The first week was a lesson in pain.

Vane had spent fourteen consecutive nights in the Old Gymnasium, a place that had become more of a home to him than his luxurious room in Villa 3. The dust of the rotted floorboards had settled into his skin, and the smell of stale air was a constant companion. Every morning, he would return to the academic district just as the sun began to leak through the clouds, his muscles twitching with exhaustion and his bones aching with a deep, cold resonance.

He was not training his muscles. He was training his reality.

In the beginning, the combination of his Argent Horizon forms and the Silver Fang authority was like trying to weld together two metals that naturally repelled each other. The linear speed Senna had taught him required a stable connection to the ground, a way to translate momentum into force. But the silver mana was chaotic. It was a high frequency vibration that acted like a lubricant, causing him to slip, to overreach, and to lose the very friction he needed to strike.

By the start of the second week, Vane stopped trying to control the silver mana on the surface of his body. He went deeper.

He sat in the center of the dark hall, the matte black star steel spear resting across his lap. He focused on the Spiral Circulation, but instead of allowing the mercury-thick mana to flood his muscle tissue, he forced it into his skeletal structure. He visualized his bones as high-tension turbines.

'If it sits, it stagnates,' Vane whispered, the words a mantra in the silence. 'If it spins, it stabilizes.'

He began the lunge. It was a standard Argent Horizon maneuver, an explosive movement designed to cross five meters in the blink of an eye. As he launched himself, he triggered the Silver Fang. This time, there was no spray of silver light. There was no hum on his skin.

Instead, there was a heavy, resonant thrum that vibrated deep within his femur and his spine. His bones absorbed the high frequency vibration, acting as biological dampeners. The vibration didn't disrupt his friction with the floor; it amplified his internal density. He didn't slip. He accelerated.

The transition was so sudden that he hit the far wall before he could register the success. He slammed into the brick with enough force to crack the masonry, but he didn't feel the impact in his joints. The internal vibration had acted as a shock absorber, protecting his organs from the sudden deceleration.

Vane stood up, his heart hammering in a hollow chest. He felt the cold, wet hook of Usurper drag across his brain, but this time, the vision of the freezing ditch in Oakhaven did not stay. It was replaced by a sharp, clinical notification that flickered in the periphery of his mind.

[Authority Status: Silver Fang] [Skill Formalized: Internal Pulse] [Grade: B]

Vane stared at the words as they faded. Grade B. He looked at his hands, which were steady despite the impact. According to the academy's standard doctrine, a Rank 3 Elite should be physically limited to Grade D skills. The complexity and mana density required for Grade C and above were supposed to be the exclusive domain of Sentinels and Justiciars.

'I see,' Vane mused, his breathing slowing. 'It isn't just Valerica and Ashe. The authorities themselves are the cheat. Silver Fang is skipping the rank locking just like their EX powers do. I am an Elite by mana capacity, but my skills are operating at the level of a military commander.'

He didn't stop to celebrate. He knew the Internal Pulse was only half of the solution. It gave him the speed and the efficiency to survive the physical environment, but it didn't give him the sensory dominance he needed to manage high-tier threats.

The third week was dedicated to the air.

He remembered the Resonance Cascade he had used against Ashe. It had been a desperate move, utilizing a stolen tuning fork to disrupt her Oni instincts. To make it a formalized skill, he had to remove the tool. He had to become the source of the noise.

He spent four nights just learning how to project the silver mana into the atmosphere. Every time he tried, the vibration would backfire, causing his own ears to bleed or his vision to blur. It was a delicate, lethal geometry. He had to create three interlocking frequencies: one to carry the mana, one to vibrate the air, and one to cancel out the feedback to his own nervous system.

On the twenty-first night, the breakthrough arrived.

Vane raised his hand toward a cluster of dust motes dancing in a shaft of moonlight. He did not pulse his mana. He spun it. The silver liquid in his palm began to oscillate at a frequency that moved beyond the audible range. The air in front of him didn't just heat up; it began to shimmer like a mirage.

The dust motes didn't fall. They began to vibrate in a chaotic, unpredictable pattern. Vane felt a faint, distant pressure in his own ears, but the feedback was contained. The air in a five meter cone in front of him had become a wall of sensory white noise.

[Authority Status: Silver Fang] [Skill Formalized: Resonance Cascade] [Grade: B]

The second notification appeared, confirming the achievement. Vane let the mana dissipate, his hand trembling slightly from the sheer concentration required to hold the three frequencies in place.

'Two Grade B skills,' Vane thought, leaning heavily on his star steel spear. 'Internal Pulse for the approach. Resonance Cascade for the disruption. Combined with the Argent Horizon, I have a combat engine that can actually keep up with the others.'

He stood in the darkness of the gym, looking out the cracked window at the distant, glowing towers of the academy. He felt different. The three weeks of isolation and pain had stripped away the last of his scavenger's desperation. He was still a Rat, and he still fought for survival, but he was no longer just reacting to the world. He was calculating it.

He realized now that his earlier improvised style was a waste of potential. By formalizing these skills, he had reduced his mana consumption by forty percent and eliminated the recoil that had been tearing his body apart. He could fight longer. He could move faster. He could bite harder.

The timeskip had been necessary. A Rank 3 body couldn't just wake up one morning and master Grade B logic. It required the grind. It required the repetitive, soul crushing work of aligning his spirit with the authority he had stolen.

'The midterms are in two days,' Vane reminded himself. 'Valerica and Ashe think they are the only ones hitting the wall. They think I'm just the ledger that keeps the books. They have no idea how much I've sharpened my teeth in the dark.'

He collapsed his spear and began the walk back to Villa 3. His movements were different now. He walked with a silent, fluid grace that made no sound on the cobblestones. He bypassed the patrol drones not just by hiding, but by moving through the gaps in their scanning pulses using the Internal Pulse.

He reached the villa and climbed the trellis, his body feeling like a well-tuned machine. He stepped onto his balcony and looked toward the rooms where his squad mates were sleeping. Valerica, the Sun. Ashe, the Comet. Isole, the Moon.

"The ledger is balanced," Vane whispered to the night.

He went inside and closed the door. The time for training was over. The time for the academic war had arrived.

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