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Chapter Thirty: Something to Learn From
“You know it’s not the same, right?”
Moss let out a soft chuckle. “And you are pointing this out because…?” he replied.
A startled Stratin quirked an unsubtle brow. His hands were held out before him, the littlest flicker of air swirling between them. This, as had been a good number of times over the semester, was another one of their attempts at bound magecraft.
“This isn’t true, as it should be,” Stratin pointed out. “This isn’t bound. It’s a mixture, not a compound.”
Moss shrugged. “I’m not sure what you mean, but to that I’d say let’s create mixtures till we can create a compound.”
Stratin pouted but it seemed that was the end of his opposition to it.
All the while Kilvic stood at a safe enough distance, watching his roommates attempt something less deadly than what they’d been doing for a good while. He wasn’t certain
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Stratin’s cry ebbed like a dying siren. It did not cut off abruptly as most do on the onset of unconsciousness. No. It drained gently, dissipating as the light in Kilvic’s hand. It would dim to nothing more than a sob, then there will be silence, then there will be nothing but simple breaths. Kilvic saw himself looking forward to it. At least, if anything, it would bring silence. And silence was always the best state to work with; it enhanced concentration. Surprisingly Moss was as quiet as the evening breeze. The boy almost seemed accepting of some kind of twisted fate, though Kilvic spared him no attention. His curiosity of Stratin’s ability to come back from this lurked at the back of his mind, like shadows at the edge of a dying light. It was something they would find out once the boy woke. Ariadne... Kilvic looked up at an unconscious Stratin seated back against the hostel’s wall… will not like this.Kilvic returned his at
The Demon King Chronicles; Demon-Named Chapter Thirty-Two: Solutions
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The Demon King Chronicles; Demon-Named Chapter Thirty-Three: Hirot Ne Inshi
A few days later Stratin regained full control of his faculties. He awoke a few minutes after Kilvic had broken the link with his light. For the sake of secrecy, Kilvic kept his silence when he woke. He asked Stratin nothing of the pure light. He asked him nothing of what he’d done or why he’d done it. He told him nothing of what had been done to keep his life here, fixed in his body. He said nothing on the subject.In the early days after his recovery, classes were a special kind of ordeal. Stratin’s way with the sword delved head first into the realm of sloppiness. His moves contained all the determination but lacked all the precision. His body, it proved, no longer listened to him as it should. He suffered for it. Grunald had never seemed more displeased at anyone before, and he voiced it in as many harsh and disappointed words as he knew.Haru’s class was were Stratin’s suffering grew. He failed at executing every form. Each blow direc
The Demon King Chronicles; Demon-Named Chapter Thirty-Four: The Stupidity Of Humanity
What the magecrafters had done was quite clever. The word they had inscribed, Hirot ne inshi, was truly ancient. It was so ancient that its language was so old it was one of the very few the outworlders shared with the human history. Both, at some point in history, had spoken it. It was a word that trailed its way to the eastern parts of the world. The word itself was older than the continent upon which the kingdom stood. The bird, long extinct form this world was very much like its name. If the books were to be believed, it was a truly large bird, its size rivaling that of a whale. Rare as it was to see even in its predominant era, it was said an army was required to end the life of one. Like its name, it was known for its characteristic of refusing to die. Simply explained, it was a creature that required death be visited upon it twice. A lesson learned only after the extinction of a kingdom.After death, the Hirot ne inshi was known to regress to a state
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“What brings you here, Master Rudric?”For the third time in a space of two seconds Kilvic wondered at how much he wished to offer in this negotiation without Deidrich’s presence. It was not that he doubted the headmaster capable of understanding the severity of the situation, he simply doubted the man knew how to appreciate it. The man was the brains, at one time he might have also been the muscle, considering his history. But he was the brains now, and the brain only saw in statistics, numbers, and secondary information. The curse of growth, Kilvic thought. He wondered if his mother’s subjects thought of his grandfather in the same way. It made his thought stumble. For a moment he thought to discard his assumption of the headmaster, but logic knew it for what it was: bias. And logic has always, if not most often, been the best guide in the absence of his instructors.“Master Rudric?”Kilvic realized he’d remai
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“So let me get this right. You’re useless now.”Stratin physically cowed under the weight of the words. There was a mild hesitation before he nodded. Useless might have been a strong word but it was not very far from the truth. In simplicity, it was a good enough synonym.Hordriv sighed in mild defeat. “So we’re a man down then,” he finished.Vivlac walked up beside him. “It’s not like there’s no hope, though. I heard the boy is quite good with a sword among his set. His magic might be… stuttering, but I’m sure his skills haven’t been affected.” He glanced at Stratin for confirmation. When Stratin didn’t meet his gaze, his countenance fell. “Fuck.”“Yeah, fuck’s right,” Moss agreed. “Even his unarmed combat’s been off.”“Then he won’t be a combat mage,” Gyra said without inflection. He walked into th
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Everything happened quickly. The boys and girls roared into each other. It was not the skirmish of the non-mages. There was no physical clashing involved. This was a skirmish for those who trained to become great mages in the future. A few fists were thrown, but most of all, spells came flying, and the ambient reia was disturbed as if by the fury of a crashing wave.Trudi was all smiles as she sent spells flying, simple incantations after the other. Unlike the boys, the girls seemed to possess a chosen strategy. Some bought time for the spellcasters, dispensing physical oppression upon the boys. Lacra moved like a force to be reckoned with. Her steps were quick, carrying her across the arena in short bursts. She was everywhere she needed to be to support her team when they needed it. A fist here and there, forcing a boy or the other into defense where they’d been going for offense.Moss forced his way into the enemy, a battering ram in his form, arms crossed over
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