Abel returned to stand beside them, his arms folding across his chest and a faint frown tugging at his expression, and Jacob, after a brief glance in his direction, let his eyes drift away again.

"Abel has already impressed me," Lazarus said as he studied them, his tone measured but not without approval, "not only has he managed to create original runes, he has also refined them to a remarkable degree, and though he failed to break through my barrier, his defence was of the highest standard. I will expect no less from the rest of you. Now, Arthur, show me what you have learned."

Arthur did not hesitate, stepping forward with unrestrained energy, a wide smile fixed on his face as he hurried to stand just a single pace in front of Lazarus. The faint shimmer of a barrier spread around the scholar once more, its surface rippling before settling into the same translucent form, and Arthur paused for a moment to admire it with a spark of wonder in his eyes before bowing quickly and saying, "then I'll begin."

His hand reached back for the sword strapped across his shoulder, and in one smooth motion he drew it free, holding it firmly in his right hand while the fingers of his left slid carefully along the length of the blade. At once threads of mana began to seep out and coil across the metal, twisting and turning without pattern, like restless lines seeking form.

When the motion was complete Arthur tightened his grip, both hands closing around the hilt, and his aura rose sharply, covering the blade in a faint red glow. Within a heartbeat the aura seemed to be drawn inward, absorbed fully by the restless strands of mana, and Jacob leaned forward slightly as he watched them shift, rearranging with deliberate rhythm until they no longer writhed aimlessly but instead aligned into ordered shapes.

His eyes widened as he recognized them: distinct runes, each carrying its own effect, etched momentarily in light before flowing across the weapon's surface. He could make out patterns for sharpness, for weight, for strength, and still more for flame and for lightning, all moving together without friction, a balance of functions that should by all rights have interfered with one another yet somehow did not.

Even Abel, standing rigid beside him, exhaled softly at the sight, his proud expression faltering for an instant as the sheer presence of Arthur's weapon became undeniable. The pressure it gave off was enough to prickle against the skin, as though every rune were alive and humming in readiness.

Arthur closed his eyes briefly, his entire focus narrowing to the blade now alive in his hands, and then with a steady breath he lifted it high and brought it down in a single fluid motion. There was no flourish, no elaborate stance, simply a downward strike, but with the energy packed into that swing it carried the weight of something far beyond a basic attack.

Lightning crackled along the sword's edge, darting across its surface like thin veins of light, while flames burst from the hilt and wrapped themselves around the length of the blade until it glowed with a searing blue heat. When steel and barrier met the impact was instantaneous, a sharp and piercing sound echoing through the hall, unmistakably like glass being shattered.

There was no drawn-out suspense, no gradual testing of strength; the very moment Arthur's blade met the barrier, the translucent wall collapsed entirely, shattered as though it had been nothing more than brittle glass, and the sword, still burning with flames and crackling with lightning, continued its downward path until Lazarus calmly raised a single hand to intercept it, closing his fingers around the edge as though it were no more than an ordinary piece of steel.

In that instant all the enhancements vanished, the fire snuffed out, the lightning extinguished, the runes flickering into silence one by one until the weapon was bare again. Arthur, his strength spent, released his grip, the sword clattering as he fell to one knee, his chest heaving with effort though his face carried nothing but a broad and unrestrained smile. "How… how was it?" he managed between breaths.

Lazarus did not answer immediately. He regarded Arthur in silence for a few moments, and then, with the faintest curl of his lips, he said, "excellent. In fact, so excellent that I cannot even claim to understand what you did, nor how you managed it. I have never witnessed anything resembling that technique before. Would you care to explain what it was?"

The words struck harder than any praise, and Jacob's eyes widened as he processed them, while Abel, despite his usual composure, gave a visible start. If the grand scholar himself could not discern the nature of what Arthur had achieved, then surely it meant that Arthur had crossed into territory almost beyond comprehension.

Arthur struggled to catch his breath a moment longer before rising unsteadily to his feet. "I…" he began, and at once Jacob leaned forward, while Abel went still beside him, hardly breathing as they waited. "I have no idea how I did it. It just… happened one day," Arthur admitted at last, a sheepish grin breaking across his face as he rubbed the back of his head.

The hall went utterly silent. Not only Jacob and Abel but even Lazarus seemed at a loss, his gaze fixed on Arthur with a rare blankness, as if the simplicity of that answer had left him without any suitable response. The quiet was heavy, and Jacob found himself thinking that it was no small thing to render even the grand scholar momentarily speechless.

'Arthur… is a damn genius, isn't he,' Jacob thought, the words forming unbidden as he studied the boy in front of him.

At last Lazarus cleared his throat softly and spoke again. "If you yourself cannot explain it, then it must be either instinct at work or some subtle effect of your aspect," he said with measured calm, "but whichever the case, it was extraordinary. What you demonstrated was not the control of one or two runes but the harmony of five, each reinforcing the other until the result was exponentially greater than their sum. For that, I can only give it the highest score, ten out of ten."

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Arthur's grin widened into something brighter, and he bowed once more, his voice ringing with simple gratitude as he said, "thank you."

Jacob turned his head slightly to where Abel stood, arms crossed as before, yet now Jacob noticed the way his hands pressed tightly into his skin, fingernails digging hard into his forearms, his face drawn into a tense scowl that betrayed just how bitterly he regarded what he had just seen.

Then, almost without thinking, Jacob turned his head to the side, and his gaze met Abel's. For the briefest instant he caught a glimpse of raw emotion in the boy's eyes , anger sharpened by envy, and Abel must have realized he had let something slip, because only a moment later his expression flattened into neutrality once more, his hands loosening their grip on his arms as he muttered in a steady voice, "did they not teach you manners? It's very rude to stare," before looking away again.

Jacob forced himself to face forward as well, and his eyes settled on Arthur, who was standing tall once more, the wide smile still fixed on his face. "Then, teacher, do I still need to show you something else?" he asked, his voice carrying a trace of eagerness.

Lazarus shook his head with a small, approving nod. "What you just did combined runes of offense with those of support, each reinforcing the other, and you demonstrated them together with remarkable precision. That is more than enough. Well done."

Arthur bowed his head lightly, his grin undiminished, and began to walk back toward them, though Jacob noticed the way Abel's face tightened again, his composure faltering as Arthur drew closer.

When Arthur finally reached Jacob's side, he leaned toward him, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Hey, I think the grand scholar was impressed."

Jacob did not answer. Or perhaps he could not, because the words stirred something unpleasant in him, and before he could stop himself, his face twisted slightly, mirroring the expression he had just seen on Abel. There was no denying it, standing beside someone like Arthur, someone who seemed to carry talent in every direction he turned, was more than a little irritating.

"And finally, Jacob," Lazarus's voice cut through his thoughts, calm yet expectant. "It is time for you to show us what you've learned."

Jacob inclined his head in acknowledgment and stepped forward, and as he did he heard Yggdrasil's voice echo clearly within his mind: 'after you finish drawing your rune, do exactly as I say.'

'Why?' Jacob asked inwardly, his steps steady but his curiosity piqued.

'Don't you want to shock Lazarus too?' came the answer, sly and knowing, and Jacob felt a faint but undeniable thrill stir in his chest. He would be lying to himself if he claimed he did not want to impress the grand scholar, just as Arthur had, and he could not help but imagine that Abel must have been wrestling with the same feeling moments before.

It was strange to admit, but what unsettled him most was not simply Arthur's brilliance, but the fact that Arthur had outshone Abel as well, both of them heirs of great houses. It gnawed at Jacob's pride, left him restless with a muted envy, because Arthur seemed to excel at everything, runes, swordsmanship, aura control, and now he had revealed yet another ability beyond the reach of the ordinary.

At last Jacob stopped a few feet away from Lazarus, lowered his head in a bow, and spoke evenly, "I will be using a flame rune that I adjusted myself."

The words had barely left his mouth before he heard the low snicker of Abel from behind, and though it might have embarrassed him under different circumstances, he held his composure. After all, Abel could not know the truth, that this flame rune was not merely an adjustment but a true rune, and for now Jacob would let him believe otherwise.

Lazarus gave a small nod, and at once the familiar barrier flared into existence around him, translucent and steady, its surface shimmering faintly in the torchlight. Jacob drew in a slow breath and raised his hand, ready to begin, when Yggdrasil's voice threaded into his mind with quiet insistence: 'do you remember when you fought that vampire? Toward the end, there was a moment when you drew the rune almost instantly. Can you recall how you managed it?'

Jacob paused, though only for the briefest fraction of time, because now that he fully grasped the extent of his own mind and its unusual capabilities, he realized that his thought process had become so rapid and his memory so precise that even a single instant was enough to sift through everything and arrive at the answer. And almost as soon as Yggdrasil asked, he understood what he meant.

'When I… shouted in my head for the rune to form faster,' Jacob replied inwardly.

'Exactly. Most would have to speak aloud, as Abel does, but you forced it through thought alone. Try it again.'

Jacob gave a silent nod of acknowledgment, lifted his hand, and began to guide his mana into the forming strokes of the rune across his palm. 'Faster,' he thought firmly.

'Put more feeling into it,' Yggdrasil pressed.

'Faster,' Jacob repeated, his mind tightening around the word, though his mana still moved in deliberate, measured lines, precise but painfully slow.

'Faster. Faster. Faster.'

The words became a chant in his head, and the frustration built as he measured himself against the others; at this pace both Arthur and Abel would have long since completed their runes, and here he was dragging behind, struggling to push the pattern into place.

'I'm too slow,' he thought with a scowl, hearing in the background the faint snicker that slipped from Abel, who no doubt saw only how long it was taking and assumed Jacob was fumbling with nothing more than an ordinary flame rune.

'Damn it, faster!' Jacob roared inwardly, forcing every shred of focus into the command.

And then, in a sudden break, the rune appeared, not as a slow construct of strokes and lines but as if it had been pulled whole out of the air itself, forming instantly and hovering in perfect detail above his hand.

The quiet laugh from Abel cut off abruptly, and even Lazarus's composed expression faltered as his eyes widened, though Jacob kept his own face as steady as he could, suppressing the urge to smile.

'You can take it further,' Yggdrasil's voice urged, calm but certain. 'If you can make the drawing faster, think of what else you can force it to become.'

Jacob understood, and as he focused on the rune, readying to release it, a single word repeated in his thoughts with growing force: 'stronger, stronger, stronger.'

Each repetition sharpened his concentration, his eyes narrowing as he poured more intent into it, until finally, with the weight of his will behind it, he activated the rune.

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