The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. Nobody talked about the incident. Nobody wanted to remember what happened when Obsidian pushed too hard, too fast, too recklessly.

Vale’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted in his mismatched eyes. "The past is an excellent teacher and a terrible master. Dwell on it, and it drowns you. Learn from it, and it becomes a foundation." He pushed off from his desk and began pacing, a predator in an expensive jacket. "The question isn’t whether Obsidian can close the gap. The question is whether you’re willing to do what’s necessary to close it without repeating previous mistakes."

"What would you suggest, Professor?" Belle asked, her voice carrying that particular sweetness she deployed when she wanted information.

"Patience, Miss Fox. The universe rewards those who wait." Vale smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made you want to check if your wallet was still in your pocket. "Now, shall we discuss mana circulation, or would you prefer to continue wallowing in competitive anxiety?"

The next hour passed in a blur of technical information about channeling mana through hostile environments. Vale explained how certain gate biomes could interfere with standard mana circulation patterns, creating feedback loops that turned your own power against you. He demonstrated using holographic diagrams that made the whole thing look deceptively simple, pausing occasionally to field questions from students who actually understood what he was talking about.

I understood maybe sixty percent of it. The other forty percent went straight over my head and out the window, probably to terrorize some unsuspecting birds.

Naomi, of course, took meticulous notes. Her pen moved across the page in neat rows, capturing everything Vale said plus her own observations and cross-references to textbook Chapters I definitely hadn’t read. Belle pretended to take notes while actually doodling what appeared to be a remarkably detailed sketch of Vale being eaten by a dragon. Jordan had given up on note-taking entirely and was playing some kind of puzzle game on his phone, hidden behind a propped-up textbook.

"Mr. Wayne," Vale said without turning around. "Unless that device contains classified information about mana circulation, I suggest you put it away before I confiscate it."

Jordan’s phone disappeared so fast I was half-convinced he’d developed a new ability.

"Now then." Vale clapped his hands together, the sound sharp enough to make several students flinch. "Questions. I know you have them. I can see them festering behind your eyes like poorly contained mana."

A hand went up near the middle of the room. One of the guild kids, I thought, though I couldn’t remember his name. "Professor Vale, you mentioned that certain biomes can interfere with barrier abilities. Does that affect all defensive techniques, or just mana-based constructs?"

"Excellent question. The answer is complicated." Vale pulled up another holographic display showing a forest biome filled with bioluminescent fungi. "Physical reinforcement techniques remain largely unaffected because they operate through the body rather than external projection. However, any ability that creates a construct separate from the caster becomes vulnerable to environmental interference. This includes barriers, shields, summoned weapons, and in extreme cases, even certain types of projectile abilities."

More hands went up. Vale fielded questions about specific biome types, about countermeasures, about historical gate incidents where entire teams had been wiped out because they didn’t understand the environmental hazards they were walking into. He answered each one with the casual expertise of someone who had survived things none of us could imagine.

I kept my mouth shut and tried to absorb as much as possible. My situation was unique enough that most of this general information only partially applied to me, but knowledge was knowledge. You never knew when some random fact about fungal spores or gravity distortions would save your life.

The clock on the wall ticked toward the end of the period. Students began gathering their things, anticipating dismissal, but Vale held up a hand.

"Not so fast." His smile widened, and a chill ran down my spine. I’d learned to recognize that particular expression. It meant trouble. "Midnight Foxes, remain seated. Miss Davenport’s team as well."

The rest of the class filed out, casting curious glances at those of us who remained. Aurora caught my eye as she passed, her eyebrows raised in a silent question. I shrugged. I had no idea what this was about.

Belle, Naomi, Jordan, and Misato stayed in their seats, exchanging confused looks. Across the room, Blair rose to her full height, her red hair catching the light like a warning beacon. Her team consisted of three other students I’d seen in training but never formally met. A tall guy with dark skin and a permanent scowl who I was pretty sure specialized in earth manipulation. A petite girl with silver hair and an unsettling smile who gave off serious "will absolutely stab you in your sleep" vibes. And a muscular blonde who looked like he’d been carved from granite and had about as much personality.

Vale waited until the door closed behind the last departing student before speaking.

"I have a proposition for you."

The words hung in the air like a challenge. Belle shifted in her seat, her casual demeanor sharpening into focused attention. Naomi’s pen had stopped moving. Jordan looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but was too curious to actually leave. Misato’s expression remained unreadable, but her posture had changed, coiled and ready.

Blair crossed her arms over her chest, her Elite Ten uniform jacket emphasizing the rank insignia on her shoulders. "What kind of proposition, Professor?"

"The kind that could benefit both your squads." Vale walked to the window, gazing out at the campus with his hands clasped behind his back. "And the kind that could get you killed if you’re not careful. Which, honestly, is true of most things worth doing."

"Could you be more specific?" I asked. "The suspense is thrilling and all, but some of us have places to be."

Vale turned, and for a moment, something flickered in his mismatched eyes. Amusement, maybe. Or appreciation. Or the look a cat gives a mouse before deciding whether to play with it.

"There’s a gate opening Friday evening. C-rank, forest biome, standard clearance contract." He pulled up a holographic display showing the gate’s projected location somewhere in the hills north of campus. "The academy has secured the rights as a training exercise for senior students."

"That’s not unusual," Blair said. "C-rank gates are standard training material for third-years."

"Indeed they are." Vale’s smile grew wider.

"Which is why I’ve arranged for two first-year teams to participate instead."