The Academy's Genius Mage

Lucas released her slowly and stepped back. "Right," he said. Then he turned toward the two bound cadets on the ground with an expression that had changed completely from the careful negotiating face he’d just been wearing.

This one was different.

Wide. The specific smile of someone who has just remembered something they’re going to enjoy.

"First though," he said, looking at the two of them pleasantly, "our seniors here seem to be in quite the unfortunate situation." He tilted his head slightly, like he was considering it from a new angle.

"It really wouldn’t be right to just leave them like this." He glanced back at Sylvia. "We should help them out properly. Show some respect to our seniors."

Sylvia looked at the two cadets on the ground.

Then at Lucas.

The corner of her mouth moved. Barely, just enough. She said nothing, which was its own kind of response.

Both cadets went completely rigid at the same moment.

One of them turned his head toward the other very slowly, keeping everything else absolutely still, and lowered his voice to something that was technically a whisper. "Why," he said, "do these first-years feel more dangerous than the actual exam."

"I want to leave the tournament," the other one replied, equally quiet, not moving anything except his mouth. "I want to go home."

The lightning rope pulsed once around them gentle, deliberate, the specific pulse of something reminding them it was still there and still paying attention.

Lucas crouched down to their eye level.

With all the time in the world.

"So," he said pleasantly. "Let’s have a little chat. Tool number one and two."

*****

Deeper in the forest, two separate duos had been at it for a while, the fight between them tightening with each exchange. One of the offensive cadets pushed forward, frustration leaking into his movements as he thrust a condensed spell across the space between them. "Damn it — just take this already!" The attack cut through the air as both defensive partners pulled their focus inward, holding their hemispheres steady, choosing protection over engagement.

Messy but controlled. Both sides probing, testing, waiting for something to slip.

Then a voice came through the middle of it.

"Hello there, folks."

Both duos stopped almost simultaneously, attention snapping toward the sound. From between the trees, two figures stepped out with a casualness that didn’t belong in the middle of an active tournament round.

Tool 1 and Tool 2.

They looked relaxed. Genuinely relaxed, the kind that comes from having already handled their situation and arrived somewhere with room to spare.

The defensive cadets tightened their stances, pulling their hemispheres slightly closer. "Who are you?" one of them demanded, eyes moving quickly over the two newcomers. "What do you want?"

The other offensive cadet stepped forward, wary. "If you’re here for our hemisphere, go find another target. We’re already in the middle of something."

Then, remembering what exactly Lucas said, Tool 1 raised one hand, slow and open, waving it side to side. "Relax," he said, almost bored about it. "We’re not here to get involved in your duel."

A brief pause.

Then Tool 2 stepped forward just slightly.

"Not exactly, anyway."

That was when both pairs saw it.

Each of them was carrying something. The recognition moved across their faces in stages — the shape first, then the quantity, then what the quantity meant.

"...Wait."

"Are those—"

"Four hemispheres?"

"Not just that," one of them muttered, the words coming out slower now. "They’ve combined them. That’s two complete spheres."

Tool 1 let the silence sit, clearly satisfied by the reaction. "Yeah," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Took some effort, but we got there."

Tool 2 crossed his arms. "And since we’ve already got more than we need to qualify, we figured — why not spread a little generosity around?"

Both duos went still with the word.

"...Generosity," one of them repeated, tasting it carefully.

Tool 1 took one easy step forward, just enough. "Simple offer," he said. "We’ve got more than enough. You two are still grinding each other down. We give one of these to you — no conditions."

Silence.

Neither side moved yet.

"You’re just giving it away?" the defensive cadet asked. His voice had the careful quality of someone who wants to believe something and doesn’t quite trust that they’re allowed to.

Tool 2 shrugged. "Helping someone else qualify doesn’t cost us anything at this point." A small pause. "And honestly, watching you two fight over scraps was getting a little boring."

That last part landed differently than the rest.

Both offensive cadets glanced at each other — just a fraction of a second, barely anything — but it was enough. The suspicion was still there, but something faster and louder had arrived alongside it and was already making decisions.

"You’re not planning anything?" one of them asked, already taking a slow step forward without quite deciding to.

Tool 1 spread both hands slightly. "If we wanted to fight, we wouldn’t be standing here explaining ourselves."

Another beat.

Then both offensive cadets started moving towards them.

In the undergrowth, Lucas held himself low and still, eyes fixed on the clearing ahead, tracking the closing distance between the groups with the focused patience.

"Sylvia," he said, barely above a breath, not moving his eyes from the scene. "You ready?"

Beside him, Sylvia gave a single small nod. Her attention was the same quality as his — sharp, stripped of everything unnecessary.

Her mind went back briefly to what he’d told her earlier, while the cadets were still tied up, she was listening to every word.

"This round isn’t about strength," he had said, his tone steady despite everything — the lost hemisphere, the frustration of two clean wins that had produced nothing. "If it were, we’d have cleared it already. It’s about how you use people. How you move the situation instead of just pushing against it."

Back in the present, Lucas exhaled slowly, watching the distance between the two groups shrink.

"...It’s about manipulation."