"Then you'd better bear with it, because the professors have arrived." Rogers sat upright and motioned for Alina to glance at the podium in the auditorium.

On the podium was a long table draped in intricate patterned tablecloths, and at some point, several professors with different images had taken their seats behind the table.

In the center is a short old woman with a slender cane, standing in her chair and smiling and snapping her fingers.

The crisp snap of fingers sounded in everyone's ears, and after everyone noticed the scene on the podium, they quickly found a nearby seat to sit down.

The basic upbringing of the aristocracy also allowed Alina to quickly sort out her emotions at this time, and she didn't bother with Rogers anymore.

"Let me introduce myself first, my name is Avery Greywood, and I am currently the vice-principal of St. Herte."

Avery smiled kindly as everyone hurriedly took their seats, stroked his chest with his hand, and cordially began the freshman entrance speech:

"Dear children, I believe that the nagging Idrul has taken the trouble to tell you what kind of school St. Hella is.

"You either have glorious blood or great talent, and that is why you have come to St. Herthe.

"It can be seen that the world does not seem to be fair, and you are born with the talent of 'hard work pays off', how blessed it is.

"But do not forget that this is St. Herte, where there is no shortage of genius, where everything that was once enough to make you proud will be reduced to a mediocre starting point, and the so-called hard work will become a daily ......"

Avery's words did not discourage the freshmen present, but rather made the faces of many people overflow with unwavering confidence and determination.

The lazy Rogers held his chin, as if completely independent of the boiling atmosphere, and he observed the swollen cheeks of many people around him, and sighed that it was good to be young, and just a few boring words could arouse their immature emotions.

As for what Avery was talking about later, he picked out the really useful information and memorized it for a while.

It wasn't until the epilogue came that he regained his spirits.

"Finally, best wishes for your arrival in St. Herthe!"

The moment the vice principal's words fell, applause came like a huge wave.

At this time, the table in front of the freshmen was accompanied by a little fluorescence, and mouth-watering delicacies emerged, filling the entire long table.

Expertly prepared lobster soup, colorful salads, and a selection of exquisite pastries and desserts......

And most importantly, a cup of the "Fountain of Wisdom" for each person.

"It's finally here."

With a smile on his lips, Rogers reached for the obsidian-like round bowl in front of him and looked down at the cloudy liquid in it.

Knowing the plot of the later game, he understands that this thing in front of him is not the fountain of wisdom in the mythological epic at all, but a diluted pseudo-philosopher's stone.

Moreover, the so-called Philosopher's Stone is not a stone, and the original Philosopher's Stone is simply the blood of the gods after all.

St. Herthe's fossilization of a pseudo-philosopher into hundreds of cups of the "Fountain of Wisdom" symbolizes the ancient myth that the kings of the ancient race ate the god of wisdom in order to obtain wisdom.

This promotion ritual formed by poor imitation is the "homeopathic witchcraft" derived from the most primitive "law of similarity".

"What is there, there will be again; What has been done, it will be done again; Under the sun, there is nothing new. ”

Rogers inexplicably remembered the famous words from the Ecclesiastes, and he listened to the sound of "Cheers" resounding in the auditorium, and joined the crowd in holding up the obsidian cup and drinking the "fountain of wisdom."

A restless breath slid down his throat, pouring into his body with a mysterious and endless delusion.

His mind instantly became clear and sharp, as if he had a cognitive ability beyond ordinary people, and his mind was able to clearly trace the subtle connections between everything around him, as well as the deeper primitive concepts.

In the same way, the sharpness of his senses is rising, he hears the small sounds that he would not normally notice, and his vision becomes brighter, as if he can see the essence hidden behind objects through the refraction of light.

And finally, the all-important magic.

It is a mysterious, mysterious, indescribable, unseepable and tangible force.

"Magic is a collection of symbols, a sympathetic application."

Rogers immediately remembered the text of Proverbs that appeared in the game, and began to peruse the restlessness of the magic.

The joy of the promotion of the crowd and the symbol of wisdom can easily be associated with the element of fire.

He tried to block out the noise of the people around him, emptying his mind and focusing only on his breath and inner feelings, and at the same time visualizing in his mind something deeply connected to the element of fire—the immortal bird.

The scorching energy surged in his body, as if a flame was burning rapidly, and Rogers, who sensed that something was wrong, immediately activated the [Enlightenment Bonus] at this time, accelerating his thinking while assisting the guidance of restless magic.

Suddenly, tiny sparks forced out from his fingertips and quickly spread into a huge fireball above everyone's heads.

The red, orange and yellow colors of fire complement each other, and a deep and distant chirp ripples out from the fireball, as if passing through the rhythm of life and fire.

"Not good!"

The effects of the Enlightenment Bonus slowly faded, and Rogers gradually felt that he was almost unable to grasp such a large and unstable magical power.

The sparks that swirled like dancers began to hug left and right, and the two heavy curtains above their heads had already appeared a large scorched black trace, as if they were about to burn in the next second.

Under normal circumstances, the casting process must be performed by chanting the corresponding spell composed of occult language to ensure the stability and durability of the magic.

Obviously, Rogus wasn't yet at the advanced level of spellless casting.

Many of the professors on the podium had already noticed the anomaly here, and they all looked at Rogers with strange eyes on his face as if nothing had happened.

"Kid, given that you have just entered the school and may not have read through the school rules, I will only deduct 1,000 credits from you this time.

"You're the first freshman in my years of teaching that you've been in debt at the entrance ceremony......"

Rogers' ears rang with Vice Principal Avery's voice, and he nodded obediently, and then he saw the fire above his head explode like fireworks, setting off another cheer from the freshmen, who all thought that this was just part of the ceremony.

"According to the guidance of fate, that kid is already a student of my Hilmi Academy!" The antlers on Idrul's head swayed, and he looked around at the prefects who were about to move, and hurriedly announced it.

It's rare to find a genius who can communicate magic or even condense magic power just after awakening, not to mention that this genius's performance in the trial in front of the door is so amazing.

"You old thing who should be by a moose! Don't try to dictate the direction of your fate! ”

An anvil-like dean, the dean, blowing his bushy beard, pointed at Idrul and shouted at him.

Several deans did the same, causing a commotion on the podium.