Chapter 44: Trying Out Magic

Chapter 44: Trying Out MagicThe rain had passed by midday, leaving the city of Elandra wrapped in a blanket of damp fog and the scent of clean stone. Thin wisps of mist curled along the streets, clinging to rooftops and tree branches. Most adventurers had returned indoors, either preparing for upcoming missions or huddled around hearths trading stories of monsters and riches. Inigo and Lyra were not among them. They stood outside the Imperial Mage Department. Lyra stared up at the building with a half-furrowed brow. "I still don’t get it," she muttered. "Why here?" Inigo adjusted the strap of his weapons case over his shoulder. "Because I have magic." That made her blink. "Wait... what?" He nodded once. "I had it checked a couple of days ago. I went through a mana assessment. Turns out I’ve got enhancement-type magic." "You’re joking." "Nope." Lyra turned fully to face him, arms crossed. "Since when?" Sёarᴄh the Novёlƒire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "I’ve always had it, apparently. Just never knew." She stared at him like he’d grown another head. "You have magic. Anything else you forgot to mention?" Inigo managed a small grin. "I make a mean fried rice." Lyra rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "So, enhancement-type. What does that mean exactly?" "No fireballs or lightning bolts," he said. "I can’t blow things up with a gesture. But I can reinforce myself. Boost reflexes. Speed. Even temporarily enchant weapons." Her gaze dropped to the weapons case at his side. "So... you’re planning to practice enchanting? Here?" "Yeah. The Mage Department offers supervised training if you’re officially registered, and I am. Figured I’d test things out. Maybe see if I can coat a bullet in mana, or give my knife some anti-spirit bite. You know, the usual thing." Lyra tilted her head. "Huh." "What?" "I just always thought your strength came from your weapons. I mean, those things are terrifying on their own." "They are," he agreed. "But what if I fight something immune to physical damage? I need a backup plan." That drew a nod from her. "Fair point." Inigo’s eyes lingered on her bow. "What about you? Do you have magic?" She hesitated, then nodded once. "I do. Nothing flashy. Just a bit of wind magic. I use it to steady my aim, slow my breathing when I shoot. But I haven’t trained it much. There’s usually no need." "Ever considered getting it checked again?" "Not really." "You should," he said. "You never know when we’ll need more than arrows." Lyra looked at him thoughtfully, then back at the tall white building. "Alright. If you’re going in, I’ll tag along." They approached the gate. The guards recognized Inigo’s ID and stepped aside without issue. Inside, the air was cooler than outside, scented with parchment and something faintly herbal. The atrium hadn’t changed—same glowing runes, same dome ceiling, same pulsing magical veins carved into stone. It was a far cry from the chaos and steel of the adventurer’s guild. A mage-in-training, this time a younger woman in a green-trimmed robe, greeted them near the front desk. "Inigo, correct?" "Yes. I’m here for enhancement training. I was told I could get supervised practice sessions." The mage nodded and checked the registry, then passed him a marked passcard. "Room Twelve. Third floor. You’ll find an instructor there waiting." Inigo turned to Lyra. "You sure you want to sit through this?" "I’ll watch," she said. "Not every day I see a guy enchant a weapon." They climbed the spiral stairs to the third floor. The upper halls were quieter, lined with floating lanterns and walls hung with spell diagrams. Chamber Twelve was a large room with reinforced stone walls, a summoning circle etched into one side, and a weapon rack on the other. A robed instructor, tall and narrow-eyed, glanced up from a desk of runes and alchemical notes. "Ah. Enhancement category?" "That’s me," Inigo said, showing his scroll. "Very well. Let’s begin." The instructor gestured toward a practice pedestal at the center. "You brought your own weapons?" "I did." Inigo opened his case and removed a compact handgun and a combat knife. The instructor arched a brow. "Unusual tools for mana infusion. But not impossible." Inigo ignored the judgment. He approached the pedestal and placed the knife atop it. "How do I start?" "Place your hand on the weapon. Channel your mana into it—not by force, but by intent. Think of what you want it to do. Imagine the weapon cutting deeper, or striking truer. Let that desire guide the flow." Inigo inhaled slowly, focusing. His palm pressed against the flat of the blade. At first, he felt nothing. But then... a faint vibration, like a current pulling through his arm. He focused harder. Envisioned the knife slicing through armor. The metal beneath his palm began to hum—soft, but distinct. A faint glow traced along its edge, white and bluish, like moonlight on a frozen lake. Lyra stepped forward slightly. "It’s working." The instructor nodded. "Crude, but effective. Keep it up. Don’t lose focus." Inigo gritted his teeth. Sweat pricked at his brow, but he maintained the flow. After several long seconds, the glow pulsed—and then faded. He stepped back, exhaling. The instructor stepped forward and inspected the blade. "Mana residue still lingers. This will last maybe a minute, two at most in combat. Not bad for a first try. Now try the other one." "Is it okay if I try the knife first, see what effects linger when I reapply it?" Inigo asked. The instructor gave a brief nod. "Good instinct. I have some targets prepared," the instructor said, gesturing to a series of conjured practice dummies along the far wall. "Mana-sensitive constructs. They’ll react if your weapon is properly enchanted." Inigo nodded and stepped toward the closest one. He gripped the combat knife again, channeling mana into it with more intent than before—sharper, focused. This time, he imagined the edge not just slicing through armor, but through layered magical resistance. The glow returned faster, steadier. Without hesitation, he moved. A quick slash through the dummy’s shoulder released a burst of blue sparks. He glanced back at the instructor. "A clean cut," the man said, arms folded. "Mana is flowing through the edge rather than lingering. That’s good. You’re learning to embed the energy instead of coating it." Inigo sheathed the knife and picked up the handgun next. "Let’s try something more practical." He held the weapon steady with both hands, not to fire it but to channel mana the way he’d practiced earlier. Inigo closed his eyes and focused. He imagined the mana not just flowing into the barrel, but compressing, condensing—layer by layer, like packing an explosive charge behind the bullet. He pictured the moment of impact: the shot hitting its target and erupting in a concussive blast, like a high-explosive round tearing through flesh and armor alike. The frame of the gun began to hum. A low, vibrating growl resonated through his bones. Pale blue sigils glowed along the slide, as if the weapon itself were responding to his intent. Mana gathered thickly at the muzzle, forming a shimmer of barely-contained pressure "I’m trying to simulate an HE round," Inigo said. "One shot. One small explosion." He aimed toward the reinforced panel and squeezed the trigger. A thunderclap of mana roared across the