The next three days fell into a rhythm that felt almost normal.
Mornings were for Nolan's mandatory control classes at the Mage's Guild. Master Lyra put him through grueling exercises—holding energy stable for increasingly long periods, shaping power into precise forms, maintaining focus under distraction. She was a demanding instructor, quick to point out every flaw and inefficiency.
"Your power wants to explode outward," she observed during one session, watching him struggle to contain a sphere of blue energy. "You're fighting your own instincts. Why?"
"I don't know. It just feels... volatile. Like it wants to be free."
"All power wants to be free. That's its nature. Your job isn't to cage it—that just builds pressure. Your job is to guide it, channel it, give it direction." She demonstrated with her own magic, water forming into complex shapes with effortless precision. "Control isn't about force. It's about understanding."
"Easy for you to say. You've been doing this for decades."
"Everyone starts somewhere. Even I once blew up a practice dummy because I couldn't regulate my output." She smiled slightly. "The difference is I learned from it instead of giving up. Again. Hold the sphere steady for three minutes this time."
Nolan tried, sweat beading on his forehead as the energy fought against his will. Two minutes in, it began to destabilize, cracks forming in the construct.
Let me help, Diablo offered. I can stabilize it.
"No. I need to do this myself."
Your pride will be your downfall.
The sphere collapsed at two minutes and forty seconds, energy dissipating harmlessly.
"Better," Master Lyra said, making notes. "You held it twenty seconds longer than last time. Progress is progress, no matter how small."
Afternoons were for team training and missions. Nothing as dramatic as Rock Titans or Venomscale Wyrms—mostly C-rank contracts that paid decently without excessive risk. Escort duties, mana beast culling in safe zones, investigation work for merchants who suspected their competitors of sabotage.
Normal adventurer work. Almost boring compared to their first week.
"Boring is good," Selene insisted after they'd completed a particularly uneventful escort mission. "Boring means everyone goes home alive and uninjured. I like boring."
"Boring doesn't make for good stories," Darion countered.
"Then make up stories. Add a dragon to that escort mission. Say we fought off fifty bandits instead of zero."
"That's lying."
"That's embellishment. There's a difference."
Evenings were for rest, recovery, and whatever personal business needed handling. Kaida spent hers in the library or practicing her water magic. Darion maintained his equipment and occasionally disappeared to what he claimed was "dwarf business" but wouldn't elaborate on. Selene managed team finances, filed reports, and planned future contracts.
Nolan spent his evenings reading his grandfather's journal.
He did it in secret, late at night when everyone else was asleep. The journal was dense with technical information he barely understood, but the personal entries painted a picture of a man carrying tremendous guilt.
Day 903: I see echoes of what we did everywhere. Every child I pass on the street, I wonder—would we have done the same to them? Would we have sealed this burden in any innocent life if it meant keeping the world safe?
Day 927: Rufus writes that the boy is healthy, showing no signs of the seal's influence. He seems relieved. I am terrified. The longer it remains dormant, the worse the awakening will be.
Day 1156: I've decided to leave the capital. Staying close only increases the risk of discovery. If the cult finds me, they'll find him. Better to draw attention away, let the boy live normally for as long as possible.
Day 1157: This is cowardice. I know that. Running instead of protecting. But what choice do I have? My presence endangers him. My absence at least gives him a chance at normalcy.
Day 1200: I watched from a distance today. The boy—Nolan, Rufus named him—is six years old. Playing in the street with his siblings, laughing, happy. He has no idea what he carries. Part of me hopes he never will. Part of me knows that's impossible.
The entries continued, marking years of watching from afar, tracking Nolan's growth, waiting for the inevitable.
He knew, Nolan thought, closing the journal. All those years, he was watching. Waiting for this exact moment.
Creepy, Diablo commented. Your grandfather is kind of a stalker.
"He was trying to protect me."
By abandoning you? Interesting definition of protection.
Nolan didn't have a good answer for that.
On the fourth day, Selene announced they'd been invited to join a larger operation.
"The Iron Hawks contacted me," she said over breakfast. "Remember Marcus? His team is organizing a coordinated mana beast sweep in the northern forests. Multiple teams working together to clear out an infestation. They're asking if we want in."
"What's the pay?" Darion asked immediately.
"400 silver per team, plus bonuses for rare specimens. Three days of work, B-rank difficulty."
"B-rank?" Nolan's stomach tightened. "Is that safe for us?"
"With multiple teams? Yes. We'd be working alongside the Iron Hawks, the Silver Talons, and the Storm Wardens. Twelve adventurers total, all C-rank or higher." Selene looked around the table. "It's good experience, good networking, and good money. But it's also dangerous. I won't force anyone to go."
"I'm in," Darion said. "Could use the challenge."
"Me too," Kaida added. "The northern forests have interesting flora. I'd like to collect samples."
Everyone looked at Nolan.
"I guess I'm in too," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
"Good. We leave tomorrow at dawn. Pack for three days, bring full combat gear." Selene's expression grew serious. "And Nolan? This isn't like the Titan. We'll be fighting continuously, multiple encounters per day. You'll need to pace yourself, manage your energy. Can you do that?"
"I'll manage."
Famous last words, Diablo muttered.
They spent the rest of the day preparing. Nolan attended his control class in the morning, where Master Lyra noticed his distraction.
"Your mind is elsewhere today," she observed.
"Sorry. We have a big mission tomorrow. B-rank sweep."
"Ah. Hence the nerves." She studied him. "Tell me something—when you're in actual combat, is your control better or worse than in practice?"
Nolan thought about it. "Better, I think. When there's real danger, the power feels more... focused. Like it knows what it needs to do."
"Interesting. That suggests your control issues are partially mental. You overthink in safe environments but trust your instincts under pressure." She made notes. "That's actually not uncommon with combat mages. The mind gets in the way until survival instinct takes over."
"So what do I do about it?"
"Learn to trust yourself even when you're not in danger. Your power isn't your enemy, Nolan. It's a tool. The more you treat it like an adversary you need to suppress, the more it will fight you."
Finally, Diablo said. Someone with sense.
"But it is dangerous," Nolan protested. "If I lose control—"
"Then you practice until losing control becomes impossible. But that requires partnership with your power, not warfare against it." Master Lyra dismissed him with a wave. "Go prepare for your mission. Try not to die. I hate losing students."
That evening, Varrick invited Nolan to his study.
"I heard about the sweep operation," the minister said, pouring tea. "B-rank work is serious business. How are you feeling about it?"
"Nervous," Nolan admitted. "But ready, I think."
"Good. Nerves keep you sharp." Varrick handed him a cup. "I wanted to give you something before you go. Consider it a good luck charm."
He produced a small crystal pendant on a silver chain. The crystal glowed faintly with internal light.
"It's a minor protective charm," Varrick explained. "Won't stop anything major, but it might deflect a stray arrow or blade. Think of it as insurance."
Nolan accepted it carefully. "This must have been expensive."
"Your safety is worth far more than money. And—" Varrick's expression grew fond. "You've become important to this household, Nolan. To Selene, to this team, to me. I'd rather you come home safely."
"Thank you. Really."
"Just promise you'll be careful. And if things go wrong—if you're ever in real danger—run. Don't play hero. Your life is worth more than any contract."
After leaving the study, Nolan examined the pendant. It felt warm in his palm, the crystal pulsing gently with contained magic. A protective charm from Selene's father, given with genuine care.
How touching, Diablo said. The kind minister protecting the wayward youth. It's almost heartwarming.
"You don't have to be cynical about everything."
I don't have to be. I choose to be. There's a difference.
Nolan added the new pendant to his existing one—his father's pendant hidden under his shirt, Varrick's worn openly. Layers of protection, both magical and sentimental.
He spent his final evening packing and double-checking equipment. The hand-axe was sharp and ready. His armor was clean and properly fitted. The supplies the shopkeeper had recommended were organized in his pack. Everything was as prepared as it could be.
"Can't sleep?" Kaida appeared in his doorway, holding a book.
"Too nervous. First multi-team operation, first B-rank work..."
"First time wondering if you're good enough?" She smiled knowingly. "I felt the same way before my first major mission. Convinced I'd embarrass myself, or worse, get someone killed."
"What happened?"
"I embarrassed myself spectacularly—froze a teammate's foot to the ground by accident during a crucial moment. But we survived, laughed about it later, and I learned from it." She leaned against the doorframe. "The point is, everyone doubts themselves. The warriors who claim they don't are either lying or dangerously overconfident."
"That's oddly reassuring."
"I try." She paused. "Can I ask you something personal?"
Nolan tensed slightly. "Sure."
"Your power—the way it manifests, the blue energy—have you figured out what element it actually is? Because I've been watching, and it doesn't match standard classifications."
Careful, Diablo warned.
"Master Lyra thinks it might be raw mana manifestation," Nolan said, using an explanation he'd prepared. "Power without specific elemental affinity. It's rare but not unheard of."
"Hmm. That would explain the versatility. Most elemental mages are limited to their primary affinity and maybe one sub-element. But you seem to use your power for everything—barriers, blasts, enhancement. Very adaptable."
"I guess I got lucky with my awakening."
"Or unlucky, depending on perspective. Versatility is powerful, but it's also harder to master. No established techniques, no traditional training paths." She studied him for a moment longer. "Well, whatever it is, you're learning quickly. Try to get some sleep. Tomorrow will be demanding."
After she left, Nolan lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
She's getting too curious, Diablo said. Asking too many questions.
"She's just interested in magic theory. That's normal for her."
Is it? Or is she investigating you specifically?
"You're paranoid."
I'm experienced. There's a difference.
Sleep came eventually, fitful and filled with fragments of dreams. His grandfather watching from shadows. His father's dying words. Blue energy consuming everything. Diablo's voice echoing through darkness.
He woke before dawn, groggy but functional. Today was the sweep. Three days in the northern forests, fighting alongside other teams, proving he belonged at this level.
Or proving you don't, Diablo suggested helpfully. That's also a possibility.
"Thanks for the confidence."
You're welcome.
The Warriors Four gathered in the courtyard as the sun began to rise. Everyone was armed and ready, faces set with professional determination.
"Remember the rules," Selene said as they prepared to leave. "Stay with your team. Don't rush ahead. Communicate constantly. If you're in trouble, call for help immediately. Pride gets people killed."
They set out through the waking city, joining the flow of early morning traffic. Somewhere ahead, three other teams were gathering. Twelve adventurers preparing to face whatever the northern forests held.
Nolan touched both pendants under his shirt—his father's and Varrick's—and took a deep breath.
"Ready?" Selene asked.
"Ready," he lied.
But maybe if he said it enough times, it would become true.