CHAPTER 27: THE ART OF PASSING THROUGH

Ethan, Kai, and Aiden turned a corner in the corridor, the golden sunlight dappling over polished stone floors. Faint traces of mana lingered in the air, testaments to morning classes in the wings. They stopped in front of a darkened door, its brass plate inscribed with curling letters:

Advanced Essence Alteration

The Art of Passing Through

Kai cracked a smile. "You sure about this one? Sounded like the weirdo class."

Aiden shrugged, leaning forward to inspect the nameplate. "If we’re exploring magic beyond the elemental, this is recentfication. Essence mold is less obvious—underrated."

Ethan stared at the name. Passing Through—what did that imply? Transmutation? Ghost spells? Orcish invisibility?

He swallowed and nodded. "Let’s see."

They pushed open the heavy oak door.

The classroom was cavernous. Air hung thick with humidity and the odor of earth. Jars lined shelves set in alcoves—each jar held a writhing mass of soft, gelatinous life, floating in liquid. One jar contained a tiny proxy creature, twitching inside a cloudy fluid. Another held a quivering orb that pulsed with dull purple light.

Macabre and fascinating.

Students clustered in groups, chatting about lunch or the last exam. Only a few turned when the door squeaked.

A voice drifted from the front, high and quivering. "Good—mor—ning."

Too thin. Breakable. The teacher hunched over a podium, shoulders coiling forward. He wore loose, faded robes, arms thin as twigs. His lips trembled. Some of the students studied their fingernails; others tittered.

"Is that... the professor?" someone muttered. A ripple of doubt rolled through the front rows.

The teacher tried again. "Today we—will work—on form." His voice cracked on every second word.

A group in the back started half-whispering.

"This is a joke, right?" one student whispered to another.

Another laughed, softly. "Who could teach like that?"

The professor’s face twitched. His hands flew out. He shook them, and his voice hit a sudden shriek: "QUIET!"

He shot up—neck and arms bulging with veins, muscles flexing in real time, suddenly hulking to double his size. His robes stretched, and his voice boomed raw and furious, echoing through the room.

Several students froze in shock.

Then—just as suddenly—he shrank back. Bones loosened, muscles faltered. Limbs pruned and shriveled until he was thin again.

The shock in the room flipped to laughter and whispers.

He coughed, trying to steady himself. A droplet of sweat slid down his face.

"Sorry," he murmured. "Old habit." His voice shook. Then his face began to soften—features melting, shifting—like wax in heat. His nose drifted, brow feathered downward, cheekbones softened. Eyes re-centered.

When the distortion faded, where the gaunt old man had stood, a clean-faced professor with the same piercing gaze and polished robes now stood. The contrast stunned everyone silent.

He raised a hand in apology. "That... happens sometimes. Energy bleed from form-switching. The stress of time and strain causes the melt. My apologies."

Aiden eyed the teacher head‑on; Kai rubbed across his neck.

"Name’s Professor Marek," he said with a slight bow. "Welcome to the Art of Passing Through. Today we experiment with Essence Magic—shaping your mana into real substance. Welcome." His voice had calm authority now.

He looked down at his thin wrist, wincing. "Try as I might, sustaining the hulking second form is... difficult. No matter. Let’s begin."

The students leaned forward.

Kai exhaled, elbowing Ethan. "That was something else."

Aiden chewed his lips. "He’s... part abomination."

Ethan nodded, eyes wide. "This is the class."

Marek cleared his throat, adjusting his robes. "Essence Alteration is not your typical elemental display. Here, we manipulate core mana—binding it to a substance-form. Small creatures, floating constructs, even cloaks of substance."

He marched slowly down the aisle, pointing at jars. "This, my students, is where we begin. These vessels contain essence echoes—forms that remember shape when infused with mana. You will learn to create your own."

They followed his gaze: gelatin globs in amber fluid. Shapes, fading then coalescing: eyes, limbs, nothing permanent yet.

"You’ll experiment. Record results. The first lesson: manifest a basic form—orb, patch, or proxy. Note stability, stress, mana draw."

Ethan brushed his palm over the glass. Inside—the orb’s surface shivered, tiny spheres coalescing, dissolving.

Marek turned. "Ready?"

Marek swept his gaze across the room. "Everyone, find a clear square on the floor. Clear your thoughts. Begin."

Students shuffled. Some sat cross-legged; others knelt. The jars remained mute spectators, watching soft lumps of gel shift behind glass.

Ethan, Kai, and Aiden formed a small cluster together.

Kai whispered, "Man, he looked like two completely different people."

Aiden nodded, but his expression was focused. "Essence bleed... means he’s stabilizing two forms at once. Impressive to hold either."

Ethan swallowed, glancing at the jars again. "So... do we just think and shape?"

Marek paced between rows, voice low and encouraging. "You’ll need two things: intent and flow. Decide your basic shape. Then channel your mana through that intent until it breathes life into form."

A wave of hands erupted. Questions and responses baptized the classroom:

"Do we need to focus on material? Glass? Flesh?"

"Material depends on intent. Use will, not copy."

Ethan took in the noise. Smothering it, he closed his eyes and pictured his hands molding air into shape—something he’d tinkered with, but today, he had to do it in front of everyone else.

He drew a deep breath.

Then, he stretched both hands in front of him—palms up, fingers stiff. Thoughts moved toward shape: a floating cylinder or orb? Something minimal, clean. He gently pushed his mana forward, threads of blue light drifting from his fingertips, weaving slowly in mid-air.

It pooled, translucent and shimmering.

Around him, murmurs turned to glimpses as light formed in gridlines. He created a small, hovering ring—cloud-thin—but malformed: not perfect, trembling on one axis.

Marek stopped nearby. A glowing fingertip traced the wobbling lines. "Interesting approach. Don’t hold back—even a fragile orb has value. Now, test stability. Does it respond to your voice?"

Ethan opened his mouth. "Come."

The orb flickered, drifted a fraction forward—then vanished, folding back into mana.

Aiden and Kai laid hands on his shoulder.

"Nice," Kai said softly.

Aiden touched his arm. "Quick response—great job."

Ethan exhaled.

Around him, other students struggled: one circle snapped mid-air, falling to dust. Another created a bubble that collapsed under its own weight.

Kai tried next. He gathered mana into a solid shield—same stones he practiced sculpting before. But this felt different: less rigid, weightless. He built what appeared as a translucent shard, jagged but solid—hold, but deadly method on his face.

Aiden stood, moving to Kai’s side. "Try a smaller, structured cube first. Use glyph logic—lines intersect and hold. Add your stone after."

Kai nodded, reshaping the shard into smaller, cube-like facets. It hovered.

Then, Ethan thought again. We’re here to learn together. He reached out to the shard orb—it clicked into place, side pressing together.

Kai exhaled and the cube steadied, glimmering. He smiled back.

Across the room, students made low shapes: gooey proxies, small floating arms, or bursts of light in unstable clouds.

Marek observed, approaching each knot of practice with patience.

Marek crouched next to a student named Rana. She wore concentration etched on her young features. A single orb shimmered between her palms.

He placed a balanced hand nearby. "Don’t fight it. Speak and encourage."

Rana whispered, "Stay... float..."

The orb pulsed and hovered steadily.

Marek tipped his head. "Remember: Essence Magic listens to feeling, not forcing."

The orb grew firmer.

Ethan watched, thinking yes, that’s what he said. He drew breath and located his orb again. This time, he spoke firmly: "Stay." The orb steadied, wider, less wobble.

Marek inhaled. "Yes, congratulations."

He rose, addressing the room again. "Essence flows when fed consistency. Keep experimenting—but do not fret about size or shape. Appreciate feedback."

He looked toward Ethan. "Your orb—solid beginner work. Keep refining."

Ethan bowed his head, barely audible. Thank you.

Kai knelt and whispered, "Solid. Let’s add a small stone piece—only a fingertip."

Ethan nodded. Kai chanted quietly, molding sharp edges. The orb’s surface flickered opaque—granite-like texture—then cleared. The stone glinted; mana shimmer paused.

The orb stayed intact.

Kai high-fived Ethan. "See that? Integration’s working."

Aiden stepped forward. "Add the sphere to your notes under ’element synergy.’ You’re blending mana-based form and solidity."

Ethan smiled. "Feels like magic."

Kai laughed quietly. "You’re doing magic."

Marek waved his hand. "Time to demonstrate a simple abomination variant—Construct Merge."

He muttered a short chant, and the swirling goop inside a wooden jar began to move outward. It stretched—an amorphic form that thickened, elongated, forming a floating "hand"—only a glowing, translucent palm that rested above the jar lip.

It hovered as the teacher called it. Students gasped.

"It obeys my will—untested, but responsive." Marek held his palm out. The translucent hand echoed, then folded back into the jar.

"Today you attempt your own tiny proxy. It may not respond—but shape its form carefully."

He took a breath. "Be ready."

Ethan watched Marek squeeze the jar. It drew back. He caught himself thinking my Elemental Body can do this. He clenched his fist. Not yet.

Then he crouched, composed himself, then extended hands, channeled mana. He didn’t know what shape he’d build. Not sphere, not cube.

Flow.

A soft liquid line dripped from his fingertips, weaving a spike of glowing amber. He tugged it gently toward himself.

It slid—dragged—and rose off the floor as a flat circular platform.

The group gasped and Marek’s eyes brightened.

"Excellent shape," he said softly. "Essence fidelity." He circled Ethan. "Continue stabilization."

Ethan hesitated, but added gentle pulses of mana. The shape held.

Marek leaned down. "Talented."

Ethan closed his eyes in surprise. He saw too much.

The bell’s chime echoed beneath the cavern roof.

Ethan, Kai, Aiden relaxed their constructs—they faded with soft hums.

Kai exhaled. "I... can’t believe he did that with his hands."

Aiden beamed. "That’s true essence work. Not solid, not rigid—but living mana."

Kai wound around to Ethan. "Dude—you’re glowing."

Ethan blushed. "Just... beginner magic. But I... felt something work right."

Marek stepped forward, face bright. "Excellent work, all of you. Homework: build a small essence orb that pulses with your voice."

He straightened. "You may go."

Ethan got up as Aiden thumped him lightly. "You killed it today."

Kai punched him on the arm. "Dope. Let’s go eat."

Ethan nodded, but looked once more at Marek’s jars shimmering on the shelves.

He thought: Elemental Body, Essence Magic... could they merge?

As they left the classroom, he felt a lightness, not just in his step—but in the possibilities ahead.