I arrived at Emberheart's study at the scheduled time, my arms still slightly sore from the morning's training with the mana siphon. The familiar warmth of his presence washed over me as I entered, the air comfortable despite the heavy robes he wore.

  He was already waiting, standing by his workspace with the three training implements I'd been using all week laid out on his desk.

  "Good afternoon, Kai. I trust you've been practicing?"

  "As much as I could manage," I said, setting down my bag. The focusing sphere had seen constant use between classes, and my success rate with basic shapes had improved. Marginally.

  "Good. Today we'll be applying what you've learned by combining all three concepts you've been training." He reached out and took the focusing sphere from my hands before I could protest. "No more tools. Just you and your mana."

  My stomach dropped slightly. "Wait, right now?"

  "Right now." He moved to stand in the open space of his study. "First, you will form a sphere of mana in your hand. Then, you will infuse it with as much mana as possible, as quickly as possible. Finally, you will project it forward."

  "That sounds impossible," I said, already attempting to form a sphere in my palm. Without the focusing sphere's boundaries, the mana seemed to disperse even faster, like trying to hold water without a cup.

  "It's called a magic missile. The most basic form of offensive magic, requiring only mana formation and directional force." He made it sound so simple, like he was describing how to pour tea.

  "When you say it like that, it does sound easy..." I resigned myself to the attempt, focusing on gathering mana in my palm.

  For a moment, I remembered Erick's advice from class. Would it really be easier to just throw rough shapes instead of perfecting them?

  I tried forming a sphere, but instead of holding it stable to inject more mana, I immediately pushed it forward as soon as it resembled something vaguely spherical. The misshapen blob of mana flew a few centimeters before dispersing into a faint blue trail.

  "Don't try to take shortcuts." Emberheart's voice carried a note of disapproval I rarely heard from him. "Without proper form and sufficient mana concentration, you're just throwing dispersed energy into the air. It accomplishes nothing."

  I should've known it wouldn't be that easy. Erick's advice worked for him because he had the fundamentals down already. I was still learning to walk.

  "You can keep trying," Emberheart said, moving toward his tea set with deliberate casualness. He prepared a cup for himself, then settled into his chair behind the desk, watching me with patient eyes.

  The pressure of being observed made the next several attempts even worse.

  "Have you been reading the book I assigned?" he asked after my fifth failed attempt.

  "I'm about a third of the way through," I said, grateful for the brief distraction from my failures.

  "That's sufficient. You should already understand how normal mana manipulation works, then." He raised his hand casually, and a perfect sphere of mana materialized in his palm—flawless, stable, glowing with steady blue light. "As you can see, this formation is nearly instantaneous once you've internalized the fundamentals. Speed forms the basis of practical magical combat. The more refined your control, the more you can add to this simple technique without requiring additional spell circles."

  The sphere in his hand compressed slightly, grew brighter, then launched across the room in a straight line, impacting the far wall with a soft thump before dissipating.

  "Yeah..." I watched the fading light. "But I don't think my mana has anything special about it. Just average."

  "We won't know until we investigate it properly. There are rarer forms of mana that don't manifest visible properties in basic attacks like missiles." He took a sip of his tea. "Affinity reveals itself in more complex applications."

  "Does your mana show special properties in missiles?" I asked, curious despite my frustration.

  "Not visibly, no. You would need to be an exceptionally talented mana reader, or analyze a sample in a proper laboratory to identify my affinity." He set down his cup. "My particular affinity is... subtle."

  "I see..." It didn't answer much, but at least it gave me some hope that I might have some hidden property to my mana. Something beyond just "average."

  "You could always ask Professor Silvani for assistance if you're truly curious," he suggested. "Though I should warn you, a complete mana reading from her would reveal far more than just your affinity. She would gather information about your entire magical nature."

  "No thanks," I said quickly, perhaps too quickly. "I'd rather find out for myself."

  The conversation was making the repeated failures less frustrating somehow. Each time the mana dispersed, I could try again without feeling quite as defeated.

  I managed to form something that held together for almost two seconds before collapsing.

  "Progress," Emberheart noted. "Slow, but measurable."

  "I'm going to fight people tomorrow with this 'progress,'" I muttered.

  "Which brings me to an important point." He leaned forward slightly. "You should understand what you're up against. Prince Aurelius comes from an extremely refined magical bloodline. For generations, his family has actively sought out and integrated individuals with unusual or powerful mana affinities into their lineage."

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  "Is that what happened with Mary? Does she have some sort of powerful mana?"

  "No. Her family's connection to the royal line is different. It is an ancient contract that has lasted for generations, guaranteeing her family the privilege of marrying into royalty. Her family also works to integrate powerful magical traits into their bloodline, though their methods are... less effective than the Prince's lineage."

  Privilege? I thought, remembering Mary's carefully neutral expressions, her perfect etiquette that never slipped. Doesn't seem like much of a privilege to me.

  "What matters for your purposes," Emberheart continued, his tone becoming more serious, "is that beyond his considerable magical talent and training, the Prince also possesses affinity for dozens of different forms of magic. His mana is uniquely versatile, capable of taking many forms and adapting to various situations. Don't expect to predict his capabilities in combat. He likely has techniques you won't anticipate."

  "Great," I said dryly. "So besides being talented, trained, and surrounded by the best students in the academy, he also has rainbow mana that can do anything."

  Emberheart's lips twitched in a small smile. "You could describe it that way, yes. Though rainbow mana, as you call it, isn't as potent as specialized affinities in any single application. It trades power for versatility."

  "I hope that helps somehow." I turned my attention back to forming another sphere, this time managing to inject a bit more mana before it destabilized.

  "It should," he said. "Versatility can be overcome by creativity. A specialist with one strong tool can often defeat a generalist with many weak ones, provided they apply that tool cleverly."

  While I continued practicing, Emberheart elaborated on the theory behind spell circles, what I should expect from other competitors tomorrow, and how to recognize when someone was preparing a more complex spell versus a simple attack.

  Magic itself was relatively simple in concept, he explained. As I learned more, I would become capable of forming increasingly complex patterns. These complex patterns would allow me to cast actual spells—structured magical effects beyond just throwing mana forward.

  "The difference between a magic missile and a proper spell," he said, sketching diagrams in the air with a finger, "is comparable to the difference between throwing a rock and firing an arrow. One is raw force. The other is directed, refined, purposeful."

  By the end of our two-hour session, my hands ached and my mana reserves felt scraped nearly empty. But I'd managed something that could charitably be called a magic missile.

  It didn't travel very far, maybe three meters before dispersing. It wouldn't do much damage, and I couldn't guide it like other mages could, making it easy to dodge for anyone paying attention.

  But it existed. I'd created actual offensive magic with my own mana.

  Emberheart looked almost pleased. "Congratulations. You've reached the level of a beginner student. It should be sufficient for the competition."

  "That doesn't seem very reassuring." I let my hands drop, exhausted. "How am I supposed to beat rainbow spells and elite students with a barely functional missile?"

  "I can teach you magic, Kai, but I cannot make you a good mage." His expression was serious but not unkind. "The ability to think on your feet, to improvise solutions, to use what you have creatively rather than wishing for what you don't are skills you must develop yourself. No amount of instruction can substitute for adaptability under pressure."

  "Yeah," I said quietly. "I figured."

  His response was expected, but I'd still harbored some hope he'd give me a secret technique, some guaranteed path to victory. Instead, he'd given me exactly what he'd promised: the fundamentals.

  Everything else would be up to me.

  I liked to tell myself I was clever, that I could think my way through problems. But going into tomorrow's competition felt like bringing a slingshot to a cannon fight.

  Armed with my new skill, I used the rest of my day to practice in a training field. The training dummy certainly got his comeuppance from his attitude at the swordsmanship training, he had no chance against my magical barrage of barely working missiles.

  I had chosen one of the more isolated training fields, no one in sight to bother me.

  As the sun descended, and the dummy was seemingly defeated, I let out a deep breath, allowing myself to rest for a moment.

  "Victory," I declared to the empty field.

  "You truly showed that dummy who's boss."

  The voice came from directly behind me.

  I spun around, heart jumping into my throat. Nothing. No one. Just empty field and the darkening treeline.

  "Who's there?" I called out, scanning the area. Had I imagined it?

  "You're still lacking in mana sight."

  Again, the voice came from behind me. I whirled around, and this time found myself face-to-face with someone who definitely hadn't been there a second ago.

  An A-rank student stood less than a meter away, close enough that I instinctively jumped back, my hand rising defensively. He was shorter than me, maybe by a head, with a lean build that didn't look particularly intimidating. Dark hair fell across pale features, and his platinum uniform was simple, unmodified.

  What unsettled me most was the complete absence of mana I felt from him. Nothing. Like looking at a blank space where a person should be.

  "You had reason to be scared for the past few minutes," he said calmly, holding up a small sheathed dagger that I definitely hadn't noticed before. "And yet you only seem frightened now, after the danger has passed."

  My mouth went dry. How long had he been watching? How had I not sensed him at all?

  "Who are you?" I asked bluntly, still tense.

  "I'm Nico." He said it simply, like his name explained everything. Then, seeing my blank expression, he added, "We're on the same team for tomorrow's competition."

  Of course. One of the few A-rank students on Aurora's side. I tried to remember if I'd seen his name on the board, but there had been too many to memorize.

  "Ah." I paused, studying him more carefully. Still no mana signature. How was that possible? Even I had some detectable presence, according to Professor Silvani. "Right. Scouting the competition?"

  "Scouting my own team, actually." His expression remained neutral, unreadable. "Aurora asked me to inform everyone that we're meeting tomorrow half an hour before the scheduled start time. Don't be late."

  "Sure. I'll be there." I was still looking at him, trying to understand how someone could simply not register to my senses.

  "Good." He tilted his head slightly, studying me with dark eyes that gave nothing away. "Interesting choice, practicing basic missiles the night before a major competition."

  I wasn't sure if that was criticism or observation. "Had to start somewhere."

  "Most people start months ago." Still no emotion in his voice. "But you chose Aurora's team, so I suppose you have your reasons."

  Before I could respond to that, he turned and walked away, footsteps completely silent on the grass. I watched him go, and I swear he seemed to fade into the shadows between the trees, becoming harder to see with each step until I couldn't track him at all.

  I stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty space where he'd disappeared.

  Then I looked back at the training dummy, which suddenly seemed a lot less threatening.

  "At least you're visible," I muttered.

  I gathered my things and headed back to the dorms, mind racing. An assassin-type who could completely erase his presence. That was the kind of teammate that made you grateful he was on your side.

  Tomorrow was going to be very interesting.