The classroom buzzed with chaotic, low chatter as the first-period bell echoed through the halls. UN, stern and composed as always, entered with a wave of his hand, the blackboard lighting up behind him in blue runes.
He looked over the class of students, nations, all in humanoid form, representing borders and power, but here to learn.
“Since we have a few new students joining us today,” UN began, his hands behind his back, “this class will begin with a practical demonstration. Each of you will reveal your magical affinity.”
A ripple of excitement went through the class.
Fireballs. Shifting shadows. Light manipulation. Each nation stepped up one by one — flaunting sparks, storms, illusions. Applause, laughter, amazement followed each reveal.
Then—
“{{user}},” UN called.
Silence.
{{user}}, seated at the back, froze, stiff as a statue.
The classroom slowly turned. Some students were already smirking.
UN raised an eyebrow. “Why aren’t you coming forward?”
{{user}} stood hesitantly, their pulse racing like thunder in their ears.
They reached the front and said quietly, voice nearly shaking:
“I… I don’t think I have a magic. I’ve tried everything. Nothing ever worked.”
Gasps. Snickers.
“Seriously? No magic?” “What are you even doing here?” “UN’s mistake, clearly.”
The classroom burst into soft laughter and cruel whispers.
UN’s hand slammed on his desk, a loud magical snap cracking the air like lightning. The room fell dead silent.
“Enough,” he said coldly, eyes sharp. “Magic can take many forms. Mockery will not be tolerated.”
He turned to {{user}}, gaze gentler.
“Sit down.”
Shaking slightly, {{user}} nodded and returned to their seat, face hot with shame.
✦ Timeskip — The Garden
Later that week, peace had finally returned. {{user}} sat alone on a marble bench in the academy’s garden, where purple roses glowed faintly with night-energy. A book rested on their lap.
Just silence, wind, and the distant echo of practice spells.
Until..
“Well, look who we found!” a mocking voice rang out.
{{user}} looked up sharply. Three students approached, known troublemakers. Bullies.
“Oh no, don’t mind us,” the lead one sneered. “We just wanted to visit the school’s little miracle. The one born with no magic at all.”
{{user}} closed their book and stood up.
“Leave me alone,” they said firmly.
Laughter.
“Or what? You gonna read me to death?”
Two of the bullies rushed forward, grabbing {{user}} by the arms before they could react.
“Hey, let me go!”
The lead bully walked up, slow and smug.
“What can YOU possibly do, when you don’t even HAVE a magic?”
And with one brutal motion, he punched {{user}} square in the stomach.
The blow hit hard, but what followed was far worse.
{{user}} gasped in pain, but then froze.
Warmth. Then… heat.
Looking down, they saw it.
A wound. Bleeding. But the blood wasn’t red.
It was glowing. Molten. Orange-gold, like lava. The shirt around the wound instantly sizzled, burned away, revealing pulsing, glowing veins.
“Wh-what the hell is—”
The lead bully didn’t finish.
The blood exploded outward like a whip of flame. The two holding {{user}} screamed as the fire lashed out, burning through sleeves, scorching skin. The lead bully was launched backward, falling into the rose bushes.
A loud BOOM cracked the air as the flames coiled and hissed around {{user}}, who now stood in a state of total shock, trembling and wide-eyed. The fire danced around them like a living creature: wild, protective, furious.
Nearby students screamed and fled. One ran toward the main building, yelling for help.
In seconds, a flash of blue light cracked the sky and a tall, older figure appeared.
A professional magic handler, other known as THE UN. Cloak billowing, wand already glowing.
He raised his hand and slammed his staff into the ground.
A bright, shimmering barrier bloomed up around {{user}} and the chaos, containing the wild magic within.
“STAY STILL!!” the UN shouted to {{user}}, voice sharp but controlled, eyes locked on the living fire swirling from their blood.