Dean Velleth’s voice cracked through the air, cutting sharply against the First Magus’s earlier, smooth words—a whip across their already frayed nerves. “First years of Lexica, you’ve little time to waste on idle small talk.” His tone carried the authority of a parade ground instructor, amplified by the vastness of the chamber as it echoed back on itself.
“You are the last students to arrive, and the academic year begins tomorrow. To stay here, you must earn three hundred credits in your first year. Failure to do so will result in compulsory military service for no less than fifteen years.”
A ripple of murmurs swept through the students like a gust of wind, but the dean’s next words slammed into them, quelling every voice. “You are all required to attend the three mandatory courses. These each offer up to 100 credits each for a perfect grade. The end-of-year tournament may award another 100, but only to those who prove themselves worthy.”
The air seemed to tighten as his piercing gaze swept across them, daring anyone to question him. “In two weeks, you will submit your choices for elective courses to myself or a member of staff. Each elective also offers up to 100 credits. You,”—his gaze lingered on the nearest students with something approaching disdain— “will need to enrol in several to scrape together enough to pass.”
He raised a hand sharply, cutting off the few brave enough to even think of speaking. “You’ll have time to ask questions later, Lexicans,” he said, spitting the title like a curse. His lips twisted as though the word itself offended him. “For now, pay attention as your living quarters are assigned.”
‘Divide me sideways,’ Kor thought to himself as dean Velleth began calling out student names and room designations. The man wasn’t doing much to hide his dislike of them. They’d only just arrived and already he was tasking them with choosing electives. He’d never even cast a spell, and the principle of deciding his future on such paltry information irked him. To make the most of this, he’d have to do his own research.
A short while later, they were being led to their accommodations by the dean’s assistants. Kor’s dorm was far from Marcus’s, situated in block N. His only acquaintance gave him a reassuring smile as they parted ways. “We’ll meet up again later, Kor!” Marcus was already turning his charm toward a new group of students.
Near to the amphitheatre stood the residential dormitories, separated into fourteen letters from A to N, with twenty-five rooms each. He’d already done the math—with one hundred candidates from each world, fourteen dorms, and only twenty-five rooms each. That meant he’d be sharing with another student.
His heart began pounding in earnest now as he navigated the halls of N dormitory, looking for his room, 23. The thought of sharing a room with a girl flustered him, but he reassured himself that sixteen-year-old boys and girls wouldn’t be paired together.
He spotted a few students milling in the hallway, all male teenagers like himself, dressed in exotic clothing that failed to snatch his attention from his impending worries. He reached the end of the hallway, pausing outside his door as he sucked in a deep breath.
N 23, the last prime of the twenty-five. He smiled as he brought his student badge up to open the door, which swung open as a small, imbued chime rang.
Stepping inside, the smell of earthy soil enveloped him. He blinked, momentarily stunned by the sight before him. The shared space was a chaotic tapestry of life—clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor and countless pots of plants creating a jungle-like atmosphere.
His eyes travelled up from knee-high ferns to climbing vines that spiralled up the walls, finally settling on what appeared to be some kind of crystal palm tree that dominated the centre of the room. Its translucent leaves nearly brushing the ceiling as they caught and refracted the room’s light.
His mind drew a blank as he tried to puzzle out what he was seeing. This was supposed to be a dormitory, right? How had they even got such a large tree indoors?
Motion drew his attention as a figure rose from the bed on his left—a boy about his age but of average height, with weathered hands and dirt under his fingernails. The countless plants and his earth-toned clothing marked him unmistakably as being from Verdana, one of the seven worlds known for its connection to nature.
“Uh, hi?” ventured Kor, adjusting his glasses nervously.
“Hi,” said the boy. “I’m Talen. Who are you?”
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“Kor.” He fidgeted with the strap of his backpack.
“Lexican?”
“Yes, is that a problem?”
“Not so long as you like plants,” the boy flashed him a cheeky grin.
“I can’t say that I know too much about them, but they certainly seem... nice?” Kor volunteered diplomatically, still trying to process the indoor forest he’d walked into.
Talen beamed. “Life needs life,” Talen gestured to the greenery. “A space without plants? Might as well be a tomb.”
Kor nodded, searching for something to say. “I really like your, um, tree.” He gestured to the crystal palm dominating the centre of their room.
“He’s a beauty, isn’t he? Amazingly versatile—they can grow anywhere there’s mana, and here on Conflux that’s everywhere.”
Kor headed over to his own side of the room, taking in the small desk and chair that abutted one end, with a bed along the wall beside it and a simple chest at its foot. He pulled his pack off, back aching fiercely as he placed it beside the bed. He’d never done this much walking or carrying heavy things—well, ever. A groan escaped his lips as he sank into the mattress, his body protesting as the stresses of the day washed over him.
“If you need to open your storage chest, just use your student badge. It’ll lock automatically when you close it,” Talen offered.
“Thanks,” Kor looked over as the boy leaned down by the crystal palm’s large pot, gathering mana as he murmured to himself.
Flat on his back, Kor stared at the ceiling, regret gnawing at him. He should have studied, prepared—anything. It was clear he and the other Lexicans were starting with a large handicap. But he’d spent the last week in stunned denial, and now the weight of Conflux pressed down on him—literally and figuratively.
The only book his parents owned on magic had been of little help, offering a high-level, abstract overview instead of the practical guidance he needed. It had, however, taught him a few things. Such as the various magical archetypes that were recognised: Environmental, Manifestation, Support, Subtle and Direct. These distinctions mostly seemed relevant to combat, but were still useful to know.
Yet the book had offered no guidance on how to wield his mana.
Closing his eyes, he focused on the ambient energy around him, faint currents swirling with the life Talen’s plants exuded. But that wasn’t what interested him. If he wanted to cast spells, he had to tap into his own mana pool.
Turning inward, he reached for the reservoir within himself, just as the officials at his testing had described. His mana was plentiful—exceedingly so for a Lexican. And when he reached for it, it sprang to attention, vivid and startlingly aware.
It wasn’t like the natural force he’d imagined. It was alive.
A surge of curiosity and expectation filled him, though he wasn’t sure if the emotion belonged to him, or his mana. The sensation was intoxicating. Since his arrival in Conflux, something inside him had changed, and now it felt as if he’d opened the floodgates. He barely noticed the growing intensity of the flows spiralling through the room until Talen’s voice snapped him back to reality.
“Hey, Kor. Mind keeping a lid on your mana? You’re disturbing my plants.”
Kor’s eyes flew open, the room’s swirling currents of energy glaringly obvious. “Sorry! I, uh, haven’t practised much before…”
“It’s fine,” Talen said with a shrug, though his gaze lingered on Kor, curious. “But if you’ve got to practise, try to keep it under control. Didn’t your teachers back home show you the basics of mana regulation?”
Kor flushed. “No. I haven’t even had a lesson on using my mana yet.”
Talen raised an eyebrow before shaking his head. “Might want to hold off experimenting on your own until you’ve learned the fundamentals. Don’t want you blowing us all up.”
Kor blanched. “Wait—is that possible?”
“Nah, just messing with you.” Talen grinned, but his expression sobered. “Still, you could end up in a bad way if you’re not careful. Mana’s powerful, but it’s not usually forgiving.”
Kor exhaled, relief mingling with apprehension. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Don’t mention it,” Talen replied, already turning his attention back to the crystal palm.
Kor settled back into his bed, the lingering hum of mana in the room prickling at his senses. If he was going to do this, he needed to do it right. The dean’s assistants had been helpful enough to provide a booklet of information. He shifted onto his side, then reached for his backpack.
The introduction outlined three mandatory classes for all students. Fundamentals of Mana, Practical Spellcraft, and Practical Combat. With the end-of-year tournament factored in, it seemed as if Conflux Academy placed a large emphasis on combat.
Kor sighed as he continued to leaf through the welcome materials. He’d never been the athletic type, and with his short, portly body, he doubted that he’d do well in combat class. Studying magic as soon as possible seemed the most logical path forward.
He flicked through the booklet, scanning through the headlines of various elective classes that he still did not understand. Magical Engineering, The Healing Arts, Magical Suppression, Conjuration and You, Connection Weaving, Magical Beast Handling, Environmental Magic, Mana Flows and Patterns—the list seemed endless.
Although the material was tailored to students already familiar with magic, something caught his eye. Conflux’s library! Now that’s somewhere he’d be comfortable. The booklet didn’t have any solid leads for him before classes started tomorrow, but perhaps this library called Ether’s Archive might have some answers he needed.
But first he ought to get his things packed away, and as his stomach let out a mighty grumble—earning an amused glance from Talen—he added a visit to the canteen to the top of his list. No sense getting started on an empty stomach, he thought to himself as he rolled off the bed. If he was going to catch up to the others, his body was going to need fuel, and lots of it.