“So, how long did it take you to learn [Light] to perfection? And why would you focus on that? Are you getting ideas about becoming a [Light Mage]?”

“I don’t even know what you mean,” I look at Agostina and shrug. “[Light Mage], [Light Shmage], whatever, really.”

“You don’t know about [Light Mages].”

It wasn’t a question.

“Nope. Maybe the book mentioned them? I don’t remember.”

“Your spellbook?”

“Yeah. It has a lot of text about... stuff.”

“[Light Mages] are the running joke of the Nine Towers Academy,” Agostina shakes her head. “They think that there’s some great mystery hidden in their magic, and every once in a while, you get an idiot who accepts the class and becomes the laughingstock of the entire academy. Most of them are not even better at the Cantrips than anyone else, really.”

“What do they believe exactly?”

Agostina puts her teacup on the table and sighs.

“One of my friends, Malia, accepted the class. She dropped out in the second year and disappeared forever. Apparently, there’s a legend that the Nine Towers Academy was founded by a [Light Mage]. And so, someone has let people on that [Light Mages] have some secrets about their class that no one else knows. The truth? Not even [Light Mages] know if their class is really useful for something. You look like someone stupid enough to accept the [Light Mage] class while working on your Cantrips. If it’s ever offered to you, refuse. It does not provide advantages for Cantrips, and it’s weak. Light Magic is weak in offense, defense, and utility. The only utility a [Light Mage] has is light. Big deal. Don’t mold your brain over it. Or do it. Young [Mages] are getting worse and worse nowadays.”

I listen to this monologue, and I still don’t get it. But you know what? Didn’t the book say something about [Light Mages]... and something that wasn’t actually that bad, was it?

“Yeah, sure. No Light Magic. Gotcha.”

“You are not taking me seriously, Human.”

I look carefully at this old woman and think about something really, truly important.

I don’t know if it’s because I haven’t had sex in a few days or so, but Agostina 100% looks like a hot cougar.

Well, importance follows priorities.

“Anyway,” Agostina sighs. “As long as my niece doesn’t do anything stupid, I don’t really care. And, between you and me, she is going to give up on magic anyway.”

“Did you give up on magic?” I ask, curious.

“I am simply too old to be out there in the fields,” Agostina smiles complacently to herself. “I have done more than enough in my life. Most [Mages] won’t ever reach half my levels.”

[Mages] are arrogant, aren’t they?

Suddenly, Lorenzo’s words resound in my head.

There are two types of people among mediocre chefs. Those who know and shut the fuck up, and those who like to blab even though they don’t amount to shit.

I’ve also censored the swearing aimed at divinities that Lorenzo loved to use so much.

And trust me, I don’t want to be disrespectful to Agostina. It’s just that... Listen, I... Yeah, I don’t want to say, ‘I don’t want to boast,’ and then boast. That’s very much cringe. But here’s the thing; if we are talking about the mastery of something, I am pretty high up in the hierarchy when it comes to baking. What Agostina is to magic is what one of my most average employees is to baking.

Mh. Yeah, this is a bit disrespectful to her, I suppose.

But I don’t like when older people talk down to newbies. I never hazed anyone in my lab, and I stood up for myself when they tried that stuff on me. I’m good, but not stupid.

Have I ever been thrown out of any starred kitchens? Yeah. Sure. Why? Because I was already the best there. When I wasn’t, and I was treated fairly, I would just shut up.

So, if I don’t talk down to anyone, why should she?

“It’s your niece,” I shrug. “Maybe test her a little,” I suggest, “you might find out she’s more motivated than you think. If she’s not, she can always focus on something else.”

“Teach my niece the secrets of magic?” Agostina shakes her head. “Knowing her, she would go around yapping about it. Magic must be earned. It’s not a kid’s toy.”

This conversation is rapidly becoming very unpleasant for me. I am afraid I might reply with something extremely aggressive or rude. This woman did save my eyes a few minutes ago, though.

Let’s make an effort, then, I sigh.

“I am very good at baking,” I say sincerely, “and sometimes I had kids mess around without being really dedicated to—”

“Human, you are not even half my age. Don’t give me life lessons,” Agostina cuts me off mid-sentence.

Goddamn. Old people.

Man, I miss Lorenzo.

After burping loudly in front of another chef who was actually younger than him, he once said that old people were the worst part of society, and then something not kind at all about how we should dispose of them in creative ways involving tires and rocky cliffs. Mind you, he was in his sixties, but he always said that the only thing he had more of in his heart than youth was cholesterol.

Goddamn, Lorenzo, I miss you. I hope you are murdering every single pastry they have up there in heaven. Eat the clouds too.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“How many levels is your [Baker] class even?” Agostina’s follow-up question makes my neck itchy.

“I don’t have the class yet. Where I come from—”

“No class, and you talk about teaching people? Please, Human.”

Oof.

“Are classes everything?” I ask, trying to tone down the aggressiveness in my voice.

“Classes and levels are not just a measure of your proficiency. They are the very structure of our society. You can simply ask someone what level they are under truth-stone to know whether you are talking to the real deal. No classes and levels mean your baking skills must be pretty mediocre.”

“I suppose you’d have to think so without knowing different paradigms.”

“What?”

“Paradigms?”

“What is that?”

“Oh, sorry. I just meant if you are used to living in a society that lives on classes, it’s normal that you would think this way, whether you are right or wrong.”

Agostina gives me a long stare, and I feel like this could break out into a pretty heated argument. So, why don’t I change the topic, huh?

“Anyway, you were talking about [Light]. It took me a while to get there. How long does a person usually take?”

“Being able to manifest a [Light] is the requirement to start practicing Cantrips. Candidates for the academy usually take 6 weeks before they can generate a solid [Light] spell matrix. Great talents might take a month. Lucinda, the greatest magical talent in Amorium and, perhaps her generation, took only two weeks. Or at least, that’s what her parents go around saying. Personally, I find that a little green-eared girl could do that a little unbelievable. It took me four weeks.”

Two weeks? WHY WAS I GIVEN TWO DAYS, THEN?

“Interesting,” I say, gritting my teeth, frustrated with the stupid book.

“Don’t worry,” I hear Agostina’s voice becoming softer. “Manifesting a [Light] is just the start of the journey. The speed and proficiency with the Cantrips is a much better indicator of talent.”

Oh, I see. She thinks it took me a long time.

“What are Cantrips?”

Agostina looks at me, surprised.

“You don’t know what Cantrips are?”

No, old woman, I don’t. That’s why I asked.

Damn. Come on, Joey. Let’s not be snappy.

I’m just tired; that’s all.

“Nope,” that’s my reply.

“There are twenty-three Cantrips. A [Mage]’s talent is assessed by them. How do you not know this? How do you even learn magic? It’s not any of my business,” she cuts herself off and then raises her wrinkled hands. “The average [Mage] takes two weeks and a half per Cantrip, more than a year to go through all of them.”

Shit.

Damn. Sorry, mom, I didn’t mean to swear.

Two weeks?

The book will make that into... a day?

I shiver.

“The Nine Towers Academy admits only people with a solid mastery of Cantrips. The specifics vary each year, but as a rule of thumb, you need someone who has taken less than 5 weeks to bring each Cantrip to a high-enough level.”

I still have no actual idea what a Cantrip is, but whatever.

The real question is the following:

If this old Elf is still so hot, what’s her niece like? Is she going to be paradoxically ugly because of Lady Luck? Or is she like the hot, younger version of Agostina?

Woof.

Yeah. Not oof. Woof.

“What would you like your niece to be, if not a [Mage]?”

“Anything,” Agostina shrugs.

Honestly, she seems more offended by the fact that her niece wants to ‘taint’ the [Mage] profession, which she clearly puts on a pedestal, than anything else.

“She could even become a [Baker]. Her mother works at the Adventurers’ Guild—I don’t want my niece to hang out with those musclehead idiots all day. Least she marries one of them and then runs to me to fry their brains for not treating her properly.”

Wasn’t she a [Green Mage] or something? Don’t those guys make like... salad? How does salad fry one’s brain? Has salad always been this big of a threat? What’s this, Pawnee, Indiana?

Also, what’s this dismissiveness about being a [Baker], huh? Does she think [Mages] are hot shit and [Bakers] cold piss?

“Well, if she ever wants to do that, I’m sure Clodia would take her in. You two seem close,” I say, still upset.

“Me and that rascal? I am her mother’s friend. I’ve seen her grow up. What a nightmare she’s been. But...”

I suddenly see some hesitation in the eyes of the old woman, perhaps some sadness too.

“I suppose my sister is right. I should encourage Domitilla more toward magic practice. You two are probably around the same age and proficiency. I should get you together to practice. She might learn something from the proficiency you showed with that [Light] spell. However long it took you, it’s still better than her poor performance.”

Now, that’s interesting.

“Whenever you want,” I smile widely, not at all having a bunch of dirty thoughts about my future female study buddy.

“Anyway,” she raises a hand and sighs. “Do you want more tea? I would like to hear how exactly you worked around that spell and managed to hurt yourself.”

Mh.

I take a deep breath and try to calm myself.

“Like anyone, I guess? I just traced the matrix, as you do, but I forgot to do it farther from my eyes.”

I look at her sharp eyes behind the teacup. See, the ‘as you do’ part is something I’m absolutely not sure of. But I do have to pretend I know what I’m doing and that whatever I’m doing is what’s normal, don’t I? So, I’m trying to understand if she’s onto me or not.

“Describe what you mean by ‘trace the matrix’,” she goes on, clearly much less antagonistic than before.

“Well, the squiggly lines, you know? You use three points and then start tracing the matrix in the air with your Mana. Once you get through the scribble, boom, magic done. Right?”

Now, she even forgets to drink from her cup. And that tells me that I’m probably practicing something fairly unusual, aren’t I?

“You mean that you visualized the full matrix very vividly before materializing it?”

Huh?

What?

“Maybe?” I cringe.

“So, you are overcharging your spells by taking more time than needed to impress the spel matrix?”

Impress?

What?

“I... don’t know what I’m doing, to be honest,” I shrug with a bitter expression. Would you mind teaching me how you materialize the [Light] spell?”

I’m curious to know whether I’m casting spells differently from the rest of the population. Is it so far-fetched to think that maybe my spellcasting method could be superior to theirs? Is that the reason my [Light] spell was so powerful?

I fully expect her to show me some shabby version of the spell. I wouldn’t mind feeling like I’m a genius of sorts.

“You really don’t know anything about magic, do you, kid?” she snorts. “How someone recreates a spell is a well-guarded secret. Even a [Light] spell is usually something that stronger mages don’t want to trade, since it would give insights into how they use every other spell. I asked you because I figured you were a newbie without secrets to give away. In fact, there are exceptions, like some widespread knowledge at the academy about general casting and a few common spells or the direct disciples of [Archmages], who will study under them in exchange for a magical contract. But unless you want to be my disciple for the next twenty years of your life, I fear I’ll not be able to explain my [Light] spell to you.”

Well, why am I surprised?

This is exactly what I should have expected from this world.

What, you thought I could just be a secretly overpowered mage and lord my superiority over others from the shadows?

Hell no.

These motherflippin’ pieces of biscuit don’t share their knowledge, unless I go to some nine-damned academy or whatever.

I exhale and leave it at that.

Come on, Lady Luck, you could be merciful from time to time.

Even a masochist needs some respite!

...

As I lay down on my bed for a nap, yawning to high heaven, I think about Agostina’s words.

And I don’t mean her being dismissive about her niece. I feel bad for whomever she is, but it’s not really my business. I think about magic. About how quickly I learned to do the spell.

I mean, it’s clear that this book is special, right? It’s not about me. It’s about the book.

Which also makes me wonder if I should have even tried any magic at all. I have left the book alone for the moment. I really don’t want to have anything more to do with it right now.

If all [Mages] are crazy like Agostina, I’m good with baking. Yeah.

Magic? Pff. Cannoli are much better, by a long shot.

You know what?

I just need to sleep.

And as I close my eyes, new words appear to me.

[Skill – Light Acquired!]

[Skill – Flash Acquired!]

[Class Consolidation Requirements Met]

[Light Mage Class Acquired!]

[Light Mage – Level 2!]

Whatever.

Maybe the book will even leave me be if I’m just a [Light Mage].