Chapter 345: Better Than It Should Be

“What do I actually have to do?” Jin asked. “Not in theory. On the day.”

Specialist Odile Brand looked at him over his file. The cultivation-office clock had just passed ten, and he had already spent most of the appointment resisting the urge to ask that question. Every shelf behind her held instruments he couldn’t name.

“Most people ask me how long it’ll take,” she said.

“I’ll get to that.”

Brand closed the file. “For your first awakening, Glitch supplies most of the energy. Your talent carries it across your side of the bond, and you guide it into a stable formation. That becomes your Bond Core. Today, we find out how well you handle the flow.”

Jin followed her down the corridor, his phone heavy in his pocket. C-Rank Data Appraisal was written on the file tucked under her arm. What he actually possessed wasn’t on any academy chart.

Please don’t find something you need a second opinion on.

The assessment room had a padded floor and sensor posts around its edge. Glitch was already lying in the center, enjoying a technician’s attention to the ridge above his eye. He lifted his head when Jin arrived and thumped his tail against the mat.

Brand fitted bands around Jin’s wrists and forehead.

“These measure conduction,” she said. “How much energy crosses, how quickly, and how steady it remains. They won’t identify your talent. I’m testing what your side of the bond can carry.”

Jin’s shoulders eased a little. He sat against Glitch and put his hand on the warm plates of his neck while Brand adjusted the nearest sensor.

“Ask him for a trickle,” she said. “Keep it small.”

Through the bond, Jin conveyed the familiar feeling of restraint. Glitch’s breathing slowed, and a faint warmth reached Jin beneath his breastbone. He almost looked down to see whether anything had changed.

“Good,” Brand said. “Let that disperse. Then try again.”

On the second attempt, the current was stronger. Jin held his attention on it until Brand told him to release it, conscious of how easily it might slip away. He couldn’t have produced or maintained the flow without Glitch supplying it.

Brand studied her tablet, adjusted a setting, and repeated the test.

“Is something wrong?” Jin asked.

“Your conduction is higher than I expected. The stability is better still.” She turned the tablet toward him, though the lines meant little without her explanation. “A C-Rank appraisal talent usually contributes much less to this process. You’re carrying the flow with very little disruption.”

“Is that bad?”

“Unusual.” Brand glanced at Glitch. “Bond harmony matters, and yours is excellent. His development matters too. Those explain some of it.”

She made a note without saying they explained the rest.

Jin kept his hand on Glitch’s neck. He wanted to ask how unusual, then decided he had probably asked enough. Brand was still discussing preparation instead of summoning an examiner. For now, he could live with that.

Privately, he thought of the Engine. It had carried growth across the bond often enough. Perhaps his real talent was finally helping in a way the instruments could see, even if they couldn’t recognize the source.

The practical lesson took the rest of the morning, and Jin was bad at it.

“Receive,” Brand said. “Let it settle. Then accept more.”

The first part was easy. He felt the warmth arrive, sensed more waiting on Glitch’s side, and tried to hurry it along. It was the same stupid impulse that made him tap a button twice when a game took too long to respond.

The current lurched. Pressure spread across his chest, and the edge of his vision whitened.

“Stop,” Brand said.

Glitch had already cut the flow. His head swung toward Jin, concern pressing through the bond.

“Sorry, big guy.” Jin rubbed the nearest plate while his breathing settled. “That was me.”

Brand crouched in front of him. “Don’t draw in more than you can stabilize. You haven’t got a Core to hold the excess yet.”

“I felt it waiting.”

“It can wait.” She checked his wrist band before continuing. “Think of a queue. Finish what’s in front of you before taking the next part.”

A queue, Jin could work with. He waited until she was satisfied with his readings, then tried again.

This time he kept his attention on the small current already crossing the bond. The uneven buzzing eased. Only then did he signal readiness for more, and Glitch answered with another measured trickle.

They managed twenty controlled repetitions by noon. Jin’s back ached from sitting against armor, and Glitch had begun eyeing the technician’s food pouch.

“Better,” Brand said, removing the bands. “We’ll continue tomorrow.”

“Same time?”

“Yes. And eat beforehand.”

Jin looked at her.

“You’ve asked about duration twice and lunch four times,” she said. “I’m making an educated guess.”

He decided not to argue.

They returned Thursday and Friday, then completed two shorter sessions on Saturday. As Jin improved, he needed less conscious effort to match Glitch’s pace. A brief pause across the bond was enough; Glitch would wait while he settled the current, then supply more.

By Saturday afternoon, Brand’s tablet showed a steadier pattern than the one that had first caught her attention.

“You’ve learned to use what you have,” she said. “Alcott and I will review today’s results. If he’s satisfied with Glitch’s response, we can arrange the attempt.”

On Sunday, she showed Jin the breakthrough chamber. It had wider floor space, monitoring equipment against the walls, and room for Glitch to stretch out comfortably. A standard stabilizing draught had been allocated for him from academy stores. Jin would receive a calming infusion.

The sample tasted like bark soaked in old tea.

“That’s unpleasant,” he said.

“It’s a small dose,” Brand replied, accepting the empty cup. “Alcott will monitor Glitch. I’ll monitor you. There’ll be a medic available throughout.”

Jin looked at the space beside the floor sensors where he would sit. After all those weeks of being told to wait, the attempt had acquired a room and a date.

“Tuesday morning,” Brand said. “Monday is for rest.”

He told his family over dinner in Coldwell that evening.

Elena put down the serving spoon. Across the table, Arthur shifted his braced leg into a more comfortable position and asked who would be there.

Jin described the chamber, the specialist, and Alcott’s role. His father listened without interrupting, then nodded.

“Good. That’s how it’s done. Not in a stall at three in the morning.” Arthur picked up his fork. “Eat. You’ll want it.”

Elena hadn’t touched the spoon again.

“After last time,” she said quietly.

“Last time was a fight,” Jin replied. “This is a room full of doctors.”

“I know.”

He wished there were something better he could give her than that. He reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

“I’ll call as soon as they let me.”

“You’d better,” Elena said, holding on for a moment before letting him go.

“I want a call too,” Elsa said. “Before you spend an hour telling Mom everything and leave me with ‘it went fine.'”

“I wouldn’t take an hour.”

“You would if she asked whether you’d eaten.”

At his name in Elsa’s next demand, Breeze emerged from under the table and sat on Jin’s foot. Jin bent to rub the fox’s head while his mother finally resumed serving dinner.

On Tuesday morning, an hour after taking his draught, Glitch lay in the center of the breakthrough chamber without being asked. He put his chin on the mat, watched Jin approach, and sent a warm nudge of impatience through the bond.

Jin sat against his shoulder. The position was familiar now, right down to the plate that pressed into his elbow if he leaned too far back.

Behind them, Brand’s tablet chimed.

“Ready,” Alcott said.

Jin rested his palm on Glitch’s neck and waited until his own breathing slowed.

“Okay,” he said. “Send.”