-----
———Crowley Academy of Magic?Training Grounds
"You're late!"
The moment I arrived, Instructor Klaus's roar flew at me.
"S-sorry!"
I ran to join the formation. The other three were already lined up at the training grounds.
"Honestly, showing up late on the first day takes some nerve. You'll have penalty training later."
Klaus Weiss. Our instructor for the remedial class. Thin build, black robes, unshaven face with sleepy eyes. But his actual abilities—rumors varied: some said he retired from being an A-rank adventurer to become an academy instructor, others that he was called the "Grim Reaper" in the underworld. Many theories existed.
What scared me most was that he'd never once shown his true capabilities.
"I'll say this now. If you can't keep up with this training, you'll be expelled."
"Yes sir!" the four of us replied in unison.
"But it won't be mere expulsion."
Klaus continued quietly.
"Those expelled from Crowley Academy can never live as mages again. They can't register with the adventurer's guild, can't find decent employment, and end up killed by bandits or monsters on the frontier. That's the end."
"Eh..."
Lina here. The energetic girl. Lina Crawford. Daughter of a merchant family in a commercial city. She has magical power, but her control is catastrophic. A troublemaker prone to magical misfires.
Lina's face paled.
"So we have no choice but to succeed here?" asked Gaster—known as Gast. Third son of the noble Ashton family. The Ashtons were a military house that had produced knights for generations, but Gast lacked magical talent and was apparently cast out by his family with "make your living by the sword alone."
"Exactly," Klaus nodded. "You have nowhere left to fall back to. Your only path to survival is to rise from here. Are you prepared for that?"
"Yes sir!"
Our four voices aligned. Mine included.
(No fallback—that's the truth. If I encounter the protagonist from the main story, I could get captured for that battlefield incident. I have no choice but to gain strength here.)
"Good. Then let's begin. Today's task is—"
Klaus pointed. There stood a massive ancient tree.
"Tree Climbing."
No, not ordinary tree climbing.
"Gather mana to the soles of your feet and adhere to the trunk. Master it until you can do it even upside down."
Klaus demonstrated. He smoothly ascended the trunk, then hung upside down from a branch tip. As if gravity didn't apply to him.
"U-understood? Begin on your own."
"Yes sir!"
The first task: "Tree Climbing."
No, not ordinary tree climbing.
"First, this. Gather mana on the soles of your feet and adhere to the tree trunk. Learn to do it even upside down."
Klaus demonstrated. He smoothly climbed the trunk, then hung upside down from a branch.
"Well, something like that. You do it too."
"No way...!"
Lina's lament drifted across the open space of the training ground.
"Theoretically, it's possible... but even so." Sierra Eberhardt furrowed her brow. The Eberhardt family was a distinguished lineage that had produced generation after generation of excellent magi, but it seemed the true talent had been inherited by her younger brother instead. She had been sent away from home with the words,
'At the very least, come back having acquired some knowledge,' so the story went.
Always calm and collected, she excelled at devising strategies.
"This is right up my alley!" Gaston cracked his knuckles with theatrical flourish as he declared this.
He approached the tree with an air of absolute confidence, as if his own body had never once, not a single time, betrayed him. Perhaps he had been cast out from his family for lacking magical talent, but this body had never, ever, let him down.
One step. Two steps. Thr—
Thud.
"Whoa—!"
The impact was enough to send Gaston crashing to the ground and send leaves fluttering up from the nearby bushes. Lying there, staring at the sky, his face seemed plastered with a mask of pure bewilderment.
...Probably bruised his pride more than his back.
I noticed the corner of my own mouth twitching upwards.
"You okay?" Lina called out.
"Yeah, I'm fine." Gaston got up, rubbing his head. Then he laughed. It wasn't a wry smile, nor a forced grin. It was a genuinely honest laugh. "Man! This is way harder than it looks! Klaus made it seem so easy!"
"Klaus has likely been doing it for twenty years," Sierra stated, her tone devoid of emotion. "Comparing yourself to him is like comparing a tadpole to a dragon."
"Hey now!" Gaston looked up at her and grinned. "But a tadpole turns into a frog, right? And frogs can jump pretty damn high."
"That... is not the same as natural evolution."
"Yeah, but you get what I mean!"
Sierra started to say something, then stopped. Something flickered across her expression. It was a minute shift. As if she wasn't accustomed to her observations being met with goodwill instead of resistance.
——
Lina was next.
She pressed both palms flat against the bark, her face etched with intense concentration. Mana gathered at her feet. A faint, shimmering current that even I could sense.
"Okay... okay... this time, nice and firm—"
Fwoosh.
Mana burst explosively from her left foot. It wasn't dangerous, but it was more than enough to send her flying sideways, tumbling head over heels into the bushes.
"Eep!"
She emerged with leaves tangled in her hair and a small scratch on her cheek.
"Oww..."
"Lina!" I started toward her.
But she was already laughing. Truly laughing.
"Wasn't that amazing!? I flew that far! I mean, I totally didn't mean to fly, but I flew, completely!"
Gaston burst out laughing too. "You looked like a startled chicken!"
"I did not! Chickens can't even fly that far!"
"The look on your face when you plowed into the bushes—"
"I wasn't laughing!"
But even as she protested, a smile played on her lips. She plucked a single leaf from her hair, stared at it for a moment, then shrugged and tucked it behind her ear like an ornament.
"Consider it a new fashion statement," she declared.
Gaston doubled over, completely helpless with laughter.
Even Sierra's lips moved just a fraction.
——
Finally, Sierra approached the tree.
She didn't hurry or joke. She studied the bark as if it were a particularly difficult examination question, tracing its lines and grooves with her fingertips.
"Theoretically," she said in a low voice, "adhesion requires a consistent, uniform release of mana. But this bark isn't uniform. The surface area in contact changes with every step. Therefore, the release must be adjusted dynamically."
"Are you gonna climb it or write a book?" Gaston yelled.
Sierra ignored him. She placed one foot against the trunk.
Nothing happened. She didn't fall, nor did she stick. Her foot just... hovered there, barely making contact. Suspended in possibility.
"It doesn't seem like you're really trying," I said quietly.
She glanced at me.
"You're afraid of failing in front of us, so you're not going all in. But everyone here has already failed. There's no one you need to be self-conscious around."
For an instant, something flickered in her eyes. Surprise, perhaps. Or recognition.
Then she pressed her foot more firmly against the trunk, channeled more mana—
And it stuck.
Her eyes widened. "I—"
Second step. It stuck.
Third step. Fourth.
She made it to the sixth step before her concentration broke and she fell. I almost caught her—ah, which is to say, we ended up tangled together on the ground.
"Ow. Your elbows are bony."
"If you're going to complain about boniness, your chest is too soft."
"Is that.....a compliment?"
"An observation."
We untangled ourselves. Lina came bouncing over.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
"That was amazing! Six steps! I only made it two, and then I flew!"
"Two steps and an unscheduled flight," Gaston corrected.
"Same thing!"
Watching them, I felt something warm kindle deep in my chest.
These three... they're not just classmates thrown together by chance. There's something...
The thought never fully formed. But I felt it, nonetheless.
——
And then, it was my turn.
Alright... start with the basics.
I recalled my previous life's anime knowledge. Place my hands on the tree. Sense the mana within my body. Over these past two weeks, my mana had gradually grown. The effect of that potion and the basic training, no doubt.
Gather mana in the soles of my feet. Maintain a steady, stable flow. Not too much, not too little. Visualize something like "glue" or "adhesive."
While the other three struggled, I slowly approached the tree.
First step. I felt my foot adhere to the wood.
Second step. Stable.
Third step—
"Hey, Leon's climbing!"
Gaston's voice shattered my concentration.
"But he looks terribly unstable..." Sierra observed.
Thump.
"Ow ow ow..."
"Leon, you okay?" Lina rushed over.
"Yeah... but I think I'm getting the hang of it."
Truth is, I could climb higher. But seventy percent effort was enough. No need to show everything.
Yes, my strategy was to play the role of the "bottom-tier student with no talent who makes up for it with effort." Not a genius. Just a guy slowly improving through hard work. That way, no one would suspect a thing. Neither my aptitude for the invisible
"Alright, one more time."
Second attempt. This time, I made it five steps.
Third attempt. Seven steps.
Fourth attempt. Finally, my hand reached a branch.
"I did it!"
Looking back, I saw the other three were also making gradual progress. Gaston was trying to climb by brute force, digging his fingers into the bark. Lina was advancing step by step, suppressing her mana bursts. And Sierra, the consummate theorist, was steadily increasing the distance she could climb, despite repeated failures.
——
That Afternoon
Hours passed. The sun traversed the sky, and we were all covered in dirt, scrapes, and that peculiar fatigue that comes from repeated failure.
Gaston had stopped trying to muscle his way up and had actually started thinking about mana control. He still fell more often than he climbed, but after each fall, he would pause and ponder before his next attempt.
Lina kept exploding. But the explosions were getting smaller. More controlled. She could sense when one was about to happen, and sometimes she could even direct the force upward instead of sideways.
Sierra was the most consistent. She had found a rhythm. Climb, fall at the seventh step, analyze, adjust, climb again. She never made the same mistake twice.
——
Gaston landed particularly hard on his backside and stayed there for a while. When he got up, he was limping.
"Gaston, you should rest," Lina said.
"Nah, I'm fine."
"You're limping."
"Just a bruise."
"A bruise that makes you walk like an old man with a bad back?"
Gaston opened his mouth to retort, then stopped. He looked at Lina.
"You worried about me?"
"N-no I'm not! I'm just saying—don't be stupid and push yourself for no reason!"
"That's not really a denial, you know."
"I mean sit down and behave before you hurt yourself more!"
Gaston grinned. But he sat down.
——
I walked over to him.
"Here."
I took a small jar of salve from my pouch. Spoils from the bandits a while back.
"What's that?"
"Medicine for injuries. Good for bruises."
Gaston stared at the jar as if I'd offered him a gold coin.
"Leon... this is yours, right? You don't have to—"
"We're teammates now, aren't we? Teammates share."
He was silent for a long moment. Then he took the jar.
"...Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
——
Evening—After Training
We sat lined up at the edge of the training ground, too exhausted to move. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple.
"My feet are numb," Lina declared.
"Hardly surprising after using them all day," Sierra replied. She was scribbling in a small notebook, recording everything she'd learned.
"My hands hurt too," Gaston added. "Didn't know climbing a tree could make your hands hurt."
"Normally, it doesn't. You're gripping the bark too much."
"Oh, right. Well, they still hurt anyway."
Lina leaned back, staring at the sky.
"Hey... do you think we can really do it? Become proper magi?"
Silence.
"I mean," she continued, "my family had no idea what to do with me, so they sent me here. I always mess things up. Every time I try to use magic, something explodes. What if... what if I'm just fundamentally no good?"
Gaston stopped rubbing his hands.
Sierra stopped writing.
I stopped pretending to be tired.
"You're not no good," Gaston said firmly. "You're just... a little different. Explosively so."
"That's not really comforting."
"Well, it was supposed to be!"
Lina laughed. It was a genuine laugh, but there was a hint of sadness beneath it.
Sierra closed her notebook.
"I was sent away from home too. Because my younger brother is more talented. 'At least go acquire some knowledge, Sierra. Perhaps you can be useful as a researcher.'" Her voice was flat, but the pain underneath was audible. "I've always been told I'm not enough. No matter how hard I try, I can never match him."
Gaston was quiet for a moment.
"My old man told me to make my living with a sword. Said I'd never be a real knight like my brothers, can't even use magic properly. Gave me a pouch of silver coins and told me not to come back until I could stand on my own two feet."
We all sat with his words, silent for a time.
Then, Gast laughed heartily and said enthusiastically, "I say, screw it, we ball."
Then Gaston turned to me.
"What about you, Leon? What's your story?"
I hesitated.
What can I say? That I'm not originally from this world? That I'm just inhabiting the body of a character fated to die by the protagonist's blade? That I carry secrets they can't even imagine?
But looking at them. Battered, exhausted, and so honest. I couldn't lie completely.
"I... was running from something. Didn't have the strength to fight. And now I'm here. To get strong enough so I don't have to run anymore."
No one asked what I was running from.
Gaston just nodded.
Lina reached out and patted my arm.
"That's good. You've got us now. When it's time to stop running, we'll be right behind you."
Sierra said nothing. But when our eyes met, she gave a tiny nod.
Deep in my chest, something opened just a little, with a soft click.
These three... they're not just classmates. They're truly—
My train of thought... didn't last. But then, it didn't need to.
As the dusk began to melt into night, we were enveloped in a strangely comfortable silence that wasn't awkward. The training ground had grown dim, shadows stretching long across the packed earth. Still, no one moved. We were spent. We were content.
Someone's stomach growled.
Lina giggled. "Same."
"We should probably eat something," Gaston admitted. "I just don't think I can walk to the mess hall."
"Same," Lina repeated.
Sierra said nothing, but she hadn't moved a muscle in twenty minutes. I suspected she was sleeping with her eyes open.
And then—
Smell.
Something rich. Savory. The scent of meat and herbs and something faintly sweet drifted across the evening breeze into the training ground.
Lina's head snapped up like a hunting dog's.
"What... what is that?"
Gaston inhaled deeply. His eyes went distant, focused on some interior horizon. "That... that is unmistakably real food. Not mess hall slop. Real food."
Even Sierra's eyes widened just a fraction.
We turned.
Klaus was walking toward us, an enormous iron pot suspended from a pair of wooden poles across his shoulder.
Our terrifying instructor. The man they called the Reaper. The same man who, just this morning, had threatened us with expulsion and ruin.
Carrying what was unmistakably homemade stew.
He set the pot down on a flat rock near where we were sitting. Steam rose, carrying that impossible aroma with it. My mouth flooded with saliva instantly.
"What are you staring at?" Klaus growled. "Eat."
No one moved.
Klaus sighed bitterly, like someone who had been stuck with fools for years. He pulled wooden bowls and spoons from his bag, set them out, and lit a campfire with a strangely deft magic we had never seen before.
The scent intensified tenfold.
Chunks of meat, root vegetables, herbs floating in a rich broth. Steam rising in fragrant clouds.
"I said eat," Klaus repeated. "Or do you want it cold?"
Lina moved first. She crawled toward the pot, bowl extended like a supplicant praying at a shrine.
Klaus ladled stew into her bowl. She stared at it. Then at him. Then at the stew again.
"D-did you... make this?" she whispered.
"No, I summoned it from the spirit realm."
"For us?"
Klaus didn't answer. Just gestured impatiently for the next bowl.
Gaston next, then Sierra, then me. We formed a lopsided circle around the pot, bowls in hand, staring at this unreal situation.
Gaston tentatively spooned up a mouthful and ate it.
His eyes went wide.
"Terrible," he said.
"What?" Lina leaned in. "What? Is it terrible?"
"No. The opposite of terrible. It's so good it's actually infuriating."
Lina shoved a spoonful into her mouth. Made a sound clearly inappropriate for a public training ground.
"Sierra, eat your own before I steal yours," she mumbled around her mouthful.
Sierra, with considerably more grace, took a small bite. Chewed. Swallowed.
Her expression shifted. Barely. Minutely. But I'd watched her long enough to know what it meant.
"This is... surprisingly well-balanced," she said quietly. "The herbs complement the meat without overwhelming it. The vegetables are cooked to the precise point where they've absorbed the broth without losing their structural integrity."
"She's praising it," Gaston translated. "In Ziera-speak, that means 'best thing I've ever eaten.'"
"I said nothing of the sort."
But she took another bite.
I tried mine.
The broth was rich and deep, clearly simmered for hours. The meat fell apart at the slightest pressure. The vegetables were tender but not mushy, each retaining its character while wearing the stew's flavor like a coat.
"Unbelievably good," I said honestly.
Klaus, who'd settled on a rock a little apart with his own bowl, shrugged.
"You'll need to learn eventually. Can't live on rations forever."
"But why—" Lina started, then stopped. Then: "Wait, you didn't, like, poison this, did you? Is this also training? Will we wake up tomorrow dizzy and have to fight a bear?"
Klaus stared at her.
"Do you think I'd waste meat this good on a prank?"
"How should I know! You're the Reaper!"
"It's a nickname."
"Nicknames come from stories!"
After another sigh, Klaus placed his bowl on the ground and looked up. He moved past his usual judgmental stare to something much deeper, looking at us with a level of genuine recognition that caught us off guard.
"Listen," he said. "I'm not going to pretend. The training will be brutal. Worse than today. Some of you might not make it."
We were silent.
"But," He gestured with his chin toward the pot. "Today, you did well. All of you. Honestly, better than I expected. The first day is the hardest. Most would have quit by noon."
"We didn't quit," Gaston said quietly.
"No. You didn't." Klaus almost smiled. Almost. "So. Food. You earned it."
Lina stared at him like he'd grown a second head.
"Who are you?" she demanded. "What did you do with the real Klaus?"
"Lina," Sierra warned.
"No, I need to know! This is too weird! The scary instructor who threatens us with ruin is secretly a great cook who makes us amazing food? That doesn't happen!"
Klaus fixed his gaze on her for a long, silent moment. Without a word, he stood up, walked across the space between them, and flicked her forehead.
"Ow!"
"Still the scary instructor. Don't get confused."
Yet he turned back to his rock and his stew, and I did not fail to catch the faint, almost imperceptible loosening at the corner of his mouth.
Lina rubbed her forehead, muttering. Then she took another bite of stew, and her expression melted again.
"This is so unfair," she complained happily. "Why do scary people have to be good cooks?"
"It's a thing," Gaston said sagely. "Truly terrifying people always have unexpected skills. Like my uncle, who survived three wars, and then it turned out he could sew better than any tailor in the city."
"That's oddly specific."
"True story."
Sierra ate thoughtfully for a while. Then, quietly:
"Thank you, Master Klaus."
Klaus grunted.
"For the meal," she added. "...I appreciate the gesture."
Another grunt.
But he didn't tell her to shut up.
---
We ate until the pot was empty.
Lina leaned back, petting her stomach with the expression of a satisfied cat. Gaston looked like he might fall asleep sitting up. Sierra was writing in her little notebook again, but her handwriting was looser than usual. Less precise. Probably, it was the relaxed scrawl of a good meal.
I was... warm. Full. Pleasantly exhausted.
Klaus collected the bowls and spoons, stacking them neatly.
"Training starts at dawn. Don't be late."
He picked up the empty pot and walked away.
"Hey, Klaus," Gaston called.
Klaus stopped.
"Thanks. Really."
For a moment, Klaus stood there, back turned, silhouetted against the faint lights of the town below.
Then, without looking back:
"Don't mention it. Don't expect this every night. It's not a cafeteria."
He walked into the darkness.
Lina waited until he was definitely gone, then whisper-shouted: "I can't believe the Reaper is secretly a softie."
"He flicked you," Sierra pointed out.
"Softie!"
Gaston laughed. I laughed too.
And somewhere in the darkness beyond, I thought I heard a quiet laugh in return.
Probably just the wind.