"Fun is not the word I would choose," I replied as I relaxed, "Strange, unfamiliar, and dangerous maybe, but never fun."

"The same thing, from a certain perspective. Danger breeds opportunity. You won't be able to back out of our deal now, though. You do know that, yes?"

I nodded. Before meeting with Flynn, I had proposed a deal with Julian. It was bold, decisive, reckless, bordering on improper, and thus Julian agreed with barely any hesitation. He would allow me to remain here, duel Flynn Sion for Markov's journal, and even use some of his gold for my preparations.

If-when I won the duel and claimed my prize, Julian would reward me handsomely. He agreed to provide personal training on one topic of my choice, provided it was not too dangerous. I had several ideas, the most obvious being gravity magic, but I had yet to decide which would be best.

However, if I failed, the consequences would set me back months, maybe even years. First, I would need to repay Julian for any expended gold, which would take me several hunts and likely the better part of a year. But worse was Julian's near-friendly threat.

If I failed, it would cost Master Julian something valuable. Though Markov would bear the shame of breaking a deal, the fact remained that Julian would not get his prize. So, if I lost, Julian would no longer act as my mentor. He would provide no guidance, answer no questions, and treat me only as a regular student.

That gave me pause, but the damage to my reputation was arguably the worst. I would be known as the arrogant upstart who had made an enemy of a master mage. Most in the Academy would refuse to work with me, and I knew Girem would be livid. While I did not want that outcome, the facts remained.

As Julian said, danger breeds opportunity, and though this trip had been fraught with the former, it had also drastically strengthened my magic. Still, something gnawed at me.

"May I ask you something, Master Julian?"

"Of course," Julian replied, "What is it?"

"Why did you agree? To my proposal, I mean. You barely questioned why I thought to accept the duel before agreeing."

"Hmm...well, you're many things, Vayne. Arrogant. Judgmental. Secretive. Sometimes rude. Stupid at times. But you've never seemed the particular type of reckless fool to choose a hopeless fight. Was I wrong?"

I shook my head, realized Julian could not see me, and replied, "No."

"And you are going to win, right?"

I did not hesitate, "Yes."

"Good. Now, what else do you need from me?"

----------------------------------------

My first meal since waking was a dry, leathery hunk of meat, unseasoned, boiled vegetables, and a piece of bread with dry cheese. It was a dull, bland lunch designed to keep you moving, not taste good.

I inhaled it in less than a minute with as much fervor as a starving man, which I was, I supposed.

After finishing, I changed into real clothes and left the infirmary to find Rowen. Not only did I owe him a thank you for finding me a place to stay and providing medical aid, but I had to ask him for another favor. Flynn would have spies, and I could not return to the city for my preparations. But luckily, there was an entire mountain to my north with plenty of likely hiding spots.

"You're up?" Rowen asked as I entered his office, "Shouldn't you be resting?"

I raised an eyebrow, "You injured your leg fighting a magical boar and returned to work within a few hours."

Rowen snorted, "Fair. What can I do for you?"

"First, thank you for helping me," I inclined my head to Rowen, "I owe you a favor-"

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"You don't."

"-and I will return that favor someday." I finished.

"You don't owe me, Vayne." Rowen responded, "Kid, you saved lives. I helped one. You might've called us square, but as far as I'm concerned, you're still ahead."

Well, if he insisted, then...

----------------------------------------

The Cragrock mines were among the oldest, an operation that had run for decades without slowing. As the years passed, they opened new tunnels, dug for more ore, and had to expand ever deeper into the mountains.

That long history left hundreds of abandoned off-shoots, natural caves, storage rooms, and even makeshift mining quarters scattered everywhere. Rowen seemed confused by my request but was happy to help. It did not take us long to find one nearly perfect for my needs: a quiet, low-productivity vein that was out of the way but had several adjoining spaces.

Rowen would divert workers away from that area until my duel arrived and provided me with several new spears when I admitted I had lost the previous one.

I walked into the rounded cave with a torch held in one hand. Several more flickered at regular intervals, illuminating wooden crates and barrels half-filled with shovels and picks. I ignored their contents as I walked over to the far side of the space, set down my bundle of three spears, and pulled out a bedroll.

Though I was too sore and wounded for hard training, there was plenty of time to finish one important job.

As I sat down, I could feel the cold stone floor beneath me, even through the bedroll. It took me a few minutes to find a comfortable position and relax, but once I felt ready, I dove inward.

Green mana filled my core to the brim, causing a subtle, almost unnoticeable pressure in my chest. The energy usually looked gentle, rippling, or shifting but still stable and regular. Now, it roiled like a storm cloud, forming peaks and valleys as it twisted.

It was the first sign of instability, a consequence of overusing that Aether pool. Unstable mana was harder to control, which reduced efficiency and, more importantly, made reaching the next stage a taller task.

While I would love to spend that time doing it right, I had to set aside what I wanted in favor of what I needed to do. If I could make it to Haze, the process should tamp down the worst instabilities. Granted, it would worsen if I failed, but I did not plan to fail.

Advancing from one stage to the next was a superficially simple three-step process, broken down into coalescence, condensing, and compression. While most used the last term as the catch-all for the entire thing, it was an oversimplification.

I reached inward and touched the edge of my mana, trying to get a feeling for the instability. Then, as gently as possible, I brushed my "hand" across its surface. Some parts refused to move, others followed for a moment before breaking away, but a few thin wisps yielded to my control.

As I dragged my "hand" across the mana, I both saw and felt the rough mass grow a fraction more regular. The difference was minute, almost imperceptible, but noticeable regardless. After I finished one pass, I repeated the process on a different route.

Slowly, the rough mass changed into a smooth, rounded sphere. It still felt like it was vibrating, with the instability pushed beneath the surface, and it still filled my core, but there was now a thin gap between mana and the walls of the organ.

With coalescence done, I moved into condensing. While the first stage coaxed the mana together into a consistent, gathered mass, the second shrunk and concentrated it for the final step.

I chose a part of my mana at random and focused, trying to push that region toward the center of my core. The mana pushed back weakly at first, but the harder I tried, the more the resistance grew. If I relaxed for even an instant, the sphere would rebound, gradually returning to the same state.

That was not a problem by itself, but the real challenge came that it was just one part of my mana. Properly condensing mana demanded that you work fast, pushing one portion down as hard and quickly as possible before moving to the next. It was not a question of control but speed, and if you moved too slowly, you would stagnate.

While the first stage was easy enough, though it took at least an hour, the second stretched several times as long. Though I had calmed the worst of the instabilities on the surface, I found that it was only a superficial change. Ripples and vibrations ran through my core, and I had to effectively backtrack to coalescence twice before returning to condensing.

Finally, my mana no longer would yield to my brushes and pushes. It had taken me three hours, but my mana now resembled a tight, rippling sphere of pure green Aether.

Though it looked and felt stronger, it was an illusory change. My mana remained at Vapor, just concentrated and focused, and if I stopped here, it would eventually spread out and return to its original state. If I let it, I would need to repeat the entire process again, which would set me back a whole day.

I did not have a whole day to waste, so I moved on to the third and final stage of advancing.

Compression was the easiest of the three on its face. All one had to do was reach inward and squeeze your mana. There was no skill, control, speed, or precision needed. It was a question of pure mental willpower pitted against an energy that did not want to compress.

I had done all that I could. I had finished the first two steps with as much care as possible and gone over my core several times more just in case. But after a certain point, I was delaying taking the plunge.

So, before I could hesitate, I reached inward and enveloped my mana with both "hands." It vibrated in my grip, and I paused briefly before squeezing.

The mana almost immediately broke free. It rebelled against my grip with a near-primal fury, sending shooting pain throughout my body. Strangely, though, it felt muted and distant. It felt less like it injured flesh and blood and more like it brushed against something deep and intrinsic to me.

Despite that, it was a far cry from what I had already felt. That first attempt at tempering months prior, the wounds I had incurred recently, and the all-consuming agony of wholly rebuilding my channels made compression trifling. It was barely worse than unpleasant and easy to ignore.

So, I did precisely that. I pushed aside that pain, continued squeezing, and focused on what failure would cost me.

A thread broke past my "hand," and I paused before forcing it back into place. On the opposite side, my mana bulged, and I had to readjust and push it back into an even sphere. A few tendrils slipped past my fingers, and I reached out to reclaim them and pull them into the mass.

Time and again, I squeezed, molded, reshaped, and forced any rebellious pieces back into place. The pain came in ebbs and flows as my mana refused to shift, rebelled, and strained for freedom.

Though it felt conscious, in truth, it was a matter of reality. We did not know why, but mana did not want to shift into a denser state.

Suddenly, the mana refused to yield further. It felt like I had hit a wall, and I nearly relaxed. But I felt no different. Exhausted, maybe, but no stronger.

So, I pushed further. I threw every scrap of will I had earned, every fear of failure and death, every nightmare and insecurity into it. All those things pushed me further, past the point where I might have stopped just weeks earlier.

And just like that, like a candle snuffed out, the pain vanished. I gasped, falling forward onto my hands as a shock traveled out from my center. It passed along my limbs, into my head, and out every pore of my skin.

My core reverberated, and a deep thrumming sensation filled my body. The energy within had shrunk to a fraction of its original size but now carried a new weight and depth.

I smiled and sat up straight, not as a peak Vapor but as a new Haze. One task down and a hundred more to go.