"Magical Materials Utilization" - Second Lecture (1)
Professor Atwill's second session for “Magical Materials Utilization”. Since the first day had been nothing but orientation with zero progress, this was effectively the real first class.
A little before the start of class, the black-haired elf teaching assistant came in to take roll call. In just two days, her face had noticeably grown haggard. Yet even that lent her an air of decadent allure, befitting an elf's beauty. The students, seeing the professor hadn't arrived yet, openly stared at her without restraint. No one was going to complain about gawking at the face calling attendance anyway.
The female students who'd been too busy ogling Atwill last time were at it again. It wasn't just admiring a pretty face—it felt more like appreciating a work of art.
"That concludes roll call."
Arienael wrapped up attendance in a listless voice and took her seat, just as Atwill pushed open the door and entered. The headcount was the same as last time—no one had bothered to drop.
"Good to see you all again."
The female students focused even more intently on the podium than before. The male students weren't foolish enough to show their disappointment openly. Thanks to that, Atwill could be thoroughly pleased with their attention.
"We'll move quickly from here on out. First up: magical materials. Given the course title Magical Materials Utilization, you could say it's only natural."
In the classroom, only Atwill and Arienael seemed to find that obvious. From what the students had heard, this class was supposed to start with the most important magical tools: staves, wands, and orbs. The textbook even began with those three.
"It won't follow the textbook order. This isn't a dedicated text just for magical materials, after all. But we'll cover everything this semester, so no need to worry."
A couple of students let out deflated sighs at that. It revealed who'd actually done the preview reading.
"We'll start from the basics: material classification systems. You've probably learned that magical materials are divided into 'biological' and 'non-biological' up to now. It's not wrong, but it's not precise either. So erase that distinction from your minds."
This was standard fare from magic academies or freshman courses like Magical Materials Basics. Biological materials had strong effects but were short-lasting and unstable. Non-biological ones were weaker, harder to react with magic, but sturdy and stable.
"It's just a convenient categorization. Think about it: most of the clothes you're wearing are made of fabric. Is fabric biological or non-biological? Cotton comes from plants, so should we call it biological? And does that mean it's short-lasting and unstable? You know that's not the case."
Mages' robes were mostly fabric, and any enchantments on them were highly stable. At least, not as fragile as you'd expect from 'biological materials.'
"Wood's the same. Orbs are mainly minerals, wands and staves are wood. But among the three, orbs pack the most punch—and the least stability."
"As you can see, the biological/non-biological divide and its traits aren't as clear-cut as you think. So what should define 'biological'?"
One student called out in a voice full of mischief.
"If you can eat it, it's biological!"
Everyone could tell it was a joke from the content and tone. Snickers leaked out here and there.
Atwill didn't want to sour the mood either, so he played along.
"By that logic, salt would be biological too."
The students good at reading the room burst into laughter. Atwill was known publicly as arrogant, opinionated, and rude. That had everyone on edge at first, but surprisingly, the class atmosphere wasn't stiff at all.
As the laughter died down, Atwill pressed on.
"Let's get into something trickier. Are spirits living beings? If so, objects influenced by them should count as biological in themselves."
Spirits were part of nature, moving with wills of their own like creatures. But they didn't fit neatly into any biological classification.
"Also, as you know, steel smelting involves carbon from charred wood. If 'derived from living things' is the criterion, steel becomes biological too."
By now, every student got Atwill's point. No one was about to call a lump of metal biological.
"You're probably wondering what the real standard is. Is there a better answer? No. That's why you should forget the biological/non-biological split. It's an artificial category made easy for kids to grasp. Beyond that, it's not worth obsessing over unless you're researching it at university level."
The students listened with eyes shining brighter than before. Their takeaway: Professor Atwill actually put real effort into lecturing.
"Among non-biological materials you know, minerals are the most representative—specifically metals. As you know, metals repel mana. Enchanting them is nearly impossible, and even forcing a magic circle and incantation onto them yields worse efficiency than other materials."
That was why mages rarely wore metal armor. It was also where holy power had a clear edge over mana.
"But even that varies by metal. When you hear 'metal,' you mostly think of iron's traits. Iron, copper, silver, gold—they all have different properties. Platinum steel conducts mana especially well; black iron blocks it entirely."
The last two were rare metals, hard to source, so easy to overlook. But every metal had distinct traits.
"Think about it: 'repels' is an odd word, right? Not 'neutralizes' or 'suppresses,' but 'repels.' Magic isn't blocked; mana just doesn't linger well."
Obviously, you couldn't block spells with a metal plate alone. If that worked, anti-magic gear would be everywhere.
Atwill paused, concentrated his mana, and conjured a spell formula. A massively enlarged gem projection floated before him. It was meaningless visually but kept the students engaged—a prepared aid.
"What about gems? They have all the upsides of what people think of as 'biological' and 'non-biological.' Great potency and efficiency, plus rock-solid stability. The more critical the research, the more they're used."
As Atwill finished and dismissed the projection, disappointed sighs rose from the female students. Even knowing it was fake, the recreation was stunning enough to earn awe. It hinted at just how precise his spellwork was.
"Question time. Of the thousands of magical materials discovered, how many do you think are fully understood?"
A front-row female student murmured softly.
"Around 500?"
"Anyone else?"
"100...?"
"That was a trick question. The answer's zero. Mages don't fully know a single thing in this world."
Atwill had said as much during orientation: Mages couldn't know everything, yet the world thought they did. Mages themselves believed it too.
"Even water varies. Lake water, river water, rainwater, melted glacier—each affects results differently. We don't fully know why or how. That's why recipes specify 'water created by Water Creation magic' when water's involved."
Atwill glanced subtly at the elf TA here. Arienael just wore a bored expression.
"That's right. Water knows the answer."
There'd once been a claim that water wasn't an element but a compound of two different ones in a 1:2 ratio. Mages had laughed: "Then air's a mixture too?" Pure pseudomagic nonsense.
*
"Back to the point: nothing I just said is absolute. It all depends on the material's traits, the spell used, the formula's shape, the material's state. Take telekinesis as an example. Look over here."
Atwill pulled out several objects that looked like clay or stone. Some were irregular like rocks, others perfect polyhedrons. Shapes ranged to crystal forms and even perfect spheres. One of the props that had worn Arienael out preparing.
His classes often needed physical samples beyond handouts.
He levitated them with telekinesis, moving them around freely. It was basic magic, but the students gasped at the size. A head-sized rock weighed a ton. Maneuvering several that fast would've drained mana massively.
Yet Atwill juggled nearly ten without breaking a sweat. The sphere, largest of all, moved fastest and lightest.
"Not that impressive."
Atwill corrected himself immediately.
"Well, it is, but not as much as you think. The key to telekinesis is the focal point. The farther the caster's set point strays from the object's center of gravity, the worse the efficiency plummets. It's harder with bulk than weight. Symmetrical shapes like these are easy. The best is this form."
All but the cube, octahedron, and sphere dropped. The sphere spun rapidly, drawing eyes.
"So telekinesis gets easy if you find the center?"
The girl who'd answered earlier raised her hand.
"Not that simple. Hollow objects with no internal center are tough too. Plenty of other factors. Even basic telekinesis is like this."
Atwill levitated one from the floor. Its surface was riddled with holes, revealing the hollow interior to all.
"But remember: a clear focal point benefits most spells. Think about faceting hard-to-carve gems into polyhedrons. For pricey materials, every technique maximizes efficiency."
"You facet gems to find the center of gravity easier?"
"One of dozens of reasons to facet gems. Since I talked gems for the girls, time for the boys' favorite."
Atwill paused and drew a long object.
"Weapons."
It was a sword. A keen blade with elegant ornamentation—a masterwork. Clearly not some village blacksmith's fodder.
No one but Atwill knew: it was an imperial knight order treasure sword. Starved of blood for years in the wrong hands. Its edge seemed ready to cleave the air itself, exuding a murderous aura like it had a will of its own.