Chapter 985: Field Work, Part 1
Irene called it a test of sheer willpower. Something that I could use as a kind of benchmark as to what I could accomplish.
And sure, it was easy to see it that way… the same way it was easy to be beguiled by her words too. Because, really, it was more like a test of trying not to get an aneurysm than the virtuous task of grit and mettle she was making it out to be.
She instructed me to head over to where Adalia had been standing. Once she had me right in the middle of the open plain, I finally got the gist of what I was supposed to do.
"Gather your magic, all of it—as much as you're able," she had said, circling around me in the strut befitting that of a fitness coach. "Concentrate it, channel it all into one direction, your dominant hand preferably. It'll hurt, and it'll hurt a lot more the more you funnel through, then once you're sure you can't squeeze anymore, you need to strike the ground with your palm. You were watching just now, yes? Simply copy what Adalia did."
"You mean summon an earthquake on command?" I said, dumbfounded. "Easy as that?"
"You're not summoning an earthquake," Irene said patiently. "What you are doing is dispersing your magic at its absolute zenith and sending all that energy into the ground. The ground itself acts as a natural insulator to your magic—like rubber and electricity—the earth will halt the current in its tracks. What you'll be trying to measure is how far along your magic ripples across the land before it comes to a stop. That tremor you felt earlier? Well, there's your gauge—the stronger it is, the stronger you are. Magic-wise anyway."
I remember having to take a pause after hearing that. Irene delved more into the intricacies of the entire process, and while I tried to diligently hang onto her every word, my focus kept shifting to the little dainty figure, knelt down amidst a small ring of flowers, her dress sprawled over the slow sway of the grass.
She couldn't have looked more harmless; as delicate as a rose, especially with that ribbon affixed onto her hair in what seemed to be a very earnest and adorable attempt to put it up herself.
I don't need any reminders of just how strong and fearsome she can be when she has to be. My heartbeat still skyrockets whenever I think back to the time when she had frenzied.
It's only natural, of course. She's a Matriarch, the apex predator of her species. But… the seamless, almost nonchalant way she had the earth shaking beneath her to the point of shaking trees and even knocking me off my feet… seeing her innate power given some actual tangible form of measurement… I can't begin to even wrap my head around it.
I could still feel the rattle in my legs, the blinding shafts of silver lights rippling like water in my eyes. Those lights…
"What about those lights just now? The ones coming out of the ground?" I asked, snapping back to Irene in the middle of her lecture. "Was that all the magic she's gathered scattering or something?"
"Essentially yes—was just getting to that," she said before raising her hand up and closing it into a tightly clenched fist. I felt it again, that subtle push from an invisible breeze, and suddenly, wispy red smoke began to seep out from her fist. "Magic varies in many forms and shades, differing from species to species. Usually, when molded and refined for use in complex spells, magic typically has no color. But if given no other additive, just exerted raw and bare, it'll show. For demons, for example, we have it in red."
Irene unclenched her fist, those thin crimson wisps dissipating into thin air, and darted a quick finger at Adalia. "Vampires have silver, humans are blue, and so on. As you know, colors do play a vital role in casting magic, but we're not diving into that now. Just know that your magic will manifest during the process. The lights you saw. Which is good. They'll help measure the strength of your output. Same logic. The further along they ripple, the more potent the magic."
Once again, Irene went on the move, backing away from me in steps that seemed precise and calculated. When she was about maybe six or seven steps away, she stopped, and with the heel of her shoe, etched down a deep fine line across the soil.
"A passing grade for a novice would be around here," she informed, tapping the streak of dirt she drew with the end of her foot. Then she withdrew further back again, making another stripe of upheaved dirt. "Academies expect you to be here at the time of your final gradings."
A third time in a row she scooted back, so far away that she was bordering the outer edges of the field. I had to crane my neck just where she crossed the next line over, and she even had to raise her voice just for me to hear her.
"Finally, over here is where any Magus or prodigious individual worthy of their eminence and prestige should be," Irene said. "Most people will never reach past this point even after wasting decades of their lives trying."
I measured the distance from where I was to where she was, and from just eyeballing it alone… it was quite the distance to meet, alright. Far enough to feel daunting… but not exactly infeasible.
I mean I had just seen Adalia double that without even breaking a sweat. I'm sure Dad could do it too, and Mom was easily a given… if she could do it, then following that logic…
"Right now, you don't need to worry about trying to reach this point, alright?" Irene called out, shuffling back to the line she made in the middle and giving it another tap with her foot. "Here. This will be your passing grade for today. Reach this mark and you're good to go."
"Just there?" I asked. "Why not the one all the way at the end? Don't think I'll make it?"
"Easier said than done," she said. "If you think you can do it, then go for it. But just know right here's where you'll need to reach first if we're going to continue training you for more adept things. If you can't make it, then you're going to be stuck here trying until you do. Whether that'll be a week from now, or a month, or even a year… you'll keep going until you succeed."
"Long warning," I remarked, feeling a bit dubious now after hearing her say all that. "Is it really that hard to reach?"
"That depends entirely on you but I know you'll make it through. It's just a matter of when," Irene said, removing herself from the marker and joining Adalia nearby in her small meadow, her arms crossed in a patient, waiting stance. "You ready to start?"
And so for a good long while, that's exactly what I've been doing, trying—striking my palm into the dirt over and over again attempting to produce something, anything to quite mixed and disappointing results if I'm honest.
The first time felt the weirdest. I did exactly what she told me to do, gathering my energy, funneling it all into my hand—and just as she forewarned, it hurt.
Pain reminiscing the stabbing and pricking I felt way back when I was dismantling Mom's barrier was engulfing every inch of my hand. Luckily, it was a familiar agony—a silver lining. It didn't take long for me to grow accustomed to it and I was able to brave through it, hold on for a little while longer until I just couldn't anymore. And just when it felt like my entire arm was about to burst into flames, I shot it downwards. Instantly.
The jolt was what hit me first; a sharp ache shooting through my entire arm. Hitting solid earth with your hand at Mach speed does no good to the bone and muscle, let me tell you. Maybe I could've been a bit gentler, but I wasn't thinking about that then.
Instead, I was much too focused on the anticipation, waiting… for a sign, for something… the smallest quiver from under my feet. But it never came. I felt absolutely nothing. All was not lost, however… because, before my eyes, I glimpsed it, ripples of something flashing across the soil, light, just like it did for Adalia, except it was darker, much darker. And unlike Adalia's, the black shafts of light only extended outwards for a meter or two before quickly stopping dead and dispersing.
It didn't even reach the beginner's mark. It wasn't even close.
"Just warming up!" Irene shouted from afar, her hands cupped around her lips. "No one ever gets it perfect the first time. Try again!"
So I did. At once. And the second time, the shimmering darkness had spread out even further. Three meters, maybe. But still no tremors. And the pain was just getting even stronger.
Again, I glanced toward the second line in the dirt—the passing grade. From what I could tell, it was at least 40 meters out. So yeah, just 37 meters more to go, I suppose.