"He won't bite, Sam." Adom watched his friend eye the salamander like it might suddenly breathe fire in his face. Which, to be fair, wasn't entirely impossible.

"Are you sure?" Sam's hand hovered uncertainly above Gizmo's head. The familiar tilted his head, that permanent gentle smile somehow looking even more encouraging.

"He's really friendly," Gus assured from the seat behind them. "Sometimes too friendly. Yesterday, he tried to follow a third-year girl into the library."

Adom chuckled. "Did she the have some fire-affinity crystals in her bag?"

"Yeah. Gizmo's got expensive taste."

Sam's hand was still frozen mid-air. Gizmo, apparently tired of waiting, stretched his neck up and bumped his head against Sam's palm. The boy yelped, nearly falling out of his chair.

"See?" Adom grinned. "He likes you."

"His scales are... warm," Sam marveled, slowly relaxing as Gizmo leaned into his touch. "And soft? I thought they'd be rough."

"Like velvet, right?" Gus beamed proudly. "Watch this - scratch under his chin."

Sam did as instructed, and Gizmo's eyes closed in pure bliss. Small flames began flickering across his scales, casting dancing shadows on their desks.

"Gizmo," Gus warned, though he was still smiling. "What did we say about getting too excited in class?"

The salamander opened one eye, looking absolutely unapologetic.

"You know," Sam said, growing bolder with his pets, "for something that can literally burst into flames, he's actually kind of cu-"

The classroom door burst open with enough force to make everyone jump. A massive figure ducked through, and suddenly all thoughts of cute salamanders vanished as the students stared up - way up - at their visitor.

"Right then!" The giant's voice boomed through the room. "Who's ready to meet a real monster?"

Gizmo scrambled back to Gus's desk, his scales flickering. Around them, students straightened in their seats, all eyes fixed on the enormous man and the empty space beside him.

"Is that..." Sam whispered, grabbing Adom's arm, "is that Guild armor?"

Adom nodded, fighting back a smile. He remembered this class from his past life, but somehow, seeing the familiar adventurer in person still made his heart race with excitement.

Professor Drake cleared his throat. "Class, this is Master Borgen from the Pentoss Guild. He's graciously agreed to bring us a specimen for today's practical demonstration."

"Graciously?" Borgen let out a laugh that made the windows rattle. "Been dying to show this beauty off! Found her in the Whisperweald Dungeon, Class B. Ain't she just perfect?"

He gestured to what looked like empty air beside him. A few students leaned forward, squinting.

"Ah, right!" Borgen chuckled, pulling out what looked like a handful of glowing dust. "Bit shy, this one. Watch this..."

He blew the dust gently into the air. As it settled, something... shifted. Like watching water ripple in clear glass, the air seemed to bend and twist until...

Gasps filled the room. Where there had been nothing, now stood a creature about the size of a large dog. Its scales shimmered with every color imaginable, constantly shifting like oil on water. A long, elegant neck supported a triangular head with intelligent golden eyes, and a tail that could probably reach across half the classroom swayed gently behind it.

"This," Professor Drake said, "is a Shimmerscale. B-rank monster, evolved from common lizards after prolonged exposure to light-affinity mana crystals."

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Borgen beamed like a proud parent. "Go on, girl. Show them what you can do."

The Shimmerscale tilted its head, those golden eyes scanning the classroom. Then, slowly, its scales began to shift. The iridescent colors faded, and suddenly the creature was almost invisible again - except now they could see the faintest outline, like heat waves rising from hot pavement.

"Merlin's beard," someone whispered from the back.

"Natural camouflage," Drake explained, writing on the board. "The scales can bend light around them, making the creature nearly invisible. In their natural habitat, this makes them exceptional ambush predators."

"Though this little lady prefers dried fish to hunting," Borgen added, pulling something from a pouch at his belt. The Shimmerscale's head snapped toward him, suddenly visible again, its tongue flicking out expectantly.

"Now then!" The giant man clapped his hands together, making several students jump. "Who wants to learn about their hunting patterns? Or maybe how they use their camouflage for mating displays? Oh! Or that time I saw one take down a Dire Wolf pack by itself?"

Professor Drake sighed, but Adom could see the slight smile on his face. "Perhaps we should start with basic anatomy, Master Borgen."

"Right, right..." Borgen nodded, still grinning. "But trust me, kids, that wolf pack story? Absolute cracker. Remind me to tell it after the lesson."

The Shimmerscale, apparently tired of being ignored, bumped its head against Borgen's leg. The massive man immediately melted.

"Oh, alright, one more treat." He tossed another dried fish, which the creature snatched from the air with surprising grace. "See that? Lightning-quick reflexes. Typical of light-affinity monsters. Now, if you look at their skeletal structure..."

Adom found himself leaning forward, notebook forgotten. He'd seen this lesson before, in another life, but somehow, watching the Shimmerscale's scales dance with color as Borgen enthusiastically pointed out its features, it felt brand new.

Besides, he thought as the creature's golden eyes met his for a moment, some things were worth seeing twice.

As the lesson progressed, the adventurer named the Shimmerscale Luna, apparently because her scales reminded him of moonlight on water. The creature responded to her name with an almost prideful bearing, her head held high as she demonstrated her camouflage abilities.

"See, that's the thing about monster classifications," Borgen explained, while Luna lazily coiled her tail around his boots. "They're not just about power levels. A C-class dungeon might spawn B-class monsters if the mana concentration is right. Take the Whisperweald - technically a C-class dungeon, but the light-affinity crystals there are so pure that even common lizards can evolve into beauties like Luna here."

From the front row, Mia's hand shot up. No surprise there - she hadn't earned those top scores by staying quiet. "But sir, wouldn't that make it a B-class dungeon by default?"

"Excellent question!" Borgen's voice boomed. "Anyone want to take a stab at it?"

"Because monster evolution doesn't necessarily indicate dungeon evolution," Damus drawled from his corner, not bothering to raise his hand. "The dungeon's core determines its class, not its inhabitants."

Adom kept his eyes forward, ignoring the pointed look Damus sent his way. It was almost amusing how hard the boy tried to create conflict - like a puppy trying to pick fights with older dogs. Still, being the adult he was mentally, Adom couldn't help but feel a twinge of shame at letting himself get baited into their previous confrontations.

"Correct!" Borgen nodded. "Though some monsters, like our Luna here, can be tamed with the right approach. Others..." He trailed off, his expression darkening slightly. "Well, let's just say you don't want to try befriending a Shadowmaw, no matter how cute it might look as a pup."

Damus' words were directed at Borgen, but his posture was stiff, deliberately angled away from where Adom sat. Behind him, Finn and Marcus exchanged meaningful glances, their hands clenched into fists under their desks.

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Maybe we should head to the library after class," he whispered. "Take the long way around..."

"They won't try anything," Adom murmured back, though he noted how his friend's shoulders remained tense. He had to suppress a sigh. Having to redo school was bad enough; getting wrapped up in teenage drama was worse. Still, seeing Sam practically vibrate with tension over these wannabe tough guys... yeah, they'd definitely need to work on that.

Gizmo hopped over to Adom's desk again, butting his head against Adom's hand until he got the expected scratch.

"You know," Gus said quietly, watching his familiar's antics with a slight frown, "he's always friendly, but... with you, it's different. Like he's known you forever or something." He shrugged, clearly trying to play it casual. "Weird, right?"

Adom kept scratching Gizmo's ears, mind turning. First Biscuit's behavior last week, now this. Either familiars could sense the regression, or... well, better file that thought away for later.

"The key is understanding their nature," Professor Drake added, his chalk drawing complex diagrams in the air. "Shimmerscales, for instance, evolved in light-rich environments. Their camouflage isn't just for hunting - it's a way of processing excess mana. Makes them naturally more stable than, say, darkness-affinity monsters."

Luna demonstrated this point by shifting her colors to match Professor Drake's robes perfectly, earning appreciative murmurs from the class.

"Now, speaking of stability," Borgen continued, pulling out what looked like a crystal map, "let me show you how dungeon layouts affect monster evolution patterns..."

As Borgen prepared his next demonstration, Luna took the opportunity to investigate the students more closely.

She made her rounds through the classroom, her scales shifting colors as students reached out to touch her. Some squealed in delight, others hesitated before working up the courage. When she reached their corner, Sam's nervousness melted away after the first touch. "She's so warm," he whispered, clearly enchanted.

Adom smiled, reaching out to run his fingers along Luna's scales. Like touching sunlight, if sunlight had texture. His heart quickened with anticipation - this was the moment he'd been waiting for since Borgen walked in.

Then Luna reached Gus's desk, and just like before, everything changed.

Her scales shifted to a deep, resonant gold - not the playful imitation she'd shown others, but something that seemed to pulse from within. She pressed her head against Gus's palm, and a soft, melodic trill filled the air.

Gizmo, who had been contentedly dozing on Gus's desk, perked up. The salamander scuttled forward, touching his nose to Luna's scales without a hint of hesitation.

"Oh," Borgen's booming voice softened with interest. "Now that's promising. Boy. Ever considered druid studies?"

"I..." Gus looked between Luna and Gizmo, clearly struggling to process what was happening. "I've been taking the preliminary classes, but..."

"She's offering a bond," Professor Drake explained. "Typically, familiars can sense when their bonded human is compatible with another creature. Your salamander's reaction suggests..."

"A resonance," Borgen finished. "Rare to see it happen this quickly, but not unheard of. Especially with someone already studying the craft."

A familiar bond wasn't servitude - it was partnership, pure and simple. Two beings choosing to share their magic, their strength, their very essence.

"If you want to," Gus said softly to Luna, "I'd be honored."

The Shimmerscale's trill grew stronger. She pressed her forehead against Gus's, scales blazing. Gizmo climbed onto Gus's shoulder, adding his own warm glow to the moment. The magic built slowly, naturally, like watching a flower bloom in fast motion.

"Well done," Borgen approved. "Clean bond, no hesitation on either side. Though..." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "You realize this means we'll need to discuss guild affiliation. Luna's contracted to Pentoss for another five years."

The class shifted their attention to Gus, who seemed to shrink slightly under the sudden scrutiny. Luna pressed closer to his side, her scales taking on a gentle, reassuring shimmer.

"I..." Gus glanced at Gizmo, who chirped encouragingly. After a moment of what seemed like silent communication with both familiars, he straightened. "Actually, I was planning to declare as a druid at the third-year ceremony. Field work and dungeon research were always my goal."

"Were they now?" Borgen's eyes crinkled with interest. "And would you consider a five-year contract with Pentoss? Same terms as Luna's - full guild benefits, training, expedition priority. After that, you'd be free to go independent or join another guild if you prefer."

Gus's hand absently stroked Luna's scales while he thought. "Would I... would we be able to start training before graduation?"

"Supervised expeditions to C-rank dungeons, certainly. Maybe even B-rank by your final year, depending on your progress." Borgen grinned. "Can't let talent like this go to waste, eh?"

The bond was still settling, magic humming in the air as Luna and Gizmo flanked Gus protectively. It wasn't the theatrical light show most stories described - just three beings finding their natural rhythm together.

"Then yes," Gus nodded, somehow looking both terrified and determined. "I accept."

"Excellent!" Borgen's voice boomed back to its usual volume. "We'll sort out the paperwork after class. Now, Professor Drake, I believe you were saying something about environmental adaptation?"

*****

After class, students crowded around Gus, showering him with congratulations. Some were already asking about dual-familiar bonds, a rare feat that druids were famous for. Each additional familiar exponentially increased a druid's capabilities - some famous figures were said to have bonded with dozens of creatures, though most settled for two or three.

"This is just the beginning," Borgen explained proudly while gathering his things. "Druids with multiple bonds can channel different types of mana simultaneously. Imagine combining Luna's light affinity with Gizmo's fire abilities..."

"I wish I had a familiar bond," Sam sighed as they packed up their bags.

Adom snorted. "You jumped three feet in the air when Gizmo touched your hand."

"That was different. I wasn't prepared."

"I remember you screamed when a cat walked past you one day."

"What? I never did that."

Adom laughed. "Come on, don't you remember? It was when-" He stopped mid-sentence, blinking. Right. That hadn't happened yet - it would be in a few months, during the autumn festival.

"Sorry, I must be thinking of someone else," he mumbled.

"Are you going senile on me?" Sam grinned. "First you wanted to actually eat that horrible tomato soup, now you're making up stories about me and cats. You're starting to sound like old Mr. Biggins - 'Back in my day, the staircases moved counterclockwise!'"

"I don't sound like Mr. Biggins," Adom protested, though he made a mental note to be more careful with his foreknowledge.

"Well," Sam shouldered his bag with exaggerated dignity, "maybe I'm just waiting for the right familiar. One that's less... bitey. Or scaly. Or..." He paused, considering. "Do they make silent familiars?"

"There are ghost-type familiars. And spirits. Djinns, too." Adom offered helpfully.

Sam's face went pale. "I take it back. I'm perfectly happy being bondless. And you," he pointed accusingly at Adom, "are definitely going to start wearing those memory crystals the healers keep recommending to old people."

"They're not memory crystals, they're focus stones, and I don't need them," Adom grumbled, following his friend out of the classroom.

"Whatever you say, grandpa."

They headed for the door, Sam still muttering about the unfairness of all magical creatures having either "too many teeth or too many eyes or both," while Adom tried not to laugh too obviously at his plight.

Adom paused at the doorway, the odd sensation of being watched prickling at his neck. He turned to find Damus and his group still inside, their eyes fixed on him. Sam had already gone ahead, his voice fading down the corridor.

Were they actually planning something?

Adom stood his ground at the threshold, meeting their stares directly. This could all be solved quite simply - just a word to Professor Meris about the bullying. The headmaster didn't tolerate that sort of thing. No need for confrontations or escalation.

"Hey, you coming or what?" Sam's voice broke through his thoughts. "I'm not saving you a seat at lunch if you're going to stand there all day."

"Yeah," Adom said, turning away. "I'm coming."

The morning sun hung bright in the cloudless sky when Adom and Sam left.

The campus grounds were unusually empty - most students had gathered around the Krozball field for team tryouts. The distant cheers and shouts echoed across the academy walls, a familiar sound that marked the beginning of every season.

"They're really going at it this year," Sam remarked, watching a player execute a particularly aggressive maneuver that sent their opponent tumbling through the air. "Word is they've got a new coach. Someone from the pro leagues."

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Yeah..."

"You know what I need right now?" Sam said, stretching his arms over his head.

"A frosty from the Weird Stuff Store?"

"How did you-" Sam blinked at him.

Adom smiled, a distant look in his eyes. The taste of the drink lingered in his memory, along with summer afternoons just like this one, conversations that hadn't happened yet, jokes that hadn't been told. "Just do."

They both checked their pocket watches - it was barely past eleven.

"We've got plenty of time," Sam said, already heading toward the path that led to the city. "Could even grab lunch at Martha's if you want. Next class isn't until three anyway. Coming?"

Adom felt the familiar warmth of déjà vu wash over him as he followed his friend. "No time like the present."

*****

The bell above the door chimed as they stepped into the Weird Stuff Store.

A sign hung crookedly by the entrance: "WE'RE HIRING!" and beneath it in smaller text: "Just kidding, we found someone. Try Madame Mildred's Mystical Miscellany if you're looking for work."

Sam and Adom exchanged glances. The former's mouth twitched, ready to comment.

"Let's not start," Adom said quickly.

"Yeah, probably best," Sam agreed with a resigned sigh as they stepped inside.

True to its reputation for knowing exactly what customers wanted, an ancient frosties machine - one Adom had never seen in the store before - stood right in front of the entrance.

The machine was a bizarre contraption, more artwork than appliance, with its twisting tubes and glowing crystals that pulsed with a soft blue light. Steam hissed from its valves in rhythmic bursts, and two pristine glasses had already materialized in its dispensing tray, filled with swirling, color-shifting liquid that looked like captured aurora borealis.

"Now that's service," Sam whispered, eyeing the drinks with unconcealed desire. "I swear this place gets weirder every time we come here."

The rest of the store stretched behind the machine, some were moving by themselves, and it seems some new candies had arrived too.

Sam grabbed both glasses from the dispensing tray, each filled with the same swirling mixture of Cloud Nine and Summer Sunset - their signature combination.

"Thanks," Adom said as they made their way to the wooden counter that served as the cashier's desk, their footsteps echoing against the creaking floorboards.

Adom tapped the small brass bell on the counter once, then twice. The gentle 'ding' seemed to be swallowed by the shop's strange acoustics. They waited, but Mr. Biggins was nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe we could just leave the money on the counter?" Sam suggested, already fishing in his pocket for coins. "I mean, the machine did serve us, so..."

Before Adom could answer, the shop's doorbell chimed. Heavy footsteps and grumbling filled the entrance as someone walked in.

"Useless, the lot of them," the newcomer muttered, his voice rough with frustration. "Can't even follow basic formations. What do they teach these little shits nowadays? Back in my day, you'd get benched for a month for that kind of sloppy footwork. Don't even get me started on their defensive stances..."

The man continued his tirade, seemingly unaware of Adom and Sam's presence as he paced near the entrance, running a hand through his graying hair.

Sam's eyes went wide as saucers. "That's him!" he whispered urgently, elbowing Adom. "That's Bart Thrasher - the new coach!"

Adom nodded slightly, having recognized the man instantly. The coach continued his frustrated monologue, something about "complete disregard for basic positioning" when he finally noticed them. His eyes fell on their uniforms, and he let out a heavy sigh.

"Oh for fuck's sake..." he muttered, shaking his head. Just as Sam's face lit up, mouth opening to ask for an autograph, Thrasher cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. "Don't bother. I don't do autographs."

Sam's expression crumpled like a deflated balloon.

"Jerk," Adom muttered under his breath, taking another sip of his drink.

Thrasher's head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. "What did you just say?!"

"If you've got something to say about my attitude, kid, say it to my face," Thrasher growled, taking a step closer. The temperature in the shop seemed to drop a few degrees. "Not mumbling like some coward who can't probably even form a proper Fluid cover during basic drills."

Adom kept his gaze steady on his drink, deliberately taking another sip of the swirling mixture. It was harder to tell if his apparent calmness was infuriating Thrasher more or less.

"I said," Adom finally spoke, his voice clear and even, "that for someone who's supposed to be leading Xerkes' Krozball team back to glory, you've got a pretty bad attitude toward its students."

"Hey, uh, let's all just enjoy our frosties, right?" Sam stepped forward, hands raised placatingly, but the tension in the air only thickened.

Thrasher let out a laugh that held no warmth. "Listen to me, you little sh-"

CUCKOO! CUCKOO!

A mechanical bird burst from a clock none of them had noticed before, its wooden wings flapping wildly as it circled their heads. The bird looked suspiciously real for something made of carved wood, especially when it landed on Thrasher's head and pecked at his hair before zooming back into its clock.

A low, wheezing laugh echoed through the shop, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The shelves appeared to shift and twist, making way for a tall, thin figure who stepped out of what had appeared to be a solid wall moments ago.

Mr. Biggins stood there in his perpetually stained purple coat, bits of chocolate smeared around his mouth, his silver hair sticking up in impossible angles.

"Chocolate?" he offered, extending a box of assorted treats while simultaneously popping another into his mouth. His expression remained completely deadpan as he chewed, eyes moving between his customers with an unsettling intensity. "They're quite fresh. Made them this morning. Or was it last week? Time is such a peculiar thing in here, wouldn't you agree?"

Thrasher stood there, mouth still open from his interrupted threat, looking completely thrown off balance by the sudden appearance of the shopkeeper.

His face cycled through several emotions - confusion, annoyance, disbelief - before settling on a mix of bewilderment and irritation as Mr. Biggins shoved the box of chocolates practically under his nose.

A muscle twitched in his jaw as he stared at the treats, some of which appeared to be moving slightly. One chocolate in particular seemed to be changing colors in sync with his rising blood pressure.

His earlier intimidating presence deflated somewhat as he took an unconscious step backward, eyeing Mr. Biggins as if the shopkeeper might be contagious.

"I... what... no," he managed to sputter, his previous anger temporarily forgotten in the face of such bizarre behavior. "I don't want any damn chocolates."

Mr. Biggins shrugged, popping another chocolate in his mouth. "Your loss. They're quite good," he said, seemingly unbothered by Thrasher's reaction. A small puff of purple smoke escaped his mouth as he spoke.

Suddenly, his eyes widened. "Oh! Young Adom and young Sam! How absolutely marvelous to see you two here!"

"...But you literally looked at us when you arrived," Adom pointed out, gesturing with his frosty.

"Did I?" Mr. Biggins tilted his head. "Must have forgotten. Memory's a bit like a sock drawer, you know. Things get mixed up, go missing, sometimes you find things you don't remember putting there in the first place." He stopped, looking thoughtful.

Was he always this weird? Adom couldn't remember. It didn't seem right that they'd let him work in this state.

Adom placed the coins on the counter. "We just took some frosties, Mr. Biggins."

"Hope they were to your liking?" Mr. Biggins asked, his eyes suddenly sharp and focused.

"As always," they replied in unison, turning to leave.

"Young Adom!" Mr. Biggins called out.

"Yes?"

A chocolate sailed through the air in a perfect arc. Adom caught it reflexively.

"They're very good. Do try one before heading out."

Without insisting, Adom popped the chocolate in his mouth. The flavor bloomed on his tongue - rich, complex, with hints of something he couldn't quite place. Orange? "Thanks, these are really good indeed."

"Of course, of course," Mr. Biggins nodded, tossing another chocolate to Sam.

"Oh, uh, I'll have mine later," Sam said, pocketing it.

"I'd very much like your opinion on the texture though," Mr. Biggins said, his smile unchanging but his eyes suddenly intense.

Sam shifted uncomfortably before unwrapping the chocolate and taking a bite. "It's... smooth, but also kind of... crystalline? Like it dissolves in layers?"

"Good!" Mr. Biggins clapped his hands together. He made shooing motions toward the door. "Now off you go! Have adventures! And do be careful on the road."

The boys stood outside the store, backs against the warm stone wall, slurping their frosties thoughtfully.

"Well. That was weird," Sam finally said.

"Was thinking the same thing."

"Was he always that weird?"

"Was wondering that too."

"Hmm," they both went, taking another sip.

"Adom." Sam said slowly. "Maybe we should call the Imperial Services for Retired Practitioners? You know how they usually handle aging mages and stuff. I mean, ever since that incident with that old Mage turning his entire neighborhood into ashes, they've been pretty strict about getting potentially unstable magic users into proper care before anything... happens."

"...Yeah, maybe we should talk to Mr. Biggins first," Adom said thoughtfully, stirring his frosty with the straw. "Just... politely ask him if everything's okay?"

"Definitely. Super politely," Sam agreed as they ambled down the cobblestone street. "Hey, want to grab some cheese sticks and crepes at Martha's? You know, to shake off all that weird-"

A faint shimmer rippled through Adom's mana field, followed by a soft chime in his mind:

[Enchantment canceled: [Track-and-Trace]]

[Source: Unknown]

[Duration: Unknown]

[Status: Terminated]

Adom frowned. A tracking spell? When did I even weave a track-

Oh.

His frosty slipped from his grip.

"Wow, Adom? You okay? You look like you've seen a-"

Without warning, Adom grabbed Sam's arm and yanked him into the nearest doorway - a small antiquarian bookshop. The bell above the door hadn't even finished ringing when Adom pressed them both behind a tall shelf.

"What's going on?" Sam whispered, his frosty sloshing dangerously.

"Wait," Adom breathed, his fingers already weaving the delicate pattern of Mana Threading. The spell spread outward like a spider's web made of ghostly blue light, catching fragments of sound and carrying them back. He filtered through them carefully: a child begging for sweets, two merchants haggling over prices, the clip-clop of horse hooves...

Then:

"Shit, we lost him!"

"The signal just... vanished."

"Keep looking. They have to be close."

"Sam," Adom whispered, his heart racing. "Someone was tracking us. Following us."

Sam's frosty stopped halfway to his mouth. "What?"

Adom held up a finger, concentrating on the voices filtering through his spell:

"How can a tracking spell just cancel like that?"

"Maybe the kid noticed and dispelled it himself?"

"You absolute moron, when have you ever heard of someone detecting a tracking spell on themselves?"

"Well then, genius, how do you explain it?"

"Would you both shut up? They have to be around here somewh-"

"Can I help you boys?"

They whirled around to face a tall, thin man in a tweed jacket, his wire-rimmed glasses perched low on his nose. The shopkeeper's lips were pressed into a tight line as he looked down at them.

Adom suddenly became aware of the other customers - all staring, all silent.

The shopkeeper sighed dramatically. "You know, we've had three shoplifters this week alone..."

"We're not-" Sam started.

"I've heard that before," the man cut him off, his voice rising. "Now, you're disrupting my customers' shopping experience, and I must ask you to-"

"We can pay-" Adom's fingers twitched, a defensive spell itching to form.

"Out! Out right now!" The shopkeeper actually started shooing them toward the door, his hands pushing at their shoulders. Adom's jaw clenched, magic crackling at his fingertips before he forced it down.

"Wait, please, we just need-"

Too late. They stumbled onto the sidewalk as the shopkeeper stood in the doorway, red-faced and shouting: "And don't come back! Next time I'll call the police! Honestly, Xerkes students behaving like common thieves!"

Adom turned, his stomach dropping as he met the cold eyes of two men who had just passed the store. One smiled, all teeth and no warmth.

Shit.

"Found them," one of the men said quietly, his grin widening. Both started moving toward them through the afternoon crowd.

"Run," Adom hissed, grabbing Sam's arm. They bolted down the street, nearly colliding with a woman carrying shopping bags.

"Sorry!" Sam called back as they weaved through the crowd. Adom could hear heavy footsteps behind them, getting closer.

"Move it, kid!" One of their pursuers shouted, shoving someone aside.

"Over there - a police officer!" Sam pointed, breathing hard.

At the corner stood a uniformed officer, shoulders slumped as he mechanically wrote in his notepad. His uniform was slightly disheveled, and he kept pausing to rub his temples.

"Sir! Officer, please-" Sam called out, approaching carefully.

The man looked up, his bloodshot eyes focusing on them. "Yes?" His voice was tired but professional.

"We need help," Adom said, constantly scanning the crowd. "Some men are following us-"

"Following you?" The officer straightened, scanning the area. "Can you describe them?"

As Adom described the men, the officer's initial alertness gradually shifted to skepticism. His jaw tightened when he saw no immediate threat.

"And where are these men now?"

"They were just-" Sam looked around frantically. "They must have hidden when they saw us talking to you..."

The officer's expression darkened. He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long breath. "Listen, boys..."

"Please, you have to believe us," Adom insisted, his eyes still darting everywhere. A small crowd had begun to gather, watching the scene unfold.

"I've been standing here for hours," the officer's voice cracked slightly. "Writing citations for illegal strider carriage parking. My wife- ex-wife served me papers this morning. Right in front of everyone at the precinct." He laughed bitterly. "And now..."

What the hell was this melodrama? Who the hell asked him to tell his story?

"Sir, we're not lying-" Sam tried.

"Enough!" The officer's voice rose, drawing more stares. "I don't need this today. Not today of all days." His eyes were getting red. "Do you think this is funny? Making up stories?"

"But-"

"You students, always thinking you can..." he trailed off, wiping his eyes roughly. "Just... just go. Please."

"Officer-" Adom started, desperately aware of how exposed they were.

"GO!" the man suddenly roared, making several onlookers jump. "Before I call your school! I don't need your pranks! I don't need-" his voice broke again, and he turned away, shoulders shaking.

The crowd whispered. Some looked sympathetic toward the officer, others judgmental. A few shot disapproving glances at Adom and Sam.

"Damn it," Adom hissed, pulling Sam away. "Damn adults who won't listen." His eyes scanned the growing crowd around them nervously. They were exposed, drawing attention, and their pursuers could be anywhere in this mass of people. The distraught officer clearly wasn't going to be any help.

"We need to go. Now."

Adom's mind raced. They couldn't keep running in the open like this - too many people, too easy to track. His eyes darted around, searching for-

"This way!" He yanked Sam into a narrow alley between two buildings. The shadows swallowed them as they sprinted past overflowing trash bins and scattered cats.

"Who are they?" Sam panted. "What do they-"

"Less talking, more running!"

They emerged onto another street, this one quieter. Behind them, Adom heard one of the men curse as he stumbled over something in the alley.

"Split up?" Sam suggested.

"No," Adom said firmly. "Bad idea. We need to-" He stopped mid-sentence, an idea forming. "Actually... Sam, how good are you at illusions now?"

A sudden, searing heat erupted in Adom's chest, like molten metal flooding his veins. He stumbled, catching himself against a wall as the world tilted sideways. His vision blurred, then sharpened with unnatural clarity as he saw Sam clutch his own chest, gasping.

The familiar blue window of the system materialized before him.

[Substance absorbed]

Sam looked up, his glasses reflecting the blue glow emanating from Adom's trembling form.

"Is that Fluid...?"

*****

"Left alley! Move your asses!" Jaef shouted, shoving past a group of tourists. His leather coat caught on someone's bag, nearly making him stumble.

"Would you shut up?" Trevor hissed, matching his pace. "Might as well wave a sign saying 'hey officers, suspicious people running here!'"

Kade brought up the rear, somehow managing to look bored while sprinting. "Man, I could really go for some ice cream right now. You see those frosties they had? Why don't we get stuff like that in the Dregs?"

"Focus!" Jaef snarled, rounding the corner into the alley. "If we can't catch him alive, we-"

"Yeah, yeah, kill the kid, clean job, higher-ups will have our heads," Trevor rolled his eyes. "You've only said it like fifty times today."

"Because you idiots keep getting distract- wait." Jaef stopped so suddenly that Kade crashed into his back.

The alley split in two directions.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Kade groaned, straightening his jacket. "Did anyone actually see which way they went?"

Trevor squinted at the ground. "Footprints go both ways. Little shits must've used an illusion."

"Split up?" Kade suggested, already eyeing the right path.

"No, you moron, that's exactly what they-" Jaef started.

"Last one to find them buys ice cream!" Kade called out, already sprinting down the right path.

"I hate this job," Jaef muttered, watching Trevor take off down the left. "I really, really hate this job."

Trevor skidded to a halt, chest heaving. "Wait... why can't I see the end of this alley?"

"Because we're fucking idiots who fell for the most obvious-" Jaef grabbed Trevor's shoulder. "STOP MOVING!"

They froze. The alley ahead of them... stretched. And stretched. And stretched. The walls seemed to pull away like taffy, the cobblestones rippling like water. What should have been a twenty-meter alley now disappeared into an impossible vanishing point.

A child's laugh echoed through the space, bouncing off the walls in a way that made it impossible to tell where it came from.

"What the fuck is that?" Trevor's voice cracked. He turned to Jaef, face pale. "Hey, didn't Helios say the kid was just an apprentice?"

Jaef stared at the warping reality around them, his mouth dry. "This doesn't make sense. This is high-level spatial manipulation. No apprentice could..." He trailed off as the laughter echoed again, closer this time.

The walls continued stretching, twisting now, the bricks beginning to spiral in impossible patterns. Shadow and light played across the surfaces in ways that hurt their eyes.

"Jaef?" Trevor's voice was barely a whisper.

"Yeah?"

"I don't think we were told everything about this job."

"Move," Jaef growled.

"What?"

"MOVE!" He started weaving a complex pattern with his hands, magic crackling between his fingers. "If I can't pinpoint the source, I'll just blast this whole fucking illusion apart-"

"I wouldn't do that if I was you." The voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere, calm and eerily adult-like for someone so young.

"WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?" Jaef spun in circles, his spell still building power. "SHOW YOURSELF!"

"Just surrender." The voice was gentle now, almost kind. "No one has to get hurt."

A scream pierced the twisted space behind him. Jaef whirled around.

Trevor was gone.

"Trevor?" His voice bounced off the warped walls. "TREVOR!"

Nothing but that damn child's laughter, fading into silence.

Jaef stood alone in the impossible alley, his spell still crackling uselessly between his trembling fingers.

"Fuck this," Jaef snarled, letting his magic build to dangerous levels. Blue sparks danced across his skin, the air growing thick with potential energy. His hands shook as he forced more and more power into the spell, well past the point of safety.

The warped alley seemed to pulse in response, shadows writhing along the walls. That damn laughter echoed again, but Jaef ignored it, focusing on his spell. If these brats wanted to play games, he'd show them what real magic could do.

"Last chance!" he shouted, his voice cracking with strain. The magic was starting to burn now, like holding onto live wires. "Come out, or I'll-"

The world tilted.

For a fraction of a second, Jaef felt weightless, his brain struggling to process what was happening. There was a blur of movement in his peripheral vision - too fast to track, too close to dodge.

Something solid connected with his jaw.

The impact sent shockwaves through his skull, rattling his teeth and exploding behind his eyes in a burst of white light. The half-formed spell shattered, magic dispersing in a shower of sparks that he barely registered.

His legs went numb first. Then his arms. The ground rushed up to meet him, or maybe he was falling down to meet it - his scrambled brain couldn't tell the difference anymore.

As consciousness slipped away, Jaef had one final, absurd thought: When did the kid get so tall?

Then darkness swallowed him whole.

*****

Adom braced himself against the wall, chest heaving. A cowl of fluid fully covering him. The assasin knocked out in front of him. He stared at the notifications still hanging in his vision, trying to process what had just happened.

[You have consumed [Pure Mana Elixir] (Rank: S)]

[Your mana Pool has exceeded the maximum amount possible at your level]

[Level Up! Level 2 → Level 3]

[Stat Increases:

Mana pool: ↑500/500

Life force 205 → 210]

His mana paths burned - not painfully, but with an intense warmth that spoke of rapid expansion. What should have taken months of training had happened in seconds. He could feel the new channels forming, branching out like lightning through his body.

He flexed his fingers, watching small sparks dance between them. The mana responded instantly, flowing smooth as water where it had once been like pushing through sand.

On the moment, they'd just gone with it - what choice did they have? With assassins on their tail, Adom and Sam had to act fast.

The spatial manipulation spell had been risky - technically, Adom knew enough about mana control to attempt spells at a two-circle mage's level. His understanding was there, his control was precise enough, but he'd always lacked the raw mana capacity for such feats.

This wasn't anywhere near two-circle level, not even one-circle, but with his newly expanded pool, it was leagues beyond what he could have managed minutes ago.

The pure mana elixir... Adom's thoughts kept circling back to Mr. Biggins' chocolates. It had to be - especially since Sam had also eaten them. The timing, the effects-

"ADOM!"

Sam's terrified shout ripped through his thoughts. Adom spun around, but too late - the assassin was already on him, dagger glinting as it swept toward his throat. Less than a second from death-

A black blur shot through the air.

The sound that followed wasn't human - a deep, feral growl that resonated through the alley. The assassin didn't even have time to scream before the wet crack of breaking bones filled the air. The sound of tearing flesh, the spray of blood across the cobblestones.

Adom looked down to his left, eyes widening in disbelief.

"...You?"

It turned to face him.

Those eyes... the exact same shade of blue as his own, seeming to pierce right through him. Its fur rippled like liquid shadow, darker than the alley's gloom.

Midnight puma.

The same one he'd freed in the Undertow.

Time seemed to slow as they locked eyes, Adom's chest still heaving from exertion. The creature's presence felt surreal, yet here it was, standing over the remains of his would-be killer.

A sudden glow reflected off the puma's fur.

The creature's head snapped toward the light.

"NO, SAM!"

Adom's hands moved faster than thought, throwing up a barrier just as Sam's fireball roared through the air. Magic collided with magic in a thunderous crack. The explosion lit up the alley like miniature daylight, forcing Adom to shield his eyes.

When the spots cleared from his vision and the smoke began to settle, the puma had vanished. Only blood and the cooling corpse at his feet proved it had been there at all.

Sam's legs gave out as he stared at the corpse, blood still pulsing from the ruined throat in grotesque spurts. He doubled over, retching violently onto the ground.

"Can't- I can't-" His breathing came in sharp, desperate gasps. "There's so much blood- Adom, what-"

Adom sprinted to him, dropping to his knees. "Hey, hey, look at me man." he grabbed Sam's shoulders, forcing his friend to face him instead of the corpse. "Deep breaths, okay? Like this." He exaggerated his breathing, keeping his voice steady. "In through the nose, out through the mouth. Come on, with me."

"But the- the thing, it just- and the man-" Sam's words tumbled out between gasps.

Voices echoed from the street. Getting closer.

"Shit." Adom's thoughts churned. They couldn't be found here - not with a mutilated corpse and two unconscious assassins. His hands moved in quick, practiced motions, weaving spells over the knocked-out men.

The voices were almost at the alley's entrance.

"Hold onto me," Adom ordered, pulling Sam close. His friend was still shaking, but managed to grip Adom's robes.

They vanished, leaving behind only cooling blood and questions that would never be answered.