"My innate affinity is Terra," she said. "That's what Earthfang Volley was. But Majin Fist is something my family passed down to me."
Randel's eyes widened a little. "Your family?"
"Yeah." Her expression shifted for a second, softer but proud. "It's a generation-to-generation kind of thing. Apparently, the story is that my first ancestor, someone who fought on the front lines during the First Aether War, developed a close-combat technique that allowed him to take on multiple enemies at once without having to cast spells in quick succession. Apparently, he had developed it by accident because he didn't know how to use his core properly when casting magic with affinities, so he just tried to strengthen his body using Aether as best as he could and... well, this is the result."
That made the air feel larger.
The commoner training hall suddenly seemed too small around the words.
First Aether War.
I'd heard the phrase before, obviously. Everyone had, in a broad, practically useless sense, heard about the Aether wars long before they understood what the wars actually meant. Ancient conflict. Old alliances. Early Aether militarisation. Ruins. Founding myths. Noble families loved turning war into marble statues and moral speeches. However, not much is actually known about the First Aether War.
Randel looked at her carefully.
"You called it the First Form," he said.
Ilya nodded.
"Hm? Yeah."
"So there are other forms?"
"Yep! Roughly ten."
My head snapped toward her.
"Ten?!"
"Roughly."
"You're telling me there are ten other forms I would've had to deal with?! I would've been screwed!"
"Nah, not necessarily, it takes intense training and time to learn all ten forms, specifically the ones that my family taught me.
"Oh? Then how many do you know?"
"Hehe, not telling!"
"What? Come on! That is so not reassuring."
She grinned.
Randel, more focused now, asked, "Are they stronger?"
"... Yeah. They are," Ilya said. "But every form places more strain on the core. The First Form is the safest and easiest to activate, but even that can hurt if your core isn't conditioned to withstand it properly."
I looked at her, then at the cracked stone, then at my own still-shaking hands.
"That is so unbelievably cool."
Ilya perked up.
"Right??!!"
"No, seriously. That is awesome." I pointed at her. "You have a secret family technique that lets you punch people with giant purple hands of pure Aether."
"Magenta demon hands."
"I don't care about the exact shade of the giant hand!"
"You should."
"I won't."
She laughed again, but this time more carefully.
Then a thought hit me.
"Wait," I said. "How are you not from some famous noble household with a powerful technique like that?"
The moment the question left my mouth, I realised I had asked something I probably shouldn't have.
Ilya's expression changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
The bright line of her smile weakened, and for a second, she looked awkward in a way that didn't suit her at all. Sad too, though she tried to hide it quickly.
"It's complicated," she said.
Two words.
That was all.
But they landed with enough weight that none of us pushed.
Not me.
Not Randel.
Not even Junio.
The training hall's noise filled the space for a few moments. Someone at the far side shouted after missing a target. A spell cracked against a warded wall. Dust continued falling through the light.
Then Ilya clapped her hands once, far too loudly, this time to the side of her face.
"Anyway!" she said, forcing brightness back into her voice with all the subtlety of someone kicking a door open. "You're the awesome one, Ryn."
I blinked.
"What?"
"You heard me." She pointed at me. "You're already so close to Ignis Master. That's wild."
I stared at her.
Then at Randel.
Then back at her.
"What are you talking about?"
Ilya paused.
Her face shifted into confusion.
"Your core?"
"My what?"
"You're aether core."
"I know what my Aether core is. I'm asking what about it?"
"What do you mean, 'what about it?' And why are you making that face?"
"What face?"
"The face of someone who just got told he has a second head."
Randel looked at me slowly.
"Uh, Ryn."
"What?"
"You do know how to check your Aether core, right?"
I stared at him.
A short silence followed.
Then I said, "No? Should I?"
Randel closed his eyes and pressed his palm to his face.
It was an exhausted gesture.
A deeply disappointed one.
The kind of gesture usually reserved for teachers, parents, or people forced to explain why eating suspiciously looking mushrooms from the woods is a bad idea.
"Don't worry, " he said. "I'll teach you later."
"I don't know what you guys are talking about," I replied, "but sure."
Ilya looked like she was trying VERY HARD not to laugh.
Junio didn't laugh.
He watched.
Calmly.
Again.
I ignored him. Again.
Mostly.
Ilya leaned forward again. "For reference, I'm probably about halfway into Ignis Adept."
'That's useful, I guess.'
Maybe.
The thought of core levels never really occurred to me until now. I understand that they're important, but I've always looked at it as if you get stronger by training more, then your core will follow.
But maybe it's more complicated than that.
'Great. Another annoying thing to think about.'
I wasn't entirely sure how useful it was because, apparently, everyone else had been walking around able to check their own core progress like normal people, and I had missed the memo.
"So," I said slowly, "you can just… tell?"
Ilya frowned. "Yes?"
"How?"
"With core sense."
"What the hell is core sense?"
Randel groaned into his hand.
Ilya finally did laugh.
"Okay, okay," she said, "never mind. Randel can teach you."
"Why is everyone acting like I missed an important class?"
"Because you did," Randel said.
"I did?"
"No. And THAT's the problem."
I pointed at him. "Randel, you sure you're ok, buddy? Because that sentence made no sense."
"What are you talking about? It made perfect sense."
"It absolutely didn't."
Junio added calmly, "It made sense to me."
I turned on him.
"You don't get to join in with that tone."
"What tone?"
"That one."
His mouth twitched faintly.
I wasn't sure if that was a victory or a warning.
Ilya stood slowly, brushing dust from her sparring clothes.
"So," she said, stretching her arms overhead. "Round two?"
I looked at her like she had just suggested we both leap off a tower and call it cardio.
"Nah."
She pouted. "Wha— why not?."
"I'm not doing it."
"Coward."
"An alive coward."
"But you were doing so well!"
"I'm aware, which is why I'm ending on a high note."
Randel smiled faintly. "That's surprisingly wise from you."
"Why do you sound so shocked?"
"I'm trying hard not to."
I pushed myself to my feet with the dignity of a man whose entire skeleton had not just been threatened by magenta violence. It took slightly longer than I wanted.
My legs worked.
Barely.
But good enough.
I rolled my shoulder and winced.
"Yeah, no. Some other time."
Ilya grinned. "I'll hold you to that."
"Of course you will."
Randel looked at me. "Heading back to the dorms?"
"Yeah." I waved a hand lazily. "I should probably see whether Kael survived his mysterious meeting with Professor Orin."
Ilya blinked. "Kael?"
"My roommate."
"The weird one?"
"That doesn't really narrow it down in this Academy."
"The one who made that huge fire serpent in the hallway."
"Ah. Yeah. That weird one."
Randel smiled at that.
Junio's gaze flicked toward me just briefly, then away.
"See you around," I said.
"Bye, Ryn!" Ilya said brightly.
"Rest properly," Randel added.
Junio gave a calm nod. "It was a good spar."
I looked at him for half a second.
"Yeah," I said. "It was."
'He couldn't have just said "goodbye?" What a weirdo.'
Then I left the training hall.
The walk back to the dormitory felt longer than usual.
Partly because my body was sore in places I didn't know could be sore, and partly because my brain had decided to start being annoying again now that I wasn't actively dodging stone fangs and giant magenta— purple spectral palms.
I rolled my neck as I walked through the lower corridor, wincing when the movement pulled at something near my shoulder.
"Great," I muttered aloud. "Fantastic. Bloody love that. Absolutely love being alive and in utter pain."
A group of students passed me going the other way. One of them glanced over.
I ignored them.
My arms felt heavy. My core felt raw. Not empty, exactly, but close enough that casting anything serious right now would've been a terrible idea.
Which meant I needed to train more.
A lot more.
That was the conclusion I kept coming back to.
Ilya had pure Aether techniques. Kael had… whatever the hell he had. Taron had noble instincts and a natural flow. Cyril was a walking furnace with royal posture and terrifying control.
And me?
I had anger, wind, and a strong desire not to be left behind.
Useful, sure.
But it's not enough.
Not for now.
I stretched one arm across my chest and yawned so hard my jaw cracked.
"I wonder if Kael is done with his meeting with Professor Orin."
The words echoed faintly down the dormitory corridor.
I reached our door a few moments later, still rolling my sore shoulder, already preparing some deeply obnoxious opening line for when Kael inevitably told me the conversation was "fine" in that suspiciously calm way of his.
I lifted my hand toward the door handle.
At the exact same moment, another hand reached for it too.
Our fingers nearly collided.
I froze.
So did the other person.
I looked sideways.
Kael looked back at me.
For one perfectly stupid second, neither of us moved.
Then, in complete unison, we both said:
"Huh."