“There are three basic techniques,” the Grandmaster said. “Missile, Construct, and Cloak. Think of these like arithmetic operations. The human body can only move mana in so many ways. No matter how complex or fancy a technique looks, it’s always some combination of these three.”

Akari had seen this video about fifty times, but she couldn’t help herself. Nothing hyped her up like videos of mana artists. Each clip was like a glimpse into her own future.

Kalden was upstairs waiting for his friends to arrive, which left her curled up in the leather computer chair by herself.

“If you can emit mana from your hands,” the Grandmaster said, “then you already have the basics of a Missile down. The trick is gathering enough power in your palms before you release it.”

As always, the Grandmaster wore his black T-shirt with the screen cut off at his neck. He still had the voice modulator, too, but his accent was obvious.

“As you gather the energy, be sure to keep breathing and cycling mana through the rest of your body. You’ll need that to propel the Missile forward.”

He raised his right arm at a forty-five-degree angle from the camera, and blue light gathered beneath the pale skin of his palm. A swirling nucleus burst out from his hand, flying at some unseen target across the dojo.

Several more clips played in rapid succession, each one showing a different type of Missile. Some had clear visual indicators like fire, water, ice, lightning, and metal. Others were more subtle like air, restoration, heat, and sound.

“As a general rule,” he said, “Missiles can move away from your body, or towards it. But you’d be surprised how much variation this allows.”

The scene shifted back to the dojo. “Next up is Constructs. Unless you live under a rock, I’d wager you see these every day. At the Novice stage, they take on the form of shields.” He demonstrated this by stretching out both hands and forming a wall of glowing mana in front of himself.

A pure Missile flew in from off camera, and the shield absorbed its impact.

“In this case, I’m using pure mana, which repels physical projectiles. Other aspects get more specific . . .”

The camera switched to a scene of a black-clad fire artist, stretching out her hands and keeping a forest fire at bay. Another scene showed a water artist stopping a tidal wave, then a man who stood before an avalanche, making the rocks float in midair.

That last aspect wasn’t immediately obvious, but some helpful text appeared at the bottom of the screen:

Sora Sanako, Mystic-level gravity artist.

Mystic. This was clearly the peak of mana arts, and the sight of these techniques always gave her chills. Even a thousand Gold Martials didn’t wield power at this scale, and that proved that people had gotten weaker over time.

“And last but not least,” the Grandmaster said, “we have the Cloak technique. This is when you reinforce your physical body, making yourself faster, stronger, and more resilient.”

A web of bright blue veins glowed beneath his skin; some of the light even shone through his T-shirt. The camera pulled out to reveal a slab of solid concrete balanced on two cinder blocks. It must have been six or seven inches thick. The Grandmaster raised his muscular arm over the concrete, and his fist shone even brighter than before.

After a dramatic pause, he brought his arm straight down, severing the slab into two clean pieces.

He straightened his posture again, and the camera zoomed back to his chest. “A Cloak technique is impossible at the Novice stage. Trust me, kids, don’t try this at home, or your bones will snap like twigs.”

Even after rewatching the first four videos, Akari still had no clue what the ‘Novice stage’ was, or what stage came after it. Kalden had asked Maelyn, and she’d never heard of it, either. Must be a phrase no one used anymore, like ‘Master,’ ‘Grandmaster,’ or ‘Mystic.’

It sounded like a way to rank people, not unlike Bronze, Silver, or Gold. But these titles spoke of your skill and achievements rather than some made-up birth status. Akari could get on board with a system like that.

After finishing the overview, she closed the media player and opened the fourth (and final) video they’d found. This one showed Missiles in more detail, including the proper stance. Supposedly, the fifth video was all about Constructs, but she hadn’t found that one yet.

The Grandmaster demonstrated the Missile stance on the screen, and Akari pushed the chair back to follow along. One foot in front of the other. Dominant arm extended outward. Other arm curled up behind you.

The hard part was gathering enough mana into her palm. Whenever she tried, it felt like scooping up the last bit of soup from the bottom of the bowl.

Apparently, Kalden had conjured his first real Missile last night. But was that fine. Akari was happy for him, and she definitely wasn’t jealous or pissed off.

Footsteps thundered down the stairs, followed by Kalden’s voice. “Maelyn and Darren are here. We’re going to practice in the backyard.”

“Okay.” Akari dropped her stance and let out a breath. “Be right out.”

He’d called Maelyn last night and told her about the hunting idea. She’d responded with a long lecture on how they’d probably die without a healer. Now, here they all were, training as a group.

Akari joined the others in the fenced-in backyard. A row of wooden training dummies sat lined up on one side of the open grass area, about twenty yards from where Kalden and the others stood. Darren was already loading a Missile rod with a clip of ammunition.

Akari frowned at the chubby blond boy as he raised his weapon toward the training dummies. Seriously? They were fighting mana beasts with him? He might be a good informant, but—

Darren fired three blasts in rapid succession, taking the three training dummies between their eyes.

Shit. Never mind.

Nearby, Kalden showed off his new Missile technique to Maelyn, gathering mana in his right palm and hurling it at the wooden dummies. His Missiles weren’t as strong as the ones in Darren’s rod, and each one missed the targets by several inches. Still, that was more than Akari could do.

You’ve made it this far, she reminded herself.

Sometimes, her practice sessions felt like she was walking on thin ice. As if this were another one of her dreams, and one wrong move could send her back to square one. But then she remembered Kalden’s words from that day in the quad.

No one can take this away from us.

She hoped to Talek and all the Angels that was true.

Darren raised his sunglasses as he turned to face Akari. “Ever shot one of these before?”

Akari blinked. “A few times, yeah.”

“Good day for practice then.” He flipped a switch near the top and handed it to her. “This is an S29. The recoil feels like a G-class rod, but you won’t blow up a tree if you miss.”

Akari accepted the weapon and adjusted her grip. It was heavier than the rod she’d lost, but not as heavy as she’d expected. The shaft was a long steel cylinder, about an inch in diameter. Aside from the leather grip and trigger, the only real difference was the ammo battery at the back. That could probably hold a dozen or more Missiles, judging by its size.

“See those pointy things at the top?” Darren gestured with his finger. “Those are the iron sights.”

Akari nodded as she tried to line up the sights with her target.

“Real mana artists don’t bother with those,” he said. “But they’re useful for people like us.”

“So . . . you’re not a mana artist?”

“Nah. I’m gonna be an accountant.”

“What?” She wrinkled her nose. “Why?”

“It pays well.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“But Mana artists can make money with their bare hands.”

Mana crystals weren’t technically used as currency these days, but places would pay to take them off your hands. If the quality was good enough, they would grind them down to make potions or liquid mana. Lower-quality crystals got turned into fuel, and that fuel powered every car, train, and building in the Archipelago.

“Sure,” Darren said. “But let’s say you spent hundreds of hours practicing, and you learn to make a perfect, culinary grade crystal . . .”

“Alchemy grade,” Kalden corrected as he walked over.

“Alchemy grade,” Darren amended with narrowed eyes. “At best, a Silver can make three crystals in an eight-hour workday. That would get me sixty coppernotes per day if the market is good. The only way to increase your output is to drink potions. And that sort of defeats the purpose, right?”

Sixty coppernotes per day didn’t sound so bad to Akari. Minimum wage was only five coppernotes per hour, after all.

“Now, as for accountants—”

“Here we go,” Maelyn said as she strolled over. The Shokenese girl was a head taller than Akari and Darren, but still not as tall as Kalden. Her black hair came down past her chest, accentuating her height even further. She ignored Darren’s glare and turned to Akari. “It’s not every day a cute girl asks him about economics.”

Akari blinked. Did Maelyn just call her cute? Probably sarcasm or something.

“Anyway.” Darren spent a full second clearing his throat, pointedly not looking at either of them. “An entry-level accountant can make twenty coppernotes per hour. Or one point six silvernotes per day. Plus you can move up a pay grade every year. More money for the same amount of time.”

Akari gave a slow nod. “What about combat?”

“You’re still at the mercy of the market,” Darren said. “The mana beast numbers fluctuate all the time. The Border Guard protects the big cities like Ironhaven, so a freelancer has to join the Hunters’ Guild in White Vale. The pay might be decent, but other jobs are way more stable.”

“Plus,” Maelyn broke in, “combat comes with the looming threat of injury and death—something most people like to avoid.” She rested her chin on both hands. “That’s why healing artists are so popular!”

Akari had never considered healing arts before. Mostly because her foster mother was a healer, and she’d poisoned that well forever. Healers also lacked offensive techniques, which made them useless outside a group setting.

Kalden crossed his arms and nodded. “Maelyn’s been in the tunnels five or six times now. That’s why she’s giving us a crash course.”

“Right,” Maelyn said. “Lesson number one is armor.”

“Wait,” Kalden said. “I’m no expert, but shouldn’t lesson one be ‘don’t get hit in the first place’?”

Akari nodded along, thinking back to her first fighting lesson with the neighbor boy. In fact, that boy reminded her of Kalden, now that she thought about it.

“Fine.” Maelyn rolled her eyes. “Lesson number two is armor.” She knocked a fist on her black leather vest. Akari glanced at Darren and Kalden, who wore vests of a similar style.

The other girl walked over to the wooden table where they’d gathered their things. She picked up a fourth vest and tossed it to Akari. “You can borrow one of mine for now—and next week when we go hunting for real.”

Akari slipped the vest on over her hoodie. It was heavier than she’d imagined, not to mention stiffer.

“These are woven with sigils,” Maelyn explained. “They can stop bullets, knives, or Missiles.”

Well, that explained the stiffness. Most permanent mana Constructs had a crystal-like quality, and crystal wasn’t known for its comfort.

Maelyn also passed out helmets. These were black, with clear visors across the front. Mana artists in movies never wore anything like this. Then again, real mana artists could protect themselves with Constructs and Cloaks, so a helmet would just get in their way. Akari still had a long way to go before she reached that level.

Once they had their helmets and vests on, Maelyn eyed Akari’s skirt with a raised eyebrow. Damnit. The other girl had the same school uniform, so she probably recognized it.

“I’d also wear jeans if I were you,” Maelyn said. “And boots, if you have them.”

Akari didn’t have any jeans worth wearing, but she kept that to herself.

Maelyn explained the creatures they were likely to face in the tunnels, along with the tactics they’d need to kill them. They spent the rest of the afternoon practicing with the Missile rods, hitting the training dummies at various ranges. Kalden’s family had plenty of spare ammo, so money was no real concern here.

They practiced together until the sun went down. By then, the auroras filled the sky with swirls of green and blue light.

They ordered Shokenese food for dinner—spicy shrimp, fried noodles, and vegetables. It was a nice change from what she ate at the Cliftons’ house. It almost reminded her of the food her mother used to make.

All in all, this group seemed surprisingly normal. The three of them were all business at school. Kalden was their Gold leader, and Darren and Maelyn were his Silver minions. Even their parents worked for Kalden’s mother, so they came from a long line of rulers and retainers. That was what she’d come to expect from the so-called higher ranks.

They didn’t wear their badges in private, though. Here, they were just hanging out as friends. Akari had never had any friends before. But for the first time in her life, she got a glimpse of what it felt like.

~~~

She sat on her bed the following weekend, trying and failing to conjure her first Missile. The tunnel excursion was tomorrow morning, and she’d rather not rely on weapons the whole time. Weapons could get lost, stolen, or malfunction.

But it was far more than that. Everyone claimed that a Bronze couldn’t become a mana artist. She’d used mana these past few weeks, but that wasn’t the same as a true technique.

This was her chance to prove the world wrong once and for all.

Mazren had gone away for the weekend—something about a broken wall fragment in the channel between Arkala and Teras. Her foster sister, Elyna, also had a late music lesson. That left her with Noella. Her foster mother was even more of a bitch when they were alone. Best to stay in her room as much as possible.

Akari stretched out her hand, mentally counting the seconds as the mana gathered in her palm. It started out soft like a pulsing muscle, then it started to vibrate, pushing away from her hand like a repelled magnet.

And when the mana finally surfaced, it came in a cloud of transparent vapor—a far cry from the glowing blue orb she’d expected. The force was enough to levitate small objects like an empty water bottle or a pencil, but even that strained her channels.

She was getting better, though. Her most recent effort had lasted a full seven seconds, and she jotted that down in her notebook beneath her previous record of six. Her practice sessions were getting longer, too. Almost half an hour had passed, and she still had mana to burn.

That was good, right? It meant her soul was growing. Then again, maybe her technique had changed? She couldn’t see actual numbers without a mana watch, and mana watches cost a few silvernotes. That was out of her price range for now, but it might be on the table after tomorrow’s hunting excursion.

“Everyone wants the flashy techniques,” the Grandmaster had said. “But ninety-nine percent of students neglect their shaping. Aye, it’s tedious work, but it will give you an edge. Not just that, but it will open the door to more advanced aspects later on.”

More advanced aspects. Akari liked the sound of that.

She was probably getting ahead of herself there, but mana artists only got to choose one aspect, and they were stuck with it for life. Might as well pick the best one.

The Grandmaster also came from a different age, at the height of humanity’s power. If he called this an advantage, then what did that mean here, in the Archipelago?

Akari pushed more mana into her palm. She’d practiced this well over a thousand times by now. Not just before bed, but every morning before she showered. She practiced in the bathroom between classes, and during her walks home by the river. Any time she had a free moment, she trained. And once she got her hands on another bottle, she could—

Footsteps echoed from outside her bedroom.

Akari released her mana in a puff of vapor, and the door swung open on its creaking hinges.

Her foster mother, Noella, stepped inside the room. The woman was Espirian like her husband, with strawberry blond hair, flawless skin, and eyes like daggers. In some ways, she looked like an older version of Emberlyn Frostblade.

Ever heard of knocking? The question sprang to Akari’s lips, but she didn’t let it out. She already knew the answer.

“What were you doing?” Noella’s crisp voice snapped like a whip.

“Uh . . .” Akari reached down and picked up her notebook. It was just a bunch of numbers that could, conceivably, pass for math. “Homework?”

“I thought I saw mana.” Noella squinted around the room before her gaze settled on the closet. She pulled open the white double doors, knelt down, and lifted the loose floorboard in the corner.

What the hell? Akari sprang to her feet. Adrenaline raced through her veins, and her instincts told her to run.

Her foster mother reached into the floor and pulled out the empty jar of liquid mana.

How? How did she know where to look?

“What were you doing with this?” Noella took several steps forward, holding up the jar between them. The dregs of blue liquid still clung to the bottom.

Akari looked away. The woman wasn’t nearly as tall as Kalden, but she still towered over her. It made her feel four years younger, and a dozen old memories pinned her into place.

“Well?” Noella’s voice cut through the silence.

“Someone at school gave it to me . . .” Her own voice came out small, with none of its usual fire. The sound was almost painful to her ears.

“This is useless to you.”

If it’s so useless, then why do you care? But once again, she held her tongue.

“And dangerous,” Noella went on. “Bronze bodies won’t process this. It can gather in your cells and poison you over time.”

The woman spoke with such cold indifference. Sometimes, Akari wished Noella were a raving lunatic like some of her previous foster parents. Many of them drank too much, did drugs, or worked jobs they despised. At least then, Akari knew they just wanted a dog to kick.

But Noella had a perfect life and a well-paying job she seemed to enjoy. She loved her real daughter, and she hated Akari. Things had always been that way, and no one ever told her why.

Akari didn’t reply as the older woman adjusted her grip on the jar. Her hands itched to rip off her glasses and throw them safely aside. If the lenses broke, then she’d be useless tomorrow. But she couldn’t even manage that much. Her heart thundered in her chest, but her arms hung like lead weights at her side.

To her surprise, Noella lowered the jar and turned around. “If you want to poison yourself, that’s fine. Just don’t do it in my house.” She tossed the jar back toward the closet, and it shattered on the floor. “Now clean this mess up.”

The door slammed behind her foster mother as she left. Akari gritted her teeth and clenched her fingers into fists. Damnit. She and Noella hadn’t been alone like this in several months. After all that training, she should have been stronger. She should have fought back.

Sweat coated her palms as she stared down at the broken jar. Half of it lay scattered in smaller shards below her bed and dresser, but one larger chunk remained.

Mana rushed out from her soul, tearing through her channels like a raging river. It pushed against her skin, yearning for release. The pressure built up against her clenched fist, forcing it open.

Never again.

Akari thrust out her palm, and a sphere of pale blue light emerged. The Missile soared across her room, faster than she could blink. It flew like an extension of her own body, more precise than any rod.

Mana struck glass a heartbeat later, and the fragment shattered into a hundred tiny pieces.