Time flew by in the academy in a continuous loop. Each morning, I woke up to the same grind. Training, practicing, pushing myself to be better, to be perfect. It was exhausting, a mental and physical drain, but oddly uplifting. My routine had a pull that kept me rooted, even when it felt like I was barely staying afloat.

There was always something new. Another lesson, another challenge, another test. It was as if the world itself was opening up, bringing forth new promises, waiting for me to step into them. Sometimes, I wonder if I am chasing after something that isn’t even real, but then I remember my father’s journal.

That journal was old, worn, and frayed at the edges, but it had become a constant companion. Every time I held it, the influence of the past pressed against me. My dad’s handwriting, sharp and thoughtful, was like a call to action. Inside those pages, I hoped there would be answers, some sort of disclosure that would bring explanation to all my questions.

But no matter how many times I turned the pages, I found myself only more and more immersed in its mystery. The last page held just one phrase, “Feuer Verlies.” It mocked me, the words repeating over and over in my mind like a chant. Why was it written there, almost like a final clue? The rest of the journal, the stories it held about the Swordmasters’ legacy, had to be connected to the disappearance of my dad, some deeper significance buried in those pages. I just had to figure it out.

But I knew I couldn’t do it alone. This mystery was too much for one person to bear. So, I turned to Lina. Maybe she could help me make sense of all of it.

Together, we combed through the academy’s libraries, flipping through book after book, desperate to find anything that might explain those mysterious words. But no matter how many books we opened, nothing seemed to connect. We were getting nowhere.

That’s when Lina suggested Hans. How could I possibly ask him for help? He had enough on his plate with his own studies and preparing for his final year at the academy. My problem, my quest, was nothing more than a distraction. I decided to keep searching on my own. Perhaps I could figure it out by myself. At least, I hope I can.

But as much as I tried to focus on filling in the blanks of my father’s past, I couldn’t ignore my theory and practical lessons. One of those lessons was Magic Incantation. The academy had made it clear from the start that magic wasn’t some secondary skill you learned when you had free time. It was integral to sword training. Magic wasn’t just an accessory, and we had to learn how to wield it. But the more I studied it, the more complicated it seemed.

The goal wasn’t just to learn spells. No, the goal was to master control over your mana, to create shields and barriers powerful enough to defend yourself in battle, even against magical attacks. There were two types related to conjuring spells. Offensive and defensive. For offensive magic, the individual used mediums such as wands, staffs, or other objects to cast the spells. There were proficiency levels to both offensive and defensive magic as well. The hierarchy started from beginner, intermediate, advanced, expert, and master.

For us swordsman students, we used our blade as the medium, provided that we were expert enough to conjure the spell from it. Hence, individuals who mastered this technique were called magic swordsmen, a level higher than an aura swordsman. Since this technique is currently out of our depth, my class started with defensive magic, which does not require a medium but just incantation and channeling our mana out of our hands.

There were many types of defensive spells, such as Protective Circle, Healing Circle, Purification Circle, Ward Circle, Arcane Barrier and many others. This term, our professors taught us Protective Circle and Arcane Barrier, focusing on building shields to ward off any kind of assault. Eager to see what I could accomplish, I threw myself into the drills.

The strength of a magic shield was directly tied to your mana. The more potent your mana is and the reserve you have, the more powerful your magic could be. Simple enough, right? But of course, it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t just about throwing more energy at the problem. No, it was about control and focus. And those related to magic incantations were things I didn’t have in spades, unlike swordsmanship.

When it was finally time for our magic practical lessons, the atmosphere felt charged. My classmates’ magic shields glowed with all sorts of colors such as blue, green, yellow. Each one was unique, a reflection of their innate connection to magic. It was impressive to watch. Lina’s shield, in particular, stood out. It had a soft glow, like moonlight, as if the shield itself was a part of her, a manifestation of her family’s sword style.

Then there was Seraphus. He was something else entirely. His magic circles were made of silver, gleaming with such brilliance that all our classmates’ shields, including my own feeble attempts, seemed laughable in comparison. He didn’t even need to concentrate. Magic just seemed to flow through him naturally. Effortlessly. It wasn’t fair, really.

Meanwhile, my own circle was very rare, as the instructors claimed. I was the only student in the academy whose magic circle flared to life in crimson. But it was weak. Pathetic, even. I felt like I was stumbling through the lesson, barely able to keep up with my classmates.

But I wasn’t ready to give up. The instructors kept saying that with more effort and physical training, our magic would also grow stronger. They said it with such certainty that for a moment, I almost believed them. Perhaps if I pushed myself hard enough, I could reach that level.

One thing during my lessons, I noticed Seraphus was silently watching me. He wasn’t just observing my magic. He was studying how I fought, how I moved, how I thought. I didn’t know if he saw me as a threat or if he just saw a challenge. Either way, it felt like there was always this silent competition between us.

There were times, though, when I thought about stepping back, acknowledging that Seraphus had the upper hand. He had that natural talent I would never have, and I could see the changes in him since our duel during the freshmen swordplay tournament. He wasn’t as angry anymore, not as closed off. There was a respect in his eyes now. But even with that shift, he was distant, hard to approach.

Days passed, and despite my continued efforts, I couldn’t break through the wall I had hit with the magic circle incantations. No matter how many extra trainings I did, no matter how much mana I tried to summon, nothing seemed to be enough. It was like my magic had plateaued, stuck in a state of stagnation that I couldn’t shake. Even worse was the fact that I hadn’t practiced the Elemental Seven since I arrived at the academy. At home, it had been my daily routine. But here? Well, the academy had a way of making sure that no one strayed too far off the beaten path. There was always someone watching, always someone who could report back. The last thing I needed was to be caught practicing something I wasn’t supposed to.

I couldn’t let this continue. I had to break free from the drudgery and push myself forward. But I needed to be smart about it. I needed somewhere quiet, somewhere the academy’s eyes couldn’t reach. Then, the perfect place came to mind. Blume Forest. Sure, it was a popular spot for students sneaking away for a bit of privacy, and probably not the best place for someone trying to avoid unwanted attention. But I wasn’t there for romance. I was there to train, to work on my swordplay and magic in peace.

On a Saturday morning, I pulled Lina aside, trying to keep things vague about where I was going. I didn’t want anyone following me. She didn’t question me much. She just headed off to join my other classmates at Skywalk, and I made my way toward the forest alone. My sword was at my side. I had to admit, there was something about the walk that made it easier to clear my mind.

Then I heard voices. My body froze, instinct taking over. I ducked behind thick bushes and peered through the leaves. A second-year couple was tangled together beneath an oak, completely oblivious to the world around them. For a second, I almost laughed at the situation. Of course, this was Blume Forest. But still, I couldn’t help but shake my head. Love was distracting. It was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Not now, not with everything I had to focus on. I shook off the brief annoyance and continued moving deeper into the woods.

It didn’t take long to find a secluded clearing. It was perfect. Just the space I needed. I unsheathed my sword. The sound sliced through the stillness of the air. The blade felt good in my hand, comforting even, as I began my warm-up routine. The Beginner’s Dance. It was basic, unquestionable, but it was also necessary. I moved lithely, anchoring myself, pushing away any worldly distractions.

Once my muscles were loosened, I moved on to the Elemental Seven. My body seemed to know what to do, the sequence as familiar as breathing. It was like I wasn’t even thinking about it anymore, just moving, reacting, stepping into the flow of the form.

When I finished the dance, I took a seat on a flat boulder, letting my breath slow. The cool stone against my skin offered some respite. I pulled out my canteen and took a long drink, the cool water soothing my dry throat, helping me focus.

Refreshed, I turned my attention to magic. I raised my right hand, ready to conjure the usual faint radiance that had become my signature. But then, something happened. To my shock, a brilliant crimson protective circle flared to life from my palm. It wasn’t just glowing. It was powerful, throbbing with energy, almost alive in a way I had never felt before. The surrounding clearing seemed to light up, illuminating the trees and everything in a bright luminosity. I stared at it in disbelief. This wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t what I had been practicing for.

“What is this?” My voice was scarcely noticeable, as if the words themselves might break the spell.

I tried again with my other hand, hesitated only a moment before flicking my left wrist. The first circle vanished, and another one came to life. Just as brilliant, just as powerful, but this time it seemed to pulse even stronger. I was stunned. Was this a fluke? Could I really have done this?

But I didn’t stop there. No, I had to push further. I had to see if I could control this. I took a deep breath, raising both hands. I felt the power come from deep within me, and before I knew it, two magic circles spiraled out from my hands. It felt like nothing I’d ever experienced before, alive in a way that was almost staggering. As I moved my hands, the rings danced around me, sizzling with magical energy.

Satisfied with the outcome, I dispelled the circles and focused on regaining my poise. I closed my eyes to reflect and then reopened them, raising both hands with my palms facing outward, as if reaching out to the forces around me. In a display of power, two layers of arcane barrier covered me entirely, forming a protective wall.

When I finally stopped conjuring, my legs felt like they were about to give out. My body radiated heat, but there was a sense of satisfaction, of accomplishment, that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I had done it. And for the first time in a while, I felt like I had broken through.

I couldn’t help myself, raising my fists and shouting, “Finally!” The words rang out in the clearing, as if the magic itself had given me permission to celebrate.

But then, I felt a shadow move in the tree branches. My instincts screamed at me. Without thinking, my hand went to my sword, and the blade slid free from its sheath with a quiet rasp. My body coiled, ready for whatever was about to happen.

I stood still, listening. I wasn’t alone.

“Come out!” I called, my voice sharp. “I know you’re hiding there! Reveal yourself, or face my blade!” My grip tightened on the hilt, and I felt every nerve in my body go on alert.