Mark of the Fool
Chapter 553: A Demonstration of Growth

The end of second year loomed like a titanic hell beast, and the cabal prepared for battle.

It was a late spring day—uncharacteristically brisk and cloudy in Generasi— which found them in the stadium along with scores of other students all bent on a single task: preparing for their practical exams.

All around, the stadium floor was filled with wizards both young and old—from first year to graduate school—all slinging magics at practise dummies, summoned monsters that served as moving targets, and even each other. The battlemages in particular were a rowdy lot, challenging one another to endless mock duels where they unleashed absolute hell.

They knocked one another around, blasted each other to the ground, even drawing blood with spells designed to destroy an enemy.

And if anyone was watching Alex’s cabal, they could have easily mistaken them for battlemages.

Exceedingly confident battlemages.

Alex was proud of himself and his mates; he was sure they’d all do well in the upcoming exams. After all, they found magic lore interesting, but not difficult, credits for the Art of the Wizard in Combat and the research expedition were pretty well assured.

All they had to focus on were the exams for their individual courses.

And they would be ready.

Alex floated in mid-air, hands raised as though he was conducting an ancient ritual. Before him, the ground shimmered in a circle as his lips moved, pronouncing a powerful summoning incantation. The Traveller’s power flared in his chest, reaching across the planes to touch the celestial realms; he felt Hannah’s energies grasp a being while it guided him through the Mark’s interference.

The spell array completed.

The magic circuit fired.

And the being was pulled toward the material world.

The shimmering circle twisted as space collapsed on itself, and somethingmaterialised within its confines. Towering and muscular, the celestial appeared bending on one knee, his sword poised before him like a knight making an oath to their king. He was humanoid in shape, with the head of a hound: a hound engeli, as they were called informally.

With ancient eyes, he looked up at Alex. “This marks the seventh time you have summoned me this hour. What is your command? Do you have hidden motives?” his tone was confused and suspicious.

“There is no command, as I said the last six times,” Alex said lightly. “Just trust me, it’s as I told you earlier: I’m just practising and—after I’m done—there’s a bottle of blessed wine waiting for you. Think of it as the start of a relationship.”

Those ancient, hound-like eyes continued to stare at him with misgivings. “Understood. As you will, summoner.”

Alex waved a hand, dismissing the celestial back to his home plane, then he prepared to cast the third tier summoning spell, Summon Hound Engeli, again. He paused for a moment, reaching inside for the Traveller’s magic, but it had faded when he’d completed the spell. Week by week, he’d felt her power growing, and he’d felt closer to seizing it witheach day he practised.

And even though he hadn’t been able to take hold of it yet, the growing power was already giving him benefits. Summoning spells were becoming easier and faster, promising to be helpful for his upcoming summoning practical.

Mangal’s final test seemed deceptively simple at first, considering it was for a third year summoning course:

“Much of what we have learned together has focused on theory, to prepare you for Binding Contract and Relational Contract summoning,” the professor had said during one of her evening classes in the summoning tower. “So remember, it is important to make sure your practical skills remain sharp. As such, during the exam, you will be expected to conjure the most powerful being that you can safely summon through a Subjugation type summoning spell. Then, you’ll have to communicate with it in its native tongue and negotiate with it as though you wish to make a pact for service. Then, you must have your summoned being complete a list of tasks that I will reveal to you at exam time. You will also be required to communicate precisely how it must go about these duties.”

She gestured to her lips. “You will be graded based on the power and type of summoned monster, your pronunciation when communicating with it, and your skills in negotiating with it. Keep this in mind, I would advise that you consider conjuring a creature you have conjured in the past, from a plane that has a language you are comfortable communicating in. Pushing your limits is good, but conjuring an unfamiliar, powerful monster only to fail in communicating with it, will dreadfully impact your grade.”

At the time, Alex had paid strict attention to her words—his Wizard’s Hands taking them down to the letter—and he’d been planning on playing it safe by conjuring a hell-boar, a creature he’d summoned many times before.

But, as the Traveller’s power grew inside of him, so did his ambition.

And how would Professor Mangal react if he reached and mastered a fourth-tier summoning spell by the time her exam came along?

He aimed to find out, and so he’d spent day after day summoning the same hound engeli to build his skills. He wanted to break through to fourth tier and conjure a three-tailed celestial fox—which was in the same family of celestials as hound engelis—for the exam.

But, if he failed to get to fourth-tier in time?

Well, he would still have a powerful third-tier summoned monster to go through the exam with, and practising as much as he was wouldn’t be a waste since it would help him reach one of his future summoning goals.

And looking around, it was clear that he wasn’t the only cabal member practising for not only a practical exam, but future trialsas well.

Thunder boomed as Isolde channelled a potent fourth tier lightning spell. She raised her hands—the incantation tumbling from her lips—a deadly cloud coalesced before her, spitting lightning in all directions, thunder rumbled above.

The energy around her was charged, like a miniature thunderstorm that flew by her command, and shot lightning bolts by her will.

On its own, it was an impressive bit of spellcraft, but Isolde was using other means to make it more lethal. Retrieving a wand of water creation—gifted to her by Alex from his alchemy project for Professor Jules—she spoke another incantation and raised one hand high into the air. A driving wall of wind arose, circling on itself in an endless stream.

A quick flick of her wrist, and water sprayed from the wand, droplets filling the wind until a sizable rainstorm formed.

“Strike,” was all she said.

There came a deafening crack and a blinding flash. Lightning shot from the roiling thunderstorm, striking the churning water and wind. Electricity arced between droplets, bringing an electric wall to life, making the hair on Alex’s arms stand from a distance away.

The display of power and ingenuity was impressive, yet Isolde only shook her head in displeasure, then dismissed the wall and thundercloud.

“Drestra is faster with her elemental tornadoes,” she muttered. “And so I must be faster too; this is good enough for the exam, but not for me.”

As she raised her hands to spellcast again, an eagle’s sharp cry penetrated the air. Najyah circled high above with wings spread, her piercing gaze tracking Prince Khalik below, his eyes closed in concentration.

Alex knew that the prince’s exam involved transforming sand into another mineral and then back again.

But Khalik had mastered that weeks ago.

Now, he was learning to flourish with it.

With a quick word of power, he thrust his hand out, shooting a column of sand from his palm that would have knocked a charging warrior over with its sheer force. Alex felt Khalik’s mana shift, suddenly the column changed course, fountaining from Najyah’s chest instead of the prince’s palm, raining down, blasting the arena floor with grit.

Khalik focused again, calling another spell, his mana reached into the columnof sand as his familiar hovered in place. Like a sculptor, he turned the sand to stone, shaping the falling grit at his will.

Alex watched the earth mage work, creating something solid with the sand: it bore broad shoulders, bulky arms, and a barrel-like chest.

“Oh for the elements’ sake!” Isolde cried as she realised what he was doing.

Khalik simply grinned as he finished his spell, then—with a swipe of his hand—cut the column.

On the arena floor, a mound of grit surrounded the sand he’d changed into stone; which—with impeccable timing—he’d then used to craft a statue.

A statue of himself—shirtless, flexing and posing—a wide smile on its face. The details were a little crude, but without doubt, it was an amazing display of timing and precision.

“And now the arena has been beautified!” the prince put his hands on his hips, laughing uproariously.

“You do realise, Khalik, that stone will revert back to sand?” Isolde asked, shaking her head. “It will crumble away just as all displays of arrogance should!”

“That means it is too beautiful for this world.” The prince’s eyes twinkled. “And so it must fade as a passing sun shower would. Would you like a statue as well?”

Isolde scoffed, unamused.

However, a cheer came from the stands in a familiar voice: “Do not listen to her! It looks wonderful, my mighty oak blossom!” Sinope called, the dryad cupping her hands around her mouth as she cheered her partner.

Khalik watched her, his smile broad and his bow to her theatrical…but Alex noticed something pass over his face briefly. A quick flash of what seemed to be discomfort, subtle enough that he’d only caught it because of his practised reading of people’s body language.

Was there trouble with them?

If anything, it seemed they’d grown closer since he’d returned from the Hells; they seemed to be together more than ever now.

So what was going on?

Maybe—

“Yes! Finally!” Thundar shouted with pure excitement, drawing Alex’s attention.

The minotaur stood near a practice dummy surrounded by illusionary duplicates. They all circled Thundar, each looked…different. They still resembled the commanding young minotaur, though each bore an indistinct, shadowy aspect around their edges.

In a way, they looked less realistic than before.

But it wasn’t how they looked, but what they were doing that was causing Thundar to celebrate.

On the ground beside their hooves, lay a line of Najyah’s feathers that Thundar’s duplicates had taken turns trying to pick up. They’d been at it for more than an hour, the feathers kept slipping through illusionary fingers.

But now, one of them stood, grasping an eagle feather between his fingertips.

“Yeees!” Thundar cried. “Do you see this? Do you all see this? The shadow substance…it’s working!”

The minotaur’s practical exam in illusion magic involved the infusion of shadow substance into illusionary images, giving them the beginnings of solid form. It was a gateway to some of the deadliest magics available to an illusionist. Their illusions would feel real to the touch, bear weight to a certain extent…and even wound a wizard’s enemies, as long as the opponent believed the illusions were real.

The idea of Thundar being able to conjure a small battalion of copies like those—though they paled in comparison to the real minotaur—made Alex shudder. There was no way he’d want to face an army of Thundars on any battlefield, especially wielding powers of illusion like that.

And judging by the looks coming from nearby students, neither would they.

Battlemages in proximity to the cabal mates had actually paused their own practise to watch what they were doing, noting their skill and creativity in spellcraft. Alex recognized faces from last year's Games of Roal. Some weren’t looking too comfortable, maybe imagining their ambitions for this year’s Games flying away.

‘Well, go fight for your life against an apocalyptic orb of death and armies of demons, and you’d probably be as good as we are,’ he thought, letting his feet touch the stone.

He applauded his cabal members. “Well done, everybody. I think we’ve earned ourselves a break.”

Alex gestured to Claygon who’d been standing nearby, watching the cabal practising. “And I have a little present for all of you. But, in return? You get to be my lab rats.”

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