Rosily could clearly hear the sarcasm in this girl Yelena’s voice.
It was one thing to insult her—but to involve her mother…
A fire ignited in Rosily’s heart.
She was going to make this girl pay.
Just as she was about to act, Elqi reached out and grabbed her, subtly shaking her head and whispering a warning.
“Rosily, you’ve only been here for one day. Don’t act on impulse. If you cause trouble at school, you could be expelled. Don’t stoop to her level.”
“…”
Rosily hesitated, then loosened her clenched fists.
Her orange-red eyes stared intently at Yelena, carefully imprinting the noble girl’s image into the little notebook in her heart.
Then, she let out a soft snort, turned her head away, and ignored Yelena’s blatant provocation.
Seeing Rosily back down, Elqi quietly sighed in relief.
She’d really been afraid that Rosily would just charge at Yelena and start a fight.
Elqi had originally wanted to take Rosily’s hand, but her arms were full—one holding books and the other carrying a magic staff—leaving no room to spare.
“It’s time for swordsmanship class. Let’s go.”
“Okay.”
Rosily nodded, then took the books from Elqi’s arms and walked shoulder-to-shoulder with her, ready to leave.
Naturally, Yelena couldn’t tolerate that.
She took a step forward, wanting to shout at Rosily to stop.
But by then, many eyes had already turned toward her.
The owners of those gazes were whispering to each other.
Though she couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, the mixture of glances and murmurs surged toward her like a tidal wave.
The words she’d meant to yell were forced back down her throat by the pressure.
Yelena stared at Rosily’s departing figure, gritting her teeth, then quickly lowered her head and hurried away.
Not far outside, a few girls took the initiative to approach Rosily, casually striking up conversation.
Rosily responded with a calm, friendly smile and answered each of them with ease.
The girls unconsciously drew closer to her—after all, she was a beautiful girl who listened attentively, gave appropriate responses, and didn’t act high and mighty.
Who wouldn’t like someone like that?
Quite the contrast to a certain noble young lady who stood alone with no friends.
As the cheerful chatter filled the air, Elqi, watching from the side, began to feel increasingly left out.
She gave a little cough.
No one seemed to notice.
So she coughed again—louder this time—finally prompting a response from Rosily.
“Is your throat feeling okay? Sorry, I’ve troubled you so much already, Elqi, explaining all those basics to me. My mother makes potions—she might have something for sore throats.”
“Uh… no need…”
Why so serious?
Elqi didn’t know what to say.
She turned her head and mumbled that she was fine, it wasn’t bad enough to need medicine.
The magic academy covered a vast area.
Each classroom, usually over a hundred square meters in size, held only ten to twenty students.
The use of space was incredibly extravagant.
The school was divided into two departments: Magic and Swordsmanship.
Though the subjects were different, classes were held together due to the low student numbers—especially in the Swordsmanship Department.
Most students chose to pursue magic as their future path.
They thought magic looked cool and didn’t require the painful physical training of a warrior.
But once you got deep into the magic curriculum, you’d realize your brain might not be enough.
Because this world’s magic wasn’t conjured by imagination—it was built through runes.
And to build magical runes, you had to first study mathematics.
What is a magical constant?
What is the formula for magical energy-mass conversion?
Is this even still magic?
You don’t want to study it?
There are plenty of people who do!
You were just born in this world—deal with it.
Because of the high barriers to entry, most advanced mages were trained through one-on-one apprenticeship.
The school only taught the most basic, general knowledge.
True masters of magic were extremely rare—about one-tenth the number of high-level warriors.
Elqi was ranked number one in the entire grade in the Magic Department.
She came to this school seeking a recommendation to attend Tarralond Academy.
Rosily and Elqi arrived at the swordsmanship training hall.
It resembled a dueling arena: a wide platform in the center surrounded by viewing stands.
Rosily couldn’t help but look around curiously upon entering.
This place was new and exciting to her, and she wanted to take in every detail to share with her mother later.
Elqi began to explain.
“This place is usually used for class sparring sessions, but every year they also hold a tournament here. This year’s hasn’t happened yet—it’ll be after the Harvest Festival.”
“A tournament?”
The word piqued Rosily’s interest.
“A very brutal competition,” Elqi explained. “Dozens, sometimes even hundreds of people, all fighting for just a few spots. People can even die.”
“Mhm, sounds brutal.”
Rosily blinked her beautiful eyes.
She still didn’t seem to fully grasp what “people dying” really meant.
The last time she saw death was in the forest, when that strange man was completely burned to ashes.
Back then, she had gone to visit Henna and hadn’t paid much attention to the aftermath.
Elqi stored her belongings and led Rosily to meet the rest of their classmates—and among them was none other than the noble lady Yelena.
Yelena’s expression soured when she saw Rosily and Elqi approaching.
Rosily responded with a look of her own, then promptly ignored her.
That disregard only made Yelena grind her teeth in frustration.
“Hey, hey, everyone look over here! Class is starting.”
A disheveled and lazy-looking middle-aged man walked in, carrying a basket full of wooden swords on his back.
After setting it down, he spoke to the group in a lifeless, barely-energetic tone.
“Take one each. Pair up and spar. Once you’ve figured it out, then come talk to me.”
Then he walked off to a shady spot, sat down, closed his eyes, and immediately began napping—clearly planning to get through another day’s pay by doing as little as possible.
The students were used to this kind of behavior by now.
Rosily, on the other hand, quietly made a note of it.
She picked up one of the roughly made, half-heartedly crafted wooden swords, weighing it in her hand.
It was so light, it barely had any substance to it.
She much preferred a real steel longsword—now that would look cool!
Turning her head, she glanced at Elqi.
To her surprise, the magic user was also holding a wooden sword, clearly preparing to train with it too.
Rosily couldn’t help but ask curiously:
“Elqi, aren’t you a magic user?”
“Huh?”
Elqi blinked, then looked down at the wooden sword in her hand.
Realizing what Rosily was wondering, she chuckled and gave the hilt a small swing.
“Only learning magic isn’t enough anymore. These days, it’s all about being a well-rounded person. Besides, if a mage knows a little swordsmanship, it might just save their life someday.”
“Ohhh.”
Rosily still looked half-confused.
Well-rounded person, huh…
The two exchanged a glance and instantly understood each other—just as they were about to begin training, someone stepped forward to stop them.
It was, once again, Lady Yelena.
“Rosily—why don’t you try sparring with me?”
Ah little Yelena you have chosen the wrong opponent