Arcanist In Another World

Chapter 79: Master

Valens halted with one hand about to knock on the entrance. He wanted to learn and ask every question that came to mind, to seek knowledge about the arcane and how the Magi of this world approached magic, to understand the intricacies of the System and the secrets behind the spells, and to pry into their world with an open mind.

He just wasn’t sure if he should keep to himself while doing it. Even in the Empire, a Resonant Healer’s approach to magic differed from that of the common Magi. Mastery over the songs of the world granted him the ability to hear and manipulate the frequencies while common Mages had to rely on spell formulae and conductive tools to even begin spellcasting.

Once he got a clear idea of the spell he was working with, Valens could just bend the frequencies to fit that particular formula to conjure the effect in the outside world. It wasn’t as fast as the spells the System registered as skills, and it demanded a clear understanding of the spell, but laboring over the preparation and handling all the complications that could arise from human error wasn’t something he had to deal with.

In this world, however, the System acted as a register, an outer mind that could hold the spell formulae and present them in pristine clarity should the Mage ever seek them in his mind. In a way, this saving function handled the preparation phase for the Mage, but that didn’t change the fact that to make a Skill out of a Spell, a Mage had to first learn how to do it from scratch.

I’ll keep my cards close to my chest for a start, then.

Taking a breath, Valens reached and knocked on the door. Faint pulses of mana wavered across the entrance. Gears shifted unseen to the naked eye, grinding and rattling as the golden star carved atop the door’s surface shed its golden lights with each pulse. It wasn’t long before the entrance went completely dark, looking like a simple slab of stone save for the pocket grown outward from the middle of the star, which took the shape of a hand.

Interesting. So not anyone can enter the Tower without first proving they’re a Mage, is it?

Valens placed his hand on that part, face perfectly still, and released a wave of mana inside the stone as he was demanded.

The door groaned loudly open, revealing the antechamber inside busy with warm lights. Fixed on the walls were antique chandeliers each fitted with bead-like manastones, casting long, dancing shadows upon the marbled ground, inviting alluringly the visitors to a cozy stroll across the entrance.

Valens obliged, taking a step in. The door closed gently after him even as a wave of mana settled around his shoulders. Not ambient mana, no, this was mana distilled and released from a number of manastones hidden inside the walls, pouring from the little holes about the walls like tiny fountains made just for the Magi to welcome them to the Guild.

With a flick of his fingers, Valens could use this mana at his will. Command it with such ease that it wouldn’t take a single second, but it wasn’t the sudden welcoming of this invisible shroud that got to him.

No, it was something else.

It reminded him of home.

That was where he left his past. His Master and his old study, lingering in the air the same smell that welcomed him in the Magi Guild. The marbled ground, and the lights across the walls, the invisible shroud of precious source ever-present in the air, waiting, almost beckoning him to be used. His friends that he left in the Empire, numerous of them with their faces bleak in his memory.

Just around the corner there would be the statues of the old Resonant Healers waiting for him. Masters of a time long past, Master Eldras used to say, their legacies buried under the ground. If Valens let him speak, he would go on with one of his usual speeches about the dawn of their day. He would tell him about the feats the Ancient Magi shouldered back in the day. He would speak of the changes they brought to the world, be it good or bad.

But as Valens strolled around this painfully familiar hall, the nostalgia slowly tore itself out of his thoughts, replaced by a distant hum of sorrow lingering in the depths of his mind.

There was a man sat behind a mighty desk a few paces ahead, already scrutinizing his face as if he labored to put a name on him.

Valens forced a smile upon his lips as he walked over to the desk.

“Hello, how can I help you?” the man said. He wore his moustache rich and long over his lips. He was dressed in a fancy suit whose sleeve buttons caught the chandelier lights. He wasn’t old, but the facial hair and the way he carried himself made him appear older than his middle age.

“I’ve just set foot in Belgrave, and have decided to pay a visit to the Magi Guild,” Valens said. “I’m afraid I’m not aware of the protocols of the guild, but I wish to be a part of it.”

“A part of it, you say?” The man rose from his chair, taking another look at Valens as if he saw a new item to appraise. His face soured quite quickly when his eyes latched onto the poor fabric of Valens’s suit, then down at his trousers and shoes. He didn’t look half as convinced about Valens’s appearance when he poured himself back over the chair.

“Why?”

Valens raised his chin. He got the tone of the place now. He understood it well enough to adjust his approach. “Why? Do you ask me the reasons of my arrival, Sir, as a fellow member of the arcane? Or do you suppose there has to be another reason for fellow Magi like us than the sheer face of this Tower to venture inside its depths? Isn’t that face an invitation to a sanctuary in this city of thousands for the disciples of arcane? If not, then I have to admit I’d be terribly disappointed for keeping my hopes up.”

The man squirmed over his chair and turned, giving another look at Valens. “So you wish to become a member of the Guild?” he boomed, his voice louder this time. “Then I must warn you that not everyone can join the distinguished circle of Resni’s Guild by the simple virtue of their classes. If it’s knowledge you seek and the wisdom of our esteemed members, then knowledge you shall provide of your skills and abilities for us to even begin considering adding you to the waiting list.”

There was a certain way to his speech, a sharp tone that jabbed at Valens’s face. It was as though this man who mantled the duty of acting the doorman of the Tower had already seen what Valens had to offer, evaluated him in his mind, and didn’t like even a bit of it before he passed judgment, which was, as it appeared, that Valens wasn’t worthy of becoming a part of their club.

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“Waiting list?” Valens arched an eyebrow, acting the clueless rather than asking the obvious. He knew better than to try to convince people with his words when he could simply show them his skills.

This waiting list, though, was something he hadn’t expected.

I don’t want to wait in a line. That’s absurd.

“Indeed,” the man nodded proudly. “We have a long evaluation process to make sure each member qualifies for our strict conditions.” He eyed him with one biting glance. “Or what, did you suppose we’re one of those barbaric Guilds arranging raids and treasure hunts out in the Broken Lands in