Cassia's words sank in, feeding the complacent side of me. There was even less reason to risk a lone trip—I'd receive more controlled, safer training here. Yet the framing of this tournament seemed too sudden, too risky.

  "Would your father really risk presenting me to every noble in attendance? Don't they all try to poach talented students?" I tried to reason against her certainty. "And let's not forget—he's the most likely reason I ended up here, in this tower."

  "Yes, that's an issue…" Cassia admitted. "But in practice, any outstanding commoner in the academy is considered a merit to my family. If you win your competition, you'll win favor with the royals for him."

  "How does that make any sense?" My indignation leaked through. "I was already in core formation before getting here. I've made short work of five classes while making sure the shithole he sent me to is actually livable. How am I his merit?"

  "It's just how things work." Lyra answered, finally taking a sip of her tea.

  "Well, it's beyond idiotic." Even as I said it, part of me recognized the petulance in my tone. "Why would I agree to participate? I don't need publicity or anything—I can just go on with my life without a care."

  "It could stop a war!" Cassia's voice rose to a shout.

  I shut up, reminded of my visions. Images flashed unbidden—the academy walls cracked and burning, bodies in the rubble wearing uniforms I recognized. Is this it? The decision that leads to that? So much death could be avoided here? I turned the possibilities over in my mind, trying to find an answer. In the end, only one option held real weight.

  "Ha… I guess I can't shrug this one off." I slumped into my chair, my eyes wandering over the seams of the tablecloth as I reanalyzed the situation. "Whatever. I'll participate and do my best if he comes for me."

  A moment passed before I straightened up with renewed resolve. "But this doesn't mean I can't go home. In fact, special training or not, real danger drives improvement better than controlled training. And I still need to see my parents."

  Magnar and Cassia exchanged glances. Magnar leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, while Cassia leaned forward over the table, her eyes drifting downward as she ran out of arguments.

  "I don't claim to understand the full situation here," Lyra intervened, her voice measured, "but don't you think dropping this on your friends out of nowhere—on your birthday, no less—is a bit harsh?"

  "Well…" I scratched the back of my head. "It was kind of a just-formed resolution…"

  "I won't pretend to understand what's going on with you—you're honestly just that weird—but Magnar cares enough about you to be here. How about we wrap this up and you think some more about it?"

  I fell silent. Is my intelligence deteriorating? I stared at the rim of my cup, honestly contemplating my choices.

  Shortly after, the cake was brought in and cut, the tower model sliced along with it. The whipped cream was very well received, but my poor timing had knocked the mood straight into the ground.

  We ate in silence. An unseen pressure kept everything quiet. I found myself focusing too intently on my slice, the sweetness almost cloying. When did I become this easy to sulk? As everyone finished their portions, Magnar was the first to break the tension.

  "I think it's time for what we brought."

  "Ah… Right!" Lyra clasped her hands, her eyes jumping to the small box in the corner of the room. "I almost forgot about that."

  "Marta!" Cassia called for her maid. "The gift! It's time for the gift!"

  As if summoned by her shouts, Vex and Hargrave entered as well. Hargrave held a long box I hadn't seen him carrying when he arrived earlier. Vex smiled slyly, holding an envelope sealed with fancy wax.

  Cassia's maid emerged from the kitchen, which meant everything I was going to receive was now here. I brought the box from Lyra's butler to the table. Just as I was about to open it, I stopped, my eyes narrowing with sudden suspicion.

  "Is there any other custom before I open these? I really don't know…"

  "No, just open the box." Lyra waved her hand, urging me on.

  I didn't delay any longer. I opened the red velvet box. Within lay a pocket-sized watch that caught the light in the tower, casting out a silvery haze. I carefully lifted it to eye level.

  "It's a gift from both me and Magnar," Lyra explained, glancing at him with something fond in her expression. "I initially wanted to get you a weapon, since third year requires one and commoners usually struggle to obtain them." Her tone suggested she still didn't entirely understand why that wasn't needed. "But he told me that was an unnecessary worry. It was his idea to get a watch instead, and he convinced me not to buy a gold one, saying you'd dislike such an extravagant display."

  Stolen story; please report.

  I caught Magnar's eye. Of course he'd know I didn't need a weapon—he'd watched me work the forge enough times. But a watch? That was something I couldn't make myself. I remembered him scoffing at timepieces once, dismissing them as wasteful noble trinkets. The fact that he'd chosen one now, that he'd convinced Lyra of it, meant something.

  "Thank you. Both of you. Truly." One of my lingering worries had just been addressed—I'd had no idea where to find artisans who dealt in this sort of thing. I hadn't seen even one shop or workshop during my runs through the city. "This is perfect."

  "I'm glad you like it." Lyra nodded, and Magnar gave an awkward but pleased shrug.

  Next, Marta handed me a round blue wrap with a bow tied on top. I placed the watch back in its box and took the round object. It sank in my hands, pressing them toward the floor. I set it on the table and undid the bow.

  The cloth slipped off, revealing a crystalline body the size of my nine-year-old fist. Cyan-colored and slightly blurry, it cast a shadow of light on the fabric surrounding it. I lifted it again, feeling how its weight delayed the movement.

  "It's a late fourth-stage beast core of the water element," Cassia stated proudly.

  My eyes widened. A fourth-stage beast core. Houses fought wars over these. Resources like this weren't just expensive—they were the kind of thing noble families hoarded for their own heirs. I knew what Cassia's family was going through, the pressure on her shoulders. This wasn't just a gift. This might mean I can cross off another elemental formation!

  I looked up at her. She lifted her chin, smiling widely with her chest stuck forward in pride. But her eyes held something else, a nervousness she was trying to hide with bravado.

  "This is amazing, Cassia. Really." I meant it.

  Her smile softened slightly, something genuine breaking through the noble posturing.

  Hargrave handed me his box next. A smooth layer of transparent lacquer covered it, making it slippery to the touch. I opened it absently, trying to puzzle out the mystery of its appearance. Within lay a long, smooth bone.

  "That's the wing bone of a gale-wraith. Hard to hunt. It doesn't have many known uses, but I'm sure you'll find something." He smiled softly, though somehow I felt it wasn't directed at me. Rather, he seemed proud of finding a good way to rid himself of something useless.

  Still, this bone would at least provide a foundation for another formation… hopefully.

  Vex, on the other hand, held an air of great importance as he handed me the envelope. I broke the wax seal and looked inside. It was a deed writing off my debt to him…

  As I remained completely silent with an unreadable expression, Cassia moved behind me and read aloud:

  "To the reckless youth: Your primitive industriousness was only possible through my peerless architectural and aetheric interventions. On this anniversary of your arrival, I grant a gift of staggering munificence: your astronomical debt of a fifth-stage artifact is hereby extinguished. Marvel at this absolute mercy from your superior. Do not squander my benevolence on further pedestrian projects. Regards, Professor Vex."

  Silence fell. All eyes except those from Lyra's group landed on Vex, who took a bow with absolute theatrical seriousness. "I know my magnanimity can't be matched. Not just anyone can afford to gift a fifth-stage artifact."

  I bit back a smile. Of course he'd turned helping with clay mixing and mold work—admittedly useful magic, drying the furnace and shaping things faster than I could have managed—into this. Magnar's lips twitched. Even Cassia looked like she was trying not to laugh. Hargrave coughed into his hand in a way that sounded suspiciously like suppressed amusement.

  "Your... generosity is noted, Professor," I managed, keeping my voice even.

  "As it should be!" Vex declared, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

  The rest of the evening passed slowly with small talk. The sun had already set, minutes of twilight flowing by as everyone gradually left. The last to depart were Vex and Hargrave, the somehow-always-together duo.

  "I don't know how you did it, but this was the best meal I've ever had!" Hargrave patted my back as he stepped outside.

  "I think there were too many sweets," Vex finally offered a remark worthy of his profession. "And it feels like there was too much fat—definitely not balanced. But it all tasted great."

  "I'm glad to hear that. Have a good night." I ushered them out the gate and locked it before returning to the tower.

  I headed down and refueled the heating furnace for good measure, then made my way to my room. I sat on the bed and contemplated my outbursts, looking at my crossed legs as I thought about various things I'd done over the last year.

  I was facing growing impatience, reduced control. My filters about what I said and why were crumbling. Decisions I made felt disconnected when I placed them side by side—from my outbursts of questions during Fjorn's lessons to the more serious ones where I'd argued with teachers, delaying class for everyone else. Today's argument about leaving, the stubborn insistence despite the dangers and my friends' concerns.

  I was becoming snarky, jumpy, and narcissistic for no reason. Yet as I thought more deeply, I found a possible explanation: the body was slowly taking its toll on my mind. I was becoming less mature, thinking and reacting more like the nine-year-old I appeared to be. While big decisions like working on the heating system still showed my better judgment, the smaller things revealed my slow derailment. The petulance during the argument. The sulking over cake. Getting overly excited about birthday gifts like an actual child.

  "Hhhh…" I exhaled slowly to calm my thoughts. There was no solution to this. At most, I could try to be more mindful and stop myself before doing stupid things. This time I'd insisted on leaving—next time, who knows what impulsive decision I'd make?

  I closed my eyes and settled into a steady, slow, deep breath. I sank my consciousness and examined my aether pool. With a tug, like flipping a switch, the aether gathering array within activated. More shards floated in my pool.

  My aetheric cultivation speed had improved slightly since I'd started working on the formation. While new chunks appeared, the older ones grew larger—a steady, straightforward path toward Manifestation stage.

  Using the new chunks, I began working on creating a formation that would produce the same frequency as the generator. My experience making the aether gathering formation proved helpful, allowing me to move the shards faster and try more combinations at once.

  Each attempt was a step closer to becoming master over lightning.