25.10.2023

Floor 33rd, Training Ground.

The red ball of fire flew through the air at varying speeds. The signaling light on the ceiling also glowed red. Then, without warning, the light turned green, and the red ball of fire made a curve and shot forward.

Michael held his breath, his pupils contracting in sharp focus. He thrust his right hand forward and called out, "Ward!"

The ball of fire, not bigger than a baseball, slammed into Michael's palm before he could cast the spell, bursting into a small flame shower that scorched his upper body and face. Luckily, after the first round of practice, he had removed his shirt, so no Bureau property was damaged.

...

The practice had commenced the evening before, when he received a message from Department Manager Jully about Grace's sudden private training session. She had also shared her opinion on how he should use his Merit Points, which could be summed up in one word: "Don't". She recommended he work on his proficiency with Ward and Taunt instead.

After reading the message, Michael attempted to contact Grace, but he received notifications that his messages couldn't reach the recipient.

Michael's first response was to lie in his bed and think about how to approach the only thing he could do: training without Grace there to guide him.

'Call Matteo?' He rejected the thought as quickly as it came to him, thinking, 'We're not friends. He helped me get some of my anger out for taking his residence and because the Bureau gave him an incentive. Other than letting him beat me up, I can't offer him anything else he might want.'

Michael's second idea was to look for Doctor Dupont or maybe get to know some of the other Agents, either at the R & R Center or the "Gym Bros" at the Training Ground.

Ultimately, he decided to focus on his self-sufficiency. 'It'd be nice to know other Agents, but there's no point in doing it just to find someone who can tell me how to best train Ward and Taunt. I've read their instructions. I know where to start with the facilities at the Training Ground. If I'm wrong, do I really need others to dress my wounds for me? At the very least, it's not like I'll be training with explosives...'

So he went to the Training Ground and signed up for a private room that threw fireballs at him for ten hours and counting.

…

'Speed difficulty of "4" is manageable, but the Motion difficulty is the problem...' Michael drank from the water fountain at the Safety Corner of the room. Next to it, on the wall, was a touch screen with the difficulty settings for both "Speed" and "Motion" under Rank 1, as well as the "Training Style" set to "Quick Reaction".

He could go up to "7", but that was an overestimation of his current capabilities, unless he cheated with Symbiosis ON. Since his Magick Ions were more than halfway to the quantity required for the First Metamorphosis, he wanted to challenge himself with a difficulty level that was also beyond half of what was available for Rank 0 Agents.

'Maybe I should change the Training Style to "Endurance"? Considering my Psyche, as long as I don't mess up the Magick control, endurance isn't really a problem. Perhaps I should switch to "Field Observation"? I've done twelve hours of "Quick Reaction"; the two Training Styles should complement each other... but giving up before reaching 10 consecutive successful blocks with a Motion difficulty of "4"...'

Michael frowned and turned back. A new fireball was already spinning in the air. It was only a matter of time before the signaling light turned green and it shot at him. It wouldn't reach the Safety Corner, but for him, it would feel like another miss.

'Crap. I'm being indecisive, and it's interfering with my motivation. Change it to "Field Observation", start with a Speed difficulty of "2" and Quantity difficulty of "3",' he forced himself to make a decision.

The fireball burst into motes of flames that vanished along with the Magick that formed them. The private room turned dark, even the signaling light switching off. A bright red Magickal Circle appeared on the walls, indicating the Training Style. Certain sections of it morphed into new symbols and shapes, signaling the change from "Quick Reaction" to "Field Observation".

The red Magickal Circle disappeared, and the signaling light turned back on. A spot lit up on the floor for Michael to step forward and position himself. This time, before the fireballs appeared, the signaling light turned green.

Michael raised his hand, calling, "Ward!" A moment later, sixteen fireballs began to manifest in stationary positions. They were slightly bigger than in the previous Training Style.

One fireball shuddered and shot at Michael, followed by a second, then a third, and so on. Each shuddered before flying at him, seemingly aware of the range of his Ward and aiming exactly where the Spell stretched too thin.

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Behind and around Michael appeared four moving targets – green fireballs – the actual targets of the red fireballs.

'16 vs 4 with me in the middle…' Michael controlled his Spell to block the incoming red fireballs before they hit the targets. Every fireball he stopped immediately reformed in its exact position and shot again, not necessarily at the same target.

When the first "BANG" of a green fireball exploding rang out, Michael had blocked almost all the fireballs.

'That's one down, and it's not even the third round,' Michael frowned, even though there were no rounds in this Training Style. He simply counted every sixteen blocked fireballs as a round to give the training a game-like structure that would make it more appealing and fun.

After the fifty-seventh fireball, another "BANG" sounded from Michael's bottom left. Although he had lasted longer between the first and second targets being hit, he wasn't happy. Fewer targets meant an easier job, and the red fireballs had a set Speed and Quantity, so the failure was all due to his carelessness.

Some time later, the third and fourth "BANGS" echoed through the room.

"107?" Michael checked the screen. The counter showed a similar number. "Divide by sixteen… I made it up to the sixth round." It felt like he was falling short of some goal, but neither the mission's information nor Department Manager Jully had given him a set standard to reach with the two Spells. 'I still have plenty of Magick to go on, and my Psyche is fine. I suppose if I don't train hard enough to run myself dry, I won't be able to improve.'

"Round 1 of round 2!" Michael called out. Nothing happened; the private rooms had no voice operation. He did it to hype himself up while heading back to the touch screen and pressing "START."

…

26.10.2023

05:00

The final green fireball was hit and vanished in a "BANG." Michael closed his eyes and let himself collapse backwards onto the floor with a "BANG" of his own.

"How… much…?" He opened his eyes and looked up at the screen. The Speed difficulty was set to "3", while the Quantity difficulty was at "4", which meant he was dealing with thirty-two red fireballs and had to protect eight green fireballs.

The results…

"I blocked 379 red fireballs… that's almost twelve rounds and more than my base amount of Magick Ions!"

At last, Michael was pleased with himself. He wearily lifted himself up. In terms of Physique, he was mostly fine, but his Psyche was scraping the bottom for individual Magick Ions. It gave him a splitting headache that ruined his appetite and made him want to do nothing except sleep.

'Maybe I've taken it too far... Not saying it was a mistake. With these results, it's worth taking the proficiency test. Later. After getting some food and rest.'

…

"Thank you for agreeing to meet. I've been eagerly waiting for your arrival. Oh, please have a seat."

The short-haired blond woman smiled and gestured at the other seat of the couple's table. Besides her and her guest, the one Michelin star restaurant was empty, with the staff limited to the chef and the hostess/waitress.

"You were persistent," the guest, a young man in his early twenties, responded coolly.

"I'm sure it's not the only reason," she said, sliding the menu across the table. "I already know what I'm having."

The young man took the menu but didn't open it. Instead, he studied the woman in front of him with complex emotions, eventually giving in.

"You said you'd expand on what you mentioned in the phone call and properly introduce yourself when we meet face to face."

"That's what I said," she nodded in agreement. She pulled her chair back, stood up, and offered her hand. "Agent Morsov Rose of HOSC, 'Homeland Office of Special Cases.'"

He stood up and shook her hand. "Dan Mir."

They both returned to their seats. Agent Morsov waved her hand, and a woman in her late twenties, dressed in yellow, green, and white attire, approached.

"Thank you for your patience, Soya. Please bring the appetizers," Agent Morsov said.

"Certainly. And have you decided on a course?"

"Would you like to choose, or shall I order for both of us?" Agent Morsov asked Dan.

Dan slid the menu aside. "I'll have what you're having."

"We'll have, each, the Nocturnal Flavor Symphony."

"Of course. To enhance your experience, I'd recommend starting with a glass of Champagne, which can complement the appetizers and set the mood for the evening."

"Sounds great," Agent Morsov approved.

"I shall inform the chef," Soya replied, taking a step back and elegantly leaving for the kitchen.

"You said you want to talk about my brother, Michael," Dan reminded Agent Morsov after Soya left.

"I do. However, please read this first," she said, reaching down to her bag and retrieving a brown envelope.

Dan found documents and photos in the envelope and carefully reviewed them. Altogether, there were six abridged pages pertaining to names he had recently become familiar with, such as Ilmar Lois and Mary Kate Williams. Then there were names he had never heard, leading to the one person he was truly close to, though perhaps not as he should've been – Michael Mir, his second oldest brother and third oldest sibling.

"I'm sorry about the graphic photos when we're about to eat, but I had to capture your attention and emphasize the severity of our topic," Agent Morsov said, accepting the envelope with its contents back.

"And what topic is so secretive you couldn't say it on the phone?" Dan asked after gathering himself. "Violent murders? Strange disappearances? Destruction of public and government property?"

Agent Morsov's lips perked into a half-smile. "Mr. Mir-"

"Dan. My father is 'Mr. Mir'. My eldest brother would also prefer to be addressed with formalities. Can't tell you about my sister and other brother. But I prefer when others know my name."

"Dan, what did the MMB- I misspoke… the Material Magick Bureau have you sign?"

"Material Magick Bureau?"

"Come on, Dan. Are you really taking this route?"

"Yes, I am," Dan openly admitted. "I know where I stand. If figuring that out is the reason you called me, then it's not enough to keep me here."

As far as he was willing to believe Michael and Agent Peiss, Dan understood he was protected from any form of oppression.

"Instead of showing me you know some big secret to make me feel safe sharing what I know, I recommend you treat me as an equal. Don't get me wrong, I don't pretend to be special, but I am close enough to be covered by some of the limelight and..." The following words stuck in his throat, weighed down by the unease of his inner thoughts.

"You want more," Agent Morsov finished. "This… can be arranged."