Jon woke up with a dry mouth and a slight headache. He opened his eyes and found his vision distorted at the edges, no doubt another hangover symptom. “Dammit,” he groaned. The first thing he noticed was the sunlight shining through the glass windows and onto the floor.

He looked around, but Lily was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was a stool by the side of the bed, a cup of water, and a neatly folded piece of paper on top. It read, My lord, thank you for the wonderful night. I hope you come to see me again soon.

A chuckle escaped his lips from the obvious attempt of stroking his ego. He couldn’t deny its effectiveness though. Throughout the year, he sometimes wondered how Deon and Aeron’s personalities could shift so much. When they first met, Deon seemed to be the most stuck-up noble Jon had ever seen. After God knows how many women and tankards of wine, he had become a lot more friendly. Often too friendly. Same for Aeron, as the bastard nobleman, once overwhelmed by the academy, now found a way to endure the stressful routine of the place. After remembering how good sex could feel, Jon was starting to understand it.

The headache receded somewhat after the cup of water, but the distorted vision showed no improvement. In fact, it seemed to get worse the more he tried to focus. It would take a few days until he felt confident enough to attempt his breakthrough.

Still naked, Jon pushed the sheets away and stood up. The window was high enough that he didn’t fear exposing himself to anyone who might be looking from the outside.

From the tall building on the hill, he had a privileged view of the city extending as far as the eye could see. It was a rare winter day without a cloud in the sky. Down below, people went about their business, either on foot or by carriage if they were important enough.

Despite living in the city for almost a whole year, he never took the time to appreciate how beautiful Alistown was. Part of him believed it was a matter of perspective. It was easier to appreciate the city’s beauty while lazing up there rather than struggling below. But another part wanted to give reason to the others, and instead put the blame on how much stress he constantly put on himself. It would be a convenient excuse, after all, to just claim that he should take more time to rest. And if Deon was to be trusted — a truly rare occasion — then his constant training was exactly the thing holding Jon back, and he would quickly advance as soon as he began to take it easy.

Reality didn't concur with one’s wishes though. Jon pushed himself to the limit not because he enjoyed it, but because that was the path that would lead him to his objectives. A path that he would immediately resume trekking as soon as he felt well enough to.

But that was a thought for another day. Now, he could afford to relax for a minute and appreciate the view. Which, of course, would be much easier if his vision wasn’t so distorted. He focused again and the distortions spread, taking up his entire field of view. Now everything seemed to be undulating and with a tinge of blue colors as if he was underwater.

It almost looked like the natural flow of mana he saw when casting spells.

Jon’s heart skipped a beat. It looked exactly like the flow of mana. Tentatively, he raised a hand and thought of Light Ball, the first spell that came to mind.

The spell’s framework, always incomprehensible before casting was complete, now was as clear as day in his mind. Instantly, a ball of light came to be, shining brightly as it floated above his palm. “What… how?” He thought his only chance of breaking through would be the concoction… the concoction!

Jon turned around, vaulted over the bed, got his foot snagged on the sheets, and almost fell face-first on the other side. He reached for his academy robes and felt the hard wooden box inside. Opening it, he found the blue and the white potions inside their enclosures, both untouched.

It was a long shot that he might’ve drunk them last night and somehow forgotten about it, but he couldn’t think of an explanation that made any sort of sense. This whole year, the goal of becoming an Archmage never left his mind. Sometimes it took more of a back seat, like during the tourney, but it was always there, goading him on.

The only time he allowed himself to stop thinking about it was when he finally managed to break through, as if his constant stressing was blocking the advancement. Clogged, he couldn’t help laughing as he recalled what Deon once told him. Who would have thought that he might be onto something after all? Even a broken clock is right twice a day, it seems.

At first, he just sat there, his back against the soft mattress and bare ass on the floor. A giant weight had just been lifted from his shoulders and he felt even better than last night. A temporary reprieve before he started stressing about his next goal. But maybe he should take his friends’ advice to heart and stress less. Just a little.

With that thought in mind, Jon stood back up and started getting dressed. With the sun already up, he doubted Lady Rosynne would take kindly to him lingering.

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Rather than bending down, Jon willed a shadow tendril to collect his clothes off the ground for no other reason than that he now could. He felt invigorated thinking of all the spells that now could be instantly cast. Even more so when considering the new class of spells available for him to learn. But above all else, the one that he was the most excited to learn was that improved illusion employed by Lady Rosynne the night before.

Such a tool would be impossible for him to use in combat. Even after breaking through. But the thought of somehow being able to hide from all the other students was a comforting pipe dream.

Fully dressed, he gazed back at the city extending on the horizon. Depending on the angle, it was like the glass wasn’t even there, so clear it was. It was wishful thinking, but a spell to turn him practically invisible like that would be just perfect.

Jon raised a hand in front of his face and cast a simple illusion to make it disappear. As expected, it instead looked like an image of his hand had been superimposed with the rest of the bedroom behind it. In theory, it should be possible considering the magic spells. In practice, however, the illusion couldn’t hide the light bouncing off his body, hence why it failed.

To actually turn invisible, he needed the light to pass straight through his body… was that possible, though? He considered what he knew about magic. All spells were taught through specific diagrams that had to be followed to the letter. Anyone casting had to blindly follow these same frameworks to avoid accidents.

That meant that nobody really understood the underlying mechanics beyond manipulating mana in similar ways to produce the desired effect. This might give Jon an edge thanks to his knowledge from Earth. He might not have been a particularly gifted student, but physics was one of the few subjects he excelled at.

Light was made up of photons, so however light-based spells worked, these elementary particles had to be involved somehow.

Jon cast another Light Ball, this time paying greater attention to how the mana itself behaved. There was a pulse above his hand that disrupted the steady flow of mana. The further it traveled from the epicenter, the more it lost power as if the small disturbance he created was incapable of surviving for long against the never-ending flow.

Inside the ball of light, a wisp of blue mana was held in place, slowly dissipating while creating smaller ripples. It seemed obvious that the wisp was fueling his spell. When it finally dissipated in full, then the spell would die out. More importantly, it meant that the wisp of mana was being transformed into light.

Jon focused on that wisp and tried to understand how it was being transformed. If he could do that, if he could somehow figure it out, then turning invisible might not be just wishful thinking.

Time slowed down to a halt and for a moment, for a single amazing moment, he saw it. As the spell rippled above his hand, tiny specks of white light were propelled in every direction, almost too quickly for him to follow despite time slowing down. More importantly, he saw photons other than the ones emitted by the spell, most notably being the deluge of sunlight pouring through the glass window. Depending on what surface they touched, the specks were either absorbed or bounced off with different colors depending on the surface they touched.

The white walls reflected most of the light, while his black robes did the opposite. To a lesser extent, the back of his hand behaved similarly to the robes, absorbing a large portion of the light and reflecting the rest as a light brown.

But neither options were what he wanted. To turn invisible, the photons had to completely ignore his body, as the interaction itself was what made a surface invisible. If only they could be forced through… He was already navigating uncharted waters, with no idea of what exactly was happening or even if it could be replicated in the future. Maybe it was the elation from breaking through that made him so daring to the point of recklessness, but Jon decided he had to try. He focused on the torrent of photons constantly bombarding his skin and willed mana into it. Each photon required an insignificant charge of mana, but the sheer quantity made the task practically impossible despite his newfound power.

Jon immediately felt fatigued with nothing to show for it. He pushed harder, drawing every bit of his power to that singular task. His hand shimmered before suddenly flashing out of existence. Even such a small feat was cause for celebration in his eyes.

But he wasn’t happy for long.

Time returned to normal. Every speck of light disappeared, and his hand was visible once again. The moment had passed, leaving behind the most agonizing pain Jon had ever felt.

He fell to the floor clutching his forehead. It felt like searing hot nails were being hammered onto his brain from every single direction. Jon didn’t understand what was happening. All he knew was that he had to go back to the academy and seek help.

He pushed off of the floor, opened the door, and stumbled out of the room. He ran down the stairs, bumping into a patron as he crossed the main floor, but not stopping. Out in the street, barely out of the brothel, his strength began to fail him. The short walk to the academy seemed to become an impossible task.

Standing at the entrance behind him were two city guards, probably not the same ones from last night. It didn’t matter. Maybe they could help him get to the academy. It was a long shot, but—

A blonde woman in black robes walked past with a large bag in one hand, seemingly too lost in her own thoughts to notice him. Her hair was messily tied up and the dark circles under her eyes were all the more noticeable on her fair skin.

“Professor!” Jon shouted out at the top of his lungs.

Professor Willow turned around, startled. “J-Jon—”

“Help… please help me.”

“What’s wrong? And that smell, have you been drinking?”

“Yes, but that’s not it. Something’s won…” His words began to slur. “...ing is… wong…”

Professor Willow gasped. “Oh no.” She reached forward and touched his lip just below the nose. When she pulled it back, her fingertip was wet with blood. He hadn’t even noticed when it began. “Come with me.” She pulled him by the sleeve, but one of his legs felt unresponsive, so she lifted him up instead.

The pain in Jon’s brain started to subside. In fact, his whole body went numb. His eyelids felt heavier than ever before, and Jon drifted off.