One month had passed.
The last time Inigo stood in the courtyard of the Magical Academy, he was just some curious transfer student with a few tricks up his sleeve and a burger empire beginning to take root. Now, after thirty days of relentless, self-imposed training, he had returned—not just sharper, but faster, stronger, and deadlier.
And he was ready to show it.
The morning sun bathed the marble walkways of the academy in gold as students in their signature uniforms milled about, gossiping, training, or rushing to their lectures. Magic users practiced their spells near the spellcasting towers while martial students dueled with wooden swords in the eastern yard.
Inigo made his way to the training field reserved for solo practice. It was open, flat, surrounded by small cliffs and trees that had seen hundreds of spells and arrows fly by them. Today, it would see something new.
He stretched once, cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders.
