The next test was control, Kor’s weakest area. Beth led the charge, bounding over to the table filled with mana puzzles that she’d spotted earlier. Even with all his recent studies, Kor had yet to come across such contraptions in any of the books he’d read. The name seemed obvious enough, but as they stepped up to the cube-like devices, he had the sneaking suspicion that he’d encountered a new foe.
“Have any of you used a mana puzzle before?” the assistant said. Only a few hands went up, and so he described their use.
“Start by feeling the cube with your mana sense. Each variation holds a small opening, leading to a maze-like structure inside. Your goal is to thread your mana through the maze. The puzzle walls are constructed from the same dark crystal that you just tested yourself against. They are thirsty for mana, so keep your flow under control if you don’t want to start from scratch. You complete the puzzle by reaching the core at the centre of the maze. Touch it with your mana, and it will light up, announcing your completion.”
Eager chatter broke out among the students as they gathered closer to inspect the puzzles. Kor swallowed, his throat prickling with dryness as he stepped up to the table, a faint dark aura emanating from them. There were more than enough for everyone to try at once, and the assistant’s instructions left no doubt that succeeding would open up tougher variations.
“Begin whenever you’re ready,” the assistant said, gesturing to the cubes.
Kor started by appraising the cube in front of him, his fingers twitching with apprehension as he sought the entrance. It took only moments for him to locate the small, faintly glowing opening. Now came the harder part—forming a thread of mana small enough to enter.
As he focused, it proved far more difficult than he’d expected. All the control work he’d done so far had been about creating shapes and forms, nothing requiring so delicate a touch. His mana resisted his attempts to compress it into a thin, precise line.
With a deep breath, he recalled the sensations of his first success with the mana sphere, loosening the reins of his control. He tried to guide his mana with a lighter touch, coaxing rather than commanding it. Oddly enough, that seemed to do the trick. The mana responded to his call with alacrity, spooling out into something resembling a piece of string.
Just as Kor was about to start, Kelleth’s puzzle box lit up. The bright glow illuminated his smug grin as he leaned back, muttering something under his breath that Kor didn’t quite catch. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself back to his own puzzle while the assistant moved to inspect Kelleth’s glowing cube.
Kor extended his string-like mana toward the opening, watching it wobble precariously. With careful precision, he guided it inside the cube. The sensation was strange—the walls around his mana felt almost alive, their subtle hunger pressing against his awareness as he navigated forward. He held his breath, his heart pounding as he concentrated on each tiny movement.
But even the slightest lapse in control was enough. His thread wiggled erratically, brushing against the crystalline wall. Instantly, the connection snapped, and his mana instantly dissipating. The cube remained inert, a silent testament to his failure.
Kor blinked twice, rubbing his glasses as if the problem lay there. Frowning in concentration, he began again. Around him, cheers erupted as Willem and Laylee’s puzzles lit up in quick succession. Their triumphant smiles sent a fresh wave of pressure crashing over him.
“Stay focused, Kor,” he muttered, his voice barely audible above the rush of blood in his ears. His heart pounded as he forced himself to steady his breathing. The cubes weren’t impossible—he’d seen others succeed. He just needed to find the right balance, to make his mana work with him instead of against him.
With renewed determination, Kor sent out his thread once more, his hands gripping the edges of the table tightly.
Even as many of the others passed the first mana puzzle, Kor still couldn’t even defeat the first hallway inside the maze. Wrangling his mana into shape was a battle of concentration and fine control. If he grew too forceful, his mana bucked wildly, resisting him. If he held it too loosely, it strayed beyond his grasp. It probably hadn’t helped that he’d pushed himself hard during the mana sphere test and still hadn’t fully recovered.
That was another factor he’d have to learn about—mana regeneration. He’d read about the various methods to restore it, like meditation, ambient mana absorption, and specialised techniques. But thanks to his large mana pool and poor control, he had yet to feel the pinch of dwindling reserves. Today, though, he had felt the first stirrings of that limitation.
Eventually, the assistants called an end to the test. Kor sighed in quiet defeat, releasing his mana tendril. He wasn’t alone in failing, yet the knowledge offered little comfort. A few of the others hadn’t completed the first puzzle either, their faces mirroring his frustration.
‘If I could get my hands on one of these,’ Kor thought, eyeing the cubes longingly, ‘it would do wonders for practice.’ He dreaded to think about what they might cost. If most of the students hadn’t encountered them before, they were likely rare or prohibitively expensive.
His thoughts were interrupted as the assistants began guiding them to the next test—mana sensing. Kor swallowed nervously, his recent practice with Lena flashing in his mind. Even with that, he doubted he’d impress here.
This test required each student to stand blindfolded while various magical devices were activated around the room. The task was to identify and point out the locations of each mana source, starting with the most obvious, a bright beacon of power, and ending with faint, barely perceptible flickers.
Kor struggled from the outset. The first few sources were easy enough, their radiance like beacons in the dark. But as the test progressed, the subtler signatures eluded him. His senses, still clumsy and unrefined, couldn’t pick out the finer details. By the end, he’d managed to locate only six of the fifteen sources. A few weeks ago, such a result might have left him satisfied. Now, surrounded by peers who far outstripped him, it only deepened his frustration.
Beth, too, scored six, her brow furrowed in disappointment. But Willem and Kelleth—unsurprisingly—each identified fourteen, their precision drawing murmurs of admiration. Most of the others hovered around ten, solidly ahead of Kor’s dismal performance.
Throughout the testing, a few assistants scribbled notes on clipboards, their expressions inscrutable. It seemed every detail was being documented with an almost clinical thoroughness.
Finally, one assistant addressed the group: “Those of you who have developed your specialisations, please raise your hands.”
Even Beth had him beat here, as he recalled her healing mist. He was the only one amongst the group who’d yet to specialise. The assistant continued, “We will test your specialisations in private if you wish. This will include tailored development feedback specific to your strengths and weaknesses.”
The students’ eyes lit up at the offer, and they keenly accepted. One by one, they were taken to another room for this additional round of testing. Left to his own devices, Kor wandered back to the little contraption, determined to make progress. He picked it up and channelled mana into the faintly glowing slot.
The private testing didn’t take long, and soon the students returned, each presented with a specially tailored action plan. Kor reluctantly set the puzzle down as one of the assistants headed over. He hadn’t completed the maze but had managed to round the first corner—a minor victory that left him both frustrated and hopeful.
His own action plan, unsurprisingly, focused heavily on mana control. Two specific books were recommended, along with the advice to purchase one of the basic mana puzzles from a campus store. Despite his struggles, Kor could already feel himself adjusting to the finer control required by the puzzle.
However, their training hadn’t finished there. The lead assistant called out to the group. “We’ve still got a while until Vaast returns, and I know you’re feeling the burn from those tests. But this is the best time for extra training—pushing through fatigue builds character. Now, let’s get you partnered up and work on technique.”
Kor wound up being the odd one out, with each of the other students pairing off, but one of the assistants paired with him. There wasn’t enough space for all of them to duel in the same room, so Kor was led to a smaller adjacent area.
The assistant asked if Kor could perform a barrier spell. When Kor shook his head, the assistant instead had him focus on hitting a moving target. Various small constructs whirred to life, each one enchanted with a dark shimmer Kor had come to associate with magic-resistant crystals. His task was to concentrate his mana into a projectile and strike the targets as they zigzagged and looped unpredictably.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The task would be far simpler if he could fire off his mana spheres as quickly as the others. His first few attempts were wildly off-mark, but with the assistant’s guidance and the time taken to calculate how much of a lead his spell needed, his aim improved enough to occasionally graze a target.
Apparently, once he’d developed enough control, he’d be able to guide the spheres even after he’d thrown them. But supposedly that cost extra mana, and the best tactic was not to miss in the first place.
When the targeting exercise ended, the assistant moved Kor to the next task: mana-sensing drills. They scattered a set of enchanted stones around the room, each faintly resonating with mana, and asked Kor to retrieve them in order of intensity. Though his initial efforts were slow, the assistant patiently coached him on how to better attune his senses to the subtle vibrations of mana.
After some time, the assistant checked the clock. “Vaast will be done soon,” they said. “Let’s head back and rejoin the others.”
Curious, he asked the assistant about the price of the puzzles and was told they cost 90 chips. Without a frame of reference for the cost—or any idea of how to earn money yet—he resigned himself to normal practice. Maybe, if Marcus invited him along again, he could steal a bit more time with the mana puzzle.
Whilst he waited for Marcus and the others to return, he snapped up the opportunity to attack the mana puzzle again. Even with his mana control flagging and a strange sense of metaphysical weight pulling down on his mind, he dived back into the puzzle, determined to at least beat the first hallway.
By the time everything was wrapped up and Marcus returned, Kor was flushed, a light sweat on his brow. He’d made it to the second corner but was left with the sinking suspicion there was much more to the puzzle than that.
Vaast’s deep voice pulled Kor’s attention as Marcus strode into view, bedraggled and weary. His usually impeccable hair was in disarray, and a chunk was missing from the hem of his robes. He carried himself with effort, but there was still an unmistakable charisma in his presence.
“I can see why Master is so excited,” Vaast rumbled, his gravelly voice carrying a note of approval. “If you’re to secure first place, we’ll need to begin soon.”
Marcus offered a tired smile, brushing some dust from his sleeve. “Thank you, Vaast. Your insights are invaluable. Clearly, I’ve still got a lot to learn.”
Vaast chuckled, the sound deep and grinding, like stone against stone. “In any other year, the top spot wouldn’t even be a contest.” His voice carried the weight of absolute certainty, the unshakable confidence of a man who knew his strength towered over most.
“But this year…” He paused, his gaze sharpening like a predator assessing unseen prey. “This year’s something else. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like it. The stars must have aligned, and every planet decided to toss its mana-blessed monsters into the ring. If only you lot had shown up a few years sooner.”
His words weren’t laced with admiration, but with a simmering hunger, the restless energy of a warrior denied the chance to face his strongest rivals.
Vaast turned to the head assistant, his massive frame casting a shadow that seemed to fill the room. “How’d the rest of them do?”
“Excellent, Vaast. A well-rounded group, with a few exceptional students,” the assistant said, nodding toward Kelleth. “Practically aced every test.”
Vaast nodded thoughtfully, and Marcus seemed to regain some vitality, his grin widening as he clapped Kelleth on the back.
As the tests wrapped up, their stint on the training floor ended with Vaast and Marcus exchanging a few more words while the assistants handed Marcus a sheaf of papers. He glanced through them briefly, his expression unreadable.
Were those the results of their tests? Kor wondered, uneasy. He didn’t have anything to hide but questioned whether the specialisations of their group were being disclosed without their knowledge. Marcus’s quick glance and subsequent quiet words with the assistant did little to allay Kor’s suspicions.
Vaast addressed them all, his rumbling voice demanding their attention. “Master Terrak left me with one final parting gift for each of you.” He pulled a pack off one of the tables and tossed it effortlessly to Marcus. “Go on,” Vaast gestured. “Open it.”
Marcus caught the pack and placed it on a nearby bench. As he unfastened the straps and lifted the flap, a set of scrolls was revealed within, their edges gilded with faint mana patterns that glimmered faintly under the room’s light.
Vaast folded his arms, a hint of challenge in his tone. “An advanced mana gathering technique. Better than anything most first years will be able to get their hands on.”
Marcus’s grin returned as he turned to the others. “There’s enough here for each of us to take a copy,” he announced, carefully withdrawing the scrolls and holding them out. Turning back to Vaast, he bowed deeply, sincerity lacing his voice. “Thank you, Vaast.”
Kor watched in awe, his heart swelling with gratitude and a touch of disbelief. He hadn’t expected anything like this. He hadn’t even learned a basic gathering technique!
Vaast waved off Marcus’s thanks with a large hand. “Train hard. You’ll need it,” he said simply before turning and striding from the room, his presence lingering even after the door closed behind him.
With a final thank you to the assistants, Marcus led the group back to the elevator, guiding them out of the spire. Excited chatter filled the air as the students recounted their experiences. “What did Vaast put you through?” one asked Marcus, eyeing his tattered appearance.
Marcus laughed, the sound light and infectious. “Let’s just say his idea of a test is thorough, and his training, rough.” Kor noted with some amazement that the robes were already repairing themselves, the tattered edges knitting back together with faint threads of mana.
Outside the tower, Marcus gathered them together, his tone warm and engaging. “Thank you all for joining me today. I hope you got as much out of the session as I did.”
The group murmured their agreement, a few offering their thanks in return. Marcus’s grin widened. “We’ll be doing this every Lexday from now on, if you’re all willing.”
A round of eager nods and affirmations followed. “Excellent,” Marcus continued. “Besides, I think the next sessions will be a bit more intense now they know what we’re capable of. Vaast even mentioned combat training with some of the second years.”
Excitement rippled through the group, their chatter swelling with anticipation. As they dispersed, Kor exchanged a warm farewell with Willem. “Be well,” Willem said.
“Kor, wait a moment.” Marcus’s voice cut through the fading light. The setting sun cast a golden glow over the campus; the other had already disappeared beyond the horizon. Marcus jogged over, a friendly smile on his face.
“Everything okay?” Kor asked.
Marcus retrieved something from his pack. “The assistants told me how well you did on the mana sphere test. I didn’t think you had it in you!”
Kor chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, but my control is still lacking. I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me.”
Marcus held out a familiar object. A mana puzzle. Kor’s eyes widened. “Really? These are supposed to be expensive.”
Marcus grinned cheekily. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to, Kor?”
Kor laughed, shaking his head. “Thank you, Marcus. This is just what I needed.”
“I look after my own, Kor. Besides, with the potential you’ve shown, I’ll be begging you for help soon enough.”
Kor shook his head in denial, though his smile remained.
“I’ve never asked,” Kor said, hesitating. “What did you score on the testing crystal? Unless… it’s a secret or something.”
Marcus’s expression shifted slightly, and he looked around to ensure they were alone. His voice dropped. “I’ve been trying to keep my exact abilities under wraps. But I can trust you, Kor.” He leaned in closer. “Violet.”
Kor blinked. “That’s really good, right? I’ve only recently got a basic understanding of the colour system. Kelleth’s purple was the highest score I’d heard of, but yours is higher still.”
Marcus straightened, pride evident in his posture. “It’s the highest level the testing crystal can record. In a normal year, each planet only produces a few candidates in that range, but it’s basically unheard of for Lexica.”
Kor’s eyes widened, realisation washing over him at just how anomalous Marcus’s result really was. He fought off a frown; this just confirmed his suspicions that something was off. His own result should have been a bigger deal than it was.
“You’re definitely a candidate for one of the top spots then. But didn’t Vaast say something about multiple other monsters this year?”
Marcus sighed. “Yes, apparently even Lexica has produced more than one violet score, though my contacts haven’t been able to find anything more concrete on the subject.”
“Oh.” Kor fought to control his nerves. Perhaps he should just come clean, especially considering everything Marcus had done for him. He’d been nothing but a supportive friend so far, and here he was lying to the guy who’d done so much for him.
Kor opened his mouth, the words trembling on the edge of his tongue, but Marcus cut him off by hefting his pack onto his shoulder.
“I’ve got to run,” Marcus said, patting Kor on the shoulder. “Put that puzzle to good use, Kor. Despite what some of the professors might have led you to think, there’s more than enough danger to go around, even for first years.”
Kor had plenty more to say, even to ask about the upcoming fieldwork, but Marcus was already moving away. He hastily called out, “I won’t let you down!”, receiving only a wave as they parted.
He lingered for a moment, gripping the puzzle tightly. Since coming here, it had seemed like one challenge after another, but now, for the first time, it felt as if his luck might be turning. Marcus was proving to be a reliable friend, and Kor couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for ever doubting him.
Kor made it back to his dormitory to find Talen missing. Shaking his head, he stepped carefully between the various plants dominating the shared space. The crystal palm still stood proudly in the centre of the room, its shimmering fronds catching the light, but Kor paused mid-step, glancing around.
Were there more plants here than before?
Frowning, Kor tried to recall the original setup. Weren’t those ferns only knee high before? And the vines clinging to the wall—they seemed closer now, creeping toward his side of the room. He exhaled, a bemused smile tugging at his lips.
‘Not like it’s a bother, really,’ he thought. If anything, the air in the room felt fresher, and the mana density seemed almost palpable. Was the crystal palm responsible? Or perhaps the room itself was subtly attuned to Talen’s strange garden?
Stepping closer to the palm, Kor reached out to touch its crystalline bark, cool and smooth beneath his fingers. Talen’s other plants were clearly organic, but this one—a hybrid of nature and magic—defied easy categorisation. Kor couldn’t help but wonder if the crystal palm was related to the chips used for currency.
Feeling a pang of guilt for the thought, he moved back to his side of the room and retrieved the mana puzzle. He’d have to take good care of it, either locking it in the chest at the foot of his bed or keeping it on him at all times. The same went for the Logos.
Sitting on the bed, Kor felt what little energy he had left draining away. Yet the puzzle in his hands sparked a faint glimmer of determination. If he could develop his control further, maybe he could unlock his Logos. Time was running short; he had only until the end of next week to pick his electives. Deciding on a specialisation almost felt like a requirement if he was going to make an informed choice.
With resolve firming in his chest, Kor settled in for some extended practice as the final sun dipped below the horizon. Magical lights flickered to life, casting a warm glow over the room. He frowned at the puzzle, his mind spinning with possibilities.
‘Just what is my specialisation, anyway?’