Misfit At Magic Academy: They Wanted a Godly Summon, Got Me Instead

All techniques, regardless of their Element or Magic nature, rely on mana. The more mana a technique consumes, the more powerful it becomes. They are categorized into four tiers:

Tier 1 — minor, mostly self-affecting techniques.

Tier 2 — if it's a heal, it can be used on others; if offensive, it deals considerable damage.

Tier 3 — group healing, AoE damage, or basic summoning.

And the final tier: Supreme-level.

"Hell's Embrace."

In the blink of an eye, two crimson flames appeared behind Salazar. They turned into massive hands, and from their palms burst streams of fire. Plasma beams.

There was no escape. Both beams pierced Amon's body, engulfing him in hellish fire. Flames devoured the entire arena.

Spectators saw only the burning figure of Amon standing within the inferno. Salazar maintained the beams with a delighted grin.

"Don't worry about dying," Salazar chuckled. "I toned down the power by almost fivefold. Wouldn't want you turning to ash."

Amid the chaos, the platypus Spark jumped at Salazar's legs and dug in his claws. His green claws carried venom that spread through the body upon piercing. Spark, once cute, now looked vicious, protecting his master.

As the venom entered, Salazar's body pulsed. A tremor rushed through his bones, and suddenly—

—a cramp. His technique dissipated immediately. The plasma hands vanished into smoke.

"I can't… move?" he groaned.

Both legs cried out in pain. The venom had reached his shoulders. All eight claws on Spark had lost their toxic hue.

—

"I always wanted to be the best. For my family."

Since early childhood, Amon il Sunfrost had been fated to study High Magic. His parents hired the best tutors in town so that their son would become a mage.

"I was supposed to be the chosen one. When the family business started to fall apart, I had to be the cushion. From diapers, I studied magic, went to schools of scrolls. I was doomed to become an Archmage."

"You're not training hard enough!" his father slapped him when he failed to summon an energy sphere. "Work harder! You think we spent all that money on you for nothing?!"

But Amon gave it his all. They didn't understand. None of them had ever used magic.

So the boy decided to prove himself. He felt broken whenever his efforts were erased.

Through blood and sweat, he graduated. Then he passed the entrance exam to the Royal Academy of Magic. Not just passed — he became the first ever student to score 200 out of 200.

Years had passed, and his parents aged. Their business collapsed, and they lived off savings.

When Amon brought them the good news, their reaction was unexpected.

They cried, hugged him, and bowed to the ground.

"I'm sorry, son… I pushed the mage's duty on you all this time… I shouldn't have chosen your life for you. Amon… You did great. Please, stay with us. Forgive your foolish father!"

His father's words shattered the glass inside him. Seeing his mother's tearful face, he realized—he had never had real parents. They appeared only now.

They chose his life path. But Amon felt—he was born for it.

—

"Mom… Dad…"

Amon's body was burned badly. Charred to the point of crumbling. He could barely breathe, pupils bleached from the flames. His hair was gone.

He looked like a man on the verge of death.

And yet one last projectile crystal hovered above his head, ready to fire.

Salazar understood what was coming. He couldn't resist — his body was paralyzed. If the crystal shot toward his face, he would be knocked out, losing the match.

At that moment, everyone knew: Amon had won. All he had to do was shoot.

The crowd held its breath. Both of them deserved victory. Was this how top-2 leaderboard students clashed?

BAM!

The crystal shot straight at Salazar. He closed his eyes but…

…felt nothing. Had he passed out? He opened his eyes.

Everyone stared in shock. Amon had missed. He missed a motionless target.

Salazar was stunned. Logically, Arcane Sphere techniques guide projectiles not by gaze, but by intent. Which meant…

Amon had missed on purpose.

"Cong…ratulations… You… deserved to win."

His hoarse voice pierced the building like a needle. It left behind confusion, acceptance, and denial.

Amon collapsed. Salazar was the victor.

In an instant, the crowd roared so loud it echoed throughout the Academy. But even that didn't soothe Salazar's frustration.

"Why? What did you do? I was supposed to lose!" he thought.

But a win was a win.

"An incredible duel, students!" said the student council president into the mic. "Never seen a newcomer beat a top-5 ranked fighter in their debut. Seems like the second time this year we've been surprised!"

Dean applauded from the balcony, watching the victor closely.

"A master of frost, and he knows Supreme-level Destruction…" Memphis rubbed her chin. "So it wasn't a lie. They said he was a genius. Dean, I suppose you see yourself in him?"

Salazar silenced all voices with his own:

"I, Salazar il Tsugihara, challenge Raigetsu Kurogane to a duel. He bears the title of Undefeated, and in this same arena, two days from now, I will defeat him. Raigetsu, accept my challenge or be damned as a coward!"

The crowd gasped. Could Salazar beat the Academy's strongest student? Among them, Raigetsu scratched his head.

He smiled widely. A confident grin.

I was still processing everything. The duel of two prodigy mages was... breathtaking.

Salazar il Tsugihara. Just how strong are you?

I smirked. And at that moment, discomfort overtook me.

Damn. This Academy hides people far stronger than me.

—

Next morning. The school day began with two explosive rumors swirling through the halls. Not only were students talking about yesterday's duel, but their ears were caught by another shocking news...

"Eyheras il Camillia has been expelled from the Academy! The fourth-year won't be getting a diploma!"

Ashmourne stood in shock, overhearing it in the corridor.

Eyheras—the boy who had stalked her for months. If he was expelled, there had to be a good reason. Ash suspected why.

The faculty had learned about the stalker incident. By joint decision, they also stripped him of his mana forever. Eyheras left with nothing.

But how did they find out? She never spoke of it. So who told the teachers?

Only one name came to mind.

Meanwhile, I sat at my desk. It was recess, but my mind wandered. I remembered last night's conversation with Dean Hellmaine.

"I see," Dean folded his hands. "So this student harassed Ashmourne and sent threats... Good that you told me. But that's not like you. Why play the hero all of a sudden?"

"I know Ashmourne," I had replied. "We studied together. And when I learned of the problem, I saw in her eyes she never planned to expose him. Too kind, maybe. But stalkers like that lead to real consequences. People like him should have their mana erased and be thrown in jail."

"I get that, Atheron... but you missed my point. Why do you care? A student known for selfishness and low empathy... suddenly stepping up to help?"

Indeed. Why did I care? Someone else's life — someone I barely knew. Why save her?

I was still pondering that question.

Even Ashmourne herself considered approaching me, to ask if I was the one who told the faculty. Though the answer was obvious, what she truly wanted was to thank me.

She had reason to see me. But something kept her away. Likely because of our last conversation.

Before PE class, I needed to change shoes. The spare shoes were kept in personal lockers. Each locker had a slot in the middle to deliver notes.

I approached mine, opened it with a hand gesture, and saw a letter.

[From Ash.]

…

Instead of meeting me face-to-face, she chose to write. I remember Ash not being like this. The Ash I knew used to say everything directly.

Or perhaps that was just the Ash I imagined.

I opened the note. In magical handwriting, it read:

"Dear Athey,

I truly wanted to talk to you in private, but as I said before—you're the only one deserving special treatment.

I want to clarify once and for all the situation I was dragged into… and the one that dragged you in.

Don't ever see me again."