Courtesy of the sky-high Inner Wall, the sun took its leave for the day ahead of the clock. As a result, dusk set early for residents in the First Halo, coating everything from the grayish-tone walls to the leather conference chairs in the tactic-focused study with a beautiful varnish of solid reds, pinks, and oranges. Ordinarily, under the circumstances of post-fight discussions, the view would’ve completely entranced Val.
Magus Kane drumming his fingers along his crossed arms with a perplexed frown, unfortunately, was not what she would deem an everyday occasion. For the first time in, well, ever, he appeared somewhat uneased where he stood at the end of the metal desk, evidently irresolute on which topic to rip into. A vengeful ray of sunlight crossed his blue eyes as the daylight said its final farewells, startling him out of his reverie and, in an odd turn of events, into a sudden stroke of inspiration. “I will begin with the good.”
At his swift double tap, the table hummed to life, springing forth a digital checklist high above its surface. In order to fit the multiple tasks etched into it, the translucent sheet occupied an ample amount of airspace. Even still, a line struck through almost every topic on the to-do list, completed and done. Everything, that was, except for one annoyingly long point, tagged by up to twenty subsections concentrated on ores, their descriptions and quantities.
Val’s gaze ended up crossing Caro’s at the reminder, and she stiffened in the face of the sheer indifference marking every muscle in her blank face.
“On your first dive as a team, Hammer Squad just about concluded a complete run. That is nothing short of impressive,” Kane spoke, but the rigid line on his lips told Val that more was yet to come.
“Thanks to the one-on-one debriefs I had with you all, however, I understand we’ve yet to achieve even a semblance of authentic team synergy. You can attribute this—” he pointed towards the only unchecked task on the list “—to the miscommunication and dispute amongst you. And yet, the problem doesn’t end there. Remind me who I made captain, Hammer Squad?”
Sandwiched between Caro and Nightingale on the opposite side of the desk, Otis raised his hand, his lips twitching against a grimace Val knew was crawling its way onto his face.
“Correct. So how come I heard that Nightingale led the majority of the time?”
“Magus Kane,” the Bulwark said, his hands folded atop the metal countertop. “I’m not suited for being the captain.”
“Why is that?” he asked, and the sincerity behind the question stunned the entirety of Hammer Squad, no different from a child asking their parents why a bird could fly.
“Contrary to popular belief, you do not need outlandish strategies or a charming personality,” the Magus continued, regardless of Otis’ lack of response. “Your job is to assess the problem at hand, devise possible solutions using the sources available to you, and articulate any issues you come across. The six of you should be able to do so regardless of whether you hold a title or not.”
“I’m not the best pick,” Otis said instead, the grimace taking form in full as he—and every seated Novice—could tell his fight was far from won.
“Ask your teammates for aid,” was the Magus’ answer. “That is, after all, why they are there.”
And now, all but lost. This is either an incredibly smart ploy or a recipe for a catastrophe. Val held a good feeling she wouldn’t know the true answer for a very long while. Sure, the directive more or less echoed the ‘decide as one’ belief the group had decided on in the Darkshaft, but it also left a considerable amount of room for the team to fall apart at the seams.
“I realize that I asked you to climb a mountain,” he voiced, transitioning back to his previous topic. “What I didn’t expect was for you to nearly reach the top. Once again, I cannot emphasize how remarkable the feat is. Nevertheless, I sent you to the Dark Mineshaft to survey how you worked together.”
Val’s lips tilted downwards, vividly imagining yet another point adding to the stark checklist still hovering amidst Hammer Squad, now an ugly reminder of not one, but two failures.
Kane leaned into that with fervour.
“Did you utilize your Strikers’ prior knowledge on the Dark Mineshaft? How about Otis’ light-based element, a force able to counter every aether creature in the rift? Where did the advanced equipment of your other teammates come into use? Were there discussions on these fronts?”
“Not a lot,” Jesal admitted.
“Precisely,” he nodded. “In failing to meet my expectations, you are prohibited from entering another rift until further notice.”
“That is so unfair and you know it,” Caro hissed, slamming a fist on the metal in front of her. “You gave us a mission that we failed to complete. We get that. We braced for that. It’d make so much more sense to penalize us for dropping the ores and what do you do instead? Dock us for a task we weren’t even aware of. Plus, what about our Diving Points? We’ll fall behind in DP compared to other teams!”
“Keep that in mind when next you forget to follow instructions. Dismissed.”
“You didn’t give any in the damn first place,” she fired back, forgoing even a fake effort in following decorum. “We got a list!”
“I said dismissed.” His steely irises took on a dull, metallic glow, and the finality in his words stopped the Striker from pressing onwards. She leapt from her seat in a huff, sending her chair flying back into the tall windows as she turned for the exit.
“That means all of you.”
Magus Kane’s attention snapped to the dazed five with the force of a thunderstorm behind it, jolting the Novices still tucked under the IBR-connected table into action. The rest of Hammer Squad were fast on her heels within a fraction of a second, eager to vacate the seats seemingly crumpling under the strength of his stare.
…
“That went about as well as I expected,” Jesal spoke into the quiet of the descending elevator, eliciting a snort from Caro.
“I don’t get this guild and their secret tests.” She exhaled through her nose, and it felt like the floor had been prematurely plated and reinforced just to withstand the fire in her glare. “I just don’t.”
“You wouldn’t last a day in high society,” Nightingale said from the other end of the shaft, eyeing the bundle of particles hovering near him warily. “Clever and cunning take you farther than you can imagine.”
“Well good thing I ain’t a part of any of that,” she spat, starting a beat later. Her head lifted to regard the three highborns in their company. “No offence.”
“Offence is most certainly taken,” he scoffed, “and whether or not you believe what you said, it does not diminish my point in the slightest.”
“Like I said,” her sneer returned. “I’m good being where I’m at.”
“Sorry to say this, Caro,” Jesal began, his tone as far from apologetic as one could get, “but you’re in the advanced stream of Thales’ combat program, Aether Artifacts and all. Second best—and very close to being the finest—in the country. You’ll be seeing a lot of us.”
Caro thumbed the Hunter swatting at the yellow motes of light. “I survived him, didn’t I?”
Leaning against the elevator’s central wall, Val permitted herself a soft chuckle as she watched Nightingale whirl onto the Striker, mouth most open, ready to fire a harsh reply.
“Team synergy,” Otis chided the two, moving across Val to tap Nightingale on his shoulder. “She’s only joking, man.”
“I’m no—”
“Would you look at that, the ground floor!” Jesal shouted, grinning up at the green light on the elevator’s digital display of L—for the lobby, obviously—and smartly cutting off Caro’s retort. With her emotions running high at the firm reprimand, Val knew no one present would take her remarks too seriously.
Truth be told, people were invariably either going to be pleasant or distasteful no matter where one found themself—be it the Third, Second, or First Halo. Take Fiona Rhodes, for example. The dual-bound Magus had been a thorough delight to chat with both during their New Year’s dinner and her artifact endowment, and she was virtually held as the poster kid for all things mage-related.
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“Saintsdammit,” Caro cursed violently under her breath, bumping into Jesal as his steps came to a pause at the elevator’s threshold. She rubbed her smarting nose, taking the time to scowl at the statue of an Anchor suddenly barring the exit. “What’s got you so spooked?”
Jesal settled to numbly gesture at the sight in front of him, leaving no choice for them to sidestep his towering figure—or peak over his shoulder, if you were Otis—and gape right alongside him.
Save for busy days like orientations, Age of Eon’s entrance hall usually glimpsed a few crowds at a given point in time. Never did she expect to bump into a sudden influx of mages—gifted mages, judging by the auras thrumming off their civvies and rolling over Hammer Squad in near-suffocating waves—milling about on the sky-patterned flooring and clogging the roots of HQ’s multistorey tree.
“This is why Age of Atera is the guild it is,” Otis spoke with no small amount of awe, bug-eyed as he turned to take in a small group of adventures—relatively young, Val noticed, ranging from their early twenties to late thirties—huddled around Magister Thorne. “Heavens. That’s the guildmaster and his banes!”
“Banes?” Val parotted, squinting at the small assembly of five around the esteemed mage. “They look pretty normal to me.”
“Always asking questions, aren’t you, Valory?” a familiar voice called out. As one, six heads snapped to the slender woman striding out of a booth of her own.
Outside of the typical battle braid that usually rested along the span of her back, her dark hair fell in waves of brown atop her sleeveless blouse, settling onto her cloth-based calf-length bottoms. Acclimated to the sharp frown practically permanent on the Support’s face, Val blinked more than once to ensure the razor-sharp, candidly-spoken mage she remembered was one and the same as the elegant lady making her way over.
“Sil, hey!” Caro grinned, nearly capsizing the poor woman in an aggressive one-armed hug. Val moved to do the same, if only a tiny bit reluctantly, to allow for some space between her and her fellow Striker.
“Ladies,” she greeted with a smile in the corner of her mouth and turned to ruffle Jesal’s meticulously-styled hair. “And if it isn’t my favourite cousin.”
“Silann, come on,” he groaned, attempting to fix it using the glossy coating along HQ's mahogany inner layer as a makeshift mirror.
She tugged on his pierced earlobe, the slight frown Val knew all too well back in place. “Even now, I’m lost on how you gained Aunt Helina’s permission for these.”
“The trick is to ask for forgiveness,” he chuckled, weaseling out of her grip.
“You’re… You’re Midnight Breeze,” Otis stated almost gingerly.
“Goodness,” said on an inhale, shaking her head. “I haven’t heard that moniker in some time. A long time, perhaps. You’re clearly in the know about the Gathering, then.”
“The Gathering of Guilds?” Caro echoed for clarification, her eyes widening when the Support nodded her confirmation. The reaction was well-founded considering that the vast majority declared the event on par with the University Games. A few hardcore fans went as far as to name it the better tournament, considering it was held once every three years.
In the place of budding students, the nation watched the best guild’s adventurers compete in various formats. It carried a tang of ruggedness one couldn’t witness in the practiced delicacy of school-learnt combat, and several enthusiasts adored it for that very reason. “It’s this summer?” Caro went on to ask.
“Prelims has been running all spring,” Otis answered for the Support, throwing her his own question. “I suppose there’s a meeting for qualifiers?”
“Yes,” Silann nodded, jutting her head at the guildmaster. “With the banes here, it’s going to be an annihilation in the middle brackets.”
Val raised an eyebrow. “That’s because…”
“They’re the students of a Magister, that’s why,” Jesal interjected and, as he often did, shed more light on the situation. “A Magister, mind you, with a wicked eye for talent. He’s picked five disciples so far in the last three decades and every one of them, without failure, are monsters in their own right.”
“Hence their names,” Otis added helpfully, and the side comment jostled Val’s memories. She ever-so-faintly recalled Winsford mentioning a “Bane of Withering” when it came to the giant tree dead center in the lobby, marking one of the five as the creator and cause for the ever-prevalent healing wellspring. Would that make him a healer, or a plant mage? she wondered privately, though she wasn’t alone in ruminating on the topic.
“Melaine’s pretty tight with one of them,” Jesal hummed. “My sister, I mean. I think her name was Olive, and her moniker was... Bane of Chaos, was it?”
The only bespectacled mage among the hailed banes swiveled around sharply almost like she made out his murmured comment across the noisy lobby. For better or for worse, her casual wave sealed the deal that she undoubtedly heard—and, in a way, verified—their thoughts.
“That is my cue to leave you gossipers be,” Silann muttered, escaping through the many doors leading to the blistering heat outside. Hammer Squad left in the opposite direction, keen on observing the Diving Points leaderboard Magus Hawke—the competitive spirit she was—hung up for the ten established sponsored-student teams.
The complete run they ran shot them up the rankings to bump Reynor University off the top. Scary enough, though, the five runner-up teams behind them weren’t far off their score, and neither were the squads at the bottom. It spoke of high aptitude on both the students' part, and the fact included the members of her team.
More often than not, when the descriptor aptitude came to mind, the tiny Support walking ahead of her would come up first, Caro’s intuitive battle sense next, and even Nightingale’s uncanny ability to weave the Transversal Discipline and the Discipline of Alteration together a close third. Having said that, her mind narrowed in on the shield that protected Hammer Squad’s offence-inclined team by his lonesome…
Trailing at the end of the group, Val kept pace with the still-dazed Bulwark at her side. “Otis,” she called, and he dipped his chin to survey her in confusion. “Back in Darkshaft, against those thieves. Your spell, Reactive Guard. Those were interceptive shields, right?”
He gave her a shallow bob of the head, causing her to suck in an impressed breath. “That has to be Tier 2 at least, maybe even advanced.”
“Not in the slightest,” he laughed, and before Val had a chance to drill him any further, he raised his tone to address the remainder of the team. “Anyone want to eat in the dining hall?”
“Can’t,” Val declined first, even as she stifled the curiosity rising within her at his not-so-subtle deflection. Her gaze darted away as their collective eyes—one set of almond-brown in particular—fixed onto her face in suspicion. “I have to pick up my brother. He should be finishing up his summer classes right about now.”
“Go, go,” Jesal shooed her away. “Been on the other end as the youngest, and it is not fun to wait around.”
“Noted,” Val chuckled, lingering for the briefest moments in hopes Caro would voice some interest in following her. Instead, she was among the first to continue the journey down the hall, and Val couldn’t help deflate at the sight.
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Easy does it. Val stole a moment to steady her hand, scooping up the brunch wraps off the skillet they’d been toasting on for a short thirty seconds. It left the tortilla outside blazed a golden brown and the mixture of eggs, veggies, and bacon sizzling on the bed of melting, cheesy goodness. She pressed a palm on the side of the grey appliance’s see-through stomach, and it obeyed her touch—the dimming circles atop its surface said as much—beginning its cooldown procedures at once. Free of that trouble, Val whisked out three plates from the cupboards overhead.
The costly piece of domestic machinery was one of the first non-magic items she invested in for herself since her salary upgrade, and it paid to have it in the presence of an incredibly curious six-year-old. She’d been treated to a chorus of cheers when she entered the living room, food in hand, only for Kenneth’s bright expression—a difficult thing to come by, nowadays—to dim as his scrying gaze counted three plated dishes.
“What happened to Caro?”
Val hid the true hurt causing her grimace behind the inconvenience of setting three loaded plates for her siblings. “Got into a fight.”
“Figured as much,” he scoffed, pulling the plate across the laminated table. “Haven’t had this much quiet in half a year.”
Her wince deepened, slightly relieved as she turned to Anderson, the boy positively vibrating at the scent of brunch. She tapped his hand gently away, fearing the still-steaming meal might sear his tongue.
“If it helps, you’re not alone on that front.” Kenneth sighed into his burrito. “Rowan and I are at a crossroads right now.”
At crossroads, she repeated internally, forcing herself to wrangle the rather inappropriately-timed smile off her face. The lengths at which her brother went to sound like anything but the twelve-year-old he was always—no matter the circumstance—amused her, and she bit her hour’s work of food to hide it. “Oh yeah? What’s up with that?”
“No time to hang out,” he said, frowning. “He’s claiming that the auction’s taking up his time, which is fair.”
“Rowan’s mentioned it before,” Val wondered aloud, more for herself than anything. The possibility of it being the truth wasn’t implausible. The last time she dropped the kid off, she’d met Lowell at the doorstep of his enormous household. It wasn’t far-fetched to believe the auction his family wanted to set in motion existed on the same scale. That in itself meant the event was, by nature, wide-scale. Perhaps even huge enough to have Life’s Hymn?
Nah, that’s wishful thinking right there, Val berated herself. Wouldn’t even have the money to buy it anyways.
“I don’t know, I just think that he is purposely keeping him busy to avoid me ever since that lesson with T-Bone,” Kenneth scowled, not bothering to elaborate on whoever 'T-Bone' was. “Something about his status or whatever. Wouldn’t be a surprise.” He twirled a finger in the air as if to suggest the whole halo.
“He seemed chill,” Val muttered in thought, registering the buzz in her pockets. She shot up, scanning the latest notification on her phone. “I’ll ask his brother later for you, but you have to watch Andy to make it even. My phone’s on, so don’t hesitate to call me if this one’s misbehaving,” she threw Anderson a silly grin, giving him a boop on the nose and indicating he can dig in.
“Where are you going?” Kenneth asked, his brow furrowed.
It said something not so typical of Val for her brother to notice the excitement roaring in her ears. To be fair, the broadening grin did give it away. She’d been waiting all month for the green light on a very particular facility, the same ones Magus Kane boasted about in the elevator ride on Hammer Squad’s orientation.
It was an opportunity that many, save for members of cultivation-orientated sects and established families, hardly witnessed in their elemental journey. Magus Hawke herself voiced how rare places abundant with energy existed in natural life. She didn’t, however, retain the same opinion for a simulated amenity.
“Aether Chambers.”