Twelve-four: Kids grow up faster than you’d think, huh?

Master Javir chalks out the fundamentals of magic on the blackboard, explaining them step by step.

At first, I’d been discouraged, comparing myself to his teaching style. Now, I’m completely absorbed, hanging on every word.

Not just me—every student was locked in, eyes wide, ears perked.

Master, you’re awesome!

“—That’s it. I assume you’ve already learned from Craft Master, but any questions?”

“Way easier to understand than Craft Master, sir!”

“Yeah! I was terrible at magic before, but now I might actually be able to use it!”

“Tiny but mighty!”

“Um, sir, could this spell pattern be adapted like this?”

“Hmm. You’ve got some real promise. I’ll teach you how next week. Until then, just wait and see.”

“Yes, sir!”

And like that, Master Javir was instantly surrounded by students.

Gained the students’ trust in an instant. Going a bit too far, aren’t we?

I was still marveling when Persia muttered under her breath.

“Hmph. Looks just like students gossiping to each other.”

“Don’t say that.”

Would’ve crushed the teacher if he’d heard.

◆

Class was over. Time for practical training now.

We all moved out to the courtyard.

“Alright. Use the spell formula Javir taught us just now. If you think you can activate it, come to my side. If it’s still too hard, head over to Javir’s.”

“““Yes, sir!”””

Magic’s always tied to innate talent. There’s also the matter of compatibility.

Still, if you keep practicing the basics, you’ll eventually be able to cast at least the fundamentals. But most people don’t have the patience to learn like that, so in the real world, few can actually use magic.

But here at this academy, you get education on par with a noble’s private tutor.

Since the academy got up and running, parents have been surprised their kids—kids who could finally use magic—are actually doing it.

Yeah, fair enough.

You’re supposed to pay a fortune for that kind of training, after all.

I teach practical techniques to kids who can already cast spells, and the ones who can’t yet get patient, step-by-step instruction from the teachers.

Thanks to Professor Jabil filling in the gaps we couldn’t handle before, all the students should be able to cast some kind of magic soon.

By the way, they call really strong magic “arcane magic,” and everything else just “magic.”

No clear line between them, apparently.

We call the spell formulas needed to activate magic “arcane formulas,” though.

So what I’m teaching the kids is basic magic.

Whatever. Don’t sweat the small stuff.

“Alright. Today we’re doing ‘water generation.’ Remember what we covered earlier and build the arcane formula step by step.”

The students instinctively split into groups.

Practical work. They’re chatting and messing around, trying things out together.

The Kendall siblings’ foursome—always close—now includes Maina. Shocking.

I remember the first time I saw her—hiding behind Kyle’s back.

Now she’s puffing her cheeks, huffing at Ed and Sika, studying magic like she belongs.

Curious what they’re saying, I lean in to listen.

Ed, as usual, turns red, fumbling to build the formula—again, failing.

"Damn it! Why’s my magic just fizzling out?! Kai and Wamika and Maina make it look easy!"

"U-uh, it’s not really easy, you know…"

"Easy, huh?"

"Hey! Wamika-chan?!?"

"Damn it! I’m gonna pull this off—just to beat Sika to it…!"

"Ah! Did it! I made a little bit…!"

The magic is wildly inefficient, but Sika’s overjoyed at conjuring a tiny drop of water.

…Just seeing that tiny bit of water brings back memories of my old self.

The spell construction’s still shaky, so success rate’s low, naturally.

"Why won’t it work?! Damn it! Maina! Give me the trick!"

"Huh?"

Ed was asking Maina for help. I get it.

Out of these five, Ed and Sika just… aren’t cut out for magic.

Kyle and Wamika, on the other hand, already show signs of becoming excellent mages someday.

Right now, the two of them could reliably conjure a cup of water.

But.

One person stood completely outside the norm. That was Maina.

Only she could produce a bucket-full of water, leaving everyone around her stunned into silence.

So Ed asking Maina for help wasn’t wrong.

Still. The person in question was Maina.

“…Like this.”

Maina wove the spell with magic, but said nothing.

“Nah, that’s not it! I don’t even know how you do that!”

“Huh?”

Maina tilted her head once, then slowly wove the spell again. Only someone deeply attuned to magic could even sense another’s spellwork. Most people couldn’t.

And frankly, Maina was a natural—she relied entirely on instinct. Proof enough: her academic grades in theory were terrible.

“Hn.”

Maina activates it.

“No way! Explain it to me!?”

Ed yells.

“…Spell…formula…is…coming…”

Maina activates it.

“That’s why the magic just scatters!”

Ed yells.

“…Huh?”

Maina pushes more power into it. Two buckets full of water burst into existence.

“I’m asking you—how to do it! Can’t you hear me!?”

“Ugh…”

Maina rubs her head, looking flustered. Trying to explain it to a natural like her was pointless from the start.

I step closer to their group.

“Ed, Saiha—maybe you should ask Professor Jabiir?”

“No! I’ll do it here! I’ll get it right, no matter what!”

“That’s why the teacher’s gonna show you the trick.”

“No way! It’d feel like I’d already lost!”

What are you even fighting against…?

“Fine. Then Kyle can teach you.”

“Huh? Me?”

"Yeah. You’re the one who gets magic best."

"...Yes! Hehehe."

Kai fumbles with his notebook, embarrassed, but Ed ignores him and turns to Wamika.

"Damn it! Teach me, Wamika!"

"Why me?! Just ask Kai!?"

Ignoring Kai, who whines to Maina.

"Maina-chan, do something about Ed!"

"Huh? Hmm!"

Maina sniffs, pokes Kai’s shoulder with a finger.

"What?"

"Hmm."

Maina alternates pointing between Kai and the notebook.

"Hmm!"

"Ugh... okay. Teach me, Kai."

"Yep!"

Ed reluctantly leans over Kai’s notebook, watching Kai start to explain. Maina lets out a satisfied huff. Full of pride.

What surprised me was that Maina—after getting yelled at by Ed—didn’t flinch at all.

Somehow, she looked like she was on the verge of tearing up, trembling— but apparently, Maina was stronger than I’d thought.

Or maybe it was because we’d become friends?

Either way, it was a good thing for her. Made me happy too.

“…Craft. That smug grin’s creeping me out.”

“Persia. You’d better check a mirror.”

Persia was doing something impressive—grinning while cutting fish.

Yeah. Don’t even think about it.

“Anyway…”

A voice cut in from the side. I turned. It was Javir, teacher.

Seemed he’d finished his work. Was watching the students, then came over.

“They don’t realize just how amazing it is that they can use magic, do they?”

“Yeah, probably.”

I nodded. Persia frowned between her brows.

"To be honest, I never thought a commoner could use magic without a crest."

"Everyone knows you can use swords or magic without a crest. Sure, it’s harder, and the power’s weaker."

"Yeah. That’s why most folks without a crest don’t even bother trying. Only kids from knight or mage families get taught by their parents."

"True enough."

"That’s why it’s shocking seeing a commoner kid use magic like this."

Master Javil nods slightly.

"Indeed. It shows how vital education is. Even a race said to be bad at magic—like beasts—can wield it this well."

"Guess some races just aren’t suited for it, huh?"

"Same goes for humans. Some are good at it, some aren’t. There’s always a natural fit—or lack thereof."

"Yeah. I just hope we can chip away at the prejudice against beastfolk, bit by bit."

"Relax. Once Kyle-sama’s school model spreads, prejudice’ll vanish fast across the Maugaria Kingdom."

"Yeah. Man, Kyle’s awesome."

"…You don’t even realize the responsibility you carry, do you? The money that keeps your territory running."

The people and the guilds are the ones putting in the work. Not me.

Sure, I’m proud to be part of it.

"But it’s all because of everyone’s effort."

"Hmph. That’s enough for you."

Just like that, the warmth settled in. Then class ended. Lunchtime arrived.

A kid-sized menu, balanced for nutrition and packed with substance—perfect for their growing bodies. They were all thrilled.

"Starving!"

"Today’s soup curry!"

"Yesss!"

The new cook who recently moved to Goldendown, serving this odd dish called soup curry, sometimes comes in for lunch, and it's the kids' number-one favorite.

Of course, I love it too.

Apparently, it needs loads of spices—normally expensive—but in Goldendown, which is becoming more of an agricultural kingdom, those spices are cheap, so the price is affordable for common folk.

The shop is always packed, hard to get to, but now we can eat it at lunch.

Teacher’s perk, huh?

We’re all chattering and eating when Ed comes over.

“Hey, Craft brother.”

“Teacher.”

“Ah. Craft teacher, uh, is the Coming-of-Age Ceremony still a ways off?”

“Huh. Maybe it’s about that time. I’ll ask Kyle next time.”

"Yeah! In this town, there’s always a festival, but the one for the Coming-of-Age Ceremony’s still the best one to look forward to!"

"Yeah, that’s true."

Hearing “festival,” the children grew even more rambunctious.

Normally, when people say “festival,” they mean the one held alongside the Coming-of-Age Ceremony once a year.

Outside of Goldendown, this festival was the only real joy for commoners.

Speaking of which… how’s the Coming-of-Age Ceremony preparations coming along?

Production Guild’s bound to be swamped. I should check with Kyle tomorrow.

"...Craft. You’re not going to pull something reckless during the festival, are you?"

"What kind of trouble are you even talking about?"

"Hmm. I’ve got a bad feeling about this."

You’re overthinking it, teacher!