"...and thus, standing waves occur only under the condition that both waves have the same frequency and amplitude."
Professor Burton's hand practically flew over the screen in front of him while Croy somehow tried to grasp what was being said.
Mostly without success.
"The distance between two nodes or antinodes is exactly half the wavelength. Now, with this knowledge, let's see what happens when one end of this standing wave is fixed. Imagine a rope attached to a wall at one end-"
The bell saved Croy. Professor Burton paused.
"Seems we'll have to postpone this to the next lecture. Enjoy your meal, everyone."
The students began pounding vigorously on the tables. Croy also applauded, but his face was a grimace of pain.
'So much for being a proponent of practical learning! That was pure math hell!'
Not only was the lecture extremely hard to follow, but it was also delivered at such a pace that Croy could barely keep up. He had given up trying to write down everything that was said and shown after just one hour.
After Professor Burton's exciting introduction about spells and mana, they delved deeper into the nature of waves, because mana behaved the same way - which meant the students also had to understand the physical foundations of oscillations and waves.
That included solving differential equations, setting up wave equations, and now also standing waves... Croy felt sick when he thought about what else he would have to learn.
He had been in the military for three years! He didn't have the faintest clue about all these mathematical fundamentals.
As soon as the professor mentioned the example of a mass on a spring, Croy knew he was doomed.
'Set up the force equilibrium, then solve using the Euler method, then - what is he even talking about?' he had thought.
His synapses were practically burning. He wanted to go back to the military. There, he didn't even have to think about when he would have lunch.
Speaking of lunch... finally! His stomach was already burning with hunger. Since he had slept outside, he hadn't been able to have a proper meal in the morning.
"Hey, Fredrik, let's go grab something to eat quickly."
Croy looked over to his friend. No one came in sight.
"Fredrik? Dude, are you asleep?"
Fredrik was lying with his cheek on the table, drooling a little. Croy gave his friend a slap on the back of the head.
Fredrik nearly jumped out of his seat.
"I don't know! Huh?"
He looked around confused, as the students slowly began to leave the lecture hall. Croy sighed loudly. His friend would hardly be any help in understanding all these physical and mathematical concepts.
"Good morning. I said let's go get something to eat."
"Is the lecture over?" Fredrik asked incredulously.
Croy ignored him and started to leave the row. Fredrik followed him. But before they could exit the lecture hall, Inera suddenly stepped beside Croy and joined the two boys.
"That was..." she said.
"Difficult? Incomprehensible? Death itself?" Croy guessed.
"Boring?" Fredrik suggested.
Inera looked at them, then exhaled loudly and nodded.
"All of the above."
Croy had to laugh.
'At least we're all idiots together.'
Then he looked at Inera skeptically.
"I thought you wanted to keep your distance from us."
Inera just shrugged.
"One lunch won't condemn me."
Fredrik grinned.
"You missed us, admit it!"
"Be quiet, or I'll report you for peeping in the girls' bathroom."
They all burst out laughing and left the lecture hall together... but not before Fredrik let his gaze briefly wander over Inera's slender figure in the new uniform.
Croy noticed his friend's reaction and glanced briefly himself.
The sight was captivating.
Then he quickly looked away. Hopefully, she hadn't seen that. Now he felt ashamed.
Right then, he vowed to treat Inera as a friend with the respect she deserved... and gave Fredrik another slap on the back of the head for good measure.
***
"Tell me, why are only the tips of your hair blue?" Croy asked out of pure curiosity.
Inera swallowed the bite she had in her mouth before reaching up to the blue-dyed tips of her short black hair.
"Just a fashion choice. And you? Is your hair cut so short because of your time in the military?" she asked in return.
"Not really. A team member always cut my hair, so I never really paid it any attention. Now that I think about it, we might even meet her after lunch."
Fredrik and Inera looked at him in astonishment. They were sitting in one of the many cafeterias of the Imperial Academy, enjoying a wonderful meal - all on the Academy's dime.
"Yeah. Before her deployment in the military, she was a professor of Spellweapon training at the Imperial Academy. Now that the war is over, she might already be back. She never liked to waste much time," Croy explained calmly.
He was, of course, talking about his comrade Cookoff.
"Uh, should you be telling us this?" Fredrik asked uncertainly.
Croy smirked.
"I'm not keeping it a secret that I was in the military, but I'm not going to broadcast it either. As for my comrade, she feels the same way. There are no rules about that for us from the military's side."
"I always thought there was a certain level of secrecy," Inera remarked.
"There is," Croy replied, "just not at our level."
"Then what would be something that should stay secret?" Fredrik asked innocently, looking only at his food.
Croy grinned at him.
"Nice try."
"Tsk."
They finished eating and continued talking about Inera's and Fredrik's backgrounds. Inera was, as they both already knew, an aristocrat of the Empire. Her family wasn't as prominent as that of the young Lord Jradan, but she was still a lady.
House Clayford had corresponding expectations of their eldest daughter. Inera hid it quite well under her laughter, but it seemed there was considerable pressure on her.
Fredrik came from a wealthy but not noble family. Only his father was a spellcaster, and he used his talents to work in pharmaceutical research - which also explained Fredrik's skill with body spells.
That he was a helpless flirt, however, couldn't be explained by rational thought.
They walked through the Academy and, after ten minutes, reached a gigantic collection of gymnasiums. This was the training district of the Academy, and next to it was an actual large arena.
"In which gym did we have magic weapon training again?"
"Number Seven."
Gymnasium number Seven was just as impressive inside as it was outside. In the center stretched a large, open training area with all sorts of equipment designed to improve a spellcaster's abilities.
There were targets, measuring devices, and even obstacle courses.
An entire wall of the gymnasium was dedicated to muscle training with the most modern equipment. On another side were several doors with various labels: Cold Room, Heat Room, Zero-Gravity Room, Dark Room...
Fredrik whistled at the impressive sight of the training hall. Croy was also deeply impressed - it far surpassed the military barracks.
The Academy's budget had to be astronomical. And they weren't alone in their amazement.
Other students from their year had gathered, scattered in smaller groups. Some, most likely aristocrats or children of wealthy families, already had their own Spellweapons with them.
But no pistols or rifles.
Swords, spears, halberds, knives, bows, slingshots - everything humanity hadn't used for centuries.
Everything the modern spellcaster needed to unleash more destruction than a ton of dynamite.
Of course, even these old-fashioned weapons weren't just found anywhere - they were Spellweapons, adorned with rune spells. The highest-quality ones were covered with runes from end to end.
Croy noticed such a weapon in the hand of young Lord Jradan, who, unlike the first day at the Academy, stood completely alone.
'Seems like he's driven everyone else away. Boy, I must have made him real angry.'
In the young lord's hand was a winged spear - made of pure metal that gleamed silver in the gymnasium's light. It was even larger than the already tall boy himself. Various Spellrunes adorned the spear from the base to the blade's tip.
That was undoubtedly an impressive Spellweapon. If an heir of a great house was carrying something like that, what would the Princess of Al'Kadutor have?
Or the imperial twins?
Croy felt a certain excitement rising within him. On the other hand, he and his two friends didn't have Spellweapons with them.
"Didn't you receive one from your family?" Croy asked the young aristocrat.
Inera shook her head and made a face. Apparently, she didn't want to talk about it.
"Attention!" a voice suddenly called out over the loud chatter of the students.
Everyone turned wildly to see where the voice was coming from.
Croy himself flinched and almost stood at attention, but he pulled himself together, remembering that he was now at the Academy.
'Darn it, Cookoff! Can't you just greet us normally?'
In the middle of the area, seemingly materialized out of thin air, stood a beautiful woman with long violet hair tied into a ponytail. She had blue eyes and the aura of a confident and formidable woman.
On the ground beside her stood a large metal crate.
"Form a semicircle in front of me," Cookoff commanded in a neutral voice.
Some students looked around confusedly. Others followed her command. Some were clearly gawking at her figure under the tight black training suit.
"That's probably our professor," Inera said next to Croy.
He nodded. Fredrik... Fredrik looked as if he'd just seen an angel.
"You'd better be careful, Fredrik — she's dangerous," Croy warned his friend.
Fredrik nodded slowly.
"...I know."
After about a minute, a somewhat orderly semicircle had formed around Cookoff. She let her eyes survey the students before her, paying a bit more attention to those holding a Spellweapon.
When Croy's and her gaze met, he smiled in greeting. Cookoff stared at him a second longer but then looked away without any reaction.
Croy wasn't hurt. She probably just didn't want to give him any special treatment. That was better anyway — some students already had the wrong impression of him.
Once Cookoff was satisfied, or simply ready, she spoke loudly and clearly.
"Good afternoon. I am Professor Aerav, responsible for Spellweapon training."
She said everything so coolly and calmly that she immediately contrasted with the jovial Professor Burton in the minds of all the students.
Cookoff stepped over to the crate beside her and opened it. She continued speaking calmly.
"You should all already know what Spellweapons are and a bit about how they work — but since we're required to ensure everyone has the same knowledge, I'll give you a brief overview."
She pulled something out of the crate and showed it to everyone. It was a pistol.
"What is this?" she asked.
Some laughed. Cookoff's gaze immediately fixed on one of the laughing students.
"You there laughing, you can surely answer the question. What is this?"
The student was still laughing but clearly nervous under Cookoff's cold stare.
"A Spellpistol, of course."
"Wrong," Cookoff said immediately.
"That wasn't a trick question, in case you're wondering. The answer isn't 'tool' or 'catalyst.' The answer is that what I'm holding here is a nine-millimeter pistol, as it's still manufactured today - with brass ammunition."
Now some tilted their heads. Why was their professor presenting them with an ordinary pistol?
Cookoff observed them, then sighed, clearly disappointed.
"I think you need a demonstration to understand."
"You haven't even explained anything yet!"
Croy was about to smirk when... Cookoff looked him directly in the eyes.
And pointed the pistol at him. His eyes widened, and before he could even blink, Cookoff pulled the trigger and shot at him.
His barrier spell activated, and the bullet bounced harmlessly off the mana shield. Croy's eyes were wide open.
The students around him had recoiled in shock. Some had even screamed.
"Did the professor just try to kill him?"
"What is she thinking? That can't be allowed!"
"Did she know he had a barrier spell active?"
"Maybe she just wanted to rid us of the pervert..."
Croy stared at Cookoff in disbelief... Of course, she knew he had a barrier spell active. They had served together for years and both knew that a soldier always had a barrier spell passively activated - but that she would shoot at him in front of everyone was something he never expected.
With his eyes and lips, he silently formed a message.
'Are you crazy?'
Cookoff actually smirked, but only for a brief moment before she put the smoking pistol away.
"Well reacted, student."
'Is that supposed to make me popular?!'
"As you can see," Cookoff continued unperturbed, "normal weapons, even armor-piercing ammunition, are ineffective against well-placed mana. That's why we spellcasters use Spellweapons."
She returned to the metal crate and bent down to retrieve something. Inera and Fredrik slowly came back to Croy's side.
"Dude, I thought you were comrades?"
"She's always had her ways," Croy sighed.
Cookoff pulled a large sniper rifle out of the metal crate. More than one student visibly tensed in fear.
"Don't worry," Cookoff smiled devilishly, "I won't shoot anyone else... for now."
She then showed the terrified students the sniper rifle.
"This is my personal Spellweapon. But nearly all of you who have a weapon with you use old-fashioned weapons like swords and bows. Can someone tell me why?"
No one spoke. Not even Inera raised her hand, although she had been eager to speak earlier in Professor Burton's class.
In the end, no one wanted to answer. So Cookoff continued undisturbed.
"Because the more mechanically complicated a weapon is, the harder it is to turn a normal weapon into a Spellweapon. That's why old-fashioned, simpler weapons are better suited as Spellweapons. Can someone then explain why the military uses pistols and rifles?"
This time, someone dared to step forward. Croy had to catch his breath when he saw who it was. It was the girl he had seen on the first day at the Academy.
The beauty with the golden-blonde hair and deep blue eyes.
And the unsettling mana.
"Yes?" Cookoff asked, but she also suddenly gripped her sniper rifle tighter.
The girl spoke softly — it seemed it had taken her great effort to even speak up.
"The military's Spellweapons aren't like ordinary pistols... they lack many mechanical components. They can't shoot bullets but are specially designed for certain military spells..."
Her voice grew quieter with each word until it was just a murmur. Cookoff relaxed a bit and nodded in satisfaction.
"Exactly. But the problem is that the few spells that can be cast through a Spellpistol or Spellrifle are very limited. They allow no growth. They are weapons of war. Even I, though I'm holding a sniper rifle here, don't actually use an enchanted rifle."
She removed the magazine from the rifle and showed it to everyone.
"My best spells allows me to manipulate the ammunition of the sniper rifle — with the help of rune spells. In that sense, my Spellweapon is the ammunition."
Then she pointed to a student who was holding a magic sword. He flinched.
"You all use unique Spellweapons, suited to your strengths as Spellcasters. That's what a Spellweapon is — a catalyst of your strengths, but never the source of your power."
Now she smiled for the first time.
"Those of you who don't have your own Spellweapon yet should accompany me to the armory after this introduction. It's time to equip you."
Croy's heart began to beat faster. He had to smile.
His own Spellweapon.
'Now we're talking!'