-oOo-

Chapter 4

-oOo-

Sylvia’s first day ended quietly.

Still suffering from her wounds, Sylvia devoted her time to reading. Her intent was to complete Wizard Means Wise I.

She started with The Lesser Codex. The textbook was as dry as expected. Reading it was like pulling teeth. After a long struggle, Sylvia made it twenty pages in and scored two quests points. Then she abandoned the book in a huff.

Introduction to Magic proved more tolerable. Quest points came slower, but Sylvia was able to complete a two-hour slog. After this, she retired to their dorm and tried again.

Next, she tested A Beryl-ous Travel Record.

This book told the story of Abigail Wright’s rather inept adventures. After leaving the Academy in her sixth year, Abigail Wright tried her hand as a hunter in the Daylight Forest just outside Vallen.

This ended, rather expectedly, in death.

In the first chapter, Abigail Wright froze to death after being bitten by a beryl mist snake. In the second, she was stabbed to death by her hunter companion. The rather humorous and witty text didn’t just describe how Abigail died, it provided information about places, creatures, and culture.

More importantly, it was fun.

Sylvia was fully engaged in Abigail Wright’s tale when the lights went out. The sun, as Sylvia feared, had not budged an inch. Thankfully, the dorms provided solid shutters that dimmed the room to an approximation of night. Getting ready for bed was awkward, especially with a now female body and a pair of dorm mates. But Sylvia made due.

She even managed to keep her eyes to herself.

Really.

She really did. And there was no evidence to prove otherwise!

So dawned Sylvia’s second day at the Starlight Nether Witch Academy.

With this morn ended the lingering dead left by their Armed Combat class. Sylvia and Riley watched with relief as the resurrected students gathered. A few hugs and tears were exchanged but a greater tension hung over the reunion. Among those that survived, many did not see companions but traitors and cowards.

These emotions, however, were swiftly brushed aside in favor of their first class. Field Studies, taught by Professor Wright. Yes that Abigail Wright.

Corruption and self-dealing aside, Professor Wright proved an entertaining teacher. Rather than throw her students off the deep end, the professor chose to tell tales about her time as a young witch at the Academy. To the frazzled nerves of Sylvia’s classmates this proved a balm. A reminder that this was a school of magic and all that entailed, good and ill.

By the time Field Studies ended, empty eyes had been filled anew with brilliant sparks.

Which brought Sylvia to her Nether History class.

“Oh god, I was about to graduate from college,” Riley moaned.

“I graduated from college,” Sylvia replied dully. “I was done. I’d moved on. I had started my career and was even living in my own apartment.”

And now she was stuck in school. Again. With goddamned homework and no video games or internet. Most importantly, she was hungry.

Not hungry, hungry. There was no pressing physical need. But Sylvia very much wanted to eat.

“Chin up!” Emily cheered them energetically. “We’re learning magic.”

Sylvia gave the brunette a dead eyed stare.

Nether History was, shock of shockers, a history class. History that, as one might suspect, had very little to do with magic. Sylvia didn’t hate history. But she had never been a scholar. More to the point, it was hard to appreciate history without already knowing history.

And the history of the netherworld was deep.

Twelve-thousand years deep. And that was just the clearly recorded parts. Oral accounts ran back a full thirty thousand years to the early Age of Myths. Nether History wasn’t a subject that could be taught in a year. Or even ten years. Which was to say, the history they were covering was just scratching the surface.

No, to be more specific, it was literally describing the surface. Because first year was entirely devoted to netherworld geography.

You know, learning the seven continents. Or in this case, the planes. Many of which were as large as continents.

“Heather Grenier,” Miss Myers called out. The stern eyed teacher gazed across the room. “Can you tell me how many major planes there are in the netherworld?”

Heather Grenier was a redhead. Not the ordinary kind. Her hair was a mix of burning crimson and fiery orange. She kept it long and straight, ending between her shoulder blades. Heather sat next to Natalie Ward. Sylvia was pretty sure the two girls dormed together. Where Natalie was poised and focused, Heather had that delinquent valley girl posture.

Which may be why she’d been targeted by Professor Myers.

“Six hundred?” Heather asked, toying with her burning locks.

Riley twitched. If Sylvia’s cheek wasn’t resting in her hand, she would’ve facepalmed.

“It’s the title of the book,” Riley muttered.

“Six-hundred and sixty-six. There are six-hundred and sixty-six major planes in the netherworld, Miss Grenier. Please pay attention.” Allison Myers said, tone sharp. Her violet gaze swept the room. “Lets try again. Emily Clark, can you name the planar types?”

The dainty brunette on Sylvia’s left stood.

“Planes are categorized as major or minor,” Emily said, her shy voice quiet yet clear. “They can be further divided into sovereign, wild, barren, and turbulent. A sovereign plane is any plane with enough denizens to – ”

“Thank you, Miss Clark,” Miss Myers interrupted. The beautiful woman smiled. “But you don’t need to rehash the whole lesson.”

Professor Myers paused then addressed the group.

“The history of the netherworld is long. With thirty billion denizens, some of whom have lived for thousands of years, it is far longer and far more complicated than we can cover in this class.

“You are witches not scholars. The Academy doesn’t expect you to rattle off how each of the thirty-three heavens were founded, though I would personally be pleased if you could,” Professor Myers said. “But that doesn’t mean history can be neglected. Unless something terrible comes to pass, all of you will remain in the netherworld for centuries if not millennia. Understanding the history of the netherworld means understanding your place within it.”

Allison’s violet eyes swept the gathered students. The teacher was as sexy as she was strict. Without her skirt and suit, Professor Myers would only look a few years older than her students.

“Before you’re dismissed, there is one last matter to talk about. Clubs.”

Several of Sylvia’s classmates perked up, Emily and Riley included. Sylvia, on the other hand, would’ve rathered retire to her room or the library. An internet café would be nice too, but the netherworld didn’t have those.

Barbarians.

“As mentioned yesterday, clubs are mandatory. Further, as indicated in your schedule, they fill the period following my class,” Professor Myers made clear. “All clubs provide a mentor. This is the person most suitable to go to with questions. In fact, handling your questions is one of their duties. In addition, each club must teach their members a trade. So take your club seriously. It may have a direct impact on your post academic future.

“Clubrooms are found on the second floor, west wing of this building. If you have not chosen a club by this time next week, one will be assigned to you.”

The raven haired professor paused. If the universe had justice, this would be part where she adjusted her horn rimmed glasses. Alas, the universe was cold, dark, and cruel.

“You are dismissed. Miss Swallows, if you would stay.”

Sylvia groaned. Swallow. It was Swallow, like the bird. Why was that so hard to remember?

And fuck you too, System. Don’t think she didn’t notice!

While the rest of the class filed out of the room, Sylvia trudged up toward the podium. Professor Myers waited patiently. With a flick of her eyes, Allison noted Riley and Emily remained.

“This has to do with your special circumstances,” Professor Myers said, carefully.

Sylvia glanced back, then shrugged. “They already know.”

“The Academy would prefer you kept that to yourself,” Allison reminded, violet eyes narrowing. “But I am glad you’ve made friends.”

Sylvia’s expression turned odd.

Friends. When was the last time Sylvia had friends? High school? It’d been ages since Sylvia had heard that word in connection to herself. She wasn’t the type that made friends easily.

Which made her association with Riley all the more odd. Then Emily, right after Armed Combat class. Was this a girl thing? Or was this so-called pretty privilege?

Hmm, maybe being cute wasn’t so bad.

Though she’d rather be a man!

“Do you remember yesterday’s discussion?” Professor Myers questioned.

Sylvia nodded. “I do.”

“Then you should not be surprised that, in review of your recent behavior, the Academy had decided to provide additional direction. As such, your club and your mentor have been chosen for you.”

“What?” Sylvia said, confused.

“Your hair, Miss Swallows.”

This morning, before heading to class, Sylvia let Riley cut her hair. The blonde had sliced her silver locks so that they ended just below the ear. Longer than Sylvia was used to, though admittedly boyish. She’d brought up the concern. Riley thought it would be fine.

In retrospect, Sylvia should’ve taken the hint when Emily buried her face under a pillow.

“How is that fair?” Riley challenged, pushing her way forward from the back of the class. “Her hair isn’t much shorter than mine.”

Professor Myers’ sharp, violet eyes flickered to the freckled blonde. A nervous Emily trailed behind.

“I made myself quite clear when I said Sylvia would be held to higher standards. And those standards have not been met.”

“I’m the one that cut it,” Riley argued boldly. “If anyone should face punishment – ”

“This was decided by Baroness Vallenfelt,” Allison Myers interrupted, bluntly. “I respect your wish to support your friend, but this is out of our hands.”

“That’s….”

“Thanks,” Sylvia said putting a hand on the blonde’s shoulder. Then she looked at the raven haired professor. “Can I know what club it is?”

“Charm club. I presume the baroness wishes that you comport yourself as a charming lady,” Allison answered. With the click of her high heels, the professor led them out of the room. “Either that or she’s fond of you.”

Charm club. Joy. Sylvia scowled. Her eyes traced the teacher’s long legs, but her heart wasn’t in it. Great. Just great. Charm club. Just what Sylvia wanted to do with her spare time.

“It could be fun,” Emily chirped. “We should do it together!”

The brunette’s emerald eyes danced with excitement. Sylvia didn’t doubt for a second that Emily would find charm club fun. Just as Sylvia had no doubt she would find it the opposite of fun.

“Ugh, I can’t believe they’d do this to you,” Riley commiserated, following behind.

Sylvia sighed. “They were probably going to find an excuse and force me in regardless.”

“True.” Riley patted Sylvia on the shoulder. “At least you’ll have Emily.”

Sylvia’s sour gaze, shifted to the freckled blonde. Traitor. “What happened to ‘if anyone should face punishment’?”

“Right. It’ll be even more fun if all three of us join together,” Emily insisted, bouncing on her toes.

Riley replied to the silver haired girl, completely ignoring the brunette. “Charm club really doesn’t sound like my kind of thing.”

The raven haired professor came to a stop. The teacher pushed open a door, revealing the room beyond.

It was small. Half the size of a classroom. Sunlight poured in through the three south facing windows, elegant curtains crowding around the glass panes. To the left were crates and stands. Some filled with tufts of grass. Others with wood or rolls of cloth. A few dresses were put on display nearby.

At the center of the room were a pair of long tables with wooden stools. There Sylvia found two women seated.

The first was a doll-like girl no more than a meter tall perched on the table’s edge. Glossy wings grew from her back, sparkling with faint light. The second had purple hair cut off around her shoulders. Goat horns grew from her temples curving back to the rear of her skull before twisting around a knuckle’s length in the opposite direction.

The doll-like faerie jumped up into the air when they entered. Her wings fluttered, shedding luminescent motes.

“Is that her?” the faerie questioned. She fluttered around the group of three, curious. The faerie’s waist length, pink hair danced behind her. “I thought you were only bringing one?”

“The other two are her friends,” Professor Myers explained, pushing the reluctant silver haired girl into the room. “Only Sylvia is required. Inform the staff if she causes any trouble. The others you’ll have to convince.”

“Come in, come in,” the faerie greeted enthusiastically. “Welcome to charm club. I’m Kyna, club president.”

Emily entered happily, her dark, emerald eyes shining with starlight as she took in the ribbons, frills, and accessories lining the walls. Sylvia trudged into the room as though approaching her executioner. Riley had a bored look as though none of it had anything to do with her.

Tch. Let’s see if you can run away.

Thud. Professor Myers left, closing the door behind her. The heavy sound was like a lock wrapping around Sylvia’s heart.

It was Riley, surprisingly, who tried to add optimism.

“I heard clubs have to teach a trade,” the blonde commented. “So is it sewing?”

“That’s right!” Kyna said, cheerfully. “Here we’ll teach you how to use alchemy to synthesize fabrics, and how to shape cloth into all sorts of cute and adorable clothes. Ingrid even knows how to place enchantments!”

Suddenly, things didn’t sound nearly as horrible. Of course, Kyna just had to snuff that tiny ember of hope.

“Buuttt,” the faerie dragged the word out, wagging a finger. “The most important thing for our new club members is to be charming.”

“My dream is to open a shop,” The purple haired woman inserted. Her voice was smoke and velvet. A pleasing, husky trill as smooth as a teasing touch running across the skin. The woman’s ruby eyes flitted over the girls. “We also sell clothes and accessories in the Recreation Hall. Learning to craft takes time. For your first year, your primary job is to advertise our wares.”

“Which is why we’re looking for girls who not only love fashion, but will devote themselves to being the prettiest girls in the school,” Kyna finished.

“Elegant, beautiful, cool, or sexy. Any style is fine, as long is it inspires your classmates,” the horned beauty added. “I’m Ingrid, vice-president of the club. Kyna is your mentor. And, yes, I’m a succubus. The rumors aren’t wrong. I do like sex, but only on my terms.”

If Kyna was a cute little faerie, Ingrid was bombshell. Full breasts that threatened to spill out of her top. A narrow waist. Legs that went on for miles. It wasn’t just her figure. It was her fashion. The hem of the demonic woman’s ruby dress was alluringly short. Her dress was cut low, to reveal deep cleavage. Her shoes sported heels so towering they made Allison’s look sensible by comparison.

“Shouldn’t it always be?”

Riley’s question pulled Sylvia from her lustful reverie. The silver haired girl tore her eyes from the succubus. Ingrid’s lips quirked knowingly. The demoness shifted her hips revealing a hint white thigh above her sexy stockings.

Sylvia’s eyes caught it, a predator latching onto prey.

Wearing a smirk, Ingrid looked past the silver haired girl to answer Riley’s question.

“I had the misfortune of being born into Hell as part of a succubus clan. Those that didn’t meet their expectations in the first few years were sent to the brothels,” Ingrid said. “I envy you. A chance to learn magic without having to fight, pay, or sell yourself is a true treasure.”

With another twist of her hips, Ingrid turned her eyes on her work. It was clear she had nothing further to say on the subject.

Riley’s expression was dark. History had never been kind to women. Hell was no exception.

“Any style,” Emily questioned, redirecting the conversation. “Then can it be super cute and girly?”

Kyna giggled. “Of course! Cuteness is justice!”

Danger. Danger. Danger.

Sylvia went on high alert. It was possible that Emily was asking for herself. The brunette was an absolutely adorable girl right to her core. Not only was she tiny and delicate, but her poise and posture radiated charm. Sylvia would be thrilled to see Emily dress up in cute frills. Nobody hated pretty girls.

But Sylvia had a terrible suspicion that the brunette was plotting against her.

Best to nip this madness in the bud.

“If it’s any style, I’ll go with cool and handsome,” Sylvia asserted.

“Don’t be silly, you don’t get to choose,” the pink haired faerie said, slapping the attempt down. “Especially not with that travesty you call hair.”

Sylvia’s shoulders dropped. Shit. Everything she feared was coming to pass.

“Before it was so, so pretty,” Emily lamented, her emerald eyes shimmering with half formed tears. “I cried every time Riley cut it.”

The brunette gave Riley a glare as though the freckled blonde was a wicked monster who murdered her pet cat.

“Well. I think that’s my cue,” Riley said, turning to leave.

“Eh!” Emily noised, eyes growing wide.

Sylvia abandoned all mercy. Before Riley could escape, the silver haired witch wrapped her left arm around the freckled blonde’s neck. Then, for good measure, she locked the limb into place by gripping her left wrist with her right hand.

Riley let out a strangled, “Grrk!”

“If I’m going down, you’re going down with me,” Sylvia growled, ruthlessly.

Didn’t you say you’d take responsibility? Huh? Huh? Then take responsibility!

“R-right!” Emily said, both fists clenched in cute appeal. “We have to stay and support Sylvia.”

“Not so tight,” Riley gurgled out.

Rolling her eyes, Sylvia loosed her grip. Riley immediately took the chance to slip out of the hold.

“Fine,” the blonde grumbled. “I can deal with some dress up, but I don’t do the fancy stuff.”

“Hmm,” Kyna mused. The faerie floated close to the blonde’s face. Then she giggled. “I think we can find something you’d like. It’s decided then?”

“Of course!” “Do I have choice?” “The things I do for friends.”

The words came from Emily, Sylvia, and Riley all at once. Emily’s in the form of a cheer. Sylvia’s as a groan. Riley’s as a barely heard mutter. Kyna clapped her hands excitedly, completely ignoring the lack of enthusiasm.

“Great! Then the three of you will be my pupils for the next year,” the pink haired faerie declared. “So, what are your names?”

“Emily Clark!” Emily jumped in eagerly.

“Riley Smith,” added the freckled blonde without much enthusiasm.

“Good, and I already know Sylvia Swallows,” Kyna said happily.

“Swallow. Like the bird,” Sylvia repeated dully while pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Isn’t that what I said?” Kyna replied, bright blue eyes blinking in confusion.

“You said Swallows,” Riley noted. “Which has a very different meaning.”

Ingrid snorted.

“Why does it matter? It’s a name, you aren’t supposed to put meaning into it,” Kyna declared, glaring at her succubus companion.

Sylvia’s eye twitched. Ingrid spoke up before anyone could interrupt.

“They probably haven’t learned about spirit speech.”

“Silly me. I forgot starlight witches are born with their mortal memories. Normally demons spend their first year getting acquainted with the world,” Kyna mused. The little faerie raised a finger. “Then as your mentor, let me explain.”

So said, the faerie opened her mouth and sang. From her throat came a playful ~la~~la~la~~la~la~la~~la~. Somehow, overlapping the childish song was meaning.

“Ether resonates with thoughts and feelings, that’s why it can be refined into mana. Spirit speech is the action of placing ideas into ether in order to communicate. This way, no matter how you talk – even if you sing! – everyone will understand what you’re saying.

“You don’t have to think about it. For most bloodlines, it comes naturally. It’s only tricky when you try to do special things, like communicating by way of song.”

Finished, Kyna puffed out her chest, proud of her recursive account.

“That was amazing,” Emily praised, clapping.

“Thank you. Thank you,” Kyna accepted gleefully. “It takes a lot of practice.”

“Let me try,” Emily said eagerly. “~La~~la~la~”

“I don’t have the heart to tell her,” Riley whispered. “Do you?”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Sylvia just facepalmed.

“Mmm,” Emily noised, noticing their side commentary. “You’re mean.”

“You’ll get it. You’ll get it,” Kyna encouraged. “Spirit speech is important to magic. In a few more years, you’ll be able to do it easily.”

“But what does this have to do with my name?” Sylvia asked.

“Only true names are spoken with meaning. In conversation, names are spoken as sound,” Ingrid explained. “Unless you are involved in a significant ceremony, never place meaning behind a name. It’s considered rude.”

That… made a lot of sense when Sylvia thought about it. If the meaning placed behind a name was arbitrary, then someone could shove whatever bullshit they wanted between the lines. Sylvia could see how that could turn into a faux pas real fast.

“Right and since everyone here is a charming lady, you’ll never do it,” Kyna insisted.

“The netherworld is weird,” Riley murmured.

“This doesn’t even score a five out of ten after seeing people come back from the dead,” Sylvia countered.

“Okay, enough distractions,” Kyna said, putting a hand on her hip. “Every month charm club has a theme. This month’s theme is hair.”

Oh, joy.

“A woman’s hair is her life,” Kyna said seriously. “It’s a symbol of who we are. Our image and our individuality. Take Emily. One look and you know she’s cute, feminine, and refined. Riley’s hair says: I’m a sporty girl. Isn’t that just perfect for her? As for Sylvia.” The pink haired faerie’s nose crinkled in disgust. “It says: I’m a boy and I don’t care what I look like.”

Know what? Sylvia owed Riley an apology. She thought Riley’s technique was sloppy. Apparently it was spot on. To make sure the freckled blonde knew her appreciation, Sylvia gave Riley a thumbs up.

Riley snorted a laugh. Kyna put both hands on her hips. The doll-like faerie was not amused.

“I’ll deal with you later,” Kyna said with annoyance. Then she smiled brightly. “Emily and Riley, your job is simple. Take what you have and make it glow. There’s nothing that exists that can’t be made more beautiful. I want to see you put your heart into it. Take your pick of accessories. At the end of the month, we’ll review and find out which style lets you shine best.”

“Definitely,” Emily said with enthusiasm.

Riley just let out an exhausted sigh and started poking around the room.

“If you want something specific, let us know,” Ingrid added with her smooth, sexy voice. “I don’t mind customizing a piece.”

“As for you,” Kyna continued, looking at the silver haired girl. “Your task is to show me a new style every club period. Remember, you have to keep it until the next club. I want to see you explore your feminine side. But if you don’t impress then, hmph, we will choose a style for you. In fact, I’m going to start with a new rule right now. From now on, it’s forbidden to cut your hair short.

“■■ ■■■ ■ ■■■■.”

Following her words, the pink haired faerie chanted. Incomprehensible sound released a chain of faint, shimmering runes. Light swirled over Sylvia’s head before wrapping around her skull.

Her scalp itched. A burning fire seemed to light under the skin, like a terrible rash. Hair started to grow. Silver locks touched her shoulders. Then it flowed past to the small of her back, then her waist. Still it kept growing until it nearly touched her calves.

“Not one inch,” Kyna insisted after. “Not one inch shorter than that for the rest of the year.”

Sylvia scowled. Her hair was longer than it’d been before Riley cut it.

“I hear you,” Sylvia answered, not at all happy about it.

“If it makes you feel better, my mom made me wear it long when I was a kid,” Riley offered.

It didn’t make her feel any better, actually.

“Oh, that’s a wonderful thought,” Emily said instantly. “We should act like Riley’s mom and make sure Sylvia nurtures her inner girl.”

Kyna giggled. “That’s the spirit! Sylvia’s hair is too boring, I’m giving you first dibs on her new style.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she’s the cutest girl in the whole school!”

…

“Thanks,” Sylvia said to the freckled blonde, tone dead.

“I’m just sharing the love,” Riley retorted.

Being a girl sucked.

“At least you don’t have to wash it,” Riley relented.

Sylvia supposed that was one redeeming factor. The netherworld didn’t have dirt and grime in the same sense as Earth. Blood stains just kind of evaporated after a few minutes. Sylvia had seen a few dirty corners here and there in the Academy, so a build up of filth was possible. It just didn’t work the same.

One win for the netherworld.

Now if only the sun would fucking set.

Kyna clapped her hands.

“Now for the fun part! Charm club is open every day after class. While I’m here, you’re free to ask me anything. I know all the rules in the student handbook. How many frills you can add to your uniform. What kind of accessories are allowed – ”

“How short you can keep your skirt,” Ingrid picked up. The succubus turned on her stool. “Hats. Shoes. Jewelry. If it has anything to do with fashion, you can consult with me. The more you three stand out the better. But don’t bother me about school or magic. Kyna is the club mentor.”

With club admissions complete, Emily rushed up to Kyna with a deluge of questions. All of which the faerie cheerfully answered. Riley struck out on her own, peering into boxes and picking through clothes and fabric with a serious expression on her face.

Temporarily free, Sylvia removed herself from the fray. Instead, her eyes were drawn to Ingrid. Her work, not her breasts.

Though Ingrid had very nice breasts.

The succubus held a stencil in her hand. With diligent effort, she traced runes in the air. Sylvia watched the shapes with fascination, wondering what magic the succubus was weaving.

“Are we allowed to wear these?”

Sylvia glanced back. Riley was holding up a pair of black leggings.

“Yes!” Kyna answered, floating over. “Pants are forbidden but socks, stockings, and leggings are all accepted under the student handbook.”

Emily giggled. “Riley is a girl after all.”

“I don’t mind looking nice,” Riley confirmed. The freckled blonde stooped, sorting through a box. “But I prefer comfortable. Hey, do you have any yoga shorts in here?”

“Yoga shorts?”

“Tight shorts I can wear under my dress so I’m not flashing anyone by accident.”

Kyna titled her head. “How interesting.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t heard of them,” Riley said. “Skirts don’t go too well with flight I imagine.”

“I have a special technique for that,” Kyna giggled. “But I suppose it’s too much to teach you now. Ingrid, what do you think?”

“The girls in the explorers club will probably be interested,” Ingrid mused. “But how to make them look good without ruining the lines of the skirt?”

“What a fun idea,” Kyna sounded out excitedly. “As for the material, I think – ”

Sylvia tuned them out. Instead, the silver haired witch opened her book. She made it ten pages in when Ingrid broke her concentration.

“You should teach them to cultivate.”

“Eh, isn’t it a little early?” the pink haired faerie questioned. “Mentors aren’t supposed to teach cultivation until next week.”

“Mentors are not required,” Ingrid corrected. With her stencil, the succubus traced another rune.

“Cultivate?” Emily noised cutely. Her starlit emerald eyes glimmered. “Does that mean we’re going to grow vegetables?”

The doll-like Kyna, who had been musing thoughtfully in midair, giggled.

“No. No. Cultivation isn’t about growing plants. Well, I suppose it can be. But the cultivation we’re talking about is how to grow you.”

The pink haired faerie pointed a finger at Emily in emphasis. Sylvia’s lips pursed. Cultivate. The word was familiar. Right. Back in his early twenties Eric read a web novel that contained the concept. Cultivation was a leveling system of sorts. Beyond that, Sylvia couldn’t recall anything.

Sylvia had always been more of a gamer than a reader.

“Grow grow? Or level up grow?” Riley interrupted, suddenly looking very interest.

Riley, Riley, Riley, you really hate being part of team shorty, don’t you?

“Oh no,” Kyna said, cupping one cheek with a palm. “You’ll be stuck with that height until you Awaken.”

“Witches aren’t faeries,” Ingrid suddenly asserted. “Awakening doesn’t inherently induce growth. Most likely, you’ll be stuck at that height for the rest of your life.”

Riley’s shoulders drooped.

“Okay! Let’s go cultivate,” Kyna decided. “I’ll explain the basics while we travel. Follow me.”

The faerie fluttered her wings, leading them out of the room. Sylvia hopped off her stool pattering after her roommates. No matter what they called it, no true gamer would ever neglect the chance to level up. The trio walked down the hall. Kyna floated backwards in front of them, transparent wings sparkling as she casually lectured.

“Cultivation is like eating. Mortals eat to grow up and some demons eat to cultivate,” the faerie explained casually. “Regardless, the purpose of cultivation is to create soul essence. The more soul essence you refine, the stronger you’ll be.”

“What does that have to do with Awakening?” Riley pressed, her laser like focus on what was dear to her heart.

Sylvia gave the freckled blonde a sidelong look. Ingrid had just told them Awakening probably wouldn’t help. But, Sylvia supposed that Riley had heard the ‘probably’ different than Sylvia had.

“I’m getting to that!” Kyna huffed, hands on her hips. The faerie, fluttered her wings, floating lazily down the stairwell as she talked. The trio, of course, was forced to take the stairs. “Let’s see…. Right! The soul, as you know, consists of inner and outer layers – ”

“We don’t know,” Riley interrupted.

“We do, now,” Sylvia corrected.

Riley gave her a sour look. Kyna groaned. Emily giggled.

“Ugh! This is why it’d be better to wait until next week,” Kyna whined. The faerie put on a brilliant smile, blue eyes shining with fake enthusiasm. “Anyway! The soul consists of inner and outer layers. When the outermost layer is full of soul essence you have to go through a process called consolidation. During consolidation all the soul essence is compressed into the inner layer then transformed into a new core.

“This makes your nether code denser. You can even mutate and gain new traits! Though, how much you get depends on luck and the quality of your bloodline.”

…

Sylvia’s expression turned weird.

That… wasn’t how genetics worked. Why would more code be better? Why would mutations produce new and better traits? What did any of this have to do with the quality of the bloodline? If the bloodline was good, wouldn’t all the traits be there right at the start?

The entire process sounded silly and illogical.

“Yeah, but what about Awakening,” Riley pushed again.

“Patience!” Kyna chided, sounding annoyed. “After consolidating, you have to fill soul with essence again. Except, because there’s more code, the soul will be bigger. Get it. Fill then consolidate. Fill then consolidate.”

Sylvia nodded. The process sounded pretty simple. Come to think of it, was that what her System was doing? It fit. Experience transformed into soul essence. Soul essence transformed into levels. If that was the case, would there be a day when Sylvia also had to consolidate?

Ding.

Speak of the devil.

New Quest: First Consolidation

The soul is a finite container. Fill your soul to the limit and take the next step on your journey. An apprentice seeks to become a journeyman. A journeyman dreams of becoming a master. Masters strive to leave behind a legend.

Step over the threshold. Grasp true strength. It is only when you are strong that you will be free to experience the real netherworld.

Quest Reward: Class Advancement

Objectives:

[ ] Level: 13 / 100

[ ] Experience: 0 / 10,000

Well. That pretty much confirmed it. Leveling was just gathering soul essence. Class advancement was consolidation. Sylvia’s eyes narrowed. Add in hit points, experience points from kills, and so on and it was damn clear that the System was meant to operate in the netherworld from the start.

The question then was, who created it and why?

“Buuttt,” Kyna sang, “If you keep consolidating, your soul will get all stuffy. And if you go too far the outer membrane will burst and all your soul essence will fly away. So, to go further, the foundation of the soul has to grow. The only way to do that is to evolve. The first grand mutation is called Awakening. The second Transcendence. And the third Apotheosis.”

“Are we witches or pokemon?” Sylvia questioned, eye twitching.

Seriously. Leveling was already a pain in the ass. Sylvia was going to be damned if she had to hunt down evolution stones.

…

Err, technically, she was already damned. Sylvia was, quite literally, living in Hell.

She needed to learn new curse words, didn’t she? … On second thought, fuck it. No. To hell with it!

“I’m stuck on the mutation thing,” Riley groused back. “That doesn’t sound healthy.”

“Hmph!” Kyna huffed. “Forget about Awakening. It’s impossible to Awaken without first reaching the second consolidation. Which won’t happen for centuries, unless you’re very talented. Most souls never reach the second consolidation, much less Awaken.”

The doll-like faerie giggled.

“~Accept it~. You’ll be a little cutie ~for~ev~er~.”

Riley scowled. “I’m taller than you.”

“Yes, but I am an adorable faerie. Aannd I have wings,” Kyna replied cheerfully, the girl fluttered higher into the air in emphasis. “Also, faeries always get taller when they Awaken. Unlike witches.”

While Riley grumbled, Kyna lead the trio away from the Academic Building. The path took them past their dorm and the gothic fortress known as the resurrection pool. As they left the academy proper, well trimmed grass gave way to trees, brush, and craggy rocks.

In the silence, Sylvia contemplated the cultivation system. In Kyna’s description a terrible realization lurked.

Everyone leveled up.

Every-fucking-body, leveled up.

Damn it, what was the point of having System if everyone leveled up? She’d been cheated. Cheated! It was common knowledge that having a System was supposed to be a golden ticket. Sylvia wanted a refund!

Shit. Who was she kidding?

Sylvia had lost faith in her System a long time ago. At this rate, even Wizard Means Wise I would be a dud. Was this her fate, to live her life in Hell as a mediocre witch?

The path grew steeper. Sylvia trudged forward along with the others, envious of Kyna’s fluttering wings. The silver haired girl suspected that if she were Eric, her legs would be burning from the exertion. Instead, there was little struggle. She didn’t grow weary. She wasn’t even breathing hard.

Mostly because she didn’t have to breathe. At all.

That didn’t keep her body from doing it, or from feeling uncomfortable when she stopped. Sylvia just didn’t need to.

After minutes, the forest broke.

Grassland stretched ten to twenty meters before terminating in a cliff. Left and right, as far as Sylvia could see, a winding stone path traced the cliff’s edge. A stone dais split the path. Not just one, dozens. Possibly hundreds. Some stood empty. On others sat girls in school robes with dresses of green or blue. Most rested in meditative poses. Some, particularly those with blue dresses, had books or scattered homework.

Each platform was separated from the next by a gap. Ten meters, Sylvia guessed.

The air glistened.

The atmosphere was thick. Not in the sense of muggy or humid, rather it crackled with electric energy. Faint misty wisps whirled around the stone stands, twinkling with infinitesimal motes of light.

“Every bloodline has its own way of cultivating. For instance, I’m a woodland sprite,” Kyna explained, placing a hand on her chest. “Specifically aos-si tuatha spiorad. As you might have guessed, I am most compatible with ether of the wood element, though water and earth work well too.

“Since Faeries are gentle, we’re Producers unlike you wicked witches who Produce and Consume.”

“Mmm!” Emily’s cheeks puffed. It seemed she didn’t like being called a wicked witch.

Kyna giggled. “I’m teasing. Producers are those that convert ether directly into soul essence, either through meditation or respiration. Consumers convert other essences into soul essence. Starlight witches, hecates magissa asteri, are kosmovores, meaning you can consume essences from the chaos domain elements like space, void, or causality.”

Okay. First she was witch. Next she was a pokemon. Now Sylvia was a langolier. That sounded… positively demonic. Cool. Creepy cool, but still cool.

“Consuming essences is expensive, and I don’t have anything for you girls on hand. I’m not sure where you’d even get chaos essence. Well… I suppose you could eat soli? Eh? Isn’t it strange to eat money,” Kyna mumbled to herself. “Whatever. We’ll be doing meditation.”

“Meditation is the act of using ki or mana to assist in the collection or digestion of ether. This is opposed to respiration, which happens automatically. ~Sorry~,” Kyna sang, “But witches can’t respire. That’s why cute little faeries are better.”

Sylvia looked at her experience bar. The bar which rose by one point a month for seventeen and half years. The bar which rose, since the end of Armed Combat to now, nearly ten points. It appeared that this witch did, in fact, respire.

At ten points a day she’d reach level one-hundred in what, fifteen years?

Eh. Not bad, actually.

Or was it?

Unable to accept the notion the System wasn’t trash, Sylvia asked the question which had been burning at the forefront of her mind. “What level are you?”

“I’m in the middle of the first consolidation,” Kyna answered, proudly. “With my talent, I might cross the second consolidation in my next life if I work really hard at it. After that it’s pure luck if I’ll Awaken. And if I don’t achieve it in the next three centuries, I probably never will.”

The faerie’s glee slumped. Kyna let out a heavy sigh.

“I feel terrible for Ingrid. Unless she strikes it rich, she’ll never reach the second consolidation no matter how long she lives.”

Middle of the first consolidation, huh. Sylvia stroked her chin. According to her System, she’d consolidate at level one-hundred. If middle meant level one-fifty Sylvia would achieve the same in thirty years.

And now Sylvia had another question. How many levels did she need to reach the second consolidation?

Regardless, Sylvia finally had a vague sense of her place in the world. Any level less than one-hundred was newbie stage. She needed to complete two consolidations before she was strong.

While Sylvia fixated on levels, as a proper gamer should, Riley focused on something else.

“Three centuries!” she croaked. “How old are you?”

“Me? I’m sixty-seven,” Kyna answered unhesitatingly. “Ingrid is a hundred and forty-three. I still can’t believe how young some of the professors are. They’re practically babies!”

The doll-like faerie sounded positively scandalized.

“But I suppose it makes sense,” Kyna mused. “The baroness is only one-hundred-and-eighty-six. Imagine discovering a new rune, Awakening, and becoming a titled noble so young. Lady Vallenfelt is an inspiration.”

“I’m getting the sense that the netherworld works on a different timeline than we’re used to,” Riley said, throat tight.

“Isabella did say the weak endure a thousand years and the strong can stand for ten-thousand.”

“I thought she meant it figuratively,” Riley groaned with horror. “How long are they expecting us to stay as students? It’s only a couple of years, right?”

“The third year girls said we can stay for ten,” Emily chimed in cheerfully. “Apparently, if you collect full class credit you can earn a hedge witch certificate after three years, a novice witch certificate after six, and starlight witch after nine. But, most students have their accounts run dry around year seven.”

Riley groaned. Sylvia felt for her. Seven years was better than the ten Professor Myers implied, but it was still the length of middle school and high school put together. How in the world was Sylvia going to endure the Academy for that long?

But did she have to? Maybe she’d run away right after earning her hedge witch certificate.

Or sooner, if Sylvia could find a way to level up fast. She had a way marker now. After level one-hundred, Sylvia could start thinking about striking out on her own. Until then, she was officially stuck in newbieville.

While they chatted, Kyna took the lead flying along the stone path. Sylvia and the others followed. Where they started, about half the platforms had witches meditating atop them. A few of them were wearing emerald dresses like herself and her classmates.

Sylvia didn’t recognize any of them.

As the stone path wound, Sylvia found herself near the edge of the cliff. Her gaze naturally drifted down. There blue sky thinned into the abyss of night. Curious, the silver haired girl edged closer. At the bottom of the cliff was a void filled with stars. Sylvia felt as though she were gazing over the edge of the world.

“Well, I guess that’s why they call it a plane,” Riley commented.

“It’s so pretty,” Emily murmured, taking a look as well.

“That’s the starry void,” Kyna said. “It fills the space between planes. And please step back. It’ll be annoying if I have to fish you out after you fall off.”

Good point.

Following the faerie’s advice, Sylvia moved away from the cliff. Riley gazed for a few seconds longer, then jogged to catch up. Finally, Kyna found a trio of empty platforms along the path.

“Okay! Gather up, I’ll talk you through your first meditation.”

-oOo-

System Codex

Attribute: Magic

Sub-Attribute: Dominion

Raw Calculation: 100% + 4% * Mag

Magical strength. Dominion governs the maximum amount of energy the User can muster at once, regardless of origin. It also decides the rate at which mana can be squeezed from the body, which in turn can influence spell casting speed when casting at the limit. Dominion is also important when ether is contested, allowing the User to wrest control from their opponent. When dominion is especially high, it’s even possible to directly squelch the spells of the enemy. Provided, of course, that the runic structure is sufficiently fragile. When the attribute is extremely high it can be used to forcefully cast spells from local ether without any mana provided.

Sub-Attribute: Mysticism

Raw Calculation: 100% + 1% * Mag

Magical affinity. This is the degree to which the User can influence neutral ether. For casting purposes this decides ether gathering speed whether internal or external. However, as mana must be polished by the psyche this does not change mana recovery speed except where ether levels are low.

Mysticism also impacts the ease and degree to which spells and mana can be blended into the environment. This is useful for stealthy spell casting, or when using infiltration style magics such as curses, poisons, malignant transformations, or mental effects. Finally, mysticism governs sensitivity to exotic forces that cannot normally be detected such as the chaos elements: causality, space, void, realm, law, and fate.

Sylvia’s notes: Mysticism also influences ether control, not that it matters unless wit is crazy high compared to magic.

Statistic: Level

A value measuring the amount of soul essence accumulated and the degree to which it has been digested into true strength. As the amount of soul essence rises, the soul’s impact on reality increases with it. This is especially true in the netherworld.

Leveling is achieved by absorbing and refining ether or essence into soul essence. Cultivation consists of the techniques, methods, and procedures that facilitate this growth.

Soul essence initially accumulates in the outer layer of the soul. However, not all souls hold onto their essence equally. This variation of efficiency is referred to as talent. Talent is extremely important in the netherworld, as flaws related to containment incur an exponential increase in the experience required to level up.

Talent therefore defines a soft ceiling for a soul’s level.

Talent is not fixed. Instead, it is determined by the soul’s size and its compatibility with the nether code. Both of these traits increase naturally with time. Consolidations and mutations both engender changes to the code and soul. This provides a more perfect fusion and thus greater talent. The advantages of these increases, however, cannot be seen until a denizen transmigrates and rebuilds their foundation.

Virtually all denizens start with enough talent to cross the first consolidation. Many souls struggle to cross the second. Throughout all the nether world, less than one in two hundred will eventually Awaken. And those that do will most often achieve it centuries into their new lives.