Four hours on a magic-powered train with Damian was more exhausting than any dungeon crawl could ever be.
So when we finally arrived at the famed Lorithal Academy of Mystics and Arcana, I expected—no, hoped—for some kind of grace period. A tour. A welcome speech. Maybe snacks.
What we got instead… was her.
"HELLOOOOOO~ LITTLE LAMBIES!!"
A voice exploded across the courtyard with the sheer force of a cannonball wrapped in confetti.
I looked up.
There she was.
A tiny figure, floating at the center of a glowing rune-circle high above the entrance gate. Dressed in oversized robes, round spectacles, and a pointy hat that flopped comically to one side, she grinned like a gremlin who had just stolen the Declaration of Magic.
The Headmistress.
The strongest mage in the empire. The enigma. The legend.
...The child?
"Wait," I whispered. "That's her?"
Next to me, Damian nodded reverently. "She once turned a troll into a sheep mid-roar. The sheep still roars. Don't question it."
I wisely did not.
The Headmistress dropped from the sky, landing with a pop of golden light and zero regard for physics. Her robes didn't so much as flutter.
"New lambs!" she chirped, hands on her hips. "Welcome to hell!"
Everyone stared.
"Kidding!" she said with a wink. "Sort of. Not really."
Then her face shifted.
From sunshine to executioner.
"You've got five minutes to gather your bags and report to the East Field. First round: combat evaluation. If you're late, you're out. Cry and you're out. Break school property—you're out and billed for it."
And just like that, she turned and vanished in a puff of pink smoke.
"…Was that legal?" someone muttered.
"No idea," I said.
---
Combat evaluation was, in a word, chaos.
Most of the new students clearly came from noble backgrounds or had training. Some even summoned mana beasts, others summoned elemental weapons. The rest got ragdolled like me.
Except I didn't lose.
I wasn't flashy. I didn't use spells. But Instinctual Flow kept me alert, sharp. I dodged, rolled, parried—improvised.
I lasted long enough to be marked "passable."
Which, apparently, was a compliment.
---
Next came the mana aptitude test.
Three glowing crystal spires. You had to place your hand and channel mana. The spire would glow based on affinity.
"Lightning," Damian announced proudly, his crystal flashing bright yellow. "Told you."
When it was my turn, the crystal pulsed faint white—then faint red. Nothing concrete.
The proctor frowned. "Unstable affinity. Unclassified."
I stepped back, hiding my grimace. Not suspicious at all.
---
Physical stats evaluation.
Endurance. Reflexes. Strength.
The sword dummy shattered when I struck it. Not from power. From precision.
The instructor raised an eyebrow. "You ever trained before?"
"Nope," I lied.
He stared a bit too long. "…Hm."
---
Written test. Three hours of pure suffering. Magical theory. Beast classification. Magical history. Enchantment matrices.
By the end, my fingers cramped and my soul had partially left my body.
"Break time," the proctor called. "Thirty minutes."
Freedom.
I stumbled into the courtyard like a dehydrated squirrel. Students milled about in small groups, some eating, others stretching. I drifted further away, following a side path lined with blue-leafed trees and stone benches.
That's when I saw it.
A small side-garden. Overgrown. Unkempt. Forgotten.
At its center—was a sword.
Not just any sword.
The sword.
The one from my dream. Black handle wrapped in crimson thread. A narrow, elegant blade. No dust. No rust. Just… waiting. Claimed by the vines growing from the ground.
I don't know why I walked toward it. I don't know why my hand reached out.
But when my fingers brushed the hilt—
"Finally."
I froze.
A girl's voice. Faint. Like wind in a cavern. It echoed inside my head, not my ears.
I looked around. No one was near.
"…Hello?"
"Took you long enough."
I snatched my hand back like it had burned me.
"What the hell—?"
No reply.
I took a shaky breath. Glanced at the sword.
It didn't glow. Didn't hum. Didn't move.
But I could still feel it.
Like it was watching me.
Whispering behind glass.
I backed away slowly. Then faster.
---
The final exam was looming: Present something unique to the Council.
I had no idea what I'd show.
My stats? My stolen spell? My charisma?
…The voice of the sword?
No. That would raise too many questions.
And the voice was still there.
Even now. A whisper at the edge of my thoughts.
"Don't ignore me, Felix."
I clenched my jaw.
Who the hell are you?
[System Notice: You have encountered a "Unique Relic-Class Weapon – Unbound"]
This weapon is attempting to form a pact.
Progress: 2%
Requirement: [Resonance] – Incomplete
---
As I walked back toward the main field, I saw Damian waving.
He had somehow gotten a flower crown from somewhere and was placing it on a new girl's head.
When he spotted me, he lit up. "Felix! My brother-in-arcane!"
I groaned.
The sword whispered again.
"...Is that one always this loud?"
I blinked.
"You can hear him?"
"Unfortunately."