Past Life Here, ch 23

Max ate a snack during his break after Challenger Path Lore class. He still had a lot to ponder. While he thought about different Paths and what other mana-based Path might be a good fit for him in the future, he tried to rein himself in.  He was likely getting ahead of himself. After all, he hadn't even truly taken his first step yet on the Summoner Path. Theoretically speaking, given enough time, it should manifest on its own, but he'd read that with instruction it was all about a hundred times easier.

It felt like no time passed at all before it was time to head to Basic Group Combat class.  He was used to the time feeling weird.

Like, time had always seemed to pass the fastest during his lunch breaks at work back on Earth.

When he arrived at the Basic Group Combat class building, this time the door was open. He walked in and took a seat towards the rear. Professor Grave-Call was working on something upfront.  He merely glanced up when Max walked in before getting back to whatever he'd been working on. That suited Max just fine.

He opened his notes that he'd been taking on his tablet.  Then he also opened a resource for students on known Challenger Paths. That led to a rabbit hole down a short textbook about messengers between worlds and what they might actually be. Before he knew it, a bell rang and class started.

Max glanced around and noticed that more students now were wearing clothing other than robes. There was no official rule about when students could stop wearing robes after each semester started. But apparently the majority of students that had other clothes didn't like change it up until later in the week–at least judging by what Max was seeing. This class and his last class had more upperclassmen than his other classes. It was possible that some students had started wearing other clothing the day before too.

The majority of other students still had not noticed Max the first year carrying his dagger.  They all would have noticed if he’d worn Regal’s old clothes on the first day or two of classes.  People were people, truly.  Just like on earth where a detective could openly wear a pistol and most people wouldn't notice the weapon if they dressed like everyone else, Summoner Academy was the same.  More trained people, like cops back on earth, or experienced warriors like Max always noticed.  But most of the students at Summoner Academy, especially the underclassmen, hadn't reached that level of situation awareness yet.

Professor Grave Call stood and said, "You have all already demonstrated to me that you are ready to take this class. Not everyone's combat skills are on the same level as everyone else’s. But that's okay because this class is more about tailoring your team and your plans around the teammates you have versus wishing for a perfect combination of fellow warriors that might never actually appear in your life."

Max and a few other students chuckled at that. Professor Grave Call gave a humorless smile and suddenly turned so fast that his ponytail slightly swung out. Instead of the more fancy magi-tech that his other professors used, Professor Gravecall had an old-school chalkboard that he began writing on with chalk.

He said, "Today will not be the most exciting day that you will ever have of this class. However, it is perhaps one of the most important. Today, we are going to do an overview of squad formations and how squad formations can impact–or be affected by–formations of larger armies. Next week, we will discuss moving into combat, reacting to an ambush, and several forms of small unit tactics. And after that, or perhaps mixed within, we will have short bouts of practical training in the field behind this classroom.

“Now then, you are all from different types of worlds. Some of you are even from technological worlds that have no supernatural powers or energies at all. However, war never changes. Combat is still always about trying to kill your opponent or otherwise incapacitate them before they can do the same to you. Some might think that because challengers have more power, that combat becomes simpler. However, the truth is the exact opposite. Oftentimes, any battle, especially a duel, becomes a battle of the mind even more than the body.  Battles between Challengers can be even more complex.  And the reason for that is quite simply because every Path is a good Path."

He paused for effect and Max could hear a few mutters around the classroom. "I will say that again. Every Path is a good Path. And some of you might believe that I'm saying this out of self-interest because I, like you, am on the Summoner Path." He shook his head. "But I am just telling you the truth. From experience, I know this to be true. I have seen countless other Paths in real-world situations fighting to survive, fighting to save others. And I have witnessed Paths that are often considered the weakest in the universe shine when used by skilled or talented warriors." Then he shrugged and said, "If a warrior who was meant to use bladed weapons were to fight empty-handed, everyone would think that person was useless. However, if that warrior goes to the fight armed with the sword, suddenly they might be the most important person on the battlefield. The same is true with any other class. We must play to our strengths. And this applies to Summoners as well.”

A few hands in class were up right now, and Max was tempted to raise his as well.  Professor Grave Call raised an eyebrow and said, “Mostly second years raising hands.  Let me guess–you want to know why I’m putting so much emphasis on Path versus Path combat.”

The hands went down.

“It’s quite simple.  If you can fight other warriors on other Paths, fighting monsters will be a snap.”  He snapped his fingers.  “We need to think of our summons as our tools, our equipment, our weapons. And after attaining your contracted spirits and learning how to use them, you must always think of them as resources. As summoners, sometimes we can fall into a trap of being too close with our summons and perhaps even worrying that they'll get hurt. But the reality is our summons cannot die, whereas we can. So no matter how close we are with our contracted spirits, it is not only logical but will sometimes be necessary to allow a summon to be destroyed in order to save our own life, not least of which because the summon will always regenerate later."

He twisted his lips and ran his eyes over the classroom, lingering on the few first-year badges, including Max's. He said, "Some of you are not going to understand what I'm talking about right now, but hopefully you will soon. This is one reason why we are waiting to do an overview of formations before spending too much time on practical training. I do not want to start practical training until hopefully every student in this class has at least one contracted spirit to practice with during your scrimmages or spars. Make sense?"

Most of the students in the class nodded, and Professor Grave Call continued with his lesson.

Max paid rapt attention to all of it. He had participated in wars before and had been in plenty of fights. But in all of the actual military battles he'd been in, he hadn't taken part in the planning phase. He’d never been a general.  Instead, he'd been a powerful piece on the board that generals had moved around, or later, just obliterated the battlefield by himself.  Even during this first lecture by Professor Grave Call, it felt like Max's horizons were being expanded.

After class, Professor Grave Call told the four team captains to stay, and in minutes, no other students were left in the classroom other than Max, Gantry, Eleanor, and Harold. Professor Grave Call handed all four students a piece of paper and said, "These are your teammates. Some of you have more, some of you have less. This is by design. Good luck." After the very clear dismissal, Max left the classroom and looked at the sheet of paper listing his team. He was able to remember everyone on the list. Luckily, he knew everyone based on their names since he'd been at least somewhat paying attention to most of the duels two days ago.

He didn’t know what to think of his team right away.

Tessa Alvarez was the athletic dark-skinned woman he'd watched who fought with a spear. She was a second-year. His second teammate was named Momo, a pale girl with red eyes, sharp teeth, and elf-like ears. She had caught his attention because of her striking appearance. Max didn't remember many particulars of her duel, but she'd struck him as fairly timid, and he assumed that she'd won her duel by chance. She'd thrown shuriken-like throwing stars before he’d stopped watching.

The last member of Max's new team was Benjamin G. Northside, a sturdy man with a ruddy complexion who, if he remembered correctly, used a hammer. Max decided to ask around about his teammates tomorrow to get a better sense of who they were. And later, during the next Basic Group Combat class, he planned to introduce himself.  Maybe he could do something to officially kick off the fact that the four of them were on the same team.

Max was a little smug about his plan. He'd felt that Professor Grave Call's instructions had been conspicuously absent of any team-building suggestions or even what to do next. Max knew that being proactive was the right move, and he wondered if doing so was going to give him extra points with the professor.

As he was preparing to leave the building, he got a ding on his tablet, signifying a message from an instructor.  At the same time, he noticed a white-haired man ahead of him turn around.  Gantry. Max glanced at his tablet before turning around, too.  He wondered why the professor hadn’t just told them to stay before they’d left the classroom.

He turned and saw Professor Grave Call standing in the doorway with his arms folded. The professor said, "I forgot something. I'm going to cut to the chase." Max exchanged a glance with Gantry and then headed back inside the classroom.

Professor Grave Call said, "Like I said, I'm going to cut to the chase.  Gantry probably already expected this anyway. I don't know about you, Max." Max waited patiently for the professor to get to the point.

The tall man said, "As you should know, mid-semester, there is an inter-Summoner Academy competition to finalize our fighters to represent our school.  There are two tiers of competition that we need to fill for the Quartet Tournament at the end of the semester. The school needs to identify the four students that will represent the underclassmen and upperclassmen tiers for the preliminary tournament.  The mid-semester duels are to save time.

Each professor in the combat class in the academy can nominate up to two students to participate in the preliminaries. And of course, the student gets to choose if they wish to participate.  Any student that participated in the Quartet Tournament last year can participate as well. But there will only be four who eventually win and go to represent Summoner Academy. The mid-semester competition does not have a set structure unless the students can’t figure out  how to choose the four among them themselves.  Gantry, I know you already know all of this. Max, are you following along?"

Max nodded and said, "I got it."

"Good," said the professor. "You are both here because I am nominating you two, both for the first to third year tier.  Even though there are other skilled Challengers in this school, I think you two both have a very real chance of winning the preliminaries and maybe even places in the Quartet competition. I was especially impressed with you, Max, because you did as well as you did despite not even having your summoner site open yet." Max just nodded in response.

The professor pursed his lips and said, "If my request for you two to be nominated goes through, and I have no reason to believe it won't, you two will have extra training requirements every week. But you will also occasionally get out of class in order to train, too. This year the headmaster truly wants to take the Quartet Tournament very seriously. All of the professors in the academy have been instructed to assist the serious candidates to the best of our abilities. And I believe that after your nominations have been approved, you will also receive extra resources to grow stronger, up to and including perhaps even a stipend."

The professor turned to Gantry and said, "This year it should be more than it was last year." Gantry smiled and nodded.

Max perked up at that.  He would get money just for being a tournament nominee?  Nice.

Then with an air of finality, the professor sat down at his desk and said, "That will be all. That was all I had to tell you. Good luck this year. I will be rooting for you. And I will admit, this is part of why I made sure that you two would be on separate teams. If we started out the semester with both of you on the same side all the time, our scrimmages and practical exercises would likely be too lopsided, and this class is not for only you two to learn. I'm here to teach everyone."

"I understand,," Max said. The professor nodded, and Max turned to leave.

When they were outside of the classroom, Gantry said, "Congratulations."

"Is it that big of a deal?" asked Max.

"You bet it is.  Especially to be nominated this early in the semester is kind of a big deal. Because if you are an official entrant for the preliminary tournament, as the professor said, we will get extra resources. Of course, if we use them poorly, they might stop giving us new things or even take away what we were given before."

Max nodded. He didn’t like it but it made sense.  After all, if the school gave him money to get stronger to do better in the tournament, but he used all of that money on drugs, somebody was probably not going to be very happy with him. The two of them got closer to the school, gave each other friendly nods, and went different directions.

By this point, Max had a ton on his mind, and he also had a lot of reading to do. He intended to have all of the books for his classes read within the next two weeks. And he also had private study to do, which was why he headed for the library to spend some time looking for and reading more books on Challenger Paths. After that, he was planning to get a workout in. His loss to Gantry had been an eye-opener. If a “weak” summoner could beat him, a competent Mystic Spear Path student could probably rip him apart.  So in addition to mana training, he also planned to start serious martial training.

The library was as quiet and calming as ever.  Max grabbed some books and took a seat at one of the large, wooden tables.

Imagining how sore he was going to be that night, he remembered the all-hours nurse's office at the academy. He was going to whip himself back into shape, and there was probably no better place to do it than an academy where there was a staff nurse on hand at all times to tend to his aching muscles. He grinned and opened another book on Paths.

It was lucky that he had the presence of mind to set a mana alarm, or else he might have ended up studying too long, screwing up his plans for everything else he had to do.

The rest of the day passed in a blur.

Eventually, body tired, he settled into a comfortable sitting position in what was rapidly becoming his favorite grove of trees and reached out to feel the mana around him. Yeah, he thought, I'm definitely getting close to one star now.

It was good that he would reach one star so soon for his mana body, but he wished the mana were thicker.  After only reaching one star, his improvement rate was going to slow down to a crawl. Eventually, Max was going to have to figure out how to get out of the Quartet to somewhere with richer mana in order to build his mana body faster. But that was a problem for another day.

This evening, with the wind slowly and cheerfully blowing through the trees and ruffling Max's hair, he let himself feel completely content.  He meditated on his place in the cosmos. Now that he knew how much larger the universe truly was, he understood himself to be even smaller than before. But at the same time, the reality and mystery of it all filled him with a sense of excitement that he hadn't had for a long time.

Max was going to help save Earth, and it felt nice to have a mission again.  It felt nice to matter.