My bet with Ruler Kazriel was crucial. Every win in the Katrak would be rewarded with a token – a small favor owed by the Grand Camp, or by Kazriel in this case. As important as those tokens may or may not be, I was more interested in the World Aspect for Daniel. In a way, it was a fate-altering reward, but so was the punishment for failure.

I took Ruler Kazriel at his word when he threatened to punish me if I were to fail him, but the reality of the situation dawned only now. It was not until I met the Rulers and Scions that the stakes at hand became clear.

The Rulers competed against each other. There was no obvious animosity – not enough to justify hatred between mankind’s greatest force – yet it felt like they wanted to best each other, to be at the top of the game. And we were the pawns, trained and nourished by the Rulers to demonstrate their power.

The exact reason for their actions was still unknown to me, but it was related to the Caldera. That much was evident as the Rulers chatted with the Spiritcaller, occupying him entirely.

The Spiritcaller left the entrance hall, followed by his people and the Rulers. The Scions joined their teachers, and we scurried behind.

“Why do I have to do this?” I heard a faint whisper behind me. The voice was so quiet, I almost didn’t catch it among the discussion ahead and the gossip spreading through the ranks of the cadets.

Glancing back, I noticed Wesley taking a swig from a flask. He looked unwell. His eyes were sunken, his face drained of color. The charismatic roommate I’d gotten to know was nowhere to be seen. He’d been replaced by someone seeking help in alcohol.

I fell back, ignoring the look Daniel threw at me. He raised an eyebrow and turned to talk to Scott about the Katrak.

“Is everything okay with you, Wesley?” I asked when he looked up, his eyes almost void of life. “Forget what I said. You are definitely not okay.”

My relationship with Wesley was non-existent. We did not exchange more than a few words, and he was no more than a roommate to me. Honestly, even that was exaggerated. I’d been living in the Sanctuary for the last few months, courtesy of Ruler Kazriel’s hellish training, so we were not even roommates. But it felt wrong to leave Wesley like that. I’d ignored the signs of a greater problem once a few months ago, and I could no longer ignore the blade of guilt twisting in my stomach.

“Tell me about it.” I grasped his shoulder and turned him in my direction as we walked down a massive cavern tunnel clad in streams that looked like veins of lava. They spread throughout the Caldera’s home and illuminated everything, highlighting the beauty all around us – but that could wait. “Something is wrong with you – has been for the last few months. You’ve been drinking way too much, and looking at you, you haven’t worked out nearly as much as you should have.”

Wesley stared defiantly at me. His face twisted with anger, and he pushed his chest out as he stepped forward to tower above me. “Get out of my fucking face, Adam. Take care of your own business and get pampered for all I care. Just stay out of my sight. Got it?”

His attempt at intimidation fell flat. After being pushed to the brink of death countless times by Ruler Kazriel, a cadet’s attempt at pressure felt like a pebble tossed my way. It caused ripples, but it did not affect me in the slightest.

“I don’t understand what’s going on, but you can talk to me if you want.” I barely got the words out when Wesley shoved me. Taken by surprise, I stumbled backward.

It was only a little and barely noteworthy. Truthfully, I was more surprised at how weak Wesley was. His strength had clearly diminished over the last few months rather than growing.

The push didn’t bother me in the slightest. However, Ruler Kazriel seemed to dislike it.

“Get your act together,” he said calmly, but his eyes were filled with fury.

The Ruler glared at Wesley rather than me, and Wesley flinched like a pitiful puppy that had just been hit. The anger in his eyes transformed into a mixture of fear, sadness, and… was that envy(?) as he glanced back at me.

Wesley retreated into the group of cadets, where all of them looked at him – some with pity, others with schadenfreude.

“Sucks to be the family’s black sheep,” one joked openly, stirring my memories.

I knew Wesley belonged to a prestigious family. If not for his family, he wouldn’t have reached the Expert Rank before joining the Grand Camp. He’d been one of the strongest in the Grand Camp before his decline. Before he grew bitter and turned to alcohol. Other than that, I only heard rumors about him – rumors that he was the only one in his family with a World like his. That he was different from the rest of his family.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Given how strong he’d been, the differences shouldn’t have mattered. His family was certainly proud of him for reaching the Expert Rank at the tender age of eighteen. Anything under the age of twenty-five was amazing. I, for one, had been impressed when I found out he’d been an Expert. That was no reason to befriend him, but it was extraordinary nonetheless.

Now, however, I was unsure.

Should I keep going or leave it at that? I wondered, eternally grateful that I was no longer truly alone.

Give him time. You offered aid. He will reach out to your helping hand. If not, force can be applied.

Aureus commented, pulling the blade of guilt out of my heart.

Force! Nice!

Ignoring Nox’s comment, I returned to Scott and Daniel. They eyed me for a moment, then changed the topic.

“In the Katrak, we will fight Calderas who are stronger than we are. How are we going to defeat them?” Daniel asked, rubbing his fingers. Lightning currents crackled nervously between them, which was more than understandable.

“We won’t have as many problems as you or the other cadets. Actually, even the Scions will have more problems than Adam and me,” Scott said, smiling.

That was a good point. The other cadets were all talented individuals picked up by the Beast Temple or other families at a young age. Half of them came from esteemed households with several Masters; some had a handful of Grandmasters leading the households. Therefore, they were bound to a young, weak Wild beast when they were infants.

All of them were prodigies. Once again, I was probably one of the weakest present; but I was not worried. The others were. After all, they would have to fight Calderas who’d been graced by the presence of the Primal Spirit for as long as them. My enemies were still young and had gained access to ether no more than a year ago. In Scott’s case, it was two to three years. His enemies were young too and most definitely weaker than he was. Zegrath gained access to ether four years ago, and she was one of their prodigies.

And, at this point, Scott was on par with her. Or so I secretly hoped.

Daniel and the others would fight veterans–Calderas who had spent more than a decade of their adult life gaining strength. It was a challenge, and I had one of the greatest advantages. At last, I was at the upper end of the stick, and Ruler Kazriel was fully aware of that.

Of course, he was. There was no way he didn’t know. He instigated all of this. That kind face was nothing but a farce. He was a schemer, and he had used me. But so did I.

“Don’t worry too much about it. You will be fine.” Scott patted Daniel’s back.

“Really? Did you see that?” Daniel’s eyes lit up.

“No. I was just trying to be a good friend.” Scott snickered, his eyes glowing white as he weaved around a lightning-fast punch. “You shouldn’t waste your precious energy on me. Use it wisely on your enemies instead.”

“I will,” Daniel growled, attacking once again. “After I punch you in the face!”

***

We stopped deeper inside the Caldera’s territory, where an arena and a versatile crowd of roaring children, curious teenagers, and stoic warriors were already waiting.

The arena itself wasn’t anything special – a wide, circular space about the size of the large gyms back at the Camp. But the rivers of lava outlining it made the place feel alive, dangerous, and sacred. No one around me seemed particularly afraid.

A podium rose beside the arena, a mish-mash of magma, crystal, and molten rock that pulsed with immense heat. The Spiritcaller and his devotee ascended the podium, each step leaving a hiss and glow beneath their feet.

They began to chant in Pyra, though this wasn’t the Pyra I’d learned. The words were older, rawer, and filled with a weight that made my skin prickle. The Spiritcaller and his people turned to the center of the podium and faced a black obsidian altar I didn’t quite catch before.

Flames erupted around it as their voices deepened. The devotees’ chants merged until it sounded like one vast voice, and when that voice fused with the Spiritcaller’s own, the air trembled.

Sparks of red and orange spiraled into existence, circling the altar. A few flashes of azure light flickered among them before all of it converged into a single pillar of flame that roared upward.

Heat swept across the arena in a wave. My pores opened, and sweat drenched my back within seconds. Each breath burned. My throat tightened and my lungs screamed as though I was forced to inhale the fiery flames. Still, I couldn’t look away.

Even the Rulers were entranced. I caught a shimmer in Ruler Kazriel’s eyes – not awe, but greed – before it vanished, devoured by the inferno’s glow.

Then came the tug, and my attention faltered.

It wasn’t physical – more like something pulled at my mind, maybe my soul. It was hard to tell, but I knew what to do. My gaze drifted unconsciously away from the altar and toward a wide tunnel lined with pulsing lava veins just as the flames around the altar began to recede.

Odd.

I rubbed the back of my head. My scalp felt hot, though my hair wasn’t burning. The prickling sensation lingered, as if someone was watching me, yet everyone’s attention stayed fixed on the Spiritcaller, his crimson skin engulfed in the remnants of the inferno.

“The Spirit of Volca has spoken.” He intoned, his old accent heavy and resonant. “The day has come. The Katrak has been acknowledged.”

The Spiritcaller turned toward us, a bright, almost fatherly smile marking his wrinkled skin.

“May the brightest Spirit win.”