Theron walked back to the group of academics and took his spot. Little Sadie looked like she was about to jump out of her shoes, her pigtails bouncing. Luckily, she was aware enough of the situation they were in to not make much of a sound.
No one but the Gold Mancers and upper years seemed to quite understand what happened. Theron’s usage of [Touch of Mirage] had clearly touched the Adept Boundary already.
To cast a Water Mancy movement technique in such a heated atmosphere, without much room or time to work with… well, it spoke for itself.
Was it just a trick? You could argue that. In fact, it would be hard to refute.
But when it came to battles, there was no such thing as fairness.
Wasian stood in embarrassment, still not quite believing that he had lost just like that. He didn’t even get the chance to display his abilities.
The sound of a slow clapping echoed. Everyone looked over to find Teacher Burne Thistle happily bringing his hands together, balancing his cane against his body.
“A wonderful display—truly. You’ve done us proud, Theron. Three credits well earned. I think this might be some sort of record. A First Year, not even halfway through the year, with 18 credits already.”
Several eyes landed on Theron.
“A humble child, indeed. Many can learn from you. As you’ve seen, everyone. Brute strength isn’t everything in combat. As much as our academic stream will learn from the military stream, so too will the military stream learn from us.
“A sculptor cannot do their work without both a hammer and chisel. The finer points, the greater details, they cannot be carved out without a hand both sturdy and strong, and delicate and gentle. The two work together in tandem, and what we want you all to understand as the future backbone of the Empire is that you need both.”
Teacher Burne looked around with a smile.
“That said, the point of our exchange is to learn from the other side. As such, doing things our way would defeat the purpose. As clever as little Theron is, and as impressive as his win was, it is not in the spirit of our trip today.
“Of the eleven credits you all must earn, they must come from classes that match this spirit. As such, for students of the academic stream, your eleven credits must come through combat,” Teacher Burne swept a gaze over Theron, “and you will be assessed with a special grading system.
“Theron has rightfully earned three credits this time, but should he attempt to pass another class in this way, he will receive a failing mark.”
The nervousness of the class began to steadily increase. It seemed that their dreams of taking non-combative classes to meet the new requirements were being dashed before their eyes.
“There’s no need to feel so down. This is an Imperial Academy, after all. You all are here to learn, so learn you will. Your weaknesses—it is the job of us teachers to help you to fill them.
“Today will be just the first day. Twice a week, we will join the military stream, and twice a week they will join us. The remaining day, of course not including the weekend, will be spent individually.”
Teacher Burne clapped his hands together once more.
“Now, I leave it up to you, Sergeant Dulcow. Whip these academics into shape for me. I only have one request. Every session should end in a spar. What is the military stream if not a place to learn combat?”
The old man’s laughter made it hard to hate him, and there was little to pick out of his words, if anything at all.
Theron watched these proceedings in silence, trying to gain an inkling about what was really going on here. But no matter how he turned it over in his mind, something wasn’t adding up.
The only thing that made sense for now was that someone was playing a very, very long con. But could they get away with keeping the disciples of the Sects away from their headquarters for so long?
The movements pointed to this matter being acute. But there were many actions that directly contradicted that at the same time.
“Ah, right. I’m so old and muddle-headed that I almost forgot. In a month from now, the Luminescent Moon Sect will arrive for an exchange as well. If some of you show talent substantial enough, maybe you can leave the world of military and politics to enter the World of Cultivation.”
Warning signs blared in Theron’s mind.
A dog whistle.
Until now, the words that Teacher Burne had spoken were nothing short of perfect; there was nothing to pick at. However, if a member of the Imperial Clan was here right now, those words alone were enough to have him beheaded on the spot.
To speak of the Sects as though they were somehow superior to the Crown and the path the latter could provide was worse than a taboo. It was punishable by death if the right person heard you.
Theron’s senses subtly spread out, and as expected, they were too young.
No one seemed to pick up on the blasphemy in Teacher Burne’s words. They had sounded innocent enough, and most of the academics who would have been more prone to picking up on it were so nervous about the idea of real combat that it had gone in through one ear and out through the other.
Finally, Theron understood what was going on here.
Maybe there was some secret realm waiting to be entered, but even if there was, it wasn’t what was most important here.
This was a rebellion, and he was caught right in the middle of a struggle against the Crown.
Theron felt that very same crooked, toothy grin baring to the depths of his soul.