Chapter 347: His Own Power

Brand measured Jin’s Core three times the next morning, using two different instruments. By the last reading, he had begun to feel sorry for the first device.

“Settled. Stable. Six,” she said, setting the reader down. “I’m going to be plain with you.”

Jin sat straighter.

“The result is real. Your file doesn’t explain it.” She turned the previous day’s assessment toward herself. “C-Rank Data Appraisal, a Silver (Peak) beast before awakening, excellent harmony. Even allowing for Glitch’s unusual development, this is well beyond what I expected.”

“So what happens?”

“A confidential foundation review. I’ll go over the records with the head of this office and consult Alcott about the medical side. We need to understand enough to guide your cultivation properly.”

Jin looked at the neat pile of papers between them. Somewhere in those readings was the trace of a talent he could never explain to her.

“Do you need another talent examination?”

“Not on the strength of this alone.” Brand paused. “If we recommend further tests, I’ll tell you what they measure and why. For now, we’re reviewing what we already have.”

That was less comforting than he wanted, but much better than being marched straight to an examination room.

“Does anyone else get told?”

“Your stripe count stays in the relevant professional records. It isn’t a public announcement.” She set the tablet aside. “You remain First-Class. This review doesn’t take your achievement away from you.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.”

“Good. You can stop gripping the chair.”

Jin looked down and opened his hands.

The next two days gave him plenty else to think about.

He had called home on Tuesday as promised. His mother had needed to hear him say he was all right twice, and Elsa had demanded a picture of Glitch before letting him end the call.

Getting a decent picture proved harder than the breakthrough.

Glitch wanted to inspect his new surroundings, which were the same surroundings he had occupied before, only suddenly much smaller. His tail overturned a feed trough. A turn inside the stall caught one horn against the crossbeam, leaving him staring indignantly at the wall until Jin guided his head free.

Flicker watched from above with tremendous interest.

“You could help by moving,” Jin told her as he eased Glitch backward.

She hopped along the beam and leaned down for a better view.

Alcott checked Glitch’s movement and recovery while Brand monitored Jin’s Core. By Friday, both were cleared for controlled practice. Jin arrived at the training ground early enough to find the lane still being raked.

Marker posts stood along the sand at two-meter intervals. At the far end, a handler named Pell waited with a lean gray training hound.

Brand joined Jin beside the nearest post.

“The hound will approach, then cut toward your left at the six-meter marker,” she said. “You’re trying to interrupt that change of direction. Light pressure only. Glitch stays beside you until I say otherwise.”

Jin glanced at the hound. It was examining Pell’s hand with the hopeful concentration of a beast that knew where the rewards came from.

He reached for the new reserve in his chest.

Gravity Press responded readily, though holding the shape took effort. He could feel how to place it, much as he knew how to close a hand. Getting it to land neatly where he wanted was another matter.

The patch he formed would cover roughly a doormat’s worth of ground. Once placed, it would remain there until he released it or its brief duration ended.

Pell gave the signal.

The hound came down the lane at an easy lope. Jin fixed his attention on the six-meter marker and cast.

Sand compressed with a soft thump. A ring of dust rose a full second before the hound arrived.

It changed direction early, skirted the patch, and sat beside Jin with its tongue out.

“Too early,” Brand said.

“I noticed.”

The hound accepted a reward from Pell while Jin let his pressure fade. He felt a distinct reduction in the reserve beneath his breastbone.

On the second attempt, he waited for the hound’s foot to touch down. By the time he cast, it had already pushed into the turn. His patch landed behind it.

Brand pointed to the tracks. “Watch the weight shift before the foot plants.”

Jin crouched to study them. He had spent plenty of time looking for that same moment in other people’s beasts. Apparently, recognizing it while directing Glitch and acting on it with his own skill were different things.

For the third attempt, Brand allowed Glitch to join.

“Step into its path after Jin interrupts the turn,” she said. “No charge. Pell will call it off before contact.”

Jin conveyed the waiting position through the bond, then faced the lane again.

This time he watched the hound’s hind legs bunch. He placed the patch where its next forepaw would land, and the foot sank more deeply into the sand than it intended.

The turn became a stumble.

Glitch took two measured steps forward. By the time the hound recovered, a broad armored shoulder occupied the path it had meant to use. Pell’s recall brought it to a stop well short of him.

“There,” Brand said. “That gave him time.”

Jin looked from the disturbed sand to Glitch. The drake raised his chin, looking entirely satisfied with his own contribution.

I helped with that.

He wanted to do it again before the feeling wore off.

They ran five more attempts, with rests while Pell repositioned the hound. Jin managed three useful interruptions. The others showed him how many ways a simple-looking cast could go wrong.

On their fifth attempt overall, Glitch stepped forward too soon. Jin cast anyway, and the edge of the patch caught Glitch’s forefoot. He dipped at the shoulder, recovered, and turned a reproachful look on Jin.

“Sorry,” Jin said. “I should’ve let that one go.”

“Yes,” Brand replied. “If he enters your target area, change the target or abandon the cast. The skill won’t make that decision for you.”

Jin rubbed Glitch’s neck while Pell reset the lane. The next time, he waited until he was sure where both beasts would be.

By the eighth and final attempt, his reserve was low enough that forming the patch took noticeable effort. He sat on the sand rather than pretending he was ready for another round.

“Now ask for a small transfer,” Brand said.

With his hand on Glitch’s shoulder, Jin opened himself to the familiar current. It entered his Core slowly, replenishing a little of what he had spent. Glitch’s breathing deepened as he supplied it.

“Everything you take costs him energy,” Brand reminded him.

Jin stopped after a short transfer. He had enough to feel the difference and no reason to leave Glitch tired just to make his own chest feel full again.

The hound came over to sniff his shoe. Jin let it, sitting with Glitch warm against his back while Pell collected the markers.

He had spent this whole session making a small patch of sand inconvenient to stand on. His aim was poor, his timing unreliable, and one cast had tripped his own beast.

He still couldn’t stop smiling.

Elsa called that evening while he was eating.

“Mom says you tried your skill today,” she said. “You sent me a picture of Glitch’s tail.”

“You asked how big he was.”

“I asked what you could do.”

Jin swallowed. “I can make a small patch of ground heavy. Sometimes while something’s standing on it.”

“That’s amazing.”

“About half the time.”

“It’s your first day.” She sounded almost offended on his behalf. “Can you show me when you come over?”

“In a proper training area.”

“Fine. Breeze and I can watch.” He heard the fox yip nearby, then Elsa lowered her voice with sudden seriousness. “I’m going to reach Rank 2 before I’m eighteen. You’ll see.”

“I’ll watch,” Jin said.

She passed the phone to Elena, who asked whether the practice had hurt. Jin described the tiredness and Brand’s supervision, leaving out the part where Glitch had stumbled.

“He’s fine too,” he added before she could ask. “Still wants beetles.”

“Then I’m glad,” Elena said. “It’s nice hearing you sound like this.”

After the call, Jin finished his meal and returned to his room. He had checked Glitch’s new profile during the awakening, but he hadn’t explored the rest of the Engine since. The days had filled with readings, awkward turns, and the temptation to practice his skill before he was allowed.

Now he sat on the bed, unlocked his phone, and opened the game.