Akari stood with Arturo on the catwalk, watching their classmates fight the mana spawn below. These weren’t real spawn, of course. These were dream projections based on a Mystic’s model. Thousands of other students would be training on the same models worldwide.

She had to give the military credit: they were dangerously efficient when they had a common enemy.

This chamber itself was just like the one from Raizen’s class, with high domed ceilings and three fighting rings set into the thick stone floor. The first two rings were sized for regulation duels, while the third was big enough to fit a class of twenty. Nightfang liked to use the larger ring for her classes, but a group of second-years filled that space now. That left the first-years to take turns in the smaller rings.

Movies had trained Akari to see these spawn as cannon fodder, but they fought harder than any mana beast she’d ever seen. Some clustered together, raising shields against the students’ attacks. Others slid under doors, vents, or drains, flanking them in unexpected ways. One even sprouted wings and flew over a short building.

Worst of all, the spirits shrugged off all non-lethal wounds. Most living things would retreat when things got bad, but these were like razor wasps striking from a hive.

“Surprised Raizen didn’t teach this,” she muttered to Arturo

“Nah, shoka. He teaches team battles this semester.”

“Team battles? I thought we already did that.”

“These are six versus six,” he said. “Same format as the interschool games.”

Huh. That was actually a smart idea. Akari’s team had spent half of Midwinter break training together, but they’d never practiced against another team in-person. Would Elend arrange something like that for them? The interschool games were only a few weeks away, and they still had no idea what they were doing.

“What a surprise,” came a familiar voice from down the catwalk. “The lone raptor is too good for a mark.”

She turned to see Sadie Horne strolling down the catwalk between the fighting rings. Nico Talez followed close behind, and they both sported marks on their foreheads.

“Those things are bullshit,” Arturo cut in. “Nightfang said so herself.”

“Watch your language,” Elise whispered from his left. Arturo hesitated, then Elise gestured to Nightfang’s daughter in the corner of the chamber. Not only had the girl removed her headphones, but she’d inched her chair close enough to watch the fighting below.

“Oops.” Arturo covered his mouth with both hands. “Sorry, little girl!”

“I already knew that word!” she hollered back.

Nico stepped up beside Sadie. “These marks could save people’s lives.”

“Maybe” Arturo replied. “But no one’s proven that. And wanting something to be true isn’t science.” The words tumbled out of his mouth, and his whole body looked like a coiled spring. Clearly, he cared a lot about this subject.

“We can argue about evidence for years,” Nico said. “Or we can take action today. What do you even gain by opposing these? It’s not like—”

“But you know what is real?” Arturo cut in. “Civil wars. Riots and raids in the name of justice and unity. I’ve been to Creta. I’ve seen the damage these can do.”

“Things are changing,” Sadie said. “Storm’s Eye killed thousands of people in just a few days.” She shot Akari a pointed look. “We could use a few more team players right now, and a few less attention whores.”

Akari ignored the comment. Sometimes, you had to defend yourself without giving your opponents an inch of ground. Other times, they were all hot air and no mana, looking to drag you down with them. In this case, Akari had already fought her former team and won.

Besides, she’d gotten into her share of school fights over the years, and they usually ended with her in trouble. Many of Akari’s flaws still haunted her to this day, but her temper didn’t have to be one of them.

Still smirking, Sadie spun on her heel and started back down the catwalk. But the girl barely made it two steps before she stumbled over her own feet. She stretched out her hands, barely stopping herself from face-planting on the concrete.

“Careful there,” Elise’s voice was sweet as honey as she stepped forward. “Flat surfaces can be dangerous.”

“So can Dream Artists.” Nico stared daggers at Elise as he helped his teammate to her feet.

Sadie’s eyes widened in realization before flashing with anger. “Two can play at that game.” She cycled her mana and raised a hand toward Elise.

“Don’t be stupid.” Nico snatched her wrist, then he rounded on Akari. “You’re friends with Moonfire now? You know she arranged for us to betray you, right?”

“It’s funny,” Elise said. “We all played the same game, but only the losers are complaining.”

Nico gave a weary sigh. “You know Moonfire, I thought I’d at least see a mark on you. Especially after your dad's speech last night.”

Speech? Akari knew Elise’s father was a senator, but she hadn’t heard anything about a speech.

For the first time, Elise had to suppress a grimace at their words. Akari half-expected Nico to keep pushing. Instead, the boy muttered something about rich kids, and they continued down the catwalk.

Arturo watched the others leave, then he leaned back on the railing. “He’s got a point about your dad’s speech.”

Elise crossed her arms. “You’d rather I got a mark?”

“Of course not. Just surprised, that’s all.”

Elise turned back toward the arena, and her knuckles turned white as she squeezed the steel railing.

“Touchy subject?” he asked.

“I was there when he gave the speech,” Elise muttered. “He told the whole world these marks were important—that they’d keep us safe from the storms. Want to guess what he said when the cameras were off?”

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Arturo just nodded, as if he’d expected that.

“Okay,” Akari said. “You guys just lost me.”

“It’s all political theater,” Arturo said after a short pause.

She furrowed her brow. “So . . . he wants people to think he cares?”

“It’s way worse than that, shoka.”

“How?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Remember Creta? That war hurt a lot of people, but others came out alright in the end. Especially the ones in charge.”

Elise kept her expression blank, neither confirming or denying Arturo’s words.

Akari gave a slow nod. The Dragonlord hadn’t fought those wars himself. He’d had another group—the Grevandi—do his dirty work. Then he’d seized more power in the name of restoring peace. It was hard to imagine that sort of thing happening here in Espiria. Then again, few societies were as safe or as civilized as they appeared. She knew that better than most.

Akari’s turn came a few minutes later, and she found herself paired up with Nico and Sadie of all people. Had Nightfang done that on purpose? Probably. If you bickered like that in Raizen’s class, he would throw you out the door. Nightfang’s punishments were far more subtle, and people couldn’t even complain about it. Her whole class was about surviving in unfavorable conditions. That included dealing with people you didn’t like.

Tori Raizen was on the team, too, along with Landon Windstrider and Aaron Lygon. The others clearly expected Akari to go off on her own, which was probably fair. She’d gotten the “lone raptor” lecture from all her teachers by now.

Instead, Akari surprised everyone by playing the role of a perfect and respectable teammate.

Tori was all business, and she took charge as the urban landscape formed around them. Akari followed every order without question. Even the stupid ones. She could be a good little soldier when she had to, especially in a low-stakes setting like this.

The others got themselves killed early on, but Akari and Tori held out the longest. The other girl handled the mana spawn with her long-range blades, while Akari used her portals to defend them both from stray attacks. She also moved them to safety whenever things got too heated on the ground.

In the end, Nightfang lectured the others for bringing their personal feelings into battle, while Nightfang praised Akari and Tori for their teamwork.

All in all, it was a solid start to the new semester.

~~~

The rest of the week was all smooth cycling after Nightfang’s class. Elend continued her team’s private training, drilling them in various formations around the backyard. He also bought them some com devices, and Akari learned to issue orders in high-stress battles. Things happened quickly in the interschool games, and every second mattered.

She also had a basic sigilcrafting class every Garsday and Hansday. This had been a last-minute choice after Vordica. Arturo’s sigilcraft skills let him do a lot with less mana, and that seemed to fit well with Akari’s aspect. Spacetime techniques were expensive, and even advancement wouldn’t solve everything.

Finally, she had Applied Technique Construction with Master Kazalla, who just so happened to be Arturo’s uncle. The man had a shiny bald head, bushy eyebrows, and a salt and pepper goatee. He actually looked like a badass despite being well into his eighties, and his voice was deeper than a dragon’s.

Kazalla kicked things off much slower than Nightfang’s class, and they spent the first few days studying theory. But things ramped up quickly after that, and he met with everyone the following week to discuss their projects one-on-one.

It was a chilly Narsday afternoon when she found Kazalla’s office in the Mana Arts and Sciences building. The room looked more like a workshop than an office, with various tools and devices scattered across the tables. One item looked suspiciously like a jetpack, with a shiny metal surface and two large thrusters on the bottom.

Several white boards filled one wall, each one packed with drawings and equations. Akari was decent at math, but even she couldn’t make heads or tails of that nonsense. Maybe it was all part of some elaborate prank to test his students?

Kazalla glanced up from a well-lit desk at the far end of the room. “Ah, Miss Zeller. The infamous troublemaker.”

“That’s me,”she said as she strode toward the desk. ‘Troublemaker’ seemed like an overstatement, though. She hadn’t pissed off that many teachers. Then again, people didn’t make jokes about real troublemakers.

At least, she hoped they didn’t.

The Master closed his laptop and gestured to a padded seat opposite his own. “I hope you’ve prepared some audacious ideas for me. I’ll be disappointed if you saved them all for my colleagues.”

Akari unshouldered her backpack, unzipped the top pocket, and pulled out a black binder. She’d prepared a few options like he’d requested, but only one could truly be called audacious. Just as well; that was her first choice, anyway.

She retrieved the first paper and slid it across the desk.

His dark eyebrows shot up as he read the title, and they stayed that way for a good five seconds. “Personal displacement?”

“I want to use the technique on myself,” she said. “And on my teammates.” The paper already said as much, but she’d never mastered the art of awkward silences.

“Oh, is that all?” The Master’s tone was light despite his stern gaze. “Just a mystery that Space Artists have been trying to solve for centuries?”

Her palms started to sweat, but she forced out a small smile. “I thought you wanted something audacious.”

“This isn’t boring, I’ll grant you that. But I’m quite familiar with the personal displacement problem. What makes you think you can solve it?”

She drew in a deep breath. “Spacetime mana is two times more efficient than regular space mana.”

“Two times?” He gave a thin sliver of a smile, then gestured to his laptop. “I’ve read your paper from Master Seathorn’s class. Your tests only showed a fifty percent increase”

“Yeah, but that was last semester.” Mana channels were a bit like nerve fibers in the brain; the more you used a technique, the less mana that technique required.

Kazalla gave her a knowing look. Clearly, he knew she was still exaggerating, but he couldn’t be bothered to call her out. “Space Artists worldwide will envy you for that. But is it enough?”

“There’s more,” Akari said. “I have some help.”

This time, his face showed no surprise. “The Darklights? While a joint effort would be impressive, it would also defeat the purpose of my class. You need to make this technique yourself.”

Akari shook her head. “I trained with someone a long time ago. Before I got my aspect. He had some theories about this technique.”

“Someone?” Kazalla echoed.

It was her father, but she couldn’t tell him that. Akari was supposed to be an orphan, and any mention of her parents would raise questions. Fortunately, she’d polished up a shiny excuse for this exact moment.

“A hidden Master,” she said. Hidden Masters were powerful Mana Artists who chose to avoid the media spotlight. Sometimes, they were actual Masters or Grandmasters. But they could also be Mystics. She’d never heard of a hidden Mystic, but that didn’t prove anything. If you truly valued your privacy, why would you admit to being a Mystic in the first place? Even the famous Mystics veiled their souls most of the time.

Kazalla gave her the same knowing smile as before. It was bad form to betray a hidden Master’s trust, and equally bad form to push for more information. Especially if you were in a position of authority.

Of course, Kazalla could still reject this project, so she had to tread carefully.

“Very well.” He dropped the paper and let it drift onto the table between them. “What did this hidden Master tell you?”

“I don’t remember the details,” she admitted. “I was just a kid—maybe eleven or twelve. But Grandmaster Darklight is helping me remember. It’s just a matter of time.”

This was all true. She had memories of one specific talk with her father, where he’d shared his theories on personal displacement. But her past self hadn’t bothered to remember the details. The future had seemed so distant back then, and she might as well have prepared for marriage or retirement.

She’d also expected to have her father’s guidance when the time finally came. At the very least, she’d expected to have his notes.

“The odds are still against you,” Kazalla said. “How confident are you about this hidden Master of yours? No offense to him, but ideas are cheap. And while while the allure of secret knowledge is undeniable, it’s true value lies in its application.”

She swallowed. “This is the same person who helped me invent my aspect.”

Sharing this was a risk, but it didn’t take a genius to connect the dots. No first-year could have invented this aspect on their own. Even the Darklight’s help didn’t explain it. Akari had barely been with them for a year, and someone had been laying this foundation for well over a decade.

“Very well.” Kazalla inclined his head. “I look forward to seeing you do the impossible once again.”