The training inside the Healing and Restoration demo chamber had escalated to its peak.
The orderly hall, with its neatly aligned desks, medicinal cupboards, and curtained beds, was now a cavern of activity. Every corner of the space had been cleared — mats pushed back, beds stacked, and vials secured — as the team transformed the chamber into a live rehearsal ground.
The members of House Orlean trained like crazy. Formations were repeated, timings perfected, mana signatures synchronized. Every spell, barrier, and maneuver was choreographed to the second. The air radiated with the residual threads of cast magic, the scent of alchemical smoke and burning essence hanging thick and stale.
This was no longer a practice. It was survival.
Cassandra Orlean stood amidst the controlled chaos, her palms singed faintly from repeated Restorare. Her throat stung from casting directives, and her arms ached from the rehearsals. But worse than her physical fatigue was the growing weight inside her chest — a hollowness that no spell or potion could mend.
She had placed a bet against her team, a jest between siblings, nothing more than a jab during a moment of dry humor.
But the truth?
She would trade a hundred wins in that bet if it meant she could just defeat her opponents once. Just once.
She was in her final year. Her last chance. No second season, no retry.
The match plan had been laid out thoroughly — rehearsed, simulated, corrected, and then simulated again. Liam had stitched together the framework. Every person in their squad had a role. Each spell had a counter. Each approach, a calculated risk.
No mistakes could be allowed. None would be forgiven.
Still, Cassandra knew.
They wouldn't win.
Not the aggregate.
Not with a 300-point deficit.
Even their strongest maneuver — the dual-caster Meteor Fall, their final gambit — was unlikely to break through the layered defense of House Clayton. At best, it would dazzle the judges, win a few cheers, maybe earn some points.
At worst, it would fizzle into nothing, like the rest of their hopes.
She walked slowly through the room, her eyes scanning her exhausted teammates — sweating, panting, but still trying. Still rehearsing.
What for? She thought bitterly.
She drifted toward the corner where Liam was seated, the runic model of their ship floating in front of him. He moved slowly, calibrating its steer — part of an attraction maneuver they had devised to pull the battleship out of bounds.
He looked calm. Detached.
Like he wasn't the one whose plan would either break their final chance or humiliate them before the whole Institute.
Cassandra exhaled heavily. "How much do you think we'll score?"
Liam's fingers stilled for a moment in the air.
He didn't look up. "If everything goes according to plan…"
He hesitated, glancing sideways at the team, then at his sister.
"…around 250."
Her heart sank further. That was a good score. More than they'd ever calculated in simulations.
But still not enough.
She didn't say anything more. Just nodded faintly and turned away.
Liam watched her walk off. There was no anger in her steps, just fatigue. And quiet, smothered defeat.
He leaned back slightly, letting the ship projection drift, unattended.
To win the aggregate score?
No.
His plan couldn't bridge that gap.
He had chosen strategy over a miracle. And the cost of that was simple:
Victory, but not glory.
A soft voice broke through his thoughts.
"Liam."
He turned. Serena stood there, arms folded behind her back.
"Can I ask you something?"
He raised a brow. "Go ahead."
"As a Shadow Blade… do you think I could do more?"
Liam blinked. "You're already doing enough."
She gave a hesitant smile. "You're just being polite."
No, he wasn't. In truth, he admired her persistence. But in a brutal match like this — what could a Ninth Blaze adept change, when even Theo, the strongest student in the institute, had been forced to yield?
She hesitated, then added, "Could you… Give me some pointers? About hidden striking. I want to improve."
Liam chuckled softly. "You're asking the wrong person, Miss Serena. I'm not even… "
"Still." Her eyes didn't leave his.
He studied her for a second longer. Something about her gaze — too steady to ignore.
Then he stopped, caught mid-thought.
"…Actually, I can teach you something."
"Really?" she perked up.
"But not now."
"When then?"
"Call me from my dorm in the evening. After dinner. Tell the gatekeeper it's urgent — if he hesitates, insist."
She frowned. "Why all that? Can't we just go together after dinner and talk during our stroll?"
"We can," he admitted, "but I have to look for something. Someone."
Her confusion deepened, but she nodded. "Okay."
Liam turned towards everyone and clapped his hands.
Everyone in the room glanced up.
"Sister — I need something."
Elaine arched an eyebrow. "Why are you so excited…?"
Evaline sat upright, pausing her mana breathing. "Yeah, what's gotten into you?"
Even Cassandra looked up, still seated but visibly weary. "What do you need?"
She was still upset — he could tell from her tone — but she asked anyway.
"I need something like an EchoVault," Liam said, his voice steady. "Something with an integrated floating lens. I want to capture our training — get a full projection."
Theo tilted his head. "What would that do?"
Liam glanced at the others in the room. "We rely on assessment from professors, spectators, and each other to gauge how we're doing. But what if we could see ourselves — from above, from the side, from every angle? What if we had our own eyes looking back at us?"
He continued, "If we could observe everything in replay — movements, formations, how our spells look from the outside — I think we could refine our approach better than just hearing critiques."
There was a pause.
"Do we have this… thing?" he asked, scanning the group.
Cassandra leaned back against the wall. "I can arrange it now, but it'll cost me a fortune." Her tone was measured. "Will it have any impact?"
"If you can arrange it, then… it would help us all a lot." Liam gave a half-smile. "Besides, if I lose — you'd still have plenty to gain." He referred, lightly, to the bet they'd made.
Cassandra didn't smile back. But she nodded. "Fine, then."
It seemed like a win-win on the surface — but she didn't care for that. She just wanted to win, even once, in her final year at the Institute. Without another word, she turned and left the room.
Theo, James, and William soon gathered around Liam.
"Will it help us?" Theo asked, arms crossed. "Honestly, I don't think so."
"Huh? Why didn't you say so earlier?" James blinked.
William frowned. "Yeah, that was out of nowhere."
Theo exhaled, lowering his voice. "Since Cassie's not here, I'll speak freely."
He paused, then looked at Liam, gaze firm.
"She thinks too highly of you, Prince Liam. I don't know why — but frankly, I don't share her confidence."
"Senior!" James and William tried to hush him, looking around.
"It's fine." Liam raised a hand, calm. "He's not wrong."
Theo narrowed his eyes. "I'm in the Specialist Realm, Liam. That means I see through a lot more than others. Your mana heart — your pulse, your rhythm. You're… not where you should be, are you?"
Liam didn't deny it. He nodded.
"You know very well where I stand, Senior Theo."
That alone said more than enough.
Theo glanced sideways. "So why does she trust you? For years, all I ever heard was the name 'Liam Orlean.' Nothing more. Then you show up — and Cassandra starts shifting her whole game around you. She listens. She follows your ideas."
He shook his head.
"But I don't see it. I want to — but I don't. So I'll ask again: Will your strategy work?"
Liam took a breath.
"Nothing I plan will guarantee victory. But…" He met their eyes. "Just like my sister, I believe it can work."
There was silence for a while, broken only by the continued hum of spells being practiced.
A few more rounds of simulation passed. Then — the door creaked open.
Cassandra stepped in, a box cradled in her arms.
She walked directly toward Liam and placed it before him.
Everyone gathered closer.
It looked like an EchoVault — but with something different: a long, crystal-clear glass panel attached to the sphere, etched with glyphs that pulsed faintly.
"No way," Serena murmured, eyes wide.
Liam looked at her. "What is it?"
"That's not an Echovault," she called out. "That's a Dreamvault. It's my first time seeing it."
Liam and the rest gathered around the Dreamvault. The smooth, glass-paneled orb sat at the center of the room like some arcane relic.
"How do we work this thing?" Liam asked, glancing over at Cassandra.
Without a word, Cassandra used Telekinesis. The spherical orb detached from the glass base and the panel with a soft click and floated upward.
"It works similarly to an EchoVault," she explained, her voice focused, "but it also records many pictures in real time — and it doesn't need to be tethered."
The orb rose above their heads, its crystalline eye adjusting slightly, like it were watching them. They all saw themselves in the glass panel still attached to the base. It was different how they saw themselves in a mirror.
"Cool," James and William whispered.
"Tell me what you want recorded," Cassandra said, her hand still outstretched, stabilizing the orb in place.
Liam stepped forward. "Let's capture our plan, starting with the first wave."
Cassandra nodded, and the orb glowed brighter — a faint pulse confirming that it was recording.
They all returned to their position.
Spells flared. Movements snapped into rhythm. Hours passed in sweat, exhaustion, and repetition. They ran the formation over and over, until their Mana pulse became ragged. Strikes dulled with fatigue.
Everything — from Theo's opening movement to James and William's sweep. Serena's shadow strike, too. All of it. Up to the final meteor was recorded.
By the time Cassandra recalled the orb and the lens dimmed, most of them had collapsed near the walls, catching breath, sipping from canteens.
In their exhaustion they watched the projection recording on the glass screen — the fight playing from a wide, elevated angle. Every misstep is visible. Every staggered spell. Serena's strike veered slightly off; William's shielding was a little off and Theo — he was perfect, nobody saw any flaws.
Earlier they didn't find anything to improve but they could see it now.
"That's where I faltered," William said, pointing to his sequence. "I pulled the shielding rune half a breath too early."
"I drifted left here," James murmured, eyes squinting. "That can break our arc line."
Serena pointed silently at her approach — then circled back with her finger. "I can feint better. I know. "
Liam watched Cassandra silently. She wasn't smiling — not quite — but there was a spark in her eyes. A bit of life returned. She was uplifted, even if only a little.
"I'm exhausted," William groaned, slumping further against the wall.
"You up for cupcakes?" James offered, grinning.
"Sure."
"Who else?"
"Me," Elaine chimed in.
"Me too," said Evaline.
"I'm also leaving," Theo added, rising to his feet. "I'll come tomorrow early."
"Okay. That's it for today, then," Cassandra said, clapping her hands softly. "Dismissed."
Before anyone could file out, Liam raised a hand. "Sister Elaine — I want to talk to you. Alone. Just a few minutes."
"Huh?" Elaine looked confused, turning toward Liam. "Make it quick."
Then, to her sister: "And don't you dare eat my share."
Evaline frowned. "I have never—"
"Sister?" Liam interrupted gently.
"Bye, Liam."
Everyone else filed out, leaving only Serena, Liam, and Elaine behind.
"Miss Serena," Liam said with a nod, "I'll see you after dinner then."
"Okay." She nodded, then glanced curiously between the siblings before walking out.
"'Miss Serena'?" Elaine echoed, cocking a brow. "What's with the formality?"
"I'm a prince," Liam said plainly. "I have to be formal."
"Well, whatever," she huffed. "Tell me, then. Why am I here?"
Liam hesitated, then met her gaze.
"I'm planning something risky," he said quietly glancing at the Dreamvault. "And I need your help."