The sudden weight of a hand shattered the void. Aaron jerked upright, fragments of dreamgarden dissolving—just in time to see Erai and Ceiro laughing at his flailing. He blinked, breath caught, hands half-raised before he remembered where he was. Theon stared at him, wide-eyed. The others snickered.

Aaron took a deep breath and felt the smooth stone floor beneath him. This is safe. I have just been surprised.

"Young Champion, I believe I instructed you to enter the dreamgarden, not your dreams," the Magister commented with a smile.

Aaron returned the smile. What just happened? Quetzy, why did I not notice this?

The warm voice responded softly. 'DeepFlowByWriting. ApprenticeTechnique. CloserToSleep.'

Aaron's eye twitched, and he stopped himself from rolling them. Why do people keep handing me big sticks without warning me what they do? Maybe user manuals are my real gift to this world.

The Magister waved over an orange-robed apprentice. "My assistant will guide you through some basic theoretical exercises—as would be the usual case for classes." He stared at Ceiro, who had just opened his mouth and, judging by his expression, was about to protest. "I must spend some time with the Champion, to guide him to the Good of the Polis."

Aaron stood, casting one last glance at the others. Three gave him nods. Two glared daggers. This wasn't a lesson. It was a step into something with teeth. Aaron smiled broadly at Erai—then saw Ceiro's arm, bandaged and cut short. His grin vanished. Right. This has consequences. Bad ones.

With a frown, he followed the turquoise-robed man. After they left the amphitheater and entered the lush, parkland space full of walking students and woody scents again, the man stopped. "It would be customary for a meteor figure to hook in their arms," he gestured at several students doing just that, "but I do not know your culture's ways."

Aaron pursed his lips for a heartbeat. I want to gain advantages for this competition of mentors. A bit odd for me, but if it buys me goodwill—sure.

He offered his elbow to the man. Their arms hooked. Aaron felt lean muscle and soft silk brush against his skin. The man was lean, pretty tall, and his mane of long black hair exploded from a ponytail. They walked toward a large building near the academy spires in silence. "You were bored by my lesson, Champion. And your mind is shielded in most impressive ways."

Aaron stopped walking, eyeing the Magister sideways. "How…" He trailed off. This was the third time this had happened.

"No need to read your thoughts. The Weaver makes rope from similar fibers. Do not fret. I respect secrets." The intensely green eyes met Aaron's. "I do ask only that you extend me the same courtesy."

Aaron kept walking, the man's arm feeling like a vice around his. What do I do? Is there anyone to whom I am not transparent? Fuck this, the priestess said to gain as much as possible.

He set his jaw, but the man spoke up before Aaron could open his mouth. "Good, you are resolved to exploit me for all I am worth. An admirable attitude for one in your position."

Aaron stared at the turquoise-robed man. "And what position is that?"

The man's mouth-lines dropped into a somber expression. "The one of a stone being sacrificed. Consider this, Champion: why do you have such a powerful, yet obvious mental defense?"

Aaron frowned. So the mindshield stands out. It protects me—but it also marks me. The mindmage gave me a tool that screams: I belong to someone dangerous. Is that bad?

"To ensure that vicious individuals know who they would provoke by attacking me." Aaron put as much confidence as possible into his voice. Let's see if this gets his goat.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

"An acceptable hypothesis. But what if I told you that a diamonoid shell could have been created more easily?" Charos tilted his head.

"This had more utility." Aaron glared at the man. "And I do know with whom I am in league. They were smart, and now I move forward with what has happened."

The man shot forward like a cobra—then vanished.

Aaron blinked a few times. Why are we standing still? We had just been walking.

Then it felt as if he had entered another room entirely. Has he...

A rush of mental images—conversation, eyes lunging—snapped him into action. His hand went for the magic-breaking dagger.

Aaron took a step forward. Distant screams could be heard.

The Magister waved his hand, creating a shimmering shield between the two of them—a bubble retreating around his hand. Aaron felt the dagger hit the magical shield. And pierce it like a plastic bag.

Something in Aaron rejoiced at the Magister's panicked yelp. The dagger shot up toward the man's throat—just as Bug had taught him.

Then pain detonated in his wrist—like someone had jammed a red-hot nail into the joint. Aaron's scream echoed as he staggered, vision flaring, clutching his limp hand like it might fall off. It felt as if molten lead had been poured into the joint. Distantly, Aaron noticed the dagger clattering to the ground, just as he fell. A whimper escaped his mouth.

"Good reflexes," the man said, smugly. "You would've taken out an Adept—or someone less paranoid."

Aaron looked up at the turquoise figure looming over him with teary eyes. He could not feel his hand.

Charos shrugged apologetically. "Pain points. It will fade. Anyways, what I just demonstrated to you is a Phantsmomancy—or, as laypeople call it, illusion cantrip. Not a true spell, but a construct like your shield."

Aaron ground his teeth. I am tired of being bullied.

He used his good hand to push himself up and glanced at the knife. The man clicked his tongue. "That is some fighting spirit. Maybe my illustration was a bit too successful. So, Champion, would you like to learn how to wipe someone's short-term memory clean with mere eye contact?"

Aaron froze. Aaron blinked past the tears, then let out a soft, incredulous laugh. That was a fucking sales pitch? The absurdity hit harder than the pain.

Anger warred with laughter in his chest—before the latter won out. This man has some balls.

Aaron sat up and noticed a blurry barrier around the two of them. "That's just a little Vibromancy trick for privacy. We are blurred to them." He gestured at the groups of gossiping observers.

"I have three gifts for you. Firstly, I find it negligent for your development that your arcane aptitudes were not yet tested. I will correct that with your permission."

Aaron nodded. So there is a test telling me what kind of mage I am. Finally, some real magic.

He smirked. I wonder if they have actual guides for builds in the local libraries.

"Secondly, I intend to gift you a restricted manual on the cantrip I just showed you. Your version will be weak until you get the proper materials—at Apprentice rank. The final gift is related to my research." Charos looked about with a conspiratorial smile.

"The gods' pantheon system limits permanent enchantment of humans. Yet, I believe through my studies of Pathomancy I have found a way around that. We will have to discuss it in a more discreet place, though."

Aaron tilted his head. This sounds good. My counter social-engineering guide has been tingling the entire time. He has shocked and awed me and is now showering me with gifts. Fear and greed. They always work. And I'm playing along—because I have to. Curiosity doesn't kill cats. Just makes them easier to use.

Aaron nodded slowly, trying not to show how fast his heart was beating. "That… sounds intriguing. How does the test work?"

The Magister waved his hand, and the street faded away like fabric in acid until only dust was dissolving on the floor. Aaron observed it closely. It's almost as if their magic needs physical matter. Well, it makes sense. Magic just creating physically interacting constructs would have devastating consequences. Antimatter bombs and infinite energy machines are only two of them.

The mage told him about the testing. "It is normally done in a ritual with mages of all disciplines in a large formation. But there are more expensive testing devices that are portable."

Aaron's wrist still throbbed as they reached the alabaster temple. A part of him wanted to run. The rest wanted to see what this madman would offer next.

The air thickened with ink and secrets as they stepped past shelves lined with forbidden knowledge. Dust hung like incense. Aaron's pulse quickened. This was not a classroom. This was a vault. The dry and old smell of books permeated not just the entrance hall but also the side corridors they walked through until they reached a door.

"This is my humble reading room." Charos walked up to a stand and spun up an honest-to-goodness crystal ball inlaid with three-dimensional circuits. A shimmer settled over the walls and windows as static filled the room.

"We are in complete privacy now." He walked behind the desk and began retrieving something from a box the size of a child's coffin.

Aaron blinked as the mindmage materialized midair, perfectly horizontal. Quetzy interject a comment. ShowedHimHentai. StillWantsToTalk.

Aaron bit his lip to avoid laughing. The mindmage was floating like a priest and grinning like a sinner

. At an angle a meter over the ground.

Aaron snorted.

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