The dust and lingering wisps of Mana still hung in the air as the trio finally set their weapons aside. The silence that followed was almost as deafening as the chaos that had just ended. Tech crews filtered into the arena, weaving between scorched dummies and sparking safety barriers.
Headmistress Lilith strode onto the ruined floor, her heels echoing sharply. Behind her trailed a contingent from the Medbay and the nervously bustling supply office. She stopped before the trio, arms crossed, her usual sternness softened by reluctant pride.
"You three realise that not only have you obliterated the arena's safety records, but also most of its equipment?" she said, one eyebrow raised. "Azazel informs me the training dummies are requesting transfers."
Er ducked his head with a sheepish grin. "Sorry about the collateral, Headmistress."
Bane just smirked, checking the readouts on the needle-gun as if already plotting improvements. Yi fiddled shyly with the Scryhawk, offering Lilith an awkward, apologetic shrug.
Lilith sighed, her lips twitching. "Next time, try to stop at 'impressive,' not 'legendary disaster.' Still, well done. We'll need a day or two to repair the arena and for the staff's heart rates to return to normal."
Nearby, Seraphina began replaying the highlights on a holo-screen for an eager crowd of Teachers and students. The livestream chat lit up, overflowing with awe and no small number of animated gifs depicting exploding dummies, panicked Teachers, and a cartoon Mana Shredder with wings.
At the side of the arena, Azazel finished triaging the damage reports and approached the trio with three laminated badges. "Special access—repairs and restricted drills only. Lilith's orders."
"What do we do in the meantime?" Yi asked.
Lilith gave a sly smile. "Simple. Use the outdoor fields. The weather's nice. And try not to scare the gardeners."
Er punched the air in triumph. Bane was already pacing, eyeing the outdoor sparring dummies. Yi looked only slightly apprehensive.
As the crowd thinned and repairs began in earnest, the trio stepped into the sunlight, ready for whatever challenge the Academy—and each other—might throw at them next. The legend, it seemed, was far from over.
But first, they would have to get past Morgranna and Morgana, who apparently had been lurking in the livestream.
—
Academy Livestream Chat (Ages 9–25)
Lyra, 12: Outdoor sessions incoming! Protect the flowerbeds!
Felix, 17: Does Academy insurance cover birds?
Tara, 13: Place your bets—how long until someone melts a statue?
Moderator: Highlight reel coming soon. Stay tuned for the rematch!
—
Er, Bane, and Yi took their first steps onto the Academy's outdoor fields, sunlight glinting off new badge lanyards and, in Yi's case, the polished scope of the Scryhawk sniper rifle held close to his chest. The air buzzed with tension—students craned over hedgerows, the Academy livestream chat running rampant with speculation, and Teachers lingered at a safe distance, clipboards at the ready.
But nothing compared to the chill that settled when their Mammys, Morgranna and Morgana, intercepted the trio at midfield. They stood side-by-side in matching, no-nonsense tunics, arms folded, eyes narrowed—a united front of legendary authority. The crowd fell quiet. Even Bane stopped adjusting his needle-gun.
Morgranna's tone brooked no nonsense. "You three know how this works: excessive chaos means a straight time-out. No negotiation. And this time, it's in public."
Morgana followed with her trademark glare, focusing on the Scryhawk, then Yi. "And don't think fancy gadgets get you a free pass. If that scope so much as glints at the Headmistress's window, you'll be scrubbing every window in the east wing."
Yi's hands tightened on the Scryhawk. "Yes, Morgana."
Er held up his hands. "We're aiming for restraint."
Bane nodded. "By-the-book drills."
"Good." Morgranna jabbed a finger at the grass. "Let's keep it legendary for the right reasons. The livestream is on. Everyone's watching. And we can see the chat, too."
Practice began under the oppressive gaze of the Mammys. Bane's needle-gun splintered targets with the careful precision of a craftsman. Er's spells fizzed through preset lanes, never straying outside the tapes. Yi, fully alert, cycled the Scryhawk through restrictive settings, each shot delivered with slow, exacting intent.
Even when a wild gust threatened to blow a bolt awry, Er reacted instantly, casting a containment shield rather than something flashier. The Mammys exchanged approving nods, every inch the watchful guardians.
Drills wound down with only a single statue mildly scorched—upon which both Mammys swooped in to enforce a brief, humiliating time-out for Er while the crowd and the chat howled with delight:
Lyra, 12: ER ON THE BENCH! I REPEAT, ER ON THE BENCH!
Felix, 17: Can we get an instant replay?
Tara, 13: The Mammys work fast.
Moderator: Time-out record: four minutes, twelve seconds. Place your bets for the next round!
—
The holodisplay flickers. Lilith sits at a crystalline desk, perfectly composed, her eyes twinkling. Soleil's projection is radiant and soothing. Lucius appears amidst shelves lined with scrolls, expression precise. Kyle slouches comfortably, a mug in hand, already browsing forums on a floating screen. Varkos' shadowed form glowers, arms crossed, barely concealing apprehension.
Lilith: Good morning, everyone. I hope your networks are stable. I called this holomeeting to discuss… well, the subject of weapon drills and our increasingly infamous trio. Elder Soleil, would you start us off with your radiant insight?
Soleil (smiling warmly): Thank you, Lilith. The Children's progress is, as always, inspiring. I believe their recent calm testifies to their resilience. But the intensity of their training—and their resonance with Tian Dao—reminds us to be gentle, nurturing. I propose additional games of Go and perhaps some meditation to settle their volatility.
Lucius (matter-of-factly): Their metabolic readings and Mana channel fluxes from today's session are, frankly, off the charts. I've never seen clearance times drop so swiftly without side effects. It's efficient… but bordering on hazardous. We need more robust safety interlocks, not just softer routines.
Kyle (chuckling, eyes on a side screen): The forums are lighting up—everyone's betting on whether Er will vaporise the next training bot or Bane will turn invisible during mid-drill. Morale's never been higher in student chatrooms! Let's not stifle their momentum. Besides, you should see the memes.
Varkos (grim): Morale won't survive if this continues unchecked. I say it again: today the arena, tomorrow the Academy. Has anyone calculated containment protocols for catastrophic Mana failure? I see only disaster looming on the horizon—mark my words!
Lilith (grinning, lacing her fingers): Disaster? Or legend-making spectacle, Varkos? Besides, if anyone's blowing the place up, I'd rather it be on my watch. Elder Lucius, tighten your interlocks. Elder Soleil, you get your meditation—make it competitive to keep their attention. Elder Kyle, send me your three favourite memes. Now, who's in favour of increased Managun training—under these slightly upgraded safety nets?
Soleil: Their bond is unique. Challenge brings growth, and with proper care, the risk is worthwhile.
Lucius (making notes): I'll run a full diagnostic before tomorrow's session. If the Mana flares are unstable, we abort.
Kyle (waving mug): Count me in. Plus, the students love it. And you ought to see the new Bane vs. Training Dummy thread—pure gold.
Varkos: I shall prepare Medbay. And write my eulogy, just in case.
Lilith (lifting her cup): Cheers to eulogies, memes, and rewriting safety manuals. Meeting adjourned—until our next crisis.
—
The holodisplay brightens, synchronising the Academy's crystalline command desk with the unified Council chamber, sigils of all Heavenly Clans faintly glowing behind Representative Hester Tanwen.
Lilith sits upright, reports toggled to the side, blending gravitas and excitement.
Hester: Headmistress Lilith, the Council has reviewed the latest combat session and does not doubt the Children's potential. Our consensus stands: chaos, when properly honed, is an unmatched asset for our future guardians.
Lilith (nodding): Precisely, Representative. The aftermath of today's drills reaffirms what we've always known—raw power is a seed. My intent is not to suppress the trio's volatility, but to forge it into a force that serves the whole, without heedless destruction.
Hester: The Councils' unity is unshaken. What is your plan to turn chaos into constructiveness, making it an instrument of battle instead of disaster?
Lilith: We're transitioning to advanced, scenario-based training—simulating chaos and redirecting it. Each session will challenge the Children to channel their impulses for maximum effect with strategic minimalism. Collateral must be avoided not through timidity, but through mastery. Our senior instructors—and the Mammys—will guide them in transforming every wild surge into precise, creative tactics.
Hester (smiling): In other words, not to quell the storm, but to teach it to blow exactly where Tian Dao chooses. This is the foundation of true martial harmony.
Lilith: Just so. Chaos, when trained in isolation, becomes havoc; when integrated, it becomes innovation. The trio's legend will rest not on raw power, but on their ability to adapt, direct, and inspire others on the battlefield with control—all while forging bonds along the way.
Hester: Let it be so. The Heavenly Clans look forward to seeing this transformation. The Councils support you—relentless drive, creative chaos, and discipline as one. We request only that you share your insights with all Academies, so that others may benefit from these breakthroughs.
Lilith (bowing her head): With pleasure. Constructive chaos will be our greatest lesson—and legacy—for all who train beneath these banners.
The holodisplay dims, a sense of purpose echoing between the sigils of the Heavenly Clans.
—
As the day drew to a close, the Mammys brought Yi, Er, and Bane home to wash off the day's grit. Afterwards, the Children were instructed to cultivate until dinner, their Mana reserves depleted by nearly two-thirds—subconscious absorption wouldn't be enough to restore them for tomorrow.
They obeyed, settling on the cultivation floor. The warm haze of sunset spilt through the Dorm's crystalline windows, gold pooling around the trio as they sat cross-legged among shimmering runes. The air throbbed gently—Mana patterns swirling above glowing hands, breaths steady as they coaxed the energy through weary channels.
Arcane diagrams shimmered in the glass beneath them, shifting as each Child rebalanced their reserves. From outside, Academy life faded into quiet: tech crews completed repairs, the last laughter trailing across the tranquil lawns.
Yi blinked as his world steadied, Mana flow restored. Bane exhaled, shaking tingling fingers. Er cracked one eye and grinned, sparks briefly flickering above his palm before fading.
A firm, familiar voice broke the calm: "That's enough, you three. Dinner's getting cold."
Morgranna stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, eyes sweeping the trio with affectionate exasperation. Morgana lingered behind, bearing a tray heavy with steamed buns and fragrant rice. Morgranna's gaze softened, though her tone left no room for argument. "Table. Now. And wash your hands—properly, this time."
As the trio gathered their things, Morgranna added, "Listen up: Teacher Moros will lead your training tomorrow. Advanced strategy and combat sim rotations. It won't be easy. Bring your wits—he's not impressed by clever gadgets."
Bane smirked, already plotting countermeasures. Yi felt a ripple of nerves—a silent vow to keep up the pace. Er let out a low whistle. "Moros? Looks like we're in for it."
Dinner was lively, laughter rolling as the chaos of the day gave way to stories and seconds.
Later, with dishes cleared and night deepening beyond the windows, the trio retreated to the sofa on the balcony. Wrapped in soft sleeping robes, they savoured mugs of rich hot chocolate—steam curling in the gold-tinged dusk. Beyond the Dorm, Academy towers shimmered, lanterns winking along the walkways, lawns silvered by starlight. For a brief moment, battles ahead—and legends behind—seemed as distant as the moon.
They sipped, feet tucked beneath blankets, watching the night settle. Whispered plans circled for the next day: how to crack Moros's sims, how not to torch another statue, how to enjoy this rare peace before the next wave of chaos.
For a heartbeat, the Academy was only warmth, laughter, and the simple certainty of bonds standing quietly against the world.
The last traces of laughter slipped away as the balcony's glow dimmed into the night. Cups empty and bellies full, Yi, Er, and Bane sprawled luxuriously beneath their blankets. Just as Er started to sketch glowing symbols in the air and Bane reached for a deck of cards, a decisive cough echoed from the hall.
Morgranna filled the doorway, arms crossed, her silhouette unmistakable in the soft lamplight. Morgana followed, with a look that brooked even less argument than usual.
"Bedtime. Now," Morgranna declared. "No negotiations, no 'five more minutes.'"
Er groaned theatrically, rolling off his blanket. Bane shuffled cards innocently—until Morgana plucked them from his hands with a warning glance. Yi lingered, sipping the last of his cocoa before sliding down from his chair.
Morgana neatly folded used blankets. "You spent a lot of Mana today. Rest well, or you'll be useless tomorrow."
Morgranna herded them along, practically steering Er and Bane by the shoulders and giving Yi a firm nudge. "Teeth, faces, and not a whisper of sparring on the way."
Er snickered, making a face behind her back—only for Morgranna to whip around and catch him mid-grimace. "I saw that."
By the time the trio staggered into the sleeping area, Morgranna was already lowering the lights. Morgana counted heads, then pulled the heavy drapes, cocooning the bed from the starlit windows.
Morgranna's voice, now gentle but firm, carried the weight of habit: "Get some sleep, little legends. Tomorrow, the world can worry about you again."
As the doorway faded into darkness, the trio huddled close—whispers dissolving into sleepy laughter—until at last, the quiet peace of Academy night reclaimed them.