Volume 1
Chapter 5: The Source Code of the Universe
The First Year student, whose name was Timmy (though Elian mentally cataloged him as Subject: Panicking Novice), looked up in terror as the Grey Cloak approached.
To Timmy, Elian didn't look like a savior. He looked like a grim reaper of academic failure. His hood was up, his expression was deadpan, and he moved with a silent, annoyed efficiency.
"P-please don't report me," Timmy squeaked, clutching his wand to his chest. "I know I'm disturbing the silence! I just... the words won't stay in my head!"
"You're going to burn out your mana core before you get a single drop," Elian said, his voice flat. He didn't offer a handkerchief or a comforting smile. He pulled out a chair and sat down opposite the boy.
"I-I can't remember the fourth verse!" Timmy stammered, tears leaking again. "The Canticle of Tides requires perfect pronunciation of the ancient dialect, or the water won't manifest! Professor Hyst said—"
"The Canticle is garbage," Elian interrupted.
The library went deadly silent. A few students at nearby tables glanced over, scandalized. You didn't call the Holy Texts 'garbage.'
Elian ignored them. He grabbed a spare piece of parchment from Timmy's desk and dipped a quill in ink.
"Look. This is what you are trying to build with that chant."
Elian's hand moved in a blur. He sketched a complex, jagged diagram. It looked like a chaotic web of runic knots, twists, and barriers.
"The chant forces your mana to run through this maze," Elian explained, tapping the ink aggressively. "Every verse builds a linguistic wall to contain the pressure. You're spending 90% of your energy building the maze and only 10% pushing the water. That's why you're exhausted."
Timmy blinked, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "But... that's how Archmage Valerius wrote it in the textbook. It's the Standard Protocol."
"Valerius wrote that for safety, not efficiency," Elian muttered. "He assumes First Years are idiots who will drown themselves if given direct control."
Elian flipped the parchment over. The sound of the paper snapping against the table made Timmy jump.
"Forget the chant. Forget the 'Great Spirit.' Magic isn't a prayer, kid. It's physics."
Elian drew a single, elegant image: a straight pipe with a turning mechanism in the center.
"Visualize this," Elian commanded, his tone shifting from bored student to authoritative technician. "Your mana isn't the water. The water already exists in the atmosphere around us—humidity, vapor. Your mana is the Valve."
"The... valve?"
"Put down the wand."
"But—"
"Drop it."
Timmy dropped the wand. It clattered loudly on the wood.
"Hold out your hand," Elian said. He reached out and gripped the boy's wrist.
Elian's skin was cool. Timmy felt a strange sensation—not the warm, fuzzy feeling of standard magic, but a sharp, electric hum. It felt precise.
"Close your eyes," Elian ordered. "Don't recite the verse. Don't think about the Thirsty Earth. Just picture the pressure building behind a floodgate in your chest. Can you feel the humidity in the room? The weight of the air?"
"Yes..." Timmy whispered.
"Good. Now," Elian leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper, "turn the handle."
Elian sent a tiny, microscopic pulse of his own mana into the boy's wrist. He didn't cast the spell for him; he simply aligned the boy's internal flow. He bypassed the 'Maze' of the chant and hot-wired the boy's connection to the Source.
Click.
The air in the library suddenly grew heavy with moisture. The temperature dropped three degrees in a second.
WHOOSH.
A jet of water, pressurized and crystal clear, didn't just trickle from Timmy's palm—it erupted.
It shot across the room with the force of a fire hose. It slammed into a bookshelf ten meters away, blasting a stack of History of Goblin Wars volumes off the shelf and soaking a surprised Ravenclaw... er, Blue Cloak student.
The stream cut off instantly as Timmy opened his eyes, gasping for air.
The library was dead silent. The only sound was the drip, drip, drip of water falling from the soaked bookshelf.
"I... I didn't say the words," Timmy whispered, looking at his trembling hands in absolute horror and awe. "I didn't say a single word."
"Because you didn't need to," Elian said, standing up. He felt a sudden wave of dizziness—the cost of 'Source Weaving' on an empty stomach—but he hid it. "Words are just user interface for the mind. Once you understand the mechanics, the manual is useless."
Elian looked around. Twenty people were staring at him.
Panic Mode: Engaged.
"Clean up the mess," Elian muttered to the boy, pulling his hood down low. "And don't tell Hyst I helped you. I don't want a detention for unauthorized teaching."
Elian grabbed his bag and walked away, his heart hammering against his ribs. Too loud. Too flashy. Idiot. You exposed yourself.
He hurried out the double doors, desperate to retreat to the safety of Table 9.
He didn't notice the figure standing in the darkest corner of the Reference Section, hidden behind a stack of scrolls.
Archmage Valerius, the Head of Magical Theory and the author of the very textbook Elian had just insulted, lowered the book he had been pretending to read.
The old master's eyes weren't on the wet books or the stunned First Year. They were locked on the swinging doors where Elian had just vanished.
Valerius stroked his white beard, a look of profound disturbance—and excitement—on his face.
"He didn't channel the mana," Valerius whispered to the empty air. "He didn't even shape it."
The Archmage looked at the puddle of water. It was perfectly clear. No magical residue. No wasted energy. It was the purest conjuration he had seen in fifty years.
"He structured it," Valerius realized. "He rewrote the spell in real-time."
Valerius reached into his robes and pulled out a student file. He tapped it with his wand, and the name glowed on the front.
Student: Elian. Rank: Grey Cloak. Grade Average: C- (Variable).
"A C-minus student who understands Source Weaving..." Valerius chuckled darkly. "Either the system is broken, or I have finally found him."
The Archmage snapped the file shut.
"Let's see if he can survive the storm."
End of Chapter 5