Clavis Saint Lance’s next stop was his instructor’s private room.
“We recovered it, Gray.”
He opened the door without knocking, then stepped into the pitch-black darkness.
This space existed in between the second and third floors of School Building 3. It was his instructor’s private room and one of her many laboratories. Well, it was more of a library than a laboratory.
Clavis closed the door, cutting off the light from outside and plunging the room back into darkness. Soon, a faint light illuminated the room.
The only furnishings were a sofa, a low table, and bookcases that lined all four walls. In the bookcases were an immense number of books. The ceiling was so high it disappeared out of sight, as did the highest shelves. Looking up into the darkness felt just like staring into the darkened corridors of the underground dungeon.
“Well done.” A shadow shaped like a person seeped up from the floor—Gray Rouva. The shadow woman closely surveyed the divine flower Clavis had brought her. “Hmm, it’s quite weak.”
“What do you intend to do with it?” Clavis asked.
“Nothing. I got my fill of divine flower research centuries ago. This thing would just bore me now. I suppose it will make a nice sample for the students. The same goes for the Kira Vera.”
“You’re not giving it to the Holy Kingdom?”
“I’m not. It would be completely wasted there. It’s better to make practical use of resources like this than to store them away as objects of worship.”
Good point, Clavis thought.
That country probably would just use the divine flower or the Kira Vera as religious tools. Clavis didn’t feel like judging that particular practice, but this was a magic school, and they had other priorities. Since the flower was born here at the school, it should be used appropriately.
“Hey, you know that faction leader?” asked Gray Rouva. “The girl with one arm?”
“Do you mean Shilto Lockson?”
“Yeah. She’s right at the cusp of advancing into biomancy. I’m sure she’ll be happy.”
Divine flowers could create life. They were the life source for daemons and their artificial counterparts—beings which were once called the servants of the gods.
Records of daemons and divine flowers survived in myths and fairy tales, and while most people believed they no longer existed, the truth was that they did. They were, however, extremely difficult to handle.
Divine flowers had a will of their own and chose their users. If this flower chose Shilto, and she had the ability, she might be able to make a daemon arm. If she could do that, it would last for the rest of her life. The temporary arm she was using had to be inconvenient.
“You really did catch it much faster than I expected,” the witch remarked.
“I was surprised, too. You know that kid you told me about? Well, he…”
Clavis told her about the group’s search in the dungeon. A number of interesting things had happened, but most noteworthy was the water sorcerer’s method of rapid travel which had greatly shortened their journey. The kid had proved himself useful. He truly was talented.
“I assume you mean Kunon Gurion? I’ve been hearing that name a lot.” Several times, in fact, since the end of last year.
Students like him were rare even in the Advanced class. It was unusual for any student’s name to reach Gray Rouva’s ears. It was a good year if she heard the names of two or three students. It was even more unusual for her to hear the same name multiple times. And she almost never had a conversation with a student. That was why his name had stuck in her mind.
“He noticed that,” said Clavis.
“That? …Do you mean Sanctum? Oh yeah, I think I remember him saying something about being friends with the Saint.”
Kunon didn’t know any personal information about Clavis, but he knew Sanctum well enough to recognize it.
I’m sure his mind is full of questions right now, Gray thought.
How was a man using Sanctum? If Kunon could find the answer, it would change his life as a sorcerer significantly.
“Has he caught your interest?” asked Clavis.
“All sorcerers have my interest. Do avoid pointing out the obvious.”
Every sorcerer stared into the abyss of magic, and Gray Rouva was interested in them all as kindred spirits, no matter how far they made it down the path.
“So what do you think? Will Kunon reach the boundary?”
“Who can say? I feel like his type tends to do a lot without much self-awareness. Perhaps he has already reached the boundary—or he’ll cross it before we know it.”
There was no correct way to pursue magic. You could take the shortest path by studying only what you were taught, or you could take large detours through self-study. The wall, or boundary, as some called it, could be reached by more than one path.
It was also possible Kunon would touch the abyss of magic in a way they couldn’t anticipate.
“Anyway, that ends my report, Gray. I’ll see you later.”
“Hmm? Are you going somewhere?”
“Soff and Keevan invited me to lunch. I like to spend time with the youth every now and then.”
“What? I’m a little jealous. Was I not invited?”
“You didn’t even come up. You’ve never been popular, you know.”
“Tch. You can be such a brat. Run along now.”
Gray’s bratty pupil left the room, and his unpopular instructor disappeared back into shadow. Once more, the library fell silent.