Doggone Academy

Eternia Academy magic department professor.

When it comes to Eternia, there’s a saying that comes to the tip of one’s tongue.

I suppressed the urge to ask about news of Liza. Whether she was doing well or not, hearing about it would only trouble my mind.

Silveryn stared intently at my face and asked.

“Why that look?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“…Isn’t it the middle of the semester in Eternia?”

It should take at least a fortnight to get from Eternia to here.

For a professor, who should be busy, this place was far too distant to come and go.

“Right. I’m on a break for about a year due to certain circumstances.”

“When will you return to your position?”

“Next semester.”

Then the likelihood was high that she didn’t know Liza, who would now be in her first year’s second semester.

“Does this bond between master and apprentice mean you intend to take me to the academy?”

“That would be for your safety. I can’t look after you for a lifetime.”

“Safety…?”

Silveryn looked at me as if asking why I would question something so obvious.

“I’m talking about your sword.”

“…?”

Silveryn sighed deeply and said,

“Your sword is too dangerous. Not a threat to others, but to yourself. If word of your sword gets out, expect plenty to come after it. Don’t expect them to honor any chivalry and challenge you to a duel. Most will act crazily using any means necessary. Right now, you’re in the perfect position to get killed.”

My sword puts my own life in danger?

It felt like a blow to the back of my head. Having never possessed power in my life, I had not the slightest idea of the ripple effects it could cause. I lived my life in a safe city, forgetting how many perils lay beyond its confines.

“…”

“At the very least, I should train you to look after yourself. The academy is a conversation for later.”

“Understood.”

There was no reason to refuse being taught.

“What was your plan after finding the fragment of the star?”

“I intended to go back to Haman, where the forge is.”

“Forget and let it go now. Don’t even send a letter. Go back only when you think you can protect everyone who knows you in Haman with your own hands. Otherwise, they will all end up as hostages just to draw you out.”

Her words meant giving up my identity and starting a new life. It was a farewell to Haman of my childhood memories for a long time. My heart grew heavier.

“Yes.”

“And that sword. Don’t draw it out unless you’re on the brink of death.”

I nodded.

“All set then? Let’s go. The ghouls will be gathering again soon.”

Silveryn whistled with her fingers in her mouth, and a horse galloped over from beyond the crater. The horse halted in front of us and snorted. The crater strewn with ghoul corpses seemed to unsettle it.

Silveryn stroked the horse to calm it.

“Hop on.”

“One moment.”

I grabbed my backpack and headed toward the meteorite. Seeing this, Silveryn remarked.

“Surely you’re not looking for Venemaril?”

“What?”

“The herb mentioned in the book of the great sage Lutavis.”

Silveryn also seemed to know about the herb said to grant the ability to see the future.

“Not every meteorite carries seeds of Venemaril. That’s just a plain old meteorite, so don’t get your hopes up too much.”

“Then, may I scrape off some meteoric iron?”

A story I had heard from the metalworking master who taught me. Meteoric iron wasn’t popular among humans since it hadn’t been much researched, but dwarves considered it more precious than gold. Though trade with dwarves had been cut off for hundreds of years, making sale practically impossible, I wanted to gather some while I had the chance since it was so hard to come by.

“Fine. But don’t take too long.”

Extracting directly from the meteorite was a bit too ambitious given the tools I had, but luckily, there were many fist-sized shards of meteoric iron scattered around due to the impact. I picked out the usable pieces and filled my bag.

I quickly gathered enough meteoric iron to forge several ingots.

Silveryn took the bag filled with meteoric iron, secured it to the back of the saddle, and said,

“Get on.”

I climbed onto the horse, and soon after, Silveryn also mounted behind me.

I wasn’t particularly short for my age group, but because Silveryn had the stature of an adult male, once she took the reins, I was practically engulfed in her embrace.

I tensed up, and sensing something amiss, Silveryn remarked,

“What are you doing? Relax.”

“Can’t…I just walk?”

“Just get left behind then.”

“…”

As she shook the reins, the horse started walking. Silveryn’s body swayed with the movement, and feeling the fleshy pressure against my shoulders, I closed my eyes tight.

***

Dunkel laid out each received document on his office table.

These were ‘recommendation letters’ from those with recognized qualifications such as honorary professors, valedictorians from the academy, and chairs of the magic council. Notated with them were details about the prospective students. These analyses from the most authoritative figures in their fields were almost certainly not exaggerated.

The dean, Dunkel, scanned the documents with a pleased smile. There were many recommended candidates for the new semester like a fruitful harvest, each notable for their distinct talents and personalities.

Especially standing out was the prospect, Azelis, considered a once-in-a-millennium talent and an incarnation of a goddess.

Sion, a disciple of the sword master who subdued the Zaiyon continent.

Cecil, a genius enchanter rumored to transform ordinary stones into magic crystals.

Luna, an elementalist blessed by the Spirit King.

And Gale, a weapon master, the son of Baroness Varianne who defended the empire’s northernmost frontiers, having credited multiple subjugations of demonic beasts at a young age.

These were the five.

Most of those commended in the recommendation letters were widely known from a young age for their names and abilities, so there was hardly any need to scrutinize the documents closely.

Thud thud thud

As Dunkel contentedly stroked his beard, an uninvited barrage of thumps made him wince.

Thud thud thud

At his office window, a Stitch was noisily hammering against the pane.

It was Silveryn’s Stitch. Nothing else flew like that unless it was hers.

As Dunkel raised the window, the Stitch made a gusty entrance, scattering the papers and knocking a pen holder from the desk to the floor before calming down.

With a slight sigh and eyes squeezed shut, Dunkel muttered.

There was a mailbox designated for Stitches, but Silveryn always set this one to wreak havoc in his office, ensuring it demolished something every time.

It was her way of insisting her letters be read before all others.

Conversely, Dunkel’s Stitches were set to fly into Silveryn’s fireplace at her estate, which was designed as their mailbox, straight into the flames.

Dunkel recalled the time he first brought Silveryn to the academy and shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have accepted that wretched kid. My foolishness.”

There was a letter gripped in the Stitch’s leg.

As Dunkel snatched the letter, the Stitch took off flapping noisily through the window.

“…….”

He couldn’t dismiss such an unruly disciple purely because of her sheer aptitude. She was lazy and disdainful of others, but in her assigned tasks, she outperformed anyone else.

He took a couple of deep breaths and unfolded the letter.

It was Silveryn’s recommendation letter.

“Hmm.”

And it was written in the ancient script.

Despite the somewhat reckless nature of this communication, there was room for leniency. This was her first use of her recommendation rights since obtaining the authority.

The expression on Dunkel’s face became complex as he read Silveryn’s recommendation letter.

The recommendation written in ancient script was no ordinary one.

When suggesting a student whose potential could influence the survival of a nation or a group, or if revealing their abilities could bring significant threats to the child or the academy, it was customary to use the ancient script for security reasons.

Furthermore, upon such admission, the student’s abilities and original identity were kept a secret, known only to the dean and a few professors, and to avoid drawing attention, their grades were always recorded as mid-tier, even if they were top of the class.

And for that student, a ‘Masters’ Class’ would be conducted for focused development of special abilities.

However, the Masters’ Class was a special program that required significant academy resources, so the eligibility criteria were quite stringent.

Even in Eternia, where the geniuses of the entire continent gathered, there were very few who met the requirements for the Masters’ Class. There was not a single one in the current third or fourth years. In the second year was Amy Fontar, and in the first year, only Liza Pascal.

Discussions for the prospective saint, Azelis, to enter the Masters’ Class were also in full swing with the council for the next semester.

The Masters’ Class wasn’t something granted just because Silveryn requested it.

No matter how exceptional a wizard Silveryn was or the tremendous influence she wielded, this matter required several internal reviews within the academy.

Moreover, Silveryn had a strong rebellious streak and a history of ignoring academy procedures and traditions when it suited her, necessitating stringent verification.

Dunkel wrote a summoning message on parchment and sent it via Stitch.

Shortly after, someone knocked on the office door and entered.

A woman with long hair tightly bound and impressive sleek muscles stood glistening with sweat, apparently just after training.

“Dean, you called for me?”

It was Gael, Silveryn’s academy classmate and rival. Now Silveryn was far ahead, and Gael had accepted being inferior, but her competitive spirit flared up whenever it came to matters involving Silveryn.

Gael, always straightforward and a stickler for the rules, would objectively assess the child Silveryn had chosen better than anyone.

Dunkel gestured to an office chair and said,

“Take a seat.”

Gael flopped down and took in the disarray, saying,

“Silveryn again?”

Dunkel nodded and said,

“This time it’s a bit special. Silveryn has requested the Masters’ Class in her recommendation.”

Gael’s eyes widened with intrigued,

“That Silveryn?”

Dunkel nodded nonchalantly once more.

“I’d like you to vet Silveryn’s child as an examiner.”

Gael shook her head.

“If it’s a student chosen by Silveryn, they must be magical talents. As a combat instructor, I’m not the right person for such assessments.”

“Silveryn’s recommendation states that the child wields a sword.”

At the mention of a sword, Gael’s gaze turned meaningful.

“…Understood.”

“It’s a mission that will take quite some time. Clear your schedule for next month. I’ll sort out your necessary duties. Seek support if needed.”

“Understood. And Dean…”

“Speak up.”

“May I bring my own apprentice for the review?”

Dunkel detected Gael’s competitive fire reigniting and his lips faintly curled into a smile.

“You can, as long as you don’t disclose that it’s for the Masters’ Class.”

“…Thank you.”

With Dunkel’s nod, Gael stood.

“Then, I’ll take my leave.”