I WAS Humanity's HOPE-Chapter 21: Advances

The Mage Guild's training hall felt especially alive that morning.

Rows of practice dummies—charred around the edges—lined the far wall, each stencilled with a rough target on the chest and head.

The first class of the day had ended minutes ago, and now, Richard and his classmates were preparing for their own session.

He stood near the back of the spacious hall, arms folded across his chest as he watched the others. They clustered in small groups—some exchanging excited banter, others anxiously adjusting their wand grips. That was mostly new.

After their Dungeon expedition, each student had received a basic wand meant to enhance spellcasting. To their credit, most had learned the E-rank Fireball well enough to produce a modest flame orb. Even so, the skill gap was evident: a few novices couldn't hit a target dummy to save their lives, while the more adept among them left the dummies scorched and blackened.

"This is pointless," Richard muttered under his breath, fingers drumming against his bicep.

He glanced over at Angel Buckler, who was carefully angling her wand. She looked ready to take her turn against a dummy but waited politely for a flustered classmate to finish.

At the front of the hall, Meredith walked the rows, her voice clear and firm. "Mind your intent," she told a dark-haired boy whose flame had fizzled again. "If you can't will the spell into being, recite the incantation mentally. Try once more."

Richard watched her adjust the grip of a shy girl—Nadia, if he remembered right—who was clutching her wand too tightly.

At least Mer's in her element, he thought, stifling a sigh of boredom. Every so often, she shot him a glance, eyes glinting with faint exasperation, as if to say: Behave yourself.

He exhaled quietly. Well, if she wants me to stay awake, I might as well do something more interesting than chucking fireballs at a dummy.

He summoned his inventory's interface. His gaze fixed on the [Necrotic Aura] tome he'd picked up after slaying the Zombie Goliath in the E-rank Dungeon.

Its cover was a dark, mottled grey, woven with faint greenish veins.

He tapped a finger on its image.

Consume [Necrotic Aura]? Warning: This will replace your D-Rank spell [Potent Fireball]. Y/N.

He mentally confirmed, and the tome's text flared a sickly green before blinking out of sight.

You have learned a new spell: [Necrotic Aura].

Interesting, Richard mused, switching to his skill panel. He ignored his Astralis abilities and focused on the three new slots at the bottom:

...

Apprentice Skills:

F-Rank: Spark

Description: Generates a brief flash of magical light.

Requirements: None

E-Rank: Weakest Fireball

Description: A small, unstable sphere of fire that can be hurled at enemies.

Requirements: 12 INT

D-Rank: Necrotic Aura

Description: An active ability that causes minor life-draining damage to nearby enemies over time.

Requirements: 30 INT, 25 WIS

...

He closed the panel just as a shriek echoed across the room—someone's Fireball had exploded prematurely in a bright flare.

Startled giggles and half-panicked cries followed, though no one appeared hurt. Meredith was already on the scene, regaining control with visible annoyance.

Should I test it now? he wondered, excitement flickering. But he pushed the urge away—Meredith would murder him for trying it in a roomful of F-Ranks. Minor damage or not, better wait.

A voice broke his thoughts.

"Richard," Angel greeted quietly, ensuring others wouldn't overhear.

"Hey," he replied, giving a small wave. "Don't tell me... you're bored too?"

A faint twitch pulled at her mouth, not quite a smile. "Not as much as you, apparently."

Richard quirked an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged, briefly shifting her wand in her grip. "I heard you took down your Dungeon's boss. I... got the finishing blow on mine, too."

Richard let a hint of a smile show. He kept his tone casual. "Well done. No injuries, I hope?"

She shook her head. "A few scrapes on the others, but none on me." She hesitated before adding, "I levelled up quite a bit."

He nodded, honestly impressed. Plenty of new hunters froze or flailed in critical moments, but Angel clearly knew how to keep cool. "Sounds like you're making quick progress," he said calmly.

She exhaled, and for a moment the intensity in her grey eyes dimmed. "I do try," she said softly. Then, seeming to remember something, she lifted her wand and traced a quick rune. A small flame sputtered at the tip—Fireball, barely stable.

Before she could launch it, Richard raised his hand. "Too shallow," he murmured, nodding at her wand. "Your sigil lines overlap."

Angel frowned, switching her gaze between her wand and his hand. "Show me again?"

He obliged, deftly shaping the runic form. "You want them to cross near the wand's tip," he pointed out, "not by your wrist. Otherwise, you'll lose extra mana trying to keep the flame stable."

She tried again; the orb glowed brighter this time. She flicked her wrist, and the fireball slammed into the target's centre, leaving a clean, dark scorch.

A brief, genuine smile lit her face. "Thanks," she said simply.

He shrugged as though it were nothing. "Don't mention it."

Her demeanour shifted; she stepped closer, wand lowered. Richard sensed the air tighten around them, spotting the determined flicker in her expression. "Look, Richard," she said, voice subdued. "I wanted to properly thank you for what you did the other day—saving my life. I didn't get the chance in all that chaos at the café."

He inclined his head. "You're welcome."

She paused, then a faint blush dusted her cheeks. "I was thinking... maybe we could talk more. Over coffee?" She inhaled, steadying her tone. "There's a place by the Thames I like. If you're free sometime..."

Richard's heart skipped a beat. Did she just ask me out?

He hadn't expected her to be so forward. He did find her interesting, certainly more focused than most novices.

But the memory of John Buckler—her father—hovered like a dark cloud in his mind. He was clearly suspicious, and the café incident still loomed large.

What if this is some ruse—Buckler trying to gather intel? Paranoid or not, caution was warranted.

He forced a polite smile, stepping back slightly. "I appreciate the offer," he began, keeping his voice low to avoid drawing attention, "but I'm pretty busy right now. Extra practice and all."

Her expression faltered for half a second, though she tried to mask the disappointment. "Right. Well..." She glanced down. "I see."

Richard attempted a neutral expression. "Maybe another time."

"If it doesn't inconvenience you," she replied stiffly, then resumed her practice.

He let out a silent breath, the tension ebbing. I can't risk blundering right into a trap—if that's even what this is.

Soon after, Meredith signalled the end of the session. The final bolts of flame sizzled across the training hall, followed by a chorus of chatter as students gathered their belongings.

Richard pointedly avoided Angel's gaze and focused on adjusting his gear instead. Better to maintain some distance until he was sure about her intentions—and her father's.

A hesitant tap on his elbow made him turn. Nadia, the shy girl Meredith had corrected earlier, offered a tentative smile. "Um, hi. Richard, right?"

He nodded. "That's me."

She chewed her lip, twisting her wand nervously. "This might be weird, but a few of us are going to a little pub down the road—grab some food, maybe a drink. Want to come along?"

Richard shrugged. "Dinner? Sure, I wouldn't mind a change of pace."

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Nadia's face brightened. "Great! We'll go after we've changed." With a friendly wave, she hurried off.

He realised the exchange wasn't exactly private.

Angel stood a short distance away, packing up her things. She glanced over just as Nadia left, her gaze briefly locking onto Richard's. Then she turned on her heel and swept out of the hall, tension in the set of her shoulders.

He couldn't fully read her expression, but the tightness around her lips spoke volumes.