What followed was the most excruciating hour of Gust’s life. He thought cultivation was bad, but kneeling silently in that courtyard, bent over the entire time while the Matriarch spoke only to the higher level students was one of the most boring experiences he’d ever had. Several times, he whispered to Locke, only to be reprimanded by one of his only friends.

“How long does this usually go on?” he’d asked.

Locke gritted his teeth. “Shut up or they’ll hear us.” Gust stared his friend down until he sighed and answered. “As long as she wants. She’s been gone a long time. Must have a lot to say.”

“Sure, but if we aren’t allowed to listen, do we really need to stay?”

“It’s a matter of respect, Gust. We’re too far beneath her to listen in on this news. Kneeling out here acknowledges that fact. It’s a symbol of the sacrifices we’re willing to make for the school.” Locke turned to look at Gust as he spoke, then caught himself. “Ach! Stop distracting me.”

“They couldn’t even let us cultivate? Wouldn’t that be better proof of our willingness to serve? This is just wasted time,” the Demon grumbled. When his friend didn’t answer, Gust focused on his cycling to pass the time.

Gust woke abruptly when Locke elbowed him in the side. “Fuck,” he mumbled. As he woke up from a short nap, Gust momentarily forgot what he was doing and started raising his head. When he saw the cathedral doors were open, his forehead snapped down so quickly it might leave a bruise.

Slow, steady footsteps walked through the doors. The Matriarch did not stop, nor speak. She merely left in the same direction she’d arrived. Several seconds later, perhaps a dozen people stepped out. Some walked away, others leapt into the air and flew. Ephraim was the only one who stopped and stood before the kneeling crowd.

“You may rise from your positions, but do not stand until the rest of the school has left.”

Gust groaned quietly and rubbed his aching joints while purple belted students spilled out of the cathedral, with the occasional black belt among them. The young man stretched his neck back and forth, and longed to stand. His knees were killing him, so he cycled some mana into the area and felt slight relief.

“As I know you will all ask your fellow students soon enough, I will simply inform you of what I may. Our great Matriarch took a trip to the capital before returning to us, and she brought some interesting news. There is to be a tournament next year, sponsored by our king. Of course, that means we must train hard to produce the very best prospects, and earn the highest rewards.”

While many of the kneeling students grew excited at that, Ephraim waved his hands. “Do not get ahead of yourselves! As the tournament will be open to the entire Kingdom of Charlo, there were some restrictions. The tournament will be broken into several divisions, the lowest of which is open to mages who have opened either four or five meridians. No less.”

The crowd quieted down fast, and Gust felt his heart sink.

“There is some good news, however. Next month, we will hold a tournament of our own broken down by level. In doing so, we Masters will identify those students who are most worthy of our attention and resources. Unlike the kingdom, we will not restrict entry. Instead, students of every level will compete to find the most dedicated among you. The top three students in each division will have their names written upon a board in the chore house.

“For those of you that do not make the cut, you may challenge one of those three to take their place, but no more than once per month. So, do not fret, you will all have your chances to impress our Matriarch. And, who knows? Perhaps some of you will work hard enough to advance in time to join us when we head to the capital next year.” Ephraim bowed his head. “I leave you with that. Take the rest of the day off, and consider how you should spend your time.”

The students only remained respectfully quiet until Ephraim was out of sight. As soon as he was, there was a burst of conversation and motion.

Locke started nodding to himself, then he gripped Gust’s arm. “This is my chance! If I impress the Matriarch during my fights, she’ll definitely take me as an apprentice!”

“How do you think you’ll do? I’ve only been to one sparring day so far and it… didn’t go well.” Gust sighed. “Sorry I got some of her attention and you didn’t, bud.”

The blonde mage laughed. “That’s not the kind of attention I want from her, no offense. I don’t think she likes the idea of a massively powerful mage living in that sword, watching us all through your eye. Can’t say I’m entirely comfortable with it either,” he shrugged. “And I think I’ll do well, actually. Keziah’s the one to watch out for, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she opened another meridian by the end of the month. Even if I don’t make the top three, I’ll be close.”

“That’s great! I need a lot more practice, though. Wanna spar a bit? Or are you too good for me?” Gust teased.

“Oh, I’m definitely too good for you. It’ll be a busy month, but I could spare a few hours.” He looked up at the sun’s position in the sky. “Uh, make that one hour.”

No classes met today, and yet the sparring area was filled with green belted students. There was little space to go around, so the pair of mages headed to Gust’s house. Locke offered his own, but Gust had little faith in his fighting ability, especially compared to someone who had been here for a year. If Gust was going to be knocked down again and again, he wanted to reduce the chances of getting covered in bugs at the same time.

The sun was high and the weather was warm. Even in Gust’s little inlet in the forest, there was little shade. Gust and Locke squared off, and as Locke’s queen ant crawled out of his gray and green sleeve, it hopped to the ground and walked into the forest.

“I’ll take it easy on you this time,” Locke grinned as his pet disappeared. “Besides, most of the insects around my home are friendly, so I don’t let her eat them. You don’t mind if she eats yours, do you?”

Gust laughed. “I insist, actually. How do you wanna start?”

Locke shrugged. “Just try attacking me.”

With that, two mana senses filled the clearing. A wooden sword flew out of Gust’s bag of holding and into his Mage Hand. He launched the sword at his friend at half-strength and the weapon froze several feet in front of Locke’s grinning face. Then Gust felt a hand slap at the back of his head.

One Mage Hand surrounded Gust’s sword and held it in place easily while another manifested behind him and struck. Gust poured more mana into his Mage Hand, but Locke reacted in kind. Then another Mage Hand appeared next to Gust’s face and gave him a light slap.

“Remember,” Locke smirked, “you can summon as many hands as you can focus on. It requires more mana, of course, but that’s why I retract them as soon as they’ve struck. And pay attention to your mana sense. You’ll see a sort of rift in my mana sense in the place a spell is about to appear. Watch.”

Just then, another Mage Hand appeared just before Gust’s face. It didn’t hit him this time. Instead, it disappeared quickly, and the process repeated a few times.

Gust still struggled to process all the information his mana sense provided. This third eye saw the world entirely differently. Instead of seeing light, it saw the mana that suffused everything. As he focused on the area in front of himself, Gust finally noticed a lapse in Locke’s mana sense. It was like a disturbance in the air. A moment after he noticed it, mana poured through and took the shape of a hand.

Then it stuck up its middle finger.

Gust gave his friend a flat look. “I see our worlds have that gesture in common.” Locke shrugged and chuckled, so Gust copied one of his friend’s moves. He formed a Mage Hand just behind Locke’s head and struck.

Before the blow could land, however, Locke’s eyes widened and he ducked. “Now you’re getting it! Maybe its time to… take things up a notch.”

While Gust wondered what that meant, he missed the disturbance in Locke’s mana sense around his feet. As a pair of Mage Hands appeared, their fingers were already wrapped around Gust’s ankles. Then they pulled.

Gust shouted as he fell backwards and was dragged through the dirt toward Locke. He released his sword and tried to strike at Locke from a few different directions, but the mage dodged them all. In a matter of seconds, Gust laid on his back with a stern expression, arms crossed and feet in the air. His sword floated over him and dropped onto his lap lightly. Then his feet fell with a thud.

“Yeah,” Locke nodded, “you definitely need practice. Lucky for you, my daily work only takes half as long as it used to. Since you saved me that time, we’ll keep sparring. Don’t worry, your instincts will catch up soon. Then I’ll start trying.”

After his friend left, Gust couldn’t help feeling discouraged. Every student at this school had months, if not years, to practice their instincts and skills. How could he catch up when they were working just as hard?

Gust knew he had some advantages, he just had to figure out how to leverage them. His father’s sword was an incredibly powerful artifact, but it weighed as much as a building. The coin helped him cultivate faster, but as Gust turned it over in his hand, he failed to think of a way it might help him in a fight.

Something Master Ephraim told him during his first sparring class stuck out in Gust’s mind. Mage Hand was only the name of the spell, it didn’t need to take the shape of a hand. The Demon found himself wondering, if they could just form a sword instead, why would they bother using the wooden ones?

To test out this idea, Gust picked up his wooden sword and attacked a nearby tree. As expected, it merely thumped against the wood. Some bark chipped away, but nothing more.

Gust threw the sword on the ground and focused on reshaping his Mage Hand. It took him a few minutes to get used to the shape, but soon an illusory blue sword floated through the air.

This time, the Mage Sword, as he called it, sunk a few inches into the wood before bouncing back. Gust’s face lit up and something else came to mind. His pathways were filled with pure mana, and so that was what powered his spells.

It wasn’t the only type of mana he had access to, however. Gust looked inward at the sphere of silver sword mana floating around his maroon core and cycled some of it toward his hands. The sword mana stung as it flowed, but as long as it was vastly outnumbered by pure mana the pain was far from unbearable.

As he conjured another Mage Sword, this one appeared a shimmering silver. It almost looked like a real blade. Gust gritted his teeth and sent his newly developed weapon at his wooden nemesis.

And sliced through the wood as easily as butter.