"Today we are going to start discussion of non-combat applications of Production magics," Mr Michaelson paced the front of the class. He wore a grey polo T-shirt and jeans. "This will not be on the midterm on Wednesday. Speaking of which, who's excited for that?"

Crickets.

Jacob sagged back in his seat and folded his arms. Non-combat applications? Who cared? He glanced over at Blake, who diligently took notes, even though Mr Michaelson hadn't said anything useful yet. Grace sat next to him, chewing gum loudly, typing away on her phone. Camilla wasn't in attendance. Neither was Archie.

Well, class had already started, and Jacob didn't have the guts to get up and walk out in the middle of it with everyone watching him.

He settled in and thought about his fight with Archie. He'd given more thought to strategy over the past few days after Camilla's advice. And yet, no matter how he ran through a fight between him and Archie, he couldn't see a path to victory. If he plugged both of their abilities in to a computer and ran a battle simulation a hundred times like they did on those old shows where they pitted warriors from different cultures against each other, he'd come up with zero wins.

He was missing something, he just didn't know what.

Mr Michaelson ran a hand over the back of his head. "Ah, tough crowd. So, we've been learning about wards, but what happens when you take a physical ward and expand it?"

Mr Michaelson waved his hand. A translucent orange wall like a stained glass window emerged in the air in front of him.

"Here is a fairly generic physical ward, akin to the ones you have been practicing in class. Savvy students have already used these in the Tournament matches to block projectiles, even sometimes other people."

Jacob blushed.

Mr Michaelson reached forward and rapped his knuckle against the back. "Fairly sturdy, and fairly broad. Effectively, it's a wall that blocks oncoming attacks, right?" Mr Michaelson gestured at the class.

A scattering of confused nods answered him.

"Right! But, a wall has another use, doesn't it?" Mr Michaelson waved his hand. A second ward emerged at a right angle to the first, making an L-shape in the air. Then a third ward on the other end, creating a rectangular U-shape. Then a fourth, making a square. Mr Michaelson lowered his hands down to his sides, and the ward-square lowered to the ground. It stood a little above his head.

"Now, add a roof." A fifth, flat ward covered the top, making a little box. "And a finishing touch," he waved his hand and a little rectangular hole cut open in one of the wards. "And voila!"

Mr Michaelson stepped into the box through the hole. He stood inside, his clothing and features tainted orange, and splayed his arms. Then he exited the box and the door sealed up.

"I know what you're thinking: 'Well, Mr Michaelson, you've made a very expensive, very difficult little box. So what?'" He turned and went over to the table at the front of the class. "Well, what is a house, if not a glorified box? Maybe I've solved the housing crisis right here?"

Crickets again.

"But what if I want to make a bigger box, a bigger house? It would need support beams and pillars. Just as a normal house made of wood and stone does. So, if that box is a house, why can't I reinforce it?" Little struts appeared in the box, crossing from one corner to the opposite. "Turns out I can. If I can do that, maybe I can make a truss." The box disappeared and a long, crisscrossing truss like the ones Jacob sometimes saw beneath bridges appeared on the table. "If I can make a truss, why can't I make a gear?" The truss disappeared and a little cog appeared on the table. "If I can make one gear, why can't I make two?" A second, smaller gear appeared on the table, its teeth locked with the first one. A whisper of magic floated out from Mr Michaelson, and the first gear turned, turning the second one as well.

The gears vanished and Mr Michaelson paused to take a sip of water from a Hydro Flask.

"What I have just walked you through is—albeit simplified—roughly the sequence of logic that Antonio D'Angelo marched through when he revolutionized both ward magic and Production magic in general. He made two key developments here. The latter of the two is the more obvious one: Boxes, trusses, gears, cogs. We can make structures and machines out of magic. The Magical Basics building, as well as the interior of the Vanderbilt Building, are both made entirely out of magic. As are the training rooms."

Whispers ran through the class.

"The first chapter of D'Angelo's book Magical Machinery I: Creating Complex Structures and Systems with Magic covers this, and is consequentially the reading for next class," Mr Michaelson raised a finger. "'But, Mr Michaelson, you mentioned that D'Angelo made two key developments. What is the second one?' Well, I've already shown it to you, but if you blinked, you probably missed it, so, I am going to show it to you again in a demonstration," he scanned the crowd as if looking for someone, and his eyes landed on Jacob.

Jacob instantly went rigid in his seat. Did Mr Michaelson know he would rather be training?

Mr Michaelson nodded as if to himself. "When I mentioned earlier that this class would be about non-combat applications, I partially lied. Sorry. Mr Caibo, you're a fairly skilled Consumer, would you be so kind as to help me with this demonstration?"

Jacob froze. What?

Blake elbowed him.

Jacob cleared his throat. "Um, yes."

"Come down to the front of the room."

Jacob got up and walked down the aisle to the front of the class like a wooden marionette. Aw man, now he was really regretting coming to class. He got to the front. Bright lights shone down on him. Half a hundred sets of eyes peered at him, rows and rows of little heads poking above their desks. Christ, how did his professors do this every day?

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"I am going to cast two wards. I'd like you to punch both with as much strength as you can."

"Magically?" Jacob asked.

"Yes, magically," Mr Michaelson grinned.

The class laughed.

Sweat broke out on Jacob's forehead. Stupid question. Stupid fucking question. He tried to push it out of his mind and engaged his magic.

Mr Michaelson stood across from him. He raised his hand. A translucent orange ward appeared in the air in front of him. A little rectangle the size of a small window. Another appeared in the air next to it, but this one was darker. Little lines crossed its interior surface, warping Mr Michaelson's reflection.

Mr Michaelson gestured to the class. "The keener amongst you have no doubt noticed, I've put roughly the same amount of energy into both of these. Alright, Jacob. The one on your left first."

Jacob took a deep breath. He'd cast magic beneath his classmates' gazes twice already in the arena. This was no different. He thought of green and moved his magic first throughout his body, then forced as much as he could into his right fist and forearm, leaving a small percent throughout the rest of his skeleton to better absorb the blow.

He shuffled over to the first ward, strength roaring inside him. He imagined the ward was Archie, then leaned back and haymaker'd it as hard as he could.

The ward shattered. Broken shards of orange magic scattered out from his impact, plinking to the floor, distinctly reminding him of the crystals in the magical world.

Jacob sidestepped to the darker ward, a little angry the class had laughed at him even though his question had been stupid. He hauled off and haymaker'd this one as well.

His fist struck the ward as if he were punching glass with an unenhanced fist. The surface spiderwebbed, but the ward held.

"Ow!" Jacob shook his fist out.

The class let out oohs and ahs.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Mr Michaelson said. "D'Angelo's second key development. The revolution of reinforced wards. Let's everyone give a big round of applause for Mr Caibo here."

Jacob blinked.

The class burst out into applause. Mr Michaelson clapped and nodded to Jacob.

Jacob smiled, feeling a little better, and went back to his seat.

"Not bad," Blake nudged him. "What were you gonna do, though? Punch it with no magic?"

Jacob rolled his eyes.

"They have many names. D'Angelo called them reinforced wards, but over time they have become the standard in advanced combat. Any Ranger casting wards will use reinforced wards. They're more complex, but are exponentially more effective. I used a little more magic in that second ward for the trusses but the effect was worth the expenditure. D'Angelo discusses this in his book Basics of Ward Family Spells. Both of these developments were because he thought outside the box when it came to the already well established practical use of ward magic.

"That concludes class today. I hope you all have a wonderful weekend and enjoy the midterms net week."

Students began packing their things up.

"Oh, one last thing!" Mr Michaelson said. "Could the students competing in the Round of 16 please come see me now!"

Jacob frowned.

"What do you think he wants?" Blake asked.

"No idea."

"Alright, I'll wait for you outside."

"Thanks."

Jacob made his way down to the front of the class, where a small group had already formed. Camilla, Archie, and a few others were missing, but Jacob knew the rest.

The shorter Victor Vincent stood at the front, across the table from Mr Michaelson, his muscular arms folded across his chest. Ishaan Stone hovered at one side, several textbooks held in the crook of his arm. The taller Sophia stood next to the skinny Riley LaForce, who was the lowest seed left at 24th. Diego Marquez stood near Mr Michaelson. He was an olive skinned boy of average height, with unshaven scruff on his chin and a laptop bag over his shoulder both of which made him look older than sixteen.

Jacob walked up next to Xavier Hudson, who nodded at him. Jacob remembered thinking he wouldn't stand a chance against the kid last weekend after he'd trounced Tobi. But now he thought things would be different. The Sharpe twins, the 7th and 8th seeds stood huddled together, one whispering in the other's ear. Jacob couldn't tell them apart. Tanaka appeared beside Jacob a moment later.

"Yo," Jacob said.

"Yo, know what this is about?" Tanaka asked.

"No," Jacob shook his head.

Mr Michaelson sat down in his chair with a sigh and looked at each of them in turn. "Congratulations on making it to the Round of 16. Regardless of what happens past this point, getting this far is impressive. You each worked very hard to be here, regardless of your strength, and judging by the amount of you absent from this class, you are still training very hard. Which is obvious," Mr Michaelson leaned back in his chair. "I played outside linebacker for my high school football team in Ohio growing up. For those of you that aren't from the states, football is very big in Ohio. All the teachers come to the games and respect the student-athletes and the extra hours they work for competition and training, as well as the headspace and energy it takes up throughout the day. Ohio isn't a huge state, but travel time for games was still a lot. Some teachers were very understanding with assignments and tests that happened to fall around playoffs or away games. These teachers understood that there are valuable experiences to be had outside the classroom, that sometimes these experiences are more valuable than the classroom, that sometimes these experiences should take precedent over the classroom, and as such they made sure the students involved weren't mis-prioritizing in order to get a high grade. I cannot move your midterms—I have tried in past years—but I aim to be one of those teachers that understands and values the work you do outside the classroom that doesn't necessarily show up on a piece of paper as a grade. That's all I wanted to say. I will let you get back to your days. Good luck with your matches in a few weeks and your midterms next week."

What?

There were a couple confused looks, but most of the other students nodded and left the room. If they understood something, it had gone right over Jacob's head. Jacob shouldered his bag and walked to the door with Tanaka.

"You know what that was about?" Jacob asked, genuinely confused.

Tanaka shook his head. "Sounded like he just wanted to tell us his backstory for some reason. I have no idea with these professors sometimes."

Blake was waiting for them outside the auditorium, leaning against the wall, arms folded. He looked between Jacob and Tanaka, frowning. "What was he sayin'?"

Jacob reiterated what Mr Michaelson had said, finishing with. "...Tanaka and I don't know what he was talking about."

Blake scoffed. "Oh, well it's pretty obvious. He's going to mark your midterms more easily than the rest of us chumps."

"Wait, what? Really?" Jacob asked.

"Yeah, I mean, obviously. What else would he be talking about? I had a teacher do the same for me for volleyball this past year. It sounded cryptic because he can't just come out and say that he's going to mark you easier because someone will leak and the faculty will get pissed. That's why he was so vague."

"Oh..." Jacob said.

"Well, I'm not complaining," Tanaka said. "Anyway, I gotta go train."

"See ya," Jacob said.

They watched the transfer student waltz away.

"Since when do you know him?" Blake asked.

Oh, right. "Uh, long story. Ended up training with him when your arms were still healing."

"Damn. What's he like?"

"Honestly, kinda chill. I mean, he's strong as hell and trains like a psycho, but I think he's a decent guy," Jacob shook his head. Things were getting too much to keep track of. "I'm a little surprised, though. Didn't know Mr Michaelson was such a bro."

"Yeah, lucky you," Blake shrugged. "But, I won't complain. I get it. You're sacrificing study time to train for these matches. That's a major handicap. What are you gonna do now?"

Jacob considered. "I think I'm gonna go study for Magical Basics at the library. You wanna join?"

"Yeah, let's go," Blake said.