> The old man stood in front of me, hands behind his back, looking serious.
"All right, kid. Enough messing around with barrels."
> I frowned. "Huh?"
He tapped me on the forehead with his cane.
"If you want to move forward and reach your goal… you've gotta take the official Scriptor exam."
> My eyes widened : "What?! But… I'm only fifteen!"
> "I know, idiot… which means we've got time to train. If you ever want to find those Forgotten Words… you'll need a license anyway."
He raised a finger.
"Without a license, you're just an illegal nobody.
You can't travel, you can't buy official information… and if you start writing runes that are too powerful without authorization, the Corps of Writings will come down on you fast."
> I swallowed hard: "…And what's this exam?"
> He counted on his fingers.
"First:
Brush control test.
Power test.
Creativity test.
Then a real combat."
> My stomach lurched: "A COMBAT?!"
> "Well, yeah. What did you think? That you become a Scriptor to fold origami?"
He smacked me on the back of the head.
"You're supposed to prove you can keep your rune stable, even when someone's trying to smash your face into the ground."
> I grumbled. "…Great."
> He studied me for a moment, then continued:
"For that, you need to train seriously. And that starts with paper."
> "…Huh? Paper?!"
> He threw his arms up toward the sky.
"Obviously, brat! You think we always write in the air?!"
> I crossed my arms. "Well… yeah. We're Scriptors, right?"
> The old man sighed. "Listen carefully."
He leaned closer.
"Writing your runes in the air and casting a spell uses up your spiritual reserves.
Even a simple 'FIRE' drains your energy."
He pointed to his cane.
"If you try to practice a thousand times a day in the air, you'll collapse before noon."
> "So… we write on paper?"
> "Exactly."
He raised a finger.
"Paper is for learning the perfect shape of the runes, memorizing the strokes, and building your muscle memory.
Then, when you write it in the air, it comes out faster and stronger."
> I raised an eyebrow. "…So I'm gonna become a calligrapher?"
> "HAH! Welcome to the real world, kid!"
He burst out laughing.
"The Scriptorial isn't just about blowing things up. It's also an art.
And if you don't want your runes looking like a toddler's scribbles, you'd better put in the effort."
> I sighed. "…OK."
> "Come on. We're going to buy: practice paper, spiritual ink, and maybe a proper brush. Because writing with your finger only works for so long."
> I raised my hands. "…Is that expensive?"
> "Of course it is, you idiot! You think magic is free?!"
He burst out laughing.
"But don't worry. I've got connections in some old shops. We'll negotiate."
> He turned toward the alley's exit.
"Come on, hurry up. Because tomorrow… we start real training.
And believe me…"
He squinted his eyes.
"You're gonna suffer."
> Despite myself, a smile spread across my face. "…I'm ready."