Chapter 9: Spirit

My second day of learning involved the more complex details of the Call. 

Specifically, I needed to learn how to Project into the dimension and search for spirits properly, even though I could already seen plenty as I was. 

Turns out, these dimensions went deep. What I could see was only what existed on the surface. Within each dimension, there were both weak and powerful spirits. 

It was the powerful ones that lurked in the dark, waiting to be discovered. 

Naturally, I wanted to commune with or even marry the most powerful ones. 

Taking several hours to do so, Maxwell taught me what was basically a spell. By weaving Psyka in a certain pattern, I could form a drone and dive deep into the dimension. This would allow me to project. 

But weaving my Psyka at all was difficult. Just calling on that invisible power in my mind was enough to frustrate me. 

It was like moving a new limb. It didn’t listen to my commands, let alone move into a complex formation. 

Luckily, Maxwell had an exercise for that, one that stressed the manipulation of my power. 

Of course, the exercise also made me tired. It drained my mental energy, making me feel like I had worked for a full 24 hours after merely 2. 

It was a good thing that these classes were at the end of my day. When it was over and I left with mental exhaustion, I headed to my fancy room in the Black Spider Hotel and knocked out. 

Contrary to the exhaustion though, my night of sleep was rejuvenating. When I woke up, my mind felt amazingly clear and energetic. Even moving around my Psyka was easier, showing clear progress. 

And so, I went on with my day, my mood high and my steps light. 

Taking several jobs from the warehouse at the start of twilight, I headed into the Founder’s Market and made my way around. 

My deliveries consisted of two small boxes of hard drugs, a bag of jewels, a glass vial of a liquid I didn’t ask about, and some lingerie for a nearby brothel. 

That last one was fun since I got a few kisses from the ladies there. Which was good, since my mood had been ruined earlier when someone tried to rob me of the jewels. 

I was able to fend them off with my knife and no small amount of blows, but I took about as much as I dished. My body was bruised and beaten, leaving me to finish my jobs in irritating pain. 

Well, nothing a hot lady from the brothel couldn’t fix. After leaving the erotic place, I made one last stop. 

“Helard Road, building number 333. This is it.”

Finding the unnamed building I was looking for, I pushed open the carved wooden door. 

It led into a small entry room with a front desk, behind which was a mature yet sharp woman. She eyed me curiously as I walked up. 

“Hi, I heard that this place could help me with getting a citizenship.”

“It can. Our standard fee is 1500 coin. You must pay upfront and there are no refunds.”

“Ouch.”

I sighed in resignation, taking out 1500 coin. Although I had the money, I would have to work a bit of overtime to make up for it and still make Maxwell’s bill. 

Over time, I had discovered the different denominations for Coin. 

Coin was a blanket term, like dollars. And there were different types of coin. 

This world used silver and gold as its currency, only, the two metals didn’t seem to have quite the rarity as on Earth. 

Silver coins were less valuable, and there were two types: the standard silver coin and the silver bullion. The silver coin was worth one coin, and the silver bullion was worth 10 coin. 

Then, the gold coin was worth 100 coin while the gold bullion was worth 1000 coin. 

I often got paid in gold coin and silver bullion, and only has Plex ever given me gold bullion, so I only had a few on me. 

I paid the clerk one such gold bullion and 5 gold coins, making for 1500 coin. She took them indifferently and handed me an application. 

“Fill out all these fields, and we will take care of the rest. The application will be submitted today and will be verified in 5 days. That is when you can come back and receive your official citizenship.”

“Thank you. Just out of curiosity, how long does it usually take?”

“On average, 7 months.”

“Oh.”

She smirked while I sighed in amazement. 

Seems bureaucracy was a sloth in all worlds. 

Taking the application, I went and quickly filled everything out. It only asked for basic information, like my full name and date of birth. I didn’t have to input anything like physical descriptions or the name of my parents. 

I did have to put down two important things though. Upon handing back my application, the clerk stamped my fingerprint and used a device to record my crest. 

Apparently it was highly illegal to hide someone’s status as a magus, so if you had a crest, it absolutely had to be recorded. 

I didn’t mind, anyway. It wasn’t like someone could use that against me, and soon enough I would be entering the Magisterium. It couldn’t be hidden. 

With those things, I was finally done. It took no more than 5 minutes, and I would have my citizenship within the week. 

The black market sure was nice. 

Sending the application marked the end of my workday, after which I headed to the Black Spider Market and had another lesson with Maxwell. 

I continued exercising my Psyka while trying to weave it into the projection spell I was given. 

At the same time, since I was a total newbie, I was taught general knowledge about Knights and Warlocks. 

Apparently, although they were all considered Magi, each of the branches had completely different systems of magic. 

Warlocks were the spitting image of wizards. They had different spells that they could launch from their body, making them very versatile both in terms of combat and utility. This was also why they were considered the best of the three branches. 

Knights were as their name implied. They were a magical branch of bodily martial warriors. Through cultivating what they called Vigor, a Knight could become stronger, faster, gain endless stamina, and pull off martial arts that resembled the powers of mythic gods. They were the second best. 

And then, at the bottom of the barrel lied the Summoners. Considered the worst of all Magi, they used Psyka to call upon other-dimensional spirits to fight for them. They couldn’t make themselves stronger, and they couldn’t cast any amazing spells. Their powers were entirely reliant on the spirits they summoned. 

That wasn’t to say that summoners weren’t strong. It was just that they had hard times fighting Warlocks or Knights at an equal level across all levels. They just seemed to be a step below everyone else. 

Maxwell knew that I would be entering the Magisterium, and so he told me to prepare to face that kind of discrimination. 

But at the same time, he apparently abhored the thought of allowing me to appear weak.

He said that he would prepare me in the time I had before entering so as to not disgrace the summoner name, and more importantly, his Call of the Fallen Angel. 

It was why he worked me to the bone, having me exercise my ability to manipulate Psyka and stuff my brain full of information. 

At least I was getting my money’s worth…

………

……

After the first week of being in this new city, my schedule seemed to settle into place. 

My work became regular as I took several jobs a day. Occasionally I even got my hands on some of the higher paying jobs. These weren’t heavyweights, but since I was a newbie, these middleweight jobs most often got handed to the veterans. 

But work was constant, and knowing I had bills to pay, the others were generous. Once or twice a week I would get a job that paid a few thousand coin, giving me plenty of surplus and allowing me to spend a bit more. 

With the unceasing flow of cold hard cash, I got myself all the necessities I didn’t have. 

Multiple pairs of clothing, a few accessories like pocket watches and hats, all the various items I needed to keep myself clean everyday…

All my needs were satisfied within a few weeks of working. I even paid back my small debt to Plex, making sure we were even. 

All my earnings that went above my weekly bills would become either savings or go toward buying me some luxuries. 

Other than that, after a few weeks, I was finally able to learn projection from Maxwell. 

On top of that, Plex began to receive jobs for the upcoming monthly auction. 

……

…

After about three weeks of exercising my control over Psyka and trying to weave it, I was finally able to perform the Projection spell. 

I was with Maxwell during the accomplishment. 

“Use the newly formed drone to scout the dimension. Once you discover a spirit, it can’t be forgotten or lost, so use your energy as efficiently as possible to seek out as many spirits as you can.”

“…”

I was silent as he spoke, focusing on the visions in my mind. 

As soon as the spell had been woven, I could feel as if my eyes were planted in that drone of Psyka. 

I could control it, and I used it to fly through the dimension of my first star. 

I discovered some spirits immediately. Some were identical to my flintlock, and others were items like rapiers. But most importantly, I found ammo. 

Tons of ammo. Lead bullets and black powder packets littered the entire dimension. These would allow me to reload whatever flintlock guns I used. 

But perhaps even more than that, I was able to expose certain details about the spirits I saw. 

I could clearly see just how much Psyka was required to establish a connection to them. Most were well within my limits. 

But there were some that were expensive. They were the powerful ones that Maxwell talked about, which got me curious. 

Along with projection, Maxwell had taught me all about communion that was required to utilize the spirits. So with my drone as the medium, I reached out to one of them. 

It was a flintlock pistol, but instead of a standard one, this one had a much larger and thicker barrel along with engravings on the wood body. 

It was unique, and when I made the handshake and initiated communion, I figured out why. 

The communion seemed to trigger an influx of memories from another time. 

In my mind, I could see a large man dressed in an old militia uniform. He rode on a horse and carried a rapier. On his hip was the flintlock pistol I saw. 

I quickly understood what time period these scenes came from. 

The Revolutionary War!

A time when America fought for its independence from Britain. A time when firearm technology was in its infancy, yet becoming more important than ever. 

I saw as this loosely uniformed man rode alongside some soldiers of the Continental Army, all of them defending a village from invading redcoats. 

The two sides quickly entered a heated battle, the man on the horse swinging his rapier while making his way around the village. 

It was only after a while that his horse took a shot to the chest, unable to maintain itself and falling to the ground. The man jumped off and resumed battle on the ground. 

When on the ground, he resorted to using his unique pistol. 

When he fired, the pistol exploded with roaring flames. The heavy bullet was backed by an abnormally large amount of gunpowder, so much so that he actually managed to kill two men with a single shot after the bullet blasted through their bodies. 

And his skill with reloading was impeccable, even under pressure. He could pour powder and slam down another round while running before quickly lining back up another shot. 

The battle at the village lasted four hours, but this was not a heroic tale of victory. 

Instead, the Continental Army fought until they fell to the tactics of the british army. 

The man with the unique pistol was one of the last to fall. 

In the end, he had taken 34 people with him, his pistol, aim, and reloading skill carrying him until the end. 

With that, the memories stopped. 

In the real world, I could feel a large and heavy object appear in my hands. 

I saw the pistol in its full glory, with even a few dried blood stains in the wood. It was heavy, cold, and loaded. 

And with its appearance, I could instinctively understand how to use it. My arms and hands aimed the pistol just as the man in the memories had. I could feel my body reflexively wield it.

I had inherited his skills, the skills infused into the spirit of the gun. 

“Amazing…”

“What is that?”

Maxwell asked as he observed the pistol in my hand. 

As I had learned, summoners could conjure spirits from two different categories: Hot and cold. 

Hot summons were living spirits like exotic monsters and animals. These were conventionally living beings, and they had intelligence that increased with every level.

And cold summons were conventional weapons, like swords, spears, and shields. These were inanimate beings. 

My category was of the second type, and quite unfortunately, cold summons were regarded as the worst type of summons. 

So not only was I a lowly summoner, but I had cold summons. 

Thankfully, I knew that these cold weapons were anything but lowly or lacking in power. 

I gave Maxwell a vague explanation. 

“This is a gun. It fires deadly projectiles, like arrows.”

“I see… This is not a weapon that I recognize, though it looks similar to siege cannons.”

“It’s almost exactly like that, except dialed down. Anyway, I’ve successfully communed with this spirit.”

“Yes, congratulations.”

Maxwell gave his praise while scrutinizing the pistol. 

“It seems like a decently powerful spirit for your level.”

“Mm. One thing though. I was able to see the memories of this spirit. Is that normal?”

“Memories?”

Maxwell rubbed his chin. 

“Spirits, regardless of animation, do indeed have what we can consider minds. It has been documented, though rarely, that some cold summons carry with them remnant spirits, most often of warriors from another time or world. This gives special cold summoners some ability as they can inherit the skills of the previous warrior.”

“Really? Then why are they still considered the weakest?”

“Because you are inheriting the skill of a warrior, yet not his physique, endurance, strength, or power. You are a glass sword, sharp yet brittle. So even if you inherit the skill of the greatest warrior from another world, you couldn’t hold a candle to even mid level Knights since you lack what truly comprises a powerful warrior which is the powerful body.”

“…I guess that makes sense.”

I could understand what he was saying, though it didn’t make me feel good. This meant that, while I could attain powerful guns, they may not be able to carry me far. 

But Maxwell only smirked. 

“Don’t let it get to your head now. That logic only applies to normal summoners. With my Call of the Fallen Angel, you will be capable of so much more, disposing of preconceived limiters. You’re lucky I even told you about normal summoners. Because if you let the biases of normality taint your mind and teachings, then you won’t be able to use my Call to its fullest extent. So forget about it.”

“Oh. Alright.”

His words picked my spirits back up. It seemed there was still more in store regarding this Call. 

So I disregarded what he said earlier. 

It wasn’t much longer afterward that we ended the session. I left for my room with both slight exhaustion and a sense of accomplishment. 

Now, I could properly project and commune with spirits, but perhaps unfortunately, the time to use them was nigh. 

……

It was the next day that Plex called in the few members of his company. 

This was also when I discovered that there were more than three of us. 

There were 5 of us. Myself, Plex, Libitus, and two others. One was Tovex, who I had briefly met alongside Libitus at a bar. The other was a woman who I knew nothing about.

“You know Tovex, and this is Rayla.”

Libitus named the woman I didn’t recognize. 

After observing her, I could faintly sense a significant amount of power lurking within her body. I knew immediately that she was a Magus, though I didn’t know what type. All I knew was that I would get my ass handed to me if I fought her. 

The introductions were short as I greeted the two of them. Afterward, Plex began a meeting. Not that it seemed important. Everyone was casual. 

“The monthly auction is here, so I have jobs as always. We’ll be moving things mainly from the Tavera Family and the Polaris Branch in the Founder’s Market. But we also have a special order, which is the reason I’ve called you all here.”

Plex smiled while taking out a paper and showing us its front. 

It had a large symbol on it, that of a skull with blood vessels hanging from its bottom and eye sockets that had chains drooping from them like tears. 

“The Trenches have requested our help.”

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