Dawn broke over Ignis Dormitory, painting the red-draped common room in golden light. Alexander had been awake for hours, reviewing memories from both his past life and his current body's experiences. The Academy's structure was familiar from the novel, but living it revealed countless details the story had omitted.
His roommate, Darian Emberforge, snored softly in the adjacent bed. The novel had mentioned him only in passing—a minor noble with moderate fire talent who eventually dropped out after the semester. Another background character, irrelevant to the main plot.
But no one was irrelevant to Alexander now.
[Rise and shine, handsome! Ready to dazzle some future harem members with your mysterious charm?]
"I'm focused on long-term plans," Alexander murmured, careful not to wake Darian. "Romance is a means, not the end."
[Boooring. What's the point of building a harem if you don't enjoy the process?]
Alexander smiled thinly. "Who said I won't enjoy it?"
He dressed in his Academy uniform, paying special attention to his appearance—neat but not fussy, presenting the image of a serious student rather than the preening peacock the original Alexander had been.
The system hummed appreciatively. [Much better than yesterday. Your Charm Enhancement is working nicely. First class today?]
"Elemental Theory with Professor Thornwood." Alexander recalled the imperious air instructor described in the novel. "Then Practical Applications with Master Flint."
Two crucial classes where the original Alexander had begun his downward spiral, antagonizing both instructors with his arrogance and inattention. Not this time.
[Don't forget about your new ability—Elemental Insight. You might find it... enlightening.]
The dining hall buzzed with morning conversation as Alexander entered. Students clustered by house, Ignis's fiery red uniforms separated from Aqua's blue, Terra's green, Ventus's white, and Umbra's purple. The rigid segregation was a plot point in the novel, emphasizing the prejudices Claire and Lucas overcame in their relationship.
Alexander selected a modest breakfast and sat at the Ignis table's end, close enough to appear sociable but focused enough on his meal to discourage interruption. He needed to observe, to compare reality with the novel's descriptions.
Claire sat among the Aqua students, already surrounded by admirers drawn to her noble lineage and considerable power. Lucas ate quietly with the Terra contingent, occasionally glancing toward Claire with poorly concealed interest.
Princess Serena, however, defied expectations. In the novel, she'd been portrayed as somewhat aloof, dining separately from regular students. Today she sat among the Ventus students despite her silver emblem, engaged in animated conversation.
Another deviation. Interesting.
"Mind if I join you?"
Alexander looked up to find Eliza Windhaven, the blonde air-user who'd barely registered as a character in the novel. She carried a tray and smiled hopefully.
This hadn't happened in the story. The original Alexander had actively pursued female students, not been approached by them.
"Please," he gestured to the seat opposite.
Eliza settled across from him, her Ventus white uniform crisp in the morning light. "That was impressive yesterday—the crystal reaction. Everyone's talking about it."
[Ooh, your first admirer! And she's cute too, with that windswept look. Nice potential for your harem!]
"I doubt it means anything," Alexander replied modestly. "Your sorting was straightforward?"
"Completely," she laughed. "Five generations of Windhaven air-users makes for predictable sorting. But I've always been curious about cross-elemental potential."
Alexander tilted his head. The novel had never explored such concepts. "Cross-elemental?"
"You know," Eliza lowered her voice conspiratorially, "the theory that some emblems contain traces of multiple elements. It's controversial—purists hate the idea—but your crystal's reaction yesterday? That could be evidence."
Alexander filed this information away. The original story had presented a simpler magic system, with each person limited to their primary element. If reality contained more nuance, it could provide additional advantages.
Before he could respond, a bell chimed, signaling five minutes until morning classes.
"Elemental Theory?" Eliza asked, standing.
Alexander nodded, surprised again. In the novel, he'd shared no classes with Ventus students on the first day.
"Excellent," she beamed. "We can walk together."
Professor Thornwood's classroom occupied a circular chamber near the Academy's central tower. Windows faced each cardinal direction, allowing light to stream through specially tinted glass—red, blue, green, white, and violet—representing the five elements.
Students filed in, naturally separating by house. Alexander noted that Claire and Lucas had also been assigned to this session, along with Princess Serena and about twenty other first-years from across the houses.
"Interesting mix," Eliza whispered as they found seats. "They usually don't combine all five houses for basic theory."
Yet another deviation from the novel. Alexander watched as Professor Thornwood swept in, her gray hair pulled into a severe bun, Ventus emblem prominently displayed on her collar.
"Welcome to Elemental Theory," she announced without preamble. "You've been selected for this specific section based on your sorting results and preliminary evaluations. This is not the standard first-year course."
Murmurs rippled through the room. Alexander maintained a neutral expression, though inwardly he was alarmed. The novel had described a generic introductory class, not whatever this was.
"Each of you," the professor continued, "demonstrated something unusual during sorting. Exceptional power, unexpected affinity fluctuations, or rare emblem manifestations. You represent less than ten percent of your class year."
Alexander glanced around, reassessing his classmates. If everyone here had shown unusual potential, that explained the presence of Claire, Lucas, and Princess Serena. But it didn't explain why he had been included.
"Today, we'll conduct a simple exercise to measure your current understanding and control." Professor Thornwood gestured, and five crystal orbs rose from her desk, floating to different points around the room. Each glowed with the color of an elemental house.
"Approach the orb corresponding to your house emblem. Place your hand upon it and channel your elemental affinity. The orb will measure your baseline capacity."
Students moved toward their respective orbs. Alexander joined the Ignis students at the red crystal, watching as the first student—Marcus Ashford, a minor character from the novel—placed his palm against the surface. The orb glowed modestly before displaying a numerical value: 37.
"Acceptable for a first-year," Professor Thornwood noted, recording the result.
More students tested, their scores ranging from the high twenties to low forties. Alexander watched Claire approach the blue orb, her movements graceful and confident. When she touched it, the crystal flared brilliantly, displaying 76.
Gasps echoed through the chamber. Professor Thornwood's eyebrows rose slightly—the closest thing to surprise her stern features would allow. "Exceptional, Lady Aquamarine."
Lucas scored 62 at the green orb, while Princess Serena registered 58 at the silver orb specially provided for her unique emblem.
When Alexander's turn came, he approached the red crystal with deliberate calm. The original Alexander would have boasted beforehand, setting expectations he couldn't meet. This Alexander simply placed his palm against the cool surface and focused on the warmth within, using the visualization technique the system had taught him.
The crystal glowed, brightening steadily. Then, to his astonishment, flickered between red and silver, just as the sorting crystal had done. Professor Thornwood moved closer, her expression intent.
"Fascinating," she murmured. "Continue, Mr. Flamingo."
Alexander maintained his focus, feeling his emblem warm on his hand. The crystal stabilized to red again, then displayed his score: 65.
The room fell silent. Professor Thornwood stared at him, then at her notes, then back at him. "Your father reported your childhood measurements never exceeded 28."
Alexander feigned mild surprise. "I've been practicing recently, Professor."
"Hm." She made a notation in her ledger. "See me after class, Mr. Flamingo."
Alexander returned to his seat, aware of curious stares following him. Eliza leaned close when he sat beside her.
"That was incredible," she whispered. "And the color shift—just like at the sorting!"
[My, my! You're just full of surprises, aren't you? The original Alexander was a dud, but you're lighting up the scoreboard. Must be my excellent guidance.]
Alexander ignored the system's preening. This significant deviation from the novel worried him. The original Alexander had been forgettably average in power, making his perverted behavior his only notable trait. This unexplained power surge would draw attention—potentially useful but also risky.
After class, he approached Professor Thornwood's desk while the other students filed out. Eliza gave him an encouraging smile as she left, while Claire and Lucas lingered by the door, obviously curious.
"Mr. Flamingo," Professor Thornwood studied him intently. "I've taught three generations of Flamingos, including your father. All demonstrated predictable power progression. None showed emblem fluctuations."
Alexander remained silent, waiting.
"Explain."
"I'm not sure I can, Professor," he answered truthfully. "I only know that something feels... different recently. Since arriving at the Academy."
She continued to observe him, her air emblem slightly aglow, as if she were using some subtle detection ability on him.
"Report to Headmaster Orion's office tomorrow morning before breakfast," she finally said. "And Mr. Flamingo? Whatever is happening with your emblem... it would be wise to master it quickly. Unusual power attracts unusual attention—not all of it welcome."
Alexander bowed respectfully and turned to leave, his mind racing. In the original novel, he'd never warranted the Headmaster's personal attention.
The story wasn't just changing—it was transforming entirely.