Jacob and Vyrrak walk in a restricted part of the Academy, with guards every other step.

  The walls here are bare and the torches burn blue.

  Vyrrak’s steps are heavy and his tail sways in short irritated arcs.

  “Jacob,” Vyrrak says. “I do not think you understand what you just did.”

  Jacob keeps walking and keeps his hands in his pockets.

  “What happens if they make the trap too strong,” Vyrrak asks. “If Vorgath builds an Adamantite level array, what then. How do you win even with your Skill. I do not expect to be able to strike at that level even after this training. If I reach True Diamond power from this, I will be surprised. I’m a Dagger, Jacob. I’m not a Breaker.”

  His voice carries fear under the irritation.

  And not for himself.

  “I guess you are right,” Jacob says. “We do not know if we can win.”

  Vyrrak opens his mouth to push that point.

  “But we got the room,” Jacob says. “Let us go.”

  “Jacob—”

  “Vyrrak,” Jacob says. He stops and turns. “Our goal was to get access to this room, right. You do not want to annul the marriage with Guinevere because of Vice Principal Caradoc and because of your father’s conditions. That is why we are here.”

  “Yes,” Vyrrak says. He frowns. “Yet I do not want you to sacrifice yourself for it.”

  “I am lucky—things have a way of panning out,” Jacob says. He smiles in a way that is not reassuring at all. “Do not worry about me. I will take care of this.”

  Vyrrak does not believe that.

  You’re not lucky. But I do believe you’re scheming something, the Dragonkin thinks.

  They reach a metal door at the end of the corridor. Two guards stand in front of it. Both wear Academy badges that mark them above True Diamond.

  “We need the Room of Sacred Fire,” Vyrrak says. “Professor Kharzun sanctioned it.”

  The guard on the left checks a slate that glows with runes. His expression does not change.

  “You may pass,” the guard says. He presses a sigil on the wall. The door unlocks with a heavy click.

  It seems Professor Kharzun already sent word.

  Jacob and Vyrrak step through.

  The room inside is black in such a way that they can’t even distinguish the corners of the wall, as if the blackness absorbed every last mote of light in here.

  “The room increases regeneration,” Vyrrak says. His voice echoes slightly. “It pushes your healing and your resistance against fire.”

  He looks around. He cannot see the array, yet he feels the hum of it under the floor.

  “I am not fully sure this will work,” he says. “Dragonkins were not meant to use it.”

  Jacob smiles.

  “Who cares. It’s the same for everyone,” he says. “Start practicing. Follow my lead.”

  He steps forward and lifts his arms. He begins the pattern of the Dance of Dragons that he deduced from Vice Principal Caradoc’s performance.

  Vyrrak watches for a moment. Then he sets his stance and copies the movements. His long limbs flow through the steps.

  He starts to feel it.

  Power gathers inside him, under his scales.

  It suddenly tears at his flesh as it becomes too much to handle like the f irst time he tried to copy Jacob’s movements.

  But this time, while his veins feel like they’re about to burst, the room reacts.

  Light flares under the black floor. Thin red lines appear in a grid. Warmth wraps around Vyrrak’s body. His skin knits as it splits. His scales crack and reform.

  Despite the regeneration, he starts sweating literal blood that drips to the ground with every step.

  He would have collapsed if the room did not keep repairing him in real time. The regeneration pushes him just enough above collapse that he can keep moving. He grits his teeth and follows Jacob’s pattern.

  At the end of the sequence Jacob raises his voice.

  “Vyrrak,” he says. “Now. Focus all of it through your dagger.”

  Vyrrak draws the dagger in one smooth motion. His hand shakes.

  This is impossible, he thinks.

  The power that ran wild under his scales suddenly obeys. It surges along his arm and dives into the weapon. For a moment he thinks his bones will shatter. His eyes widen. He has never felt this much force inside one limb.

  He notices something else. No aura rises from him. There is no flame around his body. There is no pressure that leaks out. He holds an immense amount of power, yet there is no presence. To any outside eye he looks like a tired Dragonkin with a weapon in his hand.

  It feels like the perfect stealth Skill.

  * * *

  Outside, the two guards stand in front of the door.

  “What do you think they are doing in there,” the younger guard asks.

  The older guard shrugs. “Impossible to know,” he says. “We raised the wards to Intermediate True Diamond. Nothing that happens under that threshold leaks out. Orders from Professor Kharzun.”

  The younger guard snorts. “I heard that Jacob brat insulted the professor in front of the whole class,” he says.

  The older guard grunts. “As long as no one dies in my shift, they can—”

  The floor trembles.

  The vibration runs up their legs. Dust falls from the ceiling. A deep boom rolls through the wall. The metal door in front of them shudders in its frame. The wards flare for a moment and throw off sparks.

  Both guards grab their weapons and stare at the door.

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  * * *

  Three days later

  Three days later Jacob and Vyrrak stand again in Professor Kharzun’s classroom.

  Jacob’s posture looks relaxed. Vyrrak looks tired.

  Professor Kharzun stands at the front and watches them enter.

  He notes that Vyrrak brings Vice Principal Caradoc with him. The old man walks in with his hands clasped behind his back and his expression unreadable. His presence makes the students straighten.

  Professor Kharzun feels a flicker of irritation.

  Caradoc? he thinks. They must think they brought some kind of shield.

  Yet, not even the Vice Principal is going to save Jacob’s from his fate since the Professor’s oath don’t work as long as Jacob agreed to the terms himself. Since he’s not technically killing him nor actually willing to cripple him just because, but it might be the side effect of removing his Skills and Class, it falls outside the oaths he’s sworn to the Academy and not even Vice Principal Caradoc can do anything about it.

  Jacob Cloud agreed to the terms himself. Fool.

  Guinevere stands at the back. She doesn’t want to disturb Vyrrak and Jacob, but she’s worried sick. Her eyes keep moving between the two and the third they brought with them.

  She looks worried. Her eyes move between Vyrrak and Jacob and the third person they brought.

  Vyrrak leans toward Jacob. “Why did we bring Kaelric of all Champions,” he asks. “Iskara would have been our best bet. She has authority. She could stop the professor if this goes too far.”

  Jacob shakes his head. “We do not need Iskara’s authority,” he says. “We have what we need.”

  Kaelric stands like a statue.

  “Both Vyrrak and Kaelric are Champions from my year,” Jacob says. He smiles. “Both are from the Generation of Legends. They are allowed to help me, right.”

  “Correct,” Professor Kharzun says. He smiles in return, yet his eyes stay sharp. “You may count on both of them. They are within the terms.”

  He gestures. “Vorgath,” he says. “Come forward.”

  Vorgath walks toward the center of the classroom. His aura is steady and strong.

  “Vorgath has already prepared his trap,” Professor Kharzun says. “He has been magnanimous. He made it a True Diamond level trap instead of something higher. At his level of mastery he could have made it a full Rank above his current Rank, Jacob Cloud. Consider yourself lucky.”

  The class mutters.

  “Still, we’re talking about Vorgath. They’re not going to crack it.”

  “I know, right? They should have run away.”

  “They don’t know what’s going to hit them. I practiced with Vorgath last semester… he’s simply too good. His traps are basically flawless.”

  “What is the trap,” Jacob asks.

  He looks around but sees nothing unusual on the floor.

  Vorgath brings his fists together in a heavy clap. Mana flares under his feet. Lines of light burst from the point where his boots touch the stone. A giant array spreads from the center of the classroom and covers the floor in a complex web of symbols and circles.

  “Everyone step outside of the lines,” Vorgath says. “Unless you want to join him.”

  The students scramble to lift their feet out of the glowing patterns. They press back to the edges of the room. The array hums.

  “The trap is called the Three Celestial Tribulations,” Vorgath says.

  The name draws a collective hiss.

  Even Vice Principal Caradoc frowns. He steps closer to Professor Kharzun.

  “The Champions from Jacob’s year could be seriously hurt in there, Kharzun,” Vice Principal Caradoc says. “This might be too much.”

  A few students speak up.

  “Despite being a True Diamond array, it can kill Adamantite practitioners,” one says.

  “The power of the Array is True Diamond, but the way it’s too complex to be escaped means it can whittle down an Adamintite expert just like that.”

  “They’re done. You cannot escape the sequence once you trigger it.”

  Jacob hears every word. He nods.

  “It is no issue, Vice Principal” Jacob says. “And by the way, this should be a good enough showcase for your test as well.”

  He turns to Vyrrak and Kaelric.

  “Step inside,” Jacob says.

  They both obey. They move with steady steps. To the watching students they look almost arrogant. Guinevere’s hands grip her dress so hard she almost tears it apart.

  Queen Syrraxia stands up in her seat.

  “Vyrrak, do not do this,” she says. “You might suffer serious damage. I want my future husband’s important bits to stay intact.”

  Some students snicker.

  Guinevere’s head snaps toward her.

  “If you do not shut your mouth right now,” Guinevere shouts, “I will cut out your important bits and see how you like it!”

  Queen Syrraxia glares at her.

  Professor Kharzun slams a hand on his desk.

  “Silence,” he says. “This is not a commoners’ market!”

  Vice Principal Caradoc watches Jacob step into the edge of the array.

  “He is going to lose,” Vice Principal Caradoc says quietly to Professor Kharzun. “You know that, and I know that.”

  Professor Kharzun smiles. The expression is tight.

  “I know,” he says. “Yet he insisted.”

  Professor Kharzun lifts his hands.

  “Quiet,” he says. The room settles.

  “The rules are simple,” Professor Kharzun says. “The challenge is to escape this array before you are incapacitated or before you give up. That is all.”

  He looks at Jacob.

  “If Jacob Cloud loses,” Professor Kharzun says, “I will remove his Infernal Class and his Infernal Skills. They do not belong to him.”

  He lets that sink in.

  “If Jacob wins,” he says, “which will not happen, I will clean that seal. I will kowtow in front of it. I will teach him whatever he wants in Traps and Cracks.”

  He laughs. The laughter carries disbelief.

  “Even if he is the Mad King’s disciple,” Professor Kharzun says, “he has no chance.”

  At those words Vice Principal Caradoc’s eyes widen.

  He is Baalrek’s disciple, Vice Principal Caradoc thinks. That is why he came to me. That is why his words sounded familiar.

  He turns his head and looks at Jacob with new intensity. The kid stands on the array and chats with Vyrrak.

  Vice Principal Caradoc looks back at the seal on the wall. Understanding clicks into place. Professor Kharzun has let students deface the symbol of a former Vice Principal. He has done it for years.

  The fool, Vice Principal Caradoc thinks. He insulted Baalrek under his own roof.

  Now, he only has one question.

  Can he do the impossible?

  * * *

  The array hums. Light gathers along the outer rings. Symbols ignite one after another. The air above the floor ripples with heat and pressure.

  “Begin,” Professor Kharzun says.

  The wards lock into place. Jacob feels the trap close around them like a cage.

  “Kaelric,” Jacob says. He smiles. “Stand by. I do not think we will need you.”

  Kaelric nods once. He plants his feet and prepares anyway.

  “Vyrrak,” Jacob says.

  Vyrrak nods. He steps to the front. He sets his stance and begins to move.

  He channels the Dance of Dragons the way he trained. His feet trace the pattern.

  His aura starts to thin.

  To the onlookers he looks like he is doing a complicated kata with no visible effect.

  Vice Principal Caradoc watches with a frown.

  Jacob must not have caught my intent, Vice Principal Caradoc thinks. I crafted a version of the Dance of Dragons that bends toward a Dagger style. I even drew the diagram in front of him and pretended it was a test. I thought he would steal the idea.

  He looks at Vyrrak’s movements. The pattern is similar, yet the result is the opposite. Even Caradoc’s modified version made aura rise. The true Dance of Dragons is overbearing.

  Whatever Vyrrak is doing reduces his aura instead of increasing it.

  They failed, Caradoc thinks.

  He feels a twinge of disappointment. He did not want to see Vyrrak fall like this.

  Jacob studies the glowing lines under their feet. The Grimoire lays out the flow in his mind. Three tribulations. Three loops. One anchor.

  He lifts his chin toward a corner of the pattern where several lines converge.

  “See that part of the array,” Jacob says. His tone is casual. “There is a catalyst there. Strike it and we are out.”

  Vyrrak does not question it. He knows how Jacob sees things.

  The class erupts in laughter.

  “He thinks he found the catalyst already,” someone says. “We studied this style of array for months. No one finds the anchor in a glance.”

  “Even if that is the catalyst,” another student says, “they cannot damage it. Their Rank is too low. The array can shrug off normal True Diamond attacks.”

  Yet, Professor Kharzun and Vorgath himself have their eyes popping out of their eyesockets.

  That is where the catalyst is! How did he—

  Suddenly, as Vyrrak strikes, a shockwave erupts.