Cira had been relegated to the same task she gave the children above—or wherever the hell paradise was. Whether or not she wanted to, she could not do anything beside sit in silence and reflect on the world around her, or the lack thereof in this case. Even if she moved, nothing changed, nor did she go anywhere. There was no air for her arms to push through, and she started wondering if she was even moving at all.

There was no light to see here, of course. Though she could discern her own body with Spatial Sight, the fact that she had already been doing so for an indeterminate amount of time meant that Cira had lost track of what position she was even in. Were her arms raised, or did her legs attempt a jog? Was she laying on her back or standing up?

There was an hour or so of panic. Or was it a week? My mana isn’t low… but it isn’t full? At this point I have no idea how fast it’s supposed to drain or how fast it’s draining… or how I would even tell in the first place.

Anxiety could be quite crippling within an environment where time cannot be perceived. Cira kept her mind occupied with little observations like this, but they bought the blink of an eye’s worth of reprieve.

This really is troublesome. The spatial plane simply doesn’t exist. The aether plane even less so, somehow. Perhaps I am only higher attuned to aether than space. I was just reforged after all.

But the absolute lack of space is far more concerning. How do I get anywhere when I’m nowhere?

Cira understood what it meant to be lost in the aether—Tawny was mere seconds away from experiencing it herself. With their existences hanging on by a thread to the lantern, Cira at least got a taste of what it meant. She could feel the pull—the base particles of her soul yearning to separate from each other and continue their journey. Here, they yearned to end their journey.

This place is somehow the opposite. The void is so oppressive it’s like I’ll disperse inward until there’s nothing left. If such a thing is even possible… I don’t want to find out.

While Cira had overcome her initial panic, there was a foreboding dread that only solidified as she failed to make any progress whatsoever. There was no information to be gleaned here, because nothing existed here.

So why do I? Because this isn’t the real void, maybe, but I don’t want to lean into that angle to escape. I don’t think it would make a difference.

Why do I exist…? Literally speaking, I suppose my purpose was to found a race of cursed monsters for my false father to take over the sky. Or maybe destroy it? It doesn’t matter really. Maybe there was something to that perfected flesh from the past. Despite those revolting creatures of Ventra, the curse seemed far more symbiotic with the soul than my own.

But that’s no longer why I exist, is it? No, I am a sorcerer. So, naturally the reason I still exist within this void is the very same reason. And the reason I have been sent here, as it will be the method of my escape. It’s all sorcery.

Where am I going with this?

I’m not so sure anymore.

___

“None of you are even qualified to be my student’s student.” Cira was far too easy on them. Simply running was pointless, especially for hours on end. However, I had to respect my student’s curriculum, lest these people become my disciples instead of her own. It was also the mark of an amateur to take on too many students at once.

So, the rules stayed the same, but they had to run from magical projectiles while I flew around above them. This kept them on their toes, so they had to observe their surroundings and dodge or flee accordingly. I thought I would even add a little twist to keep it on theme so the only time they are free from targeting is while performing pushups or sit ups to rest.

“You’re a monster!” I saw young Tawny shout from the ground, barely dodging a heavy javelin.

“Don’t get too familiar just because you tagged along with Cira in my memory,” I tossed another, and she was knocked to the ground trying to get out of the way. She desperately rolled over and started exercising, so I moved on.

“And you nine.” I crashed into the ground and glared at them, each one more beautiful than the last, depending on where you started. So long as you weren’t looking at their souls, anyway. “You show initiative, but do you know what it means to be the harem to a great sorcerer?”

They all looked uncertain and scared to say no, but the one I watched roll across the field was the one to speak up, “What does it matter? She’s leaving us anyway if she hasn’t already! What’s it been, three days? Four?”

“She was always going to leave. If your resolve is that weak, then the door is right there.” I held a hand out, gesturing towards the temporary doorway to Green Pit I conjured. “No one has asked you to stay, not even Cira. Could it be… greed alone keeps you here?”

The young woman, Goldie, turned white and shriveled beneath my uninterrupted gaze.

“G-Grandmaster,” The only concubine to show much promise, Ember, interrupted. “I don’t know what it means to serve one as great as Cira… But I know I’m not the only one who wishes to learn!”

She stepped forward, as did, well… All nine of them stepped forward. It wasn’t my place, so I admonished them no further.

“Very well… To start, perhaps I shall take a note from my student’s playbook.” I conjured a set of golden robes on each of them. Only a few remained on their feet from the weight. “Get moving. The rules have not changed. These robes will help you circulate mana, so if any of you fail to block my projectiles with a barrier by lunch, then you shall continue this exercise until supper, which is when I will lower you nine to the sea to catch it.”

I watched the expressions on their faces crumble, and even a fragment of Ember’s resolve shattered. But they were not worthy should they be scared away so easily. If my student is to possess a harem, they shan’t be weak of mind, body, nor spirit.

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___

So, so many books… However, will I read them all?

It’s funny. When you’re unlearned, you don’t even know the absolute depth of things you don’t know. I never could have imagined there was so much to learn!

My Granpappy used to tell me stories of his smuggling days. I used to think there was so much to see, to be experienced in the outer skies. He even spoke of a legendary island made of solid gold. Spent his whole life looking for it, just to be cut down by someone else who wanted to find it more.

Paradise, I think he called it. It could be said Captain Wick was the culmination of its pursuit. Violence and degeneracy boiled down in search of the only thing that could quell generations of insatiable greed.

An island of gold was more than I would know what to do with, but right here seemed like paradise enough.

It was nothing like any mage I’d ever met, but I could feel mana welling up inside me too after all this time. I had wanted it so badly as of late that perhaps my pleas were answered. Sometimes I could draw power into my palms, though it was scarce.

I could only read so many spell tomes though. And there was so much else to learn, I didn’t feel the need rush it.

Strangely enough, when I learned more, it reinforced my efforts in magic. I read a book on aerodynamics the other day and finally managed to turn a page with no hands. This was exhausting, but the following day I turned two pages! It was just another way to improve myself throughout the day.

Though I’ve hardly left my seat but to eat and sleep in who knows how long, each time I open my eyes again is a new adventure. I’ll never leave if I don’t have to.

___

“Weight of the world,

Fury of the desolate deep,

Besmirched by the shadow of Yore’s omission,

Let them know the wrath of absence.”

Is this what he was referring to? How could the necromancer ever have been subjected to something like this? In what situation could he have learned of the void?

Such pointless questions stirred in Cira’s mind, but she was certain there was something to be gained from her single previous brush with the void. Was it the wrath of absence to be subjected to such indomitable pressure? The crushing lack of existence?

In Archaeum, the void pulled her in. But here, she could hardly keep it out.

I’m tempted to let it in and see how it feels, but something tells me it would go poorly.

Despite the fact that Cira could not perceive time, her utmost concern was running out. Ultimately that meant running out of mana and she may was well have been pouring it out of a bucket.

It’s not that I’m expending mana just to keep the void out—well, I am… but that’s the least of my worries right now. I never thought I was so bad at controlling my mana. Did it change when I reforged myself? Everyone around me just treats me like some bigshot, basking in my mana, yet not a single person told me I was just constantly dumping it out? Did they think I was doing it on purpose?

Cira never noticed because she was always using mana to some degree in at least a few places, be it barrier or perception, and she was also constantly absorbing mana from the atmosphere at varying rates. This made it easy to not realize how much more rapidly her mana was draining after she awoke with more than ever.

I wonder if this is what the old man wanted me to learn about. Simple mana retention though? There’s no way he spent over a thousand years expecting his successor to be bad at it.

Who cares why he sent me here, really. This beckons investigation.

Mana retention of course referred to the act of withholding mana within oneself. As a rule, no one can reach one hundred percent retention. To retain an aura, the aether is split up into the primary elements of reality, in equal portion, and bound to a soul. This may change for those who lean into their affinities, but one’s aura simply staying put instead of returning to the aether took a certain modicum of mana. On top of this, the greater one’s aura became, the rate at which it desired to return grew in kind.

I admit… It’s been a few years since I even thought about mana retention. I thought it was just something children had to figure out then they were set for life.

Ordinarily people didn’t reform their essence, but Cira didn’t intend to dwell on it. She had work to do. There were a few methods of increasing retention, but it was inherently a natural process. Alchemy would prove difficult here, not that she had the materials, so the most surefire way was consciously contain the mana herself. With enough practice, it would become something like muscle memory.

Concentrate, Cira… you did this when you were ten years old, so why is it so hard now?

For some reason, she was just burning mana. There was none coming in, so the ridiculous rate of it was even more apparent. She thought it was supposed to be just like manipulating a conjuration, but her own will existed in the diffusing mana. Despite the fact it wanted to return to the aether, she was literally fighting herself to keep it contained.

Do all sorcerers of intermediate caliber and above have to deal with this? This is miserable. I never realized I had so much mana to waste by simply existing. Just imagine what I could do with all that…

This was slow going at first, but Cira did not feel like she was in a rush. She laid there in here abyssal bed and concentrated on her aura. As time didn’t pass, all she could see was miniscule, but gradual progress over time.

Cira had a realization at some point. It’s not that her mana couldn’t escape the shell which was her body, but that anything she sent out was instantly erased. Even if this happened slower, it did not appear to be a process related to sorcery or any natural law of the world she had experienced thus far. Whatever she conjured simply ceased to be. It was a marvel that she avoided doing the same upon arrival.

This was derived from a first realization that something felt very wrong when she attempted to conjure water without sorcery. Then a third realization followed while she checked her soul for missing pieces, only to realize that the undine bits came with survival instincts. They had only tasted a tinge of erasure.

Cira couldn’t afford to be reckless. This was no environment for such lackadaisical sorcery.

Locations do not exist. This has stopped me from finding Paradise, but… looking in the first place was a fool’s errand. As navigating space to get somewhere, be it on foot or through teleportation, what fool would think this could be done in the void? My approach is wrong. I will seek nothing. All I can do is be. Be where? That is the question.

There was a possibility that this pocket realm could be destroyed with a certain rage of fate. In fact, she was confident that she could escape with the Auld Sprig in her hand, but did not want to. Her father never had such a convenient solution. Cira didn’t intend to rely on it and miss out on discovering something important.

She was reserving the Sprig for a last resort. That ancient mage didn’t know it would be her who appeared, so this test was designed for regular sorcerers, though it irked Cira to consider herself otherwise.

No. the void is my way out. He wouldn’t have put me here if I wasn’t able to get out. I can search through my soul for answers all day, but I’m tired of that. The only way through for a sorcerer is forward. I have things to do, dammit! Places to be!

No small thing can trap me, and this is literally nothing. It’s time to move on.

With a second wind of willpower, Cira started to get quite irritated. By her measure, it had been months since she was dumped in this abyss. She didn’t know how the goblins did it without going insane, but at least they could feel their feet on the ground and the warmth of mana flowing through their body.

Cira reeled back her fist. She knew the intended target, and her fist knew who to punch. It would happen. After all, why wouldn’t it? What was stopping her? Nothing at all, turns out. Cira had spent what felt like months determining the answer to that question was nothing. Just a whole bunch of nothing. Shamefully enough, she could feel it in her very soul as her fist got closer.

“You, old, bastard!” For the first time in far too long, Cira felt something. It was a face, and she could feel it with only her fist. Like a blind boxer, she could tell it was her aspiring master by feel through knuckles alone. Cira’s aura refilled her lungs with air, and the warmth of light tingled along her skin. “How much of my time do you intend to waste?!”