Nicholas escorted me back inside the academy, careful to keep me upright as though one wrong step might have me pitching over in the hallway. The instant we reached the entrance, however, he was gone again, off to help with the progress assessment.
I didn’t mind. In fact, I was relieved.
No one to micro-manage and keep me in check.
My healing magic had brought me back to at least half strength, and my mana was already recovering faster than I could spend it now that I wasn’t forcing quintuple the normal amount into training.
The ordeal hadn’t been a waste, though. I could now maintain quadruple mana in a healing spell without losing concentration, a marked improvement over where I’d started.
And if the Empty Vessel theory held true, pushing myself at that quadruple threshold was the smarter long-term play.
Tiring, yes...
But not nearly as brutal as quintuple. I could live with that, so long as the results followed.
I glanced toward the field through a glass window. The progress assessment would take at least another hour, duels and all the rest of it.
Truthfully, my class day was already finished. The academic lessons were held in the morning, and P.E. had devoured the entire afternoon schedule.
My first real day, and it had only been one period. Tomorrow would be different, though. Just politics and law, but that was a problem for future Reyn.
And I wasn’t really that worried about it. Surely a civilization like this would have easier laws than the one I spent memorizing back in my old world.
So right now, I’m free to do whatever I want.
Which means...
’Actually, no... that won’t work.’
Right, Anna probably still had her own classes. Probably another hour or two before we could actually meet.
And Trish... well, she needed more time to marinate before I inserted myself into her life.
Guess I just have to do something else...
✧ ✦ ✧
And that "something else" was, obviously, a ritual.
One I remembered from halfway through the novel.
Good thing I hadn’t dropped it immediately back then...
Barely even reached the ending myself, since the final girl wasn’t to my taste, but I’d read more than enough to give myself an edge here.
"Alright... a circle of blood on the floor, and these specific markings here and there..."
I muttered to myself inside one of the academy’s private training rooms. "Room" was generous, really. It was just a cold box with magic-resistant walls.
I had to respect the efficiency. No furniture necessary when they knew everything inside was going to get blown up anyway.
Normally, renting a place like this would’ve cost me a fair bit of coin. But with most of the student body stuck in classes or P.E., the receptionist had told me the rooms were free for now.
It looked like getting excused from the progress assessment had paid off after all.
Half the academy was in lectures, the other half on the field. The seniors had their own events, but since they didn’t conflict with the private training rooms, they didn’t matter.
I turned my attention back to the floor. The summoning circle was simple: a four-pointed star inside a ring, with a symbol at each tip.
Easy to remember.
These circles had been a massive plot device in the novel. I couldn’t even get through a single important arc without one popping up out of nowhere.
And luckily for me, this body knew those symbols perfectly well.
They were just this world’s writing system. When combined, the four characters roughly translated to: Call Forth Celestial Powers.
A flexible summoning circle. Bestowed upon the protagonist by a retired, weakened archmage as thanks for saving his daughter from a demon only the hero could defeat.
Out of all the rituals I could remember, this was the simplest one that wouldn’t immediately get me killed. The others required far too much fighting, or ingredients so eccentric I had neither the skill nor the access to acquire them.
This one? All I had to do was answer the vaguest, most ridiculous riddles known to man, and I’d get what I needed.
A Fairy Core.
’Let’s get this over with.’
I cleared my throat and read aloud from the book I’d borrowed from the library. A children’s story about a fairy queen and her mischievous adventures in the mortal world.
Halfway through the novel, the protagonist had discovered there was more truth to that book than anyone realized. The author was actually a servant of the fairy queen herself, ordered to spread her deeds under a pen name.
A queen so arrogant she’d hidden the actual summoning phrase inside the story itself, confident no mortal would ever crack it.
And she would’ve been right; the book never included the summoning circle, and this children’s book itself was so unserious no one would ever realize it was real.
Too bad that didn’t apply to me.
"Fair Queen of the Fey, most magnificent and wondrous of all. Hear the call of this lowly... pathetic mortal who pales in comparison to..."
I grimaced and kept going. Honestly, no wonder only the protagonist with his plot armor had ever cracked this...
Anyone else would’ve just thought this was a stupid joke.
"—your radiant, unparalleled glory, which outshines the sun and makes the stars weep with envy. I beseech thee, grace this humble circle with your—"
The blood on the floor flared gold.
I barely had time to flinch before the light condensed into a single point at the center of the circle, then exploded outward in a shower of sparks that smelled like burnt sugar and flowers.
When my vision cleared, she was there.
Floating.
Cross-legged. Chin propped on one delicate hand. Wings like stained glass catching light that didn’t exist.
She was perhaps six feet tall, dressed in something that resembled a gown woven from ice and fire. Her hair was white, and her gold eyes, slit-pupiled and narrowed with irritation, were fixed on me.
"So... a mortal actually cracked my summoning phrase."
Her wings gave an annoyed flutter.
"From a book I had commissioned while I was in my theatre phase..."