“Argh, what are ya’ doing?” A sleepy Adrian interrupted my meditation.
My roommate was awakened by the rays of violet-colored sunlight coming through the window in the middle of the wall. I opened my eyes and uncrossed my legs looking at the laid boy.
“Meditating, can’t you see it?” I told him.
“Yes, yes I can.” He got up with a groan and rubbed his eyes. “I meant why are ya’ doing it at six in the morning?” How does he know what time it is now?
“I meditate daily,” I replied. “And because school-day begins early that means I have to meditate early.”
“Weirdo.” He said laying back on the bed.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t go back to sleep.” I lectured him. “Classes begin at eight.”
“I’m aware, five minutes more,” Adrian told with a yawn. “Can you wake me up, please?”
“Sure. But only five minutes.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He affirmed as he went back to sleep.
Classes began at eight, so waking up around six gave me an hour to meditate and one hour to have breakfast at the academy cafeteria. Then we would have four straight hours of classes, and the school day would be over at lunch.
While four hours seemed few for a school schedule, one must have in mind that days only lasted twenty hours, and there were special days where we had laboratories or extra classes that modified the school timetable. And besides, years were longer here, and the academy’s full run spanned twenty years. So, it reduced the daily student load, but extended the student loan, if you get what I mean.
*******
“I still can’t believe ya only let me sleep for five minutes.” Adrian said for the umpteenth time.
“And I still can’t believe why are you still gnawing me over that?” We walked across the academy’s corridors as we already had breakfast in the cafeteria. Nothing extravagant, common menu for all students.
“Can’t ya understand what a metaphor means?” What was he talking about?
I gave him a mean look. “A metaphor? Do you even know what that word means?”
“Hmm.” He scratched his chin. “Now that ya say it, I do not. Well, I haven’t looked at a dictionary for the word, but I do have an idea. No one has ever looked at the true meaning of a word either way.” Adrian had a point there.
I couldn’t hold my sigh. “Doesn’t matter. Anyways, hurry up or we will be late for the first class of the year.” I said after putting more effort into my trot. “Why did you take that much time eating breakfast?”
“Sorry that I tried to ENJOY a meal!” He half-shouted behind me.
In the end, we arrived at the classroom when it was only half-full. Around twenty minutes remained to the start of the session, it would seem we had put too much effort into our totally-not-running trot.
I discerned Marissa in one of the rows in the middle, something told me that she had come earlier so we wouldn’t seat in the first row. Didn’t she literally do that on the first day of school at our elementary education?
The class was a curious looking one. Instead of a more standardized experience like the one I had in my school at Thal’mer, this class irradiated ellari extravaganza. The tables were pretty low and made out of glass, with their legs having interesting floral motifs. And our seats were, unexpectedly for ellari culture, pillows.
The chalkboard was long, spanning through the whole room and reaching around fifteen meters. And it seemed to have an interesting contraption behind it that allowed it to rotate the separate panels which composed it.
“How weird that you are here earlier than me. You aren’t the most morning person I know of.” I told to Marissa as I sat next to her. “Is there any ulterior motive for it?” I asked being as discrete as an unleashed pyromancer at a marketplace.
“What? No.” She scoffed at me and disregarded the question. “Would you like to know my roommate?” Marissa pointed at the girl to her left to change the subject.
“Hi.” She saluted rather sheepishly. “I’m Monica Alquiem, nice to meet you.” I only know one thing, and it was that I liked her surname. Not as cool as mine, obviously, but pretty good sounding.
Monica was fairly short for ellari standards, lower than a meter eighty. She had mid-length hair, reaching up to her shoulders, of black color though closer to grey. Her skin tone was uncommon, whilst a violet, the girl possessed a fuchsia shade that was rarely seen. Her eyes followed her skin tone in fashion as her irises were bright pink. She also wore glasses, and bad sight wasn’t really prevalent on ellari in general, which piqued my interest.
But glasses weren't an uncommon thing in Ferilyn. Ellari were masterclass glassworkers, and even if it wasn’t because of bad sight, glasses tended to be a popular accessory. Though Monica didn’t give me the feeling of doing it for the current fashion.
“Edrie Nightfallen, the pleasure is mine.” I said as I grabbed her hand graciously and kissed it. Marissa was enraged by this, but unbeknownst to her, it was a way to taunt her.
“What are ya’, a noble?” Adrian joked at my back.
“No, but I know of a little thing called etiquette.” I threw him a jab.
“Name’s Adrian, last name Nagor.” He ignored me and presented himself to the girls.
“I’m Marissa Farlon, nice to meet you!” Marissa repeated Monica’s presentation but with an extra oomph that hers lacked.
“Oh, before I forget,” I said as I recalled. “Adrian here,” I pointed at him, “he’s an aeromancer like you, so you can teach yourselves out.”
“A fellow aeromancer? First time seeing one!” Marissa offered her hand. Unlike Monica’s what she wanted was a handshake.
“I’ll be counting on ya’, my magic is rather lacking.” Adrian responded to her handshake.
“Sure!” Marissa was enthusiastic about having a sparring partner.
“What about you, Monica?” I asked the taciturn girl.
“Emm, I’m a Force user.” She responded with some difficulties.
“What a shame, I would’ve loved to have a friendly arcanist to aid me.”
“Aid you?” Marissa chuckled. “It's more likely that you will help the teacher rather than needing it yourself.”
The background noise from the students began to fade out and we noticed that the teacher was walking toward the desk in the middle of the room. Our conversation died out, saving our words for when we lunch at the cafeteria.
“Looks like everyone’s here.” The teacher said as he dropped a folder ready to burst with papers on the desk. “I’m Henry Innit, and I will be your Applied Mathematics teacher for the following years.”
The blue man didn’t even write his name on the blackboard as you would’ve expected from a class presentation, he just stared at the class.
“As I suppose, you all have been notified of the inner workings of the academy through staff at the reception or the student’s handbook.” Henry lifted in the air the booklet so everyone could see it. “I may be the very first class for you, but all your doubts that aren’t related to my subject should be directed to the reception or academy counselors.”
I, indeed, had the handbook in my bag. While tedious to read, it was short enough that it could be read in less than an hour and it was incredibly informative. Not only it contained different maps of the massive academy’s campus, but who to contact in certain situations.
“This ends the presentation, now class will officially begin.” Mister Innit said formally. “As you well know, this subject is called Applied Mathematics, but one must know where these mathematics are applied to. The answer is simple enough: magic.”
The teacher took out chalk and began writing while he talked. “During this multiple-year long course, I will be teaching you how to apply mathematics to spellcasting in the utmost efficient way.” He was drawing a magic circle as he explained. “That’s because from the seventh star and so on, the difficulty on wizardry formulae tends to augment drastically, and the mana cost from sorcery more than doubles from the established curve.”
On the blackboard, before us laid a masterfully drawn magic circle. He had done a perfect circle with his bare hands. I recognized the formula.
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“This is a standard Magic Chip formula that everybody here must know.” His tone implied that if for some god-forsaken reason you didn’t, you shouldn’t be here. “And while you may see it as a fully optimized spell, that’s far from total optimization.”
For a brief moment, the whole class looked at the spell formula as if they were devouring it, I included. It seemed a perfectly optimized spell no matter how many times I watched it, yet the teacher’s words felt truthful.
“For the next two hours I will teach you basic Applied Mathematics, and at the end of the class, I want one of you to optimize further on this cantrip.”
Teacher Innit mainly went over the mathematical principles from basic education but added tidbits of information related to mana usage and leakage. Those two factors combined into what was called mana efficiency, and as Mister Innit described it, every wizard’s objective is to reach a hundred percent optimization.
Following a basic formula, he explained how it was theoretically possible to achieve perfect optimization, but it was almost impossible to do so in practice. While eighty-five to ninety-seven percent was what every spell manufacturer normally strived for (I am not making this up, it’s a real profession), past the ninety-seven mark the difficulty in optimization became exponential.
“Now that you have a shallow understanding of mana efficiency, I want to ask you one thing.” The teacher pointed at the magic circle that had been drawn since the beginning of the class. “What do you think is the efficiency of that Magic Chip? Don’t be nervous, give me a number.”
After a few seconds of silence where none talked, a boy in the first rows spoke. “Fifty percent?” He said it as a wild guess, reminiscent of his dubious tone.
“Eighty?” Another girl said at the other side of the room with the same speculation.
“Thanks for your answers, albeit of their lack of foundation.” Innit metaphorically slapped the volunteers in the face. “The real answer is ten. Ten percent!” He shouted.
This surprised us all. Yes, I was expecting to be a number far away from the ninety percent, but I wasn’t expecting the cantrip to work at a tenth of theoretical perfect efficiency. It was like saying a master pyromancer could cast ten Fireballs, while the apprentice could only do one at best; ignoring the difference between mana pool sizes in this analogy, of course.
“I can see that nobody expected such a response, but that’s indeed the truth.” The teacher told after a moment. “The two-star spell that everyone is used to works at such a low optimization metric. There are a lot of reasons why that’s the case, mainly safeguards for children, but that’s another subject. Now, I want all of you scribing a Magic Chip with more than half efficacy, and whoever thinks has made one that enters the ninety mark, I want them to step down here and write it on the board.” He gave a slap to the blackboard. “You can start now.”
Considering that already an hour and a half had passed and that this class lasted for two hours, we had less than twenty minutes to do so as there was a ten-minute recess between classes.
I had some insight on the matter as my self-studies as a mana weaver had guided me into books of mana manipulation and spell disconjuration. Doing a more than fifty percent efficiency Magic Chip was easy enough for me, so I went directly with the ninety percent one.
As teacher Innit had said, there were a lot of safeguards blocking the flow of mana into the spell, made to avoid overcharging them by unwise children, which I would have miissed if it weren’t for his instruction. And I recalled a young Marissa almost messing the cantrip, chipping away (pun intended) a chunk of the ceiling of my home, so those safeguards were mandatory for the spell to work on novices.
But I was a novice no more, these mechanisms were only an inconvenience, so they could be removed without trouble. Looking again at the example circle written by the teacher, I noticed self-imposed mana leakages on the spell.
Whilst the safeguard would shut down the spell on a ‘short-circuit’, the purposely located mana leakage glyph was a more proactive mechanism. It always deflected a portion of the supplied mana to the spell back to the outside, impeding a burst of mana overcharging the spell directly, as arcane mana tended to be poisonous in high quantities.
It was challenging removing all those unnecessary parts as they also served as connectors to the spell structure. You could remove a muscle from your body, but if you removed all of them your bones wouldn’t be able to stick together. A weird analogy, but it was surprisingly apt.
Adrian and Marissa to my side were writing furiously on their papers, to later discard their ink blobs and grab another paper. Monica took a more sensible approach, first scribing the example magic circle and slowly erasing the useless parts.
Monica’s way seemed the better one, and probably the one I would’ve used, but I was too lazy to bother. Devouring the circle with my eyes, I memorized the structure of the spell. Then removing everything that wasn’t needed to make the Magic Chip work in my mind.
That was what I wrote in my paper. There was an obvious problem with it, the magic circle was mostly blank and needed connectors. Using the right sigils for every situation was what marked the difference between an almost-perfect spell and one-half performance.
Spell composition was a strange subject. Most things that seemed logical in theory didn’t apply in practice. I didn’t know if that was because of my lack of experience on the matter, or if it was one of those magic fields that straight up didn’t make sense, just like magic itself sometimes.
“Five minutes remain.” The teacher told the class.
I could see some students spellcasting Magic Chip to then dispel it as we didn’t have a way to demonstrate the mana efficiency of a spell without directly spellcasting it. Mister Innit’s previous words hinted at a streamlined formula to do so, but he didn’t explain it.
I did the same as them, spellcasting a normal Magic Chip and then mine. The amount of mana needed for the latter was a fraction of the former, proving that I had succeeded to a certain degree. Though I was sure I wasn’t near ninety percent, I had surpassed the fifty mark for sure. I could spellcast more than five Magic Chips of mine with the quantity needed for a common one.
“Time’s up!” The teacher shouted and everyone, except a few who were ending, left their quill. “Now, who thinks has made a notoriously good spell that approaches the ninety percent efficacy?”
Some hands were rose across the classroom, but the one which surprised the most was the one on my left. Marissa had raised her arm.
While it was true that I hadn’t dedicated much effort to this exercise (as I already considered that I had the fundamentals) it was a surprise, nonetheless, that Marissa had come up with a result that she was willing to share.
“All who got their hands up, please come down and draw your magic circle.” Marissa and the other students got up. “You can grab chalk from the desk. Don’t worry if your writing isn’t perfect whilst is readable and coherent.” The teacher added at the end.
The students wielded their sketches with one hand and the chalk with the other, carefully copying their magic circles onto the board. Traces were slow as students took their time with being the most precise after heeding teacher Innit’s words. It didn’t really matter as the framework for the Magic Chip spell was composed of simple magic circles and simpler glyphs, or at least infinitely simpler than the ones I had grown used to with seven-star spells.
Mister Innit moved to a male student that had finished before the other ones. With a quick superficial glance, he examined the student’s sketch.
“Tell me, have you tried spellcasting this framework?” He asked.
“No, I didn’t have enough time.” The student responded a bit scared.
“Well, then try it now.” His tone evoked neutrality.
The student complied and spellcasted his own Magic Chip, only to have the glow at his index finger fizzle out before the projectile finished conjuring.
“What happened here is that your framework lacked cohesion.” That was my biggest worry whilst I had been doing my own sketch. “While you did remove the unnecessary parts and also simplified needlessly complex sigils, you forgot to interconnect the glyphs together, provoking a sizeable mana leakage. A mistake you would’ve noticed if you spellcasted it.”
Innit repeated this act on the rest of the students. As he drowned them in critique, he also gave them a share of compliments remarking on what they did correctly and how to actually correct their mistakes. Marissa was the next and last student.
“Let’s see the last one.” He told with neutrality as if sneering at the students' works was never his intent.
Every student followed the same pattern, eliminating the useless parts of the spell. Marissa was no different in intent, but the result wasn’t equal altogether.
“Hmm, interesting.” Teacher Innit showed a positive reaction as his first impression. “Why did you connect those parts together, miss?” The teacher pointed to a new connection between glyphs.
“Well, they were separated, weren’t they?” Marissa responded without really contributing anything to her defense. “I was told that mana needs to flow through a spell to work properly, so when you remove every unnecessary part and then optimize certain channels that you told us today, mana won’t flow. So, I connected them when I felt.”
“When you felt you say?” The teacher reiterated and Marissa nodded. “I see.” His expression was difficult. A mix between doubt and surprise. “While your technique is dubious at most, I can’t deny that you have made the best optimization out of the present. I would dare to say that is almost perfect, around a ninety-five percent of mana efficiency.”
Mister Innit congratulated Marissa, with a bit of sourness that is. I think I could understand him, Marissa wasn't stupid by any means, but this display of innate brilliance came out of nowhere. She had managed to do a great job in a short amount of time. I always needed to pressure her into work, maybe she worked better under stress?
Albeit of her occasional shortcomings, I couldn’t deny the girl was a genius.
“Now you have a ten-minute break before the next class, remember to be here before the class.” Innit told as he left the classroom.
“How did I do?” Marissa asked now at our side.
“You were incredible, Marissa.” Monica praised her.
“That’s right, I didn’t follow anything of it, but the teacher left open-mouthed!” Adrian said.
The methodical Monica had done a great job with his magic circle as I examined it while the students were drawing theirs on the blackboard. While not good as mine or Marissa’s she showed a great understanding of the subject. Adrian, he... umm... he tried. By any means he did badly, contrary to some students, his spell did work.
“What do you think, Edrie?” Marissa looked at me with puppy eyes.
"Surprised, of course,” I told her. “It’s good to see that you are excelling in a field of magic.”
“Mm?” Marissa did a noise with her mouth. “Is that jealousy that I see?” A smug plastered on her face.
“You wish.” I scoffed at her. “You need a few years before you can defeat me, success in one field is notorious, but you need more to shorten the difference.”
While I told it as a joke, it just struck me that I had been too harsh with her.
“E-” Before she could say anything, the teacher spoke as he entered through the door.
“That’s the break, everyone at their seats.” What do you mean? Not even two minutes had passed! “Hello everyone, I’m Henry Innit and I will be your Spell Cryptography teacher.”
The weird presentation surprised everybody. He was the same teacher as before, yet he presented himself once more. This lightened the atmosphere as I heard some laughs at my back. The man may have a stern and stoic expression, but also a healthy sense of humor.
“What’s spell cryptography, you ask?” No one did. “Spell Cryptography is a subject focused on overcomplicating spells and making them less efficient.” That description made no sense and directly contradicted what he had said at Applied Mathematics.
“Why though, you may be asking?” Now some were. “Mages, especially arcanists, are able to dispel not only their spells but also the ones from their target. This subject intends on complicating the spell to make it harder to dispel, and also studying how to encrypt and decrypt spells.”
As a mana weaver, I was no stranger to dispelling other people’s spells, whether through raw mana disruption or the mana absorbing properties of Mana Vacuum/Void.
“And as you may be aware, a great amount of Ferilyn’s population are arcanists, so dispelling is almost a second nature, so to speak.” Teacher Innit wrote on the board three magic circles, one standard Magic Chip, then the one done by Marissa, and the last one of his own work. “Is someone bold enough to come down here and try to dispel them against me?”
Well, it seemed that I would be now the one in the spotlight. I raised my hand.