Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 1087: A Direction

”What changed inside the chamber?”

Lucavion became quieter at the question.

They had already crossed most of the bridge, where pale mist rose from the mana-warmed channel beneath them and gathered in loose strands against the stone railing. The eastern sky still belonged more to night than morning, although the darkness had thinned enough for the distant Academy towers to emerge as separate shapes against the horizon.

Lucavion opened one hand as he walked, studying his fingers for a moment as though some part of what he had discovered might still remain there.

”I was doing too much.”

Selenne waited.

Her silence carried none of the encouragement another professor might have offered. She simply looked at him and expected him to continue.

Lucavion did.

”Every manifestation was something I had to hold myself. One shifted, so I corrected it. Another changed shape, so I corrected that. Then the chamber changed the pressure around all three, and every correction started coming back through me.”

His fingers curled slightly.

”And then?” Selenne asked.

”I realized I was treating them like my sword.”

That caught her attention.

Lucavion noticed the slight change in her gaze and continued before she needed to prompt him again.

”With a sword, I want it to answer me immediately. If my wrist turns, the point follows. If my grip changes, the blade changes with it. There is no reason to leave anything between the thought and the movement because the sword is already in my hand.”

He looked toward the path ahead.

”But those manifestations weren’t.”

Selenne nodded once.

”So you changed the relationship.”

Lucavion glanced at her.

”I suppose that would be the proper way to say it.”

”What would be your improper way?”

”I stopped bothering them so much.”

Selenne stared at him.

Lucavion’s mouth curved.

She continued walking.

”You gave them conditions.”

”If Magister Selenne says so.”

Her eyes shifted toward him.

The respect in his voice had become suspiciously immaculate.

”Yes,” she said. ”I do.”

”Then conditions it is.”

Selenne had the distinct impression that he was enjoying himself.

She chose to ignore it.

”What conditions?”

”A shape. A place. How much movement I would tolerate before correcting it. Roughly what the mana should return to afterward.” Lucavion opened his hand again, then let it fall beside him. ”Once those were there, I stopped correcting every little change myself.”

Selenne’s pace slowed by a fraction.

That matched what she had observed almost perfectly.

”What you did,” she said after a moment, ”is much closer to the way a magician handles an external structure.”

Lucavion turned toward her.

”A magician?”

”In principle.”

Something sharpened behind his eyes.

It lasted only an instant, but Selenne caught it.

She assumed the comparison had surprised him.

”What you produced remains very crude,” she continued. ”I would hesitate to let a second-year magician submit something like that without correction.”

Lucavion looked faintly wounded.

”Magister, I had only just invented it.”

”You discovered a principle. You did not invent magic.”

”Ah.”

His expression became solemn.

”My apologies to the generations of magicians whose achievements I nearly claimed.”

Selenne looked at him.

He maintained the expression perfectly.

”Student Lucavion.”

”Yes, Magister?”

”That tone will become troublesome.”

”It has served me rather well.”

”That does not improve matters.”

His smile returned.

Selenne turned her attention toward the path, though she was beginning to understand why so many people found speaking with him exhausting.

”The important part,” she continued, ”is that you stopped keeping the entire burden centered upon yourself. Before that change, your mana responded only after you responded. Once you placed a simple order within those manifestations, some part of your intention remained even when your attention moved elsewhere.”

Lucavion considered that for several steps.

”An order.”

”A crude one.”

”You seem very committed to that word.”

”Accuracy matters.”

”Of course, Magister.”

There it was again.

Perfect courtesy.

Enough of it that it became mockery without ever crossing clearly into disrespect.

Selenne glanced sideways.

Lucavion was looking ahead as though he had said nothing unusual.

She decided that acknowledging it would reward him.

The eastern terraces rose beyond the gardens, their roofs still covered by the blue-gray shade of approaching dawn. Most of their windows remained dark, although a handful of distant rooms had already been lit by professors, researchers, or students with questionable relationships with sleep.

”If you attempt the same method again,” Selenne said, ”do so carefully.”

Lucavion looked toward her.

”Was today’s attempt insufficiently careful?”

”You were bleeding.”

”A persuasive observation.”

”You also strained your core heavily enough that Professor Varnen nearly stopped the trial.”

”That sounds less flattering when you say it.”

”It is intended to.”

He gave a quiet hum.

Selenne continued before he could turn the subject elsewhere.

”You understood enough to solve the problem in front of you. That does not mean you understand everything beneath the solution. Once mana begins carrying instructions outside your immediate control, one poor relationship can disturb the entire structure.”

Lucavion listened more seriously now.

”A mistake in a simple manifestation may only cause it to collapse. When several conditions depend upon one another, the consequences become less forgiving.”

”And this is something magicians study normally?”

”Yes.”

”Where?”

Selenne stopped herself from answering immediately.

Then she looked at him.

”You are standing inside the Imperial Academy.”

Lucavion blinked.

”I had noticed.”

”Then I suggest you make use of it.”

”That was somewhat broader than the answer I hoped for.”

Selenne’s expression remained composed.

”There are courses dealing with mana structure, sustained manifestations, spell construction, and external control. You would find the foundations there.”

Lucavion’s eyes narrowed slightly.

”In the Magicians’ Block?”

”Primarily.”

”Primarily.”

Selenne noticed the repetition.

”Yes.”

He waited.

She waited as well.

Eventually Lucavion smiled.

”Forgive me, Magister. I thought there might be more.”

”There isn’t.”

”You sounded as though there was.”

”I did not.”

”Then I must have misunderstood.”

The innocence in his voice was offensive.

Selenne looked at him for several seconds.

Lucavion politely inclined his head.

She resumed walking.

”Those subjects are taught primarily to magicians because magicians rely upon them far more heavily. A swordsman has little reason to devote years to elaborate spell construction when his discipline demands a different sort of refinement.”

”But the principle itself?”

”Mana does not change its nature simply because the person controlling it carries a sword.”

That answer made Lucavion quiet.

Selenne continued.

”The Academy separates disciplines because specialization is necessary. It would be foolish to force every swordsman through advanced spellcraft, just as I would see little value in making every magician master the finer forms of mounted sword combat.”

Lucavion glanced toward her.

”You do not ride?”

”That is what you took from what I said?”

”A question occurred to me.”

”Suppress it.”

He laughed softly.

Selenne’s expression stiffened for the smallest moment, as though she had realized only afterward how naturally the answer had escaped her.

Lucavion noticed.

Naturally.

”Magister.”

”What?”

”That was almost a joke.”

”It was an instruction.”

”Of course.”

His tone returned immediately to flawless formality.

Selenne’s eyes narrowed.

”You are doing that deliberately.”

”Doing what?”

”Never mind.”

”Very well.”

He sounded entirely obedient.

That somehow made it worse.

They walked several more steps before Selenne spoke again.

”The point is that disciplines are separated because it is practical to do so. The principles beneath them overlap far more often than students like to believe.”

Lucavion turned his attention toward the distant eastern buildings.

For a few moments, he said nothing.

His expression remained relaxed, yet the amusement around his eyes gradually withdrew as something else occupied his thoughts.

Selenne noticed.

She had begun noticing that particular stillness more readily than she liked.

”What is it?”

Lucavion looked toward her.

”Magister?”

”You were thinking about something.”

”I usually am.”

”I am aware.”

He waited.

Selenne’s gaze sharpened slightly.

”What?”

Lucavion smiled.

”Nothing worth troubling the Magister with.”

The title came out with impeccable respect.

Too impeccable.

Selenne’s mouth tightened.

”If your intention is to irritate me, Student Lucavion, you are succeeding.”

”Then I apologize.”

”You sound pleased.”

”I can be apologetic and pleased simultaneously.”

Selenne looked away.

There were apparently battles that even an Archmage gained nothing from fighting.

”If you intend to pursue what you learned today,” she said, returning to safer ground, ”read before experimenting again.”

Lucavion placed a hand lightly against his chest.

”That sounds terribly restrictive, Magister.”

”It is advice.”

”Ah. Then I shall treasure it.”

”You should follow it.”

”That may be more difficult.”

”I assumed as much.”

His smile broadened.

For a heartbeat, Selenne wondered whether she had accidentally encouraged him.

Then she caught the slight stiffness when Lucavion flexed his right hand.

The humor around him faded almost imperceptibly.

He remembered the pain.

Selenne had seen enough of it inside the chamber to recognize that much.

Her tone became quieter.

”You nearly damaged yourself today.”

Lucavion’s gaze remained upon his hand.

”I know.”

That answer was simple.

The performance vanished with it.

Selenne watched him for a moment before continuing.

”Then understand the rest before you force your body through the same lesson twice.”

Lucavion slowly closed his fingers.

”I’ll remember it.”

Selenne nodded.

She left the matter there.

By the time they reached the junction, the eastern sky had changed considerably. A narrow wash of muted gold had spread beneath the clouds, touching the highest roofs of the Academy while frost along the paths caught the growing light. Servants had begun crossing the courtyards, and a few early students moved between buildings with books gathered beneath their arms.

One path descended toward the student residences.

The other climbed toward the faculty terraces.

Selenne stopped first.

Lucavion followed a step later.

For a moment, neither spoke.

She found herself studying him once again.

He possessed obvious deficiencies.

His knowledge of formal magic remained fragmented enough that a proper first-year magician would probably recognize terms he had never encountered. His explanations relied heavily upon sensation, comparison, movement and instinct, while established magical theory often seemed to reach him only after someone translated it into something he could experience directly.

Yet the chamber had shown the other side of that weakness.

Once Lucavion understood what a principle actually did, he adapted to it disturbingly quickly.

That thought had followed Selenne from Chamber 3C.

It remained with her now.

”What you discovered this morning goes considerably deeper than the version you used,” she said.

Lucavion inclined his head slightly.

”I assumed so.”

”That is reassuring.”

”Was there doubt?”

Selenne gave him a look.

He smiled faintly.

She continued.

”If you choose to pursue it further, learn the foundation first. Instinct can carry someone very far, particularly when their instinct is as developed as yours. But knowledge allows you to understand which parts are worth preserving and which habits will eventually become chains.”

Lucavion’s expression shifted.

He looked at her more directly.

For once, Selenne became slightly conscious of what she had said.

Perhaps it had sounded more personal than intended.

She straightened almost imperceptibly.

”That is general advice.”

”Of course, Magister.”

The faint amusement had returned.

Selenne regretted adding the clarification.

She turned toward the faculty path.

”You have Written Evaluation Tier II at nine.”

Lucavion’s face immediately lost some of its enthusiasm.

Selenne paused.

That reaction was somehow more satisfying than it should have been.

”You remembered,” he said.

”I am responsible for examinations.”

”I had hoped that particular responsibility had escaped you.”

”It did not.”

”A pity.”

Selenne hesitated.

The next words should have been simple.

For some reason, they felt strangely awkward after the morning they had spent arguing over his results, his mana, his flame, and whether the Academy itself had been treating him fairly.

Still, she said them.

”Do well.”

Lucavion looked at her.

Selenne’s fingers shifted once against the edge of her sleeve.

”At nine,” she clarified, unnecessarily. ”On the written examination.”

His eyebrows rose.

”I understood.”

”Good.”

A small silence followed.

Lucavion looked faintly entertained.

Selenne immediately regretted giving him enough time to notice.

Then he bowed his head, and when he answered, his voice was properly respectful.

”Thank you, Magister Selenne.”

No mockery.

That somehow caught her more thoroughly than his teasing had.

She nodded once.

”You should eat before then. And whatever rest you can manage would be wise.”

Lucavion’s mouth curved.

”Is that also an order?”

”Advice.”

”Again?”

”Student Lucavion.”

”Yes, Magister.”

”Go.”

He laughed softly.

”As you command.”

Selenne’s eyes narrowed.

”I did not command you.”

Lucavion had already taken several steps toward the residence path.

He turned slightly while continuing backward.

”Then, as you advise.”

”That is worse.”

”I will reflect upon my conduct.”

”I sincerely doubt it.”

His smile widened.

Then he turned around and continued down the path.

Selenne remained at the junction for several breaths.

She could still feel some lingering curiosity from the chamber, though she resisted giving it more weight than it deserved. Lucavion had discovered one useful principle. Whether he pursued it, ignored it, or twisted it into something she would later regret explaining remained his concern.

Still...

Her gaze lingered upon him as he disappeared farther along the garden path.

Someone had taught him remarkably little about formal magic.

Yet whenever he encountered one of its deeper principles directly, he seemed to recognize something within it.

Selenne eventually turned toward the faculty terraces.

She would watch.

For now, that was enough.

*****

Lucavion continued toward the residences while the Academy slowly woke around him.

Several students passed in the opposite direction, wrapped in cloaks against the morning cold, while servants carried baskets and bundles through the side entrances of the dormitory buildings. Somewhere behind him, one of the distant tower bells rang across the grounds.

His thoughts remained elsewhere.

The chamber.

The pressure grinding through his meridians.

The moment he had loosened his hold.

And Selenne’s words afterward.

Mana could carry intention beyond the instant in which he gave it.

A structure could preserve part of what he wanted without forcing his attention to remain wrapped around every movement.

Magicians had built an entire discipline around that idea.

Lucavion reached the entrance to the residence hall.

He slowed.

His right hand emerged from his pocket.

For a while, he simply looked at it.

That hand had spent years learning a much simpler relationship.

He moved.

The sword answered.

Mana followed.

For most of his life, that had been enough.

Inside Chamber 3C, for the first time, it hadn’t been.

His fingers slowly closed.

The expression on his face settled somewhere between thoughtfulness and the faint amusement that usually appeared whenever a troublesome possibility began taking shape.

’This may be the direction I will need.’

Lucavion lowered his hand.

Written Evaluation Tier II waited at nine, and he still needed to prepare himself for the rest of the day.

Whatever this direction eventually became, he had time to think about it.

He entered the residence hall and headed toward his room.