After a while, I finally showed him the gift. When I revealed it, he was so surprised that he was left speechless. I've rarely ever seen my father in shock, but this time, he was completely frozen. It even took him a whole minute before he could move again. Honestly, I'm glad he reacted that way. It was reassuring, since I had the feeling he might not like it. But I never expected him to respond like this. Thank you, Aruna, for helping me, and thank you, Mom as well.
It was actually an extremely rare replica—the very first and greatest replica of the legendary sword. Not only did I forge it with a tougher, more resilient metal, but I also enchanted it, which was a very difficult step. I even used the Scepter of Creation to enhance the sword's attributes. Finally, I embedded a catalyst that channels magic, speeds up spell activation, increases the power of attacks, and improves the efficiency of magic itself. With this, he could defeat an entire army of soldiers using magic alone.
It all looks amazing on paper and sounds great in theory, but of course, it's easier said than done. Still, the most important thing is that my father was happy. Wait—speaking of him, what is he doing now? When I turned around, I saw him literally setting himself on fire, supposedly to test the power of the catalyst. Well, at least he's pleased. That's what matters.
The day of their departure, I was very, very sad. That's unusual for me. I even shed a tear. It was painful because it was the last time I would see them this year. There's actually a rule that changes every year: the "Day of Reunion." The first-year students get nine reunion days, second and third-years get four, and the final-year students only get one. Yes, just one reunion day. It's sad, but it has to be that way, because it's the last year and only 35.4% manage to graduate from the academy. I hope I succeed, since my goals are ambitious. A few minutes later, my mother and father were no longer in sight. They had headed toward the Aru Forest. It's not very safe, but for the past few months, it has become completely empty. No monsters wander there anymore. It's as unsettling as it is comforting, because it clearly signals something serious.
The next day, I went to the academy. This time, however, the schedule had changed. I think I finally understood—the schedule changes every month. It's a brilliant technique to help us memorize it, since we live through the same routine for an entire month. But it also requires advanced skill to apply.
For example, this month we had:
Theoretical Magic – This year we studied divine-level spells, but of course, we didn't cast them. It's impossible for humans to use such magic; only the god race has a slim chance of managing it.
Practical Magic – We tested the durability of demonic-level spells and learned defensive magic derived from elemental spells.
Draconic Writing Lessons – Yes, there exists a draconic language and a draconic script.
Last month, the schedule was the same as in the first month. Then the next one repeated the second month, and so on, until the day of the exams.
In fact, the four years at the academy all lead to one single test. Yes, one exam that includes everything we studied, combining every subject into a single trial. To make it harder, there are trick questions and reflection-based questions. It's the perfect exam for a nerd.
The timer started: four hours. The questions were simple, but they required deep thinking. Saru, Aruna, and I were given a sheet similar to the one first-years get during exams, but ours had harder and even extreme-level questions prepared especially for us. The first ten questions were about geography and history. The next fifteen were about draconic writing and its historical dates (for example, the date of the language's creation or the creation of its symbols—since draconic uses symbols as words, similar to Japanese). The last part focused on magic in general, both practical and theoretical.
There were fifty questions in total. That's a lot, but honestly, they probably should have added even more magic-related ones. At one point, I came across a question that said: "What is your dream?" And, as you know me, I didn't waste a second to write: "I want your granddaughter." I was a little nervous, but I shouldn't have been. My sheet was like a double-edged sword—it was harder, yes, but it also gave me the chance to score higher points.
A few minutes later, it was finally over. Even though I had finished an hour early, I stayed to review my answers. I'm confident I'll succeed.
The following month, graduation day arrived. The principal was about to announce who had passed. I was full of confidence, though still a bit nervous as always. The moment came. The principal took a deep breath and declared:
"Henray Kamatsu… you… you failed. My poor boy, you didn't make it."
HUUUUUUHHHH!