Val set her visor on her lap and folded one hand over the other, intent on listening to what the metal Magus had to say. Ten rows of adventurers did the same—settling down and focusing on the instructor, that was—clicking off their phones, taking off their shades, or even waking up from their naps.
Magus Kane looked as he always did, fitted in adventurer’s armour, ready to dive into a rift at a moment’s notice. “You are all the elementalists of tomorrow. We are glad you chose Age of Atera to be your prelude for bigger things, whatever they may be.”
He broke away from the stage and walked to the right end of the room. “Out-of-city students, I hope you enjoy your stay. We train all of our sponsored teams in HQ, no matter the branch they belong to. Bear with us—even if you’re from the town next door or a different halo entirely—and surprise your adventurers on your return.”
Similar to the majority of the room, Val’s head moved to track his movements, and it led to spotting a pattern in the seating arrangements. They split the auditorium in two, one half for Atera-based schools, and the other for the remainder. Thales undergraduates sat up front, and Val had to strain her neck to survey the competition in Atera city. She counted four altogether, a few recognizable—like University of Atera—and others, less so.
Magus Kane jabbed a finger toward the walls, decorated by the guild’s trademark tree and multiple shades of blue. “Bearing the name of sponsored-student teams, you must wear our colours in every rift entered under our name.”
“Damn it,” Caro whispered. “Blue is so not my colour.”
Val hid a small smile behind her hand.
“In addition to all that,” Magus Kane continued, “you’re assigned a social media worker, for advertisement purposes on both the guild’s and your end.”
“That’s new,” she heard Jesal comment to her left, and the room reflected his surprise. Muttered conversations sparked in most rows, dying down under Magus Kane’s patient gaze.
“Sponsored means you represent our guild,” he went on. “Representation in this day and age goes beyond the rift. In doing so, we gain sponsors that fund the guild—besides the member taxes—which, in turn, will fund you.”
The idea reminded Val about franchises—mini-organizations under the DRA that signed duelists. If duelists performed well and raked in views and fans, they offered their support in the form of resources, spells, and special instructors. Seems about the same here.
“On to the fun stuff.” Magus Kane retrieved a tablet from his storage ring. “Teams. Where you find yourselves is where you will stay unless you switch schools. Each team will have a separate instructor. Discuss with them which schedules work.”
Magus Kane took a step back, giving the floor up to his colleagues.
“Reynor University students, let’s see if I can whip you guys into something decent.” Magus Hawke was the first to begin, whisking away the metal Magus’ device. “Your glass egos may or may not end up as collateral damage,” she said, tapping at her recently-acquired tablet. “You have been warned.”
Caro leaned back in her cushioned seat, trying—and failing—to hold back a smirk. “Saints, I miss her.”
“Not her laps, though,” Val said.
“Not her laps,” she agreed.
Otis’ ears quirked up, and he bent forward to show his interest down the row. “Laps?”
Caro shuddered. “You don’t wanna know.”
“Artillery Squad,” Magus Hawke called, and eyes followed the back of her blue tracksuit as she made her way to the door. “Bulwark, Nora Locke. Bulwark, Verity Quinn. Striker, Haydn Swiftborn. Support, Leila Blase. Support, Autumn Rayne. Support, Bryan Gladwell. Anchor, Xiandra Clementine. With me!”
All the last names, Val realized, were of the Twenty. She could almost imagine Caro calling the squad stacked in her head, as she always did against high-level characters in her game.
To an ordinary person, it might’ve looked like the team of eight simply rose from their seat, glanced around at the room, tread down the steps and out the sliding doors. However, to those who awakened—
“Oh it is on,” Caro said for them to hear. The Reynor University line-up engaged in their aura—every individual with a characterized presence far more refined than Val’s—and outright taunted the room, unveiling their ASCs and staring down at the competition from their vantage point. A response, Val realized, to Magus Hawke’s comment.
“Listen up, Thales undergraduates,” Magus Kane said, snapping Val back into the presentation. “I’m the instructor for Hammer Squad, which includes the following. Bulwark, Alessio Azotus. Striker, Carielle Hayes. Striker, Valory Efron. Hunter, Ekon Nightingale. Anchor, Jesal Haldar. Support, Kylee Lenson. That is all of you. Let’s go.”
Though it took a few seconds for the team to stretch out of their seats—Caro and Jesal groaned at the task—Kylee was years ahead, halfway to the door and practically a single step behind Magus Kane.
“How on Spiravale?” Caro muttered, bewildered as the five of them set off after the pair. “She was called last out of us.”
Jesal gave a helpless shrug. “You’ll get used to it after a month or two. Being around a Diviner, I mean.”
…
Once again, Val found herself inside the unblemished white of an EC-room, sprawled low against the ground, hands on her soles, to stretch out her quads. Caro decided to work on her arms instead, bothering Jesal about his hair dye brand all the while. Everyone else stood idle, waiting for Magus Kane to finish an important call within the viewing room.
He asked Hammer Squad if they’d be interested in starting from the get-go to which, quite awesomely, they all said yes. With a quick pitstop to their lockers, they grabbed their activewear and booked an EC-room for themselves. It spoke of drive and determination to begin at a hundred percent on a hot summer day, with every human urge imploring you to relax, kick up your feet, and maybe take a siesta while you’re at it.
The swoosh of an opening door regained everyone’s attention—putting an end to Caro’s debate on hair products, and Kylee’s alone time in the far end of the training space—as it indicated that Magus Kane wrapped up his phone call.
Caro wiggled her eyebrows at his approach. “A significant other?”
“Not any more significant to me than to you,” he replied without pause and snapped three times in quick succession. “Up we go Novices. Stand in rank.”
The six scrambled into a fine line before him, ordered from Bulwark to Support. “We’re a little short on Thales recruits, for varying reasons. A team usually has seven to eight, so it's also your responsibility to scout your classmates for another adventurer. Preferably, a Pillar.”
Val wasn’t the only one who grimaced. Pillars were rare for a reason. Even with the difficulty of the alterative discipline aside, mages aligned to the biotic and necrotic essences were far and few in between. And we’re supposed to find one?
“On a different note.” Magus Kane’s gaze latched onto Otis’ frame, head slanted upwards to meet his eyes. “Novice Azotus.”
“Yes, sir!”
“It’s customary to appoint the Bulwarks as leaders of the team. They take the brunt of attacks and are often the most reliable. This squad will be no different.”
Five seconds passed, giving rise to an awkward lull in the conversation, before a forced “Understood, sir!” sounded. Val glanced at the mountain-like Bulwark on her side, her eyes narrowing at the slight frown on his face.
“Good. Now, moving on.” Kane clasped his hand behind his back, strolling down their line. “A synergetic squad. Hayes, care to inform me what that means to you?”
Caro straightened. “A group that works well.”
“Valid.” Kane nodded. “Haldar, specify, will you?”
“A team that amplifies each other's strengths and fills in the spaces that their individual weaknesses create.”
“Precisely,” Kane said. “Team synergy is the multifaceted measurement of how well each teammate in a group can pick up on where a fellow teammate fails. In doing so, the might of two becomes ten, and the faults of one can be overlooked. This is a lesson you have to learn yourselves—I can’t teach synergy.
“What I can do is nudge you in the right direction,” he paused his pacing to survey the team of six in front of him. “That begins with understanding your weaponry. Since you’ve all been bound to an Aether Artifact, I’d presume that you are more comfortable fighting alongside a weapon, be it a bow or a sword.” He garnered nods all around, and a curious eyebrow raise from Val. Another committee member? “I’m also safe to assume that the weapons you’ve chosen are identical to your dormant Aether Artifact?”
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“Not mine, sir,” Jesal called out. “A mimic of my artifact would be pretty useless if I’m being honest.”
“What form does your artifact take?”
“A rod,” Jesal answered. “A giant rod, tapering off into sharp ends. About the size of Azotus.”
“They reject all impractical formations.” Magus Kane’s brow furrowed. “How’d the committee allow you to keep yours?”
“They told me that artifact’s quality combined with my elements make it a viable option,” he answered. “I have no clue what that may mean. Will that be a problem, sir?”
“Not yet,” the Magus answered, summoning his trusty tablet. “The call Hayes was so interested in was straight to the committee. To lessen your workload in the future, I requested access to cut back on some of your restrictions.”
Caro pumped a fist.
“That doesn’t include summoning your weapon, I’m afraid.”
The utter devastation in her eyes must’ve been laughable because Magus Kane, as serious as he often was, snorted. “To clarify, I asked. However, they made a well-founded argument. Anyone at a glance would realize your weapons are expensive. You’ll attract the wrong kind of attention, and—”
“We can’t protect ourselves,” Caro cut in, exhaling through her nose. “We’ve had the whole talk.”
“Glad you remember,” he said, inputting two to three commands in between each word. “I will be disabling a part of Codes 291 and 292, allowing the Wielder HUD to come online. It may not be a massive change, but it is one I want you all to recognize during our drill.”
At the tail end of his words, the EC-room fell away to reveal a translucent lattice on a pitch-dark backdrop. Blue lines ran along the walls, seemingly three-dimensional as they outlined the bodies present. Val took timed breaths in an attempt to relax as the HUD integrated with her vision, and her normal vision returned to her soon enough. Just like those shadow-sight contacts Sil recommended.
“This is taken straight out of an RPG,” Caro remarked, and Val understood exactly what she meant after a moment of searching. Two bars hung in the bottom-left of her eyes, pinned to the particular spot, even as she whirled her head to survey it. On top laid a healthy-green stripe, and underneath a lapis-blue bar displayed her aether strand count. Not bad.
“Very minimalistic,” Jesal added.
“The artificers didn’t want to overwhelm you,” Magus Kane said. “Haldar, just to clarify the previous issue, you’ll get a staff for now. From the looks of it, your artifact is skewed toward offence. I believe, though, this team has all the offensive long-range support it needs from Novice Lenson.”
Jesal winced. “I’ll be pretty limited.”
“So be it.” Magus Kane turned his attention to the end of their line. “Lenson, fair warning. The amount of pressure doubles with his removal. Does that work?”
A confident nod was his reply. He clapped twice. “Perfect. Please, correct me if I’m wrong.”
He paced down the line, stopping before each Novice and summoning a weapon without fanfare. Otis received a broad rectangular shield, a line of interlaced links splitting the weapon down the middle. Val accepted the tried and trusted saber, and it lay balanced on her open palm as her gaze scanned the blade. She stepped away from the others, gave the iron saber a compact swing, and bobbed her head in approval.
Magus Kane provided everyone a weapon as he walked along their rank—a two-handed axe for Caro, twin daggers for Ekon—and addressed them again once finished. “Thankfully, your artifacts line up well with your Paths, soon to be finalized come the first weeks of September.
“Now, although we have several Paths, most of them can be divided into two categories. Before we add elements and strategies to the mix, I want to be certain the frontline and backline work seamlessly separately in the physical aspects alone. Haldar, Lenson, sit tight. Everyone else, step forward.”
Four Novices trailed the Magus into the center of the room. He lifted an eyebrow, sending a silent question. Ready to go? He earned a scattered round of nods and comments that, at the end of the day, affirmed they were primed to start.
At his snap, he brought about a summon, one very different from the Magus Hawke’s cloudhounds and the EC-room’s default dummies.
Over one-hundred paces away, a metal bear assembled before their very eyes. Steel shards, rods, and sheets came together to form a mighty-looking creature. It possessed jagged, sheen-encased plates for fur, empty sockets for eyes, and retractable nails. On all fours, it surpassed Caro’s height completely. I do not want to see it standing.
“Get in formation!” Magus Kane barked.
In one fluid motion, Otis took to the front and, like clockwork, the Strikers fell into step behind him on either side. Ekon’s presence somehow dimmed and he melted into the background. Given his position, the three advanced as one unit, Otis at the forefront of their triangle all the way there.
Sirens blared in Val’s head as it raised its arms high, and it didn’t go unnoticed by the Bulwark. Its nails lengthened to the sizes of daggers and he raised his shield in reply. Sparks flew as metal screeched against metal. Caro took the opportunity, angling her axe for its ankle.
Even with the summon pummeling Otis’ shield—throwing fist after fist—it managed to sidestep Caro’s attack and change course. Its head raced forward, maws wide for the magma mage. Val didn’t stand idle—her sword lashed out, severing a tendon in the summon’s heel. The metal link parted, and it left the summon bereft of one of its hind legs, hindering its attack. Otis' shield bashed it without any hesitation, and Ekon materialized timely, his dagger plunged deep into the summon’s eye.
Cachink!
With how utterly realistic the bear appeared, it seemed bizarre to recognize that the beast did not possess a brain of any sort. Ekon must’ve severed an equivalent, though, since the summon slumped to the ground nevertheless.
“More incoming!” Magus Kane shouted, and Val’s attention left the slain bear to take in three smaller copies.
“Split up,” Nightingale ordered, landing into a crouch as he let go of the bear’s metal fur. Val could perceive the energy bundling and building in the aether channels of his calves. Before she could activate Vague View in an attempt to make sense of it, he uncoiled and sprung away to the farthest summon in a speedy blur. Was that energy enhancement? Val nearly wanted to stop the entire scrimmage to ask him how he applied the subset and altered it for speed rather than strength. Gotta stay focused.
“Who died and made him leader,” Caro grumbled.
“The middle’s mine,” Otis said and charged forward. “I’ll need help after you two deal with your own.”
“Got it!” Val threw behind the shoulder, receiving Bulwark's indirect message to follow Nightingale's lead anyway, and sprinted to their secondary target. She reached first out of the two Strikers—not only attributed to her superior speed, but because she spent no time complaining— and she resisted the urge to engage. Interested in how the tinier creature would attack first, Val dialed down her pace and focused on creating a precise counterblow.
Its head snapped toward her shin, bent on trying to take a bite out of her leg. She deemed it something simple enough to dodge, with plans of running her blade through the top of its skull and out its chin.
Pale, orange halos pulsed from its maws though, and it gave Val pause. What the heck is that? It came in radiating waves, as if to ward off an incoming attack.
So... why did it remind her of a flare instead, one designed to catch her attention?
She carried out her actions anyway, even if a tad slower than she liked. In the middle of turning around in Otis’ direction, Magus Kane’s voice put the drill on hold.
“Stop, stop, stop,” he waved his hand and the summons promptly disassembled into pieces, clinking against the ground. “Gather round, Novices. We need to talk.”
The abrupt break-off left the Novices a little breathless, but they collected the wits to shake off the adrenaline and joined him where he stood near the edge.
“I approve of everyone’s adjustment. You flowed together, and read each other impressively. I have some particulars to add, nonetheless.” He pointed to Caro. “Efron is the quicker Striker. Whenever you three—Azotus, Hayes, and Efron—are grouped, she attacks first. She has a higher likelihood to land an attack and come out unscathed. This leads to my next point.”
Yup, Val sighed internally, watching him whirl onto her. “You paused there, during your last fight, Efron. Pauses kill in rifts, so please explain why you’d be so keen to do so notwithstanding.”
“There was this, I don’t know—energy, I guess—on its mouth. I thought it was dangerous.”
“I had those circles too. Mine were red though,” Caro added, rubbing her eyes. “Pretty glaring if you ask me.”
Otis nodded. “I saw yellow.”
“That’s part of your HUD,” Magus Kane answered. “It warns you of dangerous attacks, colour-coded based on severity. You can see why I want you to practice it here before anywhere else.”
“Nice!" Caro grinned. "Will take some getting used to, but still. It's a win."
“Lots of getting used to,” Val muttered, even though she found herself inclined to agree.
“Can anyone tell me what hindered your efforts the most?” Magus Kane asked, puzzling the four in their post-scrimmage debrief. There's more? He waited, observing one Novice after the next, and finally pointed behind the group. “Tunnel-vision. You left your backline open.”
As one, Hammer Squad turned to behold yet another summon in the back, undoubtedly where Jesal or Lenson would’ve been positioned. Different levels of mortification crossed their faces—Val frowned with a tilted head, Otis outright groaned in disbelief, and Caro settled for a facepalm. Nightingale, however, rose to the challenge.
“Why are we scrimmaging like we’ve no elements? It's pointless, is it not?” he asked.
“Three years down the line, maybe so,” Kane agreed. “However, as of right now, except for Hayes and Lenson, you have less than 100 aether strands within your Aetherial Vessel. You’ve only just begun to engage in Breathing Techniques, so not one of you can meditate in the middle of battle. That means—at most—you have ten spells. For the better part of the dive, your fights will be without the help of your elements.”
“We have scrolls, elixirs, potions—”
“You need aether to power any scroll,” he countered Nightingale’s protest, “and at a point, you’ll reach the end of your bundle of potions, no? That is if you haven’t reached your body’s alchemic limits.”
The Hunter’s silence spoke for the majority of the team. With the gross oversight hanging over their heads, they made a sorry sight—Lenson excluded, of course, who looked like she’d be more interested in watching clouds go by.
The Magus sighed in response. "You will get to a point where the bottom of your Aetherial Vessel isn’t so glaringly obvious, to a point where your time in rifts does feel like a job you excel at. You have to realize, though, that it takes time and effort. So I ask of you all, kindly, for those two things: time and effort. Deal?”
“Deal,” came the response from most of the team, some grumbled, two crisp and articulated, and one nodded.
It was far from unified, yet Kane took it for what it was. “Shall we continue, then?”