By noon of Elian’s third day inside the vat, he decided it was time to make the big reveal he had achieved Aethersense. Too bad the only people in the hall weren’t people; they were Lyra’s summons. Not much of a reveal.

He still had a few hours to go until the time limit Lyra gave him, but he decided he didn’t want to look that incompetent. Imagery was important in dealing with the teachers and students.

He touched the glass of the vat and transmitted a thought command to open it. As it sucked the condensed Aether and dispensed it outside as regular Aether, Elian found himself lowered to the base. Glass walls swooshed open. The Manifested Armor approached to catch him as he struggled to find his footing, still woozy from the deep trance.

All in all, a good session.

“Elian Ward, have you fulfilled your goal?” Lyra entered the hall through the doorway held open by a Manifested Armor. Her summons must’ve communicated with her. “Or are you giving up? There’s no shame in that. Walk away from the building and no one here will remember you tomorrow.”

“I’m staying, Teacher Lyra.” Elian held out an open palm. Sparkles of light danced on it for a few seconds. “Is this Aethersense?”

Lyra didn’t immediately answer. Her brows raised so high they disappeared behind the waves of her blue hair across her wrinkled forehead. “That is not Aethersense… you’re already controlling Aether, Elian Wards.” A nod of acknowledgment was all she gave him and the word, “Good.”

I got her with that. Elian grinned to himself.

“An aside, Elian Ward,” she said, wiping the impressed look off her face. “Is that a new welt on your forehead? Did you bump your head or—Ah, it’s an injury caused by the Tribulation.”

Elian nodded. No point in making excuses. “I called for the Tribulation this morning.”

“Do health potions work on your injuries?”

“Somewhat… partially.”

Lyra tapped her rings together as she gazed at the ceiling in thought. “The only Curse I can think of with both those effects is from the Abyssal Eye. I have no idea how you reached its abode. What did you do to make it angry at you?” She raised a finger before Elian could think of a fake story. “A rhetorical question, Elian Ward. Your business is your own. I know you won’t tell me the truth. I’m marveling at your utter insanity taking on the Tribulations while suffering such an impediment.”

“With your help,” Elian said, “I’ll survive the Tribulations.”

“Not mine. Your next lesson is with Varmisal. You’ll train with the rest of the novices.”

Lyra brought Elian to the end of the wing, into an indoor garden surrounded by glass walls looking out to a night sky even though it was day outside. It was twice the size of the hall that they left. A dozen or so people—the novices, Elian assumed, because Jadewell and Thorren were among them—sat under trees with crystalline leaves and golden branches. Those were Creation Trees. Probably lesser clones of one. They must’ve grown from broken-off branches of a mother Creation Tree, gigantic trees bigger than skyscrapers of Earth. They fed on Aether rather than nutrients from the soil.

These many Creation Trees should amount to quite a fortune. Their bark, leaves, and branches were used in all sorts of things magic. If left to grow undisturbed, they absorbed Aether from the air, breaking it down for sustenance and releasing a ‘digested’ byproduct that was easy to mold and control for construction.

Varmisal waved with his Aether-made arm, donning an excited smile. “Another student?”

“This is the last one,” Lyra said, pointing at Elian with the Manifested Armor accompanying them. “Another month until we have three newcomers in a day.”

“We cherish those moments,” said Varmisal.

“My work here is done. I didn’t do much, I know, but it is done. Note this young man awakened his Aethersense and can control Aether. He’ll catch up to the rest of the class soon enough.”

“Is that true?” Varmisal rested his Aether arm on Elian’s shoulder—it didn’t feel heavy—and led him to a Creation Tree. He giggled when Elian demonstrated his skill as if a child was given the present he wished for on his birthday. “Marvelous work there, young man. Elian, was it?”

“Elian Ward of Gilders. I don’t know how I did it. Something just… clicked. I was struggling and then everything fell into place.”

“I remember the feeling fondly. Grasping a tiny fraction of the world and my tiny place in it. Sit here, Elian. This is a Creation Tree.”

Varmisal explained things about it that Elian was already aware of. He also narrated the perilous journey beyond the Dim Mountains to get the branches for the school garden. Varmisal must be quite strong to have survived such an expedition. He could’ve lost his arm there.

A humanoid figure of shimmering glass gave Varmisal a roll of parchment—this was one of his summons. Aether mages could make anything they could imagine. It didn’t have to be suits of armor. Just that armor was familiar to all and evoked thoughts of fighting, strength, and durability. Imagery greatly affected construction. King Idum-Ani could’ve made the Golden Army into thousands of fluffy poodles instead of hulking behemoths of interlocking plates and gears, but they would’ve been weaker despite his unmatched skill.

“Thank you,” Varmisal said, though he didn’t need to show gratitude to his own creation. He flattened the parchment on the grass. It was full of drawings of circles and lines with beautiful handwriting along the borders. Must be Varmisal’s notes. “These are visualization exercises to help you make your first construct.”

Elian found it hard to tear his eyes away from the drawings. They were hypnotizing. When his eyes followed the lines, it was as if he was drawn into a dream, his mind led to think a certain way. He hadn’t seen this scroll in his past life because it was for Aether Magic novices.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“You start with gathering Aether at a point.” Varmisal held up a finger. A minuscule disco ball formed above it. “Don’t think of shapes or forms. Concentrate only on gathering. Progress your training by making this point bigger and bigger until you eventually make a sphere—that is the easiest form to maintain. A cube has an uneven distance from the center, like its edges. Clear your mind and think of a point. Refer to these illustrations if you have difficulties concentrating.”

“Thank you for your guidance, Master Varmisal,” Elian said, formally addressing his mage teacher.

Varmisal moved on to guide the other students. Jadewell, hiding her face, as usual, could already form a marble-sized construct. Thorren was behind a tree so Elian couldn’t see him, but judging by the flickering reflection on the Creation Tree’s leaves, he hadn’t achieved stability in his construction. Other students, their seniors, were further along. A Dagalan could already make three balls, their light reflecting off his scales. A man with greying hair who could’ve been mistaken for a teacher focused on making a cube.

Last night, Elian succeeded in making a sphere the size of a golf ball—his second day at the vat improved his skills exponentially. Now, after another half day marinating in Aether, he was sure he could attempt gathering Aether at two points.

But he wasn’t going to show it to Varmisal and the other students. Lagging would reduce questions and also get him more help from the teachers. Eventually, he’d show off to make his progress look even more impressive.

I’ll fake my skills for now, Elian thought as he gathered Aether… inside his closed fist stowed inside his pocket.

He needed to keep its light hidden. He had even sewn a patch of thick cloth over his pocket for more precaution. Wouldn’t want his classmates to wonder why a rave party was going on inside his pants.

Concentrating on a point out of sight made the task several times more difficult. More than several times.

Elian didn’t stop at that—he also gathered Aether on his finger, as he was instructed. The divided attention resulted in a sputtering of sparks on his fingertip, making him appear a beginner. He was sure nothing was happening inside his pocket yet. Despite the difficult start, Elian estimated he could form two points before the class was over. The Aether flowed smoothly in the garden, offering no resistance whatsoever as he plucked them out of the air.

He’d love to have a garden of Creation Trees someday. Retire after he’d vanquish the Giants. Just relax here and…

…and no longer return to Earth?

Elian’s concentration was broken. Dammit.

He chewed his tongue as he stared at his finger, annoyed at himself. Not the time for these thoughts. He balled his fist inside his pocket tighter before unclenching it.

Ready to gather Aether again.

In between breaks, he consulted the scroll of illustrations. Classmate-watching was also an interesting pastime. Jade’s sphere had grown twice bigger. He imagined her face contorted in concentration behind her black hair. Thorren, on the other hand, was cursing so much that Varmisal had to make him leave and cool his head outside. Such a temper on that guy.

Elian couldn’t see outside because the glass walls of the garden mirrored the skies above the mother Creation Tree. It was nighttime there, on the other side of the world. He recognized some of the stars and constellations to roughly estimate the passing hours.

Should be late in the afternoon by now. He admired the colorful grain of Aether rotating above his finger. In his pocket was another tiny piece of Aether. King Idum-Ani would be proud of him.

Varmisal went around the class to examine everyone’s progress for the day, giving pointers for improvement and assignments for the night. “A wonderful development you’ve made,” he told Elian. “Lyra was right to allow you another day inside the Eyoneir Maghindr. Continue the exercises even when you’re outside the school to hasten your growth. But remember to rest. Deep sleep allows your learnings for the day to embed themselves in your brain.”

Elian didn’t mingle with the other students after the class—though he overheard their conversation about another student giving up that morning—because he had some shopping to do at Vigor Hill.

Tribulations weren’t going to do any massive damage to him anytime soon. The problem was it chipped at him here and there. He didn’t want to keep applying ointment on his body every day. Health potions were too expensive for doing so little. Better gear would help, and he’d buy those, but he also wanted a more reliable solution to healing himself.

Traveling over the bridges and roads from Immaterial Hill to Vigor Hill was a relaxed affair. It turned into a bustling nightmare as he entered the gates of Vigor Hill. He thought there’d be fewer people as the day wrapped up, but because the main temple was closing, the crowd dispersed to the surrounding hills. Vigor Hill was one of the more populated areas because of its numerous students so it drew more people.

A hassle, but also a good thing. More people, more merchants, more chances of finding what he was looking for. Always look on the bright side.

If only he had summons that shared vision with him to look at every shop. The marketplace from his first visit expanded to occupy the streets, sprawling like an Engorged King Slime over the entire hill as sunset drew nearer. Lantern balls dangling from posts went up and shouting from vendors competed with each other like mating calls. An angry man with a soot-covered face complained to a trinket merchant, “I was looking for something to help me hide in the darkness, not bathe me in whatever this is!”

Their arguments were drowned by the crowd up ahead, oohing and aahing at whatever the armorer had put on display. Elian stood on tiptoes but couldn’t see what the demonstration was, just that armor of coiled vines was getting hit by swords and sledgehammers. “It has an enchantment of Molten Damascus,” Elian heard one of them say. “Makes it impervious to unenchanted weapons.”

“This isn’t what I’m looking for.” Elian held his cloak tight about him as he fled from the immovable clusters of people. Underneath his tunic was a pouch full of coins—his half of the proceeds from selling useable parts of the faeboar. But he wasn’t sure if it’d be enough for what he wanted to buy.

“The plants' section is that way, sir,” said a man selling pickled eggs. Finally, Elian found someone who could help him. “Straight down, take the third corner to the right. You’ll see greenery and know you’re there.”

Elian’s original plan to combat the restrictions of the Abyssal Eye’s Curse was to train the regenerative forms of the warrior monks and learn high-level herbalism. Obviously, that couldn’t happen now. Even the herbalism part got knocked off the tracks when he went here instead of Sabyn Mountain.

Then something occurred to him while staring at the Creation Trees while resting. He could continue his herbalism plan… sort of. It’d still involve plants.

“Hello there, good sir!” A portly man in attire too fancy for a rowdy marketplace put down the sandwich he ate when he saw Elian checking his table. “How can I help you? I have all things… well, most things plant that you may require.”

“Do you have a plant symbiont?” Elian asked. “Just the seed, not a dormant seedling. Can’t afford that.”

“Of course! We have a varied selection to help you survive the Tribulation. The most popular of all is the Living Armor symbiont. Another choice is the Barkskin—I recommend this one. Cheaper and easier to grow. We have metal variants for the Barkskin. Just don’t forget to feed it iron filings unless you want it to suck the iron out of your blood. Then there’s—”

“Not for the Tribulation,” Elian said. “Something for healing, like Vampiric Pods or maybe Rejuvenating Roots. I hope they’re not too expensive.”