You’ll get punished if you keep stealing cups from the dining hall, Nil sighed. Remember, it’s not about skill level, but the knowledge how to use spells adequately.

Ignoring him, Dallion drew a space symbol on the side of the cup. Based on everything he knew that was supposed to make the cup larger. Instead, it just made it heavier. The logic of that anomaly evaded him. By all accounts weight was supposed to have such an effect, yet there was no denying that the cup had become heavier.

“What am I getting wrong?”

Where do I start?

“All the stretched rooms had the space symbol. It has to work.”

If symbols were the be-all of magic, people wouldn’t have bothered to learn spells. Instead of complaining, maybe you should read the potion making book you got into all that trouble to get?

Dallion groaned. Reading wasn’t the problem. Initially, he was even looking forward to it, going through the booklet the moment he got back to his room. It was at that point that confusion hit him like a ton of bricks.

Trying to make sense of what was written was no different from asking a seven-year-old to understand a book about string theory. Some of the words and concepts made sense, most didn’t. After hours of page turning all that Dallion managed to piece together was that potions had nothing in common to what he imagined them to be. For one thing, they were never meant to be consumed.

It was not by accident that the booklet defined them as “liquid spells.” In this world, they were just that: a spell that activated once the potion was poured on its intended target. Sadly, that was all that Dallion was able to make out. Any details regarding how to “dissolve” the magic symbols were either nonexistent or described in such a fashion that Dallion had skipped them altogether. Of all the times he had drawn a symbol in water, only the liquid was affected.

“I think I’ll get some rest.” Dallion left the cup on the floor and went to his bed.

Giving up so soon? Nil criticized.

“Are you offering to help?”

The echo didn’t reply.

“Didn’t think so.”

I can teach you, the strings of the harpsisword vibrated.

“Huh?” Dallion paused. “You could?”

Galatea is the patron Moon of nymphs, of course I’d know magic. And now that you do too, I can teach you.

“How come you’ve never told me?”

There never was the need.

She didn’t say that she and Dallion weren’t talking as much as before, but also she didn’t have to. The times Dallion had gone to her for advice had gotten fewer and fewer throughout the years. Most of the conversations took part in the real world, which although efficient remained impersonal.

Coming? Harp urged.

PERSONAL AWAKENING

Dallion’s realm appeared around him. A thin layer of purple shimmer in the sky like the aurora borealis back on Earth.

YOU ARE LEVEL 77

Body: 50

Mind: 79

Reaction: 61

Perception: 51

Empathy: 50

Magic: 8

A blue rectangle floated in the air, in the space between Dallion’s ever increasing skill pillars. The values were impressive, though just as before not enough. Dallion couldn’t wait till his magic trait got to its fifties.

The skills pillars had also filled out. The size of walls, they now had dozens of frames with an item inside. Each frame represented an individual skill in its field. Lately the spellcraft pillar had acquired a substantial increase, holding over fifty symbols, all named and framed.

“We can build a palace if you want,” Gen said a few steps away. “There’ll be more space for skills.”

Dallion shook his head. He liked being in the open.

“Anything new with July?” he asked.

“Same as before. Lux is spending more time with him. It seems to help a bit, but not much.”

“Yeah. A bit but not much.” This was why Dallion didn’t like visiting his real without a reason: it brought back memories he wished to avoid. “I’m off to train. Tell me if anything changes.”

“Right.”

The trip to the bay used to be a pleasant experience. It was designed to have the best elements of an island paradise, complete with fine sand, crystal waters, and lush vegetation. Dallion ignored it all. When he reached the water, he found Onda waiting for him. There was no denying that the guardian was among those feeling neglected. Unlike Harp, he hadn’t done anything for months. Dallion had stopped forging lately and after learning the new vibration attack of the harpsisword, the hammer wasn’t particularly used in combat either.

“She told me to take you to her,” the teen nymph teen the moment Dallion got near. He was wearing a new set of clothes covered in glowing stripes and symbols. In the past Dallion used to think that Onda was merely a fan of the clockwork and cyberpunk aesthetic due to his link to forging. Now, though, he noticed that all the symbol designs were magical.

“Thanks, Onda,” he said. “I know the way.”

“We’re not going to her place. To get this right, you need to train in the ocean.”

That made sense, although it still didn’t explain why Harp hadn’t told him or come to take him there herself.

The water hardened as they approached it, forming a path further into the sea.

“When will Dark crash your realm?” Onda asked. “Been ages since we chilled.”

“Not in a while.” Having a dragon fly to the Academy was a terrible idea. “I promise to talk to him, though.”

“Cool.”

“Will you take part in the training?”

“Me?” The nymph laughed. “No way. I’m just a crafter.”

Dallion had his doubts, but let it slide for the moment.

Several miles into the bay, a garden emerged. Grass, trees, and well-kept hedges formed the perfect picnic spot, if only they weren’t made entirely of water. Looking closely Dallion saw the multitude of magic threads within the clear surface. Unlike the large glowing threads he was used to, these were spread out clusters with each no larger than a strand of spiderweb.

“Natural magic is different acquired magic,” the entire garden vibrated in Harp’s voice. “It’s a lot more elegant and allows greater control.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

A water gazebo emerged in the middle of the garden. Harp was standing within. Her hair flowed down all the way to the sea’s surface, glistening like gold. The usual robe of opaque water was replaced by a knee length tunic.

“You’ve learned quite a few symbols.” Harp made a sign for Dallion to join her in the gazebo.

“Less than you.”

“You’ve still made me proud. After what you’ve been through, many would have given up and chosen a life of calm someplace to be forgotten. You pushed on.”

Nothing could create the sensation of guilt like an underserved compliment. Dallion didn’t feel like he had achieved a lot. On the contrary, he felt that all his achievements were obtained through sacrificing his relations with people he knew: family, friends, guardians, familiars, even Euryale…

“How do I make potions?” Dallion asked. “When I tried, I placed the symbol on the liquid, not within it.”

The nymph took a step forward. The entire gazebo disappeared with a splash, returning to its liquid form.

“When you paint on the piece of clothing, do you change its fabric?” the sea surface vibrated, forming the words. “To really change the cloth, you must add multiple threads while making it.”

“I must draw the symbol with water?” Dallion was confused.

“Yes, and no. You must stretch out the symbol while making it. You’ve seen the threads that control water. Draw the symbol doing those. That way, the water would not be affected by the spell, but will contain it. The moment the liquid gets agitated, the symbol will snap back into its original form, affecting anything it’s in contact with.”

Strangely enough, the explanation made sense. It still gave the impression that potions were no different from vials of trinitroglycerin. One false move might set off the spell. Good thing Dallion wasn’t aware of the fact when dealing with the shardflies, or he might have been a lot more nervous.

“That’s it?”

“Those are the basics. There’s a lot more involved, but that’s where the mastery of the mage shines through. We used to make a lot of liquid magic during our wars. For humans, the process isn’t as easy. That’s where skill comes in.”

Dallion looked at the water. Bending down, he scooped some of it. The liquid dripped between his fingers, refusing to be controlled.

“How do I do that?” Dallion asked.

“Before you draw symbols, you need to first learn how to control the water.”

“Isn’t that impossible?”

“It takes a lot of effort and practice, but it isn’t impossible. It’s all about extending your magic into the water. Furies do the same with air, dwarves with ores.”

Release thin strands of magic, Dallion told himself. Presented in such fashion, it didn’t sound too difficult. Concentrating, Dallion focused on extending some magic from the tips of his fingers. The first threads were thin, though nowhere near as thin as they should be. It still felt like squeezing toothpaste out of a tube, only this time Dallion was trying to block part of the opening.

The next time Dallion put more effort into the tip of his fingers. In his mind, he imagined them like an iris he had to close. The result was iffy, creating a thread still dozens of times larger than it was supposed to be.

The following results were no different. All that changed was the effort involved. The more Dallion focused, the more energy went into the tip of his fingers, causing them to go numb. Yet the thinner the thread became, the less magic was able to exit his body.

Gritting his teeth, Dallion kept on trying until, at one point, his magic refused to go beyond his fingertips altogether.

“Damn it!” Dallion hissed, stopping abruptly. His hands and fingers felt as if they’d been through a shredder. Even the calm water wasn’t able to get rid of the pain.

“Rest a little,” Harp said. “There’s no need to rush.”

A chair emerged from the water a step from Dallion. Any other day, he’d appreciate the gesture. Now, part of his mind saw it as her mocking him. In the end, he did sit down, completely relaxing his arms after he did.

“I didn’t know you knew spellcraft,” he said, focusing on the nymph. A white rectangle appeared above her.

HARPSISWORD GUARDIAN

Species: NYMPH

Class: SHADOW

Health: 100%

Traits:

- BODY: 101

- MIND: 78

- REACTION: 120

- PERCEPTION: 97

- MAGIC: 51

Skills:

- ATTACK

- GUARD

- ACROBATICS

- ATHLETICS

- MUSIC

- SPELLCRAFT

- WIND SLASH (Species Unique)

- EMOTION SLASH (Species Unique)

- SOUND ENTANGLE (Species Unique)

- WATER FORM (Species Unique)

Weakness: NONE

There were several changes since the last time he’d looked at it. Some were due to him having increased his perception trait. Yet, there was no reason for the spellcraft skill to be invisible.

“You didn’t have magic before,” Harp said, as if that explained everything.

“So, you were a magic swordsman during the war? Or something similar?”

“Just a swordsman. When everyone is magic, no one is.”

That’s not how things worked, but Dallion nodded.

“So, you weren’t a mage?”

“Mages were a lot different for us. They are just people who are good at nothing else. It’s different from the other races. Even before Galatea hid, acquired magic was a rare gift for the other races. They considered mages exceptional. We saw them as failures. Even those able to cast powerful spells were shunned, if that’s the only thing they were capable of doing.”

“Talk about culture shock.” Dallion shook his hands. The numbness was starting to subside, replaced by the irritating pain of pins and needles. “Can you cast powerful spells?”

“Let the past be the past. You have the future to worry about.”