Chapter 12
-oOo-
Sylvia woke in Vallenfelt Manor. The room was small, no more than a cell with stone walls and an ether light lamp. Sylvia sat in the center, atop a soft meditation mat. There were a few shelves, an incense burner and little else. The only door was bolted from the inside, the space warded against intrusion both magical and physical.
A quiet place to close up.
A thick fog of astral ether filled the air, forming wisps of shadow and twinkling light. Astral was a funny word. Astral referenced the starry void and all the things found within it. Astral ether was, therefore, the etheric mix that originated from outside the planes.
So, in a certain sense, this ether was astral. However, it was more correct to call this ether chaos.
Chaos encompassed the elements void, space, and causality. These were the ethers most suitable for an asteri’s cultivation. Sylvia could find similar ether on the stone platforms set aside for students. The ether here, however, was far, far denser.
One of the perks Sylvia enjoyed as the baroness’s apprentice.
“What the hell am I supposed to do?”
The silver-haired witch gazed at the ceiling. Her mind was heavy with thoughts of the future. Her venture into her soul had uncovered her ‘backer’, Lucifer. The Devil himself. From him, she had learned his plot.
And Sylvia had unwittingly become the hinge of it. And thus a lightning rod for the charges that would inevitably come after.
So much for drifting through life.
Mind blank, Sylvia continued to stare. The beautiful veins running through the ceiling went unnoticed. Instead, sick dread coiled in her gut. A deep, wrenching apprehension. The terror of the unknown. The authority of an existence far beyond herself. The knowledge that she could be so easily crushed.
And all it would take was one mistake.
Then, slowly, rationality asserted itself.
“Time is on my side.”
Lucifer was no fool. The start of his plan was the safest and the most dangerous. Right now, there was next to no risk that the System would be discovered. Even if it were, most would not immediately connect it to the Devil’s plot. As long as Sylvia didn’t carelessly recruit her master or casually reveal too much, she had a lot of time to prepare and grow stronger.
Of course, if she fucked up, she’d die instantly. As in, Heaven would destroy her soul, karmic costs be damned.
Just as importantly, there was no way to avoid what was coming.
The Devil would not be deterred. Sooner or later he would set his plan into motion with or without her. When a new power rose, it would attract the interest of Heaven, Hell, and the Fey Federation. Once they understood where this power came from and the potency of the System, they were sure to turn to aggression.
Because, if they did not snuff this rising power early, they would be snuffed by it.
“Before that happens, I have to reach Apotheosis.”
Awakening came after the second consolidation. Transcendence after the fourth. Apotheosis after the sixth. Sylvia had a long way to go.
And personal strength wouldn’t be enough. When the storm came, Sylvia needed allies. Lots and lots of powerful allies.
“I’ve got thirty to fifty years,” she murmured. This was the time it took souls to cross Unus Mundus. “Before then, I need to start laying the foundation. The less pawns running around out there causing trouble, the better for me. If I’m lucky, we can keep things under the table until we have eighty thousand arch whatevers. Then, heh, it won’t matter what anyone thinks.”
That was pure delusion. As the number of System laden souls in the netherworld swelled, their presence would become impossible to keep hidden.
Then the shit would hit the fan.
“Nothing I can do about it today. Right now, I should focus on the tournament.”
And figure out how to convince her teacher.
Straightening her dress, Sylvia stood. She wobbled. With pastel pink eyes, she glared down at her sky-high heels. Knowing the System’s source didn’t change reality. Sylvia was still a witch at the Academy, subject to Lady Vallenfelt’s protocols of appearance.
With a sigh Sylvia stooped, gathering scattered coins.
“I should’ve put them in my bag.”
The silver-haired witch swept the loose change into her soul. Her space bag joined them a moment later. To cheer herself, Sylvia opened her status screen and gazed at the dazzling numbers.
Beautiful. Just beautiful. Look at those gorgeous attributes. That enormous pool of mana. Those nines would have to be rounded to tens, but it was a wonderful start.
Recharged, Sylvia bounced out of the room. She could feel the difference. Fifteen percent stronger. A touch faster. Clearer thoughts. Sharper senses. None of these were huge, but the effect was distinct when gained in one sitting.
If, right now, Sylvia found herself at the bottom of the Academy’s bluff, she was confident she could climb straight up!
…
Okay. Okay. She’d use magic. Still! She was bursting with power.
Sylvia flicked the window closed then opened the door.
Vallenfelt Manor was set on the highest point of the Academy butte. Perhaps due to the natural inclination of magi, Lady Vallenfelt’s study was also in the tallest tower of the manor. As she ascended, Sylvia spotted the Fortress of Dawn’s turrets rising above the trees. The outskirts of Vallen could be seen through the windows to the south, the town’s core hidden by the terrain.
“Sylvia,” Dianna greeted. “Done already? Nothing went wrong, right?”
Dianna Sable was Lady Vallenfelt’s assistant and one of seven retainers. She handled administrative affairs on behalf of the baroness, tending to Vallen rather than the Academy. Taxes. Court summons. Merchant disputes. Everything landed on her desk. When she wasn’t handling paperwork, Dianna was running between town and manor.
As a starlight witch, Dianna was pretty normal. Locks of sea blue hair ended around her shoulders. She had a cute face and eyes like rubies.
“No problems,” Sylvia replied, offering a polite nod.
“Congratulations on your consolidation then, Sylvia. Lady Vallenfelt will be pleased,” Dianna said, returning a smile.
“Is Esmeralda in?”
“The baroness is right up the stairs.”
Sylvia offered a wave before taking off. Calling Dianna an acquaintance was generous. Sylvia had spent more time with Professor Owsley.
A moment later, the silver-haired witch rapped on a door three times before letting herself in.
“Teacher,” she greeted with a curtsy.
Baroness Esmeralda Vallenfelt was just as riveting as the day Sylvia first saw her. The dean, held a book in one hand, the picture of poise and elegance. Her visage was unusually gentle, caught in a moment of quiet respite. Her hair poured over the back of her chair in a waterfall of emeralds. The morning sun graced her with its light, a halo of celestial beauty.
At Sylvia’s approach, the dean lowered her book. Eyes closed. Head tilted. With a tender expression on her face, the baroness nodded as though captured by a distant tune.
Thup. The book snapped closed. The poignant moment was gone.
“The thrum of your soul is smooth,” Lady Vallenfelt complimented. “I take it you did not encounter any trouble?”
“None,” Sylvia answered, taking a seat beside her master. The click of her heels had become unobtrusive, forgotten before it was heard.
“Back straight,” Lady Vallenfelt chided. The baroness set her book down. “Your talent is, perhaps, the best I’ve ever seen. It’s normal to proceed without misfortune.”
Resisting the urge to grumble, Sylvia adjusted her posture.
This short interaction characterized Sylvia’s relationship with Baroness Vallenfelt. Stiff, formal, with a lingering air of authority. It was hard to say whether it was Lady Vallenfelt herself who maintained this clinical distance, or if it was Sylvia begrudging the dean’s strict sense of propriety.
At best, Sylvia would say she had no hate for the woman.
Esmeralda was not to blame for stealing her into this world. That fault fell on Lucifer, who had plotted the affair. She likewise could not bring herself to despise the baroness for transforming her into a witch. There were far worse outcomes in Hell than being a woman, and fates more terrible than attending the Academy.
Many of which were likely had Sylvia’s soul been sold instead.
But she wasn’t going to thank the woman either.
Sylvia resented Esmeralda. She resented having her manners, dress, and appearance dictated by the baroness. It was her teacher who pushed Sylvia into the charm club. It was her teacher who had insisted that Sylvia be particularly proper.
The benefits of being Esmeralda’s apprentice did not abate these emotions. Resources. Instruction. Experience points. All these were offered by the dean, yet they did not match the bite of decorum. The cold pressure. The frozen shackles clamped upon her soul like a vise.
Baroness Vallenfelt wished that Sylvia be molded into a lady.
Sylvia found it suffocating.
That was the clearest description of their interactions. Suffocating. Like all the air was being squeezed from her lungs.
“Show me which bloodline power has emerged.”
Lady Vallenfelt extended a hand, palm up. Knowing what was expected, Sylvia offered her arm. Esmeralda’s delicate fingers gripped her wrist. Ki slipped into Sylvia’s veins. The silver-haired witch let the dean’s alien energy probe every corner of her body.
Traits could take the form of organs, such as Sylvia’s flawless astral core and pure starlight eyes. They could also have a more ephemeral nature, like her silken mana. During consolidation, it was mere chance which powers appeared. This chance could be skewed by taking risks during the incubation phase, but even then no one could say with surety what would crop up.
“An elemental palace, still in the nascent state,” Esmeralda noted. “The inner structure is well suited for any of the primary primordial elements. Or so I judge. You should spend the next few days considering which you’d prefer.”
Lady Vallenfelt withdrew her hand. Sylvia’s second trait went unnoticed. For a moment, the silver-haired witch considered keeping it to herself. Then Lucifer’s mocking smile was reflected in her imagination.
“I noticed that my mana is flowing a lot smoother.”
“Show me.” Esmeralda’s command was sharp.
Without the structure of runes, mana was akin to smoke, quick to disperse. As Sylvia’s spirit attribute increased, so too did the integrity of her mana, making it more stable and cohesive. When further augmented by her latest trait, Sylvia’s mana flowed like a silken stream.
A thread of energy tied itself into a seven crossing knot, a large loop with an inner spiral expanded out like a hanger. From the two sides of the main body hung a chain of simple loops. Trishullrunt, a compound rune connecting void and causality which conveyed the idea ‘an unknowable truth’. Ether stirred, but magic failed to form. Sylvia had left the rune with neither intent nor natured energy.
Thus, it remained.
“Mana like silk, fine and refined, flowing without turbulence,” Esmeralda murmured. “I revise my earlier comment. Your compatibility with your code is a terror to behold. I begin to suspected I have touched something I should have not.”
She had. She truly had. Guilt gnawed at Sylvia’s insides. Lady Vallenfelt was no enemy. She deserved to know into what pit she had fallen.
Still, Sylvia didn’t speak.
“I thought you said the emergence of two traits, while rare, isn’t special.”
“For two incomplete traits, you would be right,” the dean corrected. “I find myself curious as to your backer’s methods. What is it, in your soul, that remains hidden from my eyes.”
Sylvia’s expression shifted. Lady Vallenfelt sighed. Leaning forward, the green haired woman gave the silver-haired witch a gentle flick on the forehead.
“You are my apprentice. I shall never do you harm,” Esmeralda said firmly. “Whoever your backer may be, it is he or she who must answer.”
A rare touch of warmth in their cold relationship. It made Sylvia’s secret all the more painful. A kernel of resolve formed in her heart. She would find Esmeralda’s clone, and if she proved as sympathetic as Lucifer claimed, Sylvia would tell her the truth.
Sylvia owed her teacher that much.
“I will not deny that your masculine past displeases me. I have never hidden this,” Lady Vallenfelt continued. “But this is no fault of your own, and you have put up with my selfishness admirably.” The dean paused. “Your capacity to hide your resentment is not as great as you believe.”
Sylvia perked. “Does this mean – ”
“No,” Esmeralda cut her off. “As my apprentice, you are to be a lady. A graceful bearing and an elegant manner will serve you well in the future. Therefore, it is my duty as your master to see that these traits become party to your nature.”
Sylvia’s visage grew sour.
“This has nothing to do with your past. I expect the same of all my apprentices.”
“So, I’m not the first,” Sylvia noted.
“You have one senior in the netherworld,” the baroness enlightened. “Belkis von Vallenfelt. And three from my mortal life. Further, in the first years of this academy, I taught students directly. Glenda Fischer can thus be considered a disciple in-name. I had hoped to make her mayor or vice-dean once she Awakened, but her personality is unfit for secretarial duties.”
No kidding.
“Professor Myers and Dianna are better suited,” Sylvia mused in seriousness.
In Sylvia’s heart, Allison would always be the perfect secretary. Stern. Sexy. With killer legs and sharp, violet eyes. Fantasies aside, Miss Myers’ character was a flawless fit.
“Alas, Allison has yet to swear herself to me,” Esmeralda lamented. “But perhaps I can wear her down over the next few decades. She does have the love for teaching. As for Dianna, though I am fond of her, her talent is poor. There are many positions in government that can only be held by a devil.
“But I bore you with politics,” the dean interrupted. “There is no need for you to concern yourself with such details. Not before graduation, anyway. I just hope you are not like my dear Belkis, who is obsessed with thrills and travel.”
On that, the baroness was doomed to be disappointed. Prior to meeting Lucifer, Sylvia had already made up her mind to run the second she could stand on her own two feet. After facing the Devil, Sylvia couldn’t afford to stand still even if she wanted to. She needed power. Fast. Anything short of arch mage was insufficient.
Which meant Sylvia couldn’t be tied down by a slow and boring life.
Sylvia wasn’t sure whether to be glad for it or disappointed. Drifting with the flow was in her nature, but it was that very nature Sylvia wished to change.
Clonk.
Esmeralda Vallenfelt placed a long staff on the table. The wood was pale white. The haft smooth with faint texture. At the top, four roots wound around a clear crystal forming a helix. Nestled in the crooks below were jewels. Two red, blazing with fire. Two green, swirling with wind. In the central quartz, lightning crackled.
“A lightning staff,” Sylvia said with surprise.
She picked it up. The handle fit comfortably in hand. With a bit of concentration, Sylvia drew the local ether. The staff sucked it up eagerly, smoothly combining wind and fire to create lightning. She reversed the flow. Lightning mutated into wind just as easily.
Correction. A tri-elemental lightning staff.
“As you will be attending the tournament, it would be ill of me to see you poorly equipped,” Lady Vallenfelt explained. “And knowing your origin, I guessed you would prefer the violent elements over the gentle ones.”
Sylvia grinned. She did love explosions. The bigger the boom, the better. The silver-haired girl had gone with wind blade for its farming potential. With this staff, Sylvia could unleash wanton destruction or the wind’s whisper however she pleased.
Sylvia slipped the weapon into her soul. A lump sank into her being as though she’d swallowed a barbell.
“It’s heavy,” she sounded.
“Forty-three droms,” Lady Vallenfelt confirmed. “Having completed your consolidation, you should be able to bear one-hundred. Your armor was commissioned by charm club. You shall receive it in Orasul Lunii after the Festival of Light.”
Somehow, Sylvia suspected she wouldn’t be nearly as happy with her ‘armor’ as she was with her staff.
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“It is soul bound equipment. Split its shadow and project the phantasmal form,” Esmeralda instructed.
The silver-haired witch did as she was told.
In the depths of her soul, essence was hewed. A white staff appeared in hand. At first, the shape was a spectral haze. Then the shadow filled with ether, gaining substance and form. The staff had a fair heft, though Sylvia knew spiritual mass was as important as physical when considering impact.
The core of the staff’s being remained within Sylvia’s soul.
This was the function of soul bound equipment. On death, the phantasm would be recalled. Even if broken, the staff would slowly recover. An immortal tool for an immortal person. Like this, Sylvia would never fear her staff would be lost.
Which was important. A good staff was expensive, and if demons knew Sylvia was carrying something so precious outside the bounds of her soul they might kill her for it.
One of the hazards of living in Hell.
Clonk.
After the staff came a scroll.
There was no paper to read nor contents to unroll. Though Sylvia called it a scroll, the object only had a scroll’s shape. Long. Cylindrical. Broad, metal ends on either side. The scroll’s body was smooth, with a semi-translucent aquamarine color. Spirit jade. A netherworld material with a strong psychic affinity. Named because it resembled jade in color and character.
This was a jade scroll.
Specifically, the jade scroll for the waltz of flowers.
“You’re letting me have it?” Sylvia asked, unable to hide her excited smile.
“I am letting you view it. Thrice,” Esmeralda said with stern warning.
Communication in the netherworld was founded on spirit speech. This applied to spoken words and written works. Any legible book was laden with intent. When read, a thin layer would be drawn out to convey the author’s meaning. Martial manuals contained thicker intent. Reading thus became an experience akin to feeling and seeing.
Jade scrolls turned this feature up to eleven.
One did not read a jade scroll. Instead, they drew from its depths pure knowledge. The dense intent was stronger than a movie and more intimate than virtual reality. This was a can of distilled wisdom. The introspection of the teacher. The movements of a master. The enlightenment of a sage.
Jade scrolls were the closest thing the netherworld had to Sylvia’s skill books.
Unsurprisingly, jade scrolls were expensive. Half-a-million soli expensive. And that was just the start. The insights of a transformation realm expert went for millions. Enlightenment realm scrolls cost tens or hundreds of millions. Domain realm scrolls were literally priceless.
As for truth? Ha! Forget about it.
And all that for a limited number of uses. Jade scrolls held a lot of intent, but they consumed it just as quickly. A new scroll was only good for a few dozen views.
But they were worth it.
… If you were filthy, stinking rich.
“I am still of the opinion that it is too early for you,” Lady Vallenfelt continued. “But you are due a reward for your good behavior. I expect you to use this privilege wisely. I will be greatly displeased if you have not reached externalization prior to the tournament. If you lack confidence, then I suggest you pass on this opportunity or your punishment will be grave.”
The dean’s austere gaze was admonishing.
Lack confidence? Sylvia had absolute confidence.
Unable to resist a moment longer, Sylvia snatched the scroll and held it against her breast as though it were a treasure. She’d been wanting this scroll for months. She was eager to learn how well its lessons combined with the power of a blank skill book.
Lady Vallenfelt clicked her tongue, conveying her displeasure. “Manners.”
Sylvia flushed. Not wanting to lose her reward, she offered her teacher a graceful curtsy. “Thank you for this gift, master.”
“You are most welcome, my adorable apprentice,” Esmeralda accepted. “Remember, no more than thrice or you shan’t touch that scroll again until you are on the cusp of manifestation.”
“Yes, teacher,” she accepted readily.
“Then, there is one last matter to discuss,” Lady Vallenfelt resumed. “With your new consolidation comes an improved ability to absorb essence. Ordinarily, I would see to it that your allocation of astral dew was increased in proportion.
“However, as your cultivation is well ahead of your peers, I think it best you progress with your studies. Magic is a scholarly art. Power can easily cloud the mind to principles.”
Esmeralda’s gaze was cold. Sylvia’s expression turned ugly. Power? More like Lady Vallenfelt knew Sylvia would assert her independence the moment she touched the second consolidation. The dean wanted to keep Sylvia under her thumb.
“Am I allowed to meditate to make up the difference?” she ground out.
Astral dew was a cultivation resource. The Academy farmed it in a cavern beneath the bluff. A portion was set aside for Lady Vallenfelt’s personal interest. The rest was sold to Academy graduates. Ever since she became Baroness Vallenfelt’s apprentice, Sylvia had received one bottle a week.
Fifty droms per bottle. Each containing 1500xp. The market price for this treasure was 500 soli.
Being a seasoned gamer, Sylvia guzzled it like a pro.
Cultivation resources were digested faster than the ether collected during meditation. When breathing ether Sylvia could gather 100xp a day. This process further demanded that Sylvia sacrifice an hour of her time. Astral dew, on the other hand, provided 250xp a day once digested. Yes, this meant Sylvia had a habit of walking around with essence sloshing around in her stomach six days a week.
Which was way better than filling her inventory with that shit.
In short, astral dew replaced meditation and let Sylvia level up two-and-a-half times faster.
Of course, if she ran around killing phantasmal beasts, she’d gain levels three times faster than that. Alas, while her System’s carnivorous consumption was excellent, it was also a picky eater. Sylvia processed direct kills easily. Meat and other leftovers, however, were consumed with an efficiency only marginally better than meditation.
“I will not forbid diligence,” Lady Vallenfelt permitted. “But I shan’t encourage you either. You may meditate in your free time using the dais provided to students. And if I am satisfied with your studies this next year, I will grant access to my personal meditation chambers.”
That decided it then. Come next year, Sylvia was going to find a way to sneak out and hunt.
Esmeralda’s eyes narrowed, as though detecting her thoughts. “Should you violate my trust, you will find that I have collected a number of corrective punishments. Punishments which, I think, you will not find as agreeable as I.”
Grk! Sylvia shrank.
Lady Vallenfelt’s hard expression turned gentle.
“But let us not leave things on a sour note,” she said. “Congratulations are due for your successful consolidation. This is a happy day. Now run along, my dear. There is still time to join the Sunday course.”
Sylvia stood and curtsied. “Thank you, teacher.”
The green haired dean lifted her book, finding the prior page. “Mm,” she noised in soft acknowledgment.
-oOo-
Sylvia was sorely tempted to skip the Sunday course.
The jade scroll was burning a hole in her pocket. Sylvia wanted to drink its intent then polish it off with a blank skill book. How much would she learn? Would her art touch the manifestation realm? She was keen to know.
The silver-haired witch resisted the urge.
Before using a skill book, Sylvia first wished to study the scroll’s ordinary impact. What’s more, Sylvia hoped that by borrowing the scroll’s power, she could reveal a natural progression. Esmeralda’s eyes were on her and Sylvia now had a much greater reason to keep her secret.
Instead, Sylvia’s gaze fell upon her event log.
Reward: +27 pts – Nether code: White ghost wood
Reward: +33 pts – Nether code: Blazing ruby
Reward: +31 pts – Nether code: Whirlwind emerald
Reward: +39 pts – Nether code: Crackling Quartz
Reward: +7 pts – Enchantment code: Ether conduit
Reward: +10 pts – Enchantment code: Ether transformer
Reward: +50 pts – Nether code: Spirit Jade
What a tasty reward. 197 merit points, Sylvia’s biggest haul since the merit shop opened. With this, her merit had accumulated to a grand total of 672 points. Not enough to buy a blank skill book, but more than enough to open a few of the System’s features.
Maybe it was time to buy something?
Heh. She owed it to herself after the Devil dropped his shit onto her shoulders.
The witch rubbed greedy hands together. What to pick. What to pick. Wasn’t it obvious? She had to pick the feature most relevant!
Sylvia quickly navigated her System window. Without hesitation, she clicked on a name. Buy!
Ding!
A new screen opened. Two-hundred merit points gone, just like that. Sylvia read the description eagerly.
Oh ho ho. Now Sylvia could officially be called a ‘gamer’. Time to test this new power out. The silver-haired witch projected her staff.
“Observe Item.”
Ding!
…
How much money did the baroness have? Rather than a staff, Lady Vallenfelt had gifted her a sports car.
“Now I feel like I’m taking advantage of her,” Sylvia groaned.
How was she supposed to complain when her teacher was throwing this much money in her direction? Wouldn’t she be an ingrate?
With mixed feelings, Sylvia closed the window. The silver-haired witch made her way through the Academic Building, coattails fluttering.
Sylvia opened the classroom door.
““Congratulations!””
A roar tore through Sylvia’s thoughts. Colorful streamers fell down around her. The thin essence evanesced into sparkling motes. Tiffany was up front, throwing more confetti. Piper hung back, away from the crowd. The redheaded senior gave a casual wave. To her left, Brianna offered a respectful nod.
Josephine was… Josephine. The brown haired witch’s expression was as blank and beautiful as a doll’s.
...
Sylvia’s eyes rose to the banner stretched across the room. Celebrating Consolidation. The words were writ in tacky letters.
Professor Wright pushed to the front of the crowd. The tall teacher patted her on the shoulder.
“A consolidation is always a cause worth celebrating,” Abigail explained. “Just treat it like a birthday party.”
With that, Professor Wright pushed her deeper into the room. The silver-haired witch all but stumbled into Faith.
“Congratulations,” Faith offered, blue eyes shining. “I’ll be going next.”
As of an hour ago, Faith was the only witch in the Sunday course unconsolidated. If she wanted to join the tournament, she had to cross the threshold before the fourth week of Men-Stella.
“Good luck,” Sylvia offered seriously.
“Good luck?” A voice questioned. “Why didn’t you tell me you were at the threshold of consolidation, you little cheat.”
Before Sylvia could turn, Riley grabbed her from behind. The blonde ground her knuckles into Sylvia’s skull.
“Ow. Ow. Ow.” Sylvia complained.
This only made Riley rub harder. “Your damned skull is too tough for that to hurt, so stop whining.”
“Don’t ruin Sylvia’s adorable hair,” Emily interrupted angrily. The petite, perfectly coiffed brunette intervened, taking a moment to straighten a few silver locks. “See, now it’s all better.”
Emily shot Riley a look. Riley waggled her eyebrow with a wide grin.
“What are you two doing here?” Sylvia questioned, straightening her beret.
It was her hat Sylvia had been crying over. The poor helpless hat, abused by a ruthless monster. Its suffering callously forgotten by the hero. But not by her. Never by her.
As for her hair. Tch! If Riley’s nuggie ground Sylvia’s locks down to a nice two-inch length, Sylvia would praise the blonde’s ingenuity.
“Professor Wright let us know. Not just us, either,” Riley gestured back.
At the far end of the room, near a buffet table, was Ingrid with a glass of red wine in hand. The succubus was pure seduction. Short skirt. Long, smooth legs. Tall, sexy heels. The purple-haired woman raised her cup in greeting, lips quirked and ruby eyes knowing. Sylvia tried to ignore the demon’s full breasts, which were put on clear display by the succubus’ modified red dress.
Fortunately, there was an equally enticing morsel beside the succubus. Approaching, Sylvia snagged herself a slice of cake.
Important things first!
“I envy your talent,” Ingrid said, conversationally, amused by the asteri’s attempts to tame her wandering eyes. “I failed my first attempt at thirty years old. Outer membrane rupture.”
Sylvia winced.
“Don’t be a downer, Ingrid,” Kyna scolded with her cute and squeaky voice. The pink haired faerie dropped onto the succubus’ head from above. “It’s Sylvia’s big day.”
“I wasn’t,” Ingrid refuted, shaking her head to force the faerie to release her horns. “I wanted to say, it is an honor to know a talent like you. Just remember me when you earn your title.”
Raising her glass again, Ingrid took a sip. Sylvia could see the faint hue of ki clinging to the liquid to keep it from dispersing. Not to be out done, the silver-haired witch sliced off the tip of her cake before putting it into her mouth.
Mmm. Sweet and creamy. Absolutely delicious.
“Remember me too!” Kyna said brightly. “I’m your club mentor, so don’t forget.”
“I won’t,” Sylvia said, after swallowing her food.
How could Sylvia forget the hateful insect that made her curtsy for two hours straight until she ‘got it right’. Sylvia stabbed her fork into her cake, the tines shooting through to clink off the plate below.
“Baroness Swallows,” Emily giggled.
“I’ll admit, it does sound ridiculous,” Riley laughed.
Sylvia’s eye twitched. She really hated that extra ‘s’.
“Baroness Swallows,” Sylvia corrected. When she spoke, her words carried an idea. A flock of birds rising from a verdant forest. She gestured with her fork. “Actually, I think I prefer Archduke Swallows.”
Not that she could ever become a lord of Hell. Not with Lucifer breathing down her neck. Perhaps, Arch Gamer Swallows. Hmm. Catchy.
“Archduchess,” Emily corrected.
“Now you’re getting big-headed,” a voice interrupted. Piper slipped through their group and grabbed a glass of wine. The senior witch raised it high before toasting loudly. “To the future devil!”
Sylvia stiffened.
Devil. A noble title that could be acquired by Awakened demons. In Hell’s social hierarchy, devils stood between barons and citizens. Devils were the genteel class. Only they could hold positions like official, commander, or magistrate. In fact, all titled nobles were technically devils. This was what Piper meant. A humble aspiration that all those in the Sunday course had hope for.
The title of devil was not to be mistaken for The Devil.
“To victory,” Brianna called in contest.
“To Faith’s consolidation!” Tiffany cheered.
“To the exp –” Sylvia coughed. “Growth!” she finished, plate raised high.
Sylvia noticed Riley glowering from the side. Her lips quirked. The shorty was irritated.
“But Sylvia, you’ll always be cute and adorable, just like me,” Emily interjected.
“Right, right,” Kyna cheered enthusiastically.
“Don’t be a downer, Kyna. You’re killing Riley’s mood,” Sylvia commented blandly. Her eyes veered teasingly to the blonde. “She can still grow taller. There are transformation spells, you know. Assuming Riley ever becomes competent enough to use them.”
Enjoying her friend’s glare, Sylvia proudly finished the rest of her cake. She swapped to another plate after. It was her consolidation party. Sylvia was going to enjoy every bit of it. Especially after learning shit news about her future.
“Hmph!” the faerie noised before fluttering off.
“I’ll definitely become skilled enough,” Riley growled. “Then I’ll loom over you like an ogre.”
“You tell her, Riley!” Emily cheered.
“Who’s going to loom over who?” Sylvia questioned, straightening her back.
With her heels, her head rose over the blonde’s. Emily giggled at their antics.
“It’s starting to feel like you’re going to leave us behind,” Riley sighed.
“I’m not going to up and vanish,” Sylvia said. “But who knows how many classes I’ll share with you in the future. The baroness… she’s mentioned having me move into the mansion.”
“No way!” Emily said, arms crossed and lips turned into a pout.
“Yeah, if it bothers you, just tell her no,” Riley added.
Sylvia smiled. “I suppose I can do that.”
After eleven months, Sylvia had come to think of Riley and Emily as friends. It had been a long time since Sylvia had friends. Not acquaintances. Real friends. Deep friends. People she could share her life with.
Maybe, as Eric, she had never had them.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t share her troubles with them.
Emily nodded.
“We’ll be together for the next nine years,” the brunette insisted. “And no matter how fast you run, I’ll always be right behind you,” Emily declared, shaking her little fist happily.
Sylvia grinned. “I don’t doubt it.”
“I mean it,” Emily said forcefully, cheeks puffed. “I’ll be right behind, making sure you always show your cutest side. Don’t forget it!”
…
Riley snorted a laugh. The blonde slapped the silver-haired witch on the shoulder. “Looks like you’re never going to escape.”
Sylvia gave Riley a sour look.
Riley’s intense green eyes met hers. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll admit, I’m not much for studying, but I’ll take my classes seriously. I don’t want to get kicked out before you are.”
Sylvia’s gaze shifted to Emily.
“I’m counting on you to make sure Riley doesn’t flunk out.”
“Hey!”
“Everyone!” High above the heads of the witches, Kyna hovered. Her iridescent wings fluttered behind, shedding glittering light. “Since we’re already having a party, how about we take this chance to teach you to dance!”
And… that was Sylvia’s cue to leave. The silver-haired witch tripled her chewing speed, her fork clinking against the plate as she did her best to inhale her second slice of cake.
“An excellent idea,” Professor Wright agreed. “There will be a Grand Ball at Castel Lunii following the tournament. Anyone with achievements will be expected to attend. We had planned to cover dance and etiquette before the main event, but it’s never a bad idea to start early.”
Mouth still full, Sylvia put her plate on the buffet table and started walking toward the door.
“Right,” Kyna said cheerfully. “Then, since Sylvia is the lady of the hour, how about she starts us off with the traditional seelie sweep.”
The pink haired faerie’s mischievous eyes were on Sylvia’s back. The silver-haired witch was still a good two meters from the door. The room grew quiet as all eyes fell upon her. Tiffany bounced with excitement. Piper looked on with curiosity.
Josephine was… Josephine.
Sylvia let out a sigh. This was because she called Kyna a ‘downer’ wasn’t it?
“You know how to dance?” Brianna questioned, flipping her pure white hair.
“Of course she does,” Kyna chirped. “Sylvia’s a member of my charm club. How can a girl call herself charming if she can’t dance?”
“The seelie sweep requires a partner,” Sylvia said, voice strained.
“Oh. Pick me. Pick me,” Tiffany said, bouncing excitedly.
She wasn’t getting out of this, was she?
Skipping past the eager blue haired witch Sylvia’s gaze stopped briefly on Josephine. The expressionless girl gazed back, her eyes all devouring voids. Yeah. No. Sylvia’s head turned to the girls she was most familiar with.
Ingrid would dominate the floor, easy. That woman could dance. But Sylvia would look like a kid being dragged around by her mother. Riley liked dancing. Riley liked moving in general. Riley would also murder her after the party for daring to drag her on stage.
Which left…
Sylvia stepped forward. Gracefully, she curtsied to the brunette in front of her. “May I have the lady’s hand?”
Emily stretched out an arm, setting her limp wrist in Sylvia’s palm. Her fingers were soft and dainty. Just like Sylvia’s own.
“It would be my pleasure,” Emily said sweetly, dipping into an elegant curtsy of her own.
Then the two swirled around the floor, high heels clicking to an unheard beat.
-oOo-
Shaping
Shaping is the art of modifying a phantasmal object without changing its underlying code. Rock to chair. Wood to wall. Bone to sword. With shaping, the character of the initial material is maintained. The only thing altered is the object’s expression and shape.
Shaping is a key crafting skill in the netherworld. Common techniques from the material worlds simply do not work on phantasmal objects. Shaping is therefore used by smiths, chefs, and carpenters alike.
Smelting
Smelting is the process through which essence can be merged, purified, or refined. Poorly smelted materials can result in ‘seams’ where the two essences fail to unify into one. Quality smelting, however, is often a lossy process. Therefore, it is almost always better produce raw materials in large blocks.
Many smelting techniques overlap with alchemy, with the energetic processes transforming the nether code. Smelting can also be used to create various alloys. As numerous essences exist, the breadth of this study is extreme.
Forging
Forging is the art of imbuing, transforming, or transferring concepts. With this, abilities like wind dash can be drawn from the bones of beryl blood wolf and placed in a pair of shoes. Likewise, a smith can take the mirrored metal concept from the shimmering coat of a golden arkos and meld it with a shield or armor.
Tools containing concepts are known as martial equipment. Activating the conceptual powers requires ki. Martial tools exist in contrast with magical tool which rely on mana and engraved runic code. Because ki is most abundant in warrior type demons, martial equipment is usually preferred.
Aging
Objects in the netherworld collect history and recognition. Because of this, objects can spring back to their original form. Similarly, lost essence can be regenerated over weeks or months. This is a very useful trait. However, this feature can become a major headache for craftsmen as shaping, smelting, and even forging can suddenly revert.
The easiest way to protect against bounce back is to age an object. Aging requires no special process and is typically achieved by leaving an object to sit for a month, or sometimes multiple months. For the best results, aging processes are carried out after each step of creation. Change the shape, age the item. Smelt the essence, age the item. Forge in a concept, age the item.
Note there are magics and techniques that greatly accelerate the aging of an object. Often though, it is easier and cheaper just let the item sit.