Viktor zipped to and away from the wolf centaur, using hit-and-run tactics. He left dozens of slashes on its person. Whenever the beast got close to landing a hit on him, Roque was there. He carried a war axe glowing with crimson light. Crescent arcs of energy followed every swing. Unfortunately, the weapon failed to make contact, and the ranged attacks inflicted negligible damage.

  Meanwhile, Annabelle danced around the battlefield, moving with the speed of someone using the Haste cantrip. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. Nox guessed she had a spell for speaking directly into her companions’ ears or heads. A wrist-mounted weapon also fired unidentifiable projectiles. They kept the wolf centaur off balance while suffering no injuries. The beast suddenly froze mid-attack, and the trio flumped on their bottoms, panting.

  “Do you see why we want you?” Viktor asked, panting. “We can keep Apprentice-rank boss creatures busy, but we lack the power to put them down. Join us, and we’ll make a killing in the rifts and dungeons.”

  “You’re impressive,” Nox said. “That’s undeniable. The truth is I don’t know if I can trust you. After a lifetime of dealing with those two, I can’t help but be suspicious of people of your station.” He nodded at the next terrace over. Edward fought the wolf centaur with his entourage. Louis stood talking with his companions on the distant terrace beyond it. “I don’t mean any offense, but people in your position often suffer from a bad case of self-importance and hidden agendas. How can I trust you not to abandon us when things go wrong?”

  “No offense taken,” Viktor said. His smile appeared strained. Nox guessed he was testing his patience. “I’d tell you to take your time deciding, but we don’t have that luxury. The three of us intend to challenge a rift in a few weeks and could use your help.”

  Roque seethed behind his friend but said nothing. Meanwhile, Annabelle shot Nox a polite smile. It was more than anything he got from her during their first meeting. The trio cleared the terrace, letting Nox and Lillin have their turn.

  The beast proved far more powerful than the specimen they fought during the previous class. It moved faster and suffered significantly less damage from the crystal-glass-empowered projectiles and Lillin’s gravity orbs. The duo had no choice but to go on the defensive. They danced around the attacks, doing their best to get by without suffering injuries.

  When the five-minute session ended and the beast froze, sweat dripped from the brow’s temples and soaked their hair. Nox felt light-headed. It wasn’t mana drain since he had used the regular arrows, too. It was plain exhaustion. Nox had resisted using his brews to improve his body’s cardiovascular abilities and reaction time.

  “If that’s what boss-class beasts are like, we won’t make it on our own,” Lillin said. “Your cocktails won’t get us far. We should accept their offer.”

  “Give me a few days to explore a couple of other options,” Nox replied. “If I can’t find anyone good enough, we’ll go with Viktor.”

  “You don’t get it.” Lillin’s shoulders drooped, and her volume dropped. “Viktor is what I need right now. Let me have some fun. Please.”

  “Why don’t you just go out into the city? I’m sure you’ll find someone just as appealing in the taverns.”

  “It’s not the same,” Lillin replied. “I want Viktor. Please?”

  “I’ll think about it,” Nox replied. “What about Roque?”

  “Not my type.” She shrugged. “Don’t think I missed you peeking at Annabelle. Are you interested in her?”

  “I don’t have the time to waste on such pursuits.”

  Nox sat cross-legged and focused on absorbing mana. The proximity to Ygg made the air dense with arcane energies. He circulated it through his mana system. The energy first danced through the two spells in his star and then seeped into the cloud around it. The loose mana didn’t diffuse. Instead, it spiraled around the core. The mana again entered the star, passed through the three-dimensional spell form, and then returned to the cloud. Nox felt himself growing more efficient with each circulation. He lost less mana every time.

  The energy in Nox’s mana zone grew in density, and he overflowed with energy before long. He refused to miss out on the opportunity and also used the time to practice his defensive magic exercises. The cloud surrounding Nox’s star shrank, growing denser as he worked. Shaping took less effort as well.

  Nox checked the manameter.

  Nox Ratra

  Apprentice

  Custom Slow

  49/41

  Nix smiled. He was no closer to forming his planetoid, but his star had grown. He didn’t expect to raise his maximum mana level so soon after developing his star. Viktor and his friends finished their time with the wolf centaur. Nox and Lillin eagerly started their turn again. The pair didn’t hold back and burned more mana than before. After all, Ygg would help restore their stars afterward.

  EIGHTEEN

  SHREWD DEALINGS

  “I hate the Trade Empire but we need the bastards. It monopolizes trade routes and resources while hiding behind trade alliances and arcane contracts. Queen Mercer’s armies might be small, but her production houses makes them too powerful, too. However, they keep roaming beasts populations under control, keep the brigands from getting too powerful, and keep far too many city states alive. I just wish she’d leave some profit for the rest of us.”

  —Laslo Gedge, Vice Guild Master of The Onyx Scales, Imperium Ambassador to Ygg

  A small group of students followed Nox and Lillin into the cafeteria. The pair recognized them from Intermediate Dungeon Combat. If not for their poor performance and strength, he’d worry about an ambush or another encounter like with his stepbrothers.

  The group waited until Nox had picked up his lunch and found a seat before approaching him. They met his eye but appeared hesitant. Lillin opened her mouth—probably to make a smartass comment—but Nox kicked her under the table. She glared at him but shut up. Finally, it was the youngest among the five that stepped forward and spoke.

  “Did you mean it in the first class?” the young woman asked. “Is that Trap Foam of yours for sale? We need one.”

  “Why do you need it?” Nox asked, putting on his best smile. “If you’re heading into a rift or dungeon, I’d suggest you get more than one.”

  “We need it for the right to attempt dungeons,” said a man in the group. He appeared the best dressed of the lot. “Professor Wolfhammer said he’d send us to the beginner class if we don’t defeat his ugly summons.”

  Nox sighed. He didn’t need to feign exhaustion. He felt it. “This might come across as rude, but that’s not my intention.” He half turned away from his meal even though every fiber of his being told him to focus on the food. Nox ignored his instincts. Woodson University was not the same as the Golden Isles. He had the potential to make allies in the city without worrying about the Gedge House’s influence. Better yet, Nox had more avenues for making a profit without providing beneficial rates. “You’re all covered in cuts and bruises.” He nodded at a man in the rear with his arm in a sling. “Some of you are worse off. If you can’t defeat the weakest wolves, you won’t make it through the semester. It’s just fighting stronger versions of the same thing while the professor provides additional guidance to improve your performance. I’m willing to bet that things will get even more challenging.”

  “That’s none of your concern,” the well-dressed man said through clenched teeth. “Will you sell to us or not?”

  “I make and sell Trap Foam in at least batches of five, and the next class is in less than two days from now. I have another class this afternoon. That means I don’t have a lot of time to procure materials, process them, do the labor-intensive and highly skilled alchemical procedures, brew, cool, and bottle the concoction⁠—”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” The man’s tone grew more impatient.

  “You’re looking at a rush charge on top of labor costs since this will eat into my sleep,” Nox replied. “The commission will cost you thirty gold coins. I need half upfront as a deposit. That should cover material and energy costs. I’ll expect the rest on delivery.”

  “That’s highway robbery!” the woman who first approached Nox exclaimed. “We can’t afford that! Let’s go, Master Stefann.”

  “No.” Stefann, the well-dressed man, retreated from Nox and lowered his voice, but he could hear the group just fine. “Father said this is our last chance. If we don’t get a delving license by the end of this semester, he’ll move us to the war mage department. Do you know what happens to mages on the front lines? They’re the first to die.”

  “You could join the house guard⁠—”

  “No!” Stefann hissed. He pushed past the woman and faced Nox. The young man inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly before adopting a gentler, more friendly expression. “I’m sure you can make a batch and just sell us one.”

  “That’s too expensive, my friend. My funds are limited, and I can’t afford to spend most of it on ingredients just to sell one. I’ll lose money on the deal.”

  “Then just sell us a premade one,” Stefann said, his pleasant expression almost slipping away momentarily.

  “You want me to take one out of my personal stash?” Nox raised his eyebrows, adopting a shocked expression. “I can’t do that. We’re heading into a dungeon soon, and our spot in the party is contingent on me providing a certain number of concoctions.”

  “There’s got to be a price⁠—”

  “Twelve gold,” Lillin said.

  “That’s too much!” Stefann and his female companion exclaimed in unison. Both of their faces crinkled into unhappy frowns.

  “No, that’s too high, Lillin,” Nox replied. “Ten gold coins should be enough.”

  “That’s still too much,” Stefann said, but his frown eased.

  “You wanted six gold per unit with a full batch,” his female companion added.

  “But that just required my time and effort. By asking me to take one out of my personal stash, you’re jeopardizing my spot in the party and my life. I’m a long-range fighter. The Trap Foam is essential for my survival. One less in my arsenal means that’s one possible fatal situation where I have no emergency escape.”

  Stefann and his group retreated for a few minutes and talked amongst themselves. By the time they returned, Nox had finished his lunch. Only a plate of cut fruit in cold custard sat before him. Meanwhile, Lillin had seconds piled high on the table. She offered Stefann a skewer with peppers and chicken hearts. He shook his head, eyes narrowing and nose crinkling.

  “We’ll take it,” he said, counting ten gold coins on the table. He appeared especially resistant to part with the final three and paused long between them, glancing at Nox occasionally with a pleading look in his eyes.

  “It was a pleasure doing business with you,” Nox said, trying his best to contain a gleeful grin.

  Lillin swept the coins off the table, and they disappeared before making contact with her lap. Then she pulled a thumb-size vial out of thin air and placed it in the confused aristocrat’s hand.

  “If you pass the test and gain your dungeon license, you know who to ask for your future needs,” Nox continued, putting on his best salesman smile. “You’ll get better rates if you come to me a week in advance, and regular customers get decent discounts and deals. I do smoke bombs, poisons, oils, and empowering cocktails guaranteed to provide better results than anything in the market. The toxin build-up in your system will also be much less.”

  “Can you guarantee that?” the woman sticking to Stefann asked.

  “I can,” Lillin answered in Nox’s stead. “I’m his guinea pig.”

  “I use them regularly, too, and more extensively than her,” Nox added. “My Sigil of Immunity alerts me when toxin levels get too high.”

  “We’ll keep in touch,” Stefann said before walking away. His group swarmed around him, drones protecting their queen. He paused and looked over his shoulder. “I certainly hope you won’t take advantage of our desperation next time.”

  “That was lucky,” Lillin said once the party was out of earshot.

  “I wouldn’t call it luck,” Nox replied. “There’s a reason I used Trap Foam instead of any of my other creations during the test. The effects and results are the most visible. I’m just surprised more people haven’t shown up asking for them.”

  “So what’s the plan? Make more Trap Foam?”

  “Among other things.”

  Nox had his first Intermediate Spell Weaving class at the first bell afternoon. He entered the class physically and mentally exhausted but eager to learn something new. Most of his professors, so far, had proven pleasant and interesting. Station and rank appeared to matter little to them. They only cared about their subject and humankind’s war against the gods.

  He wondered whether things were any different in the Department of War Mages. From what he understood, generational knighthoods and noble lineage played a big role in military ranking and command. It wouldn’t surprise Nox if some professors favored students from certain nations, city-states, or houses.

  Fortunately, Professor Diya Sengupta was the most pleasant elderly woman he had ever met. Nox never met his paternal grandmother. Meanwhile, Grandmother Mercer had never shown him any affection. She kept him at arm’s length until his father’s passing, only talking to him on special occasions when circumstances forced the family to display a united front. After Pallav passed, the old woman avoided Nox and pretended he didn’t exist when they had the misfortune to run into each other.

  Meanwhile, Diya—as she insisted on being called—spoke with a sweetness that made Nox want to hug her. She was old but didn’t appear ancient like Dean Myrina Woodson. The woman’s head barely reached five feet, and pudge kept her skin from appearing papery except around her neck and the back of her hands.

  “Despite the course name, its subject matter will be mostly theoretical,” Professor Diya announced. “The final exam will have two parts, one written and one practical. They’ll have equal weighting.” A wave of disheartened sighs washed through the classrooms. “However, I will allow early completion provided you create a journeyman-level spellform and find someone to execute it. They need to include at least two of the three major techniques I will teach in this class. You’ll get extra points if they’re three-dimensional, and it will ensure a position in the advanced class next semester.”

  Initially, Nox wanted to be disappointed about the course’s focus on the theoretical side of things. He already had enough practice and practical experience designing spellforms thanks to alchemy. However, Diya’s sweetness made the news go down easier. Then the latter revelation about the possibility of completing the course early put a big smile on his face.

  Much like Professor Wolfhammer, Diya leaped into the course material straight away. She started them on scripts for Shaping, Manipulation, and Reinforcement spells and taught them how to adapt and develop them to work with basic elements. It wasn’t anything Nox hadn’t done before, but he liked her take on specific approaches better. As the lecture went on, he realized that his method of spellform creation was derived from alchemical processes and recipe development. Both processes worked with essence, but one almost exclusively used physical elements while the other relied on mana.

  Alchemists had much less mana than practicing mages since they had fewer opportunities to travel to mana-rich environments and develop their systems. However, alchemical processes often demanded significant quantities of arcane energy. As a result, the scripts and magic circles used during the brewing process focused on mana efficiency. While developing recipes, alchemists focused on minimizing cost, gathering all energy that leaked out and funneling it back into the process.

  Nox used the same philosophies while developing spellforms and adapting them to work with his limitations. However, he had developed several bad habits, too. The lecture highlighted his faults, leaving Nox to wonder whether it was the reason he struggled with Shaping anything besides raw mana. By the end of the lecture, Nox found himself leaning forward in his chair and drinking in every word coming out of Diya’s mouth.

  “Professor. Can I have a word?” He approached after the lesson ended and most of his peers had filtered out of the room.

  “Of course, Mr. Ratra. I’m happy to make time for all of my students.” She smiled, lowering her volume as she continued. “Especially for one who developed a three-dimensional spell as a novice and integrated it with their core.”

  “Professor Kris told you about that?” Nox asked.

  “Of course!” Diya gestured to the books and scrolls spread across her desk, and Nox helped her gather them into neat piles. “She used the information to win me over and rally the university council to accept you despite the late application. Your work has its faults, but fortunately, the core spell is basic enough not to cripple your progress.” Most people only integrated cantrips and evolutions standardized over decades into their core. Newer and untested spellforms often produced adverse effects down the line. “It looks like you’ve got a piece of artificing or alchemy in your core. My class should help you fix and develop it, though. So don’t fret.”

  “That’s kind of what I want to talk to you about,” Nox said. He picked up the pile of heavy tomes and carried it out of the classroom as he walked with Diya. Meanwhile, she held the scrolls untidily in her hands and under her armpits. “I picked Shaping as the focus for my first planetoid. I’m having little trouble working with raw mana, but the essence glass I produce isn’t as compliant. I wonder if my star and approach to intent-driven Shaping are suffering from poor spell weaving.”

  “Not at all. You should really speak to Dean Woodson about this. I might be the vice head of the research department, but there’s no one better than a druid to advise you on the matter of Shaping. However, I can theorize the issue. First, tell me. What is essence glass?”

  “It is condensed essence that’s been forced to stabilize and change state.”