The Rolerra School of Magic Apprentice branch in Oxdale was situated East of the town, some distance away from the Harper mansion. Traveling there, Jack could take his time to watch the town in the rising dawn.

Oxdale was in the season of frosty and humid as the morning was covered in a thin layer of fog. The houses were all built from red brick burnt from a type of clay mixed with fire essence from Blackpon volcano north of the town. This signature brick helped with keeping the house warm through mana essence activation. In normal conditions, red brick could also prevent heat.

Some people were preparing to open their stalls when Jack’s cart passed by. They greeted him with a smile and curiously watched him through their windows. He smiled, waving back at everyone. Some who had known the Harper young master from an earlier day questioned his friendliness.

The cart slowly made its way to the most bustling part of the town. Here, the shops and stalls opened day and night, and the street always seemed crowded with the sounds of greeting and bargaining from the people selling vegetables, fruits, treats, and other consumables; of rolling wheels from carts of the noble and wagon of goods.

Passing the center square, Jack found its structure similar to that of his household garden. At the center of it all was the statue of the king of Omivell, Marcus Festus, surrounded by rings of beautiful flowers above a small lake, about twenty meters in diameter. Four passages lead the way to the foot of the statue.

Opposite to the passages, on the other side of the road was the headquarters of the many most important institutions in the town: Magic Society, Adventurer Society, Medical Center, and the Bank of Omivell. The fronts of these buildings occupied a large chunk of the area surrounding the lake, a hint of their importance and influence on the administration of Oxdale.

The road to the eastern side of the town was full of armory and equipment stores for adventurers and mercenaries. The back alleys of these stores were sometimes echoed with sounds of hammer, anvil, and metal.

Finally, the building of the Rolerra School appeared before Jack’s eyes. It was three-story-tall, constructed in a U shape, leaving the middle ground for practicing and training students during classes. To solidify its value, the school rejected the plebian red brick in favor of natural granite, the same material used at the central buildings or Harper’s mansion. The outer gate was made of fireproof wood, a rare material that only grew near volcanoes, therefore extremely hard to collect. With its much higher content of fire essence than clay, the teachers could use it to create a wall of magic fire in case of defensive purposes.

Edward dropped Jack in front of the gate and walked down with him.

“Would you need my company?” Edward asked.

Jack gave Edward a wide-open look.

“What, do I really look like the type who can’t take care of themself?”

The butler looked at him with questionable eyes, holding himself from nodding in agreement.

“Go back home, Edward!” Jack frowned. “Or perhaps getting some shots in the local tavern would be just fine.”

Before Edward could answer, Jack waved his hand goodbye, leaving for the school.

Jack followed the gravel path to the bottom of the U shape to meet with the principal and talk about his restudying arrangement.

Along the way, curious eyes focused on him. Some who recognized him started to form chatter groups, but he paid them no attention. The only thing about them that he noticed was the robes they were wearing: dark blue and with the class badges. He was now aware that he could no longer fit his old robes, as his body had developed during his coma, but his class had stayed put. Instead of joining his peers in the senior class, he would have to take the junior one, where the kids around him would probably be crying and whining all day.

A chill ran down his spine, thinking about it as his mind immediately searched for a solution. Such a disgrace it would be for a person of his standard, a Grand Sage, even though sharing class with nine years old hardly seemed like an improvement.

“Well, when life gives you lemon...” Jack spoke to himself, opening the door to the principal’s office.

Principal Meinhard Honingman was standing, looking down at the school’s yard through the window on the other side of the room. In front of Jack was a tall and lengthy man with his hair trimmed neatly. Like the students, Meinhard wore a black robe, but instead of the class badge, it was embellished with delicate golden lines, bordering the Rolerra symbol of a simplified sun with its shining beams.

Above the table, three pens were floating and wiggling on the papers that would replace themself once their content had been checked. The walls were two massive ceiling-high bookshelves. Jack estimated it to be around 5 meters tall, but clearly not a problem for someone who had the mana manipulation capability like that of the principal. Jack happened to know that the principal had reached the final level of Crusader rank, the highest in Oxdale.

In front of the left shelf, a raven stood on a moving lamb. The raven stared at him, its eyes stayed attached as he came close to the table.

Somebody in his household was watching, perhaps his father, though he doubted it.

“Jack Corvus, welcome back, your return has been truly a miracle, and your family, as well as the Magic Society, would like to hear more about it,” Meinhard said without turning around.

“I could tell you everything if the raven wasn’t here,” Jack said.

This time, the principal turned toward him to look from top to bottom. The new shining robe subtly sparkled with light as he moved. His face, with its many wrinkles of age, frowned, and his gray eyes squinted at Jack, judging.

“You seem much more daring after your awakening?”

“Do you want to know the reason?” Jack answered, unintimidated.

Surprised, Meinhard replaced his solemn appearance with an expression of interest on his face.

“Then I can’t hear it today,” Meinhard pointed at the raven, “That thing is even more powerful than I am.”

“I can see that.”

“You?” He raised his eyebrows.

Jack took one more step.

“And that will be the basis for something I would like to request.”

“And that is?”

“I want to attend the older class!”

Meinhard burst out laughing, then sat on his chair.

“You can’t even feel and manipulate your mana righ…,” Meinhard quickly fell silent when he felt the mana flow around Jack.

Meinhard’s eyes opened wide, as he had been one of the people who knew about Jack’s background and circumstances in Oxdale. The Harper couple had always asked him for a solution to Jack’s low magic affinity. But his ranking was of little importance in the greatness of the Dessotor empire. If even the aristocracy and the Grand Duke were helpless, his power could only be a drop in the ocean.

And despite everything, a miracle had presented itself in front of him, the returning of Jack from soul deficiency. When Jack was seven, he had been the worst junior class student due to his resentful attitude. Even if he had been a hard worker, the best-case scenario for him could only have been average. He could never have manipulated mana so decently as right now. Yes, it was even more accomplished than that of the principal at Jack’s age. Not quite there yet in power, but the speed, the fluency, and the skill were almost near perfection.

As he was opening his mouth again, the principal's words were stopped by Jack next’s action. He folded two of his fingers and fired an invisible bullet straight at the raven. A whizzing passed by, the flame was out, but the raven seemed barely startled. It stretched its neck out like trying to have a better look at Jack, its eyes flickering with a deep dark light.

Jack gave the raven a smirk and returned to his conversation with Meinhard.

“I think I am qualified to attend the senior class, don’t you think?”

Meinhard hadn’t yet regained his composure after Jack’s action, not only because of his desecrating behavior against the supervising mascot, but also of the accomplished mana compressing technique that he had just performed. It wasn’t a problem for the principal himself, but he couldn't think of anyone capable of replicating that in the senior class. The shot, if concentrated just a bit more, would put a hole in the chest of an unawakened child. All of that was from the kid in front of him, who had just returned from a coma only two weeks ago.

His eyes lightened up like those of the raven, his lips stretching.

“You will have to do some extra studying and homework from other subjects.”

Meinhard grabbed a pen and waved for a piece of paper to fly out of the drawer. He quickly wrote something and let the paper fly away. It dashed quickly behind Jack and disappeared after making contact with the wooden surface of the door.

“I will personally take you to class,” Meinhard circled around the table and put his hand on Jack’s shoulder.

Jack understood the principal’s wink.

The two left, leaving behind a staring raven whose eyes never left Jack’s back. It made a screeching sound and then burnt itself in a black flame, leaving behind no traces of ash.