Chapter 12

Asmodeas sat back in his chair, exhausted, as the concentrated sphere of mana he was holding between his hands finally slipped his control. A flicker of irritation passed through him as he looked towards where Dorian sat at the front of the classroom. He was humming a tune to himself, flicking through the pages of some book. It looked like it was heavily illustrated. They were halfway through another class, and the man had barely uttered more than a few words to his students, telling them only to continue practising his mana condensing before settling into his chair and beginning to read.

The merit of the exercise as a training tool was now evident to Az, but it could be practised in his own time. He didn’t understand why the older mage insisted on spending class time doing nothing but that single exercise; surely there was more that he could teach them that was of more immediate use? He was beginning to suspect that Dorian was just happy to spend the time he was required to spend teaching engrossed in a book rather than having to actually do anything.

Enough was enough, Az decided. He really had nothing to lose by trying. “Dorian?” He asked in what he hoped was a tone that hid his frustration.

The man glanced up from his book, raising an eyebrow, a familiar grin appearing on his face, “Yes, my dear student?”

Az noticed that the other two students had stopped their practice and were now observing his interaction with Dorian with undisguised interest. He chose his next words carefully, and spoke as evenly as he could manage, “Dorian, sir, I thank you for instructing us in this exercise; already I have begun to see its benefits and will continue to practise it as part of my daily regime. That said, I can not help but think that perhaps it is not the best use of our class time to focus exclusively on this single exercise. All I mean by that, revered teacher, is that I am only too eager to learn anything that you may impart upon us. You have my word that I am committed to honing my abilities through the regular practise of the sacred exercise you have allowed us to learn. With that made clear, I implore you, sir, to please instruct us in additional exercises or training tools that we may use to enhance our power.”

Dorian’s smile only grew wider as Az spoke, his eyes alight with laughter. The other two students looked significantly less impressed with Az’s meandering speech. Likely, they thought he was trying to ingratiate himself with the older mage. The truth was that Az suspected Dorian would only respond to a request that was delivered in a fashion as grandiose as Dorian himself addressed his pupils. And from Dorian’s visible response, it seemed that he was right.

The man stroked his chin thoughtfully, nodding his head as he surveyed his class, “I understand, my dear student. No one understands better than I the undying flame that is one’s passion for knowledge and power. Unfortunately, the fact of the matter is that without significant practice in the mana controlling exercise I have deigned to share with you all, you are simply not capable of performing any worthwhile spellform-free magic.

“So, student number one, while I applaud your courage in publicly questioning my instruction, I am afraid that the only course of action is for you all to continue as you have been, for the time being. Do not lose hope, my dear disciples; the path to power is long, but you have begun to take your first steps, steps that under my guidance shall grow into strides.”

He was a smooth talker, Asmodeas had to admit. But he was not ready to give up in his attempt to get something worthwhile out of the man. “Of course, Dorian. I am all too aware of my own limitations; in fact, that is why I am so eager to learn all I can from such a powerful mage as yourself.

“In fact, I have been reading recently about the various methods of protecting one’s self from hostile mind magic, such as telepathy, mind-control or illusion magic. The various techniques essential to protecting the sanctity of one’s mind seem to be numerous and quite difficult in execution; so immediately my mind went to you, sir. I can think of no one else that would be able to provide me with the insight necessary to sift through the multitude of defenses available and find the right one for me.”

Az bowed his head in respect to his teacher, trying to keep a grin off his face as he did so, “Please, Dorian. Show me the way forward.” A pretty impressive performance, if Az did say so himself. Now it was time to see how Dorian would react. Would he take the bait or was it truly laziness that drove him?

For once, Dorian seemed somewhat taken aback. Asmodeas glanced up to see him tapping the fingers of one hand against the side of his face thoughtfully. He looked down on the seated student and Az got that same impression that the man was considering him most carefully, weighing all that he had said and considering his response with the utmost consideration.

Finally, after a long moment, the man responded, his smile returning to life, “Quite a rousing speech my dear boy; truly, I am moved. To see such dedication and passion for learning in the young generation… why, it’s nearly enough to bring a tear to my eye.” With that said, he actually wiped at his eyes, though Az was reasonably sure that it was just a theatrical gesture. Reasonably sure. Dorian spread his arms out wide and proclaimed in a booming voice, “Very well! Let it not be said that I am indifferent to the desires of my disciples. Attend me, my children, and I shall teach you how to make a fortress of your mind, a true bastion against those who would seek to defile the sanctity of your most sacred thoughts!”

At that, Az allowed himself a small smile of triumph. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the boy with the fixation on lightning look on with an expression of visible awe, while the other girl remaining in the class rolled her eyes. A small victory, to be sure, but at least now they might actually learn something new.

Without further theatrics, Dorian began to explain the basics of mind magic, and how to defend against it. It seemed Az had - by pure coincidence - chosen a field of magic that “free” spellcasting was actually incredibly well suited to.

“Of course, the difficulty with relying on spellforms to provide the entirety of your mental defenses is that an enemy mage will not often be so polite as to inform you that they intend to attack your mind. That leaves you with either having to devote a portion of your total mana reserves to constantly maintaining a spell that shields your mind from attack, attempting to predict when a mental attack will be launched and casting a spell in a reactionary fashion, or hoping you can cast quick enough once you feel the invasion of your mind begin. Such is the folly of most mages.

“Let me tell you, it is quite difficult to gather coherent thoughts and react accordingly when you feel your mind being ransacked by a foe. To be confident in the notion that you could rally your soul to cast a complex spellform in such a situation is simply arrogance. If you like, we could take some time now for you all to experience the sensation of your mind being infiltrated?” The mage paused for a moment expectantly, though silence was his only response. “No? There would be no permanent damage or trauma, it really is quite safe. No takers? Very well, moving on then..”

Dorian turned his head to squint at Az suspiciously, “As the young Asmodeas quite correctly stated, there are a multitude of defenses a mage can employ in the protection of their mind. However, the only one of any real worth is that employed without the aid of spellforms. How fortunate, then, that he chose to ask me about it. Quite a stroke of luck.”

Az felt his suspicion was rather unwarranted; it truly was dumb luck that Dorian was the best suited of his teachers to address this subject. Well, that was assuming the man was speaking truly and not simply grand-standing as usual. He had just manipulated Dorian into actually teaching the class, but, still, Az could not help but feel persecuted.

“Hmm, well, I am never one to deny an earnest request for instruction. Now, I can hear the little cogs in your mind turning; Dorian, you say, didn’t you just say that it was impossible to react accordingly under a mental attack, so how does free spellcasting provide the best defence?

“Quite an apt observation, my three proteges; it is true that a normal mage can not bring their will to bear in response to a mental attack, but you will not be normal mages once I am through with you. Through the honing of one’s will through exercises such as our most sacred mana compressing technique, a mage can repel a mental intrusion with only an exertion of effort and willpower! Truly, it is elementary for one possessing a will of pure iron!”

A feeling of pure, unfiltered dread rose up within Az’s stomach. He had a horrible feeling as to where this lecture was going next..

Dorian continued with a beaming grin, “So, now you know! All that is needed to ensure the safety of your most private and degenerate thoughts is a will that has been tempered through years of training and the mana to match! My personal favorite method for such refinement of one’s willpower is none other than what you have all been practising. Now, with that little aside into the sordid world of mind magic at an end, go forth with a renewal of motivation and faith in your dear teacher and let’s see some spheres of mana between hands; I want to see brows furrowed in concentration, nexus’s draining, spheres compressing! Go, go, go!”

Lightning boy immediately settled into a training position, hands before him, mana already filling the intervening space. Dorian shouted “Excellent!”, his finger stabbing towards the boy. Az shared a look of defeat with the female student, and with a heavy sigh, he too began to practise. He had barely begun when Dorian’s voice broke his concentration, “Thank you for that opportunity to provide further instruction. Truly, it is gratifying to have been blessed with such eager students.” He turned to stare at the man, searching for some sign of mockery. All he saw was that annoying grin, and a look of the utmost sincerity. Asmodeas was beginning to hate him.