“Everyone, please head upstairs,” Fionn directed the various individuals he’d managed to find with magical potential.

There couldn’t be more than twenty, which was … honestly nothing. Compared to the sheer number of people in the world, it was a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a percent. And even just contrasted against the number of people he’d met personally, it was still practically nothing.

I didn’t know the exact mechanism he used to find magical potential, depending on how complicated it was, the ability to use magic could be a lot more common than the numbers I was seeing might indicate, but Fionn was the next best thing to omniscient.

Sure, I knew that had limits, and I knew it almost certainly had further limits I didn’t know, but it was still an incredibly potent ability. All of which brought me straight back to a very specific and unpleasant conclusion.

Magic.

Was.

Extinct.

For the most part, at least.

It was something I’d been thinking about for a while. Of all the supernatural shit we knew had gone down via direct eyewitnesses or material proof, the older stuff was usually a hell of a lot more dangerous and powerful.

Fionn, the oldest, had dealt with an entire menagerie of supernatural shit, magic, spellcasters, and catching a simple fish had granted him a magical gift that would have allowed a more coldly ambitious man the ability to conquer the world.

Abhartach, asshole as he had been, had also had access to immense magic, which he’d then used to gain incredible power and near-immortality, and he’d lived shortly after Fionn.

Arthur and Dietrich had practically been contemporaries, and had fought more regular stuff. Hostile human armies, and the occasional smattering of supernatural critters. The odd dragon, sure, but mostly giant animals and actual giants. Not to mention that most artifacts had originated in a time before theirs, with the major exception of Mimung, the sword Dietrich now used. But Excalibur, Nagelring, Eckesachs, the whole lot were older.

Charlemagne, living in a period a couple of centuries after them, had lived a life basically free of magic. Sure, several of his knights had had magic weapons, but those had been relics found or won in battle, not forged. Sure, Ogier had fought a couple of giants, but that was nothing compared to the numbers Dietrich had encountered only a short time earlier, in the grand scheme of things.

And then, you had Genghis Khan and Francis Drake, who’d lived lives entirely free of magic, as far as I knew. Other than, you know, the fact that they were here. Some supernatural shenanigans had to have been going on to make that happen during their lifetimes, but that was all.

Granted, Francis Drake’s intuition had often been referred to as having originated from a deal with the devil, but that was hardly proven or conclusive.

Point was, I didn’t know how much magic they’d seen, but I’d ask if I ever got the chance.

Which just left Joseph, the Golem of Prague. That was the real sticking point. In the real world, exceptions did not prove the rule and he was one hell of an “exception” … well, to be entirely honest, he completely threw the entire theory about the decline of magic out of the window.

Although I did have one idea that could explain that away. He’d been “born” in the 16th century, but he was the one and only golem that had been created in the centuries before and since, despite all the shit the Jewish population had gone through in that time.

There were barely 16 million Jews alive in the world nowadays. Judaism might still be listed as one of the big world religions, but they’d almost been wiped out. If Golems of Joseph’s strength were easy to create, hell, possible, to create, why had only one ever been made?

This had then led me to another idea: what if he’d actually been created based on something older? An artifact, a spellbook that had been destroyed in the process, or perhaps the earth and clay he’d been made off had been “prepared” millennia prior, when magic had been plentiful?

I mean, it made sense, didn’t it?

But there was also a distinct possibility that the whole idea was just, well, me trying to force my theory to work, creating “proof” to fit my conclusion rather than a conclusion to fit my proof.

Maybe, maybe not, I’d have to try and see if I could prove things one way or the other.

Still, the crux of the matter was that magic seemed to have vanished almost entirely, even if those twenty students over there were highly unlikely to be the only ones in existence.

Granted, I was self-aware enough to know that at least some of that belief came from a simple unwillingness to accept that reality. Magic was, well, magical, and we’d almost certainly need it to win. Guns and artillery could take down regular monsters well enough, but the bigger ones either required ungodly amounts of munitions to kill or even ludicrously powerful bombs.

Then there were Nation Bosses, who were functionally immune to most mundane weapons. And given that the first had shown up in just the second challenge, no one thought that those were the peak of the power scale.

But I did have an actual reason to suspect there to be more people with potential out there.

Fifteen of the twenty students were Caucasian, which would be incredibly weird if these were all there were. Twenty out of several billion was hardly the most representative sample size, but even so, it would be a pretty extreme case of statistical variance for things to work out like that.

On the other hand, do you know what did make sense? Ease of transportation and contact. Fionn was based in Ireland, if he’d only contacted the nearest people with potential, they’d obviously be mostly, well, European.

Though ultimately, the smart thing would have been to just bloody ask when I had the chance. I still planned to, but would wait until after the first round of teaching was done. Because interrupting his introductory speech right now to satiate my own curiosity … that’d need a far better explanation than “it took me this long to figure out I should ask.”

And while I’d been deep in thought, Fionn had continued to explain what the point of this all was. Give people magic, let them loose on the world so they could level and gain magic Classes. Simple, straightforward, and hopefully, it would pay off.

“Over there in the corner we have Mr. Tristan Vogt, he can directly give you knowledge, he’ll be using that ability to teach you the basics whenever the ability comes off its cooldown.”

I raised a hand in greeting and gave a little wave, while a cast of [Light] created a small, illuminating, orb hovering over my shoulder, then I banished the spell the instant I dropped my hand back to my side.

“You will be learning the most basic forms of every spell, you’ll likely be gaining the more advanced versions on your own as you grow.”

As he spoke, Fionn was casting several small spells to demonstrate. A gust of wind playing around his hand, a small orb of flame I recognized as the [Ember] spell I also knew floated above that, a [Spark] of lighting jumped from fingertip to fingertip and finally, several small knick-nacks had started floating nearby.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Honestly, I was jealous. If I’d tried that with just [Ember], I’d have likely lit the house on fire in five seconds flat, under a second if I’d had to control multiple spells simultaneously.

And he wasn’t even a full caster.

Then again, I was comparing myself to an ancient here. Dietrich could fight a battalion of modern troops and come out the other side with only cosmetic damage, Charlemagne could do the work of an entire logistics corps on his own while simultaneously holding multiple conversations, and if even half the stories out of Mongolia were true, Genghis Khan could do all of the above.

Though the idea that that kind of power could be achieved, that tickled me pink.

Fionn continued to explain, not just what spells could be taught, but also how we’d grouped them. Construction, combat utility, illusion, attack spells. Then, he led them all upstairs, into the studiously enchanted, warded and reinforced rooms up there. I wasn’t entirely sure whether or not they could tank an artillery shell, but I was damn sure that none of the new guys could muster up that kind of firepower. So the academy was safe for now.

I got up once everyone had gone upstairs and followed, entering the classroom last, and leaned against the far wall while observing the goings on … trying to, at any rate, since I was simultaneously reading the spellbook Fionn had given me a couple of weeks ago. After all, I’d already read about the basics he was explaining weeks ago, but I also wanted to make sure I paid some kind of attention to what he was saying in case he’d figured out something new that hadn’t been included in the books.

Also, I was slightly curious about the trainees.

***

An hour later, I was mostly just bored. The students might have been perfectly interesting individuals generally, but right now, they were too thrown and intimidated by the current situation to show that. They just listened, nodded along, and didn’t ask questions.

But Fionn was also done, he ended it by handing out copies of the same book I’d received, though how effective that would be remained to be seen. [Arcane Core] was a Skill built around absorbing the teachings of ancient legends.

He headed towards the back of the room, where I was, with two of his students while everyone else started reading.

“So, I’m guessing I’m teaching you two?” I asked.

Both, and Fionn too, nodded.

“Hjalmar Andresen,” a brown haired young man perhaps five years older than me introduced himself, forcing me to take control of my expression. I’d have expected that name to belong to some giant Norseman who looked like he could arm-wrestle Ogier, not a relatively normal guy I wouldn’t have noticed if I’d passed him on the street.

He was from Denmark, judging by his accent, and to my knowledge, Danish people weren’t, well, stereotypical Vikings. It was kind of sad how popular media could shape one’s perception, wasn’t it?

But while relying on [Innate Etiquette] might eventually cause me to unlearn my un-assisted poker face, it really did help in the here and now.

“Tristan Vogt,” I replied, shaking the offered hand. “So, what kind of magic do you want to learn?”

“Attack spells,” he said. “So, how does this work?”

“I’ll just send the information to you, but I have to do this simultaneously,” I said, turning to the other student Fionn had brought.

“My name is Antoinette Chagon and I’d like to learn how to reshape the world and grow buildings with my mind,” she introduced herself. She was the only one who’d actually stood out in the earlier lesson even slightly, having asked several questions. Mostly by having kept the most confidence out of everyone else.

“Alright,” I said. “My Skill is called [Knowledge Trade], it lets me send knowledge to you, and you can send me knowledge back, but you don’t have to. But if you want to, I’d appreciate learning the basics of your native languages.”

My [Burgeoning Omniglot] did help me passively learn new languages just by being around people as they spoke them, but it was a hell of a lot easier to just borrow that knowledge directly when I was trading with someone fluent in one I didn’t know yet.

“So, you guys ready?”

They both nodded, so I activated the Skill and suddenly I knew how to make my way through Paris or Copenhagen without having to resort to muddling my way through with English. I wasn’t anywhere near the level of a native speaker, but what knowledge I did have was more than enough.

And despite the sheer amount of information transferred, I was fine. Hjalmar and Antoinette … not so much.

“You’ll be fine soon,” I assured them before turning to Fionn.

“So, apparently learning magic via the Skill is what causes the headaches. We should probably put up a warning placard somewhere.”

“Maybe one that also explains how your Skill works too?” he suggested.

I nodded. That way, I wouldn’t have to keep explaining the mechanism and asking for linguistic “donations” over and over again.

While the students headed over to where the others already were, Fionn gestured for me to follow and left. I, of course, followed him onto the roof, where he cast some kind of magic that I assumed would prevent us from being overheard.

“How long can you stay?” he asked.

“Long enough for everyone here, I think,” I said. Some quick napkin math … 18 people left, nine pairs, six-hour cooldown … little over two days. “But we should probably make a schedule to minimize how long the Skill is unused and off cooldown.”

It’d probably play merry hell with my sleep schedule, seeing as I’d have to be awake for that and, therefore, wouldn’t get to sleep for more than six hours at a time. But it should be worth it.

“And if I bring more people?” Fionn asked.

“I do have to make head off to do a few other things,” I told him. “But I should be back in a week at the latest. How many others are there?”

Fionn sighed.

“I have no idea. Magic potential is hard to find in individuals, I have to see them in person to notice it.”

“But can you sense the total number of people with the potential in the world?” I asked.

“I know there are more than the people in this room,” he said after a long moment of silence, then stared off into the distance.

He sighed, then turned back to me. “You haven’t tried out [Century Storm] yet, have you?”

I shook my head.

“Then what are you waiting for?” he asked with a wry grin on his face. “Go, have some fun, gods only know when you’ll next have the chance. Feel free to borrow a car from the army base.”

I knew exactly what he was talking about: a small platoon-sized contingent camping near the Fianna’s encampment, there to provide support that required modern knowledge and skills.

And both he and I knew that casting a spell that was functionally a natural disaster anywhere near Dublin was a terrible idea.

***

Magic sparked around my fingers as I tried to cast [Century Storm], emphasis on try. Energy flared, began to expand and then, simply, … collapsed in on itself.

I sighed and let my arms drop back to my side. I mean, at least I didn’t explode … but I’d also been looking forward to using this spell. I’d even found a nice hill to go to to practice, a scenic location, though that had primarily been so that no one would get caught by any misfires, and there was a large tree on said hill that should attract the majority of lightning strikes.

Of course, I also made sure to stay plenty far from the tree to ensure that lightning wouldn’t jump to me as it traveled down the trunk. I’d seen that demonstrated on TV. Once. More than enough to convince me to stay the hell out of the forest anytime the weather was worse than a light rainfall.

I sighed. Yeah, should have expected that outcome, but I had to try. Besides, I already knew how to change my current situation. Upgrade myself. After all, the whole act of learning and teaching had earned me two Levels.

[Myth(ical) Mediator Lv. 27 -> Myth(ical) Mediator Lv. 29]

[Skill Boost gained]

[Skill gained: Legal Grounding]

The Skill was interesting, and what to boost was obvious.

[Skill boosted: Arcane Core]

Your mana pool is deepened, and repeated casting of the same spell increases learning speed exponentially

I could feel that I was almost at the point where I could cast it. I had the mana now, barely, but only if I cast it perfectly, with zero waste … which I was obviously unlikely to manage since it would be my first time going fully through with the cast.

The ability gained by the previous time I’d boosted the Skill let me pick a single specific spell to be able to cast faster and cheaper would have been perfect right now, buuuut … I’d already selected [Lesser Telekinetic Push] for that. It had been the right choice at the time, I stood by that even now, but it was still biting me in the ass now. Granted, I could change my selection once a week, and I only had a few days left before I could switch, but it was still mildly frustrating.

On the other hand, the Skill I’d gotten was useless right now.

Legal Grounding

You gain an innate understanding of the rules, regulations, and treaties surrounding the current issue.

The way I read that description, and that seemed to be how it actually worked, the Skill would tell me what I needed to know at any given moment, when I was mediating, negotiating, planning and the like, but it did not download the full legal rulebook from any nation I found myself in into my head.

And while nothing in the Skill said it’d erase what knowledge I did get, I doubted I’d retain much. In my mind, I pictured it as being similar to studying for a test, where you crammed a bunch of information into your brain, then used it, and finally forgot ninety-nine percent five seconds after you’d put your pen down.

Still, it would be damn useful.