I gasped, dropping the cup which clattered to the ground, and felt something new click into place.

  “What the fuck,” I muttered with a small laugh of disbelief. I had been attempting to train something like this on and off since I first lost my hand after I realized that my mana circuit had, to some extent, survived the loss of my physical body, but I had never managed to do more than barely nudge something. Eventually, I had put it out of mind to focus on my studies. “What changed?”

  The influence of [Ambidexterity] must have been a factor. My increased level in [Mana Manipulation] could also have have helped, as well as having more Will.

  Whatever had been the trigger, gaining the skill had internalized it. I reopened the circuit of mana into the space of my right hand, and bent over to pick up the cup, then placed it on the desk with a huge grin on my face.

  I stood up, and started walking around my room, picking up various objects and testing out the new skill. It was hard to put a precise label on the limits, but light objects that wouldn’t really strain my wrist could all be moved, whereas once an object hit enough weight to challenge my grip, the object broke my [Manakinesis]. I wouldn’t be wielding a sword with mana alone anytime soon.

  Presumably, once I could upgrade the skill more, I would be able to move more with it. I might need to increase my Will before that can happen. For now, it was a bit of a novelty, but it felt amazing to have some use of my right hand back again.

  I was too giddy to do any more studying that night, so instead I just played with my new skill until I tired myself out and fell asleep.

  * * *

  When classes started back up for winter term, our practical magic lessons switched from [Create Water] to [Create Fire]. Working with fire was much more dangerous than working with water, but the outdoor training grounds had a protective layer of snow cover which would minimize damage to the property.

  In order to minimize danger to each other, we were not allowed to freely cast the spells. Instead, we took turns firing spells at a set of targets, which were lined up in front of a magically produced ice backstop.

  “Everyone has conjured a flame at least once, and while that’s a useful skill for starting a controlled campfire, the most common use of [Create Fire] is for offense,” Somnius said to me and my shivering classmates. “You’ve all learned to apply force to your spells while practicing [Create Water]. For this term, you are only to cast [Create Fire] with intent.”

  He walked across the row of five targets in front of us, motioning to them with his hand.

  “Each of you will take turns, in groups of five, to cast [Create Fire] with applied force towards the target. There are three things for you to keep in mind as you cast: the power of the fire, the force applied, and the accuracy of the shot.

  “Since you’ll only be applying intent at the moment of casting, accuracy is important. As you advance your skills with extended intent, you’ll be able to more easily hit targets with intent instruction, but consider the strain on your mental resources if you’re fighting against multiple enemies. It’s not too difficult to apply a directional homing intent instruction with a single projectile, but if you shape your intent to fire multiple projectiles, you’ll want to rely on initial accuracy rather than concocting intent instruction for multiple moving targets at the same time.”

  Somnius proceeded to cast a quick [Create Fire] spell, which broke into five small projectiles, each slamming into one of the five targets.

  “You will begin with a single target, but in both single- and multi-target casts, power and force will both factor into your accuracy. You must provide sufficient power to the spell that the fireball doesn’t sputter out before meeting its target, and enough force that it can reach the target. For these classes, you are expected to dial in the power so that you don’t destroy the target, only impact it. It’s easy to throw everything you have into the spell, but as your Will grows, using full force will rapidly become overkill. Instead, you’re going to learn to try and use a controlled amount of mana—the exact amount for the task at hand—so that you know how much more is needed in the future to destroy a target, and extend your magical stamina through battle.”

  I thought through what that would look like. Controlled accuracy, power, and force basically boiled down to “aim, charge, and fire”. Technically, I couldn’t really over-do the firing force, as the harder I shot it the straighter the line and aiming would be even easier, but I suspected Somnius would jump down my throat if I started launching killer fastballs. In the interest of preserving mana and extending my battle stamina, I would want to figure out the correct amount of force for the target distance.

  Beyond that, and ensuring I fueled the fireball sufficiently, it was just ballistics. There was no eye relief to worry about like using a firearm on Earth, since I was firing from my mind, but I’d need to account for any drop over the full length of the trajectory. For something like a fireball, that would be fairly minimal. For something like a lance of ice or rock cannon, it would be a lot more severe.

  The class was split into groups of five, and rotated through the targets for one shot each. The first round was pretty abysmal. Not a single student managed to hit a target, with most of the fireballs either sputtering out, hitting the ground short of the target, or simply flying wide and slamming into the wall of ice behind.

  When my group was up, I purposefully aimed for the space just below and to the right of the target. It wasn’t like I was a natural at this, and I hadn’t done much practicing for this sort of thing, but I also didn’t want to show up my classmates or draw any more of Somnius’s attention-slash-ire.

  I put a good amount of force into it, maybe a bit too much, and it rocketed past the target to the right but higher than I had intended. I’d need to pull that back while using this much power.

  The second round was much the same, but the third round went a bit better, with several students managing to clip the target. Ramius, Pellia, and Felton all succeeded, as well as a few others, so I tried to hit my target as well on my turn and scored a singed point as well.

  Much of the rest of the practical was just dialing in the correct balance of power, force, and accuracy, and once we were getting it, Somnius clapped his hands.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Next round, shoot from the second line,” he said, pointing to the marker stakes in the snow that dictated where we were shooting from.

  Predictably, most of the first group of students’ fireballs fell short with some added distance, as they failed to adapt the proportions of their spell which they had just dialed in. Several of the following groups saw that and put a bit more force into their spells, resulting in some high shots, but a hit or two as well. Over time, the students would develop a mental framework or intuitive algorithm for how much force and power to use to maximize accuracy at any distance, but that took a lot of practice.

  By the end of the lesson, some of the students were out of gas, having depleted their mana and unable to replenish enough with their limited Will to push enough into the spell, at which point our professor stopped us and sent us back inside.

  In the classroom, we were studying casting theory, and how far we could push intention with [Create Water] and [Create Fire]. I had hoped we would start another spell, but the school didn’t like to bridge years with spells. In spring, we would start learning [Create Wind], and later in second year, [Create Ice]. Third year would presumably begin with [Create Stone], which covered the spells Felris had known in the dungeon.

  That pace was a bit slow for me, but I planned to continue supplementing my academy studies with my personal studies of the control spells. It sounded like the senior classes would incorporate those spells, but the senior classes no longer spent class time on memorizing incantations; it was all self-study at that point, so there was no downside to getting an early start. I could use my self-study time as a senior learning even more advanced spells.

  As my classmates improved their spellcasting, I stopped any artificial limitations to my own performance and started to perform as well as I could in training. I was the first to successfully hit two targets with one chant, though various classmates were hot on my tail. I felt like I owed it to Somnial to do well at the academy, not that the wise old sage ever seemed that invested. He provided for me and was more than happy to discuss magic, but outside of meals and when I visited his library, I rarely saw him.

  I kept [Manakinesis] a secret, though, even if I was showing off my Argadian-taught magic in class. The skill had derived in part from [Mana Manipulation], which I had been definitively told to keep secret, and I presumed that [Manakinesis] would be the same. At night, in the privacy of my bedroom, I trained with it as well, hoping to get stronger and reach farther.

  Thanks to [Ambidexterity], I was starting to make fresh improvements in my [Swordsmanship] training with Byron. Training out in the winter cold was brutal, but Byron continued to push me.

  In turn, I kept pushing Felton when it came to training his fitness. Over winter break, he had finally allowed his father to give him some rudimentary sword lessons, so I integrated a bit of that into our training, though I focused mostly on general strength and endurance work. Bracing early morning winter runs around Ivarnel weren’t as bad while doing it with a friend. His decision to improve his Body had only wavered briefly at the start, but once he started seeing the positive feedback, he was locked in.

  My first year in Ivarnel neared its end, and everything seemed to be going quite well. Despite some setbacks, I was gaining everything I had wanted in this life and more.

  Then, late in the winter, Somnial developed a raspy cough.

  * * *

  At first, it was just the odd cough at a meal. Shortly after that, it grew persistent, and Somnial started taking his meals in his bed.

  The mood in the manor was somber. Hushed conversations between the staff betrayed how concerned they were for the Great Sage. The fact of the matter was that Somnial was old. Really old. There was a palpable tension, concern that what started as a small cough could become a rapid decline for the Argadian champion.

  “He’s stronger than that, master Tovar,” Byron said when I first allowed myself to express some concerns. Despite what he said, he had become rather stiff again as Somnial’s condition worsened, and I could see the fatigue on his face. “We also have some good local healers on hand, and have… called in some aid. He will be fine.”

  Healers came and went, and as the winter term ended and the weather began to warm, Somnial stabilized, but didn’t improve. He remained bed-bound, weakened by his fight, but at least he was out of the woods.

  I knocked at his door on the first day of spring break, and he gave me permission to enter with a voice much weaker than the one I had grown familiar with in the last year.

  Stepping into his room, I found a similar level of grandeur in the decor and furnishings. A large, four-post bed was the focal point of the room, where the old sage lay among plush pillows with fine coverings. A large window let in the spring sun, illuminating the man who, despite repeated promises of his stability from Byron, looked pale and gaunt.

  I glanced around the room as I walked to his bedside, and my attention was captured by a large painting above his dresser. It portrayed a party of three young decorated adventurers. On the left was a tall, well-muscled man with dirty blond hair and brown eyes, clean shaven and garbed in brilliant armor. In the middle was a strikingly beautiful woman with blond hair that was practically golden, with bright blue eyes, wearing gold and white robes and a golden circlet on her head.

  The third person, on the right, was another man, much more slender than the first, wearing a relatively unadorned blue robe. He had dark hair, wore a long beard, and had familiar eyes. If I added a bunch of wrinkles, and turned the hair and beard gray, it was a face I had seen quite a lot in the last year.

  I turned back to the man in question, laying in bed, who was watching me examine the painting with a soft smile.

  “Feels like just yesterday,” he said, though it was interrupted by a cough. He cleared his throat after the bout, then sighed. “But also a lifetime ago.”

  “Was this your party? The champions that defeated the demon king?”

  Somnial nodded. “That’s Dargan, the [Hero], on the left. And myself, the [Sage], on the right, though I’m sure you already figured that out.” He paused for a moment, closing his eyes. “And Elsa—Elsaria, the [Saint], in the middle.”

  I remembered that name, vaguely, from a conversation we had when I first moved into the manor. Seeing him talk about them, now, and seeing the painting, a few things fell into place.

  Somnial had clearly been in love with Elsa. Still was, probably, and that could be why he never married or had children, which in turn may have been part of why he had opted to sponsor my education and take me in.

  It was understandable, just seeing her beauty, but she was also their party healer during the war with the demon king. She no doubt kept him alive many times, and going through that adventure likely created a bond that was practically impossible to match otherwise. And, surely, that was also the case for Dargan, the [Hero].

  “No Byron?” I asked, turning back to the man, who was clearly deep in his own memories.

  He blinked at me in surprise, then chuckled. “No. I met Byron later. I wanted to keep improving my magic, and set out to clear some remaining holdouts of the demon king’s army, as well as some problematic dungeons. I needed someone to hold back the tides while I was chanting my spells, and Byron was an impenetrable wall.”

  I nodded. I could hardly imagine getting through his guard and landing a strike on him.

  There was a chair at Somnial’s bedside, and I sat in it. He asked me how the end of my first year had gone, and how I was finding my studies. I told him I had already learned [Control Water] and was ready to move on to [Control Fire]. He gave me blanket permission to go into the library and claim whatever grimoires I needed, but warned me against jumping in to anything beyond my Will.

  “Work your way through the control spells first,” he told me, and I agreed. Then he complained about his cough. “The worst part is, I can’t get through a chant without having a coughing fit.”

  For a man who had dedicated his life to magic, that must have really rankled.

  Then he started telling me stories about his adventures, both before and after beating the demon king. I ended up spending hours by his bedside, listening to his stories, until his coughing became too problematic and I let him rest and recover.

  But a wall had come down between us. I joined him again the next day, and he told me more stories, including tales about Dargan and Elsa as they fought their way to the demon king together.

  I ended up spending every day of the spring break with him, listening to those stories. Outside the window, tree buds began to open, and perennial flowers began to push up through the thawed soil. A new spring had come, and with it, my second year at the academy.