LiseEclaire
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Leveling up the World (Chapter 714)
🕑 Added 2023-03-09 23:08:34 +0000 UTC“Art skills on a metalin?” Palag asked. The confusion in his voice was only surpassed by concern. “That’s a strange choice.”
Crap! “Sorry,” Dallion said, pulling all his magic back. The rectangles around the metalin abruptly disappeared. “I didn’t sleep too well last night.”
An outright lie, but given the pressure he had subjected himself, an excusable one. In truth, he was still thinking about the artifact he’d obtained. Harp had played a vital role when fulfilling its destiny, doing so in such fashion so that it became something invaluable. According to Nil, vortex spotters were pretty much a dime a dozen; one able to spot something in a twenty-mile range—now that was an absolute treasure. When combined with Lux’s speed and Dallion’s combat splitting ability, he’d be able to pinpoint all vortexes in a vast area.
There was no doubt that Harp had planned this. She had let Dallion fight long enough just to confirm he had the skills to defeat the level two guardian, then put her plan in motion. What was more, there was every possibility that she had something to do with the final guardian’s surrender.
“Bad sleep again?” The fury shook his head. “I’m aware of your private training, but shouldn’t exhaust you to such an extent. Is there anything more I should know?”
“I moved to a more complicated section of spells,” Dallion lied. “Getting them working is difficult.”
With the wave of his hand, Palag made the metalin vanish out of existence. In its place, a table appeared. Being a mage for long enough, Dallion knew that was an invitation for a talk; and also he had to summon his own chair.
Going through the motions, Dallion drew the spell in the air. A three-legged stool popped into existence. At the sight of it, the fury instructor chuckled.
“Do you know what’s the most common mistake mages make?” Palag asked, sitting in the air in front of the table.
“Rushing to become apprentices?” Dallion took his seat.
“That’s a good one, but no. Some rush, some slack, but all seem to think that magic is infinite. There’s this belief that magic allows you to summon everything or anything at no cost. As if there’s an endless resource of power out there, allowing us to become Moons. The truth is, there isn’t. We are just a focus lens.”
Dallion nodded. He was already aware of all that from Nil. Magic was, in effect, stolen from other realms. The novice mages drew that magic from their own personal realm, or took it from the threads in the real world. In order to amass personal magic, though, it had to be stolen from elsewhere. That’s what the vortexes were—the embodiment of realms that intersected with the reality of the real world. As for the most powerful mages—they devised methods to drain it directly from other worlds.
“On its own, a lens has no strength, not without the light that shines through it. You, like many mages before you, are trying to stretch yourself so as to become a larger lens. Danger aside, that won’t help you as much as you think.”
The metaphor took a sudden turn, leaving Dallion confused.
“You’re saying I need to find more light?” he asked.
“In a manner of speaking. The best you could do is get closer to the source.”
“The source?” Did that mean the instructor was telling him to increase his magic trait more?
“The Purple Moon. The closer you get to him, the stronger your magic would become. You’re already been given a lot. Divine magic flows through you, but you still keep your distance.”
Chills ran down Dallion's spine. He wasn’t sure what the fury was asking from him, but he knew a recruitment pitch when he saw one. Back on Earth, his parents would frequently have a long talk with him regarding cults, drugs, and strangers. After being accepted to college, Dallion had been forced to listen through a long tirade of the dangers involved and how to spot people trying to recruit him. Who would have thought that all that would become useful at the Academy, of all places?
From here on, there were only a few ways the conversation could continue. Either Dallion would be invited to an “elite secret mage society”—the better of the two options—or he’d be convinced that it was his destiny to rise as the next Star. Being the one who had killed the last, it was a logical conclusion, if Dallion was a power-hungry maniac, that was.
“The Order won’t have me,” Dallion said, pretending to be stupid.
“The Order,” The fury laughed. “Sounds just like them. I was almost taken by the Order once. Did I mention that?”
You know very well that you didn’t. Dallion slowly shook his head.
“A lot of battle orphans usually end up there. The Order makes a point of putting anyone they can into their monasteries. You don’t have to be awakened or even human. A place where the weak could thrive, they claim. There are people who gladly offer their children to them just for that promise.” The fury’s eyes narrowed into a frown. “They’d almost got me as well. I was taken in, washed, fed, and given a place to sleep. No one forced me into anything, but that’s how traps work. If I hadn’t awakened…”
Palag suddenly blinked, as if driven by an external force.
“Sorry.” He quickly stood up, covering his eyes. “I still get a bit emotional when thinking about my past.” He brushed something off, then looked back at Dallion. “What I’m trying to say is that there are ways of getting closer to the Purple Moon, and I’m not talking about praying or all that.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Very scholarly and practical ways. To achieve that, you only need two things: the correct spell—a rather complicated one, as you might guess—and Galatea’s Moonstone.”
Now things became clear. It was a sort of recruiting attempt. Dallion wasn’t stupid enough to take it at face value, but from everything he’d learned about magic so far, he wasn’t ready to dismiss it outright. It had been said that Moonstones could be used as components of devices, so why not have them be part of spells as well?
That’s rubbish, Nil grumbled. So far, he didn’t have the best record when it came to Moon-magic. There’s nothing that the stone would give you that you haven’t gained already. For goodness’ sake, it’s already in your realm. Do you feel absolute power?
Dallion didn’t. At the same time, he couldn’t deny what had happened to him when he had consumed some of the aether whale’s magic in the Moon’s realm. If he absorbed some of the Moonstone, would the same happen?
“I don’t know,” Dallion said. “That’s not the reason for my insomnia.”
The fury waited. Dallion could see that he didn’t have any interest in what was troubling him. Pea-sized blobs of annoyance and eagerness were visible just behind the instructor’s eye.
“I have friends outside,” Dallion said, carefully observing the other’s reactions. “In the war.”
“Had,” Palag corrected. “All your friends are here now.”
Not the answer Dallion was expecting.
“The sad truth is that mages and commons don’t mix. Anyway, I think we should end it here.”
Reality shifted, taking them both back to the classroom. Other than them, there was no one in the room, but Dallion had gotten used to that by now.
“It’ll be better if you take a break for a few days,” the fury suggested. Several scrolls rose up from his desk. “If you really want to do a bit more learning, use this, but no realm practicing in this or anything else.”
“I still have my sessions with mage Katka,” Dallion half-protested. To be honest, he had no intention of doing that either. What he really wanted to do was something that he knew Nil would oppose.
“Don’t overdo it. And think about what I said. There’s a lot to gain and nothing to lose.”
Usually, when one said that, it was a guaranteed lie. Dallion nodded politely, frowned slightly to give the impression he was considering it, and left the room.
Novices were rushing up and down the corridor, hurrying to get to class on time. Dallion didn’t even bother to avoid them, fully aware they’d trickle around him on their own. A few greeted him in passing, thankfully too much in a rush for Dallion to have to respond.
“No class today?” a familiar voice asked.
Dallion looked up only to see Phoil’s familiar grin.
Damn it! He had completely forgotten about the arrangement they’d come to.
“I wasn’t in form, so Palag let me go,” Dallion explained. “What about you?”
“I have an excuse,” the large boy replied. “I can skip all classes if I want to.”
That figured. Phoil was no Raven, but he still was the child of a noble family.
“So, you ready?”
Dallion wanted to tell the boy to get lost or leave it for another day. Yet the sudden meeting reminded him of an opportunity. It was unlikely that Phoil had the connections to leave the building, but Raven definitely did, and if that was the case, he could get someone out as well.
“Seen Raven lately?” Dallion changed the topic.
“A bit. He’s busy and keeps to himself.”
“The deal we made. How about instead of giving me what you promised to arrange for a meeting with Raven?”
“Hey, no fair! There’s no way I can just—”
“I’m not talking to you.” Dallion stared the boy straight in the eye. “I know you want the improvement pretty bad. There’s something I want from Raven. Make that happen and I’ll do it.”
Phoil’s mouth opened, then closed. The echoes in his realm were no doubt considering the offer. After a few seconds, he reluctantly nodded.
“When?” he asked in a dark tone.
“Now is good?”
“You better be worth it.” The large boy grumbled, then tilted his head briskly, telling Dallion to follow him.
What mess have you gotten yourself into? Nil asked as Dallion walked down the corridor alongside Phoil.
Why so negative? Dallion asked.
Because I know you. Nothing good will come from venturing outside. Trust me on that. The shardflies are not your fault. I know there’s no such thing as a coincidence, but if you were the cause of the shardfly outbreak, you’d—
Be kicked out? Dallion interrupted.
No. Quite the contrary. You’d be locked up in a small magic room and examined so the effect could be replicated. Despite all the glamor on the surface, the Academy can be a rather dark place when it comes to gathering knowledge. You, of all people, should know that.
Raven’s room was in the same section as all the rest. However, that wasn’t where Phoil was leading them. Rather, they went to the main section of the Learning Hall, then up the staircase to the second floor. It was almost beyond belief that Raven would be allowed the room of an apprentice, yet that was precisely what happened. The “room” was a small building close to the staircase intersection. The columns were composed of large statues, all with their individual coats of arms. Looking closely, Dallion recognized the crest of the Dreud family.
Without bothering to knock, Phoil opened the door and walked in.
“No knocking?” Dallion asked as he stepped in behind him.
“Why should he?” Raved asked. He was dressed in an expensive house robe of shifting color—made of gem fabric, if one had to guess. Underneath, Dallion could see the collar of a rather casual shirt. “I knew you’d come.”
Dallion nodded, taking a moment to take in the building’s interior. Similar to those he’d visited, the inside was a lot bigger that the outside, composed of a large foyer decorated with statues and paintings from which an elegant staircase led up to the private section.
“An apprentice lent it to me,” Raven said, his expression gaining three levels of smugness. “Not my first choice, but it would do. So, what do you want?”
“Well…” Dallion glanced in the direction of Phoil.
“Oh, just say it. No one cares that he’ll hear.”
“I want to be allowed to go out. Once is enough, but I need it to happen fast.”
There was a moment of silence.
“One-way trip?” the black-haired asked.
“There and back again.” At least, that was the plan.
“It could be arranged. I’ll probably have to come along. Will that be a problem?”
“No. I just need to check something.”
“When?”
“Now will be best. After I do what I’m supposed to do.”
“It can be arranged. Provided you manage your work. I’ve been told that it’s a tricky task, even for experts.”
“I’ll pull it off. If I don’t, our deal is off and you don’t have to do anything.”
For a split second, a blue glint flashed in Raven’s eyes.
“Get started,” he ordered.
