Rex returned to the library long after dusk.
Snow still clung to his boots. His arm ached beneath the bandage. His pouch felt lighter without the fire focus—but heavier with everything else he'd survived.
He didn't stop.
He went straight to the ritual room.
The circle was already etched into the floor, old and familiar, lines worn smooth by generations of reckless spellcasters. Rex knelt beside it and laid out his components carefully.
First: a pure focus core.
Second: a fire rune, clean and sharp.
Third: an explosion rune, etched deeper than usual.
Fourth: a charge rune, layered on top of the explosion one.
He hesitated.
"…This is either going to be very good," he muttered, "or very much not."
He carved.
Slow. Controlled. No rushing.
The runes locked together with a faint hum—volatile, but stable.
Satisfied, Rex moved on to the frost crystals.
They were cold enough to sting even through his gloves.
Using careful pressure and earth shaping, he carved them into a smooth, circular housing—a focus frame—then set a refined shard at the center.
He opened the book.
"Alright… ice bolt… coat… hold… charge…"
He carved each rune precisely, spacing them to prevent overlap resonance. The frost crystal pulsed faintly as the runes accepted the magic.
Rex placed the focus in the center of the ritual circle.
Activated the ritual.
Cold rushed outward like a breath from a frozen god.
The focus formed.
Stable.
Controlled.
Perfect.
Rex exhaled. "Okay. That worked."
He stood, flexing his gauntlet.
"I should test it—"
The ritual room door slammed open.
Dorian walked in.
"Hey, kid—"
Rex turned around.
"Oh hey. Yeah, uh… today was kinda wild."
Dorian blinked. "Define wild."
Rex didn't pause for breath.
"Well I got forty-nine troll teeth, met a new friend named Lilee, my fire focus exploded, we fell into a hole, my arm might still be injured, we entered a structure where magic doesn't work, fell into another hole, woke up a skeleton that woke up more skeletons with a staff, Lilee beat them to death with my sword like a club, I was almost completely useless, we found a lantern that cancels magic, a staff that might be necromancy, frost crystals, gold, then the structure collapsed and we escaped, I took the magic stuff, remade my fire focus, made an ice spell, and now I own an anti-magic lantern."
Silence.
Dorian stared.
Unblinking.
"…Okay," Dorian said slowly. "A few things."
He raised a finger.
"One: you are absolutely telling me that story again later."
Another finger.
"Two: good job making a friend."
Third finger.
"Three: show me the new spell."
"Four: show me the staff and lantern."
Rex nodded enthusiastically and pulled both out.
Dorian examined the lantern first.
Dark red flame. Still burning. Still wrong.
"Huh," Dorian said. "Cursed fire. Nullifies magic by disrupting spell structure mid-cast."
Rex brightened. "So I can keep it?"
"Yes. Very useful. Just don't open it near the library."
Then Dorian picked up the staff.
His expression changed instantly.
"…Nope."
Rex frowned. "What?"
"That staff uses dark magic," Dorian said flatly. "Consumes your lifespan to grant temporary life to others."
Rex blinked. "…Oh."
"So hand it over. You are far too stupid to use this without dying."
"Hey—!"
"Rex," Dorian said calmly, "you punched a tree so hard it stopped existing later today, didn't you?"
Rex paused.
"…Yes."
"Staff. Now."
Rex sighed. "…Fair."
He handed it over.
Dorian nodded. "Good survival instinct. Now—spell test."
They went outside.
Rex slotted the frost focus.
"…What's its name?" he asked.
In his head, Sage answered calmly.
Glacies.
Rex nodded. "Glacies."
Ice particles burst from his gauntlet, swirling sharply.
He fired.
A bolt slammed into a nearby tree.
In seconds, the entire thing froze solid—branches, bark, leaves—locked in crystalline ice.
Dorian whistled. "Clean. Controlled. Nice."
Rex smiled. "I also improved the fire spell."
Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Improved how?"
Rex slotted the new fire focus.
"Ignis."
Flames spiraled around his fist—tight, compressed, humming violently.
For a few seconds, nothing happened.
Then Rex punched the tree.
BOOM.
There was a sound like the world tearing.
When the smoke cleared—
The tree was gone.
Not burned.
Not shattered.
Gone.
Rex flew backward, skidding across the ground. His gauntlet hissed violently.
Dorian stared at the empty space where reality had briefly failed to include a tree.
"…Why," Dorian asked slowly, "do you become more dangerous the more magic you learn?"
Rex, still on the ground, gave a thumbs-up.
"Progress?"