaine remembered asking it not long after her eldest brother tramped upstairs to his room battered and covered in bruises, the prizes of another day's successful duel.

  Who's to say, my love? her mother replied disappointedly, sighing as she began clearing the dinner table of now-empty plates. Elaine did what she could to help, clutching as many drinking glasses as she could carry and scampering off to the kitchen, where the woman had already gotten busy wiping plates with a washcloth. Magic can be so beautiful if we allow it. And yet, sorcerers these days always manage to reveal how hideous it can be.

  That young Elaine, who knew nothing beyond Page's borders, frowned with distaste. You mean...like rogue sorcerers?

  Especially rogue sorcerers, her mother had said in a foreboding tone. However, Professional Sorcerers fall victim to that insanity as well. Your brother, he loves magic. Loves to use it when he gets into fights. I fear that it might lead him down a dark path. Nevertheless, if you ask me, Elaine, real magic should never be used to hurt someone.

  I...I don't want that...Elaine heard that answer in her ears as if she herself had just uttered those very same words.

  Back then, her mother had patted her atop her head, and a smile that could illuminate the heavens beamed down at her. If only every sorcerer could be like you, Elaine. Then, this world would be a much better place.

  Real magic, no, a real sorcerer shouldn't be using their powers to bring harm upon others, not if it could be avoided. And yet, in direct opposition to her beliefs, Elaine felt her hand inching to the wand holster on her waist. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, and her mouth turned dry. Was this...actually happening? What would become of her should she fire a spell right here and now? Would that be a duel she could win? A duel she could come back from? As Minvera was about to brandish her wand herself, suddenly, the girl spat a frustrated sigh and retracted the instrument back into its holster.

  Huh? Now, what's she up to? Elaine thought.

  Someone cleared their throat behind her, and Elaine whirled around. "What's all this then?" Hound asked in his distinctive heavy voice, his eyes bubbling like liquid gold in a pot. For such a colossus of a man, he was remarkably stealthy to be able to creep up on them as he'd done. He had his arms crossed, and his beard shifted around his scowl. Elaine was about to say something, but Minerva beat her to it. "Nothing worth dwelling over," she said, nonchalant yet dignified. "My friends and I were just on our way to class."

  "And what of her?" Hound said, motioning at Fearne with a head tilt.

  "An accident," Minerva replied. "Nothing more, nothing less. Now, if you excuse us, we'll be on our way. Come, William, Clover. We've kept these Crows long enough."

  Elaine clenched her jaw, keeping her mouth shut as the three of them strode past Hound and down the corridor. She could feel the impact of Minerva's icy glare despite its briefness, a silent message that screamed, "Know your place, filth. And stay out of my way." The unspoken threat lingered in the air like a venomous cloud. Once they rounded the corner and faded from view, Elaine wasted no time. Her heart raced as she bolted toward Fearne, dropping to her knees beside her friend, reaching out with concern flooding her voice. "Are you okay?" she asked, her eyes searching Fearne's for any sign of hurt.

  "Yes," Fearne nodded. "I'm fine, really. You didn't have to—"

  "I did," Elaine swiftly countered. "I can't stand people who treat others with disrespect! That girl, Minerva, she went too far!"

  Hound groaned behind them. "I was hoping there wouldn't be any problems today. Guess I was being too optimistic."

  Elaine helped Fearne gather her scattered papers. Fortunately, most of them were blank pages. Those that had been carried off by the wind or stained with muddy footprints weren't of any value. Albeit, it took a lot for Elaine to ignore the accumulating annoyance boiling her blood. "Were they telling the truth?"

  "Of what?" Hound inquired.

  "They're nobles, sure. But are they really that big of a deal here?"

  "Ah, the Barrows. Yes, well, that Family House is quite something," Hound grumbled. "In the old days, we counted on the Arcanum for funding. It was a give-and-take kind of relationship. They'd provide us with the necessary finances, and we'd, in turn, produce Professional Sorcerers they could absorb into their ranks."

  "So what changed?"

  "Incante, to be frank," Hound said. "Back then, sorcerers didn't have much of a choice regarding what they could do for a living. The Military hadn't opened its State Sorcerer Division yet, so that meant most sorcerers typically enlisted for the Arcanum. Nowadays, with the mage population on the rise, as well as more forms of magic being discovered practically on a daily, it means that we require more...assets so that the academy can run as efficiently as we need it to. People with resources, influence—"

  "Noble families," Elaine deduced.

  "Now you're getting it," Hound said, nodding at her. "And House Barrow is at the top of our list. Those two just now—Minerva and William—aren't your average noble brats. From what I hear, they've been trained with magic since they were pups. I wouldn't advise making an enemy out of them."

  Elaine helped Fearne off the floor, placing the last of her scattered documents into the girl's satchel. "So are we to just let them keep treating people like this?"

  "Of course not. I'll have a word with the headmaster, tell him what's what," Hound affirmed. "Meanwhile, I ask that you not antagonize them. Lest you're capable of beating them in a duel, that is."

  "What did they mean when they called us crows?" Fearne asked.

  Hound scratched his beard, the surgin' thing looked awfully itchy. "Hmm, well, it really isn't my place to touch on this all too touchy subject. Let's just say, some handful of years ago, when ole Allan was still a relatively new professor, there was an...incident involving one of his students."

  Elaine's eyes went round. "What kind of incident?"

  "The not-so-pretty kind," Hound muttered. "Ever since then, our Abyssal Sorcerer, as well as Homeroom Class 7, has had somewhat of a negative reputation. Most around here think it's cursed, and started referring to the students assigned to it as "Crows". It's all just nonsense to me." There was an old proverb that whenever a flock of crows gathered, whenever they amassed in the skies with their beating wings, horrific screeches, and black feathers, an unparalleled disaster was sure to follow. A cruel title, indeed. "Oh, I wouldn't put much stock in it, lass," Hound said, shrugging his massive shoulders. "Just kids being stupid kids."

  "Y...Yeah," Elaine nodded. "Come on, Fearne. We should probably be getting to class as well."

  Hound was right; there was no reason to torment herself over something as trivial as this. Yet, the exhilarating prospect of a duel stirred a fire deep within her heart. Minerva’s bold declarations, delivered with fierce confidence, resonated in her mind like a challenge thrown from the very precipice of a cliff. It sparked an insatiable desire in her to embark on something daring, something reckless, compelling her to prove that arrogant goldblood wrong. In time, Elaine would ensure that Minerva knew what she was truly capable of as a budding Professional Sorcerer.