The next day.
Swich—
Thrust—
Swich—
The morning had started normally enough. Ashen moved through his forms with the Mischievous Spear, cooperating in a suspiciously docile manner. Maybe because he was in the zone, but he was maintaining a more than an hour streak without stumbling. Thrust, slash, reset. Thrust, slash, reset.
Then Edward had settled three women twenty meters away and opened his mouth.
TWHACK—!
"Urgh—"
The butt caught his ankle the moment his eyes drifted sideways. Ashen corrected his stance, jaw tight, but his gaze snapped forward. Lucia was standing at stiff attention with the expression of someone attending their own sentencing, flanked by Alice and Seraphine on either side.
He genuinely had no idea how that had happened.
'...From Lucia's posture alone, I can guess she was dragged.'
TWHACK—!
He caught the shaft this time, barely, and redirected the spear's momentum before it found his shin. Edward had told him to always listen while he trained… that a soldier had no excuse to mishandle his weapon regardless of distraction. So Ashen kept moving, even as a lecture unfolded beside him.
"Before we begin," Edward said, folding his hands behind his back, "you should understand that people have long divided themselves into two broad categories. Combatants and non-combatants, based on their Thema."
He let that sit for a moment.
"Having a supporting or craft-oriented Thema doesn't prevent anyone from taking up arms. But those people will almost always lag behind someone whose path skills are built for combat. The gap compounds at every Step."
"Within combatants," he continued, "there are further divisions. Less commonly known than the first, but arguably more meaningful."
He turned and pointed at Ashen.
Ashen, mid-thrust, did not look up.
"The first is that… Warriors. They use physical power augmented by mana, and they typically master a single weapon and push it to its absolute limit." A brief pause. "Your lover's weapon of choice is obviously the spear."
Lucia's expression didn't change. Alice's didn't either, though she glanced sideways at Ashen for one second before returning her attention forward. Seraphine watched him with the soft, proud look she made no effort to hide.
Swich—
"Second." Edward turned back and pointed at Seraphine next. "Healers."
"They originate most commonly from the Everlasting Covenant in the Lust Domain." Then his eyes moved to Alice. "And lastly, mages. Those hermits take the Tower of Knowledge in the Greed Domain as their primary base."
"Aside from warriors, these two form what is called the second division, casters."
He began to walk a slow line in front of them.
"Casters use chants and mana as catalysts to materialize phenomena. Combat, support, healing, construction… the range is essentially unlimited, given sufficient skill. But that is a crude description, and I won't insult you with just that."
Alice was already listening with the focused stillness she reserved for information she intended to keep. Seraphine had her hands folded in front of her, tracking his movement with wide, attentive eyes. Lucia stood with her arms crossed, expression neutral, though the focus in her eyes suggested she was taking in every word.
"The chant is not the spell," Edward said. "It's an anchor to a pre-established system. What you're actually building is far more involved."
He stopped walking.
"The first hurdle is knowledge. To manifest any phenomenon, you must first understand the process behind it." He held up a hand before Seraphine could ask. "I'll use fire as an example, since it's simple enough."
"To conjure a fireball, you need to know how fire is actually born. How oxygen interacts with sufficient heat. How oxidation occurs. How the energy released from that reaction escapes as heat and light, which is actually what we see as flame. Without that foundation, what you produce will be unstable at best, and nothing at worst."
Seraphine nodded slowly, processing. Alice nodded once, quickly; this was confirmation rather than new information for them anyway.
"The second hurdle is imagination. Knowledge tells you the mechanism. Imagination determines the result, from the shape, the scale, and the output. When you combine genuine understanding with a vivid picture of what you want and infuse both into released mana through your will…" He gestured simply. "You cast."
"The deeper your knowledge, the more stable and persistent the spell becomes. This is why every serious mage is first a scholar." He paused. "And the more emotionally charged your imagination, the stronger the output. The two reinforce each other."
Lucia had already produced a small notebook from somewhere and was writing without looking down.
"The obvious problem," Edward continued, "is that recalling extensive theoretical knowledge mid-combat is not practical. And this is precisely why, over time, the only people still worthy of being called true mages are those who acquired a skill to bridge that gap."
He looked at Alice. "Your memory palace answers this. The volume of spells you can store and access cleanly makes you a natural fit for this path."
Alice gave a small, satisfied nod.
He looked at Seraphine. "Your skill answers it differently… and arguably better."
Seraphine blinked. She opened her mouth, tilted her head, closed it again. Then: "Teacher… I'm sorry, I don't fully understand what the skill means by proof. Is it the knowledge needed to power the spell?"
Edward nodded as if he'd expected the question before she'd finished asking it.
"It's not strange that you don't. Few stumble upon this mechanism, and fewer still understand it when they do. There's no formal annotation on it in your faction."
He took a moment, then spoke carefully.
"Proof, in simple terms, is what follows after you've studied a phenomenon. To prove that your theory actually works is the next step… and succeeding in that proof condenses all the theoretical knowledge into a single practical memory."
He returned to the fire example. "After you've successfully ignited a flame by strictly applying your theory of burning oxygen… rather than recalling every theoretical step each time you cast, you only need to recall the memory of the one experiment where you succeeded. The proof collapses all the theory into one touchstone."
Seraphine's brow cleared. "Oh."
"Your skill," Edward said, "can skip even that, using emotion in place of proof. Which means that as long as your imagination and emotional investment are strong enough, you have effectively no ceiling."
Seraphine stared at him for a moment. Then her shoulders dropped slightly as she went deep in thought.
"There are two types of casters in general," he continued. "Emotion-based, who rely on imagination and feeling as their primary catalyst. And logic-based, who rely on accumulated knowledge and proof." He looked at Seraphine steadily. "You would be, without question, among the most talented emotion-based casters alive, if you choose to walk that path."
Lucia said nothing. But her gaze moved to Seraphine briefly, with an expression that was hard to classify.
Swich—
TWHACK—!
Edward glanced sideways at his struggling student without breaking stride. "As I was saying."
"Casting is never simple. But repetition is what makes it practical."
He resumed his walk. "Each time you repeat a spell, you grow more intimate with its mechanics. Eventually, you reach the chanting phase. A chant is a string of words used as springboards… each word or phrase pulls a large chunk of theory to the forefront of your mind in sequence. Instead of recalling calculations one by one, you compress the recall into language you've rehearsed until it's automatic."
"This works for knowledge-based spells, and it works even better for spells where you've already established your proof."
"Keep repeating further, and your brain begins configuring shortcuts on its own. If you go even more… your mana circuits carve pathways unique to that specific spell." He stopped walking again. "At the end of that process, you don't need a chant. A gesture is sufficient."
A brief silence.
"Lady Sabrina," he added, "is at that stage with her ice spells."
Seraphine turned to look at the mansion with wide eyes. Lucia's pen slowed.
Edward looked between all three of them and figured out that his little mention of Sabrina would be a fine goal for them for the time being.
"The two of you have the qualifications for this path. That is not something I say lightly." He let that settle. "So."
"Are you ready to walk the path of casters, my ladies?"
Lucia held his gaze for a moment. Then she unfolded her arms. "I'll reserve judgment until I see the curriculum."
"Fair," Edward said, unbothered.
Alice nodded as a matter of fact. "Of course."
Seraphine's hand shot up. "Yes! Absolutely, yes!"
Edward looked at her raised hand.
She slowly lowered it.
"...Yes," she repeated, with slightly more composure.
From across the field, TWHACK—!
None of them looked over. They had, by now, learned not to.