“… and that’s what they told me.”

Sebas frowned. The boy’s statement was disturbing. Beasts from the Great Forest heading to the Corner Shop™? It was highly unlikely, unless it was somehow directed.

The butler’s eyes glazed as his sight traversed distances, sweeping across the plains, fields, hills, and patches of trees around him. Farseeing was not something he relished. The spell left an acrid sensation on his eyes and the taste of soot on his mouth. It took him a few moments to spot the beasts — five groups, coming from several directions but ultimately heading to the shop.

He lamented the Corner Shop’s lack of defenses. They didn’t even have a fence — though having one wouldn’t make a difference to the creatures racing towards them. They mostly relied on the presence of Shelby to deter wrongdoers or wandering monsters — but she left with the master two days ago.

He shuddered, thinking of his reaction once he finds his shop destroyed and his followers injured or slaughtered.

Sebas turned to Warden. “Call for Min and Horst.”

He watched the farmhand leave to alert the barn as well as the villagers. Using children to defend their territory didn’t go well with him — but there was little choice on the matter. The first of the beasts would arrive in half an hour and the rest would not be far behind.

“A group of men are leading forest beasts towards the shop,” he noted to the remaining few inside the shop. There was Siege, Dallarath, and Rikki. The other farmhands were already preparing for the attack — convinced by the words relayed to the boy by the snails.

“We should meet them before they arrive!” roared Siege. “Give them a taste of metal and fire!”

Sebas shook his head. “Our attackers are using different paths. If we engage with one group, the others would be left unhindered.”

“Doesn’t the Scourge have some kind of contingency for such an attack?” Dallarath asked.

There was one — but the butler was more than hesitant to use it.

“It’s up to us,” he spoke in a solemn tone. “The farmhands and the mages should be able to help, but they have little experience with real combat. The three of us would have to bear the brunt of the attacks. We would have to draw the beasts to keep the others safe.”

“Draw the beasts?” Dallarath asked, bewildered by the magnanimity of the task. “Is that even possible?”

“It should be.” Sebas removed a flask of golden liquid from the stands behind him. To think that one of his master’s concoctions would be used against them. It seemed fitting. “This potion should attract the beast’s attention. It will drive them mad with hunger and lust.”

“Wait, lust?” Siege stammered. “You mean the beasts would —“

“We’re more likely to get eaten than defiled,” Sebas assured the dwarf. “At least I hope so.”

***

Jinea felt wronged. She spent most of yesterday destroying soul worms only to learn the Scourge was using her as bait for the stronger demons further up. Her suspicion began after seeing one of the pig demons coming down, only to be drawn by an invisible force towards a different direction. After three more of the flying demons flew down and change course, she was pretty sure there was something afoot.

Of course, the Scourge denied her allegations. He said he was merely protecting her from the stronger demons — even as she noted the four new emerald gems embedded in the eyes of his snake-bone vambraces.

He advised her to control her output, saying she was spending too much mana on her spells. Rote spells were fine, as long as she could subtly alter them to fit her opponents.

The Scourge’s words were confusing. There was no way to alter rote spells during casting — they were rote, after all. There was no way to alter subconsciously ingrained matrices and mana paths. Unless….

She crafted a matrix with her left hand — one that would interact with a subsequent one. This matrix would control the output of her spell, allowing her to limit the area or damage it dealt. Unlike her other matrices, this one didn’t need to draw mana. It functioned solely to alter her rote spells.

She summoned a second matrix.

Blue flames erupted from the ground, creating a pillar as thick as a man’s body. It was a significant alteration, considering her original spell would say waste to anything within two or three steps of its center. She managed to reduce its area to a tenth of what it was before.

“You seemed pleased with yourself,” the Scourge spoke from behind her.

Jinea turned towards the wizard, her head held high with pride. “I designed a matrix that allows me to manipulate my spells.”

“That one?” the Scourge scoffs. “That’s just a limiter. Most war mages learn to make one within a month or two of their training. It only limits the scope and power of your spell — it doesn’t reduce mana consumption one bit.”

“But—“

The glaring eyes of the Scourge made her stop her protest. “Teach me then,” she started, quickly realizing her mistake. She bowed. “I ask for your guidance.”

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The Scourge seemed taken aback by her request — or perhaps, by her wording. It took him a while to respond.

“What anchors your spells? What triggers your rotes?”

“Words,’ Jinea answered. Like most mages, she had subconsciously ingrained her matrices to trigger upon her use of certain words.

“Add a secondary anchor,” the Scourge suggested. “A gesture or the placement of your thumb when holding your wand.”

“How do you do it?” she asked. The Scourge had displayed his magic numerous times in front of her and the other apprentices — she saw no sign of any other anchor.

“I don’t have a second anchor,” the Scourge replied. “All my spells are at full power. The mana I hold is vast — I don’t need to worry about expenditure.”

“There must be something—“ Jinea stopped, suddenly understanding the wizard’s words.

He had no need for mana. She assumed he had a trove of the mana stones he provided them or some artifact that could fill the stone vessels with mana. It only dawned on her that the Scourge was filling the vessels with his own mana — mana so pure it made the ambient mana of the world seem filthy.

Was it the jerms in the air? The Scourge would fall into rants about jerms quite often — even claiming he was at war with them. Did the jerms somehow corrupt the world’s mana?

She shook her head. The jerms weren’t important. They could be — but not at this moment. Who exactly was the Scourge? Most of them thought he was some kind of noble. He had land, he regularly visited the duke, and he had a butler named Sebastian. However, being a noble wouldn’t explain his vast amount of mana. Most wizards absorbed mana from the air — if her guess was correct, the Scourge produced it within himself.

Was he some kind of vessel for divinity? She didn’t think so. He made no effort to proselytize or even talk about higher beings. A mythical creature in the form of a human? It was possible. He did say he knew a few phoenixes — and that one visited the shop a few days ago.

“Have you figured things out?” the Scourge asked, bringing her back from her pondering.

“I’m not sure,” she hesitated, not knowing if figuring out the man’s secret would open doors or lead to a sudden end.

“Give me your wand,” the wizard grumbled.

He took her offered wand and began to mark it with a dagger. Three etches now marred her wand — a line (—), a cross (+), and a six-pointed star (∗).

“There — one, two, and three,” the wizard said as he passed her the altered wand. “The single line cuts your mana use to half. The two intersecting lines allows you to cast as normal. The three intersecting lines doubles your mana expenditure.”

It was simplicity itself. She stared at the etches on her wand, drilling their meaning into her subconscious.

“Try it.”

Jinea pressed her thumb on the grooved line. She could distinguish the etch by touch, eliminating the need to constantly look at her wand every time she would cast a spell.

A dome of solid ice formed where she pointed. It could encase a single person — two if they were close to each other. Her usual casting encompassed a wider area and used double the mana.

“I keep forgetting that you also have an affinity for ice,” the Scourge remarked.

Jinea tried to hold back a smile but failed. The wizard’s surprise was the closest thing to a praise. “And Shadow,” she added.

“Meh,” the Scourge scoffed. “Limited visual manipulation coupled with force? Stick to fire and ice.”

She nodded, understanding the wizard’s tone. Her thumb shifted to the etched cross.

The usual blue flames of her spell sprang from the ground — encompassing a 10-foot wide circle. She stared at her teacher, wondering if he would approve of her display of power.

“Next.”

Disappointed at his seeming uninterest, she slipped her thumb to the six-pointed star and chose her most powerful spell.

Flames swept across the ground, laying waste to everything in its path. The blue wave of fire encompassed an area 10 steps in width and double that in length.

“Hmm,” the Scourge stared at the scorched ground. “Too flashy and a bit wasteful, considering you can also do ice. You can —“ he paused, raising a hand in warning.

The faint sound of flapping wings echoed from a distance. Jinea stared at the sky and saw two pig demons heading towards them.

The Scourge was right. Their wings were too tiny to bear their massive size. Even at a distance, she could get a sense of the massive stores of mana in their bodies.

“How convenient,” the Scourge smiled at her. “Fire and Ice are linked in a way. Watch.”

The wizard extended his hand towards the creatures — a closed fist with only the pointer finger and pinkie extended. The demons were too far for any spell Jinea knew, but it was probably different for the man before her. He muttered a word that she couldn’t catch as he rotated his hand.

A burst of light followed by a loud bang erupted from the sky. One of the pig demons vanished from the sky — incinerated in an instant, leaving little to no trace of its existence. What kind of spell would do that to a demon?

She searched for the other one, finding it already falling to the ground. The downed demon shattered into countless pieces as it hit, the ice mimicking the sound of crystalline chimes.

Jinea’s eyes went wide. The spell the Scourge displayed seemed complex but it was ridiculously simple. She wondered if she could replicate it. The wizard managed to tie the fates of the two demons together — siphoning the heat from one and transferring it to the other.

It wasn’t fire and ice — but heat and cold.

Her eyes drifted back to the Scourge. Wisps of light were streaming towards his hand — now open as if about to grasp something.

“There,” he said, closing his hand as he gathered the last of wisps. “For you.”

Jinea stared at the two thumb-sized emeralds dropped in her hands. She could feel the power inside them. Did the wizard trap the demons within the crystals? No — she was sure she watched them die. This was their life force, their essence — distilled and purified into the gems in her hands.

“This one lets you see illusions,” the Scourge explained. “The other one lets you teleport.”

“You should have it,” Jinea offered back the second gem. True sight was a powerful enough ability for her — teleportation was too much.

The Scourge jumped back, almost wincing at her gesture. “You keep it,” he urged, acting as if he was being offered something horrific. “I’m not one for casual suicide.”