"The first spell I will teach is called Exar; a simple blast of air and mana that will be a good basis to start training with. This spell will be released from the tips of your fingers and as potent as the caster's ability to command the mana," Athar read quickly, feeling his excitement begin to boil over within.
"After drawing the mana, you must command it to gather to your fingertips and quickly expel it once it has. Don't hold it for too long, otherwise one might burn through the ward. Now, find a quiet spot to practice this concept, and do not skip ahead if one hasn't completed this simple task. Remember the order: Silence, Immolation, Draw, Condense, and Cast," he finished, setting the book aside.
"This is absolutely insane," he chuckled quietly as he got into a good, meditative position in the center of the study with hour-candles around him to keep track of the time it took.
"Alright," Athar said aloud as though it would boost his courage. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out in a controlled manner. Thoughts of his life before coming here to serve the Masked One returned; running through the streets, stealing food from a handful of merchants, and getting scolded by the ones who caught him. He focused on removing them from his mind, though it took longer than expected.
Damn, this is difficult, he thought.
Peeking at the candles, he noticed that a few hours had passed, but he was slowly progressing. Eventually, he found what he'd been trying to attain: Silence.
It was a peace like he'd never known before, as every thought, memory, and emotion suddenly and abruptly stopped in his mind. He didn't dare to acknowledge it verbally or through his thoughts, but he knew he'd reached the first step.
The second, Immolation, became his next target, though he was still unsure of which realm to draw from.
Deepening his focus, he committed to sending his consciousness forth, giving him an outside view of his body as the world lurched around him. Darkness came forth, and a flood of involuntary emotions swept him forward into a timeless space between two large spheres that presented themselves to him per his limited abilities.
The first swirled with multiple tendrils of various colors that raced across a golden orb. The second held violet streaks of lightning-like mana that slowly spanned a lifeless, gray orb.
He reached for the one swirling with bright colors, but a swarm of dark tendrils overcame him and dragged him toward the gray orb. The timeless space between the orbs lurched around him, and his vision immediately clouded in violet and gray.
When his vision returned, he quickly found that he was surrounded by dead trees and oozy smells.
His consciousness had gone to the Underworld.
The dark, vast wasteland with the body-ridden bloodstream and dead trees lay around him. The smell almost knocked him off his feet, which weren't firmly planted. He could hear the sounds of numerous creatures in the distance, prompting him to quickly ensure nothing was coming his way. He was shaken to his core, but maintained his focus.
He looked up at the sphere in the sky, enveloped in the dark streams of mana, and thought back to the information from the book. "Draw," the word came into his mind, doing his best to follow the instructions smoothly and calmly.
It took a few seconds for him to command mana from the sphere, but when it came, it did so with a force he wasn't expecting, aggressively enshrouding his body.
"Condense," the word showed up in his head, and he forced his will to move the mana towards his hand. It wavered a moment, and flowed slowly. He had to focus as much as possible to move it even an inch along his body.
Finally, the dark sphere formed in his hand, and he could feel the warmth resonating from it on his face and upper forearm. He formed his hand according to the text and returned his consciousness the same way he had come, both spheres growing more distant as he moved back into the Real.
The force of the return was so great that it knocked him backwards, and he had to use his free hand to support his weight. The candles had gone out, as a slight waft of air was coming from the mana in his hand.
"I've done it," he said with a laugh, carefully glaring at the mutating sphere in his hand. He didn't want to accidentally lose control of what had taken him so long to accomplish.
He recomposed himself to his original position, keeping his eyes fixed on the sphere.
Cast, the word entered his mind as he outstretched his hand, expelling it from his fingertips with a large, arcing blast of violet mana and air.
It sent the handful of candles before him spinning into the air, eventually crashing into the bookshelf on the far side of the room. The pages beside him ruffled, flicking the book wide open before skidding across the floor.
"Haha! I can't believe it," he said breathlessly as he stared at his hand, clenching it into a fist. "Holy shit," he huffed, and began to laugh. It was the first time he had laughed that hard in what seemed an age, so much so that his stomach muscles began to cramp up.
After reeling with the sharp pain, he regained his composure, hoping his abdominal muscles wouldn't cramp up again.
He looked for the book which he'd left beside him, only to find it a little ways away. He scrambled over to it, suddenly realizing how physically taxing it had been on his body as he was quickly forced to crawl toward it on his belly.
"More," he said in an exhausted voice. "I think you've had enough for one evening, Athar," a voice came from behind him. The Masked One had been watching him the whole time from the doorway.
"It feels good, doesn't it? All of that power in the palm of your hand," his master said with a slight touch of pride cutting through his voice. "I can't believe it," Athar replied with a breathless, exhausted chuckle. "You should. I didn't expect you to get it on your first try, let alone cast such a powerful Exar. Now that I am certain you not only seek power, but embrace it, your status has certainly moved up with me," the Masked One said.
"But I feel so weak that I don't even think I can stand," Athar said, panting heavily. "Drawing from the Underworld has its perks, but also its disadvantages," the Masked One began. "You see, drawing from the Ethereal is easy as it's not as taxing, but it's not as powerful as the Underworld," he said.
Athar grunted as he drew the book closer to him. "Keep it and study it," the Masked One said, walking over to his servant. "Here, drink this," he threw a small flask. "What is it, my lord?" Athar asked. "Since you have only just begun, you will need something to keep your vitality up until you learn to absorb power from cores, like me," the Masked One replied.
"Is that another reason for absorbing a core? Like why you did what you did to that ochelon, my lord?" Athar asked. "Precisely. For now, however, it's best if you get some rest. We have more work to do tomorrow, and you have more studying to do while I'm unavailable," the Masked One said.
Athar opened the flask and smelled the contents, immediately contorting his face in disgust. "Ugh, it reeks of deathmold," he said through coughs. "It is. Well, a diluted version of it, anyway," his master replied.
Athar looked up at his master and nodded, putting the flask to his lips and knocking back the contents while holding his breath. He squinted and squirmed at the taste, coughing heavily when he finished.
"Welcome to true power, Athar," the Masked One said, grinning under his mask.