Tulia’s heart skipped a beat, and an ominous premonition surged within her.
It’s all gone completely off the rails now.
What was her original plan, again?
Simple: send Lisbeth into the Academy, let her quietly and unremarkably muddle her way to graduation.
As long as she fulfilled that damned clause in the Elf Mother’s Contract—“raise her to adulthood and ensure she receives an education”—she could figure out how to separate the Life Seed from her own body, then find some beautiful mountain retreat, buy the comfiest coffin, and continue her grand dream of “sleeping till the end of time.”
But now?
This “99%” Wood Element Affinity was like lighting up a million-watt spotlight in the dark, with bold letters written on top: “Look here! Super genius alert!”
This was completely at odds with her plan of “lying low and slipping by”!
She could already imagine the days to come: her foolish daughter would surely become the Academy’s top priority, both as a research subject and as someone to protect. Teachers would swarm around her, with minor exams every three days, major exams every five days, endless academic reports, magic competitions until her hands cramped…
And what about her, the mother?
No peace for her either! Every few days, she’d be summoned to the school to “share parenting experiences,” and would have to deal with nobles wanting to “invest in” the genius from time to time…
Her roast chicken shop! Her afternoon teas! Her leisurely, laid-back life!
All going up in smoke!
Tulia wailed inwardly, feeling her beautiful retirement slipping farther and farther away.
“All right, Lisbeth,” Claudia Winston’s voice pulled Tulia back from her grief over her “lost pension.”
Claudia warmly took Lisbeth’s hand, leading her through the remaining registration procedures. “From today, you are a member of the Royal Academy of Magic!”
“That’s amazing! We’ll be classmates from now on!” Mia squeezed in excitedly.
With everything done, Claudia, satisfied, led Lisbeth, ready to officially take her into the Academy. According to the rules, as the guardian of a specially admitted student, Tulia was allowed one guided tour.
“Mom.” Lisbeth came to stand before Tulia, and her adolescent awkwardness reared its head again, leaving her at a loss for words.
“Go on.” Tulia smiled gently, smoothing out Lisbeth’s wind-tousled silver hair, and gently reminded her, “Study well, get along with your classmates. And… try to keep a low profile at school, all right?”
Seeing her daughter’s innocent face, completely unaware of the situation, Tulia sighed inwardly. At this point, she could only take things one step at a time.
Passing through the grand Moonstone Gate, Tulia was utterly stunned by the scene before her.
She’d imagined something with red carpets and portraits of past headmasters lining the walls—a stuffy noble’s school.
But what lay before her was no mere school; it was a city within a city!
On both sides of the broad white-stone avenue were gardens and fountains trimmed as if they were works of art.
In the distance, towers and halls of all kinds stood in neat rows. Gothic spires pierced the sky, while classical domes stood solemn and imposing.
Students strolled in small groups: some meditating on the lawns, magical runes flickering around them; others riding broomsticks, tracing elegant arcs through the sky in playful games.
“The Academy covers an area equivalent to three city blocks,”
Claudia’s voice brimmed with pride as she began introducing the newcomers.
“This is a semi-closed campus. Besides the standard magical instruction areas, we also have our own residential district, commercial street, and even an independent eco-garden.”
As they walked along the main road, Tulia’s astonishment never ceased.
She saw a huge training ground in the distance, echoing with the sounds of clashing blades and battle cries. There was even a chapel-like building, utterly different in style, built entirely of sacred white stone and crowned with a sun insignia.
“That’s… the Knight Training Ground and Church Station?” Tulia asked in disbelief.
“That’s right.” Claudia nodded, explaining, “The Academy has joint training agreements with the Empire’s Knight Order and the Church. Students who lack magical talent but excel physically or possess strong faith can study there for a well-rounded development. After all, a truly outstanding team needs more than just spellcasters.”
—Well, I’ll be!
Tulia marveled inwardly.
—Isn’t this just like the university towns from my previous life? The Magic Academy is the main campus, the Knight Academy and Divine Academy are branches, and they’ve even got interdisciplinary joint programs?
This realization reminded her of an unlucky friend from her past life, who studied bioengineering and ended up in a wicked Mentor’s lab.
Not only was she used as free labor every day, but in her second year of grad school, her Mentor, under the pretense of “broadening her horizons,” shipped her off to labs in eight different schools for joint training. It was called the “Eight-School Joint Training,” but in reality, it was “Eight-School Slave,” and after a year she was completely wrung dry.
Thinking of her friend’s utterly despairing face, Tulia couldn’t hold back a chuckle.
“Hm?” Claudia and Lisbeth both turned to look at her curiously.
“It’s nothing, nothing.” Tulia quickly waved her hands, forcing down her laughter. “I just… remembered something that made me happy.”
Claudia found it odd but didn’t press further, instead leading them down a shady path toward the Alchemy Department.
Along the way, an enormous, detailed, and vibrant magical world gradually unfolded before their eyes:
First to come into view was a huge glass greenhouse.
As they drew near, a warm breeze, fragrant with earth and the scents of strange plants, greeted them. Potion Planting Garden.
“Wow!” Mia exclaimed. She saw several “Screaming Mandrake” seedlings being prodded by some curious new students, emitting shrill, infant-like cries that startled the newbies into retreating.
On the other side, a senior student was deftly watering a “Shy Grass.” Its leaves curled up shyly at her touch, much like a bashful maiden, prompting a round of gentle laughter.
Tulia even spotted a sunflower taller than a person, slowly turning its giant head to follow the magical lamp on the greenhouse dome as it mimicked the movement of the sun, looking adorably clumsy.
Passing through the garden, they heard strange beastly cries ahead. A valley covered by a giant transparent barrier came into view: the Magical Beast Breeding Chamber.
No sooner had they approached than a fuzzy, palm-sized Pathfinder Mouse scurried out of the grass. It stood upright, its beady black eyes curiously studying Lisbeth before dashing to her feet and nuzzling her boot with its little nose in a gesture of goodwill.
“Don’t worry, they’re very gentle,” Claudia explained with a smile.
Inside the valley, the scene was even more impressive. A group of new students crowded around a snorting Flame-Breath Colt foal. Under the breeder’s guidance, they carefully fed it special fire-infused fodder.
The foal, delighted, sneezed—a small spark shot from its nostrils, prompting excited exclamations and a hasty step back from the students.
Overhead, several Wind-Talker Parrots circled. Not only could they speak human language, but they could also perfectly mimic the chanting of magic spells.
One curious new student recited “Fireball!” at them, and a parrot immediately screeched the same words back. It had no real effect, but had everyone laughing heartily.
“Most of the magical beasts here are either gentle by nature or have been domesticated. The dangerous ones are kept isolated in the Forbidden Zone behind the mountain,” Claudia added.
Moving further ahead, the sounds of explosions and clashing metal grew louder. They had arrived: Combat Class Training Ground.
At this moment, a teaching demonstration was underway. Barrett Instructor hovered in midair, and with a wave of his hands, dozens of Rock Spikes burst from the ground, forming an impenetrable defensive barrier.
Opposite him, another teacher summoned a massive Water Elemental. The Water Elemental swung its huge fists, smashing into the spikes and sending up clouds of steam and flying debris.
The spectacle left all the visiting new students and parents breathless, their faces filled with awe and yearning.
Finally, in an open area, an exciting flying exhibition was underway.
Tulia saw a clumsy new student wobbling as he tried to steer his Flying Broom. The broom, uncooperative, suddenly flipped, flinging him off.
As he screamed and fell, a passing senior student tilted gracefully, dove, and caught him around the waist in midair, earning cheers and whistles from the crowd below.
Watching these lively and miraculous scenes, Tulia found her irritation over her “laid-back life being interrupted” had faded quite a bit without her realizing.
The last stop on the tour was the new student dormitory area.
Claudia led the mother and daughter to a four-story building, elegant in appearance, its walls draped in evergreen ivy.
“This is Oak Hall, one of the dorms for first-year students,” Claudia explained. “Lisbeth, your room is on the third floor—Room 301.”
Tulia had expected that the so-called dormitory would be at best a little better than a standard hotel room.
But when Lisbeth opened the door with her Magic Key, Tulia realized she had once again underestimated the true weight of the word “Royal.”
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