Chapter 2: Willowheart
"Is something the matter?"
The question was gentle, almost casual.
Azek lifted his eyes to the man sitting across from him.
Raymond Willowheart—his elder brother—was smiling as usual, relaxed and confident. The kind of smile that came from never doubting one's place in the world.
"It's just," Raymond continued, "I didn't expect you to get into the academy."
There was a silence for a few seconds.
Azek didn't respond.
"Are you being shy right now?" Raymond asked, his tone teasing.
Azek lowered his gaze to the breakfast plate in front of him.
Grade Five, he sighed internally.
I guess I should start getting used to it, he thought.
This world was heavily based on magical talent, and anyone who didn't meet the standard simply wasn't worth much.
"Of course," a flat voice cut in.
"He's a Willowheart."
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Vivian Willowheart sat upright, eating her breakfast with perfect noble etiquette.
Every movement was refined, measured, and cold.
Yet the calluses on her hands told a different story.
Azek remembered how the novel described her—
A sharpened sword that protected Willowheart.
No doubt.
No hesitation.
Only results.
He continued eating in silence.
At the head of the table, his father's expression subtly changed.
The news had arrived that morning.
Grade Five.
The result of Azek's magic aptitude test.
Adrian Willowheart didn't comment on it.
But Azek noticed.
The faint tightening of his jaw.
The pause in his movements.
He wasn't pleased.
Adrian Willowheart—the dignified patriah of Willowheart family who was always worried about youngest son and put Willowheart family first above everything else was now lost for words.
A concern he hides well, Azek noted.
"Azek," his father finally said after contemplating for a while.
"Yes, Father."
"You'll need many things when you go to the academy. Let Hensen know if there's anything you require."
"Mmm…"
Azek hesitated.
"I'll need some money."
Here is the grammar-corrected and polished version while keeping your tone and pacing:
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Azek hesitated.
"I'll need some money."
This was a world built around magic, and for magical practice, aside from internal mana, one also needed various tools and storage devices such as magic crystals and mana stones.
And it was always better to be prepared beforehand, because money could solve many problems.
And he was going to need a lot of it, since he didn't have enough internal mana to begin with.
So Azek decided to be honest.
For a brief moment, silence followed.
Then Adrian laughed lightly.
"Of course. Anything you need. Money isn't a problem."
He smiled brightly—too brightly.
Hensen, dressed in a black tailcoat, bowed respectfully.
Azek didn't miss the brief glance Adrian exchanged with Hensen.
After breakfast, he followed the patriarch into the office...
.....
Thud.
A heavy book slipped from the shelf.
Azek already had four thick manuscripts in his arms as he climbed down the ladder to retrieve the last one.
The Willowheart library.
Despite being a warrior family, the Willowhearts possessed a massive collection of books—thanks to the matriarch's interest in literature.
Hensen stood nearby, watching silently.
Books, old and new, lay scattered across the large table—histories, theories, personal memoirs of mages.
Neatly arranged notes filled several pages.
Young Master Azek had been here for an entire week.
Aside from meals and necessities, he rarely left.
Reading.
Analyzing.
Taking notes.
There was a clear and established system of magic in this world.
Four basic elements—fire, air, water, and earth.
An aptitude test determined which element a mage could wield—and how well.
But it wasn't set in stone. Mages could start practicing with the four elements but later develop a different affinity based on how well they grasped mana command. A mage could start practicing with earth affinity but later develop metal affinity, lightning magic, or healing spells as well if they had the talent for it.
Then came the grades.
Grades Six to Ten—ordinary people. Barely any mana affinity.
Grade Five—the lowest tier among those qualified to practice magic.
Barely qualified, Azek thought...
Grades Three and Four—competent mages. Useful. Respected.
Grades Two and One—prodigies.
The elites.
Members of the Magic Knight Brigades. High-ranking figures of the Magic Tower.
And above them all—
A hypothetical Grade Zero.
Only one person in history had reached that level.
The founder of the Magic Tower.
Archmage Asthian Vol de Laufe.
No one else ever came close.
Not even the current Tower Master.
Azek exhaled slowly.
Grade Five, he repeated in his mind.
Not weak...
But in an academy filled with talent from across the empire, it wasn't worth any special consideration.
Tap.
He closed the book.
This was a world filled with mana. Not only natural mana, but there was a reverse side to it as well—black mana and monsters.
This world was currently fighting against it—and losing.
Rain tapped softly against the window.
"Young Master," Hensen said gently, "it's time to retire. We must leave early tomorrow."
Azek looked outside at the darkened sky.
Tomorrow—
He would step into the academy.
A place that would determine his future—where he would have to fight with everything he had just to barely hold his position.
A sarcastic smile appeared on his lips.
Yes… that's how it has always been.
Since when have I ever had the luxury of taking the easy path in life?
His whole life had been made of hard work and constant struggle.
And the same held true now.
Only the place was different.
There's no room for mistakes, Azek thought, his resolve hardening.
The world was crumbling faster than it could recover.
He had been studying nonstop. A kingdom had even been forced to abandon its land because it was ravaged by monsters.
And Willowheart, the family he belonged to,
was at the forefront of fighting against it.
A sarcastic smile played on his lips.
He would have to give every leg and bone in his body to survive.
Haaaaa...
He shook his head,
and a sigh escaped from his lips.
It was not going to be an easy ride.