With the gold coins secured and the subsidy envelope tucked safely inside my robe, something shifted in my chest — a quiet but certain resolve. It was time. Not for small steps or careful planning within familiar walls, but for something far greater.
A true adventure.
I had thought about it more than once during those long hours in the forest. My spirit was unique. And with it, I had sensed something extraordinary — the possibility of crossing beyond this world entirely. To step into other realms, study different cultivation systems, absorb what others had built over centuries, and return with knowledge that no single world could offer alone.
More than anything, I needed to solve the problem at the root — I needed to become an offensive Spirit Master.
But I suppressed the eagerness rising in my chest.
Not yet.
There was an order to things, and skipping steps now would only create problems later.
The Dean's office smelled of old ink and polished wood. Dean Hoffman sat behind his desk with the particular stillness of a man who had seen thousands of students pass through his doors and forgotten most of them by graduation.
He had not forgotten me.
"Early graduation?" He set down his brush and looked up slowly. "You've only just returned from an absence, and now you want to leave entirely?"
"Yes, sir. With my certificate."
He studied me for a long moment, then reached forward and checked my spirit rank through the standard assessment crystal on his desk. The number that surfaced made him go very still.
"Seventeen." He looked up. "You were at eleven."
"I know."
"Explain."
And so I did — the same answer I had given Master Matthew. The Ten Theories. The deliberate choice to cultivate over hunt. The guidance of my teacher. The four-hundred-year spirit ring.
When I mentioned master's name, something changed in the Dean's expression entirely. The professional caution melted away and was replaced by something warmer — recognition, and then a short, genuine laugh that seemed to surprise even him.
"That old man's book and his theories," he said, shaking his head slowly with a smile. "Still help finding talent in places no one thinks to look."
He rose from his desk, moved to the cabinet behind him, and after a few minutes of searching, produced not just my graduation certificate — but three sealed recommendation letters, each bearing the crest of a Spirit Intermediate Level academy.
"These are not easy doors to open," he said, placing them on the desk before me. "But with your talent vouching for you and your current rank, they will at least let you knock." He met my eyes with quiet seriousness. "Don't embarrass acadmey."
"I won't," I said. "I promise."
I left with the certificate, the letters, and his quiet respect at my back.