The two Low-Grade Earth Mana Stones felt heavy in Damian's pocket. The salve was already healing the worst of his bruises from the fight and the crazy roof run. He should have felt good. Strong.
He just felt tired. And watched.
The summons to Proctor Lyra's office came before he could even clean up. The office was cold, like her. Walls of pale blue stone, shelves of ice-crystal trophies. She sat behind a desk that looked carved from a glacier.
"Sit, Snow."
He sat.
"What happened with you and Kaelen Vhakla?," she said, her frost-blue eyes pinning him.
Damian kept his face blank. "I listened in class. Earth has frequencies. Stone-Skin is just earth mana on a body. I got lucky and found the right shake."
It was a half-truth wrapped in dumb luck. She didn't look like she bought it, but she didn't push.
"Luck or not, it worked. The Academy needs problem-solvers. Not just brutes." She leaned forward slightly. "We're sending teams into a new dungeon layer. The 'Cinderfall Chasm.' It's hot, unstable. Earth and Fire affinities are useful. There are... strange mineral formations. Things we need to understand. You'd be support. Low risk, good points. You want out of B-Class? This is a fast track."
It wasn't a question. It was a test wrapped in an offer. She was dangling a carrot, but her eyes were searching for something else. Was this about the theft? Was she seeing if he'd run to a dangerous mission?
He thought fast. Saying no would look guilty or weak. Saying yes put him in a team, under more eyes. But it also gave him a way out of the Academy's watchtower, into a place where maybe, just maybe, he could find his own treasures. His own space.
"I'll go," he said, his voice flat.
"Good. Briefing is in two days. Dismissed."
He left, the cold of her office clinging to him. One more chain. An Academy chain this time.
Back in his room, he finally looked at the real prize. The Soul-Anodyne Stabilizer had finished its work. The deep, ragged tear in his soul felt... smoother. Like a broken bone set right. The constant headache of existing was gone. He felt solid. Whole, in a way he hadn't since waking up in this damn world.
[Soul Damage: 58.0% —> 55.0%!]
[Monarch System: Major repair detected. System sync improved. New function available: 'Credit Exchange' - Can convert looted mana stones/materials into Universal Credits at a poor rate.]
A new function. A way to turn the Academy's scraps into his System's power. A tiny bit of independence.
The relief was sweet. And then the Regulator killed it.
A pulse, not of pain, but of cold information. A file unfolded in his mind. Words, pictures, details.
ASSESSMENT TARGET: CLARISSA SYLVANUS.
AFFILIATION: HOUSE SYLVANUS (ELVEN ALLIANCE, PRO-ACADEMY, ANTI-CULT).
POTENTIAL: EXCEPTIONAL. WIND (A). SECONDARY AFFINITY SUSPECTED.
DIRECTIVE: ASSESS FOR CORRUPTION POTENTIAL. IDENTIFY WEAKNESSES, LEVERAGE. IF CORRUPTION DEEMED IMPOSSIBLE, PREPARE FOR NEUTRALIZATION BEFORE SHE BECOMES A MAJOR THREAT.
Damian stared at the words in his head. A cold fist closed around his gut.
Neutralization.
They didn't just mean beat her in a duel. They meant break her. Or kill her.
Clarrisa. The elf with the sharp green eyes who looked at him like a puzzle. Who moved like a storm. They wanted him to turn her into a puppet like them. Or put her in the ground.
Loyalty? He felt none for the cult. They were a means to an end. A nasty, ugly means. But this... this was different. This wasn't stealing a crystal. This was destroying a person.
Defiance roared in his chest. A hot, simple no.
But the fear followed, cold and practical. Say no, and the Stabilizer might reverse. They'd tell Lyra everything. They'd make sure he "fell" in the dungeon. He'd lose the little ground he'd gained.
He was stuck. Trapped between a monster that offered power and a system that demanded obedience.
He wouldn't be loyal. But he wasn't stupid. He'd follow orders. For now. But he'd do it his way.
He needed to "assess" her? Fine. He'd get close. He'd learn her weaknesses. And maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to use that information for himself. To protect himself from her, or from the cult. Not to break her. To survive.
The next day was a rare day off. No classes. Damian went to the Starlight Commons, not for the slop, but because it was the only place to maybe run into her without it looking planned.
He saw her sitting alone at a small table by an enchanted window that showed a forest scene. She was reading a thick, old book, a cup of something steaming untouched beside her. She looked... normal. Not like a weapon. Like a girl studying.
He took a breath, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked over. His heart was beating too fast. This was dumb. Dangerous.
He stopped by her table. She didn't look up.
"What," she said, her voice cool.
"Your wind," Damian said, the words coming out rougher than he meant. "In the drill. The way you cut the crystal channels. It wasn't just power. It was... surgical."
That made her look up. Her green eyes were sharp, surprised. Interested. "Observant. For a dirt-pusher."
He ignored the jab. "I need to get better. Not just stronger. Better control. The dungeon team... I don't want to be dead weight."
She closed her book slowly. "And you think I'll teach you?"
"No. I think you know things I don't. I'm asking for a trade."
"A trade." A faint, amused smile touched her lips. It wasn't kind. It was curious. "What could you possibly have that I want, Damian Snow?"
Information. That's what the cult wanted him to get. He had to give a little to get a little. "The Cinderfall Chasm. Proctor Lyra's putting a team together. Earth and Fire focus. You're Wind. You're S-Class. You'll probably lead a different, better team. But if there's anything you need from down there... a specific mineral, a reading... my team might be able to get it. Safer for you."
He was making it up as he went. But it sounded plausible. He was offering to be her errand boy in the dangerous hole.
She studied him. The calculation in her eyes was visible. Weighing his use. "You want control lessons. For acting as a... procurement agent."
"If you see something worth procuring," he said, shrugging, trying to look casual, not desperate.
She was quiet for a long moment. The forest in the window behind her seemed to rustle. "Fine. One lesson. Basics of mana-stream focusing. Tomorrow after last bell. Training yard seven. If you're late, the deal is off. And if you try to waste my time, I'll put you through a wall."
She picked up her book and stood, leaving her tea untouched. "Don't disappoint me, Snow. I hate wasting effort."
She walked away, leaving him standing there, his palms sweating.
He'd done it. Made contact. Started the "assessment."
The victory felt hollow and dirty.
He turned to leave and almost walked right into Lucas, the cult's smiling student. The Water-affinity boy was with two friends from A-Class. His friendly mask was in place.
"Damian! Making friends with the elves now? Ambitious." Lucas's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Just remember where your real opportunities lie. The offer for the study group is still open. We look after our own."
The threat was gentle, but clear. We're watching. Don't forget who feeds you.
Damian just nodded, a tight jerk of his head, and pushed past them.
He walked back to his tower, the two mana stones in his pocket, the stabilizer on his chest, and the weight of two collars around his neck—one of ice, one of rotten flowers.
He had a lesson with an elf tomorrow. A mission for the cult hanging over him. And a dungeon dive coming up that could be his chance to find a crack in his cages.
He was dancing on knives. One wrong step would cut him to pieces.