Nitsuo_Sora

They called him the “Silent Tactician” long before the blood dried on the banners. Before the journal was found. Before history remembered the cost.

At the heart of an elite academy where talent alone isn't enough, Nitsuo stands not with power or prestige—but with silence, strategy, and an unreadable gaze. To most, he’s just a quiet second-year. To a few, he is the mind behind impossible victories. Behind his team’s laughter, behind the storm of noble politics and magical duels, he records everything—in a worn leather journal that one day will be all that remains.

Each student here dreams of glory. Each battle is more than a test; it’s a war for identity. Magic is studied like warcraft. Words are weapons. Feelings are hidden behind masks, until a single moment—a mistake, a duel, a glance too long—cracks them wide open.

But Nitsuo didn’t come here to win. He came to carry a promise. And while his comrades clash and grow, while quiet rivalries bloom into unspoken feelings and accidental flirts stir the hearts of more than one, a war far beyond the school walls brews in the dark.

Because legends aren't born—they’re remembered. And The Silent Tactician doesn’t speak to be heard. He writes so his story won't be lost.

Journal of The Silent Tactician

Location: Academy – Healing Wing, Room 3A

The first thing I heard was laughter.

Light, unsteady, like someone trying not to cry and laugh at the same time. I opened my eyes to warm lantern-light and blurred faces.

Anna nearly tripped over her own bed to get to mine. Leander grinned like an idiot and ruffled my hair. Riya clung to my blanket like I was going to vanish again. Alice, arms crossed, didn't speak — but her red eyes softened.

The new girl — the young mage Selia — was there too, still bandaged, still bruised. So was the quiet swordswoman whose name I never quite remembered. She stood near the door, watching us like she wasn't sure she belonged.

Healing Wing, Room 3A. It looked more like a barracks than a hospital — beds lined up side by side, every corner packed with blankets, salves, spirit crystals, and barely-functioning mana lamps.

Pain flared, sharp and cold in my chest.

Elric was beside me in a second, pressing a warm hand to my shoulder.

> "Easy. You're alive. No need to rush back to war."

He smiled — tired, but genuine. His forehead still had a bandage.

Using magic to save Selia… It damaged my core again. But the spirit crystal Yukari left behind was still beside me, pulsing faintly. I reached for it with my senses. It didn't hurt this time.

His coat was burned at the edges. His gloves were still stained with spellmarks. He didn't speak right away — just walked along the line of beds, checking our conditions.

But when he stopped at my side, he said something I didn't expect.

> "You bought time. Enough for me to arrive."

"The bell was a last resort," I answered.

He placed a small rune-carved disc on my bedside table.

> "You're all getting a week off. That's an order."

Then he turned to leave — coat swaying, boots silent on the stone. But just before the door closed, he paused and added:

After he left, we sat in silence for a while.

Not out of tension — just comfort.

Like soldiers who survived the same battle.

Like friends who didn't need words.

Leander was the first to break it.

> "So… stew party when we're out of here?"

"Only if you're not the one cooking," muttered Alice.

Anna tossed a pillow at them both.

Selia actually was asleep — poor girl had barely moved since the trial.

Even the quiet swordswoman cracked a grin.

That night, I wrote nothing in my journal.

Their laughter. Their teasing. Their life.

Chapter 27 - We Laughed Again