With Lena’s advice echoing in his mind, Kor started his project afresh with a new, unblemished crystal. The air in Professor Paddan’s workshop thrummed with activity: the clang of metal, the low murmur of conversations, the hiss of magical reagents reacting in bubbling beakers. Benches cluttered with half-finished projects, tools scattered like fallen leaves, and students buzzed around, each absorbed in their own arcane endeavours.
Kor settled onto a stool, the worn wood cool beneath him, and carefully enshrouded the crystal with his mana. The faint scent of ozone and burnt metal hung in the air, a constant reminder of the workshop’s purpose.
Like when he’d first learned to wield his control, he used only the bare minimum of energy to begin with, a wisp of power he slowly dragged over the crystalline surface like a thin, shimmering blanket. In his mind’s eye, the image of his snowflake fractal barrier appeared, hovering only a foot away, a ghostly preview of his intent.
The crystals, cool and jagged to the touch, were naturally attuned to mana, accepting enchantments with relative ease. However, even with this inherent affinity a subtle resistance pushed back against his attempts to harmonise his unique fractal magic with the material.
A frown marred his face, his brow furrowing as his focus intensified. How could he bridge the divide between his magic and the crystal’s nature? He knew that some held fractal properties—in fact, on some level, most seemed to. But as he tried to bring them into sync, the potency of his enchantment began slipping away; every second his power spilled out of the working, threatening to dissipate like smoke in a breeze.
A slight tremble ran through his hands, barely noticeable but constant, and a faint heat radiated from his skin, like embers smouldering just beneath the surface. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to steady his breathing. Every ounce of focus poured into maintaining his concentration.
What did crystals do? They liked mana, were brittle, reflected light… Wait, brittle? Perhaps by stressing his fractal’s protective properties, by focusing on the delicate balance of the crystal’s structure, he could achieve the desired effect. A small epiphany sparked within him.
It felt odd, seemingly pointless, to convey his intent to a non-sentient material, but this time, somehow, his magical desires aligned more closely with the crystal’s inherent nature. Almost as if it allowed him to pull his energy into a closer fit.
His mana blanketed the shielding device, not with a sense of harmony, but with something akin to agreement, a subtle resonance between his will and the crystal’s composition. A faint clicking sensation, like tiny gears engaging, washed through the currents of energy. The enchantment took hold as a significant chunk of his energy reserves detached, integrating with his creation.
Kor leaned back in his chair, a wave of relief washing over him, his tense shoulders finally relaxing. He observed the small crystal nestled in his palm, its facets catching the light from the workshop’s flickering arcane lamps. He’d done it! It wasn’t perfect, far from it. But a sense of quiet satisfaction settled in his chest. He was confident enough. Carefully pocketing his creation, he headed to the testing room, where Conflux Academy’s half-mad engineers conducted their often-explosive experiments.
The testing room was a testament to the destructive power of uncontrolled magic. Charred scorch marks marred the walls, and chunks of blasted stone littered the floor. Deadening crystals infused the very walls, designed to absorb stray mana—they would have drained his own if he didn’t maintain a tight level of control.
A strange mix of sulphur and burnt sugar wafted through the air, a pungent reminder of past mishaps. Stepping beyond the heavy blast shield into the larger portion of the room, Kor pressed his glasses back up his nose, the metal frames cool against his skin, before slowly coaxing his energy into the device.
The shield formed in an instant: a shimmering snowflake barrier the size of a large man and easily as wide, its intricate fractal patterns catching and refracting the light. It wasn’t a full-body shield, but it offered excellent cover at minimal cost. The snowflake barrier felt noticeably stronger than his previous attempt—and as he focused, something else called to him.
A secondary effect? He hadn’t expected this, and as he probed the device with his mana, the realisation washed over him. The barrier could strengthen itself! The process was intuitive, a simple flex of his will, and the device pulled greater reserves to reinforce itself. His fractal sensitivity told him that the shield had begun its recursion, growing smaller and denser with every second it continued to draw in more power.
Kor grinned, a genuine smile spreading across his face, and snapped off the flow of mana, the snowflake dissolving into nothingness like a dissipating mist. Time to find Paddan!
But finding the professor was easier said than done. The other students hadn’t seen the man either, and it was only after venturing into the third set of workshop rooms, past benches overflowing with alchemical equipment and arcane diagrams, that he found him, bouncing towards the doorway with his inexhaustible exuberance.
“Paddan!” Kor’s voice cut through the workshop’s din, sharp and urgent.
“Ah, Firster.” Paddan’s gaze snapped to Kor’s outstretched hand, zeroing in on the crystal. “Finished your first project, I see. Good, good. Give it over then.”
“Uh, yes, Paddan. It’s a shield badge. I designed it to use the stored crystal’s energy combined with my specialisation to produce a barrier.”
Paddan gestured him aside from the door as he turned the device over in his hand, a fleeting sensation of the professor’s mana lightly brushing against Kor’s own.
“May I?” he asked, and Kor nodded. The barrier popped up only a foot away from a nearby workbench, its intricate fractal structure shimmering in the light.
“I see, I see. A snowflake shield, though that’s not its true nature, is it?” The man shot him a knowing look, a glint of amusement in his eye.
“Uh, not exactly, Professor…”
“Hah, don’t worry, lad, I ain’t spillin’ no secrets.” He turned his gaze back to the barrier. The professor’s mana brushed against the shield, a subtle, probing force that sent faint ripples through its crystalline surface.
Kor kept his focus steady, his voice calm but deliberate as he explained, “It can strengthen further, but the drain on mana will be significant.”
Paddan nodded, pulling his energy away and collapsing the shield as he passed the crystal back. “Good job, Firster. Not the most original, but a solid first project. That’s an easy pass, and ten credits.”
A wave of joy washed over Kor. Ten credits! It was a small fortune for a first-year student. “Thank you, Professor!”
“What’s your name, lad?”
“Kor.”
He nodded, bouncing from foot to foot, radiating an almost unsettling amount of energy. “Next time, you’ll just want to use the crystal as the battery for your device. You’d have done better to find another material to attach your enchantment to, one that synergises better, but all-in-all, a good effort.”
“Thanks, Paddan.”
The professor waved it off. “You’re the fifth one to complete the assignment already, but time waits for no man. Your next project is for twenty credits.”
Kor adjusted his glasses, listening intently.
“This time I want you to make me a…” He cast his gaze around the room, taking in the various workbenches, the students hunched over their projects, the flickering arcane lights, before his gaze came to a stop and returned to Kor. “A heater.” He nodded to himself. “It needs to be capable of keeping a person warm for an entire week without supplying it with extra mana.”
“Yes, sir.”
“This one isn’t a simple pass or fail. Credits will be based on the design, ingenuity, efficiency, portability, things like that.” Kor’s eyes widened.
“The more creativity that goes into it, the better. Show me whether you’ve got the creative spark, or you’re just gonna coast like the rest.” Paddan sprang out the door, leaving Kor to contemplate how he was going to manage this new challenge.
Could his fractals be bent towards creating heat, or perhaps manipulating an existing heat enchantment to improve its efficiency? The rhythmic clang of someone hammering in a nearby workshop echoed through the room. Kor shook his head, fingering his newly created shield badge in his pocket. Selling it was a possibility, but for now, he was simply proud of his creation. With the upcoming group training, it could provide his team with some much-needed utility.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Three days after completing his new fractal shield in Paddan’s workshop, Kor found himself standing in the middle of the training field. The workshop’s whirl of hammering tools and crackling mana still lingered in his mind, but now he faced an entirely different atmosphere—raw sunlight cutting across a swath of churned-up grass and scorched earth.
The other half of Marcus’ coterie arrayed opposite them as moments later Terrak’s voice boomed.
“Fight!”
“Kor, Barrier!” Marcus’s voice snapped out, sharp and urgent.
His mana surged, a visible ripple in the air, throwing up a wide, shimmering barrier to cover their group. Unlike his usual single shield, this one formed a long, undulating wall of overlapping snowflakes, intricate fractal patterns shifting and reforming as they interlocked. It only covered their front angle, a desperate bulwark against the incoming onslaught.
A blitz of spells slammed into it: shadow daggers that flickered like dark flames, a razor-sharp wind blade that howled as it tore through the air, and other magics that exploded in bursts of light and energy. The combined assault was a chaotic symphony of magical force.
Kor grunted with the strain, beads of sweat trickling down his temples and blurring his vision behind his glasses. The snowflake fractal wall cracked and groaned under the relentless pressure, the delicate fractal patterns distorting and threatening to shatter.
He poured more mana into the shield, a torrent of energy surging through the crystalline structure. The cracks smoothed, fractals deepened and spread, fortifying the barrier from within. Each impact reverberated through his bones as spells hammered against it, the air thick with the sharp, electric tang of unleashed magic.
The training field’s emerald grass, usually pristine and vibrant, now resembled the aftermath of a battle. Large patches of dirt had been gouged from the earth, jagged and raw, while burnt grasses curled at the edges, blackened scars marking where spells had landed. Small divots and scorch marks pockmarked the ground in every direction, blending into larger craters that gave the field the appearance of a war-zone rather than a place of practice.
Kelleth’s group, anticipating the next move, had already begun splitting apart, their movements fluid and coordinated.
Marcus stepped forward, thrusting his arm out. A battery of large golden Lexican coins, each the size of a man’s hand, materialised in the air beyond the barrier, their surfaces gleaming in the afternoon sun.
“Fire!”
The barrage of golden discs focused on Kelleth. With surprising dynamism, the slender noble dodged several of the projectiles, his movements swift and graceful, before the rest hammered into his hastily erected barrier, shattering it with a resounding crash.
“Kelleth, out!” Terrak’s booming voice echoed across the field.
The rest of Kelleth’s group retaliated, firing off their own magics. Kor, breath coming in ragged gasps, focused every ounce of his concentration on strengthening the barrier, the mana flowing from him in a steady stream.
Just in time. Another wave of spells tore into his shield with a renewed ferocity. Teneth’s frozen flames and Laylee’s shadow daggers zeroed in on him, the air around them frosting over as they approached. He strained under the immense load, his muscles trembling with exertion. Several students’ worth of spells was simply too much for him to handle alone. His barrier cracked anew, spider-webbing and almost fracturing entirely under the combined assault.
Then, a magical wind breezed from behind, a wave of warm air washing over him. The air shimmered with vitality as Beth’s magic took hold. The cracks in his barrier sealed themselves, the fractal symmetry restoring itself as the restorative wind swept over the damaged structure.
“Thanks, Beth!” His voice was strained as he poured every reserve of mana into defence.
In the din of clashing magic and shouted commands, Terrak’s voice called out again as more students were knocked out of the match. The girl moved beside him, her arms outstretched, the rejuvenating wind continuing to mend his barrier. A small, fox-like creature, about knee-high, with a glowing tail that pulsed with light, hovered near Beth, emitting a subtle flow of mana into her, keeping pace with her own magical output.
Another wave of energy flowed from Marcus and the others, their coordinated attack pushing back Kelleth’s remaining forces. Beth glanced aside, her brow furrowed with concern. “Kor, they’re flanking!”
Teneth, his face contorted in a sneer that was visible even from this distance, had worked his way around the side. He raised his hand, frozen flames gathering up.
“Void it!” A wall of brittle flames hurtled towards their position as he scrambled to react.
Barely a second to spare, Kor pulsed a thread of mana into his latest project, the small crystalline device he’d attached to his robe. A second, smaller shield, barely large enough to cover himself and Beth, sprang into existence just as Teneth’s attack landed, and Beth flinched back as the torrent bore down.
Teneth hadn’t held back, so neither could he. Urgently he commanded the small fractal shield to utilise all the mana its crystal held. The explosive torrent of frozen flames shattered and fell away even as his secondary barrier barely hung on as the surrounding air turned frigid.
With the ice falling away, Willem stepped in. Magic flaring behind Kor in a silent, powerful counter-attack.
A brief sense of insight, a fleeting understanding of Willem’s magic, washed over Kor for a moment before something assailed Teneth’s now-exposed barrier. Was that emotion in spell form? From his stoic friend, of all people.
Whatever it was didn’t leave a visible trail, an invisible force that struck with devastating precision. His storm of power enshrouded Teneth as two, three, four cracks burst from his shield in a heartbeat, the fragile structure finally giving way to the sudden stress. His student badge flashed golden, signifying his elimination.
“Teneth, out!” Terrak’s voice called out again.
Another few stray spells slammed into the front of Kor’s main barrier, but it held firm.
“Nice one, Willem,” Kor said, offering a small, grateful smile. The tall, bald boy with deep-set eyes gave a curt nod, his movements precise and almost mechanical, before darting off to rejoin the rest of their team. Across the field, their allies were closing in, finishing the last stragglers from Kelleth’s group with swift, coordinated efficiency.
Kor focused on reinforcing his shield, the mana flowing from him steadily, his reserves strained but holding.
“You okay now, Kor?” Beth asked, her foxlike companion still hovering close by.
“Yeah, go for it!”
She nodded in return, racing off to the side, her fox bounding effortlessly behind her. Even the pet had a badge… Kor thought with a wry internal smile.
The fight quickly drew to a close. Marcus, with a final, devastating barrage of golden coins, finished off the stragglers, leaving them scattered across the training field. “Victory!” Terrak declared, his voice booming across the now-silent field. “Gather round!”
One thing was certain about Marcus’s magic: the longer the fight went on, the stronger he grew. He’d always start with a single coin, and by the end of a battle, there would be a veritable tide of the deadly projectiles, overwhelming anyone unlucky enough to be caught under his fire.
Perhaps this had something to do with coins. Wealth created wealth, after all. But they’d had a few battles now where he’d been close enough to his friend to glimpse a tiny portion of his personal mana. There was definitely something related to money, but oddly enough, his gut told him that mathematics also played a part.
The training field was a mess. Even with its regenerative enchantments, the ground was torn up, singed patches of grass alternating with churned-up dirt and small mounds of earth scattered across the surface, a testament to the intensity of the magical clash.
“Kelleth, why did your side lose?” Terrak appraised the opposite team, his gaze sweeping over them like a hawk assessing its prey. The air, still thick with the scent of ozone and singed grass, hung heavy around them.
The Solarian, Kelleth, shot Marcus and Kor a look, his amber eyes narrowed with a mixture of annoyance and grudging respect. “Kor’s barrier and Marcus’s offensive power were just too much, and we didn’t plan to deal with it properly.” A faint breeze rustled through the torn-up training field, carrying with it the distant sounds of other students practicing.
“True.” Terrak nodded, his voice deep and resonant. “This is the third fight in a row now. Each time, you’ve tried to overpower him and failed.” He shook his head, a gesture of mild disappointment. “Teneth’s flanking attack was a nice attempt,” he conceded, “but ultimately, you’ll need to plan better.”
Teneth spoke up, his face flushed a deep red, his storm-grey eyes flashing with frustration. “It’s not fair to have both of them on the same side,” he insisted, his voice tight with resentment. “With Beth supporting him, there’s no way for us to break through!” He gestured towards Beth and her fox, the creature’s glowing tail swaying gently.
“Hah.” Terrak scoffed, his lips curling into a dismissive smirk. “Enough whining, boy. Outside Conflux, the monsters don’t play fair, nor do the Voidlings. Cloistered as you lot are.” His gaze swept over the assembled students.
“You haven’t seen the worst of their forces from the safety of campus. Their own brands of twisted magics dwarf anything a first-year is capable of.” He paused, his expression hardening.
“I’ve got less than a month to mould you lot into a fighting force. I won’t accept anything less than complete domination of the other teams.” His gaze narrowed, fixing them with a challenging stare that sent a shiver down some of their spines.
Beth, her brow furrowed in thought, raised her hand. Her fox, sensing her unease, pressed closer to her leg, its warm fur brushing against her robes. The creature’s collar displayed an intricate design, a series of interwoven metal links that shimmered faintly in the light. He’d never have figured she’d be the one to catch the dreaded sweet thief on campus, or that it would be so tame.
Few students had pets, after all. He vaguely recalled hearing that the protective badges they had equipped for combat cost thousands of chips—not something a commoner could afford. It made him wonder about Beth’s background, a flicker of curiosity sparking within him.
“Sir, how do we even go about winning?” she asked, her voice laced with genuine curiosity. “Are we going to eliminate the other teams, or perhaps defeat some monsters out there?”
“Hasn’t been decided yet,” Terrak replied, his voice firm. “The committee won’t announce the details until the day of. However,” he added, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, “they do occasionally throw a surprise into the mix, so we’ll need to get you ready for anything.”
Beth was about to continue with her questions, her fox tilting its head as if listening intently, but Terrak cut her off.
“Enough.” He glanced at Marcus, then his gaze shifted to Kor.
“Teneth was right about one thing.” He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “The two of you together are too much for these practice sessions. From now on,” he declared, his voice ringing with authority, “I’m splitting up the teams.”
Marcus shot Kor a wink, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Kor couldn’t help but grin back, a thrill of anticipation running through him. If he was ever going to truly understand the gap between his own abilities and Marcus’s, he’d finally get a chance to see it firsthand, to feel the weight of the difference. The air crackled with a renewed sense of energy, the training session taking a new, more competitive turn.
