A ray of sunlight slid across the glass and spilled into the classroom with a soft, warm glow. The Academy, as always, was filled with noise: teenagers laughed, chatted, some pretended to review the material, others loudly discussed the events of the past week.

  Amid this chaos, almost no one noticed the quiet figure by the window.

  Lissandra sat with her hands folded on the desk, gazing out at the street with clear emerald eyes. There, on the rooftops, lay a thin layer of the first snow of the year. It hadn’t yet had time to melt, for the sun was only just rising over Lasthold.

  But that wasn’t what concerned her.

  “I haven’t seen Kael at the Academy for almost two months…” the thought flashed through her mind. “Is everything alright with him?”

  Lissandra lowered her gaze to her palm. Making sure no one was watching, she slowly and carefully drew a thread of mana inward.

  A barely visible green haze appeared above her hand—thin, trembling, yet radiating a dangerously toxic aura.

  Her pupils quivered slightly. Her heart began to race.

  “He didn’t deceive me…” the realization surfaced quietly. “But I’m still not strong enough to reveal my awakened mana.”

  She closed her fingers, forcing the haze to dissipate.

  All that remained was a faint warmth in her palm—and a growing unease for the one who had vanished from sight, yet never for a moment left her thoughts.

  In the neighboring row sat another girl Kael had helped as well—Roselle. A whole circle of girls buzzed around her. The girls nearly talked over one another, leaning in with excitement.

  “Roselle, your power has grown so fast over the past two months!” one of them said, practically glowing. “Come on, tell us your secret!”

  “A secret?” another giggled. “Advice from a wealthy family and access to resources! Ha, ha, ha!”

  Roselle smiled softly, pretending to take part in the conversation, but for a moment her gaze slipped sideways—toward Lissandra. Her friends kept chattering, yet their words gradually faded into background noise.

  “The Canon of Magic Kael gave me… it’s incredible,” she noted to herself. “My progress has accelerated so much that even my parents… have finally deigned to notice me.”

  A faint, almost imperceptible satisfaction flickered in her eyes.

  She glanced at Lissandra again—the girl was still sitting by the window, lost in thought.

  “I wonder…” Roselle narrowed her eyes. “Whose Canon is stronger? Mine… or Lissandra’s?”

  But the moment Roselle caught herself thinking that, she immediately shook her head.

  “What am I even thinking? I shouldn’t be that petty, Roselle.”

  She exhaled, straightened her shoulders, and turned back to her friends, trying to restore a calm expression to her face.

  Yet somewhere deep beneath that calm, a sense of rivalry was already taking root. She wanted to prove that Kael’s help hadn’t been wasted on her.

  ? ? ?

  Kael wasn’t the subject of thoughts and discussion in just that classroom.

  In another wing of the Academy, in the upper-year dining hall, three of his classmates sat together: Lili—a girl with short pink hair—and the twins Bronan and Dronan. They ate calmly, paying little attention to the noise around them.

  But it was Lili who broke the quiet first.

  “I’m worried about Kael…” she said darkly, pushing her plate aside. “Before, he at least showed up for practical classes. But for the past two months he’s been skipping every class. What if he gets expelled from the Academy?”

  Bronan and Dronan exchanged glances—and burst out laughing at the same time.

  “Worry about yourself instead,” Bronan replied, leaning back in his chair. “There are rumors Kael’s on good terms with Aiden and Arnevir now.”

  “Yeah,” Dronan chimed in through a mouthful of food. “With friends like that, even if he gets expelled, he’ll be just fine.”

  “And his position in the Hall of Ancient Research…” Bronan added, lowering his voice as if speaking of something weighty. “That’s way beyond the level of an ordinary student.”

  “Aiden? How is that even possible?” Lili asked, frowning. “He’s Roselle’s fiancé… isn’t he?”

  Dronan snorted, sliding his empty plate aside.

  “No idea what happened between them,” he shrugged. “But apparently, Kael stopped talking to Roselle. In short… there’s no longer any reason for conflict between him and Aiden. They’re friends now.”

  Lili parted her lips, trying to process what she’d heard.

  “I can’t believe it…” she murmured. “Kael changed so fast that I didn’t even notice…”

  Dronan chuckled, squaring his shoulders.

  “That’s how it always goes with men, khe-he. Up to a certain point we’re whiny crybabies, and then—bam—we turn into brutal men.”

  Lili rolled her eyes.

  “Yeah, sure. I don’t see anything brutal about you—or about Kael.”

  Bronan snorted with laughter, while Dronan pretended to be mortally offended and lightly nudged Lili with his elbow.

  “Just wait. What if we’re secret geniuses, hiding our magnificent nature!”

  “Then you’re hiding it far too well,” Lili replied dryly.

  The twins laughed, but the worry in her eyes didn’t fade.

  ? ? ?

  And while rumors and speculation spread through the Academy, Kael himself thought neither of the Academy, nor of his lessons, nor—least of all—of possible expulsion.

  After that night of drinking, when Aiden and Arnevir learned the true extent of his development, the anxiety in Kael’s chest flared up with renewed force. He understood it was better not to delay—to become a Steel Mage as quickly as possible.

  He decided to pour all his strength and time into developing his magic.

  And he acted immediately.

  He even had to borrow money from Magister Duran—the sum was substantial, but there was no other choice. Kael also asked the old man for leave from the Hall of Ancient Research so he could focus entirely on training.

  To his surprise, Duran agreed without asking a single question. Without trying to learn the reason, without a hint of suspicion.

  He simply nodded, produced the money, signed the papers—and let him go.

  Kael immediately understood the reason for such strange behavior.

  The Canon of Magic Kael had slipped him had worked perfectly.

  The old man was so consumed by his own training that he barely noticed what was happening around him. Other people’s affairs no longer interested him—he lived solely for the growth of his power.

  After all this came two months that erased the very notion of an “ordinary life” for Kael. All that remained were harsh training—exhausting, structured as though he were preparing not for a breakthrough, but for war.

  Every day began the same way.

  He went to the training zone, drank improved mana elixirs, and followed by prolonged sessions of regrowing mana channels. And finally—training the Path of Silent Pillar, to hone his combat techniques and reinforce the “fresh” sections of his mana channels.

  When the elixirs ran out, he plunged into alchemy for several days to prepare more.

  A relentless cycle.

  ? ? ?

  At that moment, Kael was lying on the floor of the training room—right at the center of a magic circle whose lines glowed softly, drawing mana from the air and channeling it into the body of the one training inside.

  The room was saturated with warmth and a faint herbal scent—special incense meant to calm the mind.

  Sweat streamed down Kael’s face. Along his temples, his neck, his chest, over tense muscles—it ran downward and dripped onto the stone floor. The fabric of his shirt clung to his body, and his breathing was heavy, ragged.

  He gasped for air as if after a long run.

  It felt as though the constant absorption of mana and relentless physical training were changing his body faster than he could adapt. Every intake of mana stabbed into his internal channels, forcing them to expand and strengthen. Every strike, every movement of the Path of Silent Pillar drove his muscles to their limit, shaping a new body—tougher, more resilient, more enduring.

  The gauntness that had once made him angular and fragile was gradually disappearing.

  In its place, muscle began to emerge—not bulky, but dense, strong, well-defined. His arms had grown slightly broader, his shoulders firmer, his core steadier. Even his face seemed to have taken on more masculine lines.

  And, to Kael’s own surprise… he seemed a little taller.

  Kael had only just finished another cycle of grueling training.

  Turning his head, he spotted another empty mana elixir flask on the floor beside him. The glass glinted in the light of the magic circle, and Kael gave a weary smirk.

  “Damn… the last one’s gone…” he rasped.

  Bracing himself on his hands, he slowly pushed himself up and closed his eyes. Sweat ran down his temples, his chest rose and fell heavily, yet his mind was astonishingly clear. Kael guided his mana inward, scanning his body from within.

  And before his mind’s eye, a familiar image flared to life—like the root system of a tree.

  A vast, branching structure growing directly out of his mana core. From the region of his heart, channels spread—thick and thin, straight and winding, some resembling smooth metal pipes, others like living, flexible veins. They intertwined with his circulatory system, expanding and reinforcing it, forming a complex network.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Kael slowly traced each section with his mana, examining it in detail.

  “The Canon of Primordial Void, mana elixirs, and concentration pills are working miracles…” he noted. “I’ve grown nearly eighty percent of my mana channels.”

  But the satisfaction didn’t last—he felt a heaviness, a dragging resistance that had only begun to appear recently.

  “Lately, my progress has slowed… It seems my body has begun to adapt to the mana elixir, and its effectiveness has dropped. I need rest—and time for my tolerance to the active substances to decrease…”

  He opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and rose to his feet. His body trembled slightly from the strain, yet still obeyed him.

  “If I keep forcing it, I’ll only make things worse. This mana elixir formula will simply stop working on me…”

  Walking over to the table, Kael took a towel and began wiping the sweat from his face, neck, and chest.

  As he thought about the deadlines he’d set for himself, Kael involuntarily recalled Magister Duran.

  He wiped the last streak of sweat from his chest, and his gaze turned cold and calculating.

  “If Duran breaks through to the Jade Mage stage… I’ll be able to act more freely,” a quiet but firm voice passed through his thoughts. “If we break through around the same time… we can create a political counterweight to the Three Families. And after that—help Priscilla and the Academy Principal break through as well.”

  He froze for a second, letting his mind run through ways to accelerate his progress.

  “What could I come up with to reach the Steel Mage stage faster?”

  And his perfect memory effortlessly dredged up an ancient text—one that described a method practiced by a cruel yet powerful cult, a cult that treated its young disciples as nothing more than raw material and expendable resources.

  Kael frowned, then shook his head and quietly chuckled to himself.

  “The Sacrificial Heart Rite is too risky…” he muttered. “The chance of tearing my mana core apart and dying is far too high. I need to hurry… but not by those means.”

  He was about to head to the alchemy room to brew a new batch of mana elixirs. But after taking a step toward the door, he abruptly stopped, clicked his tongue, and said irritably:

  “Damn it… I’m out of ingredients too…”

  Kael froze for a moment, the irritation in his voice quickly giving way to cold focus. He didn’t even curse a second time—he simply lowered his gaze, letting his thoughts snap into a clear, orderly chain.

  “The ingredients are gone… which means I’ll have to go to the market. To my favorite supplier…” he exhaled inwardly, his lips twisting slightly.

  But that thought immediately pulled another after it—one far more important.

  “I’m almost at the Steel rank… If I’m already going to the market, I need to ask about the ingredients for spirit-summoning rituals. Depending on what’s available, I’ll finally be able to make a definitive choice.”

  He found himself thinking about it more and more, and just as often realizing—there was no point in dreaming of a specific spirit if he simply wouldn’t be able to obtain the ingredients to summon it. Each Spirit Realm required its own ritual, moreover, the ritual depended not only on the Realm itself, but also on the power and the specific subtype of spirit a mage intended to bind.

  Kael took a short breath, straightening his shoulders, and muttered:

  “Since I’m going to the market anyway, I should make myself presentable.”

  Without further thought, Kael pulled off his sweat-soaked shirt and stowed it away in his spatial ring.

  He draped a towel around his neck and headed for the exit of the training room.

  The door creaked as it let him out.

  But the moment he stepped past the threshold, a sharp blast of cold air struck his face. Goosebumps instantly rippled across his bare chest, and the reflected light from the snow made him squint.

  “It snowed?” he blurted out.

  A fresh, thin layer of snow covered the courtyard—the first of the year. It hadn’t yet melted or turned to slush, and so it looked clean, crisp, neatly blanketing the stone slabs.

  The cold cut to the bone, yet for some reason Kael found the change almost pleasant.

  Bare-chested, he jogged quickly to the washbasins. Gritting his teeth, he scooped up icy water with his hands and splashed it over his chest and face. The cold bit into his skin, but Kael only let out a sharp breath—and then couldn’t help smiling.

  “That’s freezing!” he shouted, instinctively contorting his face from the sudden shock.

  He wiped himself down with the towel, rubbing his shoulders and arms until his skin reddened from the rush of blood. After a few seconds, the cold stopped biting quite so hard.

  Finishing quickly, Kael turned and ran back toward the training room before the snow could start clinging to his bare feet.

  Along the way, he clearly noticed the changes in his body. He had become far more resilient.

  “My body’s grown much sturdier…” he noted inwardly. “Even the cold is much easier to endure…”

  He stepped back into the training room, and the warmth that had accumulated during the night’s training wrapped around him gently.

  Kael dressed quickly, threw on his thick, dark cloak, and stored all his belongings in one of his spatial rings. When he straightened and turned toward the exit, his thoughts naturally returned to what had truly occupied his mind these past days.

  The choice of a suitable spirit.

  That very decision would define his path in the years ahead.

  “The spirits I’m considering are quite powerful… They won’t agree to short-term contracts. “Which means I need to think everything through carefully…”

  Kael narrowed his eyes for a moment and muttered:

  “I assume the minimum term would be ten years. I won’t be able to break the contract and change spirits for at least ten years, so…”

  He closed his eyes for only an instant—and his perfect memory immediately drew up from the depths of his consciousness the scholarly names of the spirits he was considering:

  “Wispgenus, Serpedes, Chronumbra, and Cestus…”

  Four images flared before his inner vision, as if someone had unfurled an illustrated scroll.

  Wispgenus—a pure, shimmering sphere of golden light. A thin healing mist drifted around it, flowing with soft shades of white and green. Even the mental image alone evoked a sense of warmth and restoration.

  Serpedes—a long, rust-colored centipede covered in spines. It writhed, leaving behind a corrosive trail that slowly ate away at everything around it. The image radiated poison, corrosion, and destruction.

  Chronumbra—a miniature, twisted tree. Its branches were so dense that they let through not even a hint of light, creating a pitch-black, unnatural shadow. Silence emanated from it—oppressive, viscous, yet strangely alluring.

  And finally—Cestus, better known among common folk as the Sky Devourer.

  An enormous gray fish, its body long, flexible, and grotesque. A fanged maw stretched across its entire underside—from the very head to the tail, splitting its body in two. It looked as though it could split itself open and draw any prey inside.

  Each of them was powerful. Each was compatible with Kael in terms of affinity. But each required entirely different rituals and ingredients.

  And his choice depended not only on personal preference, but on what could realistically be found in Lasthold.

  Kael opened his eyes.

  “All right…” he murmured softly. “I’m overthinking things again. Time to go to the market.”

  With that, he stepped toward the exit, casting aside the useless thoughts.

  Stepping out onto the cold street, Kael pulled up his hood, but even the thick cloak didn’t fully protect him from the gusting wind. Snow crunched softly beneath his boots. The cold was pleasantly invigorating—to his body.

  But his thoughts continued to churn, refusing to let Kael fully quiet his restless mind.

  “Each of them could give me the maximum power at my current level…” he reflected, step by step moving deeper into a snow-covered alley. “Regeneration, decay, shadow, or attraction… These specializations would give me an overwhelming advantage.”

  He slowly exhaled a plume of steam.

  “Will I be able to perform the ritual? And… will they even be willing to form a contract with me?”

  High-tier spirits did not answer summons lightly. Even the most neutral spirit would never enter a contract with someone it deemed unworthy.

  Kael turned the corner, his feet carrying him automatically along a familiar path—down the street, past the shops, toward the noisy market district.

  His silhouette soon vanished around the bend, lost among houses, shop signs, and the first winter freshness of Lasthold.

  ? ? ?

  The sun was climbing higher, and the first snow gradually melted beneath its warmth. Narrow streams of water ran down the stones, gathering in gutters along the road. They murmured softly—a gentle sound only occasionally broken by merchants’ shouts and the noise of the crowd.

  At that moment, the market Kael often frequented was just as lively, buzzing with voices and shouts.

  And despite his “dirty” line of work, the Swindler stood in his usual spot as if nothing were amiss. His stall was lined with neatly arranged vials, set out with meticulous care.

  The Swindler waved his arms energetically in front of two young men and, wearing the most honest smile in the world, proclaimed:

  “Really… I just need money urgently! That’s why I’m giving such a big discount. Believe me—these are first-rate elixirs!”

  The young men exchanged glances, clearly doubtful. One of them had already taken an awkward step back.

  Then a calm voice with a hint of mockery came from nearby:

  “And would you sell to me as well? If the discount is that generous, it seems worth buying.”

  The Swindler spun around sharply—and saw Kael.

  He stood there with his usual calm expression, a slight smile on his lips, as if watching an amusing performance.

  The Swindler clicked his tongue, frowned, and muttered through clenched teeth:

  “Here to scare off my customers, are you?”

  Kael merely spread his hands, smiling wider.

  “Relax. I’ll more than make up for your losses.”

  The young men, who had been listening to the Swindler with skepticism, immediately found a reason to disappear—mumbling something awkwardly, they hurried off.

  “Hey! Wai—” the Swindler shouted, waving a hand. “Damn it!”

  He exhaled irritably… then fixed his gaze back on Kael, as if on the source of both his troubles—and his income.

  The Swindler let out a noisy breath, then quickly put his familiar impudent grin back in place. He snorted, as if resigning himself to fate, and said:

  “So—same as usual?”

  Kael shook his head.

  “Not quite.” He pulled out a sheet of paper he had prepared in advance. “Along with the standard list of ingredients, I need to ask about the availability of these.”

  He handed over the sheet.

  The Swindler lazily reached out, but the moment the paper touched his fingers, his gaze sharpened noticeably. He raised an eyebrow.

  “Something new…”

  He unfolded the sheet and began to read.

  At first, interest flickered in his eyes. Then—faint surprise. And after a few seconds, his brows drew together more and more tightly, merging into a single thin line of pure skepticism.

  He finished reading, snorted, and lifted his gaze to Kael.

  “You got enough coin for all this, kid?” he asked with outright disbelief, shaking the sheet. “Half of this isn’t easy to obtain, and the other half…” He glanced at the words again. “I’ve never seen this stuff in my life.”

  Without changing his expression, Kael extended another sheet toward the Swindler.

  “Here’s a more detailed description of each ingredient,” he said calmly. “I read the names in ancient books, so the modern ones may differ. You might be able to identify them from the descriptions.”

  The Swindler took the second sheet far more carefully than the first. He skimmed a couple of lines… and his lips immediately twisted.

  “Hm…” he muttered, frowning more deeply. “There are ingredients on this list that are illegal to sell. Sorry, but I won’t be able to hand those over to you directly. I wouldn’t dare bring stuff like that to the market.”

  Kael tilted his head slightly, catching the hint.

  “But… there’s always a way around it. Right?”

  The Swindler gave him a pointed look, then slowly nodded.

  “If you really need all this…” he lowered his voice, glancing around to make sure no one was listening, “you’ll have to deal with people far more… serious than me.”

  He tapped the list with his finger.

  “Some of these items can only be obtained in wild, deadly zones beyond Lasthold’s guarded territory. So be ready to pay a hefty sum.”

  Kael understood immediately what he meant.

  Or rather—whom he meant.

  Inside, a cold, clear voice rose in his mind:

  “I definitely won’t be able to get all of this legally… It seems the time has finally come to get personally acquainted with the shadow side of Lasthold. Especially since they’ve been trying to establish contact with me for some time now.”

  Kael gave a short, confident nod.

  “I’m willing to meet.”

  The Swindler’s eyes lit up with satisfaction. He rubbed his hands together, as if he’d been waiting for those words for a long time.

  “Well, finally…” he drawled with a hoarse chuckle. “My elders have already started leaning on me, khe-he…”

  But the very next second, his face turned sharply serious. He leaned forward, lowering his voice:

  “But arranging a meeting isn’t that simple. Even if not too closely watched…” he grimaced, “the Three Families’ hounds are keeping an eye on you.”

  Kael nodded almost imperceptibly. That, he understood perfectly.

  “What’s your proposal?” he asked calmly.

  The Swindler carefully tucked both sheets into a hidden pocket of his shirt, then lifted his gaze back to Kael.

  “I’ll speak with the elders,” he said in an entirely different tone. “When your usual ingredients are ready… I’ll hand them over, along with the information you need.”

  Kael didn’t drag out the conversation. He simply nodded.

  “Agreed.”

  He turned and walked away calmly—toward his home, through the gradually melting snow, beneath the noise of the market, already lost in its usual chaos.

  And the Swindler… followed him with his gaze for just a moment.

  Then, in an instant, his face slipped back into the familiar expression of a loud, irritating merchant.

  “Hey, young man! Yes, you! Come here, come here! Only today—mana elixirs at the price of water! Don’t miss your chance!”

  He waved his arms, smiled, called out loudly to customers—as if the conversation with Kael had never happened at all.