Chapter 24. I Belong Here!
Succubi Chapter 24. I Belong Here!
The moment I stepped into the House of Arcana lecture hall, a strange mix of excitement and nervousness buzzed through me.
I wasn’t worried about the subject itself—Arcane Theory and Fundamentals. That sounded right up my alley. Magic, strategy, knowledge-based combat? Yeah, I could get behind that. This was where I was supposed to shine.
But the second I crossed the threshold, I could feel eyes on me.
Not in a hostile way. More like… confusion.
I was alone, no familiar faces, no Leon making dumb comments, no Evelyn giving me her usual unimpressed looks. Just me, standing there in the doorway, and everyone trying to figure out what the hell I was doing here.
I scanned the room, taking it all in.
The lecture hall was huge, built like a semi-circle with wide, curved rows of seats that ascended toward the back. The walls were lined with intricate magical engravings, softly glowing with faint traces of energy—probably enchantments for soundproofing or protection against accidental spell misfires.
The students?
Yeah. They didn’t look like me.
Most of them had a clean, polished look, their uniforms crisp, their books neatly stacked on their desks. They looked like scholars, tacticians, people who spent more time thinking than fighting.
And then there was me.
My half-messy hair, my slightly disheveled uniform, the relaxed-but-somehow-intimidating way I carried myself. Some people had even told me I had a bad boy look, something about the way I held myself, like I screamed trouble.
In House of Valor? That might’ve been normal.
Here?
It stood out.
I could hear whispers as I walked further in, scanning for an empty seat.
“Is he in the right class?”
“He looks like he belongs in Valor…”
“Wait, is he the one from the main class earlier?”
“Huh, I thought he was just some brawler…”
It wasn’t malicious. Just curious.
And that was fine. I could deal with curiosity.
But what I wasn’t expecting…
Was the amount of girls looking at me.
Yeah. I thought the cafeteria thing was weird. But now?
It was worse.
Some girls subtly stole glances, pretending to be focused on their books while peeking at me from the corners of their eyes. Others didn’t even bother being subtle—they straight-up turned to watch me walk in.
I swallowed, resisting the urge to rub my face and check if I had something on it.
‘Great. I guess I’m famous now.’
I kept my face neutral, pretending I didn’t notice, but internally? Yeah, this was kinda weird.
Still, I had no enemies here.
That was already a good start.
I kept moving, heading toward an empty seat near the middle, when a voice called out.
“Hey.”
I turned.
A guy—tall, lean, elf ears peeking out from under neatly combed silver hair—gave me a nod of acknowledgment. “You’re Evan, right?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
He smirked. “Figured. You’re the one who explained combat theory earlier in the main class and the only student who fit for all houses.”
Ah. So word had already spread.
“Yeah,” I said, shrugging. “That was me.”
“Nice,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t expect someone who fits in Valor to be in Arcana.”
I sighed. “Yeah, I’ve been hearing that a lot.”
He chuckled. “I’m Calian. Welcome to Arcana.”
A few other students nodded in greeting, some mumbling quick “Hey”s or “Welcome”s as I passed.
Okay. So far, so good.
No hostility. No Ares-level glares. Just… a lot of curiosity.
I slid into an empty seat, adjusting my bag, and exhaled.
I was still excited.
Despite all the weird looks, despite feeling like an oddball in a room full of scholars, I was here for a reason.
Magic had always fascinated me. Not just throwing spells around, but understanding them. The mechanics, the logic, the rules that governed them.
That’s what separated powerful casters from reckless ones.
Anyone could learn a spell. But the ones who truly mastered magic?
They were the ones who knew how and when to use it.
I smirked to myself.
Yeah.
This was gonna be fun.
A few minutes later, the professor walked in.
The chatter died instantly.
The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with an aura of quiet authority. His deep green robes swayed as he moved, the gold embroidery shimmering under the soft magical light. His short black hair had a few streaks of silver, his sharp eyes scanning the class with an intensity that made even the more confident students sit up straighter.
I straightened my back instinctively.
This guy?
Yeah. He wasn’t some random theory lecturer. He had experience.
He stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back, and spoke in a calm, measured voice.
“Welcome to Arcane Theory and Fundamentals,” he began. “I am Professor Aldric Valen, and for the next few months, I will be the one ensuring that you understand not just how to use magic, but why it works the way it does.”
He scanned the room, his gaze settling briefly on me before continuing.
“This class is not for those who simply want to throw fireballs and hope for the best. If that is your goal, I suggest you transfer to House of Valor immediately.”
I smirked.
Yeah.
I already liked this guy.
“Arcana is the study of magic in its purest form,” he continued. “Its rules. Its logic. Its limitations.”
His eyes flickered with something sharp—not just intelligence, but expectation.
“Mastery of magic begins with knowledge. And that is what we will be testing here.”
He stepped forward, and with a flick of his wrist, several glowing symbols appeared in the air.
The air hummed with arcane energy, the symbols pulsing with faint blue light. The temperature shifted slightly, a tingle running through my skin as the magic settled around us.
“Tell me,” he said, turning to the class. “What is the fundamental law of mana manipulation?”
A few students glanced at each other, hesitant to speak.
I tapped my fingers against my desk, my mind already running through what I knew.
Mana manipulation. The first rule…
A girl with dark green hair, sitting a few rows ahead of me, raised her hand.
“The fundamental law states that mana is neither created nor destroyed, only shaped and transferred.”
Professor Valen nodded. “Correct. Mana is an energy source that exists within all living beings, but it does not simply appear. Casters do not generate mana—they convert their own life force into a usable form.”
He gestured at the symbols still floating in the air.
“This is why reckless magic use is dangerous. Expending too much mana weakens the body, and if pushed beyond its limit, it will result in death.”
I leaned forward, intrigued.
Finally.
A class that actually mattered.
I smirked to myself, tapping my fingers against the desk. ‘Yeah! This is so exciting!’
Professor Valen fired off a few more questions, and the students answered them one by one.
“What is the difference between elemental affinity and elemental attunement?” he asked.
A sharp-looking elf near the front immediately spoke up. “Elemental affinity is an individual’s natural connection to a specific element, determined at birth or through lineage. Elemental attunement, however, is learned over time—anyone can attune themselves to an element through training.”
The professor nodded approvingly. “Good. Next question. What is the primary limitation of casting a spell using borrowed mana?”
A red-haired girl with glasses raised her hand. “Borrowed mana is unstable if the user’s body isn’t accustomed to channeling it. It can cause backlash, disrupting the caster’s internal mana flow.”
Professor Valen smiled faintly. “Correct. That is why mana-sharing is a risky technique, one that is only recommended for trained spellcasters.”
The class was on fire, each student answering promptly, confidently.
And honestly?
I liked it.
They weren’t just guessing or fumbling their way through—they actually knew their stuff. The House of Arcana wasn’t for muscleheads who swung swords without thinking. This was a place for people who understood magic, who respected it.
Professor Valen clapped his hands together once. “Oh, this is exactly what I expect of new students of House of Arcana,” he said, looking pleased. “Sharp minds, well-read, already grasping the fundamentals. You will go far if you keep this up.”
He paused, then let out a low hum.
“But… let’s see how deep your understanding really is.”
His tone shifted slightly. Something about it made the air tense, like he had just thrown an invisible challenge at the room. His gaze swept over the class. “What is the fundamental contradiction of mana compression?”
Silence.
No one spoke.
I blinked, glancing around.
The students who had been answering so confidently before? They were frozen now.
Some frowned, thinking hard. Others shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
‘Okay… so this was a tricky one.’
I thought about it for a second. Mana compression was a technique that condensed raw magical energy into a more potent, compact form. It was used for high-level spells, enchantments, and even artifacts. Theoretically, the denser the mana, the more powerful the result.
So why was it contradictory?
…Wait.
Oh.
Oh, I see what he did there.
I exhaled, a smirk forming on my lips.
‘This wasn’t just a hard question. It was a trap question.’
I leaned back, letting a few more seconds pass. When no one else spoke, I shrugged and muttered under my breath, "Guess I’ll answer then."
I raised my hand.
Professor Valen’s sharp gaze landed on me. “Go ahead.”
I sat up straight and let the answer roll off my tongue.
“The fundamental contradiction of mana compression,” I said, my voice clear, “is that while compression increases the power and efficiency of a spell, it also exponentially increases instability.”
The room was dead silent.
Some students turned their heads toward me, wide-eyed.
Professor Valen smiled.
I continued. “The more you compress mana, the denser and more potent it becomes, but at the same time, it becomes harder to control. Too much compression, and the mana begins to rebel, creating unpredictable fluctuations.”
I could feel every pair of eyes in the room locked onto me.
“And that,” I finished, locking eyes with the professor, “is why even the most skilled mages limit how much they compress mana in a single spell.”
Professor Valen chuckled. A low, satisfied sound. “Well,” he said, nodding in approval. “That is the correct answer.”
I smirked.
The professor crossed his arms, still watching me with that evaluative gaze.
“I was wondering if anyone would catch that. It is one of the most misunderstood concepts in advanced magic theory. Many believe that if you can just compress mana enough, you can create infinitely powerful spells.” He shook his head. “But as you just explained—there are limits. And when those limits are ignored, the result is…”
I exhaled. “Explosions.”
A few students let out low chuckles, while some nodded in understanding.
Professor Valen smiled. “Exactly.”
I leaned back, enjoying the moment.
Yeah.
I belonged here.
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