Surviving the Magic Academy With Just Intelligence Stats

The droning voice of Professor Elaine echoed through the high-ceilinged classroom, her words bouncing off ancient stone walls adorned with faded tapestries depicting historical battles. "...in the last war. The First Hero Rothschild and the Fox Clan Princess Xiao Yue..."

Ambrose’s gaze drifted away from the lecture to study the professor herself—her enthusiastic gestures, the way she occasionally adjusted her spectacles when making an important point. He sighed inwardly, a peculiar melancholy settling over him. Back on Earth, confined to his hospital bed, he had romanticized the idea of attending school like other children. The reality proved far less magical than his imagination had painted it.

Is this what I yearned for all those years? he wondered, absently tracing the edge of his desk with a finger. Listening to information I already know, surrounded by people who barely comprehend it?

Subtlety, he withdrew a leather-bound tome from his spatial ring—a second-year treatise on advanced magical theory. The weight of it felt reassuring in his hands as he carefully turned to his bookmark. With his [Perfect Recall] skill, he could recite the professor’s entire lecture verbatim, rendering her ongoing explanations redundant. His memory needed no refreshing; each fact lay crystallized in his mind with perfect clarity.

Beside him, Hualing’s struggle was evident. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she stared at her notes, then at the professor, then back at her half-empty page. After a valiant but brief effort, she set down her pen with a defeated sigh. Abandoning all pretense of academic interest, she turned to study Ambrose’s profile instead, her eyes tracing the contours of his face with undisguised fascination.

Ambrose sensed her attention like a physical touch but chose to ignore it, immersing himself deeper in his reading.

On his other side sat Adelaide, the picture of scholarly dedication. Her quill moved across parchment with practiced efficiency, capturing key points in her elegant handwriting. Unlike their companions, she seemed genuinely invested in the lecture, her posture alert and engaged.

Marcus sat a row ahead, physically present but mentally elsewhere. His eyes held the distant look of someone revisiting memories or perhaps planning for futures only he could see. Meihua, meanwhile, had given up any pretense of attention, her calculating gaze slowly cataloging every student in the room as if gathering intelligence for future use.

The five of them formed an island of contrast within the classroom—only Adelaide actually learning, the rest occupied with their private worlds.

When the bell finally rang, its melodious chime signaling blessed freedom, Ambrose didn’t hesitate. He activated [Blink] instantly, his form shimmering momentarily before vanishing from his seat and reappearing just outside the classroom door in a faint displacement of air.

Professor Elaine caught the flash of his departure, her mouth twitching in mild offense. Was my class truly that unbearable? her expression seemed to say. I haven’t even dismissed you yet.

Ambrose paid no mind to her silent reproach. With another application of [Blink], he transported himself further down the corridor, putting substantial distance between himself and any pursuing companions. Each teleportation drained his mental energy reserves considerably, but freedom warranted the cost.

He needed solitude for what came next. Hualing’s constant presence, while occasionally useful, had begun to isolate their entire group from the academy’s social ecosystem. Students tensed visibly whenever they approached, conversations dying mid-sentence. For his companions’ sake as much as his own, some distance was necessary.

But his primary motivation lay elsewhere—the academy library beckoned with its secrets. From countless novels he’d read, Ambrose knew such places often concealed hidden knowledge, magical tomes disguised as ordinary books, or concealed passages leading to forgotten archives. If there really was something like that, he might not be able to trigger it if he went with someone else, seeing as his group was almost all main characters, they might trigger the chance before he did.

If there are treasures to be found, he thought as he navigated the winding corridors toward the library’s imposing oak doors, I’d have a better chance of finding them alone.

…

Ambrose stepped through the heavy oak doors of the library, a satisfied smile playing across his lips as he entered the hallowed repository of knowledge. The vast chamber stretched before him, its vaulted ceiling disappearing into shadows high above where magical orbs cast a gentle, golden light over the countless shelves. The air carried the unmistakable scent of aged parchment, leather bindings, and the faint trace of preservative enchantments.

Few students occupied the reading tables scattered throughout the main floor, but those present exhibited the intense concentration of scholars with clear purpose. Not one head lifted at the sound of his entrance—quills continued scratching against parchment, pages turned with careful precision, and brows remained furrowed in concentration. These weren’t casual browsers but dedicated researchers, each lost in their personal academic quests.

Ambrose moved past them with deliberate steps, his footfalls muffled by the thick carpet specifically designed to absorb sound. He made his way toward the far wall where a curious contraption stood—not quite an elevator in the modern Earth sense, but the academy’s magical equivalent. A carved wooden platform enclosed by ornate lattice screens, powered by levitation enchantments rather than cables and counterweights.

Stepping inside, Ambrose pressed one of the gleaming crystal buttons embedded in the control panel, recalling his uncle Lancaster’s careful instructions for accessing the restricted archives. The lattice doors slid closed with barely a whisper, and the platform began to move. Without his enhanced perception and [Spatial Awareness], Ambrose might never have detected the motion—the enchantments eliminated all sensation of movement, creating the illusion of perfect stillness while the library proper receded above them.

That’s right, they were moving down, not up. With his Spatial Awareness, he could easily tell this despite the stillness.

When the doors reopened, Ambrose found himself in a dramatically different environment. The sprawling underground chamber matched the main library in size but surpassed it in grandeur. Bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling, some requiring floating platforms to access their uppermost shelves. Crystal chandeliers imbued with eternal light spells cast a warm illumination across reading tables crafted from polished ebony.

The few students present here carried themselves with even greater intensity than those above. Most appeared older, their expressions carrying the weight of impending graduation exams. Some had surrounded themselves with teetering stacks of reference materials; others traced complex magical formulas in glowing script that hovered in the air before them.

Ambrose stood momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer volume of knowledge surrounding him. Books stretched in every direction—ancient tomes bound in materials he couldn’t immediately identify, scrolls sealed with wax bearing family crests of long-extinct noble houses, and crystal memory orbs containing the recorded thoughts of masters long dead.

Where does one even begin? he wondered, experiencing the peculiar paralysis of excessive choice.

"How did you get in here?"

The question interrupted his deliberation. Ambrose looked down—a necessary adjustment given his own modest height—to find an even smaller figure glaring up at him with suspicious eyes.

The boy barely reached Ambrose’s chest, with delicate features framed by meticulously combed chestnut hair. Despite his diminutive stature, he carried himself with unmistakable authority, hands planted firmly on his hips as he awaited an answer.

"Are you listening?" the boy pressed, his voice carrying the crisp diction of aristocratic education despite its youthful pitch.

Ambrose couldn’t help himself. He smiled indulgently and reached out to pat the boy’s head, the gesture automatically triggered by the child-like appearance before him. "Who let a kid in here?" he mused aloud.

The boy’s face flushed with indignation as he swatted Ambrose’s hand away. "Who are you calling a kid?" he demanded, jabbing a finger toward his own chest.

Only then did Ambrose notice the distinctive markings on the boy’s uniform—the double silver stripes and emblazoned crest that designated a second-year student. Ambrose blinked in surprise, reassessing the figure before him. Through his enhanced perception, he could discern that the boy couldn’t possibly be older than fifteen—exceptionally young for a second-year student at Crono Academy.

A prodigy, Ambrose realized. The type of genius others whisper about.

"I asked you how you got in here," the boy repeated with mounting impatience. "Only third-years and above are allowed."

Ambrose allowed himself a playful smile. "The same way you did," he replied cryptically.

The boy’s face brightened with sudden interest. "You mean..." he began eagerly.

"Yes," Ambrose interrupted with perfect timing, "I also got here by walking."

The boy’s expression soured instantly, his lips pressing into a thin line of disapproval.

"I’m joking," Ambrose chuckled, reaching into his pocket to produce the Archmage’s Medallion. The golden disk caught the light as he held it up, its intricate engravings and embedded crystals marking it as one of the academy’s most coveted privileges.

The medallion’s appearance caused a brief ripple of attention through the chamber. Several senior students glanced up from their studies, eyebrows raising in surprise before they returned to their work with renewed concentration.

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Ambrose tucked the medallion away quickly, not wanting to draw further attention. "I’m guessing you have something similar?" he inquired, genuinely curious about how a second-year had gained access to this restricted space. And such a young one at that.

His curiosity peaked, Ambrose activated his [Mind’s Eye] skill, focusing on the young student before him:

[Name: Elias Thornbrook]

[Level: C]

[Talent: Creator’s Blueprint (Mythical)]

[Health: 500/500]

[Mana: 400/400]

[Strength: 5]

[Stamina: 5]

[Agility: 5]