After a few practice rounds with Beth, Kor drew a steady breath as he waited on the call to change partners. He’d bested Beth using just two snowflake barriers and a few basic mana orbs, keeping his real explosive spell in reserve. Master Terrak would likely recognise his deception, since all the professors had ridiculously high levels of mana control and sensitivity. However, his volatile design would look generic enough to evade the other students’ suspicion. Plus, he didn’t think their teacher would give away his secrets.

  Terrak barked for them to switch partners, his commanding voice slicing through the hum of residual energy in the air. This was the moment Kor was waiting for. He barely suppressed a grin as he stepped forward to face Teneth Tatharion.

  The young Solarian stood too straight, a smug tilt to his chin that spoke of unshakeable confidence. “Ready for another beating, Lexican?” Teneth’s words were silk over steel, his grey eyes glinting with disdain.

  “We’ll see.” Kor forced his tone to remain neutral, his features schooled into a calm mask. Every inch of him bristled against the taunt, but he wanted to witness the look of shock on the boy’s face as his new spell took him down a notch.

  They faced off in the centre of the training room, a dozen paces apart. The polished floor glowed faintly from embedded mana lines, casting soft reflections that danced as they prepared their spells. A faint tang of ozone hung in the air, the aftermath of earlier duels. Terrak raised a hand, his steel-grey eyes flicking between them. “Begin!”

  Kor’s barrier flared into existence, a shimmering fractal snowflake that hummed with layered precision. Opposite him, Teneth conjured a torrent of Frozen Flame, its icy blue cores shot through with crimson streaks that hissed and crackled as they erupted into the air.

  Kor didn’t wait. He surged forward, his boots pounding against the stone. His breaths came fast, and the weight he carried still slowed him, but adrenaline narrowed his focus. The world around him blurred as he pushed ahead.

  Teneth’s flames smashed into his barrier with a deafening roar, the impact sending shuddering vibrations through Kor’s arms. He braced, the fractal structure cracking but holding fast. Teneth’s spell was stronger than last time they’d fought, but Kor’s shield withstood the onslaught just long enough for him to angle it and deflect the energy to the sides.

  Teneth’s brows lifted in surprise, the flicker of overconfidence on his face dimming. As Kor hurtled closer, the Solarian retreated, drawing energy into a second wave. The surrounding air shimmered with frost as his next gout of flames coalesced, ready to strike.

  Kor grinned, a fierce determination igniting within him. He hurled a quick mana sphere, not to break Teneth’s barrier, but to disrupt his rhythm. The glowing orb splashed harmlessly against the Solarian’s shield, but the delay was enough. In Kor’s mind, the small yet complicated fractal formed, jagged edges growing and locking into place as he primed it to cast.

  Another burst of Frozen Flames roared toward him, the frost singeing the air. Kor’s barrier surged forward, his mana flooding into the construct until the snowflake pattern blazed with reinforced power. The shield trembled under the assault of icy-fire, but Kor kept moving, closing the distance between them as he pushed through the flames with his snowflake.

  Teneth’s smug expression fractured as he registered Kor’s sudden proximity. The Solarian’s eyes widened, his hands already weaving another spell, but too late. Kor thrust his palm forward, and threads of pure mana crystallised at the foot of Teneth’s barrier, forming the seed of his fractal bomb. He poured power into the construct, feeling it hunger for more.

  The geometric pattern began to replicate, each iteration spawning dozens more, hundreds more, thousands more. The construct strained against his control, like an avalanche threatening to break free at any moment. He leaped backward, summoning his snowflake barrier just as Teneth’s desperate flames crashed against it.

  The pattern’s growth reached critical mass, tearing free of Kor’s grasp like a star breaking its chains.

  The explosion blinded him instantly. A thunderclap of raw power flooded the room as the fractal bomb detonated, sending bolts of crystallised mana in all directions. They bounced off the walls with frightening force, leaving brief trails of light in their wake. Kor’s barrier absorbed the worst of it, though hairline fractures spread across its surface like cracks in thin ice. The air filled with a thick haze of spent power, carrying the sharp scent of discharged mana.

  As the magical haze dissipated, it revealed Teneth’s crumpled form yards away. His protective badge pulsed a defeated gold, its surface marred by tiny cracks—testament to how close the sheer power of the blast.

  “Winner, Kor!” Terrak’s announcement rang out, and the room erupted into murmurs of disbelief and astonishment.

  Teneth scrambled to his knees, his face an open tableau of outrage and humiliation as he looked up at Kor. He clenched his fists, his body trembling with the effort to maintain composure. His elder brother, Kelleth, approached with a dark expression, leaning down close to murmur something that only deepened Teneth’s glare.

  Kor exhaled, his grin breaking through unbidden. Beth rushed forward, her bright laughter cutting through the tension. “Wow, Kor! I’m glad you didn’t use that against me.”

  She gave his arm a playful nudge, and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s still a work in progress,” he admitted. “But you only get to surprise people once.”

  Terrak’s heavy boots thudded against the floor as he approached. “Decent effort,” he said, his sharp eyes raking over Kor. “But your mana control was sloppy. You spent almost as much energy containing your spell as you did on the actual explosion. Try to find a more efficient method to contain the blast before it’s ready and you’ll have a devastating move on your hands.”

  “Yes, Master Terrak.” Kor inclined his head, relief and pride flickering through him.

  “And,” Terrak said, eyeing him critically, “if you have to rely on getting close, you’ll need to work on your stamina. Extra laps. Every morning. Starting next week.”

  Kor groaned, earning a chuckle from Willem, who had joined the growing crowd. “The reward for good work is always more work.”

  Kor couldn’t help but laugh. “You can say that again.”

  It wasn’t likely he’d be able to land such a solid attack again. Now that people had seen what his spell could do, they would stay on the move—unless he found a way to attach it to them or cast it at the last moment. But revealing his new trump card was worth it.

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  Across the room, Teneth’s glare burned like a storm-cloud on the verge of breaking. Kor met it briefly, letting a small smirk linger before turning away. By the time the group began dispersing, plans for relaxation filled the chatter. But Kor’s mind stayed on tomorrow, the promise of electives, and the credits that would define his future.

  The next day began with Fundamentals of Mana, diving straight into the practical applications of sensitivity. The lesson wove through the various techniques a skilled practitioner could employ: detecting a spellcaster’s unique mana signature, recognising the elemental affinities in a spell, even predicting the direction and intent of a cast before it finished. Terra’s passion for the material was infectious, even if she was as blunt as a hammer when addressing slackers.

  Balancing the distinct elements of spellcasting practice was proving challenging, to say the least. He’d made steady progress sensing, clearing away the blockages from his body, but was still far from completing the work. There was still mana control, sensitivity, gathering practice, combat practice, developing new spells, researching fractals, learning what other students were capable of, improving his barrier, and countless other topics. All of them vied for his precious time, and that was even before the increased workload from their electives.

  In the quiet moments of Terra’s lecture, Kor stole quick conversations with Lena. Despite his current credit predicament, he decided not to bother her with his troubles. Their topic of choice? The recent Occlune, an event that held special significance for Lena.

  “It’s one of the few times Netharians feel truly at ease here.” Her smooth, melodic voice carried a gentle reverence. “The dark is... comforting, in a way. No double suns, no relentless light.”

  Kor couldn’t quite relate—Lexica’s subdued skies rarely offered such extremes—but he could tell the event meant something profound to her. She’d spent the entire day in secluded meditation, as was customary among her people.

  The chime rang out, signalling the end of class. Most students were quick to file out, their chatter echoing in the wide stone halls. Kor and Lena lingered, the last to gather their belongings, and surprised to find Terra waiting for them at the doorway.

  “Meta-casting is next,” Terra said, falling in step with them as they headed outside. “You two eager?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice even but carrying an undertone of excitement. “I’ve only just started developing my specialisation... but we’re not going to have to tell the rest of the class about our abilities, are we?”

  Terra laughed, a sharp and lively sound that turned a few heads in the bustling hallway. “No, I wouldn’t advise telling anyone the true nature of your magic. But,” she said as they weaved past a swarm of students, “we will practise together. Learning a bit about each other’s abilities is a given.”

  Lena nodded, her violet eyes thoughtful, while Kor seized the opportunity to ask a pressing question. “Is there a way to earn extra credits in classes? I need every edge I can get.”

  Terra’s fiery amber gaze softened, her sharp features briefly tinged with sympathy. “I heard about what happened, Kor. Unfortunate, to say the least.”

  Lena cast him a curious glance, but said nothing.

  “As for extra credits, not many options this early in the term. But it’s good to see you eager. Too many Lexicans drop out early, yet some of the finest magical researchers come from your world.”

  “Oh...” Kor muttered, feeling a flicker of pride and pressure all at once.

  The throng of students parted, spilling into different corridors. Terra, however, stopped at the edge of their path, a sly grin forming as she turned to face them.

  “I do have a proposition for the pair of you.”

  Lena tilted her head, curiosity glimmering in her gaze. Kor leaned forward, heart quickening.

  “I’m a new professor here,” Terra said, “and I find myself in need of capable assistants. Perhaps even mentees, if you prove yourselves. The role would mean a few hours each week at my spire, assisting with experiments and running errands. In return, you’ll gain valuable experience and opportunities to accelerate your growth.”

  Kor’s mind raced. This was it—exactly the kind of chance he needed. He didn’t hesitate. “Sign me up!”

  Terra chuckled, shaking her head. “I haven’t even told you what you’ll be doing yet.”

  Kor felt heat creeping up his neck, and he ducked his head. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” he said, his voice firm despite his embarrassment.

  Lena, ever thoughtful, asked, “How many hours a week? And what did you mean by mentees? Professors only take a few, don’t they? Why us?”

  “Good questions,” Terra said approvingly, casting a pointed glance at Kor, who flushed even more. “We’ll start with eight hours over the weekend. I know you’re both busy with studies, so we’ll keep it manageable.”

  She folded her arms, the gleam in her eyes sharpening. “You’ll need to prove yourselves hardworking and useful if I’m to mentor you. Plenty of candidates are waiting. But I’ve seen your potential—both of you. You’re making strides already, and I can tell your mana sensitivity is developing well.”

  Her gaze landed on Kor, and for a moment, he thought he saw genuine pride beneath her fiery exterior. “Especially you, Kor. Coming here as a blank slate and already specialised—your mana responds eagerly and your reserves are growing rapidly.”

  Terra gestured toward the path leading to Spire Gamma, her tone turning conspiratorial. “Poaching the best and brightest is a game among the professors. Most wait for the pecking order to establish itself, but why wait when I’ve found solid contenders?”

  “How is that decided, anyway?” Kor asked, eager to shift focus from his embarrassment.

  “For combat students, advanced classes hold rankings. They’ll even set up a board for student combat rankings before midterm. For others, it’s contests—cooking, gardening, enchanting, you name it.”

  Lena straightened, her voice calm but resolute. “I’ll do it, Professor.”

  “Excellent!” Terra beamed, her energy crackling like a live wire. “Head to Spire Beta at noon on Nethday, and we’ll get started.”

  They didn’t have far to walk. By the time Kor, Lena, and Professor Tera reached the designated training rooms, most of the class had already gathered.

  To Kor’s surprise, Willem was there as well, standing off to one side with about a dozen other students. He gave Kor a quick wave, his face lighting up in a friendly grin. After a brief reunion, Kor introduced Willem to Lena. She shook Willem’s hand politely, and Kor relief washed over him as the pair seemed to get along since neither liked to chat too much.

  Terra’s speech was brief, a rarity Kor appreciated. Their progress, according to her explanation, would be their own responsibility—this course was more a testing ground than a structured lesson. The floor was theirs to experiment, to hone their specialisations, or to seek guidance. Their class credits, she explained, would come from a combination of testing by Ether, and from her own evaluations. They would need to showcase their specialisations to their fullest potential if they wanted to do well in this class. Also, their electives were much more hands off than the mandatory courses; each student would be expected to undergo independent study and practice, only relying on her for advice.

  “You’ll have access to the entire floor for these couple of hours,” Tera said, gesturing around at an array of tools and intricate devices, “to test out the finer points of your specialisations. If you get stuck, I’ll be checking in on each of you occasionally.”

  Kor looked around at the countless mana-measuring gadgets and training contraptions, some familiar from Master Terrak’s floor. The subdued hum of arcane machinery filled the space, punctuated by occasional crackles of released energy. He caught the faint scent of smoke still lingering in the air. Despite the bustle, it felt spacious and open, allowing each student room to experiment without risk of interfering with others.

  He was relieved that this course wouldn’t eat too much into his schedule, though the mention of further tests by Ether set his mind spinning. Perhaps he could get another book from the Archive, since he’d read the Logos cover to cover now.

  Professor Tera nodded for them to begin, so Kor decided it was an excellent opportunity to refine his fractal bomb spell. He moved to a quieter section of the training room, where rune-inscribed practice targets lined the walls. If he could cast the fractal bomb from a greater distance, it would give him a strategic edge. But maybe there was another angle: setting traps in advance.

  He pictured placing multiple bombs like a lattice across a battlefield, ready to be powered up at a moment’s notice. The base fractal itself required only minimal mana to form; arming them was the real mana intensive part. He liked the idea of manipulating the arena before an opponent even realised what was happening. After all, he’d seen how effective pre-placed traps were during the duel at The Crux.

  He needed more variety in his arsenal, but for now, improving the fractal bomb felt like a strong start.