Word of Garrett's rescue spread through the guild faster than Astraeus expected. By evening, mages he'd never met were nodding to him in hallways, and the task board attendant smiled when he approached. Reputation, he was learning, was currency in the guild—more valuable than gold in some ways.
Garrett himself recovered quickly. Two days after the incident, he found Astraeus in the training yard and pulled him aside.
"I wanted to thank you properly," Garrett said. His chest was still bandaged, but he moved without obvious pain. "Marcus told me what you did. The void corruption would have killed me within the hour."
"I'm glad I could help. How are you feeling?"
"Sore, embarrassed, and grateful. Mostly grateful." He paused, seeming to struggle with something. "I wasn't sure about you at first. Young, low rank, claiming to have a spirit bond—it sounded like academy fantasy. But you've proven yourself. You saved my life, and I won't forget it."
"You don't owe me anything. We're guild members. We help each other."
"Maybe. But I still owe you. If you ever need anything—backup on a mission, information, a favor—you come find me. Understood?"
"Understood. Thank you, Garrett."
They shook hands, and Garrett returned to his recovery. Astraeus felt the weight of the exchange. He was building connections, accumulating debts and favors, weaving himself into the guild's social fabric. It was strategic, but it was also genuine. These people were becoming his community.
Attachments, Kha'Zul reminded him. They make you stronger, but they also make you vulnerable. Remember that.
"I know. But I can't do this alone."
No. You can't. Just be prepared for the day when you have to choose between saving someone you care about and saving hundreds of strangers. That day will come.
"Then I'll deal with it when it does."
That evening, Astraeus met Marcus for their first private instruction session. They gathered in one of the advanced training rooms—a larger space than the standard facilities, with more sophisticated enchantments and equipment.
"Before we begin," Marcus said, "I want to understand your goals. What do you want to achieve? What kind of mage do you want to become?"
Astraeus considered the question carefully. He couldn't say "I want to become a god and fight Ethereal Lords," but he could frame it in terms Marcus would understand.
"I want to be strong enough that I never have to watch people die because I wasn't capable enough to save them. I want to seal rifts, fight Voidborn, protect people. And I want to understand magic deeply enough that I can adapt and innovate, not just follow established techniques."
Marcus nodded slowly. "Those are good goals. Ambitious, but achievable if you're willing to work for them. The question is: are you willing to do what it takes?"
"What does it take?"
"Pain. Failure. Pushing yourself past your limits repeatedly until those limits expand. Most mages plateau because they find a comfortable level and stop pushing. You can't do that. Comfort is the enemy of growth."
I like him, Kha'Zul said. He understands.
"I'm willing," Astraeus said. "I've already been training harder than I thought possible. I can go further."
"Good. Then let's start with the fundamentals. Show me your essence manipulation. Create a sphere, transform it through all the elements you know, then disperse it."
Astraeus complied, forming a sphere of silver-blue essence and cycling it through transformations: fire, ice, lightning, force, light. Each transformation was smooth, controlled, efficient.
Marcus watched critically. "Not bad. Your control is excellent for your level. But you're being too careful. You're treating essence like something fragile that might break if you push too hard."
"Isn't that the right approach? Precision and control?"
"To a point. But essence is also alive, responsive, powerful. It wants to be used. Watch."
Marcus created his own sphere, and Astraeus immediately saw the difference. Where his essence moved smoothly, Marcus's essence flowed—natural, effortless, like water finding its path. The transformations weren't forced; they were encouraged, guided, allowed to happen.
"You're trying to control every aspect of the transformation," Marcus explained. "That works, but it's inefficient. Instead, understand what each element wants to be, then guide it toward that state. Fire wants to consume and spread. Ice wants to crystallize and preserve. Lightning wants to arc and discharge. Work with those natural tendencies instead of against them."
Astraeus tried again, this time relaxing his control slightly and feeling for the essence's natural inclinations. The sphere transformed into fire, and instead of forcing it into a perfect sphere, he let it flicker and dance, maintaining just enough control to keep it contained.
It was easier. More efficient. The essence flowed naturally, requiring less effort to maintain.
"Better," Marcus said. "That's the difference between a competent mage and a master. Competent mages control essence through force. Masters guide it through understanding. Keep practicing that until it becomes instinctive."
They spent the next hour working on essence flow, with Marcus providing corrections and insights that Astraeus absorbed eagerly. The instruction was invaluable—decades of experience distilled into practical lessons that would have taken years to learn through trial and error alone.
He's teaching you what I've been trying to explain, Kha'Zul said. The difference between forcing and guiding. This is good. Learn everything he offers.
"Now," Marcus said, "let's talk about combat. You've proven you can fight, but your technique is rough. You're relying on instinct and Shadow's guidance, which works but isn't optimal. I want to teach you proper combat forms—structured techniques that provide a foundation for improvisation."
He demonstrated a series of movements, each one flowing into the next: defensive stance, essence barrier, counterattack, repositioning. It looked like a dance, every motion purposeful and efficient.
"Combat forms serve two purposes," Marcus explained. "First, they train your body to move correctly under pressure. When you're fighting for your life, you don't have time to think—you need muscle memory. Second, they provide a framework for essence manipulation during combat. Each movement is designed to facilitate specific essence techniques."
Astraeus began learning the forms, and immediately understood their value. They were harder than they looked, requiring precise footwork, balance, and timing. But as he practiced, he felt his combat capability improving, becoming more structured and reliable.
[SKILL IMPROVED: BASIC COMBAT TECHNIQUES (55/100 → 65/100)]
"You're a quick learner," Marcus observed. "Most students take weeks to get the basic forms down. You've got them in an hour."
"I had good motivation. Almost dying repeatedly tends to focus the mind."
Marcus laughed. "True enough. But there's more to it than motivation. You have natural talent and, I suspect, excellent instruction from Shadow. That combination is rare."
They continued training until Astraeus was exhausted, his essence depleted, his body aching. But he'd learned more in two hours with Marcus than he could have in a week of solo practice.
"That's enough for today," Marcus finally said. "We'll meet again next week, same time. Between now and then, practice the essence flow exercises and combat forms until they're second nature. Understood?"
"Understood. Thank you, Marcus. This was incredibly valuable."
"You're welcome. And Astraeus? Thank you again for saving Garrett. He's family, and I owe you a debt I can never fully repay. This instruction is just the beginning."
After Marcus left, Astraeus sat against the wall, catching his breath. His body was exhausted, but his mind was energized. He was learning so much, so quickly. The path to godhood felt less impossible with each passing day.
You're doing well, Kha'Zul said. Better than I expected. Marcus is a good teacher, and you're an excellent student. This partnership is working.
"Partnership," Astraeus repeated. "Is that what we are now? Partners?"
Aren't we? We're bound together, working toward the same goal, relying on each other for survival. That's a partnership, even if it started as imprisonment.
"I suppose it is. Do you regret it? Being bound to me?"
Kha'Zul was quiet for a long moment. I regret losing my freedom. I regret being trapped in shadow form, unable to manifest fully. But do I regret being bound to you specifically? No. You're more interesting than most humans. You don't bore me, which is rare after three thousand years of existence.
"High praise from a Demon King."
Don't let it go to your head. You're still weak, still learning, still decades away from being truly formidable. But you have potential. That's worth something.
Astraeus smiled and pulled up his status screen.
[LEVEL: 6]
[HEALTH: 140/140]
[ETHEREAL ESSENCE: 35/90]
[STAMINA: 40/100]
[ATTRIBUTES:]
•Strength: 12
•Agility: 14
•Intelligence: 21
•Wisdom: 12
•Constitution: 13
[SKILLS:]
•Intermediate Ethereal Manipulation (65/200)
•Basic Dimensional Sealing (25/100)
•Basic Combat Techniques (65/100)
•Basic Essence Constructs (5/100)
•Resonance Seal (Dimensional) (15/100)[GUILD RANK: APPRENTICE]
[REPUTATION: RISING STAR]
Progress. Real, measurable progress. His skills were advancing, his understanding deepening, his capabilities expanding. But the gap between where he was and where he needed to be was still vast.
He thought about the timeline Kha'Zul had mentioned. Fifty years to godhood. He was seventeen now, which meant he'd be sixty-seven when he achieved full power. Most of his life spent training, fighting, growing.
It should have been daunting. Instead, it felt like purpose.
He had time. He had guidance. He had friends and mentors. He had a demon bound to his soul who was becoming something like a partner.
That was enough.
For now, that was enough.
The next morning, Astraeus returned to the restricted library, seeking more knowledge about Ethereal Lords. If they were his ultimate opponents, he needed to understand them as thoroughly as possible.
He found a text titled "The Hierarchy of Power: From Mortals to Gods" and settled in to read. The book outlined the progression of magical power in clear terms:
Mortal Mages:
•Initiate: Basic essence manipulation
•Apprentice: Intermediate techniques, specialization begins
•Journeyman: Advanced techniques, combat-ready
•Master: Expert-level capability, can teach others
•Archmage: Peak mortal achievement, legendary powerTranscendent Beings:
•Reality Anchors: Mortals bound to dimensional stability (like Astraeus)
•Ascended: Mortals who've transcended physical limitations
•Ethereal Lords: Beings of pure essence, incomprehensible power
•Primordials: Ancient entities predating current reality
The book explained that the gap between each tier was enormous. A Master could defeat ten Journeymen. An Archmage could defeat ten Masters. And an Ethereal Lord could defeat ten Archmages without effort.
Those ratios are approximate, Kha'Zul said, but not wrong. Power doesn't scale linearly. Each tier represents a fundamental transformation in capability, not just an increase in strength.
"Where do you fit in this hierarchy?"
At my peak? Somewhere between Ascended and Ethereal Lord. I'd transcended physical form but hadn't achieved true essence-being status. I was powerful enough to rule the demon realms for three thousand years, but not powerful enough to challenge an Ethereal Lord directly.
"And where do I need to be to face one?"
At minimum, Ascended level. Preferably higher. Which means you need to reach Archmage level first, then transcend it. That's the fifty-year timeline I mentioned.
Astraeus continued reading, absorbing information about power progression, transcendence requirements, and the nature of Ethereal Lords. The more he learned, the more he understood the enormity of his task.
But he also understood something else: he wasn't alone. The God System had chosen him for a reason. Kha'Zul was bound to him for a reason. Marcus and Helena were teaching him for a reason.
He was part of something larger than himself, a response to a crisis that threatened all of reality. That gave his struggle meaning beyond personal survival.
He closed the book and stood, his resolve strengthened.