Night had already fallen when Jon left the academy library, a rare pep in his step as he walked down the paved streets. Under his arm, a heavy book where each page was dedicated to an obscure alchemic brew, just one of the many rabbit holes he went down in his almost obsessive quest for a breakthrough. This time, though, he might have come up with something.

As the bells would soon signal the eighth hour, students walked in droves towards the feasting hall, his roommates included. After dinner, the trio plus Bella would be going out into the city, as they had already told Jon. A month before, he might have tagged along solely to avoid running into Garrel. Now, though, the nobleman seemed to have either forgotten about the slight or directed his anger at the professor herself. Either way, it meant that Jon no longer had to keep looking over his shoulder and could instead focus on his own goals.

Jon almost felt bad for enlisting his roommates’ help, but better safe than sorry.

Soon, he was already at the Sunrise Building. He ran up the steps, two at a time, crossed the entrance hall, and ran down the stairs, almost forgetting to breathe. He practically burst into the potions room where Professors Cedrick and Willow waited to begin the night’s session.

“Someone’s happy,” Professor Willow commented with a smile. A dark stone, smooth and round, rested on her hand. It was inert at the moment, seemingly just some peculiar piece of decor. But when in use, the instrument, which served to better record the flow of mana, would shine bright like a lightstone. “Eager to start working?”

“Always.” Jon closed the door behind himself and settled the book atop the counter. “What will it be, same spells as yesterday?”

“Yes, we’ll be comparing it to yesterday’s results for any discrepancies. Did you remember what we told you?”

Jon nodded his head. “I haven’t cast a single spell the whole day.” As the siblings explained the night before, today they would be examining how his spells reacted depending on his fatigue.

Spellcasting took effort, just like any other activity. As the mental fatigue accumulates, spells become less stable and lose potency, similar to how tired muscles exert less force. And just like how overusing a muscle leads to injuries, spellcasting past a certain point could cause the spell to fail entirely, possibly with a backlash. Yesterday, he entered the potion’s room already tired after casting spells for hours. Today, he was much more refreshed.

Jon pulled a stool and promptly began the chant for Blinding Glare, a stronger, more focused version of the basic Mage’s Light. The ocean of blue mana remained puzzling as ever, offering no explanation as to why Jon could see it. It continued its eternal ebb and flow, uncaring for whatever emotions went through his head. There was the familiar ripple in the flow of mana before Jon returned to the potions room. Like a potent flashlight, a bright beam shined from his palm down to the floor.

Quill in one hand, Professor Willow took notes, eyes going back and forth in between Jon and the stone shining in her hand. Her brother, instead, had both eyes closed to better sense the movements.

After Blinding Glare, Jon repeated the process for Shadow Veil, an interesting spell that covered his body in a dark mist. At first, he thought the spell would be useful for sneaking around without attracting attention. In practice, though, a mass of rolling mists was as conspicuous as it gets, even worse than him just walking around normally. Besides, it didn’t even hide his identity as those with greater cultivation could see through the spell if they focused enough.

He repeated each spell three times, and that was the end of it for the night’s session. In total, he guessed it took fifteen, maybe twenty minutes at most. There wouldn’t even be a need to rush for dinner.

Professor Willow handed him his gold centarii. Cedrick, in turn, crossed both arms in front of his chest. “Now hurry up and ask your questions. Don’t think we didn’t notice the alchemy book you brought along.”

Jon wasted no time. He immediately opened the book at the marked page and showed it to his professors. “Where can I get this potion?”

Professor Cedrick leaned forward and read it out loud. “Kollion’s Concoction? Why would you even want that?”

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“I researched it at the library. It’s meant to aid an Archmage’s cultivation and, sometimes, it can be used to force a Mage to breakthrough. I tried to find out how it’s made but couldn’t find an answer.”

“And that’s by design,” Professor Willow said, a serious look on her face that Jon rarely saw before. “That concoction is too potent, which is why today we have milder options that are much safer for consumption. Archmages who take it may be left disoriented for weeks while Mages risk serious side effects. Death, for instance. There’s even been a case where a Mage’s brain literally melted in his skull. And those who survive are sometimes left addle-minded for the rest of their lives.”

Jon was prepared for that. He flipped through the pages towards the end of the book until finding the one on Tears of the Faithful. “Here, it says this potion can alleviate the side effects related to potent potions. Used in conjunctions with Kollion’s Concoction, it has been shown to reduce the chance of side effects.”

“Reducing is not the same as eliminating,” Professor Cedrick chimed in. “You’ll still be at risk.”

“Yes, but a much lower one.” Jon closed the book. “Look, I’m not planning on getting the potion and immediately drinking. It’s meant to be a last resort in case I fail to break through before the end of the year.” Willow’s expression didn’t budge, but Jon had an idea on how to convince her brother. “Besides, there’s only so many spells I can cast as a Mage. There’ll eventually be a point where I’ll no longer be able to add anything new to the research. If I breakthrough, though, the deck of options will increase exponentially.”

“Please tell me you’re not actually considering this,” Willow said to Cedrick as she noticed a change in his expression. Jon always thought the brother was the one to make the decisions for the two, but it seemed things weren’t as simple. “He is our student, and we can’t put him at risk just to further our own goals.”

After a moment for consideration, Cedrick finally yielded. “You’re right,” he told his sister before turning to Jon. “Sorry, but she is right. Any risk is too high.” Jon tried to argue, but he cut him off. “Even if we wanted to help, part of the ingredient’s required are of restricted use, requiring the headmaster’s authorization. Between your intentions with this potion, and us two being suspended from the laboratories, I see little chance of any request coming to fruition.”

Jon struggled to contain his frustration. The door to a breakthrough remained sealed shut, while the window opened just a sliver. Only enough to see what was on the other side, but not enough to pass. He took a deep breath, placed the book under one arm, and bowed his head. “Thank you for your time,” he said before turning around and walking away.

“Fucking hell,” he cursed under his breath once far enough from the potions room. There had to be a way of getting what he wanted. Maybe he’d be able to convince the professors given enough time but, if what Cedrick said about the ingredients was true, he’d also need the headmaster to allow it. How the hell would he manage that?

The question accompanied him all the way to the feasting hall. At dinner, he ate his fill on a pair of oversized drumsticks, mashed potatoes, peas, and carrots. The mana potions diluted in the water left a metallic taste in his mouth.

Other students having dinner around him talked about all sorts of subjects. Annoying classes, attractive classmates, and other such banalities. Compared to when he first enrolled, the halfbreed in the room became less of a topic to be discussed. Inversely proportional to it was the matter of the Winter’s Tourney.

As the weeks passed by and the time to the event shortened, it gradually took over the conversations. Lowborn students would talk about who they believed most likely to win, and the answer would almost always be one noble or another. Still, they allowed themselves to dream about winning. What would they do if they were declared champions? How would their lives change and what sort of boon would they ask from the duke?

Jon knew exactly what he would ask in such a situation. The potion that might allow him to break through. Unfortunately, this wasn’t like the Squire’s Tourney where he managed to beat all but one of his opponents. The competition for the top was much fiercer.

For instance, Jon continued to spar against Bella at the Practical Combat classes, and they were almost always an equal match for one another. In a tourney, where she would have access to better equipment than him, this could very well change. And that’s not even mentioning the few nobles who were both Crusaders and Archmages. Deon, for instance. Spells could completely alter the result of a duel.

When done eating, Jon walked back to his dormitory, his mind still on the Tourney.

There was a way to defend himself against spells, and that was triotium. The metal could hinder the flow of mana and, by extension, protect against most spells. An armor made of it would increase his chances. It was also extremely expensive, so no way for him to obtaining one.

There were a few students talking by the dormitory’s entrance and that was it. Most of them had already eaten and were now resting in their rooms after another day of studying.

A triotium shield might serve, Jon considered while climbing the stairs. If he saved everything he earned, he might be able to buy an old one. Maybe not a kite shield, but definitely a buckler. If he started training now, he could make up for his lack of profici—

A fist coming straight for his face interrupted his train of thought.