Amber glared at Valen, amber eyes flashing with that telltale golden glow. "Where are your notes?"
Instructor Aldric and Seth had just finished their lecture after speaking for two hours straight. Around them, students stretched cramped fingers, comparing hastily scribbled observations.
"I was so engrossed in listening that I couldn't manage to take any," Valen replied, his tone perfectly innocent.
"Don't lie, you lazy Ashford." Amber's voice dropped to a hiss. "I saw you yawn. Twice."
Her observational skills are improving, Valen noted with mild amusement.
"It's fine. I have a good memory." He punctuated the statement with another yawn, deliberately provoking. "And even if I forget, I can just borrow yours."
"As if I'm sharing." Amber fumed, protective hand already covering her notebook. "Actually, this is perfect. When my mother asks about you, I'll have plenty to report. 'Dear Mother, Valentine Ashford sleeps through lectures and steals others' notes. Clearly unsuitable for me.'"
"I really did remember everything."
Amber's eyes narrowed with the calculating look of someone about to spring a trap. She flipped through her notebook with exaggerated casualness. "Fine. Tell me—how do spells that harm the spirit use sound as a medium?"
Testing me? Valen smiled. "To harm the spirit, spells must directly invade someone's consciousness. This can be achieved through sensory channels: sound spells that bypass physical ears and resonate with spiritual frequencies, sight-based illusions that trap the mind, scent-based toxins that cloud judgment, ingested substances, or even tactile contact that disrupts the spirit's anchoring to the body."
Amber consulted her notes again, expression shifting from confident to uncertain. "And... how do you harm someone's mana core?"
"There are only two known methods of harming someone's core without killing them outright." Valen kept his voice academically neutral. "Specialized potions that attack the mana core, or... intimate physical union."
Coitus. The lecture had been surprisingly frank about it—the vulnerability created during deep magical or physical intimacy could be exploited by a any body to damage their partner's foundation. Nasty business. But the benefit is that r*pe cases are close to zero in between Mages and Warriors.
Amber's face flushed pink. She buried herself in her notebook, flipping pages with sudden intense focus.
"You managed to note everything down," Valen said, tone gentling slightly. "Good work. If you don't understand something, we can discuss it."
"I'll just ask the instructor," she muttered without looking up.
Stubborn pride, Valen observed. But at least she's diligent. That's more than most nobles her age.
The amphitheater's atmosphere shifted as a new presence entered.
Instructor Aelindra moved with the unhurried grace of someone who'd walked this world for centuries. The elf looked perhaps sixty in human terms—silver-sapphire hair pulled back gently, matching eyes that carried the weight of accumulated lifetimes. Her dark brown bark-colored cloak covered her completely, practical rather than decorative.
I expected elves to look more mystical, Valen thought, slightly disappointed. But she's just... tall, pointy-eared, and ancient. Though "ancient" might be around four to five hundred years old, given elven lifespans.
Where humans reached perhaps five hundred years at the peak of Rank 9, elves naturally lived five centuries. Which meant Aelindra had likely seen empires rise and fall before most students' grandparents were born.
"You all must have heard about Ancient Praxian Runes by now," she began, her voice carrying the flat certainty of someone who'd given this lecture hundreds of times. No warmth, no encouragement—pure information delivery.
Stoic and detached, Valen cataloged. Just as the novel suggested.
"You all must learn the one hundred eight fundamental runes to pass the examination." She surveyed the students with the dispassionate assessment of someone lokking at the watch. "This is non-negotiable."
Then, finally, she made eye contact with the crowd. "Ancient Praxian Runes are not to be spoken. Nor are they written." Her gaze swept across confused faces. "They are only to be understood."
That makes perfect sense!
Valen's morning experiments suddenly clarified. He'd tried forming a rune exactly as the textbook described it—matching the artistic representation line for line, curve for curve. The mana had shaped correctly, the pattern had looked right, but nothing had happened. Dead construct. Lifeless geometry.
Because he'd drawn the symbol without applying the concepts.
Aelindra pulled a small white-covered book from her robes. "You all have this text, which contains descriptions and explanations of all one hundred eight fundamental runes. You'll find artistic representations as well."
She set it down with an audible thump. "But they are merely what various artists thought was the best way to render abstract concepts on paper."
"If it were as simple as copying pictures," she continued, voice dry as parchment, "everyone would be an archmage. You must understand what each rune represents. What force it embodies. What reality it commands."
"For the examination, theoretical understanding will suffice. I will teach that. Whether you can actually form the runes and cast spells..." She shrugged. "That depends entirely on your comprehension, not my instruction."
Around them, students shifted uncomfortably. This was clearly not the encouraging "you can do it!" speech they'd expected.
"The reward for success, however, is substantial." Aelindra's expression didn't change, but something shifted in her tone—the faintest hint of actual interest. "Once you cast a spell correctly and practice it sufficiently, it becomes permanently engraved in your mana core. After that, casting requires only will. No preparation. Pure instantaneous manifestation."
Now that's valuable, Valen thought, attention sharpening. Instant casting. Combat advantage measured in fractions of seconds. The Soul Crystals I acquired had one or two engaved spells.
"Engraving spells in your core is also essential for rank progression," Aelindra continued. "To break through from Rank 1 to Rank 2, you must engrave five to ten spells—sometimes more, depending on complexity—and strengthen your spirit sufficiently to bear the increased power."
She began pacing, hands clasped behind her back. "Spirit strengthening comes through three primary methods: Mana Breathing exercises, Core Crystal Energy, and Spirit-enhancement potions. There are no superior or inferior breathing techniques, only methods more or less suited to your personal physiology and mana circulation patterns. Find what works for you."
"As for potions—" Her tone hardened with warning. "Yes, they accelerate growth. But excessive consumption creates tolerance. Your spirit adapts, requiring higher doses for diminishing returns. During breakthrough attempts, when you desperately need that critical boost, tolerance may prevent the potion from providing sufficient effect. You'll plateau at your current rank, unable to advance. Some students have crippled their potential this way."
Spoken from centuries of observation, Valen noted. She's seen this pattern destroy countless promising mages.
"Now, we begin with the first fundamental rune. The Force Rune..."
Aelindra launched into technical explanation without checking for understanding or adjusting her pace. Students scrambled to keep up, pencils flying across paper, confused expressions blooming as complex concepts stacked without scaffolding.
She doesn't concern herself with whether they understand, Valen observed. If they grasp it, excellent. If not, that's their problem. Teaching by elimination—those who can't keep up weren't meant to advance anyway.
Harsh, but perhaps honest.
Two hours passed. Aelindra concluded mid-explanation, gathered her materials, and departed without preamble or dismissal.
As students began collecting their things, Raylan suddenly stood and hurried after her.
Valen watched the protagonist jog down the amphitheater steps, catching up to the elf instructor just as she reached the exit. Even from this distance, Valen could see the respectful bow, the earnest posture of someone genuinely seeking knowledge rather than favorable treatment.
And there it is, Valen thought. The canonical connection point. In the novel, this moment begins Raylan's personal apprenticeship under Aelindra. His unusual questions and capability catch her attention. The only student in decades who grasps what she's actually teaching.
"That commoner called Raylan is very serious about learning," Amber observed, watching the exchange with narrowed eyes. Her tone carried something between respect and competitive analysis.
"Don't mind him." Valen kept his voice casual. "Actually, don't compare yourself with others. That's a trap. Just focus on yourself—have I understood everything? If not, what specific concept needs clarification? You can discuss with me, or speak with Instructor Aelindra directly."
I need to prevent Amber from positioning herself in opposition to the main character, Valen thought. In the original story, her competitive nature and noble pride created unnecessary conflicts. If I can redirect that energy...
Amber gave him a sideways look, equal parts skeptical and amused. "You're talking like an old man."
If only you knew, Valen thought wryly. Mentally, I've got at least two lifetimes on you.
But she nodded slowly. "You're right, though. If I'm ahead of others, what can they do to me? Why worry about their progress when I should be maximizing my own?"
Valen smiled, standing and stretching cramped muscles. "Exactly. Now, let's get lunch. The third lecture is this afternoon." He paused, then added casually, "Come to my dorm. I've prepared something special."
Technically, Iris prepared it. But same difference.
Amber stood silently, following him out of the amphitheater with an expression that suggested she was still deciding whether this was appropriate behavior for an arranged marriage candidate.
---
"Slurrrp—oh gods, this is incredible!" Amber scraped the last traces of sauce from her plate with undisguised enthusiasm. Whatever noble etiquette she'd been taught had evaporated entirely in the face of good food. "Where did you learn to make this? What's it called?"
"I found the recipe in an old book," Valen said, carefully not mentioning which world that book came from. "You can call it Rice & Curry. Rice cooked with spiced sauce, vegetables, and meat."
Iris had prepared it with care specifically for nostalgia purposes, Valen thought, savoring the familiar taste of his previous life. She'd tracked down approximations of every ingredient through the Academy's supplier network—rice, cumin, turmeric, ginger, garlic, chilies from the southern territories.
Amber stood abruptly, her enthusiasm overriding caution. "Can I come tomorrow? Will you make this again? I can help with the cooking!"
"The ingredients are rare," Valen said apologetically. "I practically had to beg the provision supplier who delivers to this dorm. He only had enough for today."
"Umm..." Amber's face cycled through disappointment, calculation, and determination. "Let's make this every ten days. No—five days. Every five days."
"How about this—I'll invite you again when I manage to source the ingredients. Deal?"
She nodded reluctantly, then glanced at the window where afternoon sun slanted through. "We should go. The third class is on magical beasts."
"Excited?" Valen asked as they left his dorm.
"Do you think they'll show us live magical beasts?"
"No. It'll be books and theoretical explanations." Valen smiled at her obvious disappointment. "Maybe field trips later in the semester, but not during fundamental lectures."
"That's boring."
"That's safe," Valen corrected. "I'd rather learn about venomous magical creatures from textbook descriptions than firsthand experience."
The instructor for Magical Beast Studies was everything Aelindra wasn't.
Instructor Mira bounded into the amphitheater with infectious energy, her light practical clothing—no bulky robes—allowing easy movement. Short-cropped auburn hair framed a face that carried tomboyish charm, and her grin was wide and genuine.
"Greetings, new students!" she called out, voice projecting cheerful enthusiasm. "Everyone comfortable? Good! Let's talk about the wonderful, dangerous, occasionally delicious creatures sharing our world!"
Finally, someone who enjoys teaching, Valen thought. The contrast is striking.
"Understanding and studying various magical beasts serves multiple purposes," Mira continued, pacing energetically across the stage. "First, it helps us tame them—useful companions, transportation, labor assistance. Second, it helps us fight against hostile creatures—know your enemy, survive encounters. Third—" She grinned wider. "—it helps us decide which ones taste best."
Scattered laughter rippled through the students.
"For this course, you'll focus on magical beasts commonly found within the Radiant Empire's territories. Now, quick question—who's eaten Rock Crabs?"
Nearly every hand rose, Valen's included. Rock Crabs were ubiquitous—the magical equivalent of urban pigeons, except these fed on garbage and grew edible armored bodies with a hardness of rocks.
"Exactly!" Mira looked delighted. "They eat our garbage, we eat them. Rock Crabs can reach Rank 2 in ideal conditions—which means heavily polluted areas with lots of organic waste. Their shells make excellent shield materials. Hard, light, and they regenerate with mana when enchanted correctly."
She pulled out a massive illustrated textbook, easily twice the size of the other course materials. "Today we start by learning about Rock Crabs—the most common food source for mages and warriors, and a perfect example of how magical beasts integrate into human civilization."
The pages she displayed showed detailed anatomical drawings, habitat information, behavioral patterns, and even recipes.
Now this is engaging pedagogy, Valen thought. Unlike Aelindra's sink-or-swim approach, Mira actively built student interest. She called on volunteers, answered questions with patience, encouraged discussion.
Around him, students who'd been passively absorbing information all day suddenly came alive—asking about different species and sharing personal encounters.
Amber leaned forward, genuinely absorbed. Even Raylan, sitting in the front row, abandoned his usual serious demeanor to ask enthusiastic questions about beast taming techniques. Mira was pleasantly surprised with his knowledge.
Different teaching styles for different subjects, Valen reflected.
Two hours passed almost effortlessly. When Mira finally dismissed them—with cheerful reminders about homework reading—the atmosphere felt lighter than after previous lectures.
Amber stood, stretching. "I'm heading back to my dorm to study," she announced, then fixed Valen with a pointed look. "You should do the same."
"I already remember everything," Valen replied with deliberately infuriating confidence.
"Yeah, yeah. We'll see about that during exams."
She left before he could respond, though her expression carried more amusement than genuine annoyance.
Progress, Valen thought. We're establishing comfortable patterns. She still doesn't trust me completely, but the arranged marriage feels less like a prison sentence now.
After watching her disappear into the crowd, Valen changed direction—not toward his dorm, but up the tower stairs toward the library.
"While it's still open, we should record more books," he murmured to Iris.
"We have until evening, Master." Her voice carried eagerness that matched his own.
"Don't manifest physically or in spirit form. The librarian might notice. Let's be discreet."
"Understood!"
The afternoon sun slanted through high windows as Valen navigated the cramped library aisles, systematically exposing page after page to his field of vision while Iris recorded everything. Obsolete spell theories, historical accounts of magical beast migrations, brewing potions too dangerous for modern practice, geographical surveys of territories now lost to Convergent Realm instability.
By the time he descended the tower stairs, twilight painted the campus in shades of purple and gold. Students hurried toward dining halls or dormitories, their conversations echoing through ancient stone pathways.
Valen breathed in cool evening air, feeling the pleasant exhaustion of a productive day.
"Tonight," he said quietly, "let's try forming a rune, properly."
"Which one, Master?"
"The Force Rune. The first fundamental." Valen smiled.
Author's Note: Hi, Devan here! Thank you for reading this far—it means the world to me. If you're enjoying Valen's journey through the Convergent Realms, please consider leaving a rating or review. It not only motivates me to keep writing but also helps other readers discover the story. Thank you.