The adrenaline from the victory in the Holo-Deck had faded, replaced by the grim reality of academy economics.
I sat on a stone bench in the Academy gardens, nursing a cheap nutrient bar that tasted like sawdust and despair. My account balance was a measly 550 AP. It was enough to survive for a week, maybe two if I skipped lunch. But to buy the Alchemical Body-Tempering Solution I needed to fix my atrophied mana veins? I needed 5,000 AP.
"You're loud when you think."
I didn't flinch. I had heard the hum of the repulsion engine approaching from fifty meters away.
Elara Vane stopped her chair at the end of the bench. She looked different today. The combat uniform was gone, replaced by a casual navy-blue robe that looked more expensive than my family's entire estate. She held a datapad in her lap, but her eyes were fixed on me.
"Vane," I acknowledged, taking a bite of the sawdust bar. "Came to bask in the glory?"
"I came to ask why," she said, her voice cutting and direct. "Why help me? You could have sided with Jax. He would have paid you for the easy win. Instead, you tanked for the 'cripple.' What's your angle?"
"I told you," I said. "Inefficiency annoys me. You have S-Rank output but F-Rank application. It's like using a dragon's breath to light a candle."
She bristled, her knuckles whitening on her armrests. "Careful, Kaelen. I can still vaporize you."
"I know." I crumpled the wrapper and tossed it into a nearby bin. "But you won't. Because you realized something today. You realized that with a proper vanguard, you're untouchable."
I turned to face her fully.
"Let's make a deal."
Elara raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."
"I need resources," I said bluntly. "My mana capacity is garbage. My body is weak. I need high-grade elixirs, access to the Gravity Chambers, and monster cores. Things that cost thousands of AP."
"And what do I get?" she asked, crossing her arms. "A bodyguard? I can hire mercenaries."
"Mercenaries follow orders," I corrected. "I give strategy. I know how to fight. I know where to position you. And more importantly..." I leaned in closer, dropping my voice. "I noticed you use a tactile control scheme for your chair."
She looked down at the joystick and button array on her armrest. "So? It's standard magi-tech."
"It's slow," I said. "When you cast high-tier spells, your hands are busy weaving mana constructs. You have to stop moving to cast, or stop casting to move. That 0.5-second delay is why you get hit."
Elara's eyes narrowed. She knew I was right. It was her fatal flaw.
"I can teach you Mental Weaving," I lied. Well, it wasn't technically a lie. It was a technique from the War Era, forgotten by modern mages. "You link your mana signature directly to the runic engine. You drive with your mind. Your hands stay free for casting."
Silence stretched between us. The wind rustled the silver-leaf trees overhead.
"That's impossible," she whispered. "That's Grandmaster-level theory."
"I can teach you the basics in a week," I bluffed confidently. "In exchange, we form a permanent party. You front the costs for my equipment and body tempering. I ensure you hit Rank A by the end of the semester."
She studied me, searching for deceit. She was smart, cautious, and incredibly proud. But she was also hungry. I saw the ambition burning behind those storm-grey eyes.
She extended a hand—not the gloved one she used for casting, but her bare, pale left hand.
"50/50 split on all Dungeon drops," she negotiated. "And if you fail to teach me this 'Mental Weaving' within a week, the contract is void and you owe me 1,000 AP."
I smiled. She was ruthless. I liked that.
I took her hand. It was cold, but her grip was firm.
"Deal."
[System Notification: Party Formed] [Members: Kaelen Vance, Elara Vane]