Not that he was feeling particularly sympathetic.
Through the gap in Oryn's door, Kellen caught a glimpse of iron manacles locked around the mage's wrists. Not steel. Iron. The kind that burned through magical resistance like acid through silk. Waltz's hands were already blistering, skin going red and angry where the metal touched.
Two guards hauled him upright by the armpits. Waltz twisted, trying to look back through the doorway. Blood ran from his split lip, dark enough to look black in the lamplight. It dripped onto the stone with tiny wet sounds that Kellen's brain insisted on cataloging even though he really didn't want to.
"You will regret this," Waltz spat. The words came out thick, slurred. "When the truth comes out, when they realize what he is..."
One of the guards shoved him forward.
"When they see he can't even hold a tether for more than..."
The door slammed shut.
The silence pressed against his eardrums. Made Kellen's ears ring with the absence of sound. Like someone had stuffed cotton in his skull. He could still hear Waltz's voice echoing in the corridor outside, growing fainter with each second. Then boots on stone. Then nothing.
Oryn stood with his back to the door, one hand still white-knuckled on the handle. The old man's shoulders rose and fell with the kind of controlled breaths people took when they were trying not to scream. Or vomit. Kellen had done enough of both to recognize the pattern.
When Oryn finally turned, he looked as though the weight of the entire tower was resting on his shoulders.
"Sit." He gestured to the chair across from his desk.
Kellen remained standing, his back to the bookshelf. The office felt smaller than it had five minutes ago.
The walls seemed closer.
Oryn crossed to his desk, each step deliberate. He didn't sit either. Instead, he placed both palms flat on the polished wood and leaned forward, putting the desk between them like a barricade. "I've known that man for thirty-two years."
Kellen waited. There was clearly more coming, and interrupting a man who'd just had his colleague dragged away in chains seemed like poor survival strategy.
"We taught apprentices together. Shared wine at festivals." Oryn's voice went flat. "And I just had him arrested for trying to kill you."
The weight in those words hit the room like a wet blanket someone had left in a freezer overnight. Cold. Heavy. Suffocating.
"Worse yet, he's not the only one who believes you rigged this," Oryn continued, his voice dropping to something quieter and somehow worse. "Three formal challenges have already been filed against you. By morning, I expect there will be more."
Kellen's hand drifted to the Codex at his hip. The grimoire felt warm through the leather satchel, almost alive. Almost smug. "So what, you want me to give it back? Return to sender?"
"The Codex has chosen... it's irrelevant if it was a trick or a con... once the bond is formed only death can break it..." Oryn made a frustrated gesture. "Not by vote. Not by magic. Not by..." He stopped himself, jaw working. "The point is moot. You're the Bearer. Whether Sol-Arcadia likes it or not."
"Do you think I did that? That I exploited some loophole?" Kellen asked.
Oryn contemplated that for a moment. "I think if it were possible, you'd be capable of it."
"But you don't think it would be possible." Kellen finished his thought.
"I have faith in the Codex," Oryn said. "It's people that challenge my faith."
"Do I challenge it?" Kellen asked.
Oryn smiled, "Being 'challenging' is one of your most defining characteristics, Kellen, but I do not believe you would cheat... You break the rules--"
Kellen interrupted, "I certainly bend the shit out of them."
Oryn paused, a smile on his face, "But as far as I can tell, there's a certain, honesty to it... It's not that you exploit loopholes, it's more like, you cut through noise... I think that's what the Codex saw in you." He smile gave way to a frown, "But if I'm wrong, if you somehow manage to rig this, the Codex will break you."
The words hung there for a minute before Kellen spoke, "Fantastic." Kellen exhaled through his teeth, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. "Well, point me to the Bearer's Quarters, then. I assume I get the nice tower room with the view? Maybe some complimentary fruit baskets? A welcome card that says 'Sorry everyone wants you dead'?"
Oryn didn't smile. "I'm afraid you can't stay here, Kellen."
Vertigo hit him like a physical blow. He caught himself on the back of the chair, knuckles going white on the wood. His stomach did something complicated and unpleasant.
"What?" His voice came out smaller than intended. "But... training. You guys are supposed to train me... I know the procedure, the Bearer trains for several weeks..." He trailed off, eyes darting to the floor. "There's not enough time... the next anchor is going to fall in less than forty-four hours."
Oryn turned to the narrow window that overlooked the courtyard. Rain streaked the glass, distorting the lamplight below into smears of orange and shadow. "There is also the matter of Elder Waltz and any of his friends or allies." The old man's reflection looked older still. "They will come for you... I can hold them off for a few days."
"Just in time for me to stablize the Kelidorian anchor." A note of realization crept into Kellen's voice. "And my resolution of that anchor will..."
Oryn nodded, "Precisely. It will quell any remaining unrest among the elders."
Outside, rain drummed against the window. The sound filled the silence, steady and relentless.
Step one: Process.
Step two: Panic.
Step three: Find a solution before step two kills you.
"Before we get into logistics," Oryn said, breaking the silence, "I need to see your status. If you're going into Kelidor alone, I need to know exactly what I'm working with."
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Kellen blinked. "You mean the glowing text?"
"Yes. Can you share it?"
"How do I..."
"Focus on it. Will it to appear between us."
Kellen concentrated, and the interface materialized in the air between them, translucent but readable.
[NAME: Kellen Specter]
TITLE: The Codex Bearer
CLASS: Summoner (Variant)
LEVEL: 1
XP: 150/300
[CORE ATTRIBUTES]
Strength: 8
Agility: 14
Dexterity: 12
Willpower: 16
Insight: 12
[VITAL STATISTICS]
Condition: Healthy (100%)
Stamina: 100/100
Mana: 104/120
Damage Reduction: 0%
[PASSIVE ABILITIES]
Quick Summon (Innate): Summon/Dismiss speed increased by 400%
Analytical Eye: Advanced analysis of magical constructs
[DEBUFF: Sanctuary Rejected]
Mana Regeneration: 0.0 / sec
Duration: Unknown
[EQUIPMENT]
Bonded Artifact: The Umbral Codex (Unique)
Oryn went very still.
"That's..." His voice came out hoarse. "That's not something I was expecting..."
"Is that good?" Kellen asked.
"It is... profoundly bad." Oryn said it with a casual tone, as if he were reading the back of a medicine bottle.
"Because why wouldn't it be?"
"Your mana regeneration is zero." Oryn said it like a death sentence.
"How did I miss that!" Kellen examined the interface again. "It's not that bad, right?"
"Bad?" Oryn closed his eyes. "Kellen, this is catastrophic. A summoner with no regeneration is like a gun with no bullets. You can't recover mana passively. You can't meditate to restore it. Every spell you cast is permanent consumption."
He opened his eyes, and Kellen saw genuine fear there.
"I thought your odds were slim," Oryn said quietly. "But this? This isn't a trial. It's an execution."
Oryn's jaw tightened. He looked like he was doing mental calculations, none of them coming out positive. "What other class skills can you fall back on? Anything useful?"
Kellen went very still.
"Kellen?"
"I..." His voice came out smaller than he intended. "I've never picked up another class."
The silence that followed had weight.
"Never?" Oryn's tone was carefully neutral. The kind of neutral that meant he was trying very hard not to react. "You never trained under a Knight or an Archer perhaps?"
"We couldn't afford a Paragon." The words tasted like ash. "After my dad died..." he exhaled, "I didn't really have the option."
Oryn closed his eyes. Took a breath. Opened them again.
"Most Bearers leave the Academy with at least one secondary class under their belt," he said, and there was something desperate creeping into his voice now. "When I left for my Rite, I was an accomplished mage. The last Bearer had picked up Archer and Rogue skills."
He gestured at the floating status screen, at the single word: Summoner (Variant).
"You have none of that."
Kellen's stomach dropped. "So I'm screwed."
Another, long, hopeless beat passed.
"No." Oryn's voice hardened. "You're specialized. Whether you intended to be or not." He turned back to the window, looking out at the rain. "Your only option is to double down on what you are. You're a Summoner. That means you live or die by the Triad of Choice."
He turned back, and his expression was grim.
"You're familiar with it?"
"Bind, Absorb, Banish." Every student knew the three paths. "I know the theory."
"Good." Oryn turned back from the window. "Then you know Banish was traditionally used for sending Umbral threats away. Creatures too dangerous to Bind, too corrupted to Absorb safely. You deconstruct their corporeal form and send their essence back to the void."
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"But there's a side effect the texts don't cover with any depth. When you Banish an Umbral, you're essentially performing a summon in reverse. You're breaking down the energy that bound them to this plane. And when that binding shatters..." He gestured, fingers spreading like an explosion. "It releases mana. Raw, unfiltered mana that you can absorb."
Kellen blinked. "Wait, so every time I Banish something, I get mana back?"
"Exactly." Oryn's expression was grim. "This is something we would have taught you in the Bearer training. Proper technique, efficiency, how to maximize the return. But you'll have to learn as you go." He gestured to the status screen, to the line reading Regeneration: 0.0. "You're going to have to lean on Banish to refill your mana. To stay alive... it's your best chance."
The weight of that settled over him. He wasn't just going to fight Umbrals. He was going to need them. Like oxygen.
"Can I even do that?" Kellen asked. "I've only trained in the Arena. Against suppressed summons."
"The Arena uses weakened Umbrals." Oryn crossed to a cabinet, unlocking it. "In the wild, they'll be faster. Stronger. Hostile." He withdrew a heavy canvas pack. "But you have advantages."
He began filling the pack with supplies. Dried rations. A water skin. A compact bedroll.
"Your Quick Summon ability is extraordinary. Four hundred percent faster than normal." Oryn added a medical kit. "In all my years, I've never sent a Bearer off with that passive already unlocked. It's typically an advanced skill, earned much later through training."
He paused, considering.
"You're a Summoner, Kellen. That means creatures fight for you. You don't need to be a warrior yourself, you need to be fast. Summon before the enemy closes the distance. Let your Umbrals take the hits. And when you need mana..." He gestured vaguely. "Banish the threats you can't control. Refill. Survive."
Oryn turned back to the cabinet and withdrew a folded leather vest. He shook it out, armor, reinforced with metal studs.
"Standard Academy issue. It won't stop a fireball, but it'll keep claws from opening your chest."
Kellen pulled off his student robes and donned the armor. It settled comfortably against him, the leather already broken in.
[EQUIPPED: Apprentice's Reinforced Vest] (Common)
+5 HP
+2% Damage Reduction
His health ticked up to 95. His DR went from 0% to 2%.
Oryn produced a belt with a sheathed dagger. The blade was plain steel, but the hilt had strange inscriptions.
"If for whatever reason you can't fight using a summon," Oryn said, "you'll need to fight the battle yourself. This is better than using your bare hands." He held it out. "It's an emergency measure, but it might keep you alive."
Kellen drew the blade. It was lighter than expected, balanced for quick strikes.
[EQUIPPED: Steel Dagger] (Common)
Damage Profile: Very Light
"So I make stabby, stabby until they are banishable."
"Precisely." Oryn added a water skin to the pack. A fire-starter kit. A coin pouch. "Thirty silver marks. Enough for lodging and meals if you're frugal."
[CURRENCY ACQUIRED]
Silver Marks: +30
Kellen strapped the belt on, sheathed the dagger. The notifications stacked in the corner of his vision, a running tally of everything he owned.
Everything he had to survive on.
He moved to the door, opening it. The corridor beyond was empty, but distant voices echoed.
"The guards will escort you to the Golden Gates," Oryn said. "After that, you're on your own."
"No escort? No guard detail?"
"This is a pilgrimage, Kellen. Not a parade." Oryn's expression was firm. "The Rite demands that you walk your own path. If I send guards, soldiers, mages... I rob you of the journey itself."
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"You will find allies. You must find allies. But they must come to you on your terms, as part of your journey. Companions you earn, not ones I assign." His voice softened slightly, "There's not enough time to choose another Bearer if you die. So... try not to die."
His eyes caught on something hanging on the wall near the door. A travel cloak, dark gray wool, worn but well-maintained. The kind of thing that had seen years of use but still had life left in it.
Kellen reached out, running his fingers over the fabric. Thick. Weatherproof. The kind of cloak that would keep you alive in a storm.
"Take it," Oryn said quietly.
Kellen turned. "This is nice."
Oryn's expression was unreadable. "I wore it on my own pilgrimage, many years ago. It kept me alive through worse weather than you'll face." He gestured. "It's yours now."
Kellen pulled the cloak from its peg and swung it over his shoulders. The fabric settled around him like a familiar weight, heavier than he expected but not uncomfortable.
[EQUIPPED: Weathered Travel Cloak] (Common)
+3% Cold Resistance
Durability: 52/80
"Thank you," Kellen said.
Oryn nodded. "Safe travels, Bearer."
Kellen stepped into the hallway. Text bloomed across his vision:
[WARNING]
VEIL ANCHOR: DESTABILIZING
LOCATION: KELIDOR - OUTER DISTRICTS
TIME UNTIL CRITICAL FAILURE: 44 HOURS
The countdown had already started.