It didn't take Elizabeth long to find the sorcery classroom.
The classroom itself was spacious and tastefully decorated, its walls covered in papers, diagrams, and arcane sketches. Yet despite the organized appearance, it was an absolute mess. Sheets of parchment littered the floor in chaotic piles, many of them looking far too important to be left lying around so carelessly.
Most importantly, the room was empty.
For a brief moment, Elizabeth wondered if she had taken a wrong turn.
That thought was quickly dismissed.
'No. There's no way. I double checked before i entered.'
She stepped forward
"Careful where you step."
Elizabeth jerked her foot back so fast she nearly stumbled. Her body went rigid as she whipped her head around, searching the room. The voice had come from nearby, close enough to feel as though someone had spoken directly into her ear.
Yet there was no one there.
"Down here."
Her gaze slowly dropped to the floor.
At first, she saw nothing but scattered papers.
Then… one of them smiled.
In the next instant, it rose and unfolded turning into a man.
'…what the hell?'
Elizabeth's eyes widened slightly as she studied him. The man stood tall, his black curly hair falling neatly around a handsome face. A monocle rested over his right eye, giving him an oddly scholarly appearance. The smile on his lips was gentle and courteous, yet there was something deeply disconcerting about it, as though he were sharing a private joke that no one else understood.
The man burst out laughing, clutching his stomach.
"Ah, that expression is priceless. I do hope you weren't offended by my little joke."
Elizabeth blinked, then let out a long sigh.
"You're... the professor?"
He wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye and gradually composed himself. The amusement lingered in his smile, though his laughter finally subsided.
"Ah yes, you are correct. I am the instructor. You may call me Awakened Damon."
She gave a small nod.
"I'm Elizabeth. Elizabeth Hale. "
Damon acknowledged her with a slight wave before bending down to gather the scattered papers.
"Ah, yes. The student with the True Name. Many professors already know quite a bit about you. A few were even jealous that I would be the one teaching you."
Elizabeth didn't respond, instead walked toward a desk.
"Am I early? Why is no one else here?"
Damon glanced at her and smiled.
"No, you are right on time. And no one else will be joining us."
She frowned.
'Was sorcery really that unpopular?' As if reading her thoughts, he continued:
"It's not because it's unpopular. Quite the opposite, in fact. The problem is that sorcery has very little practical use for Sleepers, so most don't bother studying it. I teach newly Awakened students in the evenings, the ones who can actually use what I teach."
Elizabeth's eyes widened.
"Wait… what do you mean it has no use?"
Damon tilted his head and gave her a curious look.
"Ah, it seems you were unaware of what sorcery truly entails. To practice sorcery, one must circulate essence. That is something only the Awakened can do. Sleepers are incapable of it, unless their Aspect is tied to sorcery."
Elizabeth exhaled slowly.
'…Maybe it was a mistake to choose this course.'
Damon seemed to notice her hesitation and chuckled.
"However," he added, "the course is still offered to Sleepers. What you'll learn is mostly theory rather than practical application. If you Awaken though, you'll have a significant advantage and can apply what you learned instantly."
That eased her disappointment a bit. Even if she couldn't use sorcery yet, understanding its principles and limitations would be invaluable knowledge. After all, there was no way to predict whether that knowledge would prove useful in the Dream Realm. And once she Awakened, she wouldn't be starting from scratch.
In the end, it was a worthwhile investment.
Damon clasped his hands together.
"Now that you know… do you still wish to continue the course?"
"Yes."
"Excellent!" His smile brightened. "Then we shall begin with the dead languages. Once that foundation is laid, we can turn our attention to the theory of the two branches of sorcery."
*****
Elizabeth was overwhelmed.
The lesson had begun immediately after their brief conversation, and with her two brains working in tandem, she had mastered the basics of the dead languages in mere hours. Damon seemed delighted by her speed.
Then came the runic language, much to her confusion.
After all, Elizabeth had assumed the Spell would translate everything runic for her. However, Damon explained that the intricacies of human language were beyond the spell capabilities.
She groaned, remembering how, in one dead language called English, she had been forced to interpret metaphors that made absolutely no sense.
'How does "I have seen the night" mean the author is talking about the darkness of humanity? Maybe he just meant the actual night.'
But with the basics of the runic language finally under her belt, Elizabeth discovered something unexpected about her True Name, Siren of the Last Haven. At first glance, the meaning seemed obvious. Unfortunately, runic translation, as Damon had repeatedly warned her, was rarely so straightforward.
Taken literally, it could mean "the last mythical creature of the safe realm." A bit dramatic, but acceptable. It could also be interpreted as "Warning to the Last Realm," which made her sound like some kind of walking omen.
Or "Seducer of Peace," which was... a bit uncomfortable for her.
And then there was her personal favorite, the translation that almost convinced her to hurl the tablet across the room, "Destroyer of the Last Realm."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't get stuck.
'How is this supposed to be the personification of my soul?'
The only thing she intended to destroy was Nightmare Creatures. She had no plans to annihilate a realm, thank you very much. And unlike many Awakened, who apparently thought fighting each other was a brilliant use of time when humanity's survival depended on their cooperation, she had no intention of doing so unless absolutely necessary.
Still, she had picked up the runic language surprisingly fast. Apparently, she had learned it too fast, because Damon immediately increased the difficulty.
And that was when the real suffering began.
Noticing her rapid progress, Damon, that absolute demon, launched straight into the fundamentals of Sorcery of Names, also known as Shaping, and Runic Sorcery. The introductory theories were manageable, but Damon seemed personally offended by the notion of her understanding anything too easily. Apparently, Damon found it deeply offensive that she had mastered in hours what had probably taken him days. Naturally, he responded by making everything far more difficult.
Rapidly.
'Bastard.'
For the first time since her first Nightmare, Elizabeth felt a headache forming.
Damon, of course, looked positively delighted by her misery.
Her flaw acted up sometime in the afternoon, her armor shifting to match her older form. Damon didn't even blink.
"Oh... now that you're older, you should be able to learn even faster, right? That's fantastic news!" he said with far more enthusiasm than the situation warranted.
And so the torture continued.
It wasn't until late afternoon that he finally relented. Not out of mercy of course, the class had simply ended.
"Ah, Lady Elizabeth. You are like a sponge! Everything I teach, you absorb instantly. If I were shameless, I would claim it is due to my teaching brilliance, but even that would not explain your speed. You must survive and Awaken. I can tell you will do great things for this field."
Elizabeth offered a sheepish smile as she made her escape toward the door. Despite her mental exhaustion, the amount of knowledge she had gained in a single day was substantial enough to quell the brewing resentment she had begun to feel toward her oh-so-beloved teacher.
Back in her dorm, she changed into clothes that actually fit and collapsed onto her mattress, staring blankly at the ceiling. She had a few hours before her evening combat class. Maybe she could squeeze in a nap, it felt possible due to how mentally drained she felt.
she was just about to close her eyes when her communicator vibrated.
'Of course. I can never catch a break.'
She snatched it up, glaring at whatever had the audacity to disturb her sleep. Then she froze.
A wide grin spread across her face, and her earlier exhaustion finally faded back a bit.
'Finally. They're here. My shards.'
--------
Note: I've made a small change to the story's lore. Normally, sorcery is closely guarded by the clans, and even within those clans, very few people study it. It wasn't until the Sovereign's death that sorcery became more accessible to the general public. For this story, I've adjusted that slightly. Sorcery is still uncommon, and the clans continue to possess the vast majority of its knowledge and techniques, but basic sorcery is more widely known and practiced by the public than in the original.