Volume 1: Enrollment at Magias Academy of Magical Arts
Chapter 13.5: Nooooo! No, No, No! I Want to Enter the Freshman Tournament!
Few people knew what Gerald Whitesmith did inside his research room.
The reason was simple.
He invited no one.
Since contractors delivered his research equipment, Gerald himself had been the only person to enter or leave.
Several members of his class—Amae Vandenberg and Luluk Lulu Lunlun, for example—apparently visited one another’s research rooms and treated them like lounges.
Gerald had no such intention.
The thought of someone crossing the threshold of the room containing his research materials made him uneasy.
A person he trusted completely would be different, but no such person currently existed.
He didn’t consider himself secretive.
To Gerald, this level of caution fell within common sense.
Therefore, no one could possibly know whom he contacted through magical communications that day or what information they exchanged.
“That concludes my report.”
Gerald silently listened to the voice from the compact magical communicator while seated in a high-backed office chair.
The Whitesmith family’s private line crossed several relay stations.
It remained inconvenient to use. A mere ten-minute connection cost roughly a day laborer’s daily wage.
Today’s call had already continued for nearly an hour.
“…I understand every detail. Is there anything else?”
“Given the circumstances, I believe you should refrain from entering this Freshman Tournament.”
“…I shall take it under advisement.”
Without waiting for an answer, he cut the communicator’s power.
Gerald folded his arms and spent some time lost in thought.
His gaze casually rose toward the ceiling.
A model planet floated there without any supporting cord.
On the desk, pendulums that should’ve shared identical length and weight swung at different periods.
I can’t possibly handle everything alone.
Eventually, Gerald sighed and left the room.
The campus at sunset was enveloped in the commotion of after-school activity.
Sounds resembling mock battles between students came from the training grounds.
Perhaps influenced by the Freshman Tournament, many appeared to be neglecting research to practice combat.
Ultimately, it was only an internal school competition.
But because Magias organized it, many called the tournament “the battle that decides the next generation’s Grand Mage.”
On the day of the event, spectators arrived from across the royal capital—the continent’s largest city—and the seats sold out immediately.
Students who performed well sometimes received offers from famous guilds and secured employment while still enrolled.
Calling it a tournament that shaped lives wouldn’t be an exaggeration.
Gerald had intended to enter and clearly establish who was strongest among Magias’s first-year students—indeed, among everyone of his generation.
He was the sort who submitted paperwork immediately, yet the entry form he’d received remained blank.
Moments ago, he’d abandoned any plan to complete it.
“Ah! Lord Gerald!”
Luluk approached from the opposite direction as he walked the corridor in thought.
Something good must have happened, because she couldn’t hide her buoyant mood.
“Witch.”
“It is rare to encounter you, Lord Gerald. Hee-hee.”
“You seem pleased.”
“Indeed! I submitted my application for the Magias Freshman Tournament only moments ago.”
Gerald privately questioned whether that alone justified so much delight, but silently listened.
“The Faculty of Magical Arts and our Grand Magical Emperor Faculty are full of powerful opponents.
“But in my grandmother’s name, I have no intention of losing.
“Not even to you, Lord Gerald.
“I shall claim victory in this tournament and make a magnificent debut!”
“I apologize for disappointing your expectations, but I won’t participate.”
“M-My? You won’t?”
“No. I have business elsewhere.”
“Then it cannot be helped…”
Watching Luluk mutter awkwardly gave Gerald an idea.
If he lacked sufficient personnel, he could rely upon someone else.
Their Emperor Faculty representative did so frequently.
Gerald had little experience with such behavior, but necessity left no alternative.
“Perfect. Witch, I have a favor to ask.”
“My! Lord Gerald wishes to ask something of me? Please, say anything.”
“Withdraw from the Freshman Tournament.”
“WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!?”
“Stop screaming. I’ll explain.”
“WHYYYYYYYYYYYYY!? Wh-Wh-Whyyyyyyyyyyy!?”
“Listen carefully. This Freshman Tournament—”
“Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! No, no, no, no, nooooo! I w-w-want to enter the Freshman Tournament!”
“V-Very well. Calm down first. I’ll explain properly.”
No one heard the conversation that followed.
Only one thing was certain:
The next day, Luluk Lulu Lunlun submitted a notice withdrawing from the Freshman Tournament.
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