(A/N Big thanks to everyone for the Power stones and Golden tickets, they mean a lot. As usual, please don't hesitate to comment or drop a review. ENJOY)

Power stones people, Gimme it.

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The inside was circular, lined with shelves containing texts on distortions, folding equations, compression theory, dimensional friction, and countless other advanced topics he would need months to understand fully. Instead of rows of desks, there were long reading tables, spaced evenly in a perfect ring around the center platform.

Selene and Seris waved him over. Caelum had already found a seat. Others arrived in clusters—the entire A1 filling the large space.

"This place feels different," Seris whispered.

"It should," Selene replied. "Spatial theory is the root of the academy."

Orion nodded once. The structure of the space was intentional. Clean lines. No distortions. Perfect geometrical layout.

A1 settled.

But no instructor appeared.

One minute passed.

Then two.

A faint ripple brushed the edge of their senses.

Not loud.

Not sharp.

A soft distortion—almost polite.

The lights dimmed slightly.

A tall man stepped out from behind the central shelf.

Not teleported.

Not folded.

Stepped.

Meaning he was already there.

He wore simple clothing—a long dark coat, high collar, gloves with delicate seams. His hair was silver but duller than typical Chronos, his posture straight, and his expression unreadable. Not cold, not warm. Just… still.

His presence was quiet but absolute.

A hush fell over the entire room.

He looked at none of them and all of them at once.

Then—

He raised his eyes.

And the moment the class saw them, several students straightened unconsciously.

Because his irises were fractured.

Not broken—fractured.

Like space itself.

A lens of shifting geometric patterns.

Orion was intrigued, fractured Iris's, that was a new one.

He finally spoke.

"I am your Spatial Theory instructor."

His voice was calm. Even. Controlled. Like a perfectly measured spell.

"I am Landon Chronos."

"And you may address me simply as Professor."

Silence.

He stepped onto the central platform.

"For the next four years, you will unlearn everything you think you know about space."

A quiet stillness settled over the library as Landon stood on the platform, hands clasped behind his back, gaze steady.

"For this first lesson," he said, voice even, "we will not begin with magic. You cannot manipulate space if you do not understand what it is."

He let that hang for a moment.

"So." His eyes scanned the room. "Tell me. What is space?"

A few students exchanged uncertain looks.

Selene raised her hand. "It's… the medium through which objects and mana exist?"

"Partially correct," Landon replied. "But insufficient."

Another student—Arlen—spoke next. "The area between objects?"

"That is a description, not a definition."

A murmur rippled through the class.

Landon waited, patient.

Finally, a boy at the far left said, "Isn't space… emptiness?"

Landon didn't react for a full second.

Then:

"Wrong."

His tone didn't rise, but the single word cut cleanly.

"'Emptiness' is the greatest misconception humanity has ever had about space," he said. "Magicians, scientists, pioneers—everyone has made this mistake at some point in history."

He raised his hand. A thin sheet of mana unfolded into a board of shimmering light.

"Let us begin with the truth."

A single word appeared.

SPACE IS A FABRIC.

"Not a void," Landon continued. "Not a blank canvas. It is a structure. A continuous, flexible fabric that bends, stretches, compresses, and folds."

Several students leaned forward.

Landon gestured, and the board shifted into a grid—clean lines, evenly spaced.

"This grid is a simplified representation of spacetime. Every point on this grid corresponds to a coordinate in the real world. Every motion you make—walking, breathing, thinking—happens on this fabric."

He tapped one point.

"This is you."

He tapped another point far away.

"This is a mountain. Or a star. Or a city."

Lines rippled between the two points.

"Space is the relationship between them."

The board darkened, then brightened again with a new diagram.

"Now. What affects this fabric?"

A few hands rose hesitantly.

"Mass," Orion answered.

"Correct." Landon nodded once, his eyes lingering a bit on him. "Mass bends the fabric. The greater the mass, the deeper the curve."

A simple well-like distortion appeared on the grid.

"This is why moons orbit. Why mana behaves differently in high-density regions."

He let the distortion deepen, shifting it with precision.

"But mass is not the only influence."

He drew a second point, glowing faintly.

"Energy also bends space. Mana is a form of energy. A potent one. Which means your mana interacts with the fabric every time you manipulate it."

Another ripple spread across the grid.

Orion watched quietly, absorbing.

His knowledge of Earth's space concepts was basic—gravity, planets, simple physics. Nothing this detailed. The clarity in Landon's words clicked into place easily, but he remained silent.

Landon continued.

"Space is not static. It expands. Very slowly, but constantly.

A few students frowned in confusion.

Landon didn't slow down.

"This expansion is small. But it is real. And it matters, because spatial magic relies on understanding the behavior of the fabric beneath all existence."

He changed the diagram again.

"Now. Let us discuss dimensionality."

A simple cube appeared.

"Your world is three-dimensional. Height, width, depth. Time is the fourth dimension—whether you realize it or not."

Several students froze.

Landon gave a faint, almost amused look.

"Yes. Time is a dimension. It interacts with space constantly. This is why you hear terms like 'spacetime.' The two cannot be separated."

He glanced briefly at Orion—just a flicker, nothing more.

Orion met his eyes, calm.

Landon continued.

"In advanced spatial manipulation, you will learn about curvature, compression, and folded layers. But you cannot fold a fabric you do not understand. You cannot compress coordinates you cannot conceptualize."

The board cleared.

He wrote three lines:

Space is a fabric.

It is shaped by mass and energy.

It is inseparable from time.

"This," Landon said, tapping the final line, "is the foundation. Your magic builds on these truths. Your techniques shape these truths. And your mistakes will distort these truths—often catastrophically."

Landon clasped his hands behind his back again.

"For as long as you remain in my class, you will not manipulate space. You will learn to see it."

He gestured to the library shelves.

"These texts contain centuries of research. Some are scientific, some magical, and some are both. You will learn their differences. You will learn where they align."

He looked around the room, gaze sharp.

"And if you wish to become spatial practitioners worthy of the Chronos name—"

A faint distortion rippled around his form, subtle but unmistakably powerful.

"—you will learn to respect the fabric that holds reality together."

Silence fell again.

No one moved.

Landon turned slightly, glancing over the twenty students.

"For now," he said, "I have a small assignment for you."

The board re-lit behind him.

ASSIGNMENT:

Define space in your own words. One paragraph. Nothing more.

"You will think about all that you will be taught today and answer in your own terms."

"You will submit it by evening, via your bracelets."

"Now, let's move on."

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