While a Spellweapon wasn't absolutely necessary to become a great Spellcaster, everyone used one in some way or another.
The Chain Mistress could summon and control gigantic chains through elemental spell — strong enough to anchor a ship — right in the midst of a battlefield. But when the situation called for it, even she used a Spellweapon.
And while Croy's strongest spell was the mana bullet, he didn't need a Spellpistol to cast it. Sure, it allowed him to cast faster, but if he could acquire a different Spellweapon, his other abilities and possibilities would grow immensely.
Before him stretched a sea of weapons — a true fortress of blades and metal, where swords, spears, and bows shimmered in every conceivable form.
But it wasn't just the usual weapons. He also saw more unusual tools: a sai with an intricately carved handle, a hook knife, a massive war flail, and even an ancient morning star.
Each weapon carried a touch of majesty bestowed by their runes. The carefully engraved symbols in the blades, shafts, and bow limbs, glowing in various colors of mana, made each weapon unique.
About half of the students - those who didn't own their own Spellweapon — strolled through the rows and began to choose. However, as Cookoff had explained, the weapons didn't belong to them.
Or should Croy start calling her Professor Aerav from now on? That felt a bit strange.
In any case, the weapons were only loans from the Academy and had to be returned in the end. If they proved themselves with a weapon and developed a special rapport with it, they could apply to keep it permanently after their studies.
Owning a Spellweapon was a privilege granted to few, so the students had to take good care of the borrowed weapons.
For Croy, this room was a paradise. Yet, while some students were eagerly making their choices, he remained undecided.
He definitely wanted a Spellweapon.
But which one should it be? A sword, a spear, perhaps even a bow? His experience so far lay almost exclusively in handling firearms, but there were only a few here, and those would probably teach him little new.
He wouldn't overcome the plateau he was on if he didn't acquire something without the fixed limitations of a Spellpistol.
His gaze wandered as he pondered. An old-fashioned sword might be the obvious choice — quick, flexible, and usable by almost any Spellcaster.
But without practice, a sword was little more than a piece of metal in his hand. Sure, he could train and get better, but was it the right decision?
At the same time, he had to consider his own mana. Violet mana, oscillating at the highest frequency spectrum, meant complex and precise spells — a trait that increased his potential if he held the right weapon.
Should he look for something that could support the complexity of his potential spells? Was a war hammer too simple for him, while a sword or spear allowed for that precision?
He rubbed his head vigorously, as if he could squeeze out an answer.
A quick glance to the side showed him his friends. Fredrik was already holding a gigantic longbow, beaming as he examined it. Croy would have thought he'd choose a melee weapon, perhaps even brass knuckles, since he was skilled in body spells.
Apparently, he was mistaken.
Inera had chosen a whip — an unconventional choice but one that surprisingly suited her well.
He had to smile and turned back to his own selection.
'Now, let's see...'
***
In the end, he'd probably made the most boring choice of all.
Croy stood in the training area, holding a simple Einhänder with a crossguard. The blade was plain and functional, the whole Sword about 120 centimeters long and relatively light.
He put on a crooked smile.
Faced with the overwhelming variety of weapons, he couldn't think of anything else but to take the simplest thing he could find. Besides, he didn't want a weapon that occupied both hands. This way, he could still cast spells with his other hand, which would likely be advantageous for his fighting style.
His best spells were quick and precise, not overwhelming.
The one-hander was simple, yet the blade displayed several engraved Spellrunes that glowed faintly in various colors. These runes allowed him to cast certain spells through the sword — a tempting feature if you knew how to use them.
But the problem was, he didn't yet master any of these spells.
'A problem for later,' he thought dryly.
At the moment, he had no idea how to do such a thing. What he could tackle, however, was basic training with this weapon — if he chose a sword, he should know how to wield it.
Around him, the other students had long since begun their exercises. Some tested their new weapons, drawing curious glances. Others, especially those who obviously had little experience, were given a respectful distance.
A few of the aristocratic students immediately began friendly duels, and one mumbled something under his breath, whereupon his great sword suddenly burst into flames.
'Cool,' thought Croy.
Cookoff's instruction — or rather, Professor Aerav's — had been simple: learn to handle your Spellweapon.
When asked how exactly they should do that, she merely replied that it was up to each individual. They had the whole afternoon available while she observed how each one handled their weapon.
Many students turned to training robots or let themselves be guided by a virtual trainer, while others simply experimented freely. Since Croy had taken the longest to choose his weapon, he hadn't started training yet.
An idea occurred to him: maybe Fredrik could help. Or Inera. The two seemed more excited about the training and less confused than he was.
Besides, he wanted to see how they would handle their own Spellweapons.
Fredrik was the first he spotted. Croy was about to call out to him when he froze and grimaced.
'That lunatic... he's really doing it!'
Fredrik was walking, head held high, longbow in hand, straight toward the imperial twins!
'So it wasn't a bluff... he's a madman!' thought Croy, half amazed, half admiring.
'I'm witnessing the birth of a hero. One who might soon become a fallen hero, but a hero nonetheless!'
The two girls with silver hair — like their father, the Emperor — stood side by side, engaged in a breathtaking duel.
They were both a head shorter than Croy and almost identical. The two princesses were impressive, their sharp yet gentle facial features a reflection of the imperial family.
Croy felt many things at the sight of them.
Reverence, for he stood before true imperial nobility.
Pride, for in a way, the two sisters were the darlings of the Empire. Even though Croy had never known them personally, he had seen them grow up through their regular public appearances.
As if they had been siblings growing up together in the Empire. It was a strange connection, but publicly, they had always been a beacon of hope for the Empire.
And perhaps he also felt a bit of shame because he could hardly look at them directly. The twins in the Academy uniform were simply stunning. Their slender bodies moving with such grace drew a lot of attention.
'Do I have a thing for uniforms?'
There were so many stunning and breathtaking girls here, Sandman would've fainted.
The only distinguishing feature between the twins was their hair.
Princess Elis Cericius wore her hair long and loose, almost down to her hips, while Princess Lyn Cericius had her hair cut to shoulder length.
And there was Fredrik, who apparently didn't want to miss his chance now that they had a bit of freedom. He marched confidently and with a hint of audacity toward them.
However, the twins were completely absorbed in their training. They fought each other without using any spells — a duel carried out solely through their physical abilities.
Both wielded a katana with fiery red hilts. Croy's eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he recognized the Spellweapons.
They were the twin blades Sun and Flame, the legendary swords of the Emperor.
These blades, the symbol of the Empire, had once been wielded by their father during the border war. They had carried the Empire through battles and spread the symbol of the golden flame to the world.
The Emperor — long live the Emperor — had apparently now passed on his beloved swords to his heirs. One for each daughter.
Sweat dripped from their heads as they continued their duel with absolute focus. Sparks flew, and more and more heads turned toward the spectacle. Others began to recognize the blades and whispered reverently.
Croy shook his head as he realized the magnitude of what Fredrik was doing.
Attempting to approach the imperial princesses while they wielded their father's legendary katanas? That was like covering the entire pride of the Empire with disgrace.
Witnessing the two katanas in action, flying through the air in perfect swings in the hands of the princesses, left Croy in awe.
'No, Fredrik!' he thought desperately.
He couldn't just let his friend commit this sin. No, he had to save him before he rashly endangered the legacy of the Emperor himself — long live the Emperor.
Croy immediately set himself in motion, determined to prevent Fredrik from his act of madness and to preserve what little honor remained.
He was about to intervene when he noticed someone approaching him swiftly, oblivious to the marvelous duel taking place.
It was the heir of House Jradan.
The Chin.
Croy grimaced even more deeply. He stopped and focused on the young lord with a cold, calculated gaze. The tall boy had his Spellspear in hand and was looking only at him.
'You don't want the same from me that Fredrik wants from the twins, do you?'
"Croy Belmont," called out young Lord Jradan.
More than one head turned away from the twins to look over at Jradan and Croy. The young lord stopped a few steps in front of Croy, regarding him seriously.
"What does Lord Jradan want with the pervert?"
"Does he want to finish what Professor Aerav started?"
Croy's mouth twitched.
"Lord Jradan," said Croy in a cool, calm voice.
Jradan briefly let his gaze wander over the Spellsword in Croy's hand, then looked him in the eyes again.
"Fight me," said Jradan.
Croy had to process that for a moment.
'Oh, come on! You can't hate me that much! It was just one night outside — couldn't your aristocratic heart handle that or what?'
He sighed. The young lord apparently bore a grudge after Croy had prevented him from passing Professor Burton's test on time. But Croy had no real reason to fight him.
The lesson was about Spellweapon training. So far, he had only swung his sword a few times to test it and had no idea what he was doing.
He should be learning the basics. Finding someone, or using the virtual trainers to learn the fundamentals of swordsmanship. Maybe even asking Cookoff for advice.
What he shouldn't do was fight an aristocrat — and a damn strong one at that — just because he was a bit angry.
"Why should I?" Croy asked resignedly
The duel wouldn't bring him anything — he would lose within seconds if he fought with the Spellsword.
'Would I win with the Spellpistol?' The thought crept unwelcome into his mind.
The young lord frowned.
"I thought you would want to duel me as well," he said monotonously.
Why would he think that?
"When we faced each other in the garden, I felt it..." Jradan continued, looking deep into his eyes.
'Hey hey, that sounds kind of wrong... romantic?'
"You wanted it too. Just like I did," said Jradan.
"Hey, you're giving people the wrong idea!" Croy exclaimed.
But...
He knew what the young lord meant. Before he realized it, he felt his mouth corners lift into a grin.
He had already wondered during Professor Burton's test.
In the military, he always had a mission to fulfill, worked as a team to achieve a goal. Everyone had their role, and everything was carried out with cool precision.
You didn't always face your opponent — if an ambush was possible, you used that advantage.
If you could sneak past, Sandman used the Shadow Dome to hide the squad.
If the enemies gathered like sheep, Bunny blew them all up with a spell.
If there was a clear shot, Cookoff took them out from a distance.
It was all about completing the mission. Spider made the plans and they executed them as well as possible.
But since he'd been at the Academy and met all these monstrously talented individuals, Croy felt an unfamiliar emotion rising within him.
When he had faced the young lord in the garden, at some point, the thought of the ghost dog had vanished. Instead, he had only one thought.
And he had felt... euphoria. A fire within him, which he never knew was there.
'Can I defeat him?'
The thought had driven out everything else.
Something about witnessing these students had awoken something in him.
He wanted to measure himself against these talents. He wanted to know where he stood; he wanted to know how hard he'd have to work to stand on the same level as them. He wanted to know what he'd have to do to surpass them.
He wanted to defeat them. He wanted to fight them.
And win.
'Ah, Professor Burton, I really must apologize. This feeling is simply the pinnacle of joy.'
He grinned at young Lord Jradan, and a flame ignited in his eyes. His blood and mana began to boil.
The young lord grinned back.
"Excuse my language, but you asked for it. I'm going to bust your lordship's ass."