The heavy iron gates clanged shut behind us, cutting off the cheers and tearful goodbyes of the families left below.
Ging looked up at me, a genuine, relaxed smile finally cutting through his usual nervous energy. "Your family is really nice, Shujinko."
I chuckled lightly, feeling the lingering warmth of their send-off. "Yeah. Thanks."
"What's your grandma's problem?" Saki asked bluntly. She turned her head, her glowing red eyes locking onto mine, waiting for a logical explanation.
I rubbed the back of my neck, fighting off another wave of embarrassment. "She just likes to joke around, I guess. You shouldn't pay her any mind."
Turning our attention forward, we began the long climb. The path ahead was paved with polished, white marble, winding its way up the sheer face of the mountain.
With every step we took, the true nature of the Swordsman Academy finally revealed itself. It wasn't just an impenetrable military fortress; it was a sprawling, open-air museum dedicated to history's greatest warriors.
Massive marble pillars flanking the walkways were meticulously carved with glowing runes representing the core elements—swirling gusts of wind, roaring flames, and crashing waves.
Instead of guard towers, the grand staircase was lined with towering bronze and stone statues of legendary elemental swordsmen, their names and deeds etched into golden plaques at their feet.
The faint, rhythmic sound of clashing steel echoed from the unseen training grounds above, blending with the quiet reverence of the historical monuments.
"I think I'm gonna hurl," Ging muttered. His earlier burst of confidence had completely evaporated as he stared up at the towering statues. "It's too big. We're ants. They're going to squash us."
"Just keep your legs moving," Saki replied, not missing a beat. But even her posture had straightened, her eyes darting around as she took in the sheer architectural power of the place.
About halfway up the stairs, my breath caught in my throat. I stopped dead in my tracks.
There, standing tall on a pristine marble pedestal, was a masterfully carved stone statue of my father, Tujin Ryomen. The sculptor had captured him perfectly—he was posed mid-strike, his broadsword raised, and his expression set with that familiar, fearless determination.
Engraved on the golden plaque at his feet read: One of our Academy's most prestigious alumni: Tujin Ryomen.
Ging and Saki paused, following my gaze.
"This is your father, isn't it," Saki asked, her voice quiet but respectful.
Then she looked down at the golden plaque. "Tujin Ryomen?"
"Yeah, it is!" Ging yelled, his sudden excitement shattering the heavy silence. He bounced on his heels, practically vibrating. "His dad is so cool, isn't he?"
"He is very cool, Ging," I replied, a soft chuckle escaping me.
I looked back up at my father's stone face, then rested my hand naturally on the wooden hilt at my waist. I wasn't scared; I was mesmerized. This was the place he had trained. This was his legacy.
This is the legacy I will have to follow, no matter what it takes.
With a deep breath, I gave the statue a firm nod, and we continued the climb.
We finally reached the top of the grand staircase, our boots stepping onto the massive stone plateau that housed the Academy's front entrance. Two colossal wooden doors, reinforced with dark steel, stood closed before us.
But we weren't alone.
Leaning casually against one of the towering stone pillars next to the doors was a familiar figure. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his pristine black uniform, and his blue scarf fluttered lightly in the mountain breeze.
As we approached, he let out a wide, deeply obnoxious yawn.
"Took you kids long enough," Ayashi drawled, lazily scratching the back of his head.
I froze, my jaw practically hitting the floor. Beside me, Ging let out a loud, undignified squeak of confusion.
"Wait," I stammered, looking back down the massive, winding staircase, and then back at him. "How did you get up here? You were literally just at the docks!"
"Yeah," Saki added, her voice dropping to a suspicious, analytical murmur. "Someone like him shouldn't be able to move that fast without being seen."
Ayashi smirked, his deep, calm eyes sparkling with quiet amusement.
"I took a shortcut."
Saki stared at Ayashi. Her glowing red eyes narrowed slightly, tracking something invisible. It was almost as if she was looking right through his lazy exterior, trying to dissect a hidden, dangerous layer of power he was keeping tucked away. But she didn't say another word.
Her intense, calculating silence sent a sudden chill down my spine. It made me wonder: Does she know something we don't?
"Let's get going, shall we?" Ayashi said, his lazy drawl returning as he effortlessly shattered the tense silence. "Don't want to be late. They're assigning Senseis and training groups."
We all nodded in agreement. Behind Ayashi, the colossal, steel-reinforced wooden doors shuddered.
With a deep, echoing groan that vibrated right through my boots, they slowly began to swing open.
A wave of warm air and the deafening hum of hundreds of voices washed over us.
We stepped over the threshold and into the Grand Hall. If the outside of the Academy was a museum, the inside was a cathedral built for war.
Massive chandeliers crafted from glowing elemental crystals hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting a brilliant light over the sea of recruits. There were easily a few hundred recruits our age, all dressed in the same pristine dark-blue uniforms, shifting nervously and sizing each other up.
But the real source of the room's heavy, intimidating aura wasn't the other recruits.
It was the people standing on the raised obsidian platform at the far end of the hall.
The Senseis.
"No way," Ging gasped, his voice cracking. He grabbed my shoulder, shaking me violently as he adjusted his crooked glasses. "Shujinko, Saki, are you seeing this?! Those aren't just regular teachers. Those are Tier 1 active-duty swordsmen!"
"Tier 1?" I asked, squinting through the crowd toward the platform.
"Look at the guy on the far left!" Ging squeaked, pointing frantically.
I followed his gaze. Standing with his arms crossed was a massive, heavily muscled man. His face was covered in jagged, pale scars, and resting effortlessly against his shoulder was a brutal, oversized greatsword wrapped in dark steel chains. He looked less like an instructor and more like a warlord.
"That's Uchimoto Matatsugu," Saki stated. Her voice was steady, but her glowing red eyes had narrowed with intense, analytical interest.
"Exactly!" Ging nodded furiously, practically vibrating with fanboy energy. "Do you know how hard it is to become Tier 1? He earned his rank by getting to Air Boru's second evolution and solo-slaying a couple of Arachtids down in the canyon territories! Those things are usually about seven to eight feet tall and covered in armor-plated venom scales!"
I swallowed hard, looking back up at the scarred warrior, and then at the other terrifying figures standing beside him on the dais. The reality of where we were was finally sinking in.
We weren't just here to learn how to swing swords. We were here to learn how to survive monsters.
"Yup," Ayashi chimed in, strolling up beside us with his hands still buried deep in his pockets. "A ton of famous, active-duty swordsmen cycle through here every year to help shape the new blood."
He tilted his head toward the obsidian platform, his lazy gaze sweeping over the imposing figures standing above us.
"It's the main reason why this Academy holds so much prestige," Ayashi continued, his voice steady over the dull roar of the crowd. "You don't just learn from dusty textbooks. You get to cross blades with the greats. It's a kind of education most other academies simply can't provide."
The low roar of the crowd was instantly silenced by the sharp, piercing feedback of a microphone.
Every recruit in the Grand Hall snapped to attention. Stepping up to the center of the obsidian platform was Kyo Harasayuki. His presence alone commanded absolute authority, his cold gaze sweeping over the sea of new students.
"Welcome to the Elemental Swordsman Academy," Kyo's voice boomed through the hall, echoing off the vaulted ceilings. "You have all passed the initial trials to stand where you are today. But surviving the entrance exam and surviving the Academy are two entirely different things."
He adjusted a stack of papers on the podium before him.
"To maintain order and organize the training sectors, you will be divided into three brackets: Upper Class, Middle Class, and Lower Class.
Let me be clear—these are strictly for logistical purposes. Your class placement does not dictate your final potential, but it will determine your assigned Sensei."
Ging leaned in close to me, practically chewing on his fingernails. "Please be Upper Class with Uchimoto... please be Upper Class with Uchimoto..."
Kyo began reading off the lists. He moved efficiently, calling out groups of four and pairing them with the intimidating, battle-scarred warriors standing behind him on the platform.
With every squad called, Ging's anxiety spiked higher, while Saki remained completely motionless, listening intently.
Finally, Kyo reached the next page.
"Middle Class, Squad Seven," Kyo announced, his voice carrying over the anxious murmurs. "Shujinko Ryomen. Saki. Ging Hojiro."
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. We were together. Good news.
"And your fourth member," Kyo continued, his voice echoing coldly, "Tsume Harasayuki."
My stomach instantly dropped into my boots. Tsume.
I didn't need to look around the crowd to know who that was. It was Kyo's own son. The same arrogant, silver-spoon prodigy who had tried to practically end me and Ging before Saki stepped in.
"Wait, what?!" Ging hissed, his voice cracking in absolute panic.
He grabbed handfuls of his hair, his crooked glasses slipping down his nose. "Tsume?! Are you kidding me?! The guy tried to use us as literal punching bags! We're gonna die. We are actually going to die in friendly fire!"
Saki's posture rigidified. Her glowing red eyes narrowed into dangerous, calculating slits. "The loudmouth," she stated bluntly, her deadpan voice laced with icy annoyance. "The one I publicly humiliated. Putting us on the same squad is highly illogical. This has to be a deliberate setup."
"Why would they pair us with him?" I muttered, my hand instinctively dropping to the hilt of my wooden sword as a wave of dread washed over me. "We're going to tear each other apart before we even see a monster."
Before we could spiral any further into panic, Kyo cleared his throat loudly. The sharp feedback from the microphone silenced our squad's rising outrage as he prepared to deliver our final assignment.
"Squad Seven," Kyo's voice suddenly grew solemn, carrying a heavy, undeniable weight. "Your assigned Sensei is Ayashi Motoke. The Water Boru Imperative."
I was shocked.
For a split second, the Grand Hall was completely dead silent.
And then, absolute chaos erupted.
Whispers tore through the crowd like wildfire. Recruits and even a few of the older swordsmen gasped in shock, their heads whipping around frantically.
"Did he just say the Water Boru Imperative?!"
"The strongest water user in the world? Teaching a Middle Class squad?!"
My blood ran cold. My brain short-circuited as I tried to process the title Kyo had just dropped on top of our horrible teammate assignment.
The strongest and most notable water user in the world? Beside me, Ging looked like his soul had just completely left his body, his jaw practically touching the floor. We got someone even better than Uchimoto.
Saki's eyes widened a fraction of an inch, the pieces of the puzzle finally clicking into place in her analytical mind. That's why he could move without a trace. That's why she couldn't read him.
Slowly, as if moving underwater, the three of us turned around.
Standing right behind us, leaning casually against a marble pillar exactly as he had been doing this entire time, was the scruffy, lazy guy who had been following us around since the boat.
Ayashi pulled one hand out of his pocket and gave us a lazy, two-finger salute. He offered a tired smirk, but the air around him had fundamentally changed.
The lazy, slouching aura was gone. In its place was a suffocating, crushing pressure—a raw, terrifying presence that felt like standing at the bottom of the deepest, darkest ocean trench.
"Like I told you on the steps, kids," Ayashi drawled, his deep eyes locking onto mine with a sharp, dangerous gleam. "I take shortcuts. Now... let's see if you know how to swim."