Firdah, Minbasha 1, 350 AOR

“Mana overload.”

From where Cal lay on a bed in Aldera’s aged infirmary, the still rising suns washed over him while he looked at the woman inspecting his arm with impassive eyes.

With its continent-wide reputation, it was only fitting that Aldera employed a nurse of extraordinary skill, one whose beauty nearly outshone her mastery of Healing Magic and the art of physical and psychological ease. She was a striking woman whose face was continually stern as she carried herself with definitiveness and certainty. Her baby-blue eyes sat behind thin, rectangular glasses, always narrowed and always firm. Yet, the underlying softness behind them was there, a hard-to-notice glint that someone could only possess after years of mending the sick and wounded. Her hair, white in color and relatively shaggy, fell to her shoulders, complimenting her youthfulness as much as the black dress that hugged her noticeable curves. The white outer coat she wore covered such, nevertheless.

“What is that, Nurse Leafa?” Cal muttered.

The head nurse, Isabella Leafa, with her head down, looked up at Cal while tracing a cool hand along his arm. “Take a guess.”

Cal pressed his lips together, uncertain of how he felt about the nurse’s professionally flat tone. “Uh, I used too much mana?”

“A genius in the making,” Leafa mumbled before pulling away and sitting on the stool next to Cal’s bed. “That’s partly the reason. Mana overload does occur when you use too much mana, but it also transpires when a mage uses mana their body can’t control. Whether that be magic of a higher class, or in your case, Fusion Magic, it matters not; too much mana with too little control will always result in mana overload.”

“Will I be fine?” Cal asked as he observed the dozens of red lines that protruded from his arm like bulging veins.

“The spell you used wasn’t anything too grand, and your body is well-developed and maintained,” the nurse said with a shrug. “Just give yourself a few days without using mana and you should be fine.”

“Can I still train?”

The look Leafa gave Cal told him that he was the biggest of fools. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Technically, you can, but I wouldn’t advise it. Mana overload isn’t exactly uncommon since many mages use it to burn up their chords like muscles, thus strengthening and increasing the amount of mana they possess, but… Look, if you can rest your arm, eat, and drink a good amount of water today, you might, might, be able to use it by tomorrow.” What little hope shined in Cal’s eyes was quickly extinguished once Leafa seized his chin and loomed over him. “However, being your health advisor for the foreseeable future, I urge you to take the former of my advice, understood?”

He tried to avoid her gaze, but she forced him to look back with the jerk of his head and the pinch of one of his protruding mana chords. Another shot of searing heat through his arm.

“Do you understand me, Mr. Gray?” her voice sharpened this time.

“Gods, woman! I do!” Cal uncharacteristically cried out before Nurse Leafa released him. Cal rubbed at his burning arm. “You know, you’re rather barbaric, especially for a nurse who met me less than a few minutes ago.”

“Your point? You’re my first patient of the year—in record time, no less. Considering that, I have a feeling that you and I are going to become rather good friends over the next few years,” she said as she sat back in her chair and blew the hair in front of her face away.

Cal found himself agreeing as he figured that Lucie could sleep a bit easier knowing that a more than qualified healer planned to take care of his recklessness. Leafa proved as much after gently grabbing Cal’s arm and applying Healing Magic to the area she’d just squeezed down on, relieving him of the burning sensation. After she finished, Cal stood up and fixed his sleeve.

“Take it easy and come back to me if it starts to worsen. However, if you obey my instructions, I trust that I won’t have to see you for a few days.”

Cal nodded and made haste for the door, dying to escape the hellhole that he already associated with the infirmary and its overseer. Thankfully, he fled without trouble, but once he closed the hefty double doors and turned around, he practically ran into another student. He was forced to wrap his arms around them, lest they fall and he followed. Once steadied, Cal pulled back and looked down, looking into the round eyes of an astonished Grace Prath.

He’d seen parts of her in the class, but now with her next to him—or basically in his arms—Cal realized that the young woman he held was quite the short individual; in fact, she stood exactly at the height of his chest. It wouldn’t be crazy to say she was just over a half foot taller than Eri. Aside from her petite frame, she had light brown hair the color of caramel, styled up into a loose bun and with a few loose bangs that fell down the sides of her face. It was her round eyes that captured Cal’s attention. The forest-green shade would look dull on anyone else, but for her, it seemed to complement the bashful air that surrounded her.

By the time Cal finished observing the young woman, Prath seemed to realize her position. “Hwah!” was the choked shout that shot out of her mouth before Cal lifted his hands and she practically flew away from Cal, standing a dozen feet away from him as her gaze shot down to the marble floor.

“Ah. Sorry,” Cal said.

“U-Uh, no. It’s not your fault. Really. I just, you know, walked, and then stopped, and I was going to knock, b-but I didn’t want to interrupt. Then I tried and uh, opened the door, but you beat me to it, and right after, I was just trying to back away, but then you hugged me, and by Lucius, I’m rambling like a Chitter Puffer in a field of roses. I’m sorry. I should apologize. I should also leave. I apologize for being a nuisance. Bye—”

“Could you stop?”

At Cal’s words, Prath froze, her mouth falling open before she returned to looking at her shoes. Meekly, she said, “Sorry.”

Realizing that he might’ve been a bit blunt in his request, Cal frowned and rubbed his left arm. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have been so harsh, nor should I have grabbed you like that. Sorry.”

She shook her head and looked back up, though she was quick to look to the side after meeting Cal’s gaze. “There’s… no need to apologize. I, uh—I was instructed by Professor Airetore to tell you to go to the Grand Chamber. I’ve been waiting for you,” she said before her face flushed. “W-Wait, t-that sounded weird! I take that back! I’m sorry!”

“Calm down. It’s fine,” Cal said, looking around. “Where’s the Grand Chamber?”

“O-Oh! It’s on the first floor at the end of the Main Hall,” she explained.

“Makes sense,” Cal mumbled and turned around, though he stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “Thanks, Ms. Prath.”

Carrying himself to where he assumed the stairs to the first floor would be, Cal stopped when Prath suddenly called out to him. “W-What you did today was very cool!”

Cal paused and turned around once more, somewhat startled by the exclamation. “Uh… Thank you.”

“Is your arm okay?” she asked before approaching Cal with genuine care woven in her eyes.

Cal moved the offending limb around. “I’m used to getting injured, so it’s not as bad as I thought it’d be.”

“Ah. That’s good,” she mumbled, her brow scrunched in confusion. “I think…”

With that, the two began moving toward the Grand Chamber, which Cal was rather thankful for because he definitely would’ve gotten lost in the maze of hallways that made up Aldera’s upper floors. By the time they reached the Central Stairwell, Prath spoke up. “I didn’t expect someone to use Fusion Magic on our first day of classes. I’ve never seen Tempest Magic before. Aldera really has some amazing people in it, huh? Especially, Prince Crim. Ninety-three points? It’s incredible,” she rambled on.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Cal nodded. “He’s stronger than I expected, but that was my first time attempting Fusion Magic—hence the injury. I’d never even heard of it until you mentioned it. So I don’t think it’s all that impressive.”

“Oh! I suppose that makes sense,” Prath said. “It’s remarkable nonetheless.”

Cal thanked her again and placed his hands in his pockets. In an attempt at good faith, he tried his damnedest to figure out a way to compliment Prath too, but with her performance earlier… well, he didn’t have much to work with. It caused the silence between them to drag on at an uncomfortable length, to the point that Cal had turned his head to the side so as to not see Prath’s dejected countenance. She seemed to pick up on this as she eventually spoke between obviously embarrassed laughs.

“I wasn’t all that amazing though, huh? Dragging my teammates down on the first day isn’t that good of a look,” she swiftly spoke, her hands waving around animatedly as if to swipe at an army of invisible bugs. “Especially with their statuses and all. I mean, Venella’s my roommate, and she doesn’t seem like the type to get mad, so I doubt she’d get upset with me, and then the Princess of Everhold—by Lucius, I hope she’s not upset. Do you think she’ll be upset? I would be. Maybe I should have continued working at the bakery. Oh, I’m so screwed!”

By the gods. She was a talker when she wasn’t busy fidgeting around.

Cal eventually found something to respond with, more so just to shut her up. “Don’t be too concerned right now. It’s the first day and I only scored what I had on a whim. My actual spells are rather weak compared to the miracle I pulled off. Besides, you were accepted into Aldera; I’m certain that you’re here for one reason or another.”

Prath looked at Cal with wide eyes before she moved to speak, just to remain silent and drop her head; but past that and her veil of bangs, Cal could see a hint of a smile creeping onto her face as she mumbled, “Thank you, Mr. Gray, for your kind words.”

“Don’t mention it,” Cal said. “And if you don’t mind, please call me Cal. Using my last name like that makes me feel old.”

She looked up then. “O-Oh! Well, then you can call me Grace, Cal!”

After that, the two fell silent, though they soon reached the large double doors of the Grand Chamber, entered, and immediately realized why the room was, in fact, considered grand.

Back in Markstead, there was a small church on the western side of the town. It wasn’t someplace he often visited, but on the few occasions that he did, its lofty ceiling and the plethora of windows were one of the many things that made the rather bleak building so inviting. That said, Markstead’s church paled in comparison to the Grand Chamber and the sheer size of everything.

Though they shared the same soaring windows that illuminated the room with the sister sun’s warming rays, as well as the vaulted roof decorated with symmetrical stone joints in the shapes of a rib cage, the Grand Chamber dwarfed Markstead’s church in both size and elegance. Within the walls along the side and front, three stories worth of balconies ran the length of the room to its end, where a podium stood atop an elevated platform—decorated by flowers, mystifying artifacts, and a table for the professors behind it—in front of the most unnecessarily tall window Cal had seen in his life.

It reached the damn roof!

Before the podium and beneath the towering walls, four tables ran the length of the room, which Cal estimated to be about two hundred feet long. Why a room and its tables had to be so long, he wasn’t certain.

Sitting at the four tables, every first-year—Cal assumed—talked amongst one another. Scanning the enormous room, Cal failed to find a spot to sit until Grace eventually pointed at the table to their right, where Ray was waving Cal down with a shit-eating grin on his face. Grace’s teammates also sat across from him, an open seat on both sides for the two of them. He and Grace made their way to where the others sat before he took a seat between Ray and Sylvest.

“I don’t know whether to be amazed or concerned by what you pulled,” Ray said the second Cal settled in. “I thought for sure that you would’ve done something a bit less flashy.”

“You and me both,” Cal said with a shallow scoff.

“Well, it paid off. We scored a total of two hundred and forty, putting us in ninth place.” Ray smiled before his expression turned comically depressed. “But, with the fifteen-point deduction, we’ve been moved to fifty-fifth.”

“That’s a large gap between just fifteen points.”

Ray groaned. “Yeah. Most people average about sixty-five in these tests, but there’s always someone exceptional in each squad that places them a bit higher than the rest. Plus there are a lot of squads with the same score at the moment.”

“You’re squad seems to be the strongest out of our class, though, Your Highness,” an ethereal voice spoke from across the table.

It was the Elf Princess, Violet Availius, her features more stunning up close. She smiled at Cal and Ray. “To have three people score seventy or more, it’s quite remarkable.”

To her right, Grace looked crestfallen, though Princess Availius didn’t seem to notice her teammate’s expression; however, Rafierre did as she sat on the elf’s opposite side. She glanced at Cal, both seeming to share a silent understanding of Grace’s dejection. Neither commented though.

“Thank you, Princess Availius,” Cal did say as he awkwardly nodded in respect. “And I apologize for talking about you behind your back.”

She brushed him off with a small wave and a serene smile. “It’s quite alright, Mr. Gray. There was no ill intention.”

“Yeah, and Violet did well herself—as did everyone else—especially Lady Rafierre. Your method of fighting is quite unique,” Ray interrupted.

“I picked it up from my mentor,” she said, a cool smile on her face.

The conversation slowly turned more casual, but the student’s reason for being called to the Grand Chamber was soon to be revealed as black curtains cascaded down the windows of the hall and cast the room in complete darkness. After a few panicked seconds, a light shone down on the platform at the end of the room from one of the many chandeliers above.

Standing behind the podium was a man—a very tall man, taller than Airetore, in fact. Not only that, but he was built like a bull, broad and muscular. His skin was a medium brown, making his golden eyes seemingly glow beneath thin, sharp eyebrows. A stubble beard met black hair that was tied up intricately, making his locks appear wavy as the braid twisted down to the middle of his back. Several straight strands of hair also fell down the sides of his face and to his chin.

Cal could tell by his mere presence that there was not just wisdom behind his golden eyes, but unbridled power too—wisdom and power that had been gained through years of trials and tribulations. The sleek, black suit he wore was intricately designed, accompanied by a long coat with red lining and elaborate embroidery. A silver decoration in the shape of a hawk clamped down on his right shoulder. The bird’s eyes were red, matching the gems that decorated his rings and necklaces.

He eventually spoke, voice strong and orotund. “My children, I am honored to stand here before you today, graced by the opportunity to welcome each and every one of you into my prestigious institution. My name is Silus Valentine, and I am the Headmaster of Aldera Academy.”

Like the flip of a switch, the once loud and energy-filled room calmed itself, every head whipping toward the podium at the very mention of the man’s name. Student’s breaths hitched—many others simply couldn’t breathe. It could have been because of just the status and title of who stood before them, but Cal knew better. It was because this man, the Headmaster of Aldera—his and their headmaster—was powerful. Cal didn’t need to be a seasoned fighter to know he was the strongest in the room.

Like a haze, unseeable mana perspired from the man and his body; yet, it was controlled—contained—and poured off of him in waves, letting everyone beneath him know just who he was and what kind of power he possessed.

“While this may be a school dedicated to grasping the complex dance between the Magic Arts and Combat Arts, it is also meant to act as the dedicated medium that teaches the children of tomorrow how to prepare for an unpredictable future. You can learn to fight with magic, hone your swordsmanship, and even create potions that turn you invisible. However, how does that truly help you? How does that make you a better person? How does that help you create a world you and your children can freely live in?”

He paused and looked out across the Grand Chamber as the students leaned forward in their seats, anticipation toward the headmaster and his empowering voice evident in their bugging eyes.

“This is a sanctuary, one devoted to your growth, where fact and opinion merge, allowing you the freedom of discourse and action. Of course, there are rules you must follow, but there is nothing here that will keep you from reaching your fullest potential. Learn the ever-growing secrets of magic, learn to split mountains with the swing of a blade, and become a version of yourself you can be most proud of! Because this is Aldera!”

A number of the male population hollered out as the headmaster spread his arms like a phoenix its wings. He was picking up momentum, and so were the students.

“Be proud! Because you earned your way here! You fought! You bled! You cried! You were the one who spent all those nights working while those around you slept! You were the one who picked yourself up when you fell! You alone were the one who put yourself where you now stand! So be proud, and look for the future, for that is where we are going! Together!”

Each resounding syllable that bounced off the walls of the Grand Chamber boomed within Cal as he found a resonation in the headmaster’s words. The tribulations he had faced—and had yet to face—were still very much clear in his mind. He knew that there many mountains that needed to be crossed, but he always feared his weaknesses, weaknesses that the headmaster was alleviating with every word he spoke. Of course, they were just that, words. It was up to Cal to overcome his deficiencies. But with the reassuring words Headmaster Valentine shared, Cal’s goal of protecting his family didn’t feel too far off.

After the crowd settled, following a long pause, Headmaster Valentine lowered his voice and put his arm out as if to grab an invisible ball before squeezing it. “My children… once again, I welcome you to Aldera Academy.”