The heavy oak door of the club room clicked shut, sealing us away from the echoing halls of the Magic Tower. The silence that followed was broken only by the crackling of the fireplace and the soft rustle of parchment as Elara set her satchel down on the massive wooden table.
"Right," Elara said, pushing her round spectacles up the bridge of her nose. "We begin with the fundamentals. Mana Circulation."
I nodded, taking the seat opposite her. "I'm familiar with the theory. The flow of mana through the twelve cores of the body and its storage."
"Good," Elara replied, opening a thick leather-bound tome. "Then we can skip the basics. Let's discuss the efficiency of compression. In your entrance exam theory, you noted that mana density increases exponentially with rotational velocity in the core. I found that fascinating because most standard texts suggest linear accumulation."
I leaned forward, my pink hair cascading over my shoulders. "That's because standard texts assume a passive intake. But if you actively spin the mana core, visualizing it as a vortex, you can pull ambient mana from the surroundings much faster."
We spent the next hour trading knowledge. It was a strange dance. Elara possessed a wealth of niche, high-level information that only someone with access to the Tower Head's private library would know.
But as we talked, I realized something. While her knowledge was deep, it was rigid. She knew what worked, but she didn't always understand why.
In return, I explained the underlying principles. I didn't have the luxury of growing up with magic, so I had to deconstruct it logically. I explained mana circulation like a circuit board, using terms that didn't exist in this world but made sense to me.
"So," I said, gesturing with my hand, "if you treat the mana pathways with insulation, you can prevent mana leakage. It's not just about pumping more power in; it's about reducing the resistance."
Elara stared at me, her quill hovering over a fresh sheet of parchment. "Resistance... That's a novel way to put it. But it makes sense. That's why high-level mages have such precise control. They aren't just strong; they're efficient."
"Exactly," I said.
"Show me," Elara commanded suddenly.
I blinked. "Show you?"
"Your control. I want to see how you visualize this..."
I hesitated, then nodded. I closed my eyes, focusing on the familiar sensation of the mana core in my chest. I visualized the pathways, glowing lines of pink light, and pushed a small amount of mana into my right hand.
A small, faint, fire materialized above my palm. It was the same spell I had cast that morning in the dorms, Igris, but I tried to refine it, compressing the light into a tighter, more stable form.
"See?" I said, opening my eyes. "The shell is reinforced. It won't flicker unless I will it to."
Elara leaned in, examining the orb. She didn't speak for a long moment. Then, she raised her own hand.
WHOOSH.
The air in the room suddenly felt heavy. A sphere of fire appeared above Elara's palm, it was a miniature sun.
My jaw dropped. "That's... that's the same spell."
"It is," Elara said calmly, though a hint of pride touched her voice. "But look at the edges. No diffusion. No heat waste. Pure luminosity."
I stared at my own orb, which suddenly looked dim and clumsy in comparison. "How? I spent years practicing this in my mind, refining the visualization. We're the same age, Elara. You're twenty, I'm twenty. How do you have such better control?"
Elara extinguished her light and looked at me, her expression shifting from focus to confusion. She tilted her head, her silver hair falling over her shoulder.
"Did you not ever use magic when you were a teenager?" she asked.
I frowned. "What do you mean? It's illegal to use magic before adulthood. The law is strict about that."
Elara's face went blank. She stared at me with a profoundly shocked expression, her mouth slightly agape.
"Illegal?" she repeated, her voice flat.
"Yes," I said, feeling a sudden spike of anxiety. "Magic is dangerous and uncontrolled until your body matures at twenty. Using it before then is a crime."
Elara blinked twice, then let out a short, sharp breath. "Who told you that?"
"My parents," I said, the words feeling heavy on my tongue. A sinking feeling began to form in my stomach. I felt like I was missing something fundamental.
Elara leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Bell, that's not a law. That's a parenting tactic."
"A... tactic?"
"A lie," Elara corrected, though her tone wasn't unkind. "A very common one. Parents tell their children that magic is illegal to prevent them from blowing up the kitchen or accidentally incinerating the furniture. It's a scare tactic to keep kids from experimenting with volatile energy before they have the discipline to handle it."
I stared at her, my mind reeling. "But... the enforcement. The kingdom has strict laws."
"Enforcement?" Elara chuckled, a dry sound. "Bell, look at the size of Erhtheas. The population is in the billions. Do you really think the Mage Guard can monitor every child in every village? Most children figure out it's a lie when they hit their teens. They start small, lighting candles, moving pebbles. By the time they're sixteen, they've usually mastered the basics of cantrip control."
She paused, looking at my stunned face. "If it were truly illegal to use magic before adulthood, it would be practically impossible to enforce. And frankly, it would stifle magical development. The prodigies start young."
I slumped back in my chair, the revelation hitting me like a physical blow. It was the same feeling as finding out Santa Claus wasn't real, or that the tooth fairy was just your dad. My entire childhood caution story, the fear of being caught, the guilt of accidental surges, was a fabrication.
"I... I spent my whole teenage years terrified," I whispered.
Elara watched me, and for the first time, her stern mask cracked. A soft, genuine sound escaped her lips.
Pfft.
She covered her mouth with her hand, but her shoulders shook. "I'm sorry," she said, though her eyes were crinkled with amusement. "It's just... the look on your face."
"It's not that funny!" I protested, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.
"It is a little," she teased, nodding despite my denial. "You look like I just told you the sky is green."
I pouted, crossing my arms and looking away. "Well, excuse me for having responsible parents."
"Responsible or overprotective?" Elara countered. "Either way, it explains why your practical control is... bad. You have the theory, but you lack the muscle memory that comes from a decade of casual experimentation."
I sighed, uncrossing my arms. "Well, I suppose I have a lot of lost time to make up for."
"Then let's not waste any more of it," Elara said, her demeanor shifting back to business. She stood up and walked to a large board leaning against the wall, flipping it around.
On the board was a complex diagram of the class hierarchy, with names and houses connected by drawn lines.
"Now," Elara said, picking up a marker. "We need to map out our enemies."
I sat up straighter, watching her. "Enemies?"
"Competitors," she corrected. "In this tower, everyone is a competitor. We need to analyze the top five scorers, but more importantly, we need to discuss the one who wasn't on the list."
She wrote a name in bold, sharp letters: VALERIUS THORNE.
She pushed her glasses up, a gesture that seemed to signal a shift in gravity within the room.
I raised my hand, mimicking a student in a lecture. "Actually, I've been meaning to ask about that. From the entrance exam scores you showed me earlier, his name didn't appear a single time. And when he walked into the orientation, even though he wasn't in the top five, he was allowed to take center stage. The professor bowed to him. What happened?"
Elara's eyes darkened slightly. The playful atmosphere evaporated, replaced by a somber tension.
"I've met Valerius Thorne before," she said quietly. "In noble meetings. He is... terrifying."
She turned back to the board, tapping the marker against the name. "Bell, do you know why, out of the three princes in the royal family, Valerius is regarded as the sole heir? Despite being by far the youngest?"
I shook my head. "I assumed it was because of his mother's lineage."
"No," Elara said. "It's his talent. Something so terrifying that various kingdoms have tried to eliminate him since the day he was born."
She began to list points on the board, her voice steady but carrying a weight of dread.
"Assassins," she said, marking a tally. "Hundreds have been sent throughout his life. Even when he was a child, he killed them all. Not with help. Alone."
I gulped, my throat dry.
"Poison," she continued. "He was once fed the highest grade of Neurotoxin, a substance that drops an adult dragon in seconds. He drank it like water and asked for seconds. His body simply metabolized it."
She drew a line through the board. "Kidnapping. When he was a teenager, a rival faction kidnapped him. He butchered his captors. The reports said he didn't use magic; he used his bare hands."
She turned to look at me. "And finally, a weapon. A kingdom used one of its highest-graded artifacts to stab him in the heart. The weapon shattered upon impact with his skin."
The room was silent. The fire crackled, but it offered no warmth.
"All that is to say," Elara concluded, dropping the marker on the tray, "in the history of the Kingdom of Erhtheas, he is regarded by all as a true monster. Thus, the King gives him full authority and exceptions to nearly all rules. He didn't take the entrance exam because he simply didn't have to."
I listened to the description, feeling a cold knot form in my stomach. The image of the massive Moon Elf prince flashed in my mind: the abyssal purple eyes, the suffocating mana pressure.
"So," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "If he is such a monster... why bother competing? Why even try to become Kingpin if he's in the running?"
I expected Elara to agree, to suggest we lay low. Instead, she smiled. It was a fierce, determined smile that lit up her grey eyes.
"Because I will," she declared.
I looked at her blankly. "You will... what?"
"I will compete," she said, her chin lifting. "I will beat him."
I stared at her. She had just described a being who drank poison like tea and shattered weapons with his skin, and she was smiling about it. Despite the terror I felt, a smile tugged at the corners of my own lips.
"You're insane," I said softly.
"I'm ambitious," she corrected.
I looked at her proud stance, her shoulders back, her eyes burning with resolve. Dammit! Just from hearing her description of Valerius, I had already mentally surrendered. But Elara, who had actually met the monster himself, wasn't scared.
So why should I be?
I took a deep breath, straightened my spine, and puffed out my chest.
"You're right," I said, my voice gaining strength. "We're not here to survive. We're here to dominate."
Elara's smile widened. "Exactly. Now, let's finish the curriculum for the week."
We worked until the sky outside the tall window turned a deep indigo, dotted with the silver lights of floating mana lanterns. By the time we finished mapping out the semester's strategy, my brain felt pleasantly exhausted.
Elara closed the textbook with a definitive thud. "That's enough theory for one night."
She led me out of the club room and down to the Tower's dining hall. The meal was traditional elven fare: silver-leaf salad, roasted quail with glaze-wing berries, and a warm, spiced wine that tasted like autumn.
To my surprise, Elara was much more relaxed outside the strict confines of the study room. She laughed at my clumsy attempts to use the ornate silverware, and she didn't flinch when I asked for seconds.
"You have a healthy appetite," she noted, sipping her wine.
"I have a fast metabolism," I replied, wiping my mouth with a napkin. "And I'm trying to build mass. I'm tired of being a twig."
"Or at least sturdy," I joked.
After dinner, the evening air was cool as we walked back toward the dormitory wing. The path was lit by glowing moss embedded in the stones, casting a soft blue light on our faces. We walked side by side, our footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor.
"So," I said, breaking the comfortable silence. "Besides magical theory, what do you actually like to do, Elara?"
She looked surprised by the question. "Like? As in hobbies?"
"Yes. Things you do for fun."
Elara hummed, looking up at the vaulted ceiling. "I... I enjoy reading. But I suppose that's obvious. I also like star-charting. The astronomy archives in the Tower are extensive."
"Star-charting," I repeated.
"And you?" she countered. "What does Bell Ashford do for fun?"
I thought about my past life, and my current one. "I like gardening," I admitted. "There's something soothing about nurturing a living thing. And... I like tea."
Elara nodded slowly. "Gardening. I can see that."
"What about food?" I asked. "Do you have a favorite dish?"
"Spiced venison with root vegetables," she answered without hesitation. "My mother used to make it on cold nights."
"I prefer sweet things," I confessed. "Fruit tarts, specifically. Or anything with berries."
We turned a corner, the dormitory doors lining the hallway ahead.
"I see," Elara said. "I'll keep that in mind. If we're going to be working late often, I should ensure the snacks are to your liking."
We stopped in front of my door, number 204. I turned to face her, adjusting the strap of my satchel.
"Thank you for walking me back, Elara. And... thank you for the lesson. Especially the part about the 'illegal' magic."
Elara looked away, feigning interest in the doorframe. "It was nothing. I couldn't have a vice-president who doesn't know how to cast a basic cantrip properly."
"Still," I said softly. "I appreciate it."
I unlocked the door and stepped inside, turning back to wave. Elara stood in the hallway, the blue moss light casting long shadows behind her. For a moment, she looked small and solitary.
"Goodnight, Bell," she said.
"Goodnight, Elara."
I began to close the door, but she stopped me.
"Wait."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a sleek, rectangular device. It was about the size of a hand, made of polished obsidian glass with silver runes etched along the edges. This was the Manacomm, a device unique to high-ranking elves in the Tower. It functioned like a phone but used mana pulses to transmit messages instantly through the Tower's ley lines.
She held it up, the screen glowing with a soft white light.
"I need your contact number," she said, her tone businesslike, though her eyes were fixed on the device rather than me. "For club updates. And... in case I have questions about the curriculum."
"Of course," I said. I reached out and took the Manacomm, my fingers brushing against hers. I quickly typed in my identification string and mana signature.
As I handed it back, I glanced at the screen. The contact list was visible for a split second. It was depressingly short. Aside from a few entries labeled "Father" and "Mother," there was no one else.
My heart squeezed. I looked up at Elara. She was already turning her head away, pretending to examine the texture of the wall, but I saw the slight tightening of her jaw. She knew I had seen.
I felt a wave of pity, quickly followed by resolve. I wouldn't let her stay at the bottom of the social ladder, she deserved better.
I handed the Manacomm back. "Done. You're my first contact on this thing, actually."
She took it, her grip tight. "Good. That's... good."
"Well," I said, stepping fully into my room. "I'll see you tomorrow, Elara."
"Yes. Tomorrow."