Six months of roads.
Six months of villages, cities, dungeons, and annex halls.
Kael's life as a Branch became a series of steady steps, each one stacking on the last until they no longer felt like a Sapling who had survived a lucky test—they felt like someone who was building a shape out of the chaos.
---
In those six months, their body changed.
They moved with more confidence now, a smoothness that came from repetition: staff drills, footwork, dodges. Scars thickened where shallow cuts had once healed.
Their magic changed too. Practice and discipline made the difference—Kael's spells began to feel like an extension of the staff, woven into the same rhythm. Each night, alone, they practiced. Each morning, they woke with a sharper sense of where their mana limits were and how far they could push without slipping into exhaustion.
And the badge on their chest stayed the same: Branch.
But already, the weight of it felt natural.
---
Mira was there for more of those six months than Kael had expected.
They crossed paths in three different contracts: an overgrown ruin that had become home to aggressive fauna, a series of relay jobs protecting supply lines in a swamp country, and once in a narrow canyon where caravans kept disappearing.
In time, Kael learned Mira's rhythm. She was older by a few years, with a way of moving that made everything deliberate. She was the kind of archer who would wait for a single perfect shot rather than waste three poor ones.
She was also the kind of person who, like Kael, rarely said more than necessary. That made their conversations short, but sharp when they happened.
---
"You're different," she said once, after the ruin. "You don't fight for glory. You fight like someone building something only you can see."
Kael shrugged. "Glory doesn't keep you alive."
"And what does?" Mira asked.
"Awareness," Kael said. "And knowing what you can't afford to lose."
---
The second time they crossed paths, Mira offered Kael a seat at her campfire.
"Why do you keep moving between parties?" she asked.
Kael answered without hesitation. "Because every group knows something I don't."
Mira thought about that for a while, then nodded. "Fair."
---
By the time of their third meeting, there was an unspoken ease between them.
This time, after the canyon job, they walked the last mile back into town side by side. The air was dry, the wind tugging at the edges of their cloaks.
"You know," Mira said suddenly, "if you ever get tired of drifting, there's a team I could introduce you to."
Kael tilted their head. "Your team?"
"Something like that," she said. "But I think you're not ready yet."
Kael smiled slightly. "I'm not."
---
That night in the annex, Kael overheard something.
Two veteran adventurers, sitting at the next table, talking in low voices.
"…heard the next tournament's in four years…"
"…all the best from every nation. Doesn't matter if you're rich or just stupidly skilled…"
"…you win, you get into the Academy."
Kael paused mid-bite, listening without looking up.
"Academy?" someone else asked.
"Yeah," the first said. "That one in the neutral country. Only way in is to buy your way in or fight your way in. And if you stay? You leave as one of the strongest."
Kael looked down at their plate, thoughtful.
---
Later that night, back in the quiet of their room, Kael opened their notebook.
> Heard a rumor tonight.
Academy.
Neutral ground. Tournament decides who gets in.
Maybe it's just talk.
But maybe it's real.
He paused, tapping the charcoal against the page.
> If it is real, I need to be ready.
---
Those six months went by like a flicker, and yet Kael could feel how much they'd changed.
Six months ago, they had been a fresh Branch. Now, the rhythm of the Guild halls, the movement of the parties, the patterns of contracts—they were starting to feel familiar. Not easy, but familiar.
And the whispers of something beyond that—something bigger, something harder—had begun to plant a seed in their mind.
---
When the final day of the sixth month came, Kael found themselves alone again, standing on a hill looking out over a wide green plain.
Behind them lay hundreds of miles of road. Ahead of them lay hundreds more.
They didn't know what the Academy really was yet. They didn't know what it would demand. But they knew that if there was a place that gathered strength, it was a place they would one day need to stand in.
---
"Sixteen and a half," Kael said quietly to the wind, half-smiling.
And then they shouldered their pack and kept walking.
---
The contract that came at the end of that half-year wasn't supposed to be complicated.
Four Branches, one Trunk, and a caravan. Bandit country. The Guild briefed them: escort, hold formation, let the Trunk make the calls. A simple assignment—if there was such a thing.
The first day passed without trouble. The second, too. On the third, the trouble hit fast.
---
The canyon was narrow, the cliffs high, and the ambush came from above: rockfalls first, then arrows, then the charge.
By the time Kael had scrambled to their feet, the Trunk-ranked leader had been slammed against the side of a cart, wind knocked out of him. Two of the Branches were pinned, shields barely holding against the attackers trying to break through.
Kael's world narrowed.
It wasn't hesitation. It wasn't thoughtless impulse. It was just clarity: someone had to move.
---
"Left!" Kael shouted, their voice cutting through the chaos.
Mira, one of the Branches who had managed to stay upright, glanced at them. For a moment, she didn't question. She just adjusted.
Kael grabbed the nearest cart rope, pulled it taut, and swung out wide, drawing the first attacker's strike away from a pinned Branch. The staff followed, fast and low, sweeping his legs.
---
"Shields forward! Push now!"
It wasn't a plan so much as instinct. But in a fight like this, instinct mattered.
The two Branches, hearing the order in Kael's voice, obeyed. The formation shifted, shields pressing together. The attackers slammed against them—and this time the formation held.
---
Kael ducked under another blade, staff striking twice in rapid succession: once against the weapon, once against the ribs.
Arrows still rained down from the cliffs. Mira, steady as stone, moved like a pivot, arrows shooting upward to return the favor. It wasn't enough to end the ambush, but it was enough to buy space.
---
The fight turned. Not quickly, but enough. Every action had purpose: hold the line, give the pinned Branches time to recover, drag the Trunk away from the collapsing side of the cart.
By the time the Trunk staggered back into position, gasping, the group had weathered the worst of it.
---
Afterward, with the canyon finally silent and the bodies cleared, the Trunk approached Kael.
"You made calls," he said, voice still rough from the fight. "And people listened."
Kael hesitated. "I didn't think about it. It just needed to be done."
"Exactly," the Trunk said. "That's how leadership starts."
---
Later that evening, when the caravan was safe and the sun dipped low, Mira walked over.
"You keep this up," she said, "and you're going to end up with a party of your own, whether you want it or not."
Kael sat by the fire, wiping the last of the canyon dust from their staff. "I'm not ready."
"You said that six months ago," Mira said. "You'll keep saying it until one day someone follows you anyway."
---
The next morning, as they walked, Mira glanced over.
"You ever heard of the Academy?" she asked casually.
Kael's head turned. "Yes."
She smirked. "Of course you have. Thought you'd be the type to notice those rumors."
"They're real?" Kael asked.
"Oh, they're real," Mira said. "The test to get in? Brutal. You don't get to show off. You get stripped down until they know exactly what's inside you. If you survive the tournament, the Academy teaches you everything it can. And when you come out, you're different."
Kael was quiet for a moment. "Have you tried?"
"No," Mira said. "I don't think I need it. But someone like you?" Her gaze lingered for a moment. "You'd belong there."
---
That night, Kael wrote again.
> It's real.
Academy.
Mira said so.
Four years.
That's time to be ready.
And beneath it:
> I need to see it for myself.
---
Over the next few months, Kael's assignments piled up. Escort jobs, exploration of abandoned trade roads, scouting missions through marshes where the ground swallowed careless feet. Every quest added another piece to the shape they were building.
The faces around them blurred in and out—some they recognized, others new. But what didn't change was how Kael moved: with purpose, always looking, always learning.
---
By the time the six months were over, Branch felt natural in a way it hadn't at first.
Kael's strikes were sharper. Their spells had grown in strength, not through raw power but through efficiency—haikus whispered with fewer wasted words, sharper focus. The connection to the flow of mana around them felt clearer every time they trained.
And more than once, when a fight turned dangerous, others turned toward Kael. Not because of rank. Because of trust.
---
On the final night of the six months, Mira found Kael one last time before their paths split again.
"Next time," she said, "don't be surprised if I'm following you."
Kael half-smiled. "I'll try to make it worth the trip."
"You already are," she said, then left without another word.
---
Sixteen and a half. Another step.
The rumors about the Academy were no longer just rumors. They were a direction. A point on the horizon.
---
The last town on Kael's route that half-year was small and wind-scoured, its Guild hall little more than a single long room with a counter and a tired clerk.
Behind the building, where the ridge fell away to a scattering of trees, Kael practiced.
---
The barrier spell was one they knew by heart.
Hold fast and steady
I will not let them break through
Wind stands here with me.
The familiar shimmer formed in the air. But this time, the strain on their mana was faint—barely more than a breath.
They frowned, repeated the spell. Again, it cost them far less than it ever had.
Something had changed. Not just their endurance, but how the magic flowed.
---
Kael spent the rest of the afternoon experimenting, adjusting words, watching how a single syllable choice shifted the weight of a spell. It was small now, but real.
The patterns fascinated them. What else could change?
---
That night, after reporting in at the Guild, the tired-eyed clerk glanced up.
"You've been on the road a while," she said. "Planning to stick around long?"
"Not sure," Kael answered.
"You should know," she said, lowering her voice slightly, "the preliminaries for the neutral lands' tournament start soon."
Kael tilted their head. "Preliminaries?"
"Mm. Every year, the Academy runs its tournament. A thousand students are already locked in—they have no choice but to fight—but for everyone else? There's only ten open spots." She tapped the counter for emphasis. "Ten. And the preliminaries decide who gets them."
---
Kael had heard rumors, but not like this.
"So anyone can try," they said.
"Anyone," the clerk confirmed. "Hundreds do. Thousands, some years. The preliminaries cut that down to just ten outsiders. Those ten enter the main tournament with the thousand students. Top ten at the end graduate. Bottom ten get expelled."
"And the rest?"
"They stay," the clerk said simply. "Until the next year's tournament."
---
Kael stood there, thoughtful.
"And the other ten?" they asked after a moment. "The ones who get in without preliminaries?"
The clerk snorted. "Money. Ten slots every year are for those who can pay a mountain of gold. Doesn't mean they survive long once the tournament starts, though."
---
The words sank in slowly as Kael left the hall that night.
So that was how it worked. The tournament wasn't a single open free-for-all. It was a pruning—a yearly trial that stripped everything down to one thousand and ten competitors.
For the Academy students, it was survival.
For everyone else, it was an opening.
---
Kael sat on the ridge under the stars, staff across their knees, and thought about it.
The path was clearer now.
Not immediate. Not even soon.
But when the time came, when they were strong enough, they would walk into those preliminaries, earn one of those ten places, and stand in that arena.
---
Later, by the small campfire, Kael practiced their barrier spell again, refining each word until the light of it became as thin and precise as a blade.
> Annual tournament.
Ten open doors.
The rest closed to all but skill and gold.
---
The Branch badge caught the glow of the firelight as Kael wrote in their notebook:
> Six months gone.
Six months stronger.
When the time comes, I'll be ready to step into those preliminaries.
And I will make it through.
---
The wind tugged at their cloak. In the distance, laughter rose from the town, warm and distant. Kael smiled faintly, closed their book, and lay back to stare at the sky.
For now, they would keep walking.
The path was long, but they could see the shape of it.