The hallways teemed with chattering students rushing to classes, but Kor barely saw any of them. His pulse quickened with each step, his mind occupied by a single, exhilarating question: ‘How would fractals work in combat? Could they even be used that way?’ His thoughts raced as he considered what to attempt first. Fractals came in kinds, the patterns as myriad as the leaves on a tree.
Leaves? That would certainly make Talen happy. He paused at the edge of the training grounds, letting the sharp scent of freshly cut grass and the distant clash of spells ground him. His usual spot beneath a sprawling oak looked inviting, but he needed more room today—just in case. Viree wasn’t anywhere in sight for once, so he strode toward it, drawing on his mana as he considered how to begin.
He wasn’t anywhere near as familiar with fractals as he wanted to be, but the most common type he’d heard of were snowflakes. Exceedingly complicated, their patterns seemed utterly beyond his ability to form. Still, that would not hold him back. Dropping his pack beside him, he focused his attention inward, diving into the flow of his mana.
The sound of students laughing in the distance mingled with the light rustle of the breeze. Mana surged in response, as if mirroring his excitement, as he raised his palm and pictured a snowflake. He’d seen many growing up, the cold winters at home often accompanied by snow. Yet now, as he tried to form one in his mind, he truly appreciated the impossibility of the task. Their patterns repeated over and over, intricately and endlessly. His mana squirmed as the unclear image in his mind refused to settle. With a frustrated sigh, he released it.
“I’m going about this backward.” He paused in thought. “A fully formed fractal can basically be infinite. There’s no way to visualise that, but many of them start from the smallest of patterns.”
A memory of a snowflake design his father’d worn on a holiday sweater came to him. It was simple, drawn in clean lines—a hint of the real thing, but enough to guide him. He visualised it, concentrating as his mana swelled in response. His fractal connection bloomed, and the shimmering glow of mana coalesced above his palm.
The snowflake took shape, glowing with a kaleidoscope of colours, unlike other spellcasters’ specialisations. Its form was basic and two-dimensional, yet mesmerising as it hung suspended in the air. Kor grinned, pride bubbling up. He’d used his specialisation! But how could this help him in combat? Did he need to throw it?
Still cradling the snowflake, he flung his arm outward, just as he had with mana spheres, willing it forward. The snowflake obeyed, spinning and twisting as it drifted through the air, determined to resemble its wintry inspiration.
It barely passed a few feet before fizzling away. The twin suns above cast their light on it as it dissolved, almost seeming to judge his paltry creation. Even as it vanished, Kor could tell through his new connection that this wasn’t the proper way to use his magic.
His first attempt fizzled out, leaving him hungry for a second try. This time, he formed a tiny snowflake the size of a coin—an experiment. Despite its simplicity, it shimmered with the same kaleidoscope hues. Kor pressed a finger against its delicate edge, feeling it thrum with potential. ‘There’s something missing’, he realised, heart pounding. ‘It wants to grow’. His eyes widened as he realised. Recursion. That’s what fractals were all about.
Pulling from his mana reserves, Kor pushed more mana into the spell, visualising the expanding pattern recurring as each branch formed another copy of itself, expanding ever outward.
It worked! He could feel the nascent spell tapping into his mana reserves as it expanded before his eyes. What started as a snowflake, the size of his palm, quickly grew larger. The six branches of his snowflake spread out, each forming another copy of themselves as the innermost segment solidified.
“Yes!” The snowflake continued to expand, and he stepped back to give it some room as it hung in the air. The drain on his mana was minuscule at first, but as it branched out again, the drain grew, and grew again with each subsequent branching.
In a matter of a dozen seconds, it had already copied itself several times, now approaching the cost of a standard mana sphere.
“Okay, time to let it go.” He reached for the spell, but it refused to respond.
The spell continued to expand, draining his mana at a growing rate as he tried once again to cut the connection. A shiver ran down his spine as the snowflake spiralled beyond his control. Moving aside, he watched helplessly as it pressed outward. Though only in two dimensions, its first spokes dug into the ground, prompting him to curse, “Void it!”
Further and further it expanded, punching through the grass and towering upwards. He desperately scanned the field, ensuring no one was too close. The fractal ballooned in seconds, each shimmering branch sprouting more fractal arms. A startled cry rang out behind him—some onlookers scrambled for cover, while others gawked at the spectacle. Kor’s cheeks burned as laughter and astonished gasps mingled in the air. ‘Void it!’ he cursed, staggering back when the crystalline edge punched into the grass, towering higher than some nearby buildings.
The drain surged precipitously. Within moments, the snowflake’s size matched some of the distant buildings. Its sharp, intricate geometry gleamed under the twin suns, casting a patterned shade on the ground. Just as it threatened to spiral even further, a malaise set over Kor, unlike anything he’d experienced before. The fractal’s expansion slammed to a halt.
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The world dimmed around him, and he gasped, leaning forward with his hands on his thighs. The snowflake loomed large behind him, solidified and massive, its structure rivalling a residential house. His mana was gone—all of it. The mana-greedy fractal had drained him dry, and now he understood, viscerally, what it felt like to be utterly empty. His body ached with a dull, bone-deep fatigue. Breathing felt like hauling stones uphill, his limbs leaden and trembling.
He glanced at the structure. It had started so simply, its symmetry elegant and beautiful, but now it dominated the centre of the field, drawing attention from countless other students.
“How do I make this thing disappear?” His eyes darted frantically, scanning the room for any sign of irate professors. The students watching him stayed rooted in place, their expressions a mixture of suspicion and apprehension, unwilling to move closer to the scene he’d created.
It resonated faintly within his mana sense, alive and undoubtedly his, yet distant, as though it had taken on a life of its own. Grabbing his pack, he approached the snowflake tentatively. The spokes were no thicker than his finger, their surface smooth and resilient. A barrier-like sensation met his touch as he pressed a hand against it.
He considered breaking it himself, but his reserves were empty. Better to wait for some regeneration. He could already feel the faintest trickle of mana flowing back, like a well beginning to refill after being drained to the dregs.
“I need to practise meditating.” His mind drifted to Terra’s advice about mana restoration. What had she called them? Sheets of paper that needed a hole punched through them? A soft laugh escaped him. If his fractals were this mana-hungry—
“Kor! Did you make that?”
Viree’s impressed voice called out, pulling his attention from the towering snowflake. She bounded over, her energy as infectious as ever, and stopped beside him to stare at the massive structure.
“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “My specialisation… seemed to take on a life of its own.”
She laughed, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Why don’t you let it drop?”
“I don’t have control over it anymore. I can still feel it connected to me, but it’s not responding.”
“Hah, I’ve heard about that happening. Your specialisation?”
He nodded. “I just unlocked it and couldn’t wait to try it out.” His voice trailed off as he realised how reckless he’d been.
“Hah! I did the same thing when I unlocked mine. Want me to smash it?”
“Uh, sure.” He glanced around again, half expecting a professor to appear. “I’m guessing this kind of thing is frowned upon.”
“Yeah, but I haven’t seen many first-year students capable of making something this big.” She grinned. “Stand back, Kor. I’ll give your snowflake a taste of my mana spheres.”
They both stepped back, and Kor watched as Viree powered up an extra-large mana sphere in a heartbeat. Her smooth, practiced movements made the technique look effortless. A gleeful expression crossed her face as she aimed at the snowflake.
“Here goes!”
The sphere careened toward the snowflake’s centre of mass, shimmering with condensed energy. As it collided, it splashed into the structure in a riot of colours, sending a spiderweb of cracks rippling outward.
“Huh! It’s tougher than I thought!” Her eyes sparked with determination. She summoned another sphere, this one even larger, and loosed it with precision.
The second and third blasts caused the snowflake to tremble before the entire spell lost cohesion. With a final, thunderous crack, it shattered, dissipating into a shower of faint mana particles.
“Not bad, Kor! I thought you were only a beginner, but that thing sure beats a regular barrier.”
Could he use it as a barrier? The idea took root. If he could create a smaller version, maybe even strengthen it further…
“Thanks, Viree.” Kor glanced at the churned grass beneath them. Thankfully, the lattice structure had done little damage; the grass would likely heal over before long.
“No prob, Kor, but if you keep this up, you might start developing a bit of a reputation.” She turned her gaze to him, and the sheer force of her energy made him avert his eyes.
“So, what electives did you go for?”
Electives! He’d got so engrossed in his recent developments, he’d almost forgotten. Now that he’d unlocked his specialisation, he could add Meta-Casting to his list, along with Advanced Combat. That left only one more slot if he followed Talen’s advice.
“Meta-Casting and Advanced Combat, though I’m not sure about the last choice.”
“Well, you’ll want to get a move on. Today’s the last day to choose, after all. Maybe we’ll even see each other in Advanced Combat!”
Given how much training she did, it made sense she’d take the course. “You’re right.” Much of his earlier malaise had faded now that his mana had started to return. He straightened, only to note how much taller Viree was. An errant wish for another growth spurt flitted through his mind.
“I still need to pick a third course.”
“How about a cooking course? You look like you enjoy your food,” she said casually, then froze.
Kor felt as though the air had been sucked out of his lungs. ‘Enjoy my food?’ His heart lurched, and before he could stop himself, his hand shot to his stomach. The shame he’d fought to overcome rose in a hot wave, colouring his cheeks and tightening his throat.
Viree’s expression shifted as she realised her mistake. “Oh, Void! I didn’t mean—I wasn’t trying to—I… I’m sorry, Kor! I’m such an idiot!”
Her flustered attempts at apology only deepened his embarrassment. His face felt as hot as a forge as he waved her off, muttering, “It’s fine, I’m fine, honest.”
Despite his words, his voice cracked, and he was certain his face was as red as a beet. Viree, for once, seemed at a loss, her usual confidence faltering as he hastily grabbed his pack.
“Thanks for the help.” He stared at the ground. “I’ll... see you around.”
Before she could respond, he turned on his heel and fled. His heart pounded in his chest, his thoughts a jumbled mess of mortification. He barely noticed where he was going as he raced off. It took him several minutes before his mind calmed down enough to regain a semblance of clarity. Kor remembered what he still needed to get done—his elective choices.
‘I still need some advice, but I haven’t seen Talen all morning, and there’s basically no chance of finding Marcus since he’s always busy.’
‘Ether!’ The Archive had helped him out in the past, had even set him on his current path. Perhaps it might even have some insight into choosing electives.
Kor changed direction, heading off with a purpose. The memory of Viree’s comment resurfaced unbidden, and his face burned anew, a fresh wave of embarrassment threatening to derail his focus. He shook his head, determined to push the encounter from his mind. He hoped Ether didn’t require another round of testing, but at least it would keep his thoughts occupied.