Chapter 30: A Fitting Weapon for the God of Magic

Oliver

He hurried to the entrance hall to grab Sen. His meeting with Professor Sikar was starting any moment now. Milim would kill both of them if Sen missed his meeting, though Oliver wasn’t sure how that would be his fault. 

He found Sen in the middle of a duel. “Sen!” he called out, it looked like things hadn’t started yet.

The white-haired first-year prodigy turned to look at Oliver over his shoulder. Unfortunately, the duel apparently had started. Sen’s opponent had just been waiting to make a move. Oliver recognized him and realized Sen made a big mistake. Donovan, was ranked somewhere in the 40s with high speed and strength. The guy never took quest or extra assignments, and he’d moved up the ranks simply by dueling. So far, he hadn’t lost a single match. He had short black hair and rarely wore his shirt outside of classes. He had abs, and he wanted everyone to know it. Donovan was not someone Oliver enjoyed being around. Right now, he was speeding towards Sen faster than Oliver could process and was already propelling a fist forward.

“What’s going on, Oliver?” Sen asked, oblivious to the assault. 

Donovan’s fist smacked right into Sen’s core. Oliver gasped.

Sen didn’t react a bit. He just waited, staring at Oliver. Donovan grunted, and his hands became a blur. 

“Mana Punch Echo!” Donovan shouted.

He punched Sen in rapid succession, driving one fist into his body after the other. He even struck Sen in the side of his face, but still the man wasn’t reacting at all.

Oliver felt like he’d faint. He pointed a finger, and Sen followed his gaze. He looked back and saw Donovan had frozen, his right fist still connected to Sen’s core. “Sorry, I was distracted.” Sen blinked, looking at the hand. “Oh, my apologies. I’ll fight back now. Are you ready?” Sen asked.

Donovan backed away, eyeing Sen. He shook his head and fell on his back. “I surrender.” 

Sen tilted his head. “What?”

Donovan scrambled off the stage and pushed through the crowd. For a moment, Oliver swore he saw tears. 

Sen

He watched his opponent flee the room. “Oh well, I guess he realized he had somewhere to be. Is there anyone else who would like to duel quickly?” he asked. The crowd around him was silent. They were disappointed. He understood that. He’d been looking forward to a good fight as well. “I’ll return later if anyone would like to spar some more.” With that, he turned and jumped off the stage, making his way toward Oliver. The crowd gave him a wide berth as he moved. 

“You…you just beat Donovan,” Oliver stammered. 

Sen turned to look at the ranking board. 24^th. He’d been dueling all morning, and he’d only progressed a single rank. Maybe dueling wasn’t the way, or maybe he needed to seek out students who ranked higher than he him. “Have you seen anyone ranked higher than twenty-fourth around? I’ve been looking, hoping to duel, but I swear it’s like they’re hiding or something. I suppose they’re probably studying. Maybe I’ll check the library later.” He had run into his teammates from the Academy War, but he didn’t want to fight with any of them. He’d gladly spar if they asked, but he could put off those fights for later. There were plenty of other students he could climb over on the rankings without targeting anyone he knew personally. 

Oliver led them upstairs. “I was going to tell you to be careful. A lot of students will challenge you since you’re a first-year. But if anyone thought you were easy prey before, I doubt that’s the case now.”

Sen shrugged. He’d fight anyone who asked. If more people sought him out because he was new to the school, all the better. “So, where am I meeting Sikar? His office?”

“No, there’s a forge room not far from here. It’s on the third floor,” Oliver said. 

When they’d reached the room where Sikar waited, Sen realized he’d seen it before. He’d noticed it while going to use the faculty spell-crafting room, but hadn’t thought much of it. 

The door had an anvil on it, and in retrospect, that should’ve been a bit more obvious, but until he saw Alari’s Flamesaber and received the three weapon molds, he hadn’t been particularly interested in using weapons himself. 

“Well, this is it,” Oliver said. “I hope your session goes well, Sen!” he said.

Sen nodded. “Thank you, Oliver. And thanks for the reminder, I got a bit too obsessed with increasing my rank and lost track of time. If there’s ever anything I can do to repay you, simply let me know.”

Oliver seemed surprised at that. “Tha—thanks!” The boy ran off before Sen could say another word. 

Sen shrugged and pushed the door open. As soon as he was through, it shut on its own behind him. 

Professor Sikar stood in front of an anvil in the center of the room. He was shirtless and gleaming with sweat. With careful eyes, he tended a blue fire that wrapped around the anvil in a circle, contained by a fire pit of sorts. It was odd, and not at all what Sen expected. He approached and greeted the professor. “Professor Sikar,” he said simply.

“Sen, it’s nice to meet you officially. I was one of the judges at your entrance exam, but we never had the chance to speak. I was surprised you chose me at first, until I learned what it was you wished to discuss,” he said. He didn’t take his eyes off the anvil. “Time is limited, and I wish to ensure you get the most out of our session together. So, let’s dive in. You wish to learn about forging?”

“I do. I’d like to be able to create weapons of my own.”

Sikar nodded, and finally he turned to look at Sen. “It’s not a common passion amongst mages. Most are satisfied with leaving others to craft their weapons. But there’s something special about building your own.”

Sen perked up at that. “Truly?”

“Does a parent not have a special connection with its child? Are spirits not fond of the first to summon them and give them form? All things have a special bond with their creator. Allowing another to forge your tools cedes this bond and any power it might bestow.” Sikar was clearly passionate about this. 

“What about people who fall in love? Aren’t they like a mage who commissions a weapon, or takes it from another?” Sen asked. He didn’t disagree with the notion of a special bond with one’s creator. But he was curious how Sikar would respond.

“Lovers come and go. Friends are sometimes fleeting. But blood? Blood persists. Even those with the worst families try to fix those relationships. They are not always successful, but they often try.” He waved a hand. “Forgive me, I’m wasting your time with philosophical matters. You are here to forge already. I don’t need to convince you.” He cleared his throat and turned back to the forge. “A weapon is a manifestation of your will, so tell me, what kind of weapon are you looking to make?” he asked.

“I was hoping you could give me some pointers actually, I’ve never fought with a weapon,” Sen admitted.

Sikar grinned. “That I can do.” He stepped away from the forge and walked over to the wall where a variety of weapons were on display. He started with a sword. “If you like fighting up close, the sword is a balanced weapon with offensive and defensive properties. They’re common, and good for channeling magic.” He waved the blade through the air, and several multicolored slashes shot outward. 

Next, Sikar drifted over to a massive two-handed hammer that hung above the others. “If strength is your greatest asset, hammers are often useful. In the right hands, these can shatter wards and magical defenses, not to mention crush the human form. Not every battle you face will be against magicians. Sometimes you’ll take on bandits or magic beasts. The blunt destructive power of a hammer offers a powerful solution to such things.” He slammed the hammer into the ground, and electricity crackled in every direction. It left a crater in the ground, but the room quickly repaired itself.

Sikar eyed Sen. He was unimpressed by the idea of lugging a giant hammer around. That would be a weapon better suited for Girch. 

Sikar nodded and took a step over to a magnificent-looking green bow. “Many magicians like to avoid getting in close, and so they opt to wield a bow. Weaving spells through its arrows, or using it to fight while they charge up spells. Though personally, I’ve always thought it redundant if you can use magic. I’m probably biased though.” He pulled the string back, and a purple arrow formed on it. As he released it, the arrow turned into a spectral ferret that scrabbled forward, swiping with its claws until it smashed into a wall and dissipated. 

He walked Sen through many other weapons. Daggers. Magic Staffs. Shields and others. 

Sen noticed the long, two-handed staff leaning against the wall. “Is that what you fight with?” he asked.

Sikar turned back to look at the weapon behind him. Even at this distance, it clearly resonated with magical power. “That is more of a combat staff. Most of my techniques are up close and physical. I want to smell the blood and sweat of my opponent. To read them. I can swing my staff one-handed if need be, and use magic with the other, or focus wholly on one or the other. I can use it as a conduit, but that is not its purpose.” 

Sen thought of Sikar’s words. The problem was that his fighting style was versatile. Sometimes he rained down magic attacks from afar, and others he pushed in close to pummel his enemies with an enhanced body and close ranged techniques. He only had so many weapon molds, and he feared locking himself into any one path would take the fun out of fighting. As silly as it sounded, fun was important to him. Sen thrived in combat and spent most of his life seeking powerful opponents. “I’m not sure any one weapon speaks out to me. I see uses for most of them, but…I’m hesitant to choose.”

Sikar nodded in silence. He thought for a while and turned to stare at the forge. “There’s something we could try. You fought alongside Susanna Tower in the Academy War, did you not?” he asked.

“I did. She was incredibly strong. That magic of hers was impressive.”

Sikar nodded. “Those constructs are the result of a magic weapon. Did you see them fade or falter in combat?”

Sen hadn’t. It was something he’d noticed when Susanna was resurrected. The bands she’d placed on Snake hadn’t disappeared even though she’d been on the brink of death before the runes saved her and sent her to safety. “No, they were solid,” he said. “They weren’t completely invulnerable, but they held up. I was surprised how resilient they were.” 

“Mhm.” Sikar nodded his approval. “That’s because her weapon is not external. It’s in here,” Sikar said. He pointed to his chest. “Susanna has great promise. Her family, the Towers, are known for their golden creations. Once they advance far enough, their creations can even persist after death. You should see their family home. The one who designed the technique they are known for today made a grand estate with his powers almost three hundred years ago. Even after his death centuries ago, his family still lives within the home he built. They add to it and change it, but it’s his power that persists.”

“And all that power comes from a magic weapon?” Sen asked.

“Yes. A weapon that focuses the natural powers of their bloodline,” Sikar told him. “You wish to remain versatile. Perhaps we should seek inspiration in one of the most versatile magic weapons in existence.” Sikar strode and beckoned Sen to follow. By the time Sen caught up, Sikar had laid out paper on a table to the side of the room. He drew the rough shape of a person and then drew a circle where their heart should be. 

“Their family weapon protects their hearts. As they develop their powers further, they create new permanent protections. Most place a golden barrier around their brains. They do this over the course of their lifetimes until they have protected all of their most vulnerable places. It’s rare for a Tower to die of anything other than old age. It’s why their family holds so much influence in the world.”

Sen paused at that. He hadn’t realized Susanna was from such an important family. “I hadn’t realized they were that influential.”

Sikar nodded. “Our small continent is beyond their concern, and also the concern of their enemies. That’s likely why Susanna was sent here to study in safety. I tell you all this because if we’re to draw inspiration from them, we must do it carefully. We cannot replicate their technique. It’s a quick way to get killed. They’d send powerful assassins after you. They cannot stop people from replicating their techniques, but they can make them regret it.”

That was fine with Sen; he thought Susanna’s family power was amazing, and he did plan to emulate parts of it eventually. But it wasn’t quite what he was looking for. But Sikar was on the right track, and Sen was already on the verge of an idea.

“What about something that was in between? A weapon that acted like a creation? Something capable of shifting into different forms?” Sen asked.

Sikar sighed. “I have heard concepts for such weapons, but only concepts. We would need to infuse malleable magic into the metal itself. Perhaps water, or dream magic. But there are plenty of forgers who have tried to walk that path. I am not sure we would be the first to succeed if we simply copied those that have failed. Not to mention, we would need resources beyond what I have here.”

Sen pulled one of his molds from a temporal space behind his back. It was a large metallic block about the length of a sword. However, he could stretch and bend it to his will using magic. If he wanted a great-hammer he could forge it, or he could forge a small dagger. Regardless of his decision, the mold would adapt. “Would this work?” Sen asked.

Sikar’s breath caught. “Are you royalty?” he asked, squinting at Sen. “A prince? Or perhaps a noble of some major house? How did you come by this? Is it…did you steal it? Material of this quality…if you took this from someone, it would be someone important. You put both of us at risk. My family will be at risk just because I’ve laid eyes on this—”

Sen shook his head. “I acquired it by legal means. You don’t have to worry about anything . I swear it.” He spoke the words as a spell, binding them as truth. 

Sikar relaxed at that, but still looked unsure. Still, Sen couldn’t have lied while infusing magic into the words. So, Sikar moved on. “With something like this, we are closer. Even so, it leaves the question of magic. What could produce the shifting effect we need? That is a question I fear is beyond my expertise.” 

Sen hesitated. “Then I’ll experiment from here on out.” As soon as he said it, he felt Sikar’s stare.

“You have an idea? One you cannot share with me?” Sikar leaned forward. He was invested now. “I swear never to reveal your secret, so long as you share it.” 

Sen was surprised at that. Was Sikar really so curious that he too would make an oath? “If someone takes it from you forcefully?”

“If I cannot guard this secret, it will be lost to me. I will forget, and so it shall not be stolen.” 

That was satisfying enough. A binding oath that would permanently delete the memory if someone tried to take it from Sikar. “I believe I can use temporal magic. I’m well-versed in it, and it might resonate with the mold in a way that would create the shifting effect we need.”

Sikar frowned, and Sen remembered how closely he’d guarded Temporal Magic from the world. Even the strongest opponents he’d faced had been without it. Though people of his caliber usually had kingdoms full of vaults and treasures guarded by armies. He was unique in that he hadn’t used his powers for conquest, he’d only aided Ragmár in building a place where people could live in peace, and that had eventually become a kingdom due to the people being drawn to Ragmár and wanting him to lead them as their true ruler. Temporal magic was something Sen needed. A place of refuge, a place to get away from the world and to guard his most valuable artifacts. If anyone else had discovered it since, it was not widely known. 

“I see. If you truly possess an affinity for such a thing, you are wise to keep it secret. Let me see the mold,” he said, holding out his hands. 

Sen handed it over. Sikar led him back to the anvil and set the mold atop it. “Resonate with your magic and picture shifting forms.”

Sen did so, and the weapons Sikar had shown him flicked by in his mind as if someone was projecting them there. He thought of a variety of tools, instruments, and weapons. He didn’t think he needed to imagine every single form the weapon might one day take, but he imagined a good amount just for good measure. Finally, Sikar gave him one last instruction. 

“Now, picture its base form. The form from which it will mold itself into new forms, and the form in which it will return when you aren’t using it.” 

Sen smiled; he had the perfect idea.