Practical Training and Original Arts
Early in the morning, I woke to the attendance check alarm blaring precisely at 6 a.m. every day. After blinking my eyes open and zoning out in meditation for a moment, I headed to the bathroom about ten minutes later for a quick splash of water to shake off the sleep. Once I was awake, I changed into workout clothes and left the dormitory right away, making for the training ground inside the academy prepared for students.
The training ground was ridiculously vast and imposing, a space designed for practicing with all sorts of massive, powerful summons. I ran laps on the track set up in the middle. It doubled as a way to test summons' physical abilities, but students often used it to build their own stamina too.
“Huff... huff...”
My body was rock-solid compared to my old reality, but the track—built for monsters that casually outclassed humans—was brutally demanding for a student with basic training. A single lap took nearly thirty minutes, and I'd been sprinting near full throttle the whole time. It was absurdly huge.
No wonder they scoop up anyone with talent...
People didn't entrust the continent's fate to summoners for nothing. Lifetime knight specialists now routinely lost to a 1-star summon. A 2-star could overwhelm groups of them, and a 3-star required an army's might just to subdue. The empire granting noble titles to such summoners and bringing them into the fold? All for good reason. The academy students' cutthroat desperation to summon even one rank higher? Same deal.
After conquering the lap, I panted lightly, drenched in sweat.
“Phew... time to head back.”
By the time I returned to the dormitory, it was already 7 a.m., when students started stirring one by one. I showered and headed to the classroom. Overnight, the kids' stares had shifted dramatically. It was tough adjusting.
“From today, we'll dive into proper classes.”
The homeroom teacher at the podium declared it. Proper classes—fair enough, since everything so far had been useless theory riddled with errors. As if reading my mind, he shot me a glare and pressed on.
“Until yesterday, we stuck to theory because not all cadets had finished their summoning rituals. Now everyone's done, so straight to practical training.”
Ah, my fault... I ducked my head, conscience stinging. Unavoidable.
“Everyone, change into gym clothes and report to Training Ground 1.”
The kids scattered to their rooms. The dorm was close to school, so they'd change there and come back. I headed to mine too. After suiting up and arriving at the training ground to kill time, the students trickled in late. Oliver confirmed everyone was there, gathered them, and summoned his own summon.
Standing beside the sturdy rock turtle armored in stone, he briefed the class on the practical.
“Summons each possess unique skills. Anyone know the term?”
“Original Arts.”
“Correct. All summons have Original Arts, but not every summoner can wield them. Why?”
“Because they're not strongly bonded to their summon.”
“Exactly. Without raising intimacy, a summoner can't unlock their summon's potential.”
Oliver stated it like gospel truth, but I felt my worldview shatter. Original... what? Some forgettable weird skill? Can't use it without intimacy? Project Luna was trash, but not a dating sim. Still, arms crossed, he directed the students.
“Today, bond with your summons and awaken their Original Arts. Succeed, and report to me.”
With that, he unpacked a chair and parasol from nowhere, sprawled out, and lounged leisurely. The students gawked in disbelief, but Oliver's thick skin shrugged it off.
“...Summon.”
They gave up one by one, calling their summons and trying to bond. I couldn't wrap my head around it, but standing idle while everyone else chatted with theirs? No way. I summoned Anna.
“—Come forth.”
Splash—!
Always an over-the-top entrance. Anna dropped from the wings blooming on my hand's back, scanned for threats, then turned to me.
“Master, what troubles you?”
“They say build intimacy with you.”
“We are already as one.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Original Arts meant ultimates, probably. I already knew them—no extra effort needed. While bantering idly with Anna, someone pounced on my back.
“Ian—! Fun date yesterday?”
“...Date? What're you on about?”
“But yesterday, you snuck off with Stella... Mmph!”
I clamped her mouth shut. No ties to Stella—nor should there be. But scandal from a marquis's heir? Trouble. Fine if just me, but rumors harming Stella? Disaster. Iritz would probe, and sever us—even expelling her. Kids? Easy to make more.
“What's the deal?”
“You said Bluebird hides massive power.”
“Didn't hype it that much.”
“Hmm, but it's not budging. How?”
I eyed Sheera—why ask me? She beamed innocently. Quiet, she was stunning; couldn't snap.
“Copy the others.”
“Like that?”
I glanced around. Taking “intimacy” literally, kids smooshed faces or kissed summons for favor.
Waste of time...
Ultimates ran on levels and gauges, not hugs. But luck's weird—some stumbled into them mid-silliness.
“Teacher. Think it's done.”
“Yeah?”
Oliver set aside his paper, rose casually. Pointed at his summon.
“Use it.”
“...Pardon? Dangerous, though.”
“Mine won't fold to a 1-star. Scratch it? Praise.”
“...Got it.”
Student gripped fists in fury—fair point. Weak 3-stars? No whale pulls. High ranks earned respect. 3-star gap was massive.
“Bite!”
—Grrrng!
The nameless kid ordered his gray wolf. Fangs gleamed sharp.
But—
—KIIING!
The fangs shattered off the shell. Teary-eyed, the wolf eyed its master. Dumb—even ignoring stars, biting rock?
I was getting the summoner gig in this isekai.
...Straight-up Pokémon master.
Smart summons? No academy needed. Summon safe, unleash. But they followed summoner calls. Dumb orders? Dumb results. Academy honed smart plays. That kid? Peak idiocy.
Teacher agreed, brow furrowed deep.
“What pea brain charges a defense specialist rock turtle head-on?”
“B-but you said attack...”
“Succeed? Yours got wrecked. Now what? No guards left.”
Rock turtle curled ball-like. Spun, then rocketed like a shell. Thwack—student crumpled, solar plexus smashed. Oliver shrugged.
“Think combat always. Real fight? Dead. Next time, wolf mobility. Next.”
No rushes after that. Oliver grumbled “no grit,” eyed me.
“Ian Clark.”
“Yes.”
“Chummy with your friend? Success?”
“Sorry.”
“Chat time? Attack.”
Knowing smirk. Right—teacher heard yesterday. Report showed skill nuking monster. Shield glow? Not normal.
“...No urge to fight.”
“Hm. I'll fix that.”
Pulled roster, scribbled. Penalty?
“Scratch mine? Class exemption this semester.”
“Exemption...”
“Skip all. Exams only; rest full marks.”
I grinned, loosening up. Legal skip pass? Irresistible. But hedge.
“Kill your rock turtle?”
“Special magic here. Summons can't harm others.”
“Ah, so earlier...”
Recalled gut-shot. Reckless if lethal—but harmless zone. Game had PVP brag-spots.
“Here goes.”
Well, vet schooling no-pity scrub time.