Chương 15: Vol. 1 - Graduation

The morning air carried a chill, sharp and clean, and yet the sun was already high enough to scatter gold across the leaves of the garden. I had been awake long before it, though I had tried to steal a few more minutes under the comfort of blankets. Today was the day. Graduation. The culmination of two years of training under Lexi, my private tutor. My chest throbbed with a nervous rhythm I couldn't quiet. Lexi appeared at the edge of my room as if on cue.

Her violet eyes were calm, her expression serene as ever, but today there was something different in the way she held herself—an unspoken gravity that made my heart tighten. She didn't smile as she usually did, didn't tease me about being late, didn't comment on the messy hair I'd just tossed aside.

"Ready?" she asked simply. Her tone was neutral, but there was a weight behind it. Not cruel, but serious. I nodded, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.

"Yes." My voice came out quieter than I intended, but Lexi didn't comment. Morning came too quickly. Training with Father felt heavier than usual. Every swing, every block, every breath burned into memory as if I were trying to cling to the present.

"Kawa-kun," Father said as he corrected my stance, "your mind is wandering again."

"Sorry," I muttered, forcing my grip tighter on the hilt. He gave me a long look but didn't push further. Maybe he knew. After training, we left the house silently. I followed her down the narrow path through the garden, stepping over fallen petals, the morning wind rustling against my sleeves. Normally, I loved the garden—the little pockets of familiar order in the world—but today it felt oppressive. Each step toward the unknown made my stomach twist.

Lexi's staff clicked against the cobblestones with a soft, measured rhythm. I realized I hadn't heard it before in such a serious context. The sound seemed to echo around us, emphasizing the emptiness that stretched ahead. This was the first time I have truly stepped out of the house. She stopped briefly at the edge of the trees, turning to look at me with those unyielding violet eyes.

"This is where your exam will take place," she said, gesturing to the small clearing just beyond the trees. At first glance, it was a simple space: grass swaying lightly in the wind, sunlight piercing through the leaves, and the canopy of the woods stretching in gentle arcs. But the further I looked, the more I realized how different it felt from anywhere I had trained before. The space seemed to extend, almost unreal in its clarity, open to the sky, without walls, without boundaries." Sensei, why are we here?""

To see your real talent, and it might hurt the people and crops back in the village." My chest tightened further. The endless openness, the vast sky above—it was too much. My stomach lurched, and for a moment I thought I might stumble back. I had always trained inside, confined in study rooms, small courtyards, places where I could control every boundary. Outside, the world felt infinite, threatening, and I hated it. Hated the way it made me feel small and insignificant.

Lexi tilted her head, reading my reaction as if she had seen it all before.

"You will do fine," she said softly, though there was no promise in her words.

"This is your test, not mine. You need to face this. Not just the magic, but yourself." I swallowed, trying to steady my breath. Facing myself… right. That was the hardest part. I stepped into the clearing, the grass bending under my feet, and stopped in the center. The sunlight fell over me, and for a fleeting moment I panicked. The sky seemed endless. What if I failed here? What if I couldn't control my Astralis? What if all the lessons, all the practice, were wasted? Lexi's voice cut through my thoughts.

"This is where your test begins." The words itself weren't harsh or commanding, but it carried weight." Not just your skill, but your courage. Face it." I froze. My hands trembled. The sky… the open space… it threatened to swallow me. Lexi's voice pierced the panic.

"Hoshikawa. Hear the rhythm of the cosmos, the silent pulse between stars, the invisible currents that bind all things. Let your hands reach into the flow, draw from your core, feel the tension, guide it, shape it, and let it rise as threads of starlight, fragile yet unyielding. Speak with me: From core to sky, from self to world, I weave the starlight, steady and infinite, threads unbroken by fear, guided by will."

I trembled, but I whispered: " From core to sky, from self to world, I weave the starlight, steady and infinite, threads unbroken by fear, guided by will." The threads flickered weakly at my fingertips. Lexi's gaze held mine, unwavering.

"Good. Let each filament breathe, each spark a note in the symphony of light. Extend without haste, control without constraint, and let the lattice climb, climbing as the courage in your heart does, refusing collapse, reaching into the infinite. Speak and act as one: I am the conductor, I am the current, I am the starlight made flesh, and it answers me."" I am the conductor, I am the current, I am the starlight made flesh, and it answers me," I repeated softer, my confidence faltering yet again.

"I can't…" I whispered, barely audible.

"Again." Lexi's voice was soft, patient, unwavering. She didn't step closer, didn't scold or chide me, simply spoke the word.

"Again. Let it be what it is. Feel it, and then act anyway." Her calmness struck me, cutting through the haze of panic. I closed my eyes for a moment, focusing inward instead of on the vast emptiness around me. I thought of the warmth of my family, of the quiet strength I'd felt when Lexi first guided my hands to cast, of the moments I had struggled but persisted. Anchors for my mind.

"I am the conductor, I am the current, I am the starlight made flesh, and it answers me," I repeated, louder, heart hammering. I inhaled deeply. The wind rustled through the trees, brushing against my skin, carrying with it the faint smell of moss and earth. I felt the Astralis in my core stir again, more steady this time, responding not to fear but to resolve. I opened my eyes. The threads began to interlace, forming a glowing lattice across the clearing.

Threads of starlight shimmered faintly at my fingertips, hesitantly at first, then stronger as I drew upon my core. I extended my hands, weaving the light outward, letting it flow freely instead of forcing it into neat forms. The clearing filled with a soft glow, motes drifting like fireflies in the morning air. Lexi's eyes narrowed slightly, observing, but she didn't interfere. She didn't need to. The light that formed around me was enough to show progress.

Yet, I could feel the lingering fear at the edges of my mind, whispering doubts, telling me it wasn't enough, that I would falter. Lexi's voice was calm, guiding, rhythmic.

"Do not falter, do not fear the vastness. Let the sky itself be the canvas, and your will the brush. Let the threads stretch, intertwine, breathe, and shine, carrying with them not just magic, but your resolve. Speak it: Threads of starlight, rise and bind, respond to my heart, and let my fear dissolve into your light." I echoed, steadying my breathing." Threads of starlight, rise and bind, respond to my heart, and let my fear dissolve into your light." The lattice pulsed with life.

My fear, once crushing, dissolved into Lexi's words, into the rhythm of the magic, into the steady glow of the threads. I drew a breath, forcing myself to ignore the whispers. The sky above no longer seemed like a threat—it was a canvas. I focused entirely on the Astralis, letting it respond to my will alone.

Slowly, deliberately, I wove it into a lattice of radiant threads, a soft, shimmering net that extended across the clearing. Each strand held steady, resisting the pull of my panic. The wind picked up, lifting the threads, scattering the glow, yet they held, tethered by my intent. My heart pounded, but for the first time, I felt the fear receding instead of consuming me. Lexi watched intently.

"Good. Don't stop now. Let it flow further, reach further. Control comes from understanding, not fear." Lexi stepped closer, her voice soft but firm.

"Now, feel the weight of each thread, their tension and balance. Pull gently, do not force. Let the starlight stretch like water flowing over stones, smooth but unwavering. Repeat: I feel the weight. I pull with care. The energy obeys, balanced, steady, true." Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road." I feel the weight. I pull with care. The energy obeys, balanced, steady, true," I repeated. My hands moved in unison with my words.

The lattice stabilized, threads intertwining and glowing like a living constellation. I forced my focus beyond the clearing, into the endless stretch of sky. The wind picked up, scattering motes of light, but they held, tethered by my will and Lexi's cadence. The threads of starlight extended upward, reaching toward the heavens, tethering the vast expanse to my small, trembling body. The wind howled, but I held firm.

The sun caught the light at just the right angle, and the clearing glimmered as though the stars themselves had descended to earth. I could feel the tension leaving me, the fear dissipating, replaced by a strange, exhilarating clarity. The vastness was no longer oppressive. I was part of it, and the threads of Astralis responded, bending and shaping themselves to my will.

"Excellent," Lexi said, her voice carrying a warmth I hadn't heard before.

"Now, maintain it. Balance, control, and intent. Do not falter. For what is astralis without the ability to use them outside your comfort zone." She crouched slightly, guiding me further.

"Combine the threads. Let them breathe, interact, form a network. Your mind is the conductor, your will the pulse. Repeat: I am the pulse, the threads obey. I am calm, I am steady, I am the light made real."" I am the pulse, the threads obey. I am calm, I am steady, I am the light made real," I echoed. Astralis shimmered, weaving an intricate lattice, light stretching upward, filling the clearing. Lexi's smile was faint but approving.

"Excellent. Feel it, maintain it. Let it flow as one, guided not by fear, but by purpose. Repeat: I am part of the world, I hold it with my will, I do not fear."" I am part of the world, I hold it with my will, I do not fear," I repeated, the words echoing in the clearing, steadying my heartbeat. The lattice pulsed with life, threads stretching infinitely, controlled by my hand, my mind, my courage. I nodded, the words barely leaving my lips.

My muscles ached, my core thrummed with energy, but I held the form steady. For a long moment, it was just me, the starlight, and the open sky. And then I felt it: a sense of completion, of harmony between my mind, body, and Astralis. My fear had not vanished completely—it lingered at the edges—but Lexi's incantations gave me a bridge, a tether, and I crossed it. Threads of starlight rose higher, intertwining like a living web, shimmering, steady, alive. Lexi studied the lattice of light, then her gaze met mine.

There was a faint smile, subtle but unmistakable.

"Amazing! You've passed," she said, finally.

"Congratulations, you're no longer an elementary Celestian but an adept Celestian, that means that you're someone who has mastered the fundamentals enough to be considered an independent mage. You can even use advanced to master spells now. With that, I don't really have anything else to teach you. You've graduated." The words hit me like a wave. My knees gave way, and I sank to the ground, breath ragged, chest heaving. For a moment, I couldn't speak, couldn't even think, overwhelmed by relief and disbelief.

I had faced the sky, the openness, my fear—and I had prevailed. Lexi crouched beside me, her violet eyes softening. She reached out, lightly flicking my forehead with her hand.

"You've always had this in you," she murmured.

"You just had to see it for yourself." I blinked, trying to gather my thoughts. The clearing, once terrifying in its vastness, now seemed gentle, welcoming. The threads of starlight still lingered in the air, casting a soft glow across the grass and trees, proof that I had done it.

"I… I did it," I whispered, almost in disbelief.

"I passed." Lexi nodded.

"You did. And you've grown. Not just in skill, but in strength, in understanding. That's what matters." I looked up at her, feeling a warmth that went beyond pride—something deeper, quieter. Gratitude, perhaps, for the guidance, for the patience, for the unwavering presence she had been for two years. My fear of the open sky, of the unknown, of losing control, had been real and crushing.

But now, standing here, I felt something new: a fragile, burgeoning confidence that I could face the world beyond the walls of our lessons. Lexi straightened, brushing off her robes.

"Remember this moment," she said, her tone shifting back to her usual composed teacher's cadence.

"Remember how you felt when you overcame yourself. You'll need it for the challenges ahead." I nodded, swallowing hard. The threads of starlight shimmered softly as they slowly dissolved back into the air, leaving the clearing illuminated by the gentle light of morning. The fear I had felt was gone, replaced by an unfamiliar but exhilarating calm. We walked back through the woods in silence, the rustling leaves the only sound.

My legs were tired, my core still thrummed with residual energy, but I carried a lightness I had never felt before. Each step no longer seemed like it might crumble beneath me. The open world was no longer a threat—it was a stage, waiting for me to step onto it. Lexi glanced at me once, faintly smiling.

"You've done well, Kawa-Kun. Truly well." I smiled back, feeling the words settle in my chest like a quiet victory. For the first time, I understood what it meant to graduate—not just from lessons, not just from exercises, but from fear itself. And as the sunlight streamed through the trees, warming my face, I knew that whatever challenges awaited, I could face them. The sky, once terrifying in its endless expanse, now felt infinite in possibility. That evening, Mother gathered us for dinner.

Lexi sat between us, humming quietly, pretending not to notice the tension at the table. I caught her sneaking food off my plate again. Normally, I'd protest—but tonight, I let her. When the meal ended, Father spoke with a gentleness that felt heavier than his stern tone ever could.

"Tomorrow, Kawa, Lexi will return home. We should make these last moments count." Lexi's smile wavered. Mine did too. Somehow, Lexi ended snuggling up beside me again. I bet she does this on purpose just so she can pinch my cheeks in the middle of the night. Later, in the quiet of my room, she asked, "Kawa… are you sad?" The words caught me off guard. I wanted to say no. I wanted to pretend this didn't hurt. But the lump in my throat refused to let me lie.

"…Yeah. I'll miss you." She blinked, then yawned, hiding her face in my blanket.

"Dummy… of course you will. I'll miss you too." Her voice was muffled, but I caught every word. Sleep took her quickly, but I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The gods gave me blessings, skills, even responsibilities I didn't ask for. Yet none of that felt as heavy as knowing Lexi wouldn't be here tomorrow. Even a straight-laced, non-perverted kid like me couldn't deny it— Lexi was my first love. And she was leaving.

~~~~~~~~~~ The next day, Lexi, who hadn't changed for two years, packed her luggage and stood outside the gate. My parents hadn't changed either. Between the four of us, I was the only one who had changed and grown taller during these two years.

"Lexi, you can still stay, you know? I still have lots of dishes to teach you! Without you, who will I pass down my secret recipes to? Definitely not to these two idiots, right?" My mother persuaded. Hey, mother, that is very mean." Yeah! The guys in the village will miss you, too, you know? Without you, who's going to water their crops for them?" My parents were trying to keep Lexi. I guess, over the two years, having someone live under the same roof as you makes you really close to them.

My parents had a very close bond with Lexi. Well, she was always free in the mornings and evenings, so she had a lot of time to bond with my parents." Thanks for the offer, but I plan to travel around the world to improve my celestial skills and polish up my flaws." Lexi politely declined. Aw." I'm sorry our son has made you lose confidence in your skills." Father! That's not a good way to say that! I mean, I'm flattered, but still!

"Haha! It was a fun experience teaching Kawa. I've learnt that I'm still lacking in many ways. I'm actually grateful that he made me find my flaws." Lexi smiled. Lexi then bent down to look at me." Kawa, I've tried my best teaching you, but it seems that you are far more capable than I am. It seems I'm not capable enough. It is already a privilege to teach a prodigy such as yourself." Lexi smiled as she explained gently, her warm sisterly vibe coming back.

"That's not true! You taught me a lot, too!" I protested. Lexi rummaged through her luggage for a moment before pulling out a pair of gauntlets. They weren't the bulky kind you'd see in games or on knights—these were slim, leaving the fingertips exposed. At first glance, the cloth looked far too soft, almost flimsy, yet there was something about its weave that hinted at hidden strength. Each gauntlet bore three diamond-shaped slots.

On the right one, all three were already filled with gems, each glowing faintly with a different hue. She slipped them onto my hands with a smile.

"Sorry, Kawa, if these aren't quite your style. But think of them as armor—lighter than steel, so you don't have to lug heavy gear around." She tapped the gems one by one as she explained.

"The red one will release a barrier that blasts outward, a last-resort counterattack. The blue one forms a shield around you. And the green one… heals any wound." Her eyes softened as she added, almost playfully, "They're just for you. Only for emergencies." She finished with a wink. She knew I was afraid of emergencies, how thoughtful.

"No, I love it! I'll definitely cherish it!"

"I'd be more than happy if you do," Lexi smiled warmly. She then stood up and patted my head for the last time and hugged my mum." Now, it's time for me to go. I'm sure we'll meet again someday!" She then walked down the hill. I don't know when my tears started flowing out, neither did my parents, but all I knew was that Lexi was leaving. And this time, I might not see her again. No, she can't go yet, I haven't finished my time with her. I chased after her, I ran until my lungs were on fire.

There were a thousand things I wanted to tell her. But I couldn't, I couldn't tell her, I just ccouldn't say it. Only this, " Sensei, thank you for everything!" Now tears were flowing freely, till they soaked my shirt wet, so wet that evaporation couldn't keep up. I didn't know if she heard it or not, but I really wanted to say it. Then Lexi raised her arm, her silhouette stretching long in the fading light. She gave a final wave, a wordless farewell that lingered more than any spoken goodbye.

I wanted to call out, to stop her—but the words never left my lips. That wave became the last memory I carried of her. She really taught me a lot, knowledge, magic, and experience. But most importantly, she let me see my worth, that I could do more than I thought. That graduation was most definitely my trauma… And she healed it.