The teacher announced that Kael had been officially invited to the National Academy.

  The class erupted into murmurs, and Mira’s face lit up with pride as Kael accepted the opportunity without hesitation.

  Later, the teacher informed him that his departure would be in two days.

  When the class ended, Mira walked beside him in silence. She felt a strange mix of emotions—sad that he would be leaving, yet happy knowing this was a rare chance, one that could change his future forever.

  Kael noticed her expression and smiled softly.

  Two days.

  His path was already moving forward.

  The classroom slowly emptied.

  Laughter and footsteps faded down the halls, leaving only the whisper of the wind through the open windows.

  Mira and Kael walked side by side, neither of them speaking at first.

  Mira stopped near the doorway.

  Kael took one step ahead before he noticed she wasn’t beside him anymore.

  He turned back.

  Her hands were clenched at her sides.

  “I’m happy for you,” she said softly.

  Her voice didn’t shake.

  But her eyes did.

  “You’re going to the National Academy. Everyone dreams about that.”

  Kael smiled, but it felt smaller than before.

  Mira looked away, staring at the sunlight spilling across the stone floor.

  “I just…” She took a breath. “Two days feels too fast.”

  Kael didn’t answer right away.

  A tear slipped free.

  It traced a quiet line down her cheek before she could wipe it away.

  Mira laughed under her breath, embarrassed. “I told myself I wouldn’t cry.”

  Kael stepped closer.

  He didn’t touch her—just stood there, close enough that she could feel his warmth.

  “You’re going to make it too,” he said.

  Mira blinked. “Make what?”

  “The academy,” Kael said. His voice was steady. Certain. “I know you will. I’ll be waiting for you there.”

  She looked up at him, surprised.

  “You really think so?”

  “I don’t think,” he said. “I know.”

  Her lips trembled as she tried to smile.

  Kael lifted his hand, hesitating for a moment, then gently brushed the tear from her cheek with his thumb.

  “So don’t fall behind me,” he added softly. “I don’t like walking alone.”

  Mira let out a small, broken laugh.

  “…That’s not fair.”

  Kael smiled back.

  Kael hesitated for a moment.

  “Then promise me something,” he said.

  Mira looked up. “What?”

  “For these two days,” Kael continued softly, “let’s spend them together. No training, no tests… just us, before I have to go.”

  Mira blinked.

  Her smile came slowly, but it was warm.

  “I’d like that,” she said. “I really would.”

  Kael held out his hand, a little awkward.

  “Deal?”

  She took it, squeezing gently.

  “Deal.”

  The sunlight followed them down the hall—

  two small figures walking side by side, sharing what little time they had left.

  At last—the day came.

  A carriage waited at the door of Kael’s house, its wheels still, its horses shifting impatiently.

  Kael stood beside it, eyes fixed on the road.

  He kept looking down the path, like he was waiting for something… or someone.

  The driver cleared his throat. “It’s time.”

  Kael took a step toward the carriage.

  Then—

  “Wait!”

  The voice cut through the morning air.

  Kael turned.

  Mira was running toward him, her hair messy, her breath uneven. She stopped a few steps away, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

  “Sorry,” she panted. “I’m late.”

  Kael stared at her for a second.

  Then he smiled.

  Kael’s mother leaned closer, curiosity in her eyes.

  “And who is this?” she asked.

  “She’s a friend,” Kael said quickly.

  “Ooooh,” his mother teased. “A friend… or a girlfriend?”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Kael panicked.

  “No! Mother, I promise—it’s not like that!” he blurted out.

  His mother burst into laughter.

  “I’m joking,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye.

  Kael finally relaxed, embarrassed.

  He looked around.

  “Mother… where’s Father?”

  His mother hesitated.

  “He’s taking care of some village business,” she said gently.

  Kael nodded.

  “It would’ve been better if he was here,” he murmured. “But… it’s okay.”

  Mira stepped closer.

  “Promise me something,” Kael said, looking at her.

  She tilted her head. “What?”

  “Promise you’ll make it to the academy too.”

  Mira smiled—small, but bright.

  “I will,” she said. “I promise.”

  Kael climbed into the carriage.

  The door closed with a soft thud.

  As the wheels began to turn, Kael leaned out the window one last time.

  Mira stood in the road, waving with both hands.

  Kael waved back until she became smaller… and smaller… and then just a shape in the distance.

  He sat back.

  Leaving everything you care about never feels good, he thought.

  But if I want to move forward… I have to.

  He looked out at the open road ahead.

  Let’s see where this journey leads.

  “Hey, kid,” the driver said, glancing back. “What’s your name?”

  “Kael,” he replied.

  The driver chuckled.

  “You know how lucky you are, kid.”

  “Lucky?” Kael asked. “About what?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” the driver said. “Your selection into the Academy.”

  “And what’s lucky about that?”

  “Seriously…” the driver muttered. “You really have no idea, do you?”

  He took a deep breath.

  “Let me explain.”

  “You want to become strong, right?” he continued. “That’s why you’re joining the Academy in the first place.”

  “Yes,” Kael said. “You’re right.”

  “Then listen carefully,” the driver said. “You’re lucky because this Academy offers opportunities normal academies never could.”

  “You’ll learn from powerful mages. You’ll grow stronger by sparring with students from other kingdoms.”

  “Other kingdoms?” Kael asked. “You mean… there are more?”

  The driver stared at him.

  “Are you an alien or something, kid?” he sighed. “Never mind.”

  “There are four kingdoms in total,” he continued.

  “The Avaris Kingdom, the Veloria Kingdom, the Drakhen Dominion, and our own—Elar Kingdom.”

  “They all follow the same system to train powerful mages and swordsmen. Every six months, they hold a joint sparring competition. That alone will push you to grow stronger.”

  “Oh…” Kael said quietly. “Now I understand.”

  After a pause, he asked,

  “So… who rules our kingdom?”

  “Our king is King Sol Elar,” the driver replied. “But most military affairs are handled by the Wizard King, Elric Zoldic.”

  “That position,” he added, “is the highest honor a mage can achieve.”

  He glanced back with a grin.

  “So tell me, kid—do you want to become the Wizard King someday?”

  Kael shook his head.

  “No. I’ll pass.”

  The driver laughed as the carriage rolled onward.

  By the time the conversation faded, the towering outline of the Academy had already appeared on the horizon.

  Kael stepped down from the carriage.

  The academy gates loomed behind him—tall stone walls, banners stirring lightly in the wind. Before he could take more than a few steps, someone approached from inside the grounds.

  A man stopped in front of him.

  “Are you the kid from Grace Village?” he asked.

  Kael nodded. “Yes.”

  The man smiled faintly.

  “Then let me introduce myself. My name is Kaji Uhara. I’ll be your teacher for the next two years.”

  He reached out and gently patted Kael on the head.

  “And you are?” Kaji added.

  “Kael Lumis,” Kael replied.

  “Lumis… you say.”

  Kaji’s expression shifted. For just a moment, his eyes lost focus, as if he were looking far beyond the academy walls.

  “Is your father’s name… Iren Lumis?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Kael answered quickly. “But—how do you know that?”

  Kaji paused.

  “…He’s an old friend of mine,” he said at last.

  The words felt heavier than they sounded.

  Kaji straightened and gestured toward the academy grounds.

  “Come. I’ll give you a tour.”

  As they walked, Kael’s eyes wandered.

  Only three students were on the training field.

  Two stood at the center.

  The boy moved first.

  Mana surged through his legs, cracking faintly beneath his feet as he lunged forward—fast, but not disappearing. His hand shot out.

  The air distorted.

  A mana-coated punch stopped short of the girl’s body, and the energy surged forward instead—an invisible blow flying less than a meter.

  Clack.

  Her wooden sword rose just enough.

  The strike shattered the instant it touched the wooden sword.

  Another attack followed from behind.

  Clack.

  Blocked.

  Then another.

  Clack.

  The boy pushed more mana into his legs. His movements quickened, boots scraping hard against the ground as he circled her.

  Mana clung to his fists like a second skin.

  He struck again.

  A punch.

  Then another.

  Each time, the mana detached briefly from his knuckles, slamming forward in short-range impacts.

  Clack.

  Clack.

  The air thudded with every collision.

  Still, the girl didn’t look at him.

  She stood calm and unmoving, wooden sword resting loosely in her grip, her feet shifting only when necessary. Each block was short, precise—intercepting the strikes at the very edge of their reach.

  No wasted motion.

  No panic.

  Only control.

  The boy clenched his jaw and forced more mana into his arms.

  That was his mistake.

  The flow of his strikes broke.

  For just a fraction of a second, his timing slipped—his punch arrived a heartbeat too late, his mana lagging behind his movement.

  The girl felt it.

  She stepped forward.

  Not back.

  Her wooden sword moved.

  Once.

  The flat of the blade struck his wrist—not hard, not brutal—just precise.

  The mana coating his fist shattered, dispersing into the air like mist.

  Before he could react—

  The wooden sword tapped his chest.

  Then his shoulder.

  Then stopped beneath his chin.

  Three movements.

  One breath.

  The boy froze.

  His mana collapsed. His arm dropped uselessly to his side.

  “Match over,” the girl said calmly.

  The third student, who had been watching the entire time, clapped his hands.

  “And that’s how she wins again,” he said with a grin.

  Kael’s jaw dropped.

  He thought it was incredibly cool.

  He turned to Kaji, eyes bright with curiosity.

  “During the whole fight,” Kael said, “she never once looked at him. Is that her sword style?”

  Kaji smiled.

  “You could say that.”

  Then he added, casually—

  “The truth is… she can’t see at all.”