The air in Room 904 didn't smell like a dormitory anymore. It smelled like a dying star trapped in a tin can.
Vara stood over her makeshift workbench, her goggles reflecting the blinding white heat of a mana-torch. She was sweating profusely, her copper hair plastered to her forehead, but her hands were steady as she manipulated the bar of Star-Metal.
Ren sat on his bed, sharpening the Rusted Blade. Shing. Shing. The rhythmic sound cut through the hiss of the torch.
"It's fighting me," Vara growled, pulling the torch back. The metal ingot glowed with an iridescent blue light, but it refused to melt into the mold. "Star-Metal has a high Mana Resistance. My torch isn't hot enough. It's like trying to melt a glacier with a candle."
Ren looked up. He didn't offer encouragement. He offered a solution.
"It's not resisting heat," Ren said, standing up. "It's resisting the instability of the mana you're pumping into it. Star-Metal seeks equilibrium. Your flame is chaotic."
He walked over to the bench. The heat radiating from the metal was enough to blister skin, but Ren's dense flesh absorbed it without flinching.
"Move," Ren commanded.
Vara hesitated, then stepped back, wiping grime from her face. "If you ruin that ingot, I will dismantle you while you sleep."
Ren placed his left hand over the glowing metal. He didn't touch it. He hovered his palm an inch above the surface.
Internal Art: Void Dampening.
He opened the "pores" of his Abyss Markings. Instead of pushing energy out, he created a localized vacuum. He sucked the chaotic ambient mana out of the air surrounding the metal.
The room's temperature dropped instantly. The white-hot flame of the torch turned a deep, stable blue.
"Now," Ren said. "Pour."
Vara didn't ask questions. She saw the opportunity. She grabbed her tongs and tilted the crucible. Under Ren's stabilizing field, the Star-Metal flowed like liquid mercury, filling the mold of the sword sheath perfectly.
"By the ancestors..." Vara whispered, watching the metal cool rapidly under Ren's influence. "You're a human heat-sink. How is that possible without a Core?"
"A broken cup holds no water," Ren said, withdrawing his hand. "But it can still be used to scoop dirt."
Three hours later, the work was done.
On the table lay a scabbard. It wasn't flashy. Vara had coated the Star-Metal with a matte-black alloy derived from the scrap of old mana-engines. It looked like a piece of junk, battered and nondescript.
But when Ren slid the Rusted Blade into it, the faint, eerie hum of the ancient sword vanished completely.
The sheath swallowed the magical signature.
"It's a Void-Sheath," Vara explained, looking at her creation with pride. "It suppresses aura resonance by 90%. You could walk past a mana-detector, and they'd think you were carrying a wooden stick."
"Good," Ren said. He strapped the sheath to his back. It felt heavy, comforting.
Vara then tossed him two small, spherical objects. They looked like rusted cogwheels.
"Pressure mines," she said. "I fixed the regulator pin like you suggested. Step on it, and it releases a kinetic blast equal to a Tier 2 Force Push. No fire, no flash. Just impact. Good for breaking legs."
Ren caught them. He looked at the Half-Dwarf. She was exhausted, covered in burns, but her eyes were alive. She wasn't looking at him with fear anymore. She was looking at him as a partner in crime.
"Why help me?" Ren asked. "You could have taken the gold and reported me to Alaric."
Vara scoffed, chugging a bottle of lukewarm water. "Please. The 'Nobles' in the upper dorms call me a grease-monkey. They think because I mix magic with tech, I'm dirty. You?"
She pointed a callous finger at him.
"You're darker than anything I've seen in this Academy. But you treat the metal with respect. And you paid upfront. In my book, that makes you better than every Prince in the Golden Spire."
Ren nodded. A transactional relationship based on mutual utility and resentment of the elite. It was the most stable kind of alliance.
"Get some sleep, Vara," Ren said, moving to the window. The sun had set. The twin moons of the world were rising, casting long shadows over the floating islands. "If I'm not back by dawn, burn the schematics and claim I stole the metal."
"Don't die," Vara muttered, already climbing into her bed. "I finally have a roommate who doesn't snore."
Ren slipped out of the window, merging into the night.
The Academy at night was a different beast. The "Noble" islands glowed with perpetual magical lights, floating parties, and the sounds of string quartets. The "Commoner" islands were dark, save for the patrols of the disciplinary committee.
Ren moved toward the Southern Gate. It was a cargo docking port, usually reserved for supply airships.
He checked his pocket. The receipt from Valerius. The pressure mines.
Midnight was approaching.
Valerius wasn't just smuggling crystals. He was smuggling Void Crystals. In the Empire, those were used for one thing: forceful Core expansion. It was a forbidden technique that risked turning the user into a monster, but it granted immense power quickly.
If Valerius's family was using Void Crystals, they were connected to the Inquisitors. The Church publicly banned the Void, but secretly, the Order of the Weeping Eye weaponized it.
The connection was clear. The Vane family was destroyed because they guarded the rifts. The Church wanted the rifts open to harvest the crystals. Valerius's family was the beneficiary.
"Thieves," Ren whispered, his grip on the window ledge tightening until the stone cracked. "You stole my home to fuel your ambitions. Now, I will steal your future."
He activated Mass Leap, launching himself across the gap between the islands. He didn't use mana to fly. He used gravity to fall with style, landing silently on the cargo platform of the Southern Gate.
He crouched behind a stack of crates.
Five minutes to midnight.
A guard was pacing nervously near the edge of the platform. He kept checking his pocket watch.
Then, a small, black air-skiff emerged from the cloud layer below. It had no lights. It docked silently.
A hooded figure stepped out, carrying a heavy metallic case.
From the shadows of the gate, Lord Valerius emerged. He wasn't wearing his uniform. He was wearing a dark cloak, his red hair hidden.
"Do you have it?" Valerius hissed.
"Pure grade," the smuggler replied. "Direct from the Abyss mines."
Valerius reached for the case.
Ren's eyes narrowed. He touched the Ring of Weight inside his marrow. He didn't want to just stop the deal. He wanted to send a message.
He pulled one of Vara's pressure mines and slid it across the floor. It rolled silently, coming to a stop right between Valerius and the smuggler.
Ren picked up a pebble. He flicked it with the force of a bullet.
Ping.
The pebble hit the mine.
BOOM.
The kinetic blast wasn't fiery, but it was violent. Valerius and the smuggler were thrown backward. The metallic case flew into the air, spinning wildly.
Ren moved.
He was a blur of black and grey. He caught the case in mid-air before gravity could claim it. He landed on top of a crate, looking down at the disoriented noble.
"Special delivery," Ren said, his voice distorted by the vibration he forced through his vocal cords. "But I'm afraid the recipient has been cancelled."
Valerius scrambled up, his face pale. "Who are you?! Give that back!"
Ren smiled beneath his mask.
"I am the repo man, Valerius. And your family is late on their payments."