Northern had found the perfect stage for him to rise. He also suspected that he would be meeting many people from the dark continent-Annette, at the very least.
Due to the distance between the non-Combative and Combative schools, it was very rare for students from both institutions to cross paths during school hours.
Northern had discovered that the non-combative school had an exclusive dormitory, and he had gained access because he was recommended by a high official of the academy.
The dormitory he resided in was home to prestigious students-those who gained admission to the academy through high-profile recommendations.
In other words, the students in Asten Tollimer Dormitory were powerful individuals, each in their own league.
It was a place reserved for the truest of class.
'No wonder I didn't find things like bullying, and everyone carefully minded their own business.'
The place had seemed almost too silent to be a student hall on his first night.
He had even thought perhaps it was an instructor's dormitory, only to be proven wrong the next morning.
And he liked staying there. It was peaceful. Bullying had been one of the things he had looked forward to when coming to the academy, but this sort of peace wasn't bad either.
The one person who tried to bully him now knew his place, and the funny thing was Northern didn't even have to lift a finger to put him there.
Although sometimes, Shampoo would glare with fire in his eyes when they managed to cross paths.
But to Northern, it was like a kitten baring its fangs. He considered it cute.
After three rigorous weeks of training in the smithy, Eleina had eventually gotten off his back. She had told him she would be traveling out of the academy for a while for an important commission.
She left Northern with the assignment to create whatever weapon he deemed befitting of the Aetherium.
He expressed a bit of worry but quickly detached himself. He didn't want to be too involved in others' matters anyway.
But should Eleina be in desperate need or danger, he wouldn't hesitate to extend a helping hand.
However, right now, something else needed his attention more.
Besides being an opportunity to finally harvest all the talents he'd been awaiting, Northern had gathered from various people that the festival consisted mainly of three parts:
For the first part of the festival, students formed teams of five, regardless of their school affiliation.
The non-combative school could mix with the Combative school to form a team-it didn't matter.
However, whatever team they formed would be permanent throughout the festival.
The duels were divided into two parts: the team royale and individual duels.
The skill showcasing was self-explanatory. Each drifter would demonstrate amazing feats with their abilities.
This was where the non-Combative school had their best chance of winning, though they rarely did.
Due to discrimination between schools and the Combative school viewing the non- Combative school as lesser, no one usually wanted to team up with students from the non- combative school.
It didn't matter what help they could offer. The non-combative school was always ousted from the whole competition.
But Northern wished for things to be different this year.
No. He was sure things would be different this year.
However, what bothered him slightly was that he didn't want this change to just be about him.
He wanted the whole non-combative school to win every contest of the festival. The problem was how to accomplish this.
Moreover, the competition was three weeks away. Northern wiped his face with his hands.
He sighed as he finally reached the highlight of his introspection.
'I will figure it out somehow... for now, I have something else to do.'
Immediately, his body descended into his shadow and manifested in the void Palace.
Bairan's white hair flowed gently beneath the eerie blue light of the exalted Palace. He placed
his sword on his shoulders, raising his chin at Northern.
"I have been waiting for quite a few minutes now, Master."
"I had thoughts to figure out."
Bairan nodded. "Well then, Master. I hope you have sorted them out because this part of our training requires your mind and all of its focus. This is the true beginning of your training, the reason I have spent the past three weeks putting those drills in you."
Northern swallowed hard. He had just eaten dinner; his stomach was a bit stuffy but not too uncomfortable. Aside from that slight discomfort, he was alright everywhere else and was, in fact, brimming with strength.
He had, after all, been looking forward to this for three weeks.
"In the past three weeks, I have incessantly drilled you with basics in order to sharpen three things in you: your timing, your draw, and the single moment."
Bairan's tone placed a little more emphasis on the last three words than the rest. He explained
"The single moment, Isshun, is the ultimate expression of my sword style. A draw so perfectly executed that it exists in the thinnest possible slice of time. The cut happens in such
a pure moment that reality itself seems to pause, and the only report seen is that of the aftermath, never the action itself."
Northern felt a weight slowly settle in his chest. Each breath became heavier than the last.
He was not pressured. Rather, he was excited. Too excited. He had forgotten that this had always been the kind of thing he expected when he heard of swordsmanship.
Although swordsmanship in Tra-el was undoubtedly alluring, it was nothing like the fiction he had always heard so much about.
Being able to reach a realm of transcendence with just your sword.
He had forgotten those dreams. But now, Bairan's words were reminding him, and it made his
heart throb heavily with excitement.
Bairan's voice trailed back to his ears.
"I will be teaching you the first technique of my sword style, The Moonlit Whisper."