Silvy had been right: the lesson was boring. Well, it was not exactly boring, but after half an hour of uninterrupted speech, Silvy’s attention was drifting away: she wanted to cast magic, swing a sword, maybe basking the sun. But as she was losing concentration, the suppression kicked in, eliminating the boredom and restoring the attention. Silvy sat up straight again staring directly at Lindrl, again at her best mental faculties. That was useful! She felt fresh as if the lesson had just begun. This lasted for twenty more minutes, then the suppression saved her again.

And again and again: the same thing kept happening throughout the teaching: Silvy would lose concentration and the core would restore it. Thanks to this, Silvy had barely lost a few words: she could remember everything. And the arguments were not boring at all! It was just that listening to Lindrl for so long was hard. It hadn’t been so hard with Marthyn.

The lesson had been packed with stuff, but it could be summed up in a few parts.

One, we don’t know what mana is, but it’s all around us and we can use it through our desires. It comes from below the earth and moves into the air. It’s so much that people cannot feel it, as if they were deaf: expanding your pool meant gradually “unplugging” your senses, enabling you to feel and see a small part of it. Mana in the air is even more than [Archmages] can feel: we know that because even the deadliest fights with the strongest spells cast don’t deplete it.

Two, a [Mage] is a person who has trained to reach a basic control over his internal mana and is training to expand his pool. Mana is used, most of the time, to create a rune in the air, evoking a spell: you cannot cast a spell without a rune, but you can manipulate your mana and affect the world even without. We know how runes are made because we have records of their forms, created by [Mages] and [Archmages] that experimented new forms. You could feel if a rune was right or wrong right before completing it, but it was a dangerous and complicated process: to put it simply, mana in the air reacted to a rune, rushing to create a spell; this reaction also appeared right before the completion of said rune in the form of small ripples, invisible to the untrained eyes. Sentients had difficulty manipulating mana: it was possible to do but many magnitudes harder. It was akin to moving a mountain, whereas with a focus it was like moving a pebble: an insurmountable difference. Different sentient species had different aptitude: elves had a high aptitude, humans a decent one, giants a bad one; for beastkins, it depended on their ancestor.

Three, monsters had a core into them that functioned as a focus for mana: all monsters were theoretically capable of casting spells but only a few did it consciously. Most monsters used mana unconsciously, having attuned to a special element. Monsters who cast spells like sentients were incredibly dangerous; one example was dragons, capable of summoning thunders and tornadoes, breathing flames as hot as the sun or raining ice and snow. There were not many dragons, but each one was capable of razing a city by itself.

The sun was close to six in the evening when the lesson stopped, and only because Silvy had to go. Lindrl didn’t let her go immediately, though: she called Silvy to her desk again, recreating a friendly atmosphere.

“Silvy, I want to warn you. I’m not sure how to put it… you are attracting attention: you are too capable. I’ve heard of your latest feat: killing hundreds of acid worms. Don’t misunderstand, it would hardly be a feat worthy of note if it weren’t for your age. Children capable of similar feats are legends. Do you know how our empire was originally formed? One of those children grew up and created it hundreds of years ago, subjugating every other human nation. Another one of those children was Rumund Grav, the grandest [Archmage] ever existed: he is responsible for discovering at least half of the runes we know and use, and contributing in countless ways to the advancements of magic. I’m not telling you are one of these children, but you should be aware that people are starting to take note of you and may try to contact you.”

Play the scared and worried child. It always works. And she didn’t even need to pretend that much: attracting attention was bad, especially given her… situation.

“Oh... Is it dangerous? What should I do?”

Lindrl smiled and stroke her hair fondly.

“No, not yet. Nobles are receiving reports about you, yes, but they are busy playing political games. You might receive a few invitations, maybe some gold, but they won’t go too far. Making a big move towards you would mean making an enemy of every other noble faction, maybe even royalty; until they express their stance towards you, no noble will try to kidnap or hire you. And you are still too trivial for the royals to make an official announcement: you are still safe, for now. But people are digging into your past, discovering your sudden rise to power: a huge difference between you and the children of the past. This power is not really yours, is it not? That makes you a target for less… legal factions: nobles may mostly work in the light, but they have underhand means as well; moreover, many criminal organizations may try to use you. Bad stuff. But I would lie if I said I wasn’t jealous or curious: you disappear for two weeks and came back as a child on par with legends: what happened?”

Again with this question. Lindrl seemed nice enough: maybe she could help? No, no. It was too dangerous. But it was dangerous being alone as well: children with her capabilities not affiliated to some higher power were non-existent. This power was not hers. Lindrl was right: at this point, she had a good idea of what had happened, or at least a general one. She hadn’t had monster cores inside her before the kidnapping: it was obvious they were inserted into her in that time frame.

Silvy looked up at Lindrl. She saw a beautiful woman smiling at her, hair red as flames. Could she trust her?

“I am just an orphan. Even the guild master has discovered my past: I am no one special. What happened to me… I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

Lindrl didn’t lose her smile, stroking again Silvy’s head.

“Good. As I suspected, you are not clueless: I myself am interested in you. Telling me, or anyone else, your secret is a bad idea: keep it hidden. I and guild master Zira are trying to cover for you: Zira didn’t manage, of course, not with you parading around the city with hundreds of cores. But ”

and she winked at Silvy

“no one in the city knows you have as much mana as an archmage. The ones who know about it are the professors in the mages' guild and the three archmages: I asked a few favors to keep the matter hidden. If your magic prowess was publicly known… Royalty would make a move, no doubt. And you can hardly refuse the king…”

Was she threatening her? Or was Lindrl trying to tell Silvy she could trust her? Indeed, a child with as much mana as an [Archmage] would attract attention. A lot of it. Could she… trust Lindrl? Or… was it a trap?

“What… what would you do if I told you my secret? Would you try to steal it? Sell it?”

Lindrl eyes sparkled. Then she sighed.

“Ah, child. I would most likely try to copy it. I would not steal it from you: I…”

Her eyes wandered around, lost for a second. Then she focused again, took the wand and stood up, taking a few minutes to cast everything.

“Superior Hiding Ward. Alarm Ward. Anti-Divination Ward.”

She sat down again, short of breath.

“Sorry: I didn’t want to be overheard. Someone powerful could still break through my wards, but I would feel it. What I wanted to say… Let me start from the beginning. I was eighteen when I enrolled in this very school. I discovered my gift for magic, and Kal, who was an old and powerful professor already at the time, took me as his personal student, with Gorvan following in my footsteps a few years later. I say that I have a gift, but yours is on another level completely… Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that magic takes everything from you. It is capable of giving you power commoners can’t even imagine; it gives you everything, but only if you are prepared to give everything in exchange. I studied magic for more than sixty years, and what I understood is that the more you know, the more you understand you know nothing. Magic is deep, deeper than you can imagine: what I can do, even what Kal can do is just the surface: magic has the potential to change the world itself, but no one can reach that level and no one ever did. But even only to reach my level, I had to sacrifice many things. One of those… is having children. Not because you lose the ability to, but because having one is detrimental. You cannot train when pregnant: the loss of mana will kill the child.”

Lindrl paused for a moment, sighing with closed eyes.

“Do I regret my choices? No. You will never find a half-minded [Archmage]: they fail before reaching that power. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have loved to have a child. And I’m sure guild master Zira feels the same way: she is a mage as well, you know. What I’m trying to say is… I wouldn’t be able to hurt you.”

Wow. That was a lot to take in… And very personal. Silvy was surprised Lindrl had gone to such lengths; was it true? Was she lying? It didn’t seem like it. Could she trust her? Find an ally in her? Wait.

“Wait. How old are you? You look like thirty!”

Laughing, Lindrl answered.

“Yes, I look young, don’t I? And you shouldn’t ask for a lady’s age! If you swear to keep it secret, I will tell you. Deal?”

Silvy nodded. It’s not like she had the intention to go around screaming about it.

“I am eighty-four years old. Surprised?”

“No way! How are you so young then?!”

“Why, through mana of course. It is a lesson all [Archmage] learns: mana has a very real effect on your body. Didn’t I tell you magic is about desires and will? What do you think happens when you desire to be young or beautiful?”

Silvy’s brain was overheating. Did it mean the body changed with mana? How…

“I see you have difficulties believing it. And yet, you yourself are shaped by mana, if only unconsciously. To put it simply… after a certain amount of mana resides in your body, aging starts to… stop. For a period, at least. Everyone imagines themselves in certain ways, usually unconsciously. An archmage sees himself in a mirror and decides that that figure is himself: the mana inside his body will work to make it possible, to fulfill his wish. But you can also change yourself with conscious thoughts: I do it myself. I wish to be beautiful and young: maybe it’s a petty wish, but it’s my wish, nonetheless. And my mana works fulfill my wishes because I control enough of it. This same power can be useful in a battle. For example, if you are bleeding and wish to close the wound, it will close faster than normal. But it’s a slow process, requires concentration in this particular case, and a mortal wound would kill you anyway: it’s useful but not invincible. But that’s the reason you hardly find a crippled [Archmage]: they just wish to have their arm, leg or whatever back, and slowly it will grow back. Maybe a demonstration could be more convincing… I have wards anyway. Watch closely and don’t distract me: it will take some time.”

Lindrl closed her eyes, concentrating. Silvy was watching closely, but for a few minutes, nothing happened. Then she noticed something: wrinkles. Lindrl’s face, which was completely smooth before, was… aging. Slowly, wrinkles appeared, at first almost imperceptible, then deeper, until her face became that of an old woman in her sixties: still beautiful, but an old kind of beauty.

Lindrl opened her eyes after that. You could still recognize her: she was older, but always the same person.

“This is what happens when I consciously stop desiring youth. You might think it’s easy to change yourself, but it is not: your desire must be true, not just convenient: that’s another reason why the applications in battle are limited. I’ll go back to be young if you don’t mind: I feel out of place.”

After a few minutes, Lindrl was just as before, young and beautiful. Silvy was speechless: what were the limits of these transformations?

“What are the limits of it? Can I, I don’t know, become a cat?”

Lindrl laughed, delighted.

“If you really wish to, yes: some beastkins have a gift for shapeshifting. But, as I said, the transformation is slow. The bigger the change the longer the time needed: to become a cat would take weeks, although going back to your original form is faster. Remember, don’t tell anyone what you saw: I’m proud of my beauty and youth, and not many people have seen the old me.”

Silvy was even more convinced now: she could confide to Lindrl. Lindrl was telling her so much, trusting her to keep it secret. It could be a trap. It could be all false, just a farce to make Silvy tell her secret. But… she was so lonely. Even with the emotion suppressed, she felt like it was a risk she was willing to take. And maybe, just maybe, Lindrl could help her.

“How does someone change faster? What if someone could grow back his arm in a matter of hours?”

“Hours? I never heard of humans doing it, but some monsters are extremely hard to kill because of their fast regeneration. Why?”

“...I hope I won’t regret this choice. Watch.”

Silvy stood up, resolved. She was sure that if her heart was still beating, it would be racing: alas, only silence remained. She moved away from Lindrl, who was looking at her closely.

Silvy cast [Mana Blade], creating a sword out of mana. Lindrl had stood up. Silvy swung the blade, left arm stretched, and cut it at her elbow. Blood sprayed out, painting the floor; Lindrl moved fast, reaching Silvy in a moment and starting to form a rune.

“Why did yo-”

Lindrl hadn’t completed the cast, but blood stopped coming out. The wound closed in seconds, leaving a stub. Lindrl had stopped drawing the rune, watching with wide eyes.

Silvy watched as well, entranced: she had never seen it happen so clearly. Bone, skin, muscles, veins; they were all growing out of her elbow, creating a new forearm. She could feel it clearly now: the responsible was the heart core, not the undead one. Mana was gushing to her arm, consumed to create it anew. In a matter of minutes, the arm was reformed completely, no wound in sight: the only proof that this had not been a dream was the blood and the truncated arm on the floor.

“I am not half-elf. Not anymore. I have monster cores inside me: they are the source of my power. I’m just a child with nothing special to her name.”

She felt a weight leaving her chest. She had said it.

Lindrl was slowly moving her head from the arm on the floor to the one regrown on Silvy, incapable of speaking. She looked at Silvy. Then at the arm on the floor. She took out a wand and cast a spell: the blood on the floor was now floating in the air together with the arm. Lindrl sighed, tired: she was feeling old.

“I see. Do you know how? Did you find a magical item? What happened?”

“No. I didn’t do it. I was kidnapped by The Brothel in the slums, and after that, I awoke in a forest. Next thing I know I am an undead: I don’t feel pain, my heart doesn’t beat, and I don’t need to breathe. And I can use magic as if I was born knowing how to do it. They did something to me: I don’t what. Are you… going to kill me now?”

Lindrl looked at her, confused.

“Kill you? Why would I even contemplate the possibility? You have no fault, child. You are a victim, nothing more: and not using what has been given to you would be a crime. I see why you wanted to keep it a secret, though: many people would kill you for your cores, or worse. I have so many questions... But first.”

Lindrl shook her head.

“Why you? Why did they give this power to you? You have no loyalty to this brothel.”

“I hate them. And I wasn’t alone, I’m sure. They had many people in cages, and I remember being taken with three other women before losing… consciousness.”

“Did these people suffer the same fate? Where are they?”

Silvy shook her head meekly.

“I don’t know. I was alone when I woke up; no one else was around. That’s all I know.”

“I see.”

Lindrl pondered for a while, finger stroking her chin.

“I don’t know about this brothel: I don’t have informants in the slums. To find out about you I had to pay third parties. So, an organization has been or, more likely, is kidnapping people. One of these people was you. And you came out having two monster cores inside your body. If yours was not an accident, then we can imagine that that is what they are doing: putting cores into people. But why let you go? If making a sentient with a core inside is their objective, why did they leave you? And if it’s not their objective, what is? Maybe two cores are not enough? Then why keeping you alive? And where are the other subjects? Are they living among us? Are they prisoners? Spies? I need to find out more about it. I have a hunch of what happened, but I wish to collect more information.”

Lindrl lowered her head again, speaking directly to Silvy.

“Don’t say it to anyone else, no matter who asks. This is dangerous, for you and others: if people knew about it, you would lose your life or be studied to replicate the process. If you need to speak with someone, do it with me: I am here for you. But not now. Understood? Good.”

Silvy was relieved: she had taken a big risk telling Lindrl everything, but she had found someone who didn’t kill her instantly.

“Yes. Thank you Lindrl. I have to go now; will you handle the… arm?”

“Yes, yes. Don’t worry. Come back in the morning and go directly to the tower: I live there with the other archmages. Miss Deala, my assistant, will bring you to my room. We will be able to speak more freely there. See you tomorrow sweety.”

Silvy walked out waving at Lindrl, who was waving back and smiling. Silvy was not completely sure about her objectives, but she felt she could trust her a bit.

After twenty minutes, Silvy reached Jekhum’s shop, which was being closed right now. Jekhum noticed Silvy and snorted.

“Are you waiting for me to close girl? This is the second time in a row you arrive as I’m closing. Come, we’ve got company.”

Jekhum walked to his home in silence as always. Three people were in front of his house: Eiram, Ivor and Vilza. They waved at Silvy, who waved back.

“Hey girl. You’ve made quite a ruckus at the guild: everyone is talking about the frightening child who killed hundreds of enemies covered in their blood, untouched. If you wanted to leave a mark, you’ve done it. Ah!”

Eiram laughed, delighted, while Vilza scanned her from head to toes.

“You seem in one piece. That’s good. You are crazy doing something like that.”

“A passable feat, nothing more.”

Ivor was smug as always, but he was sneakily studying Silvy, thinking of not being noticed by her.

“I’ve got a lesson to do: let’s go inside.”

Saying that Jekhum walked inside and into the basement, followed by the group. He made Silvy warm up by slowly going through the previous sword motions, being satisfied by her memory. The next hour was passed going through it again and again, adding something new every few times. After that, it was time for sparring.

Silvy gripped the wooden sword, facing off Jekhum. He had been stronger than her yesterday, but she had a new class and more levels; could she win?

Jekhum didn’t wait, pressuring her instantly. He moved in, lunging. Silvy saw it coming but saw something else: a path, a dance she could follow to take the offensive: she dodged left, exploiting a small mistake. Her blade swung towards his head, making him duck: but it was a feint and stopped just as it reached him. Silvy jumped, pirouetting into the air and dodging the follow-up swing from Jekhum; she flew over his head, using his shoulder as support with her left hand: her sword came down, thrusting towards his head. A feint again, but Jekhum took the bait and rolled forward. Silvy pulled at Jekhum’s shirt at the same time and reaching the ground, landing gracefully. Jekhum was painting after such a short exchange, while Eiram and Vilza were standing up, with Ivor watching leaning forward on his seat.

Silvy pressed the advantage, lunging towards Jekhum. She was dancing around him; he was trying to hit her and she was weaving, flowing around him, dodging every hit and answering in turn. Jekhum was better than her, but not enough: every hit from Jekhum was a miss while Silvy was continuously parried or blocked. A few hits came close and she was grazed once; but in the end, Jekhum made an error: he was out of breath, and one of his swings was too slow. Silvy dove inside, parrying the weak hit and threatening his neck. Jekhum dropped his arms and fell back, breathing heavily.

“That’s… Impossible… How many… levels did… you gain?”

Silvy smiled slightly, leaning on her sword; levels were a secret.

“Sorry, teacher. Levels are important information; I cannot give mine so freely. I can say that… I am not a bronze rank any longer.”

Eiram came over, smiling.

“You are already over level fifteen. And you, Jekhum, have lost your touch.”

Jekhum showed Eiram a very expressive gesture.

“You’ll take the test then. Are you even tired? Want to spar with me?”

Eiram showed a toothy smile while Silvy nodded, curious to see how much she had improved from her admission test.

But this spar was harder. Eiram attacked fast: his initial tempo was the highest her and Jekhum had reached at the peak. She was hard-pressed to keep up from the start, getting grazed a few times. Her dance was continuously stopped by his attacks, breaking her flow and blocking her offensive. And Eiram kept going faster, pushing Silvy more and more, forcing her to abandon the offense completely. The result was decided at this point: with a strong hit, he moved Silvy’s blade aside and stopped his own on Silvy’s neck, winning the fight.

Eiram was taking deep long breaths: Silvy had gotten better: a lot better.

“You improve too fast, kid. You should slow down, or people will start making questions. But let’s not talk about this sad stuff: let’s eat something, shall we?”

The group moved on the first floor, gathering around the kitchen table. Jekhum was cooking with the help of Ivor, surprising Silvy: she didn’t take Ivor for a cook. Ivor moved cookware around with mana, feeding the fire with magic: there was a certain rhythm to his movements, displaying skills and experience.

Silvy didn’t comment on that because she didn’t want to offend him, but Eiram picked up the clue and spoke.

“Ivor is the cook of our group. And believe me, he is good. I believe his exact words were “normal people eat; I savor”, weren’t they, Vilza?”

“Yes, I believe so. I was surprised the first time I saw him cook, but he is good.”

Ivor snorted at the compliments.

“I will not lower myself eating subpar food. I demand a certain quality, and the best way to assure that the correct level is reached is preparing the food myself: nothing more and nothing less.”

The group laughed and Ivor ignored them, concentrated on cooking to perfection.

“So: you are going into the dungeon in a few days, right? Do you feel ready?”

“I- yes. The guild master told me the monsters on the first floor are weaker than acid worms, so I’m not worried. But I don’t understand: why do people go into dungeons? There are just monsters, right?”

Eiram put down his cup of water.

“Yes, well, mostly monsters. There are also traps and rare minerals. And the dungeon core. People go into dungeons… Well, for three reasons mainly. First, the most stupid one, in my opinion, is to prove oneself. Reaching the end is not easy, so some people see that as a challenge to overcome, but those people are rare and mostly nuts. The second reason is for rare minerals: every dungeon contains veins of gold, silver or gemstone of various kinds. Not only are the veins extensive, but they grow back slowly: they are a good source of income if you bring a pickaxe with you. The third reason and the real one for most adventures: monster cores. You see, monsters that die inside the dungeons can be recreated by it. But dungeons sometimes do something incredible: they create hybrids. A single monster, a single core, with the abilities of two: to make an example of monsters you know about: an acid worm fused with a shadow wolf would be able to spit acid, camouflaging with the shadows, and it will be as fast and as tough as the sum of both of them. Given that magical items can contain only a single core, you can imagine those ones are worth a small fortune.”

“Creating hybrids? Wow… How does it do that? And what about three creatures together? Four? What’s the limit? And what about the dungeon core? Can it be used in magical weapons?”

Eiram laughed jovially.

“How? We don’t know. But as far as we know, the limit is four: there are no records, at least that we know of, of a core with five abilities in one. If it really exists, it’s well-hidden: a war could break out if people knew of it. The number of abilities is also how magical items are ranked: superior items are made of two abilities, rare of three and four are legendary. The cost goes up and up, so much so that some items don’t really have a price: whoever has them will never sell, or they are kept in someone’s treasury. And dungeon core has never been reached: you can see it alright, from afar, but if you get too close you die: mages say that the mana in there makes your body collapse.”

“Wow. But… I read a book talking about a legendary ring and it had just one ability. How is that possible?”

“One? Then it was not legendary. What did it do?”

“It was a ring that could block any mortal attack and it would recharge after some time.”

“Any mortal attack? That would mean being able to block everything: from swords to magic to projectiles. That would mean a fusion of at least two different cores, if not three. And it recharges as well? Yes, that was indeed legendary. Usually, the abilities of a legendary item are fused together without a real logic, and they do not synergize. But, rarely, the abilities synergize and a priceless artifact is created: that ring is probably one of those instances.”

Yes, it made sense: if one of the abilities of the monsters was, for example, breathing fire, if the other one was toughening its body it wouldn’t create a nice combo.

“I see; thank you. Do you have any tips for the dungeon dive?”

“Yes: stick with the others. Talking about others, you should join a team. You are strong, but solo adventurers die young. We talked about it, and we want to extend an invitation to you. Another frontliner would be appreciated.”

Vilza and Eiram smiled at her encouragingly: well, that was sudden, but Silvy should have expected it. Her feat had been noted by other people, adventurers included: given that this group was the only one with some kind of connection to her, it was obvious they would make a move.

But… she had her lessons to attend. Especially in magic; she couldn’t take long jobs, staying away from the city for days on end.

“I’m sorry but I must decline; I still have to attend my lessons. I still have much to learn.”

Jekhum intervened for the first time.

“I can’t teach you much more kid: you are as good as me after only a couple of lessons. I might have some more complex maneuvers to teach you, but with your capabilities, I could show them to you right now and you’d have them mastered in ten minutes.”

The food was finally ready: Ivor had prepared the plates for everyone, making them float and placing them in front of the various diners.

Two slender, cooked to perfection steaks were on the plates, seasoned with a spray of lemon and a pinch of rosemary. As a side dish, grilled potatoes cut in perfect slices, seasoned with salt and few rosemary leaves. A bottle of wine was put at the center of the table by Ivor, who clearly said that they could drink only one cup each.

Silvy was almost crying. She could smell the food: it was paradisiac. It was probably the best dish she had ever seen: but she knew she couldn’t taste it. Was this a punishment? She wished so hard to taste it: she recalled the lesson of Lindrl, how mana shaped her body through her desires. And oh, was this something she wanted.

For a second, a short long second, she put a piece of steak into her mouth, not chewing, just waiting. Would it work?

No. The answer was painful and devastating. She chewed with no appetite a piece of food with no taste at all.

The rest of the group was silent, but there was no silence in the room: cutlery was moved swiftly, cutting the steak or stabbing a hot potato slice; mouths were chewing or gulping, savoring the food or the wine. Wine that was offered to Silvy.

“Hey kid, ever tried wine? Here, have a taste.”

Eiram offered Silvy his cup filled with wine, much to the displeasure of Vilza.

“Eiram, she is just a child! She shouldn’t be drinking wine.”

“I would like to remind you all that marriageable age is fourteen, and people drink long before that. Well, nobles do. As such I see no reason why she couldn’t drink it.”

Silvy had never tasted wine before. Food was already hard to come by in the slums; delicacies such as alcohol were rare. She took the cup, curious: a quick sniff made her change mind.

The smell was acrid and strong, not sweet at all, which made Silvy wrinkle her nose. The group was laughing at her reaction, amused.

“Should have imagined; come, no need to force you.”

Eiram took the cup back and took a good sip, enjoying it.

Silvy didn’t want to continue eating this tasteless food, but she didn’t want to ruin the festive mood either. So, she ate as fast as she could and drank a few cups of water to rehydrate. And at the end of dinner, Eiram asked her the previous question again.

“So, kid. What do you say? Care to join our little group? Jekhum can’t teach you anymore, and field experience is the best experience. Don’t worry: we won’t make you fight a dragon to start with!”