Yellow Jacket

Vaeliyan crossed his arms, the faintest edge of irritation sharpening his tone as his gaze moved slowly between the three strangers before him. "I don't know if I feel comfortable showing everyone my new weapons. I barely know any of you, and I hardly know Yuri at all. This isn't exactly a casual thing for me, and I'm not in the habit of handing out trust like it's free. Where I come from, you show someone your tools, you're giving them a piece of yourself."

Yuri grinned like a man who had been waiting for that exact opening all day. "I get that. It's a bit more personal when they aren't standard issue, like a secret. Like my secret. Like everyone's secrets. If you show me yours, I'll show you mine," he said, leaning forward slightly, voice drifting toward the weirdly perverted, a glint in his eye daring someone to call him on it. He clearly wanted a reaction.

Vaeliyan's expression didn't change much, but there was a flicker of something, disgust, maybe, that crossed his eyes before he turned toward Imujin. "I want nothing to do with that man."

Deic reacted instantly, reaching over and smacking the back of Yuri's head with a sharp whap that cracked the quiet meadow air. "Stop being a weirdo, Yuri. No one wants to see your secret garden."

Yuri rubbed the spot she'd struck, grinning even wider as though her disapproval only encouraged him. "But it's got potatoes that fry themselves, it's genius!" he announced at full volume, finishing with a little cackle that sounded halfway between a mad scientist unveiling a doomsday device and a gleeful child who just learned how to set things on fire.

Thomas sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in a gesture that suggested he had done this many, many times before. "Ignore Yuri. He's a bit mad at the best of times. They say he's just like his dad in that department. But my secret…" His voice dropped, suddenly more deliberate, eyes settling on Vaeliyan with a weight that suggested this was more than idle curiosity. "That's actually something I'd be willing to share with a fellow apprentice, if you wouldn't mind showing me your weapons first."

Vaeliyan's lips pulled into a thin, unimpressed line. "Honestly, I'd rather fight you all than just line my weapons up like some museum exhibit for you to pick apart."

Deic laughed, the sound light and dismissive, like she'd already decided this was beneath her. "Oh, I'm not fighting. I have a date with Alex after this."

Vaeliyan's head tilted slightly, curiosity sparking despite himself. "Wait… do you mean the same Alex you fought at the entrance party?"

Deic's smile disappeared, replaced by a cold, unwavering stare. Her hands went to her hips as if bracing for a challenge. "I don't think that's any of your business."

The silence between them stretched, filled only by the faint rustle of grass in the breeze. The cool night air carried a crisp scent of water and moss, and somewhere off to their left, a branch snapped in the undergrowth.

Vaeliyan turned back to Imujin, his patience thinning like the last thread of a fraying rope. "Imujin, why did you bring me here? If it was to introduce me to a bunch of weirdos and… well, people like them, I'm not seeing the point. I have other things that are more important than this, like dying a slow and inevitable death I could be working on right now. At least then I'd be making progress toward something predictable, and maybe even a little more enjoyable than whatever this is supposed to be. So unless there's something more here than social hour, I'd rather get back to something that matters."

Imujin clapped his hands once, the sound sharp enough to crack across the clearing like a whip. The noise startled sleeping birds from the nearby trees, their wings beating a quick retreat. Everyone froze mid-motion, eyes darting to each other, as if silently debating who he was actually addressing. "All of you, stop, drop everything, and just fight. You all suck at making friends, so maybe hitting each other will help."

Vaeliyan crossed his arms, leaning his weight onto one leg with a casual defiance. "I have plenty of friends. I don't need new ones. And honestly, I think Yuri is already my friend."

"Yes, Vaeliyan, bringer of plenty, I am your dear friend," Yuri declared, placing a hand dramatically on his chest like a bard swearing fealty. "Which is why I must ask, when can I get that shipment we discussed? My patience is fragile, my friend. It wilts without care."

Thomas's brow furrowed as he glanced between them. "Wait… you're that Vaeliyan?"

"Are there many?" Vaeliyan asked with an arched brow, voice calm but edged. "Never met another. I thought it was rather unique."

"About as unique as Deic," Yuri cut in with a shrug. "Not unheard of, but rare. I knew one other, but he died. Tragic. Anyway, back to the pressing issue, when can I get my shipment, Vaeliyan, lord of lords?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Imujin interrupted with a smirk, "but debt slaves don't count as friends."

Vaeliyan's eyes narrowed. "He's not a debt slave."

"Fine, whatever," Imujin said, rolling his shoulders like he was loosening chains. "If you're not going to fight each other, how about you all try to fight me instead?"

Deic's grin was immediate, sharp as broken stone. Her eyes lit with anticipation. "Finally," she breathed, lunging forward, her stone-covered foot whipping toward Imujin's head like a hammer meant to break mountains.

Thomas moved at the same time, his arm stretching unnaturally long to sweep low for Imujin's legs while Deic's kick obscured his vision. Yuri, grinning like a man who knew no self-preservation, followed a heartbeat later, hurling a bottle that stank of alcohol, igniting into open flame the moment it kissed the air.

Imujin moved like gravity was a rumor. He caught Deic's foot on his forearm, pivoted, stomped down on Thomas's rubbery wrist, and slapped the air so hard the flames winked out mid-bloom. He turned his gaze to Vaeliyan, calm as a lake before a storm. "Are you not going to attack me?"

"I don't see the point," Vaeliyan replied, his voice flat, arms still crossed.

"Because it's fun, fool boy," Imujin grinned, teeth flashing.

"And because this way we get to let off steam without holding back," Deic added, shaking her arms loose, already coiling for another strike.

"Has anyone ever hit him?" Thomas asked, flexing his wrist as it snapped back to its proper length.

"Julia did, before she graduated," Yuri said. "She was the apprentice who just moved on, Vael."

"Horkan did too," Deic added. "He was before Jules. And I think Beck managed it once."

"Wait… is that it? Is that the last of the tests?" Deic's eyes sharpened with sudden realization.

Imujin didn't answer, he just smiled, slow and infuriating, the kind of smile that confirmed and denied in equal measure.

That was enough to ignite Deic fully. Her stance shifted, breathing steady but deep, every muscle primed. She looked ready to shatter stone with her bare hands.

Vaeliyan sighed inwardly. It probably had something to do with graduation. If that was the case, he might as well try to land a hit. Sounded simple, but he wasn't naive. His stats were likely the lowest here by a wide margin. The earlier attacks had been blinding, Thomas's speed nearly matched his own, but Yuri and Deic were only visible after their strikes landed. If he wanted a chance, he'd have to be patient, find the one perfect opening, and strike with precision. Otherwise, he'd end up swatted aside like an insect… and he already had enough bug jokes to last him a lifetime.

Vaeliyan sat down cross-legged on the packed dirt, the case resting in front of him like a sacred chest pulled from some battlefield shrine. He flipped it open with slow precision, the hinges creaking faintly, and began strapping on his upgraded gauntlets and leg plates with deliberate, almost ritual care. The gear had weight in more ways than one. Now that he had his Legion armor, he wasn't sure how often he'd reach for these old companions, but they still had their place. If the armor wasn't at hand, like when they would go to the Ninth Layer, these would be the difference between walking out alive or not walking out at all from the story Meri had told them.

The others gradually stopped whatever they were doing to stare at him. There was no disguising how strange it looked: Vaeliyan methodically strapping on weapons in what was supposed to be a casual meeting. But Yuri had already shattered that social barrier earlier when he'd uncorked his mystery flask without hesitation. Weapons, apparently, were fair game. Vaeliyan didn't care if they thought him paranoid, obsessive, or over-prepared. He wasn't here to make anyone comfortable. He was here to win. And if winning meant enhancers, dirty tactics, or the most underhanded tricks imaginable, he'd embrace them all without shame.

Metal hissed faintly as the gauntlets sealed into place, locking with a deep, satisfying click. He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, then exploded upward in a blur of motion. The clang of metal echoed as he lifted into the air, but this time his path was locked straight onto Imujin. The instructor didn't flinch, he just stood there, caught somewhere between awe and amusement.

That was all it took. The air seemed to shiver, and in an instant everyone turned their focus to Imujin like predators scenting blood.

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Deic was the first to move, her body transforming mid-stride. Stone ripped itself from the ground, fusing to her frame until she became a jagged, living mountain. Despite the sudden mass, she didn't slow, she moved faster, each impact of her feet sending tremors through the ground. The earth itself seemed to lurch under her charge.

Thomas pulled a ball of what looked like harmless yarn from his belt, but the metallic gleam betrayed its true nature, blacksteel. Somehow it had been crafted as thin and flexible as thread. He began whipping his arms in wide arcs, weaving the gleaming strands through the air like a loom working at impossible speed. The threads locked into a lattice across the field, a shimmering spiderweb of unbreakable metal. Vaeliyan mentally filed it away. That was the kind of tool you remembered.

And then there was Yuri, pure, unfiltered chaos in human form. He seemed to possess an endless cache of strange concoctions, tossing them one after another without pause. One bottle burst into a swarm of fiery insects, each as long as a thumb and trailing sparks that crackled in the air. Another shattered to unleash a forest of jagged crystal spires, which immediately began launching razor-sharp shards in every direction. A green vial struck a tiny toadstool, which swelled grotesquely in seconds into a towering mushroom, exhaling dense clouds of spores that rolled like fog over the battlefield.

The problem was clear: Yuri didn't seem to know, or care, what each vial would do. His only apparent rule was to throw everything and worry about the consequences later. Then came his masterpiece, the pièce de résistance: a bottle hurled straight at Imujin's face. It spun in the light just long enough to reveal the utterly absurd truth, it contained an actual kitchen sink, compacted into a bottle-shaped form.

Imujin threw his head back and started laughing, full-bodied, shoulder-shaking laughter that rumbled across the field. For a moment, it almost broke his focus enough for them to land a hit. Almost. They unleashed everything in that single heartbeat, a storm of stone, steel webs, fire, spores, shrapnel, and sheer lunacy. The ground buckled, the air roared, and yet, when the dust cleared, Imujin stood exactly where he had begun, not a single hair out of place, grinning like a man who'd just been reminded why he loved this job.

Vaeliyan had expected them to fail, of course, but what he hadn't expected was the sudden, sharp notification flashing across his vision. He'd gained a level. For a heartbeat he froze, as if even breathing might shatter the moment, afraid the message would dissolve like a mirage in heat. Then it sank in, heavy and undeniable, and the rush hit hard. This was wildly, intoxicatingly exciting. He hadn't leveled since back in Mara months ago, and the long drought had left a creeping doubt gnawing at the back of his mind. Now, after Imujin had helped him unlock his classes, the dam had burst. The lock was gone. He could move forward again. It was like being dragged from the depths after drowning, lungs burning, chest heaving, every nerve lit up like lightning. It felt good, no, it felt incredible, to know he wasn't stuck anymore. The floodgates weren't just open, the water was roaring through, sweeping him along with it, daring him to keep up.

He flexed his fingers slowly, letting the thrill settle into something sharper, steadier. His mind was already running the math, calculations, fight scenarios, every split-second edge those new points could give him. He imagined fights decided by a breath, a twitch, and how a few more points could tilt the outcome. Turning toward Imujin, his eyes narrowed with focus. "Should I spend my stat points right now, or hold off?"

Imujin shrugged, the gesture so casual it almost irritated him. "It's your life, your call. If you want advice, lean into your strengths, but at your level it's easy to fix a mistake later. If the balance feels wrong, you can shift it. Go with your gut. You know yourself better than I do, so slam them where you think they belong."

Vaeliyan gave him a sidelong glance, one brow arched as a crooked smile crept in. "That's a lot more relaxed than I expected. No lecture about efficiency? No horror stories about cadets ruining themselves with bad allocations?"

A knowing smile tugged at Imujin's mouth, hinting at old battles and quiet victories. "Some things don't need overthinking. You build yourself the way you want. The rest is how you use what you've got, and you've already proven you know how to use it."

Vaeliyan let the words sink in, leaning back slightly, feeling the heat of his own excitement coil tighter inside him. The air seemed clearer, the path ahead sharper. For the first time in months, he wasn't staring at an unyielding wall. He was standing at the mouth of a long, open road stretching into the unknown. And this time, he wasn't just ready to walk it, he was ready to sprint headlong into whatever came next.

Vaeliyan looked at his stats and lingered on them far longer than he intended, letting each number sink in like drops of molten metal. They weren't just numbers anymore, they were momentum, raw proof that he wasn't stuck where he'd been for months, proof that all the grinding, the training, the bruises, and the endless days had actually pushed him forward.

For the first time in what felt like forever, his weakest stats weren't suffocating him, weren't chaining him to the bottom. That alone felt like a quiet, private victory. But the moment of satisfaction quickly shifted to calculation: where should he invest next? Intelligence and Resolve had been rock-solid from the start, never failing him when he needed clarity or unshakable will. The upgrade to his vision alone was staggering; he could now clearly take in the full range of human sight, catching the tiniest shifts, the twitch of a finger before a strike, and reading a battlefield like an open book. He could double down on that, sharpening it until it could cut through any deception or feint. Or… maybe now was the time to drag his lowest stats upward, shoring up every possible weakness until there were none.

The debate circled in his head until a memory from his earlier talk with Imujin slammed back into place. He'd asked about the stat bonuses from his new classes, expecting something small, one point to each stat, six in total, replacing the two-per-primary stat distribution he'd had before. Imujin had said the bonuses would apply to all stats and scale harder as he leveled, but Vaeliyan had taken that as encouragement, not prophecy.

He'd been wrong.

The truth hit like a lance to the ribs: three points in all six stats, every single level, plus twelve unallocated points on top. No conditions, no penalties, just raw power funneled straight into his hands. The math was ridiculous. He should've been seeing six total points at level twelve, but the system had doubled it without even a whisper. It wasn't progression, it was acceleration.

And this was now. Just now. At higher levels, the numbers would become monstrous.

What in all the hells did Imujin's own sheet look like? The man wasn't just dangerous, he was operating on a scale that made Vaeliyan's progress feel like a child learning to walk next to a god striding across the world. A warlord hiding behind the casual smirk of a petty tyrant, moving pieces the rest of them couldn't even recognize as part of the board.

And Warren… Warren hadn't even been level fifteen when he killed a level thirty. Vaeliyan could finally grasp what that meant, and it was a truth that sent a rush of exhilaration straight through him, tempered with a quiet, undeniable fear.

Vaeliyan carefully placed three points each into Intelligence, Perception, and Resolve, feeling the subtle shift ripple through his mind and senses. His thoughts branched faster, weaving connections before he even consciously reached for them. Clarity sharpened until every detail in his surroundings stood out, the twitch of fingers, the narrowing of eyes, the slight shift in balance that gave away intent. He could almost hear the weight of the air, feel the faint currents curling between the others in the room. After a long moment's consideration, he assigned one point each into Strength, Dexterity, and Endurance. His muscles tensed with new power, his stance grounding into something more solid, his breath flowing easier. The balance felt good, measured, but it was the awareness that really burned in his mind. Closing the stat screen with a flick, he turned his attention to Imujin.

"So, what exactly are these tests you've been running us through? And while we're at it, I want details: how did the 49th convince the High Imperator to take them as apprentices? Deck swears they only train the top four from each class, and those are usually claimed first. Right?"

Imujin's shrug was deliberate, lazy in that calculated way that told Vaeliyan the man was holding back more than he was sharing. "You'd be surprised how often it doesn't go that way. Usually, yes. Always? Not even close."

Deic leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her smirk a weapon and a shield all at once. "So you've got the dream we all had, huh? Let me do you a favor, wake up. It's just that. A dream."

Vaeliyan laughed, low and sharp, the sound cutting through the air without a trace of warmth. "Listen, girl, you know absolutely nothing about me. And from what I've seen so far, I understand why you'd think that, but you're still wrong."

Imujin's voice slid between them, dry but with enough edge to make them both pause. "That was mean. Both of you, keep it civil, or I won't share my cookies with anyone here."

Vaeliyan blinked at him like the man had just declared war on common sense. "Why would I care about your cookies?"

Yuri leaned in, his grin slow and dangerous, eyes glittering with amusement. "Because they're loaded with some of the best drugs credits can buy. Not just for the high, though it's insane, but because they actively help with Soul Skill cultivation. Only a few minor hallucinations as a side effect."
Vaeliyan wasn't sure if Imujin was joking, but if he was, it was the first joke all night he'd actually wanted to hear more about. Vaeliyan's brow lifted, his voice sharpening with real interest. "Drugs, you say?"

Oh yeah, they're awesome, and I make them myself with only things I can get as a headmaster," Imujin said with a grin that suggested both pride and mischief. "So all of you, stop fighting, sit down back-to-back, and eat a fucking cookie. Trust me, you'll thank me later."

"How long is this going to last? I mean, I've got class in the morning," Vaeliyan asked, chuckling as he glanced around.

"I think the instructor of that class would know that," Imujin replied with a sly smile. "It lasts exactly ten minutes, but it'll feel like a few hours while you're tripping balls. Time stretches, bends… sometimes it loops back on itself."

"I'm not exactly sure why I want to try these," Vaeliyan admitted, looking down at the small cookie in his hand, "but honestly, it's the first time I'm being offered drugs and… well, it's with my… huh, what do I call you, Imujin? Is it master, mentor, or just Imujin?"

"It's master when we're in Legion standards, so yes, it's master while you're talking about our relationship," Imujin said firmly, though there was amusement in his eyes.

"I call him my drug dealer when my class asks," Thomas added, tone so casual it almost sounded like a confession.

"Everyone just sit down," Imujin instructed, "and I'll sit with Vaeliyan, just for this first ride. You're all going to want someone around who's been through it before."

He passed out what looked like almond cookies, each with a faint metallic shimmer to the sugar dusting, and one by one they shoved them into their mouths without hesitation. Soon, the group was stretched out on the soft meadow grass, shoulders touching, breathing slow.

When Imujin reached Vaeliyan, he paused. "Would you rather sit in the stream? Seems more appropriate for you," he suggested.

Deic shot Vaeliyan a narrow-eyed look at that, unreadable but sharp.

Without a word, Vaeliyan rose, stepped into the stream, and settled himself in the cool, running water. Imujin sat cross-legged on the shore in front of him, watching with an attentive calm. "I'm here to make sure you don't have a bad reaction," he said, raising a hand before Vaeliyan could speak. "No one has had a bad reaction so far, but assuming it'll always work the same for everyone is how you end up losing a perfectly good apprentice. And I don't waste good apprentices."
Vaeliyan laid back into the stream and looked at the stars and ate the cookie.

Vaeliyan Verdance — Level 21

Third threshold requirements met

Class: Wake Dancer

Alignment: Green Zone Citizen
Unallocated Stat Points: 0

Strength: 29
Perception: 36
Intelligence: 44
Dexterity: 37
Endurance: 29
Resolve: 41