NOVEL WEB A New Era
“The usual suspects,” the Relic Mage, Oscar, announced. “Counterclockwise, this time.”
The first figure to stand was a pale, slender, and well-dressed half-Elf who could have almost blended into an office workspace.
“Ius. [Spellscribe]. Participant is a low level [Hedge Mage] with little to no combat—or sparring—experience. Recipient of rare combat spells; potentially traumatic method of acquisition.”
Ius turned to Ivory and gave him a nod as he sat back down.
“Samantha, [Mage Lady],” she airily decreed, curtseying. “Participant does have combat experience, but was blindsided by the task at hand. Unquestionable skill—I have not seen anyone in his position able to cast spells so freely as he did. I suspect an early consolidated, low level [Elementalist], with [Magical Pet Owner].”
“Leonid, [Spellslinger]. A pleasure. I suspect a [Wizard]; his grip on that wand would have crushed a lesser one. Bronze-rank level of combat experience; unaccustomed to non-monster opponents. No secondary animal-class.”
Samantha nodded as Leonid sat back down—it was a point of contention between the two Humans as to whether Ivory had a dedicated class for Misoe.
“Phoria. [Solar Mage]. He’s a run-of-the-mill [Mage] with a few tricks up his sleeve.”
The tanned half-Elf sat down, clearly unimpressed by Ivory’s performance. She didn’t bother to acknowledge his presence.
“Ach, she’s a hardball,” the next critic cried. “Ye can call me Twiggy. [Geomancer] by trade and by joy. Ye did well out there, lad. I’ll say yer a [Mage], but a canny one; I’d wager ye’ve got s’more tricks up yer sleeve. A [Beast Master], if I ever saw one.”
Ivory wasn’t sure if Twiggy was a dwarf or just a short Human; he expected Dwarves to be, well, really short. Twiggy was about as tall as Samantha, who would be considered slightly short for women’s standards.
The woman who spoke next wore a jovial expression.
“I’m Frederika! [Sound Mage]. I'm with Sam, I think! You're…" she tapped her chin, suddenly in thought. "...something like an [Emotion Mage]. A funky class along those lines.”
Ivory raised an eyebrow at that suggestion. He was enjoying these guesses, but that one was quite, as she said, funky.
The Relic Mage had, this far, not overly acknowledged any of the responses. A few nods of the head, a mild squint of the eyes; nothing too major.
He smiled at Frederika's suggestion. She noted that, and sat down feeling empowered.
“Rendon. [Oldblood Magus]," spoke the Oldblood Drake.
Ivory had, shockingly, not noticed him immediately. "Looks like marbled bread, except blue and pink… and a Drake.
“His magic is a pathetic imitation of my ancestors’ birthright—”
Everyone, Oscar included, sighed or shook their head at that
“—but should an amateur be left without praise for copying their betters, even if they will never come close to succeeding? He is a low levelled [Battlemage] with a complimentary animal management class.”
Rendon sat back down, furling in his wings that had come alive at his evocation of Dragons.
“That’s a tough one to follow…!” the final critic groaned sardonically, with a knowing smile. “Heya—Jasper, [Battle Wizard]. I really quite enjoyed your performance out there. No one ever really tells you how difficult it is. You’re doing great. Uhm, I’ll be boring and say [Mage] and [Beast Tamer]. I don’t think you’re much higher than level 10.”
That one wounded Ivory, and it was clear on his face—Jasper almost considered following up with another compliment, but Oscar stepped in.
“Another enjoyable round; my thanks once again. Now—before I take you on a tour around my arenas, enlighten us on your class or classes.
All eyes were on Ivory. Frederika shouted with a hand up.
“Wait, wait—did anyone get it right?”
There was a light mumbling in the small crowd.
“Nope. I’m a [Sorcerer] and [Beast Tamer].”
A chorus of ahs followed, along with a scowl from Phoria and Rendon.
"Surely you don't wish for this… this fraudulent [Mage] to sully your great institution?"
Rendon looked at Ivory and spat to his side. It was a scandalising statement—few [Sorcerers] tended to be as social with other spellcasters, which was reflected in their very low representation here—to the point where even Phoria joined the others in looking uneasy.
He was, however, free to voice such an opinion, and they all knew it.
"Fairly certain you signed your signature on the same thing I did, buddy."
The atmosphere began growing thick with tension, if not due to Rendon exhaling some icy smoke as he glared at Ivory.
"I don't acknowledge you, Human. You are beneath me. Us!"
Rendon motioned to everyone present; his breath turning smokier with heat.
"I won't have it. For a son of Fissival to parlay with a [Sorcerer]. No."
Almost everyone began shooting looks at the Relic Mage; Ivory’s was most expectant. Even Twiggy, whom he thought might defend him, looked away. There was obviously a pecking order amongst this group—if not the entirety of the place—and he was near the top.
"I'm really sorry. I'm happy to leave if you want me to. I am, after all, a lowly level 17 [Sorcerer]. I only picked up the class a few months ago. How long have you been an [Oldblood Magus], and what level are you? If you want, I can return soon when I've matched your level?"
Laughter. Boisterous, in the case of Twiggy; even the haughty half-Elves covered their mouths.
"Wh—"
"It might be time for your tour. Thank you, you eight.”
The Relic Mage nodded sagely at them. The mirthful lot got up, most waving Ivory off as they left amidst welcomes and congratulations. Even Rendon, who was looking close to bursting, stomped out.
Ivory, meanwhile, was rather confused at this sequence of events. He was certain that Rendon was going to lunge at him at the very least!
“I am very confused,” he croaked. Everyone had now left, and the Relic Mage returned his statement with a standing stretch of his back.
“It’s a trial by fire. My little organisation has produced many Gold-ranked adventurers, though not by design. I’ve found it important to ensure applicants can handle some pressure—though I didn’t orchestrate Rendon’s outburst. That was an added bonus, and you handled yourself rather well, I’d say! Drakes can be a testy lot, especially Oldbloods.”
“Oldblood?”
“A Drake with a stronger than usual Draconic connection. Notice the wings, and the breath? He can breathe the elements of ice and fire as we would breathe air, though not by spell or Skill like yours.”
Misoe spat out a little flame, demanding to be a part of this equation.
“Before we head off—how are you feeling?”
His body wasn’t hurting anymore, but the fact that he didn’t feel the… ‘negative’ emotions he felt previously. Having a Skill change his mood—even though he had consented to—troubled him greatly. Even trying to evoke/invoke the feeling failed. it didn’t feel natural.
“Fine, though if I’m honest I’d like to get on with it.”
The Relic Mage stood up and gestured towards the door.
“Your frankness is appreciated. Let’s head to the spectators’ seating, first.”
——————
Ivory was led through a series of doors and adjoining pathways, all of which were rather identical looking. There was minimal decoration here, save for plaques on each door denoting what lay ahead; in most cases, they were entrances to other arenas: “Arena 5”, “Arena 6”, and so on. There were even a few scrying mirrors that could have been mistaken for boarding information screens you’d find at an airport, showing upcoming official ‘matches’. Ivory broke the minute’s silence to enquire.
“What’s on the screens?”
“The scrying mirrors?” he replied, giving Ivory a quick glance back. “I’ll tell you in more detail when we sit down, but they show tournament matches and other events. It’s not a ‘television channel’; they’re enchanted manually to show brackets, listings and that kind of thing. Last door—here we are.”
Ivory followed the Relic Mage through a door, marked ‘Arena 3’.
“Oh wow.”
They had emerged in a theatre. From where he stood, he saw a ring of seating, covering the entire perimeter of the room. It reminded Ivory of the ‘aristocrat’ seats from a theatre from Earth—there were no ground floor seats, as it was still in that colosseum style that he had seen when he had attacked the Relic Mage. This theatre had considerably fewer seats, with no more than thirty. Down below was a circular arena, bereft of challengers.
“This is one of the smaller arenas, where spars and contests are held. You see, my institution is more than just [Mages] flinging spells at each other. It is a place of art, which I believe all magic is. Sit with me.”
The seats were rather comfortable. They were built directly into the foundations of the place, and there a number of furs and pillows available for maximum comfort.
"Art, indeed. I believe that to be an objective fact, for all that art is subjective. What is magic to you, Ivory?"
“I—”
“Is it a destructive force, or a vehicle for change? ‘Change’ is a funny word; we think of it as change for good, when one can change something for the worse. Are you a changer, or a drifter? Is magic an obligation, or is it something to have fun with?”
Ivory waited for the Relic Mage to continue, but was met with silence.
“Oh. I mean, it’s all of that, surely? I think magic is fun, but I wouldn’t want to lock in any of those options until I’ve been doing it a while.”
The Relic Mage looked at Misoe, who was wholly uninterested in the discussion at hand. His [Beast Analysis] Skill only worked on wild animals and not ones linked by Skills, such as to a [Beast Master], [Pet Owner] and so on.
If he could have, say by use of [Eyes of Eydole], he’d have seen that all Misoe wanted to do was to snuggle with Ivory. And to blast. He turned back to ivory.
“Indeed, indeed. Only time will tell—you have an aptitude for destruction, but your words, though seemingly indecisive, indicate a penchant for discovery and peace. But enough of all that! Let’s get to the fun part: participating.”
Finally.
“There are, obviously, duels you may partake in. The majority of these duels are, as you say, in a ‘one-on-one’ format. Be it ‘first direct hit’, ‘‘first to run out of mana, ‘last to run out of mana’, and of course the most popular, which is simply ‘beat your opponent’. I will not list them all off now; the joy of discovery awaits—”
“What about that Skill you put on me?” Ivory asked, interrupting what was surely going to be a long explanation. He needed to get in while he could.
“Impatience and eagerness are two sides of the same coin,” he replied. “That temporary Skill assigns a value to each of your spells, including when they are affected by Skills, that determines how many it would take to kill someone. Specifically, a level 25 [Mage] with [Elemental Resistance], [Resistance: Slash], [Resistance: Blunt], and so on. This is for the sake of equality—one achieves victory through their use of spell, Skill and wit. High-stakes rounds will take the participant’s own Skills and level into account, and low-level casual rounds do the same.”
Ivory became increasingly slack-jawed as his explanation went on.”
“That’s… Christ. What in the hell is that artefact?”
“Ha. I’m sure the original creator—no doubt it was some [Gladiator Slaver], dead gods—would be appalled at my usage of it. It’s called the Pedestal of Want. Ghastly thing; how it ended up in Medain isn’t something I care to think of. I changed the name of the Skill it imparts, of course: ‘[Egobound of Oscar Cotton]’ doesn’t exactly have a nice ring to it. But I was young, then, and thought that The Juggernaut Arena sounded cool.”
The Relic Mage shook his head.
“Terrible. But better than what it was. I could always change it, but what’s done is done. Where was I? Yes, what the Skill imparts. It’s a clever thing; I or the [Attendants] can manually change any of the spell variables so that an [Arcing Spark] can rival a [Glacial Roller] in damage. That day was hilarious. That’s all you really need to know, though—look down onto this arena, if you would.”
He beckoned Ivory up to peer over the side.
“This is not an arena for combat. Why, just last week a talent competition occurred out of nowhere! Two young, low level [Mages] duked it out to see which could impress the audience the most. I had to cast [Mass Levitation] so that more could watch!”
He craned his head back as he laughed, revealing more of those magical scars.
“It was the most viewed event of the week, I am told. They aren’t new here, it must be said—but even in such a controlled environment, beautiful anomalies occur!”
“Perhaps we could watch a fight?” Ivory asked, having felt that this was the extent of the induction.
“A splendid idea.”
The Relic Mage lifted a finger in the air and promptly nodded.
“I’ve four in mind. Pick one of the following: shadow, pomp, water, wood.”
Ivory looked at him with a quizzical look; poor Misoe had no idea.
“Is that meant to represent the spell type…? What?”
“Maybe,” he replied. “They will all entertain, I assure you.”
Ivory figured he’d at least try and think about this, though it likely wasn’t something worth thinking very hard about. The only thing that wasn’t explicitly a spell school was ‘pomp’; he had very little desire for more surprises, so that narrowed it down to three. He was good with water magic, shadow magic could be fun, but it was wood magic—geomancy?—that he was drawn to.
“Wood, then”.
“Interesting, interesting,” he said, causing Ivory to sigh. “Let’s head off, then.”
—————————————
Two Humans were shaking hands down on the arena floor. Whatever fight this was must have been quite involved, for one was soaking wet and the other had smoke rising from his head.
There were probably 30 or so people here, to Ivory’s estimate, taking up about a third of the total seats. He’d been told that empty seats did not signify anything, as spectators were free to come and go whenever they pleased, as well as the fact that no one did it for the adoration of the crowd. It would feel good though, surely.
“I assume this ‘wood’ fight is coming up?’ Ivory asked.
“Correct. In fact, here they come now.”
The two of them craned their necks down to see over the ledge; Misoe had affixed herself to Ivory’s head, so she, as per usual, had little work to do.
“Oh, come on. That’s lame and you know it.”
Two half-Elves were walking to their designated starting spots. The Relic Mage turned in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“Wood? Half-Elves?” he replied, giving him a pointed look.
“You know, I didn’t think of that. Just watch.”
Ivory frowned as he focussed on the upcoming fight, which had already begun. Both half-Elves were waving their hands around rhythmically; was this some kind of dance-off?”
“[Detect Magic].”
Both figures lit up instantly with so much ‘force’ that Ivory recoiled.
“What do you see?” he asked Ivory.
Ivory’s eyes began to make sense of the kaleidoscope of colour that he could see, similar to how one’s eyes acclimatised to seeing in the dark.
“Well, they look like bubbles, which they probably aren’t. Seeing as they’re both doing it… barriers?”
“Good eye. I’ve got to dash; another hopeful has come. Two in one day! Was a pleasure to meet you—speak to any of the [Attendants] to sign up for something.”
“Oh. Bye. Thanks!”
Misoe hovered down to his shoulder, and the two shared a look.
“We’re in, I guess.”
They both shrugged. It was time to chill and watch some magic duels.
It appeared, to everyone present, that the two half-Elves were finished with their pre-fight preparations. Ivory felt it defeated the purpose to more or less have a dedicated ‘buff’ period; perhaps this was a ritual for the two of them.
The half-Elf on the left side of the arena—Ivory was seated in the perfect position—had on a magnificent blue robe, and was that a green symbol embossed on the breast? Something to think about. More pressingly, he had a staff as tall as he was with a globe of deep red. Spooky.
The other half-Elf, on the other hand, was much more sparingly loaded out. He wore a simple white robe and no weapon. He, though, had a far different magical aura to him. Ivory focussed on him, [Refreshing] his [Detect Magic].
Clearly, he had only focussed on the well dressed high-Elf, as he drew the eye more than this… rustic one. For there were no neat, colourful bubbles surrounding him—his… it was hard to parse. It was like the colour was emanating from his body, but not it obviously wasn’t, because there was no glow. Confusing, but it was clear that this [Mage] wasn’t going to play around.
A red spark flew out of the barrier [Mage]’s staff and began floating up into the centre of the arena. The power [Mage], likewise, cast a spell.
“[Summon Infernal Servitor].”
A little imp looking thing poofed into being, sitting cross legged on a green ball, which was hovering just above the ground. It shimmied behind its summoner.
The red spark, now in position, burst into a dainty display of fireworks.
“[Smash Hammer]!”
A giant, five metre long hammer materialised and began to, as the spell said, smash into the barriers of the defensive [Mage]. With each successive hit, it began to glow redder and redder—Ivory saw the [Infernal Servitor] summon lose the mana that had wrought it into being.
No one was cheering, it needed to be said. Everyone spectating was watching intently; none of them seemed surprised, or had looks of wonder, at this display.
The next thing Ivory knew, an ear-splitting prang rang out as the hammer smashed into the outer barrier, and the [Mage] fell backwards, calling out defeat.
“What the hell was that?” Ivory exclaimed. He wasn’t alone in this; many others had similar looks of ‘huh?’ on their faces.
What a disastrously shit first duel to watch. Not only were there incomprehensible elements, it was over in less than 20 seconds! Ivory was going to have words with this Relic Mage when he next saw him.
Ivory plucked Misoe from his head and made his way out. He didn’t really know where he was going, but there’d surely be some other disgruntled spectator he could ask for directions.
Ivory went back through the door he had originally come in from with the Relic Mage, only to find himself in a completely different room. Where before he had come in through one door of many, in a long corridor, he was now in a pleasant looking waiting room, filled with people sitting down, chatting, and some eating. For, of course, there was a cafe in here.
“Ivory!” a voice cried.
Ivory heard it, of course, and since he only really knew the one young woman's voice, he was glad to hear it. He saw where Linda was waving from and went to join her.
“How’d it go?” she asked, taking a sip of water.
“Was fine. Just watched this battle between these two half-Elves, which was looking to be the match of the century… but one of them just one-shot the other.”
Ivory waved a hand in disbelief, his face contorting to match his feelings on the matter. Linda just looked at him, puzzled.
“‘Watch’?”
“No fights yet.”
Linda squinted her eyes in disbelief.
“Demented. Go find out how to, and I’ll check the screens for your name. Go, go.”
She shooed him away like a haggard [Groundskeeper] would to a pesky bird. Luckily for him, there was an [Attendant] nearby. How he knew whom to go to, he couldn’t say—perhaps they had a Skill.
“Excuse me, hi. I’ve just… joined, and am looking to participate in a match?”
The [Attendant] looked up at Ivory and pouted lovingly at him.
“Not a worry, sweetheart. Congratulations to you. Behind me is one of the scrying mirrors we use to advertise matches, duels and so on. Since you are new and have no experience, you will only find matches with [Mages] of a similar calibre, and of the one-on-one variety. If I have a look here…”
She turned around to look at the scrying mirror for a moment.
“There’s four people waiting for a match, all around your skill level as a [Mage].. Would you like me to pick one at random and match you against them?”
“Yes, that would be excellent, thank you so much.”
“It would be my pleasure—it’s already done. If you will follow me to arena 47.”
“47?” Ivory exclaimed.
“That’s right. We have 220 at our disposal. This door here is inaccessible for ordinary spectators. You could consider it a nexus, of sorts. Simply slide the door to the left and walk through, like so. It closes automatically.”
As Ivory walked through, he noted immediately that he’d never been here, yet again.
“Do these rooms change? I went with the Relic Mage just before and we didn’t go in a room like this.
“That’s right. This room contains the entrances to arenas 45 through 57. The Pedestal of Want, through your temporary Skill, knows that you are bound for arena 47, and has granted you access to the corresponding nexus.”
“Right.”
The [Attendant] turned around and smiled up at Ivory.
“You’ll get used to it, I promise. Now, through this door here and your opponent will be ready to face you. There is no time limit; enjoy.”
“Gotcha. I have a friend who wants to watch, will she know where to go? I mean, she will, but will she be notified somehow?”
“The girl you were with? She, I believe, knows the drill. Expect to see her up above shortly. Best of luck to you, and again, enjoy.”
She was on the clock, after all. Assisting newbies was a part of her job, but she allotted only a specific amount of time for extra aid—and for those who ask nicely.
Ivory watched the [Attendant] leave the way they came. He opened the door ever so slightly, peeking his head around—but then felt silly and just walked through the door.
This arena was what he assumed a ‘standard’ one looked like. The match between the two half-Elves was in a one of the same style, just a lot larger. Probably three times as big.
“Hello!” a voice called.
Ivory couldn’t immediately see the owner of the voice; like a game, he was expecting his opponent to just be standing there ready to start.
“Over here,” the voice called out again, this time with a bit of awkward laughter.
Right in the corner was his opponent—a young [Mage] looking person, robe and all, packing away a spellbook into a Bag of Holding.
“Hey, I’m Ivory, and this is Misoe.”
Misoe waved a flipper.
“Jesse. The pleasure is mine,” he replied, giving a curious look towards Misoe.
“Want her to sit this one out?”
“She fights?”
Ivory enjoyed the look of joyous disbelief on Jesse’s face.
“Oh yes. That being said, I only, err, joined just before. Sorry if it’s a hassle, but could we have a few, like, practise rounds?”
“That’s great news!” he exclaimed, to Ivory’s surprise. “New blood makes this place thrive. I’ve only been here about a year, mind you, but most low level [Mages] like us are in Wistram or off adventuring. Why don’t we have a general round so you can see what it’s all about? No Skill preset.”
“So… we have like 10 health?”
Jesse nodded slowly, understanding the gist of what he was saying.
“I suppose you could call it ‘health’. Most of my spells will take one, sometimes two counters off your total ‘health’—that is a more convenient term for it. I have 13, you have ten.”
Ivory frowned.
“That’s not really fair then, is it?”
“Remember that it’s not a competition—we’re here to have fun,” he calmly stated. He’d been in Ivory’s position, so he knew how he felt. “This one’s just to show you what it’s like. I could be against a [High Mage] and we could work out a way for us both to benefit.”
“Okay, righto. Missy, go fly up and have a sit somewhere.”
“Bwaa.”
Misoe flipped out of Ivory’s arms and floated up into the spectator’s stand, doing a few spins as she did so. The few spectators that were there looked and laughed.
“Over here!”
A panting Linda sped down to where Misoe had landed; she hovered up for a moment to let Linda sit before plonking herself down gently.
“A friend of yours, I take it?” Jesse asked.
“Yep. Now she’s going to see me get clobbered.” Ivory took out the acorn from his Bag of Holding, metamorphosing it into a wand. “How do we start this?
“Usually I’ll just ask who wants to cast first, but there’s some etiquette that you should know. Unless it’s agreed on, no Skills, wards, empowerments, shields or so on before we start. Not that I think you to be a bad sport, but it’s good manners. Would you like the first spell?”
“Sure.”
Oh shit. He didn’t even know this guy’s class or anything, though that of course went both ways. Keep moving, be ready to dodge projectiles… What else was there from his attack on the Relic Mage? He had no defensive spells, save for the utility of [Gust] and [Wind Umbrella]. He could think creatively—that’d have to do.
“Get ‘im!”
Both combatants stood there, wands at the ready.
“[Glitterfrost Gust]!”
A sparkling cloud, bespeckled with snowflakes, sprayed out of the Wand of Zont, like a Mortein spray for magical lava insects. Ivory couldn’t feel the chill thanks to his [Beast Tamer] Skill, and he saw Jesse visibly shiver in discomfort as he aimed his wand at Ivory.
“[Arrow of Light].”
The force of the hard light hitting Ivory wasn’t enough to trigger the Pedestal of Want’s damage reduction, but it still hurt.
“Christ!”
It felt like being chopped by a hardback book. Unpleasant and surprising.
Ivory staggered back as he was hit by three more [Arrows of Light].
“[Bronze Chakram]!”
His composure was regained just in time—the spell was the perfect counter, slicing through the incoming projectiles. Ivory was keeping active his [Detect Magic]; he saw the spells’ mana dissipate into nothing. Three more [Bronze Chakrams] shot towards Jesse.
“[Spell Parry].”
The first of the [Bronze Chakrams] flew back, its momentum continuing, and collided with the second—both dissipating. The third and fourth were a direct hit.
“Fuck yeah,” Ivory whispered to himself. Linda was cheering from above.
His frown soon turned upside down as he noticed the glowing bubble around Jesse—and that he hadn’t moved at all.
“[Target Acquired]. [Flareburst]!”
A globule of fire flew towards Ivory; the [Glitterfrost Dust] had no affect on it whatsoever. It was considerably faster than the [Arrows of Light], and made the 20 or so metre journey without much time for Ivory to react.
“[Water Spray]!”
The [Flareburst] lost its form, but the boiling steam still rushed over him.
“You’re at five, now!” Jesse called out. “Focus on the Skill.”
Ivory trusted he wouldn’t get surprise attacked, and concentrated on his temporary Skill.
5/10
13/13
He instinctively could sense his own, and saw Jesse’s number hovering over his head. He shuddered to think how much the [Flareburst] would have done had it hit him, let alone how much it would have hurt.
“Yep. I see it. Play on. [Umbral Wind].”
A different wind engulfed the arena—darkness. Jesse wasn’t fazed, for all that he was functionally blind. The residual chill from Ivory’s opener still chilled him somewhat, but it was the new wind that posed a problem. The wind component of [Umbral Wind] was whipping up in all different directions, causing severe disorientation.
The important part was that he could see Ivory’s silhouette, thanks to his [Target Acquired] Skill. Clearly, this was a ploy to buy time—his wand wasn’t yet raised, and it looked like he was about to be sick.
From the blackness came a bright, shining light. His [Spell Parry] had just come off cooldown, when—
“Aaaah!”
A torrent of fire engulfed Jesse, breaking his remaining barriers in the blink of an eye. He was spared what would have otherwise been third degree burns, but he was still on fire.
He [Skip Stepped] to his side, shocked at what he had just been hit by. An artefact, surely? The [Umbral Wind] had been functionally dispelled by both the sheer power of the spell; Jesse looked to the source of the spell and saw Ivory leant over with flame coming from his mouth.
Ivory took a [Quick Breath] and recast the spell, seeing the panic in Jesse’s eyes.
Jesse was on the backfoot, now: he had no desire to try and cast a spell as he was skipping around the arena being chased by what could have been mistaken for Dragonfire.
Wrong. Jesse assumed that physics—or, at least, what he understood of the concept of the movement of objects and spells—was on his side. Ivory could only really turn so fast, but Jesse did not realise that he was still breathing this fire. Ivory’s mouth angled to the right ever so suddenly, causing the final second of fire to catch him mid hop.
He crashed down onto the ground with a shout.
4/13.
Ivory, meanwhile, had lurched forward onto his knees, panting hard.
“Quick, get up!”
“[Arrow of Light]!” Jesse cried, lying prone on the ground.
Ivory fell to his side as he was walloped once more by the spell, over and over.
As the final arrow hit Ivory, a burst of energy invigorated him. It became a bit easier to breathe, and his legs didn’t feel as wobbly. He looked up and saw a scorched Jesse standing over him with a hand outstretched.
Jesse helped Ivory up and held up his wand upright.
"Tap my wand with yours. Think of it like a [Mage]'s handshake."
Ivory managed a smile as he inhaled; he tapped Jesse's wand with his, producing a lovely little thwack.
Their skirmish had ended right on the edge of the room—conveniently near the arena seating.
“Something tells me… a match wouldn’t end that fast…” Ivory said, catching his breath.
“It’s not my shortest, but it’s definitely the strangest. What kind of spell was that? It was something a Drake would do.”
Ivory pant-laughed, causing him to cough.
“Haa… [Breath of Fire]. Fun, but really takes it out of me. First time using [Quick Breath] as well to cast it back to back… disaster…!”
“I’d love to trade spellbooks some time. And, on the contrary, if I didn’t [Skip Step], you’d have won then and there. Now, since you’re out of breath, I want to give you some notes, if you’ll allow me?”
Ivory nodded.
“A stunt like that needs to be set up. You’ll get to a point where you have versed everyone, and by then everyone will know about that spell. Study [Sticky Webs] or something similar. You will also want to invest in a basic barrier or two. It’s part of the Wistram curriculum—as much as I dislike it, it produces results—most [Mages] will, or should, know some. As a [Mage Duelist], I have more defensive spells than the average [Mage] of my level.”
[Mage Duelist]? This was stacked!
“Oh. Cool class! Yeah, I have like zero battle experience—I have spells I can use defensively, but no actual barriers. I wish I could teach you the spell… but I’m a [Sorcerer]. I just wing it; no spellbooks.”
Jesse looked positively affronted.
“That sounds like a [Hedge Mage]. I know [Sorcerers] to be a bit… how should I say… strange, in their habits.”
“Meh,” he said with a shrug. “It means I can practise magic without just sitting in front of a book all day. Though, it does sound convenient to just be able to do that. I don’t think my class allows it. Frankly, I’d get bored.”
“A perspective I’ve not yet had the pleasure of encountering. Clearly, there’s something to it! Shall we have another round?”
Ivory went to get up, eager to try and produce a barrier—but his legs were still wobbly, and his chest hurt from all the panting.
“Sorry, but that really took it out of me. I’d love to come back tomorrow, though?”
Jesse nodded with an ahh.
“Your first real combat experience! It’s exhausting, hey. I’m usually in a few times a week—definitely check the scrying mirrors, and if my name’s there, come. I’ll do the same for you. D’you need a hand getting back?”
“Oh, no, I’m fine. But thanks! I learned a lot today… I should be right to hobble out. I’m finished, Linda!”
Jesse saw Linda give a thumbs up before standing up, with Misoe in her arms.
“Looks like you’re in capable hands. See you later.”
—------
It would take a considerable time to get used to this door system. Ivory expected—more fool him—to arrive back in that nexus room. Instead, it took him straight back to that little cafe waiting area. He looked around for Linda and Misoe… nada.
Going to that R&R room would have been the best decision, but that was a member only space. He looked around for an empty seat, but the damn place was packed. It was almost like a miniature food court in a shopping centre, but without the noise. People’s mouths were moving, backs were arching with laughter, all that. But it all just sounded like easily ignorable background noise, audible if you really focussed on eavesdropping.
Well, when in Rome. Ivory got a glass of water—free, thankfully—and sat down in wait. It took another minute before Linda and Misoe arrived back.
“I don’t know who got whooped more. You, from his shitty little spells, or him from your Dragonfire. Scary, scary.”
Linda sat down opposite him, letting go of Misoe who flew into Ivory’s arms.
“He was a noobkiller. [Mage Duelist]! But it was fun. If I get in a real fight I’m screwed.”
“Worrywart. You aren’t an adventurer; when would you even need to fight? I don’t see the point, really. This place is about as safe as you’re going to get.”
Ivory didn’t feel like debating the point. She was right, of course, but it was coming from a non-[Mage]. Why wouldn’t you want to know a bit of every kind of magic?
“Could get teleported somewhere again.”
Linda waved a hand, with the slightest bit of ‘oops’ on her face.
“Anyway. You had fun, you’re buggered, time to head home. I’ve got a night shift coming up in a few hours, so I have to be ready. Nozumu should be back as well; no doubt he was up to no good. Shall we?”
————————
“I need sugar.”
The proclamation of the millennium came from Ivory, having exited the premises.
“Sugar?”
“A pick-me-up.”
“You know that sugar doesn’t actually do that, right? This place has Stamina Potions, too. Ever had one?”
Ivory hung his head low.
“Mine got stolen by monkeys.”
A passing [Lady] almost had a conniption after witnessing Linda’s reaction.
“Fucking hell, that’s right!” she half-shouted, erupting into hysterics. The sheer madness of such a statement made Ivory join in too.
“Aahhh. How about this, then. There’s this shack run by two Lizardfolk that Tanne told me about, just near the Grower’s Guild. They sell this plant that, quoting him, ‘made me want to work all night’. Definitely sounds like cocaine to me, but it could be sugar. From what I’ve read, it’s not something too common here. There’s apparently always a big line, so it must be good.”
The thought sounded excellent, except for that last little bit.
“I’d rather just drink a Stamina Potion and eat something. Stuff standing around in the heat. Do you have any of that at home?”
Ivory shifted as he said that. Home. It felt good to say that.
“Of course. I sometimes put a bit in my juice to start my mornings.”
The two of them walked the remainder of the suburban street in relative silence, until the third member of their entourage started to fidget. Ivory produced a few portions of [Eerie Cinders] for her to gobble up. Her appetite was growing with his magical aptitude, which was rather interesting.
The rest of their journey was uneventful, filled in with light conversation about other activities for Ivory to do. She stressed, however, that he didn’t always have to do something.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m resigned to staying here forever. I don’t think going back to Earth’s on the cards for us,” she said matter-of-factly as they walked the trail towards her house in the distance.
“You think so? I’ve never thought of it yet.”
“You’ve only been ‘ere five minutes, and it doesn’t sound like you’ve ever had much time to even think about it. I have, and no doubt the others who’ve been here as long as I think the same.”
Ivory said nothing, but it did concern him. He’d barely spared a thought about home save for the occasional comparison, let alone his parents or friends. Was that because he thought he’d be back in no time? Or had he subconsciously shelved their memories, knowing that he’d never see them again?
Better not to think about it.
“Chin up. Nozumu’ll be back; don’t put a dour on his day.”
Spoken like a grizzled veteran.
“We’re hooome~” Linda sung as she opened the door, speaking to no one whatsoever.
The temperature inside was at least 15 degrees lower. Lovely. Misoe whole-body shivered as she flew out of Ivory’s arms and into the living room. Ivory followed her, and was greeted by what would easily be the strangest sight ever since appearing in Calanfer.
Nozumu was laying down flat on a bed of cushions, right next to the Rune of Cooling on the wall. His head was right up against the ground, over the final pillow.
“Enjoying yourself?” Ivory said.
No response. Misoe had landed on the couch, her eyes shut. Nozumu felt the whumf and looked up.
“Good afternoon.”
“What?” Nozumu shouted.
Ivory saw a cord coming from his head down to the ground—
He immediately took out his phone and snapped a picture. A Peacock Beastkin watching something on an iPad, with earphones going somewhere in his head. Ivory mimed the universal ‘take the earphones out’, which was indeed universal, as Nozumu flushed with embarrassment and took them out.
“This is the most amazing thing. It somehow has this ‘movvie’ in Drathian! I can understand most of it!”
“Movie. Moo-vee,” Ivory corrected him. “What are you watching?”
“Lucifen Wears Purada.”
Ivory stood there, not sure what he was expecting to hear. The Skill did its best, but going from Earth English > Japanese > Drathian > common language clearly made it have the clarity of Google Translate.
“Wowza. Let me have a look and see.”
Ivory sat down beside him and took the iPad and scrolled through the movie.
One look at the imperious glare of Meryl Streep told him everything he needed to know.
“Okay, it’s The Devil Wears Prada. What is a Lucifen, then?”
“Is that what your Skill said? I have not heard of them.”
That one was filed away in his ‘check this out’ folder in his head, as the implications were unpleasant.
“Neither. Doesn’t matter. Scroll back to where you were up to and keep watching; I need to eat.”
Nozumu eagerly put the headphones back in his... head... and continued watching.
“Here you are, one ‘not-coffee’ for you,” Linda said, coming in and handing him a glass of orange juice and one of those star-shaped fruits. Ivory took a mighty swig.
“My god, that’s better.”
They both sat down, being careful not to spill any of their glorious drink.
“By the way, tomorrow the [Singers] are coming over, so remember not to disturb them.”
“Are they… difficult? Of course I won’t, but still.”
“Difficult? No—quite the opposite. They would absolutely not care in the slightest; they’re all lovely gals. I just ask because they all, well, come from trauma. It’s as much a self-regulating support group as it is a singing ensemble.”
Instant regret.
“Shit. Yeah, okay, fair enough. I don’t even know what room they go in, so you don’t have to worry.”
“We have little soirées sometimes; you’re more than welcome to pop out when we have them. Anyway! I’m going to get ready and head off; figure I better use the flexible working schedule to my benefit. No counter work for another month! Woo!”
“Nice. I’m gonna just swan around here I guess, maybe do some magic outside.”
“Away from the gardens! Also, Nozumu has a key, so make sure you grab it from him if you want to go out.”
“Gotcha.”
Though the day was quite far from ending, that was the extent of today’s festivities. Nozumu didn’t have much luck with his movie selection; neither Flashdance, The Last Unicorn or Holes had a Japanese language setting. He managed, though.
Ivory, meanwhile, just relaxed for the rest of the afternoon, only stopping to lament that he never looked for a laundromat to wash his clothes. He gave some distant [Farmers] quite the shock when he began [Rapid Casting] spells into the sky to check his limit. Which wasn’t very long, thank you for asking, but that was in fact the point.
Misoe readily consented to testing her own limits—she could [Mirror Spell] seven spells in quick succession before she started to fizz out. Her mana was fine; Ivory posited that it wasn’t some cooldown issue, but something to do with her nature as a non-levelling creature activating a Skill too much. She could chain-copy [Breath of Fire] fine (with a few breaks), but the eighth attempt just wouldn’t work. They worked out that she could only do about seven [Mirror Spells] every ten minutes or so, so maybe it was a cooldown thing? Regardless, they also learned that this made her very, very hungry.
“What. A. Day.”
Ivory flopped back on the gorgeous bed with Misoe in tow, glued to his chest. The bed was as wide as it was long; he definitely could have actually slept like that.
But, as for most of the population of everywhere, he didn’t fancy sleeping with his legs off the bed and his feet touching the ground.
And so they both slept, blissfully ignorant of the tragedy unfolding as he levelled up.
[Sorcerer level 18!]
[Spell - Diffuse Mana (Tier 1) obtained!]
[Spell - Whelp’s Barrier obtained!]
[Spell - Wand of Zont: Gale Parry learned.]
[Beast Tamer level 9!]
[Skill - Shared Mana Pool (Misoe) obtained!]
[Skill - Magical Beast Keeper obtained!]