The forge was quiet except for the soft crackling of embers in the furnace. The rhythmic sounds of the city had died down, leaving only the occasional distant chatter of late-night wanderers. Kalem sat cross-legged on a sturdy workbench, a thick tome resting on his lap. Around him, his companions lingered, drawn in by yet another of his impromptu lectures.
Jhaeros leaned against a support beam, arms crossed, his feline ears flicking as he watched. Nara sat nearby, rolling her shoulders after a long day of training, while Garrick stretched out, resting his back against a pile of unused ingots. Lyra, as always, looked mildly amused.
Kalem flipped to the first page of the section he had chosen. The old parchment had the scent of aged paper and ink, mixed with faint traces of charcoal from the forge.
"This one," Kalem said, tapping the open book, "is about how different races contributed to the development of magic."
Jhaeros raised an eyebrow. "I thought magic was just… magic?"
Kalem smirked. "Not quite. Magic isn't a singular force that everyone just figured out at once. Different cultures took different approaches, based on their physiology, environment, and needs. The magic we know today is a combination of those discoveries."
He turned the book around, showing a series of elegant illustrations depicting various races wielding magic in their unique ways.
"Let's start with the Elves," Kalem said, tapping the first section. "They were the first alchemists."
Nara scoffed. "Elves? Not humans?"
Kalem shook his head. "No. Elves lived the longest, which gave them an advantage in experimentation. They had centuries to refine their understanding of the natural world. Their mastery of potions, transmutation, and herbal magic was so advanced that even today, much of modern alchemy is based on their early discoveries."
Jhaeros, an Ilvaar—a race descended from elves—nodded. "That tracks. Elves always did have an obsession with perfection."
Kalem continued, flipping to the next section.
"Then we have the Dwarves. Unlike elves, they weren't naturally attuned to magic. But that didn't stop them. They were the first to develop magic-powered structures. They learned how to bind enchantments into metal and stone, allowing them to create the first enchanted fortresses, self-repairing weapons, and mechanical constructs that operated on magical energy."
Jhaeros ran a hand over the hilt of his dagger. "So that's why dwarven ruins still hum with magic long after they've been abandoned."
Kalem nodded. "Exactly. Their enchantments weren't just written spells—they were woven into the very foundation of their creations. Without them, we wouldn't have things like mana-reactive architecture—defensive barriers, reinforced strongholds, or even the constructs used in modern industry."
Nara leaned forward. "And what about Orcs?"
Kalem tapped the next page. "Orcs were the first Elementalists."
Nara raised an eyebrow. "Wait. You're saying they were the best mages?"
Kalem shook his head. "Not the best, but the most instinctual. While elves and dwarves studied magic academically, orcs didn't need written formulas or rituals. They felt magic. It was part of their very being."
He traced a diagram in the book, depicting an ancient orc shaman summoning a firestorm with nothing but their hands raised to the sky.
"They could channel the raw forces of nature, bending fire, earth, wind, and water to their will. They were more conduits than casters, using emotion and instinct rather than structured techniques."
Nara tilted her head. "Then why aren't they at the top today?"
Kalem exhaled. "Because their magic wasn't structured. It was powerful, but unpredictable. It couldn't be easily replicated or passed down in formal teachings. That's why orcish magic never evolved into something scalable like human spellcraft."
Jhaeros crossed his arms. "And that brings us to the Humans, doesn't it?"
Kalem smirked. "It does." He turned the page. "Humans weren't the best at any one type of magic, but they were the first to perfect cooperation. They developed Group Magic."
Nara frowned. "What's so special about that?"
Kalem leaned forward. "Think about it. While other races had individual prodigies—elven scholars, dwarven enchanters, orcish shamans—humans figured out how to combine their magic into something greater."
He gestured at a diagram showing a massive battlefield where human mages stood in perfect formations, their spells linked in a single coordinated attack.
"Humans pioneered ritual casting, mana-linking, and coordinated spell formations. They were the first to develop spellcasting techniques that could be performed in unison, amplifying each other's power."
Jhaeros narrowed his eyes. "So instead of individual powerhouses, they built armies of spellcasters."
Kalem nodded. "Exactly. That's why human kingdoms could stand against civilizations far older and stronger than them. Their strength wasn't in a single mage—it was in hundreds working together."
Nara exhaled. "Damn."
Kalem closed the book and leaned back. "And that's how magic evolved. Each race laid the foundation for something different, and over time, those ideas merged. That's why modern spellcraft is such a diverse mix."
Jhaeros drummed his fingers on his knee. "So, in theory, if someone could combine all of these approaches—alchemy, structure magic, elementalism, and group casting—"
Kalem smirked. "They'd be unstoppable."
A silence followed, each of them lost in thought. The flickering forge fire cast shifting shadows over their faces.
Jhaeros chuckled. "I'd hate to fight someone like that."
Kalem, resting his head against the bench, closed his eyes. "Same."
But in the back of his mind, an idea was already forming.