Fallen Mage Regressor

Mal’s feet stepped into the ground. Behind him, Philo’s footsteps trailed at a slower pace.

Mal could buy running directly into one of the Heralds through sheer bad luck once. And that time, he’d even been happy about it. Running into Rolam was a chance to gain a powerful future ally, and prove to Lusia that he wasn’t a gigantic prick anymore.

But the fact that of all students in the entire exam… The one he’d run directly into and been “rescued” by… Had been Philo?

Mal was ambiguous on the idea of higher powers. On the one hand, he knew that there was something like that, because how else could the Heralds exist? How did the mark of the Endbringer exist? There was something else going on. Mal was sure of that much.

But just because something was higher up on the power scale, it didn’t necessarily make them a God in the way that some people conceived of the idea. Was there an omnipotent, omniscient force controlling everything under the sun? Possibly. But Mal wasn’t committed to an answer either way.

But when you had stuff like this, coincidences of such stupid odds…

Mal slapped his cheeks.

“Ape, are you well?” Philo said from behind him.

“Yeah, yeah, just trying to figure something out.”

He was overthinking this. Was it really that astronomical? There were probably 100, 150 applicants or so, based off the amount of people he’d seen in the crowd just prior to the teleportation.

1%. Random chance could’ve been at work. Extremely low, but possible.

Really, the most interesting part about this wasn’t the fact that Philo was here. It was how Philo was acting.

In Mal’s time, Philo had been silent to the point where he’d honestly believed that the draconid was either deaf or mute.

Mal glanced back. Philo smiled and raised a hand in greeting.

Mal turned back around, not responding.

Now, Philo was some sort of happy-go-lucky, hyper-talkative nerd with a deep love of magic theory.

With Rolam, when Mal had noticed such a significant change it hadn’t seemed so unusual. It made sense that his years at the university would’ve changed him significantly. But Philo as well?

Then again, Mal had changed a great deal in those years as well. Time had a habit of doing that to you, he supposed.

“Why come to Exodi?” Mal said. “You said you always wanted to be a wizard. Why was that?”

The draconid’s feet stepped against the ground rhythmically.

“A lot of different reasons. Philo knows a draconid wizard is rare—”

“Rare? Try one in a million.”

There were obvious reasons for this—draconids had no need of wizardry. They were in an ambiguous state between magical beasts and non-magical sapient creatures. Aligned mana formed and generated inside of them, and they could use it effectively—this was the source of the famous fire breath move that Philo had demonstrated for Mal just a few minutes earlier.

Not only that, but physically their strength was enormously high. Their magical resistance was through the roof, so it wasn’t like wizards were their hard counter.

All of these factors combined meant that draconids who walked the path of wizardry were exceptionally rare. Rarer than a hen’s tooth.

“Philo already kind of explained it.” Philo rubbed the back of his neck. “Philo’s not a very good draconid, and the Empire has no need for ones such as Philo. His control over his natural aligned magic is miserable, and though he’s quick on his feet, he’s not at all at the level expected of a draconid of his age and height.”

“So, unaligned magic, wizardry, attracted you?”

Philo nodded. He held out his hand, and an arcane sphere flashed into existence.

“So much of aligned magic relies on intuition and talent,” Philo said. “Wizardry is the opposite. It’s about hard work, logic, and intellect. That was rather attractive to Philo as an individual with no particular gifts—save for, perhaps, his memory.”

Mal hummed.

“Why Exodi, though?” Mal said. “I mean… no offense, but that feels like a pretty questionable choice. If you went somewhere farther to the west or maybe the Elven academy, you’d have a much easier time.”

“Yes, Philo’s aware of the hatred against draconids here,” Philo said bluntly.

Mal raised an eyebrow.

“So why, then?” Mal said.

“Exodi produces the most powerful wizards in the known world,” Philo said. “That’s not a matter of opinion or some kind of elaborate propaganda. It’s a fact. The combination of the ambient mana and the top-tier curriculum means that going here will turn Philo into the best wizard that he can be. If anything, the fact that Philo’s going to be struggling against his peers is exactly what he needs to sharpen his mind.”

Mal blinked. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

The conviction shouldn’t have surprised him—at the end of the day, Philo was destined to be a hero. As a Herald, there had to be a little bit of steel somewhere underneath all of that blubber.

Philo’s hard tone and expression disappeared, and he shook his hands back and forth in front of him. “Sorry, that was probably a little bit too blunt, wasn’t it? Philo didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just something that he’s thought a lot about—”

“No, I respect it,” Mal said, stepping over a root. “It’s actually pretty cool.”

Philo laughed and rubbed the back of his head.

“You’re a weird human, you know that?” he said.

Mal looked back and raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No, no, not weird in a bad way!” Philo groaned. “Philo meant that you’re pretty much the first human I’ve met who treated Philo like a normal person? On the way here, villagers would scream at him and run away. Here in the city, the best he got were one-word responses. This has been the first normal conversation he’s had in a good month.”

In his first life, Mal probably would’ve done one of those two things when speaking to a draconid. He’d grown up with the constant fear that monsters from the Eastern Wastes would destroy Exodi, then burn the entire kingdom to the ground. Anything that felt even remotely in that camp would’ve been terrifying.

But after delving into the depths of dark magic and doing things far, far worse than any magical beast had ever done, it was hard to feel that same sort of instinctual fear. That was ignoring the fact that several of his followers had been draconids.

Mal made a mental note—at some point he would need to hunt down his old troops. Like Lusia, they’d followed him to the very end, and it had cost them their lives. And like Lusia, this time, he would ensure that they were well rewarded for their loyalty.

“Mal? Hello?”

Mal blinked. He’d gotten lost in thoughts again. He really needed to start getting a handle on that. It wouldn’t do for him to constantly look as if he was away in dreamland. Even though that’s exactly what was happening.

He quickly ran through the conversation in his mind and remembered where they left off.

“I guess I just don’t see the point in freaking out about anything,” Mal said. “Magical beasts are mindless. They only want to wreak havoc and destruction. If you were actually a magical beast, we wouldn’t be able to have this conversation.”

“That’s a very rational way of thinking about it.” Philo nodded. “Philo approves.”

The shadow of a looming object paused their conversation. Mal turned about to see one of the pillars that he’d spotted in the distance. He’d managed to walk directly into it.

Below it, on two stone pedestals, were two metal medallions. They weren’t particularly fancy, unadorned with any kind of ribbon or studded with any jewels. They were plain, simple, and exactly what Mal would expect from an academy like Exodi.

A noise.

They weren’t alone.

Both Philo’s and Mal’s heads whipped forward in the direction of the sound.

Mal gripped his hand around his iron stick. Worst came to worst, it could be a Tungstenbat or a Razorsnake. Mal was unsure, so it was better to be prepared for anything.

Two figures stumbled out of the bushes.

Mal lowered his metal stick.

One of them was a familiar sight—

Rolam. His elven ears twitched while his face was still planted in the ground. He pushed himself up, turned, and glared at the figure behind him.

“Be more careful. You’re walking way too close to me.”

The other figure looked away with an expression of shame. His white hair fell over his eyes and covered his face.

“I—I’m sorry. I was just so afraid…”

“Rolam,” Mal stepped over and held out a hand. “Surprised to see you here.”

Rolam turned his head, and his eyes widened when he saw Mal. “Honored friend! What are you doing here?”

Mal took a second to think about his response. What was he doing here? Once again, he’d run into Rolam, just outside the dormitories. Then he ran into Philo. Then he ran into Rolam again.

It’s just a coincidence, he thought to himself. Don’t overthink it.

“We’re here for the artifact,” Mal said.

Rolam looked over at the pillar and stared at the stone medallions. “Those are it, right? Those are the artifacts.” He walked over in the direction of the medallions.

Philo moved from behind Mal to stand in front of Rolam, barring access. Rolam stumbled back, then glared upward at Philo.

“Who brought the oversized lizard?” Rolam crossed his arms. “Did you get lost on the way to your next conquest, empire-spawn?”

Philo’s face, at first simply stern, turned ice cold.

“Away, half-elf. We were here first. We deserve the artifacts. You’ll have to go to another pillar.”

Mal grimaced.

It was something of a stereotype that, among the pseudo-magical races, draconids and elves had a rivalry. Mal had, firsthand in his army, seen the elves and draconids hold tournaments and engage in factionalism. Luckily, due to Mal’s ability as a commander, it ended up being more of a friendly rivalry.

Looking between the two in front of him, Mal had a feeling that this would quickly come to blows if he didn’t step in.

But should he? There was no obvious benefit to picking a side. And if he didn’t pick a side, he might earn the ire of both of them for being a coward.

“Honored friend, are you really working together with this… draconid?”

Mal was broken out of his thoughts by Rolam’s speech. He was staring at Mal with an expression of confusion and disdain.

Mal had to hold back the urge to snort. Despite being a mere half-elf, it seemed that Rolam had inherited all the condescension of that particular people.

“Philo was kind enough to help me out of a jam,” Mal said. “I was about to be attacked by a bunch of iron wolves when he rescued me.”

Rolam’s eyes wandered back over to Philo. “I almost can’t help but wonder if you were waiting until the optimal moment to strike, so you could get my honored friend on your side.”

Mal raised an eyebrow. That seemed like a wild stretch.

But to his surprise, the words seemed to strike a slight nerve with Philo. Philo’s eyes twitched, and there was an uneasiness to his stance that hadn’t been there before.

“You’re wrong. Philo jumped in as soon as he saw the danger.”

Rolam sneered, and the smell of mana wafted off his hands.

“This is ridiculous—”

The jittery white-haired boy ran up between the two and held out his hands on both sides.

“Wait, stop!”

Mal raised an eyebrow. It was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid to get in between a draconid and a half-elf.

Rolam lowered his hands, and the smell of mana disappeared. “Nima, what are you doing?”

“Trying to stop you from doing something dumb!” Nima said. “Don’t you see? Even if you win, you’re going to end up hurt. It’s going to be difficult enough making it back to the extraction point, even without an injury.”

Philo looked unsure about what to do. Mal took the opportunity created by Nima to step forward and put his hand on Philo’s shoulder.

“This isn’t rational,” Mal said. “Let’s take a second to cool down.”

Philo looked back and forth between him and Rolam before he slowly nodded up and down. “You’re right. This is an unwise use of everyone’s time.”

Mal looked over at Nima. He’d been smart to intervene when he had. And yet Mal couldn’t recall for the life of him ever running into this person. That white hair was extremely distinctive—Mal would’ve thought he’d seen him before.

Either he wasn’t as special as he seemed… or he’d been taken out early—early enough that Mal had forgotten. Maybe he ended up quitting? Or maybe he just failed the exam?

The two groups stood opposite each other, glares still flashing between Rolam and Philo.

Mal scratched the top of his head. This was bound to be a fun conversation.

“It’s abundantly obvious that we were the first ones to reach the pillar,” Philo said. “We saw the medallions first. We get first rights.”

Mal looked at Philo and sighed. Though they weren’t about to go to war, it was abundantly clear that Philo wouldn’t give up the medallions without at least a verbal fight.

Rolam crossed his arms. “We arrived at the same time.”

“That is factually incorrect.”

“We were in a bush, but we saw the medallions—that’s why we were running and why we tripped. Actually, I bet we saw it before you.” He coughed into his hand. “No offense, honored friend.”

Mal held up his hands. “None taken. But is it really that big a deal?”

Philo’s nostrils flared, and his hand tightened around his spell book.

“Philo doesn’t know how much this means to you, Mal,” he said. “But there aren’t very many academies on the continent. If Philo’s rejected from this one, he may not find one so accommodating to draconids. This could be his only chance.”

Rolam’s eyes seemed to darken. “Yeah. You’re a good guy, honored friend, but I don’t think you get it. This honored one already failed out of the elven academy’s exam. I can’t afford to let this chance slip through my fingers.”

Mal shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants.

It seemed they had a conundrum. Both of them had good, valid reasons why they needed the medallions. And both of them were willing to bleed to obtain them.

Mal’s eyes flickered over to Nima. Except for him. He’d been inactive in the conversation and had returned to his sullen state that Mal had seen before.

Of course, Mal had been tempted to simply say that the medallions were not actually the key part of the exam, but he was fearful that would get him disqualified.

Mal scratched his chin. “I have a suggestion.”

All three sets of eyes turned to look at him.

“What kind of suggestion?” Rolam said.

“I’ll just give my medallion over to Philo. That way, he has nothing to fight about.”

Philo turned and looked at him with wide eyes. “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not joking,” Mal said. “I’m dead serious. You can have it.”

Philo shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. We’re still stuck with four people and only two medallions—”

Nima raised a hand. “I—I’ll do the same as him!”

Rolam’s jaw dropped. He turned and put both of his hands on Nima’s shoulders. “Don’t you realize what you’re suggesting? You might fail the exam!”

“I—it’s fine. Honestly, I’m surprised I even made it this far.” Nima’s smile flickered. “I have an E-grade core. The only thing I’m good at is illusion magic, and I’m not particularly decent with that, either. You’ve been carrying me the whole time. I feel like you deserve this.”

For a second, it almost seemed as if both of them were genuinely considering it.

Finally, Rolam shook his head. “I can’t accept that.”

Philo let out a long sigh. “Your generosity is appreciated, Mal. But you don’t know what you’re giving Philo. It wouldn’t be right for Philo to take it.”

Mal’s grimace tightened against his face. This wasn’t exactly the outcome he’d been hoping for. They’d gone right back to square one.

Philo’s claws seemed to glint in the sunlight. Rolam’s hands started to emanate mana again.

It may very well have been that all Nima and Mal had managed to do was buy time.

A screech.

High and loud—a cross between a lion and a bat.

A shadow passed overhead, and Mal was hit with a cold breeze. He looked up to see the outline of an absolutely enormous bat passing over the sun.

It let out another screech, and Mal found his heart pumping in return.

The bat turned and glared at them hatefully, its blue metal wings sparkling in the air.

“Ah.” Mal stepped back. “That’s a big bat.”