Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave approached most things very methodically. His present situation, unbelievable as it was, was no different. In the month he had until the thesis submission deadline, he worked long past nightfall every single day. His diligence could be attributed both to his desire to distract himself from unpleasant existential questions and his own legitimate fascination with magic.

During this month, Argrave left his room only to eat or to retrieve what few books he needed from the library. Elias still sometimes shadowed him, but Mina avoided Argrave like a leper. It left him ample peace and quiet to thoroughly dissect things.

After considerable deliberation, Argrave set aside examining two skills: Inscription and Imbuing. They related to the creation of magic items: enchantments, in other terms. Argrave had some plans for those two skills at a later date, but it required a lot of capital that he lacked presently.

First, Argrave wrote down every elemental magic spell at or below D rank that he could remember from the original game, ‘Heroes of Berendar.’ Once he had them written, he tested his ability to perform them, placing a checkmark next to the ones that he could. If he knew a spell, he performed it as naturally as moving a limb. If he did not, it was like grasping at air.

Some spells seemed engraved into Argrave’s body like muscle memory. He paid deep attention to what was occurring when he cast the spells. He felt a strange energy permeating his body—indescribable and mystical, yet simultaneously overwhelming and nauseating. Perhaps the nausea was a mental issue from coming into contact with the unknown, though.

Argrave identified this strange energy; it was magic, naturally.

Magic felt much like a gas roiling beneath Argrave’s skin as constant as his heartbeat. Indeed, a heartbeat was an apt comparison. If he held his hand to his chest, he could feel his heartbeat; if he touched the mystical forces of magic, he could feel its presence just as consistent as his own heart. Both were always present, and one needed only a cursory search to find either.

Once Argrave had identified what spells he knew, he looked them up in the books he had borrowed from the library. There, he studied how they worked, and further how magic worked. The process was less challenging than he thought it would be. It felt intuitive—perhaps it was because the former Argrave already knew these things.

Argrave sat at his chair, hands outstretched. He willed forth a spell-matrix—a horizontal line, nothing more. A small, constant gush of flame rushed forth. He pulled his magic away from the spell, and then morphed the matrix into a zig-zag horizontal line. A small, sparking ball appeared in his hands.

“F-rank magic. One-dimensional,” he noted, then turned back to his paper to summarize the feeling.

could only achieve very simple things; lighting a flame, creating a spark, or blowing air no stronger than one could blow from their mouths. They were simple things, yet these

He created another spell matrix in his hands—one with two dimensions, this time. A triangle. Fire emerged

down the feeling

his hand, and then turned back to an open book by his side, ensuring that he’d gotten the

favorite spell… [Writhing

to form the spell matrix, but once he did, it felt like a lock clicking. He willed forth the mystical force known as magic, and a jagged bolt of lightning rushed across the room. It struck his bed. Argrave watched the lightning dance across the frame and covers, and then fade away. A smile

pulled his hand back, staring at

Fire could be given force, allowing it to provide a concussive impact alongside the flames. Ice could spread

a thick book. Unlike the other books that merely had diagrams, a spell matrix formed from the book, hovering in the air. Though he stared at

Earth and deviated into the mystical. A fourth dimension to a matrix. Fourth-dimensional things were only theoretical on Earth. Learning one of

to approach. Argrave had no illusions about himself—he could not

findings did not need to be entirely original. They could analyze a system or facet of magic, and that would suffice. Argrave could probably whip

in his chair, singing a little tune as he

like two flamingos in a fruit fight…” he half-sang,

the empty parchment he sat in front of. He stared at the red drop, utterly perplexed for a moment. Then, another drop fell onto the paper. He saw where it came from this time. He raised his fingers to his upper lip. He

stop bleeding all over good parchment, but the sudden

into his robe and retrieved his black handkerchief, holding it to his nose as he tilted his head back. After a bit of catching his breath,

nasally beneath the handkerchief. “Guess being