The moment the golden doors slid shut, sealing the council chamber behind them, Mali's legs gave out. He didn't fall, but he stumbled, lurching against the corridor wall. The "Alkahest Heir's Regalia" suddenly felt like a ton of lead.
"I... I can't breathe," he wheezed, yanking at the stiff, high collar.
Anya was right beside him, her own political mask evaporating into a look of pure, unadulterated triumph. "You did it," she breathed, her green eyes sparkling. She actually laughed, a bright, startling sound in the sterile hallway.
"That was perfect!" she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Vorlag's face! He was calculating you! And Vael... oh, if she could have had you executed, she would have."
"That's... that's good?" Mali gasped, his heart still hammering.
"That's magnificent," Anya said, her smile so bright it almost hurt to look at. "You didn't just survive, Mali. You took control. You used us as your pieces on the board. You were a strategist."
[QUEST COMPLETE]...
[+1000 XP]...
REPUTATION GAINED]...
The System's rewards from the meeting were still a pleasant, scrolling list in his vision, but Anya's praise was the only thing that felt real.
"I... I just said what you told me to say," he mumbled, his face flushing.
"And you believed it," she said, tapping his chest. "That's what matters. You're learning."
General Kaelen, who had been standing a respectful distance away, cleared his throat. The sound was like gravel in a blender. "A... 'sufficient' outcome, Your Highness. You handled the council. You have earned your rest."
Mali looked at him, a flicker of hope. "Rest? Like, a break?"
Kaelen's face was unreadable. "Of course. You have a full... forty-five minutes before your next session with Instructor Jararu. He wishes to capitalize on your... 'heightened' emotional state. Do not be late."
The hope died instantly. "Forty-five... minutes?"
Anya's smile faltered, her face filling with sympathy. "Oh, Mali. I'm sorry. I'll... I'll have food sent to your quarters for after. Something... not from a nutrient dispenser."
She gave his arm a quick, firm squeeze. A promise. And then she was gone, her own duties calling, leaving him to his fate.
Forty-five minutes later, he was back in the Crucible. The adrenaline from the council meeting was gone, replaced by the familiar, cold dread of the Training Deck.
Jararu was waiting. The old man was sipping from a steaming cup of something that smelled like burnt leaves. He didn't even look up as Mali, still in his formal, midnight-black regalia, walked onto the deck.
"So," Jararu said, his voice a bored drawl. "The little prince wins a war of words. You sat in a chair. You wore a pretty uniform. And you used your wife as a shield. Clever."
He set his cup down. "But a shield won't save you when a Void-blade is at your throat. Your 'political acumen' is a parlor trick. Your power is a joke."
"I... I learned Alkahest Touch," Mali said, his voice defensive.
"You learned to eat a rock," Jararu scoffed. "And it made you vomit. Today, we learn something useful. Today, we learn to project."
He gestured. "You are an Alkahest. The Universal Solvent. But your 'touch' is a melee attack. You are the most powerful being in this universe, and your effective combat range is one meter. It's pathetic. You will learn to cast your power, to dissolve from a distance."
"I... I don't know how," Mali said, the old, familiar excuse.
"That is what 'training' is, Your Highness!" Jararu roared. "Do you think your father was born knowing how to do this? He learned! He bled, and he learned!"
The old man slammed his hand on a console. "Sequence twelve. Ranged targets."
The floor plates shifted. A dozen sleek, fast-moving drones, the size of dinner plates, rose from the floor and began to zip through the air in erratic, high-speed patterns.
"Your targets," Jararu said, his voice flat. "They are moving at 30% speed. They will not fire on you. Your objective is to use your Alkahest Touch and destroy them from a distance. Begin."
Mali stared at the zipping drones. "But my 'touch' is... a touch! I have to put my hand on it!"
"Then put your hand on them!" Jararu yelled.
Mali tried. For ten minutes, he looked like a fool, chasing the drones, leaping and swatting at them like a cat trying to catch flies. He couldn't get within five feet of them. They were too fast, their anti-gravity fields creating a slipstream that pushed him away.
He finally stopped, his chest heaving, his pristine uniform now rumpled. "I can't! It's impossible!"
[DEBUFF: Imposter Syndrome - PENALTY RE-APPLIED]
"So you are a 'scary cat,'" Jararu whispered, his voice full of a sudden, sharp poison. "You hide behind your wife. You hide behind your title. But when it's time to actually fight... you're still the useless, void-boy from Toten, aren't you?"
The words hit Mali like a physical blow. The shame. The rage. The same hot, cold fury from when he dissolved the pylon.
"I am not," he hissed.
"Prove it!" Jararu roared.
A drone, as if on cue, zipped past Mali's face, its anti-grav wash ruffling his hair.
Mali didn't think. He didn't plan. He just reacted. He was sick of this. Sick of Jararu. Sick of the drones. Sick of being a failure.
He spun, his hand lashing out, and he screamed.
"JUST... STOP!"
He threw his power, not his fist. He wasn't trying to touch it. He was trying to push his Alkahest Touch skill through the air, to throw the "solvent" at his target.
It felt like trying to throw water in a hurricane. The power spattered, dissolving a patch of air five feet in front of his hand, completely missing the drone.
[Alkahest Touch (LVL 2) - FAILED]
Jararu laughed. It was a cold, barking sound. "Pathetic! You can't even... "
"I'M NOT DONE!" Mali screamed, his CTL: 6 stat feeling like a single, burning point of light in his mind.
He focused on another drone, zipping 20 meters away. He didn't try to throw his "touch." He remembered the pull. He remembered what Anya said. You're not a void. You're a consumer.
He didn't try to push his power out.
He tried to pull the drone in. He targeted it with his Alkahest Touch skill and, in his mind, he squeezed.
It felt... different. Not a wave, but a line. A thread of his power, thin as a hair, lanced out from his fingertip. It wasn'Brt bright. It was a flicker of black-purple light, a spear of pure, unmaking void.
It hit the drone.
The drone didn't explode. It didn't spark. It didn't even slow down.
It just... unraveled.
In one instant, it was a sleek metal disc. In the next, it was a cloud of disorganized, gray dust, which then dissolved into nothing.
Mali stood there, his hand outstretched, his finger smoking with a faint, purple-black energy.
The Crucible was silent. Even Jararu was quiet.
Mali stared at his hand. He... he had a weapon. For the first time in his life, he had a real, actual weapon.
A soft, beautiful chime filled his head.
[NEW ACTIVE SKILL LEARNED: ALKAHEST LANCE (LVL 1)]
> Description: Project a focused lance of Alkahest energy at a single target.
> (Cost: 10 EP per shot)
> (Range: 20 meters)
> (Effect: Dissolves matter on contact.) [+2000 XP]
[CTL (Control): 6 -> 8]
"Hmph."
Mali looked up. Jararu was standing at the edge of the observation deck, his arms crossed, his face a mask of calculation.
"Pathetic range," the old man said, his voice flat. "Slow projection. High energy cost. You'd be dead in a real fight."
Mali's face fell.
"But it's a start," Jararu conceded, the barest hint of a twitch at his mouth. "You've stopped trying to be a sledgehammer. You're learning to be a scalpel."
He slammed his hand on the console. "The test is not over, Your Highness. We're not done until you can do that and dodge at the same time."
The other eleven drones suddenly glowed red. Their weapon ports opened.
"Sequence thirteen," Jararu said, his voice full of a terrifying, newfound glee. "Live fire. Begin."