By the time dawn broke, Korrin was already dressed in the suit Valtix had provided and was ordered to report to his office. Before the meeting, he decided to check on Rikka, assuming she had finally woken.

  Treading lightly to her door, he was just about to knock when he heard a slight sniffle from within her room. His fist hovered inches from the door as he stared at the floor. However, he gathered himself and knocked on the door.

  “Hey, Rikka. It’s me.”

  Rikka’s sobs were quick to stop, and soon she spoke, a slight tremble beneath her breath.

  “Korrin? Come in…”

  Opening the door revealed a weary Rikka, her eyes red and swollen. When she saw Korrin, she forced a smile, though Korrin quickly saw through it. He dragged a chair to her bedside and sat, fidgeting with his thumbs, unable to meet her gaze. Unable to bear the silence, he finally spoke.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Rikka tried to choke out a chuckle, but it caught in her throat, and instead, a tear rolled down her cheek. She quickly turned her head and wiped her face before turning back to Korrin.

  “I’m okay. Seriously, you don’t have to worry,” she said, her mouth struggling to keep her smile steady. “I should be worried about you, doofus.”

  “...do I seem that incapable?”

  “No, it’s just that I should be the one protecting you.”

  Korrin sighed. Anyone could see she was on the verge of tears. He didn’t want her to worry. He wanted to protect someone, too. He swallowed and made a sudden decision.

  “Join this company, Rikka. I’m sure Valtix… will listen to me. I’ll convince him to let you join!”

  Rikka hesitated, overwhelmed by Korrin’s sudden proposal. Her smile soon faded, however, and her eyes grew sharp. Despair washed over Korrin.

  “No, Rikka. You can’t be serious!”

  “Korrin, it’s my duty. I… must finish this. I will become a soldier.”

  “You can’t!”

  His vision blurred as his breathing turned ragged. He clenched both his jaw and fists as he stared at the floor with hopelessness.

  “You saw what happened to the village! You’ll die, Rikka! Die!”

  Tears welled in his eyes. He was angry at Rikka for choosing a path that would most likely lead to her death. But more than that, he was angry that he did not have the strength to protect her. As he was about to lash out again, he felt a warm palm touch his head. Looking up, he saw Rikka’s first genuine smile since the village.

  “Korrin, don’t worry about me. I’ll reclaim our honor.”

  Korrin stood abruptly and walked to the door. Before he closed it, he gave Rikka one last remark.

  “I don’t care about honor. I care about you.”

  He slammed the door behind him.

  “What’s with that look, Korrin? It’s almost scaring me!”

  Korrin sat in the center of Valtix’s office, facing the gleeful merchant. Valtix typed on a strange device Korrin had never seen, metal keys clicking as neat lines of text printed onto paper.

  “Care for some coffee?”

  “I’m not in the mood for your rambling, Valtix. What do you need me for?”

  The grin on Valtix’s face quickly dropped as his cunning eyes scanned Korrin with a cold indifference. Unlike Vaelin’s open disgust, Valtix’s attitude was clinical—as if he were examining something disposable.

  “Very well. Kelix! Only one cup, I suppose.”

  Valtix’s assistant soon came around the corner, delivering a neatly brewed liquid in a porcelain cup. Just as yesterday, Korrin noticed an almost deep reverence of Valtix coming from Kelix’s face.

  “Knowledge is the foundation of power, dear Korrin! This week’s assignment is simple. I’ve acquired a spot in an institution near here where you will learn some basic knowledge. I can’t have an ignoramus as an assistant, after all!”

  Handing an envelope to Korrin, he continued. “Kelix will guide you to the place. Kelix! There you are. Would you be so kind as to escort Korrin to the school?”

  “Of course, sir!”

  Kelix gave Valtix another one of his salutes before heading to the door, gazing at Korrin as he did. For a moment, Korrin thought he saw something flicker in Kelix’s eyes—displeasure, perhaps. Korrin quickly nodded to Valtix and followed Kelix out the door.

  Though the twin canyon walls kept much of Stonegate in shadow, the blue rift that cut through the sky signified the beginning of a new day. Countless lights ignited on both the streets and buildings as shops opened and laborers wandered about, their proud faces ready for another day of work. The guard patrols had long been active, their steady marches echoing throughout the countless corridors. A few golems could be seen out and about, their cores whirling with molten crystal as they faced the waking city.

  Strolling down one such street was a strange duo, their clothes unlike most Ironhelm garments. One of the two was a Luminarite. This boy stood a little shorter than most his age, his slender frame and soft features giving him a younger, almost disarming appearance despite the determined set of his posture. Pale silver hair fell neatly across his brow in careful order, a grey cap resting neatly on his head. He carried himself with rehearsed seriousness, though the shimmer beneath his skin and the stiff movements made him feel less imposing and more endearing.

  The other was Korrin—broader, rougher, and far less composed.

  The two walked in silence, a slight sense of tension between them. Korrin, attempting to be friendly, spoke to Kelix first.

  “Kelix, was it? So… when did you join the company?”

  Kelix responded in silence, his gaze and silence unwavering. Irritation flickered in Korrin’s chest, but he continued nonetheless.

  “Ahm. You see, I met—”

  “Shut your mouth, mutt. Master is far too benevolent; he even adopts rabid dogs like you!”

  Korrin was taken aback by Kelix’s sudden insult. He would have never assumed that a face so cute could spout such hostilities.

  “Mutt? Who’re you calling a mutt?”

  Kelix finally snapped. He stopped walking and quickly turned to face Korrin, his face scrunching in disgust.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “How dare you be so rude to master Valtix! I’ll have you know that master—!”

  He stopped himself. With an annoyed cough, he continued his speech.

  “He’s a genius! Yet you dare stare at him with that dirty look of yours? Honestly, I don’t understand why he brought in a savage like you. I’ve served him for years!”

  “Now listen here, you little—”

  “I don’t have time! And neither do you. Your class is starting soon.”

  “Class?”

  “We’ve arrived.”

  Korrin looked around. He saw many young iron kin waving their parents goodbye as they entered an arched building with a stone signboard hanging from its entrance. It read: “Specialized Center for Elementary Learning.”

  “Seriously, how embarrassing. Even for a mutt…” Kelix muttered as he attempted to turn away from the school, a shameful expression plastered on his face.

  Korrin couldn’t retort as he was too busy staring at those words with disbelief.

  “Alright, class! Let’s start our lesson with a quick prayer to the Smith-Father and War-Mother. Pantheon of Iron, may you bless us with…”

  Around Korrin, countless young boys and girls had their hands clasped together as they repeated their teacher's words, filling the room with a spiritual chant. Soon, the prayer ended, and the teacher reached to open her book. As she did, numerous eyes shifted away from the front of the room to him. They were filled with curiosity and amusement; what was an of-age man doing in their class? Korrin could only bury his head deeper into his desk as the intensity of the stares grew.

  “Now, now, class. Don’t stare at… Korrin, was it? He’ll just be observing us for a week!”

  The children settled down, and the teacher continued with her lesson. Interestingly, most of the class’s content was things Korrin had never learned in the village, or it expanded upon his previous knowledge greatly. Korrin instantly realized the difference between village and city education.

  “Class, who knows where mana begins?”

  A few hands shot up immediately. The teacher smiled faintly and tapped the chalk against the board.

  “Yes, Elira?”

  “It begins with the blessing of the gods, ma’am.”

  “Good,” the teacher replied, writing “Blessing — Soul” in careful script. “Mana is not something we create. It is not born in the muscles or mind. It is a gift given to us by the gods.”

  She turned to the class.

  “Mana fills the world. The land is saturated with mana—in the soil, the air, the sea mist. But we cannot touch all of it. Each of you carries only one Mana Aspect. For example, our Smith-Father blesses us with the Mana Aspect of Iron, allowing us to wield Ferrukinesis. It is the shape your soul was carved into.”

  Korrin tried to remember the golden energy that coursed through his veins and compared it to the energy he had seen from Vaelin and Rikka. Whatever he wielded, it was not the blessed power of the Iron Pantheon.

  A boy in the back frowned. “Why only one, ma’am?”

  “Because the gods do not share a throne,” she answered evenly. “The soul is reshaped into what scholars call a Mana Conduit. It can filter only one divine current safely. Attempting to hold two Aspects causes the wills of different gods to collide within the body… resulting in annihilation.”

  The room went quiet.

  “It is also why unions between those who wield incompatible Aspects are… dangerous. The child’s soul may fail to form properly.”

  She let that settle before continuing.

  “Now. When we speak of activating mana, we are not speaking of flexing a muscle. Mana is drawn through the soul. The Mana Conduit sits within you—half spirit, half flesh—and from it extends what we call the Aetheric Nervature. These conduits run through the spine, the heart, the lungs, even into the hands and eyes.”

  She drew a simple outline of a figure with branching lines through the torso.

  “When casting, four things will occur.”

  She raised a finger.

  “First, the soul awakens. We call this Soul Activation. Through focus, emotion, prayer, or trained ritual, the conduit opens. Many describe pressure in the chest and a feeling of being watched.”

  A few children shifted at the last sentence, reminiscing on their own interactions.

  “Second, mana is drawn. Not from your body, but from the world. The soul siphons only the Aspect it can endure. But be warned: too much mana can strain your conduit and body.”

  This fact confirmed Korrin’s doubts. Indeed, his power was foreign to standard magic. He clearly remembered his energy welling up from within his soul.

  “Third, intent shapes it. Words help, gestures help, but mana answers to intent. Your thoughts, your emotions, your symbolic focus all affect its shape.”

  Korrin thought of the mysterious power he had manifested. Did it respond to his desire to hide?

  “Fourth, manifestation. Mana flows through the Aetheric Nervature into the world, its strength depending on your tier.”

  A girl raised her hand cautiously. “Is that how people become Ascended?”

  The teacher nodded once.

  “Yes. Mana wielders are measured not by raw power, but by how well their souls are able to manipulate the god’s blessing.”

  She turned and wrote on the board: “Dormant — Resonant — Awakened — Ascended — Paragon — Transcendent.”

  “The vast majority of people are Dormant. Their conduit opens only in small, instinctive ways. A farmer coaxing soil to hold warmth. A sailor sensing a coming storm. They do not cast spells.”

  She underlined the next word.

  “Resonant wielders can consciously ignite their conduit. This is called Conduit Ignition. They can wield mana to a greater degree, and even use it to enhance their body and weapons.”

  “Awakened wielders can sustain flow: Flux Continuity. It is at this point where a person can be considered a Caster, someone who employs formulaic spells.”

  Another underline.

  “Ascended wielders can extend their influence outward. Paragons assert dominance over other conduits. And Transcendent beings…” She paused briefly. “Not much is known of them. Ironhelm’s only Transcendent is our esteemed lord.”

  The class sat in careful silence now.

  “Remember this above all: mana can not be acquired through training alone. It is our measured proximity to the gods. One must remain steadfast in their faith for the gods to bless us with their mercy.”

  A few students looked toward the ceiling with reverence.

  “Now,” she said more lightly, opening her book again, “let us review the signs of early Conduit Ignition.”

  It was evening when Korrin returned to Valtix’s office. This time, he knocked.

  “Enter.”

  Valtix did not look up immediately, the steady clicking of metal keys filling the room before falling silent. He set the device aside and folded his hands neatly atop the desk.

  “Ah, Korrin! How was your first day?”

  Korrin remained standing.

  “It was educational,” he said carefully. “More than I expected.”

  “Wonderful!”

  A pause lingered.

  Korrin shifted his weight. “I wanted to ask something, sir. If I may.”

  Valtix gestured lightly. “Of course, what is it?”

  “The institution… it’s for children.” He kept his tone even. “I understand the need for foundations. I simply wondered why you chose that route instead of private instruction.”

  There was no accusation in his voice, only confusion. Valtix studied him.

  “You felt embarrassed.”

  Korrin hesitated, then nodded once. “Yes, sir.”

  Valtix leaned back in his chair.

  “Tell me, Korrin—did you learn?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you understand the lesson?”

  “…Most of it.”

  “Then your pride is the only injury sustained.”

  The words were mild, but the delivery was not. Valtix rose slowly from his seat and walked around the desk. His steps were unhurried and measured.

  “Ironhelm fails to teach its kin what children throughout Aeloria learn before their twelfth year. That is not an insult. It is a fact.” He stopped in front of Korrin. “If I am to invest in you, I will correct deficiencies at their root.”

  The air felt heavier. Not crushing, but weighted.

  “A private tutor would have spared your pride,” Valtix continued. “But it would also have preserved your illusion that you stand on equal footing.”

  His eyes sharpened.

  “You do not.”

  Valtix’s expression softened by a fraction.

  “You wish to grow stronger, do you not?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then you will endure discomfort. You will endure correction. And occasionally, you will endure humiliation.” A faint smile returned to his lips. “All are efficient teachers.”

  The pressure in the room eased, though something colder remained beneath it.

  “Rest tonight. Tomorrow, you return.”

  Korrin bowed his head. “Understood.”

  As he left the office, his steps were steady, and he found himself paused outside Rikka’s door. He considered apologizing and so desperately wanted to see her face. But the thought lingered in his mind for only a few seconds as he knew that seeing her now would only increase the pain of losing her. Gritting his teeth, he turned and disappeared into the hallway's darkness.