83. Training (Patreon)

Even after a night’s rest, my mind was still focused on the author of the soul anthology. I had found proof of their existence. This was the farthest I had ever gone with my investigations. I knew they had to exist, but to completely know that they were out there was a weight lifted from my shoulders, a weight I never knew I carried.

I thought of multiple ways to find the elusive mystic, but unfortunately, I had none. If they were able to just turn off my Soul Sight and push me back into the corporeal plane, I had no way to find them with my magic.

My other lead was Alatea, she obviously knew something. But she wouldn’t tell me anything about the author, as if she had a geass placed on her soul. Or at least, was forced against talking about them.

A rhythmic knocking on the door knocked me out of my scheming.

“Who’s there?” I didn’t bother to open my eyes.

“First Sergeant Shyz.” My superior told me. “Can I enter?”

“It’s open, suit yourself.”

The soldier opened the door, yet his soul stood outside the entrance. “What are you doing?”

“Meditating,” I replied, still with my eyes closed.

“At five in the morning?” He inquired.

“I don’t sleep much.” And I couldn’t even do so after the revelation. At least I could ward off sleep deprivation with healing.

I heard a screeching sound and understood that Tir’ne had picked up the chair from my desk (a weird thing for ellari to have, though it was more akin to a pillowed armchair than a wooden classical one) and sat down.

“I see you already tried your new uniform,” Shyz said, I could feel his gaze upon me, his eyes inspecting me.

I took a deep breath and released a huge pulse of soul mana, my body relaxing and tensing up simultaneously as the mystical energies drowned it.

“Yes.” I opened my eyes. “It’s an incredible piece of clothing. Light, comfortable, and enchanted enough to stop a Fireball at point-blank range without trouble. I feel unworthy of such craftsmanship.”

“You shouldn’t.” His tone was harsh, yet his visage smiled. “You are now part of the Vanguard Order, and only the best of the best is allowed to be part of it. And you are included in such a select group, of course.”

I got up from my bed and returned him the smile.

“Why did you come here at five in the morning then?”

“Well, I don’t sleep much.” He chuckled. “But no. The Ceaseless Storm wishes to talk with you.” The First Sergeant’s tone shifted into seriousness.

“I’m finally going to do soldier things?” I asked.

Yesterday I had been forced to do overwatch duty, as I failed to impress Tir’ne with the whole Soul Sight fiasco. Something told me he would have me done so either way, regardless of my success, and was just trying me out and inspecting my uncommon magic. I just took those ten-something hours of complete stillness as free time to heal my body and meditate, so the one who ended up winning was me.

Soul magic was rare, and many mages didn’t even know how it worked. Most people weren’t even conscious of the presence of the cognitive and spiritual planes.

“I cannot tell you, as I do not know myself.” The elder soldier revealed. “I’m unaware why you were even recruited by him. You are certainly powerful, but also young. The Ceaseless Storm wants you to meet with him and the Arcane Veil in her office.” He approached me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Beware your words, boy. You’ll be alone in a room with two eleven-star mages.”

I gave him another smile. “I’ll be fine.”

Yes, he was clueless. The heroes of war hadn’t even informed their third-in-command about the whole leyline and draconid ordeal. If Fynn wanted to contact me this soon, he must have discovered something noteworthy.

“I warned you.” I maintained my smile against his cautious words.

**********

The presence in the spiritual plane was overwhelming. But I wasn’t a stranger to the thundering auras of powerful mages. I had seen four eleven-star star mages and carefully inspected their souls. I knew that once a certain threshold was surpassed, whether, in raw mana or masterful control of magic, the boundaries of reality became rather… dim.

The dominions of three powerful mages collided on three different planes. It wasn’t a violent crash but still arose many questions. All this subterfuge and fighting had made me forget what I really was: a scholar.

I wanted to investigate the effects of high-starred magic on souls and planes. How reality worked, what truly were the planes, and how could energy travel between different planes of existence? So many questions, and many possible answers, but no time.

“Why was I summoned then?” I dispelled my researcher mentality, focusing on the pressing issue.

Amira Kalyd and Fynn Albeyr sat before me. We all were on the ground, resting on top of a cushion of colorful pattern, with tea before us. Yet no one touched the hot drinks.

“You had told us you had a way to communicate with the draconids, yes?” Amira started. “We would like to establish communications with the draconid emperor.”

That reminded me that I hadn’t told them about the little meeting I had with princess Salayah and the knight Caius. It wasn’t like an opportunity to tell them had appeared, though.

“You want to directly talk to the emperor?” I clarified.

“Yes,” Fynn responded roughly and shortly.

Amira gave him a dry look. Her partner ignored her, choosing to look at me. The purple arcanist sighed in defeat.

“Edrie, could you do that?” She asked for confirmation.

“Hmm…” I pondered. “I could communicate with him, or at least with the imperial princess with ease. But having you there presents a new issue.”

“You aren’t capable of opening a communication relay?” This time was Fynn who asked.

“I’m oblivious to what a communication relay is,” I said, “but my method of communication works by directly moving my soul to the mana capacitator located in the imperial palace. I doubt I could move your souls, and you probably wouldn’t want me to do so in the first place.”

And I don’t know how either Fynn or Caius would react upon seeing each other. Better to avoid that scenario altogether.

“We would rather not,” Amira said with a calm smile. “Though it’s a shame face-to-face communication isn’t possible.”

“I could always relay information as a proxy messenger,” I told them.

Amira mumbled something. “It isn’t that we don’t trust you…”

“Such a method would be foolish.” Fynn intervened. “There are too many variables and problems. You could give us or them false information.”

“Fair.” I nodded. “Was that all?”

“No.” The Ceaseless Storm continued. “We wanted to ask you about your resurrection spell.”

My visage soured.

“First, it isn’t a spell. Second, I can’t use it again.” Especially if it’s for military uses. But I left that part unsaid.

“Your whole alibi depends on your ability to resurrect dead people, soldier.” The Ceaseless Storm expressed his dissatisfaction.

“Is that blackmail?” Fynn tried to respond but I interjected him before he was able to open his mouth. “If you want someone to confirm you that I did indeed resurrect my friend, why don’t you talk with the draconid emperor?”

The eleven-star mage frowned. That had annoyed him. Last time we spoke he asked me to establish communications with the emperor as he didn’t have a way to do so.

“It was a very difficult and complex ritual that took a lot for me, and it was a one-time thing.” I continued. ”Don’t expect to go resurrecting every people that succumb to sickness or worse.”

“Let it slip,” Amira told him. “Not even eleven-star healers can pull off such feats.” Then she looked at me. “We’ll trust that what you said is true, as we have checked that your friend is alive. But if you betray our trust, then you’ll see why everyone calls us heroes of war.”

“Understood, ma’am,” I responded conventionally, even though I couldn’t take her seriously. Her soul told me she wasn’t the type of person to threaten others.

Amira nodded and put her hand on Fynn’s left shoulder. The heated electromancer quickly cooled down.

“As you are now part of our order, you’ll be starting military training as any other Private.” He said as if the last part of our conversation had never happened. “We won’t have an untrained mage in our ranks, no matter how high your star is.”

“Fair,” I responded.

Even though the Command Major Sergeant’s words and tone were rough, I knew he cared. Not only because I could intuitively read his soul, a task that was getting easier since our little clash, but because he decided to take me under his wing. He wanted to protect me, or in the worst scenario, protect others from me. Which once again, was fair.

**********

“As you can see, we have a new Private.” Aln, the fuchsia arcanist from the Vanguard order, told the mages on the field. “Don’t let the sudden incorporation and his age distract you. He’s a ten-star mage and the new member of the Vanguard Order.”

The military discipline was something to behold, not a single soldier whispered or showed emotions in their visage. If this was my old classroom, the place would be drowned by shouts. Most likely coming from Adrian.

That didn’t mean the other Privates were unfazed, though. Some were surprised, others bolstered with rage asking themselves how a newcomer could take such a prestigious position.

It was easy to read such complex thoughts as the strongest mages present among them were of the ninth star, most being of the eighth, and a single one of the seventh. It also did affect that they were all arcanists, so the plentiful Arcane mana wasn’t that much of an influence as other types may be. A group of eight-something star mages presented a much lower resistance than a leyline.

“Private Nightfallen,” Aln directed to me, “you’ll join us on the training routine as another arcanist.”

“Yes, sir,” I responded instinctually, not really thinking, as it felt like an appropriate response. The ten-star arcanist didn’t comment on it.

Aln was an interesting person, character-wise. Some people did oppose the fact I joined the Vanguard Order, but he did not. That didn’t mean he supported me; he did just not care. He was that neutral. As I read his soul, I noticed he wasn’t even wandering about me, but just thinking of the coming training.

“As the number of Privates is odd with your inclusion, I’d rather have you look for the moment,” Aln told. “You’ve heard it yourselves,” he directed to the group, “begin training!”

They gathered with an efficient and practiced movement. The Privates separated themselves into pairs and proceeded to fight each other.

Standard training method so far.

The Privates exchanged spells, though the method of defense highly differed between each mage. Some opted to conjure defensive spells, whilst others dispelled their opponent’s magic.

No. That wasn’t the case.

As arcane mana began overflowing the air, I looked closely and noticed that everyone was using both methods to defend themselves, but only in specific scenarios. If the spells were swarms of lower stars, they used manaweaving, dispelling the simple spells with a sweep. Then for the higher-starred spells, the Privates used defensive magic.

The application of that magic was also noteworthy.

Nine-star was an important milestone for arcanists. We gained access to many upgrades to our arsenal. What mattered more to me was the evolution of the Mana Pond/Vacuum series, but the soldiers preferred the offensive spells.

Magic Chip was one of the most known spells, if not the most. A simple cantrip, incredibly cheap in terms of mana consumption, and it was typically used to teach magic to children. The evolution line of this spell was also the most popular on Ferilyn, as most mages were arcanists.

At the third star, we got Arcane Chip, which was the one considered to be the first step of the spell series rather than Magic Chip. This was so because it started a trend that every three stars the spell will upgrade.

At the sixth star, Arcane Bolt made its appearance. This was the offensive spell I had used the most. Simple but powerful. And incredibly mana efficient as it was meant to be a piercing spell.

Yet at the ninth star, the spell line changed a bit. Instead of a direct evolution, now two new spells appeared, each one with different applications.

Arcane Missile was the most used of these two. It maintained the same projectile shape as Arcane Bolt, but instead of a piercing-type, it was now an explosive spell. Magic with explosive effects was rare, but also incredibly effective. It wasn’t surprising that arcanists of the ninth star decided to spam it.

The other spell was Arcane Beam. I considered this to be the actual successor of Arcane Bolt, as it was also a piercing spell, even if it lost its projectile shape for a beam one. It also wasn’t that popular as it was rather expensive. But it compensated by being able to decimate defensive spells with ruthless power.

Why was I thinking about this? Because of the way the soldiers weaved between their offense and defense.

A couple of nine-star Privates sparred in a rhythmic and somewhat melodious exchange. One casted a swarm of Arcane Bolts, the other one manaweaved them out of existence. Now the roles inverted. One spellcasted an Arcane Beam, the other used an aegis-type spell on the exact spot the beam was going to impact. Roles inverted once more. One casted an Arcane Missile, and the other spellcasted a barrier-type spell to defend herself.

This quick thinking was incredible. I knew as I looked at the training soldiers that they weren’t fighting by instinct, as Marissa and Adrian did, but affronted the menace in a split-second decision.

Manaweaving for low-starred spells. Aegis for piercing spells. Barriers for area of effect spells.

They etched this pattern in their minds with endless repetition, shaping it into muscle memory. Maybe mind-numbing, but also incredibly effective.

By using manaweaving they saved up mana. By using aegis-type spells they also saved mana, but most importantly, they wasted less time conjuring by just defending the spot which is getting attacked. Barrier-type spells were the weak link of this method, but it was a necessary evil. You couldn’t protect yourself against omnidirectional attacks easily, if at all.

And the surprises didn’t end there.

The nine-star mages were noteworthy, but the eight-star ones didn’t fall short. Their conjuring speed was something I hadn’t seen before. They conjured Arcane Bolts (with any of both methods) faster than I could currently. Sure, I had gotten my Arcane affinity lowered, but they weren’t high-superb like me, either way. They were a lower star than me and had a lesser affinity to Arcane, yet they were more proficient than me.

I wasn’t a combatant, I knew that, but even with my plentiful advantages, they were better than me.

I could easily beat them on a manaweaving contest one by one, or all the Privates together with my soul magic, but I felt inferior to them, nonetheless.

Was it dumb? Yes.

Were they older and had more time to practice? Also yes.

But damn it was infuriating seeing someone of a lower star better than me. Even more so considering most of them were.

“Do you feel like trying?” Aln spoke. He didn’t look at me, his sights were still on the Privates.

“I think I got the hang of it.”

“Alright then,” he turned to face me, “go at it.”

“Against you?” I frowned my brows.

“Against whom else? I already told you at the beginning that there wasn’t a spare partner for you.”

“You are a ten-star arcanist, I’m a nine-star one,” I replied. “This isn’t the best match-up.”

“And what?” Aln continued with his passive tone. “We have there a seven-star arcanist sparring against an eight-star one. There’s not much difference.”

Before I could say that there was a considerable a much considerable difference between the ninth and tenth star than any other one (a whole order of magnitude), Aln shot at me a barrage of Arcane Bolts.

The few projectiles, thanks to the spontaneous attack, were easy to dispel. At this point, I had such mastery with the Arcane Bolt spell that I was but an afterthought to erase them.

I gave Aln a stern gaze, but he didn’t object. With a sigh, I attacked him back.

An Arcane Beam shot from my fingers, directly at the man’s heart. Not even blinking, Aln raised a concentrated shield before his heart, completely nullifying the attack.

If there was a difference between the Privates and the member of the Vanguard Order was the mastery of the arcane. His spell was just big enough to block the beam, not a millimeter more, not a millimeter less.

Wordlessly and reactionless, the ten-star arcanist made an attack of his own. We were close to each other, so I knew which spell he was going to use before it even manifested by reading the movements of mana with my expansive soul, I didn’t even need to use Mystic’s Dominion.

I readied my defenses for the coming Arcane Missile.

A fraction of a second prior to the appearance of the missile, a barrier began shaping around me. The barrier fully blocked Aln’s spell, but as the pink smoke from the spell vanished, I noticed I had taken a step back. The shockwave from the explosion was enough to make me lose my footing.

I looked at the mage.

He looked at me.

Then a thought crossed my mind. If this was an ordinary member of the Vanguard Order, did Fynn contain himself in our duel? I didn’t get that feeling back then, but after feeling first-hand the power of a ten-star soldier, I wasn’t so sure.

I spellcasted an Arcane Bolt barrage of my own. Twenty projectiles sprouted from my back and curved toward Aln as if they were guided missiles.

His eyes shot wide open upon seeing the magnitude of the spells.

Such a barrage would typically be easy to dodge to the side, but the spirit of the training was to defend against it.

Aln began manaweaving, shaping the Arcane Bolts into harmless puffs of mana. One, three, six, twelve, nineteen. But the bolts were fast, and just an instant remained until he got hit by the last one.

And… it happened.

He didn’t defend against it, and the spell hit. But as it was only of the sixth star, his reactive defensive spells and the enchanted uniform protected him without a problem.

“Good attack.” He congratulated me.

“Than—”

I didn’t finish the word as an attack came toward me. Aln shot a powerful spell. Far stronger than Arcane Beam but very alike.

Time slowed down.

It was a ten-star spell.

It was a piercing one.

I tried using a nine-star defensive spell.

It wouldn’t be enough.

I pushed further.

My soul cried.

My proficiency with the arcane wasn’t enough.

Affinity became sluggish.

I looked at the fast-moving beam.

I calculated the trajectory.

My consciousness shifted back to the corporeal plane.

I got hit.

My shoulder burned as the beam passed right thru it as if it was soggy paper. The enchanted order uniform wasn’t able to stop such concentrated magic, not even mentioning my low-starred passive spells.

Yet I didn’t stumble. I didn’t get knocked back. I didn’t backpaddle. I didn’t react. I looked at the man. He looked at me with emotion, breaking his impassive appearance. That emotion was worry.

I shot him a missile straight in the face.

The ten-star arcanist blocked the impromptu nine-star spell without many difficulties.

“Are you alright?” He finally asked. Some of the Privates turned to look at us, but they remained silent.

“Attack,” I said with a passive and emotionless tone.

“Excuse me?” Aln said. “Nightfallen, you are hurt. Don’t need medical assistance.”

Lavender mana flared up, surrounding my body and concentrating on my right shoulder. The flesh that was scorched by the beam fell off and was quickly substituted by a patch of new one, quickly feeling the tiny hole. The spell had failed to hit any bone, and I was proficient in nerve restoration.

“Attack.” I reiterated. “It’s your turn.”

He wordlessly complied.

Aln didn’t use ten-star magic or talked again until the end of the training session.