"Elia, what's the time?" Edwyn called from his top bunk, his voice laced with a playful drawl as he stretched, his joints popping like firecrackers.
"Eight o'clock," Elia replied from below, her tone steadier now, though still tinged with lingering unease. "Breakfast should be here any minute."
Edwyn did the math, his grin faltering for a split second. He'd started meditating around 5 AM, diving into the Sea of Souls for what felt like a quick cosmic joyride. But three hours had slipped by in the real world?
"Well, damn," he muttered, running a hand through his messy red hair. "Meditation's got a hell of a time warp. Gotta watch that, or I'll be zoning out while some noble brat's swinging a sword at my head."
His stomach growled, a loud, impatient rumble that echoed in the cramped room. The airship's faint hum vibrated through the walls, a steady pulse that blended with the faint glow of the crystal lamp overhead. The space smelled of old wood, ink, and the lingering tang of last night's beet soup. Edwyn curled up tighter on his bunk, trying to ignore the hunger gnawing at his gut.
Food, where you at? Your VIP's starving up here.
"Edwyn… aren't you scared?" Elia's voice drifted up, softer now, but carrying a weight that cut through his thoughts.
"Scared?" Edwyn snorted, his lips curling into a lopsided grin as he leaned over the bunk's edge, fixing her with a mock-offended look. "Lady, I'm the guy who's gonna make this exam beg for mercy. What's there to be scared of?"
Elia didn't respond right away, and Edwyn's grin softened as he thought back to the past month. Fear? He'd lived it every damn day, trapped in a frail, malnourished body, scraping by on scraps, dodging Rickard's drunken fists. Every morning, he'd woken up praying it was all a nightmare, only to face another day of starvation and pain. Compared to that hell, a murderous entrance exam was just another Tuesday.
"I've been through worse, Goldilocks," he said, his tone quieter but still edged with defiance. "This? This ain't even close to breaking me."
The room fell silent, the only sound the airship's low hum and the faint creak of the bunk as Edwyn shifted. Elia, curled up on her lower bunk, couldn't wrap her head around it. She'd grown up as the pampered daughter of a wealthy merchant, her life a bubble of silk dresses and warm meals. Survival was a concept she'd only read about in adventure tales, as distant as the clouds drifting past the airship's windows. To her, Edwyn's calm in the face of a life-and-death trial was alien, especially when he looked like a stiff breeze could knock him flat.
"So what do we do?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "We can't beat the nobles. Those Knights… they're monsters. I've seen them, armored giants who can smash through entire battalions with a handful of squires. If we run into someone like that, we're done for."
Edwyn chuckled, leaning back with his hands behind his head. "Elia, let me drop some wisdom on ya. Who do you think's tougher, a Mage Apprentice slinging spells, or some fancy Knight swinging a big stick?"
"Obviously-" Elia started, her voice rising with certainty. "A Mage Apprentice! I mean, magic beats swords any day, right?" But then she paused, her eyes widening as a spark of realization hit. She scrambled for her bag, pulling out the How to Become a Mage Apprentice book and her dictionary. "Wait… the book! It's got everything we need to fight back!"
Edwyn's grin widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. "There's the spirit, Goldilocks! You're catching on. Those noble brats might have muscles, but we've got magic. Time to level the playing field."
Elia threw off her blanket, leapt out of bed, and darted to the desk, her pale gold hair bouncing with newfound energy. She flipped open the book, her fingers flying through the pages as she cross-referenced with the dictionary. "I've got this," she muttered, her voice fierce with determination. "I might not know how to swing a sword, but studying? That's my battlefield."
Edwyn watched her, one eyebrow raised, his grin turning fond. "Look at you, going full nerd mode. Respect." But his stomach growled again, louder this time, and he groaned. "Man, where's the grub? I'm about to start chewing the wooden table."
As if on cue, a sharp knock sounded at the door. Edwyn vaulted off the bunk, landing with a theatrical flourish. "Breakfast, my love, you've arrived!" He flung open the door to reveal a puppet-like automaton, its wooden limbs jerking with mechanical precision as it pushed a food cart piled with trays. Its face was a blank mask, but a shrill, metallic voice rasped from within. "Room 225. Two portions."
Edwyn grabbed two trays, handing over last night's dishes with a mock salute. "Thanks, Woody. Keep up the good work." The puppet wobbled off, its cart rattling down the corridor, and Edwyn kicked the door shut, staring after it with wide eyes. "Well, damn. A magic robot waiter? This fantasy world's got style."
He set one tray on the desk for Elia, who was already buried in her books. "Yo, Goldilocks, your breakfast's here. Fuel up, you're gonna need it."
"Keep it," Elia muttered, not even looking up, her quill scratching furiously across a sheet of parchment. "I'm in the zone."
Edwyn scratched his head, a wry grin tugging at his lips. "Youth, huh? Too hyped to eat. Guess I'll just have to heroically take one for the team." He plopped onto his bunk with both trays, tearing into the meal, rye bread, a slab of smoked sausage, and a cup of watery porridge. It wasn't gourmet, but after weeks of moldy scraps, it tasted like heaven. "Oh, yeah, that's the stuff," he mumbled through a mouthful, leaning back with a satisfied sigh.
Seven days later, Edwyn sat cross-legged on his bunk, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and steady. The airship's corridor outside Room 225 was quiet, its organic-metal walls glowing faintly in the dim light of the crystal lamps. The past week had been a blur of study and practice, the looming entrance exam driving both him and Elia to push their limits. Elia had thrown herself into translating How to Become a Mage Apprentice, her desk now a chaotic mess of notes, ink blots, and crumpled parchment. Her dedication impressed even Edwyn, who'd seen her work through meals and sleep like a woman possessed.
"Girl's got grit," he'd muttered to himself, watching her scribble late into the night. "Life-and-death stakes will do that to ya."
For his part, Edwyn had focused on building his Mana Flow, the next step in becoming a Mage Apprentice. Connecting to the Sea of Souls had freed his Spiritforce, letting him sense the ambient mana in the world, a shimmering haze of firefly-like particles drifting through the air. Now, he extended his spirit like invisible tendrils, coaxing the mana to cling to them like dew on a spider's web. As he drew the tendrils back, the particles flowed into his body, pooling in his chest with a warm, electric buzz.
If the Sea of Souls was the foundation of a Mage's power, the Mana Flow was the plumbing, storing mana inside the body, stabilized by Spiritforce, for quick use in combat. Casting spells on the fly with ambient mana was slow and draining, like trying to fight with a half-charged battery. But a Mana Flow let you stockpile mana, ready to unleash at a moment's notice. The catch? Your capacity was tied to your Spiritforce, and Edwyn's was solid but not infinite. Push too hard, and you'd burn out, forced to scramble for environmental mana mid-fight.
Edwyn focused, guiding the last mana particle into his body. The stored mana hit a tipping point, coalescing into a gentle stream that flowed from his heart, through his organs, and back again, forming a complete circuit. The sensation was like a warm river running through his veins, steady and alive. He opened his eyes, a wide, reckless grin spreading across his face. "Done and dusted," he said, his voice low but triumphant. "Mana Flow, check. Time to start slinging spells like a pro."
With his Mana Flow complete, he could now quick-cast the four Zero-Circle spells from the book: Magic Missile for attack, Force Barrier for defense, Feather Step for escape and quick movement, and Silence Field for stealth.
They were basic, some snooty mages didn't even call them real magic, just "mana tricks", but to Edwyn, they were a game-changer. "No more helpless peasant," he muttered, flexing his fingers as if ready to hurl a spell right then. "Let's see those noble brats try me now."
Just then, Elia slammed her dictionary shut with a triumphant thud, startling him out of his thoughts. "Ha! Edwyn, get down here!" she shouted, stretching with a loud crack of her back. Her pale gold hair was a mess, her eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, but her grin was radiant. "I did it! Finished translating the whole damn book!"
Edwyn vaulted off the bunk, landing with a flourish. "Well, hot damn, Goldilocks!" he said, giving her a mock bow. "You're a freakin' scholar. That's half the exam in the bag already." He offered her a high-five, his grin wide and genuine.
Elia laughed, slapping his hand with surprising force. "Told you I'm not just a pretty face," she said, puffing out her (non-existent) chest. After a week of sharing a cramped room, they'd settled into a comfortable camaraderie. Edwyn had learned Elia was the spoiled youngest daughter of a merchant tycoon, used to servants and silk but tougher than she looked. Elia, in turn, knew Edwyn's grim past, son of a deadbeat drunk, scraping by in the Black Forest. His calm optimism in the face of their deadly future fascinated her, pulling her back from despair whenever she faltered.
"Now it's your turn," Elia said, pointing at him with her quill like a sword. "Spend the next few days learning Magus Language with me. You'll be a real Apprentice before we land."
Edwyn blinked, his grin turning sly. "Hold up, Goldilocks. You sure about this? If I become a Mage Apprentice, that's one more player in the exam. One more guy who could-" He leaned in, his voice dropping to a teasing growl. "Stick a knife in your back to snag your stuff. You really wanna arm a threat like me?"
Elia froze, her eyes widening for a moment. The room's air grew heavy, the hum of the airship suddenly louder in the silence. Edwyn's words hung between them, half-joking but carrying a sharp truth. One more Apprentice meant one more rival in a game where survival demanded blood.
Then Elia's expression hardened, a spark of defiance flaring in her blue eyes. "Nice try, tough guy," she said, her voice soft at first but growing firm. "If you were gonna stab me in the back, you wouldn't be dumb enough to warn me. You'd keep your mouth shut and play nice." She punched his arm, hard enough to make him wince. "You're such a weirdo. I'm trying to help, and you're pulling this edgy crap? Say one more thing like that, and I'll make you translate the dictionary yourself!"
Edwyn laughed, rubbing his arm with a mock grimace. "Alright, alright, you got me. I'm not that much of a bastard." He plopped onto the chair across from her, his grin softening. "Guess I owe you one. Let's hit the books, teach me your nerdy ways."
Elia rolled her eyes but smiled, pulling her notes closer. "Deal. But you better keep up, or I'm leaving you in the dust."
The entrance exam loomed like a storm, its rules brutal and unforgiving. But with his Mana Flow complete, four basic spells in his arsenal, and Elia's unexpected alliance, Edwyn felt a fire kindling in his chest.