Artyom settled back into his seat at the table with a smile. He wasn’t always prone to such an outward display of happiness, but the sense of calm that now pervaded the air made it feel natural. It didn’t hurt that his newfound Aura Skill told him how everyone was feeling.

  Without it, he wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to break through to Rotte in such little time and help sort out the worst of his issues. The new Skill wasn’t ideal for a fight, especially against someone at Xerica’s level, but it was undeniably powerful in its own way. He’d take that.

  Rotte sat down across from him with his own smile. It wasn’t all that wide like what would be expected from someone who’d received a really good birthday present, but it reflected an inner serenity that said everything was fine. For a boy like Rotte, who’d been through the worst of what the world could offer, it was well needed.

  “So while I’m still here, let me tell you about how you can better practice what you know.”

  Rotte merely nodded. His eyes reflected curiosity, wondering what could possibly be next.

  “What I showed you earlier was a transformation catalyst. It’s how you turn raw magical energy into a usable element. Think of it like a colored lens that turns white light into a different color.”

  “Like the stained glass in the church?”

  “Yeah, exactly like that,” said Artyom with a nod. “The bigger the stained glass, the more light can pass through it.”

  “Are you saying I can increase the size of my own lens? I mean the magic transformation I do with that memory.”

  “Yup, which leads us to your first practice exercise: meditation. For something like half an hour to an hour every day, sit down somewhere quiet and close your eyes. Try to clear your mind and focus on the emotions and memories that let you make fire. You don’t have to actually make any, but just focus on those feelings and try to make them stronger.”

  “Oh, that sounds like prayer!” exclaimed Sister Elery from her seat in the audience as she stood up. “Though you focus on the goddess, and your feelings of devotion towards her.”

  Artyom nodded. “They can be really similar, and sometimes interchangeable. But for magic, you need to focus on those memories and feelings tied to your ability to cast them.”

  “Mmh… that sounds boring,” said Rotte in a low mumble.

  “It does, but it’s how you get stronger,” said Artyom. “How much of your magic can you put into a single fireball?”

  “Like, I can make like five or seven blasts of fire before I’m exhausted.”

  “That isn’t bad, but even as your internal magical stores get bigger, you’ll be stuck throwing around fireballs the same size. Don’t you want to conjure up something even bigger?”

  Rotte’s eyes went wide and he began to nod.

  “Yeah, thought so,” replied Artyom with a smug grin. “And don’t worry, you’ll get used to it pretty quickly, to the point you’ll actually start looking forward to it every day.”

  “So how do I increase the total magic I can use at once? You said it’ll go up, but how much?”

  “Good, you’re asking the right questions,” said Artyom. “To answer them, your internal stores expand naturally as you grow older, but that process is pretty slow and there’s plenty you can do to improve the process.”

  “Like what?” asked Rotte excitedly.

  “For starters, using up your magical stores regularly will make your magic recover more quickly, kind of like how jogging will improve your physical stamina. Besides that, there’s also meditation again. But rather than focusing on memories you focus on the magic inside you itself. Think about squeezing what’s in your chest into a smaller point so you can store it more efficiently.”

  The process sounded a lot like cultivation, something Artyom was familiar with due to the few worlds that actually ran on that system of power, but there were many differences between the two. Cultivation worlds had additional properties affecting the magical energy there which let it better infuse the human body. Improving physical strength, granting longevity, and taking the place of everything humans needed to live like food, water, and sleep were common properties of such biologically-aligned magic.

  But in a world like this where there was a degree of separation between magic and the human body, its bio-interfacing was more limited. Compressing the magic in the body would reach diminishing returns after about triple the default density, and expelling it would improve regeneration more than how much you could store.

  Most of the work that spellcasters put into improvement after this stage was all about increasing the efficiency of their spells. Structure a fireball to use half the magic and you could throw twice as many before you ran out. It was more academic than anything, and something Rotte wouldn’t have to worry about for years, unless he really got serious about studying magic.

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  “Alright, I can do all of that,” said Rotte with a thoughtful nod. “But about levels and Skills?”

  Artyom shrugged. “Yeah, those will make you stronger as well, but you can’t rely on them.”

  At least, not in Artyom’s line of work. Every world had its own leveling System after all, and it never carried over when you went to a new locale. When the Isekai Police was thorough enough to prevent the people in the worlds they traveled to from summoning anyone again, they almost never returned to the same place, meaning they were always starting at their weakest on each mission.

  “You can always rely on the goddess,” said Sister Elery, once more standing up from her seat and taking a step towards the two. “She grants us Skills to do what we need to.”

  Once again, Artyom shrugged. “Sure, but it’s not reliable. There’s no way to know what you’ll actually get or when, so it’s better to know what you’re doing first and foremost.”

  Sister Elery’s pleasant smile began to scrunch up as she took another two steps forward. “The goddess’ blessings are more powerful than any fundamentals, and as I said, she’ll provide whatever strength is needed.”

  “I’ll admit that those gifts are great, you still need to know how to use them.”

  The priestess narrowed her eyes at Artyom, but didn’t immediately respond, as if giving him a chance to elaborate.

  “Think of it like honoring the goddess by committing yourself to her gift. Spending your time on the blessing and learning how to properly use it is essentially an act of worship.”

  “Hmm, I suppose you’re right,” said Sister Elery as she visibly relaxed, her face returning to its previous smile. “But the greatest of the goddess’ gifts don’t require learning, as they come built-in with the knowledge to simply use them. There are no worries about learning new fundamentals with them.”

  Artyom shrugged once more. “Maybe, but knowing how they work more in-depth can make them all the more powerful. And an enemy knowing how the Skill works can lead to them taking advantage of its weaknesses that you might not have even known about.”

  “Weakness?!” said Sister Elery with an affronted snarl. “The goddess’ blessings have no weakness!”

  Artyom couldn’t help but audibly scoff, making Sister Elery’s face turn slightly red. “Sorry, but I’ve heard that line so many times, especially right before I usually figure out a very glaring weakness. Might as well surrender if you ever say your abilities have no weakness.”

  Sister Elery let out a huff, but didn’t respond. She instead walked back to the audience and sat down amongst them.

  “Right,” said Artyom with a nod, bringing his attention back to Rotte. “Why don’t you try some of those exercises yourself? I’ll let you know how you’re doing or if you need to make any adjustments.”

  “Sure,” replied the boy. “I’ll try the compression you talked about.” And with that, Rotte closed his eyes and began to look deep inside himself.

  To everyone else, he looked like he was half asleep or even meditating, but a quick ping of blank aura told Artyom he was deep in focus. On top of that, Artyom laid a gentle hand on Rotte’s shoulder and felt the magic stir within him.

  The boy’s magic felt airy, and his attempts at compressing it were able to halve its volume. If he kept practicing he’d eventually be able to get it down to a third.

  “That’s a good start, all it needs is a bit more practice,” said Artyom. “Now show me your magical expulsion. Throw out as much raw magic from your body as you can, don’t turn it into fire.”

  Rotte nodded and did just that. Once again, his full focus was put into the task and his magic came out as an uneasy stream.

  One more quick check showed his supposed skill level was sincere.

  “The good news is that he’s not faking it, he really is a novice,” thought Artyom to himself. “Which means he couldn’t have been the one controlling all those zombies. I doubt he has a Skill that would let him, since [Emissary of Dharma] disables all of your old ones, and only one of its users I know actually has a new working Skill he got only years later. But even if Rotte did, it would give him better control of his magic than what he has now. Even for these simple exercises.”

  “So how was that?” the boy asked expectantly.

  “You’ve got the hang of it!” exclaimed Artyom. “Just keep practicing it and you’ll get stronger in no time!”

  “And it isn’t dangerous, is it?” asked Sister Elery, getting up from her seat once more and walking over to the two.

  “Nope, it’s perfectly safe. In fact, everyone else watching could also practice it if they want, and they’d grow strong too.”

  The kids in the back collectively gasped and immediately closed their eyes to try and copy their friend.

  “Looks like I just got you half an hour of quiet every day, you’re welcome.”

  Sister Elery’s eyes went wide, but then relaxed as she gave him a warm smile. “Thank you, it means a lot.”

  “I figure you’re pretty overworked, with so many kids to take care of,” said Artyom with a shrug. He watched them for a while longer and felt his own lips drop into a contemplative frown. “It can be hard, knowing that even though they’re safe, the danger they once faced has already left its mark.”

  “I don’t mean with my work, I enjoy every moment I spend with them,” the priestess said with a warm smile. “I mean, thank you for caring about them. For truly caring about them, especially Rotte.”

  Artyom turned to look at her, and gave her a weak shrug. “When nobody else does, someone has to. That’s why I got into my line of work.”

  “Adventuring, you mean?”

  “Well-”

  “Artyom, we need to talk!” came a shout from the entrance to the manor. From the back doors stormed out another priestess, this one with lavender hair and a scowl on her face. She made a bee-line for the older man and pointed a finger right at his chest.

  “About what?” asked Artyom.

  “About how you’re tearing my adventuring party apart!”