The campfire sputtered and crackled low beneath the cover of trees. A curtain of damp mist clung to the undergrowth, veiling the shapes huddled close to the heat.

  Dolen used a long stick to move around a few sticks, delighting in how the fire stirred when prodded.

  It looks alive. Not like those two.

  Viera sat with her knees drawn to her chest, staring into the flames. "We should’ve stayed," she murmured, barely audible over the hiss of wet branches. "If we had just—got past the gates and dispersed..."

  Cero didn’t respond. He sat hunched, cradling Jani's sword. His eyes were open, but never moved.

  “We had to go,” Dolen spoke up. “We wouldn’t make it in time before the long night.”

  “I–” Viera started, then sighed. “I know. But this uncertainty… It’s killing me. What has become of my daughters?”

  “I miss the uncertainty.” Cero spoke up. Listless. Quiet. “And right after she got so much better. How could this happen?”

  Dolen chewed slowly on a piece of dried root. His cloak was soaked, one boot split at the sole, but he didn’t mind. He blinked, eyes tracking a beetle crawling near his foot. "Do you want me to explain?" he asked, trying to lend a hand to his friend.

  Cero turned to him slowly, and Viera closed her eyes, holding back tears.

  "...Never mind," Dolen said, and bit off another piece of root. “I said the wrong thing.”

  Silence between them materialized like prickles on Dolen’s skin.

  Definitely said the wrong thing. He shuddered and got up.

  “I’ll get going.”

  The ground in Dolen’s tent was covered with a thick pelt, keeping him warm as he sat down. He had to cast a spell.

  He couldn’t recall exactly what the spell did. Only that it mattered — deeply — and that he had to cast it the moment he was alone.

  Focusing mana into his eyes, Dolen willed a set of complex magic circles into the air. He concentrated on each of them equally, slowly filingl them with mana.

  He should’ve been terrified to cast a spell he didn’t understand, but his instincts were silent about it. He trusted them.

  It took minutes of carefully focused spellcasting to finish the spell, but finally the spell was completed.

  Dolen’s skull exploded with pain. He fell to the ground, feeling like his brain was being torn apart.

  He bit into the pelt to prevent himself from screaming. No one could hear him.

  He had to keep it that way.

  Endure.

  He spent an eternity writhing in pain.

  Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the anguish vanished.

  And Dolen—

  Dolen was made whole again

  Memories, information and emotion started filling his head. But above all, the voice returned.

  “Thank you for your continued service, child.” Though the words could have been caring. Motherly, even, the voice was nothing but. It was as if crackling fire coalesced into words within his head.

  “Welcome back, master.” Dolen said, his tone lower, more somber than usually. His heart had been assaulted by sudden sadness. He winced, remembering his behavior at the campfire. “Is this the only way? My friends deserve a better man than whatever I am with half my brain locked away.”

  “I pity them, but you know the answer.” The fire in his head dimmed–The voice was trying to coddle him. “Let’s continue where we left off.”

  David held the wooden cube in both hands, elbows resting on his knees, back slightly hunched. The dim light of the room hadn’t changed, but he had no idea how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours?

  The cube felt warm in his palms, not from magic, but from his grip. He hadn’t moved in goddess knows how long.

  He paused and straightened a little.

  Damn, even in my head I am starting to speak like people of this world. He chuckled softly. I never believed in God, should I believe in a goddess?

  Having changed his position after all that time, his arm immediately fell asleep and his hand spasmed, nearly dropping the cube.

  He jolted upright, shaking out his fingers. His sudden movement drew a sharp glance from Diana beside him, like she was trying to determine if he was insane. She didn’t speak to him, of course. She just kept glancing at him from time to time.

  Is she doing that for sports?

  David offered no explanation, only rubbed his shoulder and exhaled, staring at the cube. Again.

  He’d already tried everything he could think of.

  Pouring mana as slowly as possible in tiny increments? Nothing.

  Short large bursts? Nothing.

  Saturating it over a longer period? Believe it or not, still nothing.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  No matter how he pushed or restrained the mana, the glow never brightened, even for a split second.

  It had to be some trick. He was missing something obvious.

  He considered casting a spell around the cube, but Greine hadn’t done anything like that, and even attempting it would draw a lot of attention. Probably not the answer.

  David dropped the cube into his pouch with a sigh and leaned back, eyes scanning the mostly empty room.

  When did everyone leave?

  Only a handful of students remained—six—and they were all spread out, cross-legged on the floor, sipping from the potions and fiddling with the cubes.

  The rest must have left to find more comfortable spots for self-study. The practice room was far from cozy, after all.

  But then… Why was Diana still here? And more importantly—why was she still sitting beside him?

  She sat with dignity, inspecting the cube in her hands from various angles.

  There was space everywhere now, and yet, she hadn’t moved.

  Strange girl. Lady? Noblegirl? whatever.

  His eyes wandered. Then he spotted the two cracked halves of Lia’s shattered cube, still lying on the floor near the crates.

  David stood and crossed the room, scooping up the fragments with curiosity. He sat down where he found them, drawing a few surprised looks—including one from Diana, who subtly shifted in her seat to watch him more closely.

  The inside of the cube halves was more detailed than he’d expected. Beneath each of the four visible faces, he saw small hollow channels. He had a feeling those would be symmetrical if the cube was clean-cut and not broken.

  He squinted. Almost like they were… isolated. Pieces of something bigger?

  Each face seemed like a separate thing unto itself.

  Not just a uniform cube, but 6 magic items built into one larger.

  Excitement buzzed in his chest. That was surely important… But he couldn’t think of anything concrete just yet.

  Alright, let’s think step by step. This is a teaching aid. It has to be relevant to something real that’s done in magic, for it to be useful.

  And the natural next step in learning, after sensing, would be… Casting?

  He resisted the urge to facepalm himself.

  David picked up his own cube. “All this time you were a puzzle box,” he muttered under his breath.

  He poured in mana and watched it light–Dimly.

  But now he focused differently. He activated his mana sight and tried splitting the flow in his mind—six thin threads, each moving toward a different face.

  The light flickered. Brighter. Then immediately gone.

  David’s eyes widened. He tried again, struggling to keep every flow as equal as could be.

  This time, the glow held longer. Not fully bright, not yet, but unmistakably stronger than before.

  YES! yes yes yes yes!

  He grinned, tightening his grip and adjusting the flow, trying to maintain the balance. Every few seconds, a brighter pulse of light shivered through the cube.

  He was certain now. You just had to treat the cube like a spell with six runes to fill.

  His excitement warred with his tiredness. All this time he was slowly drawing in ambient mana–just like Dolen had taught him. It wasn’t enough. The prolonged, intense experimentation was taking a toll on him. His mana was starting to dip.

  With exhaustion creeping in, his blood pressure spiked and he started feeling dizzy, but he grit his teeth and pushed on.

  Force the flow to stay even. Balanced.

  The cube brightened—steadily—for three glorious seconds, then flickered out.

  David tried to jump with joy, but his world tilted sideways. His head spun. His limbs went numb.

  The floor rushed toward him—

  And stopped.

  Someone caught him under the shoulders and eased him to the ground.

  “Whoa, Marco?” a deeper voice asked, worried but gentle. “Are you alright?”

  David blinked slowly. A boy’s face filled his vision. Short blond hair, concerned eyes.

  “I’m fine,” he muttered. “Sorry, but who are you?”

  “Olen,” the boy said, pulling away from David. “What was all that about? You looked like some kind of possessed.”

  “I—I just really wanted to finish Lady Greine’s task.” David repeated. “Thank you Olen.”

  Olen tilted his head a bit confused, but then turned silent for some reason.

  David sat up, heartbeat loud in his ears, and looked around.

  Most of the room had gone quiet, and every one of them was staring at him.

  Especially Diana.

  Her eyes were steady, expectant. And she didn’t look away this time. They held the look for several long seconds.

  What am I supposed to do now? Is this why Olen pulled away?

  Her eyes narrowed, then at last, Diana sighed—deeply, like she’d given up—and slowly moved her hand toward the empty bench beside her.

  Even David was able to understand the message at that point.

  David sat back down beside Diana, still feeling the weight of her gaze from before. He settled in cautiously, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

  She didn’t look at him directly. Her posture remained poised, her expression unreadable, but her lips moved ever so slightly. “You really do have no idea about proper decorum, do you?”

  David blinked. “I don’t,” he admitted, caught a little off guard. He’d thought he was doing rather well, all things considered.

  Diana turned her head just a fraction, enough to give him a clearer look at her eyes. They narrowed.

  “...Lady Diana?” he added quickly.

  Her gaze softened. “That’s better, yes.”

  She gave a slow, deliberate look around the room. The remaining students, sensing her attention, suddenly found their cubes or notebooks incredibly interesting.

  Diana chuckled lightly, almost inaudibly. If he wasn’t already straining his ears to hear her whispers, he might have missed it completely, even sitting next to her.

  “Nice work on the cube, Marco. How did you do it?”

  “I had a spark of inspiration, Lady Diana.” He shifted awkwardly in his seat. “It’s a trick, actually. Are you sure you want me to spoil it? The practice itself was very insightful.”

  “How thoughtful of you.” Her tone was measured but not cold. “No, I’ll give it some more time, then.”

  A moment later, she added, “Just so you know, you can skip the ‘Lady’ after the beginning of a conversation with me.”

  “Oh.” David frowned, processing. “So it’s just for introductions, then?”

  “Absolutely not. It’s my preference.” She tapped her chin with a finger. “But here at the academy, rank is not supposed to matter. Obviously it does, but that’s a different story.”

  He nodded slowly, trying to commit it to memory.

  “On that note,” she continued, “The higher-ranked party initiates an exchange of names. It signifies that they intend to remember yours. Otherwise, one is expected to already know the name ahead of time or simply use a fitting title.”

  A slow, nervous chill crept up David’s spine.

  So I basically walked in and asserted myself over her… in front of everyone.

  He cursed his luck. It really was a vile thing.

  “Should I beg for forgiveness, or would that make it worse?” he asked, not a hint of joke in his tone.

  Diana was quiet for a moment, as if seriously considering his proposition. “Don’t bother. I’m telling you this for your own safety, not for my comfort.”

  Her expression remained neutral—or at least the visible half of it did. But David was good at reading faces, and he’d seen enough flickers in her eyes to guess at something else. She wasn’t offended. She was… curious. Amused, even.

  “May I ask,” he said, carefully measuring his words, “to what do I owe your interest, then? Surely there are more interesting students to converse with.”

  “I have peculiar tastes,” Diana replied, turning her head just enough for the candlelight to catch on the edges of her mask. “Humor me.”

  David nodded, already bracing himself.

  “I daren’t refuse.”