Sometimes the Demis pushed too far with their questions. Whenever that would happen, Olpi would step back and her face would flush red. The Demis then shushed each other and laughed. The cycle repeated several times as the first years, Demis, and instructors all made their way to the stairwell.

'Interested?' Larque asked.

'How can I not be?' Cerlius thought. 'She's just a servant but she's got numerous friends, looks hard working, and seems knowledgeable.'

'By the God of Evil…' Larque said, astonished. Even though Cerlius couldn't see the demon, he could tell that his eyes had gone wide. 'I honestly expected a rejection given your past, or your pasts as I should say, but you are surprisingly direct with romantic advances.'

'Romantic advances?' Cerlius almost laughed out loud. 'No. I mean that she's an asset that knows the ins and outs of the academy. We could use her in our plans.' He could have sworn that the demon clicked his tongue.

The group ascended the stairs, making Cerlius raise an eyebrow but he had no choice in the matter nor friendly fellow students to ask. The many conversations grew louder and more enthusiastic but he couldn't listen in due to the echoing of the stairway.

'Aren't the second-years supposed to be up here?' Cerlius thought to himself.

'Yeah, but here we are.' Larque responded.

'I wasn't asking you.'

Continuing past the second floor they arrived at the third and final story, where all talk ceased. The groups went in random directions, presumably to wait. Cerlius was no exception as he waited for one of the two doors to open. They never did. He felt a hand on his shoulder, Trenton's.

Trenton pointed over his shoulder at everyone. They had all awkwardly pressed their backs against the walls and railings, even the instructors. Cerlius sent a questioning look at Trenton but the man simply pushed him to an empty spot against the wall.

There was no danger while they waited yet the forced silence put him on edge. What made it worse were the various looks the Demis gave him, all coming from that -now quiet - gossiping group. Their looks didn't carry the harshness of Cerlius's fellow students but the opposite, as if he were some exotic beast. Olpi tried to make herself as small as possible and held her hands over her face.

A minute passed.

Everyone looked to the ceiling, which had separated itself into several segments. The segments floated down to form a floating staircase to the outside, the roof. A cold breeze swept down, then a hot one. Light pierced in the room like a sword. The sounds of waves crashing into unknown barriers rang out. Lightning crackled and thundered. Cerlius could sense people above, mana signatures much stronger than him. Some of the first years couldn't help but whisper, earning glares from the instructors.

Six Demis dressed in reddish suits rushed down the steps. The unconscious students in their arms all wore robes that were once colorful, now dyed red. One of the students' faces was bubbling. The stench of burnt flesh invaded the clean air. Another one of the injured students required three Demis to push his frozen form down, his eyes still wide with surprise. It was only the first-year students who grimaced at their pathetic states, not the instructors nor the Demis, and especially not Cerlius. The red-suited Demis gave nods towards the instructors before rushing out of sight.

The next people to make their way down the floating stairway were students much older than Cerlius, led down by instructors much older than the first-year instructors. Some of them appeared to be fine whilst others were drenched in sweat and fresh wounds.

"They will try to keep their heads high," Lance had relayed to Cerlius in the Dimmer. "But really the third-years will be exhausted from researching. Every mage gives their all up there, up at the Reach. It's where every mage is "encouraged" to develop their own spells, and what most consider to be the ultimate achievement. You see, we are a competitive lot that's obsessed with spell craft. For the first years however, it's mostly practicing what you were taught."

The first years bowed with awe gleaming in their ignorant eyes. The third years tried to keep their heads high and wipe the failure from their minds as they walked out of sight.

Just when Cerlius thought it was over, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He nearly fell to a knee and clutched at his burning chest. The other first-years were put in a similar state, leaning against the walls. A single faint clack of a wooden cane on stone, followed another.

The instructors bowed before the old crone who had descended, the master of the Magic Academy, Glenin Ostroch. "Sorry kiddos!" His voice was like rocks grinding together. "Come up and let's get to work!" He turned and ascended the steps. The pressure released and Cerlius drew breath again, the pain in his chest receding.

'I am supposed to be stronger than him?' Cerlius thought.

'No, you are stronger than him,' Larque spat. 'He's just showing off. The amount of mana one has doesn't determine your abilities, although it is a great help. Doevm showed me that.'

The first years ascended up the steps which, although floating, they were still stable. Cerlius's heartrate rose with each step. Expectation and longing pulled him along like a leaf in the wind to the roof, also called the Reach. His feet hit earth, dirt. He couldn't even look around because he was stuck in the enthusiastic crowd. Elbowing and shoving, he eventually made his way to the front, where a spectacular chaos of elements was mirrored in his widening black eyes.

There was no semblance of that white stone, only the layers of dirt. Ponds of water, acid, and fire pits were scattered around. Ball-shaped artifacts emanated crackling electricity. Unnaturally thick vegetation grew in isolated areas. Icebergs contributed to the chilled, thin air. The stairs floated back up, sealing off the only exit/entrance to this open space. It was a myriad of elements, their practice ground.

The group spread out along the area, gathering around the elemental pools with mana emanating around their bodies. Cerlius tightened his robe and walked towards a pool of water. There was nothing special about it other than the fact that it was furthest from everyone else. There on the opposite bank was Olpi, who had just waved goodbye to most of her friends.