Cal's knuckles rapped against the painted blue wood of Jakob's Magnificent Market. Through the glass of the window, he saw movement—a sluggish, shuffling figure that bore little resemblance to the manic whirlwind he'd come to expect.

  Jakob Mathews emerged from the back room with a ceramic mug clutched in both hands. His normally slicked-back hair hung loose around his face, still damp from washing. Without his waistcoat, a simple linen shirt, wrinkled and unbuttoned at the collar, hung from his wiry frame. He moved like a man who hadn't yet remembered he had a performance to give.

  The merchant paused mid-step when he saw Cal through the pane. His eyes widened a fraction, then narrowed as he crossed to the door and worked the iron bolt.

  The door swung inward. The scent of brewing tea wafted out, mingling with the familiar baseline of oiled leather and canvas.

  "Master Valorn." Jakob lacked his usual pitch and energy in tone. Stepping aside, he said, "You're here early."

  Cal entered, his boots scuffing softly against the worn floorboards. The shop was dim, lit only by the amber glow of Aurum starting to filter through the high windows.

  "Master Valorn?" Cal stopped just inside the threshold. "We haven't spoken since the tournament. How did you—"

  "The Chancellery posts all official House registrations on the public board." Jakob took a sip from his mug, watching Cal over the rim. "New House Valorn." The cup descended from his lips. "I make it my business to know these things."

  Of course you do. Cal nodded. "I need blue essence stones today."

  Jakob gestured toward the counter with his free hand and crossed behind it. He set his drink down on the polished wood and reached beneath the surface, hauling up a heavy container crafted from dark, close-grained wood.

  "Essence stones." The merchant's fingers traced a rapid pattern across the inscriptions on the box's lid, releasing it with a soft click. "I have nine in stock."

  Cal stepped forward. His [Spiritual Perception] encompassed the stones, and the cool, crystalline resonance of mental essence brushed against his awareness.

  "I'll take one."

  Jakob's hand, which had been reaching for the tray, froze mid-motion. His head tilted.

  "Just the one this time?"

  "For now."

  The merchant's eyes studied Cal's face for a long moment. Whatever he saw there, he chose not to press. He plucked a single stone from the tray and wrapped it in a square of soft cloth before sliding it across the counter.

  "Ten gold."

  The price was fair, and Cal counted out the coins from his pouch and placed them beside the wrapped stone. Jakob swept them into his palm with a quick gesture, depositing them into a small lockbox beneath the counter.

  "Anything else? New armor? A lovely set of matched daggers that would complement your—"

  "Vitality rations. Enough for three meals, and another healing potion."

  Jakob reached beneath the counter again and produced three rectangular blocks, setting them beside the stone. They were dense, pale brown bars, identical to the chalky rations Cal had forced down during the tournament. A small vial of red, glowing liquid joined the rations on the counter.

  "Three gold, thirty silver."

  After paying and thanking the man, Cal tucked the stone, rations, and potion into his pack and turned toward the door.

  "Master Valorn."

  Cal paused, glancing back.

  Jakob leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Good luck."

  The alley beside Jakob's Magnificent Market was a functional non-space, a narrow corridor of damp stone and old timber that smelled of moss and forgotten refuse. A grimy eave jutted from the market's roofline, dripping water in a rhythmic cadence that splashed off the cobblestones below. The wall of the neighboring building—some nameless storage house—rose high enough to block the direct light of Aurum.

  Cal pressed his back against the rough timber of the market's exterior wall and exhaled. The sounds of the village were slightly muted here, a nearby murmur of voices and cart wheels.

  He pulled the essence stone from his pack, unwrapped it, and swallowed it down.

  The rush came immediately. A flood of icy clarity washed through his skull, sharpening his thoughts. The ambient chaos of the world narrowed to the sensation settling in his lower abdomen, a cool wellspring of potential energy humming inside him. He sent it where he needed it.

  [Willpower has increased by 10.00% -> 15.00%]

  Time to get to work.

  Cal extended his right hand, palm up. He closed his eyes and turned his focus inward.

  He called his Mana and it flowed upward through his torso like trickling ice water, traveling across his arm with a slow viscosity before pooling at the base of his palm. He pushed it further, forcing it to breach the boundary of his skin.

  A thin tendril of blue-white light emerged from his fingertip, wisping upward like smoke.

  Immediately, he felt it. The World's Breath. An invisible, relentless pressure battered against the fragile strand of energy, trying to scatter it into nothingness.

  He pushed back.

  His Willpower seized the Mana like a spiritual clamp. The pressure was immense, a grinding resistance that made his temples throb. The tendril wavered under the atmospheric assault.

  It held.

  Good.

  Moving his hand slowly, Cal traced the foundational [Control] rune into the empty air. The Mana followed his Intent, painting a glowing blue line that his Willpower held fast against the eroding current. The sensation was like carving into hardwood—strenuous, resistant, but possible—and the arcane square solidified with neatly defined edges.

  He then inscribed the [Fire] rune, a triangle with its point aimed upward and a small circle at its base. It snapped into the framework at the lower-right vertex with a resonant hum.

  Completing the geometric union, he anchored the [Air] rune, a sweeping arc enclosing two parallel lines at the upper-left.

  The construct floated immobile in the air, a glowing blue wireframe suspended by the strength of his will and the connection of his Mana. The magical currents of the world hammered against it, an invisible tide trying to erode the structure.

  It had gotten more difficult as he added more runes, but his grip didn't waver.

  Cal stared at the hovering structure, his breath catching in his throat. It was stable. It was real.

  He brought his open palm below the completed runic design and pushed a pulse of Intent into the [Control] rune, triggering the ignition.

  The blue wireframe vanished. In its place, a perfect, tear-shaped flame materialized two inches above his hand. It burned with a steady, deep red-orange glow, flickering gently as though responding to a breeze that only it could feel.

  A soft chime echoed in his mind.

  [New Spell Gained: Conjure Flame (F) - Novice]

  Cal froze.

  A giddy, childlike laugh bubbled up in his throat. "Holy mackerel!"

  He stared at the flame, mesmerized. Starting a barbecue used to take a lighter and three tries, but now he held fire in his bare hand. He’d done that. Him.

  Abruptly, he realized that he couldn't feel any heat. The flame existed in a state of separation from his body, a discrete phenomenon anchored to his Intent.

  Can I change that?

  He sharpened his concentration.

  I want to feel the heat.

  The sensation changed instantly. Warmth bloomed against his palm, prickling his skin with an escalating burn. He relaxed his Intent.

  The heat vanished.

  Hotter.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  The flame obeyed. Drawing more of his Mana, it shifted from red-orange to a bright yellow-orange, the temperature intensifying even though he'd willed himself immune to it. The color deepened, the edges sharpening.

  Cooler.

  The flame darkened to a sullen, guttering red, its light dimming. It flickered weakly, like a candle on the verge of extinguishing.

  Normal.

  The flame stabilized, returning to its original ruddy hue.

  Cal exhaled, his heart pounding. The flame was responsive. Alive. And completely under his dominion.

  This is incredible!

  He cut the Mana flow and the flame vanished. The air shimmered for a moment where it had been, a faint distortion of heat, then settled into stillness.

  One down.

  But the flame was a simple, three-rune construct. The [Isolation Field]—the Spell with the highest rune count in the grimoires—required seventeen. He knew he needed more leverage.

  Cal's return was announced by the entrance chime. The shop had transformed in the short time he'd been gone. The sleepy retail outlet of the pre-dawn hours was absent, replaced by the bustling energy of mid-morning commerce. Two adventurers stood near the Wall of Pointy Things, debating the merits of a short sword versus a hand axe, while a young woman perused a barrel of torches.

  Jakob stood behind the counter, transformed. The linen shirt had been replaced by his typical waistcoat, buttoned and pressed. His hair was slicked back into its a severe part. The manic energy had returned, his hands gesturing emphatically as he guided a nervous-looking farmer through the merits of a "premium rope retention system."

  His eyes glanced toward Cal the moment the bell rang. Jakob concluded his transaction amicably, sending the farmer off with a coil of rope and a handful of iron stakes. He turned to Cal as the door closed behind the man.

  "Back already?" His eyes tracked Cal's movements as he approached the counter. "Forget something?"

  "I need another stone."

  Jakob's eyebrows rose slightly. "Thirsty work, then. Ten gold."

  After paying, Cal took the stone and exited without another word.

  The light in the alley had shifted. Aurum sat higher in the sky, painting a neat line of gold across the upper woodwork. The shadows retreated toward the ground, chasing the morning chill from the air.

  Cal consumed the second stone, then he raised a finger and began to construct.

  [Willpower has increased by 10.00% -> 25.00%]

  The [Isolation Field] was a monstrosity compared to [Conjure Flame], a distributed network of anchors and barriers designed to create a hermetic bubble, free of any Mana but his own. He reasoned it was the most complex Spell in Aurelian's grimoires, a test of both structure and endurance. If he could cast it, he assumed he'd achieved sufficient Willpower to succeed at the rest.

  He inscribed the first [Control] rune into the air, then slowly turned a circle as he drew the second, the third, and the fourth. The cardinal anchors formed a skeletal frame, hanging stable in the air around him.

  With the anchors established, he connected them using the [Terra] runes. Four rigid walls locked into the framework, and the box became stable.

  So far, so good.

  Moving to the overlay, he began etching the first grid on the front wall, and the demand on his concentration spiked immediately. Holding the [Terra] plates in place while drawing the delicate [Gate] filigree felt like trying to sketch a map while lifting a barbell above his head.

  The strain mounted as he started the second [Gate]. His mental grip on the rear [Control] anchor slipped for a fraction of a second.

  That was all the ambient Mana needed. The current tore through the loose anchor as the rear wall collapsed, and the structural failure cascaded instantly. The construct imploded, blowing outward in a violent puff of distorted heat and failing light.

  Crumb. He tried again, but got a similar result.

  The foundational runes came into existence strong, but by the time he made it to the third set they were stuttering like candle flames in a draft. Before he could connect them, they were snuffed out, collapsing into motes of shimmering blue light that vanished with a faint smell of ozone.

  Cal sagged against the wall. One more stone should do it.

  The shop was busier now and the morning crowd had arrived in full force. A pair of adventurers haggled loudly over the price of a bedroll. A grizzled veteran inspected a set of throwing knives with the critical eye of a man who knew his way around making pincushions. Jakob darted between them like a conductor, his voice a constant torrent of cheerful, persuasive chatter.

  The merchant excused himself from a conversation mid-sentence and crossed to the counter when he saw Cal, sliding a third blue stone over the varnished surface. Next to it, he placed a steaming earthenware cup filled with bitter-smelling tea and a strip of salted meat.

  "Fuel for the forge," Jakob said, audible only to Cal despite the noise around them. "You look like you could use it. On the house."

  Cal nodded at the merchant and drank the scalding tea, its bitterness cutting through a mental fog he hadn't realized had crept in. The tough meat helped assuage his hunger.

  "Thank you Jakob." Cal paid for the stone and headed for the door.

  "Good luck, Master Valorn."

  Aurum hung nearly overhead as Cal consumed the third stone in the alley.

  [Willpower has increased by 10.00% -> 35.00%]

  He extended his hand. This time, his Willpower was a rigid cage.

  The four [Control] anchors materialized in the air, fixed in space like steel posts driven into bedrock. Connecting them, he outlined the rigid walls of the [Terra] runes before overlaying each surface with a [Gate] tuned to be a one-way ticket for dust. Finally, he placed the two [Ventus] and two [Cycle] runes at the center, linking them to the gates to create air circulation.

  The peak of the construct required a [Null] rune, the heaviest drain on his Mana reserves by a wide margin.

  That final rune completed the construct, and when he willed the ward to cast, the glowing blue scheme flared and vanished, consumed by the ignition. In its place, the surrounding air went dead silent.

  The hermetic bubble engaged, a shimmering cube of distorted air that muted the sounds of the village. The drip of water vanished. The distant murmur of voices ceased. He stood in a pocket of absolute stillness, a cleanroom carved from will and Mana.

  [New Spell Gained: Isolation Field (F) - Novice]

  Cal let the Spell hold for ten seconds, feeling the steady drain on his reserves, then released it. The sounds of the world rushed back in.

  A sudden laugh escaped him, and he pumped a fist in the empty alley with enough style to make Freddie Mercury proud. Seventeen runes! He had just constructed a seventeen-rune array shortly after learning to light a candle. According to the grimoire, the [Isolation Field] was the structural apex of basic alchemy Spells, a beast of complexity designed to weed out the weak willed.

  And he had overcome it.

  If I can hold seventeen, I can hold anything!

  The triumph left his Mana font scraped nearly dry, forcing him to lean against the wall and wait as it slowly refilled. Once he had recovered enough to continue, he rolled his shoulders and pulled up the mental schematic for his next target: [Harmonize].

  Ten runes.

  He almost scoffed. Compared to the architectural nightmare he had just stabilized, a ten-rune construct seemed trivial. A quick victory lap before lunch.

  Cal splayed his fingers, brimming with confidence.

  The [Harmonize] Spell relied on flow and pressure. It was a Spell of fusion, designed to suck two incompatible essences into a central chamber, smash them together, and force them to resonate as one. He lacked ingredients, however.

  I have the air.

  The alley was thick with Mana currents—the chaotic, ambient energy of the world. He could use the Spell's intake mechanism to snag a wisp of that wild energy and bind it to his own stable Mana. It would serve as the ultimate test of the framework: Chaos meeting Order.

  Cal began to build, forming the [Control] rune at the core. Next, the intakes: two [Siphon] runes spiraling counter-clockwise to pull energy in. Then, the injectors: two [Project] runes facing inward, designed to take that siphoned energy and blast it into the center.

  He wove the [Binding] runes between them to create the walls of the pressure chamber, and finally added the [Resonance] runes to agitate the mix. The [Null] rune hung ready above it all, the final cap to seal the Spell once the fusion was complete.

  Let's see what you've got.

  He fed his own Mana into the left [Siphon]. It flowed smoothly through the intake and was caught by the [Project] rune, which fired a pressurized stream of blue light into the center of the chamber.

  With the left intake primed, he activated the right side.

  That [Siphon] spun up, biting into the empty air. It acted as a spiritual dredge, sucking in the ambient atmosphere. A dirty stream of yellow-white energy was pulled from the currents, caught by the right [Project] rune, and shot into the center.

  [New Spell Gained: Harmonize (F) - Novice]

  The two streams collided.

  It was like throwing water into hot oil.

  The ambient Mana was erratic, vibrating with a wild frequency that clashed instantly with the controlled flow of his own power. The construct bucked, the pressure from the [Project] runes compressing the volatile mix until it thrashed against the [Binding] walls, threatening to tear the Spell apart.

  Cal frowned.

  Clamping down with his Willpower, Cal applied the same iron-fisted grip that had tamed the [Isolation Field] and tried to crush the chaos into submission, forcing the wild current to hold still and accept the bond.

  The Spell ignored him. His [Resonance] runes amplified the difference between the two energies. The harder he compressed the construct, the more violent the reaction became. The feedback loop hit critical mass, shattering the construct.

  Cal stared at the empty space where the Spell had been, then glanced down the alley towards Jakob's front door.

  More Willpower might do it. A fourth stone would give me the grip strength to just—

  His hand, which had been moving toward his coin pouch, halted.

  Wait. I'm missing something.

  He closed his eyes as he recalled a memory from Earth. Jack, sitting on the couch with a controller in his hands, tongue sticking out as he played a rhythm game. The screen flashed with colored notes, descending in time with the music. He waited, watching the patterns closely. He tapped at the exact moment the note crossed the line.

  Timing.

  He recalled another memory. Himself, years ago, crouched in the garage with a lockpick set, trying to open an old padlock he'd found at a yard sale. He'd pushed too hard at first, jamming the pins. Then he'd learned to feel the subtle give, the tiny click that told him he'd found the binding pin. He waited for the feedback and responded appropriately.

  The energies have a frequency. I need to wait for them to align.

  Cal opened his eyes.

  He formed the [Harmonize] Spell again. [Control]. [Project]. [Binding]. [Resonance].

  The two energies met and began to vibrate.

  This time he just watched.

  The vibrations resolved into a pattern of waveforms, oscillating in and out of sync. He waited for the moment of convergence, his Intent poised and ready.

  The waveforms converged. For a single, fleeting second, they aligned perfectly.

  Now.

  He squeezed the binding.

  The energies merged silently, condensing into a humming purple light that pulsed with steady cadence.

  Cal let the Spell dissipate. The purple light faded, leaving only the quiet shadows of the alley.

  An intense throb pulsed behind his eyes.

  He winced, rubbing his temples as the adrenaline dropped. The exhilaration of success vanished, replaced by the hollow, scraping ache of a depleted Mana font. A check of his internal reserves confirmed it: he was running on fumes, drained dry by the [Isolation Field] and the failed attempts at [Harmonize], even after he'd paused to let it refill.

  He squatted down in the alley, mentally drained. The grimoires held nine more Spells. At his current F-tier capacity, waiting for his Mana to regenerate enough to master the remainder of the list would take the rest of the day, at least. Just sitting around, meditating, and waiting.

  And he was tired of waiting. He would earn his apprenticeship today.

  I have the hardest structural Spell. I have the hardest technical Spell… probably.

  Rising to his feet, Cal knew he had enough to prove his competence. If Aurelian needed to see him light a candle after watching him build a cleanroom, the man was blind.

  Cal stepped into the thoroughfare, ignoring the pounding in his skull.

  Time to show him what I can do.

  magical?