For the sake of the international students present, I’ll give a brief summary of the pourquoi story of Novaran Theology. The rest of you, just hang in there. I’ll be quick. The sacred text, the Astral Tablets, begins by describing the substance of all magic, Mana.

Mana is. It always was and will be. It's in every organism’s breath; it resonates alongside the atoms of minerals, joining the cosmic dance of the universe. A profound truth about the universe. The upstanding creatures found out that they can cause ripples in this divine substance with intention, forcing their will upon it and, through it, the whole world. It was a glorious age of boundless discovery. The Age of Ascension, as they called it in the Chronicles.

According to legend, seven times seven, so forty-nine of them ascended. They fought seven battles, until only seven of them remained. Daar, the Celestial Luminary. Ammum, the Ethereal Weaver. Bekhman, the Arcane Sage. Snissfi, the Abyssal Seer. Adj’Alapy, the Enigmatic Voyager. Hämish, the Shadowed Whisperer. And Zschahazur, the Everchained.

The Seven studied meticulously through the ages, and through their thorough understanding of Mana, they bound nature to their will.

And the world obeys their law.

These ascended beings are said to set the rules of the world and magic as we know them today.

— Professor, what's religion got to do with Advanced Supply Chain Management?? — a confused porcupine speaks up from the fourth row of the auditorium.

Professor Buborovich stops his lecture with an amused twinkle in his eye.

— Once again, great question, Shahram! These two topics have more overlap than you would think. Allow me to explain. The Astral Tables served as an inspiration for a handful of studies, not only of a theological nature. A field that has greatly benefited from these texts is Peregrinity. The passages about Adj’Alapy and their journeys contain surprisingly numerous rules and techniques for teleportation. Most of them have been proven through the ages; for some, we don't have the technology yet, but they are viable in theory.

Adj’Alapy. They called themselves the Enigmatic Voyager. Enigmatic, most assuredly, for none of the seven truly understood their motives. Not even themselves. Calling them Voyager is rather generous. They longed to slip away from responsibility and wander. Wander where they should not and sticking their nosey tentacles into business they should not.

After about twenty-two minutes of religious education, I start tuning out. I had all of this etched into my brain when I was but a kit. A curse or a privilege, but my parents turned over every stone to get me into semi-prestigious schools. They also happened to be church-founded, but what do you expect from a backwater part of the country?

The old owl doesn't say much new, at least not in the first hour of his lesson. So naturally, I start to entertain myself with a little blasphemy while he hoots about: small illusions. After a while, you start to lose faith and interest in institutions that declare both of your alignments - hemimism and illusion in my case - as "undesirable.”

I animate a little ship sailing through the ocean of my desk when suddenly a dragon swoops down from the skies. Its claws go right through the fregatte, and the creature crashes into the wood. Naturally, they cannot interact with my images, unless I put in way too much effort to make them real temporarily. After a moment or two, they regain their senses and shake themselves.

Looking around, I spot the summoner in the row behind me. A grinning, winking greyhound, bandaging his finger.

— Gentlemen, please refrain from wasting mana during my lecture! — the professor clicks his beak with a hint of annoyance and dispells both my illusion and the little dragon. — Now, where were we?