First Halo of Ciazel,
Atera,
Hall of Eons
-One week later-
Element(s): Metal—Sub-Element: Coldsteel
Discipline Corridor Performance
Stage One [Traversal Discipline] - Failed
Stage Two [Discipline of Invocation] - Cleared
Stage Three [Discipline of Conjuration] - Cleared
Stage Four [Discipline of Manipulation] - Failed
Stage Five [Discipline of Fortification] - Failed
Stage Six [Discipline of Alteration—Subset Tested: Attenuation] - Failed
Estimated Path of Novice Efron: Striker
Same old, same old.
The past tedious week had been spent within the Discipline Corridor, redoing the same exercises relentlessly. Results proved conclusive, as Instructor Hawke would answer, though Val believed damning to be the better word. It was gratifying that her brain seemed hardwired to invocation; the few spells memorized became more than techniques—they were additional limbs to aid her in times of need.
That was where it ended, sadly.
Besides conjuration, a lingering strain trailed each discipline, resulting in a failed spell or nothing at all. With a sigh, she chucked the crumpled DCP report into the nearby trash and popped a candy in her mouth.
Clad in a dark long-sleeve that seamlessly fell over her black cargo pants, her pastel windbreaker and coffee-coloured winter boots gave her outfit a much-needed pop. On the upside, she entered the debrief room in clothes she picked—comfortable, fashionable, and winter-friendly.
Attention glued to her phone, Caro carried on oblivious to the looks snuck her way. Her grey sweater-dress draped over denim pants and she styled her crimson curls half-up in a bun, the rest cascading down the length of her back to match her painted nails. Surprised no one’s sent any anonymous gifts yet.
Slipping through the rows of school desks, Val dragged a plastic chair out and sat. “Thanks for dropping off my brothers. Got a few extra hours of sleep.”
“I’m just shocked you asked for help before you became a sleep-deprived undead vying for coffee from the depths of the most unsaintly corners.” She threw a thumbs-up. “Shows improvement!”
“Hilarious,” Val deadpanned, face blank. “Andy wasn’t too bad?”
Caro avoided eye contact. “No comment.”
Val tapped her shoulder. “You’re the best.”
“Oh, I know.” She arched her shoulder and smiled. “I’ll be expecting a LIE gift card under my pillow tonight.”
“Is there still time to retract my compliment?”
“Never.”
“Okay,” Instructor Hawke addressed the class, cutting across their conversation. “How did you guys take the Discipline Corridor? Any last questions before the upcoming test?”
A hand shot up in an instant.
Instructor Hawke muttered under her breath at the person in question. “Go ahead, Novice Alfred.”
Alfred rose from his seat, placing an earnest palm on his chest. “You see, I’m a geo mage. With an element like that, aren’t I supposed to be versed in the Discipline of Fortification?”
He raised a sheet, cheeks flared. “On the DCP, it says I failed that stage for the fifth time. I’ve only passed manipulation and conjuration, but that won’t help me when I plan on becoming a Bulwark. What are the chances of me specializing as a decent defensive mage?”
Earning nods from a good slice of the room, a fire burned under his speech. “Fifty percent of the class with elements similar to mine have the same problem—half of us can’t cast any fortifying spells! Only, it seems, invocation!”
“Stop yelling, it’s unbecoming of a mage when uncalled for,” she berated.
“But—!”
“I said stop.” Instructor Hawke lounged her forearms on the podium, not bothering to add an iota of aura behind her words. Stray conversations were extinguished and eyes previously on devices badly-hidden underneath desks were raised.
“That’s what specialization is for. During the first week of school, you’ll be passed through a process where you gain an understanding of the desired discipline at the price of limiting the rest. Does it help to be versed in the discipline beforehand? Of course,” she answered her own question. “At the end of it all, yes, if you desire that Path it will become a reality. The World Magocracy ensures it.”
“Oh.” The wind in his sails vanished. “Will I still be able to use manipulation?”
“Only if you’re talented enough to push through the limitations,” she answered. “That remains to be seen. Any other questions?”
Val’s head tilted slightly to the side at the implication of the instructor’s words. Her common understanding was that it was required to be adept in each discipline in order to become an able mage. The instructor eradicated any notion of that kind, informing the class that a mage was forced onto a single discipline—to tread down one path, no matter the drawbacks, unless talented enough to be in the minority.
Yet, a deeper problem existed.
“Wait.” Val pushed her chair back as she stood. “Invocation is directive—I need my element present to cast.”
“Correct.”
“Metal isn’t common when walking about though, especially when considering my sub-element. If one day, I specialize in invocation and become unable to use the Discipline of Conjuration, how would I cast? Wouldn’t I be… useless?”
“Who says you aren’t right now?” Flamesworth jabbed in.
Caro shot her a withering glare. “And we asked for your opinion when?”
“Girls, quiet or outside. Choose one.”
The pair’s chin snapped up. The Magus continued at the lack of rebuttals. “Habitually, metal mages become Bulwarks, focusing on fortification and omitting the requirement of needing proximate sources. You could always specialize in that Path when the time comes.”
“I… I can’t,” Val confessed. In far recesses of her mind, she believed herself a wielder of an Aether Artifact. Invocation worked best with a close-range weapon and a single glance at Aster conveyed her intention to the mage.
“That’s fine,” the instructor said. “Cases like yours can be solved by two general methods. The first is to just bring the element along with you. However, the optimal way is, and forever will be, familiars. Fair warning. They are expensive. The lowest of their kind starts at 100K Qun.”
“100, 000 rednotes?” Caro exclaimed. “That’s unreal.”
“Which is why you’ll see the first method around often,” the instructor said. “It’s cost-efficient.”
Val frowned at the prospect. She understood why the World Magocracy likely began the entire system. It ensured mages didn’t find themselves in Alfred’s situation—bound to an element yet paired with a clashing discipline. However, that forced those happy where they were to move into a slot, restraining their routes unless talented enough to be in the minority.
“Could I say no to this… ‘rite of specialization?’” Val asked.
“On the condition that you want to become a rogue mage,” the Magus nodded. “Be my guest.”
At the counter, she had no choice except to return to her seat. This doesn’t bode well.
“If that is all,” Instructor Hawke tapped her sheets on the lectern. “Make sure you and your designated team are ready for the upcoming test this afternoon. Those who pass go on to become adventurers. Everyone else? You require an extra week of training. Dismissed.”
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Stretching the shorts that hiked up after sitting for minutes on end, Val jogged across the EC-room to join her team huddle.
“Okay, everyone. Let’s not mess up like the other groups, yeah?” Novice Alfred traced the five gazes within the circle.
Flamesworth scrunched up her nose, her pale face wrinkling as she squinted. “If there's anyone who has to watch out on this randomized team, it'd be you, a Bulwark who can’t cast any fortification spells.” She flicked her head at Val. "And Miss non-existent ASC over here.”
“Hey I got that handled,” he countered. “And so does Val.”
The girl rolled her hazel eyes. “If you say so.”
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“Alright enough, role call. Now.”
“Novice Yukio, Hunter.”
“Novice Efron, Striker.”
“Novice Flamesworth, Support.”
“Novice Greene, Anchor.”
“Novice Alfred, Bulwark. Alright team,” he called out, “We forge, we fight!”
“We live with might!”
Breaking out of the meeting, the set of teammates filled out the bench behind. Novice Yukio climbed onto the hoisted platform of an authentic Casting Circle a few meters in front, insides fogged by energy force shields.
Val took a knee within a red circle, the chalk on the smooth floors nearly an eyesore. She leaned into the Congruence of Prevalent Essence in hopes the timed breaths would ease her fidgeting.
“Team Alfred.” Instructor Hawke strolled up to the Novices, giving a satisfied nod at their positions. “If you pass the test, you are considered full-fledged adventurers of Age of Atera. I understand if you cannot cast the correct discipline to accomplish your task. However, I ask for the same result. Am I heard?”
“Yes, Instructor Hawke!”
“Good. As is required, I’ll read out the responsibilities expected out of each and every one of you once you step foot in a rift. These are big tasks and this test doesn’t begin to display a sliver of what to expect in the real deal,” she informed. “That being said, trust your training. It will assist you more than it will ever hinder you.”
It was the moment Instructor Hawke’s pitch-black shades landed on Val did she notice her unmoving hand. Her heart remained steady and the grip on her sheathed weapon firm. I’m ready.
“We go in order,” the instructor announced, sauntering away to the connected viewing room. “Hunter, be at the ready.”
Yukio Yamamato was East Continental, his name uncommon by Zingese standards of the southern sects. He stood no taller than Val at 5’6, dark eyes peeking out beneath his raven bangs. Brandishing his kunai and spinning it in his grasp, he lowered himself into a wide stance as a cloudhound foamed into a full shape.
“Lightning Steps.”
The pungent odour of ozone pervaded the air, sneaking past the protective measures to invade Val's nostrils. Casting a traversal spell, teal bolts scattered at Yamamoto’s feet.
“As a hunter, you are the dagger of the team,” Instructor Hawke’s voice resounded through the many sound crystals in the room.
Yamamoto paid no mind and rushed at the summon, a hundred meters away. Once he reached the hound’s vicinity, it barked in bewilderment, confused as he disappeared from its vision with a simple sidestep.
“You reside in the planes of obscurity and speed, allowing you to get in, cut a fatal blow to the enemy, and get out.”
From the rear, Novice Yamamto stabbed his weapon through the cloudhound’s neck and a spray of mist-like liquid ejected outwards. Retrieving his kunai, he darted out of the ring using the last of the electrical energy filling his veins, finishing his turn in the span of ten seconds.
Val didn’t wait to hop into the field. Uncovering her arm-length weapon, she threw the sheath outside the force field. Gripping the hilt of her weapon in one hand, she stretched out the other and began to recite the incantation to one of her spells.
“Striker, you are the blade of any squad.”
Instructor Hawke’s summon raced across the Casting Circle. Remaining idle as it bounded forward, she dodged underneath the dog's leaping attack, slicing its bottom with an arcing strike of her sword.
“You are entrusted to slay a singular enemy as swiftly as you blink, responsible for taking care of the major threats with ease.”
It whimpered, licking its injured wounds. Val didn’t waste the opportunity. “Metal Spike!”
“Your team relinquishes all close-range attacks to you. Ensure that you deliver.”
The air temperature dropped.
Conjuring a Glazen nail at its feet, she was appalled to find the summon swerve to the side in a quick roll. I’m not letting you off that easy.
Letting the spell settle, Val wove the invocation frame of configure into the misaimed spell. The spike elongated and curved unnaturally, warping its sharp end to the right and finding her target. While thrilled at her success—evident by the small smile on her lips—she exited the ring seconds after the confirmed kill.
“Supports, you are the arrows. Contrary to your name, you become the catalyst of destruction.”
Flamesworth ambled in at the instructor's words, taking the time to crack each of her fingers. Hand outstretched, her lips moved swiftly as she uttered an incantation.
Four cloudhounds appeared this time, barking as they ran toward the idle mage.
“Utilize the real estate of casting spells beyond your rank, leveling droves of enemies from afar.”
She’s still reciting? Val, alongside her teammates on the bench, winced as Flamesworth remained motionless, concentrating on a spell possessing an obscene incantation time. The hounds were nearly upon the Auricean—crossing the last twenty meters—when the fire mage finally opened her eyes.
“You are in charge of all long-range attacks.”
A frightening grin split her Flamesworth’s lips, hazel irises taking on a crimson glow. “Fire Barrage!”
An array of four fireballs burned around her, erasing the lingering chill of Val’s spell. Chasing after the hounds using some kind of homing system to make up for conjuration’s lack of freedom, it did away with each hound in a matter of three seconds. Heavens.
The light in an elementalist’s eyes was a milestone any Novice would be happy to reach. The Mage’s Mark, as it was often called, spoke of ample elemental affinity. Regular for the average mage, scary for a Novice four weeks into her career.
A smirk dosed in a healthy amount of arrogance spread across her face. Novice Flamesworth flicked her red hair up as if to flaunt her status to the audience, meandering off as the next mage scampered in.
“Boy does she piss me off,” Alfred muttered.
“Anchors, you are the crux of survival within rifts.”
Novice Greene readied herself, eyes narrowed in concentration. Three cloudhounds were summoned for her, more than Val’s and yet less than the stuck-up fire mage.
“Your crowd control skills saves lives and enables defensive constructs with limitless range.”
Howling at the ceilings as one, the summons ran in her direction.
“Field of Roses!”
A layer of luxuriant roses bloomed across the entire battlefield ring, as if spring. Sharp thorns marked the green stems, slowing down the cloudhounds as they refrained from stepping inside the death trap.
“As per your name, you anchor your team in stability and render the enemy motionless with your spells.”
“A Rose’s Grasp!”
The transition was brutal—from docile, nice-looking plants to vicious shrubbery hungry for prey. Stems snatched and ensnared the summons and it wasn’t long before they disappeared with a poof, unable to recieve the sustained damage. Fortification and manipulation.
Val was starting to realize she wasn’t the only creative mage inside the room.
Novice Greene high-fived Novice Alfred on the way out. “You got this.”
He dipped his chin in, exhaling. “You know it.”
“Bulwarks, you are the bastion of defence, the shield to all, carrying a burden you alone share.”
One cloudhound materialized, thrice the size of its siblings, reaching Val’s height on all-fours.
“Earthen Block!”
Novice Alfred conjured a slab of packed-dirt as tall as him, yet he didn’t throw it as one would expect. Instead, while the jumbo-cloudhound leaped in his direction, he casted three more. Lining the corners of each brick, his hard work created a square-shaped barrier around himself. He’s planning on waiting it out.
“As the first line you must paradoxically act as the last line. When you fall there remains a high chance that your teammates will follow after you.”
Alfred grunted as he kept his wall afloat with his body alone. He leaned hard against the walls as the summon clawed, furiously wanting its victory. Val sucked in an anxious breath, spectating what could be the end of their month of hell amidst a line of nervous midborn—her teammates.
Root yourself,” Instructor Hawke commanded, “and become immovable.”
“C’mon,” Val muttered, attention on Alfred, “just thirty seconds more.”
The time limit stretched on for years and, as it ran out, the giant summon disappeared in a grand show of light. The walls of earth disassembled and he collapsed onto the ground, hands on his forehead as he heaved hefty ounces of air.
Novice Greene bolted to the Casting Circle, her bob of blonde hair bouncing at the movement. “You okay?”
“...yeah,” Alfred managed to get out. He gave her a thankful nod, turning to the one-way glass. “She’s not finished just yet.”
“Pillars,” Instructor Hawke went on inside the viewing room. “Embody your namesake and become the columns that props the entirety of your group forward. Whether you supplement your allies or attenuate the enemy, your spells are the ones we ride or die on. You are the reason a team can continue to fight battle after battle.
“These are the duties sworn upon each Path and since this batch of trainees happens to have no Pillars…” Instructor Hawke paused, and Val could hear the slightest of smiles in her tone. “You all pass.”
“Yes!”
“Woohoo!”
Novice Greene and Alfred fist-bumped.
Flamesworth dusted a shoulder. “You're welcome.”
The EC-room panels slid aside and Instructor Hawke entered through, tapping furiously on a tablet. “I will register you all as tested today; however, it’d be smart to remember that nothing is permanent until rite of specialization. You all have roughly seven months left of experimentation. Use it.
Instructor Hawke passed them a folder. “Being an official adventurer means more access, and more access means more floors to wander. Explore while you can and for the last time—dismissed.”
Val conducted a mage’s bow, palm across the chest and the other idle against the thigh. “Thank you, Instructor Hawke!”
“Thank you!” a few of her teammates echoed, ambling out of the room as the next group filed in. Val followed suit, cleaning off beads of her sweat and fighting off thoughts of hitting the showers. First, phone.
Heading back inside the viewing room and picking up her device, it buzzed within her hand. Val opened the chat at once.
CareBear: did ya pass?
Val grinned, pads of her finger flying across the digital keyboard.
Valory. E.: Alfred somehow came through
CareBear: aye nicee, u know what this means?
Valory. E.: …no?
CareBear: shopping time!
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Several hundred rednotes lighter, two Strikers loitered in the guildhall’s ground floor. The pair beheld the bulletin board spanning across the mahogany walls. Brimming with quests, notices, exclamation marks and vivid colours vying for their attention, it wasn’t hard for an unsuccessful fifteen minutes to fly by.
Her attention couldn’t help wander to her clothing and took an absurd amount of self restraint to withhold her grin. Decked out in full adventurer attire, she swept her cloak away to note the toolbelt attached to the soft pelt. Lucent capsules sparkled in the light. The liquids trapped inside rocked as her fingers slid by.
Seven lapis-blue crystals sat in the repositories, each an aether potion used to regenerate energy on-the-go. The rest were varying elixirs, able to boost aspects from her cognitive ability to her elemental affinity. On the verge of cataloging the few scrolls she could afford to buy, Caro drew her attention.
“Oh, I found a good one!”
Val followed her friend’s gaze, scanning the sheets pinned onto the request board. “In need of two bodyguards to watch my daughter train.”
“Nah, not that one.” She shook her head and jabbed a finger elsewhere. “This one.”
“A squad looking for two temporary Strikers. Will be asked to come on later jobs if determined to be qualified,” Val enunciated. “First Dive @Copper Rift: Ashless Forest. Temporary fills will receive all the energy cores harvested. Time required to meet up: Febus 17 at 8:00 am.”
“Sooo.” Caro pointed at the paper. “We in?”
Val plucked the pin off and snatched it, beginning the walk to the registration desk. “Definitely.”