Flying on a broom was one of the most stereotypical things a witch could do. It was taught to everyone living in the Sanctum who possessed a Mana Manipulation trait, regardless of its rank.

  It was seen as a rite of passage, in a way. Without the ability to fly on a broom, Orion couldn’t be considered an adult.

  He had enjoyed considerably more freedom than most of his peers, but that was only because he had demonstrated to the entire classroom that he could handle himself. Well, that and his mother felt guilty about burning his journal to this day, and he wasn’t shy about leveraging that to his advantage.

  But if he failed to master this basic task, he would lose that freedom. The Sanctum might have been large, but the community was tight-knit. People talked, and just as gossip had spread about his odd practices years ago, it could again become an issue if he didn’t demonstrate his ability to fly at a decent level.

  Orion had no intention of taking the class longer than absolutely necessary. Those who did often ended up being better flyers and could achieve better results with the same brooms, but the improvements were modest at best. It was, in a way, like riding a bike.

  Once you had it down, you seldom needed to put in more effort.

  Orion remembered when that happened in his first life. His father had been in a strange moment of lucidity, shortly after they had lost their money to yet another foolish scam promising them tenfold returns.

  Perhaps out of guilt, perhaps out of whatever sense of responsibility that had yet to wither away, he had spent an entire week pushing Orion to pedal on his own.

  The bike he’d used had been too big for him; it belonged to another kid down the street whose mother had taken pity on their situation, making it nearly impossible to control for a beginner.

  But just the thought of having his father’s attention all to himself… That had been enough for him to do it. By the end of the week, he could ride a bike, regardless of its size.

  It was a skill he had maintained long after leaving his parents behind. Without the funds to afford a car, he’d been forced to travel from his inexpensive rented room to the college campus by bike, as no public transportation served his area.

  In a way, flying on a broom would offer him that same freedom. He did not have the advantage of a father struggling to escape guilt to assist him, but he didn’t need it.

  I’ve never needed it. I could have done it in a day, but having him so focused on me was more important than proving how good I could be. Even then, I knew there was nothing I could do to make him truly see me.

  Someone bumped into him, and Orion blinked back to the present, turning to see that it was Lona, his classmate.

  Her face was unusually flushed, and her eyes were wide open. Behind her, two other girls stared, covering their mouths with their hands.

  “Are you okay?” He asked. Such symptoms could relate to many conditions, ranging from the common cold—which, now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure even existed here—to more serious ones.

  He lifted a hand to touch her forehead and check her temperature, but the girl recoiled, letting out a strangled sound that reminded him of the guinea pigs housed in the university’s lab for experiments.

  If anything, her face turned an even deeper shade of red before she spun around and dashed back to her friends. Confused but not particularly interested in the mystifying world of teenage girls, Orion shrugged and turned back around.

  Madame Thurgood, their instructor, had just arrived, and he wanted to make sure he heard everything she had to say before they went and got their hands on actual brooms.

  “Students, quiet down!” She yelled. Her long, dark brown braid swung behind her like a whip, and it didn’t take long before the classroom quieted down.

  Orion remembered the woman from that time in the gardens when he’d managed to sneak into a practical lesson. She’d aged since then, but not so much that he wouldn’t say it was just a bad day. In fact, the changes were mostly about how she held herself.

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  At that time, she had clearly been inexperienced. She had enough strength to be called Madame, sure, but nothing particularly impressive. Now, however, she exuded a confidence that many witches lacked.

  Orion knew her to be a decent duelist as well, a practice that wasn’t very fashionable among witches but was still recognized as valuable. Cafeteria gossip once again proves its worth.

  “I know that today is an exciting day for you, and it’s one of the final lessons you’ll attend together. However, I have to be clear: I won’t permit anyone who misbehaves to get anywhere near a broom!” Thurgood said firmly.

  A murmur of discontent arose, but nothing that her stare couldn’t quell. Really, the coven raised children who were excessively well-behaved.

  It worked for Orion, who detested loud places and sticky fingers, but he wondered what would happen to them once they left. Uh, that might be another part of their plan to prevent people from leaving. If they make the outside world seem too chaotic, even if they attempt to leave, they'll end up coming back on their own.

  That probably explained a significant portion of the female population. Orion didn’t really spend much time talking with his classmates outside of his inner circle, but he knew that nearly everyone wanted to at least experience what the world beyond the coven was like.

  “There is one thing you all will have to master before you can touch a broom,” Thurgood continued. “While I’m sure it looks very easy to you, as if it were just a matter of willing it to happen, you should know enough about magic by now to know it’s never that simple.”

  Orion nodded. Even with the simplistic understanding required by the Sanctum’s casting style, it was never just a matter of wanting something. If that were all magic required, everyone would be an archmage.

  “Brooms are a unique artifact because so much time and expertise have gone into their manufacturing and development that they operate differently from most other enchanted items.”

  Everyone knew that much. The Sanctum made good coin selling brooms to the rest of the Magocracy, even if no other faction used them as frequently. Several parents of the children here were employed at various stages of their production, whether in creating the alchemical baths needed to alter the wood or in inscribing the runes.

  “They used to be much simpler, once upon a time, but only the most powerful witches could use them for more than a brief flight. Over the years, we have managed to craft enchantments that require much less active involvement.” Here, she paused for a moment, making sure to meet everyone’s eyes. “That does not mean you can ever use a broom without the proper respect it needs. The enchantments work so well because they require people not only to understand what they are trying to do, but also to respect flight as a concept. High Priestess Cassiopeia did not take flight because she wanted to. She did because it brought her closer to the Mother.”

  And we’re back to religious nonsense. Here I thought it was starting to get interesting.

  The lesson continued in that vein for another hour, as Madame Thurgood ensured everyone understood exactly what they were meant to project when attempting to activate the broom’s enchantment.

  Orion, meanwhile, took the time to review his enhanced flight formula. Thanks to his breakthrough with antigravity, it was easy to achieve levitation; however, he remained uncertain about how much he could trust the runic string to manage the rest.

  His attempts to replicate it involved increasingly complex matrices that ultimately included too many variables to be manageable during a flight.

  He understood that he couldn’t completely replicate a century-old practice with just a few months of sporadic attempts. Still, it was frustrating that he had to limit himself to providing only a portion of the Knowledge.

  One day, I will be able to fly on my own, without needing to rely on these primitive sticks, he thought as everyone filed out of the classroom and headed toward the reserved field.

  Today, the practical lesson would be held in the southern garden on the sixth floor, which, though quite close to Orion’s lab, he had yet to visit.

  It was frequented mainly by adults seeking a break from children, as far as he knew, so he hadn’t wanted to disrupt their peace. Madame Thurgood didn’t seem to care that she was about to bring more than twenty excited teenagers into what should have been a sanctuary of calm.

  When they arrived, the garden was surprisingly empty. Orion had expected a few people to be outside, enjoying the sunlight before the winter sky filled with clouds again, but he suspected news had spread about their coming.

  On the far side of the garden, a rack of brooms had been laid out for them, and their teacher marched over without hesitation, passing by idyllic features like the rose garden and a very peaceful artificial meadow of wildflowers without a backward glance.

  Once they finally arrived, she instructed them to select a broom and line up. "Make sure to keep some space between each other. Those first few moments before you get a handle on it can be chaotic, and we don’t want anyone to bump into someone else.”

  The students rushed to the rack, leaving Orion with the oldest broom because of his leisurely approach. He didn’t mind, since the new versions had an attention-repelling effect that obscured the runic string.

  His own, on the other hand, had its matrix on proud display.

  Runes were a subject he knew little about, but he had essentially decided to view them as a form of programming code. People here could assign them all the religious meanings they wanted, but he recognized computer architecture when he saw it.

  This realization had led him to a long spiral about the possibility of building an actual computer. His success with the System Detecting Glasses alone proved that it was feasible. Unfortunately, it likely required vast amounts of silverite—something he couldn’t get his hands on—and more importantly, a much stronger connection to the Mana Field.

  His estimate was at least A-rank for a working computer, or the equivalent of a tier four spell, which he wouldn’t be able to cast for quite some time.

  Still, his thought process had led him to develop a new understanding of the enchantment process, so he didn’t view it as a waste of time.

  “Alright, remember High Priestess Cassiopeia! ‘Every night, the moon rises’ is the chant, but it alone is not enough. Pray, children, pray!” Thurgood called, her broom levitating off the ground without needing any further instruction.

  Orion, feeling a bit silly, positioned the broom between his legs. He was almost tempted to use a different incantation. He didn’t even need one, strictly speaking, since his casting method was so well-defined and such mnemonic associations were more likely to distract him. However, while he could have gotten away with it as a child, that was no longer possible.

  Madame Thurgood was, after all, one of those witches he knew followed Veil Priestess Morliana. She would report anything he did differently; there was no doubt about that.

  And so, he spoke the chant with his lips while his mind worked through the actual formula. “Every night, the moon rises.”

  T: p?ω2-?g

  His feet lifted off the ground effortlessly, and Orion smiled. Despite the silly method, he was flying.

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