"Sure you don't want to be in the viewing room?" Grace asked Doctor Dupont before she commenced the assault on Michael.
"Don't underestimate the Agents of the 35th, Agent Vasquez," Doctor Dupont sneered. "While you have field experience, our expertise in Abilities, Spells, and anything related to Magick applications is unrivaled in the Bureau."
"Stop trying to goad me into fighting you," Grace said, turning to him with her hands on her hips, fists clenched, and a big smile on her face.
"Don't cause a mess, Agent Vasquez! This is neither the time nor the place for your sense of humor! I'm already regretting allowing you to run your tests here, so don't make me change my mind entirely!" Doctor Dupont's anxiety level spiked when he realized Michael intended to be hit by an all-out attack and not just a minor assault to trigger the Grace Period.
"Grace, come on..." Michael pressed. They stood fifteen meters apart, and he was ready. "I'm shutting down my senses. Give me a minute, then your best shot." He closed his eyes and calmed his mind, gradually numbing his senses of touch, smell, hearing, taste, and awareness of his surroundings.
"Alright," Grace said, getting serious as she began to count the seconds.
"I'm recording," Doctor Dupont informed her, not to warn her about going overboard, but for later study of the test's results.
"First trial, long-range attack," Grace announced. "Magick Bullet!" She pointed her index finger at Michael and invoked the Spell.
An azure projectile shot from her finger. Her hand recoiled slightly as the projectile shot at twice the velocity of a 9mm bullet, roughly 800 m/s. It was aimed at Michael's left shoulder. However, when it got to twenty to thirty centimeters from him, it slammed into an invisible force and exploded into dissipating Magickal sparks.
"First trial over. Agent Mir is safe. Agent Vasquez, how are you feeling?"
Grace rubbed her index finger. "That's not a Spell I enjoy using. Otherwise, I'm fine."
"Noted. Wait for a bit. The Grace Period isn't just a basic defense measure. It also counterattacks, but there should be a condition or principle, besides the first two, to determine whether a counterattack is necessary. I'd not recommend testing it..."
"I don't have a death wish," Grace said, shaking her hand and dropping it. "Everything is fine. I'm ready for the next round."
"Go ahead, but, again, be extra careful! Retreat as fast as you can!"
"Second trial, close-range attack," Grace announced somberly. In all honesty, she wasn't confident about making physical contact with the Grace Period, but she ultimately agreed to it, hoping to learn how she and Michael could exploit it as partners.
Taking a deep breath, she kicked off the floor and rushed at Michael. When the distance between them shrank to two meters, she leaped above him, kicked the top of his head, and let the momentum carry her away as quickly as possible.
"Tsk!" Grace landed on the floor, hissing in pain and sweating. She sat down, shaking from the pain, and removed her right shoe. It was fine; her foot hadn't reached Michael's head and was blocked by the Grace Period, just like the Magick Bullet. However, her foot felt like it had been dipped in lava.
Doctor Dupont squatted beside her with a syringe gun and, without asking for her approval, administered two quick shots to her foot.
"For the pain and any residues the Grace Period might have left," he explained. "If this doesn't work, I'll take you to the infirmary."
"Mm..." Grace nodded. She couldn't utter a sound that wasn't a scream, so she kept her mouth closed.
"Agent Mir is fine. Agent Vasquez's condition is pending. Second trial, over."
Grace glared at Doctor Dupont.
He ignored the venom in her eyes. "It's evident that you can activate Agent Mir's Grace Period from both long and close range. However, at close range, you risk injury. Can you still not talk?"
"Mad Scientist Dupont!" she cursed through gritted teeth, her thoughts wandering, 'Give me a proper moment to recover!' But the pain was too much.
"You're getting better. We can skip the infirmary. Although close range injures you, it's not life-threatening. The Grace Period doesn't evaluate you as an authentic threat. It’s unclear whether this is due to Agent Mir's opinion of you or the Grace Period's."
"You're making it sound like it's a living being," Michael said. He unlocked his senses as he felt enough time had passed, just in time to catch Doctor Dupont's assessment.
"The feats of high-level Metamorphoses are no different than miracles from our limited field of perception. It doesn't matter if you treat the Grace Period as a sentient creature or a super-advanced computer."
"When it starts holding profound conversations with me, I'll consider it sentient. And when it can run Crysis, I'll consider it a super advanced computer."
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
"Wait, don't answer him," Grace finally managed to talk freely. She squeezed Doctor Dupont's arm before he could respond. "That's another one of your guys' languages I'm ill-equipped to understand, right?"
"It just requires a bit of culture," Doctor Dupont retorted.
"How are you, Grace?" Michael cut in.
"Don't ever touch the Grace Period!"
"It won't hurt him," Doctor Dupont stated plainly.
"Swear to me you won't ever touch it, Michael!"
"You're fine," Michael said, sensing from Grace's attitude that it was safe to laugh rather than be concerned.
"In case you're wondering, this is the last time I'm attacking you from close range." Michael's smile stretched into a large grin.
Grace read his mind and hastily added, "At least for the next two years. Can't promise anything after that. You know, like that I won't ram your head with a baseball bat!"
"In my sleep or while I'm awake?"
"In your balls-"
"The conversation has strayed off the road, into the woods, and hit a family of five in the midst of a camping trip," Doctor Dupont interjected, stepping between them.
"Sorry," Michael apologized, offering Doctor Dupont a hand to help him stand up. "Round two?" he asked Grace, offering her his other hand.
Both Doctor Dupont and Grace took his hands.
"Wait," Grace said, shoving her foot back into her shoe. "I'm not that thrilled anymore, but yes."
All three got into position. This time, Michael didn't block his senses.
"Third trial, defense!" Grace announced. "Lesser Ward!" She extended her hand.
'So that's what she used against the Cornish Piskies' Magick,' Michael thought. From his point of view, the Lesser Ward spell looked like a small opaque window.
"You only need to grab her hand," Doctor Dupont reminded.
"I know," Michael said.
"That's another test of contact," Grace said, clearly agitated.
"But this time around, I’m the one infringing on you. No reason for the Grace Period to harm you," Michael reasoned.
"Tell that to the mantle before the gatehouse at Berwick Castle."
"It was the Cornish Piskies' Magick, and they were not hurt."
"Pixies," she corrected, "and you didn't come into contact with them."
"Well..." Michael said, dragging the word out. He took a sudden, swift step forward and grabbed her hand. His fingers penetrated the crumbling Magick of the Lesser Ward like a hot knife through butter and interlocked with Grace's. "I'm in contact with you and you don't seem hurt. Uncomfortable?" He inquired.
Grace glared but didn't pull away. "Fine, you made your point."
She pulled her hand back without answering.
"I know the real reason you didn't go to the Arena..." Doctor Dupont muttered.
"Say it!" Grace demanded.
"You're not at all subtle-"
"Not that. Say the third trial is over!"
"Ah, right. Third trial, over."
"Good. Moving on to the fourth!" Grace declared.
Michael jumped backward and readied himself in a battle pose.
"Fourth trial, combat!" The words had barely left Grace's mouth before she was already on the move.
"No need to use Magick this time!" Doctor Dupont hurriedly and horridly said.
"On it!" Michael reassured him. "I'm pulling my punches here, Grace, please remember that..." He retreated, not to brag about his stronger Physique, but to remind her she could seriously hurt him. "Also, four or five punches will do. No need to prolong it."
"Certainly. Four or five punches. Now open your arms and accept the love and care of your kind Partner!"
"Shit..." Michael grumbled, relenting. The aim of the test was to see if the Grace Period would protect him when he willingly wanted to engage in battle.
"One!" Grace punched him in the stomach. Her fist sank in, but without Magick and given the significant difference between her Build and his Physique, she could do little real harm unless she aimed for his vitals and he let his defense down completely.
The weight of her punch pushed him back a couple of steps, but his frame remained solid.
"Two!" Grace yelled, delivering another punch to his abs. "Three! Four! Five!"
Michael instinctively caught her final strike. "That's not a punch, and that's not my stomach..." He redirected her right leg away from his groin.
"And neither is my best. Just remember it. As lovely as this game is, I don't want my Partner to die because he underestimated an expert opponent with less Magick ions."
"I won't," Michael said. His tone was as close to a resolute promise as possible, one he fully intended to keep.
"Fourth trial, over," Doctor Dupont announced. "Experiment complete. Would you like to view the recording?"
"Is there a point?" Grace asked. "The Grace Period reacted in accordance with Michael's will."
"Indeed, but we can examine the flow of its Magick. In your last mission, it didn't work despite Agent Mir's desire for its protection. If you had known why its Magick was disturbed, Agent Mir might have been able to restore it without the involvement of the Divine and Demonic Dimensions."
"Let's watch it. Although I don't think it will matter for the present me, since as you said, it's the product of Entities beyond even the Bureau, it might become useful knowledge in the future."
"Follow me to the viewing room!" Doctor Dupont invited, eager like a child before Christmas, relieved like the owner of a porcelain store who managed to get two rowdy brats out of it.
...
Floor 15th.
Michael returned to his room alone. Studying the recording proved less fruitful than any of the three had expected. Whatever Magick flow Doctor Dupont hoped to capture a trace of was incomprehensible. Their best finding was an extremely minute spike in Magick that the Sphere of Measurement detected, but without a signature to conclude if it belonged to one of the three people in the room or the Grace Period.
Eventually, he and Grace left the disappointed Doctor Dupont in his testing laboratory and went their separate ways, each with other places to be.
Now, sitting at the desk in his room, Michael unlocked the screen of his tablet. The display read "MMB's Account:" followed by the identifier "MM2Y0GP-DCA1-HQRM," and then the desktop appeared.
"Exchange Center!" Michael didn't waste a second and tapped.
\\\
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Wallet: 86,000$.
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Michael swallowed hard.
"86K!" It hit him even more than the Merit Points, despite knowing they were more valuable. Never in his life had he seen so much money, let alone earned it in such a short time. "If this keeps up, I'm going to become filthy rich!"
Just as he realized that, a certain desire emerged in his heart.
"It's been over a month since I left home..."