Jade woke up without any particular reason. No noise, no dream pulling him out, no headaches either. Just awareness settling in before his eyes opened. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, letting his breathing even out.
Cain wasn't awake yet.
That wasn't unusual. What was unusual was that Jade didn't wake him immediately.
Instead, he got up quietly and finished his morning routine. The motions were automatic by now, wash, adjust clothes, check the room, ground himself. When he returned, his gaze drifted toward the table between their beds.
The catalyst lay on Cain's side.
Jade hesitated for a second, then picked it up.
He flipped three pages forward and released the book.
It didn't fall.
The catalyst hovered in place, suspended in the air as if held by invisible threads. Jade watched closely, eyes narrowing.
A moment later, three drops of mutate formed in front of him.
They appeared cleanly, without distortion or delay-and almost instantly, all three ignited.
The fire didn't spread wildly. Each drop condensed inward, tightening until all of them grew into spheres nearly the size of Jade's hand. Heat radiated outward, not unbearable, but sharp enough to make him instinctively step back.
He opened the drawer beneath the table and pulled out another book. Without hesitation, he tore out three pages and crumpled them roughly in his hands.
He placed the paper balls on the window sill and took several steps back.
No guidance. No adjustment.
The fireballs shot forward.
All three missed.
They all hit the window frame, where Jade had aimed them, leaving behind nothing but faint scorch marks where the air had distorted.
Jade frowned.
He didn't feel the ability to change their directions this time, and he couldn't increase the speed much.
He tore out three more pages, repeating the process. This time, instead of fire, he flipped through the catalyst again and used the water spell.
Three spheres of water formed, floating and rotating slowly in front of him. Light refracted through them, scattering faint reflections across the walls.
He didn't want to make a mess.
Carefully, he nudged the spheres so they would hit just above the paper mess on the sill.
Then he released them.
They missed as well.
The waterballs went outside the window.
Jade stood still, staring at the empty air where the projectiles had been.
That confirmed it.
Either he couldn't change the direction of magical projectiles at all, or his ability only applied to solid objects.
He exhaled slowly.
Annoyance crept in, subtle but persistent. Not anger at failure, but irritation at uncertainty. Not knowing the limits was worse than knowing them.
He cleaned up the paper mess, put the catalyst back where he found it, and finally walked over to Cain's bed.
He woke him up properly this time.
Once Cain was awake enough to stay that way, Jade left the room.
After a short walk through the corridors, he reached the public section of the library. The desk was quiet. No new notices. No fresh reports.
Jade paused, then decided to read.
He found a book that caught his interest and took a seat near one of the long tables. Morning light filtered in through high windows, illuminating dust motes in the air. The library was almost empty at this hour.
He began reading-and quickly lost himself in it.
Time passed unnoticed.
Eventually, Jade blinked and realized his eyes were skimming instead of absorbing. He stopped, slipped a bookmark between the pages, and closed the book.
Standing, he approached the desk and requested permission to take it with him.
Returning to the room, he found Cain missing.
Jade set the borrowed book on the table and pulled out his empty notebook. He lay back on his bed, tearing small pieces of paper from a spare sheet, crumpling them, and tossing them toward the trash.
He didn't miss.
Not once.
That only made the irritation worse.
He wasn't angry at failing-he just wanted to know the problems.
After a while, the door opened. Cain walked in and dropped onto his bed with a dull thump.
"We're going to the southeast scholartomb next week," Cain said. "With Team Three."
Jade processed the information quietly.
"They're already signing our deaths?" he asked dryly.
Cain chuckled. "It's a minor one. Risk's low. But who knows."
Jade stood and went to drink some water.
Using abilities consumed mutate. Recovery was slow for most people—painfully slow. One of the few ways to restore it was by drinking water. The colder, the better.
He returned after quenching his thirst and picked up the book he'd borrowed earlier.
It didn't offer much that was new. Mostly information about other races-summaries, cultural notes, linguistic structures. Useful, but nothing urgent.
When he finished, he realized there was nothing left in it that caught his attention.
So he went back to the public library.
This time, he borrowed four books, and returned the one he had borrowed earlier.
Language of elves.
He planned to learn languages.
And so he started with Elvish.
Like most humans, Jade admired elves. Not blindly-but it was hard not to acknowledge their refinement, their stability, the way they carried centuries as if time bent around them instead of weighing them down.
The day passed quietly.
Word by word, phrase by phrase, Jade learned.
And for once, the uncertainty didn't bother him.