“Can you tell me again why I’m doing this?” Marissa complained as she whipped through the pages of the book.
“To unravel mysteries unknown to me.” I explained for the third time.
“That’s what I can’t get an edge on. Why is this book so important?” Those words expressed how she hadn’t paid any attention to what she was reading.
“Mainly for two reasons,” I told while I examined my notes about the anthology. “Firstly, this is one of the secrets I kept, and I’m trying to weaken the leash that I’m keeping on them as you may have experienced.”
“And secondly?” Her blue eyes were now separated from the book yet avoiding my gaze after my words.
“And secondly, this is probably the most powerful and insidious spellbook magic in Ferilyn.” I left my notes on the table.
The laidback Marissa suddenly straightened her posture when she heard those words. An ignorant attitude transformed into calculated carefulness.
“And why’s that?” A drop of sweat flowed down from her forehead. What was she expecting? Even if I was being intentionally ominous, such a reaction was totally uncalled for.
“Well, whoever wrote this book was the most knowledgeable mystic of all time. Excelling both in psychimancy, animomancy, and necromancy.” Marissa twitched slightly at the mention of necromancy but didn’t prey any further. “Tens of original spells that whoever managed to cast them would be able to take a whole country.”
“A-and how is that a book of this caliber is found at a library and available to anyone?” Marissa stuttered briefly as she wholeheartedly believed my claim after my last revelation.
“Elementary, my dear Marissa.” An unknown yet familiar expression escaped my mouth. “That is the mystery we have to unravel.”
“The mystery of who wrote this plentiful tome. Hmm…” Marissa murmured something as she inspected a page. “Mystic’s Dominion, what’s this?”
“A very tenebrous ten-star spell, I’m afraid.” I removed the book from her hands, so the knowledge won’t taint her mind. “The highest spell in this book is an eleven-star, but this is the most problematic by far. The eleven-star spell is just a mishmash of animomancy, necromancy, and psychimancy, but Mystic’s Dominion is the pure representation of psychimancy. I’m mostly sure that just the knowledge of such spell is illegal in and of itself.”
“Which’s the eleven-star one?” I had managed to distract her with the presence of a higher-tiered spell, though most likely she was actively avoiding it after my last statement.
“Something about liches and phylacteries,” I told to her as I closed the book. “A spell to reach immortality at the price of your own body, leaving only your soul and mind. In some way, it could be considered a way of transcendence. You know, being immortal and rejecting one’s physicality.”
“You aren’t going to revive the dead and lead a kingdom of undeath, are you?” Marissa joked while her gaze was distracted by the notes scattered around the table.
“If I did, I would prefer an empire. Emperor has a nicer ring to it.” I followed her. “But with more seriousness, I am yet to pierce the veil towards the eighth tier.”
“Didn’t you learn an eight-star spell this Scorch?” Marissa inquired.
“Yes.” I nodded. “But I think it was only a fluke. Not only it’s a low-level eight-star spell, but I have yet to create any proficiency with the spell, or even conjure a spell of equivalent difficulty.”
“Hmm…” Marissa pondered to herself with a groan. “The fact that you even managed, even if by a fluke, when an eighth-grade student like Olivia is yet to learn them, is scary.” Her voice emitted no fear unlike her words may have suggested.
“Well, she's neither a genius girl that had actively practiced magic from her crib, nor does she possess a certain affinity level.” I elevated my right hand in the air in a dramatic pose.
“I hate how after you revealed it to me you are compelled to boast it at any opportunity you have,” Marissa said with a pout.
“Decades of abstinence, Marissa. Decades.” I had become one with my drama queen as I got up from my sitting and danced around the table. “Unable to boast my superiority all over my fellow ellari.”
“Wait, all of these spells are original?” Marissa asked as she ignored me to take a look at the lists I had laid across the table.
I sighed. “Yes, every spell that hasn’t been crossed out is original from the book or isn’t redacted in any of the spells of the library. Though I suspect at least a third is from the latter category as not every ‘original’ spell follows the same methods and procedures.”
“Hmm.” Marissa pondered while she read the names on the lists. “Do you think the library has like a forbidden section and whoever wrote this book was actually importing spells from there? Look at this spell name ‘Immolation’ seems pretty forbidden to me.”
“Oh, that spell? I’m pretty sure that’s an original, it is one of the eleven spells required to cast Mystic’s Dominion.” Marissa looked at me as if I had killed the most beloved pet that she didn’t have in front of her.
“Now I’m not so sure if I want to know about that spell.” Her expression was complicated. I mentally sighed. That was what put her off? “How do you even know the requirements?”
“The book describes them.” I taciturnly said. “What did you expect? That I had analyzed a ten-star spell and deduced all of this?”
“Maybe.” Marissa responded in a happy-go-lucky tone.
“You really have high standards of me.” I inspected the Immolation spell to make sure it was the spell I was thinking of; this anthology had so many spells and I got confused from time to time.
“How could I not to after your revelation?” She rhetorically enquired. “Between your affinities and this book, your power level is one of legends.” Her voice was dreamy, imagining impossible things. “By the way, have you told the librarians about it?”
“Of course not.” I may have sounded too offended at the question for my liking. “This book is the closest to a cursed grimoire that this academy has, the librarians would burn it or keep it to themselves if I revealed such truth.”
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“Oh, so there’s a spark of evilness inside of you. You aren’t a saint after all.” Marissa spoke in a dramatic manner. “Oh, what will happen of this pure lady against this insidious and bottomless evil~”
“I will corrupt you in the darkest penumbra, my fair lady.” I grabbed Marissa’s soft hand. “Your soul will be consumed by my never-ending oblivion.”
“Oh, I can’t let that happen, what would be about a lady like I if I cannot withhold my own purity~” She put her free hand on top of the other, in an act of trying to escape from my grip.
“Then let me be who keeps it~” I pulled her closer to me.
Marissa yanked free from my grip with ease. “Time’s over.” Her face had obtained a pinkish palette. “Weren’t we here to investigate the origins of the book?” She said to put the conversation back on track.
“Of course, my fair lady.” I teased her before returning to the matter.
There were clues that I hadn’t had yet opportunities to search for, and with the extra manpower of a helper, things would go smoother. In the end, we stayed until the sun had set in the library. A linger of pink was still traceable on Marissa’s expression.
*******
“I challenge you to a duel!” A random blue student told me as I walked around the main square.
“And I refuse politely.” I didn’t lose my cool even after every person at the plaza looked at us.
“I will never stop requesting.” It seems it was another of these muscle-headed people.
Tired of all this crap that followed after my demonstration of magical prowess almost a month ago, I let my mana loose. The man’s face became rigid and terrified as he struggled to move, his soul pinned to the place.
“I swear if another damned student challenges me to a duel, I’m going to rupture their soul in such a gruesome way that historians down the eons would have trouble finding the last of its shards!” I was really fed up with them.
For some godforsaken reason, my duel instead of inspiring fear gave the brave and bold people an excuse to meet an impossible challenge, to defeat the unbeatable arcanist. A funny story came from all this mess, though. No one knew I had used soul magic as it was invisible, and they thought I was downing all my challengers at distance with my arcane supremacy.
The morons believed I had so much mana that a brief exposure to my mana pool was inducing them paralysis and fear. It was laughable how stupid they were. And I did give some clues that I am a psychimancer, or at least, a soul mage. I just did it with my last statement as a matter of fact. This only proves these people were scatterbrained. Rupturing someone’s soul isn’t an arcanist thing, though not entirely impossible to be honest.
And honestly, such a reaction was so funny that I kept to myself and my friends that I was using psychimancy most of the time. Being praised, and somewhat feared, as a mighty arcanist felt good.
“Is that all it? Or do you want me to actually use all my might on the battlefield?” I asked the paralyzed blue dude in front of me.
To which he responded with a muffled mumble, impossible to understand, yet clearly denoting negation.
“Then get out of my sight,” I told as I liberated my hold in its soul. “Now!” He began running away, and a sigh escaped my lips. “This is getting tedious.”
“This is what fame does to a person, or rather, infamy.” A mature voice said at my back.
“Hi Olivia, long time no see.” My voice reeked of tiredness, but I didn’t give a damn.
“You’ve been occupied by what I can see,” Olivia said in a friendly mock. “Saphar’s safe and alive, though a bit saddened lately if it nudged your conscience.”
“Not really, the bastard deserves every last drop of torment he got.” My conscience was crystal clear. “Though I won’t deny that the latter part has put a smile on my face.”
“That bastard you are talking about is a high noble from my family.” Against her wording, Olivia didn’t sound anywhere offended.
“Accompany me, there are too many prying eyes here.” I suggested to my senior as half of the people at the square gave us occasional looks.
“Surely, milord.” She bowed slightly, an obviously trained move.
“If I remember correctly, Sylvia commented that she would send a soul healer to help with his problems.” I avoided saying his name. This whole ordeal was his fault, to begin with. “What did the expert say?”
“Let me recall…” Olivia hummed a melody while she reminisced. “She said it was the first time she had seen a soul agitated that badly, but there was not a sign of damage on Saphar’s soul.”
“Of course, his soul was unphased, I’m a professional on what is related to the soul. Unlike a certain pyromancer who botched a high seven-star spell and greatly paid for it.” I added the last part with a hint of venom.
“I don’t think that having someone hijacking your spell could be considered a failure.”
“My hold on his Scorch Ray, I think it was called, was rather rudimentary, so if he had a spec of intelligence on his person, he could’ve freed himself from my yoke.”
“Talking about your yoke… what did you exactly do to that boy?” Unlike the blue boy, Olivia’s expression was purely out of academic curiosity instead of primordial terror.
“I overwhelmed him with my plentiful soul.” I explained.
“Is this some kind of euphemism a sophisticated maiden like I is too pure to understand?” I couldn’t identify if she was joking or being serious.
“I think you are dirty-minded if that’s the first thing it comes to your mind,” I told. “And no, I was being literal. My soul is bigger and more powerful than your average mage by a lot. As a matter of fact, half my mana pool is located on my soul.”
“Half? Isn’t a tenth the normal proportion?”
I recalled Novela, the shopkeeper, telling me that a few years ago. Was such a claim because of a verified census among the mage population or alike? I couldn’t find the origin of the claim after investigating for a while. Just sparse mentions. Maybe it was more akin to a given fact or absolute truth and no one actually bothered to investigate it.
“You said it you it yourself, normal, common, average.” I emphasized the last word. “I’m not a normal mage, I’m a mystic, dear.” Mystic was the fancy way to call a soul mage, because saying two words instead of one is tedious and clearly requires a lot of energy. And basically worked the same way as mage did with sorcerer and wizard. It was a general word for animomancer and psychimancer.
“Weren’t you an arcanist?” How many times had I been asked this exact question this year?
“I’m a lot of things. But yes, I’m primarily those two, though people usually identify me soul-ly as an arcanist thanks to my prodigious mana-weaving abilities.”
“Such a prodigious dual-wielder.” Olivia said, clearly ignoring my genius wordplay.
“Actually. Didn’t I tell you this already at the beginning of the course?” I recalled our meeting before the school year began.
“Sure, but at that moment I thought you were presuming of a single spell that you had loosely practiced, instead of actually being focused on an entirely different field of magic.”
“You are right about one thing; I do like to boast. But that’s true with everyone.” I replied. “But I’m more interested in the uncanny valley made by my abilities. My mana-weaving and soul magic are invisible, imperceptible to the untrained eye, so I take a bit of pride in my arts when no one is able to distinguish which type of magic I’m using at the moment.”
“An invisible attack and defense, huh,” Olivia commented as she seemed to recall my duel against that noble. “It does seem like you are a formidable enemy on the battlefield.”
“That’s not entirely true, any arcanist or mystic would be able to see my actions easily.”
“I do understand your concern about arcanists, but how many soul practitioners, let alone full-blown mystics, have you seen in the academy?”
“That’s indeed a very good point.” I stopped dead in my tracks. “But I fear that’s the end of our shared journey.” I pointed with my open hand at the entrance of the library.”
“Oh, well.” Olivia sounded disappointed by my fast entrance and faster departure. “It was a pleasure meeting you again.”
“Likewise.” Akin to my first meeting with her, I carefully grasped her hand and kissed it.
Olivia was wrong about one thing in our conversation though. It wasn’t needed to be a soul practitioner to sense my soul magic, only to be used to those arts. Because Marissa was now capable of sensing the spiritual world.
Such was the result after countless hours we poured the two of us at the academy library trying to decipher the enigma that was the nameless anthology. Though my investigation ended up being more like: I investigated, Marissa stood to the side throwing quirky quips.
And I wanted to make clear I wasn’t complaining. Such a task was brain-numbing and having someone to talk to was greatly appreciated.
Marissa did come to the library some days, but not always. And when she did, more often than not, was to help her with homework. And the curious part was that she didn’t do it because she had trouble with her homework (she was doing better than I in some subjects) but because she couldn’t get in the mindset to do them.
Marissa was that, a young genius too lazy to grow onto greater heights.