Reincarnated with an SSS-rank Tamer System: My Harem of Villainesses-Chapter 31 – Routine

The classroom was in complete silence. It wasn’t the uncomfortable silence of a boring class, but the kind that formed when several students sat with their eyes closed, trying to focus on something they couldn’t see or touch.

Professor Cedric Haldren walked slowly between the rows of desks with his hands behind his back and an analytical expression. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

He was a slender man in his early thirties, with ash-blond hair slicked back and rectangular glasses that gave him a more academic than intimidating appearance.

His gray eyes moved from student to student, as if he could see something the others could not.

"Concentrate your mana at the center of your core," he said calmly but firmly as he continued walking.

Adam had his eyes closed like everyone else, feeling the flow of mana within his body like a current that refused to stay still. It was like trying to hold water between his fingers; every time he thought he had it under control, a part of it slipped toward his limbs or scattered for no apparent reason.

’Damn.’ He thought as he tried again, focusing all his attention on that central point in his chest.He already had some experience with it from when he studied at the mansion, but it was fucking complicated.

Haldren had explained at the beginning of class that core control was the fundamental foundation for any mage who wished to go beyond simply casting spells. Without precise control, mana was wasted with every incantation, reducing efficiency and limiting the user’s true potential.

"For those who aspire to form contracts with magical beasts," Haldren said as he paused briefly beside one of the rows, "core control is not optional. It is mandatory. The contractor must be capable of regulating their mana flow with near-perfect precision to establish and maintain the creature’s bond. Otherwise, the contract breaks... or worse, the beast consumes you."

Adam slightly opened his eyes at those words. Nox, within him, seemed to react as well, though in a subtler way that could have been his imagination.

’Near-perfect, he says...’ he thought with a hint of bitterness. His mana control was still his weakest point, and hearing that he needed to perfect it for something he technically already had was not exactly comforting.

Haldren stepped away from the rows and walked to his desk, where several sheets of paper were spread out.

He picked them up and began reviewing them while the students kept their eyes closed, each struggling with their own concentration.

"I see there are several with quite promising potential this year," he remarked aloud as he flipped through the pages one by one, reading each student’s rank. His gaze paused on one sheet in particular, and his eyes briefly shifted toward where Adam was seated before returning to the papers without saying anything further.

Adam did not see it, but he felt it. That brief look that lasted barely a second, yet weighed more than any direct comment.

The remaining minutes of class passed in the same repetitive exercise. When Haldren finally indicated they could open their eyes, more than half of the students wore expressions of obvious frustration.

"Do not expect immediate results," the professor said as he organized his papers. "Core control is something developed over months of constant practice. I will see you next class."

Adam rose from his seat, stretching his neck, while Piers beside him let out a long sigh.

"That was harder than I expected," Piers muttered as he rubbed his temples. "I felt like my mana had a mind of its own."

Adam only nodded in response and gathered his things while internally processing what he had learned.

His control was deficient, that much he already knew, but at least now he had a clear direction on how to improve it.

***

The next class was a radical change.

The classroom was replaced by an outdoor training field, with compacted dirt ground and several practice weapons lined up on racks along the sides.

And the instructor was... something.

Brenna Ironvale was a woman who was probably around twenty-eight years old, though her physical build made her look more like a veteran warrior than an academy instructor.

She was tall—taller than most of the male students—with broad shoulders and muscular arms that made it clear she did not spend her days sitting behind a desk.

Her dark brown hair was cut at shoulder length, and her brown eyes looked at everyone present with the same expression: she didn’t give a damn who they were.

"Listen carefully because I’ll only say this once," she said in a voice that resonated across the entire field without the need for magical amplification.

"I don’t care if you’re princes, heirs to the most powerful families on the continent, or the god of war’s own son. On this field, you are all the same. And you will all suffer the same."

An uncomfortable silence settled among the students. Some exchanged nervous glances; others simply watched her with expressions ranging from surprise to indignation.

Brenna didn’t wait for them to process her words. "Today we’ll start with basic fencing. Grab a practice sword and form pairs. You have thirty seconds."

No one moved during the first five seconds.

"Are you deaf or just slow?" Brenna’s voice cut through the air like a whip, and suddenly everyone moved at once toward the weapon racks.

Adam picked up a wooden sword without hurrying while observing the chaos around him with a hint of amusement. Piers appeared at his side almost immediately.

"Partners?" he asked in a nervous tone.

"Yes."

What followed was an hour of brutal training. Brenna made them practice basic stances, attack and defense combinations, and then set them to spar with each other while she walked between the pairs, correcting mistakes with a verbal brutality that discriminated against no one.

"Hawke, are you fighting or dancing? Drop that elbow."

"Ashcroft, your guard is perfect, but your speed is mediocre. Faster."

When she passed by Adam, she watched him for several seconds as he exchanged blows with Piers. She said nothing, simply gave a slight nod before continuing on.

Adam interpreted that as the closest thing to a compliment that woman was capable of giving.

After fencing came physical exercises: running, push-ups, sit-ups, and a series of movements that left more than one student sprawled on the ground, gasping as if they were about to die.

Piers was one of them.

Adam, though tired, remained standing. His morning routine gave him a considerable advantage over most.

When Brenna finally dismissed them, the training field looked like a battlefield, with students scattered everywhere trying to catch their breath.

And the day was far from over.