Albert von Yelk.
A student in Class B at the magic academy — once, he was a mage whom the Yelk viscount household had pinned all their hopes on.
The reason for that was his Bloodline Magic.
Whether through skip-generation inheritance or some unknown factor, a Bloodline Magic far too powerful to have ever existed in the Yelk viscount lineage manifested within him.
His parents placed their expectations on him — believing that he could carry the viscount household on his shoulders and bring even greater prosperity to the family.
He, too, tried to meet those expectations, and having dreamed of it himself, he worked hard.
He threw himself into his studies, expanded his circle of friends, and actively gained experience fighting with magic.
Wielding magic was enjoyable. He was proud that such wonderful magic existed within him. The desire to refine this wonderful magic further was undoubtedly what drove his greatest motivation.
In a sense, he became more engrossed in that magic than anyone else — steadily accumulating experience and knowledge.
His efforts bore fruit. He was granted admission to the prestigious magic academy in the Royal Capital.
It was undeniably an honor. He gained even more confidence from it, resolving to graduate as a splendid mage and noble, then return home and devote himself to the development of his territory.
With those thoughts, he set foot on the grounds of the magic academy, brimming with confidence.
—And then, he was immediately thrust into hell.
"Come now, Albert! What's got you so quiet?"
It was time for the joint magic practice session.
Following Clyde's proposal, the format had shifted to a mock battle with students from Class A.
The one who stepped forward as Albert's opponent was Nesty von Langheim.
The eldest son of the Langheim marquis household — and for Albert, probably the one person he could have predicted would show up.
Because — it was the joint magic practice held right after enrollment.
That was the man who had thoroughly beaten Albert, leaving no part of him unscathed.
"Come at me like you did at enrollment! — Just like that laughable you who charged at me with no sense of your own limits, declaring 'My magic should rival Class A!'"
"Tch—Bloodline Magic—
Four Winds of the Heavenly Demon!
"
Taking the bait, he unleashed his own Bloodline Magic.
Four Winds of the Heavenly Demon.
Originally, this was a powerful Bloodline Magic passed down through the Eldritch family —
a Count-class Bloodline Magic.
It was thought to derive from a hereditary connection, given the apparently close bloodline between his house and the Yerk viscount family, but in any case, it was an extremely fortunate magic for him — however.
"Bloodline Magic—
Guardian Saint of Radiance
"
The blue flame that Nesty conjured alongside his magic declaration — a heterodox sacred flame that inexplicably possessed physical mass — perfectly intercepted the wind Albert had unleashed.
"There!"
With a counterstrike and a battle cry, the blue flame bore down on him. He tried to scatter it with his own Bloodline Magic, but the impossibly heavy, voluminous flame proved too much, and it surged straight into Albert's body.
It clung to his body, and a ferocious torrent of heat tore through every inch of him.
"Gaaahh!"
"Ahahahahaha!"
Watching Albert writhing on the ground, Nesty burst into hearty laughter.
"Pathetic, and stupid! Did you really think you could become A-Class with 'this level of magic'?! Country nobles are hopeless like this — let me teach you your place all over again, as much as you can handle──!"
The disparity was laid bare before him.
No matter how slightly stronger a Bloodline Magic he had managed to master, it was nowhere near enough. He felt that chasm with visceral clarity as their magic collided.
The gap in birthright was far too overwhelming, far too absolute. It was the unbridgeable difference in rank that existed within Bloodline Magic itself.
If that were all there was to it, things might have been bearable. He might have still felt motivated to keep trying.
But that wasn't all. The treatment B-Class received at this academy was worse than anything he had imagined.
They were mocked by the A-Class students at every turn, treated as nothing more than outlets for their frustrations and tools to feed their sense of superiority.
The teachers were no different. Impossible assignments, dumped chores, a punching bag for their grievances.
B-Class
existed here solely to deepen the bonds among everyone else.
If you kept living like that for half a year, there was nothing left but to give up.
Bit by bit, mercilessly, their confidence and self-worth were ground to dust. Perhaps because the other B-Class students had endured the same things, a strange sense of solidarity even formed among them.
They treated the duke's daughter who couldn't use magic and the saintess chosen by a prince as beings from an entirely different world.
This was what they were. This was their role in the kingdom.
Becoming sacrifices to the higher nobility — that was their duty.
They convinced themselves of this, killed their own hearts, and docilely played the part of victims. They believed there was no other way.
──And yet.
That man had come to B-Class as if to mock everything they had resigned themselves to.
They knew who he was. Ermes von Frenbreed — once the Prodigy of the Frenbreed family. But he had been judged to possess no Bloodline Magic, expelled from his home, and should have become a commoner.
Somehow, though, this man had transferred into B-Class — carrying Bloodline Magic, no less.
Wary about what was going on, I watched his magic... and felt relieved.
Oh, it was nothing impressive. In the end, he was just a banished nobody who'd gotten lucky and obtained some magic.
And a commoner at that. So there was nothing wrong with looking down on him. We'd all endured the same thing ourselves. Now that you've entered this academy, you'd better learn to play by the same rules.
That's what I thought, and together with others who felt the same, I resolved to show him no mercy—except it didn't go the way it was supposed to.
His actions, and his skill, far surpassed anything we could manage.
First, the harassment we'd unleashed on his very first day after transferring was returned to us perfectly. He pushed back against every ounce of unfairness we'd forced on him—the same unfairness we ourselves had been unable to refuse—with complete composure. As if he couldn't have cared less about shame or reputation, he calmly and repeatedly threw himself into defeat against stronger opponents.
And even now. While I had accepted my own helpless losses as simply the way things were, he was nothing like that.
An absolute higher being. A-Class, and the class leader at that. He'd shown a clear, undeniable victory—surpassing Clyde using the very same magic.
Even I could tell. That victory was real. Ermes had unmistakably surpassed Clyde through nothing but pure magical skill.
The former Prodigy was still very much alive.
…But.
What I felt first, upon seeing Ermes like that, wasn't gratitude or admiration—it was fierce, overwhelming rejection.
Stop.
Don't do this. Don't do anything that would upset the order of this academy.
Please──
Don't rise again.
.
Stay
fallen.
.
Because if that sort of thing was allowed. If a reversal was permissible.
Then what on earth had they—all of them—been forced to endure this treatment for?
Harboring those thoughts, Albert approached Ermes, who was walking back after finishing her fight.
"......What are you......you—"
In front of Ermes, who was returning to B Class after Clyde's retreat,
Albert, his face twisted in agony, blocked her path.
"When you ask me 'what am I'—I'm just a student here, same as you."
"Don't screw with me! How could I possibly be the same as you! Why can a B Class student do something like that—why did you even come to this academy, what is the purpose behind all this!!"
......He wasn't quite sure what Albert was trying to confirm.
Regardless, in response to the questions hurled at him, he gave the answer that mattered most to him personally.
"Why, to learn of course. Magic. This is a magic academy, after all."
"What nonsense! Someone like you who can do something like that—there's no way you still have anything to learn here!!"
But Albert returned with a scream-like denial, and finally, as though he could endure no longer, he shouted.
"Make no mistake—I can see it clear as day that you're nothing but the old Prodigy, exactly as you were! I'll grant you that much, so enough already! Get out of B Class—no, get out of this academy entirely!"
"——"
"Stop disrupting the academy's order for nothing! Everything falls into chaos when you're around—please, just vanish somewhere we'll never have to see you again!!"
......Those words.
Were unmistakably rejection. A declaration of exclusion.
(......Ah.)
The instant those words reached him, something inside him—there was a sensation of something going cold, quietly, slipping away.
(
So it's like this for them too,
)
In the end, it comes down to this.
Praising the exceptional while rejecting those who are too exceptional.
Those were words his master used to say often. His master had told him that was why he left the Royal Capital, fed up with it all.
What he was hearing now was, without question, words of exactly that meaning.
He didn't think this country had started to change — the very same words once hurled at his former master were now being thrown around again in this generation.
That was why the words slipped out of Ermes's mouth before he could stop them.
"...Is it all right if I leave now?"
He had already been carrying quite a heavy burden in his heart.
The people in his class stubbornly refused to let up on him in the slightest. The A-Class representative who had shown up at lunch was a thoroughly despicable person who, even in their recent battle, would only accept logic that suited himself and had no intention whatsoever of learning.
And the final straw — these words.
Meeting Niina and catching a glimpse of a new world had been enjoyable, but even subtracting that, this academy was still far too overflowing with elements that made him uncomfortable.
He could feel a part of his heart going cold, irreversibly, with nothing he could do about it.
He had thought he should stop writing people off so quickly — but if this was what he got after waiting this long, wasn't it more than enough?
"...Understood."
His voice was terribly dry, yet carried a strangely terrifying resonance.
Every single member of B-Class shuddered with chills upon hearing it, and he turned on his heel.
"Very well, then. As you wish. vanishing from the academy — no, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to disappear from the Royal Capital altogether. ...I'll be doing a disservice to His Grace and Lady Katia, though."
At the very least, he would remain an unwavering ally to those two, without pretense.
That was what he thought, yet he could no longer stop himself from moving.
He turned his back with a look of complete disinterest, ready to walk away without a shred of hesitation — in that very instant.
Softly.
As though warming a heart grown bitterly cold. As though reaching out to hold onto the one drifting away.
Ermes's right hand was enveloped in a warmth, gentle and tender.
"..."
When he turned around, there she was.
"...You... can't...!"
Trembling with fear, shuddering with dread.
Yet with an unwavering resolve — she must not let go, she must not release him.
The beautiful golden-haired, blue-eyed girl — Sarah — gripped his hand in both of hers, fixing him with a look of desperate sincerity.
The main character of this chapter makes her move. Next update is scheduled for tonight.