Quill walked over the pathway wrapping around the castle.

  He pivoted his neck, and through the trees and patch greenery in the distance, he could make out a large building through the greenery.

  The enrollment process was underway. A combat mage was required to take on an Archetype path as their main method of magic, and obviously, Quill opted for the Summoner Archetype. It was the one he had been most proficient in his past life, and he had always intended to use his White Aspect for it.

  Still, he found it bothersome. After centuries of studying Summoning, there was more or less nothing to gain from going through the foundations once again. It would be as if he were trying to learn to walk again when he’d already known how to run. Still, it was the academy code, and as of now, he had no say in the matter.

  As for his secondary Archetype, there was the choice between Fighter and Caster. When a mage grows to be as old as he was, one Archetype can prove to be insufficient. That was why he also studied in the Fighter Archetype, along with dabbling in Alchemy.

  The main point of conflict here was in his Complex Spells. Both the Marble Puppet and Liquid Stone spells were from the Summoner Archetype, but Liquid Stone felt like a Caster or Bender spell. Quill shook his head before starting towards the building. He could always choose later in the day if he wanted.

  Quill passed the trees and shrubs before standing underneath the building. It was a thick-walled structure stretching many floors high, made of the same architecture as the other buildings in the academy aside from the castle at the center.

  Marblestone criss-crossed with Whitewood.

  A stone statue of a mage adorned the entrance. It was made after the image of The Stone Caller, an old bearded man smoking a pipe. He was one of the highest-ranking Summoners in the Westlands. He was an old legend in the Summoner's Path, and it was someone Quill had looked up to.

  Behind the statue was a rank of large stone golems, and it wasn't hard to create them in the likeness of stone, being statues themselves. These summons stood at the rear, seemingly ready to aid the Summoner in whatever fight a statue could possibly get in.

  Quill’s goal today was to find a suitable instructor for the Summoner's Path, and it was harder than it should be. It was going to be a long while until he could find an individual here that could teach him things he didn't know in his past centuries, seeing that most of the academy instructors were around Gold Tier themselves.

  Quill entered the building before more statues dotted the lines of the hallway. There was Kal-aman, the half-human, half-bird of Southlands that commanded hordes of divine beasts, and there was Leywald, the Dragonmancer with his army of artificially created dragons.

  As Quill marched down the lines of statues, a strange fervor got to him. Even Leywald had a statue made in his own image, and his strange way of summoning was against the nature of life, creating abominations that weren't real creatures in the first place. The Circle had only approved of him because of the fact that he had used his summons to aid in the War of Demons.

  As expected, a statue of the Night Lich was nowhere in sight. Quill was an Emerald Tier mage, and he should be honored the same way these men were, but there wasn't a single statue here in his image. That was expected. After all, what use did his undead army serve aside from raiding villages?

  Quill arrived at one instructor’s office.

  He pushed through the door only to find a subpar Summoner on the other side. “Yes?” The man said. One look at him and Quill could tell; this mage couldn't teach him anything that he’d already drilled into his head for centuries.

  “Wrong door.” Quill said before he closed the door with a sigh. He climbed the second floor before entering another office, and this time, the man behind the table was clearly stronger than the first, but nothing about him stood out. Quill closed the door with another sigh before climbing to the third floor.

  He continued on his path to find a suitable instructor fit for him, but even on the next two floors above, there was no one here but incompetent mages. His senses weren’t so high as to see the aura of the mages, but he already understood what they were limited to. It seemed that every instructor here were outcasts of noble families.

  Quill stared at the field below through the windows. No one here was competent at Summoning. He could understand why. In the first place, Summoning was seen as a high-risk but low-reward endeavor, and not many mages in the first place were willing to dabble in the profession.

  And that was when Quill saw her. There was a strange figure standing on the field, summoning strange spirits to fight against each other in a mock battle of strength.

  A strange chill passed down Quill's spine.

  He started down the stairs before he made his way to the field. He was staring at the summons, strange immaterial ghosts as if painted onto the world with translucent brush strokes. One was a striped giant cat that looked to resemble a tiger, while the other was a lion painted brown.

  They looked like glowing paintings. The tiger lurched forward, bringing a claw down before the lion then dashed back and countered with fangs. Quill could only watch, their furs glistening against the backdrop of the sky.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Behind them was a robed woman, sitting on the grass and staring at their fight with analytical eyes. She was a demi-fox. One look at the giant fluff tail behind her was enough. This was the first time Quill had ever seen a half-human, half-beast. Between the strange summons and the stranger herself, Quill didn't know what to make of it.

  When Quill approached her, the woman’s hood perked before she then unfolded the cloth over her. She had ears as fluff as a fox’s, the sides of her cheeks laden with golden fur, and her eyes narrowed like a cat’s when her eyes met Quill's.

  Strangely enough, the robe covering her figure didn't do justice in hiding the rest of her demi-human traits, and if Quill had to put a description over what he felt, there seemed to be a strange aura looming over her. It was almost as if Quill was caught in a spell he didn't want to be in, bewitched by the stranger's eyes and figure.

  “And who might you be?” The spirits stopped fighting at the gesture of her hand. Her voice was soft but husky, almost as if she was ordering him instead of asking.

  “I’m… Fenith Cranfether.” Quill's mouth rolled the moment she asked. He hadn't even thought of answering before he did, his words flowing as easily as her voice did. This woman was terrifying.

  “Come closer.” She said, her voice as if capturing him, and immediately Quill started to walk. He knew it then. His mind was subdued and entranced, and he couldn't do anything about it. He stopped in front of her before she stepped forward, her face inches away from his.

  “How are you doing this?” Quill said.

  “Sit.”

  At once, Quill dropped to the ground on his knees. The moment he did, the woman then tapped his knees with her feet, almost as if asking him to kiss her boot. And she did.

  A strange fever burned on Quill's chest. Against his better judgment, he found the action of kissing her boot a sweet reward. But he knew otherwise; this woman was controlling his mind with her voice.

  Quill shook his head, an attempt at gaining back his mind before he then stood up. “Don’t mock me.”

  “Strange…” The woman only smiled. “So it doesn't work on you, then.”

  The fever vanished from Quill's chest. “What were you hoping for?” He said.

  “Do you know what mages all have in common?” She said. “Arrogance and pride. You of all people have the most of it. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “Pride and arrogance are two different words.” Quill followed the woman’s stride as she wrapped around him like a predator seeking prey. “A strong mage like you should know the difference.”

  The woman then stopped, her eyes blinking before she then laughed and shrugged her shoulders. “Common Tongue isn't my first language.”

  Quill was sure of it now. Demi-humans were not from the Westlands, and it was rare to see one, if ever, in this continent. Quill had gotten hold of books about demi-humans before, and all of them hailed from the written works of traders and adventurers that made contact with the .

  Quill was riddled with curiosity, staring at her. He had only heard of demi-humans from the rumors, and not many of them were known to be true. He’d never even met one before, but now there was a demi-fox right in front of him, and he wasn't sure whether to be surprised or angry at the fact that she tried to order him to kiss her boot.

  “I’m Lai-Fin.” The woman said. “You can call me Lai, if you want. Beautiful name, if I say so myself. I use my voice and aura to command the mana around me.”

  “What?” Quill didn't understand how she was able to use her voice to command the summons. Was it a spell or an innate Trait of demi-foxes? She must have a Purple Aspect, if all the hints were sound.

  Quill swallowed. With the clap of Lai’s hand, the spirits on the field drowned again in a blur of claws and fangs. The giant tiger leapt, but the lion sidestepped the strike, fast on its ghostly feet, before it then struck with its claws.

  Quill could only watch as the two spirit beasts rolled on the ground. The tiger tried to sweep the lion off of its neck, but it was futile. The tiger roared in defeat, shaking the very ground they stood on, before it then vanished into a thin cloud of paint. The spirit of the lion emerged from the cloud of smoke.

  Quill had many thoughts, but he knew one thing. These spirit beasts were strong. If he had to give Lai credit, she could easily put up a good fight against his Fleshgiants.

  Lai stepped forward before she held a hand out to the spirit beast. She muttered in an unknown language, and within the blink of an eye, the spirit beast then melted into paint and a cloud of brown smoke. Lai then absorbed it into her hand, as if taking in the spirit into her body.

  “Lai-Fin.” Quill stood in front of her before he then bowed. He wasn't against humility, especially when he had something to gain out of it. Lai was a strong Summoner, that he could see for himself, and he was sure that there were many things she could teach him that she had known from her continent.

  Quill had been studying for centuries on necromancy, but it seemed there were still things even he could be surprised by.

  “I want to study under your guidance,” Quill said. “I’ll learn many things from you.”

  Lai only smiled in return. “I thought you weren't one to defer to other people?”

  “Pride and arrogance are two different words.”

  “So you say.”

  Quill had never been given a chance for a proper education in magic. All his life was spent scrounging books and scrolls from raided villages and abandoned libraries. This was the perfect chance to solidify what he had already learned and sew up the gaps in his knowledge. Lai was the perfect instructor to do that.

  Qui churned on that thought. For a long time, he’d thought that there was nothing more to summoning than what he’d already learned and mastered, but here Lai-Fin had shown him that there were so many more things than what he knew. Maybe that was the reason he couldn't ascend to Sapphire then, but this time was going to be different.

  “I am an academy instructor, after all.” Lai pulled Quill before she started to the other end of the field. She then stopped and turned, and with a raise of her hand, she cast a Quickscript to summon a small wolf spirit. It materialized right in front of her, a strange immaterial painting of a ghost.

  “Let’s get started right away, then,” Lai said. “If you can defeat this summon, I’ll gladly take you.”

  Quill grinned before he started constructing his Marble Puppets. “I think you'll need more than a wolf.”

  “Now you're just being arrogant.”

  Thanks for reading!