“Remember everyone, registration for the Founder’s Festival ends at noon tomorrow! If you haven’t already signed up, make sure you do so before the deadline!”

Professor Tu’s voice rang out throughout the classroom, and her announcement also marked the end of the final class that Friday, as students gathered their things and left the classroom, talking amongst themselves about the upcoming festival.

It wasn’t actually Friday, but Sixthday just didn’t have the same emotional connotations I associated with the beginning of the weekend.

Of course, this particular weekend was an important one, as these two days were the final ones before the last monthly assessment of my second year.

The monthly assessments were cumulative, meaning they tested everything that had been taught in class up to that point. For some subjects, this method proved easier than others.

The magic subjects, for example, focused more on the practical aspects of casting different spells than the theoretical aspects, and so, as long as the underlying principles were understood, achieving a good score in those subjects was relatively easy.

The subjects I struggled in the most were healing and general combat. Simply put, I couldn’t cheese them with the same level of instinctive understanding that I had for the other classes.

When it came to healing, Teacher Passen ensured that everyone’s foundations concerning anatomy were as solid as stone. Of course, that meant the majority of what I needed to learn required memorizing the anatomy of all three races, humans, elves, and beastfolk, as well as pathology and diagnostics. Thankfully, there was no healthcare or pharmaceutical industry, which meant I didn’t need to memorize the names and side-effects of hundreds of pills.

But I did have one of my long-standing questions answered as a result of studying.

It turned out that humans here aged at the same rate as humans from Earth, until you accounted for the presence of essence. Once that was factored in, humans here lived nearly twice as long, with the average lifespan being in the seventies. In this world’s time. Meaning humans here outlived Earth humans by…a frankly ridiculous number. And essence only further widened the difference by slowing down the visual aspect of aging, which meant wrinkles, loose skin, and other age-related effects hit humans later in life, and with less of an impact on them.

That all helped me to wrap my brain around how humans could look like they were older than they actually were, until the scale reversed, and you had fifty-year olds looking like they were in their twenties.

Theoretically, this meant that introducing essence to my body would allow me to live longer, but I would have to see if anything unexpected would occur as a result.

Back on topic, I also had trouble with general combat, as there was nothing to memorize, unless you count the endlessly repetitive weapon forms Sir Yalmaar had us do for nearly three months straight. Fighting was never my strong suit, and it showed in class.

I was physically capable of doing whatever exercises we were made to do: sprinting, crawling, squats. None of those posed too much of a challenge, as my body had finally acclimated to the improved tier 1 essence, which I found out was the reason for my inconsistent physical performance.

Actual combat things on the other hand, were much harder for me to master. Sparring took up the majority of most classes, and I usually ended up on the ground with my ass handed to me. That’s not to say I was necessarily bad at fighting, just that I sucked compared to most everyone else.

And unfortunately, no amount of studying could somehow make me better in combat, despite what the authors would have me believe.

In the end, it came down to my indecisiveness. If I could settle on a fighting style, or at least a weapon, I could move forward and make some actual progress. But everything just seemed like a bad option to me.

In the end, I approached Sir Yalmaar about it, in the hopes that he could give some feedback about what I should choose, or at least how to choose. I had apologized for my outburst to him in that first class that same week, and it was completely water under the bridge.

“Sigh. Kid, you’re making this harder than it needs to be. If you’re on the battlefield, you might not always have your preferred weapon. You think it makes that much of a difference what you choose? Sure, some weapons have specialties, but in most cases, they all do the same thing. Just pick whatever you feel comfortable with.

“I mean it. Go pick them up,” he pointed to the unlocked shed next to the training ground we were standing in. “Mother knows you’ve tried all of them at least twice. Just choose the one that’s the best for you.”

“...That’s it? There’s no…I don’t know, army method for choosing weapons?” I asked.

Barking out laughter, “Kid, are you joking? In the army, you get a spear, a shield, and a longsword. Then a couple months of basic training, and that’s it. You’re sent to the frontlines, and you fight or die. Now get moving, I’ve got things to do after this,” he waved me off, dismissing me.

Opening the doors to the shed revealed all the various equipment that had been used this past year. Further back were the weapon racks I had been looking for.

I repeated my actions for what felt like the thousandth time, picking up each weapon, swinging it around, and putting it back. As I spun the latest weapon in my hand, I analyzed what I knew about it. The trident had the same drawbacks as the spear, with the additional negative of being a purely piercing weapon, as it was poor for slashing or cutting. It being two-handed also meant I wouldn’t have a hand free for a shield or to shoot off a spell in a hurry.

Magic combat was easier than this weapons business, that was for damn sure.

Sigh, in the end, it’s gotta be blunt damage, huh.

Blunt damage would always have some impact as long as they connected, as opposed to piercing weapons which could miss entirely or slashing weapons which could end up leaving the opponent with just a graze.

What was that saying…keep things simple, something something, don’t make it more complicated than it needs to be, idiot.

Walking out of the shed with my choices drew the attention of Sir Yalmaar…and Ganturo, who had apparently been nearby and stopped to chat.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Finally! So, which is your main, and which is your backup?” The gruff voice of Sir Yalmaar questioned me.

“Mace as the primary, bastard sword as the secondary,” I replied.

“Not bad.” Ganturo chimed in, adding his perspective. “Fairly common, as weapons go, so you shouldn’t have trouble getting them repaired. And a mace is mighty effective for bringing down those towering behemoths. But why the bastard sword? A longsword would have better reach, why not that?”

“Sigh, don’t let him get started, Gan,” Sir Yalmaar dramatically exasperated. “Something about the perfect combination of balance, reach, and weight. I’ve heard that point hundreds of times by now, and I swear it popped up in my dream sometime.”

“Well…” Ganturo looked unconvinced, but shrugged and moved forward anyway. “To each his own. All you need is time and experience and you can make any weapon work for you. Speaking of which.”

He gestured to the middle of the training ground, and I rolled my eyes as we met in the middle and took up stances for sparring.

“Left foot back a bit. And keep your elbows high. And always keep your eyes on the enemy. Now, care to count us down, oh mighty knight?”

Sir Yalmaar’s response was a roll of the eyes before a bored “Five, four, one,” escaped his lips.

Of course, I got smacked around and ended up sprawled on the grassy field in about five minutes, but it was progress. Better than the thirty seconds I had lasted my first few days.

“Well, maces aren’t meant to defend anyway, might as well put up a shield or shield spell when you need to block for real,” Ganturo said as he scratched his cheek, not a hair out of place or a drop of sweat to be seen. “You can at least do the shield spell, right?” he asked me.

I responded by bringing my left hand up and within a few seconds, a pale white rippling outline of a tower shield appeared in my grasp, completely tangible and able to withstand physical attacks. Oh, and it was made entirely of essence.

“Any reason you chose a beastfolk design over the human one?” Sir Yalmaar asked me, his eyebrow raised.

I sighed internally at the comment. I had inadvertently made another discrepancy that revealed my ignorance of this world, and could only try to do damage control now.

“A book somewhere said these are better for blocking, while the typical rounded shields are better for parrying,” I said randomly, quoting some forum comment as I stood up from the ground, holding the shield in my left hand, its weight negligible.

“You don’t need to worry about all that right now. For now, focus on your weapons. The overhead blow, the side swing, how much of a follow-through each hit requires, which grip is the best for you. I’m guessing you’re going for the one-handed style?” Ganturo said.

“I just…prefer the one-handed weapons for some reason.” I said lamely. It wasn’t a reason, or even an excuse, just my opinion.

“That’s fine. It takes years to get good with any weapon. At least you’ve narrowed it down a bit, and that provides focus. Now, the sword.”

Needless to say, I ended up walking to my dorm room covered in half-healed bruises from the following spars. I had learned enough healing spells to deal with minor injuries like bruises or small cuts, and I liberally used them whenever the need arose.

As I entered the building, I wisely made the decision to use the Tunnel to skip walking the flights of stairs that led to my floor. Once I reached my room, however, I noticed a group of students gathered around my door, excitedly talking about something.

Of course, it was five or six of my friends who were apparently bored enough to come hang out here instead of somewhere more suitable. And once I entered their line of sight, the comments came at me like a rain of arrows.

“Hey, Rhaaj, hurry up and open the door! I really need to use the lavatory!”

“We need to talk about the Festival!”

“Did you buy any furniture like we said you should last time?”

“Did you get robbed or something? Why are your clothes so dirty?”

“What took you so long? We’ve been waiting out here for ages!”

Pushing through the mini-crowd, I swiped my student card to open my door, and everyone rushed inside like it was a Black Friday sale and there was only one item remaining, with one bouncing individual pushing ahead while attempting to keep a tight grasp on his

Seeing my room essentially commandeered by the boisterous people I had become friends with put a little smile on my face. It wasn’t that long ago I thought that I wouldn’t fit in, and now I was part of the rotation for whose room became a meeting spot after class.

“What was that you were saying about the festival, Timek?” a voice from the back shouted out.

“Oh, yeah, I heard from my friend’s cousin who’s an aide in the clerk’s office that they’re giving more points than usual for the events in the Founder’s Festival this year.” Timek replied, stretching his lean and wiry arms above his blue-streaked hair, his most prominent feature denoting him as a bastard son of some noble house that lived by the east coast. I recalled him explaining to the group before that full-blooded members of his house had completely blue hair, a trait passed down by generations of his ancestors as a result of living so near an abundant source of water essence.

“Any particular reason for that?” I asked. I had signed up for a few events, as it was a good opportunity to earn more points outside of studying and defending against monsters, but I would still sign up for a couple more if the incentive was tempting enough.

“No idea,” Timek shrugged, “All I know is that someone up high and majorly important made the decision. Do what that knowledge what you will,” he finished, leaning against my dresser.

The Founder’s Festival was an annual celebration held in the kingdom’s capital during winter that was a combination of a typical festival with carnival games and food stalls, a state of the union address by the king or a member of the royal family, and a tournament between the four different tier 1 academies in various subjects. The Founder’s Festival was originally meant to display to both the royals and the public the state of the youth who had been learning under the original founders, and their growing proficiency in their chosen fields, but over time it mutated into a public battle for which campus was most deserving of an increased budget and lesser restrictions.

The rumors and gossip of the noble students was sometimes more educational than the history books of the library.

Naturally, I had signed up only for the few events I felt comfortable enough to compete in: blood magic, nature magic, and taming. Anything else was a gamble at best, and despite the bedrock that was my indifference, I had no desire to be publicly humiliated.

“What about you, Teroa? You signed up for anything?” Sheenai, a commoner girl from my beastfolk language class asked.

“Just blind fighting and the obstacle course.” Teroa said as she blew a strand of hair out of her eyes, like those were typical events someone like her would register for.

“Aren’t you a bit shor–”

“What’s the obstacle course like?” I interrupted before that final sentence could be completed.

I had seen Teroa kick a guy in the nuts on the training ground once when he called her short. She mercilessly brought him down to her level and cheekily asked him, “Why don’t you tell me?”

That was when I learned Teroa was a fierce fighter when unarmed and angry. Putting a weapon in her hands was just asking to be decimated.

And I had no desire to see a similar scene of brutality play out in my room. All my stuff was here.

Teroa shifted her narrowed eyes from Timek, who had wisely stopped speaking once he remembered what she was capable of, to me and answered my question. “I saw it a few years back. The competitors all start on one side of an arena, and the nature mages change the terrain to something challenging, a canyon or jungle or something. Then the competitors have to race across the arena while avoiding or dealing with the obstacles. Ah, it’s a no magic event, so only physical stuff is allowed. It’s basically a more complex race, and I really wanna see if I can do it.” She had an eager gleam in her eyes at the thought of winning…or maybe it was just from participating in an event like that.

“And blind fighting? You’re just meant to…fight blind?” Sheenai followed up.

Teroa nodded, pushing her green locks out of her eyes as she sat on the edge of my bed. “Yep, pretty much. Again, no magic, so it’s fists only. Tournament event, one-on-one, winner by knockout or ring out. The winners for all the tournament events get something special, or at least, they did last time I saw it. I remember one of the past winners got a flying construct that looked like a set of bird’s wings.”

The discussion turned to the Festival as we talked late into the night about the festival, its upcoming exhibition matches that would include the professors and other staff members, the fact that group events were only open to third years and above, and the possibility of earning points for a good enough performance.

As we kept talking, I gradually forgot about the dull ache from my half-healed bruises. The conversation meandered between subjects until someone brought up the assessment and how they would rank at least top three in the class. That caused a frenzy as everyone else started panicking and ran back to their rooms or the library to study in the little time they had left.

Ah, cramming. A staple practice of students across the stars.

I kicked Teroa out of my room once her false bravado and grandstanding drew everyone away. I was grateful to her for getting everyone out so I could sleep, but not enough to let her stay the night.

Who knew where that road would lead?

I applied the healing spell for my bruises once more before turning in for the night, eager to get a good night’s rest.

I had a lot of cramming to do before the final, and only a few days to do it in.