Three years pass, and Lena becomes surprisingly good at household chores—something no one expected from a girl who used to attack tables instead of clean them. Thanks to Fara’s relentless training, she’s genuinely grateful… and only slightly traumatized.
Suddenly, Mira bursts into the kitchen crying, clutching a note. She explains she went to wake Arel up, but his room was empty—only the note remained. Everyone gathers around, and it reads exactly:
“I’m going to the City of Magic. Love, Arel.”
They’re shocked he left without saying goodbye—especially Mira, who looks like someone stole her dessert. Sure, Arel always talked about the City of Magic, so he was bound to leave someday… but did he have to disappear like a discount ninja? Fara hugs Mira to calm her down.
Lena feels sad too, but a painful realization hits her: she did the exact same thing to her dad when she left for the City of Swords. Turns out being ditched hurts way more when you’re on the receiving end. Fara pulls her into a hug and sternly warns her not to suddenly vanish, too. Lena assures her that she’s staying—there’s way too much left to learn (and break).
Fara is relieved Lena’s not going anywhere. She’s not worried about Arel’s safety, but she does wish he—and his older sister Raina—would show a little more emotional awareness before running off like wandering pigeons.
Meanwhile, Arel is already on a carriage heading toward the City of Magic. The Coachman tells him it’ll take two more days, so he’ll just have to be patient—which is Arel’s least favorite activity. The driver also mentions he’s been curious about Arel ever since he became a sensation in the Sword City three years ago, vanished immediately afterward, and now suddenly wants to study magic too. Arel just shrugs and sits back.
A kid beside him asks if he’s really applying to the Magic Institute because he looks “a little old” to be a first-timer. Before Arel can answer, the girl across from them snaps at him. Kuufa tells the boy to stop being rude—obviously Arel must be terrible at magic and has failed the entrance exam ten times, which is why he’s crawling back now.
Arel opens his mouth to explain he’s never taken the exam even once…
But too late—Kuufa and Ko are already screaming at each other, and Arel realizes this carriage ride is going to feel much longer than two days.
The girl sitting beside them, Khaled, tries to calm the two scream-machines down, and Arel assumes they’re all beginner wizards heading to the Magic Institute. Judging by their age, they probably got their magic blessings like… last week.
Once Ko finishes screaming at Kuufa, he turns to Arel, proudly introducing himself as a Red Mage. Then he asks what kind of magic Arel specializes in. Arel pauses. During training, Leon explained there are six magic types—red, blue, green, yellow, white, and black—each with its own spell system. Normally, a mage is stuck with the magic of their assigned color.
But Arel? Classless. Limitless. Confusing. So Leon taught him the basics of all six types.
Arel tells Ko he’s “not particularly good at any magic,” which is his polite way of saying he hasn’t mastered anything yet. Khaled, Ko, and Kuufa stare at him like he just grew two heads. A classless guy wanting to go to the Magic City? Impossible! But Arel calmly shows them his ID. The kids freeze. It’s true. He’s actually classless.
Immediately, they bombard him with questions like:
“Why bother going to the Magic City?”
“Does he not know classless people are doomed?”
Arel has heard this exact speech so many times he could recite it in his sleep, and he is absolutely done with it.
But before the kids can continue roasting him, a deafening roar shakes the forest. Arel recognizes it instantly—the roar of a Troll King. The kids turn pale because Troll Kings are said to be ridiculously strong. Ko shouts for the driver to run, but the horses have passed out from fear… so the carriage is now a stationary coffin.
Khaled panics, convinced she’s about to die, but Ko and Kuufa try to steady her. Their plan?
“It’s big. It’s slow. We blast it. It dies.”
Simple. Probably wrong. But simple.
Right then, a troll emerges from the forest, and Khaled immediately loses all her newfound bravery. Ko, however, insists they have to stay strong if they want to beat the Troll King… which definitely isn’t helping her panic.
However, that troll they saw first wasn’t the real deal. A second later, the Troll King casually smacks it aside like a rejected audition and steps out, towering over the forest. Whatever confidence the kids had instantly evaporates—because their magic isn’t even strong enough to kill a mosquito compared to that thing.
Even though his legs are shaking like flan, Ko stands his ground. He refuses to die without at least throwing one spell, so he charges every drop of mana he has and fires a fireball square at the monster. To his credit, the hit is direct—but it barely leaves a tan line on the troll king, and now it just looks annoyed.
To make it worse, Ko is completely out of mana, so he can’t even pretend he’s useful anymore.
Just as the Troll King is about to snack on the kids, Arel steps in and unleashes an explosion spell—a full-blown, anime-grade, Bakugo-style boom—reducing the troll to ash instantly. He realizes he may have gone a little overboard, but hey, no casualties, so it’s fine… probably.
The kids stare at Arel like he’s a walking legend. Explosion magic is supposed to be exclusive to Arch Mages, yet this guy just tossed it out casually like a party trick. Arel ignores their shocked faces and goes to revive the fainted horses so the trip can finally continue. The driver thanks him, clearly hoping they never meet anything troll-shaped ever again.
Suddenly, Ko drops to his knees and apologizes for mocking Arel earlier, assuming now that Arel must be some super-secret Arch Mage in disguise. Arel tries correcting him, repeating that he’s classless, and even flashes his ID again. But Kuufa insists the ID must be fake because “real heroes hide their true power.” No matter what Arel says, the kids refuse to believe he isn’t a legendary mage.
Eventually, Arel gives up and climbs back into the carriage so they can finally get moving.
When they arrive at the City of Magic, they part ways with the driver. Ko, having apparently appointed himself Arel’s unofficial disciple, sticks to him like a lost duckling. He asks if Arel plans to take the entrance exam for the Red Institute—which surprises Arel, since he had no idea the magic institutes even had separate exams.
The kids explain that there’s a different institute for each type of magic. Kuufa will take the Blue Institute exam, Khaled will take the Green Institute’s exam, and both Ko and Arel will be taking the Red Institute’s entrance test.
Arel, however, is nervous—what if they reject him again like the City of Swords did? But once he arrives at the Red Institute and fills out his application, the receptionist simply looks it over, raises an eyebrow, and asks if everything is accurate. Arel confirms it, fully expecting the classic “Sorry, no classless allowed.”
Instead, she hands him a number and politely tells him to wait for his turn.
Arel is stunned. Someone… treated him fairly? Without discrimination? He almost wonders if he walked into the wrong building.
He and Ko head into the examination hall, where applicants are taking turns blasting a dummy with magic. One kid fires a decent fireball and passes. Then a blond boy steps up—smug, confident, and absolutely dripping with “my dad owns a dealership” energy. He mocks the others for using beginner spells and asks if he can go all out.
The instructor gives the go-ahead.
The boy unleashes a massive pillar of fire, practically turning the dummy into a roasted marshmallow. The crowd is impressed. Even Ko admits the kid is strong—but, of course, follows it with, “Still not as strong as Arel.”
The blond boy takes offense but restrains himself, choosing dignity over throwing hands in front of exam staff.
Arel, embarrassed, tells Ko to calm down. The boy interprets this as Arel admitting he’s weaker and smirks—until Arel casually points out that the armor on the dummy isn’t even melted through.
The blond boy stares, confused, because he definitely tried to turn that armor into soup.
The instructor steps in and explains, “It’s made of Mithril. Good luck breaking that.”
The boy goes silent.
Ko immediately starts teasing the blonde boy for bragging so much when he didn’t even manage to break the armor. But Arel smacks him on the head, reminding him that someone weaker shouldn’t be mocking someone stronger.
Now it’s Arel’s turn to take the exam, and since this is his first time testing magic on mithril, he decides to finally go all out. He readies his wand, gathers his magic, and fires off his Eruption spell. At first, it looks hilariously underwhelming — just a thin little line of fire touching the armor. The blonde boy snickers and says Arel must not be as amazing as Ko hyped him up to be.
But one second later… the center of the mithril armor glows bright red and collapses into a steaming puddle like butter on a hot pan. Everyone falls silent. The boy is stunned because the Eruption spell shouldn’t be strong enough to melt mithril at all.
Arel casually explains that he “made a few adjustments” to concentrate the spell’s power on a single point — basically turning beginner magic into a magical laser cutter. The boy, who didn’t even know spells could be modified, is left questioning his entire education.
After passing, Arel heads to the Blue Institute exam. There he finds Kua, who just passed by smashing the armor with a water ball. She’s shocked to see him, since she thought he was applying only to the Red Institute.
The instructor then calls the next examinee — which happens to be Arel again (multi-tasking king). He fires dozens of ice spikes and shatters the mithril armor instantly before walking away like it’s just another Tuesday. His next goal: the Green Institute.
But as he approaches the building, he finds Colette crouched on the ground outside. Concerned, he rushes over and asks what’s wrong. She’s startled to see him, but explains that she’s so nervous she can’t even get herself to walk inside and register. She’s terrible under pressure, and without Ko or Kua to calm her down — since companions aren’t allowed inside — she’s completely frozen.
She asks Arel what he does when he gets nervous, but he admits, with full honesty, that he has never once been nervous in his life. This shocks her even more. She tries explaining what being nervous feels like, while Arel listens with the same curiosity someone might have when being told what a “salad” is.
Colette explains that being nervous is basically the fear of failing. But Arel doesn’t get it at all — after all, he only became this strong because he failed countless times during training. In his mind, as long as something isn’t going to kill you (and this exam definitely isn’t… probably), there’s no real reason to be scared.
Colette is stunned. She did not expect Arel of all people to drop philosophical life advice like some discount therapist, but it works. She thanks him and decides to take the exam after all.
They head inside to register. Arel is called first and instructed to cast a wind spell strong enough to turn the windmill. He casts it… and accidentally obliterates the entire windmill because he didn’t realize it was made of ordinary wood. The instructor is speechless. The students are speechless. The windmill is definitely speechless.
Next, Colette is called. She panics again, convinced she’ll never match Arel’s “Oops-I-destroyed-it” performance. She’s about to back out, but remembers what Arel told her and decides to at least give it her best shot.
Meanwhile, Arel leaves to continue his marathon of entrance exams. After finishing the Yellow and White Institutes, he heads to the Black Institute… which looks like someone built it using leftover Halloween decorations.
While walking down the dusty hallway, Arel notices a cardboard box with a pair of eyes staring at him. Before he can run away, a frantic woman rushes over asking if he has seen her “goo.” Arel points at the box, and the woman happily retrieves a small creature she calls Gooey, apparently a clay familiar made from “a mix of animals.” Arel has absolutely no idea how to respond to that.
Things get worse when a skeleton suddenly taps him on the shoulder and politely welcomes him to the Black Institute. Arel’s instincts kick in and he reflexively chops her head off. Her head rolls away while her body chases after it, scolding him for being rude. Arel decides, wisely, to stop attacking.
The skeleton — Latalia — introduces herself as the one in charge of the Black Institute. Since the institute almost never gets applicants, there’s no exam. She just accepts students automatically.
It’s much weirder than Arel expected, but on the bright side… he has officially been accepted into all six institutes. Mission accomplished.
Arel later meets up with the kids and proudly announces that he’s finished all of his entrance exams. The kids celebrate—until Arel casually pulls out six student IDs. Their jaws collectively hit the floor. Kaido had no idea it was even legal to attend more than one institute, but since the schools don’t share student info, nobody knows Arel has been academic-cheating on all of them.
He explains that he filled out every piece of paperwork correctly and saw no rule anywhere that said he couldn’t attend multiple schools. But then he checks his schedule… and it’s a disaster. Every class overlaps. There is absolutely no way he can be in two places at once—unless he learns teleportation, and sadly that’s not in the curriculum.
The kids immediately point out, “Yeah, this is why people don’t attend multiple institutes, genius.”
But Arel keeps reading the fine print and finds a loophole: attendance is only 20% of the grade. Meaning, he could skip every class as long as he scores high enough on the exams. Theoretically an excellent plan… until the kids crush his hopes by saying the library textbooks are outdated fossils from 100 years ago. If he wants to pass, he needs notes from the teachers themselves.
This ruins his flawless plan, so Arel asks the others if they’re willing to take notes and share them with him. They happily agree—especially since it means they can brag about having a genius friend later. With their help, Arel doesn’t need to worry about Fire, Wind, or Water classes. The Black Institute is also off the hook since Latalia admitted they… uh… don’t actually have classes.
But the White and Yellow Institutes? Those are real schools with real expectations. Still, Arel figures he can bounce between the two and grab whatever information he can before exam season.
Since it’s his first official day, Kaido asks Arel to join him for their class at the Red Institute. They walk into the lecture hall together and head toward the back—trying to be as invisible as possible. Unfortunately, invisibility isn’t taught until year two, because the blonde kid from the entrance exam spots Arel instantly.
His name is Royce, and he wastes no time calling Arel out. He loudly declares that what Arel did during the entrance exam must have been a fluke—because there’s “no universe where an inferior spellcaster could surpass an advanced-class mage like him.”
The class goes quiet. Arel, meanwhile, wonders why trouble keeps spawning around him like random RPG mobs.
Arel just stares at Royce, completely confused, and calmly tells him, “I’m not a spellcaster.”
Royce freezes. That response does not compute.
So he immediately jumps to the next possible conclusion: Arel must be an advanced-class mage. That would explain the insane magic he showed during the exam… right?
But Arel shakes his head again. “Nope. Not a mage either.”
Now Royce’s brain is overheating.
If Arel isn’t a spellcaster…
And he isn’t an advanced mage…
Then—obviously—he must be a supreme-class archmage!
Arel: “Yeah, no. Not that either.”
At this point, Royce is convinced Arel is trolling him. So when the teacher walks in, Royce immediately raises his hand like the class snitch and asks the teacher to confirm Arel’s class.
The teacher checks the roster, casually looks up, and says:
“He’s classless.”
Arel nods. “Yep.”
Royce goes silent. The guy who outperformed him in the exam turns out to be a literal classless wanderer.
Meanwhile Ko pats him on the back and says, “Don’t worry. You’ll eventually get used to all the weird things Arel does. We still haven’t.”
Class begins, and everyone opens their textbooks as the teacher starts explaining the intricacies of magiscript. Kaido immediately looks like someone trying to read ancient alien hieroglyphs—it’s all way too complicated.
But Arel? He’s chilling. He learned magiscript from his dad ages ago, so this is basically revision homework for him.
He does wonder, though, why they’re even teaching this stuff—shouldn’t every mage automatically get magiscript loaded into their brains as part of their magical class?
Almost as if reading his mind, the teacher explains:
“Even if your class lets you use spells automatically, understanding the magiscript behind them is crucial. It lets you improve spell efficiency—and if you’re good enough, you can even tweak the spell’s parameters for new effects.”
Arel nods. “Ah. So spell modding. Makes sense.”
As soon as Arel hears this, he realizes it sounds exactly like what he did during the entrance exam—except he never knew it counted as an “advanced skill.” His dad used to pull it off casually, like it was just another Tuesday chore.
After finishing his first class, Arel spends half the day hopping between other institutes, but none of them really impress him. Then he spots the Green Institute’s topic of the day: flight magic. Now that catches his attention—he’s never tried it before.
Astaire is shocked that Arel still can’t fly, considering he casually uses magic strong enough to terrify grown adults. But there’s a simple explanation. Arel once asked his father Leon to teach him, but Leon is deathly afraid of heights. The man refuses to use any magic that could lift him higher than a stool.
When the lesson starts, the instructor tells everyone to spread out and “imagine themselves riding an upward air current.” Easy enough—if you have a flight skill doing most of the work. But Arel? Nope. He has to handle the entire spell manually, so that advice is about as useful as a broomstick with no bristles.
He glances over at Raina, who follows the instructions smoothly and lifts off… only to wobble and fall right back down. Still, she’s confident she’ll get it with practice. Meanwhile, Arel still can’t figure out how to even get off the ground.
Since everyone is imagining a gentle breeze to lift themselves, Arel wonders: “What if I… cast a tornado at my feet?”
A genius idea—and also a terrible one.
He tries it, and the next moment he’s launched hundreds of meters into the sky like a magical rocket, before crashing face-first into the ground. Raina rushes over, panicking, while Arel casually says he’s fine—he “just needs to adjust the tornado output next time.”
Then another student swoops in—literally—to show off his amazing flight skills. Both Arel and Raina are impressed. The boy proudly explains he’s been training ever since he became a spellcaster and hasn’t lost a single race.
Arel asks what he means by “race,” so Raina explains it’s a sport where competitors fly through an obstacle course. Arel thinks it sounds fun and immediately decides he wants to join the next one.
But the kid smirks and says he can’t participate unless he knows how to fly.
Arel, ever optimistic, says he’ll just practice until he learns.
The kid laughs: “Good luck… you don’t have enough time.”
The next race is in two months. Floating might be easy, but actual flying takes at least six months of practice, so the kid tells Arel he has no chance. He isn’t trying to be rude—he genuinely thinks it’s impossible for Arel to master flight that fast. He suggests Arel aim for next year’s race instead.
The kid flies off dramatically, and Raina asks Arel if he’s really going to wait a whole year. But Arel, being Arel, says two months is plenty of time to learn how to fly. (This is the same boy who thought “tornado jump” was a reasonable idea, so… confidence is not his problem.)
A few weeks later, Raina, Kuufa, and Kaido sneak back into school after dark. Kaido is confused why he was even summoned. Raina claims she “forgot something” and needed company because she’s too scared to come alone.
Kaido gets it… but points out she already has Kuufa with her.
Raina then reveals it was actually Kuufa’s idea to bring him—she wanted “extra protection,” especially with those rumors.
Kaido freezes. “Rumors… what rumors?”
Kuufa, trembling but trying to look brave, explains that people have been seeing a ghost around the school every night.
The moment Kaido hears the word ghost, he absolutely panics. Kuufa laughs and teases him, but he fires back, pointing out that she’s been hiding behind Raina the whole time, so she’s clearly just as scared. The two start bickering like terrified children pretending to be brave warriors.
Raina tries to calm them down—until both of them suddenly scream and point at the window behind her. Something is approaching.
Before Raina can react, the figure slides the window open and clamps a hand over her mouth.
Kaido, shaking but trying to be heroic, pulls out his wand and threatens to blast the intruder into dust if it doesn’t release her.
But then a familiar voice hisses, “Quiet! Someone might notice us!”
The hood comes off…
It’s Arel—looking like a ghost only because he forgot how not to be dramatic at night.
They ask Arel what he’s doing at school so late at night, and he casually explains that he’s been sneaking in every night for weeks to practice flying for the upcoming race. The others are impressed by his dedication, but Kaido worries that training every night must be exhausting.
Arel appreciates the concern, but assures them he always gets enough rest. In fact, he had been napping outside just before they arrived. Everyone freezes—because apparently he was sleep-flying, which sounds like something only Arel would consider normal.
When they ask if he was really using flight magic while asleep, Arel confirms it proudly. Sleep-flying helps him stabilize the spell until it becomes second nature, and it boosts his mana as well. Kaido is stunned by how serious Arel is about training. He knows he can’t reach Arel’s absurd level, but decides he should start working harder too—and the others agree.
The next day, Arel and Kaido are back in class. While the teacher is writing a spell on the board, Arel immediately points out an error. The teacher checks, realizes he’s right, and fixes it. Kaido is amazed that Arel caught the mistake so quickly.
Arel explains that he’s memorized every spell in the textbook, since unlike everyone else, spells don’t magically “download” into his brain. Kaido, who struggles to memorize even one spell, asks how he managed that. Arel casually replies that he simplified the spells to make them easier to remember and activate.
The teacher finds that interesting, so he asks Arel to write one of his simplified spells on the board. Arel does it instantly. After inspecting it, the teacher agrees that the spell works—but notices Arel removed all the safety mechanisms.
Without safeguards, a mistake could make the spell explode.
Arel just shrugs. He knows the risk. He can handle an explosion or two, so why waste time on safety features?
Reckless or not, the teacher can tell one thing: Arel already understands magiscript better than most of the school.
The teacher asks Arel if he’d like to take a promotion exam to move up to second grade. Arel likes the idea and agrees immediately. But then Royce shoots his hand up and insists on taking the exam too. The teacher shrugs—sure, why not—and they all head to the testing grounds.
The rules are simple: a monster will be released onto the track, and Arel and Royce have to defeat it before it gets too close. Easy in theory… or so Royce thinks.
He confidently jumps down first. A minotaur appears and charges straight at him. Royce unleashes an Eruption spell—but completely misses. Not even close. Arel is actually impressed, though, because the spell’s power has definitely grown since the entrance exam. The teacher agrees, praising Royce for his hard work. Unfortunately, power doesn’t matter when your aim is about as accurate as a blindfolded squirrel.
Royce panics and fires off more spells, but every shot goes wide. Eventually the minotaur gets dangerously close—only to suddenly vanish. The teacher explains that the students are never in real danger thanks to their safety system… though he hopes Royce learned something about his actual skill level. As much as Royce hates to admit it, he’s still not strong enough. But the teacher reassures him—most students take two years to pass.
Now it’s Arel’s turn.
He steps into the track, and the teacher releases the next monster… except this one looks way bigger and way angrier than the one Royce fought. Right then, another instructor rushes in to warn Braza that someone messed up. A superior minotaur was mixed in with the regular ones.
Braza goes pale. A superior minotaur is strong enough to possibly break the safety system.
In other words, Arel accidentally queued up for hard mode.
Braza immediately warns Arel to get out of there, but Arel casually says it’s fine—he’s pretty sure he can handle it. (Confidence level: outrageous.) He conjures two flaming javelins and launches them at the superior minotaur. The beast easily leaps over them, but that was all part of Arel’s big-brain plan. The javelins loop around midair andstab it from behind, giving him enough time to finish the job by blasting it with his modified Eruption spell. The monster evaporates, and just like that, Arel passes the promotion exam.
Later that day, Kaido is hyping up Arel to everyone, but Kuufa notices he looks a little down. When she asks why, Arel explains that he only got to take the promotion exam early because a teacher recommended him—and that promotion only applies inside the Red Institute. Now he needs to convince the teachers at all the other institutes to approve him, too. Bureaucracy truly is the final boss.
Meanwhile, Raina is still at Arel’s house learning from Fara, currently struggling with the most terrifying part of cooking: dropping food into hot oil without flinching like a startled cat.
Back in the City of Magic, Arel heads to the Bloom Institute and asks the instructor there to let him take their promotion exam early as well. She dismissively tells him the exam only happens once a year. But Arel, armed with both facts and stubbornness, points out that the rulebook allows early exams if a professor recommends it.
She can’t argue with that, so she says she’ll consider recommending him—if he starts taking attendance seriously.
That’s not good enough for Arel. The whole point of taking the exam early is to avoid sitting through classes he doesn’t need. The instructor is deeply offended that he called her lessons “useless,” but Arel quickly clarifies: he’s just too advanced for the basics. He wants to skip ahead—not insult her entire career.
The instructor takes this as a personal challenge and tells Arel he’d better be ready to prove he’s really too advanced for her class. To Arel, that sounds like the best news he’s heard all week.
Instructor Hangle leads him to the test arena while Kuufa watches nervously from the stands. She knows Hangle is just a step away from becoming an Archmage, so Arel casually challenging her might be… well, suicidal.
The test Arel agreed to is a mock battle with Hangle. The rules are simple: no physical attacks, and Arel wins if he can break through all of Hangle’s divine protection using only magic. Arel confirms he understands — then politely double-checks that she’ll let him take the promotion exam once he beats her. Hangle, mildly offended yet unwaveringly confident, agrees. She still can’t believe Arel thinks he can defeat a full-fledged instructor in a magic duel. She plans to educate him — painfully.
The moment the match begins, Hangle launches a gigantic Ice Storm right beside Arel, freezing him inside a massive block of ice. She turns to Kuufa and proudly explains that the best way to win a duel is to overwhelm your opponent immediately before they can react.
But seconds later, the ice explodes outward and Arel punches his way out like some kind of frost-covered action hero. It turns out he had cast four layered ice shields to block her spell and was never frozen at all.
Hangle is shocked he reacted quickly enough to counter her opening strike — but she’s still not ready to acknowledge him.
Now it’s Arel’s turn. He summons a dozen ice spikes and launches them at her. Hangle smirks, amused that he’s using such a basic spell. Then Arel casually increases the number to fifty more spikes.
That’s when Hangle finally realizes she may have severely underestimated him.
However, that still doesn’t mean Hangle thinks Arel is better than her. To prove it, she fires back with her own barrage of ice spikes, canceling out the ones Arel created. She confidently declares that she could easily double the amount—and of course, Arel takes that as a personal challenge.
So he doubles his ice spikes. Hangle doubles hers. Then Arel, being the overachiever he is, casually summons another hundred spikes around her left, right, and rear. Hangle instantly realizes she can’t keep up, so she switches tactics and summons a thick ice wall to defend herself.
Arel’s spikes smash into the barrier with crazy force, and Hangle can’t help being impressed. Controlling this many spikes should drain a ridiculous amount of mana, yet Arel is still going like a kid who chugged three cups of magical espresso. Even better for her, the spikes are making her wall thicker, so she relaxes a bit—less mana spent, more free defense. Nice.
Eventually, Arel stops his attack and calmly announces it’s time for his “final move.”
Hangle mentally rolls her eyes—no way he’s getting through a wall this thick. But Arel then explains that he wanted to thicken her wall… because she apparently forgot to put a roof on her ice fortress.
Before Hangle can say “Wait, what—?”, Arel summons a gigantic icicle lance from above. She panics, desperately trying to block the attack with an ice shield, but the spell is way too powerful. The impact overwhelms her completely, leaving her stunned and very, very embarrassed.
Later that day, Arel reunites with the group. Kuufa happily explains how he basically humbled Hangle in front of everyone. And since he proved he’s way above her level, Hangle told him he can skip the exam entirely and head straight to second grade. Promotion speedrun: successful.
That takes care of Arel’s promotion at the Blue Institute. So next, he heads to the Green Institute hoping to repeat the process. Unfortunately, the instructor there shuts him down immediately.
Arel asks why—after all, the other institutes allowed early promotion exams with an instructor’s recommendation. But she explains that their institute is strictly by-the-book. No shortcuts, no “teacher’s recommendation,” and definitely no fast tracks. Still, she did find an old record saying the headmaster can personally grant a grade skip to exceptional students.
Arel sees hope… until she warns him not to even think about approaching the headmaster right now. He’s extremely busy, and interrupting him could get Arel expelled before he even finishes the sentence. So yeah—not a great plan.
Arel considers showing them his wind magic on the spot, but she shoots that down too. Rules are rules, and he’s stuck.
Just then, Colette jumps in with an idea: the school’s big Flight Race is coming up, and tradition says the winner gets publicly recognized by the headmaster. Meaning, if Arel wins, the headmaster will see his talent directly—and a promotion might naturally follow.
The instructor reluctantly agrees that Colette’s plan could work… but reminds them that the race usually has over 300 contestants. Odds aren’t great. But Arel, as usual, is overflowing with confidence. He’s been training his flight magic nonstop and believes he can win.
On race day, Arel heads onto the starting field while his friends cheer from the sidelines. And of course, right on cue, that same kid who challenged him to a flight duel months ago appears—clearly ready for round two.
Sk smirks and announces he’s going to win the race easily. Arel fires back that he plans to take first place instead. Sk is immediately offended—someone who could barely lift off a few weeks ago thinks they can beat him? He brags about all the flight practice he’s done, claiming there’s no way Arel will win.
Just then, Announcer Grigg calls for attention. The race is about to begin! The course starts at the Green Institute, loops around the city perimeter, and returns. The headmaster is in attendance, so everyone better impress him—but safety is still important. Also providing live commentary is Instructor Dumble, much to the delight of the girls watching. Kaido reminds them that Dumble is a married man, twenty years older than them, but nobody seems to care.
The race begins, and dozens of participants soar into the sky, each trying to take the lead. Chaos erupts almost immediately when Marco somehow crashes into the audience stands. The lead pack thins to about fifteen, including Dion, a grade three front-runner, and mostly second- or third-year students behind her. Grigg and Dumble notice two first-year racers moving with surprising speed—Arel and Sk.
Sk is shocked that Arel is keeping pace but rationalizes that everyone is pacing themselves to conserve energy. Soon, the first major hurdle appears: the front gate followed by a sharp left turn. Two participants have already flopped spectacularly into the water attempting it. Sk approaches, careful to line himself with the center of the gate. He manages the turn perfectly, drifting midair like a pro while the others crash spectacularly below.
Sk is brimming with confidence, sure that Arel couldn’t pull off a move like that with only a few months of training. But to his shock, Arel is still right on his tail. The front pack has thinned even more. Dion decides to widen her lead, leaving everyone else in a magical dust cloud.
Grigg and Dumble are surprised to see two first-year students actually keeping up with a third-grader. Sk proudly declares that second place better get used to him because he’s going to win this race. Dion, amused, kicks things up a notch, accelerating past his expectations. Sk is flabbergasted—he didn’t realize she hadn’t been going full speed all along. He struggles to keep up, but she quickly vanishes from sight. Reluctantly, Sk admits defeat; his energy reserves are tapped. Still, as a first-grader, he’s only going to get better.
Meanwhile, Arel has closed in on Dion. Refusing to lose her top spot, she surges forward, forcing Arel to push his limits. He’s only had two months of flight training, but he knows he needs a trick. Smirking, he compresses the air beneath his feet and rockets forward, leaving everyone, including Grigg, speechless. Dumble, however, studies him closely and realizes that Arel is essentially “jumping” on the air itself.
Grigg asks Arel how he even managed that because it makes no sense. Sure, wind magic can compress the air beneath your feet to make a “solid” platform, but that alone wouldn’t give such a massive boost. Arel’s legs must be basically made of super-powered springs.
He keeps pace with Dion, both blasting toward the city gate. To make the sharp turn, slowing down is mandatory—otherwise, it’s a magical crash waiting to happen. Dion tries to outlast him but eventually has to ease off to avoid disaster. Arel, however, punches the air at just the right moment to redirect himself, maintaining first place all the way to the finish line.
With that, Arel is officially crowned the winner of the flight race. Dion swoops over to congratulate him, impressed by the effort he clearly put in. Moments later, Sk drags himself across the finish line in third place, utterly exhausted.
Afterward, the headmaster approaches Arel, handing him a flight certificate and medal for his victory. Arel then asks a favor: a promotion to the second grade. Since he’s proven his wind magic prowess, the headmaster happily grants it. Now, Arel is officially in the second grade of the Red, Blue, and Green Institutes—but he still has three more schools to conquer.
