Soon enough, Rhian felt the headache growing worse.
His core was already halfway depleted, and even though the energy consumption had been manageable for a while, it started to catch up to him. They stopped.
Miss Liane tapped her finger against her arm. "Your energy draw is a bit slow, no? You lasted longer than expected." But she didn’t linger on it. "Let’s move on to the illusion ability. You said you can create sothing for five seconds—what happens when you try to hold it longer?"
Rhian shook his head. "I can’t. It just disappears after five."
She paused, then tilted her head in thought.
Abilities were tricky. At first glance, they told you what they were and what they could do.
But abilities didn’t co with manuals. They never told you how far they could be pushed. That was sothing you had to figure out on your own.
Most carriers didn’t. They relied on absorbing cores and assud their abilities would grow stronger alongside them.
And sure, it worked to a degree—but it was crude. Lazy, even. It ignored creativity.
She’d seen it too many tis. People chasing raw power without ever learning what their gifts could truly do.
Limits were often just... defaults. Not absolute.
Like Rhian’s shadow control, he could hold several at once for a decent length of ti, but it clearly didn’t drain his Divine energy as much as it taxed his concentration.
That ant improving it wouldn’t be about gathering more energy. It would be about training his focus, sharpening his ntal resilience.
Illusion would be the sa.
While she hadn’t seen the ability in action yet, what he described already told her sothing: if it broke at five seconds every ti, it wasn’t due to energy loss.
It was likely a structural issue—a flaw in the way the illusion was ford or stabilized.
And if that was true, it could be rewritten. Limits could shift.
But only if the user understood what part of the structure was failing.
Rhian stood still, collecting his thoughts as he focused on what to create. He smiled, then lifted his hand and activated the illusion.
Miss Liane’s expression remained unreadable at first—until the illusion took shape.
It was her.
Sa stance, sa clothes, even the little scar under her eye. The copy didn’t glitch or flicker. For those five seconds, it was perfect.
The illusion vanished.
Rhian created another, but this ti sothing was off. The stance looked awkward. The facial expression didn’t quite match. Liane caught it instantly.
She narrowed her eyes.
Then asked, "How does the energy consumption work? And what do you feel when it disappears?"
Rhian tapped his fingers together as he thought. "Well... I don’t really feel anything. It just disappears like nothing happened. As for energy—it only takes so when I create the illusion, not when it’s active. And the amount depends on how big or detailed it is."
Miss Liane’s eyes widened slightly. Not dramatically. Just enough to show she’d learned sothing interesting.
"Incredible... I see. I see."
"Mmh? What?"
She tilted her head, clearly debating sothing.
She liked to teach by pressure, not by handing out answers. If a student figured sothing out on their own, it stuck deeper.
So she didn’t respond right away.
Instead, she folded her arms and tapped her foot, trying to decide which question would push him in the right direction. Sothing that would make him question the illusion’s nature, not just its appearance.
"Let’s try sothing different," she finally said. "Create the sa illusion again, but move it. Give it motion. Let’s see what breaks."
Rhian did as she asked, forming an illusion of her again—this ti more refined. It blinked, shifted slightly, even raised a hand. Then, right at five seconds, it vanished.
"Have you figured it out?" Miss Liane asked.
Rhian hesitated, then shook his head.
She sighed. "Control the shadow."
He glanced at the chair beside him, confused why they were circling back, but he did as told.
He reached for the shadow, felt that familiar pull as his energy connected to it.
It wasn’t visible, but it was there, like sothing he was gripping through instinct alone.
"Hold it like that," she said. "Now, create the illusion again."
He obeyed.
Even while maintaining his grip on the shadow, he began shaping the illusion. His energy shifted again, this ti, it felt like pulling a chunk of himself out, carving a shape with it, and setting it in place.
"Now," Liane said, "what’s the difference?"
Rhian paused. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say.
"Well... the shadow feels like I’m extending control outward. Like I’m holding on to sothing that’s already there."
He hesitated before continuing. "The illusion’s different. I take a piece of energy and shape it into sothing that wasn’t there before."
Miss Liane stared at him for a mont. From the way her eyes narrowed slightly, she seed to think he’d just answered his own question. But Rhian still didn’t understand.
To him, the two abilities felt completely separate. Shadow control was about manipulating sothing that already existed. Illusion was about creating sothing from scratch. The connection between the two wasn’t clear.
Liane sighed, clearly catching on that he hadn’t figured it out yet.
"Alright, we’ll stop here," she said, standing up and brushing her hands together. "Think about what you just said. That’s your howork. Next class, we’ll start focusing on your physical features—your eyes, your scales, and how they function."
Rhian stood as well. "Thanks."
He turned to leave, then paused.
He’d forgotten to ntion his wings.
He thought about saying sothing, but decided against it. He’d bring it up tomorrow.
Liane stood in the center of her classroom, letting her thoughts settle.
She genuinely enjoyed these one-on-one sessions. Even now, despite her mind drifting back to the recent deaths, the lesson with Rhian had been productive.
These sessions didn’t just help her students, they helped her, too.
Every ti she observed how soone else’s ability worked, she gained a better understanding of her own.
The more she learned, the more refined her control beca.
But there was more to it than that.
She wanted her students—especially Iris and Rhian, to grow faster. The last incident had shaken her.
This academy was supposed to be safe, but she was beginning to doubt that now.
The upper-year students were strong enough to survive if sothing went wrong. First-years weren’t.
They were still vulnerable.
She understood that growth required challenge.
Portals, as dangerous as they could be, were the best source of that challenge.
But the academy had locked them down. Until the situation improved, there would be no sanctioned missions for students like Rhian.
And she couldn’t just hand them cores. Growth had to be earned.
Still, once the lockdown lifted, she planned to keep an eye on things. Not officially.
Not through the school. But if they were sent into portals again, she would follow, quietly, from a distance. Just in case.
She couldn’t afford to lose another one.
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