by Andrew Rowe
Three, it would create a barrier around the person it was detecting if an attack was inbound.
This made it much more mana-efficient than something that just continuously generated a barrier around whoever was wearing it, since maintaining a barrier for a long period of time had a high mana cost.
This also meant that the barrier could potentially be circumvented by finding things the detection spell did not classify as an “attack”. I’d have to study that. I didn’t want to hurt the other students, of course. I just figured it would be good to know what tactics potential threats might use against me, since the pin was my only real defensive tool.
The two detection functions used mental mana, which I was ostensibly specialized in. The third, the shield itself, used simple gray mana — which I also had a lot of.
That meant I could, in theory, recharge the item by myself. Or, eventually, I could make more on my own.
My first several attempts to recharge the sigil ended in failure.
The biggest problem was that I couldn’t force myself to move my mind’s mana. Most likely because even the idea of using mana from my brain terrified me.
Was I going to permanently damage my brain? Tear away my own memories? Kill myself outright?
All of the above were possible if I used up too much of my mental mana. I knew that, and I knew that other people still used their mental mana all the time without any difficulties.
I also knew it would get easier and easier once I got started.
I still couldn’t do it. I kept thinking back to what happened to my great grandfather.
Alaric Cadence had been the pride of our family. He was a war hero, famous for ending the Six Year War between Valia and Edria in a duel.
He was the one who elevated our family from merchants to the “Noble House of Cadence” as a reward for his victory.
He was the reason my father and my uncle had become duelists. They’d lived in his shadow, just as I always would.
And he had died without recognizing his own son’s face.
He’d only been forty years old when it happened.
No hero was immune to the costs of war.
In Alaric Cadence’s case, the price had been subtle at first. He’d laugh about forgetting something simple, like where he’d put a piece of clothing. Absent mindedness that anyone could easily dismiss.
Forgetting a few faces of people he hadn’t seen in years? No problem.
By the time it was obvious that he was overusing his mental mana, he could barely care for himself. Our family spent every resource at their disposal seeking answers, but it was futile. No damage caused by the overuse of mind mana had ever successfully been repaired.
I had never met the man, but I knew his story. I saw it written in the face of my grandfather, every time he looked at Alaric’s portrait. I saw it in the way my father’s hands trembled when he prepared for a duel.
It had been my mother who actually told me the tale. Perhaps my father would have told me eventually. Or perhaps he was too afraid that his own life would end in the same way.
Grandfather remembered me last time I spoke to him, but I always worried that there would come a time when that would end.
The fear that story instilled was a part of me, something bone-deep that no level of rational thought could simply dispel. And, while I told my mind that I would not let fear break me, I didn’t have to.
All I had to do was bend — and the fear had won.
The fear always won.
Ultimately, I ended up recharging the barrier part with gray mana successfully first. It was in that process that I realized that the item didn’t have a capacity-limiting rune like the ones we’d learned about in my permanent enchanting class. That meant, in theory, that I could overcharge it until it exploded.
That’d be bad.
Fortunately, I was able to compare the strength of the aura to what it had been when Teft had filled it up prior to my last class and easily get it into a similar range. I didn’t know what the tolerance was for error on refilling the item, but I figured it wasn’t something where a tiny bit of extra mana would make it burst and annihilate me.
I still erred on the side of “too little” mana, though.
After a day of rest, which was more than I strictly needed, I tried converting some of my gray mana in my right hand into mental mana to use for recharging the other functions. That would have circumvented my fear of using the mental mana directly from my brain.
I failed at that for the rest of the week.
During that time, I got a little more used to talking to Sera and Patrick again. Roland remained taciturn, but I saw him from time to time as well. I didn’t see much of Jin.
In the following week, I hoped to get a little more insight into my mana conversion problem in my attunement class. Magic theory class talked a lot about the ideas behind attunements, but the attunement class was where we learned more about the exercises and practical applications of all attunements.
Converting mana from one type to another was something every attuned would have to do eventually, so it was something we’d be practicing in there.
Unfortunately, that particular class ended up covering a lot of the same information that Professor Orden had about attunement levels, like Carnelian, Sunstone, etc. This time, it was in the context of focusing on how we could work our way from “Rank E Quartz” to at least “Rank B Quartz” before the end of the year.
Interestingly, the attunements teacher also confirmed something Orden had implied: people with multiple attunements could have completely different levels with them. Orden had called herself a Carnelian-level Enchanter, but she was conceivably much more powerful at illusions or summoning or whatever other strange attunements she had.
The power of an attunement corresponded to the amount of mana in that specific part of the body, so I’d have to train my mental mana in order to make my attunement stronger. That was going to be a problem.
The school only expects us to hit Rank B in Quartz by the end of the year, but I need to get all the way to Carnelian in a few months. That’s going to be a lot harder. Rank B in Quartz only requires about 25 mana, which seems very doable.
Getting to Carnelian, however, requires about 60 mana. I haven’t checked since that first time, but I’m still probably around 18. I’ve got a long way to go.
Professor Conway was a rust-bearded gentleman in a tweed suit who seemed entirely engaged with his own lesson. Once the material he was covering started to become less familiar, I refocused my attention to it.
“The term ‘spell’ can be misleading, as it implies the use of words. However, only lung-marked attuned make judicious use of words for their magic. When a Guardian focuses their shroud around their hand before punching someone, the Guardian is using mana, and thus we classify that as a spell.”
He was surprisingly animated, despite the mundane subject. He emphasized each major term, like “spell”, and provided accompanying gesticulations. “Some academic institutions outside of Valia have begun to use different terminology for attunement-based abilities activated through other means. Others have simply replaced the word ‘spells’ with something more general in nature. For example, Edrians use a local word that translates to ‘techniques’.”
Several students made rude noises, and he paused to regain silence. Once he had it, he continued as though nothing had happened. “Now, you’re probably wondering what each of these attunements is capable of, hmm?”
There was a murmur of approval from the class at what I’d interpreted as a rhetorical question.
“Excellent, excellent. In today’s class, we’ll cover the basics of each of the local attunements. In subsequent classes, we’ll get into more details on the capabilities of each, as well as synergies with other attunements. We’ll also have an overview of the attunements of other regions, but you’ll have to wait for next year for details on those.”
The professor walked over to the chalk board at the ba
ck of the class room and began to draw. Aside from Professor Edlyn in my Mana Manipulation class, he was the only professor I’d seen use chalk.
I was sitting pretty close to the front, but it still took me a second to recognize what Professor Conway was drawing — the Guardian Attunement symbol. He finished it a moment later, keeping the chalk in hand.
“I’ll start with one of the most controversial: the Guardian. In old times, we didn’t think the Guardian had magical abilities at all, and the name is a legacy of that misconception. At first, we believed it merely passively enhanced the resilience of the Guardian. Thus, the name.”
He fell into a low martial arts pose of some kind, his chalk-hand extended forward. “As years passed, Guardians began to demonstrate seemingly magical abilities through martial arts. We understand these abilities far better now, and they are a way of manipulating mana as surely as hurling a bolt of fire would be for an Elementalist.”
A visible aura appeared around the professor as a swirling field of yellow-orange. Normally, I couldn’t see auras unless my attunement was active, so I assumed he was doing it deliberately.
The professor continued his explanation. “The Guardian accomplishes this by manipulating their shroud, a field of mana that surrounds their body. Normally, the shroud is equally distributed and serves primarily as a defensive field, but it can be focused on a certain part of the body. Either to defend...”
Conway flicked the chalk forward and it ignited in a burst of flame, vanishing a moment thereafter. “...or to strike. A Quartz Guardian will learn to use this to punch, kick, and block more effectively. At higher attunement levels, Guardians learn to extend their shroud to objects, or to push a specific type of mana through their shroud — just as I did a moment ago.”
He stretched, resuming a normal posture, and his aura faded. “Even at advanced levels, Guardians always focus on manipulating their shrouds. Thus, Guardians often learn traditional martial arts forms in addition to the techniques they study to focus their mana.”
That made sense. I was curious if specific motions triggered specific ‘spells’ or if it was more about just focusing their mind. I’d have to ask about that later if it wasn’t addressed directly.
He clasped his hands in front of him. “All attuned develop shrouds once they reach Carnelian status — but no other local attunement can manipulate a shroud to the same degree. There are, however, some foreign attunements, such as the Legionnaire—,” he turned his head, looking distracted. I heard it a second later.
A bell. No, bells — more and more of them, growing louder as the bells nearer to us began to chime.
Some students immediately began to stand. Conway unclasped his hands and held one out to forestall chaos.
“Students,” his voice was projected and clear, “please remain calm. The bells you’re hearing mean that there is an emergency situation within the school. We will be heading to the nearest shelter, which fortunately, is quite close by. First row, please stand and head to the door, then await me outside.”
He had us file out of the room in an orderly way. Once we had joined other evacuating students outside of the classrooms, most of us were deathly silent, but I heard a few whispers.
“Dangerous,” said a few of them.
“Scared,” was among the most popular.
“Monsters,” was the most important.
I got the general idea.
Our school was probably under attack.
Given the fact that both Teft and Orden had shown a proclivity toward testing their students, I considered the possibility that this was just some sort of drill. There had been invasion drills at school when I was younger; that school had been close enough to the Edrian border to warrant them.
I discounted that possibility when I saw the winged figures in the air.
There must have been dozens — no, hundreds of them. They all shared some characteristics: wings, obviously, as well as vicious claws. Beyond that, though, I noted a variety of shapes and sizes of the flyers. Some looked almost humanoid, whereas others looked like giant birds or winged lizards.
Too many to be illusions.
How did they get this far?
There weren’t any wild monsters near the city. That meant these creatures were probably from the spire, which was close by. Spire monsters almost never left home, though. I hadn’t heard of it happening in my lifetime, but there were stories. My father had a few of them. In general, the Soaring Wings took care of any small groups of monsters that somehow managed to follow someone out the tower gates — usually a fleeing climber who had gotten in over their head.
The other cases were cautionary tales.
Stories about vast waves of monsters, or a handful of titanic ones, exiting the tower to dispense the will of the visages.
If the Soaring Wings hadn’t stopped these monsters? That meant there were either too many for the guard to handle... or they’d let the monsters through deliberately, at the behest of a visage.
As I watched the first of the creatures descend from the sky, I pondered if my death would come at the hands of a creature serving the whim of the goddess my family had always revered.
And, as I followed in the line of students toward the nearest shelter, I wondered if I had caused the deaths of others by defying her.
More and more of the creatures began to descend on the school, but fortunately, none of them were near us.
“Mister Ross, lower your cane. Do not attack them. If one gets close, I will handle it,” Conway instructed. The student in question lowered his weapon, looking upset. I kept my hand near the hilt of my sword.
We were in one of the older parts of the university, which meant a lot of gray and brown buildings densely packed together. Presumably, this was before “décor” was invented. From a more practical standpoint, it meant we could easily be boxed in if those flying creatures decided to land on either side of us.
I probably wasn’t the only one who had come to that conclusion — the teacher was striding at a hurried pace. We found another class coming out of a different lecture hall after about a minute of walking, and I noted a familiar face among the crowd.
Patrick didn’t even take the time to make excuses to his class — he just wandered out and took a position next to me.
“Corin, Corin! Look!” He pointed to the sky, as if I could have somehow missed the cluster of monsters that were making the sun work hard to do its job. The students around us looked bemused by his exuberance, but I humored him and gazed skyward.
A hint of a coiled form, slipping quickly back into the clouds. It was hard to tell at a distance, but I was pretty confident that the small fraction of the creature I’d seen was larger than the lecture hall we’d just excited.
“That’s... bad,” I managed.
Patrick nodded sagely. “Yeah, but like, really exciting, right?”
I blinked at him as we continued to walk, passing another class. “I suppose that, in a way, you could call being potentially devoured by the God Serpent exciting.”
“Oh, no way, that’s not the God Serpent. It’s way too small.”
Small? That thing is about the length of a city block!
He was nonplussed by my skeptical thoughts, continuing, “Oh, oh, I think that’s Mizuchi. Yeah, look at the purple tint on the scales on her belly!”
I glanced upward again, and yeah, some of the scales — each of which was about the size of a castle door — did have a lilac hue. Most of the other scales were silvery-white, like the ones I’d seen on the actual God Serpent in the tower. “Okay, I’m looking. What, precisely, is Mizuchi?”
“One of the God Serpent’s daughters,” he explained. “And man, she’s supposed to be vicious. They call her the ‘Hero’s End’, since she, you know...”
The other students around had stopped glaring and they actually seemed to be paying attention now. We were continuing toward the shelter at a steady pace, but I had no idea where that was located.
“I get
the picture. Has she ever been outside of the tower before?”
Patrick shook his head. “Don’t think so. She’s a spire guardian, they rarely are found outside.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “What floor of the tower does she guard?”
“She’s not one of the ones that guards a floor. She goes where the visage wills, protecting things that we’re not supposed to see. In addition to ‘Hero’s End’, they call her the Guardian of Secrets.”
That sounded... really bad. A monster designed to serve a visage directly was going to be nearly invincible. The size of her was intimidating enough, but that knowledge made me all the more concerned that we lacked the firepower to repel her in a confrontation.
Looking up, though, I had to frown. There was no confrontation. The monsters weren’t raining fire from the sky, nor were the mages below firing bolts of lightning at the monsters above.
What was going on?
“Patrick, do you recognize the other types of monsters up there?”
He blinked at me, and then looked up. “Oh, yeah, why?”
“What are those things? Gargoyles?”
He made a ‘hmm’ sound, considering. “Yeah, a few of them, but not a lot. Gargoyles are solid stone... like that one.”
Patrick pointed at a particularly monstrous looking creature, with a gator’s jaw and four massive arms. “Those are tough, but slow and not very smart. They’re just animated by magic. Those scalier ones, with the leathery wings? Those are urgoyles — they’re flesh and blood. Much easier to hurt, but smarter. And the ones that look like fashion models with wings? Karvensi. They’re tougher than gargoyles, as smart as humans, and a few of them even use magic.”
Looking closer, it looked like groups of the urgoyles and gargoyles were clustering around individual karvensi… which made things scarier when I realized the implication. They’re organized.
I saw one of the karvensi point a finger and a trio of urgoyles descended on a distant part of the school.
I really hope Sera is already in a shelter.
I can’t rely on hope in a situation like this, though.