Clang, clang, clang.
Inside the dimly lit room, I swung my hammer down, all alone.
Striking the iron, drawing it out just a fraction.
That revealed the next spot to hit.
Striking the iron.
In a space where day blurred into night, I simply communed with the metal.
With every repetition, what had started as an amorphous lump gradually took on the silhouette of a blade.
Two weeks had passed since that field trip. I had holed myself up in the research lab assigned to me, completely absorbed in crafting magic swords.
The room was roughly the size of a standard classroom, outfitted almost entirely with equipment my aunt and I had hauled over from the workshop back home: a magitech furnace, workbenches, a full set of whetstones, tool racks, and material shelves. The setup was practically identical to the one at home.
The anvil was no exception.
It was a well-seasoned heirloom, its center worn slightly concave from decades of hammering by my old man and the generations of smiths before him. That dip absorbed the metal's recoil—a tactile sensation no brand-new anvil could replicate.
I could have opted for a full suite of state-of-the-art equipment, but this environment was ideal for forging magic swords. Besides, Magias covered the cost of consumable tools, raw materials, and fuel.
The furnace fuel and ingots needed for magic swords had always been a major strain on our household budget. Having those provided free of charge was an immense relief.
Since the lab itself was soundproofed, I could hammer away day or night. My aunt had even told me that part-time guild work could wait until my life settled down, so being able to do what I loved to my heart's content made this place nothing short of a paradise.
Letting out a deep breath, I inspected the blade with care.
The forging and shaping were good enough for now.
I quenched the blade in the water.
A low hiss resonated, and a plume of white steam briefly blanketed the surface. This wooden tub had supposedly been in service for over a century, yet it showed no signs of wear. It was a prized piece, crafted from the heartwood of a rare tree.
Gauging the timing, I drew the blade from the water.
Any flaw in temperature or shape would ruin it right here, but my instincts told me everything I needed to know. The sound and minute vibrations were enough to confirm its success without even looking.
Leaving it to cool until the residual heat subsided, I would repeat the process at a lower temperature. Once that imparted the necessary toughness to the steel, I'd reach a good stopping point.
Only then did the tension finally leave my shoulders.
A casual glance at the clock showed less than thirty minutes before the morning lecture. Another all-nighter, huh?
"...Whoops."
I hurriedly banked the furnace fire, draping a fireproof cloth over it to choke out the oxygen.
Some dry bread would do for breakfast, but first, I needed a wash.
Fortunately, there were washing facilities nearby.
It was essentially a communal bathhouse, but in this world, magitech-powered hot water was a luxury. Another perk of the Imperial Faculty, no doubt.
Yawning as I stepped out of the lab, I ran right into Gerald. His lab was quite close to mine, so running into him like this was a regular occurrence.
"Morning."
"Mm. Working hard, I see."
I still didn't know the exact details of Gerald's research.
His room was always eerily silent, though an absurd mountain of tomes had been hauled into his lab on the first day.
"Go wash off that soot. It reflects poorly on us if the class representative is late."
Gerald had an arrogant air about him, but so far, he seemed like a decent guy. When I asked to borrow a pen the other day, he handed it over without a fuss.
After getting cleaned up, I was cutting it close.
Still, it was just a quick walk from the research wing to the classroom wing, which took less than ten minutes.
Right on schedule, Miss Blanchard arrived, took attendance, gave a few brief notices, and the lectures began.
As expected—or rather, beyond expectations—the classes at Magias were nothing short of world-class.
We had barely started, yet the curriculum was already diving into cutting-edge magical theories and applied magitechnology published just last month. Since the professors were often the very authors of the research papers, the material was easy to follow.
"Good morning, everyone~! Today, we're picking up from where we left off: non-linear interactions in personal space while connected to the Great Dragon Vein! If you have any questions, ask away~! Leave it all to Professor Yuriha~!!"
At first, I had found her overbearing and loud, but her lectures were remarkably sophisticated and refined. All we had to do was absorb the knowledge Professor Yuriha imparted, without needing to sort through the clutter ourselves.
The curriculum covered a broad range of topics.
Second period was ancient magitechnology.
It was essentially the equivalent of classical literature in my old world.
Instead of studying it from a historical angle, however, it focused on the foundational knowledge required to wield ancient magic.
"Time for class, you bastards!!"
The instructor was the baby-faced delinquent from the entrance exam.
Professor Elphin Jare.
"Hey, Brendan! You're in the Imperial Faculty, so you can read this much, can't you?!"
"I can't..."
"It says T-R-O-P-I-C-A-L F-R-U-I-T, dammit!!"
There were plenty of subjects I struggled with.
Whenever I encountered a concept applicable to magic sword refining, I tested it out that very day. Thanks to that, the foundations for a new magic sword theory were already taking shape.
Once completed, it would yield a revolutionary blade built on an entirely different concept from my old man's. To bring it to fruition, I spent every spare moment hammering at the anvil.
After several morning lectures, it was time for lunch.
Quite unusual for this world, Magias actually featured a school cafeteria.
"Bren-kun. Let's eat."
Whenever time permitted, I had lunch with Amae-san.
She didn't seem fond of vegetables, casually sliding them onto my plate with a sleepy look on her face.
"Lady Amae~! Lord Bren~! Me too! I would love to join you~!"
Luluck would often drop by as well.
I still wasn't entirely comfortable around girls.
"Hey, Bren, let's grab food."
I ate with Garry quite often, too.
Thanks to the field trip, we had grown close enough to exchange casual chatter.
"You crashed in the lab again, didn't you?"
"My new piece is almost done."
"Surprised you're not passing out."
"Honestly, the fatigue's finally starting to catch up to me."
Compared to the start of the term, I felt I had developed a solid rapport with the three of them.
The afternoons were reserved for practical training, which typically involved applying the morning's theory.
Today's lesson focused on telepathy—communicating across a distance.
We paired up, facing our partners to exchange simple thoughts.
My partner was Luluck.
Lord Bren, did you pull another all-nighter?
Well, yeah...
Oh, that simply will not do. You must not neglect your sleep. Everyone in the Imperial Faculty ought to rest more.
Luluck seemed like an airhead at first glance, but her magical precision was monstrous. Even with telepathy, a skill we had just learned, she communicated as fluently as in normal conversation. She was clearly far ahead of me. Her research topics were equally complex, making her a classmate with plenty of admirable qualities.
I sleep twelve hours every day, you know.
That's way too much.
Setting that aside, Lord Bren. What are your plans for next week?
Probably holed up in the lab, I guess.
Isolating yourself again, are you?
Luluck paused before continuing.
However, if you intend to spend your time in the research wing as usual, that works out wonderfully.
Why?
Ufufu... That is because...
Crossing her arms, Luluck broke into a villainous smirk.
"We are hosting a tea party soon, so I was hoping to invite you along, Lord Bren!!!!"
"Luluck-san, please keep your voice down."
◇
"Right... we have the Magias rookie tournament next month."
During homeroom before dismissal, Miss Blanchard made the announcement with her usual listless tone.
"Participation is optional, so submit your paperwork by next week if you want in~. Well, good work today~."
Miss Blanchard's announcements were always brief.
She shared only what was necessary, tossed out something resembling a joke, and casually drifted out the door. Despite her unmotivated demeanor, the dark circles under her eyes suggested she was perpetually swamped with work.
The rookie tournament.
I had heard the term tossed around since enrollment, but I didn't actually know what it entailed. Time to ask Amae-san.
"Amae-san."
"Hm?"
"What's the rookie tournament?"
With a sleepy expression, Amae-san murmured, "What is it, you ask..." before casting her gaze toward the ceiling.
"...Ah, right. You're not from around here, Bren-kun, so you wouldn't know. It's a Magias combat tournament held only in years when new students enroll. Everyone duels to decide the strongest freshman."
This school actually ran battle-shonen-manga tournaments?
Combat roles had been popular back in the old man's day, but clearly, there was still plenty of demand for them now.
"Are you entering, Amae-san?"
"Yeah. Most people probably will."
Which meant sitting it out put you in the minority.
Should I aim for the top spot at Magias, too?
"Aren't you entering, Bren-kun?"
Amae-san peered at me with her drowsy eyes.
I wasn't particularly interested.
Still, if entering was the norm, I had to consider my responsibilities as representative. It was safer to assume my actions would directly reflect on the Imperial Faculty's reputation.
"Well, there are people skipping it. Like Filie-chan, for instance."
Amae-san pointed lightly toward a nearby desk. Filiestra-san turned around with a bewildered, "Me?" expression.
"Filie-chan isn't really into this kind of thing, after all."
"Ah, right. Besides, my magic isn't suited for combat."
Her abilities were tailored for medicine, so it made sense that she didn't picture herself fighting. Though if someone took a hit from that paralysis magic of hers, most mages would be incapacitated instantly.
"Are you sitting it out as well, Walker-kun? If so, we can keep each other company."
Faced with Filiestra-san's gentle smile, I struggled to find an answer.
Her pale, delicate blond hair caught the evening sun, shimmering with a soft luster.
I realized this might have been the first time she had ever addressed me by name. Not that it really mattered.
◇
Setting the tournament aside, my priority was forging magic swords. Hammering away at the anvil felt like the best way to clear my head.
After parting ways with the others, I walked briskly toward my lab. Once the blade from this morning was polished and finished, the initial stage would be complete. Since it was just a prototype, a simple serial number would do for a name.
"Hm?"
I stopped just short of the lab entrance.
An envelope was pinned to the door.
"A letter...?"
I pulled down the wax-sealed envelope. The sender was Mercedes—wait, Mercedes?
I hadn't spoken to her much, but I understood her personality well enough. She was a strict meritocrat with the fiercest competitive streak in the Imperial Faculty.
A mysterious letter from an unreadable woman.
Delivered on the exact day the rookie tournament was announced, no less.
What was she playing at?
I needed to tread carefully.
Bracing myself, I broke the seal and inspected the contents.
Dear Lord Brendan Walker,
The roses in the garden have reached full bloom.
I hold great admiration for your daily devotion as our faculty representative. Would you care to lay down your heavy burden, if only for a brief moment?
Having acquired this season's spring harvest from Homura, I shall prepare tea as we admire the blossoms at the detached villa this weekend afternoon. I eagerly await your arrival.
Sincerely, Mercedes Meltzelia
Whaaaat?!
Is this a date?! Hey, is this actually a date?!
Wait—I just got asked out on a date! What am I supposed to doooo?!