Volume 1: Enrollment at Magias Academy of Magical Arts

Chapter 9: I’ve Been Asked on a Date! What Do I Do!?

Clang. Clang. Clang.

Alone in a dimly lit room, I brought down my hammer.

I struck the iron, extending it ever so slightly.

That revealed the next point I needed to strike.

I hammered the iron again.

In a space where I’d lost track of whether it was night or morning, I did nothing but converse with the metal.

As I repeated the process, what had once been a lump of iron gradually acquired the outline of a blade.

Two weeks had passed since the field trip. I’d shut myself inside the research room assigned to me and devoted myself to forging magic swords.

The room was about the size of a classroom. Almost all its equipment had been transported from my family workshop with Aunt Coffey’s help: the magical furnace, workbench, complete set of grindstones, tool cabinet, and materials shelves.

The arrangement was virtually identical to my workshop back home.

The anvil was also ours.

Grandpa and generations of smiths before him had hammered upon it for so many years that the center was slightly concave.

That hollow absorbed the metal’s rebound and produced a sensation no new anvil could match.

I could’ve chosen to install all-new equipment, but my familiar environment remained optimal for forging magic swords.

Magias paid for consumable tools, materials, and fuel.

Furnace fuel and ingots had been major burdens on my family’s finances.

Having them supplied free of charge was an enormous benefit.

The research room was soundproof too, allowing me to hammer magic swords at any hour.

Aunt Coffey had said I could delay working part-time at her guild until I’d settled into my new life. Being able to do as much of what I loved as I wanted made this environment nothing short of paradise.

I exhaled deeply and carefully examined the blade.

The forging and shaping were probably sufficient for now.

I submerged the blade in water.

A low hiss sounded, and white steam briefly covered the surface. Apparently, this water trough had been used for more than a century without showing any deterioration.

It was made from the heartwood of a rare species of tree.

Judging the timing, I lifted the blade from the trough.

Any defect in its temperature or shape would mean failure, but experience allowed me to recognize such problems immediately.

Even without looking, the sound and subtle vibrations told me I’d succeeded.

I left it until the worst of the heat faded, then repeated the process at a lower temperature.

Giving the sword resilience in this way marked the end of a major stage.

Only then did the cord of tension inside me finally snap.

I casually checked the clock and discovered fewer than thirty minutes remained before the morning lecture.

Had I stayed awake all night again?

“Oops.”

I hurriedly extinguished the furnace, then covered it with fire-resistant cloth to block the oxygen.

Dried bread would be enough for breakfast, but first I needed to wash.

Fortunately, bathing facilities were nearby.

It was an ordinary bathhouse, though the magically heated water made it quite rare in this world.

That was another privilege of the Emperor Faculty.

I left the research room with a yawn and encountered Gerald.

Our rooms were quite close, so we met like this fairly often.

“Good morning.”

“Indeed. You’ve been diligent.”

I still didn’t know the details of Gerald’s research.

His room was always eerily silent, but an enormous number of books had been carried inside on the first day.

“Go wash off that soot. If the representative is late, it will set a poor example.”

Despite his arrogant attitude, Gerald seemed like a good person so far.

When I asked to borrow a pen the other day, he simply lent me one.

After getting ready, I barely arrived on time.

Then again, I only needed to move from the research building to the classroom building. Ten minutes was enough.

At the appointed hour, Professor Blanchard arrived, took attendance, and gave us brief announcements.

Then the lectures began.

As expected of Magias, their quality could only be called superb.

Our lessons had only just begun, yet they already introduced magical theories published last month and applied magic one after another.

Often, the person who wrote the paper taught the class, making the material easy to understand.

“Good morning, everyone! Today we’re continuing from last time! Our topic is nonlinear interactions with unique spaces while the caster is connected to the great ley line! Ask anything you don’t understand! Leave it to Professor Yuriha!”

At first, I’d thought Professor Yuriha was nothing more than an obnoxiously loud woman, but her lectures were extremely advanced and refined.

We barely needed to organize the information. We simply absorbed the knowledge she gave us.

The curriculum covered a wide range of topics.

Our second period was Ancient Magic.

In my old world, it would resemble classical studies.

But we didn’t examine ancient magic only from a historical perspective. We learned the fundamentals required to actually use it.

“It’s time for class, you punks!”

Our instructor was the youthful-looking woman with the delinquent manner of speaking who’d examined me that day.

Professor Elfin Jare.

“Hey, Brendan! You’re in the Emperor Faculty! You can read something this easy, right!?”

“I can’t…”

“It says, ‘TRO-PI-CAL FRUUUUUIT!’”

There were many subjects I struggled with.

Whenever a lesson seemed applicable to magic sword forging, I sometimes tested it that same day.

Thanks to that, I’d already glimpsed a new theory of magic swords.

Once complete, it would produce a groundbreaking weapon along a path entirely different from Grandpa’s.

For now, I was hammering one magic sword after another to make it real.

Several classroom lessons occupied the morning, followed by our lunch break.

Magias had a dining hall, a concept still quite rare in this world.

“Bren, let’s go eat.”

When time allowed, I sometimes ate lunch with Amae.

Apparently, she disliked vegetables. Without changing her sleepy expression, she passed them to me.

“Lady Amae! Lord Bren! Me too! I wish to join you!”

Sometimes Luluk joined us.

I still wasn’t accustomed to talking with girls.

“Hey, Bren. We’re getting lunch.”

I often ate with Gary too.

The field exercise had led us to exchange a modest amount of information with each other.

“You slept in your research room again, didn’t you?”

“My latest sword is almost finished.”

“I don’t know how you stay awake during lectures.”

“Honestly, I’ve started feeling a little sleepy lately.”

Compared with the day we enrolled, I felt I’d become fairly close to those three.

Practical training began in the afternoon.

Often, we practiced what we’d learned that morning.

Today’s lesson covered telepathy, allowing people to communicate over a distance.

We formed pairs, faced each other, and exchanged simple words.

My partner today was Luluk.

“Lord Bren, did you stay awake all night again?”

“More or less…”

“Oh, that simply won’t do. You mustn’t neglect sleep. Everyone in the Emperor Faculty should sleep more.”

Luluk looked a little foolish at first glance, but her precision with magic was monstrous.

We’d only just learned this telepathy spell, yet she already used it as fluently as ordinary conversation.

Clearly, she’d mastered it faster than me.

Her research was complex too. She was a classmate with much I could learn from.

“I sleep twelve hours every day.”

That’s too much.

“Incidentally, Lord Bren, what are your plans next week?”

“I’ll probably be in my research room.”

“Shutting yourself away yet again.”

“But,” Luluk continued.

“If you intend to spend the week in the research building as usual, that is wonderful.”

“Why?”

“Hee-hee… That is because…”

Luluk folded her arms and gave me a villainous smile.

“Everyone is having a tea party, so I was just about to invite you to join us!”

“Luluk, please keep your voice down.”

◇

“Right… The Magias Freshman Tournament will take place next month.”

It was homeroom shortly before the end of the school day.

Professor Blanchard abruptly delivered the news in her usual languid voice.

“Participation is optional. If you want to enter, submit the paperwork by next week. Good work today.”

Professor Blanchard’s announcements were concise.

She conveyed only what was necessary, occasionally made something resembling a joke, then slipped away.

She looked unmotivated, but the shadows beneath her eyes never disappeared. Apparently, she was very busy.

The Freshman Tournament.

I’d heard the term several times since enrolling, but still didn’t know what it involved.

I should ask Amae.

“Amae.”

“Mm?”

“What is the Freshman Tournament?”

“What is it…?”

Amae looked sleepy as her gaze drifted toward the ceiling.

“Oh, right. You aren’t from around here, so you wouldn’t know. It’s a Magias combat tournament held only in years when new students enroll.

“Everyone fights to determine the strongest freshman.”

This school did things straight out of a battle manga?

Apparently, combat mages had been popular in Grandpa’s era, but clearly demand for them hadn’t vanished in the modern day.

“Are you entering too?”

“Yes. I think most students will.”

So the people who didn’t participate were the minority.

Should I try conquering Magias?

“Won’t you enter, Bren?”

Amae stared at me through sleepy eyes.

I wasn’t especially interested.

However, if participation was the norm, I should consider my position as representative.

My actions would likely reflect directly on the Emperor Faculty’s reputation.

“Some people definitely don’t enter, though. Fily, for example.”

Amae pointed lightly.

Filiestra, sitting nearby, turned with a puzzled expression as though asking, “Me?”

“You don’t enjoy this sort of thing, do you, Fily?”

“Right. My magic isn’t particularly suited to fighting either.”

Her abilities were intended for medicine, and Filiestra herself probably wasn’t expected to fight.

Although most opponents would be helpless if struck by the paralysis-like spell she’d used.

“Are you perhaps sitting it out too, Walker? Then we’ll be together.”

I struggled to answer Filiestra’s smile.

The sunset lit her pale-blond hair, giving it a perfect sheen.

I felt as though that was the first time she’d addressed me by name.

Not that it mattered.

◇

Leaving the Freshman Tournament aside, I desperately wanted to forge.

I felt as though hammering a magic sword would give me a good answer.

After saying goodbye to everyone in the classroom, I walked briskly toward my research room.

Once I polished and finished the sword from this morning, it would be complete.

It was only a prototype, so assigning it a number would be enough.

“Hmm?”

I stopped outside the entrance.

An envelope had been pinned to the door.

“A letter…?”

I took the sealed envelope.

The sender was Mercedes—

Wait, Mercedes?

We hadn’t spoken much, but I understood her personality.

She believed strength decided everything and possessed the greatest competitive spirit in the Emperor Faculty.

A mysterious letter from a difficult woman.

On the same day the Freshman Tournament had been announced.

What was she planning?

Depending on the contents, I might need to be cautious.

I carefully broke the seal and read.

“Dear Mr. Brendan Walker,

The roses in our garden have reached their finest bloom.

I hold the daily service you perform as our faculty representative in the highest esteem. Perhaps you might set down that heavy burden, if only for a moment.

I have obtained spring-picked tea from Homura. This weekend, I shall await you at our secondary residence, where we may enjoy a cup while admiring the flowers.

Respectfully,

Mercedes Meltzeria”

What!?

Is this a date!?

Hey, is this a date!?

I’ve been asked on a date! What do I do!?

Continued in Chapter 10: It Wasn’t a Date.