"…What do you mean?" he asked carefully, his tone even.
Caldus finally turned his gaze toward him. Not accusing. Just… knowing.
"That wasn't your real name when you arrived, was it?" the mage said softly. "You hesitated a bit when you wrote it on the registration slate. Your hand twitched—barely, but I noticed. Most wouldn't. I did."
Akito's lips pressed into a line, the silence stretching longer than it should have.
His fingers curled lightly on the edge of the table.
Something about the way Caldus had asked that question—not just the words, but the tone—had dug into his brain like a splinter.
"How long do you plan on using the name Akito?"
It hadn't been a guess.
It was confirmation.
His eyes slowly lifted to Caldus, who remained focused on his notebook, the glow of the hearth casting soft shadows across his lined face. Calm. Patient. Waiting.
He already knows.
Akito's chest tightened as the truth sank in. The very first night they met—the mage had been too perceptive, too quiet, too sure. And now, replaying those moments in his mind, he could feel it. That subtle static in the air. The tingle in his skin. A pressure, just barely there, when he introduced himself.
It was a spell. Subtle. Passive. Lie detection.
Caldus had been screening him from the start.
And he'd said nothing. Not even when Akito bluffed his way through the firelight.
The silence that followed now wasn't confrontation. It was invitation.
Akito exhaled, a slow breath through his nose. "So you knew from the very first, when Varek asked for my name huh?. Your spell has been active since that first conversation. Guess I can't really pass a mage whose beard as long as his arms."
Still, Caldus didn't look up. "I didn't say anything."
"Because it didn't matter?"
The corner of the mage's mouth twitched. "Because if it had… you wouldn't be here."
Akito looked away, his throat dry. "You're not going to tell the others?"
"No need," Caldus said simply. "They trust instinct. I trust patterns. And you? You're still figuring out where you fit."
Akito's jaw tightened, but something inside him eased at the same time.
"…Then why bring it up?"
Caldus leaned back in his chair, eyes half-lidded with that ever-calm, ever-sharp gaze. "Because truth has a weight. And carrying it alone makes it heavier. I'm not asking for your real name. Not yet. Just… don't forget why you're using a different one."
Akito exhaled slowly. The tension in his chest didn't disappear—but it shifted. Less fear. More clarity.
He gave a small, bitter smile. "You're annoyingly perceptive, old man."
"And you're less clever at lying than you think," Caldus replied dryly. "But smarter than most about everything else."
They sat in silence again, the fire's light dwindling.
"I'll keep calling you Akito," Caldus said. "Whatever name you wore before… this is the one you're building something with now."
Akito nodded, words caught somewhere in his throat. After a moment, he managed, "Thanks. For not asking. But I can tell you the reason."
"I'm just being wary. Since this is a different world, rules might have differ. For example, I could have meet enemies that had ability to kill just from name, or binding curse or anything specific that needs the target's real name. "
Caldus waved a hand as if brushing away the sentiment. "Save the gratitude for when I drag you through your first magical theory lecture. Come morning, I'll take you to the academy for registration. You should have a few silver left from the guild fees."
Akito blinked. "So, I'll really go to the academy right now?"
"Of course. You want answers. That mark in your eye, this world's logic, how mana really works—none of that's going to reveal itself on a tavern stool. And the academy has what you need: a library, structured knowledge, and more importantly, me."
Akito raised a brow. "And I'd be… what? Your apprentice?"
"Assistant," Caldus corrected. "But you should also register as a student. Learn the foundation properly. You're sharp—getting a scholarship should be no trouble."
That drew a small, tired but genuine chuckle from Akito. "Looking forward to it… Professor."
Akito walked alongside Caldus, the older man's robe trailing behind him as they made their way toward the academy.
The skyline ahead began to shift—less cluttered rooftops and more structured spires. Domes capped with shimmering runes, towers etched with spell circles, and wide, marble archways came into view like a different layer of the city revealing itself. The Royal Academy of Elban stood nestled atop a sloped rise, surrounded by high wrought-iron fences and trimmed trees that radiated controlled elegance.
"I suppose," Caldus said with a casual glance to the side, "if we're walking into academia together, I should at least give you my full name."
Akito tilted his head.
"Caldus Marrenvar. Though most students around here just call me Professor Marrenvar." He smirked faintly. "It's less of a title and more of a threat, depending on the exam season."
Akito let out a small snort. "Noted."
They walked in silence for a few more paces, boots clicking against cobblestone.
"Then my first question as your teacher, what did you learn during our battle against the boar?"
Akito's mind drifted back to the battle—the boar, the traps, the chaos, and Caldus's final spell. It burned clean in his memory.
Akito nodded. "The way you released the mana—how it shaped itself through the circle. It wasn't just one chant, it was like… layers of operations. You funneled the mana, restructured it, then detonated it. But isn't that situation is quite dangerous, assuming if kael didn't move? Won't you get pierced and explode by it's charge?"
Caldus gave a rare, approving glance. "That's a good observation. And dangerous. You're right—it was close. Too close."
He paused, then continued. "Kael's intervention was timed well, but I wasn't betting everything on that. I had three backup plans."
Akito raised a brow. "Three?"
"One, I had a secondary binding glyph embedded beneath the boar's feet, designed to trigger only if the main seal cracked. It would've locked its legs just long enough for Ruva or Varek to strike."
Akito blinked. "You layered traps under traps?"
"Redundancy is wisdom," Caldus said simply. "Two, I had a modified concussion charm embedded in my staff—a fallback burst that could disrupt the boar's nervous system just enough to stop its momentum."
"And the third?" Akito asked.
"Teleportation anchor. Set to a short-range flicker," Caldus said. "Only usable once and extremely mana-draining, but it would've pulled me another direction to avoid impalement."
Akito stared at him for a long second, half impressed, half horrified.
"You're like a walking insurance policy."
Caldus chuckled. "I like to think of it as... strategic paranoia."
The gates of the academy loomed ahead now—two arched stone pillars carved with runic text, and a pair of guards in polished blue-and-silver livery standing at attention. Beyond the gate, students in robes, tunics, and enchanted cloaks passed through the open courtyards, books under their arms, familiars at their heels, magic glimmering faintly in the air around them.
Akito slowed as they approached. The air here felt… different. Focused. Intense.
"I'll sponsor you in," Caldus said, pulling a metal sigil from his coat. "This'll get you access to the library for now. You'll still need to register properly as a student if you want full access."
Akito took the sigil, turning it over in his hand. The etched mark pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat.
"Welcome to the first step," Caldus said, stepping through the gate. "Let's see how far you're willing to go for the truth."
Akito followed, eyes drawn toward the rows of towers and endless knowledge beyond.
He didn't have mana.
He didn't have a sword.
But he had curiosity. And in a world built on systems and secrets…
That might be the most dangerous weapon of all.