When he heard the professor knocking on his door the next morning, Ash emerged immediately, ready to speak to the dean.

The dean was a peculiar woman. She was younger than the professor, visibly, though still older than Ash, and Brook’s students. Each of the everyday items that surrounded her visibly reacted to her presence; when she shifted in her seat, it would also change position, as if it was alive. She held her hand in a writing position, and the quill on her desk immediately dipped itself in ink, flying into her hand.

“You are the fourth programmatic enchanter I’ve ever met, including myself,” she said when Ash read out his disciplines to her. “To think you would be capable of it without first even trying traditional enchanting… you’re a strange one. And, a Beginner level Paragon, at that. In Cellular Manipulation? I’ve never heard of it. That makes sense, I suppose,” she said wistfully.

“Emily, er, dean, he’s bound to progress quickly. I believe-”

She held up a hand; she had already made her decision. “The professor is correct. These circumstances warrant an exception; I will personally waive your tuition. Sign here and here,” she said, offering the quill. The middle-aged woman began to grow impatient when Ash started reading over the entire document, trying to understand what would be required of him. From what he could see, the terms of his time at Sarefell were not overly strict, until he reached the later clauses. It dawned on him.

“This is a military guild?”

“You didn’t know?” the woman asked. Brook went quiet.

“No, I didn’t. Still…” he considered his options. Nearly two years of room, board, and tutelage? It was enticing.

Ash continued to read over the contract, trying to determine exactly what it would mean to be a member of a military guild. Fifty percent of his earnings from guild contracts would go directly back into funding the guild, and he would be required to take three contracts a month starting immediately after his training period. In exchange, he would be given room, board, basic supplies, and an allowance, which he could use to buy items in the guild shop. The terms seemed relatively generous, given the scholarship.

“How long does a guild job usually take to complete?”

“A day to a week, depending,” the dean replied.

Ash swiftly plucked the ornate quill from the air, signing the enrollment forms. As he did so, he invoked his Empyrean Contract skill; golden thread spun out from the writing utensil, wrapping around him.

Ash let go of the quill and it flew back over to the dean, who also signed the contract, confirming his enrollment. The woman became visibly anxious as the tiny thread wound around her, but Ash wasn’t entirely sure why: his thread was barely a drop of golden dye infringing upon her emerald ocean of an aura. After a brief moment had passed, the binding disappeared entirely. “I’ve never seen anyone actually use an Empyrean Contract before,” she said, “A divine magic only learned by making a deal with a god.” She shuddered.

“You may stay in the room Brook allotted for you. Although that complex is traditionally reserved for Student level acolytes, his other apprentices are both there. I’m sure you’ll catch up with them soon enough. Brook’s always do,” she said, a hint of intrigue slipping into her voice.

Those last words piqued his interest, but Ash decided not to push the matter. He requested a copy of the contract he had signed.

“Thank you, dean,” the professor tipped his head in a slight nod.

The bizarre woman gave Ash some parting words as the door slid shut. “Welcome to the least standardized branch of the Syphian militia. Enjoy your stay.”

“You can skip the formalities when there’s no other faculty around, Ash. Call me Brook,” the professor said, walking him to the room he planned to educate his apprentices within. “I apologize for not mentioning that this is a military facility sooner. On the bright side, we are the leading institute of Syphia for both battlemages and enchanters. You’d be hard pressed to find a non-military school around here.”

“It’s alright,” Ash responded, already moving past it. “I figured there was some catch.”

“Still, you will receive a highly personalized education here. Our tuition is exorbitant for a reason: the government pays well; otherwise, this sort of program would be unsustainable. We need to select for talented individuals, as most professors only have one, or possibly two, apprentices.” Brook’s face went a bit pale as he continued. “I had six, some time ago. I understand wealthy students fund the military, but, well...” he trailed off. From what Ash could tell, the professor was not at all averse to taking in the less fortunate.

“Anyway,” he picked back up, opening the door to the training room, “I think you will have the most success focusing primarily on your Paragon discipline, Cellular Manipulation, and your supplementary discipline, Mana Manipulation. Secondarily, I would like to see some progress in your other disciplines, Programmatic Enchanting, Material Transmutation, and Mana Contracting; they also have the potential to be powerful and will likely be an asset to you in the future. Regardless, your first priority is to develop a skill that makes use of both Mana Manipulation and Cellular Manipulation, that way you can improve at both simultaneously.”

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“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Ash said, following his professor in, “What are the different ranks a discipline can take?”

“Disciplines can take on the forms of Beginner, Novice, Apprentice, Student, Intermediate, Journeyman, Adept, Artisan, Master, Grandmaster, Magi, Demi-mortal, Immortal, and Paragon.”

“I see. What are the differences between ranks?”

“I would not, under any circumstances, attempt to engage a practitioner even one discipline threshold above you. The differences are immense.

“Although,” he contemplated, “you are a Beginner Paragon. That is nigh unheard of.”

“What about Mana Cultivation? Will I keep improving in that?”

The professor grimaced, conflicted. “Your experiences in passive cultivation have already pushed you to Novice II. You’ll likely stay there for a while; although, as a skill, it is very much connected to Mana Manipulation. Improving in Mana Manipulation should allow you to see moderate gains in cultivation as well, and at some point we will have to teach you active cultivation. That divine mana you possess might help, as well.”

He didn’t remember telling him about that, but was beginning to see why Brook instructed here.

The bedraggled man retrieved a small golden pocket watch, checking the time. “We do not subscribe to the doctrine of slow progression here at Sarefell,” he began.

“Vera, Finn,” Brook acknowledged his other apprentices as they made their way in behind him.

Ash took in the room. He was surprised to see it resembled a corridor, lined with weapons. Gem studded staffs, swords, bows, and any other weapon one could think were hung inside the armory. Past the weapons, bags, apparel, and dried foodstuffs were present.

“Are we going somewhere?” Ash asked, oblivious.

The professor grinned. “Oh yes, we are.”

—

The dark corridor called menacingly as the students prepared for the journey ahead of them. Their mentor had selected an ashen wood staff for Ash; it sported intricate carvings but none of the ornate gems decorating the others, who he assumed were for more powerful casters. A single, small glowing ball of quartz, or perhaps marble, fit into a notch at the top.

Lesser Neutral Staff, Common.

Channeling magic into this item allows the caster an easier path to enacting their will.

Cryptic as anything, Ash thought loudly. “As you might have guessed, this is anything but a normal room.” Finn was filling a backpack with supplies which Ash estimated would last a day or two. “This corridor is connected to Animosity, the glorious dungeon of Syphia,” he said, finishing his packing. “Once we go through, we will arrive somewhere on the first level. If we are good enough to clear that,” he continued, jokingly glaring at Vera, who rolled her eyes in response, “the dungeon will allow us to start in the second. There are twelve in total,” Finn clarified for Ash.

Ash glanced to the twelve circles on his hand, unsure if there was a connection. He figured there was. “Animosity adapts to your weaknesses,” Finn finished, sliding on his backpack, “But, it is always — more or less — fair.”

“We really have no way to know that,” Vera complained, cleaning an obsidian-black dagger, “It’s possible the higher levels have impossible challenges… we only know what the survivors tell us.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Ver-Bear,” Finn teased.

“Yes, well,” Brook spoke up, “the dungeons allows Sarefell and similar institutions to construct permanent rifts, so most people presume it does like having us there. How could we pass up creature parts, Core fragments, loot, and training? The very occasional death is a troubling topic to broach, but none of my pupils have ever died within the depths of Animosity. I do not intend for you to be the first, Ash.” He produced a gray cloak from the nearby shelf, gingerly handing it to his newest student.

Lesser Neutral Symbiotic Cloak, Common.

Upon the entrance of foreign objects, this item saps mana from the user to power the Repel Force enchantment.

Ash took in the details, growing increasingly concerned at the prospect of losing all his mana.

“Your unique mana type has its benefits, definitely,” the professor explained, “unfortunately, though, your mana is incompatible with all mass produced equipment, save neutral type items. That is, more or less, fine for now, but as you improve it’ll be a struggle to find unspecialized items, let alone divine-type equipment. Hopefully, your status as a Paragon and swift progression will somewhat make up for that.”

Ash took a closer look at each of his comrades, beginning to notice how each of their items synergized with their mana. Brook’s adornments were all a blueish-gray; his mana swirled around him in similar fashion. It was barely visible, but Ash could see it, if he focused, like an aura but of blue, but more tangible. Meanwhile, Finn’s tunic glowed a brilliant white, all impurities removed entirely; it fit perfectly with his mana, which shimmered off him in glorious whites. Vera’s mana, in stark contrast to Finn, was a swampy mix of green and black. It worked to conceal her, much like camouflage, but Ash guessed it was harder to acquire items of mixed color, hence her mostly black equipment. His mana was almost oily in comparison to theirs; it accumulated in clumps: a golden mess, he could see it, faintly, on the surface of his skin.

+1 Wisdom.

Ash incredulously noted the sheer amount of information he had needed to take in to earn one wisdom point, thinking back to all the discussion that had occurred the previous day.

“I’m sure it’ll work out,” Ash responded, proving that he could, indeed, still speak. Finn laid out the necessities he would need to bring and helped Ash put together a backpack to his liking, which he was immensely grateful for, seeing as his previous outdoor experiences were limited to hiking. He certainly had never considered bringing mana potions on those.

Brook walked to the end of the hallway, presenting some hidden object to the plated wall. Suddenly, a presence could be felt permeating the air, and Ash knew the dungeon could feel him.

+1 Intelligence.

It seemed the system was beginning to recognize that he was applying his wisdom. His thoughts immediately gained a very slight edge, as if some fog he hadn’t noticed inhabiting his mind had been dispersed by an impotent fan. Incredible, he thought.

“Professor—”

“Ash, I told you to call me Brook. Please, save your questions for later.”

“Are you to accompany them, Magi?” an ancient voice inquired from deep within his mind.

“Only to ensure my apprentices’ survival, and observe their progress,” Brook replied, “I do not intend to intervene.”

“Very well. You know the rules.”