The academy had always felt like the center of the world—a place where the brightest minds gathered, where knowledge was preserved, refined, and challenged. But after weeks of debate, ethical trials, and philosophical discussions, a new thought began to settle among the students.
What if the academy wasn't the only answer?
A Question Left Unspoken
Kalem found himself in one of the academy courtyards, the scent of old parchment and alchemical smoke lingering in the air. Around him, students gathered in quiet conversation. The usual air of confidence had shifted into something more uncertain.
Across from him, a young Historian Division student named Elric leaned against a stone pillar, his arms crossed. "We spend years here," he mused, "debating theory, refining our fields. But how much do we actually know about the outside world?"
A second-year Beast Study student, Maris, adjusted the straps on her satchel. "You're suggesting that what we learn here is… limited?"
Elric shrugged. "I'm saying it's insular. We learn from books and professors, but what about the people who aren't in the academy? What about the hunters, the wanderers, the artisans who never had formal education?"
Kalem remained quiet, watching how the conversation unfolded.
The group moved toward one of the open study halls, where more students had gathered. The topic quickly spread, and soon, two camps began to form.
One group, primarily those deeply invested in their fields, argued that the academy was the pinnacle of knowledge.
"If you want to advance," a Spell Division student said, "you need the best teachers, the best resources, and a place where minds can collaborate. That's the academy."
"Besides," added a Materialist, "the world outside follows our discoveries. The greatest advancements in alchemy, spellcraft, engineering—they all came from academies like this one."
The opposing side, however, challenged that perspective.
Maris shook her head. "You think innovation comes from institutions? It comes from necessity. A villager with no formal training might develop a technique we never even considered, simply because their life depends on it."
Elric nodded. "The academy teaches what has already been recorded. But what about the discoveries made outside these walls? How much do we ignore simply because it doesn't fit within academic standards?"
The conversation deepened.
Eventually, all eyes turned to Kalem. He had remained silent for most of the discussion, but now, they wanted his thoughts.
He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Both sides are right," he admitted. "The academy gives us the structure to refine our knowledge. But without outside perspectives, we risk stagnation."
A first-year from the Alchemy Division frowned. "Then what do you suggest? Leaving the academy?"
Kalem shook his head. "Not necessarily. But closing ourselves off from the world is a mistake. We should be looking outside for inspiration, not just inside textbooks."
The idea resonated with some, but others remained unconvinced.
"What about those of us who can't leave?" a researcher asked. "Some of us have to stay and continue our work here."
Kalem nodded. "Then maybe the answer isn't just leaving—but bringing the world here."
The conversation stretched late into the evening, and by the end, an idea had formed.
Some students, inspired by the discussion, decided that once they graduated, they would travel, bringing their knowledge into the real world and returning with new perspectives.
Others, however, saw an opportunity to change the academy from within.
"What if we created a division that studied real-world techniques?" Elric suggested. "A way to incorporate external discoveries into the academy's framework?"
It was ambitious, but the idea took root.
Maris smiled. "That might be the first real innovation we've had here in years."
That night, Kalem sat in his usual spot in the stable, running a hand through Onyx's coarse fur.
The world outside the academy felt closer than ever.
Maybe, one day, he would have to see it for himself.