​At the front of the room stood Master Alicia. Without her red armor, wearing the formal charcoal robes of a combat instructor, she looked less like a warrior and more like a stern judge. She tapped a long wooden pointer against a blackboard covered in intricate diagrams of the human circulatory system, overlaid with glowing veins of mana.

​"Theory is the foundation of survival," Alicia's voice rang out, echoing in the high rafters. "If you do not understand the pressure-points of your own core, you will burst like an overfilled bladder the moment you try to cast a Rank 4 spell. Today, we discuss Mana-Compression Ratios."

​Matthew sat at a desk near the back, his quill trembling in his hand. Andrew sat beside him, already filling his parchment with neat, organized notes.

​Matthew looked down at the textbook open on his desk: The Fundamentals of Aetheric Flow. He tried to focus on the first paragraph, but the letters seemed to squirm and dance. Back in Oakhaven, he had read stories of heroes and legends, but those were simple books with large print. This was different. These were technical terms, ancient dialects, and mathematical formulas that looked like a tangle of briars.

​"The coefficient of the core's expansion is inversely proportional to the density of the atmospheric ambient mana..." Matthew blinked, his head starting to throb. He read the sentence again. And again. By the time he reached the end of the third line, he had forgotten what the first one said.

​

​"Having trouble, Matt?" Andrew whispered, leaning over slightly.

​"I can't... I don't understand these words," Matthew hissed back, his face flushing with a mix of frustration and shame. "What is a 'coefficient'? And why is the mana 'inversely proportional'?"

​Andrew realized then what he had overlooked. While he had been raised in a city with tutors and libraries, Matthew had spent his life in a village where "education" meant knowing when to plant wheat and how to sharpen a hoe. The gap between them wasn't just in their cores; it was in their world.

​"It just means that if there's a lot of mana in the air, your core has a harder time pushing its own energy out," Andrew whispered quickly. "Think of it like trying to open a door when a crowd is pushing against the other side."

​Matthew nodded, trying to hold onto that mental image, but Master Alicia was already moving on.

​"Now, look at Diagram 4-B," Alicia commanded. "This shows the Null-Point Collapse. This occurs when a mage attempts to draw power from an exhausted core. It results in permanent crystallization of the mana-veins."

​Matthew looked at the diagram. It was a mess of geometric shapes and Greek symbols. He felt a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. Every other student in the room—even the other F-Class misfits—seemed to be following along, their quills scratching rhythmically against their parchment.

​He felt like he was drowning in a sea of ink.

​

​From a few rows down, Lucius turned around. He had noticed Matthew's blank parchment and the way he was staring at the book with wide, panicked eyes.

​"Look at that," Lucius whispered loud enough for the surrounding Elites to hear. "The 'Void' can't even read the basic introductory text. I suppose they don't teach much besides 'how to shovel manure' in Oakhaven."

​A few of the students snickered. Matthew's grip on his quill tightened until the wood groaned. He wanted to shout, to tell them that he hadn't had tutors, that he'd spent his time helping his father survive missions. But the words wouldn't come.

​"Matthew of Oakhaven!"

​Alicia's voice snapped like a whip. Matthew stood up, his chair screeching against the floor.

​"Based on Diagram 4-B, what is the primary danger of a Tier-2 Mana Backflow?"

​Matthew looked at the diagram. He saw circles. He saw lines. He saw symbols that looked like twisted forks. His mouth went dry. He looked at Andrew, who was trying to gesture subtly toward a specific line in the book, but the text remained a blurred mess to Matthew.

​"I... I don't know, Master Alicia," Matthew said, his voice barely audible.

​"Speak up!"

​"I don't know!" Matthew said, louder this time, his pride stinging.

​The room erupted in quiet laughter. Lucius shook his head mockingly. "A Rank 0 in power, and a Rank 0 in brains. Why is he even here?"

​

​Alicia stared at Matthew for a long, uncomfortable moment. Her eyes weren't mocking, but they were devoid of pity. "Sit down, Matthew. Andrew, answer the question."

​"The danger is a complete rupture of the primary mana-gate, leading to internal hemorrhaging," Andrew said perfectly, though his tone was flat, lacking its usual cheer.

​For the rest of the hour, Matthew didn't even try to write. He sat in stony silence, staring at the scarred wood of his desk. He realized that the Academy wasn't just going to test his strength; it was designed to make him feel small at every possible turn.

​When the bell finally hummed to end the class, Matthew was the first one out the door. He didn't stop until he reached the quiet, shadow-filled hallway of the North Wing.

​Andrew caught up to him a minute later. "Hey, Matt! Wait up."

​"I'm a fool, Andrew," Matthew said, spinning around. "I can't do this. I don't know their math, I don't know their history, and I can't even read their damn textbooks without my head feeling like it's going to explode. How am I supposed to be a 'weapon' if I can't even pass a basic theory class?"

​Andrew walked up and looked Matthew in the eye. "You aren't a fool. You're just behind. Lucius and the others have had fifteen years of preparation. You've had fifteen minutes."

​Andrew reached into his bag and pulled out his own notes. They weren't in the complex, academic shorthand the teachers used. He had redrawn the diagrams into simple, practical shapes—swords, shields, and arrows.

​"Tonight, we aren't going to the training pits," Andrew said. "We're staying in Room 402. I'm going to teach you how to read the 'Academy' way. I'll translate the garbage they say into things that actually make sense."

​Matthew looked at the notes, then at Andrew. "You'd do that? You have your own Elite-class exams to study for."

​Andrew shrugged, a cocky grin returning to his face. "I'm a Rank 3 Mana-Conduit, Matt. I can read this stuff in my sleep. Besides, what's the point of being the top of the class if I can't pull my brother up with me?"

​Matthew felt the knot of shame in his chest loosen just a fraction. He looked at the textbook again. It was still a mess of squiggles, but with Andrew standing there, it didn't look like an impossible mountain anymore. It just looked like a fight.

​And Matthew knew how to fight.

​"Okay," Matthew said, a small, determined smile touching his lips. "Let's get to work."