Only hours later, they gathered beneath the forest's canopy to seal the pact in flesh.

Three thin streams of blood trickled into the bowl, red ribbons trembling with each heartbeat. The blood ran out of the cut on Aaron's hand. Down the chain of his medallion, fresh blood lit the bowl from within, glowing with ominous warmth. How much more do we need? But he kept his face neutral, despite the pain of the cut. They sat in a triangle around the bloody bowl in one of the forest's gazebos.

A black crystal steadily dissolved in the blood with a soft fizz, vanishing into nothing. Aaron studied the faces of his friends. Theon's expression was solemn and grave—a young aristocrat facing the situation with the appropriate gravity. Reha smiled broadly while calmly rotating one of her shoulders.

The last bit of the black crystal disappeared under the blood, and soon after, the fizzled foam died down. Pink bubbles swelled and burst with an acrid hiss, the blood thickening into sludge. The coppery tang of blood lay in the air like moss on an ancient tree.

"Lower your medallions into the blood," Blade instructed them calmly.

They complied, and as soon as the last medallion dispersed under the surface, black veins spread like a root network through the blood. The lines began where the crystal had dissolved and connected to the bindings. Then they filled the bowl, before snaking up the medallions' chains, stringing through the still-bleeding wounds on their hands.

Aaron shuddered as the tendrils crawled into the cut and a numb tingle ran up his arm.

Words formed in fluorescent red on the blackened blood in the bowl:

300% Learning Speed +1 to all Attributes Divine Skill Guide: Language Divine Skill Guide: Hand-to-Hand Combat Divine Skill Guide: Polearm Combat Temporary Apprentice Skill Guide: Arcane Meditation Apprentice Skill Guide: Counter-Social Engineering

The text was minuscule—red on darker red—but he understood it instantly. Like thoughts pressed straight into his brain.

Aaron shook his head. "I can't transfer the revivals to you."

Theon nodded, while Reha pursed her lips. I guess for her, that would have turned her into a fighter who doesn't need to care about danger. Our enemies can relax. A little bit.

Theon met his eyes. "But all the skill guides are there? What about—"

Aaron interrupted him with a grin. "The attribute boon and the learning speed are there. It's one of those two, correct?"

Aaron looked around at the guards and mages. Part of me wished we could have done this in secret. But I guess it's better to make it public. It will have to be registered anyway. And it might allow us to divert attention away from other matters.

Reha nodded enthusiastically. "I think the attributes are the best choice. It will give us an extra Rank that puts us ahead."

"We talked about this—the learning speed is better long and short term. With it, we can train more and gain a sustainable advantage instead of a one-time boost," Theon grumbled, bringing up the argument from the last few days again.

Reha looked at both of them in turn. "I need to be strong now—I won't be left behind again."

Aaron sighed and looked at Bug, who rolled his eyes. She won't give up so easily. But…

"Reha, I know that you won't benefit as much from the learning speed as Theon. But it is the best choice. I also hoped I could share my revivals, but we aren't so lucky."

Reha snorted and smiled. "Swear you'll bargain with the Watcher next time it comes bearing gifts."

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Aaron put his uninjured hand on her arm and squeezed. "I will. I don't want to bury anyone else on this road. I've seen where it ends."

He held back a shudder, recalling the visions he had seen. They clawed at this mind. What role will my friends play in that future? Will they walk the entire road with me? Or will those two be among the ones I leave behind?

Aaron pressed his lips together and focused on the learning speed option.

The black veins blurred at the edges as the last flicker of red light dimmed into the viscous liquid. The liquid began vibrating and formed three peaks where the amulets hung into it. Slowly, the burgundy goo climbed up the chains and—agonizing heartbeat by agonizing heartbeat—forced itself into their wounds.

Aaron bit down on the cloth-wrapped splinter of wood they had prepared for this. Pinpricks of fire burned into his veins as the rital reached its climax. I can't move my hand. I can't move my hand. I can't move it. He kept chanting around the stick, and after an eternity, the agony subsided. The bowl was clean.

And he felt something new. Two faint heartbeats outside his body. He spat out the stick and whispered in partial disbelief. "It worked."

The others met his eyes, and he sensed they were feeling the same thing. Almost in unison, the trio touched their uninjured hands to their hearts.

In satisfied silence, they cleaned up, and Master Shard checked their cuts. Bug, Bark, and Blade congratulated the group on their new party. Then they set off into the forest. It seemed quieter after what they had done. Even the lake shimmered stiller than before. With hands healed and spirits burning with shared purpose, they made their way down the trail.

The gun range awaited—a clash of old tech and new blood, poised over the abyss beyond the mesa. The two extra heartbeats pulsed faintly but reassuringly. The facility was surprisingly modern. Walls of loose earth and projectile catchers ringed the structure. The view over the lake down the side of the mesa, and the magical bubble that encased the area to cancel all sound, were unique features.

As planned, they had met after the rhetoric class. At the range, Aaron immediately spotted Betir Lunaris Lupui—radiant, composed, surrounded by sharply dressed initiates. Ten unfamiliar faces waited for them—only Betir's sister, the novice who had invited Aaron to the student gathering, greeted him with some familiarity. Betir's squad looked sharp. Too sharp. Like they'd been warned.

As Aaron approached, everyone bowed deeply or fell to their knees. He kept his face neutral and greeted the group.

A fortunately uneven full visit to an underground storage facility had left them equipped with double-barreled shotguns, a bucketful of flechettes each, and hearing protection. Aaron was sorted into a group under Novice Lenora Lunaris Ursai, together with Betir—and, to his great annoyance, Ceiro and Erai.

Aaron studied Ceiro, who glared at him. Not hatred. Irritation? Jealousy? The edges feel softer than before.

Lenora grabbed one of her flechettes and smiled radiantly at the group. "Honored initiates. Welcome to firearms training. We have the good fortune of being in the enchanted aura of a technomancer. What does that mean?" She pointed to a tower overseeing the whole gun range.

Erai sighed and replied in a bored tone. "Our guns will not foul as quickly as they would without the influence of their magic."

Betir met Aaron's eyes. His look flicked to Erai, and he rolled his eyes. Aaron grinned back before looking again at the very attractive Lenora. I'm looking forward to the party. She seems very interested. Could be a fun evening.

Lenora smiled at Erai. "Correct. Technomancers emit an aura that stabilizes ancient tech. Without it, these weapons break after a shot. So—how do we work around that?"

Aaron frowned. Again, one of these weird technological limits. Why would guns magically work around a certain kind of mage? Makes no sense.

Betir answered this time. "Normal units use smoothbores. Rifles, like the one Theon picked, are not usable for more than one shot for anyone but a technomancer."

Aaron nodded along. Theon had been very vocal about his ambitions of becoming a sharpshooter and user of technological magic. It suits him. Observing, planning, fighting with deliberation.

Lenora turned to Aaron and held up a flechette in each hand. One was in the rubberized, pulped wood sabot; the other had been freed of the launch assistant. The first looked like a beige shotgun shell.

Aaron grimaced as he recalled the illustrations and explanations from Grandfather. The flechette was a brutal fusion of field engineering and cruelty. The square cylinder was made of four metal slabs, forced apart by a hardened steel tip on impact. It would then release any of a vast range of nasty payloads—quicklime, a lead bullet, acid, explosives, or poison.

Aaron shuddered at the very thought of the illustrations he had seen. "Champion, why are such elaborate projectiles necessary?"

Aaron gathered himself and spoke up. "Combat suits and monsters. Piercing damage is extremely hard to resist, while the blunt force of normal bullets is neutralized by too many defenses. And the special payloads greatly enhance lethality. Quicklime, for example, will saponify the flesh of the target after impact."

Lenora's smile lingered a moment too long. Then she clapped her hands. "Pair off. Let's see who can hit what."

Erai almost jumped at Betir. Of course. Ceiro was still beside him. Aaron met his eyes with a smile too sweet to be sincere and stepped toward the dugout—where only one firing position waited. Great. I'm having a bit of one-on-one time with the bastard. Wonderful. What are the odds of a 'training accident' with him by my side?

Aaron joined him and readied his gun, maintaining the same polite smile as the man who had once treated his personal slave.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.