Even though it was the first week, the research department didn’t take things easy. All students in Nox’s Advanced Mana Theory class were in their final semester of the course. So, an introductory session didn’t make sense. Most of the nine students in the class had served as the professor’s research assistants and only spent one year on it. That wasn’t the case for Nox. He couldn’t afford to give the department extra time, and it was his third semester in the class.

Because of the class’ low numbers, adjusting course materials for candidates like Nox was no trouble. The first semester involved lectures, reading materials, studying essence gems, and non-standard mana systems. In the second, the professor had Nox and other non-research attendants write research papers while analyzing physical mana sources, observed sparring combat mages with mana sense, and took apart mana-burnt cadavers.

“This is your chance to leave your mark in the world of academia,” the professor told the class. “Dissertations born of Advanced Mana Theory have changed how scholars look at mana, essence, and arcane techniques, and in some cases changed the world. A good enough paper will win you a pass. Exceptional work might just earn you a Scholar Arcanum award.” The professor handed out scrolls as he spoke. “These sample dissertations should show you the quality of work I expect from each and every one of you. You have two weeks to come up with a topic and write a proposal. We can field and discuss ideas for the rest of our time today, too.”

“My initial plan involved writing about the mana gem mines in the endless dunes,” a student said. Since it was a small class of advanced students and scholars, she didn’t bother raising her hand before speaking. “It's curious how natural arcane sources can appear in a mana desert.”

“Did you find an answer?”

The woman nodded. “And it made me consider re-think my research topic. I visited a reported mine and found it stripped and devoid of any and all gems. So, we decided to move on to another well-known spot when a terrible sandstorm almost made my vessel crash. We saw lightning turn dunes into glass and magic beasts most scholars believe are long extinct. My crew and I had no choice but to take cover in the mines.” She smiled. “We saw mana gems grow out of the stone. It’s the storms. I have several tomes worth of data, witness accounts, and historical records to tally. I think I’m onto something groundbreaking.”

“Intriguing. I still have your proposal from last semester, but if you feel this is more interesting, write a new one. I think you might be right. It might be a better topic if you’re pursuing Scholar Arcanum.” The professor turned to the rest of the class. “Anyone else?”

“I doubt it will be as groundbreaking or amazing—”

“That’s fine, Oliver. I respect if you just want to pass the course for the qualification.”

“Thank you, Professor. Anyway. Patron-warlock relationship evolutions, their contracts, and the rapid growth of warlocks aren’t studied enough. I spent the break exploring the university and city libraries, but there aren’t any materials on the topic.”

“That’s because most warlock contracts have a privacy or secrecy clause. So, they can’t publish papers about their relationships with their patrons or tell scholars about them. The few records we have are journals of fallen mages.”

“My patron has no such qualms,” the student continued. “Seeker of Knowledge believes knowledge should be shared for the betterment of magekind and the suppression of the Void.” Nox had heard of the title during his studies during the past year. It was granted by the cosmic entity, Keeper of Knowledge, to his servants. A few that lived or performed well enough ascended to near-immortal existences of great power. He guessed Oliver had a pact with one such entity. “I just reached adept, and my contract, relationship, and magic changed significantly. My patron has approved writing a paper on the topic.”

“Such insights are rare,” the professor said. “I think you’re underestimating its value. You know what to do.”

“Yes, Professor. I’ll write a research proposal.”

The middle-aged scholar mage scanned the classroom, and his eyes rested on Nox. “Sir Ratra. You look pensive. Are we boring you, or do you have an idea you’re mulling over?”

“It’s the latter,” Nox replied. “I need more time to think the subject over. It's still pretty half-baked.”

“That’s fine. No one here has doubts about your intellect. Why don’t you tell us about this half-baked subject?”

“It's niche and probably not Scholar Arcanum standard. Because of my unique condition, I’ve been studying victims of bad mana burns and damaged arcane circuits for the past year. A good deal of them seem to have issues regarding amorphous mana zones.”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Yes. We touched on this last semester. Nothing worse than a crippled mage.” The professor’s eyes drifted to Nox’s left arm. Everyone in the class had noticed the skin covering it, but no one commented beyond saying how good it looked.

“Well, this will specifically apply to individuals with small mana zones,” Nox said before demonstrating his recent discovery. He used Mage Hand to display his new maximum reach.

The professor’s eyes widened as Nox toyed with his mana zone’s shape, length, and width. “I think you’re underestimating this discovery, Nox. Amorphous mana zones may be a rare occurrence and limited to the injured. However, unstable ones are not. Not everyone, including me, has perfect geometrical shapes. I think you could be looking at the development of a new aether technique. Aether Warriors could especially benefit from this.”

“You really think so?” Nox asked. “It's pretty simple and only demands precise mana control.”

“The best discoveries and creations are often the most simple, Sir Ratra.”

“Alright. I’ll have a dissertation proposal for you in a couple of weeks.”

“The deadline is the Seconday after next,” the professor said before moving on to the next student.

Even though it was an artisanal, design, and creation-focused field, the research department taught and commanded ward-crafting. It demanded vast theoretical knowledge and constant study, demanding more academic prowess than alchemy or artificing. Nox had passed the beginner course with flying colors. It involved memorizing theory patterns and executing essential protection, detection, and trigger wards. Sigil of the Artisan made the final exam a breeze.

The intermediate course was significantly more challenging. It didn’t just involve regurgitating knowledge, but students were expected to design, develop, and improve on existing wards. They also needed to write a paper on their designed or upgraded ward. The research department loved essays, dissertations, and articles. Nox appreciated the theory but hated how much time the projects took. They detracted time from his personal alchemical research, spell weaving, and time with Aria.

“Excellent work,” the professor said after analyzing Nox’s latest security ward. It combined several different types of security wards to cover the weakness of solely empathic presence detection systems. “However, you’ve not improved or upgraded anything here, Sir Ratra; you've just mashed a bunch of things together. I know you have a lot of things on your plate, but this shortcut won’t earn you your journeyman Wardwright license.”

The older man smiled when Nox’s shoulders drooped. “It's a good start though.” He marked several sections of the ward. “There is a lot you can take out and refine using techniques and methodology taught this semester. I think you have the beginnings of an all-encompassing security ward that a good deal of royalty, political powers, and vault owners will appreciate. Refine it. Get approval. Write a paper. It will earn you your advancement. Don’t let my rejection get you down. You’re a talented wardwright. I think you could get your adept license another year or two.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Nox said.

“I’m surprised you’re not an expert alchemist yet. Given everything your creations have done for the city and the continent, I’d think you’d have advanced by now.”

“Believe me, I’m as surprised as you are. I’m working on it, though. Perhaps my next project will get me there.”

“I expect great things from you, young man,” the man said before waving him toward his seat. The class was due to begin.

The topic of the Expert Alchemist title was a sore subject. There were no exams or qualifications for it. Only one of the three major powers and an agreeing guild had the power to hand out the qualification. Professor Akash Das, the university’s head of alchemy, received his for the Sentient Synapse Slayer. It revolutionized how delvers approached adept rifts and dungeons.

Nox’s flame slime concoction saved the Edelweiss Barony, turned the recent myconid plague into a valuable source of food and life essence, and also protected the City of Ygg during the Terrastalia landfall. Almost every woman of affluent households around the city used his cosmetic products. All competing alchemists in the city selling similar wares had given up on competing with him. Finally, the contraceptive his business sold had changed several lives.

Yet Nox hadn’t yet received the coveted title and rank. Since he lived and worked as an alchemist exclusively in the City of Ygg, only the council, in conjunction with the banking or artisan’s guild, could earn him the title. Nox couldn’t tell which party stood in the way of his ascension. He was on decent terms with most of the city council. Lord Highwater appeared neutral regarding Nox. They used each other to advance their individual careers. Nox doubted the man would stand against his advancement. He believed Lady Eleanor Schmidt stood in the way of his advancement.

The woman despised Nox. She wanted the Galleria, formerly called the Round Table, for herself. Nox guessed the guilds demanded a unanimous decision from governing bodies to hand out the expert and following master titles. As long as she stood in the way, he’d never ascend. The only option Nox had was to move to the Golden Isles and use his mother’s influence for the privilege—which would never happen. Their relationship was on the mend, but he refused to the trade empire. Besides, the title was little more than a nice privilege and a pretty laurel. People would pay more for his products, and he’d gain access to exclusive spaces, but it wouldn’t earn him much less.

Nox already had more money than he knew how to use. Unless the titles of an expert or master alchemist helped Nox conquer and destroy Sundarshahar, he didn’t care enough about further pursuing them.

While the remaining students got out quills and parchments, Nox listened and occasionally glanced at the chalkboard. Sigil of the Artisan voided the need for needless efforts like note-taking. Instead, he focused his attention on the professor’s corrections on his ward. He had entered the classroom feeling confident regarding his work. A reminder of the fact that he wasn’t as good as he thought was a humbling affair.