Phantsin Dawnfire woke up in a bed in the Infirmary, surrounded by the smell of aloe ointment, alchemical potions, and clean bandages.
The place was run primarily by healers from the Terra faction, and it was a miracle of modern medicine.
Phantsin had expected to find a pair of Royal Guards ready to escort him to the cells for nearly murdering a noble in the courtyard.
Instead, he found a wax-sealed note on the nightstand. It bore the golden 'S' seal of House Seamo.
"Explosions are vulgar, but effective. I have reminded the board of directors that magical accidents are the price of raw Ignis talent. Your tuition remains paid. The investment continues. Do not disappoint me."
Phantsin crumpled the parchment.
He hadn't been expelled. It seemed House Seamo's money and shadows were stronger than the rules of Arcanum Bellator.
Several days later, Phantsin stood alongside fifty cadets in front of the Geode Dungeon Entrance.
It was an imposing sight: a massive stone arch embedded directly into the base of the eastern cliff.
The entrance was magically sealed, and the air around the arch shimmered and hummed with a contained energy that made the hair on their arms stand on end. Elite guards, heavily armed and clad in rune-forged armor, guarded the perimeter at all times.
"Listen up, first-year scum!" Commander Brynja bellowed, pacing in front of the groups. "The Dungeons are not a simulation. There are beasts down there that have mutated from magical radiation. Your objective is to extract a Pure Aethite Geode from the third level and return to the surface. If you get lost, you die. If you panic, you die."
The cadets wore their physical combat gear—thick gray canvas pants and shirts—this time reinforced with light leather breastplates and kneepads for the subterranean environment.
Around their waists, colored sashes gleamed in the morning sun, visually dividing them into their factions.
Brynja stopped in front of Phantsin. She still eyed him with suspicion after the incident with Vlad, who, funnily enough, had "fallen ill" and would not be attending the expedition.
"You will form inter-faction squads of four," Brynja ordered. "Dawnfire. Dawnshield. Ironfoot."
Phantsin stepped forward, adjusting his red Ignis sash.
Beside him stood Eliana Dawnshield, whose sapphire blue sash denoted her belonging to Aether, the faction of Precision and Control. She looked perfectly serene, as if she hadn't seen Phantsin burst into flames just days ago.
Korbin Ironfoot joined them with a grin, his green Terra sash tied over his broad stomach as he adjusted the grip on his warhammer.
"We're missing a scout," Eliana pointed out, looking at the Commander.
A sudden whirlwind descended from the branches of a nearby tree, kicking up dust and dry leaves.
"Did someone order a pair of eyes in the sky?"
A boy landed with great agility. But he wasn't entirely human. He was an Avariel, an avian demi-human of the hawk type. Two majestic wings of white and gray feathers sprouted from his back, framing his otherwise perfectly human features. He wore the same gray canvas, but cinched with a black sash representing Caelum, the pillar of Mobility and Freedom. Aviator goggles hung around his neck, and a shortbow was slung across his chest.
"I'm Zephyr," the hawk-boy said, offering a hand with slightly sharpened, talon-like nails. "Try to keep up, groundlings."
Korbin snorted. "Birds don't last long underground, feather-duster."
"And dwarves are too slow to see danger coming," Zephyr shot back. Then he looked at Phantsin. "You're the Ignis guy, right? The one who blew up Blackthorn. I like you."
"Just keep your eyes open," Phantsin muttered, still grappling with the tension in his chest.
The arch's seal opened with a dull rumble, and the squads began their descent.
As they made their way down the crystalline tunnels, the sunlight faded away.
The only illumination came from the spectral glow of raw Aethite embedded in the walls, and the small, flickering red flame that Phantsin kept hovering above his palm, filtering his magic with exhausting effort.
Zephyr took the lead, his wings folded tightly against his back, using his race's acute perception to guide them.
Eliana and Korbin formed the vanguard, leaving Phantsin to cover the rear.
"Your footsteps are too loud, Dawnfire," Eliana commented without looking back, her voice echoing. "Typical Ignis. All brute force, zero subtlety."
"I'm walking normally," Phantsin replied defensively.
"That's the problem. You're not paying attention to your surroundings. You're too busy fighting yourself."
Phantsin gritted his teeth. She knew nothing. She didn't know the titanic effort it took to keep his flame red, while the Void begged to devour the ambient magic of the geodes surrounding them.
They reached a vaulted cavern. In the center rested a geode the size of a carriage, glowing with pure mana.
"There's the objective," Zephyr whispered, preparing to take flight. "Too easy."
"It's never easy," Korbin grunted, hefting his hammer.
The Terra dwarf was right.
A crack echoed from the ceiling.
Before Zephyr could react or warn them, a colossal shadow plummeted from the stalactites directly into the center of the group.
It was an Aethite Troll. The beast stood nearly three meters tall. Its gray skin was encrusted with sharp, mutated crystals. It reeked of stagnant water and old blood.
The monster roared—a sound that made the walls tremble—and fixed its small black eyes on Phantsin, as if drawn by the void magic within him.
"Everyone fall back!" Eliana shouted, drawing her sword.
The Troll ignored the noblewoman and charged at Phantsin with a terrifying speed that belied its bulk, raising a fist that resembled a boulder studded with blades.
Phantsin raised his hands. Instinctively, the mana answered his call.
But in the back of his mind, the Void whispered.
Let it out. Show them true power. Devour this creature.
The image of the uncontrollable explosion in the courtyard flashed through Phantsin's mind. If he unleashed his fire in that enclosed cave and lost control, he could hurt his squad before Troll himself.
The fear of his own nature and of hurting his comrades paralyzed him.
He tried to filter his magic, but in his desperation, he accidentally cut off his mana flow entirely.
He stood frozen, vulnerable, with the Troll's colossal fist about to crush his skull.
"PHANTSIN!"
A flash of silver and blue positioned itself between him and imminent death.
Eliana Dawnshield slid in front of him, invoking all her Aether magic in a single burst and conjuring a round shield of glowing blue energy, perfectly geometric and translucent.
The Troll's fist slammed into the tactical shield.
The impact was terrifyingly forceful.
The sound of the magical shield shattering like fragile glass was accompanied by a sickening, dull crack of bone giving way.
Eliana let out a muffled gasp. The overwhelming force of the blow knocked her backward, crashing into Phantsin and sending them both tumbling onto the damp rock.
The Troll grunted, readying another strike to finish them off.
But then, Phantsin's paralysis was replaced by a burning rage. Not the cold wrath of the Void, but the protective fury of seeing the girl writhing in pain on the ground because of his cowardice.
"ZEPHYR! KORB!" Phantsin roared.
The squad reacted, combining their factions' abilities like a single organism.
Zephyr soared a few meters into the air, demonstrating the lethality of Caelum. He drew two arrows, whispered a wind incantation, and fired. The arrows struck the Troll's eyes, exploding into small bursts of compressed air that blinded the beast.
The monster roared in agony.
Korbin didn't hesitate. He charged with the brutal resilience of Terra and swung his hammer directly into the Troll's left kneecap, shattering the stone-like joint.
Phantsin channeled his magic, controlling it this time. He focused all his fire into the palm of his right hand and, living up to the Overwhelming Force of Ignis, lunged forward, plunging his crimson-flamed fist directly into the Troll's chest, right where there were no crystals.
The fire detonated inside the beast, cooking its organs instantly.
The Troll collapsed backward, dead before it hit the ground.
The cave fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the ragged breathing of the cadets.
Phantsin rushed to Eliana's side.
The blonde girl was sitting against a crystal wall, breathing through her teeth. Her left arm hung at an unnatural angle inside the sleeve of her gray canvas shirt, the flesh swelling rapidly. She was pale, but she didn't shed a single tear.
"Eliana..." Phantsin dropped to his knees beside her, his hands trembling, not daring to touch her. "Your arm."
Zephyr and Korbin came running over. The dwarf let out a curse upon seeing the injury.
"I told you..." Eliana panted, fixing Phantsin with her intense blue eyes, "...that your lack of control... was going to get us killed."
Phantsin swallowed hard, feeling a knot tightening in his throat.
"I hesitated," he confessed in a whisper. "I was afraid to use my magic and... you almost got crushed. But you stepped in the way. Why did you do it?"
"Because my magic demands control, and also because I am a shield, Dawnfire," she said, with a conviction that made the hair on Phantsin's arms stand on end. "It's what we do."
Korbin pulled some wooden splints from his supply pack.
"I'm going to have to splint it, Princess, but it's going to hurt like hell."
"Do it, Ironfoot," she ordered without hesitation.
Korbin worked on her arm while Zephyr guarded the perimeter.
Phantsin swore in silence, watching Korb stabilize Eliana's arm, that he would learn to be the unbreakable sword, worthy of Eliana's protection.