Leveling up the World

“Hey.” Phoil grinned. An annoying smugness emanated from him, drowning all other sounds that Dallion’s music skills were able to detect.

Without any regard for the rest, he sat down on the table, leaning on it with both elbows.

“Him?” Dallion turned to Raven. “Seriously? Him?!”

“Don’t make a scene.”

If it were anyone else, people would be staring at the commotion, but given that they caused a scene more frequently than not, the other novices had come to view it as something normal. Even Cheska was known to cast a spell at a whim, making people stay away from her.

“Sorry, I’m having trouble seeing how he and best are in the same sentence,” Dallion said beneath his breath.

“Everyone has a use,” Raven replied. “It’s not about the value of the individual piece, but the combination of the whole.”

Whose are those words exactly? Dallion wanted to ask. At the same time, he knew it would turn out someone too important to piss off.

“You should see your face,” Cheska smirked. “You look like you’ve just—”

“Are all of you ready?” Raven interrupted.

“I’ll need to get a few things from my room,” Dallion said. “Other than that, I am.”

“Okay. We’ll pass by your room first. Everyone else?”

“I’ve got something in my room too,” Phoil said. “It’s similar to his.”

“Can you get it yourself?” The change in tone was noticeable.

“Sure. I’ll get it, then meet up with the rest of you.”

“After that, we’ll go to the great mage and start this.”

In a place such as this, chances were one in a thousand, yet something made Dallion feel a tingle of fear after hearing that.

“Great Mage Enroy?” he asked cautiously.

“Who else?” The black-haired stared at him. “He’s in charge of the novices.”

Enroy was in charge of the notices as much as a noble was in charge of weeping the streets. Dallion had no doubt that the mage’s title wasn’t for show, but so far, the only time he’d seen him was once he’d made a mess of things by entering a magic artifact.

The bad news was that Enroy was part of the otherworlder mage group—the same Dallion had dealings with, almost exclusively unpleasant. That wasn’t the reason he felt uncomfortable. Since Enroy was from Earth, he could think like Dallion and potentially make the challenge more difficult. In that regard, Dallion still had no idea what exactly the challenge was, and by the looks of it, neither did anyone at the table. It would be difficult, no doubt, and required spellcasting—otherwise there wouldn’t be a requirement for challengers to be rank three. Other than that, though, it could be anything from having a game of skill in front of a panel of mages, to defeating a strong beast in a small vortex.

Dinner was finished in silence. Once everyone was done, the group stood up and made their way outside. Phoil rushed ahead to get “something” from his room, while everyone else accompanied Dallion to his room.

Normally, he’d be reluctant to allow them to enter, but given that he’d transform back into his adult self once in there, he was tempted to let them in just for the fun of it.

“Will I be able to bring pets?” Dallion turned towards Raven, but the real people he was asking were the echoes in the black-haired’s domain.

“I’m not sure,” Raven said after a while. “Go for it. Better safe than sorry.”

Safe for whom? Dallion wondered. Still, he did offer Ruby the opportunity and, to little surprise, the shardfly accepted. Of course, there were also a few grumbles regarding the promise of a slab of marble.

Getting his combat equipment, Dallion stepped back into the corridor. He must have looked ridiculous carrying oversized weapons, for everyone cracked a smile—even Raven, which was generally rare.

“Got everything?” Cheska snorted.

“No. I can’t wear my armor.”

“That would have been funny.”

Just then, Phoil emerged, rushing along the corridor. Given that their rooms were mostly in the same area, it was somewhat suspicious that he’d taken so long. He too was carrying a weapon, and to his credit, not something Dallion had seen.

The world had presented a vast variety of weapons, some more exotic than others. Phoil’s happen to be in the slightly weird category. It had a rather unique shape—three blades attached to each other, forming the emblem of Mercedes—but was made of high-quality iron-silver alloy, indicating it wasn’t anything high powered.

“You brought that?” For a moment, Cheska sounded almost impressed. “Can you even fight with it?”

What is it? Dallion asked.

A triblade, Nil replied. The poor mage’s weapon. When I say poor, I mean from the point of view of a mage. There was a time when only mages could make weapons suitable for them. This must have been one of those obligatory heirlooms. Some ancestor had probably put his blood and soul into making it. Centuries ago, it would have been outright impressive. Yet, as you know, mages are really bad at item creation. Even those lucky enough to have forging skills weren’t able to create much.

“I know what I’m doing,” Phoil said—an almost certain indication that he didn’t. “Did you get everything?” he glanced at Dallion.

“Everyone has everything,” Raven said in a harsh tone. “Let’s go see the great mage.”

Enroy’s office happened to be in an entirely different section of the building. It stood to reason that he’d been somewhere at the center, near the administration and the rest of the important mages. That didn’t make walking there all the less embarrassing. A group of children walking in areas they weren’t supposed to be carrying weapons definitely attracted a lot of attention. In other circumstances, people would be worried that someone was planning a coup. But since this was the Academy, the event didn’t create any emotions beyond mild interest and curiosity.

“You’ll do the talking, I take it?” Dallion asked Raven.

“Who else? Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. All of us are pretty important, so they’ll listen to what we have to say.”

If only things worked out that way in the rest of the world, Dallion thought. Even in welcoming places, there were barriers preventing the less skilled from interacting with the skilled. Being related to an Archduke was definitely the good life… until someone tried to take his title.

The mage’s building was visible from afar. For one thing, it was the only ivory one in the corridor, located a hundred feet from a small blue palace. There were no signs or indications, but there was no doubt that it had to be the apprentice’ administration building.

Not in the least bit phased, Raven walked straight into the Enroy’s building. Dallion and everyone else followed.

“I’d like to speak to the great mage,” the black-haired said in an apparently empty room.

The architecture was markedly different from anything Dallion had seen in this world. If he didn’t know better, he’d say someone had taken the foyer of a fifties theater and transported it here. The only thing that was missing were the posters and the popcorn machines.

A tall apprentice emerged at the top of the grand staircase. Unlike most of the other apprentices around, he didn’t seem exhausted and rushed, but rather dignified, dressed in a light gray outfit that complimented his dark skin tone.

A Lanitol mage? Dallion wondered.

There are other cities where people have that complexion, Nil reminded. But yes, he’s from there and related to the Archduke.

Why’s he here, then?

Because he belongs to the Academy now. Mages are not allowed to take sides, only defend themselves directly when attacked. If he were to take Archduke Linatol’s side, can you imagine the chaos that would follow? Everyone with mage relations will be called back to lend a hand on their side, which will start an all-out mage war.

“You better have a good reason,” the apprentice glared down at the children. He, too, was used to authority.

“We’re here to request a trial of skill.” Raven stood his ground. “We must do it in person.”

“Very funny.” The apprentice crossed his arms. For several seconds, no one budged a muscle. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“The mage requested not to be disturbed, so whatever this trial is, it’ll have to wait—”

Before he could finish, the main door on top of the staircase swung open, and Enroy emerged. Hi was wearing an interesting set of silk and sapphire clothes, which despite the expense of the materials involved, had the appearance of work clothes.

“You’re actually invoking that old thing?” The man’s face was wrinkled in astonishment. “Do you even know what it involves? No, don’t tell me,” Enroy quickly added. “I don’t want to know.” He glared at Dallion.

For some unknown reason, Dallion felt that he was blamed for something he didn’t have a hand in.

“All five of you?” the mage asked.

“Yes, great mage.” Raven nodded.

“And just when I thought I was done with the paperwork. Llhia, tell administration I need Archmage approval for a trial.”

The confusion and disapproval in the apprentice’s glance was visible all the way from the entrance. Even so, all he could do was nod and do as he was told. As he passed by Dallion, a momentary wave of hatred erupted from within him, before being quickly concealed.

He doesn’t like me much, Dallion said.

You’re the pawn that started a way between people he knows and possibly cares about. It’s natural that he’d hate you. I’m sure Countess Priscord doesn’t like you either.

Both of them still hate me?

That’s the luxury of remaining neutral. Or, to be more precise, of remaining neutral after working for both sides.

I did jobs for them, which weren’t in any way related to the wars.

They don’t see it like that. You helped one side reclaim a devastating weapon and found the phoenix for the other. Worst of all, you refused the invitation both of them extended your way. Well, maybe in the case of the countess, there are other issues as well.

That hardly made any sense, but Dallion kept his guard up. Even the lowest apprentice at the Academy was a lot stronger than him at present.

“Wait there.” The mage disappeared behind the doors.

Several minutes passed. Everyone knew better than to discuss things in the open, especially in a mage’s home. Yet, even an army of echoes couldn’t stop a child’s nature entirely.

“What do you think he’ll do?” Phoil whispered. “Have the trial here, or take us to some ancient and forgotten part of the Learning Hall?”

“The entire building is ancient and forgotten,” Cheska chuckled. “He’s probably preparing the trial item.”

“Mages don’t keep Moonstones with them,” Raven hissed. “Only the Purple Moon can make that.”

“We’ll hold the trial on the Purple Moon?” Phoil asked.

This was a question Dallion was curious to hear the answer to. Not that he believed it to be true, but he wanted to see how Raven would handle it. Fortunately for the black-haired, Enroy emerged once more. This time, he was wearing his official robe, which automatically made him look a lot more important than before.

“One final time, you’re sure about this?” he asked. “That won’t be your common trial. All of you could get hurt.”

Just hurt? Dallion asked.

This is a trial, dear boy, not a gladiator show. The Purple Moon won’t give out gifts without merit, but he won’t punish those trying to obtain them.

So, will it be on the Moon?

The trial? Or course not. At least not entirely. You’ll see in a while. Don’t let me ruin the surprise.

“We’re sure,” Raven said.

“Individually. I want to hear each of you say it.”

“I’m sure,” Cheska said almost instantly.

Dallion followed along with everyone else. He couldn’t sense any music of magic at play, but he was pretty sure they had all just made a Moon vow. There was no turning back now. Whatever challenge awaited them, they’d have to see it through, or get hurt trying.