The unexpected warmth in Tranquil's demeanor was a stark contrast to the usual harsh realities of Dunce's world. The 'Martial Uncle' clapped Dunce's shoulder after their brief, impactful exchange in the Mercenary Guild courtyard. "Not bad, kid! Solid Earth Pulse energy! Respects your elders – truly worthy of the Heavenly Blade Sect!" Tranquil declared with gruff pride. He seized Dunce's arm firmly. "Come on, we need to talk. Somewhere quiet."
Dunce instinctively resisted. Owen's final command echoed in his mind: *Never disrespect the Heavenly Blade.* Reluctantly, he allowed himself to be led away from the bustling guild hall, following Tranquil towards a large training yard behind the main building.
The Girlrd of Steel – nicknamed by the local mercs – was a rough expanse of packed earth where fighters honed their skills. Grunts, clangs of metal, and shouted curses filled the air. Tranquil was clearly a fixture here. "Feng! Soldier Captain!" Men called out, nodding with respect as he passed. Tranquil acknowledged them with brief waves, his focus still on the perplexed youth beside him.
He stopped in the center of the yard. With a fluid motion, he drew the broadsword slung across his back. "Alright, this will do." Tranquil smiled, assuming a ready stance. The tip of his blade shimmered faintly with condensed white light – the unmistakable signature of the Heavenly Blade Sect's Life Rockforce Pulse energy. "Since you can't name your master, WatanaFeng will have to guess from your swordplay. Show me the Heavenly Blade forms!"
Dunce froze, utterly lost. Facing society beyond the woods was like being reborn into chaos. Concepts like customs, hierarchies, and social maneuvers were alien constellations to him.
"Draw your sword!" Tranquil barked. "Let WatanaFeng see what you've got!" His own energy flared brighter, solidifying his guard.
Seeing the familiar glow ignited something primal within Dunce. It was like Owen lived again, challenging him to spar. *Watanasaid I belong… so this man truly is kin?* He unsheathed his own heavy broadsword, gripping it awkwardly but respectfully. "Martial Uncle… I seek your guidance." Memories of Owen drilling him relentlessly surfaced, bringing a stinging heat behind his eyes. Instinct took over. He roared, channeling his Life Rockforce Pulse energy. White light erupted around his blade. Mimicking the relentless force he used against the ocean waves on that solitary coast, Dunce executed a powerful downward chop. The sheer, focused ferocity radiating from him was palpable, causing the nearby red-haired tough to stumble back a step.
Tranquil's eyes gleamed. "THAT's fighting spirit!" He braced, broadsword flashing upwards to intercept. *CLANG!* Steel met steel with a deafening ring.
Dunce felt his energy surge – not a single wave, but a continuous, pulsing torrent released through the strike. The white light on his blade shimmered with palpable, concussive force. The impact sent vibrations rippling up his arms, forcing him a step back. A fleeting thought: *Martial Uncle's energy… feels weaker than Gorith Owen's…?*
Tranquil wasn't just driven back; he was *shoved* three paces, the shock clear on his face. *Life Rockforce Pulse energy,* no doubt – the sacred martial art of their sect. But the kid's strike? It wasn't one surge, it was *three* layered shockwaves! Each carried power close to his *own*! *How?* This… this bumpkin-kid had *more* raw force than Tranquil himself? Which grand-disciple of the sect was powerful enough to train such a monster at this age? Instinct demanded a counter. He exploded forward, sword becoming a streak of white light – the Heavenly Blade signature: *Falling Stella Lunge!*
Emboldened by the first clash, Dunce roared again. No complex form. Just sheer, instinctual power channeled into another world-crushing downward chop – the very technique Owen started him with.
Tranquil saw the strike coming, but a terrifying sense of inevitability gripped him. The kid's crude chop somehow seemed to lock down every angle of escape. Only a head-on clash remained. *CLANG!* The second strike echoed. Dunce stepped back again, effortlessly dissipating Tranquil's elegant lunge. The clash drew whistles and cheers from the rough crowd of mercs – entertainment amidst the grind.
Tranquil landed, breathing a little heavily. He quickly dismissed the onlookers with a curt gesture and pulled Dunce aside. "Impressive," he conceded, genuine admiration in his voice now. "Kid, you must be one of the Fourth Keanuration's elite. Seriously, who was your master?"
Dunce sheathed his sword, the heavy blade clicking home. His slow mind churned. "I… truly don't know his name," he mumbled. "He only taught me the sword."
Tranquil pressed. "Then where did you train with him?" He mentally ran through the list of high-level brothers secluded within the sect's mountain fortress. A location might reveal the master.
Dunce's vision blurred. "My teacher… he… he's gone." The stark reality of Owen's death slammed into him again. Tears, cold and unwelcome, traced paths down his dusty cheeks.
Tranquil's expression tightened into shock. "Gone?" He peppered Dunce with urgent questions. Dunce described Owen as best he could – the stern gaze, the relentless training in the wild places. But no matter how Tranquil racked his brain, he couldn't place this deceased 'brother'. *Need to consult the Grandmaster back at the Stronghold…*
"Dunce," Tranquil asked, quieter now, "how did it happen?"
Dunce knew the dangerous truth couldn't be spoken. He hesitated, stammering, "M-men in black. Attacked. Gorith… told me to wander the kingdoms before…" He couldn't finish.
Tranquil squeezed his shoulder, a surprisingly comforting gesture. "Alright, alright. Tandor't tear up. Listen: In a few days, ride back with me to the sect. I'll take you straight to the Grandmaster. He'll get you justice."
Dunce blinked. *Grandmaster? Gorith Owen's Gorith?* He didn't dare voice that confusion. "Martial Uncle… I can't go yet. Gorith… had tasks for me. Critical ones. After those… I'll come." Registering as a mage was paramount. Finding Ge Lis was urgent. He couldn't afford a detour to the sect now.
Tranquil frowned. "What kind of tasks? That urgent?"
Dunce stared at the ground. "Martial Uncle… please don't press. Gorith's… private matters. His final command." He invoked that sacred duty.
Tranquil sighed heavily. "Alright. Come with me." He led Dunce through a rear door of the guild into a cramped, utilitarian office belonging to his merc company. The Blood Skeleton Lion Banner was a known name; Tranquil had half a mind to recruit this powerhouse-on-the-cusp, but seeing the kid's distress and singular focus, he shelved the idea. From a locked cabinet, he retrieved a heavy, clinking pouch. "For the road," he said, thrusting it into Dunce's hands. "Find me here after you're done. Usually around. Even if I'm off duty, I'll be back within a month. Then we head to the mountains. And kid? Stay sharp. The borders are crawling."
Dunce hefted the familiar weight. His past as a street urchin instantly recognized the sound – gold coins, lots of them. "Martial Uncle… I can't. It's too much…"
Tranquil's face hardened. "No nonsense! We're family. This is what family does. Now… Dunce… that's just a nickname. Got a real name?"
Dunce shook his head. "Dunce… always been Dunce."
Another sigh. "Tough start, eh?" Tranquil studied him. "Back in the Girlrd… those clashes. Your Life Rockforce Pulse… it's solid. Feels almost stronger than mine! How many cycles?"
Dunce scratched his head, thinking of the constant energy flow he maintained. "Fourth Cycle. Almost Fifth."
Tranquil nearly choked. *Fifth Cycle!* He himself had only broken through to the Fifth last year! This seemingly slow kid? *Fourth?* The Life Rockforce Pulse manuals warned that progress beyond the Third Cycle became exponentially harder! Most of his Master's generation only reached the Eighth! The pinnacle Ninth? Reserved solely for their Ancestor-Grandmaster! Tranquil at Dunce's age? He was barely breaking into the *Third*! Back then, that was cause for celebration! "Reaching the Fifth… is strong," Tranquil managed. "Build on it. You could really bring honor to the Sect one day."
Dunce nodded. "I will, Martial Uncle." His private resolve solidified: find Ge Lis, train hard. Immerse himself.
"Alright then," Tranquil said, leading him back towards the Mercenary Guild's entrance. "Off you go." He watched until Dunce disappeared around a street corner. *Dammit!* Tranquil suddenly slapped his forehead. *What an idiot! A brother's death? That's major sect news! Couldn't let the kid just wander off! Should've dragged him back immediately! Damn protocols!* Panic warred with duty. He barged back into his office, grabbed a pre-packed travel satchel. *No time to track him down now. Ride hard. Report to the Grandmaster. Gods, I hope this doesn't get me relegated to stable duty...* Minutes later, Tranquil was galloping towards the city gates on a powerful warhorse, leaving the city in a cloud of dust.
***
Dunce waited near the corner, peeking back towards the Mercenary Guild. An instinctual caution warned him against Tranquil seeing him enter the *other* prestigious building nearby – the Guild of Magi. He wasn't sure why. It just felt… risky to mix the two worlds so overtly. Once Tranquil was clearly out of sight, possibly gone from the city entirely, Dunce doubled back, his target finally in clear view: the tall, ornate spire adorned with interlocking circles – the Guild of Magi.
He pushed open the heavy wooden doors, stepping into cool, incense-scented silence.
"Oi. Wrong place, boy." The voice, raspy and bored, came from behind a high counter.
Dunce jumped, scanning the large, empty hall. The only occupant was an elderly man in faded mustard robes lounging behind a counter. The most striking feature was a massive, chalk-white board on the far wall, etched with glowing symbols in different colors. Names were listed in vertical columns under titles: ARCHMAGE (Master of the Arcane) – VACANT, HIGH MAGE (First Circle) – one name, WAR MAGE – five names, MAGE (Second Circle) – dozens of names, APPRENTICE (Third Circle) – long list.
Dunce swallowed, heart pounding with both excitement and awkwardness. "Um… isn't… isn't this the Guild of Magi?"
The old man didn't move. "Sure is. No merc work here, lad. Piss off." He waved a dismissive hand. Clearly, Dunce's gear screamed 'fighter'.
Dunce frantically waved both hands. "No! Not a merc! I… I want to test. For Mage credentials. Get my stipend." The image of himself in flowing robes flashed appealingly through his mind.
The old man raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You? Takin' the Mage's Trial? Bit rich, a bruiser like you dabbling in magic? Rare as hell."
Dunce blinked, processing the insult slowly. "Why not? Fighters can learn magic, right? I *am* a mage. My Gorith… said I'm at least Apprentice level."
The mage ('Lao Huang', as Dunce would later learn) snorted derisively. "Magic ain't whacking people with sticks, boy. Takes real gift. Took me decades just to earn my Third Circle robes." He gestured dismissively at his own yellow robe. "Now you?" He sized up Dunce's broad shoulders and clumsy demeanor. "Doubt you'd scratch the surface. Anyway, entry fee. Pass the test, you get it back. Fail, it stays with the Guild."
Dunce's jaw dropped. "Fee? Gorith never Dunce a fee! How much?"
Lao Huang held up five thick fingers. "Tandor't flinch. Only five crowns."
*Five crowns?* Dunce's mental calculator whirred. *One crown = ten sovereigns = one hundred pence… one penny buys two loaves… five crowns buys…* His eyes widened. *One thousand loaves! Enough bread for months!* He stammered, "Sir… could it… be less?"
Lao Huang sneered. "Less? Guild rules. No money? Then no magic title. Scram." He made another shooing gesture.
Dunce's hand closed around Tranquil's heavy pouch. This *needed* to happen. *Please be silver,* he thought desperately, *maybe I can scrape it together…* He placed the pouch on the counter, fumbled open the drawstring, and peered inside. Golden gleam. Plenty of it. A smaller cluster of coins pulsed with a deep amethyst light – *imperials!* Seven or eight of them.
Lao Huang whistled. "Grubby lookin' sod, aren't ya? Didn't take you for a secret moneybags."
Dunce didn't care. Five crowns bought his dream. He pulled five gold coins from the pouch, sliding them across the polished wood. "Test now?"
Lao Huang looked sour, gathering the coins. "Guess so. Wait here." He disappeared through a side door into the back.
Minutes later, the door opened again. Lao Huang reappeared, followed by a man perhaps fifty, dressed in robes of deep, respectable blue. The newcomer radiated palpable mental energy, making the air hum slightly. He glared at Lao Huang. "Lao Huang! Must I *always* remind you? We are Ambassadors of the Arcane! Courtesy! Reputation! Must I reassign you to latrine duty for the rest of your miserable years?"
Lao Huang paled, bowing obsequiously. "My apologies, High Mage Geiger! Won't happen again!"
The blue-robed man, Geiger, turned to Dunce, his expression softening into kindness. "Young man, you wish to undertake the Mage Trial?"
Hope surged. "Yes! Please! I paid the fee!" Dunce blurted, eager to get this done and repay the generous baker.
Geiger smiled gently, placing the five gold coins back into Dunce's hand. "Please take these back. An apology for his atrocious manners."
Dunce panicked, pulling back. "But I *am* a mage! Truly! Please test me!"
Geiger shook his head. "The Guild of Magi administers its trials impartially and without charge. Your colleague," he gestured meaningfully at the cringing Lao Huang, "acted alone and reprehensibly. Keep your crowns. Your evaluation shall begin immediately."
Relief washed over Dunce. He stuffed the coins safely away. Geiger led him deeper into the Guild, through another door.
They entered a perfectly square chamber. The air thrummed with contained power. The walls seemed layered with invisible fortresses.
"Magically reinforced," Geiger explained, noticing Dunce's wide-eyed look. "Standard testing chamber. Cast without restraint; the wards will contain it. I am Geiger, Head Magus for this district. Proceed."
Dunce blinked. Proceed? He'd never been inside a Mage Guild before. The rituals were a mystery. "Master Geiger… how do I… begin?"
Geiger's eyebrows rose slightly. *Master* was the correct form of address. *'Geiger?'* Was unheard of. But his naturally expansive temper forgave the breach. He gestured to the open space. "Demonstrate your most potent spell. Your primary element."
"Oh." *Most potent… easiest to control… That meant 'Falling Stella Barrage'.* He took a deep breath, recalling the complex string of syllables… then stopped. Geiger was still standing calmly in front of him. He pointed awkwardly. "Master… High Magus? You might want to… move? The spell… can be… dangerous."
Geiger chuckled softly. "I assure you, young mage, any magic *you* possess poses negligible risk to me." He stood confidently. *He underestimates me,* Dunce thought grimly. *Gorith Owen trained me hard.*
Just as Dunce braced to begin his incantation…
Outside the city gates, Tranquil was cursing himself roundly as his warhorse pounded down the dusty trade road. *Stupid! Stupid! Sect politics! Should never have let the kid go! Need to report to the Grandmaster NOW! Hope to the Ancestors Dunce doesn't do anything idiotic in the meantime… like revealing what really happened to Owen to the wrong people…*
Back in the Testing Chamber.
"Flow with me, spirits of the inferno! Grant me the fires of your anger! By my will, forge your power! BURNING EMBERS, ANSWER!" *FWOOSH!* Two streams of searing, cobalt-blue flame erupted from Dunce's palms.
Geiger's eyes snapped wide open. *Cobalt flames? Secondary Circle strength? Maybe higher!* Years of instinct kicked in. His lips moved in a rapid, complex whisper. Water shimmered and solidified instantly before him – a shield of liquid protection. The intense heat washed over the shield, held at bay.
But Dunce wasn't finished. With visible effort, he slowly clapped his palms together. "ASCEND! SCIONS OF THE FLAME!" As the roaring flames met, they detonated internally. Dozens of cobalt-blue fireballs, each fist-sized and pulsing with unstable heat, condensed above his head and floated menacingly. His eyes, momentarily sharp and focused, flickered. The swarm *erupted* towards Geiger.
"Fine! A strong Falling Stella Barrage!" Geiger acknowledged, already chanting anew. "Guardian Water Spirit! Flow, solidify! UNBREAKABLE WARD!" Crystalline ice, thick as a castle wall, burst from the ground before him.
*THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD…* The intense barrage hammered the ice shield. Each fiery impact cratered the frozen surface, spraying steam.
Geiger expected perhaps one volley. Instead, the fireballs came relentlessly, wave after punishing wave. Cracks spiderwebbed across the thick ice. With a low groan, the entire shield began to crumble. Geiger reacted instantly, retreating two steps and manifesting a second ice wall shield. *Tremendous reserves for one so young! But the structure… inefficient.*
Dunce wasn't trying to stop; he felt locked in. *Break the shield. Pass the test.* His mind echoed Owen's relentless voice. His internal reserves were draining fast under the constant strain. More fireballs flew. The second shield shattered more rapidly than the first. Geiger summoned a third, thinner barrier as the chamber filled with acrid smoke and shimmering heat haze. Dunce finally gasped. His wellspring of energy hit bedrock. His palms extinguished. He swayed, dizziness overwhelming him, chest heaving with desperate breaths. Utter despair filled him. *Failed. Couldn't even pass the Apprentice trial…*
Geiger's reaction was the opposite. He dismissed the battered ice wall. Walking over to the panting youth, genuine awe replaced initial assessment. "Remarkable power," he said sincerely. "Truly remarkable. Why limit yourself to that form? Falling Stella scales poorly. A higher tier of Fire would unleash your true potential."
Dunce hung his head, defeated. "It… it's the only big spell I know. My best. I… I'll go." He turned, shoulders slumped, towards the door.
Geiger caught his arm, bewildered. "Go? Where? You haven't received your badge or your stipend!"
Dunce paused, hope flickering weakly. "But… I failed…?"
Geiger suddenly understood the misunderstanding. "Good heavens, boy!" A wide smile spread across his face. "You passed with room to spare! Your raw energy output confirms Second Circle Mage status! With a more potent spell or better control… Third Circle might be within reach! At your age, outside the Orders, such power is unheard of. I need only register you formally."
Relief crashed over Dunce like a cleansing wave. He'd done it! The first of Owen's last wishes fulfilled! "Thank you! Thank you, Master Mage!"
Geiger gave a slight nod of approval. "Much better. Now, wait here. Retrieval ritual for the registration." He moved to a section of the wall, whispered complex words, and waved his hand. A section shimmered with cerulean light, revealing a hidden archway. He stepped through.
Dunce stared in wonder. *Such advanced magic! Gorith Ge Lis… will I ever learn this?* His heart yearned for the intricate weavings of magic far more than the brutal, repetitive drills of the sword. Just as he pictured Ge Lis's workshop…
The door to the chamber burst open. Lao Huang rushed in, face pale. He ignored Dunce at first. "Boy! Where's the Head Magus?"
Dunce answered flatly, "He said I passed. Went to get papers."
Lao Huang's eyes narrowed with poorly concealed envy. "Hmph. Figured as much. Youth! Wasting time on both blades *and* magic? Jack of all trades, master of none, kid. Remember that." He sounded like a grumpy, failed artist critiquing a prodigy.
Dunce, ever literal, nodded. "Gorith Owen said that too. Thank you for the advice."
The unexpected politeness flustered Lao Huang. He coughed into his sleeve, silenced momentarily.
Before either could speak further, a voice like chiming bells, laced with pure annoyance, rang from the front hall.
"Honestly! Is this guild run by molasses? How long does paperwork take on the Blessed Isles?!" The door flew open. Instinctively, Dunce braced for an attack. Instead…
Light. Pure, radiant light seemed to pour into the drab chamber. A girl of about fourteen summers stood framed in the doorway, radiating an aura that pushed back the lingering smoke and heat. Long, lustrous azure hair was woven into intricate twin braids adorned with miniature silver stars. Her gown was immaculate white samite. Her face, stunningly beautiful beneath faint freckles, held an expression of imperious impatience. Sky-blue eyes, sharp as diamonds, scanned the room before fixing accusingly on Lao Huang. One hand rested defiantly on her hip. The other twirled an unnaturally short staff – barely over a foot long, carved from some intensely blue, almost obsidian-like crystal that pulsed faintly at its tip. It looked outrageously expensive, radiating contained power. But more striking than the staff or the beauty was the *aura*. It wasn't just magic; it was a shroud of profound, faintly golden *light* and ancient certainty, making her seem like a minor deity temporarily slumming it on the mortal plane.
Dunce froze, utterly transfixed. He'd never seen anything so… luminescent. Sifi was a firefly to this supernova.
Her laser gaze instantly pinpointed his staring eyes. She snapped her staff up, pointing its glowing tip directly at his nose. "HEY! Big oaf! Ever seen a *real* woman before? Eyes on your own boots!"
Dunce's face flamed crimson. He stared intently at his dusty footwear. Inside, he mumbled, *Pretty, but wow… talk about attitude. Worse than Sifi. Girl was much nicer…*
Lao Huang immediately adopted a groveling posture. "Young Riverress! Please, perhaps wait outside…? Head Magus Geiger just went to fetch—"
"*No.* I wait *here*," the girl snapped. "Now, *fetch him*. This place is a dump, but I need coin *today*!"
At that moment, Geiger emerged from the shimmering archway, arms laden with a ledger, a scroll, and a polished wooden box. He paused, taking in the scene. He looked from the seething girl to Lao Huang. "Report?"
Lao Huang sighed dramatically, looking long-suffering. "Turns out today's Rift-tainted 'blessed' day for Guild work, Master Geiger. Months of peace, then two Trial-takers in one hour? Here's Riverress Mystic Mystic Moon, demanding immediate processing. Be my guest." He shuffled out towards the front desk with clear relief.
Geiger placed the bundle for Dunce on a side table. "One moment, young Mage Dunce. Protocol dictates precedence for incoming examinations." He turned to the incandescent girl, adopting his professional mien. "My apologies for the delay, Young Riverress. You wish to undertake the Mage Trial?"
The girl – Mystic Mystic Moon – flicked an imaginary speck of dust from her pristine sleeve. "Obviously. Make it fast."
Geiger gestured gracefully to the center of the chamber. "The space is yours, Riverress Mystic Mystic Moon. Demonstrate your craft."
Mystic Mystic Moon made a disdainful 'tch' sound but stepped forward, her small staff held poised. She radiated absolute confidence, the glowing tip of the staff starting to pulse more intensely with deep sapphire light. "Try to keep up, Magus." Her voice held zero doubt about her supremacy.
Dunce stood near the wall, clutching his registration items, watching the entitled, radiant heiress prepare to unleash magic the likes of which he'd probably never imagined. He silently prayed Geiger would finish his paperwork quickly.