Silence reigned in the sanctum after Benedict's last remark. Above them, Calder Vance stepped forward—quiet as a falling quill. No fire. No theatrics. Just the weight of a mind that had rebuilt theories from ash.
"Disciples," he began, voice layered with reason rather than power. "You have stayed too long beneath my shadow." A ripple passed through the gathered twelve.
"You were brought here to learn," Calder continued. "And you have. But you have also stalled. Innovation requires risk. Discovery requires solitude." His words carried no judgment—only quiet truth.
"None of you will grow further within these walls."
Jorren frowned slightly. Lys raised a brow. Benedict's expression didn't change, but something in his posture shifted.
"You are artificers," Calder said. "Not assistants. You must test your knowledge, apply it, bend it, and let it break." A pause. "So you will go. Twelve minds, twelve paths. When you return—if you return—you will no longer be my students. You will be peers." The words hit harder than any rebuke.
"Your destinations," he added, raising his hand. Twelve runes ignited mid-air, each inscribed with unique coordinates.
Jorren Vale – Sector Thalrex: Evaluate the collapsed ley-tower. Restore only if findings justify it.
Lys Kelthorn – Southern Arc: Study the social integration of synthetic enchantment tools.
Meya Drast – Rinalt Farmlands: Analyze soil-based mana-rot and field-channel decay.
Ralven Thorn – Elt Station Sublevel 9: Investigate material destabilization reports.
Sethar Yin – Border Node K5: Field test anchor-spell matrices in unpredictable terrain.
Arden Vel – Red Orbit Shell: Reassess the shutdown of the AI-bound automaton project.
Eline Vort – Shadelow Vaults: Study containment protocols for dormant constructs.
Toma Grenn – Ruins of Old Varnak: Research ancient energy feedback patterns.
Vash Quirel – Echo Forests: Audit containment methods for acoustic magic effects.
Kael Idrun – Atmos Converter Spires: Restore wind-magic turbines. Document atmospheric feedback loops.
Nyssa Thornwall – Deadlight Monastery: Study the effects of silence fields on long-term spell users.
Benedict Ashcroft – Vehrmath Station: Civil deployment. Create sustainable magitek for public use.
"These are not punishments," he said. "They are challenges. Do not confuse comfort with growth." He stepped back. "I will not send for you. If you have something worthy to share, you will return." The runes sank into their bracers—assignment sealed.
The disciples exchanged glances. A dozen thoughts, a dozen ambitions. He looked down at the Vehrmath coordinates, still glowing on his wrist. "A workshop in the middle of a public plaza," he muttered. "Real subtle, old man." But even he couldn't deny it. This… felt right. The road ahead was his. Not Calder's. Not anyone else's.
Jorren's POV
Jorren stood with Meya, Kael, and Nyssa gathered around a levitating schematic orb. He drew a rough arcane lattice with his finger, outlining how they could synchronize their research from distant sites.
"We share weekly resonance logs," Jorren said, "and we compare cross-site magical anomalies using the shared framework. We maintain the old rules—even from a distance."
Kael, ever composed despite the occasional gust of elemental discharge from his cloak, nodded. "And if one of us needs reinforcement?"
"Request it through the lattice," Jorren said. "No external contact. We stay internal, like always."
Nyssa added softly, her voice as quiet as the monastery she'd trained in, "The structure holds, even when stretched."
Meya hummed with mild amusement. "Elves and their latticework. You'd weave it into your bread if you could."
Jorren looked toward the corridor where Calder had vanished. "He believes this will make us stronger. Let's prove him right—on our terms."
Lys's POV
Lys convened in a shadowed alcove with Ralven, Sethar, and Eline. She activated a privacy sigil around them, its shimmer hiding their words.
"Forget weekly logs," she said. "We build real-time sync beacons. If one of us finds something urgent, it ripples instantly."
Ralven raised an eyebrow. "That's unstable in high-interference zones."
"Then we fix it," Lys said. "We don't wait. Calder gave us freedom. We use it."
Sethar grinned, fiddling with a black rune chip beneath his cloak. "You're assuming he doesn't expect us to change the system."
"Of course he does," Lys replied. "And he's watching who actually does."
Eline, shifting her bracer restlessly like many Humans did when impatient, added, "And we do it fast. If we take longer than Benedict to make an impact, we'll never hear the end of it."
Their pact was quick, flexible, experimental—the Deputy way.
Benedict's POV
Benedict lingered just beyond the others, pretending to inspect his bracer's rune. But he watched them. Jorren's group—precise, orderly, familiar. Lys's group—quiet, confident, aggressive.
And here he was. Not quite either. Not quite neither.
He turned the bracer over in his hand. A simple glow, too subtle for what it meant. "Fifteen minds, fifteen paths," he muttered.
But he had plans of his own. As the crowd thinned, Benedict caught sight of Arden Vel and Eline Vort crossing toward the exit.
"Wait," he called, catching up. "You both know the value of infrastructure, right?"
Arden blinked. "If you're asking for a favor—"
"I'm asking for a stake," Benedict said. "I'm taking my spellcore stabilizers to Vehrmath. I'm going to mass-produce civilian communication devices."
Eline frowned. "You mean like a city-wide relay net?"
"Better," he said. "Portable. Scalable. Untraceable by old-world sensors."
They exchanged glances. Eline crossed her arms. "And what do we get?"
"You get shares. You get return. You get first rights to distribution licenses when it scales."
Arden grunted, and despite himself, smirked. "Fine. But only if I can keep a cask of dwarven whiskey in the workshop. I think better drunk."
Benedict chuckled. "Deal. You'll be the first intoxicated shareholder in arcane communication history."
After a beat, Arden took his hand. Then Eline. Not a faction, Benedict thought. A coalition.
"Pleasure doing business," he said, smiling faintly. And with that, he turned and walked toward the transport lift—with something more than a plan. A launch.