Marcus leaned against the wall outside Azazel's lab, his fingers tapping impatiently on his arm. The excitement of finally beginning formal magical lessons had already started to fade after nearly half an hour of waiting. His mind wandered back to his old life, recalling his early lessons in magick, and wondering how Azazel's teachings would differ.

The sound of hurried footsteps interrupted his thoughts. A grinning Azazel appeared around the corner. "Sorry, sorry! Meeting ran late," he said in an unapologetic tone. "I would have messaged you, but then I remembered you still don't have a phone."

Marcus raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "A phone?"

Azazel nodded nonchalantly. "Yep! Can't have you wandering around without one. I ordered one, should be at your apartment by now. You'll need it for everything—especially tomorrow."

Marcus blinked, his irritation giving way to curiosity. "Tomorrow?"

Azazel waved it off for now. "We'll get to that. For today, though, we're heading to my Hot Lab."

"Hot Lab?" Marcus echoed, confused. "How's that different from this one?"

Azazel chuckled, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Well, Penemue got tired of people blowing up labs—or worse, causing damage to other parts of the HQ. She mandated that anything with a risk of large-scale destruction be tested out in the Hot Labs, which are far enough away that even a full-scale disaster won't matter."

With that explanation, Azazel gestured for Marcus to follow him. They walked through the winding corridors of the Grigori's headquarters and stepped outside into the cold air. The barren landscape surrounding the Hot Labs stretched before them, desolate and isolated, with only the occasional blackened scar on the earth—a silent reminder of previous experiments.

As they walked, Azazel continued. "Tomorrow, I'll be taking you on a research trip. But to do that, I need to get you some official identification, or we're going to have all sorts of bureaucratic headaches."

Marcus nodded, remembering the hassle of crossing the border between Vermund and Battahl. "What do you need?"

"Just the basics—full name, date of birth. We'll fudge the rest, given your origins."

"Marcus Farrell," he replied easily, but paused at the next question. "As for my age... I think I'm around nineteen. My world's calendar was different—350 days a year, ten days in a week. Soon before my arrival here my world became… unmoored, causing among other things the sun to disappear; So I lost track of time. If I had to guess, I'd say somewhere around mid-December by your calendar."

Azazel raised an eyebrow. "No sun? You'll have to tell me more about that sometime. For now, let's go with December 15, 1987. Sound good?"

Marcus shrugged. "As good as any."

They continued their trek, reaching a series of squat buildings far removed from the main facility. The Hot Labs stood alone, stark against the barren landscape. Marcus could see the remnants of previous experiments—evidence of explosions or energy surges that had left their mark on the surroundings.

"Here we are," Azazel announced, unlocking one of the labs and motioning for Marcus to step inside.

Inside, the lab was spacious, with gleaming reinforced walls and an array of intricate wards lining the ceiling and walls—likely meant to contain the volatile magic tested here. "Welcome to my playground," Azazel said with a flourish. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Marcus glanced around, taking it all in. "So, how do we begin?"

Azazel stretched his arms, clearly in his element. "Start by telling me how magic worked in your world."

Marcus nodded, gathering his thoughts before launching into an explanation. "In my world, magic—what we call 'magick'—in its basest form is all about imposing your will onto reality. It's inefficient and requires clarity of will and a lot of power in addition to taking quite some time to cast. Most couldn't handle it, so mages and sorcerers found shortcuts. Instead of creating effects from nothing, we'd recreate events that had already happened. Something that's occurred in the past requires less effort to cause again."

Azazel nodded, intrigued. "That's an interesting approach."

Marcus continued, "Calling down lightning is easier than summoning meteors, for example. And to speed things up, we use a technique called Quickspell. By burning extra magick, we can cast up to three times faster."

"Do you use Quickspell often?" Azazel asked.

"In combat, whenever I can. I have larger reserves than most back home," Marcus replied.

"Fascinating," Azazel mused, taking notes. "You mentioned mages and sorcerers—how are they different?"

"Mages focus more on healing and supporting, though they can still fight. They imbue weapons with elements, cure ailments, that kind of thing. Sorcerers, like me, train as mages at first but switch to large-scale elemental attacks."

Azazel nodded, "Alright. Let's see some of your magic in action."

Marcus stood in the center of the Hot Lab's expansive testing area, gripping Dragon's Wit, his archistaff, with both hands. The cool metal of the staff hummed with latent energy, ready to be unleashed. Behind a protective barrier, Azazel stood tablet in hand, his expression one of eager anticipation. The room was eerily quiet, the only sound being the faint hum of the lab's machinery.

Marcus took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the series of powerful spells he was about to cast. Each one required precision, and the Quickspell technique would allow him to cut down the casting time dramatically—except for the final spell. He shifted his stance, centering himself.

"All right, let's start with High Levin," Marcus muttered, focusing on the sky above him.

The air around him thickened with the charge of magick, his focus razor-sharp. He extended one hand upward, his voice low as he chanted the incantation.

Electric energy crackled above him, swirling into a storm of growing intensity. In less than a second, the sky split open with a thunderous crack. Bolts of lightning rained down from the ceiling, striking the designated target with devastating precision. Each bolt sizzled as it made contact, reducing the dummy to a smoldering husk. The ground around it was scorched, the scent of ozone heavy in the air.

Marcus smiled, feeling the power coursing through him. "Next up, High Salamander," he said, lowering his staff.

He raised his hand and focused on the ground, the incantation slipping from his lips with practiced ease.

The air before him shimmered, and from the tip of his staff, a twisting serpent of flame leapt forward, slithering across the floor like a living entity. The flaming serpent hissed as it spread, igniting everything in its path. The targets in the room lit up, consumed by the relentless fire. The flames didn't extinguish immediately, lingering on the scorched earth, continuously dealing damage to anything they touched.

The fire danced in a mesmerizing pattern, its heat radiating across the lab. The flames remained, crackling softly as they burned into the very fabric of the testing grounds.

Marcus shifted his focus to the next spell. This time, he took a deep breath—High Gicel required more time, more concentration. He could feel the strain already, but with the Quickspell technique, he'd cut through the incantation quickly.

The ground in front of him trembled, and suddenly, twisting spikes of ice shot up from the earth, spiraling and jutting outward in a chaotic display. The air became frigid as jagged icicles as tall as trees burst forth, their gleaming surfaces glinting under the lab's artificial light. The ice surged forward, carving a path of destruction through the target dummies, shattering everything in its way.

Marcus could feel the cold creeping through his veins, a stark contrast to the warmth of the previous spell. The ice formations were beautiful yet deadly, each spike sharp enough to tear through steel.

Marcus took a moment to catch his breath. Casting High Gicel had taken a toll, but he still had the stamina for two more spells. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the familiar thrum of power gathering in his staff once more.

"High Seism," Marcus murmured, focusing on the ground beneath his feet.

He began the incantation, his voice echoing in the large chamber.

He slammed his staff down, causing the floor to buckle beneath him as violent tremors ripped through the ground. The room shuddered, and with a deafening roar, stone pillars erupted from the floor, jagged and uneven, like the very earth was rebelling against the heavens. The ground splintered, rocks and debris flying in every direction. The sheer force of the eruptions sent shockwaves through the air, and anything still standing in the testing area was obliterated.

The targets that remained were crushed under the weight of the stone pillars, the ground torn apart in a chaotic display of raw, primal energy. Marcus could feel the power coursing through him, the strain of controlling such a massive spell evident in his labored breathing. He braced himself, knowing that the next spell would push him to his limits.

"Nice work, do you have anything left in the tank?" Azazel called from the sidelines, his tone impressed.

Marcus nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow. His muscles ached, and the toll of casting such powerful magicks back-to-back was starting to wear him down. But he wasn't done yet. There was one more spell—the most powerful in his combat ready arsenal.

"High Maelstrom," Marcus whispered, his voice steady but strained. This time, there would be no Quickspell to speed up the incantation. He had to channel every ounce of focus and power he had into this.

He raised Dragon's Wit high above his head, the air around him swirling with energy. Slowly, he began to chant, his words thick with concentration. The winds in the room began to stir, soft at first, but growing in strength with each passing second. Marcus could feel the pull of the magick as the wind coalesced around him, forming into something greater.

For what felt like an eternity, the spell built, the intensity growing until Marcus felt like he might be swept away by the sheer force of it. Then, with one final shout, he released the spell.

The room erupted into chaos as a massive whirlwind materialized before him. The vortex twisted and turned with ferocious speed, sucking everything in its path into its violent embrace. The few remaining intact targets were torn apart, debris and dust spinning helplessly in the eye of the storm. The very air around the whirlwind crackled with raw energy, and Marcus could feel the power radiating from the heart of the cyclone.

The ground beneath the whirlwind cracked and split, the force of the winds lifting chunks of earth into the air. The sheer magnitude of the spell was overwhelming, and even Marcus had to steady himself as the whirlwind threatened to consume everything in its vicinity. The noise was deafening, a cacophony of wind and destruction that shook the very foundations of the lab.

After several long seconds, the whirlwind began to dissipate, the winds slowly dying down until the room was once again still. Marcus lowered his staff, panting heavily, his entire body trembling with exhaustion. The testing area was unrecognizable—craters littered the ground, and any targets that had once stood were now nothing more than debris scattered across the floor.

Azazel, still leaning casually against the wall, gave a slow, appreciative clap. "Now that was impressive. You've got some serious firepower, Marcus."

Marcus, still catching his breath, gave a weak smile. "I aim to please."

Azazel chuckled. "Let's take a break. You've earned it.

After a brief moment of rest, Marcus stood at the edge of the testing area, surveying the aftermath of his spells. The destruction he'd caused was far beyond what he'd anticipated. The floor was cratered, charred, and torn asunder, with little left of the targets he had been aiming at. He wiped his brow, his breath slowly returning to normal, and glanced over at Azazel.

"Uh... sorry about the mess," Marcus said sheepishly, motioning to the ruined testing grounds.

Azazel waved a hand dismissively, clearly unfazed. "Don't worry about it. That's what the Hot Lab is for—destruction, chaos, the whole works. Trust me, I've seen worse." His lips curled into a smirk, a knowing look in his eyes. "Besides, it's good to know the extent of what you can do."

Marcus nodded but still felt a tinge of guilt. "Still, it seems a bit... excessive."

Azazel chuckled. "If you think that was excessive, you should see Kokabiel on a bad day."

There was a momentary pause before Azazel's voice cut through the lingering silence "Let me guess, You don't usually rely on those larger spells in fast-paced combat, do you?"

Marcus glanced at the remnants of his magic, then back at Azazel. "No, not really," he admitted, wiping the sweat from his brow. "They take too long. Quickspell helps, but it's not enough when you're up close and personal with something that's trying to tear you apart. That's why I started using my Magick Bow. It's faster and keeps me mobile."

Azazel's eyebrow arched, curiosity piqued. "Against Vali, you used the bow almost exclusively, didn't you?"

Marcus nodded, his mind wandering briefly to the fight with Vali. "Yeah. I learned my lesson after being caught one too many times trying to cast. After getting drop-kicked off a cliff by an ogre, I learned the hard way that I needed faster options."

Azazel snorted in amusement, imagining the scene. "Smart move. Diversifying your arsenal was smart. But we'll have to work on your casting time; some beings here need a lot of punishment before they go down, something your spells seem particularly adept at doing. There are techniques here that should help you speed things up, maybe even more efficiently than Quickspell."

Marcus perked up at that, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "You think so?"

Azazel nodded, his tone growing more serious as he prepared to delve into a more academic explanation. "Magic in this world works a bit differently from what you're used to. There are multiple forms of magic, from Norse Magic, Fairy Magic, to different types tied to various sources. Each operates under its own set of rules, restrictions, and energy sources."

As he spoke, Azazel raised his hand, summoning a spear of radiant light. It hovered there, humming with pure energy, casting a warm glow across the room. "Take angels, for instance. We're deeply aligned with holy energy. Our natural magical abilities revolve around it—creating things like light spears and holy wards." He waved his hand, and the spear dissolved, morphing into glowing sigils that hovered briefly in the air before disappearing.

"Holy magic, like this, is particularly potent against spirits, undead, or anything else that was deemed 'unclean' by God," Azazel explained. He raised his hand again, and several small glyphs appeared, glowing with a faint golden light. "These are holy wards, used to repel or bind creatures of dark or infernal origin."

Marcus watched intently, before recalling information from his lessons with Cyran. "But you're a Fallen," he said, a hint of skepticism in his tone. "Doesn't that mean you've lost your connection to Heaven? How can you still use holy magic?"

Azazel chuckled softly. "Good question. The ability to use holy magic is part of our base nature as angels. The connection to Heaven merely amplifies and augments what an angel can already do. It adds certain properties—like curative abilities or the ability to bless items—but even without Heaven, the magic remains. It's woven into the very essence of who we are."

Marcus nodded, absorbing the information, it made sense. "And what about me?" he asked. "Given that I'm... part dragon, part god, part human? What magic am I capable of?"

Azazel leaned against the lab's workbench, thinking carefully before answering. "You'd most likely have an affinity for Draconic magic. Unfortunately, we don't have much information on that—dragons are... elusive and hard to talk to at the best of times. Human magic, on the other hand, we know a lot about, you should be able to pick it up easily enough."

Marcus tilted his head. "What about divine magic?"

Azazel frowned slightly, his fingers drumming on the table. "That's a bit trickier. Divine magic isn't a unified system—it varies from pantheon to pantheon. You have Aesiric magic from the Norse gods, Olympian magic from the Greek pantheon, and so on. Each of them requires divine energy tied to the specific pantheon."

Marcus nodded slowly, the puzzle pieces starting to fall into place. "And since my divine element comes from a god in another world..."

Azazel sighed. "Exactly. We don't have any data on your world's god or their magic system. What we do know is that divine magic is typically tied to the domains or powers of the god in question. If your god—the Pathfinder, right?—had domains from which his power stemmed, then you might have access to powers connected to those concepts."

Marcus considered this for a moment, recalling what he could piece together about the Pathfinder. "I believe it held some sort of dominion over creation and destruction, given the cycle it had our world in. It probably had some sort of connection to dragons even taking the form of one once."

Azazel gave him a sympathetic look. "Yeah, those are pretty big domains. Not much I can help you with there, but I'd wager your divine element might make learning Draconic magic easier."

Marcus shrugged, grateful for the help even if it wasn't definitive. "That's fair. We'll figure it out as we go."

Azazel nodded, then pushed away from the workbench, his expression shifting to one of determination. "Now, let's dive into something more concrete: Human magic. Here, most of the magic that ordinary humans use comes from one major source—Merlin Ambrosius. He developed something we call Calculation Magic."

"Calculation, does it involve mathematics? " Marcus questioned.

Azazel nodded and motioned for Marcus to come closer. "It's a system based on understanding and manipulating the forces of nature using complex formulas and equations. Essentially, users input specific calculations to achieve desired magical effects. These calculations are embedded in magic circles—symbols and runes that represent specific magical functions."

With a wave of his hand, Azazel summoned a glowing red circle in the air between them. It was filled with intricate geometric patterns and glowing symbols. "This is a basic fire creation circle. See how it's structured? These runes represent fuel, heat, and ignition, while the outer ring focuses on containment and power control."

Marcus examined the circle closely, fascinated by the precision of it. "This is how most human magicians cast their spells?"

"Yes," Azazel replied. "Lesser magicians use pre-made magic circles like this one. They don't fully understand how they work, so they lose a lot of power in the process and can't modify the effect. What I want to teach you is not just how to use these circles but how to understand and manipulate them. Once you can grasp the logic behind the calculations, you'll be able to modify and personalize the circles for your own needs."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You don't expect me to create new ones right off the bat, do you?"

Azazel chuckled. "Not at all. But I do expect you to learn how to make formulae on your own eventually. With your background, you've got the potential to combine what you know with the systems here, specifically you might be able to express your current spells in magic circles, cutting down on the cost and casting time. That's where the real power lies—taking what exists and pushing it further."

Marcus smiled, already feeling the gears turning in his mind. "I think I can handle that."