"Magic," Cian Aurelius said, holding up a beautifully carved wooden staff topped with a ruby, "is an art. It requires flow, resonance, and elegance."
He tossed the staff onto the workbench. It clattered next to a pile of rusty copper pipes and gears. "What you are building, Aren, is not art. It is... plumbing."
We were back in the warehouse. The air hummed with the sound of the centrifuges spinning in the background, churning out gallons of Aether Tonic. But tonight, we weren't cooking. We were engineering.
"Elegance doesn't kill goblins, Cian," I said, screwing a pressure valve onto a brass gauntlet. "Velocity does."
I wiped grease from my forehead. The Midterm Exams were in two days. The "Dungeon Run." It was a simulation, yes. But the pain was real. And Torian Valerius had made it clear: he wasn't looking to score points. He was looking to break bones.
My problem was simple: I was F-Rank. My mana pool was a puddle. I could cast maybe three Firebolts before passing out. In a long dungeon, I was dead weight. Unless... I didn't use my mana.
"Explain it to me again," Cian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And use small words. My head hurts from looking at your ugly drawings."
"It's simple," I said, picking up the device. It looked like a bulky, steampunk gauntlet. It was made of blackened steel, brass tubing, and leather straps. On the forearm, there was a slot designed to hold a standard glass vial. Specifically, a vial of Aether Tonic.
"My body can't hold mana," I explained. "But the Tonic can. It's liquid mana, highly condensed." I slid a vial of the blue glowing liquid into the slot. CLICK. "Usually, a mage drinks this to refill their core. But that takes time. Digestion. Circulation."
I raised my arm, aiming at a dummy target—a scarecrow wearing old rusted armor—at the far end of the warehouse. "This device—the Spell-Driver—skips the digestion. It draws the mana directly from the vial, channels it through these rune-etched copper coils to accelerate it, and fires it."
"You built a wand that uses ammunition," Cian summarized, looking repulsed. "It's crude. It bypasses the soul."
"It's efficient," I corrected.
I focused. I didn't need to channel a complex spell. I just needed a spark to ignite the reaction. [Skill: Ignite] A tiny spark from my finger hit the catalyst chamber. The vial on my arm glowed bright azure. The coils hummed with a high-pitched whine. WHIRRRRR...
"Cover your ears," I warned.
BANG! It wasn't the soft whoosh of a fireball. It was the crack of a cannon. A bolt of condensed blue plasma shot from the gauntlet. It moved faster than any spell I had ever seen. It hit the armored scarecrow. There was no explosion. The bolt simply punched through the metal breastplate, through the straw, through the wooden post behind it, and embedded itself in the brick wall.
Smoke rose from the gauntlet. The vial in the slot was now empty, the glass blackened. Zane let out a low whistle. "That," Zane said, grinning, "is not plumbing."
Cian stared at the hole in the breastplate. He walked over to it. He touched the melted edges of the metal. "Piercing damage," Cian muttered. "Standard fire magic spreads on impact. This... this focused everything into a single point. It ignored the armor's magic resistance because it was purely kinetic."
He turned back to me. The look of disgust was gone, replaced by the calculating gaze of the Merchant. "How many shots per vial?"
"One vial, one shot," I said, ejecting the hot glass casing. "It's expensive. 150 Gold per bang."
"Expensive for a commoner," Cian corrected. "Pocket change for us." He looked at the gauntlet with new appreciation. "It's loud. It's ugly. It breaks every rule of traditional spellcasting." He smiled. "Torian won't know what hit him."
The Day of the Exam - The Arena Staging Area
The atmosphere in the Academy Arena was electric. Five hundred students stood in formation, organized by their designated teams. The air smelled of ozone, nervous sweat, and polished steel.
The "Dungeon Run" wasn't just a test; it was a spectator sport. The Nobles watched from the high stands. Recruiters from the major Guilds were there, taking notes on potential prospects.
"Team 7!" the announcer boomed. "Cian Aurelius, Elara Vance, Jace Storm." Cian's team. The "Dream Team." Elara was a B-Rank Healer. Jace was an A-Rank Wind Mage. And Cian was... Cian. They walked onto the platform to polite applause. Cian caught my eye and gave a subtle nod. He couldn't help me inside. The rules forbade inter-team interference. But he had already helped. The gauntlet was hidden under my long sleeve. My belt was lined with six vials of Premium Aether Tonic.
"Team 42!" the announcer called. "Aren Gamesh, Zane Ironheart, and... Lyssia Green."
"Who the hell is Lyssia?" Zane whispered to me.
"Random assignment," I muttered. "System RNG."
A girl walked up to us. She was small. Nervous. She wore the oversized robes of a generic mage. She was clutching a wooden staff so hard her knuckles were white. "H-Hi," she squeaked. "I'm Lyssia. D-Rank Support. I... I specialize in Light magic."
I scanned her. [Name: Lyssia Green] [Rank: D-] [Archetype: Cleric (Low Potential)] [Status: Terrified]
Great. We had a flashlight. "Stay behind Zane," I told her. "Don't cast unless I say so. Don't scream. And whatever happens, don't stop running."
"O-Okay."
We walked to our starting gate. To our left, in Gate 41, stood Team Valerius. Torian was there. He was wearing full plate armor made of enchanted crimson steel. His wand was glowing with pre-cast fire buffs. Next to him were two massive seniors—B-Rank Earth Mages. Their job was clearly to trap us.
Torian looked at me. He ran a thumb across his throat. "Accidents happen in the dark, Rat," he mouthed.
I ignored him. I checked the gauntlet under my sleeve. The pressure gauge was green.
"Welcome, students!" Headmaster Thaddeus's voice boomed from the sky. "The goal is simple. Descend to Level 5. Retrieve the Flag. Return. The dungeon is generated by the Academy Core. It contains monsters, traps, and... other surprises." He paused. "Combat between teams is... discouraged, but not forbidden. Points are awarded for survival. Begin!"
CLANG. The massive iron gates opened. The darkness of the dungeon swallowed us.
Level 1 - The Caverns
The first level was easy. Basic Goblins and Slimes. Most teams rushed forward, blasting spells and wasting mana. "Walk," I ordered. "Conserve energy."
Zane took point. He didn't even draw his sword. He just backhanded goblins as if they were annoying flies. His new armor, paid for by our profits, made him a walking tank. Goblin spears just bounced off him.
Lyssia was shaking. "Should... should I cast a light spell?"
"No," I said, putting on a pair of goggles Cian had procured. Night-Vision Lenses. "Light attracts moths. And monsters. We stay dark."
We moved efficiently. I navigated using the map I had memorized from the game files. I knew the layout of the generated dungeons. I knew which walls were fake and which floors were trapped.
"Left here," I whispered. "Skip the loot chest. It's a Mimic."
Lyssia looked at the gold chest longingly but followed. We were making good time. Too good.
We reached the stairs to Level 2. But the way was blocked. Not by monsters. By a wall of solid stone that shouldn't be there. And standing in front of the wall was Team Valerius.
Torian smiled. The red light of his wand illuminated his cruel face. "Level 1 is a bit crowded, isn't it?" Torian sneered. "I think we should thin the herd."
His two goons slammed their hands on the ground. [Spell: Earth Wall] Behind us, the tunnel entrance slammed shut with rock. We were trapped in a dead-end corridor. 3 vs 3. Or rather, 3 vs 2 and a terrified girl.
"Lyssia," I said calmly. "Buff Zane. Shield only." "I... I..." "DO IT!"
Lyssia shrieked and cast [Holy Shield]. A faint golden bubble surrounded Zane.
"Break them," Torian ordered.
The two Earth Mages charged. They were slow but heavy. They summoned stone fists around their hands. Zane roared. He drew the Iron-Breaker. CLANG! Sword met stone. Sparks flew. Zane was strong, but he was outnumbered. He was holding back two B-Ranks, but he was being pushed back.
"And now for you," Torian said, stepping past the melee. He pointed his wand at me. "No Cian to save you this time. No rules. Just fire."
He began to chant. A massive fireball formed at the tip of his wand. A Tier-3 Spell. [Pyro-Lance]. It was overkill. He intended to kill me and claim it was an accident.
I stood still. I didn't draw a weapon. I didn't chant. I just raised my left arm.
"Die, Rat!" Torian screamed and unleashed the spell. The lance of fire roared towards me.
I sidestepped. Minimal movement. I had calculated the trajectory. The fire singed my cloak, the heat blistering my skin, but it missed.
"You missed," I said.
"I won't miss twice!" Torian yelled, charging another spell.
"You won't get a second chance." I pulled back my sleeve. The brass and steel of the Spell-Driver glinted in the wand-light.
Torian paused. He looked confused. "What is th—"
CLICK. [Ignite]
BANG!
The sound was deafening in the enclosed tunnel. Torian didn't even see it coming. The blue bolt of condensed mana hit his magical barrier. A standard barrier blocks magic. But the Spell-Driver fired mass. It fired a slug of super-dense gel moving at the speed of sound.
SHATTER. Torian's barrier broke like glass. The bolt hit his shoulder. The crimson steel armor—worth a fortune—crumpled like tin foil. Torian spun in the air. He hit the ground hard, sliding ten meters back.
Silence. The two Earth Mages stopped fighting Zane. They looked at their leader. Torian was screaming. His shoulder was a ruin. He wasn't dead—I had aimed for the shoulder, not the heart—but he was out of the fight.
I walked towards him. Smoke curled from my gauntlet. I stood over him. He looked up at me, eyes wide with shock and pain. "You... you can't use magic... you're F-Rank..." he gasped.
"I didn't use magic, Torian," I said, ejecting the empty, smoking vial. It clattered on the stone floor next to his head. "I used money."
I looked at his two goons. I loaded a fresh vial into the chamber. CLICK-CLACK. I pointed the gauntlet at them. "Take him and leave. Or the next one goes through a skull."
The goons didn't hesitate. They grabbed the sobbing Torian and dropped the Earth Wall, running back towards the entrance to forfeit.
Zane lowered his sword. He was panting. "That was... loud."
Lyssia was staring at me. Her mouth was open. "What... what kind of wizard are you?" she whispered.
I looked at the smoking machine on my arm. "I'm an Architect, Lyssia," I said, turning to the stairs leading down. "Now let's go. We have a dungeon to conquer."