Basic Thaumaturgy for the Emotional Incompetent [A Magical Academy LitRPG]

Casting five elements wasn't a difficult bar to clear; in fact, Fabrisse thought he could attempt it right now. The problem was to make it not look absolutely bizarre doing it.

He asked Severa, "Before we start, please let me cast Ripplecall once more." He figured that she would find out if he'd tried casting it in secret anyway. At least he wouldn't have to explain later.

"Why?" Severa asked a completely normal question.

"I want to try out my new spell."

"You could have cast without asking for permission," Severa said.

She's . . . right. Why did I need to ask for permission?

So he set down his bottle and cast Ripplecall anyway. The surface of the water rippled, like it was supposed to. He glanced at Severa from the corner of his eyes to see if she'd make a comment, but she didn't.

Then he cast Steadroot. He did feel the ground thicken negligibly. The spell took, but it sucked, probably because he had to channel Resolve when he was feeling barely any Resolve.

Severa observed him without comment once more, and only after he'd finished casting did she say, "You are not ever going to cast those in a practical."

"Then what do you suggest I cast?"

"Something that is neither Water nor Earth," Severa uncrossed her hands. "Here. If you can attempt Serastra's Ember Waltz, you are sure to pass the practical."

She proceeded to demonstrate a spell he had never seen before. It looked deceptively simple when she did it. She pinched her fingers together, and a bead of fire blossomed there—not a flare or sputter, but a perfectly smooth ignition, as if flame were simply another element she could conjure from a drawer. With an almost lazy flick, it split into five spinning firewheels, each tracing a wide arc around her with deliberate symmetry before curling back into her palm and snuffing out with a polite tsk of heat.

The spell was perfectly impractical and purely decorative.

I'm definitely not learning that in four minutes.

At least he'd heard of the name. Serastra's Ember Waltz was named after a thaumaturge named, well, Serastra. Even the name of the spell sounded vaguely like Severa, maybe so whenever he cast it in the future, he'd be reminded of how Severa had sacrificed her valuable time for him.

"Now you try it," Severa spoke in a cadence that made it sound like a command.

Try it how? She hadn't given him step-by-step instructions, or any instruction at all. She just cast the spell once and expected him to replicate it.

He cast his spell. A small, controlled cone of fire shot from his palm. It wasn't flashy, it wasn't elegant, but it worked. That was enough.

Severa's brow knitted into a frown more fitting of her. "That is an entirely different spell, Kestovar. I also instructed you on that spell, no less. If you have the gall to lie, at least be sensible about it."

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"Can I cast an Air spell next?" He asked.

"Are you on a personal quest to prove something to me?" She finally asked.

"Personal, yes." He contemplated whether or not to say the last part out loud, but did so anyway. "To you, no."

Severa let out a small, sharp sigh, as if the very idea of Fabrisse calling her out was mildly irritating. However, instead of any biting remarks, she just said, "Fine. If you insist on wasting more of your precious time, then yes, you may cast an Air spell next."

He focused, centering himself on the motion and the flow he already knew. A tight column of air swirled, brushing against the edges of Severa's hair. Her braids lifted and swayed along with the wind for a second.

Only then did he realize that her braids weren't impossibly perfect. The strands were tidy, well-kept, but not rigidly pristine—the slightest looseness here and there, a tiny curl that had escaped its coil.

Come to think of it, he realized she hadn't looked exactly like herself. Her attire was less formal than usual. The Synod cloak draped over her shoulders, embossed with shiny wardthreads as always, but underneath, the layers were sturdy fabrics with muted colors, lacking the usual decorative flourishes. She looked like someone who had just returned from the field rather than a thaumaturge. He wasn't sure what had caused the change. Maybe she'd finally grown tired of being so stuck-up, or maybe she'd always been more at ease, and he only now had enough INT to notice.

"Respectable spell, Kestovar," she finally said.

There wasn't anything respectable about that spell. It was just the simplest form of current manipulation.

He knitted his brow in confusion. "Why are you being nice today?"

That made her pause. She squinted as if to assess him, letting the silence hang a fraction longer than necessary.

"Nice? I am simply partial. You have been studying, and I cannot fault you for that. If you have found me harsh before, it might have been because you were below-par," she said in a level tone. The words carried the faintest weight of restraint, like she was a door being held open even though it wanted to slam shut.

He still had a Concordance spell to cast, and since he was somewhat curious about what had happened to Severa, he cast Spectral Appraisal on her.

He stared at the appraisal readout. Injured? She doesn't look injured. Her posture was steady and her hands were sure. Maybe she still carried that injury from the time she fought Rubidi. Also, being injured should have nothing to do with being nice.

Something had changed, and the injury was probably only part of it. Fabrisse tilted his head.

Severa folded her hands and asked, "Now that you have showcased your skill in the four elements, shall we actually commence your training?"

Part of him wanted nothing more than to find out what the new skill actually did, but he knew it would have to wait. But he needed to pass the fire test, and he wouldn't say no to free guidance. There was obviously a reason why Severa was doing this, but he couldn't care about it. There was little she could gain from duping him. As long as she didn't utter a word about unbinding him from the Eidralith, it would be fine.