After a moment of shocked silence, Elder Fischer pointed to a man at the back. “Yes, Mr. Becker.”
“But, ma’am, we can see where they’re taking us.”
“Can you?” the elder asked, cocking a head. “Does anyone want to try fielding that question?”
Kevin shuddered as he realized what she was getting out. If it was what he’d do, then it was quite the nasty move.
“Yes, Mr. Blake,” Fischer said without even looking at him.
“Well,” he said, licking his lips. “Becker is right that they show us something, but I don’t see why it has to be where the formation leads. For an unauthorized user, I would just show them whatever they wanted.”
“Correct. Well done, Mr. Blake,” the elder nodded, looking please. “Lesson two, never assume a formation is what it appears. I can confirm that the effect displaying your location and the effect that takes you there are not linked.”
“So I repeat for a third time, do not use, cross, enter, or otherwise interact with any formation you do not understand. We will take the last forty-five minutes to discuss the common formations at this sect so you can travel in peace.”
“Until then, get your books out while we go over some rapid identification techniques. You will need to master them until you can hazard a decent guess in a matter of seconds.”
Nodding, Kevin began copying down her words. This first lesson wasn’t at all what he expected, but it sounded so important now she’d exposed them to it.
He’d only been thinking about using formations himself, but the reverse was that opponents could also use them on him. Hopefully, they’d still cover the offensive portion in the practical lesson.
After the initial hour of theory, which was an expansion of FORM-102 focusing more on heuristic solutions, they moved on to examples in the sect. As he wrote them down, Kevin couldn’t keep the growing horror off his face.
He had no idea how many of the sect’s formations could be dangerous to intruders. The cultivation areas could be detonated in explosions of Qi, and the gate to the inner sect could throw people off the mountain.
Even the innocuous paper teleporters could be overcharged to fling projectiles from one office to another. And all of those weren’t even half the examples. By the end, he had a much healthier respect for the chances he’d been taking just walking around.
Worse, her examples backed up the warnings from FORM-102. In theory, a faulty array could also trigger any of those effects, which became more likely the more you tried to change one.
Forget people not wanting to waste time doing maintenance. He was beginning to think it was just that they didn’t want to die!
By the end, he, and it seemed the rest of the class, left so worried that they barely exchanged goodbyes. Which, Kevin reflected once he’d calmed down later, had probably been intended.
Elder Fischer had made her point well; formations could be very dangerous. At the same time, it lit a growing excitement in him. What crazy arrays might he be able to use in combat?
The thought was enticing, but he pushed it aside as he went on with the rest of his afternoon. There was a lot of work to be done, and he needed to get started on the first of his formations.
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When he made it back to his room, Kevin found a letter slipped under the door. The short message was from Brad Harper, confirming he could meet for lunch at 12:30 the next day.
The time fit Kevin’s schedule, and he was eager to discuss more with the potential ally. Scribbling a quick reply, he took a detour and slid the letter under Brad’s door.
Like with Amelia, it was the method they agreed on to organize meet-ups.
With that handled, he returned to his desk and began taking out his formation supplies.
First, there was a cloth undersheet to absorb paint spatters, followed by wooden rods, the actual flag cloth, scissors, and an array of brushes. These were designed for delicate ink work rather than the paint kind he was used to.
Last was his book of notes, which Kevin stared at for a moment before shaking his head. No way was he going to risk soaking that in paint. Instead, he copied his formation patterns onto fresh pages.
Preparations complete, he took careful note of the flag dimensions, then cut a section of cloth to shape. Setting the rest of his good cloth aside, Kevin laid his flag on the undersheet and took care to smooth out any wrinkles.
A last check of his notes confirmed he had finished all Fischer's initial instructions. With a deep breath, he uncorked a bottle of ink, picked up one of the wider brushes, and set to work.
The elder had suggested beginning with the large, abstract sections before working on the tiny characters spread throughout the image. In her words, it was a lot less effort to do the big stuff if you messed up later than it was to redo the fine details.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
These large curves, lines, and odd squiggles were designed to convey intent in a way that would have fit in well with abstract art back home. In fact, according to the elder, focused intent was a massive part of creating flags.
He couldn’t just mindlessly copy the details; he had to embed his intent into the shapes as he drew them. Whatever that meant.
As best as he’d been able to gather in a single lesson, it meant focusing on the end goal as he worked on the art-like section. It turned an already tough piece of work into a juggling act between paying attention to the design and thinking about the goal.
Halfway through his first attempt, his brush slipped and ruined the pattern. Cursing, Kevin cut another flag and tried again. This time, he made it almost through, only to realize he’d covered a spot that would later hold a character.
A third attempt got him through to the writing component, where he messed up the fine detail work. Each character was smaller than he’d write a letter of the alphabet while also being unfamiliar and more complicated.
Suppressing the urge to scream, Kevin shifted his failed attempts to the side, pulled out a notebook, and practiced each character over and over again. It wasn’t until he could draw them without looking that he returned to working with cloth.
Four attempts later, including a break for dinner, Kevin groaned in relief as he finished the last detail. With frantic eyes, he scanned every inch. Finally, he relaxed back into his chair when he spotted nothing wrong.
It was done, the first of six flags he needed for the energy containment array. Which was the first of three formations he was supposed to finish this week.
This was going to take a lot of time, and he was going to need more cloth. Lots more cloth.
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The rest of that evening saw him hard at work, finishing two more flags before falling into slumber. With each one, the process grew a little easier, and he was hopeful that he would finish before the week was out.
The next morning, he spotted Amelia leaving breakfast as he arrived, though she only had time to suggest lunch on Thursday. There was a forty-five-minute window that fit both of them, so they locked it in.
Even with his deadlines, Kevin needed to spend a little time winding down if he didn’t want to go insane. It was the same as with his lunch catchup with Brad that same day, which was scheduled for after his FORM-102 practical.
That turned out to be a productive three hours.
Thresher had the class work through a series of formations as a group. Some were actual flags, while others were stranger setups, and all of them were revealed without a single hint.
Each design required them to use the principles they’d gone over in the first class to identify them. It was complex work that was a mix of treasure hunt, intuition, and complex academic theory.
The examples grew more difficult with each one they solved, and Thresher wouldn’t let them advance until they’d gotten the answer right. This led to several arguments within the group, though they worked well together despite this.
At the end of the class, Thresher confirmed they would have a second group session next week. After that would be two sessions where they would solve problems solo. Then they would move on to diagnosing actual issues.
With the class finishing at twelve, Kevin hurried back to stow his stuff away and meet Brad for lunch.
The mountain of a man was already waiting when he arrived in the cafeteria. Pushing seven feet in height, Brad was easy to spot even when seated. With a wave, Kevin strolled over and collapsed into the opposite seat.
“Hard day?” Brad asked in his deep, rumbling voice, reaching out an arm so bulging with muscle that it stretched the wide robe sleeve. The man was like that all over, and a shaved head only added to the intimidating effect.
Despite appearances, Kevin had found him to be nothing but polite and open in their previous interaction. “Hard week,” he said, shaking his head with a weak laugh as he clasped arms. “Thank the heavens that I have the entire afternoon free.”
In fact, with the practical for FORM-101 canceled, he only had a single class on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday too.
“Yeah, my first season was like that too,” Brad chuckled, “I think they front-load classes like that to shock you into motion. Then they give you some free time in the rest of the week to actually get everything done.”
Kevin gave a theatrical groan in response. “Does it get any easier?”
Brad shrugged, the motion shifting an extraordinary amount of muscle. “I wouldn’t say it’s easier, but you get used to it. Effectively using your time is most important. Sometimes you can’t get everything done, so if you need to disappoint someone, make sure it’s not an elder.”
“They can deduct merit if you piss them off, and it comes from your total, as well as your current.”
“So they can kick you out, is what you’re saying?” Kevin asked, raising an eyebrow. That sounded problematic; he was hard-pressed to get enough merit as it was.
“You would have to annoy them really hard for it to have a massive impact,” Brad shrugged a second time. “I’ve only heard of that happening once or twice. Mostly, it’s a small amount as a reprimand.”
Right, that sounded less terrible but still bad. “Thanks for the advice,” Kevin said, nodding in appreciation. He hoped to fit everything in, but it was still good to know that Fischer and Johnson’s classes were the ones off-limits if something needed to slide.
Not that he’d been intending on annoying Fischer anyway; that woman could be scary when she wanted to be.
“But enough with my complaining,” Kevin continued, brightening up. “What about you, big guy? Anything you need to get off your chest.”
“Nothing much.” Brad smiled. “My advanced blacksmithing class is going well, and my combat classes are building on my existing skills. I should be able to surprise quite a few people at the cutoff tournament.”
“I bet you will,” Kevin snorted. The man would be a beast with just his physique alone. On top of that, the little Brad had shared the other day suggested he was a weapon wielder and versed in several other techniques.
It would be fun to watch the man fight. It was just unfortunate it would be in the same tournament he might have to participle in. Kevin still hoped to meet his merit requirements without trying that, but there were no guarantees.
“I… uh,” Brad began, looking uncertain for the first time. “I wouldn’t mind talking more about Xi’an, though. If you don’t mind. Most people have such strong opinions either way that I don’t bother.”
Kevin grinned and gestured for the man to continue. “Go for it.”
He’d felt much the same about discussing his dreams with someone who understood. Brad was easy to talk to anyway, and if he could give the man an outlet, all the better. That was part of what friends were for.
“I mentioned I’m an outsider,” he continued when he saw the other man still hesitating. “So, believe me when I say I have literally no opinion on the matter. I barely even understand why people react the way they do.”
“Oh?” Brad perked up, his posture relaxing at last. “I’d almost forgotten about that. Well, that would be a good place to start anyway” Brad gave a furtive look to each side, neck muscles bulging, before he continued with a nod.
“I guess it all began when Xi’an conquered the world.”