The academic challenge that presented itself was mundane to the point of insult: Professor Hemlock's Aetheric Efficiency Test. It was a rite of passage for all Silverstream students, designed to teach the necessity of economy in spellcasting. The task was to power a complex series of three Mana-Siphons—small, mechanical devices that required a sustained, consistent magical flow—using the least possible personal mana. The current benchmark for a 'passing' grade was 3% of a typical student's total daily mana reserve.
To Kael'thas, this was not a test of efficiency; it was a demonstration of self-imposed mediocrity.
Elara Vane, the host body, was already at a disadvantage. Her minuscule mana reserves meant that even the 3% benchmark was a struggle, bordering on 5%. She was used to scraping a 'C' at best. Kael'thas saw this not as a limitation, but as the perfect crucible for his new theories.
The testing took place in the academy's cramped practical lab, a room smelling strongly of burnt reagents and fear. Students worked in pairs, but Kael'thas—insisting on the solitude necessary for an Arch-Fiend to plot—had secured his own station under the pretext of needing "absolute silence for concentration."
The apparatus lay before him: three glass globes connected by silver wiring to a small crystal reservoir—the point of magical input. The goal was to keep the globes glowing for exactly thirty minutes.
Kael'thas ignored the official textbook methods. They involved carefully modulated streams of Aether, gently coaxing the energy into the reservoir. It was like using a feather duster to scrub a fortress wall.
Instead, he consulted his own internal library—a sprawling architecture of infernal physics. The problem wasn't the amount of mana, but the frequency and integrity of the transfer.
He recalled the ancient Binding Theory he had studied in the Library: the principle that energy transfer could be made near-perfect by aligning the vibrational frequency of the input to the 'Resonance Signature' of the output device. Human Aetheric magic achieved a mere 60% transfer efficiency, losing 40% to 'ambient friction.'
"Friction," Kael'thas muttered under his breath, adjusting the spectacles on Elara's nose. "A pathetic failure of will."
He closed his eyes, centering his focus not on the thin, nervous energy of Elara Vane, but on the coiled, obsidian fury of the Arch-Fiend resting dormant beneath her soul. He wasn't channeling mana; he was channeling malign intent.
He visualized the three Mana-Siphons. Their silver wiring pulsed at a low, stable frequency—a key he needed to match. He used Elara's minuscule reserves to initiate the flow, but then, instead of pushing more energy, he changed the nature of the flow.
He shaped the mana into a Resonance Chord—a technique borrowed from the dark arts of Infernal Geometry, where the shape of the energy determined its destination and effect. He didn't just push the mana into the siphon; he made the mana want to be there. He turned the chaotic flow into a single, perfectly focused, self-sustaining wave.
When the wave hit the first globe, the device didn't just glow—it hissed. The light was not the usual gentle blue, but a sharp, clean white, almost painful to look at. The second and third globes immediately ignited with the same terrifying clarity.
Kael'thas opened his eyes. He had achieved 100% transfer efficiency. No friction, no ambient loss. It was a perfect, locked system. He had done it not by using more power, but by forcing the limited power he had to obey his absolute, uncompromising will.
The thirty-minute timer began. Kael'thas leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across Elara's frail chest, an internal smirk stretching across the face of the Arch-Fiend.
The sudden, intense light drew immediate attention.
"Vane?" Professor Hemlock, a man whose patience was as thin as his hair, hurried over, his brow furrowed with annoyance. "What have you done? Your globes are far too bright. You're over-siphoning! You'll burn the capacitor!"
"No, Professor," Kael'thas replied calmly, the voice low and steady—a confidence that was entirely Kael'thas's, not Elara's. "I assure you, the system is stable. The intensity is a factor of transfer integrity, not volume of input."
He held out his hand for the Professor to inspect the mana meter. Hemlock peered at the tiny, delicate needle. The standard method showed wild, erratic jitters, reflecting the turbulent energy flow.
Kael'thas's needle was still. It sat perfectly on the lowest measurable increment—an infinitesimal amount of mana—but the siphons were burning with the power of a bonfire.
Hemlock frowned, tapping the glass of the meter. "Impossible. The reading must be faulty. That level of output requires a continuous draw of at least 3%."
"It requires a draw of 3% using the standard, inefficient Aetheric coupling method," Kael'thas corrected, his tone subtly condescending. "I have merely eliminated the ambient loss by perfectly aligning the mana-wave with the silver's crystalline resonant frequency. Note the total absence of heat discharge."
He gestured for the Professor to touch the siphons. Hemlock hesitantly placed a hand on the silver wiring. It was cool to the touch. The usual test of a successful, albeit inefficient, power transfer was a faint warmth, the byproduct of friction.
A crowd of students began to gather, whispering. Among them, his eyes narrowed, stood Theon Graylock. Theon's own apparatus, glowing a dull, flickering blue, was operating at a respectable 3.1% efficiency.
Theon pushed through the crowd. "Professor, with respect, that explanation is nonsense. Perfect resonance alignment is a theoretical ideal, impossible to maintain for more than a few seconds without a catastrophic feedback loop. Vane is either using a hidden focus crystal, or she's simply miscalibrated the meter."
"The meter is sealed, Mr. Graylock," Hemlock said, now deeply flustered. He was a man of procedure, and Kael'thas's perfect, quiet efficiency was violating every known rule of procedure.
Kael'thas offered a small, unsettlingly serene smile. "If you believe the alignment is an 'impossible ideal,' Mr. Graylock, you have simply failed to impose the necessary will upon the forces. Magic, at its core, is a dialogue between the caster and the reality. I merely informed the reality of its obligations."
He made no grand gesture. He simply held the position, allowing the perfect, silent white light to do the talking. The total control over a minuscule amount of power was a far more terrifying display than a fireball would have been.
Thirty minutes passed. The timer chimed. The lights instantly vanished, plunging Kael'thas's station into near darkness. He had won.
Hemlock, baffled, took the final reading. Kael'thas (as Elara Vane) had used 0.02% of the standard mana-reserve—a thousand times more efficient than the passing grade.
The Professor scribbled on his clipboard, his hand visibly shaking. "Vane... this is... anomalous. I must review the data. But based on the criteria... this is the highest score this test has ever yielded."
Kael'thas simply nodded, gathering Elara's belongings. Theon Graylock watched him, the smug confidence replaced by a cold, sharp suspicion.
As Kael'thas walked out of the lab, he heard Theon's quiet voice address the Professor. "That wasn't Aetheric magic, Professor. I've read the old texts too. That was a form of Binding, something too old and precise for any scholar here. She's found a source of knowledge that doesn't belong to the curriculum."
Kael'thas smiled again, a private, terrifying twist of the lips. Theon was sharp. He was starting to see the true nature of Elara's transformation. The Arch-Fiend had not come to the academy to learn. He had come to master.
They think I am looking for a passing grade, Kael'thas thought, walking into the sunny courtyard, feeling the humiliating weakness of Elara's body and the triumphant surge of his own intellect. They think this is about efficiency. It is about domination. I have just shown them that their rules are flaws in the system, and that my weakness is merely a challenge to find a superior method of attack.
The first subtle strike had been delivered, not with fire and brimstone, but with cold, academic precision. The Arch-Fiend's education had truly begun.