Daruk went first, of course. Aodhán scrutinized the frostfang dagger, trying to identify the sort of runes inscribed on it. His core sense helped with the process, and after about half a minute, Aodhán felt certain he knew the functions of each rune.
Just like on his hammer, there were four runes inscribed on the dagger. The first was a size-adjustment rune, the second was a durability rune, and the third was the affinity rune, although unlike his own, this one was keyed only to accept cold energies, hence the name frost. What this meant in essence was that unlike Aodhán’s hammer, which could be infused by any type of affinity, Daruk’s dagger was limited only to cold affinities.
The final rune, however, was unlike his own. Instead of an impact rune, the fourth symbol was a piercing or sharpness rune, which Aodhán thought suited the daggers more appropriately.
Confident that he had deciphered the runic inscriptions on the dagger, Aodhán activated the first three runes with a subtle strand of willpower. Essence swirled through the air and funneled into the runes, causing them to glow with a golden light.
The daggers extended by about an inch to better suit Daruk's needs, though Aodhán couldn’t tell if their weight had changed. The blades’ width, however, narrowed by an inch or two, giving them a more needle-like appearance.
“Pretty.” Ayisha muttered, and several other students nodded in agreement, even Yurin, who seemed to be just as lost as the rest of the other students.
Aodhán chuckled and pointed to a slot just below the activation circle near the hilt of the dagger where a core could be placed to activate the affinity rune and said to Daruk. “Place your hands here.”
Daruk fumbled for a moment, confused, so Aodhán had to direct his hands to the empty slot, after which he explained. “In a second or two, you’ll feel a sort of draining sensation. Don’t fight it.”
“What are we draining here? Lifeblood?” Andrew asked, and Aodhán chuckled. “Nothing that sinister. Just energy.”
Daruk breathed a sigh of relief, which showed that he’d been just as worried. Seriously, what did his friends think they did in the runic lab?
“Ready.” He asked, and Daruk scrunched his face in caution and anticipation. Aodhán grinned, and after pretending to do a few unnecessary things that only served to confuse his ‘customers’, he jumpstarted the affinity rune, which activated with a flash of white light and began draining energy from Daruk’s fingers to power itself.
Daruk winced slightly, most likely from surprise rather than any sort of pain, but he soon gasped as bluish-white energy engulfed the entire blade and covered it in frost. After the swirling essence died down, everyone stretched their necks to view the blade's new aesthetics.
The blade glowed with an icy blue light, its edges shimmering with a jagged frost-like texture. Aside from these aesthetic changes, there were no other noticeable differences, which wasn’t surprising since the weapon was already impressive for an uncommon-ranked item.
Daruk spun the blade effortlessly, handling it with far more ease than just a few minutes earlier. But as the group watched with excitement and curiosity, Professor Alaric’s voice rang out, “Hurry up, people! We don’t have all day!”
Aodhán refocused on his other customers, activating the runes on each weapon one by one. Most had the same set of runes, though there were occasional variations. Dylan's shield, for example, had only three runes—two for defense and one affinity rune. Meanwhile, Yurin's blade featured four runes, three of which were focused on speed, with the final rune being an affinity rune. It was an unbalanced weapon emphasizing speed without any defense or durability, but Yurin seemed somewhat content with the new upgrades.
Aodhán moved hastily from one weapon to another and fifteen minutes later, he had attended to all his customers except one who shyly held out a pair of daggers to him.
Aodhán raised an eyebrow and asked. “Shouldn’t you be able to do this yourself?”
Lupin shrugged and pushed the daggers forward. “I’ve not exactly had the time to practice.”
Sighing, Aodhán collected the daggers, but instead of activating the runes for her, he guided her through the process, which took another few minutes, but in the end, the daggers took on a translucent appearance, which made it hard to track their movements.
Done with that, Aodhán jumpstarted the first three runes on his own hammer and channeled energy into the required spot below the activation circle. The moment storm energy rushed into the hammer, it hummed and began vibrating gently, most probably the effect of the impact rune.
The hammer’s shaft reduced until it fit his palms perfectly, but it was it’s aesthetic changes that surprised Aodhán the most. The hammerhead turned almost completely black, which contrasted perfectly with the golden runes on it. Tiny arcs of red, black, and gold electricity fizzled around the hammerhead, and with a smirk of satisfaction, Aodhán turned around to see Ankaz finishing with his group too.
Only Celine was still busy, but when she noticed that she was the only one delaying the class, she groaned and pushed the other students away. “You guys will just have to fight without the runes.”
Derek, Imani, and Meredith were among those who hadn’t activated their runes yet, and Meredith offered. “We’ll pay you double if you help us.”
Celine scowled. “Do I look like I need the money, Meredith? I'm not a commoner.”
Aodhán ignored the jab and instead offered to help them, for a price, of course. Both girls ignored him, which was better than he deserved frankly, so he turned around and ignored Daruk’s teasing look. Ankaz helped them instead, and after everyone had their weapons activated, professor Alaric called out the first duo into the dueling ring.
Alesh Vilaris vs. Bakhtin Arede.
Alesh was one of the top ten students on the forge list, and because of this, Aodhán hadn't really seen him fight before, which was why he was looking forward to this exercise even if they could only use their innate skills. Alesh wielded a dark, obsidian-like scimitar with fiery orange veins tracing along its edges. Unlike most of the class, Alesh seemed already well-acquainted with his weapon, casually twirling the scimitar as he stepped into the ring.
Bakhtin, on the other hand, didn’t appear as comfortable with his weapon, which was odd considering his metal affinity. As a metal awakened, nearly any metallic weapon should have suited him, yet he had chosen a disjointed silver glaive as his weapon of choice.
As both combatants entered the ring, Professor Alaric reminded them of the rule to use only innate skills before signaling for the duel to begin.
Bakhtin dashed forward immediately, and his glaive transformed into a flexible metallic whip made from multiple disjointed sections, connected by thin straps of metal links. The whip curved forward, moving through the air with a sharp whistle, but Alesh easily sidestepped the weapon's trajectory and launched a counterattack. With a quick slash of his scimitar, he created a huge wave of smoldering ash that surged towards Bakhtin.
Bakhtin tried to defend by creating a shield, but he wasn’t fast enough. The walls of smoldering ash collided with the inadequate shield Bakhtin was still building, and it exploded into a cloud of cinders that obscured the ring for a few moments.
Alesh and Bakhtin disappeared from view. Ash swirled ominously, red hot and choking in intensity, and no matter how much Aodhán strained, he couldn’t see what was going on inside the ring; however, the constant sound of clashing metal indicated that the duel was still ongoing. Aodhán could still sense their blazing cores, but aside from the irregular fluctuations that indicated the pull of energy, Aodhán couldn’t sense anything else.
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A glance at Professor Alaric showed that the man didn’t have any problem viewing the duel at all. He hummed, tsked, and scowled as he took down notes, all while shaking his head in disappointment.
The entire duel barely lasted five minutes, and when the ash cloud finally settled, Aodhán found Bakhtin leaning against his blade in surrender. He coughed out ash, his clothes were burned, and his eyes watered from the heat. Alesh, on the other hand, was almost pristine, save for a gruesome slash that covered his right arm.
“Very good.” Professor Alaric commented without elaborating, and after Alesh and Bakhtin descended from the ring, he called out the next names. “Ankaz Urdania vs. Cyrus Valerion.”
Ankaz Urdania was among those who seemed to have no idea how to use the weapon he’d chosen for himself. Daruk, who was standing beside him, leaned in and asked. “What’s his affinity again?”
Aodhán frowned. “Solar or fire. I’m not sure.” Scarlett had mentioned it once before, but he hadn’t been paying attention.
Just like Alesh, the Urdania’s had somehow escaped any public duels; hence, their abilities were shrouded in mystery. However, Aodhán was more intrigued by the weapons Ankaz carried. He wielded a set of chakrams that radiated golden light, their bladed edges emitting such intense heat that the air seemed to warp. He wore four of them on his belt and held two in his hands.
Cyrus, on the other hand, held twin obsidian daggers that, aside from the faint purple veins that lined their edges, appeared rather ordinary. He walked into the dueling ring with confidence, his steps relaxed, almost lazy.
Ankaz, on the other hand, gripped his chakrams nervously, his fists glowing faintly as he prepared to activate a skill.
Professor Alaric waited until both students were prepared before signaling the start of the fight.
It ended almost as soon as it began. In fact, Aodhán would argue that Ankaz never stood a chance in the first place. Perhaps if he’d been allowed to use more of his abilities, he could have held out longer, but with only what Aodhán assumed to be {Solar Energy Absorption} and {Solar Energy Manipulation} at his disposal, Ankaz was hopelessly outmatched.
In a flash, Cyrus had lunged forward, his daggers closing the gap in an instant to appear behind Ankaz’s neck.
Aodhán wondered how he might have fared against Cyrus given the current limitations. His raw attack power might be higher than that of Cyrus, but in a limited duel such as this, Aodhán wasn’t sure of victory.
Professor Alaric snorted at the quick duel, wrote something down on his notepad, and called out the next pair. “Aodhán Brystion vs. Lilith Bloodmoon.”
“Go and demolish her.” Daruk muttered while Andrew gave him a thumbs up. It was funny and encouraging, and Aodhán was a little ashamed to admit that he was a little nervous. Lilith Bloodmoon controlled blood; her innate skills alone could cause the blood within his body to explode if he didn’t react fast enough. Was she stronger than him? No, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t dangerous.
He climbed into the ring, and Lilith arrived a moment later, holding a blood-red scythe a few inches taller than she was. Black runes glowed ominously on the weapon, and she grinned. “We meet in a ring for the first time, Aodhán Brystion; are you ready?”
The question was spoken so innocently that if it wasn’t for the malicious expression on her face, one might have assumed that she meant no harm. Aodhán didn’t let his nerves show though; instead, he gripped the hammer tighter and readied his willpower strands, bringing them as close to his pathways as he could without activating any skills.
Professor Alaric muttered, writing something in his notebook for a while before looking up. “Begin!”
Aodhán employed the same trick he’d used with Eldrith, flooding his body with enough willpower to disrupt Lilith's skills. He smirked when she frowned in confusion, her abilities failing to take hold, and in that split second of surprise, Aodhán exploded forward.
Gathering all his strength, he swung the hammer straight at his head, fully expecting her to block. But she didn’t.
The hammer connected with a deafening crash, launching Lilith several feet into the air. Her jaw shattered. Her skull caved in, and blood sputtered out of her face, which was now seared with the burning imprint of the hammer's runes.
At the sight of so much blood, thunder roared in Aodhán’s ears as Varéc's emotions surged into his own and took over, inadvertently harnessing the simmering rage within him that caused his gaze to darken.
With a malicious grin, Aodhán dashed forward, ready to finish his prey off and tear her from limb to limb, but a hand suddenly slapped his chest, launching him several feet backwards and knocking the living daylight out of him.
Aodhán coughed out blood, and all at once, the bloodlust that had overtaken his mind receded. He blinked and saw Professor Alaric glaring at him from the center of the dueling ring. “I warned you against this, Aodhán Brystion! This is an exercise, not a death match!”
Aodhán’s mind cleared, and he realized that somehow, someway, he’d lost control of his emotions and had allowed Varéc’s baser instincts to take control. Aodhán couldn’t quite piece together when Varéc’s emotions had begun bleeding into his own, but he suspected it had probably been all morning. How had he not noticed? The flashes of gore and blood should have clued him in.
Lilith staggered to her feet, blood gushing from her head, and with a feral snarl, she waved a hand, and Aodhán’s world went black. The blood in his body changed directions so suddenly and violently that Aodhán collapsed to the floor. Blood surged upwards, threatening to explode out of his skull, but before any of that could happen, Professor Alaric pushed both of them apart and shouted. “ENOUGH!”
His voice boomed with an authority that neither of them could deny, and despite his swimming vision, Aodhán quickly pushed himself to his feet.
Professor Alaric glared at them and pronounced. “Minus thirty points to the both of you. I want you both out of my class immediately.”
Aodhán glanced at the rest of his classmates, taking in the horror, disgust, and shock on their faces before stepping out of the ring. He returned the hammer, and feeling extremely ashamed of himself, Aodhán walked out of the hall. He didn’t stop walking until he reached the bathroom at the end of the hallway, where he picked a random stall and shut himself within it.
He rested his head against the wall and let out a weary sigh. He’d been foolish to think his control over Varéc was concrete; even Mythics struggled with their familiars, talk less of him, a mere evolved class student. Honestly, he didn’t even blame Varéc; no, he blamed himself. It was Varéc’s nature to be chaotic and to have several unexplainable reactions to events. It was up to him to keep Varéc under control, yet here he was, succumbing to the very chaos he was supposed to keep leashed. Perhaps the papers were right. Maybe he was more of a danger to the world than any kind of savior.
What would have happened if Professor Alaric hadn’t been there to stop him? Would he have torn Lilith to pieces, or would the other students have stopped him? This wasn’t the first or second time he was in this exact situation, and frankly, it was getting tiring. One day his luck would run out, and there would be no one to stop him in time. An image of the Lilith’s broken and bloody form flashed across his mind, and Aodhán waited for the expected regret, disgust, or revulsion, but nothing came. He tried to manufacture the emotion, but even that failed, and Aodhán began to worry for himself.
If the image of a dead person no longer revolted him, what did that say about his current mental state? Aodhán didn’t understand when this mental shift had occurred, but he hated it. He wanted to care, to be disgusted, if only to prove to himself that he wasn’t turning into the slaughterer, but nothing came.
He banged his head against the wall again and let out another weary sigh. He stayed that way for the next half hour, until he finally came up with a probable cause for the sudden shift. There were a few possible reasons, but the major one was his new perk, {Berserk}. It made sense that his closer bond with Varéc was affecting his mind, one, because his puny evolved mind wasn’t strong enough to resist the stimulus of his familiar, and two, he no longer wore his lightning pendant. The original one, not this facsimile he was currently putting on. The necklace had helped him gain a familiar, but he hadn’t realized just how much of a struggle it would be to control Varéc without it. Come to think of it, he’d only begun having these violent reactions after he took off the chain; perhaps that was the root of the problem.
Aodhán felt a sudden urge to go and take back the necklace from where he kept it, but he soon suppressed the urge. The necklace was a crutch. What he needed was to train his mind and strengthen it so he could resist the lure of chaos when next it came.
A quick scrutiny of his mind and spirit revealed that the dormant rage within him was no longer... dormant. It wasn’t as bad as it had been on the days following his seal imprinting, but it felt much closer to the surface of his mind than he was comfortable with. He tried to suppress the infernal emotion, but it was to no avail.
With another weary sigh, Aodhán banged his head again. When nothing changed, he banged the head again and again. Surprisingly, when he banged his head the fifth time, a memory resurfaced in his mind. It was a vision of Az’marthon quietly sipping tea from his cup. The ascendant smiled at him, and in that fatherly tone of his, he said, “Little seed, you’ll break your skull.”
Aodhán banished the vision from his mind and sighed. He spent the next hour in the bathroom just thinking, and it wasn’t until noon that he finally stepped out of the bathroom. He had come to a single conclusion: he needed more control, not over his affinity this time but over Varéc and his emotions. This realization naturally meant he needed to go to the second floor of the library once more. He wouldn’t find any useful information regarding familiars on the lower floors.
He washed his face, letting the water flow over his head for almost a minute before shutting the water off. He turned, intending to make his way directly to the library, only to come face to face with a gloved fist, glowing erratically with spatial energies. The punch launched him backwards several feet, and his jaw cracked with an audible sound. This time when Varéc’s emotions surged into his own, Aodhán was well aware. With a snarl of fury, he activated {Merge—Full}. His fingers morphed into long black claws, his teeth into fangs, and black scales raced across his skin. Aodhán’s gaze turned red as he tapped into the simmering rage within him, and without hesitation, he launched himself at Cyrus Valerion, claws first!