Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 1207: Selenne’s First Lecture

The practical classroom read like habit before Lucavion had chosen where to stand — sixteen stations ringing the floor, formations threading beneath them toward a darker strip of stone at the front, cabinets sealed along one wall, two exits he registered without needing to look twice. His awareness still did that on its own. It simply offered him nothing to say about it afterward.

Something in his chest still answered when he breathed too deeply. He let the breath go shallow instead and kept walking.

Students glanced at the black Martial fabric before they placed the estoc, murmurs following him in that order — Rotunda, Selenne, a name half-recognized. ’Word travels faster than I can outrun it, apparently.’ He found the thought without much interest in finishing it.

He took the third-row station without deciding to. It was only afterward that he noticed whose station stood beside it.

Elara didn’t look up from the tracing plate until he’d already sat. Then she did, and didn’t look away again quickly enough.

”You’re quiet,” she said.

”I’m always quiet. You’ve simply been unobservant.”

”You’re never this quiet.” She studied him the way she studied a formation that had stopped behaving the way its diagram claimed it should. ”Something happened.”

”Something happened,” he agreed, and offered nothing to follow it.

She waited a moment longer than the silence deserved, decided the wait wouldn’t be rewarded, and let it go — though her eyes came back to him once more before she faced forward, filing the question rather than dropping it.

’She’ll ask again. Later, better armed.’

Isolde arrived from the row behind, pausing only long enough for the correct half-second of acknowledgment — a nod for him, a smoother one for Elowyn Caerlin, the courtesy of someone raised never to withhold it. Her gaze caught on him half a breath longer than etiquette required, then released, redirecting toward the front of the room before it could become a question she’d have to ask aloud.

’Not today, Isolde.’

Around them the room kept assembling itself, sleeves rolled back, low talk about the Rotunda thinning as the last students found their marks. Lucavion had no appetite for any of it, which was its own kind of strange.

Selenne entered as the final station filled, a narrow case of translucent crystals balanced against one hip. Conversation dropped away before she’d said a word. A single instruction cleared the class of rings, bracelets, gloves. She touched a crystal to the instructor’s formation, and pale light crossed the floor, waking the pins at every station in turn, including his.

Her gaze crossed the room once. It touched him no longer than it touched anyone else, and moved on.

He decided he preferred it that way.

”Most mana-control instruction begins with direction. You decide where your mana should go, then force the movement to conform until the route can be repeated under pressure.”

Her gaze crossed the stations.

”This course begins earlier. Before deciding what your mana should do, you will learn to recognize what it is already doing.”

The class had not arrived with empty pathways. Some students had inherited circulation diagrams maintained within their houses for generations. Others used routes adapted to an affinity, a physical limitation or a particular casting tradition. Repetition added further changes. A hesitation corrected often enough could disappear from conscious notice, while an adjustment made years ago might remain after the weakness that required it had changed.

”A method may produce the intended spell while spending more mana than the spell requires. A correction may remain useful, or become an obstruction when the practitioner changes. I will not replace sixteen structures with one diagram and call that instruction.”

She touched the crystal. Light strengthened beneath the floor, revealing the channels connecting each station to the front.

”You will learn to maintain circulation through interruption, reduce waste during prolonged use and recognize instability before it damages the structure carrying it. Each problem requires you to identify where the inefficient behavior began.”

Lucavion rested one forearm beside his plate.

The premise seemed reasonable, if elementary. He had monitored mana while bleeding, maintained circulation through disrupted breathing and fought when pain reduced his body to competing complaints. Watching a small current cross his palm hardly compared.

”Training does not remain separate from the body because someone else supplied it,” Selenne continued. ”A movement repeated for years becomes expectation. Eventually, you may experience a learned correction as natural movement.”

Lucavion’s fingers shifted against the stone.

He felt pressure and responded; sensed drift and altered the route before it mattered. The distinction sounded clear in language. Within the body, where recognition and response occurred almost together, it became less convenient.

Elara glanced over, catching the change in his posture before returning her attention to Selenne. Across the aisle, Isolde sat with her gloves folded beside the station, pale eyes fixed upon the demonstration.

”Place both hands outside the marked ring. Do not circulate until told.”

Sleeves drew back and palms settled against stone. Selenne waited until the room stilled.

”The course description uses the term innate flow. Do not mistake that for untouched flow. We begin with the circulation your body presently treats as ordinary. Separating older inclination from acquired habit will require more than one exercise.”

The central plates brightened.

”These instruments record direction, rhythm and relative pressure when mana reaches the point of contact. They cannot identify affinity, examine a core or reconstruct the route travelled before the hand. That portion belongs to your observation.”

Selenne placed her palm against the plate at the front and released a narrow current. A pale line appeared beneath her fingers, bent once and settled into a steady curve. She withdrew before it fully faded.

”Allow a small amount of mana to reach the plate. If the movement hesitates, let the hesitation arrive. If pressure shifts, observe it before restoring the balance. An irregular record gives us something to examine. A polished result produced through premature correction does not.”

Several students adjusted their hands. Lucavion placed his palm inside the marked ring.

Elara remained still for several breaths, approaching the boundary between observation and interference with visible care. Isolde revealed less; only the light gathering beneath her hand confirmed she had begun.

The four pins around every station brightened.

Lines appeared throughout the room. One advanced in uneven pulses that thickened whenever its student inhaled. Another drifted repeatedly toward the plate’s edge. Two stations ahead, a trace vanished each time the student frowned, returning only after his shoulders relaxed.

Lucavion released a thread of mana.

The current entered pathways familiar enough to require no preparation. Pressure passed beneath his wrist and gathered near a narrow point before spreading toward his palm. He followed the rhythm inwardly, aware of the faint variation developing near contact.

Too much pressure accumulated behind the obstruction. Lucavion eased it forward.

Part of the current pulled aside. His attention guided it back before the deviation reached his hand. When the next pulse shortened, he lengthened the release until the intervals matched.

Light traced itself across the metal.

The line curved with even thickness before settling into a controlled pulse. Nearby marks wandered, broke or crowded into dark knots where their pressure changed. His appeared nearly complete.

Lucavion waited for the promised difficulty.

Nothing emerged. The current remained responsive, each variation yielding as readily as it had under harsher conditions. Perhaps the exercise had been designed for practitioners dependent upon memorized casting routes, students unaccustomed to attending to the movement supporting them.

He kept the conclusion to himself. He had little appetite to turn an elementary success into a performance.

Selenne moved between the stations. She watched hands, shoulders and breathing as often as she examined the traces. A rough result earned no criticism. At another station, she asked what had occurred immediately before a line narrowed, listened and continued.

She reached Lucavion without drawing notice.

Her gaze followed his trace from its first mark to the stable pulse at the end, then moved to his wrist.

”Again.”

Lucavion looked at the finished curve. ”What was wrong with it?”

”You altered the movement before it reached the plate.”

”I followed it.”

”You followed the result you were producing.” Selenne indicated the line’s earliest section. ”I watched you release pressure at the wrist, redirect a deviation, lengthen the next interval. The plate received the current after those changes, not before them.”

She touched one pin, and the trace dimmed from end to beginning.

Selenne moved to the next station before he could answer.

Lucavion kept his palm above the extinguished plate.

He recalled the pressure near his wrist, the slight pull away from the route and the shortened interval that followed. Each alteration had occurred too easily to feel like a separate decision. He had noticed the movement through the act of changing it, without any perceptible space between the two.

For the moment, he could not tell where observation had ended and correction begun.