All of Dallion’s personal echoes were waiting for him in his realm. Two of them—Gen and July—had blotches of concern within their bodies. Ariel, in contrast, had nothing but determination and even slight annoyance. Having the highest echo of all, he was of the opinion that Dallion should constantly keep on persisting until he gained the skills to move on.

“We’ve been urging you for years and a chat with pan gets you to finally do it?” Ariel crossed his arms. “Seems they were right that magic limits people.”

Dallion wasn’t in the mood to argue, but even he was thinking about it. His current standing within the Academy had given him access to many of their resources, including their libraries—not the Learning Hall sections that all the novices got to see, not even the hidden sections within them. Dallion was allowed access to the archmage depository. Reserved exclusively for archmages and their immediate circle, it contained all “controversial” writings and historical descriptions that weren’t flattering to the empire or even the Order of the Seven Moons. More importantly, though, it contained the greatest known collection of old age scrolls. As the most junior member of the Shimmering Circle, Dallion had extremely limited access, but even so, he had glimpsed a thing or two regarding the empathy and magic traits. The general consensus among scholars, past and present, was that both traits could be regarded as polar opposites. Empathy relied on others—or the use of others, according to the more cynical scholars—while magic regarded them as noise that had to be ignored. Was that what Dallion had turned into? It was difficult to say. He valued Harp and even Vihrogon’s opinions, but it was undeniable that Pan had effectively made the decision for him.

“Magic is just a tool,” Dallion said. He had tried to teach his echoes spellcasting, but without the actual trait that did them little good. “We all agree that having a mage echo would be useful.”

“We already have mages here. Nothing will—”

“Do your best,” Gen interrupted. “Just don’t push yourself too much.”

Beside him, July nodded. Only Ariel looked away, arms still crossed. The white-haired echo had always been something of a loner, but he cared as much about the realm as anyone else.

“Don’t worry.” Dallion cast a spell, causing him to rise up in the air. “I no longer do that,” he lied.

It still felt slightly weird flying through the use of magic rather than with Lux. It was more cumbersome and less efficient—not to mention that it made Dallion’s firebird sad—but was a good way to get some free practice. After all, Dallion didn’t have the means to call Lux in the real world.

Three doors remained within the realm, each leading to a trial more difficult than Dallion could handle. It didn’t matter which he chose, so he went to the nearest, located midway up the mountain. A small Roman-style structure was erected there with “1 of 3” carved on the capstone just above the double stone door.

“At least use the proper numerals,” Dallion said beneath his breath. Gen had always had a particular sense of humor. Lately it had been showing more and more in the realm modifications he’d made.

You’re in the halls of destiny.

Defeat your hidden fears and shape your future!

The familiar blue rectangle emerged at the start of the tone tunnel.

Dallion gave it a long look, then walked right through it. As he did, the rectangle shattered to glowing dust, then faded away.

Still levitating an inch from the ground, he summoned his harpsisword, armadil shield, and Nox dagger. Until he knew more about the trial, these would do.

The tunnel continued for another hundred feet, then took a turn to the left. Even before crossing it, Dallion could sense the aroma of fresh plants and flowers, as if he were in a meadow at the start of spring. Surely enough, fifty feet after the turn, he was there.

The room presented to him had the appearance of a wide valley surrounded by mountains with snow-covered peaks. Large meadows were in every direction, abundant with fragrant flowers and the occasional cluster of trees. That was not all, though. Dallion’s magic vision let him see buildings as well. Created entirely of solid purple neon, a five-story tower glowed a few miles away. It was a close copy of the Leaning Tower of Pizza back on Earth only straight and not as high.

“Just great.” Dallion cast a protective bubble around him. This was why he wasn’t inclined to persist with his trials. He was going to fight mages again. “Happy, shield?” Dallion asked, while slowly floated in the direction of the tower.

There was a time when you’d ask me that. A familiar voice sounded in his head.

A figure emerged from the bottom floor of the tower. It was dressed in a glowing purple robe, complete with all symbols of the Academy. The face belonged to Nil, however.

Keeping a calm exterior, Dallion flew forward, stopping fifty feet from the tower. This distance was more than enough for them to see and hear each other. Anything closer was risky when it came to spellcasting.

“Ceremonial archmage outfit?” Nil asked, admiring his clothes. “I’m quite flattered you have such a high opinion of me, dear boy. The way you’ve been hunting me down, I’d have thought I'd be wearing rags, like a proper fugitive scoundrel.”

“I should have guessed it would be you,” Dallion cast a spell on the armadil shield. The item moved off his left arm, floating nearby just within the confines of the protective sphere.

“Well, I have become your greatest fear, haven’t I?” The old echo didn’t seem particularly worried, not bothering to cast a single spell.

“One of them.”

“The most immediate one, it seems. To be honest, I’m surprised. I’d have thought that the Azuge Federation would be higher on the list. If you’d focused as much on them as on me, you might have won this war.”

“Ha.”

“Well, alright. I was just being nice. Still, given the role of the new mage legion, I’d have fought they’d do a lot more. But I guess it takes time to teach a pampered sod to fight. Being a mage was always associated with comfort. Sure, some were more comfortable than others, but mages never fell so low as to actually fight. Not in person, anyway.”

While Nil was talking, Dallion considered attack strategies. In his mind, the former archmage had the ability to cast any sort of spell. The only thing he wasn’t good at was combat splitting. That was one of the things Dallion had confirmed after all the time at the Academy: with the exception of magic, mages were hilariously bad at anything else.

“Going for the brute force approach, I see?” Nil let out a slight sigh. “I would have thought you’d opt for something a bit more sophisticated.”

“Anything that gives me an advantage. You’re the one who said that.”

“I guess that’s true.” The echo paused. “Well, what are you waiting for? You’re not considering you could reason with me, are you? Not after everything that’s happened.”

“Maybe I’ll just ask Harp to finish you off. You know she can do that.”

“True or not, you believe it, so I’m stuck with it. Unfortunately for you, guardians cannot complete trials for their owners. Not when you’re Moon-cursed in any event.”

Dallion burst into a hundred instances. All of them surrounded Nil, maintaining their distance, then cast every combat spell Dallion was capable of making. Rays of energy, aether projectiles, and even reality distorting spells poured upon Nil from everywhere.

Normally, a mage would react by casting protective barriers, going on the offensive, or simply evading the incoming attacks. Nil didn’t do either. He simply remained where he was, patiently waiting for the spells to pass through.

Not backing down, Dallion went on for a second round, then a third, a fourth. The results were the same.

“Impressive,” Nil said, looking at the destruction on the patch of ground surrounding him. “Or it would have been if you had executed the spells adequately. Sloppy technique leads to sloppy results. I see you’re following the Katka school of spellcasting: fast and sloppy all the way. Keep in mind that such an approach only works until it doesn’t.”

There was no point in continuing. Dallion let all his extra instances fade away. As they did, the spell effects also vanished.

“No counterattack?” he asked, pondering his next move.

“You know the drill: it’s not my goal to defeat you, it’s you who must defeat me.”

“And before that, I must find the proper question of the trial,” Dallion added.

“See? You’re not completely hopeless after all. Only took you a hundred levels.”

“I’m seventy-seven.” Dallion frowned.

“With a magic of twenty-three.”

Nil snapped his fingers. The sun above the trial area exploded like a large firecracker, bringing for an instant night. That was the magic of legend—magic that a true archmage was capable of.

“You know you can’t defeat me,” Nil said. “True or false, it’s in your mind and as long as you believe it, it’ll hold true.”

Dallion wanted to say it wouldn’t be the first time he had defeated someone he perceived to be stronger. In this case, though, he could force himself to say it.

“Yes, that’s the issue of gaining magic. You might think you’re better off by being so close to the big eighty. The truth is, it’s all the more difficult. You’ve learned too much. That’s why you’ve been so slow hunting me.”

“I’ll get faster.”

“No, you won’t.” Nil pointed at him. “And you want to know why? Because you’re still terrified that I might turn out far stronger than you and your pretend battle mages can deal with.”

A single Moon emerged in the sky—the Purple Moon. In its light, the aether tower seemed taller than before.

“You really want to find me, probably more than anything else.” Nil smiled. “Not because Alien told you, not even because of the war. The thing you want is answers. At the same time, you’re terrified that I might give them to you.”

“That’s the trial echo speaking.” Dallion dismissed the notion. “If that was my fear, you would have attacked by now, showing me that I didn’t have what it takes to bring you down.”

The grass in the fields rustled as both looked at each other, not saying a word. Finally, after a full minute, Nil started clapping.

“Quite astute observation,” the echo said. “You’re right. That’s not your greatest fear right now. Of course, that doesn’t mean you’ve solved the trial. Still, the Moons have decided to give you a chance.”

That’ll be the day, Dallion thought.

“And since you opened the door for exceptions until you complete this trial, you’ll have no other,” Nil continued. “No matter which entrance you pick, you’ll still end up here. In fact, all the doors of your realm are simultaneously connected to this valley.”

“I guess Gen will be pissed.”

“Using humor to lighten the mood? No, you’re using music to boost yourself. Wonderful thinking.”

Nil ended his clapping with one final slam, causing all stars to disappear from the sky.

“There’s your trial,” he pointed at the tower. “It’s similar to the vortexes that are about to appear in the real world.”

“Vortexes?” The crimson fury had given them the location and approximate time of one, though that didn’t mean there would be more.

“Think of them as real-life sphere items,” Nil ignored the question. “Each floor will grant you access to the next. Like layers of an onion, you must peel through until you get to the heart and absorb it. And just like with onions, there will be a lot of pain and crying.”

Dallion looked at the tower again.

“Five floors. Does that mean I get five magic levels?” he asked.

“If it were real. Since this is a trial, you’ll have to settle with one awakening level. Oh, and of course, your magic will decrease as a result.”

There was that. The reason still eluded Dallion, but it was all but confirmed that increasing awakening levels decreased the value of one’s magic trait.

“Not there, dear boy,” Nil said.

“What?” Dallion looked at the echo, confused.

“You’re looking at the entrance. With this type of vortex, you start from above.”