Chapter 16 - Mana

Leon took his seat in the vast lecture hall, joining the low murmur of students settling in. The room was filled with rows upon rows of black-uniformed Spellcrafters, their numbers vastly outstripping the few students in white—the Evokers, himself included. The stark contrast was a reminder of his path’s rarity, and Leon couldn’t help but feel the weight of his uniform.

At the front of the hall, Master Edran, tall and silver-haired, had an intense gaze that held the room’s attention with ease. A single, diagonal scar ran across his left eyebrow and down to his cheek, a stark reminder of some past battle, adding to his commanding presence. His eyes, a piercing shade of blue, scanned the room with practised focus.

“Welcome to Foundations of Mana,” he began, his voice calm but commanding, filling every corner of the hall. “I am Master Edran. Today, we begin our study of mana—the very essence of reality.”

Leon sat up straighter. He’d known, in a general sense, that mana was the source of an Evoker’s abilities. But here, at the Academy, he would finally learn what that truly meant.

“Mana,” Master Edran continued, “is the fundamental essence of our world. It flows invisibly throughout creation, permeating every living thing and every corner of existence. These flows converge in certain places, called Nexuses. The Academy itself is built near such a Nexus, giving us a rich source of mana to study and draw upon.”

A shiver ran through Leon as he absorbed this. Mana wasn’t just fuel for magic; it was a hidden current shaping everything around him.

Master Edran paused, letting his gaze sweep across the students. “Nexuses,” he explained, “are more than mere sources of energy. For those trained to use mana, they allow faster regeneration. Nexuses also enable the recharging of Tears—the blue crystals you’ll encounter in your studies.”

He reached into a pouch at his belt and produced a clear blue gemstone. “This,” he said, holding it up, “is a Tear of the Goddess, or simply a Tear. Found near Nexuses, these stones can store mana. The clearer the Tear, the greater its capacity.”

The hall was silent as Master Edran slotted the Tear into the top of his staff. Immediately, the engravings along the wood lit up, a web of symbols glowing with soft blue light as mana flowed through them. The light grew stronger, and then a shimmering silhouette of a human appeared, projected from the top of the staff.

Master Edran continued, casting his gaze across the room. “Spellcrafters hold a vital place in the Empire, for their mastery lies in crafting lasting works of magic. They cannot wield raw mana directly as an Evoker does, but they are unparalleled in their control over precise and refined magical constructs.”

He gestured to the glowing silhouette projected from the Tear in his staff. “Spellcraft relies on the careful design of mana circuitry and the application of intricate runes to achieve desired effects. Through these circuits and runes, Spellcrafters harness the mana within Tears, creating objects imbued with lasting magical effects. For instance, a reinforced shield or a self-repairing tool. These circuits provide a channel for mana to flow through and manifest specific, controlled results.”

The students watched as he traced a finger over the blue-lit symbols etched along the staff’s length. “Each rune is a fragment of a greater concept, a small piece of magic that can be activated in sequence or in harmony with other runes. Though these runes may seem humble, they allow Spellcrafters to produce what we call Spellcraft—an art of magic grounded in careful planning, exact knowledge, and craftsmanship. While each rune holds a single purpose, combined, they create far more complex and intricate spells.”

Leon found himself fascinated by the idea that such detailed and meticulous work went into every piece of Spellcraft. It was a method of magic so different from the raw, direct approach of Evokers. Spellcrafters might lack the ability to tap into mana themselves, but they could create wonders of precision and endurance.

Master Edran’s voice lowered, a note of respect colouring his tone. “Unlike an Evoker, whose power is internal, a Spellcrafter’s power is in their skill. They bring ideas to life with a steady hand, a trained eye, and a patient mind. While an Evoker’s magic is transient, lasting only as long as their mana or will, a Spellcrafter’s creation can endure, passed from one person to another, spanning generations if maintained well.”

His gaze shifted, indicating the contrast between the groups of white and black-clad students. “Whereas Evokers bend mana to their immediate will, Spellcrafters refine it into tools and instruments for others to use. A lantern that lights without oil, a weapon that cleaves through the toughest of materials, a charm that preserves food from spoilage—these are only possible because of the Spellcrafter’s craft. They may never cast a spell in the conventional sense, but their work allows magic to become part of daily life for even the most common citizen.”

Satisfied, he straightened and turned to the white-uniformed Evokers. “But an Evoker’s path differs entirely. You do not rely on Tears, runes, or circuits to wield mana. An Evoker can channel and shape raw mana directly, using nothing but their will.”

Leon felt a flicker of excitement. This was the crux of what set Evokers apart. They didn’t just use magic; they were magic.

Master Edran’s tone grew serious. “Evokers progress in their mastery through stages known as Circles. In ancient times, these stages were simply referred to as milestones or thresholds.”

He tapped his staff on the floor, and the silhouette brightened. “The first stage of an Evoker’s journey is known as the Awakening. Around age eleven, mana builds up in a young Evoker’s body, activating their innate power, or Aspect—the unique ability housed within each Evoker’s soul. For Chosen, the rarest of Evokers, this power manifests as a Mote, a dominion over entire concepts, far beyond the scope of ordinary Aspects.”

Leon’s mind jumped to Caelus, the Chosen Evoker he’d met not long ago. Hearing the words again, the weight of the Mote’s power felt even more real. Chosen weren’t just powerful; they were on a different level entirely.

Master Edran tapped his staff again, and blue particles surrounded the silhouette, which glowed brighter, then erupted in a flash of light. Leon winced, his eyes stinging, and when his vision cleared, the silhouette had a stable blue aura.

“In ancient times,” Master Edran continued, “progressing beyond Awakening required years of intense training. An Evoker would need to strengthen their connection to mana slowly and continuously, through constant practice.”

He tapped the staff a third time, and an intricate, glowing circle appeared around the silhouette’s heart. “However, the invention of the Mana Circle Ritual changed everything. This mana construct, formed around the heart, serves as a reservoir for raw mana. The Circle also infuses an Evoker’s body with a continuous, low-level stream of mana, simulating the effect of constant training.”

Leon leaned forward, his mind racing. He’d heard of the Circle ritual, of course, but he hadn’t realised it was meant to mimic the arduous training of ancient Evokers.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“When an Evoker performs the Circle Ritual, they forge the first Circle, marking their official progression beyond Awakening. Each time they reach a new stage of mana mastery, they undergo another ritual to expand their Circle, creating additional layers that amplify their mana infusion.”

As he spoke, a second, larger circle appeared around the first on the silhouette, and the flow of blue particles intensified. “Each Circle expands an Evoker’s control over mana. After Awakening, most Evokers can only manipulate their Aspect. At the First Circle, however, they gain the ability to influence themselves directly—strengthening their skin, enhancing their senses, or even amplifying their physical abilities.”

A murmur ran through the hall. Some Spellcrafters looked on with awe, and Leon noticed a few envious glances cast his way. He felt his pulse quicken. The idea of advancing to First Circle and enhancing himself seemed almost surreal.

“To perform an Evocation,” Master Edran continued, “an Evoker must draw on their raw mana and attune to a Sigil—the representation of a broad concept such as Healing, Enhancement, or Elemental. An Evoker’s understanding of the Sigil directly influences the precision and control of their evocation.”

He paused, letting the weight of this idea sink in. “For example, if you evoke the Sigil of Healing with only a basic understanding of anatomy, you might close a wound. But if you understand the underlying principles—how muscles repair, how blood clots—your healing will be far more effective.”

Master Edran’s gaze sharpened. “Remember, your knowledge shapes your evocations. Attempting complex evocations with incomplete understanding can lead to… unintended results.”

Leon felt a mix of anticipation and trepidation. Mastery wasn’t just about strength or power; it was about knowledge. To wield mana effectively, he would need to study and understand every detail of what he wanted to accomplish.

Master Edran surveyed the room, his tone turning solemn. “While both paths—Spellcrafter and Evoker—are vital to the Empire, Evokers bear a unique responsibility. Only Evokers can channel raw mana into a rift to close it, and thus only Evokers can seal the demonic rifts that threaten our lands.”

A ripple of unease passed through the hall, and Leon felt his chest tighten. He had heard of the rifts, but hearing it stated so plainly made it feel real. Evokers weren’t simply wielders of magic; they were protectors standing between the Empire and a relentless, otherworldly threat.

With a final look across the gathered students, Master Edran concluded. “In a few moments, you will each receive a booklet detailing your schedule for the term. Spellcrafters, your studies will focus on mana circuitry and Tear-based spellcraft. Evokers, you will study Sigils and prepare for the Circle Ritual.”

As the students rose and gathered their belongings, Leon felt the weight of the lecture pressing down on him. This wasn’t just an education; it was a calling. And as he joined the crowd heading out of the hall, he glanced down at his white uniform, feeling the immense responsibility—and privilege—of his role.

For the first time, he fully understood: he was training to be more than just a wielder of mana. He was training to be the Empire’s defender against forces that no one else could face. And that, he realised, was a duty he would do everything in his power to fulfil.

----------------------------------------

Leon made his way across the courtyard, following the solitary specks of white-attired Evokers who, like him, had just come from the introductory lecture. The academy grounds felt expansive yet intimate, with carefully arranged paths winding through gardens and toward the training grounds. As they reached the open space, the small group of white-uniformed students paused, exchanging glances.

Cyrus’s presence caught Leon’s attention first—he had grown taller and broader, his stance exuding the confidence of someone who had spent the last few years sharpening his skills. His gaze flicked to Leon briefly, a hint of challenge still simmering from their last duel. Leon felt a familiar stir of rivalry, though he couldn’t deny a hint of admiration for Cyrus's growth.

The group turned as Leon approached, and he recognized Sena Valen from Marianne’s notes. Her platinum hair was stark against her fair skin, and her blue eyes held a cold, assessing gleam, as though she was already weighing the strengths and weaknesses of those around her. She stepped forward with impeccable posture, and her voice, clear and composed, seemed to match her manner exactly.

“Since we’re all here, it’s probably best we introduce ourselves,” she said crisply, her tone leaving little room for dissent. “I’m Sena Valen,” she added, then hesitated for the briefest moment. “My Aspect has… unusual effects. I’d rather keep it brief.”

Leon recalled Marianne’s description of Sena’s power causing periodic deafness and realised the discomfort it likely brought her, making her reluctance understandable. Her stance was guarded, as though already bracing herself for unwelcome scrutiny.

Next, Cyrus gave a nod, his face a bit more reserved as he regarded Leon. His tone was controlled, his voice carrying the faint edge of someone who knew his strengths but kept them restrained. “Cyrus Corwell. My Aspect is The Flameheart,” he said. “The longer I’m in motion, the more power I can draw on. Strength, endurance… things like that.” His explanation was minimal, with none of his usual bravado; the words hung between them with a kind of residual tension from their last duel. Leon returned his nod, feeling that their rivalry hadn’t fully cooled.

Then a slight figure with silvery hair that seemed almost ethereal stepped forward. His features were soft, his expression half-curious, half-wry, as if already sizing everyone up from a quiet distance. He offered a faint, lopsided smile, introducing himself with a tone of dry humour. “I’m Zeph,” he said, his gaze calm and watchful. “My Aspect is The Unseen. Makes me… easy to overlook, in a sense. People’s eyes just tend to slide off me.”

Leon found Zeph’s presence intriguing. There was an air of mystery about him, and something told Leon that Zeph didn’t mind being underestimated—in fact, he probably preferred it that way. His understated charm was as elusive as his Aspect, creating a curious allure that made Leon wonder what other surprises he hid behind that easygoing manner.

Next, a girl with an otherworldly calm about her stepped forward, her movements measured and serene. Her eyes were a strikingly pale blue, reflecting an inner depth that spoke of distant realms. She gave a soft nod, her voice a gentle melody.

“I’m Sibyl,” she said, her tone as placid as her expression. “My Aspect is The Farseer. I get… glimpses of possible futures in my dreams.” She offered a slight, enigmatic smile. “It’s less clear than it sounds.”

There was a timeless quality to her, an aura that made Leon feel as though she were somehow both present and yet slightly removed. Her words, though calm, hinted at a vast unknown, and Leon felt a strange reassurance in her presence—almost as if she belonged to a world apart from everyone else.

Then, a boy with dark brown hair and broad shoulders stepped up. His hands were rough, and his frame spoke of hard, physical work—yet his expression was friendly and open, a grounding presence among the group’s mix of intense personalities.

“Kade here. My Aspect is The Artisan,” he said with a faint grin. “I pick things up quick—crafts, arts, skills—pretty much anything that takes a bit of practice.”

He had a kind, straightforward quality that made Leon immediately feel at ease. Kade’s smile seemed to say that he had no grand airs or hidden agendas, just a natural curiosity and a willingness to learn whatever the world put in his path. He nodded at Leon, as though already extending an unspoken invitation to friendship.

Finally, a girl with neatly tied dark hair and a lively, inquisitive expression stepped forward with confidence. Her stance was poised but not arrogant, her eyes scanning the group as though already cataloguing their personalities.

“I’m Elise,” she said brightly, her voice clear and articulate. “My Aspect is The Ambassador. I can understand and speak any language I encounter—both written and spoken.”

Her words were measured, confident without being overly formal, and she had a way of commanding attention that seemed almost effortless. Leon found himself admiring her poise. Her ability seemed vastly different from the others, but it had a certain diplomatic elegance, adding a feeling of openness to the group dynamic.

Realising it was his turn, Leon took a step forward, glancing around at the group, who looked on expectantly. “Leon,” he began, hesitating a moment as he searched for the right words. “I don’t have an official name for my Aspect yet. But it seems to deal with… memories.” He gave a faint, almost apologetic smile, unsure of how else to describe it.

There was a pause, each of them absorbing the brief introductions. Leon sensed a mixture of curiosity, competition, and perhaps even a hint of camaraderie among the group. Before anyone could respond, the sound of heavy footsteps approaching cut through the air, and the students straightened instinctively, anticipation tightening in the air as their instructor arrived.