It was something he had only read about as a theory. Far removed from Personal Barriers, which existed in military usage, the overcharging of a leyline was something that was talked about and discussed amongst academics, but rarely performed. Why would one do so, after all, in a mana-drained world? Why do so, when you would end up damaging leylines that have already become unreliable? Why do so, when the world’s problems couldn’t truly be solved with just more magic?
Apparently, the simple answer had eluded the scholars: just create artificial leylines for that purpose.
All external essence sucked into a singular point. The world itself, torn apart and separated from reality as understood by others. An essence-less plane now, lifeless despite living life, a facsimile of a forest clearing. Otis marvelled at it all, the light of scientific curiosity burning as bright as the false sun in the sky. Oh, he could use this! If they were to learn how to do this, and if they were given plenty of leylines to do this with, then there was good reason after all, to attend his classes obediently.
A strange thing then, that his classmates seemed more focused on the screams of a wretch than on the marvels, the potential, before them all.
Davil’s fate was to be expected, now that Otis had confirmed exactly what Instructor Alto had intended. He knelt down beside the rest of them, of course. Unbuttoned Davil’s shirt to examine the chest. Ignored the arms because they weren’t all that necessary. Smelled the bile. Took personal note of how intact the lower body was. His roommate was still conscious, of course. An idiot’s tenacity could be praised, if nothing else. No organs were ruptured, and the ribs were cracked, not completely inverted into the lungs.
“All he needs is first aid,” Otis said, placing one hand upon Iraleth’s extended arm. “This is an overcharged leyline, Iraleth. What we felt when we came here will be what we feel when we leave here, and there’s no purpose in doing what the clinic is paid to do. Recall that the topic of this class is ‘Survival’.”
A pause. It was almost cruel, offering it as a choice, but the Strigidae turned his unblinking gaze towards Davil regardless. Chunji, perhaps, could see that ‘consideration’ existed in different shades and tints, different forms and beliefs. Consideration, perhaps, could simply be a consideration towards how far one can be uplifted before they are forced to reckon that it was only their natural inability that prevented their progress, not their tuition or their armaments.
“But it’s your life, Davil. Blink once, if you wish for shelter. Blink twice, if you believe you can form a Personal Barrier by the time we must leave this plane. Know that this will happen again if you aren’t able to form a Personal Barrier.”
If the former, Otis would wait for Iraleth’s first aid to conclude, then pull Davil, broken arms and all, into the void-space of his Door, sealing it shut.
If the later?
He would not do anything at all. Tenacity could be respected, and you didn’t need your arms to form a Personal Barrier.
“Your choice, Davil. Blink once, or blink twice.”