Chapter 356: Six Stripes, Steadier Hands

Chapter 356: Six Stripes, Steadier Hands

"Stable," Brand said. "Still six. Still exactly where it was."

She set the second reader down beside the first on her desk and looked across at Jin. The head of the cultivation office sat at the end of the table, a heavyset man with gray hair who had said almost nothing since Jin walked in and had written a great deal.

Glitch was lying in the corridor outside, because he didn’t fit through the door anymore. Every so often, Jin heard his tail thump against the wall.

"I’ll give you the conclusion first," Brand said. "Then the reasoning. The review is closed. Your Core is stable, well formed, and exceptional. There’s no hidden fault, no instability we missed, and nothing that needs correcting. It goes on your private record as six stripes, verified."

Jin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

"And the C-Rank?" Jin asked.

"Stays C-Rank." Brand tapped the file. "Your talent was graded at your awakening. A strong Core doesn’t change that grade, and I’m not in the business of re-grading people because they surprised me. What I’ve written is that the combination is unusual. An appraisal talent applied very well, an excellent bond, and a beast whose development was well above normal for its starting Quality." She glanced toward the door, where Glitch’s tail thumped again. "Something in that combination produced a better foundation than any single piece of it would predict. I don’t fully understand why. I don’t need to, to train you."

The office head spoke for the first time.

"We see this occasionally," he said. "Not often. Usually with people who’ve spent an unusual amount of time with their beast. You’d be surprised how much it matters." He closed his notebook. "Specialist Brand will handle your guidance. I’m satisfied."

He nodded to them both and left. Jin waited until the door closed before easing his grip on the chair. He’d spent the morning rehearsing answers to questions neither of them had asked.

Unusual, he thought. That’s one word for it.

"Now," Brand said. "The useful part."

She took him down to the practice room, the same round, padded room where he’d first learned to receive. Glitch followed and lay down along the wall. In the middle of the floor sat a flat gray mat about two meters square, covered in a fine grid of sensor lines.

"Pressure plate," Brand said. "It reads exactly how much force lands on it, where, and for how long. Put your Gravity Press on it."

Brand fastened a monitoring band around his wrist. Jin reached for the reserve in his chest, set a small patch on the middle of the mat, held it for a second, and released it.

The mat lit up on Brand’s tablet. So did a second readout beside it, which Jin realized was his Core.

Brand studied both and said nothing for a while.

"How did that feel?" Brand asked.

"Fine?" Jin looked from her to the tablet.

"It worked," she said. "It also used considerably more energy than it needed. Look at the edges." She turned the tablet toward him.

The pressure on the mat wasn’t a clean square. It was a heavy center with a soft, smeared halo round it, fading out over thirty centimeters in every direction.

"You’re spending energy out here without getting useful pressure," Brand said. "And once the patch was stable, you kept forcing more into it." She pointed at the Core readout, where a long tail trailed off after the main spike. "You were still sending a little when you released the effect. That adds up over several casts."

Jin looked at the readout and felt his face go slightly hot.

He’d been so pleased with the boar at the plank bridge. Getting the timing right had taken practice; once he’d managed that, he’d stopped wondering what else he could improve.

"How do I stop that?" Jin asked.

"Set the size and pressure before you cast," Brand said. "Once the patch forms, keep it steady without shoving more into it. Then release it cleanly when you’re finished." She tapped the trailing line. "You’re trying to stop the skill and feed it at the same time here."

He tried again.

This time, he thought about the size first. Small. A doormat. Just enough to catch its front feet. He limited the energy, trying to feel the moment when he had supplied enough.

He reduced the flow too soon.

The patch came down half-formed and weak. It was the right shape this time, sharp-edged, but it had barely enough weight to press a dent into the mat before it faded.

"Better edges," Brand said. "But let it form properly before you ease off."

Jin swore under his breath. Brand pretended not to hear.

They rested between attempts while Brand showed him the readings. The third cast spread at the edges again. The fourth was close. On the fifth, Jin felt the patch settle and resisted the urge to push harder. He held it for the same brief count, then released it. This time the Core readout dropped without the trailing leak.

Brand looked at the numbers and nodded once.

"That one cost about two-thirds of your first," she said. "Same effect. Better, actually; the force is all inside the patch, where you want it."

Jin stared at the tablet.

Two-thirds. If he could keep doing that, he’d have enough left for casts he couldn’t have afforded before. He wanted to try again immediately, just to prove the good one hadn’t been luck.

"It doesn’t make the patch any bigger," Brand added, reading his expression. "It doesn’t make it stronger than its mastery allows, and it doesn’t make it care whose feet are in it. It just means you’ll have more left at the end of a fight."

"That’s the bit I care about," Jin said, and meant it.

"Now receiving," Brand said. "Glitch."

Glitch lifted his head from the floor.

Jin went and sat against his shoulder, the way he had a dozen times in this room. His Core was low after the practice casts. He put his palm on the thick plates of Glitch’s neck and asked.

The current came across, slow and warm. Jin received it and felt it settle into his Core, filling a little of the empty space. It took nearly a minute to get back the equivalent of one good cast. ℴ

Brand watched her tablet.

"There’s some loss here too," Brand said. "Most of it reaches your Core, but watch what happens when you hesitate." She showed him the uneven line. "You accept a little, pause to settle it, then accept more. That caution helped before the breakthrough. Now try guiding a smaller, steadier current all the way in."

Jin closed his eyes and tried.

It was a strange, fiddly adjustment, like drinking from a cup with his other hand. He asked Glitch for a little less and followed the current into his Core, trying to keep it moving instead of pausing to check every small rise in his reserve.

The first two tries were clumsy. On the third, he felt the difference: the current going in clean, with less of that loose warmth spreading through his chest and disappearing.

"Better," Brand said. "That’s less lost."

Under his hand, Glitch’s breathing had deepened slightly. Jin felt it through the bond too, a faint dip in Glitch’s own warm, steady reserve.

"That’s enough," he said, and stopped asking.

Brand nodded approvingly. "Good. Everything you take is his. Don’t drain him to save yourself a rest. Your beast needs his energy for his own fights."

Glitch put his head back down on his forelegs and looked faintly pleased to have been useful.

Brand wrote the routine on a card and handed it to him at the door.

Morning: up to five measured casts on the plate. Set the patch. Keep the supply steady. Release cleanly.

Evening: one short receiving drill. Monitor both reserves. Stop before Glitch grows tired.

Rest between casts. Stop if the readings worsen with fatigue.

"Two weeks," she said. "Then come back and show me. You won’t be perfect. You’ll be better."

"How much better?" Jin asked.

"Depends on you." Brand looked at him over her glasses. "You’ve got a very good Core, Jin. That doesn’t do the work for you. It just gives you more to waste if you’re careless."

Jin folded the card carefully and put it in his pocket. He’d come here worried about being questioned and was leaving with extra practice to fit around his classes. Somehow, he was looking forward to it.

By evening, he’d eaten, rested, and recovered enough to try the sensor mat the office had lent him. He set it in a clear corner of the stall and worked through five measured casts. The third spread at the edges. He stopped to study it rather than immediately trying harder, and the fifth came out clean.

Glitch watched the whole thing with his chin on his forelegs, and when Jin finished, he nudged the empty feed bucket meaningfully across the floor.

"Yeah," Jin said. "You earned it too."