Fallen Mage Regressor

Mal stopped in front of the Spellcasting and Spell Theory Department.

The last time he'd been here, nearly him and two other people had been brutally murdered by a demon. It was only through massive amounts of luck and every ounce of effort that they managed to survive the encounter.

Both Philo and Rolam had the same expression of vague discomfort as they stared at the door.

"They got rid of its remains, right?" Rolam asked. "And they definitely cleaned up the classroom, too. I mean, there's no way they couldn't have."

"If Philo sees demon blood still on the wall, Philo believes that he's going to hurl."

Mal stepped forward and stopped in front of the door. Ever the dutiful maid, Lusia trailed behind him, textbooks in hand.

He looked back. "Are you guys coming?"

Rolam slapped his cheeks with his hands. "For honor!"

Philo crept forward, one halting step at a time.

"Philo needs to get to class, otherwise he'll get penalties on his grades."

Not the greatest motivation in the world, but Mal could accept it.

Nima walked past the other two and gave them an odd look as he passed.

The five entered in the hall. By that point, Philo and Rolam had managed to shake off the fear, though Philo seemed extremely jumpy when they passed by the classroom where they'd had the fight.

Not that Mal could blame him. Even Mal had been spooked by how close the whole thing had been.

But there was no point in dwelling on it.

They stopped in front of the assigned classroom and opened it up.

Twenty heads turned and pivoted toward him.

On the outside, he remained stoic. Internally, his mind was racing to attempt to figure the strange behavior.

Why were they all looking at him?

He trudged his way to an empty seat, each step feeling like he had lead weights attached to his ankles.

"He was in the clinic for days—"

"So it's true then, they really did fight a demon!"

"Come on, that's just rumors."

"Do you think he actually fought it?"

"I mean, supposedly he did help take down the Tungstenbird."

"Everybody knows that it was the other two on his team. He was just there."

"Still, he had to have been involved, otherwise how was he so injured?"

Mal grinded his teeth together. Did any of these loudmouth idiots realize that he could hear everything they were saying?

He scooted his seat out and the leg screeched against the floor. Lusia laid down the appropriate textbook on his desk, bowed, then exited out. Philo and Rolam sat next to each other, then glared at the other like the other had purposefully manufactured this situation. Nima took the seat next to Mal, a shudder in his steps.

"They're all staring at you guys," Nima leaned in. "I think that somebody must have seen us being taken out of the building, then put the pieces together."

"Shouldn't everybody have been inside of Central Hall?" Mal muttered.

"You guys weren't."

Fair point.

Igna glanced in their direction from her books.

"Mr. Patoal. You're late."

As is Philo and Rolam, but I don't see you talking to them.

"Apologies, Professor," Mal said. "It won't happen again."

"See that it does not. Given your... situation, you need all the teaching you can get."

A small sneer lifted on her lips and she pointedly looked at his chest—where his core would have been. You know, if he had a core and hadn't blown it to smithereens in a desperate attempt for more power.

I'm not even an F-grade core anymore. I'm a non-existent core. I think she would go apoplectic if she knew.

"Today, we're going to be discussing the basics of runecraft—or as some prefer to call it, physical wizardry. Never mind that all wizardry is physical in nature, because mana is at least somewhat physical," she sighed. "The first thing you need to learn, students, is that wizards are notoriously awful at naming things."

As evidence by the fact that there were spells named push and pull respectively. Man, whoever came up with those names really had to reach, didn't they?

An hour passed and Mal found himself barely paying attention to the class. It was more of a primer and introduction to the idea of runes and some of their potential applications. Igna explained how runes drew from either the atmosphere or dedicated mana crystals, then explained how we'd already learned two runes—the push and the pull rune. She then had the students do an exercise where they wrote out the runes on paper and activated a mana absorbing catalyst to get it to be able to function on its own.

Multiple pieces of paper were ejected into the sky or into students' faces.

Good times.

Mal went through the motions more or less unconsciously.

His castle had been covered in personal runes of his own design. Hellishly complicated and ridiculously powerful.

So, yeah, he really didn't have much to learn from this particular class.

When it ended, the students began filing out. Mal picked up his textbook and stood up from the desk.

"Mr. Patoal. Please stay for a moment?"

There was a funny gleam in Igna's eyes. Mal found himself grimacing. He couldn't very well deny her—that would be a fast track to a suspension or worse.

"Of course, Professor," he said.

The rest of the students left. Nima had shot him a glance of concern, but eventually left when Igna shot him a glare.

"So, Mr. Patoal. It seems you've become quite the talk of campus—you and your entire circle."

"I hadn't noticed," Mal said.

"Oh, a comedian, are we?"

Igna smiled, each of her teeth exposed like a predator about to devour a small animal. "I would recommend you take this seriously, Mr. Patoal."

"What exactly am I here for, Professor?"

Mal had things to do. Like garden.

Yes, Mal's life was extremely exciting when he wasn't fighting demons or conquering the world. This is what's become of him.

"You see," she said. "There's been a rumor spreading—fueled in part by your untimely visit to the clinic—that you were spotted having a personal dinner with Princess Savaly."

Mal's breath hitched. The glimmer in Igna's eyes sharpened.

"You were. It wasn't just a rumor."

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about—"

"Quiet."

Mal's lips shut and drew tight across his face.

"I don't know what an F-grade core is doing around the Princess of Chama, and I don't particularly care. Either way, it would cause trouble with a number of different factions if you remain in association with her."

"What are you talking about? What factions? And anyway, it's not like I'm doing it on purpose. She started it—"

"It doesn't matter," she scoffed. "You barnyard nobles really have no idea of how the real world works. People like you don't talk to her. You don't even breathe her air. If it were to get out of this school and confirmed to be true, everyone involved would have a... difficult time."

"Is this supposed to be a warning?"

"It's a command. Leave her alone. Stay in your lane."

Mal tilted his head. "Will that be all?"

She waved him off. "Yes. Now get out. I don't want to have to look at your face any longer."

Mal stepped outside and shut the door behind him.

What a lovely woman, he thought. I'm sure that she's the most beloved teacher in the entire school with an attitude like that.

Truth be told, Mal didn't really want to associate with Savaly either. The main reason he'd gone to that luncheon with her was because he absolutely had to. He'd needed information, and she was the only one he could think of to provide it on such short notice.

If he could leave her well enough alone, then that would work just fine for him.

It's not like I'll come across her again anytime soon.

He walked toward the exit of the spellcasting department building.

A shadow crossed in front of him.

A student bowed his head. "The Lady Savaly would like to invite you to a formal luncheon with a few of her allies and the honorable Hypode."

Mal stared at the student.

Screw my life, he thought.

"This cooked quail truly is delightful, isn't it, Mal?"

Mal’s lips were locked up into a tight grimace. He looked over at Hypode across the table, and for the first time a shared understanding passed between the two of them.

Like the last time Mal had met with Savaly, he’d been invited to some ridiculous restaurant dug into the side of the Exodi mountain. From here, Mal could see every single person as nothing more than dots in the distance. The airships went from location to location—the backbone of modern logistics.

"Malfrasius?"

Her graceful, smooth voice were as sharp as knives.

Mal jerked up in his seat.

"Yeah, it's delicious," he said.

"Yes, that's why you haven't taken a single bite." she said.

Mal looked down at his plate and tried to muster up the will to be hungry.

Nope, too awkward and too nervous.

Mal wished so badly that he’d broken his knees on the way here so that he could have a valid excuse. . . And that was the only way he was getting out of this, by the way.

Rejecting a direct invitation from the Princess of Chama? He knew what Igna had said, but the only way that would have gone down is with his head on a pike. Which Igna probably would have been fine with, come to think of it.

Hypode coughed into his fist.

"Lady Savaly, I would once more like to reiterate the opportunity for an alliance. I represent the noble houses, you represent the monarchy. With the two of us combined—"

"You're such a bore, Hypode. I remember you used to actually be somewhat entertaining. Now all you do is talk about noble duties and alliances and other trivial things."

Hypode’s left eye twitched.

"These are not trivial things—"

"Yes they are." She scoffed and placed her fork down against the plate. "The monarchy and the noble class are a dying breed. We both know this. The only reason why we persisted as long as we have is because of our stranglehold on the top magical talent. We managed to grab all of the peasants with good genes and stuff them into our lines, but that's a temporary patch."

Her eyes flashed. “Besides. You’re assuming that I need your cooporation.”

Mal took a sip of his ice water.

This would be interesting.

Hypode's body twitched. His eyes flickered toward Mal.

"Princess, while I would love to engage in this discussion further with you, I must insist that bringing this stranger here is making such a conversation impossible."

"Stranger? Malfrasius is no stranger."

Mal raised an eyebrow at this. “Haven't we met like two times? That hardly makes us friends.”

"Three. Back when the both of us were children." She tilted her head. "You were dreadfully dull back then. Almost as bad as Hypode is now. It quite surprised me to meet you again and see how much you’d changed in such a short period of time."

"We knew each other when we were kids?"

For the life of him, Mal couldn't remember anything like that.

"Yes. It was at the height of your father's popularity, back during the war. Along with several other heroes of the kingdom, he’d been summoned with his household to a feast by my father."

"You’ll have to forgive me if I say that I have no idea what you’re talking about."

Hypode’s body tensed.

"Malfrasius, directly contradicting the princess in such a manner could be construed by some to be rude."

Savaly scoffed and leaned back in her chair.

"You see, Malfrasius? This is why I knew that I needed you here for this meeting. If it were just him, I would die of boredom."

"That's the only reason you called me up?" Mal asked. "Because you were bored?"

"Of course not! I was also curious about your battle against a demon. I tried to get access to the clinic, but that damned witch wouldn't let me in."

Mal furrowed his eyebrows together.

"Cassandra?"

"Don't look so surprised. Of course I know she’s a witch. There's nothing I don't know."

Hypode’s eyes widened before his face reset to a neutral position.

Mal resisted the urge to gulp. She knew everything. . . Did that include the fact that he was currently apprenticing under her?

"Of course, it's nobody's business what she practices in the privacy of her home. Witch she may be, but she's still an asset to the school and thus to the kingdom." She exhaled a breath of air through her nose. "Still, after she set up that ward preventing me from entering the clinic, I briefly considered a summary execution."

Mal would have to inform Cassandra of just how close she came to death.

"What exactly did you want to know?" Mal said, slowly.

"Everything!" Her eyes lit up like stars. "How did you, a mere F-grade core, defeat a demon in combat? How did you slay it?"

"You're making a big assumption there."

"What, that you were the one who was responsible for its death? Please. It wasn't that Elven idiot, nor that Draconid pansy. No, the only one who could have pulled off a victory like that was you, my dear rival."

Dear rival?

Mal choked on a sip of water. He pounded his chest and just barely managed to get it out.

Hypode was staring at Mal, incredulous, jaw dropped and eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"Dear rival?" Hypode looked back and forth between the two. "Princess, I must object. To consider a mere F-grade core as your rival? I must have misheard you."

"But isn't it fitting?" She tilted her head. "He is, after all, the second highest ranked on the entrance exam. I slew a Razorsnake. He killed a Tungstenbird. Not only that, but he surpassed me. Already, all I can see is the silhouette of his back. I have much to do if I wish to catch up."

Hypode’s thoughts whirred like gears behind his eyes. His expression went neutral and he gave a slow nod.

“Is that so?”

Savaly swirled her water inside of her cup. "Go ahead."

Hypode froze.

"What?"

"I can see what you’re thinking. You want to damage my reputation, using Malfrasius as a lever. It won't work, but you're free to try."

Hypode’s mouth opened and shut several times before he stood up abruptly from the table and walked toward the exit. He turned back and glared at her.

"I came here ready to offer you a chance to enter the new era. I can see that you still have much growing up to do, Princess."

He turned around and walked out.

Mal was still registering what she’d said.

"I really think you're confused," Mal said.

"No, I think I'm the only one who can see things clearly," she said. She leaned over across the table, so close that Mal had to lean back in his seat to avoid her slamming her forehead into his.

"When I first declared you my rival, Malfrasius, I expected you to ultimately be a stepping stone. You would push me onwards, perhaps. But I would always remain ahead. And then you go and do a thing like killing a demon a few weeks later! In comparison to your achievements, mine pale like paint in the sun."

Mal let out an awkward chuckle.

"Aren't you giving me too much credit? Even if everything that you said is true, I had to do it all with help. I’d be willing to bet money that you killed that Razorsnake entirely on your own."

"Be that as it may, you're still the one who laid the final blow, yes? And you’re the one that those other two idiots claim to have been chiefly responsible for the demon's death. It is an achievement that you can be proud of, Malfrasius. Don't put yourself down so harshly, dear rival."

There was that word again—dear rival. The last time he’d met her, she’d said it with all the enthusiasm of a child with a new toy. Now, there was a certain sort of coyness, a smirk tugging at the edge of her words.

She leaned back into her chair and away from Mal, a smooth smile on her lips.

"Continue to advance, Malfrasius. I'm curious to see how long you can stay ahead of me before I overtake you."

"Awfully confident, aren't you?"

She was utterly confident, almost delusionally so—that is, if Mal didn't know that she truly was one of the single most talented individuals of her generation. A once-in-a-lifetime prodigy, equally masterful at physical combat, magical combat, spell theory, spellcasting, politics, tactics—she’d never been challenged once in her life, had she? Not seriously. Not like this.

Mal knew all this. He knew that her bizarre behavior and fixation on him at the current moment was nothing more than the logical result of her isolated childhood.

But it still irritated him.

By this meeting, she was inviting curiosity from onlookers. He'd been even further marked in Hypode's mind. And it was all because of an annoying girl who didn't even view him as a true person—really, she saw him as a challenge to overcome.

"You won't be overtaking me."

Her grin widened at his words. "Is that so? You're awfully confident, aren't you?"

She was using the same words that Mal had said to her. The mirroring didn't escape him.

"You'll see."

Mal stood up from the table and walked toward the exit.

As he walked away, he could have sworn that he felt her grin never once fade, nor her eyes disappear from his back.

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