bigabreads Chapter 186: Better Than Ever
Chapter 186: Better Than Ever
Almost an hour later, Lancet stood in the center of one the training areas in the large training hall that was built behind the Platinum Dorms.
Comparing this to the battered down training ground behind the Bronze Dorms where Lancet and Luke used to train was like comparing a pebble with a diamond.
First of all, the building itself was like a fat, giant, flying saucer that was about to take off. Within the building, there were different large spaces known as training halls. These training halls were specified based on Class Groups so each member of the same Class Group could easily interact with themselves.
However, things were taken to an even deeper level.
Within each of these training halls were smaller but certainly not "small" spaces that were owned privately by every resident in the Platinum Dorms. They were training areas, allowing each student in the Dorms to train whenever they wanted for as long as they wanted, without interruption from others.
’This academy takes favoritism to a whole new level," Lancet thought.
Espel had taken him into her own training arena which was labelled Arena 67.
Stepping into the hall, the first thing that hit him was the clinical, shadowless brilliance of the space. The air felt crisp and still, clearly the work of an air conditioning that was installed in the very walls.
It was extremely noiseless inside the room, like the atmosphere was waiting to be broken by the exertion of physical discipline, Grace, and the explosions of different localized simulation.
Beneath his feet, a highly polished floor stretched out like a mirror of pale grey glass, overlaid with a glowing, luminescent grid. At the Dead center where he was now standing lay the arena’s heart: a raised, circular dais enclosed by a razor-sharp halo of white light.
It clearly commanded most of the attention, acting as a focal point that silently demanded that whoever stepped within its ring leaves their weaknesses behind.
Encircling this battleground, smooth, sweeping walls rose in a continuous curve, broken at precise intervals by vertical columns embedded with deep azure detailing.
A single, unbroken ribbon of neon blue traces the perimeter where the walls meet the floor, grounding the vast room in a cool, electric glow.
Looking up, the chamber was crowned by an intricate array of triangular geometric panels and blazing rectangular light fixtures that flood the hall with clarity.
Those same triangular panels were magical energy blowers. They expelled magical energy into the training area, sucked from the energy vacuums installed outside on the walls of the building.
Everything was perfectly made to ensure that everyone living in this Dorm could reach the highest potential of their powerful Classes.
"So why are we here again?" Lancet asked Espel who was standing outside the dais, studying him with cyan eyes while a butterfly played on her finger.
She lifted her head, snapping away from her thoughts. "You said you would want to train after the healing, so you could test your powers and see if it still sputters away when you do a Skill."
"Yeah, but we could do that anywhere," Lancet shrugged. Then he looked around. "Not that I’m complaining. This place is awesome."
Espel sighed a little. "Here’s more secretive than doing it outside. People shouldn’t see us together, Lancet. I’m not ashamed to be around you or anything."
"Didn’t say you were," Lancet smirked.
"But if we’re going to be working together in secret, then we can’t be in the open. People talk." She eyed him for a moment before continuing. "Also damage can’t occur in this space so you can test whatever Skill you’d like. More importantly, the magical energy blowers supply me with enough Grace so I can heal you."
Lancet listened more intently now.
"I still don’t know how severe your Grace Channels injuries are," Espel continued. "I certainly can heal them, but the amount of Grace it will take is yet to be determined."
She outstretched her hand. Giant wings of a butterfly and a moth appeared on separate hands and a light poured from the center of her palms and reflected on Lancet’s body.
"If I remember correctly," she said, "this happened to you in the mission in Hebthej, right?"
"Right," Lancet concurred. "I was struck by a Gloom Spear."
"Gloom Spears are exceptionally insidious," Espel said, her voice remaining level as the diagnostic light continued to wash over Lancet’s torso. "The moment the tip pierces flesh, the Gloom inside the spear detonates. Even the highest-grade armors fail to completely shield against that kind of blast, especially after they’ve been pierced. The Gloom blast strikes directly at the Soul Core."
She adjusted her stance, refocusing the beam of light.
"If the wound isn’t purified immediately, the lingering Gloom poison begins to spread. It’s untraceable at first. It doesn’t cause immediate pain. Instead, it slowly eats away at the structural walls of your Grace Channels from the inside out. Over the span of a few days, even a week, the channels begin to crack under the pressure of your own Skills. Grace starts to leak out into your physical body, causing your spells to misfire or sputter away entirely."
Lancet’s eyes widened slightly as the pieces finally fell into place. ’Of course,’ he thought to himself. ’That’s exactly why I could still use my powers fine after the Hebthej mission. My three Summons were literally anchored for days.’
It was only a week later, when the rigorous training sessions for the Inter-Class Competitions began, that the problem began.
Through the reflective light, Espel could see the complete layout of Lancet’s magic body. The network of paths was sprawling, a complex map of glowing veins that all converged into the radiant sphere of his Soul Core.
But right now, those veins were filled with cracks all over, some wider than the others. Even his Soul Core was festered with gloomy dark spiderwebs, stretching into the center.
Lancet looked at Espel. "So... can you fix it?"
Espel let out a small breath, her chin lifting with a touch of quiet pride. "There is nothing my Bloomwings cannot repair."
She spread her hands wide to her sides, her chest raising slightly as she gathered her power. The moth resting on her left hand dissolved into motes of purple light, instantly reshaping itself into a butterfly.
Then, a warm pressure filled the training room, and from Espel’s back, a massive swarm of shimmering pink butterflies—her legendary Bloomwings—manifested out of thin air. They wasted no time, flapping their beautiful wings and flying toward Lancet.
Lancet watched them coming for him and his brows creased with slight worry. "I hope this isn’t going to hurt."
Espel’s voice stayed calm. "You’ll only feel a tingle."
Lancet forced himself to stand perfectly still on the raised dais, his muscles tensing instinctively. One Bloomwing landed on his shoulder.
Then another on his chest.
Then one at his arm, one near his neck, one against his back, then more and more.
Within seconds, the entire swarm swarmed over him, covering his entire body. Soon Lancet was mummified, covered in a blanket of butterfly wings.
Then, they began to glow.
Deep within Lancet’s body, the magic took hold. Like Espel had said, the sensation wasn’t painful; it felt like a river that had tiny needles inside of them.
It slipped into the channels beneath his body, moving through the pathways of Grace that were threaded through him like a hidden system of rivers. Lancet’s eyes widened slightly as he became aware of them in a way he never had before.
Normally he felt his Grace in broad terms.
This was different.
This was precise.
He could feel his Soul Core like a central pulse in his chest, a dense and steady source of magic anchored beneath his ribs. He could feel the channels branching from it, carrying power through his body in intricate lines.
And now, under the Bloomwings’ glow, he could feel the damage in those channels too. The cracks. The weak places. The thin breaks where power leaked and shivered and slipped away too quickly.
Espel’s Bloomwings had found them.
The healing magic moved over him in waves, and each wave made the channels knit tighter, smoother, cleaner. Lancet felt sections of himself that had been frayed begin to realign.
The Soul Core’s rhythm steadied. The broken flow became less jagged. He could feel the leaks close one by one, the damage shrinking beneath the delicate pressure of her magic.
Espel stood just outside the white ring of light, her brow lightly furrowed. Her breathing had grown a bit heavier, her hands trembling slightly as she strained against the massive drain on her own reserves to maintain the high-precision reconstruction.
The energy blowers helped ofcourse, but splitting her focus between healing Lancet and separating Grace wasn’t easy. Still, she was Platinum.
Awakeners like her were built for this.
With a final, bright flash of pink light, the mending was complete. The Bloomwings detached themselves from Lancet’s body all at once, fluttering back toward Espel before dissolving into her aura.
Silence descended on the room.
Lancet stood in the center of the dais, his chest heaving as he took a deep, clear breath. For the first time in weeks, that phantom ache in his sternum was entirely gone.
Espel lowered her arms, her cyan eyes studying his posture carefully. "How do you feel?"
Lancet closed his eyes, focusing entirely inward, reaching down into the depths of his Soul Core.
The moment he touched it, he noticed the difference immediately.
It felt whole.
Not simply functional. Not simply less damaged. Whole. The core pulsed with a clarity it had not held since before Hebthej, and the channels around it flowed with a steadiness that made his chest feel lighter just from sensing it.
There was no stutter. No tearing. No hollow crack waiting to split open mid-use.
His eyes snapped open. Suddenly, he raised his hand to the ceiling.
"Lightning Storm Plurality!" Lancet yelled.
The Phantom Conduit Ring flashed once, down a charge.
Five arcs of lightning fell from the ceiling and slammed into the pale grey glass floor all around the training area, cracking the air with terrifying force.
The luminescent grid beneath their feet flared brilliantly, absorbing the massive kinetic impact and containing the visual destruction entirely within the parameters of Arena 67.
Espel’s eyes widened.
For one quick second she looked startled enough to forget her usual control. Then she turned and stared at him in alarm, as if checking whether the blast had somehow harmed him.
Lancet lowered his hand, the blue sparks fading from his fingertips as he looked down at her with a grin on his face.
"Better than ever," he said.