Lysander’s first instinct was to [Inspect] the strange object placed onto his desk. He almost regretted doing so.

  ***

  Severed Arm of Voidgod Anaxtharras

  No description.

  ***

  His gaze stayed locked on the carapace-covered arm for a long moment. He fought the urge to rub his eyes to clear them, since the action would be too undignified for his current company. For that matter, it might have been the Sorceress’s presence itself that prepared him for something so absurd, because while he was floored, he was less so than he should have been.

  “Voidgod,” he said. “That’s an… ominous title.”

  Even as he spoke the words, his mind was hurtling forward. It’s clearly from a higher-evolved monster than the Greater Voidbeasts. The next stage up. The pinnacle of their kind? One can only hope it’s the pinnacle. He shuddered to imagine that they might face an enemy stronger than what the Grand System labeled a god.

  Yet the Sorceress had confronted one of these creatures and killed it. He couldn’t say he was surprised. She had ripped apart several voidbeasts on an equal footing with the Cataclysms. That she might have struggled against the next tier but nevertheless come out the victor was entirely logical.

  Something could be logical yet disturbing. He didn’t enjoy feeling small. Much less as if, despite his hundred years pursuing progress, he was nothing more than an insect scurrying between the feet of giants. If he himself felt like that, how would others, seeing this severed limb and making the same conclusions?

  Then a more sobering thought hit him. What did Vivisari think of them? A gnat and a beetle might differentiate between themselves, but do the beasts that crush them underfoot? Did Lysander hold any special status in this woman’s eyes, or was he the same as an initiate so far as she cared? He suspected he knew the answer, and that terrified him.

  “It is,” Vivisari agreed in her usual disinterested tone. “And for the record, I didn’t harvest it myself. I’m not sure how powerful the creature was, and I can’t speak on its strength or abilities. But the limb is clearly worth studying, which is why I brought it to you. It’s the strongest of the void—” She hesitated. “Creatures I’ve seen.”

  Did she expect him to take those statements at face value? To not analyze the obvious implications? She hadn’t harvested it herself. Then who had? This new Sorceress was already more powerful than he could imagine, and yet she was saying she had peers—someone who had aided her in killing the voidgod. Beyond the Dragon King and other immortals of deep lore, he couldn’t fathom who.

  Also, that hesitation. ‘Void… creatures.’ She was unsure if they could truly be classified as ‘creatures.’ Which meant the owner of this severed limb must have been intelligent.

  Intelligent void-monsters that approached the Sorceress in strength? How did he even begin digesting the earth-shattering ramifications implied by that?

  He didn’t try. He homed in on what had been asked of him: the nature of the material and how they might circumvent its otherworldly resistances, so that humanity could defend itself. The rest he stored away for later.

  “Does it present the usual properties?” Lysander asked, voice much calmer than his turbulent mind.

  “Yes. But amplified. More potent than the Greater Voidbeasts by far, despite being inert.”

  “But nothing unique to its elevated status?”

  “No. More of the same, simply stronger.”

  “Interesting.” He hadn’t necessarily expected special interactions since all of the other energy-resistance material increased in potency at a steady rate, but a never-before-seen tier of void carapace harvested by the Sorceress could have easily broken the rule. “Further context would aid greatly in producing meaningful analysis,” he said mildly. “If you are willing, Lady Vivisari.”

  Her blank mask met him, not shifting in the slightest, as it had in the moments of higher emotion when they’d discussed her apprentice. “I’m afraid I’m still deciding how to convey that information,” she finally said. “My steward has advised me to remain silent for now. The High King called for a conference, and I believe you’ll be attending?”

  Ah. That did explain the summons. His assumption had been that Prismarche’s breach had prompted it. Instead, it appeared Guildmaster Rafael had whispered into the High King’s ear and arranged for the various polities of the Central Kingdom to gather. For Vivisari’s re-entrance into the world at large.

  The Sorceress’s reluctance to speak plainly frustrated him. He expected a certain kinship between mages aligned in purpose—and they certainly were aligned, because how could any two people not be so when the threat at hand was world-erasing? But Guildmaster Rafael had advised her to remain silent for now, and as old allies, her faith lay in him far more than in Lysander.

  Irritated though he shouldn’t be, he controlled his tone as he responded. “I see. That is wise, Lady Vivisari. I was indeed invited to that gathering. Seeing how you wish me to provide insight into this material, and its fundamental properties, however, I do hope you can provide a more thorough response than that.”

  The woman hesitated—a reaction he could only glean through careful study. He didn’t like how difficult this woman was to read. “I don’t necessarily expect your help, to be honest,” she said with a bluntness that was like a slap to Lysander’s face. “I wanted to invite you to study it, and I was wondering if you’d made any breakthroughs, but if you haven’t, that’s not a problem. I also meant to share what I myself have learned, and would like for you to spread it through the Institute so everyone can defend themselves, and perhaps build off the groundwork I laid. I’m no researcher.”

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  He sensed no malice in her words, which was why they were so crushing. “I have made some strides in the subject myself.” He would’ve stood by his success with far more assertive words than those, because despite his attempts to clamp down on his ego, he knew he was one of the most competent mages in the world. But he remembered that day more than a hundred years ago, when he had witnessed true talent. His brilliance was a candle to a bonfire, no matter how much that truth stung. “But I doubt they would impress the Sorceress,” he finished with his bitterness carefully clamped down. “I saw how easily you fought the hordes. You’ve certainly made greater progress than I, when it comes to breaking through that enigmatic force.”

  The woman appraised him evenly. “I’m still interested in seeing anything you have. And you may study this.” She gestured at the arm. “But you have developed a spell, or a framework of a methodology, that bypasses void energy? Can I see it?”

  Decades had passed since Lysander had last felt the hesitation of insecurity. Almost because of how foreign that sensation felt, his spine stiffened and he responded, a bit snippier than he should have, “A skeleton of such, yes.”

  He sketched out the design before he thought better of it. The base spell he’d integrated the anti-void principles into was his preferred attack, [Plasma Burst]. Relatively quick to cast—for a Titled of his skill—with wide general applicability and devastating offensive potential, it served as a staple combat ability in the same way a [Fireball] might for a journeyman elementalist. It had been the obvious spell to begin iterating upon when he’d started researching ways to bypass void resistance.

  Only as he finished the last few strokes did hesitation fully creep in. He truly wasn’t the sort of man to doubt himself—it was a long-acknowledged fault of his. Yet he did so now. The Sorceress’s eyes had tracked the mana gathering into High Arcane off to the side of his desk, however, so it wasn’t like he could dispel his creation and potential shame if he wanted to.

  His worries were thankfully dispelled.

  “Clever,” the Sorceress murmured. “I didn’t consider it from that angle.”

  The validation in that statement surged through him strongly enough it embarrassed him. He struggled to keep his chest from puffing out. “I didn’t make as much progress as I wished these past four days, but neither did I consider myself having run into some impassable barrier.” He studied the mage, whose red eyes remained locked on the glowing diagram, before stating the obvious. “But you have your own way to penetrate void energy, different from this?” She had torn through voidbeasts on the level of the Cataclysms, whose resistances had certainly been impenetrable to any spell Lysander, or even Aeris, could have mustered. And not just through raw firepower, but because she’d surely adapted her spells—even during the fight itself. Like that day a hundred years ago when she’d so casually formed and iterated upon [Absorption Barrier]. “And you intend to share your findings?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes drifted away from Lysander’s spell diagram, and he reclaimed the mana, jaw clenching at the unpleasant sensation. “That’s my primary purpose here. I want you to spread my designs to the Institute, and other mages, so you can both utilize and improve on them. The invasion of this other realm isn’t something I can handle alone.”

  “One might debate that claim,” Lysander said, voice taking on a dry tint. “Given that you, indeed, handled Prismarche’s breach entirely by yourself.” Even Meridian’s invasion had been predominantly purged by the Sorceress; all others present, even the strongest of their Titled, had simply contained the dregs.

  Just like the wars against the Cataclysms, he thought. Gods save us all, did our era of peace truly last a mere hundred years? He supposed he should be grateful for even that.

  “A new breach can open any time,” the Sorceress disagreed. “And I might be indisposed for various reasons. I intend to provide as much support as I can, but everyone else should be as prepared as possible themselves.” She nodded at the empty air where Lysander’s spell had hung a moment before. “And the Institute’s help is something I greatly appreciate. I’m as mortal as anyone. My perspective is that of a single person; others can see what I don’t.” Her voice took on a distracted quality. “As you just demonstrated. I think I already see how to fix what you had, earlier…” she murmured. “Clean up the mistakes, integrate the disparate elements better… there’s a lot of potential, there…”

  Again, the words clearly weren’t a slight; the woman had zoned out while speaking. She reminded him of Theophania in more ways than one. Still, he winced at the insult, no matter how obvious it was that it hadn’t been given with malice.

  He moved past the slip-up as gracefully as he could. He could hardly rage at the unfairness of the world—how Vivisari could ‘fix’ in moments of contemplation what he’d spent four sleepless nights struggling with—considering all the advantages laid at his own feet. “Your will shall be carried out,” he said. “Might I see the notes and designs you wish disseminated?”

  Returning to the present moment, Vivisari nodded and withdrew a notebook from her inventory. Setting it on his desk and sliding it toward him, she said, “I included a number of basic spells with the void-interaction modifications applied. I’m afraid it greatly increases the complexity of even lower-tier magic, but not so much it should be beyond the average mage.” Her lips pulled into a slight grimace. “Though I can’t say that with certainty. I struggle to identify what an average mage’s skills are.”

  I reckon the Sorceress would, Lysander thought with a mental snort. Even he himself often skipped over explanations, assuming his peers understood without need for unnecessary elaboration. Yet that extended faith was usually misplaced.

  He looked at the notebook. Would this be the same? Vivisari had said she’d simplified her designs for an average mage… presumably a silver-rank. What if even he couldn’t make sense of the spellcircles within? He wasn’t sure his ego could survive that blow. Confirmation that the Sorceress truly couldn’t differentiate between an ant and a beetle.

  He flipped open the notebook and scanned. In moments, he was raptly absorbed in the diagram and accompanying notes. He found immediate relief in how, while he couldn’t understand everything at a glance, he recognized the general shape of the spell.

  To his embarrassment, he only started back to reality when Vivisari’s voice jolted him.

  “I can make changes, or help clarify as needed,” she said. “In fact, if you could set up a lesson, I can demonstrate these spells in person for the Institute, and answer any questions you or others have.”

  A lesson taught by the Sorceress herself. If he made that public, every mage in the Institute would show up. Every mage in the human kingdoms. He made the executive decision to not ask for clarification on who she wanted the lesson open to; he would invite a spread of individuals of various ranks, as he saw fit.

  “You can reach me through Rafael if you ever need me,” the Sorceress went on. “I’ll also try to check in occasionally. This is obviously something that takes precedence over most things. But I do have other tasks to handle, so it can’t occupy all of my attention.”

  “As is natural,” Lysander replied. It would take significant analysis before he could even formulate the right questions. He suspected he would be attending that lesson of Vivisari’s as a student, not as the Headmaster.

  Sensing that the discussion was wrapping up, he said, “Before you leave, there’s one more matter I wish to discuss, if you will permit it.”

  She nodded.

  “The spatial rift in the ninth-floor garden annex,” he said—no accusation in his voice, but firmly. She had almost destroyed the entire building, though perhaps that was unfair. The Sorceress cast magic on that scale as a matter of routine; it was far less dangerous for her to do so than any other mortal. A far lesser risk. Nevertheless.

  “Ah.” The Sorceress pursed her lips. She at least didn’t deny that it was her handiwork. “Yes, I suppose you’re owed an explanation.”