Lazarus found himself more than satisfied with what he had witnessed so far, and in truth he could admit that he had been thoroughly impressed, for the three boys before him were unlike any he had taught in the past, more talented by far than any student he had ever seen, and it was precisely because he had sensed that difference in them that he had agreed to bother with the trouble of teaching in the first place.

Normally he avoided such obligations, for the burden of expectation often led only to disappointment when the reality of a pupil failed to match the promise that first drew your attention, and he had grown weary of such inevitable disillusionment long ago.

But these three were not ordinary. Abel, for instance, had already grasped a subject Lazarus had intended to cover weeks later, and beyond mere rote learning he had taken the initiative to modify and reshape the runes he had studied until they better reflected his own aspect and nature, which spoke of both talent and ingenuity.

If only he could set aside the pride that clouded his judgment and abandon the stubborn patterns of thought that sometimes held him back, then there was no doubt in Lazarus's mind that Abel could one day rise to stand as a master among masters.

Arthur, on the other hand, was different again, a boy who seemed to embody what people truly meant when they used the word genius. Only someone born with an extraordinary instinct could create techniques of that kind, drawing them from nowhere, refining them without guidance, and making them work in ways even Lazarus had never encountered before.

The boy had been shaped for battle, that much was obvious, and training him would not feel like a burden but rather a source of fascination, for to observe the strange methods he devised would provide Lazarus with new avenues of study, even challenges to his own long-formed understanding. With time and only a little polish Arthur could very well become something terrifying, a monster of pure capability who might stand at the very summit of Eterna.

And then there was Jacob. In truth Lazarus had not accepted him because of any dazzling display of practical skill but rather because of his mind, for never before had he met someone so young who devoted himself so completely to theory over application, and though at first Lazarus had doubted whether such a path could lead anywhere, he had been convinced otherwise after quietly observing the boy from a distance, ever since that failed experiment alongside Lucas.

His persistence, his refusal to abandon inquiry even in the face of failure, and his dedication to knowledge had eventually won Lazarus over. From what he had heard Jacob was also competent with a sword, more than competent perhaps, and that alone meant that his future path remained open.

Should he choose to walk alongside Arthur, he could become a warrior of rare quality, and if he chose instead to turn inward toward the pursuit of theory, he might become a scholar of equal note, retreating from the world yet leaving his mark upon it all the same.

Yet in this moment Lazarus could not help but feel the weight of disappointment, small but undeniable, because although he had told himself he valued Jacob for his intellect, it would be a lie to pretend he did not also carry high expectations, and those expectations were not being met.

To begin with, the boy had stepped forward intending only to display a flame rune, and while he had claimed to have adjusted it, which Lazarus could see was true given that its structure was indeed more complex than the ordinary form, the sheer time it was taking him to manifest it was discouraging.

The problem was not even the careful drawing of the rune itself but the sluggish manner in which Jacob drew mana from his core to his palm, a delay so drawn out that it bordered on embarrassing, especially when compared with Abel and Arthur, who could both complete their runes with far greater speed and efficiency.

Lazarus could also tell at a glance that Jacob had not relied on any form of mana absorption technique, and compared to the two standing beside him, the amount of energy he carried was far less, almost meagre by comparison, which only deepened the quiet thought pressing at the back of his mind 'had he allowed his hopes to rise too high for nothing?'

And then, without warning, it was done. The rune was completed so swiftly that Lazarus had not even seen the lines being traced, and for an instant it looked as though the symbol had simply appeared of its own accord, materializing fully formed, which under normal circumstances should have been impossible.

For the briefest moment he entertained the notion that the boy had already learned how to call upon the ingrained runes of an inner world, but a closer inspection dismissed that thought, no, Jacob had done nothing of the sort, he had simply drawn the rune with such speed that had Lazarus not been concentrating, he would have failed to understand what had occurred at all.

'He managed this without relying on will?' Lazarus felt his eyes widen despite himself, surprise cutting through his usual composure.

And then, a second surprise followed almost immediately. He had expected Jacob to release the ordinary flame rune, a chaotic torrent of fire spewing outward in wide, uncontrolled arcs, the kind of crude force that beginners often had to wrestle with.

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What left Jacob's palm, however, was something else entirely. The flames condensed, narrowed, and hardened into a thin beam, a focused line of fire with far greater lethality when aimed at a single target, a technique that required control, discipline, and most of all experience, things that should only come with long practice.

The beam struck against his barrier, and the shimmering wall trembled violently under the pressure before a hole was burned clean through it, the concentrated stream pressing onward until it touched Lazarus's chest. Normally he would have blocked the blow out of instinct, but this time he allowed it to land, for he wanted to see it, to confirm it with his own eyes.

The fire struck, heat licked across him, and still he found himself smiling, his hand trembling faintly at his side as the truth settled in his mind.

'This… this was a rank ten rune, drawn by a rank ten mage, yet the force it carried was already equal to that of the weakest rank nine rune.'

Such a thing was not supposed to be possible. A rank ten mage should never have the strength to step across that boundary, for the restraint of rank was absolute, and exceptions were only made when comparing across different races or when a practitioner like Arthur carried both aura and mana to balance against one another.

Yet Jacob had broken that barrier with mana alone, and Lazarus could not hide the smile spreading across his face, nor the quiet trembling that stirred in his heart as he looked at the three boys before him, the rarest gems he had ever uncovered, each one gleaming with talent he had never truly expected to find.

"That was an excellent flame rune," he said at last, his voice even but tinged with a note of genuine approval, "the adjustments you have made have elevated it beyond the level of a basic flame rune, and your control has already reached a level you should not yet be capable of attaining. Well done. I will give it a nine out of ten."

He watched Jacob carefully then, saw the faint smile ease across his face, saw the tightness leave his shoulders, and in that moment, Lazarus knew that the boy had finally allowed himself to believe he had done well.

"Do you have anything else to show me?" Lazarus asked at last, though the truth was he did not really expect Jacob to have anything left to reveal. The effort required to both modify a rune until it reached such a level and to learn how to wield it effectively should have consumed months, if not years, and the fact that Jacob had managed this much in only two months was already difficult enough to believe.

Yet contrary to his quiet expectation, Jacob answered, "Yes, I do."

'Marvellous,' Lazarus thought to himself, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly in anticipation.

"And what might that be?" he asked.

Jacob drew in a slow breath before replying, "I… have learned a rune for short-distance teleportation."

Even as he said the words, Jacob was inwardly cursing Yggdrasil, for there was no such thing as a rank ten rune for teleportation, not even over the shortest distances.

He had argued this point before, told Yggdrasil that attempting such a thing would draw suspicion no matter how useful it turned out to be, but the ancient presence had ignored him, insisted, pressed him, and in the end Jacob had gone along with it, and now here he was, standing before the grand scholar, claiming to wield something that should not exist.

Lazarus's smile vanished, replaced with the weight of seriousness as he spoke. "I hope you are not making a joke. No matter how talented you may be, the mana of a rank ten mage is insufficient to support teleportation, and especially so for someone like you who has not yet expanded his mana reserves."

Jacob steadied himself with another breath and replied, "What if… I could construct a rune that does not draw solely on my own mana, but instead absorbs from the environment? Then the limits of my personal capacity would not matter."

"That," Lazarus said flatly, "would be the same as attempting to control nature itself, which is impossible. The mana in the environment is mixed and unstable, and no rune could possibly activate under such conditions."

"But what if my rune only absorbed rank ten mana from the environment," Jacob countered carefully, "and drew in such a great quantity of it that it alone could power the effect?"

He knew it would work. He had already noticed that with true runes there were moments when his own mana was insufficient and yet the rune continued to function by silently drawing upon the surrounding energy. It was not something he had fully understood, but it was there nonetheless, a characteristic of runes that seemed alive in their own way.

"There is no need for further talk," Lazarus said after a pause. "Show us."

Jacob nodded, exhaling through his nose as he began shifting his mana, this time not toward his hands but down into his feet, for the rune was to be drawn upon the ground itself.

'That method of making it faster will not work in this case,' Yggdrasil's voice rang in his mind. 'You are not practiced enough with it yet.'

Jacob acknowledged silently and focused harder. The rune began to take shape, but the process was painfully slow, each line forming with deliberate precision. No one said a word, not even Abel, because it was immediately apparent that the rune's complexity was staggering.

Abel, who had studied as much rune theory as Jacob, could not understand it at all, and in truth even Jacob himself did not fully comprehend what he was drawing. It was not a single rune but an intricate mesh of several, combined and woven together into something far greater than the sum of its parts, and Jacob could not explain why this particular configuration created the effect it did.

Nearly twenty minutes later, it was finally complete.

Lazarus lifted his gaze toward Jacob and asked quietly, "Did you truly create this on your own?"

Jacob gave a small nod. He had already prepared an excuse. "I was experimenting with different combinations and somehow arrived at this. I honestly don't understand how it works."

Lazarus gave a slow nod in return, accepting the answer for now, and Jacob pressed his hand against the completed rune.

The lines pulsed and glowed with a sharp white light, and in the next instant every trace of mana in the atmosphere was gone. It was not a gradual draining but an abrupt and jarring emptiness, and the sudden shift was so overwhelming that both Abel and Arthur staggered, nausea overtaking them until they collapsed to the ground.

And then, in the blink of an eye, Jacob's body vanished.

A heartbeat later, he reappeared a few feet from where he had been standing before.

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