Cadets began filtering into the courtyard in groups of twos and threes. Within minutes, the full roster of twenty-five students had arrived, mingling quietly beneath the shaded canopy of the southern wall.
Kunig checked his attendance sheet, nodding as he tallied the final name. He moved toward the weapons table and raised a hand to settle the chatter.
"All right," he called. "How many of you have a preferred weapon?"
Nearly every student raised their hand—except Cane.
Kunig gave a small nod. "You'll each select a weapon from the tables. Don't stress—during this cycle, you'll get to focus on up to three. Today and tomorrow are trial days. Feel free to experiment before settling on your first choice."
Cane stepped forward and retrieved the sword he had adjusted earlier. The others browsed the selection, testing weight and grip.
"Since we have an odd number," Kunig added, "Cane, you're with me."
Once weapons were chosen, Kunig addressed the class as a whole, reviewing safety rules, sparring protocols, and pointing out the medical tent. Then he broke them into groups based on weapon type and stepped in front of the sword users to begin.
"When you carry a sword," he said, voice steady, "understand that the moment you draw it, someone is in danger. That person could be your opponent—or it could be you."
He demonstrated a stance—feet shoulder-width apart, one slightly forward, his torso angled to reduce exposure. "You won't always have time to position yourself properly in a fight, but this stance lowers your vulnerability profile. Everyone—assume the stance."
Kunig moved through the group, making small adjustments—lowering shoulders, adjusting grips, correcting balance.
"Miss Gharo," he said, pausing beside a tall girl with a strong frame and a firm grip on her blade, "what's the best opening attack for a novice swordsman?"
"Overhead slash," Gharo answered, holding her weapon like a hammer.
Kunig nodded. "Simple. Powerful. Effective." He glanced at Cane. "Would you disagree?"
Cane shook his head. "No. I'd say it's a good choice—but it depends on the situation."
Kunig raised an eyebrow. "Expand."
"It's a long list," Cane replied. "Size and reach of your opponent, their weapon, skill level, terrain, number of enemies—even species. You don't fight a person the same way you'd fight a beast."
"Well said." Kunig gestured toward Gharo. "Same setup. One-on-one. What would you use?"
"Stab," Cane said without hesitation. "Hard to deflect at this level. A forward lunge also closes distance. Even if she defends, I'm close enough to follow up—elbow, foot stomp, knee—whatever opens up."
Gharo grinned. "Let's not spar. All of that sounds painful."
Kunig chuckled. "It is. Cane, what else would you consider?"
"Her armor," he replied. "Go for weak points—seams, underarms, edges. If we're evenly matched, landing the first hit gives me the edge."
Kunig turned to the rest of the group. "We won't be doing stab attacks during the first month. As Cane mentioned, they're difficult to counter at your skill level. For now, I'll teach you three basic attacks and their defenses. You'll practice them at quarter speed."
He demonstrated clean, deliberate strikes—an overhead slash, a diagonal cut, and a horizontal swing—along with the correct footwork to support each movement.
"Break off into pairs and start your drills. Cane, work the practice dummy until I return."
The students spread out, forming pairs around the courtyard.
Kunig raised his voice once more. "One last note—ten thousand reps. That's how many it takes to become proficient with a new attack. So don't expect results overnight. Respect the blade, respect the form, and the results will come."
"The Archmage has asked me to retrieve Cane," a cadet said, approaching Kunig mid-demonstration as he demonstrated spear techniques.
Kunig glanced across the courtyard where Cane was savaging a practice dummy. "He's over there. Tell him I said he can go."
The cadet nodded and jogged over. "You are to report to the Archmage at once. I've already spoken to your professor."
Cane wiped sweat from his brow with a sleeve. "Lead the way."
They walked in silence, the cadet focused intently on his task.
Thankfully, the morning announcements cut through the quiet.
Good Morning, Everyone! This is Sophie Sweetwater with today's announcements.
The Zuni Empire has officially declared that it will no longer engage in naval battles. All Zuni ships are now patrolling only their own coastal territories and will not blockade or attack Alliance trade routes.
Fleet Admiral Rhiati responded, stating, "The Alliance Navy remains on high alert. Until a peace treaty is signed, Zuni ships will continue to be treated as hostile."
With two new fronts opening on the mainland, enlistment numbers are climbing at record pace.
Legion Commander Terok Begile added, "The troops are ready. We've prepared a special welcome for our enemies. The first day of this campaign will show the world our resolve."
Sophie continued with local news, upcoming events, and birthdays before signing off.
This is Sophie Sweetwater. Have a Sunny day.
At the open door to Telamon's office, Cane paused, eyes falling on Elohan. "You wanted to see me, Uncle?"
Telamon nodded. "Elohan has returned from scouting. I'm sorry, nephew. Jonas Ironfist is tethered. If you try to move him, that... thing will know."
Cane's face hardened. "Doesn't matter. I won't risk my team—but I'm still going after him."
"I thought you'd say that. He'll be moved when the front opens," Telamon said, placing a hand on Cane's shoulder. "You don't have much time."
"On the contrary, Uncle," Cane replied. "I have all the time I need." He turned to Elohan. "I'll need the full brief."
"I won't interfere," Telamon said. "You'll have access to the Academy's resources, but any further help from me will violate the Accord."
"Then I need Beastmaster Tor sent to my room in Seven Tower. I've got an idea."
Telamon offered a small smile. "If anything goes wrong, I will pull you out, Accord or not."
Cane nodded. "It won't come to that. But thank you."
After Elohan shared the intel, Cane returned to Seven Tower. Tor was already waiting outside, curiosity lighting his features.
"I was told to assist however I can," Tor said.
"I want to talk about Moxie and Tazi. How soon until they can open a rift?"
Tor blinked. "She's got the bloodline, but she's only a few months old. Even if the ability awakens, it won't be for at least a year."
"Doable." Cane led him inside. "Have a seat while I prepare."
Before he could begin, Fergis stepped into the doorway.
"I heard the mission got scratched."
"Telamon decided it was too risky for cadets," Cane replied. He now had the full picture—raven sentries, guard patrols with dogs, and hundreds of enemy troops.
"Shit... So what now?"
"I'm going to get Jonas out."
"Then I'm going with you," Fergis said. "Don't try to talk me out of it. We'll figure something out."
Cane nodded, accepting what he already knew—Fergis was all in. "If I make a plan, you follow it. Deal?"
"Deal."
Cane sat down, breathing deep. "Wait here. I'll be right back."
He closed his eyes and slipped into his ringworld.
The stars—blue, white, and black—shifted slightly apart, revealing the red core pulsing at their center.
The world was divided into thirds, like a pie. Each segment overseen by one of the stars.
Blue. White. Black. Stretching past vision.
Cane moved to the point where all three intersected.
Philas said he'd show me how he created the cube world once the core developed. I can't wait. But I don't need a whole world yet—just enough. A patch of land. A place to start.
He'd learned that metallurgy—true metallurgy—relied on manipulating the trinity. Dimming one star, amplifying another. That interplay mattered.
Maybe... if I dim all three, I can power the red core.
Cane stilled time within the ringworld and focused on the pulsing red heart. He reached into the trinity, trying to suppress all three aspects at once—and failed.
The power rejected him.
Too much. I've dimmed two before, never three. Let's try it a different way.
He focused next on feeding the white star—origin—using energy drawn from blue and black. Slowly, the stars dimmed, and the white one flared.
And flared.
And flared.
Soon, the black and blue were barely visible, and the white star pulsed with brilliance—light, heat, life. Power enough to build or burn entire worlds.
Cane reached for it—and embraced it.
Then he aimed it at the red core.
The core's not drinking it, he realized after several long moments. It's bleeding it out. Like pouring water into a bowl filled with holes.
He focused harder—and entered the red core directly.
Inside, it was a fractured storm of color. A thousand red shades scattered through a turbulent cloud.
It's not formed. Not yet. These fragments... they're the byproduct of my aspects regenerating themselves. I've only had the third star for a little over three hundred days.
Cane studied the particles. Some dark, some vibrant. Three dominant shades.
He began sorting them—starting with the rarest, the darkest red. They came from the black star. He carefully gathered them into a single sphere. Then the next shade. Then the third.
When he was finished, three small red spheres hovered at the heart of the core.
With a thought, Cane brought them together.
At first, only their outer edges merged. But slowly—carefully—they began to combine.
He directed the white star's power at the trio, feeding them as he pushed them to unify.
Time passed—or didn't.
Suddenly, with a surge of force, the spheres burst inward—and merged.
The new red orb pulsed with need.
It drew power now—eagerly, hungrily. Cane could feel it drinking from the white star. And finally... it held.
Equilibrium.
Creation thrummed in his core.
He pictured a forest. A river. Open skies.
Nothing happened.
Too big. Too soon.
He aimed smaller: a clearing, a few acres of grassland, blue sky above, and light that never faded.
The ringworld shifted—and obeyed.
Soil and sky shaped themselves to his will.
And when it was done, the stars above returned to stillness. The red core disappeared—integrated.
This will work.
Cane opened his eyes and returned.
"How long?" he asked.
Fergis blinked. "How long what?"
Elohan's voice came from the window. "Three years."