═══════════════════════════════════════════
Day two of training started before dawn.
I woke to darkness, my internal clock screaming that it was too early, but my body already moving. Muscle memory—or maybe desperation—pulled me out of bed and into the center of the room. No time for breakfast. No time for anything except the one thing that mattered.
Getting better.
**[Spatial Blink] - Novice 38%**
**[Objective: Reach Intermediate (41%) before practical exam. Time remaining: 24 hours.]**
Three percent. That was all I needed.
I closed my eyes, centered myself, and reached for the Astral Core in my chest. The pulse was stronger now, more responsive. Two days of constant use had started to build pathways, like muscles remembering patterns. The mana flowed smoother, less reluctant.
"Spatial Blink."
The world folded. I appeared near the window, landing cleanly, barely a stumble. The nausea was gone. The disorientation faded in seconds.
**[Spatial Blink executed. Distance: 3.4 meters. Mana efficiency: 81%. Form: Good. Side effects: None.]**
Again.
"Spatial Blink."
To the door.
"Spatial Blink."
To the desk.
"Spatial Blink."
To the bed.
The room became a circuit. A pattern I repeated until the movements felt automatic, until my body knew the distances by instinct, until the magic wasn't something I cast but something I *was*.
By the time pale light filtered through the window, I'd completed sixty casts. My mana reserves hovered around forty percent, but the progress was undeniable.
**[Spatial Blink] - Novice 40% (+2%)**
One percent to go.
I allowed myself a five-minute break, chugging water from the pitcher on my desk and stretching out the tension in my shoulders. My reflection in the mirror looked different now. Still Lucian's face, but the exhaustion had been replaced by something sharper. Focus. Determination.
Maybe a little bit of Jin Haru bleeding through.
"One more push," I muttered.
**[Recommendation: Increase difficulty. Repetition builds proficiency, but variation accelerates mastery. Suggest vertical displacement or obstacle navigation.]**
I frowned. "Vertical?"
**[Spatial Blink currently only executed on horizontal plane. Adding vertical dimension will improve spatial awareness and increase overall skill quality.]**
That... actually made sense. If I could blink upward—onto furniture, up to higher ground—it would open up tactical options in combat. More mobility meant more survival.
I eyed the wardrobe. It was about two meters tall, with a flat top. Not ideal, but workable.
"Alright. Let's try it."
I visualized the top of the wardrobe, held the image in my mind, felt the space between me and the target. Then I activated the skill.
"Spatial Blink."
Reality lurched—and then I was stumbling, my foot catching on the edge of the wardrobe, my balance completely shot. I windmilled my arms, cursing, and barely managed to avoid faceplanting onto the wooden floor.
**[Spatial Blink executed. Distance: 2.1 meters (vertical: 2.0 meters, horizontal: 0.4 meters). Mana efficiency: 68%. Form: Poor. Landing stability: Critical failure.]**
"Yeah," I gasped, gripping the edge of the wardrobe. "I noticed."
**[Vertical displacement requires additional calculations for gravitational adjustment and landing stabilization. Current proficiency insufficient. Recommend incremental practice.]**
So I practiced.
Again.
"Spatial Blink."
Stumble. Almost fell.
Again.
"Spatial Blink."
Better. Landed on both feet, but wobbled.
Again.
"Spatial Blink."
Clean. Solid. Still.
The shift happened somewhere around the twentieth attempt. My body learned to compensate for the vertical drop, my mana adjusted for the gravitational pull, and suddenly I wasn't fighting the skill—I was riding it.
**[Spatial Blink] - Intermediate 41% (+1%)]**
**[PROFICIENCY MILESTONE ACHIEVED]**
**[New Designation: Intermediate. Effects: Increased range (+2 meters), reduced cooldown (-3 seconds), improved mana efficiency (+5%). Landing stability enhanced.]**
I stood on top of the wardrobe, breathing hard, and felt the difference immediately. The skill wasn't just functional anymore—it was *refined*. Like the difference between a dull knife and a sharpened blade.
The System chimed again:
**[Objective Complete: Reach Intermediate proficiency.]**
**[Reward: 100 SP earned.]**
**[Current SP Balance: 100]**
**[New Upgrade Path Unlocked: Spatial Blink (F-Grade → E-Grade). Cost: 150 SP. Requirements: Intermediate proficiency (met), sustained combat usage (not met).]**
A hundred Skill Points. Not enough to upgrade yet, but it was a start. And more importantly, I'd hit the threshold. Intermediate proficiency meant I wouldn't embarrass myself in the practical.
It meant I had a chance.
I hopped down from the wardrobe—no skill needed, just a controlled drop—and checked the clock. Six in the morning. Classes started at eight. That gave me two hours to shower, eat, and mentally prepare for whatever hell the academy had planned for today.
---
The cafeteria was busier than yesterday, packed with students who all wore the same expression: grim determination mixed with barely concealed anxiety. The practical exam loomed over everyone like a guillotine.
I grabbed breakfast—more eggs, toast, coffee that tasted like burnt charcoal but had enough caffeine to wake the dead—and found an empty table. Around me, conversations were hushed but intense.
"—heard they're using live monsters this year—"
"—Professor Mira's supposed to be judging combat efficiency, and she doesn't give partial credit—"
"—if I don't get at least a B-rating, my family will—"
I tuned them out and focused on eating. Fuel for the body. Preparation for the storm.
"You look better."
I glanced up. Magnus stood beside my table, tray in hand, his expression unreadable.
"Better than what?" I asked.
"Better than a corpse." He sat down without asking. "Two days ago you could barely stand. Now you're walking around like you didn't almost die."
"Healing's a wonderful thing."
"Healing doesn't fix incompetence." His blue eyes locked onto mine. "But you've been training. I can tell."
I raised an eyebrow. "How?"
"Your mana signature." He gestured vaguely at my chest. "It's more stable. Less erratic. You've been cycling properly, building pathways. Either you suddenly figured out what you're doing, or someone gave you a very good lesson."
Perceptive. I shouldn't have been surprised—Magnus was a B-Rank prodigy, after all. He probably saw things most students missed.
"Figured some things out," I said carefully.
"Good." He cut into his food, all business. "You'll need it for the practical. They're running it as a timed dungeon raid."
My stomach dropped. "Dungeon raid?"
"Modified F-Rank gate, academy-controlled. Teams of four. You clear three floors, fight the boss, extract. Grading is based on speed, efficiency, and combat performance." He paused. "And survival, obviously."
"Teams of four," I repeated. "Assigned or chosen?"
"Assigned. Random draw to prevent stacking." Magnus's mouth twitched in what might have been amusement. "So you might end up with competent teammates. Or you might end up with dead weight."
Great. Random chance determining whether I passed or failed. That was comforting.
"What kind of monsters?" I asked.
"F-Rank dungeon, so nothing too dangerous. Goblins, probably. Maybe some Blade Rats or Shadow Hounds on the lower floors. The boss will be low E-Rank—usually a Goblin Chieftain or a lesser elemental."
I processed that. F-Rank monsters were manageable for a D-Rank Hunter, even a mediocre one like Lucian. The problem was working in a team, coordinating with strangers, and not getting my throat ripped out because someone else screwed up.
"Any advice?" I asked.
Magnus finished chewing, swallowed, then looked at me directly. "Don't die. And don't make me regret pulling you out of that last raid."
He stood and walked away before I could respond.
---
Morning classes were a blur of last-minute cramming and barely suppressed panic. Professor Edrik's Astral Theory lecture covered combat mana management—how to avoid core strain during extended engagements. Professor Mira ran combat drills that left half the class wheezing. Professor Halric droned on about goblin pack tactics and weak points (eyes, throat, joints—standard targets).
I took notes. Absorbed everything. Let the information settle into the mental framework the System helped organize.
By lunch, my brain felt like an overstuffed filing cabinet.
I was halfway through a sandwich when someone slid into the seat across from me.
Seraphine.
Again.
She looked immaculate as always—platinum braid perfect, uniform pressed, ice-blue eyes cold and assessing. But there was something different today. A slight tension around her mouth. A flicker of... interest? Curiosity? Hard to tell.
"Ashcroft," she said by way of greeting.
"Seraphine," I replied, keeping my tone neutral.
"You've improved."
I paused mid-bite. "What?"
"Your mana control. Yesterday it was erratic. Today it's stable." She tilted her head slightly, studying me like I was a specimen under glass. "You've been training. Intensively."
Twice in one day. First Magnus, now her. Were my improvements really that obvious?
"I've been working on it," I admitted.
"Good." She leaned back, crossing her arms. "Your Spatial Blink is less embarrassing now. You might actually survive the practical."
"High praise," I said dryly.
Her lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but close. "I don't give false compliments. If you were still incompetent, I'd tell you."
"I believe that."
We sat in silence for a moment. Around us, the cafeteria buzzed with noise—students talking, trays clattering, the low hum of anxiety that permeated everything.
"Why do you care?" I asked finally.
Seraphine raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"Why do you care if I improve? You said it yourself—we've never interacted before. I'm mediocre. Unremarkable. So why take the time to critique my technique?"
She regarded me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she said, "Because waste irritates me."
"Waste?"
"You have spatial affinity. That's rare. Less than five percent of Hunters have it. And you've been squandering it with poor technique and lazy training." Her eyes narrowed. "I don't tolerate waste. If you have potential, you should use it. If you don't, you should get out of the way."
Harsh. But honest.
"And you think I have potential?"
"I think you're less incompetent than you were three days ago." She stood, picking up her tray. "Don't prove me wrong."
She left before I could respond.
I sat there, staring at the empty seat, my mind spinning.
Seraphine Aldric had just admitted—in her own cold, roundabout way—that she saw something in me. Something worth paying attention to.
The System chimed:
**[Relationship Update: Seraphine Aldric - Status: Acknowledged (Cautious Interest). Note: Subject is highly selective with attention. Continued improvement will increase rapport.]**
Acknowledged. That was progress.
Small progress, but progress nonetheless.
---
The afternoon was free time, designated for students to prepare for the practical. Most people used it to train, run last-minute drills, or stress out in groups.
I went back to my room and trained.
**[Spatial Blink] - Intermediate 41%**
Intermediate was good. But it could be better.
I spent the next three hours pushing the skill in every direction I could think of. Horizontal blinks at maximum range (seven meters now, up from five). Vertical blinks onto progressively higher surfaces. Rapid consecutive blinks to build speed. Precision targeting to hit exact spots without overshooting.
The System tracked everything:
**[Spatial Blink] - Intermediate 44% (+3%)**
**[Mana efficiency: 84%]**
**[Cooldown: 11.4 seconds (down from 15)]**
**[Range: 7.2 meters]**
By the time evening rolled around, I was drained. Mana reserves at fifteen percent. Body exhausted. Mind fried.
But I was ready.
Or as ready as I was going to be.
---
The next morning arrived too fast.
I woke to the same pre-dawn darkness, the same routine, but this time the weight of the day pressed down like a physical force. Practical exam. Today.
No more training. No more preparation. Just performance.
I pulled on the academy uniform, checked my reflection one last time, and walked out the door.
The assembly hall was packed.
Every second-year student—about two hundred total—crammed into the massive space. The architecture was impressive: high vaulted ceilings, stone pillars carved with runes, banners representing different Hunter disciplines hanging from the rafters. At the front, a raised platform held a row of professors.
Professor Mira stood front and center, arms crossed, expression severe. Professor Edrik was beside her, looking vaguely amused. Professor Halric was half-asleep in a chair. And at the far end, a tall woman I didn't recognize—sharp features, dark hair streaked with silver, wearing black combat armor instead of academy robes.
**[Instructor Veyra - Gate Operations Specialist. S-Rank Hunter (retired). Reputation: Brutal evaluator. Known for zero-tolerance policy on incompetence.]**
An S-Rank. Retired or not, that was terrifying.
"Settle down," Professor Mira's voice cut through the noise like a whip. Instant silence. "Today is your practical examination. You will be divided into teams of four and sent into a modified F-Rank gate. Your objective: clear three floors, defeat the boss, and extract with your team intact."
She gestured to a massive projection screen behind her. It flickered to life, showing a map of the dungeon: three levels, each progressively larger, culminating in a boss chamber.
"Grading criteria," Mira continued. "Speed, efficiency, combat performance, teamwork, and survival. Each metric will be evaluated independently. Minimum passing grade is C-Rank. Anything below that, you fail."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Teams are assigned randomly," Mira said. "No swapping. No complaining. You work with who you're given. That's what being a Hunter means."
The projection shifted, displaying a list of names organized into teams.
I scanned the list, searching for my name.
**Team 14:**
- Lucian Ashcroft
- Elena Voss
- Kael Renner
- Dorian Graves
Kael. I knew him—the friendly fire-affinity guy from my first day. That was good.
Elena Voss. The name pinged something in my memory. One of the main heroines from the skill bible. Support affinity, healer type, smart and resourceful.
Dorian Graves. No idea.
**[Elena Voss - Year 2. Light affinity (healing specialization). D-Rank (Peak-Stage). Daughter of minor noble house. Reputation: Skilled healer, cautious fighter. Relationship Status: None.]**
**[Dorian Graves - Year 2. Enhancement affinity (physical boost). D-Rank (Peak-Stage). Commoner background. Reputation: Aggressive, reckless, chip on shoulder. Relationship Status: None.]**
A healer, a fire mage, an enhancement fighter, and me with spatial magic. Balanced, at least on paper.
"Teams will enter the gate in fifteen-minute intervals," Mira announced. "Team One, you're up first. Everyone else, wait in the staging area. Do not wander off. Do not cause trouble. If you miss your slot, you fail automatically."
She stepped back, and Instructor Veyra stepped forward.
Her voice was cold, clipped, and utterly devoid of sympathy. "Let me be clear. This is not a training exercise. The monsters inside are real. The danger is real. If you screw up, you die. We have healers on standby, but they can't save you if you're torn apart."
A chill ran through the hall.
"Do your job. Survive. Or don't. Either way, I'll be watching."
She turned and walked off the stage, leaving a stunned silence in her wake.
Professor Mira sighed. "Ignore her bedside manner. She's not wrong, but she's also not trying to scare you. Much." She clapped her hands. "Team One, move out. Everyone else, to the staging area. Now."
The hall erupted into motion.
---
The staging area was a massive courtyard adjacent to the assembly hall. In the center stood a gate—a shimmering, vertical portal about three meters tall, pulsing with pale blue light. Unlike the natural gates I'd seen from Lucian's window, this one was stabilized, artificial, controlled by academy magic.
Around it, monitoring stations tracked vitals, mana levels, and team positions. Professors and assistants moved between screens, calling out data, coordinating logistics.
Team One entered the gate. The portal rippled like water, swallowing them whole.
Then we waited.
I found my team near the edge of the courtyard. Kael waved me over, his expression nervous but friendly.
"Lucian! You're on my team. Thank the gods." He gestured to the other two. "This is Elena and Dorian."
Elena was petite, with light brown hair pulled into a ponytail and soft green eyes that radiated calm. She wore the standard uniform but had a medkit strapped to her thigh and a short wand holstered at her hip.
"Nice to meet you," she said, her voice gentle. "I'm support-focused, so I'll handle healing and barriers. Let me know if you need anything."
"Thanks," I said. "Spatial magic, mid-range combat."
Dorian was the opposite of Elena in every way. Tall, broad, with a shaved head and a permanent scowl. His uniform was modified—sleeves rolled up, revealing heavily muscled forearms, a greatsword strapped across his back. He looked like he wanted to punch something.
"Dorian Graves," he grunted. "I hit things. Hard. Don't get in my way."
Charming.
"Got it," I said. "I'll try not to blink into your sword."
Kael laughed nervously. "So, uh, strategy? Anyone?"
Elena spoke up. "Standard formation. Dorian takes point, absorbs damage. Kael and Lucian provide mid-range damage and control. I stay back, heal, and support. We move methodically, clear each floor, don't rush."
Dorian snorted. "Or we blitz through, kill everything fast, and finish first."
"That's a good way to die," Elena said calmly.
"That's a good way to win," Dorian countered.
They glared at each other.
This was going to be a long exam.
"Team Two, entering now!" a professor called.
The gate rippled again. Another team disappeared.
Thirteen more teams before us.
I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. Calm. Steady. Ready.
**[Practical Exam imminent. Current status: Spatial Blink - Intermediate 44%. Mana reserves: 100%. Physical condition: Good. Recommendation: Conserve mana for boss encounter. Prioritize positioning and precision over raw power.]**
"Team Fourteen, you're up in five!" a professor shouted.
My heart kicked into overdrive.
Kael looked pale. Elena was checking her medkit for the third time. Dorian was stretching, rolling his massive shoulders.
And I was standing there, hands steady, mind clear, ready to prove I belonged.
"Alright," I said quietly. "Let's do this."
The gate shimmered.
We stepped forward.
And reality swallowed us whole.
═══════════════════════════════════════════