“This will be where you will stay,” Practol told him as a maid opened the door. “I hope it will be to your liking.”
Shaden’s mouth hung slightly open, impressed. He moved his eyes around the ornate room, inspecting the intricately carved furniture and beautiful paintings that hung on the walls. The windows were large and open, looking into the beauty of the city.
He had expected Practol to lead him to his home where he would stay, but instead, he’d been led to a large palace-like structure at the heart of the city not far from the building they had originally been in. The entrance had been an open lobby, and a servant had carried his bag to his room before they’d reached it. The maid who had led them stood patiently to the side, waiting for their orders.
“I love it,” Shaden told him, “but I thought I would stay with you. What is this place?”
“This is where foreign ambassadors and figures of importance lodge yearly,” Practol said, wiping his finger across a desk. “Here, you will have everything provided for including meals, laundry, various services, and attendants to head to your needs. I doubt you would find the company of two men pleasing in a dreary house. Of course, you may come over whenever you please. Simply ask for the locations to 22 Sasel Street and go to the 8th house with a star within a circular pattern.”
“Like the one I saw at the building,” Shaden remembered.
“Yes. It is a small house.”
Shaden walked around the room, finding the bathroom door. Heading inside, he found an open area with a bathtub. Everything looked like polished marble, and sensing around, he could feel mana devices on various parts of the area, including the lights.
It was as if he was jumping ahead a hundred years from where he was before. Even hotels in the waking world wouldn’t be as good as the one he was in.
“So, what now?” Shaden asked, turning to Practol. “Do I begin learning today?”
“If you wish for it, we may,” Practol replied. “Is there anything you would like to do? Strictly speaking, you are free until your birthday.”
Shaden looked at himself in the mirror, seeing how tall he’d become. He’d always thought that he was short, but in reality, he was only around a head shorter than Practol. The Nieuts had been too tall for comparison.
“We can begin tomorrow,” Shaden decided. “I’d like to take a walk around the city if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. Please, take this.”
Practol handed him a small amulet the size of a coin. “This is the key to this room. As long as you have it, all of the services of this establishment will be available to you.”
Shaden took it, placing a marker on it. He also placed one on Practol, just in case.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Would you like to dine with us tonight?” the man offered. “Though it is early, my family would be overjoyed to see you.”
“I would love to. Do I go to the address you mentioned?”
“Oh, no, no. I will send a messenger to you. Unless you wish to go out?”
“I’ll be here. I’m dirty from traveling.”
“Ah, yes. You can ask the maid to assist you.”
Shaden raised an eyebrow. “You mean…like wash me?”
“Not only that. They will dry, clothe, and brush you as well. As long as it isn’t too extreme.”
Practol winked. Shaden felt uncomfortable but curious at the same time.
“I’ll…stick to myself for today,” he said. “Thank you for everything.”
“It is only natural that I provide you with convenience,” Practol said as a matter-of-fact. “Then, I will see you tonight. If you need someone, use the button by the bed.”
Practol and the maid left, leaving Shaden alone in the room. Sighing, he went to the window side and fell on a chair, leaning back.
The journey to Raconel had been shorter than the previous one from the desert to the north. However, because there had been no tree-portal that he had been led to, he’d been confused when he was led towards a completely different direction, eventually leading to a great city that rose up in the distance. Of course, he’d found where the next book was located easily thanks to his new ability to fly, but when a giant silver dragon had materialized where he’d been right after he had hidden himself, he’d thought that his heart would stop, even while circulating.
The dragon had been far, far too alert. Shaden knew instantly that it had sensed him. He’d been careless to relax, thinking that nobody would see him high up in the sky. He’d floated still while the dragon circled the air, eventually descending back into the city, its scales disappearing as it became invisible.
He wasn’t the only one who could use stealth magic. Shaden had thought about placing a marker on the creature, but after feeling the sheer force the dragon had exerted, it came to him that the dragon was probably as sensitive as him, if not even more.
Shaden had never met a dragon before. He didn’t know why a dragon existed in the city in the first place—
Realization struck him as he recalled a distant memory. Back in Danark, he and Rother had watched a parade of a princess who had come through the city. She’d had a strange creature with her that looked like a dragon but was the size of a cat.
It had been silver as well. And this was Raconel, the capital city. The royal family of Melern would be here.
Their crest was a dragon. Eilae had told him that the country of Melern, despite being smaller than the Rvuvick Empire, was feared because of their monarchy. He’d never paid attention during her lectures, but the thought of a family that had made a contract with a dragon had stuck in his mind.
He was in that place now, where that magical bloodline existed. Ever since coming to this world, he’d had very few chances to see wonderful spells, most of them being in Yrmar or the city of Saiton. But if there was one thing he knew about dragons, it was that their knowledge of magic was vastly superior to that of humans.
Maybe, just maybe—
He would be able to meet one.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
“Meeting a dragon?”
The old man sternly rubbed his chin. “That will prove to be quite difficult, if not impossible.”
“I was only wondering,” Shaden told him, his hopes fading away. “Since the royal family raises dragons.”
“Raises dragons?”
Practol’s expression grew darker. Shaden wondered if he’d said something wrong.
“Don’t mind my father. His age is getting to his head,” Shpiel said. He was the man he’d seen during his tenth birthday, one of the people who had knelt before him. They both looked very plain, both father and son.
“But the royal family does have bonds with dragons, right?” Shaden asked. “That is what I’ve been told.”
“It is true. Everyone is aware of it. But they are closely guarded. The dragon and royalty are bonded for life, and if one perishes, so will the other.”
“But dragons are strong, aren’t they?”
“Yes. However, the younger ones are far weaker. Perhaps you will get the chance to see one from afar, but meeting one would be the same as meeting a member of the royal family. That, my friend, is an impossible task.”
Shaden’s heart sank. But an idea popped into his head. He could infiltrate the palace—
And become dragon food. No, he scrapped the thought. Who knew what kind of magic existed in the country? As powerful as he was, he hadn’t fought any real battles yet. He didn’t want to be killed over something selfish, and if it hadn’t been for his shadow that he’d inherited, he could have died back in Antafar. Besides, there was plenty of time.
“Under normal circumstances, that is,” Practol muttered. “I have heard from many people that your talent is astounding. If you can master our art, perhaps the opportunity will present itself.”
“I’ve always wondered what your job was,” Shaden said. “What do you do? I believed that you were nobles.”
“We are anything we want to be,” Practol said. “But most times, we are the Maller family that runs the local orphanage.”
Shaden blinked. “So not Seine?”
“Seine is a small noble household located in the countryside. That is where my wife is.”
“She doesn’t live with you?”
“It is just the two of us here, though my son is an excellent cook, one of the best in the country.”
“You are exaggerating,” Shpiel said.
But the meal was good. After eating northern food, the braised chicken and roast steak with wine sauce felt heavenly in his mouth.
“With time, you will learn,” Practol told him. “It is not good to rush things.”
Shaden agreed wholeheartedly. Everything in the north had been nothing but rushed.
Some children entered the room after they had finished eating and took the empty plates away. He hadn’t expected servants to exist in the small house, so naturally, he was curious.
“They are from the orphanage. Helping out with chores around the house earns them some pocket money.”
He was glad that they looked healthy. From what he had heard so far, the Seines felt shadier than any other family, including his own. He didn’t know how he would react if they had their hands on the dark side of things, but from listening to the men’s conversation, they didn’t seem too bad.
“The gift of deception,” Shaden remembered. “Who exactly are you deceiving?”
“Everyone we can,” the old man stated. “The proper question should be, for whom are we deceiving?”
Shaden waited for an answer, but none came.
“I can tell you, but wouldn’t it be more fun if you figured it out yourself?” was the answer he received when he asked.
“Hmm. My family?” Shaden guessed.
“Sadly, you are not our main clients,” Practol shook his head. “Now, do not be impatient. We will show you everything one by one, beginning from the surface. The faster you learn, the deeper we will go.”
Shaden nodded. “How deep does it go?”
The old man smiled.
“Tell me, what was the worst thing you’ve seen during the course of your journey?”
“Dead bodies of children whose necks had been snapped.”
“Ah.”
“Mind you, I didn’t like it. I…am aware that my family has its hands in some dark things. But I’ve never killed anyone before. I don’t think I’d ever want to.”
“Don’t worry,” Shpiel assured. “What we do does not involve violence. We are mediators, teachers, and guides. But my father has asked you this question to see if you would be comfortable with the vividness of the things we will walk you through. There will be corpses, insects, rats, and rot. If you wish to avoid them, that is possible. These things are not necessary. However, the more you know and understand, the more you will be able to accomplish. The choice is yours.”
It made him truly feel like he was being appreciated. He’d seen many things in his life. With his mana by his side, there would be nothing he wouldn’t be able to digest. And this time, he wanted to do things right.
“I will learn everything that is available,” Shaden answered. “I won’t shy away.”
Shpiel smiled, as did Practol.
“Then we will do our very best to teach you,” Practol promised. “The year is short; let us make the best use of it. That reminds me—Manyul!”
A boy peeked his head out from the corner.
“Would you bring me the bag on the front table?” Practol told him. The boy immediately went away and returned promptly with a bag. Shaden knew what was inside; he’d noticed it when he’d first gotten there.
“Forgive me for forgetting to pass this onto you before,” Practol said, taking the wrapped book out and placing it before Shaden. “It is yours now.”
Shaden unwrapped the book, feeling it in his hands. It was like the others: plain, black, and slightly withered. But he could sense the magic within it, trying to connect to him. Or more clearly, his shadow.
“Thank you,” Shaden said.
“Now, then. We must get going. I would not want to keep you from your explorations.”
Shaden thanked the two men once more and asked them not to walk him to his lodging. Instead, he vanished from their eyes, happily jumping across the street until his feet left the ground, rising to the air. Hugging the book in his chest, he looked around the city landscape—now brightly lit with lamps and streetlights forged from magic.
It was beautiful. He didn’t remember the last time he felt so happy and eager to continue. Each day felt like it would bring him new wonders, not problems. This wasn’t the sandy camp where only the Jakhar Kishaks lived, nor was it the dreary gloom of Fort Avagal or the eventless mediocrity of Enthimer. Raconel was a proper fantasy city where magic was abundant; he could feel it in the air.
He lightly landed on the floor again, calming himself. What he wanted was to experience the stalls and shops—a genuine fantasy experience. Perhaps there would be a place where he could buy himself a new outfit. An enchanted outfit. There had been none so far besides the ring he’d received from the Jakhar Kishaks. He didn’t need weapons, but walking down the streets with a sword by his side sounded nice.
He wouldn’t hold back anymore. He would do what he wanted, enjoy what he wanted.
That was what life was supposed to be all about.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
“Uh, Demund? You okay?”
Only when Rhyne waved his hand in front of his face did he manage to return to his senses.
“Sorry, what?”
“We were wondering how we’d prepare for finals,” Riley told him. “You know, with Enariss gone and all that.”
She’d made sure that they solved her worksheets the year before. It wasn’t certain when she’d return since their messages had been left unread.
“We still have a few months left, right?” Demund said. “Hm. Maybe I can work out something. Give me a week, and I’ll plan something out.”
“Really? Sweet,” Rhyne grinned.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Riley frowned. “You sure? Maybe I could help.”
Demund shook his head. “Enariss did it all by herself. Besides, all I have right now is time. I know what classes you take, and I don’t think it’ll be too hard to plan something out.”
“For us too?” Kacy raised a finger.
“Sure. I still remember things from last year.”
“Kacy, that’s rude!” Alina sighed. “Demund, don’t force it. You’re taking too many favors.”
“I don’t mind.”
“But the last time you…”
Demund froze, and Alina covered her mouth. He sent her a look and shook his head slowly to the sides.
“Failed miserably, I know,” he managed to say before it became too quiet. “But I’m doing well in high school.”
“There was a time when you got bad grades?” Rhyne exclaimed, looking as if he’d been told that the moon was made out of cheese. “Is that possible?”
“Of course it is, dude,” Demund snorted. “Well, those times are over.”
“Don’t stress too much about it,” Riley said. “It’s our responsibility to study, not yours. I was thinking about something along the lines of quizzing each other. Besides, you’re taking the hardest classes. There’s no one here who can quiz you.”
“It’s fine,” Demund shrugged. “We’ll see what happens.”
“Well, that took me out of the mood to study,” Rhyne yawned, stretching his arms out. “I’m done with looking at words and numbers. Oh yeah—you said you’d teach us magic.”
“Teach magic?”
Kacy’s eyes suddenly twinkled with anticipation, and she stared at Demund with anticipation. Demund sighed internally; he’d only promised to teach it to Enariss and his two friends. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to teach more people. It was only that he wasn’t sure if it would work in the first place. If it didn’t, the mood would be ruined, and failure had happened once. Using magic also tired him out, and while he would recover after a good sleep, he liked to circulate instead to organize his thoughts before he fell asleep.
Rhyne slapped his forehead. “I can’t believe I forgot about it! With all the stuff that was going on, I forgot.”
“Well, we did try once,” Riley said. “You were really tired afterwards.”
“I know,” Demund admitted. “It’s tiring to use magic.”
“But it’s the end of the day. You can go home and sleep right away,” Rhyne reasoned.
“Mm. Mm!” Kacy sounded in agreement.
“It’s that thing you did on television, isn’t it?” Alina joined. “I’d like to see it—well, if it doesn’t bother you—wait, Demund, you can use powers?”
“Alright, alright, calm down everyone,” Demund whistled, waving his hands. “I never knew you guys wanted to stop studying this much. Fine, we can try it.”
He made them sit down in a circle before him on the ground. Taking in a deep breath, he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
“Now, magic isn’t easy to learn, especially in this world,” he told them.
“Especially in this world?”
“Long story.”
Alina tilted her head but waited for him to continue. He put out a finger before them and concentrated his mana onto the tip.
A small orb of light appeared. He kept it shining for a few seconds before letting it fade.
“We’ll start with this,” he told them. “Light is always useful.”
“So, where do we start?” Rhyne asked. “No spells we have to memorize?”
“Nope. It’s all about the feeling. Erm, let’s do this then. I never tried it before, but we’ll test it out. Any volunteers?”
Rhyne immediately raised his hand, and Demund made him point a finger out while he held his hand.
“You have a superpower, so this might be easier for you,” Demund guessed. “When you slow down time, what do you feel?”
“Well, time slowing down?”
“Urgh, I mean, don’t you feel a flow that goes through your body? Or into your head?”
“A flow? I guess? But it’s not a touchable feeling. It’s like—”
“A sixth sense,” Riley finished. “Like an invisible stream.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“That’s exactly it,” Demund nodded happily. “Magic is like that. It’s a flow of mana.”
“Mana?”
“SAP,” Demund corrected. “Same thing.”
“I like the sound of that,” Rhyne grinned.
“Because we don’t have the tools that make learning magic easier here, we’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way,” Demund continued. “I am going to make my SAP—”
“Call it mana?”
“—fine, mana flow through your hand and out of your finger. You only have to remember that feeling and replicate it.”
“Sounds easy enough. Let’s do it.”
Demund pushed his mana into his friend’s hand. A few seconds passed, but nothing happened. Something was blocking his mana from entering his friend’s body. It was none other than his friend’s mana, pushing against his.
“Um, give me a second.”
Demund held Rhyne’s finger instead. That would make it easier. He’d never felt much resistance when he’d taught people as Shaden, and that memory had caused him to panic a little, making him wonder if he couldn’t teach people at all. But he couldn’t end it so soon.
He had to use more than three times the usual amount, but he breathed in delight when the tip of Rhyne’s finger began to glow softly.
“Woah.”
“Can you feel it?” Demund asked, feeling the energy seeping out of him. Light didn’t cost much, but casting magic through his friend was expending quite a lot.
“It’s faint. But I think so. It feels like static.”
“Right. Now, you have to memorize it and try to recreate it,” Demund told him.
“No way,” Rhyne said. “Is that possible? How do I memorize this?”
“Practice.”
Demund let go, and Rhyne stared at his finger.
“I don’t get it,” he bluntly said.
Demund had already known that it would be difficult. But looking at Rhyne's frown, concentrating on his finger to no avail, Demund felt like he’d hit a wall. Creating magic without the help of a magic language was like programming without a coding language with only ones and zeros. He knew how to recreate it because he’d essentially copy and pasted the magic from the other world into the real one using his mind as a medium, but even then, it had been difficult.
“It’s going to be hard,” he told them. “Okay, who’s next?”
After around ten minutes, everyone had experienced ‘magic,’ looking just as perplexed as Rhyne. By this point, Demund felt depleted. He knew he could repeat the ordeal two more times with everyone, but circulating before sleeping would be out of the question unless he wanted to experience headaches.
“Is it like this?” Alina asked, shooting a ball of light out from her hand.
Demund’s jaw dropped.
“What’s with that look?” Alina grinned, letting the ball disappear. “This is something different. Creating light is my superpower.”
“Ohhh.”
“But it feels different,” Alina continued, creating a ball of light once more. “My power feels more solid. Yours felt like some loose strings wrapped into one.”
“Can you recreate what I showed you?” Demund asked hopefully.
“Um—”
Alina created a ball of light, very similar to the one Demund had demonstrated. But she shook her head.
“It’s different,” she said. “I can’t explain how, but it’s different. In the first place, I could only feel your power in my finger, but with this, it’s like my whole body is concentrating.”
“It’s like that for you too?” Rhyne asked. “It’s like that for me when I use my power.”
“I think it’s like that for everyone,” Riley guessed. “I remember reading about how the SAP—sorry, mana in your body concentrates into the region where your power is being used, then spreads out again when you stop using it. Oh yeah, I saw it during the Selection.”
Demund vaguely recalled something like that as well, though he’d been too focused on sending Jothan off and feeling sad to remember anything else. But Alina clapped her hands as if she’d gotten an inspiration.
“I remember that!” she said excitedly. “Demund, remember when Jothan was being tested? There was that monitor that was measuring something.”
“I think I remember,” Demund said.
Listening to them made him realize something important. Without a system to shape their mana for them, they would have to learn how to shape it themselves. That meant being able to control their mana, or more specifically—being able to circulate. He cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention.
“Alright. Maybe we should start on controlling our mana before trying to make magic,” he decided.
He remembered the first time he’d attempted to circulate. It had been a long, uncomfortable, frustrating process that took all of summer break, but he’d improved with time. Slowly but surely, they would be able to learn.
“But I’m too tired now,” he sighed. “Using mana takes a lot of energy. I could fall asleep if I lay down right now.”
“It’s time to go anyway,” Riley agreed.
After packing their belongings, they went out of Rhyne’s apartment, taking the elevator down. Riley separated earlier from them since he could walk back to his place, and Demund was left with Alina and Kacy to take the bus home.
“This magic thing. Can it really be taught?”
He turned to Kacy. She looked like a small fluffy animal, being wrapped in a long, padded jacket. But her eyes looked doubtful. Or expectant? He couldn’t tell.
“With time,” he promised.
“Hm.”
She took out her phone and put it before him. “Your number,” she said.
“Don’t you already have it? You’re in the group chat, right?”
Kacy scowled. He took the phone and hastily tapped his number into it and handed it back to her. A second later, his phone rang. It was a number he didn’t know.
“This is my personal number,” she told him. “As you might have heard, my father works with superheroes. So the idea that powers can be recreated is something that matters to me.”
Demund narrowed his eyes.
“Erm, they aren’t going to arrest me, right?” he questioned. “I’m pretty sure powers aren’t illegal. And my power isn’t even a power. It’s magic.”
“Magic, powers, they both use SAP,” Kacy said. “Oh, well. You can’t seem to do much anyway. No one is going to arrest you.”
“Why, thanks a lot.”
“But I’m looking forward to what you can do and create,” she smiled. “My family has connections. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to become friends with me.”
“I thought we were?”
“We were study partners,” she told him.
He grinned hesitantly. “Are we friends now?”
“I’m letting you,” she humphed.
Her ride had arrived, so she got in and lowered the windows. “I’ll be sending you some questions,” she stated, “so don’t fall asleep until eleven. See you tomorrow, Alina!”
“Okay?”
“See you tomorrow!”
She drove away, leaving him and Alina by the bus stop.
“What was that?” he asked Alina, who shrugged.
“She doesn’t mean anything bad,” she said. “She’s—just a little bad at expressing herself.”
“A little bad?”
“Oh, you know what I mean. You were like that to me when you first came over.”
“No, I wasn’t?”
“You were.”
“I—I was,” Demund agreed, suddenly remembering. “Do you think she—”
“Making a move on you? Of course not,” Alina scoffed.
“Has been to the Islands,” Demund finished.
“O-oh, that’s what you meant. Well, um, her father has. I’m pretty sure she’s been there too. She met superheroes as well.”
“You mean celebrities.”
“She likes to call them superheroes.”
“Well, I met Aia Laia. We’re friends. See?” he said, taking out his phone.
“Whaaat?!” Alina screeched in disbelief. “How?!”
“Are you a fan?”
“No, but she’s famous!”
He had to move his hand away from Alina to prevent her from taking his phone, and thankfully, the bus came. It also meant that he couldn’t escape from her after she took a seat next to him, pinning him to the wall.
“Show me,” she demanded.
“If you promise not to do anything weird.”
“I promise.”
She snatched the phone away from him when it came into distance, furiously scrolling through the pages and messages. Of course, there wouldn’t be anything interesting to see. While he was friends with the celebrity, they’d never exchanged anything yet.
What was surprising was how Alina was acting. Usually, she would be more restrained around him, even silent without saying anything. He’d grown closer to her while helping her apply to TISE High and more comfortable, but rarely had she treated him like this in the past. Perhaps once or twice when they had been younger, but they hadn’t talked much after entering middle school.
She was treating him like an older brother. Like Jothan. His friend had always been reliable. In comparison, he was…Demund. A meek, unreliable guy.
Had she changed, or had he? The answer was likely both. He didn't feel much different; it was still the old him with a little more discipline. He was proud of himself, no doubt.
He had changed. But he’d only been focused on himself, unlike Jothan. He looked at Alina, wondering how she would have felt in a foreign environment with no one to help her before Kacy had lent her a hand. He’d had Enariss and his two friends, very fortunately. Alina and Kacy wouldn’t have mixed in his mind, but thinking back to Enariss, he could see why Alina defended her.
Kacy was cute. She had a pretty face, and the him from a year ago would have agreed to her every demand. But he’d learned to dislike being ordered around.
“What happens if I ignore Kacy’s messages?” Demund asked. “Will she send supervillains after me?”
“What? No. But you’re interested in SAP and powers, right? She knows a lot, so it wouldn’t be bad to talk with her more. Besides, ignoring a girl is rude.”
“Wasn’t she rude first?”
Alina pouted, crossing her arms. “You’ve never had a girlfriend before, right? I can tell.”
She really was treating him like Jothan.
“Speak for yourself.”
“Whatever. Hey, can I send her a message?”
“Wait—”
As much as he liked the attention, Demund wanted to go back home and fall asleep as quickly as possible.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
Shaden frowned.
He was sure he’d come to the right place, but the man that greeted him was someone who he had never seen before. However, that was not why he was frowning. He was frowning because the marker that he’d left on Practol was on the man, though they looked completely different in appearance.
“Is this the gift of deception?” Shaden questioned. Now that he was focusing, he could feel the subtle layer of magic that surrounded the man. Had it not been for his marker, he wouldn’t have noticed it.
The man’s eyes widened ever so slightly. He nodded, smiling while opening the door for him to enter.
“And yours must be the gift of focus,” he said, touching his chest. “Yesterday, and now once more, I felt a string of magic touching me. Is it the ability of the Nieuts?”
Shaden nodded. “You can feel it?”
“Like a strand of hair on my head,” Practol replied. “It is unnoticeable.”
“But you noticed it.”
“Being in the line of deception, if I could not notice that something was amiss from anything, how would I fare? Such is the extent of my experience, as you shall learn to be wary as well.”
The man led him inside without changing his appearance. They took a seat around a table, facing each other. There was nothing else there except the ceiling lights that illuminated the windowless room.
“In this appearance, I am Professor Harn of the Royal Academy,” Practol told him. “When I teach you, I will look like such. Let us continue. Have you read the book?”
“All of it,” Shaden replied.
“Good. Have you tasted the book’s inherent magic?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. I will not rush you, but our progress depends on how quickly you can replicate what I will show you. We will begin with colors.”
The whole room turned white, so quickly that Shaden thought he was hallucinating. The walls, floor, and ceiling were completely white, but not in a glaring way; it looked as if the walls had been instantly painted. It was a small room, but it was impressive, nonetheless.
After making Shaden place his hand on the table with the palm facing up, the man touched it. Instantly, his skin became red. A bright, unnatural red just like paint.
“This is the color red,” Practol said. “It is the first of the colors of the rainbow. Can you replicate it?”
As he’d already gotten the feel for the gift of deception, the feeling on his palm came naturally to him. Placing his other hand on the table, he recreated the color on his second palm.
“Very good. Now, the color orange.”
He followed Practol’s examples one by one, going through all of the colors. Then they began mixing the colors, creating different tones. Next came simple drawings, like a red circle on a blue background, or separating his palm into four colors.
“My, my. But let us go on.”
Next came harder images, like scribbles a child would make. When Shaden managed to copy even that, Practol took his finger off from his palm, instead putting it onto one side of the table.
“See if you can replicate the drawing without me having to touch you,” Practol told him.
When he did it without a problem, Practol’s face beamed.
“Colors are the basics of the basics,” he said, “but it is still impressive that you can create them so quickly. Now, we move onto textures.”
The wooden surface of the table turned into stone. The feeling hadn’t changed, but the appearance looked impeccable.
Shaden tried. His looked a little off on his first attempt, looking more like something someone would make on a default painting application on a computer. But he shifted the colors and minuscule details around, circulating intensely to concentrate.
“Marvelous!” Practol clapped. “To create sublime art, one must be able to recreate another’s perfectly. You have done it on your first lesson.”
“It’s difficult,” Shaden admitted. “It takes a lot of concentration.”
He had never been a good artist. He was only copying what he saw, but even that had taken him a good five minutes before he got it right. The colors, the tone, the texture, the grains—there were many details that he had to focus on.
“Yes, it is. But you will become better and faster with time.”
They continued to practice with different surfaces. Unlike his gift of taming or the gift of focus, the gift of deception wasn’t very intuitive. Every material required focus. When he failed to recreate the look of the skin of a horse with all of its hairs, he felt like he’d run into a wall. How was he supposed to create something three-dimensional on a two-dimensional surface?
“That, my dear student, is called spatial art. We will learn tomorrow,” Practol chuckled. The room returned to normal, becoming slightly darker.
Shaden sighed. “This is the hardest gift I’ve learned so far. Even if I can copy what you show me, how am I going to do what you are doing?”
“It is likely the hardest,” Practol answered. “Art requires a lifetime of dedication. You must practice, practice, practice—and practice some more.”
Shaden was surprised to find that it had already passed noon; the sun was brightly shining above the city. When he turned around, it was the usual Practol he knew: old, plain, and slightly obese. There was no sign of the refined scholar who had spent hours with him before.
“It is quite wonderful to have a genius student such as yourself,” Practol commented, wiping his forehead. “Would you join me for lunch?”
Shaden agreed. “I’m glad I’m meeting your expectations,” he added.
It was a true challenge for him. This was something that not only required magical talent but an artistic insight as well.
“Meeting my expectations?”
The old man stopped to stare at him, and Shaden worried that he’d said something wrong.
Then, Practol shook his head. “My dear boy. You’ve learned something that took your grandfather one month and your aunt two—in a day.”
“I…what?”
And Shaden knew once again that he’d overestimated what normal people could do.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
Shaden was good at controlling his mana. Unlike the time when his mana had constantly leaked out when he’d lived in Danark, he could seal it within himself, hiding his presence from others. It had been drilled into him by Lytha, reinforced through their training. In the eyes of a creature sensitive to mana, he would appear to be normal.
So he walked around the city without a care in mind, believing that among the hundreds of thousands of residents in the city, he didn’t particularly stand out. While he did live at Sol Atalia, the best hotel in the kingdom, there were plenty of other families who looked much more important than him.
What he did forget about was the golden library card with silver markings that he’d received from a certain librarian at the Great Library of Saiton. He knew that the metal plate was enchanted, but with what, he didn’t know. It had become a souvenir by the time he’d gotten to Raconel, deep within his pocket.
And it had stirred the attention of the mightiest existence in Melern.