The Final Lesson

"...Why're we all the way out here?" He asked.

It was just a couple weeks out from the end of his time with Celly. Though it was supposed to be just a normal day of magic lessons, he could feel there was something different–not only by the chosen location, in the most vast and empty field in Yullim, between two mountains, but by the demeanor of his tutor.

That day, Celly seemed more serious than usual.

"I can't issue anything officially, but…if you pass this test, I'll recognize you as a proper mage," Celly told him.

"Huh?" He looked at her.

It came out of nowhere, but the young, demure woman wasn't playing around as the gentle breeze brushed her silver locks.

Celly brushed her hair behind her ear, "It's the same bar that is set to gain entry into academies like Willeria: you must be able to summon an Emperor-class spell. If you can't do that, you won't even be welcomed through the front doors."

He was a bit confused, "...I'm not entering any academies, though."