Amun.

***

A day of training, a night of sleep, and a morning full of studying Classes made for quite a productive day off. But the start of the second week of study brought with it an eagerness to extend the formality with the rest of the party. So after fashioning myself a quick breakfast in my room, I emerged to find Zakira and Twig lounging out into the common area as always and joined the former on a beanbag until the other students came straggling up one by one.

It didn't take long after that to see Duke walk approach with an eager Slate and a groggy Samson. And after leading them outside, I allowed a few moments of silence to give the boy a quick study. He was unremarkable by appearance. With sun-tanned skin, high cheekbones, and a squat, square chin, he held a striking resemblance to the Roman Emperor, Galba. But looked a lot less competent in terms of intellectual prowess.

"Congratulations to the three of you on becoming team leaders." I abruptly started, triggering equally abrupt thanks from the two non-humans and a more hesitant response from Samson. "My only goals at this academy are to excel at everything I do and graduate at the top of the class." I continued without delay. "As the party leader, that mindset is now applied to our overall performance. As team leaders, I ask that you pay close attention to the needs, strengths, and weaknesses of your teammates and report them back to me in one week so that they can be mitigated with the proper formations and strategies."

"Understood," Duke replied.

"Very well." Followed Slate and a late nod from Samson.

"Good." I nodded. "We'll meet ten minutes before class for attendance. Have your squads vote where they wish the meeting site to be going forward, but my recommendation is the classroom. Any questions, comments, or concerns?."

Duke and Slate shook their heads while Samson stomped toward me.

"I don't understand all this cohesion shit." He spat. Not angrily, more from confusion or frustration than anything else. Still, it was enough to cause the other two to share an expectant look with each other.

"Everyone's hung up on the assumption that we're graded on an individual basis, which isn't entirely true." I sighed. "Even the strongest mystics work with teams. And those that don't still have a reliance on others for healing, supplies, and all other forms of support. That's why they placed us into teams in the first place. To get us used to working with strangers and to gauge and guide our leadership abilities. Taking that into account, it's safe to assume that we leaders will be graded based on the performance of our subordinates."

He stepped back with contemplation written all over his face. It was clear he wasn't a bright one. But even that could be changed given enough time.

"In other words, if we work better as teams, we get more points as individuals." I sighed. "And I don't know about you all, but I'm after as many points as I can get." A light finally seemed to shine in his dull expression, giving me the cue to steer back to the main reason behind this conversation. "Now then, I came up with five positions for your team members to assume in combat: Knight, Rooks, Bishops, Queens, and Kings," I explained. "Keep in mind that these names are placeholders, but the Knights are essentially the infantry. They'll work in tandem with the Rooks, who'll play a defensive role and will jump into action whenever someone's overwhelmed or injured. The Bishops are reconnaissance and maneuvering units. The King will remain at the center or rear and should be someone skilled in healing magic or someone with a specialized skill set. Lastly, the Queen should be someone capable of flight." I declared. "They'll work ambushes and air support. That means the position is reserved for me, Urshure, and you, Duke."

"Naturally." He bowed.

"If there are no questions, spread the word. I'll see you at seven-fifty." As I somewhat expected, Duke and Samson parted ways while Slate approached me with a beaming grin. "You're the Rook," I said before he could ask. "Els is the Knight, Zakira's the Bishop, and Peter is King." With nothing more than a nod, he compartmentalized the knowledge and followed the other two inside. Leaving me with just enough time to smoke before rallying the party to migrate to Doyle's classroom.

After listening to the three of them muttering along with their subordinates about the positions and what roles they'd best be suited to, we arrived before Doyle's room and funneled inside to continue the talks and debates until the man himself entered the room, quelling the noise in an instant.

"Cook Party, all present," I told him after approaching.

"Thank you." He nodded, then gestured for me to stand beside him. "This week will begin this quarter's focus. We have three objectives." He held up his fingers. "First, to train your bodies- both physical and spiritual. Second, to get you proficient in Mana Molding. And third, to train your martial abilities in favor of your future Classes. As such, each day will begin with a run of the same obstacle course you ran last week. Mana Molding practice will follow until lunch. And you'll come back to a few hours of combat training before the day ends.

"If there are no questions." He turned to me. "Have them get to it and back here in ninety minutes."

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All too easy, that was. Ordering the students and running the course alike. The former didn't even require words while the latter was hardly any different from my first run. The only variations were denser boulders to destroy coupled with more distant and more dangerous obstacles. With that done, I let the students lounge around and relax until it was time for our short demonstration. A demo I found no particular interest in besides taking note of the variations in nomenclature. What I called mana manipulation, they called Mana Molding. Their mana skin was the Mana Veil, used for magical protection. Infusing mana into the body was Mana Bolstering. And reinforcing an object was mana projection. The same principles, only different- and sometimes misleading names.

The only takeaway was that the technique was used practically across the breadth of the Polaris Empire. But nothing more noteworthy was said before he ordered me to move everyone to the practice field to train until he said otherwise, so I spent that time giving pointers to the students like I'd done for my team the day before.

Slate was as enthusiastic as ever in practicing the art while Zakira went through the motions at a leisurely, on-off pace. Els and Peter however grew into a routine of splitting their time between manipulating raw mana and practicing what they began calling the 'elemental tomes.' Or rather the basics in elemental fusion. While the dwarf couldn't manipulate all the elements, he still succeeded in making leaps and bounds in bending the earth to his will. Peter, on the other hand, I had to constantly remind him not to use his magic. Them aside, the other teams were showing more promise than expected. The non-humans seemed to have a natural inclination toward using the technique, using what appeared to be instinct to pull off what took the Nonusians took years to master. Curiously, that somewhat applied to Winston as well. Looking at him, it was clear he'd never tried the techniques before, but he showed a level of mana control that was a degree above everyone else's.

Eventually, Doyle corralled us to him to cheekily declare that the price to head to lunch was to empty our Wells, so I threw out a full-powered Lightning Dragon and went through the normal routine until it was time to return. By then, we were instructed to drill with our weapons until we were told otherwise. So I drilled against the wooden dummies with a three-section staff and sparred against my doppelganger while it was reforming until Doyle gathered us around him again.

"Alright. The name of the game is Magical Endurance. You're to empty your well no less than four times. If you need potions, they'll be provided. Any questions?" He chuckled to himself while a few uneasy gazes were exchanged between the class. And among them was mine.

Emptying the well wasn't a pleasant experience at all. But I'd rather be suffering from and getting used to the after-effects here in a controlled environment rather than on the battlefield. So, as before, I used the Lightning Dragon to empty my Well, sending a wave of crackling energy blanketing across the sky at intervals of a few minutes and focused on the others when I wasn't. Winston resorted to ejecting a stream of micro-scales while Peter conjured a billowing cloud of blue fire. From the other humans, I saw silk, snow, water, and what I assumed to be plasma before my eyes were drawn to Urshure, throwing flames from his maw the seemed quite suspiciously placed when considering the great gusts procured by Duke just overhead. Slate, Kao, and Curious Twig, however, were condensing and 'blasting' raw mana from their palms; though, from where I stood it only looked like their spirits were barfing.

Regardless of the method, though, we all took to the task in our own ways. And as time passed, more and more students began to drop out one by one until there were only a few of us standing tall. Namely, Urshure, Slate, Rebecca, Scarlett, Winston, me, and Peter.

"You seven have the deepest Wells or the widest Pores in the party. So give us a treat and use the last minutes of class to show us your strongest spell." Doyle declared, in turn making a few of us pause in contemplation.

Urshure, however, spoke first. "I will need time to prepare."

"And I cannot use magic." Slate amiably declared. "But I will try my best."

I, however, was lost in my own world. 'My strongest spell?'

The Lightning Dragon was more of a test than anything else. At least at first. Now, were it ever used, I labeled it as a long-lasting, wide-ranging spell of mass destruction. And though it used all my mana, it certainly wasn't my strongest spell. In truth, I had no idea what my strongest spell even was. But I knew it wasn't beneficial to life in the slightest. So I had to come up with something new right here and now.

While I racked my brain, Scarlett calmly strode forward, amassing her off-white magic in her palms before she slammed them on the ground. From her fingers spread mycelium-like threads across the ground to form the unmistakable visage of a caterpillar before her arms skyward, ejecting and condensing her trap spell into the likeness of a colossal caterpillar made of raveled silk. Meanwhile, Rebecca subverted all expectations by condensing her plasma magic into armor and weapons.

When they were done, Slate did something I wasn't aware the other species were capable of and pulled the mana from his Well to be molded. Then, he did as I did when experimenting long ago and created a ball of energy over his head that was large enough to remind me of a certain spirit-powered bomb from old Earthen media. Only, it was far smaller and held only the relatively little amount of mana remaining in his well. And so, after concentrating for a fraction of the time, he launched it at a nearby tree to obliterate it into countless splinters.

Urshure went next, turning his maw skyward to let out an ear-shattering roar before projectile vomiting a cone of white fire that was half as wide as the courtyard and half as high as the trees. Not to mention, it was held for a good fifteen seconds before his head lowered and the flames ceased with a nefarious growl.

And then, all eyes turned to me. So I decided to just wing it with the easiest, most devastating thing and pulled some scrap metal- a broken blade- from my shadow to hold between my thumb and forefinger. Then, I began pulling EM mana from my well and started circulating it in a loop around my arm. Round and round and round the circuit went, absorbing more energy with each pass until violet sparks started streaking out of my arm to crash into random trees, stones, or, in some cases, near the onlooking students.

With almost the entirety of my Well emptied into the loop, I aimed to an ambiguous point in the sky, gathered what little arcana I had, and funneled it in my throat to command. "Rail Gun, fire!"

At my command, the circuit closed, allowing an absurdly powerful magnetic field to take shape and pry the blade from my fingers in less than a fraction of an instant, sending it streaking through the sky like a shooting star made of molten steel.

At least until it evaporated.