"There's absolutely no problem with the Varnic pose," said Kaldrin as he demonstrated his own take on the Varnic pose for synaptic threading. "And there's no problem with rapid, precise micro-adjustments to get your synaptic control to where it should be, either. In fact . . . Here, watch this."
Before Fabrisse could ask what this was, Kaldrin's hands darted through the threading sequence. "It's all about cadence," he said, tapping a small brass timer at his belt. "You hit your release exactly when the tick changes. Not before; not after."
The timer gave a crisp chick sound. Kaldrin's fingers splayed, releasing the thread in a clean snap, then he reset in the same breath. At the second chick, a scatter of golden aetheric sparks ran from his palm like startled fireflies, tracing the air before fading.
"Golden is the color of reverence," Fabrisse said slowly. "How can you be reverent and not follow the standard form?"
Kaldrin smiled. "I can believe in many things aside from the standard form."
For someone who seemingly went way back with Lorvan, Kaldrin had already shocked Fabrisse with his approach to, well, everything. Lorvan would have swatted his knuckles for even thinking about a non-standard form, let alone using one. Every drill under him had been done strictly by the book, feet and fingers exactly where the diagrams said, no deviation allowed. Kaldrin was demonstrating to him the deviations.
"You keep this running for the whole session," Kaldrin continued, winding the device as he restarted the motion. "Your body learns to match the beat."
Liene, already leaning over, plucked the timer from his hand. She turned it over with a studious squint, then—without asking—started copying his movements behind him, glancing at the ticking face like she'd been doing this for years.
Kaldrin took the timer from Liene and passed it to Fabrisse. "Your turn."
He set his Varnic stance. The chick sounded; he moved, but his fingers landed the pose a breath too early. The next tick, he overcorrected, hitting the arc just late enough to feel the aether slip past him.
[Intermediate Synaptic Threading—Progress to Understanding: 3%]
[Reward: +6 ~ +12 SYN]
He could connect with the aether now with his improved SYN, but catching it at the exact moment the timer struck was another challenge entirely. The form had to be in the precise spot and his fingers had to complete the gesture on the beat, or the aether just drifted away like water through open hands.
With a DEX of 18, Fabrisse was plenty fast—sometimes his pose landed perfectly, movements sharp and timed to the exact tick. But the instant he released, no aether responded. His body was fast enough, but his intent hadn't quite caught up to those movements. Coordinating form, timing, and will within such a razor-thin window was harder than he'd imagined.
After a while, his movements became sluggish and he felt like sitting down and taking a break.
[Physical Fatigue—Focus Drop Doubled]
[FP: 25/43]
[SYSTEM NOTE: Please train your physical STR to avoid early fatigue. Feeling fatigue after 5 rounds of synaptic threading is substandard.]
Fabrisse sighed. With Lorvan's focus-boosting ring on his hand, he could probably afford a few more rounds, but it probably wouldn't get him much progress.
Kaldrin didn't miss the way Fabrisse's fingers started to slow. "Progress has been steady," he said, which was the polite instructor's way of saying painfully slow. Then he reached into his own satchel and produced a rune-etched case. "Here. Let's add something to help you along."
He opened the case and drew out a pair of odd-looking metallic cuffs fitted with layered runic plates and symbols. Each looked heavy enough to bruise.
"These," Kaldrin said, slipping one onto his own forearm to demonstrate, "are Aetheric Practice Weights. The idea is to ground your aether flow through your body. They add resistance, so your intent has to fight to stay in alignment, which forces your synaptic channeling to synchronize more precisely."
He passed the cuffs to Fabrisse. They had a quiet vibrating hum in the metal, very possibly from the aetheric runes etched around them.
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[Item Detected: Aetheric Practice Weights (Rune-Etched)]
Effect: Boost SYN practice progress by 30%
Thirty percent boost? That sounded suspiciously generous.
Kaldrin leaned back on his stool. "You know, this is how martial artists used to train centuries ago," he said, gesturing vaguely with one hand. "They'd strap rocks to their legs or haul water buckets up hills to strengthen their stance. Add weight, gain precision; same principles, you see."
Fabrisse stared at him. He's just saying that.
Everyone in the room knew perfectly well that the only reason these cuffs worked was because the runes were packed with aether. The 'tradition' part was just a nice story for students who liked metaphors.
He took the cuffs anyway, and . . . immediately almost dropped them.
"It's heavy!" he groaned, trying to adjust his stance under the new weight. The metal pressed uncomfortably against his wrists and forearms, and just holding the Varnic pose with them made his shoulders tense.
"Good," Kaldrin said. "Means they're working." He waited for another second and stared at Fabrisse when he did nothing but stare back. "Well? Go on now. Put them on."
Fabrisse hesitated, eyeing the cuffs like they were about to bite him. "They look like something you'd use to chain up a rogue familiar," he muttered.
Kaldrin gave him a small smile. "If you can't handle a little resistance, you're in the wrong branch of thaumaturgy."
"I am in the wrong branch of thaumaturgy . . ." his murmur got progressively tinier.
Liene leaned over from her spot, chin propped on one hand. "You're not scared of a couple of shiny bracelets, are you? Maybe we should chain you more often to get you used to it."
"Lugano." Kaldrin coughed into his sleeve. Maybe he was suddenly feeling ill.
"Oh! I didn't . . . Sorry," Liene said.
"I'm not scared. I'm cautious," Fabrisse said. "There's a difference."
"Uh-huh," she said, clearly enjoying herself. "I bet they're lighter than they look. Besides, if you can handle those ridiculous stone weights you keep in your pockets—"
"They're not ridiculous," Fabrisse muttered automatically.
"—then you can handle this," she finished, grinning. "C'mon. If it hurts too much, I'll even take notes for your posthumous essay."
Kaldrin chuckled. "She's right, Kestovar. On with it."
Between his mentor's amused patience and Liene's prodding grin, Fabrisse sighed and gave in. He slipped his hands through the cuffs, and it pulled him down instantly like someone had poured molten lead around his wrists. He almost lurched forward.
He grimaced. "It's even heavier than heavy."
"Come on, Fabri," Liene said, grinning. "How about this: I'll buy you a mingleberry pie after class."
That, somehow, was the most motivating sentence Fabrisse had heard all day.
He braced himself, focused on the timer's rhythm, and threw the Varnic sequence again, only to find that the cuffs didn't seem to be helping. If anything, it even slowed him down. He couldn't feel assistance from the aether at all. Is my RES too low to feel it? But then again the Eidralith should've told me of any RES requirement to clear.
[INVENTORY: 14/11]
[SYSTEM WARNING: Please clear your inventory for the effect of the newest equipment to register.]
Oh, come on. This is going to be a bother. How am I supposed to train with something that eats up three slots?
Fabrisse sighed, dug into his back pocket, and pulled out three Trinav quartz. He handed them to Liene without a word.
She blinked rapidly. "Why are you giving me rocks?" Then a pause later, she asked. "Actually, better question—why do you always carry rocks in your back pocket?"
Fabrisse hesitated. He couldn't exactly explain Celestial Hoarding right now, not with Kaldrin hovering nearby. "That's, uh, complicated," he said at last. "Story for another time."
The moment he handed the rocks over to Liene, the Eidralith flashed him a notification.
[ITEM EQUIPPED: Aetheric Practice Weights]He flexed his hands, now feeling the cuffs settling like miniature anchors on his wrists. Alright. Timer ticking; aether flow steady. If mingleberry pie was on the line, he could push through this.
"Let's go again," he muttered under his breath.
He put himself into motion, and the weight immediately stopped feeling like an obstacle. Each swing of his wrist carried just enough resistance to slow his impulse and steady the motion. His gestures stopped jerking forward too sharply or twisting too far, and the rhythm began to fit, not force, his movements.
[Intermediate Synaptic Threading—Progress to Understanding: 4%]Kaldrin's brows lifted slightly as he watched the next sequence unfold. The brass timer gave another crisp chick, and this time Fabrisse's hands landed much more in line if not a bit too behind.
"Well now," Kaldrin said, voice light but approving. "A bit better. Let's go again."
A bit better. Fabrisse exhaled and smiled to himself as Kaldrin gave the timer another twist.
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