Moves made, I slip back into a routine, spare time dying in pursuit. The new meditation technique gives me two extra hours daily, so I still have some freedom. Classes diminish as the bimester progresses, all but destruction magic showing only open office hours and practical lessons until the end of the term, further freeing my time. Still, the classwork and new material keep up. If anything, the increasing specialization makes everything more complex as it has less crossover with my other subjects. If not for those two hours, I would squash under the workload.
I am returning to the dorm with the newest of said loads. I should have taken out fewer books, but that is hindsight speaking. Shannai sits in our dorm, which is unusual for her. Bumping into each other in the mornings is the majority of our interactions. There she is, sitting on her bed and facing away from me. I set my books on the desk and beeline for my bed.
“Are you even going to ask?”
“I try not to pry, my father always said-”
“So your parents ‘Knew better’ too?” she scoffs.
“I think they all hope to. If I were a parent, I would want to guide my child. My father thought moving to the city to enter the tournament was an awful Idea. His path probably wasn’t bad, yet not right for me.” I ramble, hoping to dissuade the conversation.
“I know what you mean. My mother wants the same thing from me...”
“And you chose another path?” I relent.
“Not exactly; my family is less understanding than your father. They gave me a chance but insisted I should fall in line if I fail.”
“At the tournament?” I guess.
“Yes, I was stuck going to the sanctum once I failed the cut.”
“That’s funny,” I think aloud.
“Huh?”
“Sorry, our situation is similar except for our view of the Sanctum. You are trying to escape this, whereas, for me, this is a lifeline from the life I was trying to escape. Without the sanctum, I would have a much harder time…”
“Yeah, maybe you can show me Willow’s Grove sometime. That farm sounds peaceful.”
“It is a slow life.”
“Slow sounds nice... I’ve got a favor to ask.”
“Right. Well, I will close my eyes, and I am sorry if I fall asleep before your question finishes.” I mumble, curling around my blanket.
“I have this function to attend, and you could be my guest. Would you want to go with me?“
“What sort of function?“
“It's of a fancier variety. Do you mind?“Shannai pitches, plopping down on my bed.
“I don’t know,” I grumble.
It’s not like I don’t like Shannai. She is nice enough for a noble, but that doesn’t mean the company she keeps is the same. For all I know, ninety percent of the people there oppose my existence here; add to that the question of her motives. Her mother, the speaker for Sheik Sage, used her connections to connect us. I assumed this was a ploy to get someone close to me, but inconsistencies abrade the act. Can she be trusted?
“I doubt people there will like you bringing me home, “ I inquire as she helps me remove my robe.
“I doubt I will care. Though if it makes you uncomfortable, I understand.“
“I don’t mind. I’ll be there, but you must buy me something nice to wear.”
“Really? And?“
“That’s it.”
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Ah, it is the first Menday of the break in the evening. We can go shopping earlier that day.“ Discordance rings the sentiment of lack, with no excitement or even relief.
“Mmm-hmmm.” I nod, slipping into the covers of sleep.
The final weeks of the bimester blur together. Experimentations in the morning followed by a full day in the workshop and studying to top it all off. Growing certainty affirms a fourth rune, decelerating my progress. There is no mention of any such rune in my studies, and broaching the topic with Crucus is too risky, leaving me with a problem.
Nevertheless, I progress, particularly in the amount of wealth I accrue. An increase in ability and time doubles my productivity for the weeks. On top of that, I have cultivated an entire team of helpful people with skills to assist my growth. However, there is one snag: my supply chain. They have yet to respond to my last message. The only contact point is a drop near the shopping district I frequent.
The last message does not contain pressing news that requires an immediate response, but the silence is worrying. I can't contact my partner directly, so I must wait until I hear back. The material drops are still on time, so I am less worried about the law and more about infighting or betrayal. Still, what can I do? So, I refocus on the upcoming exam.
“I am to inform you that you will take your exams in each pre-requisite class as normal, but your practical exam will take place apart from the others. Phylius will notify you of when and where that will be.” Mage Gallah huffs, abruptly ending while muttering something about messengers as he walks to the front of the classroom.
“Ok,” I mumble as I follow in after him.
The destruction magic final is easy enough. The only thing tripping me up relates to external destruction practitioners, such as safe flow rates, core casting, and proper source selection. I assume that these are placed into my exam by Gallah himself, probably to make sure I can't get a perfect score on the theoretical. I do as well as possible, guessing at only two, while the rest of the exam is acceptable.
Elemental magic follows, which is a freebie considering my level of specialization. The test revolves around internal manipulation and material affinities, with an exciting essay prompt regarding inner transmutation and the body modifications needed to survive them. I finish earlier than the pack, leading to the only enticing exam, my death magic exam.
Arriving at the familiar shack, I observe a desk in the clutter arranged to fit it. The rearranging is haphazard, with stuff thrown about. Crucus stands to the side, tapping his foot incessantly as I shuffle to the desk.
“Why so glum, chum?”
“This absurd test that I had to write up for one person. Now they insist I sit here and ensure you do not cheat while my transistors go— as work goes undone.”
“Well, I’ll try to finish this quickly.”
“Please do. But I refuse to sit around and watch you do so. If you need me, I will be in the back,” Crucus huffs.
The test is too easy, only covering some of the first three volumes of Artificial Amalgamations. Waste, even my elemental class had some interesting essay questions, but this garbage? The single essay question asks me to explain how an inductor rune functions. I enter the back room to notify Crucus of my completion, only to find him hunched over a table.
“Could have done that in my sleep,” I comment.
“Yes, well. I have been rather busy and do not have time for nonsensical trifles for plebs. I can understand why we have these tests in larger classes, yet with a single initiate?”
“Honestly, I wasn’t too worried about these exams; I was more concerned about the practicals.”
“Yes, I have heard about this, your poor performance, that is. I know some of what the test entails, though I will not share that.”
“Of course. I won't ask. I'm just nervous, especially considering that, at least after this bimester, things should normalize.”
“As far as things can be normal with you around.”
“Oh? Am I so abnormal?”
“Yes, quite, but let us not dwell on your lineage. You made those tubes well.”
“Thank you.”
“What is the trick to the increased flow rates?” they question.
“It is a macro technique called ambient efficiency.”
“Yes, yes. I know it well. Using such a technique in a basic rune would never have crossed my mind. Quite clever, even considering the efficiency you have made a substantial amount.”
“Well, I’ve been improving.”
“Close to the belt? I don’t blame you. I would be more likely to commend your caution than condemn it these days.”
“These days?”
“Ah. It is nothing for a pleb to worry about. I wish to tell you what a good job you did— only had to fix a few.”
“Will you be needing more?”
“Yes, though I will probably only need a hundred more. Perhaps then— or at least I had hoped we could work on another aspect of the project together.”
“Really? I think that will be agreeable. I am rather curious as to what you have been working on.”
“Yes, you will not be learning that. Just helping with a different aspect.”
“Of course.”
The following four exams are equally as easy. The most challenging question requires you to label a diagram of the haim body for creation magic. The goal to pass any exam is eighty percent. Yet, you need ninety percent to continue down that specialization, leading me to consider which classes, aside from amalgamations, I will continue to study. After my final exam, mage Phylius hands me a small scroll directing me to the same building used for the entrance exam.
A wet bag of nerves arrives at the familiar door with shaking hands. I enter the lobby after fumbling with the knob and look at the desk attended by the person I had met there earlier. Upon noticing, they wave me through the door leading down the hallway to the room where I awoke last time.
During my entrance exam, they must have supplanted mental magic in me early or as we walked down the hallway since I don't remember sitting in this chair, making mental magic only that can bypass my innate defenses. I sit in the chair and ready myself with full knowledge of what will happen.
“Lay back and relax,” they instruct.
After several moments of silence, nothing happens.
“Are you fighting me?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Huh?” They huff, lifting their hands from my head and exiting the room.
Moments later, they re-enter with a few other mages, each taking a turn placing their hand on my head, retreating to a corner of the room to converse. The snippets I hear imply that they are having trouble entering my mind. Finally, they all come over and place their hands on each other in a chain leading to the oldest, who sits beside me.
The wrinkled hands land on my head before their owner speaks softly, “I need you to focus on lowering your defenses and letting us in.”
“I am.”
The rising pressure in the spots they touch is discomforting, almost like two portions of my head collapsing into my mind, compared to letting someone into my mind palace, where the latter felt like opening a door, this felt like tearing down a wall. It's difficult to concentrate on opening my mind to the sensation until, several minutes later, a crashing crack throws me out of consciousness.
“You will be in darkness while we set everything up. Try to stay calm.” A voice silences the silence, distorting High Mage Castillio’s baritone. “After much consideration, we saw fit to do it this way, primarily in response to your unusual affinities. We felt a single exam would be the fairest way to measure your capabilities simultaneously. Be wary, for danger lies ahead.”