Earth's Greatest Magus

In the crisp morning air atop a snow-covered hill in the northern reaches of the academy, a group of acolytes had gathered eagerly to delve into the intricacies of a new ice spell. Around thirty of them, wrapped in thick cloaks to ward off the chill, stood in rapt attention as they prepared to master the Tier 3 spell known as the "Icicle Spear."

With focused determination, they lined up, their breath visible in the frosty air, and began to mold intricate shapes from the ice, their hands moving with precision to craft the shards necessary for the spell. Each acolyte, their faces set in concentration, launched their icy projectiles towards a designated target. Yet, despite their efforts, only a fraction found their mark, and none were able to obliterate the obstacle.

Seeing the students' struggle, a magus adorned in a grey outer instructor uniform stepped forward to offer guidance. Despite his youthful appearance, there was an air of wisdom about him as he addressed the group, his voice carrying over the snowy landscape.

With a practiced motion, he demonstrated the proper technique for casting the spell, his gestures imbued with a sense of mastery. As he summoned ten icicle spears into existence, they hovered in the air momentarily, catching the sunlight in a dazzling display, before launching towards the target with remarkable precision. This time, all ten struck true, shattering the obstacle into a thousand glittering fragments.

All the students watched in awe as Instructor Servian effortlessly demonstrated his mastery of the spell, their admiration evident in their expressions and words of praise.

"Instructor Servian, you are amazing!" they exclaimed, their voices filled with admiration and respect.

Though the magus appeared pleased with the accolades, he maintained a composed demeanor, nodding in acknowledgment before dismissing the class. Yet, unbeknownst to the students, he subtly cast a spell to enhance his ability to hear their praises, a small indulgence in the warmth of their admiration.

As the students discussed amongst themselves, their voices filled with a mixture of admiration and trepidation.

"This spell is truly incredible. Instructor Servian is so generous to teach us such advanced magic."

"Indeed, but it's quite challenging. I'll have to come back for extra practice when he teaches this spell again."

"Really?, You are not climbing the mountain again? Have you given up on the inner halls?"

"Huh!! I have been stuck at the 7000 steps, Climbing those stairs are just impossible. I swear it's all rigged for the elite."

"But that can't be true! You know Miranda, right? She made it two days ago, and now I hear that several lower halls are vying for her attention. Even one from the middle halls is reaching out for her!"

"Miranda? Oh, beating that mountain with her beautiful look. No wonder everyone's after her. ...But I thought she was Instructor Servian's protégé. Won't she be coming to this class anymore?"

"Hahaha, of course.... This is the inner hall. While instructor Servian may be popular among the outer halls, no student would pass up the opportunities offered by the inner halls. Miranda must have forgotten all about Servian by now."

"You're right. It's a shame to be stuck as an outer instructor. Mister Servian is so pitiful."

"Wait... why is it suddenly getting so cold here? Let's head back inside."

The sudden chill in the air seemed to emanate from instructor Servian himself, his heart sinking as he listened to the conversations of the students nearby. The words of compliment he had enthusiastically absorbed moments ago now morphed into a heavy burden of disappointment. The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning – Miranda, his beloved student, had succeeded in her trial and would no longer be attending his class.

"Miranda… I have been teaching you so passionately… why…" he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible over the howling wind.

For the past year, Servian had poured his heart and soul into mentoring Miranda, all while harboring deep feelings for her. He had bided his time, waiting for the perfect moment to confess his affection – the day she would be ousted from the academy, just three weeks away. He had envisioned himself as her comforting confidant, offering solace in her time of need. But now, with news of her success, his dreams lay shattered, and he realized he would never have the chance to express his feelings to the beautiful Miranda.

As a wave of despair threatened to overwhelm him, a fellow instructor flew over, breaking through his anguish with a concerned expression.

Servian quickly masked his inner turmoil with a polite smile, offering a respectful greeting to the man in the dark uniform – Senior Alpes, a fellow instructor who oversaw the inner halls. "Senior Alpes, what brings you to visit me today?"

"Servian, you're not attending today's instructor gathering?" Alpes inquired, his tone carrying a note of concern.

The question only deepened Servian's despondency. The instructor's congregation was a reminder of his unfulfilled aspirations. For the past two years he has been teaching in this academy, he has applied for a position in the newly constructed inner halls, hoping for a chance to advance in his career. The 20 newly built inner halls appear to be his best chance. Yet, with each passing month, his hopes dwindled as the halls were swiftly filled with prestigious figures of the magus universe, without any word of acceptance for him. It seemed he had been rejected once again.

However, Senior Alpes arrived with unexpected news. "Don't give up just yet," he advised, his tone unusually firm. "There are still three vacant halls, and the Deputy Headmaster has issued a call for any outer instructor interested in the positions to step forward."

The news ignited a flicker of hope in Servian's heart, yet he couldn't help but release a heavy sigh. "Senior, even if I miraculously secure the position, it's too late. I have less than three weeks to fill the class... I doubt I can attract any new acolytes at this point. They've already made their choices."

Senior Alpes scoffed at Servian's pessimism. "My my, the renowned Ice Captain Servian facing a crisis... If it's acolytes you're worried about, fret not. I can transfer several of my own students to your class."

"Really, Senior? You would do that?" Servian's voice trembled with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude.

"Of course," Alpes affirmed with a confident grin. "But you know the drill – I'll need your assistance in the upcoming games."

"Yes, Senior. If I secure the job, I will certainly assist you," Servian promised earnestly.

"Good. Now cheer up, Servian," Alpes encouraged, his tone brimming with assurance. "If you succeed, soon enough you'll no longer be known as the Ice Captain... Think about it: Servian the Ice General!"

Servian's eyes sparkled with newfound determination. With Senior Alpes backing him, he felt invigorated and resolute. After all, Alpes was one of the influential figures in the magus academy, affiliated with the prestigious Nephilim faction.