1993, London, England.
Clock Tower, Headquarters of the Mage's Association, Department of Spiritual Evocation, Grand Classroom.
The lecture hall was laid out in a quarter-circle arc, with tiered student seats rising like a staircase. At the focal point of the arc, a young, handsome, and impeccably dressed lecturer stood at a podium, his pointer held in hand, his voice rising and falling with a measured cadence.
The students in their seats sat upright and attentive. The bright lights illuminated the clean space from every angle. Any outsider witnessing this scene would undoubtedly exclaim in admiration, a testament to the supreme institution of the Western European magus world, a place of ancient and mysterious lineage.
However, upon closer inspection, one would realize that the well-mannered lecturer's rhythmic voice was laced with merciless, even 'vicious', criticism...
"Mystery is ancient, and magecraft is inherited. The older the family lineage, the more profound the mystery condensed within their Magic Crest. The offspring they produce will possess more numerous and higher-quality Magic Circuits, and thus, their natural talent as a magus will be stronger. This has been proven to be the only effective method of preserving the ever-dwindling mystery since the end of the Age of Gods."
"I believe this is common knowledge to all magi. For the assignment I gave last term, all of you did quite well. The papers submitted perfectly confirmed this common-sense phenomenon." The lecturer scanned the classroom. A thick stack of papers sat on the lectern before him. As he spoke, he pulled one out from the pile, and his previously praiseworthy tone took a sharp turn.
"However," he declared, "it seems this world is never short of fools, and even the highest institution of mystic studies is no exception!"
"Denying the importance of bloodline, believing that hard work alone can surpass the innate advantages brought by family—"
"Mr. Waver Velvet!" the lecturer's voice rose.
"Here!" a student in the corner responded instantly, straightening his back. He was met not only with the lecturer's stern gaze but also with the furtive glances of his surrounding classmates.
The English boy with medium-length, smooth black hair quietly clenched his fists under the desk. He opened his mouth, about to say something—perhaps to argue for his thesis, to defend it. In this world of magi, where bloodline and family heritage were paramount, he truly believed that many things could be achieved through the efforts of a single generation.
However, the lecturer gave him no such opportunity. "Shut your mouth and use your brain to think—what conclusion could your brain, less developed than a newborn chick's, possibly reach?"
"Mystery is lineage. If you can't even face this fact—if you can't even do that, then I think you should get the hell out of this lecture hall and go back to your little country cabin, to your family with its paltry three-generation lineage, and continue your daydreaming! Or, you could choose to learn from your deskmate, Mr. Lu Kang. Also a country magus, also a chick, but he has done far better than you. His proposed theory of 'the older, the stronger' perfectly illustrates the hierarchy of mystery. Even I can't help but admire it!"
"Well, I've said my piece."
"Class dismissed!"
Under the thunderous voice of the young lecturer, the dark-haired boy's open mouth could not utter a sound. His face was flushed red, making him look like a monkey on display at an amusement park. Amidst the curious and mocking glances of those around him, the lecturer tapped the lectern one last time and, with the ringing of the dismissal bell, strode away with steady steps.
The lights remained bright. As the lecturer departed, the young magus apprentices began to stir, leaving their seats one by one.
Waver Velvet, however, remained seated, unmoving. He clenched and unclenched his fists, over and over again. It wasn't until the entire grand classroom was empty that he finally spoke.
"Damn that lemon-head!" Waver cursed angrily, slamming his fist on the desk as if it were the lecturer's face.
Just then, a voice came from beside him, slightly lazy. "If I were you, I definitely wouldn't choose that way to vent."
"Doesn't your hand hurt?"
Waver stopped pounding the desk. He crossed his arms and huffed, "Of course it hurts. I'm not like you, Mr. Star Student, who's always being praised by the lecturer!"
"Are you sulking?" the person said nonchalantly. "It's pretty disgusting when a man sulks."
Realizing his loss of composure, Waver took a deep breath and stopped his unsightly display. He turned his head to the side, meeting the deep brown eyes of the speaker. The person's voice was young and lazy, and he looked the part as well.
Beneath messy hair was a handsome but slightly pale face. His features were softer, not as sharply defined as a European's, indicating he wasn't of pure Western descent. His figure was tall and slender, and the Clock Tower student uniform he wore made him look like a young nobleman straight out of the classical era. Such an appearance was naturally quite charming—if one were to ignore the sleep marks on his face...
"You fell asleep in class again?" Waver couldn't help but ask.
"If I hadn't been sleeping, I wouldn't still be here!" Lu Kang said, tidying his messy hair. "You didn't even wake me up after class. Now I'm going to miss the cafeteria hours—"
"So what if you miss it? Skipping one meal won't kill you," Waver said, shaking his head. He thought this guy, Lu Kang, must be what people called a 'genius'. Despite being from a small, ordinary family with only a two or three-generation lineage like himself, he was so dazzlingly brilliant, like some kind of mutant freak. He never paid attention in class yet could memorize every piece of magical knowledge; he never turned in his homework on time, but the work he submitted at the last minute always received praise from all quarters—including the very paper that was just discussed.
"But I still don't get it," Waver said as he began to pack his bag, stuffing textbooks on spiritual evocation into it while muttering, "You believe, just like me, that family bloodline doesn't determine a person's entire life, don't you?"
"So how could you write that kind of thing without a guilty conscience?" This was the real reason he was sulking. As they were both from small-town, minor families, they should have been kindred spirits, holding the same views.
"This is why Director El-Melloi's evaluation of you is correct," Lu Kang said. He hadn't brought anything, so he didn't need to pack. He simply sat in his seat, leaning back, the unfocused light in his sleepy pupils gradually sharpening as if he were slowly reawakening. "Whether as a person or as a magus, you need to be a bit more mature."
"Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald. Head of the Department of Mineralogy, first-class lecturer in the Department of Spiritual Evocation, one of the twelve Lords of the Clock Tower, and a magus who reached the rank of 'Brand' at the young age of twenty-six. Offending a figure like that is not a good thing for us." Though he's going to die in the Far East soon enough... That was what Lu Kang didn't say out loud. He looked at the boy before him, his consciousness finally shaking free from the dream, and suddenly felt a bit emotional.
This world is so damn bizarre! he thought. To think that something like transmigration, something I don't even know if it's scientific or not, would happen to me. He also felt that he was probably one of the less fortunate among transmigrators. He had no heaven-defying background; he was just a magus from the countryside, his family tree showing only two or three generations of mystic practitioners. In this world, he was undoubtedly at the bottom. As a transmigrator, he hadn't even awakened his past-life memories until he entered the Clock Tower, reclaiming his true self.
But thankfully, after regaining his self, memories of this world also surfaced... Compared to ordinary people, he at least had a slight advantage.
Waver's expression softened slightly, understanding the reason for his like-minded friend's actions. He didn't know Lu Kang's inner thoughts but could empathize. Still, he was indignant. "So you'd say something against your conscience just for your own future?"
"Of course not, Waver," Lu Kang said, sitting up straight, his face serious. "What I said, I also genuinely believe."
"But you have to adjust the reading order slightly. It's not 'the older, the stronger,' but 'the stronger, becomes the older'!"
"This is what I believe—as long as I am strong enough, then I am the most ancient!"
Yes, the stronger becomes the older. This was what Lu Kang believed, and what he was confident he could achieve—by relying on the 'advantage' that had awakened along with his transmigrator self—or perhaps, it should be called a cheat-like ability!