MEMORY FRAGMENT
Mage Academy Learning Hall, 72 years ago
Being head of the Learning Hall wasn’t at all as fun as it was supposed to be. It was claimed to be a power position within the Academy with countless benefits. Nobles tended to send gifts to make sure their children did well, mages tended to offer favors for having their pick of skilled apprentices, not to mention that the students and tutors were eager to impress Adzorg to be noticed. In truth, the job took a lot of time from his research, swamping him with needless bureaucracy and boredom.
Five years had been enough to have him witness pretty much everything that there was to see. The bribes, the brown-nosing attempts, even the intrigues had turned to just more of the same. As for his research—his true research—it had to continue to be done in secret.
There was a knock on the door.
“Yes,” Adzorg said in a bored tone.
It was normal for mages from the administration to pop up several times per day requesting permission or clarification. Even after providing them with echo items, the sniveling little bureaucrats continued to want to hear his orders in person. The really sad part was that many of them were twice his age.
“What is it this—” he looked up, then instantly froze.
The visitor wasn’t some low-level mage, but the emperor himself. This was the second time Adzorg had seen him, and it was just as shocking as the first.
“Emperor.” He stood up. “I wasn’t informed that—”
“Informed?” The emperor asked, making it clear he was the ruler of the largest country in the known world.
“Expecting,” Adzorg quickly corrected himself. “Your visits are usually accompanied by a rush to improve the spot you’d be visiting.”
“Yes, aren’t they?” The man might have smiled, but the incandescent glow of purple made it impossible to tell. “How do you like your new position?” he asked.
“I’m thankful that you’ve entrusted me with the Learning Hall, Emperor.” Adzorg gave the only possible correct answer.
“Good, because I have another task for you.”
On cue, another person entered the room. He was young, not even reached his teenage years, yet the magic within him was impressive. His clothes and posture made it clear he didn’t belong to a noble family, let alone the imperial house, posing questions about where the emperor had found him.
“After some thought, I believe the advice I was given a decade ago to have been false,” the emperor continued. “Of course, since the old archmage was chosen by my father, I trusted his judgment on the matter completely. Since his passing, however, it’s become clear that otherworlders do not present the threat he claimed.”
Passing? Adzorg hadn’t heard anything of the sort. It was true that the imperial house guarded its secrets, but something as significant as the death of a former archmage should have become known, at least at the Academy.
“For that reason, I’ll be changing the policy regarding otherworlders at the Academy.”
Adzorg’s glance shifted from the emperor to the boy.
“I see you’ve guessed it.” The emperor put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Based on the old rules, he’d have been cast out to the borders of the empire of beyond, most likely to become part of a monastery of the Order.”
That much was true. The Order of the Seven Moons was extremely good at that. They gladly opened their doors to everyone, but especially mages that had fallen out of favor one way or another.
“I want you to train him.”
“Emperor?” Adzorg didn’t know what to say. “It’s an honor, but I don’t think I’m capable of teaching. Even the Learning Hall’s administration said that I should never—”
“Short sighted opinions.” The emperor waved his hand, putting an end to the discussion. “No one believed that you would do well as the head of the Learning Hall, and look at it now.”
As praiseworthy as that sounded, Adzorg knew perfectly well he had done close to nothing to change the practices of the learning hall. The place virtually ran itself. True, he had put an emphasis on skill rather than providence, but he wasn’t the first to do so. Of course, that had changed just now. Anything the emperor said became the truth and could not be disputed.
“Thank you, Emperor. Anything you would require?”
“The usual. Don’t let me down.”
The tone was warm, but the warning was apparent.
“This is the first otherworlder to join the academy in ten years, but there will be more. There are always more. Your goal is to see to it that they reach their potential. I’ll remove all of the bureaucratic hindrances by appointing you as the next archmage.”
Chill mixed with excitement. The title was sought after by everyone. It wasn’t only the power and influence that it provided, but also a discretion next to that of the emperor himself. An archmage could meddle with any project and as long as it wasn’t against the emperor himself, there would be no questions asked, no explanations needed.
“The only thing you need to do in order to convince me is to prove you’re up to the task. The boy is recently awakened, with no concept of magic or awakening. Make him a mage within five years. Any less and I’ll consider someone else for the position.”
There was a momentary flash, after which the form of the emperor broke down into purple dust that slowly fell to the ground. Adzorg made note that at no point did he see the ruler cast a spell, nor had he sensed any of the magic threads doing anything they were supposed to. Without question, the greatest awakened was also the most capable mage, having access to spells that even the Academy didn’t know about; and he had just offered him the top position.
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“How long since you came to this world?” Adzorg directed his attention to the boy.
“Three weeks.” There was a slight shiver in his voice. “Maybe a few days more.”
“How old were you before you appeared?”
There was silence.
“Dear boy, my mentor was an otherworlder from Baltimore,” the mage said, slightly annoyed. “He was never tight lipped about his experiences. I even know his,” Adzorg paused for a moment, making sure to phrase it right, “favorite sports team. So, how old were you?”
“Older.”
“Older. That might cause a few problems. You’ll have to unlearn a lot. What’s your name?”
“Here or back home?”
“Here.”
“Eval, Alien Eval.”
Alien—the first otherworlder that Adzorg had seen since the banishment of his mentor, as well as his first student ever. Teaching him wasn’t going to be easy, but at least he hadn’t spent long in the awakened world. Building a good foundation was possible, and with a good foundation, he could achieve a lot.
The news spread quickly. Less than a day after the boy’s arrival, the archmage made an announcement that otherworlders were welcome back to the Academy once more. Naturally, Adzorg was given the task to teach and prepare them, being the head of the Learning Hall—a task that he graciously took on.
Despite the initial doubts, Alien proved to be rather competent when it came to learning. He had a good understanding of theory and tactical principles. The only problem was the age mismatch. One of every four otherworlders arrived with the condition. It gave them more knowledge, but also made them socially awkward. The boy was lucky that he had been found early and taken to the Academy, where everyone was considered strange when compared to normal people, even awakened.
It took two decades for the boy to go through everything Adzorg deemed an awakened should know; or in terms of real life—just over three weeks. All days without exception were spent in various item realms that the mage had specifically set up for the task. Each was also occupied by a reverse echo, allowing him to keep a hands-on approach.
Once everything was performed to satisfaction, the magic training began. With the theoretical parts already discussed, it took just over a day for Alien to fulfill the qualifications of becoming a rank three novice. Normally, the bureaucracy would have prevented it, but since there was little secret regarding the emperor’s interest in the matter, all the administrative requirements were waived.
For a moment, Adzorg was rather pleased with his achievement. If things kept going on like this, he could earn his position in one year instead of five. Then, the first major obstacle took place—despite his flawless experience and understanding, the boy remained at level one, and even with the many achievements he had earned while training, no one was willing to enter a magic duel with him. The reason was as logical as it was infuriating: no one wanted to risk causing the emperor’s favorite new toy to fail. Apprentices that gladly traded their magic for noble favors to boost the traits of children of influential families were terrified of something going wrong. As the saying went, “planned magic duels never hurt anyone, but why risk it?” Even after Alien had boosted his magic trait to seven thanks to magical artifacts and sewer vortex hunting, the situation remained the same.
“Why don’t you give me a few levels?” the boy asked Adzorg. “If no one else will.”
“Dear boy, I’m in my current position because I don’t give away my magic just like that.”
“So, it’s a political statement?”
“Yes. An archmage cannot be seen going against the emperor. But if he blindly does everything the emperor says, no one would respect him.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t change how things stand. Besides, the emperor wanted you to reach your limit. If I just hand him a toy I’ve constructed, I won’t only lose the promised position, but there might be other consequences.”
“If I become archmage, I won’t bother with such nonsense.”
“If you become archmage, you can do whatever you wish. Before that, you must become a mage, and the way you are now, I can’t risk you using training vortexes.”
The boy winced. “You want me to keep roaming the sewers?”
“That won’t help either. You’ve already cleaned all the magic there. It’ll take years before new vortexes form.”
“So, what do you want me to do? Learn more spells? I’ve already reached my level cap.”
“That, dear boy, is precisely the core of the problem. Without increasing your cap, there’s nothing you can do. However, if you were to increase the cap, you’d decrease what you’ve gained, making you just as incapable of fighting in vortexes.”
“My traits aren’t bad. I can—”
“There’s more to leveling up than traits. At your level, you can’t even create an echo, let alone any of the important things.”
“How come everyone else manages?” Alien crossed his arms. “I’ve seen children younger than me obtain magic easily. Why can’t I?”
Adzorg clenched his fist. “Because I won’t allow it! There’s a lot at stake here and I won’t allow you to recklessly boost your traits without thinking of the consequences!”
In the end, he had no choice but to do so. Unable to find an alternative, the boy resorted to low level magic absorption to get his magic to ten, after which he lost half of it so he could level up to the first gate at the Academy’s awakening altar.
It was approximately at that time that the second otherworlder mage was introduced to the Academy—a girl who had the rare fortune of starting with a magic trait of six at her first level. Doubling his efforts, Adzorg dedicated more of his time to helping both of them grow.
Thanks to his dedication, Alien got to a point at which he could fight training vortexes, quickly acquiring the magic required to become an apprentice. Sadly, that was also the point at which he decided to rebel against Adzorg by secretly going to the awakening shrine and boosting his level to twenty. The result wasn’t beneficial to anyone, and the irony of it all was that Adzorg would have explained that if only his apprentice would have asked.
The girl, in contrast, followed a much different approach. Ignoring the awakening leveling completely, she focused solely on magic. Unlike Alien, though, she never fought or engaged in collecting herself, instead creating entities of clouds to do it for her. Her affinity was rather remarkable, though given that she had become a favored of Galatea, quite normal.
Three and a half years later, the moment of truth finally came. Recognized as a prodigy, the girl was quickly made an apprentice, continuing her research in a completely different field. Alien followed nine months later, despite having a head start. Adzorg’s disappointment, the second as far as his apprentice was concerned, was that the boy had chosen the easiest, though least prospective field, guaranteeing himself an easy title.
“You could have done a lot better, dear boy,” he said as Alien was packing his things. The ceremony wasn’t held yet, but everyone knew that it was a foregone conclusion.
“Why? This suits both of us.”
“Don’t hold that tone with me.”
“It suits both of us, mage,” the boy said. “I’ll be out of here and you’ve done what the emperor required. I bet that you’ll be getting that promotion in a few weeks.”
Indeed, most likely, Adzorg would.
“You could have achieved a lot more,” he continued. “Unlike me and most others, you have no limitations. I tried to tell you this before, but you ignored it and—”
“What good has it done me? I lost thirty magic levels, leveling up. Then I hear there are artifacts that could have avoided that.”
“You can still get them,” Adzorg said dismissively. “Once you’re a mage, you can have more than enough duels to make up for your investment. With just a bit more patience and focus, you could have taken over this place.”
“Is that what you wanted?” there was a genuine surprise in the boy’s voice. “To take over your position?”
“The Learning Hall needs an otherworlder. You have a lot more experience, no limit, and an open mind. Things come natural to you, things that take others decades to figure out.”
This was the first open conversation the two had had. Each had completely misjudged the other, leading to events turning out as they were. Alien left, wanting to have nothing to do with the mage, and Adzorg finally went back to his research. There was one thing on which both of them were mistaken, however. The promotion didn’t come anytime soon. It was decades later that the current archmage retired, leaving it open for Adzorg to take. By then, several more otherworlders had also joined the Academy, though they were no longer exclusively trained by him. After everything was said and done, Adzorg had done what the emperor had requested and it was now time to concentrate on his passion—unravel the properties of the otherworldly items and, if possible, find a way to establish a portal between their worlds and this.