"Professor Derall, I need your help."

Sina Derall looked up from her pages with a frown. "Welburne? I suppose this is about how you didn't turn in your essay yesterday."

Jair mentally winced at that. Of the things he'd memorized, homework assignment schedules were not one of them. Most of the time he simply ignored the school's assignments. He'd long since progressed far beyond where they could be of even theoretical use to him.

"Not exactly. It's something else."

"Well?" Derall prompted when he didn't elaborate. "I haven't much time to waste on games."

He seriously considered aborting, but he may as well continue. He mentally flipped through his many potential stories to justify teacher presence on the wall. She focused on sword augmentation, so...

"It's about my soulsword. It's constantly pulsing and... I think it's in code. I think it's trying to warn me."

Derall frowned, but shifted forward the slightest bit. Good, he'd caught her attention.

"It gets stronger at certain times of day and in certain locations. I feel like I can understand its soul. Soulblade, manifest."

Maelstrom appeared, pulsing and flickering in its usual erratic silver glow.

"That right there, watch." There was no pattern, but Jair pointed at it triumphantly as though he'd just proven a point. "See? It said we need your help."

"May I?" she held out a hand. Jair handed over Maelstrom. He'd accepted by now that he wasn't going to get anywhere holding out. If the problem could be solved with anything less, he already would have done.

Derall stared at the sword intently, and Jair saw her hand twitching as though to keep track of the length and frequency of the pulses.

At that rate they'd be here all day. There was no pattern to it, after all, only the mana fluctuations of a broken seal venting power into the air.

"I believe there's a threat coming against this school on the eighteenth." Jair recalled Maelstrom, holding it up to stare at. "I don't know how it could know that, but everything it's said makes me certain. We need to prepare for a potential disaster."

“Right. Disaster.”

He was losing her. Dovak, this was frustrating! “Please, just come to the walls, afternoon of the eighteenth."

"Don't you have class that afternoon?"

This again, always. Why couldn't the dragon wait until a time the teachers wouldn't be otherwise occupied? The handful that wouldn't be actively teaching during the final class period of the day were universally stubborn as soon as they remembered that Jair was a student who really should be in a lesson at the time of the attack.

"I’ll do anything," Jair offered desperately. "If there’s no danger after all, you can have my sword, I’ll do extra assignments for a month, I’ll help grade your essays all semester… anything. Just… please come.”

Derall sighed. “If you want someone to play along with your delusions of grandeur, it’s not going to be me. You may have impressed your little friends with your lightshow, but some of us have more important things to do than go running around after every new initiate who thinks they’ve discovered the secrets of the universe. When you’re older, you’ll understand.”

“Not likely.” Jair’s voice turned bitter as he dropped the pretense. “Age provides surprisingly little in the way of understanding people like you. If it did, I’d not be watching my friend die every four days.”

“If you’re concerned about a student’s health, talk to Professor Notek.”

“He’s even more useless than you are.”

Derall drew herself up, affronted. “Mr. Welburne! You should be respectful of your–”

Jair cut her off. “I need nothing from any of you but a half hour of your time. That’s all I’ll ever ask. If you come to the wall and help me save my friend, I swear, I’ll never darken your door again.”

“I think you’ve gone quite far enough.” She rose to her feet, pointing for the exit. “I’ve half a mind to bring this to the headmaster already.”

“Go ahead, it isn’t like he can hate me any more than he does.” Jair shook his head. “See you next time.”

-

Osli Irres was the main professor for the combat training department, the one who was responsible for overseeing all the sub-classes and managing guest lecturers. He didn't run many lessons personally, being more of a supervisory presence, but he was still an advanced mageblade himself.

Irres could be relied upon to fight decently to excellently when the occasion called for it. He focused on power, eschewing the use of paired spells for flexibility and instead extended the pathing for his two slow powers all the way across his chest in complex building patterns.

Jair disliked power drains. Yes, you could cast a handful of spells very strongly, but much like a construct, the returns were constantly diminishing and there was no way of regulating something that big, all while draining your mana that much faster.

The protective shields Jair maintained at standard power could be replaced in under five seconds and wouldn't drain more than a fraction of his manabody. Something like what Irres had imprinted would tear through his entire mana reserves and push him into overdraw after three or four casts at most.

Despite eventually attaining archmage levels of power, Jair had quickly learned not all obstacles could be removed by pure magical strength. The dragon was only the beginning. After discovering through painful experience exactly how much magic couldn't solve, Jair had a very different view of what mattered to a spellcaster.

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Power focus aside, Osli Irres was still one of his best options for allies against the dragon, even if he’d been shortly dismissive in past loops.

First, because he was at a remove from the day to day of the Institute and had minimal investment in individual students, he would have a more neutral impression of Jair.

Second, out of everyone currently present at the Institute he was the only one to have faced a wild dragon in a non-controlled situation and lived to tell the tale. Indeed, Irres often brought down this specific dragon in the end in timelines where Ran died and Jair survived, albeit with the support of the headmaster and other teachers.

"How can I help you, Welburne?" Irres wasn't the oldest professor at the Astralla Institute, but only just. His voice was beginning to creak, though it remained as stubbornly strong as the man himself.

"I need your help,” Jair told him. “I have good reason to believe there's going to be a dragon attack on the school on the 18th. Of everyone here, I feel you're best suited to handle the situation."

"Ah." Irres sighed deeply. "I suppose you had a dream about it?"

Jair scowled. "I know that new class-holders sometimes get a bit overzealous about trying to fit every little thing into being some sign or manifestation of their soulspell. This isn't like that."

"Of course not."

"I'm not asking for a full squad of dragon knights or anything. A few teachers to guard the wall and hold it down while I kill it. Half an hour. That's all."

"And if we give you a half hour, and the next student who comes with their story a half hour, where will it end?"

It always came back to this. No one wanted to waste their time on someone as much of a nobody as him. If he got special treatment, they'd be obligated to give at least as much if not more to all the noble scions who were actually somebody.

'Setting a dangerous precedent.' Hah.

"I promise, you'll have no reason to regret the time spent. I understand that you don't want to be obliged to run around after every tiny thing, but if you stop a legitimate threat to the school there's no reason for anyone to believe it's anything but personal heroism on your part. I'll never tell anyone I was involved."

"Because there is nothing to be involved in. You have your assignment for the week, and I have more important things to do."

"Soulblade, manifest."

Irres turned back as Jair slapped Maelstrom down on the desk between them.

"What's this?"

"My soulsword. Third tier, legendary ascension. I have told no one the details of this weapon. I swear on magic itself, if you come to the tower on the eighteenth and the dragon doesn't show itself, I will transfer Maelstrom to you."

Irres stood stunned, staring between Jair and the silver-pulsing sword on his desk, disbelief and shock only growing the longer he looked.

"You're serious."

"Yes sir."

Irres ran a hand along Maelstrom's misshapen blade, caressing the indentations where Jair's half-burned fingers had left their mark, tracing the intricate pattern of Jair's soul seared into the metal. For a long moment his hand lingered, and Jair could all but feel the interplay of mana between them. Irres was known for his swordsmanship; if anyone in the academy were worthy to wield Maelstrom, it would be him.

Then the moment passed. Irres withdrew his hand and shook his head. “This sword has too much of yourself in it. It would be of no use to me.”

Jair's heart sank. Maelstrom was the only bargaining piece he had to offer that he hadn’t already tried a hundred times before. Reluctantly, he recalled it to his hand and dismissed it back to his soul.

Irres leaned back, brow still furrowed as he regarded Jair. "You truly believe that strongly that this is a genuine threat?"

"I do." Was he considering it? Jair hardly dared to hope.

“The evening of the eighteenth, you said?"

"Yes. One hour before sunset. The central cliffside tower.”

"Then I will come.”

Jair’s steadily plummeting hopes soared back to life. Finally!

"Thank you,” Jair said, with heartfelt gratitude. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been so genuinely appreciative in his life.

After so long. Progress.

Jair didn't succeed in recruiting anyone else, but true to his word Osli Irres met him on the tower exactly an hour before sunset. Ran was already in position in the tunnel they'd finished excavating that morning beneath the wall.

Jair stared out at the clouds as they waited, the same tiny distant wisps that often appeared. Flimsy, deceitful things they were. Always promising rain they'd never deliver.

"What happened, Welburne?" Irres voice broke the silence.

Jair turned sharply, startled. "How do you mean, sir?"

The older man stood at ease, his sword already held lightly in one hand, watching Jair with his unwavering brown eyes. "The weight in your stance, the intensity of your focus. You don't look like you belong in an initiation class. I'd have sooner guessed you were a returning graduate."

"You flatter me. I'm still quite helpless on my own." Jair kept half an eye on the sky as they spoke, wary of getting distracted. "Without Maelstrom, I'd have no chance of changing anything."

"I find that hard to believe. Someone with your passion? The kind of determination to walk up to a department head and offer to carve out a piece of your soul to prove a point?" Irres shook his head slowly. "I don't believe you'll do anything less than change the world."

"That's certainly my plan, sir."

"Starting here with this… dragon."

"Yes sir, exactly so." Jair glanced at the sky again, but it was still too early. Another few minutes.

"Legendary ascension. You know how rare that is? Even among masters? I know of only three who've attained it in a generation, and none when any younger than I am now. You are an incredibly rare person, Jair Welburne."

"Thank you, sir." Jair was surprised by the genuine pride he felt, the warmth that lifted his chest from within. It seemed some part of him still respected the power and knowledge of his former teachers, if not their authority.

"I don't know why or how you performed the ascension in such a rush, but you should know that a flawed rank can be repaired. It isn't talked about here often, since we work very hard to ensure all reforgings are performed flawlessly, but even the most deeply malformed weapon can be restored."

"I know. As soon as I'm finished here, there are a few things I need to take care of in the capital, then I'll be undertaking an expedition to bring Maelstrom to its full potential."

Irres laughed softly. “You’ve already researched the subject? You do move fast.”

“Maelstrom is the most precious item I will ever possess.” Jair spoke with quiet intensity. “I understand the weight of its potential, and I swear it will not be squandered.”

For a time they stood in silence. The smallest clouds drifted apart, wisps fading to nothing.

“How have you been overlooked this long?” Irres finally asked. “Why is it only today that I’m hearing about your existence?”

“I’ve been in dozens of your classes, sir.”

Irres waved the comment away. “Classes are meaningless in the end. Either someone learns, or they do not. And you… you learn.”

“Thank you?”

“So why would someone as talented as you remain an unknown all the way up to initiation? Why would you not be in an earlier advancement class?” Irres met his eyes, and for the first time the intensity of his focus made Jair want to look away. “How much have you sacrificed on this path you’ve chosen?”

A distant movement drew Jair’s eye, and he shook himself. “It’s time.” He gestured to the approaching speck. “Soulblade, manifest.”

Teacher and student raised their blades, facing the oncoming dragon together.

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