September 1, 3108
I approached Auditorium 9 in Block B, which was designated for theoretical lessons. The layout was tiered, with each row slightly higher than the one before it.
The auditorium consisted of 20 rows, each containing 30 seats. There were four aisles for passage—two on the sides and two splitting the room into three sections, each containing 10 seats. The rows were packed closely together, making those seated near each other uncomfortably close.
When I entered, most of the seats were already occupied, and it was easy to spot groups of people who had already formed alliances.
On the left side, the majority were allies and families linked to Cindercrest. On the right side, it was the opposite—those associated with GlaciarDominion. Naturally, the representatives of both clans sat at the center of their respective groups.
Perfect.
The central section was a mix of minorities, people allied with other powers, and those who preferred neutrality. That was the ideal spot for me.
I pulled my hood up as I scanned for a seat. For security.
I chose a seat in the central group, row 15, as close to the right aisle as possible.
Exactly at 8:00 AM, a woman entered the hall. She had red-brown hair and rusty-colored eyes. Her figure was ideal, and every detail about her movements gave the impression of strict training. It wasn't elegance that she exuded—it was discipline. Absolute discipline.
She walked to the podium at the center of the auditorium, and her voice echoed through the speakers.
"Good morning, students."
Her voice had absolute authority, leaving no room for opposition.
"My name is Amelia Ludwin. I am the head of the ManaArmis faculty. In case of an emergency or an exceptional situation, you will find my office in Block A of the academy."
As she spoke, the auditorium doors opened, and two girls entered, clearly late. They froze the moment Amelia's gaze fell on them. One of them began to tremble slightly.
"Since today is the first day, I will overlook this delay. But if it happens again—prepare for the consequences."
I have no great desire to confront you... I thought to myself, instinctively pulling my hood tighter.
"I hope that everyone has passed the testing to receive an academic ID. If any of you have not done so yet, you will have the opportunity next week," Amelia Ludwin announced.
As she spoke, all the windows closed, and the lights dimmed. A large hologram appeared above her, displaying academy rules and guidelines.
Amelia began listing the rules in her authoritative tone:
For essential subjects, there would be three assessments during the semester and a final exam.
Absences or rule violations would result in penalties.
Optional subjects could be chosen freely, but they, too, would include assessments and conclude with a final exam.
If a student failed to achieve sufficient marks in any subject, they would not be admitted to the final exams.
Any student with outstanding arrears at the end of the year would face expulsion from the academy.
"I wish you success in your studies. For the rest of the day, you are free," she concluded.
The students began packing up, and I joined them. Today, optional subjects hadn't yet begun, but the training facilities were open. My destination was already clear: the archery field.
My previous exploration during yesterday's run had paid off. I recalled seeing a more distant field, open-air, with targets set against the wind currents that flowed freely across the landscape.
Arriving at the field, I saw no one there. The doors were open, so I entered.
The design of the facility was different—distinct from the other buildings. The walls and floor were crafted from polished wood, and one wall, the one facing the targets, was entirely open, leaving the shooting range exposed to the elements. The roof had a slight curvature and was covered in tiles or shingles, giving the structure a simple yet refined appearance.
To the left, five bows were propped against the wall. They were straight bows, designed for stationary archery, quite different from the lightweight, dynamic bows I was used to.
I stepped closer and observed the bows.
I hope no one will mind if I borrow one.
Choosing a bow, I noticed it was longer and heavier than my usual weapons. However, its weight lent it stability in my grip. The arrows beside it were simple wooden shafts, sharpened at the tips—functional, yet unremarkable.
Finding a clear spot, I positioned myself.
My left arm faced the target.
My feet were set shoulder-width apart.
My knees were relaxed.
My back was straight, shoulders loose and calm.
My focus locked onto the target—yet I didn't forget the wind currents flowing in the open air.
I extended my arm, holding the bow. Unlike before, I didn't need to exert effort to maintain my stance. As soon as I began drawing the string back, the bow seemed to stabilize itself, the tension harmonizing with my movements.
I watched the arrow soar through the air, its speed only increasing as it carved its path through the wind.
Wshh!
It was searching—searching for its target.
Push!
And it found it. The arrow struck close to the center, just shy of perfection.
"Not bad."
I flinched at the sudden voice. It came from startlingly close, though there had been no sign of anyone nearby. No sound, no movement. It was as if the wind itself had hidden his existence.
I turned sharply to face the man.
He had gray hair, evidence of advanced age, accompanied by a matching beard. His black eyes were devoid of light, almost lifeless. He stood taller than me, broad-shouldered, with muscles still prominent despite the passage of time.
"You are a new student, as far as I can tell," he said.
I relaxed slightly as I realized his demeanor resembled that of an instructor.
"Yes," I replied.
"Leave your shoes at the entrance as you enter the dojo," he ordered curtly.
I followed his gaze downward, where my feet—still clad in combat boots—were planted on the polished wooden floor.
"Okay."
I returned the bow to its place and stepped out of my boots at the entrance, leaving them neatly to the side.
"Which organization are you from?" he asked.
"None," I answered honestly.
His face remained unchanged, but I could sense his disbelief.
"If you don't want to say, just say so," he replied, a hint of curiosity hidden in his otherwise indifferent tone.
"I'm not lying. I was trained by a war veteran who doesn't belong to any power," I clarified.
Technically, I thought, I belong to the Vaylith clan, but since it's just me and Master now, it's no different than having no power at all.
"Was this veteran a scout?" he asked suddenly.
His question caught me off guard. He had already guessed as much, so why ask again?
"Yes," I said cautiously.
"Strange… I thought I knew every scout who's still alive. Or maybe one of them has come back from the dead," he muttered, more to himself than to me.
His words sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. Was that a threat?
The man must have noticed my tension because he followed up with, "Relax. I'm not digging for secrets. I have no interest in prying that far. I'm just curious about what the past generation is up to."
He dismissed the matter as casually as he had brought it up.
"Now then, let's get back to official business. My name is Karlos Hidklif. I'm the archery instructor in charge of the academy."
Hidklif? The name rang faintly familiar in my mind, though I couldn't place it.
"...Now, you can introduce yourself so I can register you in advance," he prompted.
His voice pulled me back to reality. Distracted by my thoughts, I gave my answer without hesitation.
"Kail Vaylith."
The moment my name left my lips, the faint recognition I'd felt about his name grew stronger. Something about Hidklif gnawed at the edge of my memory…
After I answered, a wave of anxiety settled in my chest, gnawing at my mind as I frantically searched for memories connected to the Hidklif family. My thoughts raced, but Instructor Karlos's voice effortlessly pierced through them.
"Do you know about Evans?" he asked.
"Yes, that's how Master was written in the documents I found about him the first time."
The realization hit me like a hammer. I said it out loud. I had carelessly revealed something I'd spent so much effort trying to hide. My identity—the one I wanted to bury until the time was right—was now on the surface.
But perhaps... perhaps he wouldn't connect the dots. There was still a small chance that he'd dismiss the Vaylith name as coincidence. Maybe he'd overlook the fact that I was a scout and that I used a bow.
Little chance he'll believe that, I thought bitterly.
Still, I kept my expression neutral, masking the storm within.
"No," I said, feigning ignorance.
The answer didn't sound convincing even to me.
"Is he alive?" Karlos asked.
His tone revealed no hatred, no joy. Just… curiosity. Yet there was something there—a faint twinkle in his eyes that hinted at something deeper. I couldn't tell what it was.
Now that I'd already slipped up, hiding the truth further seemed pointless.
"Yes," I replied.
"Very good," Karlos said simply, as if that answer satisfied something unspoken.
"And… that's it?" I thought, almost stunned.
There were no further questions. No accusations. No lectures. Just a calm acceptance as Karlos turned to a hologram in front of him. The glowing interface revealed a university application—likely for registering my information.
"Why do you have the same last name as the master?" he asked casually.
"It's not a last name," I replied.
"Then what is it?"
"It's a title."
That's all you're getting out of me, I thought silently, watching for any reaction.
Karlos didn't say anything anymore. If he knew more, he didn't show it at all.
"Can I still shoot the bow?" I asked, eager to move on.
"Of course," Karlos said, nodding. "But activate the circuit this time."
"Only the circuit?"
"Yes," he confirmed.
I obeyed, pulling in the aether as I activated the circuit. The sensation was subtle—a faint hum of energy that ran through me. The wind's hand surrounded me gently, but it had no effect without a technique or my armor.
I picked up the bow once more, the weight of it familiar now. I shot arrow after arrow, the whispering currents guiding my aim. When I had fired the last of the five arrows beside me, Karlos's voice broke the silence again.
"Did you open a part of the armor recently?"
"Yes," I answered.
"Then it's clear."
What's clear?
I waited for him to continue, but the sentence ended there. Karlos simply watched me, his gaze unreadable.
What did he mean? What does he see?
I couldn't ask, not directly. So I remained silent, my mind racing once more as I processed what had just happened.