"Sit cross-legged, close your eyes gently, calm your mind, and focus your attention on your lower abdomen. Rest your tongue against the roof of your mouth, part your teeth slightly, breathe slowly and steadily… Then, visualize a boundless grassland bathed in the glow of a beautiful sunrise. Feel the breeze, the glimmer of dew on the grass, the scent of fresh soil…"
Lanen followed the instructions, eyes shut, while trying to ignore the lingering taste of chestnut stew in his stomach—today's lunch. It had been decent, but the entire school was served the same single-pot dish.
Universal Meditation Technique, completely side-effect-free.
There were several similar methods, all streamlined and optimized by master mages—versions that wouldn't become obsolete until one reached the rank of Archmage.
Of course, once you became a full-fledged mage, you could develop your own meditation method—a personalized version tailored to your needs. It might not be as stable, but it would undoubtedly be more efficient.
According to the instructor, meditation accelerated mental growth, attuned you to different mana types, and increased both affinity and reserves. Theoretically, mornings and nights were the best times for it. But everyone—from the school to the higher-ups—agreed that precious morning hours were better spent absorbing knowledge.
As a mediocre first-tier magic apprentice, Lanen, unsurprisingly, felt nothing during his first session.
Just a slightly refreshed mind… and an emptier stomach.
Unlike the morning's boisterous lecturers, the meditation teacher spoke softly, her voice like a cloud.
Fortunately, the classroom was ideal—a hall as vast as an auditorium, lined with carpets where students sat in silence. Despite the instructor's low volume, every word carried clearly.
Novelty Everywhere
On the way to lunch, Lanen passed recruitment tables for clubs. By evening, the path under the trees had transformed into a miniature bazaar—over a dozen tables for sports, painting, music, chess, sculpture, crafts, book clubs, and even the student council. A towering bulletin board by the cafeteria also advertised openings for on-campus jobs.
"Life springs from movement! Atlantia Ball Club – 25 copper coins."
"Distant Mountain Sketch Society – The art of light and shadow reveals the world's soul. 80 copper coins."
*"Old Friends Book Club! Newspapers from across the lands—more complete and up-to-date than the library's periodical room! 1 silver coin."*
"Cafeteria helpers wanted. Flexible hours, competitive pay. Inquire within."
"Find like-minded peers here. Dwarven Mage Chess Association."
"School library seeks assistants."
"Dian's General Store hiring cashiers. Applicants with ample free time preferred."
Lanen, Beta, and their train companions Hale and Roger walked toward the cafeteria, eyes darting between fluttering banners.
"You should join a couple of clubs," Hale said. "Just pay the fee. Most barely meet a few times a year anyway—good for trying new things."
"Costs a few coppers to a silver," Roger added succinctly.
Nearby, clusters of freshmen were already signing up at tables, some digging into pockets or scribbling names on rosters. After a moment's thought, Lanen signed up for the Mage Chess club.
"Why not the student council?" Roger asked.
"Not my thing. Feels like it'd be more hassle than it's worth."
Dinner was another humble affair—quail egg and vegetable stew—though slightly improved by a serving of juicy fruit for dessert.
The cafeteria's older students were still scarce, most eating hurriedly with serious expressions.
"Oh, that? Higher-years often stay late for extra study before meals," Hale explained. "Unlike primary school, nights are free—no risk of going hungry."
Lanen understood. Teenage appetites were bottomless.
"Also, heard of Cafeteria No. 2? Upperclassmen earn money and school credits. With enough credits, they can order à la carte there."
"À la carte?"
"Yep. Freshly cooked, no stews. Cheap-ish, but no one eats there daily."
"And the credits?"
"To save costs, the school hires students for odd jobs. Pays in 'credits'—basically scrip to avoid calling it money."
"Smart. Saves actual coins," Lanen muttered.
Evening Idleness
As Hale predicted, evenings were leisurely. The dorm's partitioned common room became their study hub, where they skimmed new textbooks between chats.
The workload was brutal.
Like most arcane schools, Atlantia had junior and senior divisions, plus adjacent campuses for arts and arcane studies—hardly comprehensive. Lanen's hometown, Lavender, lacked an arcane academy but had a literature college, a vocational school (with arcane trades), and a dedicated arts institute.
After primary school, students chose paths: arcane studies, vocational training, literature, arts, or general high school (junior arcane academies).
"These textbooks are printed worse than our old ones," grumbled Lee Bronte, the brown-haired roommate.
"Get used to it. Post-primary schools are all for-profit."
All arcane schools split curricula into two tracks: Arcana and Magic. Atlantia's approach—alternating days—meant towering stacks of books, some waist-high.
Magic Track:
Magical Flora & Fauna
Magical History
Defensive Magic
Linguistics
Etiquette & Humanities
Meditation
Spellcraft
Arcana Track:
Mathematics
Continental Geography
Astronomy
Spell Theory
Magical Runes
Mechanical Design
Potionology
Alchemy Principles & Practice
All crammed into one year, after which most students needed 1-2 more just to pass exams for high school or vocational colleges.
"This year's material is triple the usual," Lee groaned.
"Try tenfold. Look at these book thicknesses," Hale countered.
Gloom settled over the room.