Chapter Twenty-Seven: My Eyes Are Up Here

“Tell me your skill levels.”

Still reeling from the abrupt slap, I tell the wannabe warlock what he wants to know without leaving anything out. Just like before, he does not react to my words and just continues doing something with the item in his hands.

“Can I ask a question?”

“You just did.”

“Can I ask multiple questions then?”

“You just did.”

“How did you make that mana chair?”

“Don’t speak unless I say so.”

What an asshole.

Biting my lip, I withhold all of the hundred other questions I would like to ask and instead stand quietly in my birthday suit like a glorified mannequin. A few more minutes pass like this until Lirin finally puts down the sheet of metal and opens the door.

“Put your clothes back on and follow me.”

I do as he asks before falling into step behind him as he strides across the room to another wooden door. This one has some sort of inscription on a stone tablet next to it, and I watch as he waves his hand in a complicated pattern before the door opens itself. As we walk in, I notice that the room is ridiculously long and has a raised ceiling multiple times the height of myself. I quietly wonder how big this basement is to be able to hold such a large room plus the main area we just walked out of. Other than the size, the room itself is more like an arena than anything, as there is no visible furniture or devices like in the main room. It’s mostly just comprised of dull metal panels that line the floor, walls, and ceiling.

“This is the testing room. You will receive access to this room after I finish quantifying your abilities. You will not, however, receive access to any of the arrays. Now, go stand over there and begin cycling your mana.”

Various parts of that sentence make no sense to me, but I do my best to comply as I walk over to the spot in the middle of the room and begin moving mana through my [Mana Foundation]. After fiddling with a complicated looking device on the wall next to the door, Lirin slots the piece of metal he had been toting around on to the machine and then heads over to where I am standing.

“What are you doing. I said to begin cycling your mana.”

I just stare at him blankly while continuing to move mana through my inner network.

“Speak.”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘cycle mana’.”

The asshole-warlock pinches his fingers on his nose before smoothing back his shoulder-length silver hair.

“Where did you come from again? Garf said you all were stray Fallens they found at the gate. Those that come from beyond the Veil should know the basics.”

“I came from Floor One of The Pillar. I literally have no idea what the majority of what you are saying even means.”

The man’s severe expression turns slack for a moment, and I wonder if he is having an aneurysm or something. Only a beat later, the man resumes talking but for some reason he sounds stiff and scripted.

“I see. You are another Fallen that was put here by… the gods.”

After he practically spits out that sentence, his expression returns to normal and he continues speaking like nothing had happened.

What the hell was that about?

“So, it seems you are completely clueless about even the basics of the System. No matter, as long as you do as instructed, I believe I can work around your horrible ignorance.”

Lirin completely ignores his previous actions as well as my stupefied expression as he walks back to the device on the wall and messes with a few of the various gems that line the rectangular shaped machine. Afterward, he takes off his robe to reveal a black tunic that reaches up his neck, and a pair of linen pants and simple shoes. I wonder why the man seems to be getting so serious all of the sudden given his previous displeasure with me being left in his care.

He walks back over to me in a supermodel-like cadence, which just annoys me even more for some reason.

“Now, pay close attention to the way I move my mana, and copy me. This is a simple technique to cycle your mana, which is used to show basic proficiency in <Mana Control>.”

*****

For the twenty-ninth time, I push <Fixation> as hard as I can and begin to move my mana as delicately as possible through my mana network in a gentle pattern that should circle around my chest and spine while evenly distributing mana through my limbs in a constant rhythm.

Unfortunately for me, the mana does not like to adhere to this cycling tactic, and as soon as I try to circle the aforementioned area, my mana fights against me and turns the circle into a sporadic ellipse that sends random, uneven bursts of mana through my body which bursts several blood vessels and causes my muscles to cramp horribly.

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Another slap quickly throws me out of my concentration and makes my head buzz and cheek sting.

“Wrong. Do as I do.”

I stem my growing rage at getting slapped every two seconds and instead transfer my full attention to the glowing blue lines in front of me. The asshole-wannabe-warlock has created a full body diagram of my [Mana Foundation] from the notes he jotted down on the metal sheet. Now, he uses his mana as a 3-D example for me, and I watch as he moves the mana through the entire network with fluid ease and forms an oscillating circuit that delivers powerful waves of mana through the rest of the channel for better efficiency and higher mana output whenever it is called upon.

After he completes the display, he lets the diagram hang in the air for my reference, and I begin my efforts anew.

Another slap knocks me out of my focus.

“Wrong. Copy this.”

I try again.

Slap.

“Wrong. Think of it as a circle.”

Another attempt.

My neck creaks as a palm hits me in the exact same spot as the last thirty times.

“Wrong. Think of your mana as another limb.”

This pattern continues for what feels like hours. It doesn’t matter though, I do not get any better, and the consistent assaults on my person have turned the right half of my face into a balloon.

Finally, after my 142nd try, the masochistic-asshole-wannabe-warlock lets the diagram fade away and goes to put his robe back on.