Brammel stayed behind with Fergis and Cane, scribbling furiously in a small notebook as they reviewed the rebonding process a few more times.
"You've only identified three nodes, lad?"
Cane nodded, feeling a touch of guilt. "So far. I know they have lots of uses."
"Understatement," Brammel huffed. "With what you've shown me, you could craft a full suit of plate armor—lighter, stronger, and blade-repellent. Heavens, lad… keep at it."
He paused, reaching into his ring. "Oh, that reminds me."
Cane tilted his head as Brammel summoned a blunderbuss and a small wooden box.
"I made a prototype breech-loader," the dwarf said, handing over the weapon. "Uses encased cartridges."
Cane hefted it. The weight was lighter than a standard blunderbuss. He opened the box and picked up one of the rounds. "Did you test it?"
Brammel nodded. "Lethal. Once you get the rhythm down, rate of fire's six to eight rounds a minute."
Cane slid over his earlier sketch. "What about this?"
"Oh—yeah." Brammel squinted at it. "Didn't think of that. Mind if I keep it?"
"Go ahead." Cane grinned, and the two traded ideas while Fergis waited with practiced patience.
After Brammel left, Fergis launched into a detailed retelling of the sparring match, complete with sound effects and dramatic flourishes.
Cane chuckled, shaking his head. "I knew you trained with a sword when you were younger, but that was more than just muscle memory. You thrashed him."
Fergis's tone shifted, sincerity replacing bravado. "Brother… I owe you. You could've sold that sword for fifty thousand platinum."
Cane raised an eyebrow. "Sure. Since we're brothers, you can have it for forty-five."
Fergis grinned. "Are installments okay?"
"Of course. My interest rates are very reasonable."
They both laughed just as Clara appeared in the doorway. Her eyes found Fergis, and she bounded forward, throwing her arms around him.
"I've been avenged!" she declared, her freckled face glowing. "If I had a silver for every time Ghoulie disarmed me… And he always makes me run laps holding my sword overhead!"
She dropped her voice in a spot-on impersonation. "Hold onto your weapon, Clara. A real fighter is always ready."
"You guys hungry?" Cane asked, half-smiling.
Clara immediately nodded.
"There's a food cart coming," he added. "Should be here after Sophie's announcements."
"I'm in," Fergis said, already heading for the door. "Let me change. Back in a bit."
Cane tapped the psi rune behind his ear.
Cane:Let's all have lunch in my room.
Dhalia:Okay!
Sophie: I'll be up as soon as I'm done with the announcements.
Days passed. Cane made a full recovery and returned to his classes.
He worked closely with Brammel and the metallurgy class to construct two more Main Guns for the Starsong. Though smaller than the one mounted on the Defiant, each featured a rotating gunner's seat, an upgraded sighting system, and honeycombed storage for encased shells.
The new barrels were spiraled internally, giving the rounds spin and increasing their effective range to over fourteen hundred meters.
Cane set aside node exploration for now, dedicating long hours to crafting HAVs for the naval forces. With his enhanced starlight strength, he was producing dozens a day—burning through every scrap of adamantium he could get his hands on.
Each morning, the team trained together, building stamina, sharpening their skills, and quietly growing closer.
The weekend break arrived before they knew it.
Elohan stood waiting in the courtyard. For once, his too-handsome face was serious.
"I won't make today's training mandatory," he said, holding up a sealed scroll. "This is an upper-tier mission. You're still classified as mid-tier, but I've received permission from the Archmage to offer it to you."
The team remained silent, listening.
"You did well with the manticore," Elohan continued. "But killing a beast is very different than killing a person."
He unrolled the scroll, letting the silence stretch.
"There's a den of raiders camping inside the neutral zone—territory that's going to be a major front in the coming months. The military can't act within the zone... but you can."
"You called them raiders?" Cane asked. "Where are they from?"
Elohan smiled faintly. "Officially? Deserters from the Zuni Empire. But make no mistake—their crimes are real. Murder, enslavement, rape. The list is long."
"If they're deserters," Fergis said, resting a hand on Azar's hilt, "then they've probably killed our own people. Maybe even Academy grads." He glanced around. "I say we go."
Clara and Dhalia both nodded.
All eyes turned to Cane.
"Seems unlikely, doesn't it?" he said.
Elohan raised an eyebrow. "What does?"
"That they're actually deserters."
A flicker of a smile crossed Elohan's face. "Oh?"
"This new front is heating up, but the military isn't allowed to act yet. They need eyes, intel, and disruption. My guess?" Cane's expression darkened. "They're not deserters. They're soldiers."
Elohan nodded, impressed. "Exactly right."
He folded the scroll. "Telamon will arrive in a few hours. He'll rift us as close as allowed."
The group of four sat in the courtyard. Their rift was scheduled for dawn, still a few hours off, and the Academy's gates remained closed.
"Sophie's not coming today?" Dhalia asked.
Cane shook his head. "She's helping her parents unpack their goods and getting ready for another caravan."
Clara sat cross-legged, happily scratching Spud's ears and slipping him treats.
Cane reclined in a chair, eyes closed, the sun warming his face. He looked relaxed—but in truth, he was running over the team's capabilities in his mind.
They were already on par with most upper-tier squads.
Fergis, armed with Azar, now had both blade and flame at his command.
Clara's roots and snares were powerful enough to restrain all but the most absurdly strong foes—and she now carried the prototype breech-loading blunderbuss, a deadly addition to their arsenal.
And Dhalia? After opening the medical clinic in town, her healing had advanced rapidly. Paired with the focal Cane crafted, she might be one of the Academy's finest healers.
Relen emerged from the main house.
"Young Master, would you care for a meal before you leave?"
"No thanks," Cane replied. "But a few boxed lunches would be great."
Relen nodded. "Right away, Young Master."
The food arrived shortly after. The group chatted casually until, finally, the main rift shimmered open.
Several familiar third-year cadets arrived—guests from an earlier agreement between Cane and Telamon. They were permitted to stay in the estate's guest wing.
"Cane!"
He looked up to see Zio grinning as she approached. She grasped his hand in a firm shake. "Been a while since I zapped anyone. Starting to miss it."
Cane laughed. Zio—lightning queen and chaos magnet—used to suffer from constant, uncontrolled electrical buildup. He'd developed the RED just for her: the Residual Electrical Discharge bracer that now gleamed on her wrist.
"You could always take it off," he teased. "Keep people guessing."
Zio leaned closer. "Tempting. But I've grown addicted to good hair days."
"I kinda liked the old crazy hair," Cane said with a smirk.
She feigned a frown. "Better than my new look?"
"Way better. Give me back the RED."
Zio held up the platinum bracer. "Kidding aside... I owe you. Might've seemed like a small fix—but it wasn't. Not to me."
Before Cane could reply, Elohan's voice rang out.
"Cane!"
He gave Zio a wave and jogged to join his team at the stables. Mounting Prince, he turned as Telamon approached, hands clasped behind his back.
"This is a high-priority mission," the Archmage said. "Retrieve any documents that look like official reports or communications."
Elohan handed over a sealed map. "You're ready. Wipe them out—to the last man."
A rift shimmered open, humming with arcane energy.
A moment later, five riders vanished from the estate.