Materialism. The direct opponent of magic.

If humanity was water in a glass, Materialism would represent water's inert stagnant state. Unmoving and bound to whatever shape the glass demanded it conform to. Humanity would simply be forced to live as the world required, adapting as best as we can. Completely powerless.

But what if there was a lit fire directly underneath the glass?

Fire transmutes water to steam. And steam ascends ever upward, free from the constraints that the world had imposed upon it. That fire is the magic that humanity wields and allowed us to master the world. By calling upon the Higher Principle, we reach beyond the constraints the figurative glass put on us. Humanity becomes more than what we formerly were.

And that is why all mages are taught that the Higher Principle is the true force moving the universe. It was the only way to explain the existence of the monsters. The Higher Principle could also hold the rules of Materialism at bay. And because without it, humanity was looking at nothing more than a dead end. We would have no means of holding our own against the monsters. Overwhelming numbers of soldiers would need to be thrown against monster packs just to stand a chance. Fortresses would need to be rebuilt to provide a break water for the monster invasions to smash into.

If history was a guide, none of these measures would be enough though. Humanity kept losing ground until magic was discovered and a kind of parity with the monsters was reached. And only after the breakthroughs made by Hero Gallant in the magical arts was humanity capable of ending the conflict decisively.

Sweat soaks my underclothes as the Order sword master closes in on me, blade flashing. He moves without the grace one would expect from a magic knight but his stance is firm, practiced. My own sword moves to counter and our weapons clash against each other once again. But this time, my footwork falters and the old man forces me back several steps.

I feel heavy and sluggish. My body still remembers the moves and techniques needed for the fight, but without magic to execute them, it feels like I'm flailing ineffectually against the wind. My enhanced strength and reflexes are gone as well and for the first time in years, I have to fight with nothing more than my brute muscle.

And its not working out. Without the magical enhancements that I've become so accustomed to, my balance is completely off. I'm leaving openings that I would ordinarily never make. My footwork, formerly so confident, has become clumsy and wasteful, allowing the Order sword master to dance circles around me as we fight. Instead of the discomfort associated with the magic empowering my muscles, I'm starting to tire very quickly. My body is simply not used to this level of physical exertion while unaugmented.

And worst of all, none of these problems are affecting my opponent. The Order sword master had sealed both our powers by calling upon Materialism. But unlike me, he has clearly trained to fight without the assistance of magic. The old man did not miss a beat when our powers up and disappeared.

"Impossible." I gasp, focusing my mind and attempting to make contact with the Higher Principle again, "How can you just block access to our magic like that?"

"Why not?" the old man smirks as his sword blurs toward my head as I frantically duck, "Haven't I explained it already? Materialism is the true dominant force, not the Higher Principle."

"Lies." I grunt, delivering a thrust at my opponent that is easily dodged, "If what you're saying is true, then normal use of magic should be completely impossible. You must be affecting our connection to the Higher Principle somehow."

"I really am not." the old man shakes his head and his foot lashes upward, landing squarely against my torso, "You just fail to understand the dialectics involved."

Bending my knees to stop myself from skidding backward, I rub my chest gingerly. Getting kicked is no big deal, but the net is closing around me. Its only a matter of time before my opponent's sword manages to land a blow. I can't afford to be distracted by mind games now. My mind reaches out once more, questing for any trace of the Higher Principle. But once more, the fingertips of my consciousness fail to grasp at anything, no matter how hard I concentrate.

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"Screw this." I snap and charge forward, both hands gripped firmly on my sword. My arms wind up as I rapidly approach the Order sword master and in an explosion of force, I unleash a stroke meant to bisect my opponent in a single blow.

As the edge of my blade whistles toward the old man, a sudden wave of pressure hits me and I feel several thousand needles stabbing deep into my body. I nearly scream in pain before catching myself just in time. Its a familiar feeling from my days as an apprentice. My magic, its back. And the pain brings with it a flood of almost pure energy. I am almost thrown of balance again by the abrupt increase in my strength and just manage to avoid accidentally flinging my sword off into the distance.

But my opponent's magic has returned as well and he quickly jerks to the side, avoiding the attack by a hair's breadth. My sword slashes through empty air and before I can regain control of it, the weapon cleaves deeply into the ground. I may have missed, but at this range, it would be impossible for the old man to dodge my next attack, even if his own reflexes have been enhanced. Shifting my grip on the hilt, I begin to perform an upward slash to finish this fight.

And my strength fails again as the magic empowering both of us disappears.

"Damn it!" I curse in desperation, vainly pulling at the sword, now stabbed into the earth. The old man grins and approaches me almost affably.

"I've seen enough." my opponent says calmly, "My assessment of you Mac, remains the same. Not good, but good enough."

"Never thought I was auditioning for anything!" I shout, abandoning my sword and swinging a fist at the Order sword master.

"Don't be so difficult." the old man snorts as the pommel of his sword strikes my knuckles painfully, "That assessment might just end up saving you today."

The old man's foot slams against one of my shins, and my legs give way, sending me sprawling to the ground. As I struggle back up to my knees, the old man continues his lecture.

"Think of it this way, Mac." the old man says, "Do you think your apprentice is an attractive young lady?"

"You met Christina?" I reply, carefully rising to my feet. Damn, I didn't notice the old man the previous time I was here at the camp. He had to be spying on Christina and I while we were fighting the goblins.

"Just answer the question Mac." the old man rolls his eyes impatiently, "I really don't have all day to be here."

"Sure?" I shrug, "She's pretty cute, you old pervert."

""Long hair. Slim figure." the old man nods, "Your apprentice is a beautiful woman. But that was not always the case."

"Christina's always looked like that, as far as I've known her." I point out.

"Not what I'm talking about." the old man elaborates, "You come from Deshawn City don't you? You would have seen portraits and statues of Deshawn's wife. She was widely acknowledged to be a great beauty in her day."

"Deshawn had bad taste in women." I snort, "His wife was, uh, husky. Thick."

"She was a fat pig." the Order sword master laughs harshly, "But that was considered beautiful way back then. Your apprentice would have been regarded as a scarecrow and not been given a second glance."

"What in the world are you talking about now?" I groan in exasperation. I never expected this duel to descend to discussing whether or not Christina's hot.

"Beauty. A Higher Principle." the old man says, looking at me evenly, "Yet your apprentice is considered both beautiful and ugly. A contradiction."

"No." my mouth goes dry as understanding hits me, "Context. You're somehow altering the context in how the Higher Principle is applied in our duel."

"The dialectical principle." the old man nods as a pair of conscripts walk up to his side, "There's no universal truth, Mac. That is the secret at the heart of the Order's true magical technique."

"I can't overcome your counterspelling because -" I gasp as the implications hit me.

"There's no counterspell for you to overcome." the old man agrees, "Your connection to the Higher Principle is just fine. Its only not reacting in the way you're used to."

"Why are you telling me all this?" I demand, "Isn't this information all kind of secret?"

"Well, yes and no." the old man laughs, "You see, this technique is only deployed in one circumstance. When the target won't or can't tell anyone else about it."

The conscripts draw pistols and take aim at me. This normally wouldn't be a problem, but I can't dodge bullets. Not in this state.

"You bastard." I growl, as threateningly as I am able, "You're bringing other people into our duel? Its a breach of the terms set."

"Of course not." the old man sniggers, "The duel was formally brought by the Order. My conscripts can't be regarded as outsiders after all."

My heart pounds as I realize the trap that I have fallen in. I'm screwed. I'm so screwed.

"Springvale." the old man chuckles, "Nice place for a visit, don't you think?"

"How did you -" I exclaim but the thunder of the pistols cuts me off.

And everything turns red.