The seventh day was clear.
It was the kind of morning that arrived without ambiguity—sharp light, low humidity, and the capital's Free Ground already producing its daytime noise as it always did.
Isaac stood at the central park's fountain junction with the hat cavity-up on the ground and the mana-bird back on his shoulder, returned by Andrias at dawn without explanation beyond a brief nod that confirmed the operation had concluded.
He didn't bother to ask about it.
He simply raised his hand.
…
The final day's crowd was the largest.
Word had traveled—that the second-year's higher class is undergoing a week-long assignment to interact with citizens. That today was the final day. That today was the last day that they could see the performance of the higher class student with F-rank: [Condensation].
The fountain junction was surrounded three rows deep by the fourth hour. Merchants had abandoned their stalls. Children who had been at the front for six consecutive days had established territorial claims on their positions.
It wasn't about the money. Rather, it was about the sense of accomplishment. Unlike the nobles, he invoked wonders and amazement in the eyes of those people.
Isaac felt like he belonged here more than the suffocating House Valerius or the luxurious banquet hall. He was, by nature, a commoner rather than a noble.
He ran the full sequence.
The mirage first—the crowd produced its anticipatory silence, as the water veil elegantly enclosed their views. The refraction showed the distorted scenery that appeared unnatural, abstract, and mesmerizing. It was a careful arrangement that could be drawn by someone who practiced and brainstormed of the idea for hours.
Then came the bubbles—the chain formation, the individual releases, the large sphere that caught the morning light and scattered it in the colors that made people produce sounds they hadn't planned to produce.
Then something he hadn't done before.
He combined all the moisture in the air, putting a stop to this grandiose aestheticism.
The crowd murmured. Under his fingertip was a small, dense droplet of water.
It then evaporated into a large volume of gas that rushed out, surrounding the site with steam. Some people winced, but eventually enjoyed the warm bask of steam that felt fresh and pleasant.
The gas then left the site, travelling up. Isaac watched the mass levitation of the gas. Generated another dense droplet of water, about four degree-Celsius in temperature. He fired it at a weak pressure, toward the gas. He then generated a second droplet of water, just as cold. Fired it—at a much higher pressure, such that its flight was a lot quicker than the first droplet.
The two droplets collided within the gas. The water splattered. The coldness of the droplets spread throughout the gas. The gas condensed. It stopped travelling up.
The crowd let out a noise of awe as they noticed how the gas stopped travelling. Essentially, there was a layer of "cloud" right above them.
Then, it rained, pouring all over them.
The cloud was gone, and the sun returned.
People were wet, but none of them expressed any displeasure.
Instead, the acclamation started in the middle rows and spread outward—not polite appreciation, the sound of people who had been watching something build for six days and had just received the version that made the building feel complete. It was loud in the specific way that only unplanned collective responses were loud.
The crowd held its exhale for a moment after. Then released it in the way crowds released things when they were ready to return to their ordinary lives and had been given permission to do so.
He picked up the hat. Counted.
The seventh day had produced more than any single previous day.
He put the iron charm back in his pocket. Looked up, and saw the boy, Axen.
Axen smiled at him as he bowed, looking much better than three days ago.
Isaac was about to offer him the earnings over three past days, but the boy had already retreated.
"Isaac."
Someone called. He turned and found Lyra, standing next to the fountain with a pouch of her own.
"Lyra."
"That cloud at the end," she said. "That was new."
"Indeed."
"You've been running only mirages and bubbles for the past six days."
"Technically speaking, mirage and bubble are more advanced applications than the cloud. This is precisely the reason why I deployed this technique just by the end—it loses its appeal after the first reveal."
Lyra was quiet for a moment. The courtesy talk was over, and her mind seemed to be lingering on another matter.
"Last night," she said with the register of someone returning to unfinished business.
"House Terra."
She looked at the path ahead rather than at him.
"Earth-related skill doesn't necessarily mean that its user must be from House Terra. However, given how the users of earth-related skills eventually end up working under House Terra, it is safe to assume that House Terra is somehow affiliated in the incident yesterday." She paused. "And now that I think about it, the way they started tailing us… it was as if they themselves were the residents of the Golden Repose."
She then turned to him, "Of course, this is only under the assumption that what you said is true. I still can't fully register that the small bump on the ground is the use of a skill."
"File it. See how it goes."
"That's what I intend to do."
There was a brief silence, before Isaac spoke, "Order of Acacia. The Hollow King."
Lyra winced as Isaac mentioned the name. Her face turned pale. There clearly was something that she knew that he didn't, as the Princess of the Kingdom.
"The Solari Empire's conquest. The state of Aetherion, at this stage, is a lot worse than what the majority of us are aware of, is it not?"
He looked back at her.
"The fear has spread among the nobles. Betrayers began to surface. The rumor regarding SS-rank skill—I am assuming that it's turned out to be true. If not, it would've been announced to calm everyone down."
Lyra didn't answer. She kept her mouth closed.
"Let's say that someone from House Terra is a betrayer." Isaac continued, "What's a chance that the House wasn't aware?"
She knew what he was suggesting.
There was a possibility that one of the Five Pillars turned their back against the Kingdom.
She grimaced.
…
The faculty corridor outside the assessment office had the after-operation quality of a space that had been used for something significant and was returning to its ordinary register.
Andrias stood at the corridor's center with exhaustion in his eyes, for he was burdened with not only the monitoring of sixteen students over the week but also the operation the night before.
Thorne was present with his private notebook in hand. Similarly, Maren had her ledger open but was not writing in it.
They looked at Isaac, who came to visit them.
"Isaac Nameless." Maren registered his arrival in a flat tone. "I suppose… you are here to hear about the results of our operation last night."
"We heard," Andrias interrupted, "of what happened to you the night before." He sighed. "A thorough investigation is requested, and will soon proceed. On behalf of the Academy, we apologize. A compensation will soon arrive at your way."
"Now, the results." Maren resumed. "The operation…" She paused, "encountered a complication."
A complication?
Frankly speaking, this wasn't what Isaac expected. Thorne with A-rank: [Grounded Circuit], Andrias with A-rank: [Mana Mimicry], and Maren Solke with A-rank: [Severance]. They were the elites among the elites, the force potent enough to be considered the "Core" of the Kingdom.
"We reached the secondary outpost and subdued two wanted figures. Acquired a lead that led us to three additional operatives."
He stopped.
"And?" Isaac said.
"The connection seemed to reach deeper. However, we couldn't proceed any further as five individuals intercepted us," Maren said. "Cloaked. B-rank skills across all five. The engagement was tedious and left us with no choice but to retreat."
"How come?"
"They were coordinated," Thorne was the one to carry on. It was the first thing he had said. His voice had the specific quality of someone who had been waiting for the accurate word for several hours and had found it.
"It was the coordination of people who knew we were coming, knew our skills and approximate output state, and had best skills available to counter-act in the most effective way possible."
The corridor received this.
"There was a sixth individual who freed the captured operatives from our back," Andrias said. "The devices were no longer transmitting by the time the five interceptors withdrew. The case has been filed with the intelligence office."
"And the five interceptors," Isaac asked, "do you have a lead on their identities?"
"Cloaked. Skills used were consistent with physical enhancement and barrier categories. Nothing identifying." Maren looked at him with the flat attention of someone noting that a student may be getting a bit too informative, but regardless decided to inform as it was his right to know. "The intelligence office will continue the investigation."
Isaac nodded.
"Thank you for the information, professors."
"The assessment is now concluded. The results will be posted tomorrow morning."
Maren nodded back before turning.
"Rest well."
She left with Andrias, leaving Thorne with him.
Isaac looked at Thorne's notebook—the pen still, the page presumably full of what the night had produced. He turned, about to leave as well.
Then, Thorne suddenly spoke, "Isaac."
Isaac stopped.
"The moisture capturing the facial frame through the disguise skill." Thorne's pen had begun moving again, the notebook open. "That's what you told Master Solke."
"Yes."
"Moisture interacts with what is physically real but passes through or disperses against what is illusory."
Thorne was looking at the notebook rather than at Isaac. His voice had the quality of someone working through implications in real time.
"The disguise skill produces a real atmospheric footprint—the skill's mana output—but the face it presents is illusory. The moisture contacts what is real, not what is illusory."
He wrote something.
"F-rank: [Condensation]," he said, to no one in particular and to the notebook specifically, "operating as an ambient authenticity detector." He looked up at Isaac. "The applications of this are—" He stopped. Started again. "Remarkable, but at the same time, confusing. You are the first to have reached this far. It's as if… the theory presented by the infamous 'F-rank Prince' wasn't wrong."
Isaac held his gaze for a moment. "[Condensation] is the most basic of all. At the same time, it is the most versatile. If a thousand input can only generate an output of one, I simply need to inject more."
"…Yes, Manafold Circuitry."
Thorne nodded as he recalled Isaac's 0.005% Overload Risk. Wrote that down too.
…
Magnus was sitting on the steps outside the Golden Repose's main entrance when Isaac returned. He was eating an apple with the ease of someone whose week had been exactly what it was.
Vesper was beside him, reading something. His posture carried the studied casualness of someone who had decided to sit on steps because Magnus was sitting on steps and the decision had been made without deliberating.
They looked up when Isaac arrived.
"At last, we are done, eh?" Magnus said, with the apple still in hand. "Can't believe that we have a class tomorrow, right after. Why can't they give a break?"
"I did hear that the class is much tighter and accelerated than last year." Vesper replied, without looking up from his book. "The ongoing war is the cause of all this."
"Specifically, the Hollow—"
Isaac was interrupted by a hand clasping over his mouth in the middle. Magnus was responsible.
"C'mon, don't say that name out loud."
Gently pushing his hand away, Isaac asked, "How come?"
"Like, everyone is aware. That SS-rank skill emerged after centuries, but it's pointed against us now. Everyone wants to pretend that it doesn't exist and live peacefully."
Isaac turned his gaze from Magnus to Vesper. His eyes were locked onto the book, but the page wasn't being flipped.
"What did you hear about him?" Isaac asked.
"Crazy things, so ridiculous that it sounded unreal." Magnus then changed the subject, clapping hands as he forced a smile. "Anyway, how was your week?"
Isaac stared at Magnus for a moment, before cracking a chuckle, "Eventful."
"I worked at the utility plant for six days," Magnus immediately followed up. "Heating water. Eight hours a day. The supervisor kept calling me 'fire boy.'" He finally took another bite of the apple. "I got paid in copper. And a handshake. The handshake was not worth the six days."
"How much?" Isaac asked.
"Fifty iron a day, and I worked for six days. A three-hundred iron over a week." Magnus shrugged with the ease of someone who had accepted this outcome before the assessment had concluded. "It's honestly better than I expected given that I spent two days also accidentally overheating the pipes and having to apologize."
Vesper finally looked up from what he was reading. "One silver and nine-hundred copper overall for me," he said. "The theatre engagement was earning less than I anticipated. The director also wanted additional performances after the first two days, a pain. I had to negotiate a rate increase on the third day."
"And you got it?" Isaac asked.
"Yes. A-rank: [Shapeshift] doesn't come by just to be in a theatre," Vesper said before he returned to his reading.
Magnus looked between them. Then at Isaac. "What about you? How much did you make?"
"Eight-hundred and thirty-nine copper, and thirty-five iron."
"Was it the performance? The bubbles thing? Because I saw you from across the square on the third day and there was a crowd so big I couldn't get close enough to watch." He gestured with the apple.
"If anything, I am surprised. I thought you'd make more than that based on what I witnessed," Vesper added on, as he flipped a page.
Isaac reasoned, "The crowd fell off. A week-long exposure to the same experience doesn't generate same profit every day."
"True, that makes sense."
Magnus stretched after finishing his apple.
"Anyway, the results will be out tomorrow. I heard about Silas gambling his money away, haha. I wonder how much he made." Magnus stood, brushing apple residue from his uniform. "I'm dead-starving though, after the whole week of work. How long until dinner again?"
"Pretty soon." Vesper closed the book with the expression of someone who couldn't focus on it as much as he wanted to. "We'd make it in time if we head to the Golden Repose's dining hall by now."
Isaac looked at the two of them—Magnus with the easy energy of someone who had done exactly what he intended and found it sufficient, and Vesper with the studied composure of someone who had done better than expected and was not going to make a performance of this.
He thought about the five cloaked figures with B-rank skills who had known the professors were coming. About the small bump in the garden stone. About a chain he didn't have the full length of yet.
"Well then," he said. "Let's go get some."
They walked toward the dining hall with the unhurried quality of three people who had each spent a week doing something different and had arrived back at the same table.
The tension of the previous twenty-four hours dispersed the way the deionized moisture dispersed from garden stone—not dramatically, but simply becoming something the present moment didn't require anymore.
Magnus was already talking about how he recently developed a hobby of singing.