Three days had passed since Rick had entered the Academy, and at last the day of real classes had arrived. Dawn found him on the left side of the Academy grounds, where the mountains curled into a small, secluded clearing he had stumbled upon on his second day—an accidental discovery made while running through the city. Students were allowed to leave the Academy, though they were forbidden from wandering deeper into the city. By luck, Rick had found the perfect hidden place to train without disturbance.
His palms pressed against the cold ground, Rick completed his last push-up—his breath sharp, his muscles burning.
"One hundred and eighty-one," he muttered, exhaling hard. Sweat rolled down his face as he stood and wiped himself clean, then lifted his canteen to drink while watching the sun rise over the jagged peaks. "A new day… Guess I should head back. Can't be late for the first real classes."
With that thought grounding him, Rick took his towel and began the steady walk toward the dormitory. The early morning air carried the faint sounds of students waking, the Academy slowly stirring to life.
As he entered the courtyard, he caught sight of Rome practicing with his sword—each strike clean, each movement filled with purpose. Rick paused for a moment, watching him under the gentle morning light, then turned away and continued toward his room. There was no time to linger.
He slipped inside, quickly changed out of his training clothes, and headed to the bathroom. A few other students were already there, washing up before the morning rush. Rick found an empty space, scrubbed himself clean, and afterward returned to his room to put away his damp clothes. When he was finished, he stepped out again and made his way toward the cafeteria.
The Academy was still quiet—most students not yet fully awake. The main hallways felt strangely hollow, the early silence almost sacred. When Rick entered the cafeteria, only a handful of people were there, and the scent of breakfast drifted gently through the air.
Behind the counter stood Chef Dev, the man who handled the morning meals. He noticed Rick immediately.
"Good morning, Rick! " Dev asked with his usual energetic warmth.
Rick gave a polite nod. "Morning, Chef. "
" Here, " Dev replied cheerfully as he loaded Rick's tray with an omelet, bread, and a cup of hot milk. "Always on time, huh? Good habit."
Rick thanked Chef Dev with a small smile before leaving the counter. "Thank you for the food."
"Enjoy your meal, buddy," Dev replied warmly.
Rick crossed the quiet cafeteria and headed straight toward the table where Damian usually sat. In the three days since arriving at the Academy, Damian had become the only person Rick could truly call a friend—ever since they had been grouped together during the entrance exam.
"Early as usual," Rick said, sliding into the seat opposite him.
"I like it when it's quiet," Damian replied, stabbing a piece of omelet with a calm precision.
They ate together, sharing small jokes and bits of conversation. After finishing their meals, they carried their trays back.
"I still can't believe that you were in C-Class," Rick teased, bumping Damian lightly with his elbow.
"Oh come on, you already said that countless time." Damian protested, though the slight twitch in his eye betrayed annoyance.
"Yeah, yeah," Rick laughed as they stepped out of the cafeteria. "But the way you panicked was priceless."
"I wasn't panicking," Damian muttered, walking a little faster.
"Forget about me. What about your roommates? Are they still ignoring you?"
Damian gave him a sharp look.
"Tch. They're impossible. Every time I try to start a conversation, they just… stay silent."
Rick sighed softly. "And Rome? Still being… Rome?"
"That guy gets annoyed just by seeing me breathe." Rick continued.
Damian closed his eyes dramatically, rubbing his forehead. "Why do you attract trouble without even trying?"
"That's what you're here for," Rick said with a smirk. "To help me survive this place."
"Great. So I'm your shield now."
"Exactly."
They walked through the garden path, eventually reaching a bench beneath a wide, leafy tree. For a brief moment, the Academy felt peaceful. But the quiet didn't last long—voices, footsteps, and the growing hum of students rushing to their morning schedules filled the surroundings.
"Whatever happens in today's classes," Damian said, stretching his arms, "don't let it drag you down."
Rick chuckled. "I should be telling you that."
"Too late," Damian shot back. "Let's go. Class is starting."
And just like that, the two headed toward their classrooms. Rick entered his room and sat alone, the same way he always did. But today, something was different. He felt a faint excitement churning inside him—a restless anticipation.
Time passed, and soon the classroom door opened. Instructor Elly stepped in, followed by her assistant who carried a large rolled map. Elly's presence was calm but commanding, her footsteps soft against the wooden floor.
"Hello, students," she greeted warmly. "Today marks the beginning of our first real lesson—one where you will learn something new."
The assistant unrolled the map and fixed it to the board until it hung wide and clear for everyone to see. A murmur rippled through the class. Even Rick leaned forward slightly, curious.
"So," Instructor Elly began, tapping the map with a slender pointer, "today we will study our continent."
She traced the borders with practiced ease. "As you can see, this land is divided into many kingdoms, empires, and frontier nations. Of these, two stand above all others—the Holy Empire and the Great Empire. On the other hand, the largest kingdom is the Marian Kingdom, still powerful though smaller than the empires."
A student raised his hand. "Teacher… is there any point in knowing all this?"
Instructor Elly smiled, the kind of patient smile that came from answering the same question countless times. "I know some of you may think geography is pointless. But in a battle between two fighters of equal skill, the one who understands their terrain always has the advantage."
She tapped the map again, her voice firm. "And if you wish to one day command squads, explore lands, or even travel outside the kingdom, you must understand how nations are shaped, how borders shift, and how environments influence combat."
The room fell quiet, her words sinking in. Even the students who had seemed bored now followed her pointer as she identified mountain ranges, river routes, deserts, frozen frontiers, and demihuman territories.
By the end, the class had not only learned the layout of the continent but also how their own kingdom fit into the grander world.
The next class was History.
Here, the instructor spoke of ancient conflicts—the great war between demons and humans that had carved the foundations of the continent. Rumors, myths, and bloody truths interwove into a story older than any kingdom.
Afterward came Math, a far simpler subject: basic calculations, rules of trade, profit and loss. Nothing glorious—yet essential to life.
Finally came the compulsory Language class. Its purpose was simple: to help students understand the linguistic roots of every major kingdom. Though the kingdoms often shared similar languages, each modified speech and symbols according to their own culture. Mastering them was difficult even for native speakers.
By the time the bell rang, the students slumped in their seats—some mentally exhausted, others bored, and many simply hungry.
The long stretch of morning classes had ended.
Now, it was finally time for lunch.
The cafeteria buzzed with the low murmur of students exchanging stories about their first classes. Rick and Damian found a quiet corner and began eating.
"By the way," Rick asked between bites, "which subjects did you pick for physical training?"
Damian swallowed a piece of bread before answering. "Hmm… I chose Mage, Spirit Master, and Alchemist."
Rick nearly choked. "Spirit Master? You're trying to pursue that path?"
He had always assumed Damian was a swordsman—his build, his posture, even the way he carried himself suggested so.
Damian smirked at Rick's reaction. "The job of a Spirit Master is to summon spirits and fight alongside them. It's one of the hardest jobs in the continent—high mana capacity, fine control, immense focus. Not many people can do it."
Rick raised an eyebrow. "Then why choose it? Isn't being a normal mage easier?"
"Easier, yes," Damian replied, leaning back. "But nowhere near as rewarding."
He lifted a finger, counting off the points.
"First: after you summon a spirit and form a pact, your mana merges with the spirit's mana pool. That boosts your own capacity."
"Second: with the same spell, a Spirit Master can produce far stronger results, because spirits are attuned to nature. Depending on the nature of your spirit, your spells grow sharper or stronger."
"Third—and this is the best part—it increases your mana recovery speed. Spirits attract natural mana far more easily than humans."
Rick blinked, genuinely impressed. "Wow… I honestly thought you were a swordsman."
Damian chuckled. "Most people do. Must be the build."
Rick sipped his soup thoughtfully. "So… do you already have a spirit contract?"
"Yep. A low-level wind spirit," Damian said proudly as he stood up with his tray.
Rick followed. "That explains it. No wonder you made it into C-Class."
"I'm going to take that as a compliment," Damian shrugged.
"Anyway… can you show me the Wind Spirit? Just once? It's cute, right?" Rick in excitement.
"No," Damian replied flatly.
"Huh? Why not?"
"It takes half my mana to summon the spirit—and I have classes to attend. I can't waste it." Damian's voice left no room for argument.
Rick sighed dramatically, but Damian had already turned away, heading toward his next class with a troubled expression.
Rick's next class was swordsmanship. Out of fifty students in D-Class, only thirteen had chosen it.
Not surprising, he thought. There are too many other classes here.
"So, you're today's new student, huh?" the instructor said in a bored tone. "First of all, is there anyone here at the level of External Art?"
The room stayed silent.
"Thought so," the instructor yawned. "Anyway—do you have your weapons?"
A few students raised their hands.
"In that case, follow me. Let's get you equipped."
The instructor led the class down a dim hallway to a room stacked floor-to-ceiling with weapons of every type. The metallic scent of iron seeped through the air.
"These are the weapons assigned to D-Class," the instructor said. "Pick one and head out to the training grounds."
He left them alone to choose.
Instantly, the room broke into chaos as everyone began hunting for a weapon worthy of them. Even Rick, who already had a sword, found himself searching for something better.
"All of these are… average," Rick muttered, shifting blade after blade aside. Nothing felt right.
Then, something caught his eye.
A sword—simple, unadorned, almost plain. The metal looked ordinary, the grip worn, and nothing about it shouted quality.
And yet…
Rick reached for it without understanding why. The moment his fingers closed around the hilt, a strange calm washed over him—subtle, but undeniable.
He didn't know why he chose that sword.
But it felt like the sword had chosen him.
Despite its plain appearance, something in Rick's heart resonated with the simple sword he had chosen. It felt inexplicably beautiful to him—quiet, humble, yet strangely comforting. After selecting it, he headed to the training grounds, where the instructor waited for the students to gather.
The instructor said nothing at first. But the moment his eyes fell on the sword hanging at Rick's waist, his expression tightened.
"Hey, kid… you should pick a different sword."
The sudden comment startled Rick. "Is there something wrong with this sword, Instructor?"
The man hesitated. "Well… even if you someday reach the level of an Aura-Master, this is a sword which rejects mana. Completely."
Rick frowned. "What? "
The instructor's face grew serious. "This sword is forged from an unknown material. It even rejected the mana of the Royal Knight Commander himself."
The revelation hit Rick like a shock. Mana-resisting weapons existed—but a blade that rejected even an Awakened one's mana was unheard of.
But instead of changing it, Rick only gave a faint smile.
"You're not planning to change your sword, are you?" the instructor asked, studying Rick's expression.
Rick shook his head.
"Well… despite its resistance to mana, this sword cannot be destroyed. Even the commander couldn't damage it." The instructor paused, then added with a faint smirk, "If you insist on keeping it, you should at least give it a name."
Rick looked at the blade—ordinary in appearance, yet quietly loyal—and smiled with a sense of certainty.
"In that case," he said softly, "this sword will be called Nina."
Soon after, the rest of the students arrived with their chosen swords. Class resumed, beginning with basic sword forms and fundamentals—how swordsmen typically channel mana through their blades.
After swordsmanship ended, the students moved to their next class—Mage. For most, it was familiar material, but for Rick, it felt like stepping into an unknown world. Because May only ever taught him basic of mana, never how mages actually used it.
The instructor entered with a stern expression, signaling the start of the lesson.
"Today," he announced, "we will learn why a mana circle is vital for any mage. All humans possess mana in their bodies—whether swordsman or mage. But does anyone know the difference between how the two use it?"
Silence filled the room.
The instructor continued, "A mage uses mana to create spells—fire, wind, ice, anything capable of shaping the world. A swordsman, on the other hand, uses mana only to strengthen their own body or weapon. They do not create phenomena; they reinforce themselves."
That much Rick already knew. But what came next was entirely new to him.
"When mana flows naturally," the instructor explained, "it only gathers slowly in our mana pool. When we use it, the flow is painfully inefficient, and a portion of mana is lost each time. For swordsmen, this loss is insignificant—they use mana outwardly. But for mages, this is a dangerous flaw."
He turned to the board and drew a glowing circle of light.
"This is why mages need mana circles. A circle allows mana to flow continuously throughout the body, forming a stable route. With a circle, mages no longer have to force mana to move—it circulates on its own."
The class leaned in, captivated. Even Rick, who normally struggled with theoretical lessons, found himself focused on every word.
"We don't know who first created mana circles," the instructor added. "Some scholars claim dragons used a similar technique long before humans existed."
His voice deepened with reverence. "But one thing is certain—without mana circles, true magic would be impossible."
Before dismissing the class, the instructor posed one final question.
"So then—how does one actually form a mana circle?"
The room fell silent, every student leaning forward.
"First," the instructor explained, "you gather mana in your pool. Once you accumulate enough, you force the mana upward to your heart. Then, you shape it—slowly—into a circle around the heart, cycling and condensing the mana until the circle begins to function on its own."
He paused, glancing at the fading light outside the window.
"It seems our time is up. We will continue this discussion tomorrow. And tomorrow…" His gaze swept across the class, settling briefly on Rick. "We will discuss something far more serious."
The lesson ended, leaving an air of anticipation behind.
As Rick walked back to his dorm, his thoughts drifted to the earlier mention of dragons.
"Dragons, huh?" he murmured, staring up at the twilight sky. "I wonder where he is. "
There was a strange pull in his chest, almost as if something—or someone—far above the clouds was calling to him. But the moment passed as quickly as it came.
And so, under the deepening evening sky, Rick's first true day at the academy came to an end.