The Door the Dragons Opened

She was right. If Chris had possessed any talent for drawing mana by yearning alone, he would have felt it back in his days at the Lion Pavilion.

"What's the incantation?"

"That's the problem."

Chris's heart lurched.

"You don't know it?"

"The Divine Language? No. I only know the translation."

"Divine Language? What's that?"

"A mage of the tower, and you don't know what the Divine Language is?"

"I don't."

Donna was struck dumb.

"Struggling to read it, struggling to speak it — that, I can allow. Not knowing what some particular word means — that too. Even the elders of your tower don't know all of it. But not knowing the Divine Language exists at all? That, I cannot understand."

Chris had never reached Spirit Awakening at the Lion Pavilion, and so he had never been given the chance to study magic systematically, the way those who awakened there had. He had labored as a workhand, been dragged off to prison, and stepped onto the path of mana by skipping every proper stage in the most wretched conditions. His foundations were bound to be full of holes.

The knowledge he had skipped was meant to be filled in at the Training Wing, but the warden of Hall 1 was a drunk, and Harvey, head of the Evaluation Office, had begun by pretending to teach him kindly, only to show his true colors once a little time had passed — drooling at the mouth over the prospect of live experiments. It was no environment in which anyone could learn properly.

There were cases where a person learned more from colleagues than from a teacher, but that did not apply to Chris. Word had gotten out that he had gone to prison for murder, and the others were shunning him.

He spoke with earnest deference.

"Please explain it to me."

"Ten thousand years ago, the sky opened. You know that much, surely?"

Donna clicked her tongue, let out a sigh, and shook her head.

"Your face says you don't. Have you never even heard a lecture on the history of magic? The fundamentals? Nothing of the sort?"

"I entered the Training Wing late. They told me every lecture meant for latecomers was already over. They said they couldn't open a course for the sake of one straggler, and that I should sit in with the next cohort when they arrived."

"Study has its proper season."

"It does. Come late, and all that's left is suffering. But back to the point — the sky opened?"

Chris looked up. A ceiling painted beige met his eyes.

"You mean lightning tore the sky open? Something like that?"

"No. I mean the sky actually opened. Literally."

"A meteor fell?"

"Does a falling meteor open the sky? Stop talking like an ignoramus."

At Donna's rebuke, Chris gave an awkward cough.

"Who opened it?"

"Dragons."

Chris's eyes went wide.

"Dragons are real? I thought they only existed in legends."

"They are. Or rather — they were."

"You mean they're gone now?"

Donna nodded.

"Why they decided they had to leave this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠land... I don't know. The greatest mage on the continent might. I don't. Neither does my husband."

"And then?"

"Ten thousand years ago, for reasons of their own, the dragons opened a door in the sky and meant to migrate to another world."

"There's another world?"

"There is. Our ancestors didn't know of it until then. They learned of it for the first time because something enormous happened — something no one could fail to notice."

"What happened?"

"Through the door the dragons threw open, mages from that other world came down and hunted them."

"Mages from another world?"

"Their power was truly tremendous. They slaughtered, without a second thought, the dragons people had worshipped as gods. The sky filled with the dragons' screams, and the earth ran red with blood."

"So the dragons opened a gate to hell?"

"A gate to hell? Well, I wouldn't call it that. There are people who call it the gate of heaven. Either way, the dragons didn't simply lie down and take it. The ones known as the Ancient Dragons seized those mages and held on, and in that interval a great many dragons fled to the world above. The Ancient Dragons and the mages of the other world fought with terrible violence. Mountain ranges were ground to powder. Rivers turned to desert."

With that, Donna fell silent, and Chris asked.

"How did it end?"

"Leaving about a third of their number as corpses, the dragons fled to the other world. They lost. Some of the mages pursued them. The rest gathered up the dragons' corpses and blood — their spatial pouches, too, and the magical tools left without owners."

"What were the people of our world doing then?"

"Trembling where they stood, and praying for the dragons' victory."

"Why?"

"Do you know who first taught magic? Dragons. They were the founders of traditional magic. Of course people worshipped them as gods. Until ten thousand years ago, they did."

"Meaning they don't anymore."

"You'd watched them get the stuffing beaten out of them by human mages from another world. Think you'd still feel like bowing down? And there was a practical reason, too. The dragons had all left, so even if you wanted to worship them, you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠couldn't."

"What happened to the door? Is it still there?"

"Once the dragons departed, the door began to close. The mages who had come down from the other world hurried back to their own. But there were mages who failed to leave, and remained in our world. Mages too gravely wounded in the fight with the dragons to have the strength to pass through the door. Mages who coveted the spoils strewn across the ground so greedily that they missed their chance to go. Mages who stayed on the principle that it is better to be the head of a chicken than the tail of an ox. For one reason and another, mages remained, and they grafted their own system of magic onto our world."

"Is that what a New Mage is?"

"Yes. Magic descended from the dragons is called traditional magic, or old magic, and a mage who learns it is called a traditional mage, or an old mage. Magic descended from the mages of the other world is called new magic, and a mage who follows new magic is called a New Mage. Not only our kingdom — the magic towers of the other kingdoms all practice new magic as well. The incantations of new magic are made of the language of that other world, and that language is precisely the Divine Language. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The words carry a double meaning: the language of the gods, and a new language."

"So the god we worship changed, from dragons to the mages of another world."

"Put that simply, yes."

"Then the incantation you recite when you're trying to feel mana — Era Seultinsiabi. Era Ummododisia — that's Divine Language?"

"It is."

Donna clapped her hands and turned the subject.

"I don't know the incantations in the Divine Language. I only know them rendered in our tongue."

"Even chanting that much ought to help you a little."

Chris muttered under his breath.

"It isn't very grand."

"It is a bit like that."

"All right. I'll do it now. Don't touch me."

Through relentless training in Iron Body, Chris had reached the point where he could send mana out past his palms. He could not show that in front of Harvey. The secret of Iron Body lay in absorbing mana through the palms and the soles of the feet, and if Harvey saw it, he would find it strange. It was too peculiar to hide.

I taught you the Mick breathing method. Why are you using some bizarre method like that? And where did you learn it?

There would be no way to answer. For that reason, he could not use Iron Body in front of the man. Before Harvey he had to use the Mick breathing method — but the black spheres lodged throughout his body got in the way, and he could make no progress.

Iron Body was impossible to explain, and the Mick breathing method was impossible to use. Chris had no choice but to buy Evaluation Papers from Donna.

He was just about to begin the chant when Donna held out a necklace.

"Almost forgot the lucky necklace. Put it on, then do it."

Chris took the necklace and pressed a kiss to it. He needed luck. He hung it around his neck, took off his shoes, fetched a chair, and sat.

"Why are you taking your shoes off?"

"They feel stifling. Don't talk to me."

Chris muttered the incantation under his breath.

And as he did, he yearned for fire-attribute mana. He imagined taking the mana in and watching it turn to flame. He imagined a furnace heating it white. The mana he gathered that way, he moved through his right arm. It traveled along the surface of the black spheres. A great deal was lost along the way, but some of it reached his palm, passed the palm into his fingers, and seeped into the Evaluation Paper.

Chris kept chanting, kept yearning, kept sending mana to his hand. Perhaps thirty minutes of this had passed when Donna shouted.

"Stop!"

"...?"

"It's a failure."

Chris halted his breathing and examined the Evaluation Paper. The slip that had been reddish had faded to ash-gray. Donna shook her head.

"Your seed is not fire."

"What happens if it succeeds?"

"I hear it bursts into flame."

Chris could not let the hope go.

"Couldn't it have burned faintly, and turned to ash that way?"

"No. It was spoiled by other mana."

Donna drew the Evaluation Paper from his hand.

"This one's useless now."

She brought over a wooden box.

"Pick a new one."

Chris gathered up the mood that disappointment had dragged down.

I've only tested one. There's still plenty of money.

"Looking at me, Donna, what kind of seed do you think I have?"

The answer came at once.

"Water."

"Is there a basis for that?"

"You're a bit slow, aren't you. Not salty seawater — fresh water. And among fresh waters, the sort that sits stagnant in a pond and rots. The kind that stinks..."

Chris could not accept that assessment.

"I am not slow. And I am not rotten water."

"A man who isn't slow takes eight years just to reach Spirit Awakening? Other people usually manage it inside six months."

"There were circumstances."

"The circumstances came about because you're slow. If you'd been clever, every sordid little circumstance would have scurried right past you."

"That is not true!"

Chris raised his voice, but he chose the water-attribute Evaluation Paper all the same.

"There's an incantation for this one, too."

"There is. Same as the fire, though — I don't know the original. Only the translation."

"Then teach me the translation, at least."

"It's simple."

"At the Spirit Awakening stage, simple is better."

"Very well."

Chris packed the word with confidence and declared it.

"I'm doing it."

The water-attribute Evaluation Paper was fitted onto his finger. Chris imagined that he himself had become water — that he streamed down and flooded the floor.

I am water!

He shouted it inwardly, and shouted it again. This time it did not even take thirty minutes.

"Failure!"

Donna cried it, and somehow a note of pleasure seeped through the word. Chris discarded the faded Evaluation Paper and narrowed his eyes.

"Does it please you that I failed?"

"No."

Donna denied it at once.

"Absolutely not."

"Your eyes are smiling."

"Young man, I'll have you know I am not the sort of mean-spirited person who rejoices when a growing sprout is disappointed, just so I can make a little money."

Donna held out the box.

"Pick again."

Then she pointed at the earth-attribute Evaluation Paper.

"My sense is pointing at earth."

"Why? Because I've spent my whole life being stepped on, so earth suits me?"

"Twisted all the way through, aren't you?"

"Find me a man who's happy to throw his money away, and bring him out."

"You've still got plenty left."

Chris chose wind instead of earth. He learned the incantation from Donna, worked Iron Body, and failed.

Donna said,

"See? I told you it was earth."

Anxiety crept up from the soles of his feet and stole, little by little, all the way to his head. Chris gave it voice.

"What if my seed is a special one?"

"Then you'd have to train without knowing your seed's attribute. But that won't be the case. Mages with special seeds are few."

"And I could be one of those few."

"I'd bet you aren't. Here. Take the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠earth."

He was already this far in. Chris took up the earth-attribute Evaluation Paper.

Chris steeled himself and tried once more, and failed once more. The Evaluation Paper slipped from his fingers.

"Ah, damn it."

Anxiety lay across his slumped shoulders like a load.

"Don't sit there moping, a grown man, over nothing."

Smiling, Donna put the box away and brought out a new one. Two Evaluation Papers lay inside.

"The left is metal, the right is wood. These cost more than the four great elements. I ought to charge twelve gold coins, but as a valued-customer discount, I'll let you have them for ten."

If only for the money he had already thrown away, he could not give up here.

"Shit. Fine."

"Why the vulgar swearing?"

"I'm sorry. I'm just too upset."