Bursting, and popping, and twisting, and turning, wild energies distort the space around me. Scolding plasma gushes through my veins. Instinctively, uncontrollably, I grab the posts of my chair and bring it down with a thunderous crash onto my desk, showering my dorm with metal nails and splintered wood. My rage unspent; I take hold of the back of my davenport and throw it across my chambers, detonating the writing desk on the far-side wall.

My fists clench, my arms raise so that they are parallel with my chest, my back straightens, and my neck bends back, pointing my face to the ceiling above. With my eyes squeezed shut, I howl. Primal and unrestrained, I howl.

Rachel…

They have Rachel.

They've taken her.

They've taken what's mine.

Mine!

She's mine! She belongs to me! How Dare they! How dare they take what belongs to me! I'll kill every last one of them.

Hell!

I will rain hell down upon those bastards! I will crush them all! I will see them driven before me, and I will bathe in the lamentations of their loved ones! None shall escape my retribution!

"Calm yourself, Nero! Your rage will undo you."

Father's words submerge the inferno raging inside me, bringing with them a tempering chill. As if waking from a dream, slowly, I return to myself. With a deep sigh, I confront the disarray brought about by my petulant outburst. Closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose between my forefinger and thumb, I take a seat on my bed. As the embarrassment of my childish tantrum permeates my mind, I softly chuckle.

What was I even angry about? They've taken Rachel, so what? Who is she to me to inspire such a reaction?

No.

It's not about her at all; it's about me. It's about taking what's mine. The girl is a tool, albeit, a useful one. Her fortuitous connections with the underbelly of this region have been of great benefit to my goals, but she was never someone important to me. When her usefulness had been expended, she was to be discarded.

However…

None of that's to say she can be taken from me. She's a tool, but she's my tool. The impertinence of Geo and his band of bottom feeders cannot be overlooked. I'll retrieve what is mine if I can, but I'll certainly avenge the offence one way or the other.

The problem rests in the fact I'm being tracked. At this moment, leaving the safety of the academy would spell my demise. The moment I walk past those golden gates, I would be swarmed by opportunistic lowlifes, each one eager to take my head and claim the bounty issued upon it. Individually, they're nothing but pests, but a war of attrition against an endless army could only possibly end one way…

So I let her go? Abandon the girl and seek vengeance for the affront at another time…

No.

This grievance must be redressed and redressed with extreme prejudice. If I allow this insult to pass, it'll only encourage greater and greater affronts. Geo and everyone he loves must die, and they must die now. An example needs to be made; a statement to all who harbour thoughts of claiming my head that the costs, by far, outweigh the potential gains.

If anything, I should be thanking Geo. He's given me a target for my exhibition; a direct example of the consequences of crossing me. When I've finished with him, when I've destroyed everything he loves, when I've peeled his skin from his flesh, mounted it on a pole, and declared it my flag, I can't imagine there'll be many left with the confidence to pursue me.

But then, how?

How do I shield myself from the far-sight trained at me long enough to enact my revenge? The moment I leave the academy, my location will be known to anyone looking to claim Xan's reward. This was never a problem with Father. As a master of mind Tension, he was always adept in blocking all but the most powerful methods utilised in tracing his activities. I don't have that ability, nor do I know of a means to reproduce it, but it's doubtlessly possible.

Every Clan is steeped in corruption, abuse, hypocrisy, and murder. There's no possible way for the few debased deeds that are actually forbidden to go unpunished unless they each have some means of protecting themselves from far-sight. Of course, to find a clansman willing to share those means with one such as me is no easy task…

Biting my thumb, I search my mind for the solution to this dilemma.

Nettle…

She's from a mid-tier Clan, a rank-four Tension Master as well. No doubt, her status within her Clan would grant her access to the information I need. Lucas is another option. Though he's nameless, I refuse to believe he has no need or no way of cloaking his actions from prying eyes. However, if he were willing to disclose his methods, he would have done so already. Beyond that, I don't trust the man. Whatever his connection to Father may be, it's clear to me that he has a hidden agender. I simply refuse to place my life in the hands of a man I can neither predict nor control.

So then, Nettle? She's a Clansman, but relatively free of their arrogance and prejudice. While other professors at this academy have treated me with little beyond thinly veiled contempt, Nettle has, so far, remained impartial. Swayed by talent and talent alone, not once have I caught her looking down on me for my nameless status…

Pulling my spatial storage ring from around my neck, I withdraw from its green mist my satchel along with a bath towel and a clean change of clothes. Disrobing, I walk nude to the common-use baths within the lower-set manor. Unwilling to waste more time than necessary, I remain on my feet and wash with soap and tepid water. Mud, blood, and sweat scrub off of my body, staining the white bathtub with its filth. No longer carrying the ripened fragrance of my travels, I leave the bath, dry myself, don my clean clothing, and attach my satchel around my shoulder.

I exit the manor and walk through the ravaged and neglected streets of the academy's campus. Twenty minutes pass, and I arrive in front of the Forge. Unmolested by the Dread Mother's attack, the vast contrast between the resplendence of the building and its decimated surroundings strikes a humorous chord. To see the crown jewel of pomposity and self-indulgence amongst rubble and ruin, can it be called anything other than absurd?

Fitting, perhaps?

A display of abundance surrounded by devastation and loss; if there's a more apt analogy for the malfeasance of the upper-class and nobility, it doesn't spring to mind.

I walk through the archway jutting from the entrance of the Forge. Turning the handle and pushing open the door, I enter the building I had looted only days prior. Step by step, I ascend a marble staircase to the second floor. Rows of doors line both sides of the grand hallway. On each door, a number. I walk down the corridor, passing door after door until I notice one door ajar. Like a frightened child hearing the screams of his parents, I peek through the opening.

'I assume you've come with my payment.' Standing from her desk, I hear Nettle step towards the entrance. She swings the door fully open, and with a wave of her hand, invites me to enter. Accepting her invitation, I walk into her workspace. I stand behind the chair opposite hers and wait for Nettle to sit before I, too, take my seat.

I reach into my satchel and withdraw my coin purse. Untying the thin rope around the top, I invert the bag over Nettle's desk. Gold coins cling atop one another as the content of my pouch empties onto the woman's table. Eyes spread wide, mouth agape, Nettle alternates between staring at the money on her desk and the boy who put it there.

'I haven't counted it all, but I believe that's around sixty gold.' Regaining her composure, Nettle leans back on her chair. She interlocks her fingers and locks her eyes with mine.

'And what is it exactly that has inspired this bout of generosity?'

'This isn't generosity; this is payment for services rendered.'

'While I appreciate the gratitude, I believe in only taking what I've earned. The resources I expended in crafting the sealed Arts I used to heal you were only two gold. The time, expertise and effort, three gold. Five gold is what I charged you, and five gold is all I will take.'

Collecting from the pile five golden coins, Nettle pockets the coins and slides the remainder towards my end of the table. With my hand, I block the movement of coins and nudge them back towards the purple-haired woman.

'I said this was for services rendered; I didn't, however, claim that the services have already been rendered.' With a single raised eyebrow, Nettle conveys her confusion at my words.

'What further services do you imagine I can provide you that would be worth this sum?' My lips pull into a smile. Without question, any other facility member at this academy would have summarily declined any offer I would make, regardless of the coin that I placed in front of them. The fact that she's still listening bodes well.

'Information.'

'If you need information, come to my seminars. I promise you it'll cost far less than the amount you're trying to pay.'

'The information I need isn't taught in this academy, but I don't doubt you possess it nonetheless.' Leaning forward, Nettle places her elbows on her desk. She once again interlocks her fingers, and she rests her chin on the bridge between her hands.

'And what kind of information not taught in this academy do you believe I possess.'

'Information regarding the thwarting of far-sight.' Her eyes flash wide, but only for a moment. Standing from her chair, she moves to the door and seals it closed. She holds a hand before the exit, and with the other, she taps the side of her neck. As if drawn by an invisible quill, concentric circles form on her skin, emitting a pale, white light. Touching her hand on the door, the pattern on her neck radiates a blinding glow before fading from her flesh.

Turning from the door, Nettle meets my eyes with a scrunched face and a descended lips. She walks back to the table but doesn't sit. Hovering over me, she radiates indignation from every fibre of her being.

'Who sent you here? Was it Professor Ava? There's no way you could have come up with that amount of money on your own! Tell that bitch I'm not falling for her bullshit!'

Her reaction is expected. While it isn't forbidden to possess or even use methods for shielding oneself from far-sight, since the last great nameless rebellion, for a clansman to aid in that knowledge falling into the hands of a potential dissident, only one punishment is prescribed. Death. For me to even ask is more than enough to stoke her ire.

However…

She hasn't said no...

I stand to my feet and raise my palms. With my smile bonded to my face, I meet the sharpened eyes of the furious woman.

'No one sent me here; this isn't a game, and it isn't a trick.'

'Then what is it?'

'A request, genuinely made. I don't know when, but at some point since killing Wolf Yung, the Yung Clan solicited the services of an investigator to trace my movements. I need to leave the academy, but I can't. The moment I do, wave after wave of mercenaries will come for me.'

I see the very moment that my words penetrate her rage, her flared nostrils relax, her eyes soften, and her jaw unclenches. Bobbing her head up and down, she mouths silent words to herself before retaking her seat.

'Why me?' Taking her words as an invitation to relax, I sit back down and hold the woman's stare.

'Who else could I have come to? Of all the facility members in this academy, you're the only one who doesn't look down on me.' While my words are honest, the pitiful utterances churn my stomach.

Whatever.

I'm not above crawling on my knees and begging like a dog, so long as I get what I want. If all is said and done, and I still feel aggrieved, I can always return to seek retribution. Compared to benefits, what is the value of pride? Can I spend it? Will it make me grow strong? Pride is worthless; no, it's detrimental if it stands between me and my goals. If pride need be forsaken to reach greater heights, then I shall be discarded without a second thought.

'I know what I'm asking for, and I know the risks I'm asking you to take, but please. There's someone who needs my help; I can't rest unless I do everything in my power to save her.'

As if toppling the central pillar of her resolve, I see her resistance crumble. Biting my lip, I prevent myself from smiling. Breaking eye contact, I lower my head. Groaning and scratching her leaf infested hair, Nettle bursts to her feet.

'This girl you need to save, is she important to you?'

'She's my everything. I would die for her.'

Nettle takes a deep breath and loudly sighs. As if wrestling with herself, she begins to pace up and down the width of her table. Though she's yet to agree, I know the battle is won. Eyes lingering on the pile of coins, she sighs once again.

'Fine! Fine! I'll teach you what you want to know.