Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (27/?) WiP 1 (Patreon)

Hey everyone! Here's the Work in Progress for Chapter 27 I hope you guys enjoy! :D

I felt like I was starting a Castle and Wyverns campaign in reverse.

More accurately, I felt like I was homebrewing a scenario to hell and back, and possibly giving every dungeon master a proverbial aneurysm in the process.

By virtue of the sheer ludicrousness I, and by extension humanity, had been pulling in this world of swords and sorcery: I’d very much landed myself in anything but a typical adventure.

I assumed this was the case, as I had a hunch that a typical adventure certainly didn’t have your budding adventurers starting off on day two in a room that was comparable to an endgame hoard or dungeon.

At least that’s what I was able to discern from the general vibes of the room, as Sorecar stood there in the middle of it, dramatically raising both of his arms high up above his head. This was soon followed up by the summoning of an uproarious display of fantastical flames and a mana-fueled lightshow that put me in mind of some of the impressive stuff the megaparks down in Florida were still pulling off to this day. Megaparks whose name I dare not bring up even in the recesses of my mind for fear of legal retribution, especially from the big mouse himself, who more than likely would smite me down with a team of lawyers no matter what dimension I happened to be residing in.

“Impressed, Emma Booker?” The man asked earnestly, or as earnestly as he could given the sheer showiness of his actions thus far.

“Yes, I think-”

“Well then that’s your first mistake!” He interjected with a hollow snap of his fingers. “Because what you just witnessed was magic for magic’s sake. A show, a play, an act of theater, a hollow tune played without rhyme or reason, for no real purpose, and for no true ends, burning bright, captivating all, but leaving nothing behind after all is said and done. What you just witnessed, Emma Booker, was something that those at the tippy top of their ivory towers may appreciate, but for those who actually know their way around the nitty gritty of the magic that underpins civilization, simply abhor. For all it is a superfluous waste of mana, and a complete waste of skill. As in spite of its impressiveness, it remains merely a hollow display of magical potential and prowess, designed to strike fear in the hearts of the enemy.” He began walking up to one of the swords still glowing red hot from the furnaces, as he held it firmly by the hilt, a sharp sizzle punctuating the awkward pause in conversation. “This?” He held up the blade, as he began swooshing it around, slicing through the air with sharp wooshes being generated with every swing. “This…” The rattling suit of armor paused, taking aim with the sword towards a dummy at a far corner of the room.

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 320% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

There was no brilliant display of light that followed, no visible signs of a magical weapon being used, nothing to indicate that magic of any sort had been summoned.

Yet the effects of it were undeniable.

As the dummy fell apart in short order, like a scene out of a piece of animation, its body was cleaved into what could only be described as a series of finely diced croutons.

Whether or not croutons could be diced was another matter unto itself, that was just the first thing that came to mind.

Regardless, the whole thing was cleaved into neat little pieces, falling apart with an innumerable series of seamless cuts that would have only been possible with a high-tensile monofilament wire.

All of this… from a sword having been pointed in the general direction of a dummy.

Not even with any fancy swooshes at that.

“This… is a weapon designed to strike at the heart of your enemy. It is a weapon of war, a tool by every measure, and one that needs only speak for itself. No fanciful sparkles, no glitz or glamor, nothing but cold hard mana-steel, and a healthy dose of complex compound enchantments.” I could hear him grinning, as I captured every last detail in high definition with all of my monitoring equipment, saving all of it for later review. “Do you see what I’m getting at here, Emma Booker?”

“Yes. Yes, I think I am.” I spoke in no uncertain terms. Part of me knew the man was just excited to be showing off, especially after gaining a conversation partner who actually reciprocated his excitement in what was probably decades, or even centuries. However, I couldn’t help but to feel like this whole showmanship hinting at something far darker.

Part of me felt like this was an indirect show of force. A roundabout way to intimidate and threaten newrealmers into a state of shock and awe at the capabilities of the Nexus from just day two of them being here at the Academy.

If newrealmers really were supposed to be as lower along the tech tree as everyone here seemed to be implying, then I shudder to think what they would’ve thought upon laying their eyes on the sight of a weapon that by all means looked like something that shouldn’t have been capable of anything but standard melee, but that turned out to be a ranged weapon in disguise; one that needed only magic to function.

I bet the reaction would’ve been something similar to the likes of Thacea and Thalmin seeing my gun in action for the first time.

“Hah! All shook up from that little display of weaponsmithing excellence, Emma Booker?” The man’s voice all but shook me out of my reverie, as he approached me, slapping me hard against the back of my armor with a force that would’ve more than likely been able to knock Ilunor down to the floor.

“I’ve never seen anything like that.” I muttered out with a degree of genuine shock and awe in my voice, because despite everything, I couldn’t help but to deny that I was, in fact, blown away.

Not by the weapon’s capabilities mind you. Tactically speaking, it was impressive, but nothing a monofilament net flung at thousands of feet per second couldn’t do.

No.

What was blowing me away more than anything was the sudden realization that I was in fact witnessing a magic sword.

A sword that was more than likely the stuff of legends amongst many a magical town and community within the Nexus. A weapon that was more than likely the object of thousands of budding adventurer’s dreams, something that they would have to quest for months, years, maybe even decades to finally acquire.

The armorer was a five thousand year old blacksmith.

The Academy was one of the most renowned magical locations amongst the realms and within the Nexus.

I was literally being shown around a room of legendary weapons by the man who smithed them.

And I was doing so just by being nice to the guy, and of course, by being the titular newrealmer.

“Oh.” The man paused, in a way that was clearly done for exaggerated theatrical effect than anything. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet!” The man excitedly beamed back, his whole body clattering with each and every jump as he leaped over to the next forge, and brought out what could only be described as an overly ornate polearm.

Indeed, I knew it was a polearm by virtue of the EVI superimposing its scans, analytics, and subsequent conclusions about the weapons currently being brought to bear.