After the intimidating yet motivating speech from the vice principal, we were divided into different classes. I found myself in Class D, and to my satisfaction, Torvik was in the same group. We exchanged knowing grins, both eager for what lay ahead.
Our teacher, Rufus, was a young man with sharp eyes and an air of quiet authority. A crossbow rested on his back, making me wonder just how skilled he was with it. As he introduced himself, he explained that he would be our instructor for all five main courses. He also elaborated on the vice principal's words about side courses.
"I recommend focusing on the main curriculum for the first semester," Rufus advised. "It's already demanding enough—memorization, theory, and practical application will test your limits. Overloading yourselves too soon might slow your progress rather than enhance it."
Most of the class nodded in agreement, but something inside me urged me to at least explore what the side courses had to offer.
Rufus then led us to our main classroom, a large hall filled with neatly arranged desks and a massive chalkboard at the front.
"This will be where all your theoretical lessons take place," he explained. "For practical training, we'll meet at the arena. The academy follows a rotating schedule so that each class gets dedicated time and space for training without interference."
He continued explaining our daily schedule, breaking down the duration of each class and how we'd be graded. It turns out we weren't just tested on exams—points could be earned through exceptional behavior, outstanding combat performances, and special contributions to the academy. Those who excelled would rise in rank, gaining access to better resources, stronger mentors, and even invitations to special training sessions with higher-ranking summoners.
A student raised their hand. "What are we supposed to do for the rest of the day? Normally, we'd have a full schedule."
Rufus smirked. "You all heard the vice principal's speech, didn't you? Your task is simple—become stronger and wiser. Use this time to familiarize yourself with the academy, make connections, and start forging your path. You won't get many free days once the real lessons begin."
With that, he dismissed us, and we were left with the entire afternoon to ourselves.
As we stepped out of the classroom, I turned to Torvik. "What's your plan for today?"
He grinned. "I want to check out the smithies. Dwarves and forges—it's in our blood," he said proudly.
I nodded. "I was thinking of taking a look at the side courses. Might as well see what they have to offer while we have time."
Torvik's grin widened. "Then let's do both."
Our first stop was the Enchanters' Hall. The moment we stepped inside, the air hummed with raw mana. Strange glowing symbols covered the walls, shifting and pulsing like living things. Students sat at desks, carefully drawing intricate magical circles onto scrolls, weapons, and even pieces of armor. The instructor, an elderly man with silver-rimmed glasses, noticed us immediately.
"Ah, new students," he said with a welcoming smile. "Curious about enchanting, are you?"
We nodded, and he gestured for us to step closer. "Enchanting is one of the most delicate and mentally demanding side courses in the academy," he explained. "It requires an extensive understanding of magical circles, precise mana control, and a great deal of patience. Every enchantment is inscribed using a magic circle, a formula that dictates the effect the enchantment will have. A single misplaced rune or incorrect sequence can cause the spell to fail—or worse, backfire."
He waved his hand, and a golden magic circle formed in the air before him, rotating slowly. "For example, this is a basic reinforcement enchantment. When applied correctly to a weapon, it increases durability and sharpness. However," he flicked his wrist, altering the pattern slightly, "if I misalign even a single rune…" The magic circle flickered violently before shattering like glass, sending a harmless wave of energy outward.
Torvik let out a low whistle. "So one wrong move and the whole thing collapses?"
The enchanter nodded. "That's why so few people pursue it. It takes years of study and practice to master. But for those who do, the rewards are immense. A properly enchanted weapon can turn a mediocre fighter into a formidable opponent."
I was fascinated. My ability to analyze things could be incredibly useful here. If I could break down and understand the patterns of these magic circles, I might be able to find flaws in failed enchantments or even improve existing ones. It wouldn't be easy, but I had an advantage most people didn't.
Before I could ask more, Torvik tugged at my sleeve. "Come on, let's check out the real fun stuff," he said, dragging me toward the forge.
As we entered the smithing area, the heat hit us immediately. The rhythmic clang of hammers against metal filled the air, and sparks flew as apprentices shaped molten steel into weapons and armor. Torvik's entire demeanor shifted—his eyes lit up, and he inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of burning coal and hot iron.
"This," he declared, "feels like home."
A burly blacksmith noticed us and approached. "You interested in smithing, lads?"
Torvik nodded eagerly. "I was practically raised in a forge! Smithing isn't just a craft for dwarves—it's a way to express emotions, to release frustration, to create something lasting."
The blacksmith grinned. "Aye, then you'll fit right in. It's not an easy path, but it's a rewarding one. Nothing feels quite like holding a weapon you forged with your own hands."
Torvik was completely sold, and before we even left, he had already decided—he would take smithing from day one. I, on the other hand, was still uncertain.
We spent the rest of the afternoon exploring more side courses.
The Alchemy Lab was a chaotic but fascinating place, filled with bubbling potions, rare herbs, and strange crystal formations. Students mixed ingredients with careful precision, while others experimented with explosive results—sometimes quite literally. The instructor explained that alchemy was a mix of science and magic, requiring both knowledge and intuition. A skilled alchemist could create powerful potions, poisons, and elixirs capable of enhancing a summoner's abilities.
That caught my attention. If I could analyze the properties of ingredients more efficiently than others, I might be able to develop new recipes or improve existing ones. Alchemy wasn't just about following instructions—it was about understanding reactions. My ability could give me an edge in creating potent elixirs others would struggle with.
The Runecrafting Workshop, in contrast, was quiet and disciplined. Here, students carved ancient symbols into stones, weapons, and armor to channel magical energy in unique ways. Runecrafting was different from enchanting—it didn't rely on magic circles but rather on direct inscriptions that infused objects with stable, long-lasting effects.
If my ability let me see how runes connected and influenced one another, I might be able to enhance weapons in ways even experienced runesmiths hadn't thought of.
By the end of the day, I was exhausted from all the information. I hadn't expected to be drawn to so many disciplines, but here I was, torn between three—Runecrafting, Alchemy, and Enchanting. Each of them had incredible potential, especially for someone like me, a commoner trying to carve out a place in this world.
I could already see a path forming—if I learned to enchant clothing and weapons, I could sell them for a steady income. Alchemy could provide valuable resources, and Runecrafting could enhance both fields. It was a lot to consider, but one thought nagged at me.
Was my ability to analyze and understand patterns a kind of cheat?
I shook my head. It was just a small advantage, nothing compared to the raw power of some nobles. But it made me wonder—what if I had an ability like telekinesis or elemental control? Would that change everything?
For now, I had a decision to make. And whatever path I chose, I would make sure to master it.