Chas strode ahead of me through the tower's endless hallways, pausing at each intersection to squint at wall markers like they were ancient hieroglyphics. Identical corridors stretched in every direction, and I'd lost sight of the atrium approximately three geological ages ago.

  "Are you sure we're on the seventh floor?" The walls blurred together in mind-numbing repetition, each turn leading us deeper into this architectural nightmare.

  "I've been to half a dozen worlds more complicated than this tower." Chas squared his shoulders with wounded pride. "Trust me, we're on the seventh floor."

  "This is the twelfth."

  The voice behind us sent my pulse into orbit. I spun to find Gary standing there, looking like he'd materialized from thin air. .

  "How the hell do you keep doing that?" I snapped, voice bouncing off the walls with accusatory echoes.

  Gary's lips curved upward in what might have been amusement if he were capable of human emotion. It was really hard to tell. "I wanted to see how long it would take the Blackwood to ask for help. But as expected, his stubbornness is the stuff of legend." He gestured to a doorway that materialized beside him—in a wall I swore had been solid moments ago. "This way, please."

  The moment we stepped onto the seventh floor, everything changed; it was like walking into a different universe. Mana pressed against my skin, thick enough to taste—electric and alive. Stark hallways gave way to plush carpets that muffled our footsteps. Warm light spilled from ornate fixtures, casting everything in liquid gold. The scent of jasmine and ancient paper filled my lungs like breathing history itself.

  Hunters moved between rooms, their voices a constant murmur through the walls—the sound of people who belonged here, who knew what they were doing.

  My eyes struggled to adjust to the brightness, sending spots dancing across my vision like drunken fireflies.

  “You have permission to stay in the tower for the week before the Grand Tournament,” Gary said, pressing a cold silver bracelet into my palm. "This will allow you to return to this floor from anywhere in the Tower, provided you have enough mana to feed into it. Your room is number 121."

  I turned to thank him—and caught empty air. The space where Gary had stood was now occupied by absolutely nothing.

  Typical.

  "A week until the Grand Tournament," I muttered, running my thumb over the bracelet's smooth surface. "If I place in the top five, I get to stay and go to Sylvarus. If not, I get thrown into the Multiverse and left to figure out my existence. This world sucks."

  "Yup!" Chas pulled a pack from what I assumed was his Mana Sanctum and dug out a flask that looked like it had seen better decades. "That's why I try not to be on it as much as possible."

  "What are my chances?" The metal bracelet warmed against my skin.

  Chas paused with the flask halfway to his mouth, expression turning serious. "Much better if we can get your Seal properly bound." He took a long drink.

  "Wait—for the Tournament or going through a portal?"

  "Same for both." The liquid sloshed as he shrugged. "We've got a lot of work to do, either way. The best part is that Maris broke so many treaties and laws, we can basically do whatever the fuck we want to get you Tournament ready. Sometimes politics actually work."

  I held out my hand for the flask. "Wouldn't that piss someone off? Special treatment for something I basically started just by existing here?"

  "Kid, everyone gets special treatment." He scoffed, passing me the flask and flicking my earring with casual disrespect. "Especially you. Now we just get to be flagrant about it."

  "A week's not a long time," I muttered, approaching room 121. The flask's contents hit my tongue, and I nearly choked on liquid fire. "This is fucking whiskey!"

  Chas snatched the flask back, eyes darting down the hallway like a paranoid smuggler. "Keep it down. Maris may have driven a boat onto the island, but her people are still merchants, and they brought at least twenty boats of supplies."

  "One minute you're beating the shit out of each other, the next you're bartering over booze?"

  "That's Ark, kid!" He threw open the door with theatrical flair.

  The room stretched wider than expected—spacious enough to actually breathe in. A bed lined one wall, flanked by a writing desk and what looked like a compositor. A meditation mat spread across the floor like an invitation to enlightenment.

  But Red's massive form already occupied the bed, his red fur stark against pristine white sheets. He lifted his head as we entered, then bounded over with the enthusiasm of someone who'd been waiting forever, nose twitching toward Chas's pack with laser focus.

  Chas dropped into the desk chair with a protesting creak. "You said a week isn't a lot of time, but I'll be fucked if you haven't done more Runebinding in one week than most manage in years. You've found a path, and now we just get to push you down it at breakneck speed. Maris has a week to gather combatants. Plus, you'll be fighting in the Seeker bracket if we can get your Seal bound. You've got a real shot."

  "Diana mentioned prizes for the top three. Any idea what they are? I just want to place so I can stay... but..."

  Chas's laugh filled the room like thunder. "Who can say no to prizes? I may have zoned out when they went over everything, but the grand prize is—get this—Maris's fucking boat."

  A low whistle escaped my lips. "Bet she didn't like that."

  "Absolutely not. That's why she's going to stack the Tournament with heavy hitters. She thinks she's in the right, and this is how it'll get settled."

  My fingers sank into Red's fur as I scratched behind his ears, mind racing. "I want the boat."

  Chas's grin widened to predatory proportions. "Damn right you do." His eyes flicked down to my empty hands, then shifted to Red. "Uh... collect your Mana Beast and let's go meet a friend."

  The lobby hit my senses with familiar intensity—polished marble paths winding through a contained jungle, the stark boundary between civilization and wilderness that shouldn't coexist but somehow did. Damp earth and tangled vines filled the air, ancient columns disappearing into the canopy while unseen creatures stirred in the foliage. The air was misty from the massive waterfall behind the tower, creating a perpetual sense of being inside a living postcard.

  Red's claws clicked against stone as we passed the Customs desk. The Vildar receptionist's wary look lasted exactly three seconds before melting into undisguised adoration. She barely glanced at me while reaching under the desk for a handful of crackers, which Red accepted with predictable enthusiasm and zero shame.

  "This is how it starts, kid," Chas grinned, watching the receptionist practically melt. "You'll have him running the tower by the end of the week."

  We descended massive alabaster steps, the Tower's weight behind us pressing down as we moved deeper into the jungle. Now that I was more attuned to mana, I could feel something heavy in the air—like there was more to this Lobby than I could simply see, layers of reality stacked on top of each other.

  "Your familiar is really interesting," Chas mused, his boots echoing off marble with rhythmic precision.

  "Diana mentioned dogs like him are extinct... or close to it anyway." I watched Red trot ahead, tail swaying with complete confidence in his place in the world.

  "Well, yeah, that's weird enough. But what did he do with that Spirit Steel dagger?" Excitement crept into Chas's voice like he was describing the greatest magic trick ever performed. "That was something else entirely. With a single sound, he removed its purpose. He didn't destroy it—he unmade it. That's some next-level mana manipulation that would make Grand Masters jealous. I've seen Beast Kings pull off crazy shit, but that? That one's way up there. You sure he's not a Beast Lord?" He punctuated the thought with another pull from his flask.

  I exhaled, glancing at Red with new appreciation. "Yeah, I'm thinking there's more to him than just being a dog." The path opened onto a sprawling courtyard that felt like stepping into a pocket of civilization. "But he sure acts like every dog I've ever known, so maybe that's just what dogs with mana are like."

  A small crowd had gathered in the courtyard's center, forming a loose circle around two figures. An Albinus Vildar in flowing green robes circled a Gaian man like a predator sizing up prey, his staff tapping against the ground as he gave instructions. His voice carried across the space with clear, commanding composure.

  "You see here—the combatant is ready for a strike. Anything I can produce, he can actively react to." The staff cut through the air in a deliberate arc, precise and controlled. The Gaian's foot snapped up to block, bracing against the blow with textbook form.

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  "But what if the strike wasn't my intention?" The Vildar shifted his weight forward with fluid grace. The Gaian stumbled, caught completely off guard, and in a single smooth motion, the Vildar swept his legs out from under him.

  "This is important when engaging with monsters," the instructor continued as his opponent hit the ground. "Do not simply strike your opponent. You must overwhelm them. Do not let your ego stop at a single attack, no matter how skilled you may think you are."

  The crowd murmured as they processed the lesson, but I was transfixed. The way his strikes flowed into each other sent a familiar itch of fascination crawling under my skin. I leaned forward, drawn to the pure efficiency. Bravery hummed in the back of my mind while Red sat beside me, his tail thumping lazily as passersby cooed at him like he was the star of the show.

  As the crowd dispersed, Chas nudged me forward. "I've heard you fight like the Vildar do. This is Jeremy Sky—or Master Skyshatter if you piss him off. He'll—"

  "No shit." The words escaped before I could stop them. "It's actually Jeremy! We keep missing each other at Doreen's."

  Jeremy's eyes swept over me with calculating intensity, his staff planted firmly beside him like an extension of his arm. "Yes, my wife has told me much about you, Breaker."

  My brain stuttered like a broken record. Wife? Doreen? She'd never mentioned being married to anyone, let alone this martial arts master. I honestly had thought Jeremy was some sort of inside joke.

  Jeremy didn't linger on my confusion. "Charles has asked me to teach you about the martial side of your spell," he said, studying me with a quiet intensity that made me feel like a specimen under a microscope. "Bravery, is it?"

  Chas's face twisted at the full use of his name, but I nodded. Jeremy stepped closer, tapping me lightly with his staff—a gentle probe that somehow felt like a test.

  "I also have Valor," I added quickly. "But it's a Seal, and I can't really use it without running out of mana. It doesn't seem to want to turn off."

  "You're binding Bravery now, yes?"

  I barely managed a nod before danger screamed through my mind like an air-raid siren.

  Instinct took over. My body twisted as Jeremy's staff blurred downward with lethal intent. Mana drained from me in a rush, but the air here was thick with it, feeding back into my pathways even as it pulled away.

  Jeremy moved like flowing water, his staff cutting through the air in impossibly quick strikes—one at my head, one at my legs. The wood whistled with enough force to make my ears ring and my bones ache in sympathy.

  Bravery propelled me into each dodge, but every movement cost me precious energy. Jeremy's speed was absolutely relentless, inhuman. Then he froze—just for a second. His wrist snapped, and the staff shot toward me like a throwing star, spinning horizontally in a deadly arc that would have taken my head clean off.

  Bravery screamed at me to back up, but Jeremy was already there, gliding into the space where I would have dodged with supernatural anticipation. The staff missed my shoulder by a breath before landing perfectly in his outstretched hand like a bizarre boomerang. My momentum carried me straight toward him like a moth to a flame.

  He pressed forward with renewed intensity. Each strike faster than the last. The staff became a blur, testing, probing, seeking weaknesses. Bravery struggled to keep up with the sheer precision of his attacks, but at no point was it overwhelmed like when I had fought Erik.

  A pattern emerged through the chaos—subtle, but there. I spun on my heel, and Chas tossed me a staff that I caught and swung behind my head—intercepting Jeremy's next strike. The impact rattled my bones as he pressed down before sweeping low again. I jumped forward, barely avoiding the strike as I spun to face him.

  Jeremy stilled, sharp eyes locked onto mine with laser focus. Like a physical force, the weight of his presence settled over me, but I didn’t move. The world narrowed to just his movements. The courtyard, the murmurs of the crowd, even Red—everything else faded into background noise.

  Then I saw it. A tell. His left ear twitched.

  The attack came from the right—low and fast. I knocked it aside, but the movement was a feint. The real strike slammed into my knee, sending pain flaring through my leg like liquid fire. I stumbled but thrust forward in desperation, aiming for his center.

  Jeremy leapt back, just out of reach, teeth flashing in something that might have been approval.

  "You have excellent pattern recognition, Breaker," he said, voice steady despite our violent exchange. "This is not the first time you've sparred with someone better. You recognize attack patterns, so you react accordingly. But..." He tilted his head like a curious bird. "You rely too much on your aura to react. It provides too few openings to go on the offensive."

  I let out a breathless laugh, still rubbing my throbbing knee. "Yeah, I've noticed."

  Chas leaned against a nearby pillar, looking far too amused by my pain. "So, you think you can train him in a week?"

  Jeremy studied me for a long moment before resting his staff against the ground with finality. "I can certainly try."

  "Jeremy knows what he’s talking about. You need to take more control. You can’t just let Courage push you around like that," Chas said as we pushed through the jungle's undergrowth. Jeremy had agreed to morning training sessions, but Chas seemed more interested in unlearning half of what I'd figured out so far.

  "It's a good spell, a lot like mine," he continued, ducking under a branch with practiced ease. "But you're forgetting what makes it actually work."

  I swatted a vine away from my face. "What's that?"

  "Radiance, right? What does it actually do?"

  I stopped walking, heat creeping up my neck as the obvious answer eluded me. "You know, I think that's the aura part. But it's just... light, right?"

  “Nah, think about the meaning of the word; you’re not . You’re giving off Bravery. That’s how auras work; some figure out runes that externalize their spirit.”

  I let out a dry laugh. “That’s… surprisingly insightful, damn. I really need to get to Sylvarus and learn more about... everything.”

  "Well, start with this. What happens if you try to combine Radiance with Compassion? Courage is great and all, but to really master your Seal, you need to know how they all work together like a symphony."

  I contemplated that in silence until the trees thinned as we approached a familiar stretch of river—the same spot where I'd first encountered Lagniappe. Sunlight dappled the water, casting shifting patterns across the stones beneath like nature's own light show.

  "Finally! I've been waiting for hours."

  Cass was perched on a rock at the water's edge, feet dangling in the current like she belonged there. Red bounded toward her the moment he saw her, tail whipping as he tried to lick her face with his usual zero-chill approach. She held him off with one arm, laughing as he wriggled against her grip.

  Chas shot me a look, but I jumped in first. "Chas got us lost in the Tower."

  "I did not get us lost," Chas protested with wounded dignity, but his indignation only made Cass smirk wider.

  "Yeah, that tracks," she said with savage satisfaction. "So, why exactly have I been waiting out here all night?"

  Chas laid out everything—the Grand Tournament, my chance to stay on Ark, and the grand prize boat that was apparently now up for grabs.

  Cass's mouth fell open like I'd announced I was secretly a dragon. "They'll let you stay? After all that? I was... well..." She hesitated, gaze flicking between us with uncertainty.

  I reached out to help her up, even though we both knew she didn't need it. "We get to break some rules to train for the tournament, apparently."

  "You're still my apprentice, Cassie," Chas added, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "So the offer's there for you too. I know you're all about making your own path, though, so I'm not holding my breath."

  "Fuck that." Cass's voice cracked like a whip. "I just watched a boat the size of a small mountain rip through my home. I'm going to take the gods-damned thing from her. My mom would love that."

  I glanced at Chas, who looked as stunned as I felt by the sudden venom in her voice.

  "Well, it's about time," he said, grinning with genuine pride. "Have you seen Lagniappe?"

  "He got tired of waiting for you and left." Cass rolled her eyes with theatrical exasperation. "For a Mana Beast, he's got more patience than most people I know."

  Chas groaned, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Fine. Follow me."

  We walked along the river, the jungle breathing around us—leaves rustling, birds calling, water lapping against the banks in nature's percussion section. Bravery hummed in the back of my mind, but for the first time in ages, everything felt simple. Despite the cosmic weight hanging over my head, this moment was peaceful.

  "You remember what the Lobby is, right, Cassie?" Chas broke through the quiet.

  Cass glanced his way. "You said it was something like a spirit realm but tied to the Tower."

  "Anchored," Chas corrected. "But close enough. This one's particularly interesting because it has so many layers. There are countless others attached. We're looking for another one. If we had Lagniappe, it would be much easier."

  The jungle grew wilder with each step, branches reaching across our path like grasping fingers. The river widened, its gentle flow shifting into a deep, rushing current that spoke of hidden depths.

  "Well, it's about damn time," a familiar voice called from behind us.

  I turned as golden fur broke through the water's surface like a submarine surfacing. Lagniappe rose from the river, water streaming off his coat in impossible cascades. His sharp eyes swept over us before settling on Red with obvious recognition.

  "Oh, now there's somethin' you don't see every day," Lagniappe murmured, lowering his head toward Red with something approaching respect. "Glad to see you're still kickin', Cher."

  Red's ears perked, tail swaying slowly in response.

  "What took you so long, Charles?" Lagniappe's tone dripped with sarcasm thick enough to drown in.

  "Oh, he got lost," Cass jumped in, flashing a wicked grin that could have lit up the jungle.

  Lagniappe's deep chuckle rolled over us like distant thunder. "Oh yeah, that tracks."

  A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "Wait—you know him?" I gestured to Red.

  "Naw, wouldn't say I know him," Lagniappe drawled. "But I've heard of your friend there. He's been on the island for a good while, is all. “I didn’t think we'd ever see him in here.”

  I patted Red's side, filing that information away for later analysis. "Good to know."

  "So, where exactly are we going?"

  "Well, we've got to get Cass sorted with her Seal." Chas's casual tone didn't match the tension building in his shoulders. "And we need to stabilize yours. So... Nana and I are going to break a few rules."

  "By a few, Charles means most of them, Cher." Lagniappe's grin revealed sharp teeth that promised trouble. "And you just walked right past it."

  He nodded across the river at what looked like a clean slice through the treeline.

  The cut was subtle—a perfectly straight corridor through a dense jungle that definitely hadn't been there before. We waded across the river; the water reaching my waist and threatening to sweep me downstream. How Lagniappe had submerged his massive frame earlier remained a mystery for the ages.

  As we approached, something shifted in the air like reality sneezing. Halfway down the tree corridor, a blue glow pulsed faintly, accompanied by a low buzz I felt in my teeth and bones.

  "You'll want these." Chas pulled two armor boxes from nowhere with casual disregard for physics.

  Cass and I exchanged looks, her concern mirroring mine perfectly.

  "We're going a little deeper into the tower," he added with a grin that did nothing to ease my nerves. "Gary won't let an initiate in without armor, Acolyte or not."

  We suited up quickly, the familiar weight of the armor settling over me like an old friend.

  "Good luck." Lagniappe's golden eyes glinted with amusement as he sank beneath the river's surface, leaving only ripples and ominous implications behind.

  We approached the swirling portal. The energy had taken shape now, a luminous blue field stretching across the corridor, thrumming like a cosmic heartbeat that promised either adventure or death.

  "Oh, great." I clenched my fists, adrenaline spiking. "So far? Haven't met a portal I like."

  "Want me to throw you through? For old times’ sake?" Chas clapped my shoulder with way too much enthusiasm.

  Cass rolled her eyes but stepped forward with him. They vanished the moment they touched the swirling surface, disappearing like they'd never existed.

  Red and I stood alone before the portal. It didn't cast light—it just existed, humming with a quiet menace that made my skin itch.

  I glanced down at Red. He tilted his head, ears flicking forward. His uncertainty mirrored mine perfectly, but Bravery wouldn't let me back down from whatever cosmic misfortune this portal was bringing with it.

  I took a deep breath, tasting electricity. "Here we go," I muttered, stepping into the blue.