-oOo-

Chapter 2

-oOo-

Eric stepped into the staff room, books and folded clothes in hand. Atop the pile lay two black, buckle shoes. The shiny type fit for a dainty schoolgirl. Eric bumbled over to a table before setting his burden down. The room was simple. Three windows faced the Grounds, framed by white curtains. Two tables filled the center while a line of bookshelves ran along the wall in the far corner.

There Eric spotted multiple copies of the textbooks he now owned.

“Please take a seat,” Professor Myers said, motioning to a chair.

Eric sat awkwardly. Everything about the motion was alien. The size of the chair. The lightness of ‘her’ frame. The way ‘her’ feet floated above the floor, just short of the stone surface below. Even the height of the table compared to ‘her’ misshapen chest was wrong.

These tiny things grated.

The faint differences left Eric hyper aware of ‘her’ body. The touch of ‘her’ hair. The movement of ‘her’ dress. The size of ‘her’ hands. This unnatural information was being fed into his brain in a way that was impossible to ignore.

It was hard not to grind his teeth.

Then there was the other problem. ‘Her’. ‘Her’. ‘Her’. He was a ‘she’. What did that mean? Not just physically, but socially and psychologically. Was his brain being deluged in female hormones? If so, how would that change his thoughts?

Eric supposed ‘she’ was about to find out.

“Miss Swallows, I’m sure you understand why I brought you here,” Professor Myers said gently.

“Swallow,” Eric corrected, dragged from his thoughts. “As in the bird. It’s because I am a man, right?”

The professor’s violet eyes narrowed. “Were, Miss Swallow. You were.”

Allison Myers’ sharp gaze didn’t make Eric shrink. It had been years since he left college. A young looking teacher like Miss Myers felt more like a peer, or even a junior, than an authority figure. If anything made Eric nervous, it was Allison beauty.

She was gorgeous.

The professor’s violet eyes shimmered, deep and enticing like the night sky. Her skin was smooth and flawless. Her bust ample. Her fashion almost perfect. Eric felt out of place. Why was ‘he’ here, alone in a room with such a beautiful woman?

And there it was again. ‘He’ and ‘she’.

His head was a mess. Eric did his best to adapt and focus.

“I want to make clear, Miss Swallow, that you are not the first irregular to grace this academy,” Professor Myers said into the silence. “And, on this, the dean’s policy is quite clear. The Starlight Nether Witch Academy is a women’s academy and anyone who is not a woman will be expelled.”

Eric grimaced. “And what happens if I’m expelled?”

“Seeing as how you have no means to pay your debt, you would inevitably be sold,” Professor Myers said, bluntly. “Slavery is a reality in much of the netherworld. Hell is not an exception. As for your outcome, I’m sure you can guess. I won’t be so crass as to put it in words.”

Fuck. Eric felt sick.

“Hell.”

“Yes, the Timeless Beryl Wilderness is a colony of Hell,” Professor Myers confirmed. “Geopolitics is covered in my Netherworld History class. For now, it suffices to say that Hell is not as bad as rumored, but it isn’t nice either.”

“Hell,” Eric repeated, grimly.

“Yes. Hell,” Allison said, exasperated. “I need to know your answer. Can you accept that you are a witch, or are we going to have a problem?”

Eric gave a bitter laugh. Slave, much less sex slave, wasn’t on his bucket list. What choice did he have?

“It looks like I’m a witch.”

Professor Myers let out a breath of relief, her strict demeanor fading. “Good.”

“It’s not like I have an alternative,” Eric said bluntly. “If my choices are slave or student, I’ll be going with student.”

“You’d be surprised. Fourteen years back we had a girl…, boy I suppose, that was adamant that he was a man.” Allison Myers’ lips were tight. “The outcome was not pleasant.”

“What would happen if I insisted?” Eric asked out of morbid curiosity.

“First we would stage an intervention. Then we would apply discipline. Finally, you would be expelled. Once your debt payments fell a year or two behind, you’d be sold to cover the default,” Professor Myers said clearly. “Though, to be honest, I planned to appeal to Lady Vallenfelt to have you fitted with a psychic tool. Better you be made unable to think of yourself as a man than the alternative.”

The professor’s tone held a lingering regret.

Eric felt the whole affair was absurdly excessive, but he knew well enough that professors didn’t set school policy.

“No matter,” Professor Myers dismissed, before continuing. “Since you’ve accepted, your new name is Sylvia Swallows. I wish I could say that your former sex won’t be held against you, but the Academy will in fact judge your manner and appearance more strictly than that of your fellow students.”

Well, that sucked.

Also, Sylvia Swallows? What the fuck. Was that supposed to be ‘her’ porn name? Eric’s eye twitched. He could already tell he was going to ‘enjoy’ his experience at the Academy. There was no doubt he was in Hell now.

“Swallow,” Eric reminded, dully. “It’s Swallow. Like the bird.”

“Right. I’ll get that fixed,” Professor Myers noted.

“And can I at least change my name to something familiar, like Erica?” Eric interjected.

“That attitude is precisely why the Academy did not provide a choice,” Miss Myers said sternly. “What happens after you graduate is beyond our purview, but while within these walls please make serious effort. This is for your sake, not mine.”

Eric sighed. That was that. For the next ten years ‘she’ would be ‘Sylvia’.

The raven haired woman offered a gentle smile.

“Don’t look down. Ten years will fly by in a flash. There is a lot to love about living in the netherworld. Besides, transformation magic exists. Though…,” Allison’s eyes narrowed. “We do not permit students to assume false identities while at the Academy.”

Sylvia perked. Right! This was a magical academy. With the right magic, she could just change herself back. Why didn’t she think of that before?

“Now, let’s get you dressed. Since it’s your first time, I’ll show you how to put on your clothes.”

-oOo-

Sylvia felt like she was walking in a dream.

“So, Eric…,” Riley drawled.

Sylvia twitched.

But this was not an illusion. It was reality. Sylvia found herself shuffling through the halls of the Academic Building, surrounded by a gaggle of school girls. Surrounded, because Sylvia was desperately trying to convince herself that she wasn’t part of the gaggle of school girls.

Riley Smith walked alongside. The freckled blonde looked much more comfortable in her new robes and uniform. Her hair had been cut to shoulder-length. Which, with her posture, lent the green-eyed woman a tomboyish look.

Riley wasn’t the only one who’d changed.

All of Sylvia’s classmates were sporting new styles. The uniforms were, well, uniform but everything else was fair game. Some girls let their locks flow down their backs. Others had tied their hair into tails and braids. A few were sporting ribbons and bows to assert independent fashion.

As for Sylvia?

She, too, had become a schoolgirl.

On her feet were adorable, shiny, buckle shoes. The hard wooded soles clacked on the polished floors. Dark blue – nearly black – socks ran up her slim legs ending at her thighs. Robes of identical color hung on her shoulders trimmed with gold embroidery. The hem ended at her knees, with two triangular tail coats streaming behind.

Beneath the robe and exposed by the open front, was a shorter green dress. Clasping her chest was a cute, blue bow with a medallion in the middle bearing the Academy’s coat of arms. Two books: The Lesser Codex, Edition XCIII and Introduction to Magic were held in Sylvia’s arms.

Sylvia was waiting. Waiting with apprehension for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for all the girls around her to burst out laughing. Laughing at the fat man dressed up in women’s clothes.

Riley wasn’t helping.

“At first, I thought I heard wrong, but when Professor Myers grabbed you it clicked,” Riley probed.

Yep. Sylvia’s nightmare was all but realized.

“Don’t mention it,” Sylvia said between gritted teeth. “Seriously. Don’t. I might get in trouble and….”

Sylvia waved a hand at the rest of the group.

Riley’s intense green eyes lit up. Her smile turned sly. “And I’ll be counting on you not to mention my ex.”

Was this blackmail? Well, fair enough. Riley had just as much reason to be concerned. More really.

The group pushed into the classroom.

It was a lecture room. The seats and tables formed a semicircle while the main path led down to a platform and podium. There were enough chairs to fit fifty, twelve of which had already been taken. Sylvia squeezed into one far to the right and near the back.

Riley took the spot beside to her.

“You got another name then?”

“Sylvia Swallow,” Sylvia answered, delivering her name correctly.

Thud. The two textbooks hit the table. Sylvia flipped open the book at the top, The Lesser Codex, Edition XCIII, not because she was planning to read but because she was curious. The left page depicted a complex string over layed on itself in a natural form and a regular glyph. The right side provided a description of the rune Trishullrunt, its use, affinity, history, and tips on how to construct it.

“Sylvia Swallow?” Riley snorted. “You’re lucky this isn’t middle school or that would be butchered into swallows in a second.”

Sylvia gave the blonde a dead eyed look. Then a point of curiosity flickered. “How old are you?”

“Don’t you know better than to ask a girl her age?” Riley teased.

“Twenty-nine.”

“Twenty-two,” Riley answered seriously. The blonde scrutinized her classmates with her intense green eyes. “That’s quite the gap. We won’t be able to tell ages just by looking.”

Sylvia flipped through the tome in front of her. Each pair of pages followed the same pattern. A rune on the left, a description on the right. At a glance, it was clear that The Lesser Codex was going to be a boring read. She could only hope the class was more interesting than the text.

“Miss Myers looked a few years older,” Sylvia mused. “So an aging principle of sorts must apply.”

“And here I thought we might live forever,” Riley joked.

“Since this is the netherworld, don’t you mean ‘be dead forever’,” Sylvia quipped.

“I don’t know about you, but I feel pretty alive for a dead woman,” Riley replied.

After skimming another page, Sylvia slapped the cover closed. Frustrated, she shifted in her chair. Her long hair tugged painfully. Angrily, Sylvia leaned forward before pulling her locks out from behind her back and whipping them over the chair’s back.

Her hair, incidentally, was silver. Long, glossy, silver that spilled all the way down to her bottom in a pure, silken stream. Objectively speaking, Sylvia thought it was beautiful. She might even like it, on somebody else. On her?

Sylvia was desperate for a pair of scissors to slice it all off.

And that was coming from a man who had started going bald.

“Let me help you with that,” Riley offered, already standing.

The blonde slipped behind Sylvia’s back, gently lifting her hair. With a length of ribbon she tied the silver locks into a simple ponytail.

“That’ll have to do for now,” Riley said, satisfied.

“I’d rather cut it,” Sylvia complained.

“We’ll do it we get back to the dorms,” Riley agreed. The green-eyed girl paused. “Is it just me or are we short?”

Sylvia felt it was very odd for a woman to say we so naturally in conjunction with her. However, on Riley’s question Sylvia had an exact answer.

“I’m five nothing.” She squinted, then sounded out uncertain. “You’re, maybe, two inches taller than me?”

The System had layers of hidden menus and secret statistics. Sylvia had discovered the extended status screen more than a decade ago. When she did, she spent a month trying to pry out additional information. There were pages with biometrics, including height, weight, and even sugar levels. A couple of times ‘Eric’ had even used the data to self diagnose an illness.

Of course, she was never sure how much the System kept hidden. Which, was evidently a lot, because now she’d received quests and had a fucking event log.

Thus, Sylvia knew her exact height. 151.2 centimeters. That was just under five feet in American. Yeah, she’d exaggerated her height by half an inch because four foot eleven sounded pathetic even to her.

Incidentally, she massed 45.7 kg. Sylvia feared a hard breeze would make her fly away.

Riley cringed. “Are we really that small?” Then her eyes narrowed. “And how would you know anyway?”

“Miss Myers told me,” Sylvia lied, throwing blame on the absent professor.

“Ugh,” Riley noised, sinking back into her seat. “I’m a shorty.”

“You’re taller than me,” Sylvia pointed out.

Small girls were cute. But Sylvia didn’t want to be cute. She’d rather be big and intimidating. Or, you know, have her feet touch the god-damned floor. Seriously, given that none of her classmate had more than six inches on her, why were the chairs so fucking high?

“I was five-ten,” Riley grumbled. “Now I’m five-two. I’m not just short, I’m a midget. We’ll grow taller, right?”

“Professor Myers is only an inch taller than you,” Sylvia pointed out, ruthlessly.

She was kind enough not to say that Riley was probably closer to five foot one.

Their teacher arrived.

The old woman ambled into class, leaning heavily on her cane.

“■.”

Bang!

With one, incomprehensible syllable, the classroom door slammed closed behind her. Slowly, the crone made her way to podium. Tap. Tap. Tap. The old woman rapped a short rod against the wood three times. The air reverberated, drenching the room in silence.

“I am Roisin Owsley. You may refer to me as Professor Owsley, Old Witch Owsley, or Master Owsley as you please,” Roisin said with a crackly laugh that sounded akin to a sick cough. The crone gazed at the students over her long, crooked nose. “Not that you will be saying anything in this class because talking is forbidden. And there will be no questions either.”

…

Sylvia scowled. Was that supposed to be a joke?

Riley leaned close and whispered something. Soundless. Clearly, when Professor Owsley said no talking, she meant it. Likewise, there would be no questions because her students were incapable of asking them.

Seriously, why was this allowed?

Right. This was Hell.

A sour expression wasn’t just on Sylvia’s face. Many of her classmates shared it.

“He he he, do you think I am here for your pleasure?” Old Witch Owsley jeered. “I am here to teach, but whether you learn is only of consequence to you and none to me. Now, I hope each of you brought a copy of the Lesser Codex. That will be the only text we use for the next year. If you have questions, your answers can be found within. If not, consult your mentor after you find one. Don’t bother me.”

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

Roisin Owsley paused, seeming to indulge in the class’s distress before continuing.

“The name of this class is Basic Runes. Runes are the core of magic. They are the most fundamental knowledge required by any mage or witch. Runes fix ether and grant it form. Runes shape the earth, the clouds, and the sky. They transform the abstract into the concrete and the imaginary into the real. Without runes the chair you sit on would be naught but vaporous gas and you no more than a disembodied soul floating through the starry void.

“In the nether, runes are the root of everything.”

Professor Owsley stopped for a second, allowing time for her words to sink in.

“The first runes were discovered by the titans at the start of the Ancient Era, the Age of Myths. But it wasn’t until twelve thousand years past that they were recorded for all to see. The Great Codex, compiled by Marduk himself. Three thousand runes engraved on a stele. This was one of several wonders that characterized the Age of Magic.

“In modern times, the number of officially recorded runes has crossed seven thousand, two thirds of those theorized. As for how many are privately known,” Owsley’s smile was hideous. “Nobody knows.”

“I will not be teaching the Great Codex. He, he. That’s too much for empty-headed first years. This class will instead focus on the Lesser Codex, which covers the five-hundred runes most commonly used in magic. It is only after learning these runes that you can call yourself a witch. Until then, you are nothing more than helpless, little girls. The denizens of the nether do love playing with pretty little girls like you.”

Owsley’s dry voice crackled and wheezed as she laughed.

Several classmates shifted uncomfortably. Riley in particular, had a dark expression. Sylvia was tempted to roll her eyes. The silver haired girl had the distinct suspicion the old witch was jealous.

“Now if everyone would turn to page thirty-seven, I will show you your first rune, Voya.”

Sylvia complied. Voya’s shape consisted of loop crossing over itself four times. Her eyes shifted to the description on the right. The book was written in a language Sylvia had never seen. The words squirmed as she gazed upon them.

Somehow, she understood what they meant.

It wasn’t the first time Sylvia had noticed this oddness. The invitation letter had been the same. Then there was Roisin Owsley. Not a single word the old crone spoke was English. Sylvia could hear the foreign sounds and accent.

Still, she understood.

Translation magic or something more? Sylvia couldn’t help but wonder.

At the front of the class, Professor Owsley swished her short rod. With the tip, she drew multiple loops of pale green light, stroke never breaking. When she finished, the line ended on the point where it began. Voya. The air stirred as the rune took form.

The witch gestured, sending the sigil floating toward the first row on the left.

Gracefully carving another, Professor Owsley spoke.

“Voya is a pure rune of the wind element. Its concept is most aptly described as: ‘the air on which the arrow rides’. This rune is commonly used in projectile spells, often coupled with the lightning rune Morhalshin: ‘a streak of light’. The simplest combat construct is Voya Inferenze, a spell Professor Fisher will teach in the first three months at this Academy.”

A dozen glowing copies of Voya floated, scattered to every corner of the room. Sylvia gazed at the turning structure that hovered in arms reach. Riley boldly poked it, her hand passing through the rune as though it were a mirage carved from light.

The class droned on.

-oOo-

“Thank god I can finally talk,” Riley breathed. The freckled blonde stretched her arms as they filed out of the classroom door. “Professor Owsley might be the second-worst teacher I’ve ever had.”

Sylvia followed with shoulders slumped. Basic Runes had been draining. Two hours. Two hours of forced silence. Two hours of listening to a teacher prattle on about rune after rune, passing through ten in total before the class was complete.

It was the single most mind-numbing lesson Sylvia had ever attended.

“The second worst?” Sylvia grumbled, giving the blonde an incredulous look.

“Say what you will, but at least Owsley gave examples,” Riley explained. “That bastard just wrote on the chalkboard and mumbled. I don’t think I made out a single word he said the whole semester.”

Silence hung for a moment.

“So,” Riley noised. “How long do you think?”

“What?” Sylvia replied, distracted.

The silver haired girl’s eyes were drawn to a newly logged event. Sylvia gave the System a mental nudge. A quest window expanded in her vision.

New Quest: Wizard Means Wise I

Every mage is a scholar. Only through study and effort can a mage reach the pinnacle of magecraft. Read books. Attend lessons. Learn secrets. Seek all forms of knowledge and carve a path for all those who follow behind you.

Quest Reward:

* 1x Blank Skill Book

* Wizard Means Wise II

Objectives:

[ ] Obtained knowledge: 1 / 100 pts

Another quest. And this time it looked to be a chain quest. One with an actual reward at that. What inspired this generosity? Sylvia’s eyes narrowed. Suspicious.

“Magic,” Riley clarified. “How long do you think it’ll be before we get to use magic?”

“That?” Sylvia shrugged. “Who knows. Our next class is Introduction to Magic, so maybe then.”

How long depended on how deep a subject magic was. If it were simple, they’d start soon. If it was difficult, it might take months before they started casting.

Riley nodded. Then she looked around, green eyes cautious. Her voice was low. “Why do you think they kidnapped us?”

It was then that Sylvia noticed they’d separated from the rest of the group. This was the question Riley had been nursing.

Sylvia pondered.

“Best case scenario, money,” she answered. “They snatch us. Educate us. Then we pay them back with our knowledge.”

Riley frowned. “You really think it’s that simple?”

“Money is always strong motivator,” Sylvia answered. “I doubt they’d waste time teaching us magic just to whore us out to the highest bidder. Also, if this is the netherworld, perhaps this is the only way they can make new witches.”

The netherworld. The underworld. Hell. The afterlife. In all the stories Sylvia had read, this was where souls went when they died. Can a world of death have birth? If there were no children, then whence came the next generation?

From the souls of the recently dead, obviously.

Sylvia felt it fit, but what she knew about Hell was more myth than fact. Sylvia glanced out a window, taking in the cheery sunlight and green grass. And a lot of it was false, judging by the lack of fire and brimstone.

“Still, why kidnap? Why not wait until we’re dead?” Riley pressed.

“How the fuck would I know?” Sylvia retorted, starting to feel annoyed. “Maybe the souls of the living are better. Maybe the school wanted to pick of the litter and snatched us in order to jump the queue. The letter mentioned that it was rare to keep our memories, so maybe they did it to save on education expenses.”

Riley snorted. “Save on education expenses.”

“How many years does it take to teach reading, writing, and arithmetic,” Sylvia pointed out. “Never underestimate the lengths a corporation will go to save a buck.”

Riley let out a laugh, slapping the silver haired girl on the shoulder. “Ha. That’s hilarious. I feel better now. That’s so stupid it could be true.”

Sylvia didn’t think it was stupid at all. However, it was nice to have a pretty girl hanging with her, so Sylvia let it slide.

Was that shallow? Oh, it was. It very much was.

“What’s your plan then?” Riley asked seriously.

“Well, if they’re going to teach us magic, then I figured I would learn magic,” Sylvia explained, dryly.

At twenty-nine years old, Sylvia wasn’t looking forward to another ten years of education. Especially as a ‘she’. Her best plan, right now, was to learn and level up. If her level was high enough then no one could tell her what to do.

What followed after could be decided later.

The two of them stepped into their next class.

Compared to the lecture hall used by Basic Runes, Introduction To Magic’s room resembled a stage. In the back, three meters above the class’s center, were a set of high theater style seats. In the front was a broad, stone platform which, Sylvia judged, could easily serve as an arena. Off the side were shelves and cabinets filled with various tools ranging from orbs to staves.

Sylvia dropped into a seat heavily. This time she made sure she wasn’t sitting on her long, silken hair. Mentally exhausted, Sylvia flopped forward resting a cheek on the desk.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I want to eat.”

“I have bad news for you then. The cafeteria has food, but we have to buy it. And, as you might have noticed, we have no money.” Riley’s nose crinkled, making the freckles set against her lightly tanned skin more apparent. “What do you think would happen if we ran away?”

“Won’t we starve?” Sylvia asked, aghast.

“According to Professor Myers, we don’t require food. Weren’t you paying attention during the tour?” Riley paused.

Maybe they were ghosts. Hungry ghosts. Though Sylvia felt rather solid.

“So?” Riley probed.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Sylvia said, sharply. “Where there’s debt, there’s a way to enforce it.”

“I just want to think things through and keep my options open,” Riley said, eyes narrowed and uncharacteristically dark. “I don’t trust them.”

Perhaps because Sylvia came here ‘voluntarily’, she never really thought of herself as kidnapped. She blamed the System for her predicament, not the Academy. It was easy to forget this was Hell. Professor Myers seemed to care about Sylvia’s welfare, which went against her anti-Hell prejudice.

Then again, Professor Myers had made clear Sylvia could be sold. And that she’d arrange for Sylvia to be ‘fixed’ if she didn’t play the role of a girl.

On that regard, Riley was right. The Starlight Nether Witch Academy was no friend of hers. The question still lingered though, was it an enemy?

“Seems a waste though,” Sylvia mused.

“A waste of what?”

Sylvia gestured broadly. “Magic academy.”

Riley snorted. “I suppose we should stick around and learn a few spells first.”

That was when a witch floated down from the ceiling.

A witch. Floated down from the ceiling. On a fucking broom.

By witch, Sylvia didn’t mean an old crone like Roisin Owsley. Nor did she mean a violet eyed beauty like Allison Myers. No. This was a blonde haired woman in a witch’s costume. The cheap kind a woman might buy before going to a Halloween party.

That kind of witch.

“Ke, ke, ke, ke, ke!”

The blonde professor released a cheesy cackle. The woman hopped off her broom, one hand stabilizing her pointed hat. Her clothing was… highly inappropriate for a professional setting. A little black dress, fishnet stockings, and high-heeled boots.

Gazing at the students, the teacher’s red lips split into villainous grin.

The entire room stared.

Riley groaned. “Is this a joke?”

“You….” the professor drawled. “Have no sense of humor. Boring. How boring. Look at you, sitting in the back of the room like somebody murdered you, snatched your soul, then forced you to attend a dull lecture.”

Sylvia’s eye twitched. That description was a little too on point.

A faint giggle sounded from one corner of the room, lonely and out of place.

“Better. Better,” the professor sounded.

The blonde teacher raised a hand. Her broom flew up, rotated from horizontal to vertical, then dissolved into the teacher’s body. With a mad smile, the teacher spread her arms then gave a bow.

“Welcome to the Starlight Nether Witch Academy. I’ll be your teacher of magic, Glenda Fisher. Here you will learn to harness the eldritch forces. To bend the fabric of the universe to your will. To conjure abominations beyond the comprehension of man. And maybe, just maybe, one of you pitiful fools will learn to have fun.

“First, let me tell you a little about myself. I was born in Fort Wayne, Indiana to a single mother. I earned a scholarship in high school and was set for college when I was cruelly slaughtered by the Academy forty-four years past.”

Professor Fischer made a playful cat’s claw swipe at the air before continuing.

“As part of Lady Vallenfelt’s first class, I had the pleasure of being taught by the baroness herself. Ke ke ke, I even had the opportunity to become her retainer after graduation. Let me tell you, that is one woman with an excessive fondness of propriety and etiquette.

“But she is very brilliant. Very brilliant indeed.”

Professor Fisher paused, then gave a wide, mad grin.

“What? Did you girls think you were the first? Or the second?” Glenda laughed. “Allison is your senior by thirty-six years. Abigail, who you’ll meet in Field Studies, is your elder by thirty-two. There is not a single starlight witch in all the netherworld that was not born on Earth, except the dean herself.

“As for Roisin and Isabella? Who knows from which of the twenty-three material worlds their souls were spat.”

Glenda Fischer paused, then she lazily pointed up toward the stands. Sylvia traced the blonde professor’s hand to a woman with a raised arm.

“Natalie Ward, I believe,” she said.

The girl in question stood.

Natalie had forest green hair that spilled down her back in a rippling fountain. She was tall. The tallest in their class, though perhaps not tall compared to ordinary women. Natalie had a stately demeanor tinged with arrogance. When she spoke, her words were clearly enunciated.

“When do we go home?”

Natalie’s question was closer to a challenge.

“Go home?” Glenda laughed. “You’ll have to graduate before you can try. Getting to Earth – Origin as they call it here in the nether – isn’t easy. But the most troublesome part isn’t getting there. No, it’s the fact that all of us are very, very dead.”

Sylvia slumped. She suspected it, but suspicions weren’t the same as confirmations. Natalie stared, her eyes a blue abyss. Then, with a flip of her green locks, the girl sat.

“That’s right. Poof,” Professor Fischer noised, making an expanding gesture with her hands. “You burned up and your body with it. The Academy even used your ashes to make a phylactery. Forget about Earth. You’ll never return. It’d be easier to colonize Mars.”

Glenda Fischer clapped her hands, excitedly.

“But we aren’t here for regrets. Being dead has its benefits, like eternal youth and beauty. And…” Glenda breathed a puff of air into her palm which burst into a ball of fire. “Magic.”

The Professor turned and wrote the word on the chalk board, ignoring the still raised hands. The text was in English.

“What is Magic? Magic is the utilization of mana, in combination with runes, which engenders a change in the world. In the classic view, magic consists of three components: runes, intent, and energy.”

Glenda spoke. “■■■■, ■■■■, ■■■■.”

Unknowable words fell from the Professor’s burgundy lips. Glenda swirled her hand in the air above. Wind whooshed, sending Sylvia’s hair aflutter. A few girls squeaked and braced themselves against the gust. On the other side of the room, cabinets rattled. Thirty palm sized spheres were torn from the shelves, before spiraling over Glenda’s head.

“Runes are like cups. They hold power and meaning. They give shape to malleable ether. I won’t be teaching runes. For that you may consult the despicable hag, Roisin Owsley. Instead, I’ll teach you how to string runes together into spells. How to weave mana and ether. And how to control the result with your intent.”

Professor Fischer waved her hand. Thirty orbs flew across the room, distributing themselves around the class. Riley jumped up and snatched her crystal orb from the air. Sylvia allowed hers to land on the desk in front of her with a clunk.

“Mana is defined as ether refined by a psyche. It is, therefore, a substance that is both energy and intent. If this were the dawn of the Ancient Era I’d have to teach you how to form mana through meditation. Ke ke, you’ll still learn it later this year. However, you’re in luck. Witches and, indeed, nearly all the bloodlines of the netherworld can create mana as naturally as humans convert food into calories.

“Which means each and every one of you is brimming with mana right now. The only thing you need to learn, is how to control it.”

Glenda grinned then held up a sphere. The glass orb instantly burst with fiery, red light.

“This is an ether light orb. Think of it as a light bulb. Except, instead of consuming electricity, it feeds off ether. Nothing fancy.” Professor Fisher said, tossing the orb from her left hand to her right. The light’s glow changed, shifting to yellow, green, then blue. “But it’ll serve as the main tool of this lesson.”

Sylvia grasped her sphere curiously. The crystal remained dark. The silver haired girl cast her eyes to her right. The orb in Riley’s hand let out a faint, green glow. A sudden gasp drew Sylvia’s attention. In Natalie’s haughty hand the sphere let loose brilliant blue illumination.

“Is she showing off?” Riley grumbled, sounding disgusted. “This isn’t a contest.”

Sylvia rolled the sphere in her palm, examining the insides. Faint, golden light flickered. Runes? Sylvia held the orb up next to her eye, peering deep within.

“Controlling mana is easy,” Professor Fischer continued. “Mana already contains your thoughts and feelings. Don’t think. Believe. Believe that the orb will light,” she said. “That’s the beginning. Once you have lit your orb feel it. Feel the flow from you to it. Use your intent to control the color and brightness.”

Will it? Feel it? That sounded hokey to Sylvia, but it couldn’t be that hard. Half the class already had their orbs lit. A few students, Natalie Ward included, had successfully changed their orb’s color.

Glaring at her ether light orb, Sylvia directed her thoughts forcefully. Light!

It did.

And Sylvia instantly regretted it.

An explosion of silvery illumination flooded Sylvia’s vision. It was like a curtain was torn away in a pitch black room revealing the sun. Sylvia shrieked.

“Ghack!”

Instinctively, she squeezed her eyes closed. Clunk, the sphere fell from her hand before rolling loudly across the table. Sylvia flailed and managed to snatch it before it slipped off the edge.

“The hell was that?” Riley grouched, blinking her eyes rapidly. “I think you freaking blinded me.”

Sylvia rubbed her eyes a few times while recovering. No tears and no spots, she noted absently. Still, it took a few seconds to adjust. Sylvia’s gaze shifted up. A blue bar appeared in the corner of her vision, helpfully annotated with: ‘156 / 158’.

Two points. She’d burned two points. A bubbly, gleeful feeling rose from her chest. After seventeen years, she had finally used magic.

Well, she lit an orb anyway.

“Good. Good. It looks like everyone is getting it. When you can manage color and intensity, the next trick is distance. Place your orb a meter from you, then without touching it, make it light to your will.”

Light. Sylvia thought again, this time more gently. A silver glow filled the orb as bright as a sixty-watt bulb. A glance at her bar showed it hadn’t moved. Whew. The System didn’t force her to expend points in integral units. Feeling more confident, Sylvia closed her eyes and did her best to sense the flow and ebb of her mana.

-oOo-

System Codex

Attribute: Vitality

Sub-Attribute: Toughness

Raw Calculation: 100% + 4% * Vit

The raw durability of the User’s physical or phantasmal body. This enhances the structural sturdiness of bones and tissues but not the ability to survive or endure injury when it does happen. This also impacts the toughness and stability of ki and ki structures, allowing them to survive against various physical forces.

Sub-Attribute: Resilience

Raw Calculation: 100% + 1% * Vit

The ability to endure injury or physical loss. High resilience allows the User to survive with less blood, overcome critical injury, or even fight with reduced impairment after losing a limb. While resilience offers no psychological resistance, it does diminish the disruption caused by shock and physical pain.

Resilience also improves recovery speed. Injuries will heal faster. Illnesses will have less duration and effect. Material bodies will metabolize more slowly or quickly as need demands, better maintaining youth and fitness. Ki will also have enhanced recovery speed.

Attribute: Agility

Celerity:

Raw Calculation: (100% + 4% * Agl)^0.5

Celerity improves the speed of physical action. This includes running speed, punching speed, and reaction speed. The speed at which ki flows is also decided by celerity. With material bodies, the effect of this attribute is much diminished as it only control the speed at which muscles can contract, meaning that the User must also have sufficient strength to enhance their speed of action and movement.

With phantasmal bodies, physics is removed. This allows speed to increase without strength but, in return, means that this speed comes with no additional power.

Precision:

Raw Calculation: 100% + 1% * Agl

The accuracy of movement in terms of both fineness and consistency. Higher precision means steadier hands, a better ability to repeat prior motion, and tighter control of force applied. This scales without regard to celerity, meaning that even if the User’s action speed doubles due to high agility, precision will not fall in the slightest.

Precision also influences timing, balance, and judgment. The User will have a better sense of where their limbs are. They’ll better predict the path of projectiles, whether launched by themselves or others. They’ll better judge where physical objects will be and when. Similarly, they have a stronger sense of when to act and with how much force.

All of these traits apply both to the physical body and to actions completed with ki.