Four-circle spells were a whole different beast compared to the simpler, more rudimentary ones I'd been perfecting in the past. While I had the Laplace method to help streamline my casting of five-circle spells, the four-circle ones still required the traditional approach—a precise balance of mana flow, structure, and sheer will. That's where Cecilia came in. Her expertise in spellcasting was leagues beyond mine, even without the aid of a Mind aspect Gift. She didn't need flashy tricks or shortcuts; she was just that good.
We stood in one of the Academy's training arenas, a sprawling expanse lined with adjustable targets and enchantments that simulated real combat. Cecilia, as usual, was in full tutor mode—arms crossed, golden eyes sharp and unwavering, her regal presence almost oppressive. I was convinced she could critique the wind if it didn't blow just right.
"Alright, Arthur," she said, her voice crisp and authoritative. "Let's see you cast Aether Barrage again. And this time, try not to embarrass yourself."
I sighed, raising my hand. "Your motivational speeches are inspiring as always."
"Less sarcasm, more mana control," she shot back.
I focused, drawing mana into my core and weaving it carefully into the spell. Aether Barrage wasn't particularly flashy, but it was deceptively complex. A four-circle spell that fired a series of pure mana projectiles, it required impeccable control to ensure each projectile maintained its shape and trajectory. Too much mana, and the spell destabilized. Too little, and the projectiles fizzled out before reaching their target.
I launched the first wave. Three projectiles streaked toward the targets, hitting them dead center. But as I tried to sustain the spell, the mana weave started to wobble. One projectile veered wildly off-course, narrowly missing Cecilia's shoulder before smashing into a training dummy.
She didn't even flinch. Instead, she arched an eyebrow and said, "Are you trying to kill me, or is that just a bonus?"
"Neither," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. "I thought I had it."
"No, you didn't," she said bluntly. "Your mana distribution is all over the place. You're pouring too much into the initial weave and not leaving enough for the sustainment phase. Watch and learn."
She stepped forward, raising her hand with an effortless grace that only Cecilia could manage. Mana flowed around her like a river—smooth, controlled, and impossibly steady. In seconds, she conjured a series of glowing projectiles, each one perfectly shaped and humming with energy. She flicked her wrist, and the projectiles launched, hitting every target in rapid succession with pinpoint accuracy. No wasted mana, no wobbling trajectories—just flawless execution.
"That's how it's done," she said, lowering her hand and turning to me. "It's not about brute force, Arthur. It's about precision. Mana is a resource, not a battering ram."
"Easy for you to say," I muttered, though I couldn't help but be impressed. "You make it look like second nature."
"That's because it is," she said, her tone softening slightly. "But it wasn't always. It's just practice, Arthur. You're capable of this—you just need to stop overthinking it and let the mana flow naturally."
I nodded, taking a deep breath and raising my hand again. This time, I focused on her advice, visualizing the mana as a river rather than a storm. I wove the spell more carefully, letting the energy settle into a balanced flow. The first three projectiles launched cleanly, and for the first time, I managed to sustain the spell long enough to fire a second wave.
"Better," Cecilia said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Still not perfect, but better."
I grinned, feeling a small surge of pride. "Thanks, Cecilia."
"Don't thank me yet," she said, her smile turning into a smirk. "You've got a long way to go before you can even think about challenging me."
I chuckled, the tension easing from my shoulders. Training with Cecilia was exhausting, but it was also undeniably effective.
"Anyway, you're becoming a real monster, aren't you?" Cecilia said, her tone breezy but her crimson eyes sharp, studying me like one might examine an overly ambitious science project. "What's your end-of-year project?"
I hesitated for a moment. She didn't know yet, and a part of me braced for the inevitable explosion of disbelief.
"I'm making a Lich," I said, as casually as one might announce they were baking a cake.
Cecilia's expression didn't shift. She simply nodded, her lips twitching upward in a polite, almost dismissive smile. "Oh, nice. A Lich is a good project."
I blinked. That was it? No gasp of horror, no incredulous laughter? She might as well have told me I was working on a school essay. My brain did a double-take, trying to process the lack of reaction.
"You're… not surprised?" I asked, unable to stop myself.
She smiled then, slow and deliberate, a smile that carried just enough coyness to make my stomach drop. "Oh, I am," she said, her voice lilting with amusement. "Trust me, I am. But then I remembered who I was talking to."
I raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"And it's you," she said, crossing her arms and leaning slightly closer, her smile sharpening. "An idiot. So it made sense."
I stared at her, caught somewhere between offense and reluctant amusement. "That's your logic?"
"Absolutely," she said, straightening up and brushing an invisible speck of dust off her sleeve. "You're brilliant, Arthur, don't get me wrong. But you're also the kind of person who hears 'impossible' and takes it as a personal challenge. So, yes. A Lich. Of course you'd be making one."
I opened my mouth to argue, realized she wasn't entirely wrong, and promptly closed it again. "Well, thanks for the vote of confidence," I said dryly.
She laughed then, a genuine, warm laugh that somehow felt like it took the edge off her earlier teasing. "You'll do fine," she said. "You're crazy, but you're also… well, you."
I wasn't entirely sure what she meant, but the way Cecilia said it carried a confidence that made the air feel just a little lighter.
"So you think I'll succeed?" I asked, tilting my head. A part of me couldn't resist fishing for a bit more of that oddly rare encouragement.
"Yeah," she said, her nod as casual as if she were agreeing on the weather. "Fortune favours the bold—or in your case, the completely unhinged. Since you're utterly insane, luck seems to take pity on you and tags along."
I blinked at her, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "I honestly don't know how to respond to that," I said, deadpan.
"You're welcome," she quipped, her smirk widening. Then, leaning forward slightly, her golden eyes locked onto mine with a glint that could only be described as both playful and dangerously sincere. "It means I think you'll crush Lucifer. Wipe that smug look off his verdant face. You're too stubborn not to."
"That's quite the vote of confidence," I replied, raising an eyebrow.
"Don't make me regret it," she shot back, her smirk sharpening into something just a shade too sharp to be comforting. "Because if you mess this up, Arthur, I'll never let you hear the end of it. Ever."
There was something oddly reassuring in her taunts. Because under the sarcasm and sharp wit, there was no mistaking it—Cecilia genuinely believed I could do it. And maybe, just maybe, that made me believe it a little more too.