The Spatial Anchoring Lab was located in the subterranean levels of the Academy, where the walls were thick enough to contain the localized gravitational collapses that were a frequent byproduct of student error. The room was a vast, cold cylinder of reinforced lead and mana-conductive copper, centered around a focal point known as the "Singularity Pad."
Alaric led his squad into the chamber, his silver hair reflecting the sterile, blue glow of the overhead mana-lamps. He felt the weight of the silence behind him. Caspian's anger had settled into a sharp, focused brooding, while Seraphina's dread had become so thick it felt like a physical mist in the air.
"The drill is simple on paper," Alaric said, his voice echoing in the metallic space. He didn't turn around, but his telekinesis gently unfolded the tactical blueprints in the air between them. "We are to stabilize a Grade-C artificial rift. Caspian, you'll be the physical anchor—your mana-output will provide the weight. Seraphina, you are the harmonic anchor; you'll keep the rift's frequency from spiking. Leo, you're the buffer. I will manage the core convergence."
"You make it sound like we're building a clock," Caspian spat, stepping onto the cold metal of the pad. "Rifts don't follow your little blueprints, Thorne. They move. They fight back."
"That's exactly why we have the blueprints, Caspian," Alaric replied, his tone patient and encouraging. "If we know the rift's probable movement, we don't have to react to it. We can dictate it."
Professor Silas stood in the observation booth, his iron hand resting on the glass. "Begin," he commanded over the comms.
The center of the room groaned. A jagged tear of violet light appeared above the pad—the artificial rift. Immediately, the air pressure began to fluctuate wildly. Alaric felt the spatial distortion pulling at his uniform.
"Now," Alaric commanded. "Caspian, output at sixty percent. Leo, brace the southern quadrant."
Caspian roared, his dark mana flaring as he drove his claymore into the designated anchoring slot. The rift shuddered, its expansion slowing. Leo moved into position, his massive shield glowing as it absorbed the chaotic energy bleeding from the tear.
"Seraphina, the harmonic," Alaric prompted softly. "Follow the rhythm of my pulse."
Seraphina began to chant, her staff glowing with a pale, flickering light. But Alaric noticed her hands were shaking. Her mana-output was jagged, out of sync with the rift's oscillation.
"You're doing great, Seraphina," Alaric said, stepping closer to her, his presence a calm anchor in the storm. "Just breathe. Focus on the center. Don't look at the light."
But Seraphina was looking at the light. In the swirling violet of the rift, she saw flashes of the Great Collapse—the day the sky tore open and Alaric Thorne stood in the center of the ruin, his face as calm then as it was now. Her breath hitched. Her mana-stream flickered and died.
The rift reacted instantly to the loss of the harmonic anchor. It surged, the violet light turning a violent, screaming red.
"The frequency is spiking!" Leo yelled, his boots sliding across the copper floor as the pressure doubled. "I can't hold the buffer!"
"Anchor it, Thorne!" Caspian snarled, his muscles bulging as he tried to force the rift down by raw strength alone. "Use that SS-Rank power you're so proud of!"
Alaric didn't panic. His mind was already calculating the decay rate. If he used his full power now, he would stabilize the rift, but the backlash would likely shatter Seraphina's mana-circuits and break Leo's arms.
"Caspian, drop to forty percent!" Alaric ordered. "Leo, tilt the shield ten degrees left! We're going to bleed the pressure!"
"Are you crazy?" Caspian yelled. "If I drop output, it'll explode!"
"Trust me!" Alaric's voice lost its warmth for a fraction of a second, replaced by a crystalline authority that vibrated in their very bones.
By some instinct born of a life he didn't remember, Caspian obeyed. He dropped his output. The rift flared, preparing to detonate.
Alaric stepped into the center of the distortion. He didn't use a blunt force of telekinesis. Instead, he wove thousands of microscopic threads of force into the air, creating a "web" that mimicked the missing harmonic anchor. He wasn't just holding the rift; he was singing its song back to it.
The red light faded. The screaming of the air died down to a low hum. The rift shrank, becoming a stable, docile orb of violet energy.
Alaric stood in the center, his hands outstretched, the threads of his power shimmering like silk in the blue light. He looked at his squad. They were all gasping for air, drenched in sweat.
"Synchronization achieved," the system droned. "Grade: A."
Alaric let the threads dissipate, and the rift vanished. He turned to Seraphina, who had collapsed to her knees, her face buried in her hands.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I... I couldn't..."
Alaric knelt beside her, his movement graceful and slow. He didn't touch her, but he stayed close enough to offer his presence. "It's alright, Seraphina. Spatial anchoring is one of the most taxing drills for a healer. The fact that you held on as long as you did is a testament to your strength."
Caspian pulled his sword from the slot, his knuckles white. He looked at Alaric—not with the usual loathing, but with a look of genuine, haunted confusion. He had expected Alaric to fail. He had wanted Alaric to show his true colors as a tyrant who would sacrifice his team for a grade. Instead, Alaric had taken the risk on his own shoulders to protect them.
"You're a freak, Thorne," Caspian muttered, but the venom was missing from his voice. It sounded more like a desperate plea for the world to make sense again.
"I'm a teammate, Caspian," Alaric replied, standing up and offering a hand to Leo. "And I think we've had enough for one day. Professor, I believe the data from this run is sufficient for the review?"
"More than sufficient," Silas's voice crackled, sounding uncharacteristically thoughtful.
As they walked out of the lab, Alaric felt a slight change in the air. The "Synchronization" meter on his interface hadn't moved up, but it had stopped dropping.
The theory was correct, Alaric mused as he followed his silent squad back to the spires. Physical proof of reliability is the only way to bypass their psychological blocks. They don't have to like me yet. They just have to realize that I am the only thing standing between them and the abyss.
He looked at Seraphina's shaking shoulders and Caspian's bowed head. He still didn't know why they hated him. But for the first time, he felt he was finally speaking a language they understood.