The underground hallways were flooded by first-year students coming out from the combat classes. More often than not, they were massaging some injured part of their bodies. Mending, a light element spell, fixed injuries but it could do nothing to help with the pain.

Looking over the moving crowd, Jon searched for his roommates.

Nevil and Aeron came up ahead, the former dragging one leg as he walked. Deon trailed behind the two, a dumb smile on his face as he talked to Elina. From the looks of it, he didn’t get injured at all during the class. And from the look of his clothing, neither did he spew his breakfast all over himself as Jon expected to happen.

“How did it go?” Bella asked Nevil as he approached.

“As bad as could be expected,” he answered without his usual cheerfulness. “I’m really not good with swords. Thankfully, Aeron went easy on me, so I only got a hit in the knee and nothing more.”

“Don’t thank me. I didn’t go easy, I’m just as incompetent in combat as you are.” Aeron sighed. “And we’ll have to go through it again six times a week until the end of the year. What a pain.”

“So you all did poorly in class then.”

“Exactly, though Nevil was the only one injured. Sorry for that, by the way.”

“No problem. As for what you said, Bella, we may have done poorly but at least we tried.”

“I wish the same could be said for the rest of us.” Aeron glanced back, making it clear who he was talking about.

Completely oblivious to the conversation, Deon stopped to sit on a bench, Elina still by his side. Although still somewhat disoriented from the hangover, his condition seemed to have improved.

“He didn’t even break a sweat,” Aeron grumbled as the four walked up the stairs, leaving Deon behind. “He paired up with that girl and she barely attacked for the whole duration of the class. The teacher said that they will both be penalized if it happens again.”

“Yeah, and she knows very well how to fight. Bella and I watched her at the Squire’s Tourney and she won all of her duels. Not even Jon was a match. By the way, how did you two fare at class?”

“He lost to me,” Bella responded, a hint of a smirk on her face.

“I came up only slightly behind.”

“And that translates to a…?”

“At least the two of you enjoyed the class then,” Aeron said, still grumpy.

“It was fun indeed. We didn’t have to go through any tedious theory on warfare or dusty treatises on swordplay. The teacher assumed that we already knew our way with a blade and ordered us to start sparring. It was practical combat, exactly as stated by the name of the class.”

“Our teacher did the same, unfortunately.”

They all returned to the dormitory, and to their respective rooms. They had one free hour to wash the sweat away before lunch.

“Can I go first?” Nevil asked. With only one bathroom for the whole room, they were all forced to share.

“Go ahead,” Jon said, grabbing the book atop his bed and heading for the balcony. The wind blowing wasn’t as cold as when he first arrived, just a sign of the change of seasons. After taking his robe off, he sat on a red wicker chair, put both feet over the balustrade, and resumed his studies. He still had to work on becoming an Archmage, after all.

The history of cultivation as we know it today—

Aeron followed Jon into the balcony and took a seat by his side. “Don’t you get tired?”

Jon responded with a shrug.

“We’ve just spent two whole hours fighting nonstop. Before that, we had two hours of lecture. Take a break or something.”

“You mean like Deon?” Jon asked, eyes glued to the open pages of the book.

—can be traced all the way back to—

“There’s a big difference between resting for a moment and becoming a debauched wastrel.”

“That’s harsh, especially from you.”

Aeron made to answer but stopped himself. He took a deep breath. “You’re right. It’s just that I’m stressed out about the class. The teacher kept yelling what Nevil and I were doing wrong. Seriously, why am I being forced to fight? The last thing I want is to become a soldier.”

Jon snickered at the response. “Then maybe coming to a war academy wasn’t the best course of action.”

—before Anno Unionis, the year of the unification—

“I could do without the sarcasm, thank you very much. Despite the name, the war academies serve to teach more than just warfare. Gwynland’s greatest scholars, alchemists, and spellcasters have all passed through one of the academies. Yet, they’ve all been subjected to such pointless struggle.”

Fucking hell, Jon cursed inwardly. Nevil had left but Aeron seemed to have embodied his blabbermouth spirit. Jon hadn’t even managed to finish reading the first sentence. Taking a moment to calm himself he said, “Look, I understand that you’re not exactly happy with the whole warfare aspect of the academy, but maybe I’m not the best person for you to talk about it. Because at the end of the day, I’ll always be glad for being here.”

He closed the book shut and put it to the side. “I spent years training to become skilled enough to pass the Squire’s Tourney. Thousands of other commoners would fight to be part of what you call a ‘pointless struggle’. I know because I had to fight against them. To me, becoming a knight means that I’ll be more than just a half-bred. It’s the single greatest chance of my lifetime, and I refuse to let it go to waste.” Jon didn’t mention his goal of entering the Secret Realm. Even so, he still managed to get his point across.

“I-I’m sorry,” Aeron said, somewhat embarrassed.

“Don’t worry about it. I understand that you’re already getting fed up with the class, but complaining about it won’t help. All we can do is work our hardest to improve and, hopefully, the classes will become easier that way.”

Aeron nodded, slowly.

“Now, if you don’t mind...” Jon turned his attention back to the book.

“Guys, where are you?” Deon’s voice sounded out from inside the room. “I had to walk all the way back here by myself. What great friends you are.”

Between that, and Nevil coming out of the bathroom soon after, Jon could say goodbye to any hope of studying.

Fucking. Hell.