The First Class (1) Arriving at The Magic Tower University

The sound of the expensive carriage of the Drakhan family echoed through the cobblestone streets, a rhythmic clatter that turned heads and hushed conversations. The wheels, crafted from the finest materials, rolled smoothly despite the uneven terrain, a testament to the wealth and power of my lineage.

Inside the carriage, I sat with an air of calm authority. The carriage was richly appointed, with plush seats upholstered in deep crimson velvet and dark wood accents that gleamed with polish. Golden tassels adorned the curtains, and intricate carvings decorated the interior panels, each depicting scenes of arcane mastery and mythical beasts. 

Well, admiring the carriage could follow later.

My mind now focused on the upcoming lecture at the Magic Tower University, I look at the leather bag given by Alfred and take out the documents from inside. My sight went to the lecture's topic title.

"Royal Senior Professor Draven: The Fundamental Concept of Magic and The Understanding of Mana"

Furthermore, the table of contents is as follows.

-Introduction to Arcane Theory: Magic and Mana

-Magic Circles and Their Branches

-Ley Lines and Magical Conduits

-The Nature and Essence of Mana

-Elementary Magic: Principles and Practices

I read them with total focus and soon got immersed in them. The prospects, the explanations, and the outlines were fascinating enough for me to realize that the lore and the depth of these documents were far more intricate and logical than anything I had created in the game. It was as if I were diving into a whole new world, one that was rich with potential and discovery.

As I studied the magic circles within the documents, analyzing their complex structures and incantations, a certain phrase appeared in my field of view:

[Comprehension used. Mana -150]

I paused, feeling a slight drain on my energy, but also a strange sense of clarity. The intricate patterns and symbols of the magic circles that had seemed so complex before now made perfect sense to me. It was as if the knowledge had been instantly absorbed and integrated into my understanding.

"So, the skill is real," I murmured to myself, fascinated by the implications. Comprehension wasn't just a passive skill; it actively consumed mana to enhance my understanding of magical concepts. This realization opened up new possibilities. With this ability, I could learn and master magical theories and techniques far more quickly than anyone else.

The carriage came to a stop, and my attendant opened the door, bringing me back to reality. "My lord, we have arrived," he announced with a respectful bow.

I stepped out, taking a moment to survey the impressive facade of the Magic Tower University. With a deep breath, I collected my thoughts and began my ascent up the grand steps. As I entered the hall, a small figure blocked my way.

"G-Good morning, professor... T-This is what you asked for yesterday..." The assistant's cute but rigid face was framed by wisps of dark hair, her eyes wide with nervousness as she handed me a thick stack of documents. "For today's lecture, professor..."

"Do I know you?" I asked, caught off guard by her familiarity.

"P-Professor...? I've been working as your assistant for a year?" Her body seemed to shrink as she uttered those words, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

"I was merely joking," I smiled, attempting to ease her discomfort. But as I did, I felt a twist in my stomach, as if the rude and cold Draven within me disapproved of any friendly actions toward others.

I glanced at the documents, realizing they were a detailed script for the lectures, extending several classes forward. "I see..."

Draven was famous for his intelligence, but it was largely a facade. He was a mediocre genius, a failed prodigy. The curse that plagued him hindered his ability to fully comprehend advanced mana usage, leading him to rely on his wealth to build his career through backstreet methods. This included asking the assistant professor to work tirelessly to prepare scripts for most of his lectures.

"Yes, professor?" she asked, her voice tinged with a mixture of hope and apprehension.

"It's nothing. You did a great job. Take a rest before the class," I said, my tone gentle. Another twist of discomfort churned in my stomach, but I paid it no heed. This body may resist my actions, but I was in control now. There was no need to follow every whim of Draven's ingrained habits and desires.

As she nodded and turned to leave, I took a moment to review the script she had prepared. It was thorough, and meticulously detailed, and would serve as an excellent guide for the lecture. I made a few adjustments, infusing the material with my newfound understanding and the insights granted by my skill, Comprehension.

The students began to fill the lecture hall, their faces a mix of anticipation and curiosity. I took my place at the front, arranging the documents neatly on the podium. The familiar scent of parchment and ink filled the air, grounding me in this new reality.

"Attention" I began, my voice steady and commanding. "I will now start the lecture,"

___

Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!

The sound of Draven's footsteps echoed through the grand lecture hall, each step deliberate and precise, commanding the attention of everyone present. He moved with a grace and authority that seemed almost otherworldly, his presence filling the room with an air of quiet power. The students' conversations ceased as all eyes turned towards him, captivated by the spectacle of his approach.

Draven's every motion exuded an effortless elegance, his stride fluid and measured. His back was straight, shoulders squared, and head held high, embodying the very essence of noble dignity. The long, tailored coat he wore flowed behind him like a cape, its intricate silver embroidery catching the light and adding to the aura of regality that surrounded him. His boots, polished to a mirror-like shine, struck the polished marble floor with rhythmic precision, each step a testament to his unwavering confidence.

His facial expressions were a study of control and refinement, each glance and movement conveying a subtle yet undeniable authority. His piercing emerald green eyes scanned the room, assessing the students with a keen intelligence that left no doubt as to his command of the subject.

There were no flaws or gaps in him. It was as if he had been sculpted by the gods themselves, an embodiment of perfection and power. His appearance was so harmoniously proportioned, so meticulously crafted, that it seemed almost unreal, as if he were a living statue carved from the finest marble.

"That bastard..."

Amberine Polime, sitting at the back of the class, could barely contain her contempt. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Draven make his way to the podium, her lips curling into a sneer. To her, this display of noble elegance was nothing more than a façade, a mask worn by a man who had caused her and many others nothing but grief.

But even to those who harbored resentment or mistrust, there was no denying the sheer magnetism of his presence. Draven Arcanum von Drakhan was not just a man; he was a spectacle, a force of nature that demanded attention and respect. As he reached the podium and turned to face the class, the room fell into a hushed silence, the students hanging on his every word.

Not just her words, but her actions were as bloody. Amberine Polime bit her lips as hard as she could until they bled, her gaze fixed intently on the man before her—the enemy of her late father. The taste of iron filled her mouth, a bitter reminder of the rage and grief that fueled her every thought.

Draven Arcanum von Drakhan, the man who had brought so much misery to her family. Just like several other scholars who had been 'eaten' by his ambition and treachery, her father was one of them. He had been a brilliant man, renowned for his groundbreaking research in the field of magic. His numerous papers and articles were a testament to his intellect and dedication. Yet, his greatest work, his magnum opus, had been stolen by the wretched man standing before her.

Her father had died in obscurity, his masterpiece never recognized, his contributions buried under the weight of Draven's deceit. Amberine's heart burned with the injustice of it all, the memory of her father's unfulfilled dreams and his untimely death a constant torment.

"It's fine, father. I will definitely avenge you..." Amberine muttered under her breath, her voice a whisper of resolve. As she watched Draven command the attention of the class, an evil thought crossed her mind. A plan began to form, dark and sinister, fueled by a desire for retribution.

She would bide her time, play the part of the diligent student, and wait for the perfect moment to strike. Draven might have the upper hand now, but she would ensure that his fall from grace would be as spectacular as his rise. Amberine's eyes narrowed, her mind already working through the details of her revenge. She would not let her father's legacy be tarnished by this man any longer. She would expose Draven for the fraud he was and reclaim her father's stolen glory.

"Attention," Draven began, his voice smooth and commanding, resonating through the hall. "I will now start the lecture."