Talking to Cristina helped to set my priorities straight. Not getting hit sat at the very top of the list, with learning to cast spells of the higher Poems, and understanding what Heretics really were following in short order.

It was time I started acting like the A-ranker I was. The inadequacy I demonstrated inside dungeons showed just how much I had left myself wallow in complacency. At first, I told myself I didn’t try my hand at the more difficult spells because I didn’t want to garner unwanted attention. I didn’t want to end up like most other Heretics, after all. The reason was another, however. I didn’t want to put the effort required to learn. I knew why. I was afraid to fail. I was afraid of leaving my comfort zone because it meant work—hard work. Not experiencing any real challenge in learning to cast the lower Poems had convinced me that I didn’t need to struggle to learn magic. I was wrong.

As an A-ranker, my control over mana was supposed to be better than any of the people I knew, and yet it wasn’t. Surely, having awakened not too long ago was also a reason, but the most contributing factor remained my lack of effort.

Closing my eyes, I focused on the connection all mages shared with mana. The information contained within opened to me like the pages of a book, imparting me the knowledge it housed until I maintained the connection. Most people revered the first Grand Magus for creating the Songs. I did because he found a way to hand down his knowledge to anyone who had the means to interact with mana. Any Awakened—and even Heretics—could study it.

Communicating with mana wasn’t done by words. It was achieved by projecting your feelings and desires to it. I willed it to show me the 6th Stanza of the 6th Poem, and the energy answered, sharing with me its chant and spell matrix.

It was a strange and foreign experience. Were I a computer, I imagined accessing a file on an external hard drive would feel much the same way.

The spell’s structure was unlike anything I had ever tried to cast. Formed by thousands of interlocking lines, circles, and all manners of geometrical figures, it was a veritable maze of crisscrossing patterns. It was daunting knowing I had to memorize it and have enough control over mana to be able to shape it by will only and in the midst of fighting. And as I had but five days before the raid began, I knew I wouldn’t be anywhere close to mastering it in the short time frame.

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I had to start somewhere, however. The Stanzas of the 4th Poems seemed like a good idea. They were difficult, but not impossibly so, requiring about the same level of control the resonance of a newly promoted or awakened B-ranker afforded to craft the matrix. Still, I wasn’t sure I would be able to learn much if I spread my attention too thin.

Taking into consideration the ones I knew, I already had an idea on which spells I had to focus on learning to improve my versatility. The first was the 6th Stanza of the 4th Poem of the Song of Destruction, Conflagration, while the second was the 5th Stanza of the 3rd Poem of the Song of Protection, Flame Wall. Conflagration caused all flames in close proximity to explode and burn hotter. Flame Wall summoned a wall of magical flames capable of warding off attacks to an extent. Cementing my decision was also the fact that either of the spells, besides chaining well with each other, also synergized with Crimson Blast, so that failing to master any of the two before the raid wouldn’t hamper me too much.

The morning of the raid arrived sooner than I thought possible. I yet had to master Conflagration to the same level of my other spells, as, despite my efforts, the magic still took me a handful of seconds to summon. On the other hand, I had reached a very high proficiency with Flame Wall, even managing to cast it without its chant, which was fantastic because I didn’t choose the spell to protect me, but to limit the monsters’ view.

A heavy silence hung over the empty streets of Rome, which along the fog blanketing the areas closest to Villa Doria Pamphilj in the mornings made for a tense, foreboding atmosphere to be walking into. As quickly as I could, I hurried to Piazza San Pancratio, the place Giacomo and Alessandro appointed as the starting point of the expedition inside the dungeon, trying not to think how in the next few days things could go terribly wrong.

Finding Alessandro, even among the fifty or so people huddled at the center of the square wasn’t hard. Decked in his dull, black armor, the man towered over everyone else, resembling a human fortress.

I walked up to him, realizing from the number of those already present that I was one, if not the very last to arrive. Most of my guildmates didn’t recognize me, but thankfully those that did let me pass through, allowing me to reach the empty ring in which Alessandro, Giacomo, and the others stood waiting.

“Right on time,” Giacomo said once I had joined them amidst the curious gazes of the crowd.

“Before we start. Let me remind you. First, don’t leave your group. Second, don’t take any unnecessary risks. And third, don’t loot the monsters. I swear, God helps you if I find out anyone so much as looked at a monster core the wrong way,” Giacomo said sweeping his gaze over those gathered.

“Okay, stop standing like ducks and split into your assigned groups,” Alessandro ordered once Giacomo had finished roasting people with his eyes only. “We haven’t got all day. The dungeon won’t conquer itself."

“Those with me, let’s go!” he said, turning around and marching towards the closest entrance to the park.