by V. A. Lewis
"Oh— uh, no…? Well… maybe." I scratched my head. The young man raised an eyebrow, and I elaborated. "Actually, I was hoping to discuss just that. Um, that spell you want me to learn— how exactly do I… cast it?"
Victor paused what he was doing, and looked up at me. Then he sighed.
"Typical," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.
"Um, pardon?"
He stood up, pushing his chair back.
"Melas, when I gave you this test, did you think I would offer you any help?"
"I…" I hesitated. "No?"
"Exactly," he said. "Tests are meant to examine your abilities— to determine whether you have the talent, or the determination, to actually pass it. If you give up so easily, why should I take you on as my student?"
I shuffled my feet uncomfortably. "I… I didn’t mean I was giving up. I just thought I could get some… advice."
"Then you thought wrong." He folded his arms. His gaze bore into me for a moment, then his face softened. "Melas, I don’t mean to be hard on you. However, this is for your own good.
"And I never gave you a deadline anyway, you were the one who wanted to prove it to me in a week. I will not judge you if you fail to accomplish it by then. I really want to teach you, Melas, but if you fail to learn it and give up, it would be your own fault that that doesn’t happen, is that understood?"
I looked up and met the young man’s stare. I felt like a kid being reprimanded by an adult— except, I was not a kid. I slowly nodded.
"Yes," I said. "...and sorry," I added.
"Very good. Now run along. Relax a bit, don’t push yourself too hard." Victor turned back to what he was doing as I meekly left the tent.
I paused just outside when a voice called out to me.
"Melas," Gerritt said, stepping up right behind me. "I’m sorry about what happened, but I’m sure Victor meant well. Are you alright?"
"I’m fine," I sighed, glancing heavenward. "I just didn’t expect it to be so difficult."
The Orc rested his large hand on my shoulder. "You don’t have to push yourself so hard. Magic is difficult. It’s something most spellcasters can spend their whole life practicing, yet could never hope to reach the pinnacle of magicks that the Demon Lord was said to have reached."
"Well, I’d like to think I would have excelled in it a little bit," I said honestly.
"Hrmph, I’m sure you would, considering your lineage. However Magic Missile is not a spell beginners can learn so easily. The fact that you’re able to cast a Magic Bolt at your age is truly impressive— for a Human child, of course."
I was almost cheered up by that until Gerritt decided to qualify his statement; I felt my shoulders raise as my body shrunk down into a slump. "What can I do, Gerritt?" I asked.
"I’m not sure how to help you since I am not an expert in that field of magic," he said and shook his head. "However, if you want some general advice, I’d recommend you come with me. I’m about to hold some training drills for the Goblins, and I’m sure you could pick up a thing or two while watching them spar. If not, relaxing is always an option."
"That doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea," I said, nodding.
"Hrmph, follow me, Melas."
Gerritt started and I quickly jogged after him; I had to keep up the pace as the Orc’s long strides made him cover a longer distance than me a lot more quickly. We made a few turns before we finally reached our destination.
"We’re here," he stated.
I looked up at the training area of the encampment, and saw a lot of Goblins. I assumed at least half of the Goblins in the camp were gathered here at the moment; some of them were just waiting, but others were already sparring or practicing their aim with a bow or magic on some wooden targets at a distance.
I recognized Karna in the midst of the crowd. He was at the shooting range helping other Goblins with their archery…?
No— not just archery. Magic too.
The Goblin archers were not just firing their bows and arrows at the wooden dummy, they were infusing their shot with some kind of magic. Not all of them used the same spells, and it wasn’t cast with every shot, but there was a certain level of uniformity to it.
I saw a Goblin archer nock his bow, and a magic circle quickly passed through the arrow. There were no visible changes— none that I could see, at least. But when he loosed his bowstring, the arrow flew straighter than it should have. Almost like a bullet. I watched as it easily covered over a hundred feet.
There was a crack.
The arrow pierced through the wooden target, jamming the arrowhead all the way through and more.
I found myself blinking in disbelief. A bow and arrow should not have done that! It was not anywhere as effective as a gun from my world, but perhaps it was just as effective— if not more— than one from this world. Well, the weaker ones, at least.
And it was certainly far more impressive than what a measly Magic Bolt could do. Those would leave a gash at most. They were not powerful, unless you hit a major artery or another vital spot on someone’s body; but that pretty much applied to anything, including the dullest butter knife.
Most of the Goblins were casting this spell, generating the same result I had seen— although not all of them were as accurate. However, I saw another Goblin pull back an arrow and choose to use a different spell from the others.
A yellow light slowly formed in front of the bow, barely bigger than the arrow head. It was a small magic circle, about three inches in diameter, yet it weaved a significantly more complex design in the smaller area than made up the piercing spell. The Goblin fired his arrow—
And the magic circle immediately dissipated. The light abruptly vanished in a fizzle, and the arrow flew the distance a regular arrow would fly. Nothing happened.
I stared confused for a second, before turning to Gerritt. "What happened?"
"The spell failed," he replied, angling his massive maw downwards in a frown. "He tried casting magic beyond his capabilities, and it simply didn’t coalesce. I’ll have to…" he trailed off.
The Orc took a deep breath, as I inclined my head. He opened his mouth, and bellowed at the crowd of Goblins causing me to jump in surprise.
"Alright, that’s enough everyone. Gather up!"
Gerritt marched up to the center of the crowd; Goblins began to abandon whatever they were doing, and quickly assembled in front of the Orc. He spoke.
"I’m glad to see you’re all taking your training seriously, but I have an announcement to make."
A few murmurs ran through the crowd, but quickly died down. Gerritt continued.
"In a few weeks, we’ll finally be leaving this damned cave as decided by myself and the Dark Acolyte, Victor. We’ll be heading east, towards the Chalstics Confederacy, and occupying a fort there. So there will be no more small raids, and no more stealing. You lot will finally be putting your training to use!"
This time, there were more than a few murmurs that ran through the crowd; voices came from every direction, and they sounded almost… excited?
"Silence," Gerritt shouted over them.
The chatter immediately halted, and the Orc cleared his throat. "Hrmph, I will be briefing you more on this later. For today, our regular drills will continue. However, there is something else I need to address before that happens." The Dark Commander raised a finger and pointed it at a figure in the crowd. "You," he said flatly.
The Goblin from earlier— the one whose spell failed— froze; he pointed at himself nervously, and Gerritt nodded. "Do not worry, you are not in trouble. I saw your attempt at casting the Blast Enchantment. It was a good effort; truly an admirable attempt."
The Goblin sighed in relief, as the Orc praised him. "Your eagerness to learn is commendable. Trying a spell beyond your grasp and failing is the first step to learning it. But I believe a demonstration is in order." He turned his gaze into the crowd. "Karna."
"Yes Commander." The familiar Goblin stood at attention.
&nb
sp; "Show them how it’s done."
"Yes, Commander," Karna said. He spun around, and briskly walked over to the archery range.
He drew his bow and arrow, aiming it at a target all the way at the end. A yellow magic circle— just like the one I saw from earlier— appeared, as he slowly nocked his arrow. The spell finished forming in the air, and Karna loosed the arrow*.*
The magic circle began to bend as the arrowhead came into contact with it. What came next happened fast: the yellow lines stretched as the arrow went through the magic circle, almost wrapping itself around the projectile. The now glowing arrow flew quicker than it should have, almost like it was a crossbow bolt, zipping straight at its target, and—
It exploded.
I covered my eyes as a bright light flashed before me; a loud bang resounded in my eardrums, and echoed throughout the cave. I slowly lowered my hands as the light went away. And I gazed in awe. More than half the target was gone, blown away from the explosion by the enchanted arrow.
It was not some thin board of wood, like most archery targets were. It was an actual block of wood; like a tree log repurposed to be some sort of wooden dummy.
And it was destroyed.
There was a short applause that followed the thin plume of smoke that rose in the air, as the Goblin lowered his bow
"Amazing as always, Karna," Gerritt complimented him.
I was about to clap too, when Karna caught a glimpse of me. He sneered at me for the briefest of a second, then strode back to the crowd. I frowned.
What’s his problem?
I wanted to press the issue, but Gerritt spoke up too quickly. "Alright, our war games for today will be splitting you into—"
He probably hates me, I decided. I felt a vein in my forehead twitch as the realization struck me. So that’s why he always gives me the cold shoulder. But the question is: why?
I disliked being hated for no reason; I also disliked being treated and reprimanded like a kid for a nonissue. I couldn’t relax and watch the training if this feeling of annoyance was eating me up from the inside.
So I strolled up to the shooting range and narrowed my eyes. Gerritt wanted the other Goblins to watch Karna as he performed his demonstration of the spell, yet all I saw was a spell circle taking shape and enveloping the arrow. Were you supposed to pay attention to the symbols and shapes within the circle?
I highly doubted that; apart from looking kind-of-similar— but not really— to the writings of the Venerable Language, the symbols in a magic circle held no written meaning. There was also no mention of memorizing the shapes within them in the piece of paper Victor had given me.
The only thing that paper had mentioned was the modification of the Magic Bolt spells. But what did that even mean? I had no idea.
I sighed, then brought my hand out. Might as well practice old spells if I can’t learn new ones, I thought, choosing to maybe vent my frustrations for a little bit by destroying some practice dummies. I felt at the world around me, and the immersive sensation of the vast ocean of mana came over me. However, unlike the last few times I cast Magic Bolt, there were… ripples?
I could sense mana being pulled from the air and the earth, being turned into something else. People were casting magic— the Goblins were casting magic, and I could feel it. I looked over at where the Goblins were training, and saw some spells being thrown around— they were nothing truly dangerous. Nothing that would do more harm than incapacitate one another.
...how do I know that?
It was almost intuitive; it came to me completely naturally. Then I realized it was just like all the other times I had cast spells by instinct.
"Modify it," I said, resolving myself. "That’s all I have to do."
I pointed a finger at the nearest target, and sent a Magic Bolt at it. Then two. And then five.
The blue bolts of energy cut into the wooden dummy, knocking small chunks of it off with each strike. I didn’t miss a single shot; I had enough practice shooting actual moving targets that hitting this stationary one was easy.
I aimed for the next target, slightly further back. Once again, I hit all of my shots. Only when I went for the one after that, did I begin to miss; and even then, it was only around one in every ten or so attempts that missed.
Yet, despite all that— the deluge of Magic Bolts, the accuracy, and the fact that only a single spell failed so far— I was only getting more annoyed. My attacks were barely pattering the wooden targets! It was nothing like Karna’s spell which blew apart half of it!
A Magic Missile, from what I read, was supposed to be able to at least do as much damage as the ‘Blast Enchantment’ Karna used on his arrow. Yet, ten Magic Bolts were incomparable to it. I had to do something to make it stronger; there was a fundamental difference between the power of the spell Karna cast and these measly balls of energy.
And I was going to figure out what it was.
***
Karna ducked under a sword swing. The wooden sword whooshed just above his head. He grabbed the arm as it went past, and he twisted. In one swift motion, he had the other Goblin in an armlock, and held a wooden dagger behind his head.
Karna let go, and the Goblin staggered to the side. He got back up, picking up his bow and arrow, as he surveyed the battlefield. Good, he thought. It had only been an hour, but his team was already winning.
It was a simple siege exercise. There was one defending team and one attacking team. If you got eliminated, you could come back in after ten minutes. These were the basic rules of the war game.
Karna was on the defending team. Being an archer, he could just hide behind cover and shoot the occasional arrow like others sometimes did. But he did not like doing that. He felt that it was lazy. And yet, that was what he was doing at the moment.
Karna felt… content. Or maybe satisfied was a better word. He did not like the little Human girl that was named Melas. Well, he did not like Humans in general, but he especially did not like her.
Not only was she not a Dark Crusader, but he had to run errands for her. Him! One of the most talented Goblins in magic his age! Sure, he was not like Jasmin the Voodoo. But maybe one day, he could be. He was 13 years old, still a young adult with plenty of time to learn.
He had to go on scouting missions for Melas. Steal potions for her. He did not like doing anything for her. She was useless. The strong did not serve the weak unless the strong wanted to— that was a basic principle of life.
Karna did not understand why she mattered so much. The Commander told him and the others that she was the daughter of the Fiend, which made her important. But at the same time, the Commander told them that the Fiend was dead. So why was this girl important? It was not like protecting her would bring the Fiend back.
It made no sense to him. Maybe she could be powerful? But she was barely even a student of magic. She had first learned it a few months ago from what he was told.
So Karna showcased his prowess. His genius. Very little 13 year olds in any species could have done what he did with magic. That was a spell that took a lot of time and specialization to learn. It might have seemed like a demonstration for the others, but it was actually for the girl.
As a way to say: look, this is how strong I am, you are nothing to me.
And that was why Karna did not feel the need to prove himself in the war game. He was feeling pleased with himself, and thus a bit lazy. He drew his bowstring back, and loosed an arrow at an unsuspecting attacker. It struck the Goblin in the head, as Karna grinned to himself, remembering what he last saw of her 30 mins ago.
And all that Melas can do is a simple Magic Bolt—
Karna paused as he felt the mana in the air suddenly shift. It was being gathered by someone!
He spun around to see the source of the magic. And it was not just him. A dozen other Goblins that were proficient in magic stopped mid-battle to face the same direction. Gerritt, too, was looking around in confusion.
It was coming from the archery range. But
that was impossible, the only person there was Melas. And this amount of mana was far more than was necessary for a Magic Bolt. Karna squinted, trying to see where it was coming from. Then he blinked.
He saw… yellow light. Coming from where the black haired girl was. And more and more Goblins were turning to see what was going on.
"H-how?" Karna uttered the words. She couldn’t have possibly learned the Blast Enchantment! he thought.
And he was right, Melas did not learn that spell. He stared in shock as he looked at the spell forming in the air. The glowing orb of energy coalescing onto the palm of her hand. And finally, he realized, it was not a Magic Enchanter’s spell, but that of a Thaumaturge— those that dealt with pure magical energy.
Magic Missile.
He watched, mouth agape, as the spell blasted straight at the nearest target. The magical energy came into contact with the wood, and immediately exploded.
The sound was muffled, as if it happened underwater. The flash of light was brief, almost instantaneous. There were no wisps of smoke rising up to the air like from Karna’s enchanted arrow. It seemed like no explosion happened at all.
Yet Karna’s eyes told no lie. An explosion did happen, even if it was a magical one. He looked at the remains of the wooden target. Almost half of it was completely obliterated!
It was…
The Goblin had no words. No one did. They watched in shock and awe at the damage caused by the spell.
There was nothing to say.
It was—
"Amazing!" Gerritt exclaimed, his voice echoing in the cave chamber. "As expected from Valeria’s daughter!"
Well, sometimes, some people always had something to say.
Melas grinned weakly as she picked herself back up. Her own shockwave nearly knocked her down. She turned to the Orc.
"Next time, remind me to aim for something further back," she said, panting. "Blowing up the nearest one was not a good idea. I could have killed myself!"
Chapter 29: Annoyed Learning
Magic. It was not something that existed back in my world; at least, not in any material form. There was no basis of magic in reality: it existed solely in fiction, works of art, and ideas.
