Two weeks of school were almost over and Connor felt like he was constantly waiting for someone to punch him. He knew there was a Heswaren attending. He avoided her like the plague.

Pizza bread. Mixed vegetables. He put the spoon back and hesitated, no idea what to match. His hand hovered over the tongs. Another one? He didn’t want to look glutinous, but he might miss dinner again. The guy behind him gave him a pointed look, so he settled for shoveling croquettes and fled.

His … friends? Were they his friends? He had only known them for two weeks, but some of them were his roommates and they were cool. Nice. Probably the type of people to punch him, someday.

The group had secured a table at the back. One row off, Felix came from another direction and they exchanged nods in greeting before the others noticed them.

“Ah, Felix!” Patrick called with a raised arm. One of Connor’s two roommates and the oldest among them. He wasn’t sixteen yet, but already growing stubble. That paired with his broad frame and [Shepherd] Class made him seem comfortable, like a giant pillow.

“Come to bless us with your presence?”

No greeting for Connor. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. Felix was a vagrant. He went from group to group. Maybe Connor didn’t need a greeting. He sat next to Brian, facing the front, and gave the others smiles in greeting, but attacked his food rather than join the conversation.

Felix shrugged as he squeezed himself between Patrick and Lukas, his other roommate. “What can I say? I like you people.”

“Us people?” Sarah asked from Brian’s other side, wagging a speared croquette at him as if it were a threat. She had been friends with Lukas before school so somehow, that meant she hung out with them, which was cool since Sarah was cool.

She was also the reason Felix was here, probably. They got along so well, it made Connor think they were long-lost twins … or flirting. He really wasn’t an expert on the subject.

Felix gave her a broad smile and leaned forward, “You know, the fun people. Even if you’re all the way in the dim and dusty corner.”

“What do you mean? This place is great.”

“It’s quieter,” Patrick offered. “Cozy.”

“Yeah. Nice and cozy,” Felix said, “and easier to get because nobody wants to be so far back.”

“Sad, but true," Patrick said. "Not that it’ll matter by next week."

Connor swallowed an unchewed bite, but had to ask, “What do you mean?” He stifled a grimace as it scratched down his throat. Bad decision.

They looked at him and he immediately regretted it. He wasn’t really sure how to act around other people anymore, in general. Whether he was forgetting his place. What even his place was.

Being an [Enchanter] didn’t help. Most people treated him differently once they learned of it.

Lukas spread his arms wide as if to say, Behold, “The tables have been set. Only two weeks and the natural order has been established.”

Sarah and Felix both nodded.

“Natural order?”

“You know. Of the cafeteria. Or school in general.” He pressed two fingers against the tabletop. “This here is our table. We’ve sat at it for a little over a week. People know it’s ours. Few will contest it. Or rather, they have no reason to. What Felix said.” He nodded in his direction.

“It’s true,” Felix said. “I get around a lot and everyone I talk to is like, ‘Oh, that table over there? It belongs to Lukas and his group of troublemakers. Don’t go there. He’ll mess you up.’”

Lukas gave him a drole look. “Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“We will mess anyone up who steals our table, though,” Sarah said, “right?”

Lukas smiled. “Definitely.”

“I’ll help,” Felix offered.

Connor hoped she was joking. “What other groups have tables?” he asked to know.

They looked at him. They always did this thing where they looked at some people for a second during conversation. Connor was one of them. He had to be doing something wrong or they wouldn’t do it. He just wished he knew what.

Luke smiled again and turned halfway around to look at the cafeteria, saying, “Let’s have a look, shall we?”

“Obviously, you’ve got the rich kids,” he pointed and Connor needed a moment to find the table. Front left about a third ways down the middle, near the doors. “Julius. Nikolas. Jana also hangs out with them sometimes. Mary and oh, of course, their special guest is the great and terrible Frederick, long may he reign. His clothes look rather new, wouldn’t you say?”

Connor knew him and Jana, but not the others. Their clothes looked tailored. “He got second place, right?”

“Yeah,” Felix said, “Through sheer luck.”

He said it with a knowing smile, but Connor didn’t get the joke.

“Then there are the actual rich kids,” Patrick added and pointed a few tables further to the front left, where Navid, Sion, and Anne sat with friends. There was a note of almost respect in his voice.

Of course, the noble scions would knew each other. But Connor was surprised they got along. Mostly, he just hoped she couldn’t see him from across the cafeteria. Heswarens could look into your soul. Everyone knew that.

“And the kids who wish they were as rich as either of them,” Sarah added, pointing to the right at a table Connor couldn't see through the crowd.

“You’ve got the Lady squad,” Lukas offered with a bit of leer in his voice as he nodded at the table where Jana and her friends sat.

Connor knew her because they shared a few courses, but he didn’t know the others. He thought the redhead was Myra? From reputation alone. Were they friends? So was one of them Lisa Chandler?

“I hear their leader is making them all join the Dueling club,” Lukas said. “I might join myself, just to go hand to hand with a few of them, if you know what I mean.”

“Ew. Don’t be a creep.” Sarah swatted him.

“Ow.” He smiled. “Patrick gets me.”

Patrick nodded.

“Felix, too?”

Felix glanced at Sarah before shaking his head.

“Aw. Maybe another time, then. Connor?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Lady squad,” he said and smiled awkwardly. Lukas stared at him for a moment before he burst out laughing.

Shaking his head, he went on, “Alright, alright. Moving on. We’ve got some loners, like Ms. Nepotism over there and our good friend Felix.”

“Oi.”

“Nepotism?” Sarah asked, sounding a little offended.

“Yeah, cause her daddy got her into the school,” he explained. “She didn’t even have to take the exams because he works here.” He sounded bitter about that. The faces around the table seemed to agree with the sentiment.

Connor kept his head down. He hadn’t strictly had to take the exam either. He’d been scouted by Ms. Denner and even been paid to come here. He hadn’t wanted to, but common sense had made him take the money. He had to become a successful [Enchanter], so it didn't matter how much he hated it.

The end, by any means.

“That can’t be right,” Sarah argued. “You can’t go to a school where your parent teaches.”

“Sure you can. She does.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Does it really matter?” Patrick interrupted them.

“Yeah, back off a little,” Felix said, eyeing the short distance between the two. It only got shorter when they squabbled. “Because next we’ve got the Coven.”

He pointed at a table where half the people wore black. They snuck their hands into their backpack every now and then, to where things hid. Cats. Bats. Even a spider in one case, Connor had seen. Familiars. They didn’t care about breaking the school rules, it seemed.

Familiars weren’t treated like regular summoned monsters in public, but they were pets, so they got treated the same on school campus.

“I’m pretty sure everyone there is a [Witch].”

Connor frowned. “Even the guys?”

“Especially the guys.”

“Then you’ve got the cool athletes,” Lukas said and nodded at a table where Lea sat. “Lea, Lukas, Philip. Oh, on that note. I dreamt a prophecy last night, you know? That one day, Lukas B and yours truly, Lukas A, would have to fight to the death until only one true Lukas remained. I’m … not liking my chances.”

The other Lukas was about a head taller and an athlete, so Connor agreed with him. He saw him in gym class, but hadn’t really interacted with him yet. He did know Lea, though, and she was nice. She’d helped him find a classroom once. So if she was friends with Lukas B, Connor was willing to accept that he was probably nice, too.

“And the not-so-cool athletes,” Patrick said, nodding at a table three down.

“Also known as asshole athletes,” Sarah grumbled.

Pav sat there and laughed with his friends. That was all Connor needed to know. They also had gym together and Pav treated anyone who didn't do well like trash.

Connor, for one, always had to pick up the dodgeballs after class while the others headed out. It sucked.

“And you’ve got all the overachievers sitting at one table,” Felix added, “mixed together. I wonder if they’re having their first council meeting.”

At a long table that they had shoved together, a bunch of kids sat and looked like they were having a meeting. One stood to speak and Connor recognized her. He doubted there was anyone who didn’t.

Cathy.

She seemed to have made it her mission to talk to every single student in school within the first two weeks. She might even have succeeded.

There were a few others at the table he recognized, but didn’t know whom the others thought were cool or not-so-cool. Some of them, he wouldn’t have called overachievers. They were just social. Ajay, Stephanie, okay maybe not Vladi, but Lanh was pretty nice. Even if he was annoying.

“And, of course, you’ve got the assholes,” Patrick grumbled nodding at another table across from theirs.

Connor followed his look to Ryan Payne’s table and frowned. “What? What do you mean?”

“Asshole levelers?” Sarah asked, nodding to herself. “I can see that.”

Patrick and Lukas both shook their heads.

“In general,” Lukas said. “Look, over there. You’ve got the nice athletes.” Lea, Lukas, Philip. Connor nodded, still frowning. “Nice overachievers.” The council meeting. “Nice levelists … I don’t think I can see a table where they've gathered.”

Felix shook his head, too.

“But over there you’ve got the asshole athletes,” Lukas pointed. Pav and his friends. Okay. “And I guess you could call the lady squad the asshole levelists? But … they seem more harsh than mean, y’know?”

“You’re biased,” Sarah told him. “Because you’re thinking with your—”

“Yeah, yeah. Fair enough. The asshole overachievers are mixed in with the meeting. But if you take all three together: overachievers, levelists, and athletes, you get— Tadaa!”

He gestured at the table where three people sat.

“The Assholes,” Patrick grumbled.

“Lisa, Ryan, and Micah,” Felix provided their names.

Ryan had been talking with his friends, but he looked up as if he had heard them from all the way across the cafeteria. But that was impossible.

“He’s not an asshole,” Connor said, reflexively. His friends all looked at him and he panicked, “I mean, like, how do you figure?”

Lukas frowned. “Have you seen them?”

“I hear they’re all level ten or higher,” Sarah commented.

“Nine, actually,” Felix corrected her. “Mr. Payne is the lowest of the group. A level nine [Fighter], I believe.”

Nine? Connor thought. He was level four, in total. Wow. He wondered what kind of Path he followed, but couldn’t ask because Patrick grumbled.

“Yay. Another [Fighter] levelist to bless this city.”

“Because that one extra [Sure Grip] Skill is going to make so much of a difference,” Lukas agreed. “People like them need hobbies.”

Connor liked these people, but he disagreed with them here. An extra level could make all the difference in his Class. He’d gladly forgo hobbies if it meant he would get one. But he didn’t want argue. And anyway, he was used to it already—keeping his mouth shut.

“Everyone knows what happens when a levelist [Fighter] gets stuck,” Patrick went on. "Low-level ones can become [Guards], but high-leveled ones? Best case, they get themselves killed in the Tower or only cause some trouble getting drunk in bars. Worst-case ..."

He trailed off and Connor reluctantly agreed. He'd seen enough drunk [Fighter] in the inn ...

“Hold on a moment,” Sarah said and frowned, “that kid’s supposed to be higher than level nine?” She pointed her fork at the brown-skinned kid in the sweater.

Connor took a second look. He’d almost missed the insinuation when Felix had spoken, but now he was just as confused. He had to be a grade-skipper.

Felix nodded. “Thirteen, actually. He’s fourteen years old, too. This year. Skipped two years to attend.”

They all stared. Micah took his sweater off to reveal an undershirt underneath and held the first up against Ryan, to see what it would look like on him probably, a broad grin on his face.

Was that a school sweater? Connor squinted. It had the emblem. Ryan sat rigid. Lisa made a verdict, but Connor couldn’t see what it was from Micah’s reaction alone. He put the sweater back on and Ryan ruffled his stupid, intentionally shaggy hair.

Connor could totally see the Micah kid being an asshole. The type that always smiled because they knew they were better than you from a young age on. He'd probably gotten his callings early. Based on his physique … a [Fencer]? Or a [Mage], maybe?

“In what?” he asked.

“Hm?"

“In which Class is he level thirteen?” he clarified.

“[Alchemist] level ten,” Felix provided happily. “[Fighter] level three.”

Alchemist? That was surprising. He didn’t look like an alchemist. But then again, what was one supposed to look like?

Lukas snorted. “What? [Alchemist]? He isn’t level thirteen, then. He’s negative level seven. How is being an [Alchemist] supposed to help him in the Tower?”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Sarah said. “He still has the levels. You've got to respect that.”

“Oh, yeah?" Patrick challenged her. "Tell me one useful Skill an [Alchemist] might get.”

“Ha! Jokes on you. I can’t tell you a single Skill [Alchemists] get.”

While they squabbled, Connor leaned over and asked Felix, “How do you know this stuff?”

He shrugged and smiled. “I talk to people.”

He hesitated. “And … Ryan’s really a, uhm, not-so-cool guy?”

Felix didn’t look committed. A glimpse of hope? “It’s just what people say.”

“What, Ryan?” Sarah broke off from the fight. “Oh, yeah. He’s just as bad as Pav and his friends. Just look at him. He always wears an undershirt to show off his body, or sometimes throws the blazer over. He cuts in line at the cafeteria all the time and ‘apologizes’ with that shit-eating grin of his, like he thinks he's flirting with people.”

“He’s super competitive,” Lukas said. “You should see him in the obstacle course. His friend is the same. They team up sometimes and have no regards for other people. They join Coach Jo half the time and work together to make sure nobody can take their place. Afterward, they’re the first out of the door and don’t even consider cleaning up.”

That … actually did sound a lot like Pav, Connor thought. He didn't like the idea of that.

“I hear he follows a rigid military schedule," Felix gossiped, "where he’ll get up at six in the morning, even on the weekends, and run a lap around the Tower. Same as Saga— Ah, Ms. Nepotism as you called her.”

Connor frowned. But that was a point in his favor, right? He glanced over at Ryan. Yep, definitely a point in his favor.

“His roommates and some others hate it because he doesn’t care if he wakes them in the process. He’s … I guess you could call it inconsiderate of others?” Felix minced his words.

“They argue with the teachers sometimes,” Brian offered, speaking up for the first time. They all looked at him as if he hadn’t been there before. He shrugged. “Just something I noticed. All three of them do it.”

“Brian! You’re alive!” Patrick cheered. He got up and ran around the table to justle the redhead.

Connor leaned to the left to avoid them and looked at where Ryan sat, but the guy was gone. Only Lisa and Micah sat there and were still talking as if he weren’t.

Connor started to search the crowd right as Ryan Payne sat down opposite him, crossing his arms against the table as he leaned forward. He flashed him a smile and said, “Hey, there, [Enchanter].”

What?

Connor panicked. One hand immediately went to fiddle with his wristband. “Hi.”

[Enchanter]. He had gotten used to people calling him that over the last half year. They said it with a smile in place of his name, like he was nothing more than his Class to them. He was.

But some also said it almost like … like they were flirting with him. Enchanter, in the other sense of the word. Because they wanted something from him or they might want something from him in the future.

Connor hated it. Ryan said it the same way and yet, he didn’t mind so much, even if he were to have the same intentions.

The others stopped bullying Brian to stare at the newcomer, but he didn’t even look. He was ignoring them.

“So, have you been making anything lately?”

Connor opened his mouth.

“That’s my seat,” Patrick interrupted him.

Ryan looked up and Connor caught a flash of something almost like panic before he gave Patrick that boyishly polite smile. The one Sarah hated. He gestured at the empty bench next to her. “Sorry. There’s another seat over there?”

Patrick looked momentarily stumped.

“So, [Enchan—” Ryan went back to him.

“He has a name, you know?”

This time, Ryan froze. But instead of looking annoyed by the interruptions, he put an arm behind his head and scratched his neck awkwardly. He gave Connor an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I forgot?”

He had forgotten his name? Connor frowned. No, that wasn’t right. He hadn’t ever introduced himself, had he? Oh, crap. How stupid was he? He hadn't ever introduced himself.

The others were glaring at him now, minus Brian and Felix who were impartial.

“Oh, uhm, it’s Connor,” he said and offered his hand.

Ryan’s grip was firm as he shook it. “Connor," he said. "Right. I won’t forget it again. So, uh, have you been making anything lately, or …?”

"I, uh— No,” Connor stammered, suddenly remembering the conversation he’d had with the others. How much had Ryan heard? How long had he been in hearing range before he sat down? Was he offended or did he hate Connor, now? What if he wanted his mana crystal back—

Oh. The mana crystal. Was that why he was checking up on him?

“I’m still having troubles with, uhm, enchanting in general," Connor said. "I mean, I have a book with some other stuff [Enchanters] have made with mana crystals. Artificial mana rings and the likes. I’m not sure …”

Ryan frowned. “Mana rings? That’s … cool, I guess.” He nodded like he was convincing himself. “But, uh— Didn’t you get something like a guidance Skill along with your Class?”

He shook his head. No.

“You only get guidance Skills when you don’t have a matching Path,” Sarah told him, in a condescending tone. “And he got his the same day.”

“You did? Oh. Cool,” he said and switched topics. “By the way, we were actually planning on staying in the Tower after Tower Studies tomorrow, my friends and I”—he gestured at the table where they sat. They seemed like they still hadn’t noticed his absence—”I was wondering if you wanted to come? Hang out, maybe?”

Oh. Yes. Connor wanted to, but—

“I can’t,” he excused himself, “I go home on Saturdays to help out and I still have a bunch of stuff to do in the library."

“Oh, yeah? Me, too,” Ryan said. Connor didn’t know if he meant the helping or the library part, but he didn’t give up. “Then on Sunday? We wanted to go climbing in general. I thought you could come along.”

Connor really wanted to say yes, but still, he shook his head. “Sorry. I can’t. My—” he stumbled over the word. Guardians. He didn’t want the attention, or the pity, so he lied, “My parents told me I’m not allowed to go climbing outside of school courses until Bootcamp ends. Sorry. And … I’m not much of a climber, to be honest. The first time I went was two weeks before the exam.”

“Oh. That’s … wise then, I guess. I disagree about the second part, but— Yeah. Fine. Another time, then?”

Someone put his hands on Connor’s shoulders—Patrick, it had to be—and leaned forward as he said, “He’s already said no twice, Payne. And we’ve got dibs on him for after Bootcamp. Can I have my seat back now?”

Can you leave, now? In other words.

Ryan hesitated. No smile. He nodded and got up, looking hopeful. “Later, then?”

“Later.”

“Buh-bye,” Sarah said and waved him away.

He strode off.

The moment he was gone, Lukas groaned. “Finally.”

Sarah nudged him over Brian’s shoulders. “Right?”

“Uh, right,” Connor lied. “Nobles, right?”

"Right."

Felix frowned. “Ryan isn’t a noble.”

That caught him off-guard. “He isn’t?”

He smiled and stifled a laugh. “No. Furthest from it. I hear he’s dirt poor and could barely afford to come here, even with a partial tuition.”

“What?”

“But he hangs out with Ms. Chandler all the time,” Sarah protested, almost as confused as he was. The difference was, Connor was also panicking.

He wasn't a noble?

“And she’s besties with the Heswaren,” she said.

“Yeah, but he’s still poor and Micah’s a runaway,” Felix told them. “The latter doesn’t even have a scholarship. I hear Ms. Denner paid his tuition for him, like she did for—" He glanced at Connor and broke off, awkward.

Connor was panicking twice over, now. Felix knew. Of course, everyone probably knew. But Felix knew.

"I guess they’re friends despite that,” he said.

“I bet they’re her lap dogs,” Lukas said with a smile. “You know, cronies? Hired help? They do whatever she wants.”

At their table, Ryan slipped back into his seat with an easy smile. His friends acknowledged him as if he had been to the bathroom and carried on.

Dirt poor … Was that why he always wore an undershirt? Not to show off? Still, shirts weren't that expensive. Connor didn’t get it. “He gave me a mana crystal ...”

“Hm?” Patrick asked.

“A mana crystal,” Felix picked it up. “It’s what got him third place on the final exam. He gave it to our dear Connor over here for his enchanting.”

Connor fiddled with the wristband on his arm. And a magic item before he even knew about my Class. It didn’t add up. “He can’t be that bad, right?”

“Maybe he really does want to be your friend,” Lukas said. "Either that, or he really wants an [Enchanter] to make him things. Maybe, he even wants you for his Lady Chandler.”

“The second one,” Patrick said and looked at him. “You want my advice? Give him the first thing you make and call it quits. Wash your hands of him. He might not be a noble, but he keeps their company and acts like one. And that’s the only way to deal with them.”

Lukas raised his glass. “Hear, hear.”

Connor nodded and glanced at the table where Ryan sat in his group. He still looked alone, not really participating except for an easy smile.

"Hear, hear," the others echoed.

After a moment, even that fell like it had never been.

----------------------------------------

“Please?” Ryan asked her as they filed into the classroom.

Thick workbenches in short rows filled the space. The rest was bare, almost as if the school expected something to go wrong. For regular Mana Manipulation courses, that might have been smart. But for this “bootcamp?”

“No.”

They sat at the same table as last time, all the way in the back right corner, and Lisa eyed the door in the hopes that Micah would show up soon. He had forgotten something in his room and run off to go get it, leaving her with Mr. “Please Share the Secrets to the Fourth Industrial Revolution” Ryan over here.

“A hint?” he asked. “A fun fact? A pointer in the right direction? Something?”

“No, no, no, and again, no.”

“Why not?”

She glanced at him, a little confused. This begging for information was something she might have expected from Micah, but not Ryan. Did he honestly think she would share a secret like that?

Hey, Lisa. Could you teach me how to enchant stuff?

He’d asked it so casually, too, she had almost answered before she realized what he wanted.

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Enchanting? No. Definitely not. Today, she taught someone how to create a magic item. In ten years, they figured out how to mass-produce it. Or produce as much as manual labor allowed, anyway. In twenty, the Five Cities marched on the North to teach them a “lesson” and get their revenge for the last two invasions. In twenty-two, they decided to extend the war beyond a mere “lesson.” In twenty-five, the Overseas Union thought they might be a cultural threat and went to the Northern nations’ aid.

Classes leveled like crazy during war. Things escalated. The Union drops a bomb on one of the Five Cities that can wipe out half of it in one go, leaving the ground uninhabitable for generations. Just to get them to back off.

Things escalate even more a few years down the line because Tower people have the means to make such bombs much more easily, if they set their minds to it and had the right kind of inspiration. First-hand experience gives a lot of inspiration. They also develop the means of preventing them.

A few contracted spirits to be in airspace at all times with the commands to cast a simple zapping spell at anything that wasn’t supposed to be there? Bombs exploded mid-air, lessening their impact.

And even without all that, one of Lisa’s history books mentioned how twenty-two mages had once summoned a tidal wave to destroy an armada off the coast of Lighthouse. One group could summon tidal waves on a regular basis and Ryan wanted her to teach him how to enchant things?

Yeah. No thanks.

She tried deflecting. “Why would you even think I know anything about enchanting?”

He made a face, calling her out on it. “Please. I bet your parents taught you something, right? Or they know something? You know so much about other types of magic, I bet you know about this.”

Drat. That didn’t work.

Her parents had done a little more than teaching her “something,” though. Lisa knew the theories behind eight different schools of enchanting and couldn’t share any of them without getting into trouble.

This was what came of being even a little honest with people. She wanted to groan, but settled for saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Look, I’m not expecting you to share your entire family secrets,” he said, “just … a hint? Like you do for Micah and me?”

So he had caught on to that? He seemed pretty serious about this. Lisa didn’t understand. “Why do you even want to know? You’re not an [Enchanter].”

Ryan backed off a little and rubbed his elbow, defensive. Huh. If she had known going on the offensive would get him to back off, she would have asked him that half an hour ago. She made a mental note.

Offense, not deflection.

“No,” he mumbled, “I’m not. But I know somebody who is.”

He did? Lisa wondered whom. “And?”

He looked hopeful. “I thought you could help him level?”

Lisa crushed that thought. “No. Also, why?”

“He owes me two favors. I gave him that mana crystal, remember?”

Lisa shook her head. She had left the ceremony after Ameryth had brought that disgusting thing out. But if Ryan had given it away … Cool. It made her like him a little more.

It still didn’t make much of a case for his friend.

“Right, you left early.” He frowned. “Where did you go, by the way? We couldn’t find you afterward.”

“Bathroom,” she lied.

“Oh, right.” He nodded. “Okay. But I thought if you taught him how to enchant …”

“He’d make you a magic item?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. Something like that.”

She should have guessed. If Ryan wanted to know about enchanting, it was because he wanted a shiny bauble to replace the one he had lost. It was actually kind of cute, in a way. Also, sad.

They had to find another treasure chest soon.

The two didn’t talk about it much with her around, but it was clear Micah and Ryan had money problems. When Micah had bought that school sweater, Ryan had looked at him like their house was on fire and he was warming his hands against the flames.

Figuratively speaking, of course. It wasn’t like Micah would warm his hands against any flames.

But he washed most of his clothes by hand and the two never bought anything outside the standard cafeteria meals. Micah saved costs in his alchemy, Ryan squeezed trips into the Tower in whenever he went to run laps on his own. All without saying a word to each other.

Lisa wondered if she should offer to help, but suspected that would come across wrong. What else could she do?

“That’s stupid,” she told him, working on a solution in the back of her mind. “You’re stupid.”

He sighed in defeat. “I know.”

Mrs. Burke showed up from the back room with a rattling box she set on her desk. The "treasure chest." The class quieted down at the sight of it. People actually looked forward to this, after all.

She headed for the door handle and reached it in the same moment as Micah stumbled in, out of breath and apologizing for being late.

“Off you go,” she told him, waving him off to his seat.

“And there’s stupid number two,” Lisa mumbled.

“Hey,” he whispered to them as he slipped onto his seat.

They greeted him with tiny waves while Mrs. Burke started class with a clap.

“Alright, everyone. You all know the drill. Come to the front and get your items to practice with. I’ll remind you, there aren’t enough mana rings for everyone so please save them for the ones who have less experience. The baubles have much cooler effects anyway. You know that. Last time we started from the back, so …” Her eyes swept over the crowd. “Stephanie, your bench gets first pick and then we’ll go counter-clockwise.”

“Woohoo,” Stephanie cried out and shot up to grab her pick. All around, there were smiles except for the front left bench, who would be last. They got the dregs.

Mana manipulation was one of the more popular courses because they spent an hour and half practicing how to use trinkets from the first or second floors. Definitely not what Lisa had been expecting, but admittedly, a little fun.

The woman was also a former climber from a team of mages. She had an aura of mana regeneration Skill that made Lisa want to stick to her like a tick all day. It provided the students with enough mana to get through the course, whether they had spent it all during practice before or not.

No excuses. Some had tried.

When it was their turn, they stepped up and Lisa watched as Ryan took a ring that could create light. Micah took a different one—but not one to be worn—that could create bubbles by blowing through a film it created in the middle. She smiled. Two months ago, he hadn’t even wanted to move mana. Now, he picked an item instead of a mana ring.

It was progress, if somewhat slow progress.

“I’ll practice my spells again if that’s okay, ma’am?” Lisa asked her instead of taking something.

“Sure, Chandler.” Mrs. Burke tilted her head up and cupped her hands in front of her mouth to address the class, “[Mages] get free reign, of course. I don’t want you wasting your time doing nothing.”

“Is homework alright?” somebody called.

The woman sighed. “Yes.”

Back at the table, the first thing Micah did when he managed to get his item to work was blow bubbles in their faces.

Fair enough. Lisa took a minute to copy the effect with a spell, couldn’t quite manage to get the soap work, and settled for making an illusion that she blew back. “So, have you two settled on course schedules yet?” she asked.

Micah laughed at the bubbles, then panicked when they passed through his hand without popping. Oops? Belatedly, Lia added the effect for his benefit. “Uhm, yeah …” he said, distracted. “I … think I’m taking Biology, Alchemy, and Tower Studies? Sorry, Ryan. I need the extra courses for my alchemy.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Ryan asked. “Of course you were going to take that.”

“Yeah, but … we could have had more courses together,” he pouted, shook his head. “Nevermind. But if I have to choose between [Fighter] and [Alchemist], I’m taking [Alchemist]. I can still take an extra gym course as a free course if you tell me which one you’re taking ...?”

Ryan got his ring to work, emitting white light all around. Putting a sleeve over it could make it a beam, she supposed. Lisa thought he wanted to make it red? He practiced every class and got better and better. She wondered why he was doing it.

“Don’t you have enough electives already?”

“I have a few,” he said. “I’m taking Overseas—”

Ryan nodded. “Of course.”

“—Chemistry, and Mana Manipulation. I think I can still pick one without being overworked. So, you know, if you have any suggestions I’m open to them. What are you taking, Lisa?”

“I have a suggestion,” she said. “If you have time.”

“Oh, no.”

“Dueling.”

Micah groaned.

“How about Meditation Theory?” Ryan offered.

Micah dropped his head on the table and groaned some more. After a moment, his head shot back up and he blasted a storm of bubbles at them, laughing. That was the most mana he had ever used at once, Lisa thought.

Then the first person cast a fire spell.

Micah still smiled after, but kept his head down. He wouldn’t quite look to the front, sitting sideways in his revolving chair to look at them. His mood was subdued.

So was hers.

“We can compare later,” Ryan told him. “See what options we still have with a list to check.”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. Micah said, “Sure.”

That was the reason they were even back here, in the corner. So he could hide from the others. He hadn’t said as much, but it had been pretty obvious when he’d decided to switch seats before the second class started.

Lisa stared at him while he busied himself with studying the item’s effect on the essences around it, for his water manipulation spells. It had been six months now and he still flinched whenever a flame flared up near him. How long would it be until he got over this? Would another eight be enough?

Lisa worried, if not, neither would Ryan. But Ryan needed to study them for his Path. So he might go despite Micah, and then they would split up. Or they might both go and Micah would freak out again and get himself killed.

Lisa didn’t like it. He was one of her only friends, he couldn’t be afraid of fire. She needed to do something about this. Find a solution.

Fortunately, Ryan had given her an idea.

----------------------------------------

Connor woke up and it was dark out. He was used to that. It was routine now, working at night. It made waking up in the morning harder, but he would spend Saturday and Sunday at home, helping out in the inn. He had to make the most of his time while he was here.

Tired, he slipped his lightning twig in his pocket and got up from his chair. Only a handful of students had private workshop rooms like this, all three [Enchanters] among them, and his was almost bare. There was a workbench, some tools, and books in a shelf.

One day, he might discover a secret to enchanting and work on it in here, where nobody could steal it. But for now, it only served as a place to meditate in private.

He looked the door on his way out again and headed down the supply room and hallway to the true workshop, where the alchemists made their potions.

The room was empty in the dead of night. Of course it was. At— Oh, it was two a.m. Not good. He hoped he wouldn’t wake any of his roommates up when he got back in. Patrick took it in stride, but the two strangers didn’t.

He opened the door and came face to face with Lisa Chandler.

“Ah.”

“Oh?”

She froze. Her hair was messy, her clothes ruined, and she was covered in dirt and smoke scuffs. A Teacup Salamander waited at her feet. Right, she was a [Summoner]. Felix had said. Strangest was the large sack she carried over one shoulder that reached to her knees.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

He blinked. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here. You’re not a workshopper.”

He was pretty sure about that. Either that, or she had skipped every single session. She shouldn’t even have a key to this place, but clearly held one, ready to unlock the door.

“Micah lent me his key,” she said.

“Micah?”

“Yeah.”

“Micah Stranya?”

“Uhm, yes?”

Connor crossed his arms, genuinely unhappy. It was only her and him, here. There was no need to worry about anyone else. “That’s against the rules,” he told her. “He isn’t supposed to give that key to anyone.”

The workshop needed to be secure. People kept stuff here. Not just him, the other alchemists, too.

She hesitated. “Oh, did I say ‘lent’? I meant ‘borrowed’. I borrowed it from him. It may or may not have been with his knowledge.”

Connor furrowed his brows. Was she admitting to what he thought she was admitting?

“So you’re saying you … stole it from him?”

She cocked her head. “Am I? Maybe? Maybe, not. I’m not sure and neither are you. Who knows who said what and who did what. The important thing is”—she leaned to the side to peek into the workshop—”that I really need the workshop for a few hours. So if you could just ... stand aside and then leave. I mean, I know you were on your way out.” She gestured at his key stuck in the lock. "I wouldn't want to keep you."

Connor followed her glance to the key but didn’t budge. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“And neither should you,” she switched tones to something stern. “It’s two-thirteen in the morning. Don’t you have curfew?”

“That’s for the grade skippers. I’m fifteen. I can do what I want.”

“You’re fifteen? Oh. Great for you. But look, I really need some privacy right now, so, uhm, hum.” She frowned and asked in an uncertain tone, “Do you still want that tip?”

“Tip?”

“That tip on enchanting. Ryan said you wanted me to teach you how to enchant things?”

Connor almost took a step back. “Ryan? He ... mentioned me?”

“Mentioned you? He won’t shut up about you. Apparently, he really likes shiny things.”

So Connor was a ... shiny thing? Wait, no. He was a hundred percent certain he was misunderstanding something.

Lisa had cocked her head and asked, almost to herself, “I wonder if he can mimic magpies.”

He frowned at that. “Mimic?”

“With his Skill.” She hefted the sack on her shoulder and Connor could have sworn something moved inside of it. Had she captured fully-formed?

What Skill? he wanted to ask, but she spoke first.

“Anyway, here’s my offer. I give you a tip about enchanting. One tip. You let me into the workshop, leave me alone for a few hours, and never tell anyone I was here. Deal?”

“I— Uh, what?” He was so confused. Half of her foot was already inside the workshop, so he took a step forward again to block the door. “How would you even know about enchanting? You’re a [Summoner].”

“I’m also a Chandler,” she said, “and we’re friends with the Heswarens. And they know all about enchanting. I mean, I’m not supposed to say this, but … I think you need to know. They have a secret enchanting factory under Alms Street in Watertown, where they force slave [Enchanters] to make items on conveyor belts so they can fill the treasure chests of the Tower.”

“Wait, what?” Connor asked, eyes wide.

She nodded, a grim look on her face. “I was one of them, but I escaped with the help of Garen Chandler and used a potion to alter my appearance. I left my brand untouched, however, to remember them by.

Now, I train sword-fighting with Garen every day and am worming my way into their good graces by going to parties, biding my time for the perfect opportunity so that I may one day get my revenge against Lady Heswaren, their grand-matriarch, and the overseers of the factory. It will be in an awesome final act battle that will take place in front of the Tower.”

Connor's face fell to complete annoyance. Did she think he was stupid?

“Anne seems like a friend,” Lisa rambled on, even though he wasn't listening, “but I don’t know if she can be she can be trusted. I may or may not have to kill her in a pre-final act hallway scene as she guards the door to the throne room. But my sorrow will only make me fight harder, because I want to prevent a tragedy like hers from ever happening again. I want to free the Heswaren family from their Lady's indoctrination so that they might return to doing good for the world again.”

She held a clenched fist up in defiance.

Connor waited a moment, just to make sure she was done. Then he said, “You’re talking gibberish.”

Her hopeful expression disappeared with a roll of her eyes. “Duh.”

Connor was beginning to understand why people thought she was an asshole now.

“So do you want the deal or not?”

Wait, that she had been serious about? He hesitated. Did she really know something about enchanting? And if so, would he take it? He hated doing this, having to accept things he hadn’t earned.

But … it wouldn’t be like Ms. Denner bribing him with money and books, right? He would be giving her something in return. But what was that? Two hours of privacy in a workshop? Why?

He leaned over to look past her. He was sure there were living things in that sack of hers. Fully-formed?

Lisa leaned over to block his vision. “And?”

End by any means …

“I’m not sure. I mean, uhm— Yes?”

"Good!" He’d barely said the word when she smiled in visible relief. “Now listen up, because I won’t repeat myself. Mana sucks at creating micro-scale permanent systems, but it is great at creating temporary conduits similar to wires. And it’s even better at pattern recognition.”

Connor played the words over in his head, but he was pretty sure they were just more gibberish.

Lisa looked at him. “Are we good?”

“No. Hell, no. I can’t let you—”

She took a step forward and Connor shut up. Her tired demeanor was gone. Or maybe it had just sunk in. When she spoke, there wasn't a single hint of the semi-friendly, manic tone she had used before.

“You can’t?” She loomed uncomfortably close to him. He didn't want to look her in the face. “We had a deal, [Enchanter]." Her voice was low, breathy. "A promise in good faith. I gave you information. Now, you give me privacy. Are you going to break that deal with me?”

She cocked her head down to stare him in the eye and hers glowed. Pink. But not the pink of princess dolls. Not the pink of sweets, of March decorations, and clothes he sometimes wondered about. It was the pink laid bare by wounds, the inside of skin, of blood and fat mixing together, flesh writhing.

He didn’t know if it was an intimidation Skill or illusion or whatever else, but he didn’t care. It was terrifying.

“Well?”

He gulped. “Mana … sucks at permanent small systems,” Connor checked with her, “it’s good at temporary connections and pattern recognition?”

She blinked. “Just so. Now leave?”

He fled.

----------------------------------------

The first time Lisa had touched mana was in a shady bar in Trest. Garen had just smuggled her into the country a few days ago, into the city a few hours ago, and told her sit at a table in the corner and keep to herself while he went to talk to some people over at the other end of the room.

She had still been struggling with the concept of tables as a whole and chosen to look out the window rather than get stuck in the details of it. Outside, a procession of children had walked passed in painted faces, robes, and horned masks, carrying wrapped corpses up the streets to the mountain passes; up the “Rock” of Trest at the Rock.

It was tradition, she would later learn. But back then, the spectral colors of their dual-torches and bitter-sweet music had been so alien to her, it captivated. Strange, but not unpleasant.

They dug graves at the top, in the Necropolis. Not single ones. They were spiraling steps like inverse pyramids, decorated by the deceased’s loved ones. Usually, with treasures found in the crypts of the Underworld, to be sent back home with them.

Half the city took part, depending on who had deceased ones to participate for. Urns of ash were also allowed, just to be sure. It was all about the ashes, that which rose up along the smoke to the Tower’s heights and then fell through into the Underworld.

Of course, it wasn’t a unified thing. There were different sections to the Necropolis, much like a city. The nice parts. The not-so-nice parts. The private ones. The secluded ones. The gutters.

A select few were buried in the spiraling steps dug around their Tower, reaching up through the Rock. Its portals were only accessible through smooth tunnels carved in the mountain.

Then they set it all on fire and watched it burn. Burial—digging—that took months to prepare, done by teenagers for a little while each day. Cremation over one night. They did it in the hopes of getting Classes. [Gravedigger] most popularly. And, of course, to send off the dead.

She had seen the smoke rise like a waterfall and spectral flames claw their way up the Tower that night. To this day, Lisa thought it was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.

Later, at least. She’d missed the middle part of it because the inside of the bar had distracted her.

She hadn’t exactly seen how, but sometime during the time which she was staring out the window and wondering what it was like to have a Class, Garen’s conversation with the two men had devolved into smacking their fist’s into each others faces. What an odd way of communicating.

To this day, Garen claimed they had started it. Lisa always just shrugged. She had no part in it.

But one of the men had stumbled into another, a bystander, and spilled his tray of mugs. Half of them had fallen and shattered on the ground, foaming beer mixing with shards of glass. Spilled. Wasted. Angers flared. Suddenly, the bystander and his friends had joined the conversation. Then it had been the entire bar, exempting a few teenage girls in the corners.

Some people had stumbled into her table, making her wonder if she could join. If so, how hard would she have been allowed to hit? But then, she’d remembered Garen’s order to keep to herself and she’d promised her mom she would follow his orders. So she had done what she always did when she was bored—flipped through magic radio.

Most people in her family did it as a pastime. There were thousands upon thousands of frequencies and one day, they wanted to have explored them all. Her dad had a tin in which he kept notes.

She had found it then. Mana. Tiny specs of it drifting off of every person fighting in that bar. She’d turned the frequency up and down and discovered half a dozen variations. One was ambient, radiating off people like heat. One was a field of power, a spiderweb of rivers that reminded her of a magnet under current—the magnet being a person, the current mana. Another was a shell.

They were fascinating.

Instinctively, she had reached out for the force and been surprised she could control it. The discovery was like finding out she could control the color yellow just because she was red. They were both warm colors, after all.

But Lisa had gathered as much as she could … and promptly blown a hole in the wall. It turned out mana was flammable. Who could have known? Garen had blamed it on a stray Skill and they’d hightailed it out of there, unsure whether or not the bar was on fire behind them.

On a decorated bridge extending over buildings and cliff sides, they had watched other flames burn.

But the point was still—the first time Lisa had ever touched mana was in a shady bar in Trest while the citizens set their Rock on fire, their Tower along with it, and a bar fight had raged around her that Garen may or may not have started.

That was the first time she’d touched mana. It wasn’t the first time she had practiced magic.

It was easy to forget in this different kind of monotony she’d spent the last two years, but she reminded herself of it as she dragged the sack up to the workbench. She had a problem. Micah was afraid of fire. He and Ryan both needed money. So why not solve it herself? She just had to make sure she got there first when they found the next treasure chest and none would be the wiser.

Mentally, she was tired from hours of hunting and getting that [Enchanter] to go away. Her body kept her going.

She loosed the string of the sack a bit and plunged a gloved hand inside to withdraw a single, writhing Teacup Salamander that hissed and snapped at her with all its might. It wasn’t a lot of might.

It wouldn’t survive much longer, she knew. Nor would its kin. She would have to hurry. Seven. One for the base. Six for the scales. It had taken her six hours of effort to find them all, but it would be worth it in the end, to see Micah warm his hands at a fire.

Six was a holy number, too. Good fortune. Seven was the number of war, but since one was the base, she assumed it didn’t count.

Lisa set the Salamander on a cutting board and used one hand to hold it down, the other to grab its tail. She curved its body around until its tail was in front of its mouth, leaned down on it with her side, and used both hands to force it inside, then held that closed.

That got her the basic shape of the Mother, the self-consuming serpent of the world. A good basis.

Sam crawled up her pant leg and climbed onto the workbench. When it saw what she was doing, it ran to place itself next to the trapped Teacup Salamander—in her field of vision—and copied its position. It placed its own tail in its mouth while it looked up at her as if asking, Like this?

She smiled. Cute.

Of course, it wasn’t a conscious decision. But it was an interesting one. The enchantment could interpret visual commands as well as vocal ones? Lisa wondered if she could use that somehow.

For now, she shooed it away to give herself some work space. She wasn’t sure about the next part, but then again, it wasn’t alive. It shouldn’t matter in the long run whether or not Sam watched. Lisa closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Lungs, stomach, heart.

Lungs giving scent to blood. Stomach churning, taste being torn apart and purposed into energy. Energy to fuel her body, to fuel her heart. Heart to keep her blood pumping, ferrying the scent from her lungs.

All to keep her flesh growing, ever growing as it died and made itself anew again. Better than before. A cycle that never ended. It produced cells, energy, fluids, heat, electricity, air, memories, patterns, spirits—Life. Along with a surplus of it all.

What lined the veins of patterned crystals and was to life essence as mana was to mental essences—and yet so much more—Lisa drew on something inside her with a symbolic breath and wove it into the pattern of her hands.

Not much. Not so much that it would do anything there. Nor enough that her parents would notice, anyway. What she was about to do was deeply unhealthy, they had warned her, but surely a tiny bit wouldn’t hurt?

Not much. She just needed the extra coating like a second pair of gloves. Another breath, with her spirit instead of her body this time, she gathered more and she held it in the palms of her hands. She could only hold it there now because he had put on gloves beforehand.

See? She remembered her parents teaching her. Prudent. Or else it slips free or slips in and then … A demonstration. Lisa had gotten used to bones sticking out things at a very young age.

One last short breath like a jolt and she forced what she had gathered into the Teacup Salamander and fused the flesh its mouth and tail together. Its protests were suddenly muffled. Lisa could let go. It would suffocate soon, but she could breathe out in relief.

So far so good.

She drew even more of what she could only call life into her hands and ran her palms down the Salamander’s scales, soaking its body. Now, she had to act fast before life did as it would. She gripped two edges like a wet towel and twisted—

Something cracked. Blood spattered up into her face and she froze. Slowly, she lifted a hand to wipe her eye clean and tried not to be too embarrassed. She was out of practice. If she had done it right, there wouldn’t have been any blood. No cracking of brittle bones undone.

Hopefully, nobody would notice the mistake.

Too late. She forged on. Two more palms full and Lisa twisted the Salamander once more, made it thinner. Denser. With every turn, she twisted its mass inwards. It became smaller and smaller. She twisted the recognizable features to the inside—legs, scales, eyes, feet. There, they wouldn’t be noticed.

She kept on doing that until the object was one red and resembled something one might wear around a finger. A gaunt frame of a ring that had a satisfying warmth to it, almost like the chest above a heart.

Thankfully, she knew Micah's finger size from the mana ring he had borrowed before.

Yes, Lisa had practiced different forms of magic before she came here. Five, to be exact. This was the least of them—the Folding of the Flesh. One of the eight forms of enchanting she’d studied and the only one she had practiced.

She eyed the squirming sack filled with more Teacup Salamanders and brought out the next one. One down, six more to go. She filled her hands with life and twisted—

It was not for the faint of heart.

----------------------------------------

“I’m out!” Micah called as he fired his last glue ball. He had run out of rocks during the last wave and resorted to using them. A small waste of money, but he needed to give Ryan ranged support somehow.

Two weeks of throwing dodgeballs at people to remain king of the hill had improved his aim somewhat, too.

They were hunting hordes again. While Ryan scouted ahead, he made noise to attract Teacup Salamanders and brought them back to Lisa and him to be killed.

One of her fire lizards served as his guide back this time, hanging out on his person. Micah just hoped all of this would help Ryan level his [Scout] Class, too. In the meantime, it got them a lot of fire crystals.

Their prices had sunken to almost the same value as they’d had in the Spring—before the collapse. But they were still some of the more valuable crystals in the first three floors, and easy to hunt. Plus, they were useful. The city needed them and they needed money. Win-win for everyone.

Of course, there was the added bonus of maybe finding a Firescale Kobold with its valuable treasure chest. Lisa and Ryan hadn’t even fought one before. They had only read reports of them.

It turned out their libraries both collected and cataloged magazines, which was awesome. Micah still hoped he could give them the chance to fight one, someday.

Either way, this was a nice money-earning routine to fall back on in the meantime, when they didn’t have a lot of time. Both in the Tower itself and to prepare for beforehand. Say, if they went in the afternoons between school and dinner, or in the morning before a delayed breakfast on the weekend.

They had actually wanted to stop doing it and explore some other places soon, but Lisa had insisted on it today. She wanted to use her fire lizards to scout ahead. And using them on higher floors was reckless, apparently.

Micah was a little flattered that she was both making use of and taking such good care of his gift.

As he stabbed a Teacup Salamander to death, he wondered if she could get the [Scout] Class from using them that way. In Social Studies, he had learned a little about Means-Classes and Results-Classes. One example was that people could be both a [Spellcaster] and a [White Mage] at the same time, even though they were both magic-related Classes.

One was the means, They use rigid spells …

And the other was the result, … in order to heal people.

So it should be possible, he thought. He’d have to ask about it, sometime when he was not coughing from monster smoke. He bashed a Teacup Salamander aside and covered his mouth. Being able to borrow shields from the school was also nice.

Sam finished it off for him and he thanked it, but it ignored him and back to its master to defend her.

Micah frowned at that. It wasn’t the first time he had seen behavior like that today, or even in the last week. Something about the way Sam moved didn’t seem … right. Was one of its eyes damaged, perhaps?

It didn’t seem as curious as before, ran in straight lines, and practically ignored Ryan and him. Even now—

Teacup Enemy to Lisa, Lisa to Teacup Enemy, deflecting one jumping at her, from Lisa to the marble of Ryan’s fire lizard after it died on its way, then back to Lisa.

It was always point A to point B, almost like it was just following commands. Sure, Lisa always said it was a construct, but Sam had more personality than that.

When the fight was over and they collected the fire crystals off the ground, he asked her, “Is Sam hurt?”

Lisa put her awesome shepherd’s club in a loop and frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, it just seems less … curious?” he asked. Was that the right word? He tried again, “And, like, don’t hit me, but also less smart? So is it hurt?”

“It’s a construct, Micah,” Ryan said as he approached them. He trapped his spear in the nook of his arm while he counted a pouch of crystals like pocket change. “It can’t be ‘less smart’ from one day to the next.”

“Oh, no, it totally is,” Lisa corrected him.

Ryan looked up. “It is?”

Micah echoed the question.

She nodded. “I ... think I'm surprised it took you this long to notice? Or would someone else not have noticed at all? Either way, I stopped using [Summoner’s Bond] on it a month ago. I guess you could say that makes it a little less smart.”

Micah didn’t quite understand. “To … save mana?”

“Something like—” She went rigid suddenly and her head snapped around to a tunnel.

Ryan looked alarmed and readied his spear, pouch hook over the tip in a flash. “What?”

“One of my lizards found a treasure chest.”

That being said, Lisa ran off without them. Halfway out of the tunnel, she turned back and called, “Last one there’s a … a … something!”

“No running the Tower, Lisa!” Ryan called after her and shook his head in disappointment, glanced back at Micah with a frown.

Micah glanced at him.

They broke into a sprint. “I’m not going to be a something!”

“You’re totally going to be a something.”

“No, you are!”

They ran down the long stretches of the Salamander’s Den, his backpack slapping against his back, and Micah realized his grievous mistake—

“Ryan, stop!” he called desperately. “This is unfair. You have longer legs!”

And he could run as fast as he wanted down these hallways while Micah was a little worried about his belongings. He didn't want to ruined his screw-caps right away.

“Haha, no!" he called over his shoulder. "This is payback for the obstacle course!”

He skid to a halt along one bend, one gloved hand against the ground and leg stretched to give him purchase and pushed off back into a sprint. One fluid motion. He really was getting more agile, wasn’t he?

When Micah made it around the corner, a cloud of smoke dispersed on the ground a meter in and Ryan was sticking a fire crystal away. Ahead, there was an intersection and he was forced to call, “Lisa?”

This was Micah’s chance to catch up. He pulled his backpack as tight as possible and ran.

“Over here!” she called.

Oh, drat. He had almost made it, too. Ryan sprinted off again. Three hallways down, he stumbled after him into a room.

Rubble poured out of an opening in the far wall. Lisa had cleared some of it away to reveal and small, red treasure chest. It was smaller than the other two and looked damaged.

She’d opened it already and was fishing through the contents. Ryan crouched beside her and looked in over her shoulder. Micah stepped up to them and braced himself against one knee to catch his breath.

“I hate you.”

“I hate you, too, Something.”

“That’s not my name,” he protested. His heart wasn’t in it, though. It had already given itself to the treasure. “What’s inside?”

“This,” Lisa said, hefting a pouch. The familiar sound of stones shifting told him its contents already. “Crystals,” she confirmed. Typical first-floor find. At least, it would be worth something.

“Are they all the same type?” Micah asked.

“Huh? Oh, I didn’t check.” She loosed the string and peeked inside, a little surprised. “They aren’t. It’s an assortment.”

He pumped a fist. “Yes.” He might be able to use some of them, then.

“And Ryan has—”

“A knife,” he said, holding it in his hand. It was both black and silver at the same time, depending on how the light touched it. Faint lines like river waves were … not etched, but painted? Forged, maybe, into the blade.

“Enchanted?” Micah asked, fascinating by the metal. What was that?

Ryan shook his head and laid it against its sheath on the ground. “I doubt it. This looks like a regular first floor chest, so the items are either enchanted or high quality. Not both. This looked like pretty high quality to me.”

Micah agreed. Belatedly, he remembered to glance back and make sure nothing would ambush them. He was surprised to see Sam already standing guard. How protective of it. He didn’t really like the idea of it being less smart.

Ryan pulled his other knife from the sheath on the inside of his shield and tried fitting the new one in, but of course, it wouldn't fit. It seemed like it would be a hassle to switch the sheaths out, too.

“Wear it on your side?” Micah offered.

“Maybe. I mean, I already have a pretty great knife.” He showed them the hunting knife, the one Micah’s mom had given him, which was both broader and larger. It seemed better suited for … everything.

The new knife looked too fancy to be used as anything more than a display decoration. Was it even good?

“And it’s not like I need to be armed to the teeth,” he went on. “So … maybe we could sell it? Or you can have it as a spare. But we can sell the chest and split the money three ways.” He smiled.

“More like two,” Lisa commented and picked the last item out of the bottom of the chest, where it had lain almost forgotten. It was a red ring with a flowing scale motif. Beautiful quality and yet, obviously enchanted.

“I think Micah will want to have this.”

“Why?” he asked.

She handed it over to him and it was surprisingly heavy. Warm to the touch, too. He was a little worried it might be enchanted with [Sparks] or something. Red color, scale motif, warmth. That screamed fire.

“Because I’m pretty sure that’s a ring of fire resistance.”

His eyes shot up. “What?”

She nodded at him and he slowly looked back down again. Oh. So not fire, but fire resistance. The scales seemed to flow into one another. He could run his thumb over the ring as he turned it over and feel nothing but smooth waves all around. He counted six ups and downs.

Except … one spot. In one tiny hairline gap, the waves had a slight difference in height. A starting point, maybe? Or a flaw? Possibly both.

He opened his eyes. “Like … in total?”

“From head to toes,” Lisa told him, looking a little pleased. “That’s how it works.”

“Do I just—” He hesitated, suddenly doubting how selfish he was being. “Wait, Ryan is our front-line fighter—”

“There’s no way I’m taking that ring from you,” Ryan told him. "I might get fire resistance from my Path, too."

“I already have it," Lisa said. "So put it on already."

Micah nodded and slipped it on his right ring finger. It fit him perfectly, almost as if it had been made to fit there. He could feel a pulse almost like a heartbeat and the warmth spread over him in a hug.

The effect disappeared just as quickly, but he still smiled as he said, “I think it worked.”

“Only one way to be sure,” Lisa told him and raised a hand. A small ball of flames hovered over it.

Micah’s eyes widened. He ran.

“Stay!”

“No! No! I believe you, I believe you, Lisa!”

“This is for your own good!”

“I defer to your knowledge, oh wise one! Spare me!” he joked, hiding no small amount of actual fear. They couldn’t know whether the ring was actually a fire resistance one, after all. They had to get it checked first.

Thankfully, Ryan saved him from the flames in the end. But as they walked back, treasure chest carried between them, he felt giddy.