"Tomorrow—the most important day—I have to make a really good impression," James says anxiously, running a hand through his hair.
James had no idea what to wear or how to present himself, because tomorrow truly was the most important day. They would be introducing themselves in front of all their classmates, under many expectant gazes.
"Oy, Azrael, aren't you going to get ready for tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow will be really boring if all we do is listen to everyone else introduce themselves," Azrael says sleepily, buried deep in his pillow.
James hurriedly gets ready in desperation, while Sara nervously memorises the phrases she plans to say, repeating them in a whisper.
"Ahhh! I can't memorise this sentence, and I'm running out of time!" she exclaims, tightly squeezing a small piece of paper between her fingers.
Without even realising it, morning arrives. James and Sara, having not slept at all, begin getting ready with slow, heavy movements.
"Oy, Azrael, wake up," James says, placing the alarm right next to his ears with a mischievous grin.
"Ahhh! What happened?" Azrael says in confusion, squinting against the light.
"Hahahahaha," James laughs mockingly, thoroughly enjoying the moment.
On their way to the academy, James, Azrael, and Sara meet up and walk together beneath a clear sky.
They enter the academy and split up as they head to their classrooms, exchanging one last encouraging gesture.
Azrael, full of confidence—because first impressions matter—walks in with his head held high. But without watching where he's going, he trips and falls with a light thud.
As he gets up, he accidentally sees under the skirt of one of his classmates. She looks back at him with intrigue and curiosity, saying nothing.
Extremely nervous, Azrael quickly rushes to his seat and pretends to be asleep, breathing deeply, until the instructor arrives.
The instructor begins speaking in a clear voice about the history of the academy and the kingdom, known as some of the most advanced in existence, home to the most powerful sword techniques, as well as exceptional mages and alchemists.
"Well then, everyone, let's begin with the introductions," the instructor says, his gaze resting on a strange boy with very long hair that nearly covers his eyes.
"Who wants to start, or should I choose?" he adds irritably, crossing his arms.
"I'll start," says the girl Azrael had been the first to meet in the entire classroom, standing up with elegance.
"My name is Isabella of the Bianchi family—the family cursed so that all the women are succubi. My goal is to break that curse, and that's why I want to become a swordsman," she declares with determination.
"And how old are you, Isabella?" the instructor asks, taking notes.
"Uhh… I'm 18 years old," she replies, lowering her gaze slightly.
And so it continues, until it's the turn of the long-haired boy who had been watching from his seat.
"Hello, nice to meet you. I'm Noa. I'm 11 years old, and I'm here because I want to become one of the heroes from the stories," he says in a surprisingly calm voice.
Azrael waits desperately and nervously for his turn, eager to finish so he can go sit with James and Sara. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, his turn arrives—his hands soaked in sweat.
"Hello, good morning. My name is Azrael. I'm 10 years old, and my goal is to become the strongest in the entire world—to have enough strength to protect the people I care about," he says, barely holding back the tremble in his voice.
"Well then, everyone, that covers all of you. Now, let's head to the field to practise with wooden swords and classify your ranks. During this training, you'll be attacking me," the instructor announces, pointing toward the door.
"Let's start with you, Noa," the instructor says with high expectations, adopting a relaxed yet alert stance.
Noa grips the sword naturally and, in the blink of an eye, attacks the instructor. The others can't follow his movements—only a blur remains.
With great effort, Azrael can barely catch a few fleeting motions, until Noa suddenly stops to prepare his finishing strike, his expression deeply focused.