Word of what happened in the infirmary spread through the guild like wildfire. Astraeus had gone from the promising Initiate who survived a Voidborn nest to something more. He was the Apprentice who had saved a Journeyman's life, not with raw power, but with a level of control and understanding that baffled even the senior instructors. Mages he'd never met would nod to him in the hallways, their expressions a mixture of respect and curiosity. He was no longer just a newcomer; he was a rising star.
Two days after the incident, Garrett Thorne, looking pale but very much alive, found Astraeus in the training yard. He was practicing the combat forms Marcus had shown him, the movements still awkward, his body protesting the unfamiliar strain.
"I wanted to thank you," Garrett said, his voice quiet but sincere. His usual arrogance was gone, replaced by a humbling gratitude. "Properly. Marcus told me what you did. The void corruption… it would have killed me."
"I'm glad I could help," Astraeus said, stopping his practice and turning to face him. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore. Embarrassed," Garrett admitted with a wry smile. "And alive. Mostly, I'm just grateful for that." He hesitated, then met Astraeus's gaze. "I was wrong about you. I thought… well, it doesn't matter what I thought. You're the real deal. You saved my life, and I won't forget it. If you ever need anything—backup, information, a drink—you come find me. I owe you."
"We're guild members," Astraeus said, uncomfortable with the depth of gratitude in Garrett's eyes. "We look out for each other."
"Some do," Garrett said, his expression turning grim for a moment. "Others just look out for themselves. It's good to know which side you're on." He clapped Astraeus on the shoulder, a gesture of camaraderie that felt more genuine than any of their previous interactions. "Get back to your training. And don't be a stranger."
As Garrett walked away, Astraeus felt the weight of the exchange. He was building connections, weaving himself into the complex social fabric of the guild. It was strategic, yes, but it was also… nice. He wasn't alone anymore.
Attachments, Kha'Zul's voice was a low rumble in his mind. They make you stronger. They also give your enemies leverage. Remember that.
"I will," Astraeus replied mentally. "But I can't do this alone."
No. You can't. Just be prepared for the day when you have to choose between saving someone you care about and saving a hundred strangers. That day will come.
That evening, Astraeus met Marcus for their first private lesson. The advanced training room was vast and empty, the air humming with the latent power of the enchantments woven into its walls.
"Before we begin," Marcus said, his voice echoing slightly in the large space, "I want to understand your goals. What do you want to achieve? What kind of mage do you want to become?"
Astraeus thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I want to be strong enough that I never have to watch people die because I wasn't capable enough to save them. I want to protect people. And I want to understand magic deeply enough that I can adapt and innovate, not just follow the rules."
Marcus nodded, a flicker of approval in his eyes. "Good. Ambitious, but not arrogant. To do that, you need more than just power. You need mastery. And mastery is born from pain, from failure, from pushing yourself past your limits until those limits break."
I like this one, Kha'Zul said. He understands the nature of true power.
"I'm willing to do whatever it takes," Astraeus said, his voice firm.
"Good. Then let's begin with the fundamentals. Show me your essence manipulation. Create a sphere, transform it through the elements you know."
Astraeus complied, forming a sphere of silver-blue essence and cycling it through fire, ice, lightning, and force. He focused on control, on precision, on making the transformations as smooth and efficient as possible.
Marcus watched, his expression critical. "Not bad. Your control is excellent for your level. But you're being too careful. You're treating essence like a tool, something to be forced into a shape. It's more than that. It's a partner. It's alive."
He created his own sphere, and the difference was immediately apparent. Where Astraeus's essence had been controlled, Marcus's flowed. It moved with a natural, effortless grace, like water finding its own path. The transformations weren't forced; they were guided, encouraged.
"You're trying to command the essence," Marcus explained. "Instead, you should be listening to it. Understand what each element wants to be, and then guide it. Fire wants to consume. Ice wants to preserve. Lightning wants to discharge. Work with those natural tendencies, don't fight against them."
Astraeus tried again, this time relaxing his iron grip on his control. He let the essence guide him, feeling for its natural inclinations. The sphere of fire flickered and danced, a living flame contained by his will but not constrained by it. It was easier. More efficient. More powerful.
"Better," Marcus said with a nod. "That's the difference between a competent mage and a master. Competence is control. Mastery is understanding. Practice that. Feel the essence. Listen to it."
They spent the next hour on that single exercise, Marcus pushing him, challenging him, forcing him to unlearn the rigid control he had relied on and embrace a more fluid, intuitive approach. It was frustrating, exhausting, and utterly exhilarating.
Then, they moved on to combat.
"You can fight," Marcus said. "But you fight like a brawler, relying on instinct and raw power. That will only get you so far. You need a foundation. You need structure."
He demonstrated a series of movements, a combat form that was both a dance and a weapon. Every step, every turn, every gesture was designed to facilitate a specific essence technique—a defensive barrier, a quick counterattack, a sudden burst of speed.
"This is the Way of the Flowing River," Marcus explained. "It teaches you to move with the current of battle, to redirect your opponent's energy, to be both yielding and unstoppable."
Astraeus began to learn the form, his body clumsy and awkward at first. But as he practiced, as he felt the rhythm of the movements, he began to understand. It wasn't just a set of techniques; it was a philosophy, a way of thinking about combat that was entirely new to him.
[SKILL IMPROVED: BASIC COMBAT TECHNIQUES (45/100 → 55/100)]
By the end of the session, Astraeus was drenched in sweat, his essence depleted, his muscles aching. But he had learned more in those two hours than he had in weeks of solo practice.
"That's enough for today," Marcus said, his voice firm but not unkind. "Rest. Recover. And practice. Don't just go through the motions. Understand the principles behind them."
"Thank you, Marcus," Astraeus said, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. "This was… invaluable."
"You earned it," Marcus said. "And Astraeus? Thank you again for saving Garrett. I owe you a debt. This instruction is just the beginning of how I intend to repay it."
As Marcus left, Astraeus sank to the floor, his body trembling with fatigue. He was exhausted, but his mind was buzzing. He was on a path now, a path laid out for him by a Demon King, a God System, and now, a Master Mage. It was a path paved with pain and sacrifice, but it was a path that led somewhere.
You're doing well, Kha'Zul said, his voice a low hum in the back of his mind. Better than I expected. This partnership… it's proving to be more fruitful than I anticipated.
"Partnership," Astraeus repeated, a small smile touching his lips. "Is that what we are now? Partners?"
We are bound together, working toward the same goal, relying on each other for survival. What else would you call it?
"I don't know," Astraeus admitted. "But I think I like it."
He pulled himself to his feet and headed for the baths, his body aching but his spirit soaring. He was learning. He was growing. He was becoming the weapon the world needed him to be.
And he was not alone.
He found his team in the dining hall, their faces a mixture of excitement and apprehension. They had all been given new training assignments, new responsibilities. Lyra was working with the guild's geomancers, learning to shape the earth on a massive scale. Thomas was in the advanced combat program, his raw power being honed into a fine-tuned weapon. Darius was working with the guild's tacticians, his military experience proving invaluable. Kira and Elena were in the advanced healing program, learning to mend wounds that would have been fatal just a few years ago.
They were all growing, all getting stronger. They were becoming a team not just of mages, but of specialists, each with a unique and vital role to play.
"We need a name," Lyra said, her eyes shining with excitement. "A proper team name. Not just 'Astraeus's group' or 'that team that sealed the Voidborn nest.'"
"She's right," Darius said, his voice a low rumble. "We're a unit now. We need a name that reflects that."
They spent the rest of the evening brainstorming, their voices a low hum of excitement. They were no longer just a group of mages. They were a team. A family. A pact.
And they were ready for whatever came next.