"We have to wait for four more matches to finish before it is your turn." Amani said to Lance, as he leaned against a locker, arms crossed. Strangely enough, his flames didn't seem to burn anything they touched.

The locker room was spacious and meticulously organized, devoid of the usual grime found in athletic spaces. Polished wooden benches lined the walls, offering ample seating for resting participants preparing for the match ahead.

"Oh, but it shouldn't take very long. Most of the fights here are not very high level, so they end fairly quickly. Worst case, it'll be an hour or two." Ariador shrugged, shaking a metallic bottle of water in his hands with remarkable speed like a cocktail, mixing the salt, sugar, and drops of lemon that was inside with the cold water.

Bright fluorescent lights illuminated the room, filling it with a crisp, inviting atmosphere that mingled the fresh scent of cleaning supplies with the faint aroma of leather gear hanging in the nearby lockers. The faint roars of the spectators hummed through the hallway that led up to this room.

"Is the crowd always this loud?" Lance questioned out loud, and the dwarf shrugged in response.

"The Arena can hold up to a hundred and twenty thousand people, but usually, fifty thousand people are present at most. Today, we have around twenty thousand spectators." Ariador clarified, as he handed the water bottle filled with a cold drink to Lance, who accepted it with an appreciative smile.

Lance didn't reply, currently busy gulping down a bottle of glucose water. his lips pressing against the plastic as he chugged, his throat working as he drank. After downing nearly the full bottle, he let out a satisfied sigh, his eyes turning crescent in pleasure. The sweetness was a temporary distraction from the nerves coiling in his stomach.

"Drink lots of fluid, my friend! You will need them for the upcoming match!" The dwarf laughed, while tending to a...

"What’s a reindeer doing here?” Lance’s voice bounced off the metal lockers, his wide eyes darting around the cramped space, finally landing on the creature, its velvety fur shimmering under the fluorescent lights.

The dwarf’s face lit up with pride. "Oh, it is not just any reindeer, my friend, but it is a Rain Deer! This magnificent creature can generate powerful water magic from its antlers, summon rain clouds, and run on air at very high speeds!" The short man bragged while banging his chest with pride.

"Right... that still doesn't answer the question. Why is it in the waiting room with us?" Amani clarified the question, his eyes warily judging the beast of rain.

"This isn't just any ordinary Rain Deer." The dwarf grinned. "It is also my contracted beast!"

"A contracted beast? Like, a Summoner's Contracted Beast?” Lance asked, squeezing the giant water bottle between his thighs, his brow furrowed in curiosity.

"Nope," Ariador said, popping the 'p' as he did. "You see, unlike mages, us Rangers don’t use direct magic. Instead, we communicate with animals and ask magical creatures to lend us their power for rescue missions or dealing with disasters." Ariador explained, his voice filled with enthusiasm as he brushed the deer, which let out an adorable noise in response.

"That... seems highly ineffective." Lance scratched his head. "What if there are no creatures around suitable for a job? At that point, why not just multiclass into a Summoner?"

Ariador laughed, "Because, my friend, we are never alone!" He added, patting the reindeer proudly as he spoke, "A Ranger's contracted beast is our one true partner who follows us everywhere. Rangers work with various magical creatures, but this is our constant companion." The bearded man spoke fondly, causing Lance to smile softly at the scene.

The aforementioned reindeer, meanwhile, was busy eating his food off a bowl placed on a bench, paying no heed to the conversion.

"Whereas a Summoner summons a creature from a different Plane, us Rangers simply make a contract with a creature when we both choose each other." Ariador explained, lovingly petting the beast, who seemed to be loving it. "As you already know, Ranger HQs have specialised squads for each situation. Healing, disaster control, rescue, military activities, and more."

Swiftly hopping onto the back of the Rain Deer, he said, "Hence, whenever a Ranger squad is sent, their contracted Beasts follow, specialised for the job they are up to." Cheerfully, he added, "Combined with the power of the magical beasts that live all around us, we rarely fall short, if ever."

"Now then," Ariador's eyes shone with a mischievous light, "Tell me about yourself! Where are you from, and what got you into volunteering for Ranger Services?" The dwarf asked, eyes sparkling with interest.

"Hm..."

Seeing that Lance was unsure about where to begin, Amani decided to ask about a hunch of his own. "Lance, do you happen to be from... The Fallout Continent?"

At that moment, everyone froze. Even the reindeer was no exception.

Ariador's eyes widened in disbelief, and Lance felt a mix of pride and vulnerability welling up inside him as he nodded slowly, the weight of insecurity and pride pressing on his chest like a leaden cloak.

"Holy Frodo... There are humans in that place? Wait, no, are you from 'that' church?" The dwarf whispered cautiously, hugging his reindeer as he did.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Lance, however, shook his head. "I am not of the Nuclear Church, although they do recognise me as an Exalt of Nuclei. They taught me most of the Nuclear Spells I know, as well as also how to clean up their aftermath."

"Woah..." Ariador stared at Lance in pure amazement. A moment later, Amani nudged him to continue.

Lance took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I don’t actually remember my human parents. When I was six years old, I was found in a cave by my adoptive parents. They weren’t human; one was a Nuclear Genie, and the other was a Cesium Ghost."

“I’ve never heard of them. What do they even look like?” the dwarf asked, his brow furrowing in genuine curiosity as he leaned forward, hanging on Lance's every word.

"Well... imagine a regular genie. Now make it green, and give it two green wings like a butterfly. Give him a black armour for an exoskeleton that reaches over to his hands and wings. Separate his upper and lower body and then connect them back together by pure blue energy. Oh, and place a blue energy right above this midsection, at here his sternum should be." Lance tried to explain in terms as simple as possible, although the two still seemed to be struggling to keep up. "His lower body is an ethereal tail like all genies, and four nucleons orbit him around, making his shadow mirror a large hover ring beneath him."

"What's a nucleon?" Ariador asked in confusion.

"A black ball with green patterns and a blue eye from which it shoots energy blasts. It has an antenna too, but I forgot what it does." Lance explained, making Ariador fascinate over the concept.

"What's a hover ring?" Amani asked, now sitting on the floor to match Lance's eye level as he listened intently to his words.

"That's... I don't know how to explain it, so just skip over that part." Lance chuckled awkwardly.

"What else.... oh, he has six eyes, and his eyes are just... imagine circular windows from which a blue light shines in. He has similar windows woven between the black armour I mentioned. Oh, and he has two curved green horns and an antenna." Lance finished, chuckling as he saw Ariador's dumbfounded expression.

"That... about concludes a Nuclear Genie, yeah. A Cesium Ghost, on the other hand, is much smaller—about a quarter of the genie's size. It’s essentially a pale, soft golden-coloured creature surrounded by a translucent, greenish blue gelatinous blob that glows with a radioactive hue. It has a halo, and it is really small in size, like a really big pixie." He recalled the figure of his parents, attempting to paint a vivid picture with his words.

Both Amani and Ariador seemed spellbound, so Lance gave them a moment to let their imaginations run wild. Eventually, Ariador asked, "So, what do they do? What are their powers?"

"I have absolutely no idea." Lance confessed, stunning both Amani and Ariador. "I can tell about Second Brother, whom I call the Cesium Ghost, who has sonic and radiation prowess, but I have no idea about The Eldest... which is the Nuclear Ghost, if you didn't realise."

"Interesting..." Amani's eyes shone with a keen interest. "Djinns don't even exist in our times. The fact there's a nuclear variant is incredible."

Lance nodded, before his eyes widened, as if recalling something. He parted his lips to speak, but eventually, decided against it, something both Amani and Ariador noticed.

"Anyway. They raised me as their own child, provided food, played games, and took me to various civilizations to bond with other children. They educated me about our continent's history, the outside world, and trained me in magic and physical skills." A smile crept onto Lance's face as he spoke fondly of his parents.

"We played basic games like catch, board games, and sometimes did rock climbing or rode bears. Even when I wasn’t with kids my age, I never felt lonely in their care. In fact, I remember the smell of freshly baked cake in our cave and the sound of their laughter echoing off the walls. That was the first thing I ever baked." Lance smiled, his eyes closed as he reminisced about his time back home.

"Tell me in more detail. What were your days like?" Ariador insisted, his eyes shimmering with curiosity

"Well, my day was usually divided into three parts. Eight hours of sleep, eight hours of study, and eight hours of free time." Lance recalled fondly, while Ariador gapped with his jaw hanging.

"You studied for eight hours a day!?" He exclaimed. "What did you even study so much?"

"Nuclear treatment spells." Lance shrugged. "Most of the eight hours I spent studying and training at The Nuclear Church. They taught me all the spells to deal with the aftermath of The Nuclear Spells, and taught me how to create my own spells." Pausing for a bit, he added, "Well, sort of. Essentially, they taught me to word my intuitive conduit abilities into a spell."

"Hold on, how long have you been studying this?" Amani suddenly interrupted, as if having realized something tremendous.

Lance and Ariador both look confused, but the former confessed, "Since I was six. Why?"

"...how many spells do you know now?" Amani asked, making Ariador's eyes widen and Lance go silent. A while later, Lance asked, "What's the standard?"

"Well," Ariador tapped away at his bracelet, which seemed to flash with screens and runes, "At the age of twelve, you can enroll into a wizarding school, where they teach you basic, unspecialized spells."

"Once eighteen, you can enroll into a Wizard Tower as long as you have seven basic spells of the same school, or at least one intermediate spell. For those that have learnt seven intermediate spells or the same school or one advanced spell, they can enroll into Ivy League Universities at the age of twenty one. Of course, the last part generally only applies to Royalties, other Nobilities, and Astrovias... and sometimes polymorphed dragons who manage to sneak." Ariador laid down the statistics, making Lance go silent.

"Can I... not say?" Lance asked, although it seemed more like he was begging. Sadly, both Amani and Ariador denied him in perfect unison, with a vehement, "No."

Lance sighed. "Alright, just... take a deep breath, alright?" Lance said, trying to prepare Amani and Ariador for what was to come, but his reaction only scared them more, a chill snaking up their spine.

The Royal Families of Magic were born with extremely large quantities of mana, and combined with their large collection of resources, it was feasible for them to attain seven intermediate spells or one advanced spell, both equally ridiculous a feat in general, yet a few could attain it at the ripe age of eighteen.

The Nobles referred to families with unique bloodline, such as the Vampiric Line, the Grendel's Line, or the Dragonslayer Line, each phenomenally gifted in their own right, and with access to their own set of resources.

The Astrovia referred to humans that had been 'plane-touched.' As in, humans that reside within one of the Eight Divine Planes, and have mutated to harness its power. These evolutions of humans are gifted with actual Divinity on their side... or chaos, or simply elements, but the point still stands.

A conduit should not be nearly enough to match up to these beings. Lance has no special bloodline, no Astrovian physiology, or anything of the kind.

But to be taught personally by the mysterious Nuclear Church since the age of six, and under the guidance of a Djinn at that, in an environment that catered specifically to his Conduit... he may just be able to surpass them. And his reaction suggested he did.

So the question was, just where did his limit lie?