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The duel ended quickly, setting a record for one of the shortest matches of the day. As a result, Caelan's sudden burst of competence went largely unnoticed; those who did see it likely didn't understand the nuance of what had happened.
Hadwin, the poor victim of Caelan's tracking fireballs, breathed a sigh of relief. His embarrassment would be minimal.
With the spar over, Hadwin and Caelan stood in the arena practicing magic together. It wasn't combat-oriented, just a simple drill of casting and countering to pass the time.
In truth, as students qualified to attend an Advanced Academy, every person here was technically a prodigy. The average practical combat level was around the Third Circle, with the elite few reaching Fourth Circle or above. Currently, the only first-year students who had breached the Fourth Circle were all concentrated in Class Zero.
When the practice session concluded, the instructor announced the final tally: Class Five had secured three more victories than Class Eight.
Class Five cheered, naturally happy with the win. Class Eight, true to form, didn't seem particularly dejected. To them, a loss was just Tuesday.
The students dispersed to their respective mana gathering arrays—Class Five to the Wind Element array, and Class Eight to the Fire Element array.
Once the mana replenishment was complete, Caelan couldn't be bothered to return to the classroom. He slipped away early, stopping to buy some meat-oil pancakes and cold mixed vegetables before heading straight to the shop.
He was sitting at the counter, about to dig into his meal, when Oliver approached with a young man in tow.
"Boss, this person is here for an interview."
Caelan nodded, swallowing a bite of pancake. He looked the man over. "What's your name? How old are you?"
"My name is Jaren," the man replied. "I'm twenty-three this year. I'm an orphan, so I don't have a House name."
Caelan nodded in understanding. "Do you have any work experience?"
"I've been a mercenary and a guard. I also worked as an adventurer for a while."
Caelan paused. "Mercenary? Adventurer?" He looked at Jaren skeptically. "If you have the skills to be an adventurer, that implies at least Second Circle combat power. Surely you can earn more money doing quests than wiping tables in a game shop."
Wordlessly, Jaren bent down and pulled up his right pant leg.
Below the knee, the leg was gone. An iron rod served as a crude prosthetic, wrapped in a thick bundle of cloth at the base to muffle the sound of his steps.
Caelan blinked. He hadn't noticed any limp when Jaren walked in.
"I see..."
After asking a few more questions to gauge his character, Caelan decided to hire him. He told Jaren he could start immediately, then asked if he had eaten. Upon learning he hadn't, Caelan split his lunch with him. He had bought too much anyway, originally intending to share with Oliver—but Oliver could stick to his pre-ordered meal plan.
Jaren thanked him profusely, took the food, and walked over to a corner to eat.
Watching him move, Caelan noticed it now—when Jaren squatted down to eat, the stiffness in his movement betrayed the prosthetic leg.
After finishing his meal, Caelan picked up a blank runestone tablet. He began circulating mana, preparing to engrave a game from the blueprints in his mind palace.
Eh?
As soon as he started, Caelan felt the difference. The mana flowed effortlessly.
He tried a few more times. Engraving felt incredibly smooth now—like a stuffy nose that had suddenly cleared up, allowing him to breathe freely for the first time in ages.
Did I get stronger again?
He checked his status in the mind palace. His mana reserves were steadily increasing, yes, but there hadn't been a sudden spike that would explain this drastic change in efficiency.
He pulled the black meteorite stone from his pocket. Could it be this thing?
He examined the stone closely. It was pitch black and completely inert. Caelan frowned, a little disappointed.
Wait. No reaction at all isn't normal.
He concentrated, focusing his mind on the object. The stone sat on the counter, plain and quiet.
And that was the anomaly.
Yesterday, his mind palace had detected a faint green glow emanating from it. Today, that glow was gone. He placed the stone on the counter, walked a few meters away, and checked his mental sensors. Nothing. His mind palace remained calm. The stone had become... just a stone.
The green light... did I absorb it? When? This morning?
Caelan tried to engrave the unfinished Street Fighter project. There wasn't much improvement in capacity, but there seemed to be a subtle enhancement in the visual fidelity he could output.
To test this hypothesis, Caelan took out a larger Size 7 runestone tablet. He tweaked the graphics of a test file, cut the content in half to save space, and began engraving.
Success.
He activated the tablet. The graphics were indeed sharper. The improvement wasn't massive, but it was enough to shock Caelan.
The Weave's restrictions on the Illusion School were most severe regarding visuals, followed by touch and smell. Sound was barely restricted at all.
Could this extraterrestrial meteorite weaken the Weave's shackles on Illusion magic?
He had to verify this immediately.
Caelan stood up. "Oliver, I'm going out. Make sure you teach Jaren the ropes."
He walked out the door and headed straight for the Ironhammer Blacksmith Shop.
Musta's eldest son, Hogan, was tending the front counter. He looked surprised to see Caelan.
"Hey! It's the Game City boss! The game you gave us yesterday is really fun."
"Glad you like it. Is your father in?"
"Yeah, he's in the back. Go on in."
"Thanks."
Caelan pushed open the door to the inner room. He found Musta playing Chronicle of the Fierce Tortoise Warriors with his youngest son, Karrum.
They were on the first level. Musta was playing Don (Staff), and Karrum was playing Leo (Sword). Their coordination was impressive; they reached the boss with plenty of health to spare.
"Hey, Caelan! You're here!" Musta called out without looking away from the screen. "Give me a second, let me finish this boss."
Karrum, focused intently on the game, showed no reaction to the visitor.
"No problem. Take your time. I'll watch."
Caelan quietly observed the father-son duo. They crushed the rhino-man Rocksteady, chased the ship to defeat Grand Chuck, and finally... both died tragically at the hands of the spiked tortoise, Slash, in Level 3.
Caelan was surprised. He knew he had set the difficulty quite high. For them to reach the third level in a single night meant they must have grinded for hours.
As if sensing Caelan's thoughts, Musta chuckled. "Karrum and I played until very late last night. If my wife hadn't seen how happy Karrum was, she would have skinned me alive. Your game is good! I really like these fighting games. You should make more of them."
Caelan nodded, then explained the purpose of his visit.
"You want to buy more extraterrestrial meteorites?" Musta asked curiously.
"Yes. specifically ones like the stone from yesterday."
Musta scratched his beard. "There was only that one piece of that specific type. Since we weren't sure of its use, we didn't buy a lot."
Caelan wasn't surprised. "Then, Uncle Musta, can I see any other meteorite materials you have?"
"Of course! No problem!" Musta said heartily. "Wait here, I'll go get them."
Musta scurried off, rummaging through boxes and cabinets once again.
Before long, he returned holding several large jars.
As he opened the first jar, Caelan's mind palace stirred. It wasn't the violent surge he felt yesterday, but there was definitely a reaction.
Musta pulled out a black stone from the jar.
Caelan focused his gaze, mobilizing his mind palace to scan it.
To his enhanced vision, this black stone was emitting a faint blue light.
"My cousin bought this batch at an auction house in the Dragonspire Empire a few years ago," Musta explained. "It was quite expensive. He cut a few pieces for me, but my wife hasn't tested if it helps with smelting yet. However, my cousin mentioned that the powder is useful for enchanting—something the elves are better at."
PLZ THROW POWERSONES.