The transition from the medical ward to the dormitories felt like moving between two different worlds. While the others headed toward the specialized towers of the Eagles or the serene gardens of the Turtles, I found myself descending. The Mammoth House was built into the very foundations of Xernes, a place of heavy stone and low, echoing arches.
Professor Lucious stood before us in the central courtyard the next morning, his shadow long against the flagstones.
"Your Houses are not labels," Lucious barked, his voice carrying a weight that silenced the morning birds. "They are systems. A Mammoth who cannot strike is just a punching bag. An Eagle who cannot defend is a glass arrow. Tomorrow, your true education begins. If you cannot adapt, you will not survive."
Lesson One: The Art of Control
The first class was held in the Hall of Whispers, a room designed to amplify the slightest tremor of mana. The task was simple in theory, but agonizing in practice: manipulate your primary element to move a small wooden token across a table without toppling it.
Dean struggled immediately. I watched him from the next table over. Every time he tried to summon a breeze to nudge his token, a jagged spark of Sky Magic would hiss from his fingertips, charring the wood. The output of Sky Magic was simply too volatile; it was like trying to perform surgery with a lightning bolt.
Percy was doing better, his fire magic flickering with a disciplined, low heat, but he was impatient. I sat somewhere in the middle. Being an Earth-user, my control was steady but slow. I could move the token, but it felt like dragging a mountain through mud.
Then there was Lily.
She was a natural. While we sweated and cursed, she sat with her eyes closed, a faint green glow around her hands. A miniature tornado, no larger than a finger, swirled on her palm. With a delicate flick of her wrist, she sent the vortex spinning toward her table, shaking it just enough to move the token exactly one foot. It was perfect.
"Impressive, Miss Lily," Lucious noted, though his face remained a mask of stone. "Precision is the difference between a wasted spell and a lethal one."
Lesson Two: The Shield and the Sword
By midday, we were moved to the reinforced training pits for Defense. This was my territory.
When the training golems launched a barrage of stone projectiles at us, my instincts took over. I didn't panic. I didn't even move my feet. I simply tapped into the stone beneath me, pulling a shimmering wall of granite from the earth. The projectiles shattered against my defense like glass against a cliffside. I dominated the floor, my Earth Magic absorbing every shockwave.
Lily was excellent as well, weaving wind barriers that redirected the force of the attacks, but I noticed a flaw that Lucious picked up on instantly. Every time a stray shot headed toward a teammate, Lily would abandon her own cover to protect them.
"Selflessness is an inspiring trait in a storybook, Lily," Lucious said, appearing beside her. "But in a real war, it is a death sentence. If the healer falls because she was playing shield for someone else, the whole squad dies. Fix it."
Dean's defense was... chaotic. He relied entirely on his freakishly fast reaction times, twisting his body like an acrobat to avoid being hit. He didn't block; he just wasn't there when the blow landed.
Percy, however, was a disaster. He didn't even try to defend. When a golem fired at him, he launched a fireball right back at the projectile, trying to destroy the threat before it hit him.
"Brilliant strategy, Percy," Lucious remarked sarcastically. "It works perfectly—provided you have infinite mana. Unfortunately, such a person has never been born. When you run dry, you'll be a very charred corpse."
Lesson Three: The Pressure of the Strike
When it came to pure Offense, the tables turned. Percy was a shark in water. He didn't just throw fire; he engineered traps. He'd toss a slow-moving fireball to bait a dodge, then follow up with a high-pressure flamethrower into the narrow space his opponent was forced into. It was ruthless.
I held my own, using long-ranged stone pillars and localized tremors to keep my targets off-balance, but it lacked Percy's lethal flair. Dean's attacks were terrifyingly powerful, but every time he summoned a bolt, I saw his jaw clench in agony. The "bill" for his magic was always being collected.
"Rare power does not always lead to a happy ending, Dean," Lucious said quietly as Dean leaned against a wall, clutching his chest.
Lily struggled the most here. Her nature was to protect and trap. She could entangle a golem in a gale, but she hesitated to deliver the finishing blow. She lacked the "killer instinct."
Lesson Four: The Reality of Combat
The final class of the day was Real Combat Practice—putting it all together.
This was where Dean excelled. Away from the rigid drills, he knew exactly how much mana to use for every situation. He used just enough wind to move and kept his Sky Magic hidden, saving it like a hidden dagger. He was a survivor. Lily, too, used her traps to stretch the battle out, exhausting her opponents until they made a mistake.
Then there was me and Percy.
Despite all my overthinking, once the adrenaline hit, I got carried away. I focused so much on the person in front of me that I stopped analyzing the battlefield. Percy was the same—we were both driven by the heat of the moment, forgetting the strategy Lucious had hammered into us all day.
"You are all geniuses in your own way," Lucious said, signaling the end of the session. "But you are also dangerously lopsided. You must master the skills you hate. If you don't learn them now, the Second Magical War will be a very short, very bloody affair."
The air in the room turned cold at the mention of a "Second War."
"What do you mean, a Second Magical War?" a voice asked from the shadows.
We all turned. Neville was standing by the heavy iron doors.
Lucious didn't look surprised. "When did you get here, Neville?"
"Just now," Neville said, his face uncharacteristically serious. "But I think we need to talk about that war. Now."
Lucious sighed, the weight of the world seemingly settling on his shoulders. "Everyone else, dismissed. Neville... come to my cabin. We have a lot to discuss."