The Obsessive Regressor of The Academy

31. Coming-of-Age Ceremony (3)

The art of manipulating smoke itself had been available for quite some time. For eight years, he’d sporadically observed Irina’s techniques, tested a few, and found them all functional. However, achieving the delicate control she possessed over the smoke was impossible.

His understanding of the smoke arts was insufficient. Anyone could swing a blade, but to wield it properly, one needed to learn swordsmanship. He could manifest the magic, but its application stalled. Even shaping it required meticulous control of mana at the particle level, unlike manipulating lightning.

For a typical mage, their mind wouldn’t have held, but for Asel, it wasn’t particularly difficult.

He held a wisp of smoke, shaped into a sharp point, twirling it as he gazed at Irina.

“With lightning techniques, it feels as though I’m manipulating energy rather than a medium. But with smoke, it’s the sensation of intricately controlling each individual particle comprising the gas. It’s quite unfamiliar. That is why I seek some advice.”

“…To modulate each particle… I don’t quite comprehend. How is that even possible?”

Irina murmured this, then cautiously examined the smoke spear Asel had conjured. Then, she understood.

Smoke techniques were considered a rather complex form of magic, with a convoluted process. Even simply forming a spear required a great number of glyphs in the spell. However, the spear Asel had created held no such spell structure. He’d only used the basic smoke manipulation technique; the shape was entirely the result of moving each individual particle of the smoke.

It was an absurd act. Irina rubbed her temples, feeling as though her life’s work of magic was being challenged.

“There’s such a thing as moderation. As time passes, you seem to select only the most astounding feats to accomplish.”

Where had she even found this fellow? Irina glanced, with a weary look, at Ena, then scattered the smoke Asel had produced with a wave of her hand. Because it was not a form created by magic itself, there was no feedback reverberating towards Asel. He caught the dissipating smoke in the air, forming it into a sphere, and spoke.

“How can I improve?”

“I can offer no advice. The moment I advise your magic, it will become my magic, not yours. For a mage with your talent, advice is essentially meaningless.”

“……”

“Therefore… I will lend you the texts I personally possess on smoke magic. Read them, and create your own unique formula. That would be best.”

Offering advice to a mage who has reached a certain level of mastery could, at times, have adverse effects. Especially if that mage has not yet realized their own unique traits.

Even amongst mages specializing in the same element, if their inherent natures differed, spells could manifest with entirely different effects despite using the same structure. The same applied when creating magic.

Irina did not want to rob Asel of that boundless potential.

And so, Asel acquiesced to her answer. He nodded, and let the sphere of smoke drift into the air.

“I’ll give you the books before you move into the Academy dormitory. In two days, would that be acceptable?”

“Yes. I’ll await them.”

“Yes, yes.”

Irina chuckled softly, tapping Asel’s head with her pipe.

At that moment, all the lights in the hall extinguished. Simultaneously, a potent wave of magical power swept through the hall. There was no need to ponder who it belonged to. Asel turned his head towards the origin of the surge, awaiting the return of the lights.

“Disciple of the Awakener, Asel.”

As the voice spoke, the ballroom was illuminated. Before he could even register the change, Asel stood before three elderly mages. A teleportation spell manifested with such speed that it left the target no time to react. An achievement impossible without a Grand Mage’s mastery.

‘The Master of Teleportation. Galben Pirgoan.’

The mage furthest to the left of the three. One of the Elder Council of the Witch’s Coven. Asel glanced at her rather eccentric features, then lowered his head deeply and knelt on one knee.

“Yes.”

Formal congratulations followed. Something about his youth, his talent, celebrating his adulthood. Of course, he did not simply dismiss them. Asel absorbed their words, engraving them in his mind, as the coming-of-age ceremony proceeded.

The ceremony concluded, and Galven, who had been silent until now, looked down at Asel and spoke.

“Raise your head.”

“Yes.”

“I have selected magical implements to celebrate your coming of age. Choose one, and take it as your own.”

The elder standing to his right extended a hand into the air. In response, a black aperture materialized, and the elder extracted three magical implements from within.

Drawn from a sub-space artifact. So famed for its rarity was the artifact that even Asel had never before witnessed one firsthand.

*’I wonder if I could ask for that.’*

Of course, it was undoubtedly impossible, but if he possessed a sub-space artifact, he could dissect the spellwork and learn spatial magic. The desire was undeniable.

Yet, it was absurd to beg for something beyond his reach. Asel cleanly purged the longing and narrowed his eyes, gazing at the three magical implements floating in the air. Galven, noting his gaze, began to explain.

“The Mirror of Lerson. Should one tainted by demons be near, it reveals their true name and visage. Lerson, the famed demon hunter, crafted it himself.”

“……”

“The Bracelet of Flow. Once per day, it redirects an attack the wearer is unaware of, shunting it in an entirely different direction.”

“……”

“Lastly, the Feather of Ill Omen. A shape-shifting magical implement, capable of transforming into daggers, arrowheads, spear tips, and the like. Any wound inflicted by this feather festers with rapid decay. Choose one of these three.”

“I will take the Bracelet of Flow.”

There was no room for hesitation. Asel met Galven’s gaze and answered immediately.

The mirror and the feather. Both were undoubtedly excellent magical implements. But for the research Asel currently pursued – remote interception spellwork – the Bracelet of Flow was essential.

Deconstructing and analyzing the spellwork within the bracelet would aid in the creation of magic. The Mirror of Lerson was also tempting, but it simply couldn’t take priority.

“Then take it. It is now yours.”

The decision was made cleanly, without a trace of wavering. Perhaps pleased by this, Galven wore a faint smile and personally clasped the bracelet onto Asel’s right wrist. A simple band of black cloth, devoid of any markings. The instant the bracelet encircled his wrist, Asel felt the latent mana and spellwork thrumming within.

This will be more than helpful for my research. Asel bowed his head, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

“Thank you.”

Thus the investiture concluded. Asel straightened, and the elders offered their blessings.

“Continue to strive. The whispers all say you are destined to become the next Archmage.”

“You flatter me.”

“Whether it is flattery is for us to decide. Do not rest on your laurels; ascend to greater heights.”

“……”

“Be diligent. Even after enrolling in the Academy, experience the world and look upwards. And do not forget to return to Weiheim during your breaks.”

Each elder offering a word of advice. Asel wondered if they were not so much curmudgeons as they were overbearing mentors, genuinely caring for their juniors. He nodded his head.

“I will keep that in mind.”

Thankfully, the elders did no more than that. Instead, they told him to enjoy his coming-of-age ceremony, then departed the banquet hall in the blink of an eye, borne away on Galben’s magic. Asel watched the place where they had stood for a moment, then fiddled with his bracelet as he returned to Ena.

The ceremony was over.

Only entrance into the Academy remained.

*

Human sacrifice, it turned out, was more complicated than one might think. It wasn’t simply a matter of grabbing someone and grinding them up. Meaningful results required meticulous consideration of the ritual items, the magic circle, and even the amount of the offering.

“Agh! Stop! Stooop! Grglgl…”

“Just hold still, will you? I need to cut off your leg to get the weight right, understand?”

In that respect, demon worshippers were often quite skilled at human sacrifice. Having offered so many humans as sacrifices and performed so many rituals, they usually knew exactly how many humans each ritual required, and how to balance the weight.

The woman was the same. She clicked her tongue at the unconscious old man writhing in pain, then tossed him onto the magic circle without even attempting to stop the bleeding. The old man’s family, who were already on the circle, rushed towards him. They frantically pressed their hands against the severed limb to stop the wound, but the bleeding wouldn’t cease.

That was because a blood mage was among those performing the ritual. The blood mage, with a gleeful expression, shoved life force into the magic circle using the flowing blood of the old man. The woman glared at him as she crossed her arms.

“Girzhen, try to be a little calmer. You’re filling him with His blood and flesh. Be reverent.”

“Hehe… that’s exactly why I’m so excited, Delim. When I remember how amazing a thing I’m doing, the excitement won’t stop, you see.”

“Crazy psychopath.”

The woman called Delim muttered that, then began to take people out of the cages one by one. She threw the women, still alive, onto the magic circle, and stacked the men’s heads, neatly severed, atop the letters inscribed on the circle. Blood flowed madly and screams echoed from all around, but Delim didn’t care.

“P-please, spare me, please, please…!”

“Just shut up.”

*Thwack!*

Delim cleanly sliced off the head of the man who was grabbing her leg and begging, then carefully placed it on the last letter. She stuck out her tongue, grabbed the dead man’s tongue with her hand, pulled it out, and tapped it with a smile.

“Ding ding ding~ Aren’t you just the sweetest when you’re quiet? Shall I give you a kiss, then?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Delim immediately kissed the tongue she had pulled out and ravenously tore into it. With a sizzling sound, her pupils slit vertically, and the sorcerer leading the ritual said with a bright smile.

“Delim, come out now. We’ll begin the ritual soon.”

“Don’t interrupt my love with him.”

“Don’t worry. Your 47th husband will soon become one with Him. You can share your love to your heart’s content then.”

“Will He like me?”

“Of course. Who could dislike a woman as lovely and adorable as you?”

At the sorcerer’s words, Delim reluctantly cut off the man’s tongue.

She chewed the severed tongue with a crunching sound as she approached the sorcerer from behind. The sorcerer smiled at her once, then clasped his hands together and muttered.

“Let us begin.”

*Whoom*.

With that utterance, the sorcerer manipulated his sorcerous power. Corrupted by hundreds of human sacrifices, his power resonated with the blood mage’s inscriptions, creating crimson-black waves. The waves soon clung to the women’s bodies like insects, voraciously devouring their flesh and blood.

A scream, near shattering, filled the space. Yet the shaman, expression serene, merely moved his lips.

Shamanism, a method unlike magic. A miracle manifested by imbuing a specific substance with fervent wishes and imagery. This sorcery, using blood, flesh, and soul as its medium, activated, forming a vessel to contain a transcendent being from another dimension.

*Thoom!*

A wave of sorcerous power rippled across the magic circle.

The struggling women stilled. Focus vanished from their eyes. They gazed at each other, mouths gaping, before tearing into the person nearest them. Organs spilled, a mountain of corpses amassing on the floor.

Finally, only one woman remained on the magic circle, tattered and torn. Her vacant eyes met the shaman’s as she moved her lips.

“Souls I want souls I want souls I want souls I want souls I want souls I want souls I want souls I want souls I want souls I want.”

“Hoo. Success. A vessel for His Eminence is complete.”

The shaman, watching the woman mutter in a chilling drone, showed no fear. He smiled brightly as he spoke.

“Now, we simply await Gorsel’s delivery of a mage.”

“You think that pup can handle it? I have my doubts. We should have tasked Nana or Delim instead.”

“His youth is precisely why he is capable. You know, a young soul is ideal for sacrifice.”

“So, you had him enrolled in the Academy? To abduct whelps of similar age?”

“Yes.”

The shaman answered, his smile stretching wider.

“Too young and they’re immature, too old and their consciousness is unstable. A mage on the cusp of adulthood is perfect. And the Academy? It teems with such mages.”

“…Hmph. But retrieving one will take time. My eagerness to meet His Eminence makes me less than pleased.”

“What can we do? Gierzen, wouldn’t you rather see His Eminence with proper reason and dialogue than that empty-headed thing who can’t do anything?”

The blood shaman, Gierzen, clicked his tongue instead of answering, his gaze fixed on the woman upon the circle. The shaman ended the conversation. He looked with a smile upon the ceiling and mutters small to him self

“Exciting.”