“Gwendolyn Ashcroft.” A disembodied voice announced, eliciting a large crowd of cheers from the now much larger assembly of people who’d been allowed entry to the ceremony.

The morning air was still chilly on the small island yet still the crowd was heated.

It’s never known how the information leaks out, but inevitably it always did and the announcement that a real Academy wave was coming riled the populace the moment the story hit the news outlets.

Last minute flights were arranged by even the most hopeless business owners, as they all vied for the strength associated with a name from the graduation class capable of eliciting a wave.

The term is often associated to a graduating class that has a distinctly significant discovery or event related to their graduation. Something significant enough that the economy of the world often shifts in one way or another. Perhaps in the form of a powerful person appearing from a formerly powerless place, suddenly swaying the strength of a territory and overhauling it into a mighty giant.

Or maybe it could come in the form of an invention, like the terminal, which in the span of a few years outsold the personal computer ten-to-one. In that case it’d been two graduates who’d been responsible, but it was referred to as a mighty wave nonetheless.

“The Eagle.” The voice continued, eliciting again a huge eruption of applause as the broad shouldered man stepped across the stage and accepted the paper from where it fed out a short stone obelisk that centered the stage.

In truth, the term they were using was actually incorrect if you look further back in history to where the phrase originates.

What they were describing, where a single incredible student outshines the rest, is actually an event known as an Academy Eruption. Notable ones included Socrates, Both Helen of Troy, and Theseus—Those two were nothing but trouble from day one if you asked the headmaster— and of course Steve Wozniak.

An Academy wave, on the other hand, was actually the slightly rarer alternative, where all of the students are spectacular geniuses in their fields and the world trembles from their sudden arrival. For examples of that, its easiest to actually look at the more distained graduates, ripped from the pages of the history books.

You take in one failed art-school dropout and suddenly everyone’s saying ‘you created a monster’. But It’s hard to know what the result of the Academy years will look like until it’s far too late.

His same graduating class included Arch-magus Curie, and even Charles Chaplin. So clearly it hadn’t all been rotten eggs that year.

But anyways, it’s much different. And it’s not the only definition lost to history, there’s one other term that’s often forgotten or misprinted.

“Victor Forsynth.” The voice again announced, this time eliciting only the required curtesy applause from amongst the crowd.

The other missing term is an ‘Academy Crash’, it’s an oddly difficult to translate term. In a sense, an Academy Crash is much like the mixture between the two, the graduates are each spectacular, but their acceleration doesn’t truly stem from their own effort, but instead it comes from somewhere else.

There’s a reason it’s rare and it explains why the term is often forgotten.

There are a few unwritten rules when attending the Academy. Your peers are your enemies, they are the goal you must surpass to be the best you can be. When there are only five to ten other students at a school known for producing the most influential people in the world, its obvious that you should see each other as steppingstones, so you can shine brighter at the end of the day.

But there’s also a reason it’s an unwritten rule.

Because its complete nonsense.

“Anastasia Kuznetsova.” The voice again interrupted, this time eliciting a few looks of confusion from a couple of the Prospectors as she nonchalantly wadded over to receive her diploma.

She wasn’t willing to leave it at that however so as she neared the Obelisk to retrieve the paper, her hand passed through it eerily.

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Gasping, she looked down at her body and began patting it fearfully as she slowly grew transparent. The crowd, who still hadn’t been briefed on their individual skills gasped in shock as they watched this poor young woman slowly fade out of existence.

Tears and shouts of grief howled from most of the crowd while muted laughter rang from a few others.

Again the voice repeated, as if she’d not just clearly spontaneously disappeared from the stage. “Anastasia Kuznetsova.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She finally grunted leaning to her feet and again marching up to retrieve the paper.

This time without trouble.

“Come on Boris.” She said, clicking a few times on her watch and quickly recreating the track-suit wearing man to walk in her shadow.

“You got it boss.” Boris quietly affirmed crossing his arms and eyeing up the crowd as he followed after the fiery red-head.

“Li Jun.” The voice spoke, swapping into the eastern format to accommodate the Qing and Yamatonian attendants.

In a single step, Jun stepped across the stage, bowing to the obelisk twice he plucked his Diploma from the slot and then pulled a thin black sword from his waist. Stepping onto it he became a flash of light and, much to the dismay of many of the Prospectors, vanished across the horizon.

“Nakamura Haruto.” The voice continued, ignoring the ruckus Jun’s departure had created.

Clenching his fist with whitened knuckles, Haruto rose with a look of determination. He would restore his family’s honor; this was only the beginning.

Fire glowing in his eyes, Haruto marched across the stage and ripped the diploma from the slot. Holding it aloft, he returned his attention to the crowd and spoke in a loud voice.

“My name is Nakamura Haruto, my grandfather was Nakamura Akio,” Pulling out the short wakizashi, Haruto held it flat between his two hands perhaps as proof to the one or two here who might have wanted it. Eventually satisfied that everyone had enough time, Haruto returned the sword to its sheath at his waist and then replaced his glare towards the audience. “Unless anyone else here can deliver me my family’s redemption, than consider this a warning to those who’d need it.”

Having said what he’d needed, and fearing that any moment now the voice might ruin his moment, Haruto swiftly jogged off the stage and ran towards a few familiar faces.

“Rafae—”

“RAFFFEEEEEEE!!!!!” A chorus of thunderous cries cheered, overwhelming even the up-and-coming Avalonian star.

As he rose with hardly noticeable blushing cheeks, he didn’t even need to bother looking to see who had shouted at such volume.

“Siempre igual, estos hermanos…” Rafael laughed with a shake of his head. ‘How’d they even get here’ he wondered to himself quietly as he went and plucked his diploma from the slot.

After everyone else had made a show of it, Rafael felt a bit forced so to appease the curious crowd, he drew out a short wand and pointed it dangerously towards a few nearby sections of the crowd.

There were a few subtle cries of panic but the most damage that ended up being inflicted was that a fine silk sun-dress had been stained with chocolate frosting.

The owner didn’t seem to be worried however as she was happily licking up the frosting from off her fingertips while clutching the smushed cupcake in her other hand.

“Why did everyone have to be extra?” Katie groaned, scavenging her mind for any sort of ideas.

“Kaitlyn Walsh.” The voice finally concluded as the last diploma slid out from the obelisk. Again the cheers were riotous, the Walsh family, while not an established magical pedigree by any stretch of the imagination, were one of the most well-known families in the world.

The daughter of the famous Carter Walsh, what miracles would she bring with her everyone wondered with baited breath as she calmly walked across the stage.

“Hufff…” She panted audibly as she pulled the diploma from where it leaned. “What do you expect me to do?”

She asked quietly, so most people only saw her mouth move, but eventually she seemed to relent in some way and plucked a scarf from out a pouch hidden inside her graduation gown.

Unfurling it, it looked like little more than a plain handkerchief, but as she gripped each corner between her pinched fingers, it quickly swelled like a cloth balloon.

Holding on carefully, Katie’s arm strained as she pumped a final jolt of mana into the complex three-dimensional array she’d formed between her pinched fingers.

Glancing through the crowd at where she knew her father was seated she smiled as she finally felt the resistance of the array stabilize as it completely filled.

‘Say dad, I wonder if your curious what a real three-dimensional array looks like when destabilized intentionally.’

Releasing her fingers on the cloth, the orb of air tried to shoot upwards, carrying the cloth with it, but the instant her fingers stopped bridging the gap, a completely separate array formed inside the cloth, reversing the force partially.

Again it jittered as the mana reversed directions, shooting the cloth higher, only to again hammer downwards a half second later.

This continued five or six times until it finally ran dry of mana when it was around seventy feet in the air.

“Please work…” Katie muttered quietly as she watched the cloth start to fall the moment it ran out of juice.

Miraculously after a short second of praying, the cloth erupted into a faint blue-green flame.

Sighing in relief as the crowd muttered in disappointment Katie happily continued off the stage, glad to finally be done with this ordeal.

The saddened crowd should be counting their blessings, catching that cloth wouldn’t have been the good luck they think it would be. The threading used to embroider the various arrays into that small handkerchief are all made from pure silver, and after retaining that amount of mana, its no question that it’d be searing hot.

Again, it was thanks to that annoying know-it all for solving the issue.