The sky over the arena was slate-gray, the kind of dull overcast that promised either a breeze or a thunderstorm, or maybe both.

Weylan had arrived early to get in a question with the professor. Kaelthorne listened and nodded thoughtfully. "Well, due to your advanced level, I don't need to ask why a house servant has unlocked Danger Sense as an option at all. I am tempted to ask why you'd think you'll need an advanced version of it…"

He gave her his most innocent smile and shrugged. "Never hurts to try for the best."

"That attitude will give you an advantage in a few minutes. But back to your question: There are advanced versions of the Danger Sense feat, but they are extremely rare and all of them are quite niche. If you expect any kind of danger in your life, which you obviously do, take Danger Sense and link it to your most advanced dodge or parry skill."

"Link?"

"If you have Danger Sense, you will get the option of taking a linking feat when levelling up your dodge skill to master tier. It's named differently for each skill, but the description will tell you it will link your skill to danger sense. That will enable you to dodge or parry attacks you didn't even consciously detect yet."

"That sounds awesome. I wonder why no one recommended that to me yet. I will have words with my master, as soon as I'm back home."

Kaelthorne's face took on a an uncharacteristically understanding facial expression. "Don't be too harsh with him. He's probably following one of the old codes of teaching. Those tend to emphasize letting promising apprentices progress in their own directions to build their own style. There are no truly bad feats, so any choice will have merit. If you wanted a fixed way of progression, you should have joined the army. Each unit has a list of skills and feats you have to take in an optimized order."

Weylan watched the first students entering the arena. "Are those lists good? I mean, how good are the kingdoms soldiers?"

"Depends. Fighting alone? They're okay at best. But in formation, using skills and feats that let them coordinate and enhance each other? Infantry squads can take down monsters none of them individually could even hurt." She looked at the increasingly filling arena floor. "Now get down and get in some warm up and stretching. You'll need it. And encourage your classmates to also ask questions if they have them. I won't cut off anyone's head, no matter how stupid the question." Her gaze fell on Darken. "Although I've heard some students clearly rise to new heights of creativity."

* * *

Professor Kaelthorne stood at the edge of the arena, arms folded, the lines of age and scars on her face carved deeper than usual. Her expression promised effort. Or, more likely, suffering.

"You are mages," she began. "But you still have legs. And if you plan to keep them, you'd best learn to use them."

She nodded toward the outer track. "Three laps. Full circuit. No spells. No potions. No shortcuts. I will know."

Some students groaned. Weylan did not. He was already stretching.

Kaelthorne blew her whistle.

They started running.

At first, it was simple enough. Keep your breathing and adjust your pacing. Kane took the lead, arms pumping. Faya bounced along, hair tied back with a simple ribbon. Valen jogged with aggravating grace. Weylan kept steady, not as fast, but light on his feet.

Ulmenglanz ran like a leaf in wind, quiet, efficient, unbothered.

Darken trailed the group, muttering to himself about cardiovascular inefficiency.

By the end of the second lap, most had slowed.

Then Kaelthorne raised a hand. "Second phase."

On cue, a half-dozen older students filed onto the spectator ranks. Each carried a casting staff, already crackling with restrained energy.

"You run," Kaelthorne said. "They cast. You dodge."

A ripple of protest swept the runners. Alina shouted, "What if we get hit?!"

"If you fall, you're out." Kaelthorne gave the smallest smile. "Begin."

The first bolt struck near Weylan's feet. Tiny arcs of lightning crackled from the impact side.

He veered sharply, breath hitching, his momentum faltering.

Another sizzled overhead, grazing Kane's shoulder and ricocheting away. Valen rolled theatrically over a low wave of magical static and kept running, laughing.

Weylan ducked a wide arcing shot and kept moving, trying to avoid falling into a pattern or rhythm the students casting at them could predict.

Faya screamed when a bolt zapped her sleeve and did a wild spin off the track. Mirabelle caught one in the hip and immediately collapsed to the ground with an annoyed grunt. "I'm fine. Those are tier one Stunbolts. They won't hurt you, just paralyze."

Ulmenglanz wasn't hit. Not once. Weylan was beginning to suspect the mostly male students didn't try as much to hit her. He looked over to Faya, but she didn't seem to be spared at all. Curious. Did they fear to anger the librarian if they harassed a fellow dryad?

He kept running, dodging, and breathing.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a bolt coming. No time to dodge. So he dropped low and let it miss, a finger's width from his back. That was too close for comfort. He really needed an edge. He accessed his status page and called up his open feat slots.

Feat chosen: Danger Sense

It took a moment for the new sense to settle in. There was a low-level feeling of threat, then it spiked. He veered to the right and narrowly avoided a stunbolt aimed at his legs. Nice. But he had no exact feeling for the point the students aimed at or from which direction the danger exactly came. There had been a vague feeling of an attack coming from behind, but not nearly enough to pinpoint an enemy. Disappointing.

The next time he felt something, he dropped and rolled over his shoulder, then jumped right back into running.

Skill increased: Acrobatic Dodge (Apprentice VII)

A long way from Master tier, but he would get there. For how much he relied on that skill, it wasn't increasing that often. Did he do something wrong? Maybe he needed to really concentrate on using different ways to dodge? This wasn't the right time though. He was among the first three runners, so that would be worth some points.

A blue Stunbolt struck the arena floor a few feet to his right. His new Danger Sense flared. He looked at the impact point. That one already missed him. Where was the…

Someone ran right into him from his right. Valen.

Valen's shoulder hit Weylan in his side. Their legs tangled. Weylan went down hard, dust in his mouth, elbow scraping stone. The wind left his lungs like a punch from a mountain.

Valen rolled and came up in one smooth motion. "Sorry!" he called over his shoulder, already sprinting again. "Didn't see you!"

Weylan stayed down a second longer, blinking through the sudden throb in his ribs.

Had he…?

Selvara fluttered from nearby and landed next to him. She spoke low enough for only him to hear. "That looked painful," she whispered. "Valen dodged to avoid that Stunbolt. Shame about the collision. Couldn't tell if it was on purpose."

Weylan pushed himself to his feet.

Kaelthorne called from the stands. "You're out, but keep running anyway. Good practice." She gestured for him to keep running.

So he did.

But now, his gaze was sharper. Not only on the casters above… but on the runner ahead of him.

A sharp crack lit the air as a Stunbolt connected squarely with Kane's shoulder, enough to stagger most students.

He didn't even flinch.

Instead, he powered through, muscles coiled like steel cables under enchanted skin, breath steady as ever. He surged forward, overtaking Faya and nearly brushing past Weylan with that same relentless pace.

Alina let out a sharp cry from behind. "Professor! He's ignoring hits!"

Kaelthorne didn't even look up from her notes. "He's not ignoring them. His body is simply more resistant."

"That's not fair!"

"He's trained his resistance with potions, enchantments, and muscle-channeling rituals for months. He made himself harder to stop. That's the point. He can rightfully earn the benefits."

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

Alina fumed but said nothing more.

Kane didn't respond at all. He just kept running. Steam rising faintly from the place the bolt had hit.

Weylan narrowed his eyes.

Magic wasn't the only way to cheat the rules. You just had to work the loopholes.

After the final whistle blew, the students scattered like exhausted leaves on the wind.

The three fastest students, Kane, Valen and Ulmenglanz, got ten points, all who had not been hit five points. Weylan got nothing. That wasn't good. It was supposed to only get harder to earn points.

* * *

Some hobbled straight to the bathhouse. Others headed for the food hall, dragging their legs and muttering about muscle regeneration spells and buying a few potions at the academy shop. A few just collapsed on benches, staring into the void of post-cardio regret.

Weylan made it back to the dorm… barely. His shirt clung to his back. Every joint ached. His lungs still hadn't forgiven him for the last round of stun-dodging.

He grabbed a plate of whatever passed for "training-day rations" from the kitchen nook. Bread, dried fruit, something grayish with too many grains, and dropped into the first chair he saw in the common room.

Around him, others filtered in. Laughing, chatting. Alina complaining. Faya throwing a pillow at someone. The usual.

Then he noticed something strange.

Some of them already weren't tired anymore.

Valen, of course, looked like he'd never broken a sweat. That was expected.

But a few of the mid-tier students, ones who'd taken hits, ones who'd been flat on their backs an hour ago, now stood upright, stretching, moving, joking. Like they'd had a nap and a buff spell.

Kane passed by with a fresh water bottle and glanced toward Weylan. "You're still cooked."

Weylan grunted. "You're not?"

"I'm built for this," Kane said, rolling his shoulders. "But yeah, some of them," he jerked his chin toward a group across the room "shouldn't be bouncing back like that. Not naturally."

That's when Weylan's eyes landed on Erik.

His roommate sat cross-legged on the couch, tapping a quill against a notebook and nodding along to something he wasn't reading. His hair stuck up slightly, face flushed, and his foot hadn't stopped bouncing since Weylan walked in.

"Hey," Weylan said, dropping into the seat beside him. "You look… alive."

Erik blinked at him, fast. "Do I? That's good. I feel great. Like really focused. Like I could redesign modular spells while running uphill."

Weylan raised an eyebrow. "You've been like a zombie after the last combat training. This was much harder."

"I don't know, man." Erik shrugged, then grinned. "Guess I'm just vibing with the atmosphere, you know? Really syncing with the training flow."

Weylan stared at him.

Erik blinked again. His pupils looked… weirdly sharp. And there was a faint crackle in the air when he spoke. Some kind of static.

Before Weylan could press further, someone called his name, and the moment passed.

But he filed it away. Something was going on. And he had no idea what it was. Yet.

* * *

While Weylan was still contemplating where the potions the others had obviously taken had come from, and why they so thoroughly denied it, he noticed Faya dashing straight toward him. The motion did some interesting things to her chest robe, so he greeted her with a friendly smile. It faltered, however, when she shoved a green, furry thing at him. "Look what I found! Isn't he adorable?"

He looked at it skeptical. "Is that one of those verdant hares, like the one the professor chased away from the greenhouse?"

"Yes! Now show me how to make it into a familiar!"

He looked from her to the hare, his mind racing fast. "You'd need the feat for it. Which healers don't get, as far as I know." He saw her face fall and quickly thought of a solution. "You should ask one of the professors. Maybe there is a way to unlock the familiar feat."

Selvara, who until now had chilled on a window sill, suddenly perked up. She flew over and landed on Faya's arm.

"Oh… Your familiar wants to befriend Sir Cloverton of the Grove!" Faya would have jumped up in joy, if that wouldn't have thrown off both animals.

The hare looked a bit irritated from all the fuss around it, but held fast in Faya's grip, he couldn't just jump away. His feet moved frantically, but the priestess ignored that.

Selvara put her small raven head on that of the hare. That seemed to calm him.

Weylan saw the raven's beak start to move and instantly started to distract the priestess. He didn't know why Selvara was talking to the hare. Maybe it was another fairy in disguise, asking for help against her abduction?

It wasn't hard to distract the priestess. "Say, are there any legends about priestesses with familiars? I seem to remember one riding on a unicorn or something."

"Unicorns can't be familiars, they're much too powerful." But her eyes went dreamy anyways.

While the two engaged in an animated discussion, another one was taking place silently. The raven whispering, the other talking mind to mind.

<Selvara? Is that you?>

"Malvorik! You made it through! How? And what's with the bunny?"

<Chimerically enhanced Verdant Hare. Long story. Those things are practically loaded to bursting with life energy. Enough to even out the connection. No wonder they crave magically charged plants. With normal food, the creature must have eaten twice his weight a day. Real pests if found outside their normal habitat.>

"Will the connection hold?"

<I have to keep at least a part of my concentration on it. But as long as I manage that, the connection will be permanent. I can feel and sense anything the hare does. I just can't control the damned thing. It seems to like you, though. That's a point in its favor.>

"Can you increase your contact range from the hare?"

<I'm working on it. For now, it will stay at touch range.>

"Everything well with the dungeon?"

<More or less. We just finished another mushroom harvest. The duskgnomes are ecstatic and already cooking up some of their traditional dishes.>

Malvorik's mental voice carried a faint note of amusement.

<We also had a few revenants poking around the bathhouse, but I managed to embarrass them into leaving. It's a good story. You'll appreciate it.>

There was a brief pause.

<But we'll have to stop here. I'd rather not risk anyone noticing us talking.>

"There will be enough time later. I agree."

<The mad human will hopefully let the hare go when she goes to bed. Although… No. She'll probably take him with her. This is going to be quite awkward.>

"Just ignore the hare. What's the problem?"

<This connection is fragile. I have to constantly keep it active to avoid losing it. Once it's gone, it's gone for good. There's not even a theoretical way to reestablish it. I will have to feel that hairy thing snuggling against the mad priestess the whole time.>

"Doesn't sound too bad."

<My thirty year younger me would have chuckled the whole night through, but come on. I'd feel like an old lecherous pervert. Get me out of this!>

Weylan and Faya looked down at the strange noise from the raven. Faya raised an eyebrow. "Did your raven just chuckle?"

Weylan reflexively started lying. Somewhere in the back of his mind, that troubled him. It couldn't be healthy on the long-term. "She coughed. Probably ate some of this green hair, stuff. Now, say, what do you feed the hare?"

"Goddess! I didn't think! What do verdant hares eat? The professor mentioned magic plants, but where can I get those…"

Weylan let Faya talk while his eyes followed Selvara fluttering to the windowsill. Well, she'd tell him what happened later. For now, he turned his attention back to Faya. She was far less of a flirt without the other two priestesses around, and he found himself genuinely enjoying the conversation. Even as she jumped from topic to topic without any clear thread, he was disappointed when Fiona arrived to send everyone off to their dorms.

While most of the others headed upstairs, Weylan slipped around a corner and waited until Fiona passed by. He doubted she actually counted students or checked whether the rooms were full. Once the coast was clear, he slipped outside and retrieved his cloak from beneath a sofa where he'd hidden it earlier. Shadows coiled around him as he stepped into the night, moving silently along the fringes of the dimly lit path. Most of the lamps only lit the main walkway, leaving plenty of darkness to melt into.

It had been an eventful day, crowded with people and noise. What he needed now was a bit of fresh air and solitude. Weylan moved quietly through the side garden beyond the dorms, his footsteps careful on the mossy stone path. The silence was soothing. No lessons. No duels. No pressure. Just a rare moment of solitude in a place that always buzzed with activity.

He made his way toward a more secluded part of the academy grounds, still a safe distance from the lightning moat. A few trees stood watch over a pair of benches nestled in the grass. After a quick glance to confirm he was alone, he climbed one of the trees and settled onto a sturdy branch.

Faint moonlight spilled through the leaves overhead, and for once, no one was watching.

Almost no one.

"You're getting harder to follow," came a familiar voice, low and amused.

Selvara dropped from a tree branch above and shifted as she landed, the raven form peeling away like mist. She stood beside him in her true shape, humanoid, and very dryly impressed.

"I almost missed you leaving," she added.

Weylan shrugged. "I needed some air and quiet."

"Sure," Selvara said, settling beside him. "Or maybe you just needed to breathe without feeling graded."

He didn't argue.

She let the silence stretch before leaning in slightly. "Malvorik reached out. The connection to the sapling worked. Kind of."

Weylan raised an eyebrow. "Kind of?"

Selvara nodded. "The link transferred to a verdant hare as the greedy critter ate the sapling."

He blinked. "The one Faya's been carting around like a magical plush toy?"

"The very same. Malvorik can see, hear, and sense whatever the hare does. But the connection's fragile. And he can't control the plant chimera."

"So, unless the hare happens to hop somewhere interesting…"

"Exactly. He's relying on Faya now." She gave him a look. "And you know what that means."

Weylan sighed. "We need her to bring it to class."

"Every class," Selvara added. "Malvorik would love to see the lessons, teaching methods and new magical discoveries."

Weylan rubbed his temple. "We can't tell her it's a secret communication link. She'd lift it up to see better and call it the Chosen Eye or something."

"I was thinking," Selvara said, "we convince the staff she's trying to unlock the Familiar Bond feat. It's rare for healers, but not impossible. Some priestesses of legend did get it."

Weylan frowned. "And that would justify her bringing it everywhere."

"Exactly," Selvara said. "And more importantly, make it look like the hare's magical presence is intentional."

"She'd run with that in a heartbeat."

"She already named it 'Sir Cloverton,'" Selvara muttered. "She's halfway there."

Weylan smirked despite himself. "We'll nudge her tomorrow."

They sat in silence a moment longer, watching the stars shift above the treetops.

Then the lightning moat flickered. Not in alarm or attack. Someone with the clearance to cross the boundary even at night came through.

Selvara stood immediately, her form flickering back into raven-shape. "Someone is coming this way."

A group came in sight. Two mages in torn combat robes, three warriors in dented armor and a ranger type with scorched leather armor. Two of them limped.

Professor Kaelthorne rushed from the direction of the main administration building. She stopped in front of the newcomers. Arms folded, scars catching the lantern light. The lead warrior stopped before her, giving a curt, exhausted nod. They talked with low voices.

Too low, for Weylan to understand. He thought fast, then cast his one spell with a silent whisper: "Shadow Gate". A connection established between the shadow next to him on the tree branch and a shadow near the talking group, connected by a complex web of lines made by the shifting shadows of trees and buildings. It would empty his mana reserves if held too long, but since he only wanted to transport sound, it was possible. And it worked.

"No casualties," the lead warrior said. "But it was close."

Kaelthorne's eyes flicked from face to face. "An ambush?"

The warrior shook his head. "Just bad luck. We stumbled upon an enemy patrol. We underestimated them. There were more than we expected. When we noticed reinforcements arriving from all directions, we retreated. They harried us with hit-and-fade tactics right to the edge of the academy."

Another fighter stepped forward, voice low. "They've changed. They get more coordinated every time. And they're using new alchemical weapons. Not just primitive firebombs anymore."

Kaelthorne raised a brow.

"Flash-bombs, poison gas, and…" he hesitated, "some kind of growth accelerant. They threw one into a tree cluster. The roots went wild. Tried to drag us under. One of the others caught a thorn the size of a dagger in the leg. The forest turned against us."

"Isn't that too advanced for their homemade mixtures?" Kaelthorne asked.

The mage among them nodded. "The glass bottles are crude, almost improvised. But their potions work. I no longer think they use shamanic battle brews."

There was a long pause.

"They're learning," Kaelthorne said.

"They're evolving," the lead warrior corrected. "Fast."

Kaelthorne's mouth was a thin line. "Get to the infirmary. Full report later."

The group didn't argue. As they limped away, the tension left in their wake was a palpable thing. The professor followed them.

Selvara watched them, feathers ruffled. "What was that?"

Weylan shrugged. "I think the war against the Goblin Empire is much more active than we thought. And I don't think we are winning."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.