Chapter 9: The Third Skill
The shattered dummy stood as a monument to Kael's burgeoning power, a silent testament to the lethal potential hidden beneath his facade. The leaden sock had become more than a tool; it was a symbol. It was the weight of every insult, every shove, every condescending laugh, given physical form and finally, answered.
Lyra did not praise the destruction. Instead, she pointed at the fragments. "Control. Even in your anger, you must control the fallout. A single, precise strike is an message. A splintered dummy is a tantrum. Clean it up."
The rebuke was like cold water. She was right. Unleashing power was one thing. Wielding it with purpose was another. He spent the next hour gathering the shards of petrified wood, the mundane task a grounding counterpoint to the violent release. As he worked, his mind churned. He had two empty skill slots. They were a gap in his armor, an untapped resource. He needed to fill them, but not with just any power. He needed something that complemented his growing toolkit of fire, stealth, and weighted socks. He needed utility.
"The dummy is useless now," Lyra stated when he was finished. "Your training requires a more dynamic opponent."
"I could copy a skill from another student," Kael suggested, thinking of the Gust user from the Trials. "Something for mobility or defense."
Lyra shook her head, a rare gesture of clear denial. "Too risky. Every skill you copy is a potential energy signature, a data point that could be traced back to you if the Inquisitors ever perform a deep scan. Your current skills are from Dren and from me—one is expected due to your proximity, the other is untraceable by their methods. We must be selective." A faint, almost predatory smile touched her lips. "Fortunately, this facility provides its own training resources."
She led him to a section of the cavern wall he had assumed was solid rock. She placed her palm against it, and a complex pattern of light flared beneath her touch. With a deep, grinding sound, a section of the wall recessed and slid aside, revealing a dark, tunnel-like opening. A stale, metallic smell wafted out.
"What is this?" Kael asked, his senses on high alert.
"The original ventilation and maintenance shafts for the first research teams," Lyra explained. "They were sealed decades ago. The systems down here have been… evolving in the dark, feeding on the Shard's ambient energy. They are simple, mindless, but perfect for your needs."
She stepped aside. "Your objective is to navigate one hundred meters into the shaft. You will find a service panel with a red marker. Touch it and return. You may use any means at your disposal."
Kael didn't need to be told twice. This was a real test, not a controlled exercise. He activated Glimmer Veil, the world wavering around him as he became one with the shadows. He stepped into the tunnel.
It was narrow, cramped, and pitch black. Only the faint, residual glow from the Shard behind him provided any illumination, and it faded after the first turn. He was blind. He pushed his Insight, trying to feel the space around him, but it was like groping in a void.
Then he heard it. A skittering, clicking sound, like metal scraping on stone. It came from ahead and above. He froze, pressing himself against the cold, damp wall. His heart hammered against his ribs. He was a city rat, used to bullies and crumbling buildings, not whatever haunted these ancient tunnels.
The skittering grew closer. He summoned a small, controlled flame to his palm, no bigger than a candle, compressing the light and heat to a minimal signature. The tiny fire revealed the tunnel ahead, and clinging to the ceiling was a nightmare of rusted metal and frayed wires. It was a maintenance drone, or what was left of one. Its body was a corroded box, and it skittered on six spindly, insectoid legs. A single, cracked lens swiveled blindly, but it seemed to sense his heat.
It launched itself from the ceiling with shocking speed, a blur of sharp legs and metal jaws.
Kael didn't have time for finesse. He dropped the veil and threw his left hand up. "Sock Summon!" He poured intent and ME into the summoning: Barrier. Density. Shield.
A large, square, quilted object appeared in his hand—a sock-shaped panel of incredibly dense, layered fabric. He braced it just as the drone slammed into it. The impact was tremendous, jarring his arm to the shoulder, but the "sock-shield" held. The drone clattered to the ground, righted itself, and skittered back, its lens fixed on him.
He couldn't use Fireball or Flame Burst in the confined space without cooking himself. Glimmer Veil was useless if it hunted by heat. He needed something new. He needed the skill this thing possessed.
As it charged again, he focused, activating Skill Copy. He let his Insight wash over the mechanical creature, analyzing the energy that animated it, the simple, programmed intent. It wasn't a biological system, but it was a system nonetheless, a primitive echo of the Skillforge.
> TARGET ANALYZED.
> SYSTEM DETECTED: VESTIGIAL CONSTRUCT PROTOCOL (TIER: COMMON)
> SKILL IDENTIFIED: SONIC PULSE.
> COPY? (COST: 20 ME)
Sonic Pulse. A non-elemental, concussive attack. Perfect.
Copy.
A new stream of data flooded his mind, a simple, brutal waveform. The drone was mid-leap when he raised his free hand, palm out, and unleashed the new skill.
There was no flash of light, no gout of flame. Just a visible distortion in the air, a concussive THUMP that hit the drone like an invisible hammer. It was thrown backward against the tunnel wall with a sickening crunch of metal. It twitched once, then lay still, its single lens dark.
Kael stood panting, the echo of the pulse ringing in his ears. He checked his status.
Copied Skills (Permanent): Fireball, Flame Burst, Glimmer Veil, Sonic Pulse.
Empty Slots: 1
He had done it. He had filled his third slot with a skill of pure force, ideal for close quarters and non-lethal takedowns. It didn't rely on an element that could be resisted, and its energy signature was subtle, chaotic. It was the perfect, deniable tool.
Emboldened, he pressed on, his tiny flame guiding the way. He encountered two more drones, dispatching the first with a precisely aimed Sonic Pulse to its central processor and the second by using his sock-rope to trip it before shattering its lens with a leaden sock. He was no longer just copying skills; he was learning to combine them with his own innate, "useless" power.
Finally, he saw it: a dusty, metal service panel with a faded red circle spray-painted on it. He touched the cold metal, a surge of accomplishment washing over him. He had navigated the dark, adapted to a new threat, and expanded his arsenal.
He turned to make his way back, but a new sound stopped him. Not skittering. A low, resonant hum, deeper in the tunnel system. It was a larger, more powerful energy signature. Something the drones were probably feeding from. Another time, he promised himself. He had what he came for.
When he emerged back into the cavern, Lyra was waiting. She took in his slightly scorched tunic, the dust on his clothes, and the focused glint in his eye.
"You were gone twenty-three minutes," she said. "Report."
"I encountered three hostiles. Vestigial Constructs. I neutralized them. I acquired a new skill: Sonic Pulse. I reached the objective." He kept his report crisp, military, mirroring her own style.
Lyra's glowing eyes seemed to intensify as they scanned him. "Show me."
He obliged, turning and unleashing a Sonic Pulse at the remains of the shattered dummy. The sound wave scattered the fragments he'd so carefully gathered, pulverizing them into dust.
"Acceptable," she said, and this time, the word carried a weight of genuine approval. "You have begun to think tactically, to see your abilities as a synergistic whole, not isolated tricks. The Sonic Pulse was a wise choice. It has no elemental allegiance, making it difficult to trace and versatile against many opponents."
She looked from him, back towards the dark tunnel. "The hum you heard. Did you investigate?"
"No. The objective was the panel."
"Correct. Discipline is the companion of power. Remember that." She paused, her gaze turning inward for a moment. "Your progress is accelerating. Soon, the confines of Bronze Haven will be too small to contain your growth, or the questions surrounding it. The monthly inter-academy transfer petitions are in two weeks. It is time you set your sights on a larger stage."
Kael's breath caught. Olympus Academy. The citadel of the elite. The very heart of the system he was learning to subvert.
"It's time," Lyra confirmed, as if reading his thoughts, "to give them a performance they cannot ignore. And for that, you will need to fill your final skill slot with something... appropriately dramatic."