The door clicked shut, leaving a sudden, heavy silence in the main hall. Caleb was gone, his annoyed, exhausted footsteps already fading down the corridor.

  Ray was left standing in the middle of the room, stunned by the encounter. Rina, who had watched the entire exchange from the kitchen doorway, looked equally baffled.

  Then, a slow, appreciative, and slightly manic chuckle echoed in Ray's mind.

  Conman: "Well... that's one way to get him to show up. We didn't just get his attention... we made him our annoyed, terrified babysitter."

  Ray looked down at his hands, still holding the Theorist's Glove. He had won. But it was the most complicated, back-assed, and dangerous victory he'd ever pulled.

  He had his alibi. And his returning ‘master’ was a burnt-out, 6th-Circle genius who now thought Ray was a heretic who needed to be contained.

  For the next 3 days Caleb Zipkin, true to his word, had shown up at 8 AM every morning. His arrival was now a predictable, almost ritualistic event. He would shuffle into the suite, not even waiting for Ray to open the door, his eyes half-closed under his straw hat.

  His first stop was always the dining table. On the second day, Rina, having learned from the first, already had two breakfasts prepared. Caleb, without a word of thanks, had proceeded to eat both.

  After finishing his welcome feast, his ‘tutoring’ would begin. He would shuffle into the private training room, find his favorite comfortable chair, tip it back against the wall, and promptly take a nap under his hat.

  Ray, in turn, diligently performed for his slumbering master. He had to adjust his performance. He couldn't just fail; he had to improve, but at a believable, remedial pace.

  On the first day, his ‘pathetic’ Fire Bolt sputtered and died in two seconds. On the second day, he ‘struggled’ and managed to make it last for three. Today, the third day, he was ‘focusing’ with all his might, his hand ‘trembling,’ to produce a small, orange flame that wavered like a weak candle but held for a full five seconds before he exhaustedly let it die.

  Courtier: "Perfect. He is present. The alibi is secure. His tutelage officially explains any improvement we show in the Promotion Trials. We are no longer a fluke, we are a slowly-improving remedial student."

  Right on cue, as if timed to the end of Ray's practice, Caleb let out a loud, rumbling snort and woke up. He peeked out from under his hat, observing Ray's final,

  Improved but still a pathetic Fire Bolt.

  Caleb thought.

  "It has improved only… a little bit,"

  He lazily said, he groaned, stretching with a pop of his joints.

  "But it's still terrible."

  He pushed himself out of the chair and shuffled to the door.

  "My work here is done. Don't blow anything up."

  He was gone, leaving Ray alone in the quiet, warded room. Ray’s performance of exhaustion vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp focus. His official lesson was over.

  It was time for his real training to begin.

  Ray arrived with Sergeant Svane at the rented training hall in the disused College of Statecraft wing, his official and useless lesson with a napping Caleb Zipkin already a distant memory. This was his real training.

  Svane, already used to the routine, stayed outside the training and Ray entered and he met Eliza and Cassian in the center of the dusty, warded room. Cassian was stretching, his usual academic excitement replaced by a sharp, serious focus.

  "Alright, no more games,"

  Cassian said, his voice echoing in the empty hall.

  "That first spar was a warm-up. This time, I'm not limiting myself to 1st-Circle. Depending on your choice in the Promotion Trials, you two will face proctors who can cast spells up to 2nd-Circle. I will do the same. Don't disappoint me."

  Eliza nodded, her expression grim and determined.

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  Ray motioned for her to huddle up.

  "Eliza,"

  he said in a low voice,

  "I have a new... 'gift'... from my patron. It will help us coordinate. It's similar to a Message cantrip spell, but... better. No line of sight, and it's silent."

  Eliza's eyebrows shot up, but she just nodded.

  Ray turned his head slightly and focused his will.

  System Activate Resonant Link Communication (Basic). Target Eliza Vance.

  [Resonant Link Communication (Basic) ACTIVATED: Target 'Eliza Vance']

  [Innate Skill Cognitive Network is ACTIVE. Mental Stamina cost is NEGATED.]

  Both he and Eliza flinched at the same instant, their eyes widening. It wasn't a ‘voice.’ It was a thought, fully formed, landing directly in her mind, yet it had the sound of Ray's voice mentally .

  Focus. And I can... feel your... excitement. Your focus.

  Eliza's jaw went slack.

  Whoa! Ray?! I can... I can hear you in my head!

  She could also feel him. It was a bizarre, new sensation. She felt her own nervous, excited energy, but beneath it, she felt him, vast, cold, and completely calm. It was the dispassionate, multi-threaded focus of his Tri-Concurrent mind.

  And I can feel... wow. You're... completely calm. It's like... ice.

  Ray pushed past her observation, his mental voice all business.

  Same as last time. You are the main offense. I am the support. But this time, let me set the trap.

  Cassian took his defensive stance, his face a mask of superior confidence. "Ready!"

  Ray initiated. He didn't chant, nor did he make a single somatic gesture. He simply reached into the small pouch at his belt and, with a sharp flick of his wrist, hurled two small, hard pellets at Cassian's feet.

  Cassian, a trained 4th-Circle Mage, reacted with the honed reflexes of a veteran.

  "Scutum!"

  he snapped, throwing his hand up in a sharp ‘stop’ motion. A shimmering, translucent Shield sprang into existence an inch from his robes, just as the pellets struck it.

  POP-POP!

  The pellets weren't an attack; they were smoke bombs. They exploded on the shield, instantly releasing a massive cloud of thick, choking, grey smoke that billowed outwards, completely obscuring Cassian's vision and swallowing the center of the room.

  "Dirty tricks, Ray!"

  Cassian's annoyed voice yelled from inside the cloud.

  As planned, Ray and Eliza immediately split, melting away in opposite directions under the cover of the smoke.

  Ray stopped near the wall and was already using Tri-Concurrent Partial Immersion. He activated Serene Cultivator’s. ‘Aetheric Perception’ + Gritty Detective's ‘Observation’ skills.

  The smoke became a translucent, gray fog. And in the center of it, as clear as day, he saw Cassian's form, a bright, angry-red Aetheric silhouette. The Observation skill analyzed his posture, the gathering of Mana. He saw Cassian preparing a spell likely to clear the smoke.

  Ray sent a mental message to Eliza.

  He's in the center, I believe he is trying to clear the smoke. Prepare your strongest spell. I'll distract him. Wait for my signal.

  From across the hall, Eliza's reply came back instantly, a flash of cold, determined focus. Eliza

  Understood. Preparing now.

  Ray added Stoic Assassin's Flowing Shadow Technique to his Tri-Concurrent mix and innate skill The Fulcrum Principle. He glided silently into the smoke, a shadow moving within a shadow.

  Inside the fog, Cassian was chanting,

  "Ven…",

  about to cast his Gust. Ray, now within five feet, made his move. He didn't speak. He didn't use his hands. He just stomped his foot hard on the stone floor. It wasn't a stomp. It was a Somatic Component. A ‘deafening, concussive CRACK’ of Thunderclap exploded at point-blank range, so loud it was a physical force.

  The Thunderclap broke Cassian's concentration and his 2nd-circle Gust of Wind spell in a burst of agonizing sound. His ears were ringing. As he instinctively stumbled back from the noise, Ray, having already circled behind him, emptied his Grease vial onto the floor. Cassian's boot hit the invisible slick, and his feet went right out from under him. He yelped, crashing hard with his bottom.

  NOW, ELIZA! HE'S DOWN! NINE O'CLOCK!

  From across the room, Eliza, who had been holding her chant, unleashed her spell.

  "Gelu, signa!"

  A jagged, blue-white icicle of Mark of Winter lanced through the thinning smoke and shattered against Cassian's chest, exploding in a burst of frigid, blinding light. Cassian cried out as a swirling, glittering cloud of diamond dust immediately frosted his entire upper body, his movements becoming slowed and sluggish.

  Before Cassian could recover, Ray closed the final distance. He activated the World Weary Healers ‘Anatomical Strike (Intermediate).’ His vision shifted, mapping Cassian's Aetheric pathways. He delivered a rapid, seemingly weak series of strikes, two to the back, one to the neck, one to each arm.

  Cassian grunted from the weak but stinging hits. He stood up, the smoke finally clearing. He saw Ray and Eliza standing together. He smirked, his 4th-Circle resistance already shrugging off the worst of the frost from Eliza’s spell. He'd been annoyed, but not truly harmed.

  He saw Eliza begin her next spell. Her hands moved in the releasing gesture for Magic Missile, but her chant was slow, hesitant,

  "Percu... te, ter!"

  She was clearly not very proficient at casting under pressure. Cassian's smirk widened. He had plenty of time. He would end this. He reached into his robe for a small, straight piece of iron, the material component for his 2nd-Circle spell, Hold Person.

  "Quiesce!"

  he commanded, thrusting the pin at Eliza. Nothing happened. His eyes widened. He tried to channel the Mana again. Nothing. He realized that his pathways were... blocked. Dead. He wondered why it was happening then he remembered weak strikes he felt earlier.

  Could those weak taps…

  He thought, then his smirk vanished, replaced by a wave of genuine, cold terror. He was a 4th-Circle Mage, and he couldn't access his magic.

  "Percute, ter!"

  Eliza finally finished. The three violet-white orbs of Magic Missile leaped into existence. They whistled through the air and struck him unerringly in the chest with three heavy, concussive THUDS hitting Cassian without any resistance at all. His breath was violently knocked from his lungs, and Cassian was thrown backward onto the stone floor, completely and utterly defeated.