Mal was currently in the middle of an abandoned canyon without magic, and his only allies were an honor-obsessed elf, a draconid who was terrible at being a draconid, and a squeamish, squishy illusion mage.

  His enemies were two gigantic sand worms with teeth that looked capable of shredding his limbs into strips of flesh.

  Mal didn’t consider the situation to be in his favor.

  “M—Mal!" Nima held out his hand and tried to summon some kind of illusion magic. When it inevitably failed, he let out a strangled cry. "Please tell me that you have a plan!"

  "Why am I always the plan guy?"

  "Because you're always the plan guy! You always have a plan. Like right now. A plan to fight these weird sand worm things!"

  "I'm thinking that we use Nima as a distraction and then make a run for it."

  "What!?"

  "Just a joke."

  Although, honestly, that didn't sound like such a half-bad idea.

  One of the sand worms let out an unholy screech. Mal recognized the cry, it was the same noise that they'd heard when they first entered the canyon. Mal quickly looked around for something, anything—

  There it was. A bush.

  It was the best that he had. If he could get close enough, he could use his Bramblevine bracelet and hopefully trap them.

  "Here's the plan," Mal said. "I need us to lure the sand worms over to those bushes over there. If we can get close enough, I'll be able to do something about these guys. You understand?"

  There was a brief look of doubt in Philo's eyes before he nodded. "Right, Philo understands."

  Rolam growled. "You got it."

  Nima gulped. "Any chance you could leave me out of this?"

  "If you really want to, we can just leave you here on your own while we do a fighting retreat toward the bush—"

  "Never mind!"

  Mal took a step back and one of the sand worms jolted. It dived forward and he jumped backward. His expression turned neutral as his emotions locked away into nonexistence. He knew what he had to do, it was simply a matter of execution.

  One of the other sand worms dived for Rolam.

  "Take this, you oversized… worm!" he shouted

  With that highly original and creative curse, Rolam jumped forward and pulled a knife free from his back pocket. He dodged out of the way and sliced across the side—only for the blade to break off from hard outer ridges.

  "Seriously?! That was an honored family heirloom!"

  "One would think that bringing an important family heirloom into a highly dangerous battle would be an unwise decision," Philo said.

  "Oh, shut up—"

  A loud screech. Mal jumped backwards and avoided another snap from the worm. At this point, they had made their way outside of the range of the worms. Both of them dived back underneath the dirt and disappeared from sight.

  "Are they gone?" Nima said.

  Mal scoffed. "They're waiting. Keep stepping backward, stay on your guard."

  They crept backwards. Mal's hands remained steady and his breathing stayed controlled and level. It was important to manage his breathing as best he could, given the weakness of his legs right now. Adrenaline would only help for so long.

  Mal felt something shudder beneath the dirt.

  "It's coming up!"

  He jumped backward and hit the dirt with a roll.

  Nima had hesitated.

  The worm's body poked out of the dirt just below his leg and it swallowed Nima's left leg whole.

  Nima let out a scream and tried to pull his leg out. The teeth dug into his flesh and ripped long strips of skin and muscle off. Rolam ran over and grabbed Nima's arm, then pulled as hard as he could. This was just enough to break Nima from the creature's grasp.

  His breath came deep and heavy. Rivulets of red ran all across his clothes.

  "Can you stand?" Rolam leaned in toward the leg. He winced. "This looks nasty."

  Philo looked around from left to right, forked tongue sliding in and out of his mouth. "Surely the professor wouldn't let him bleed out here, right?"

  "He won't let us die." At least, I hope. "That doesn't mean he won't allow grave injury. This is exactly the kind of thing he was hoping would happen, I think. Something to get us to take it more seriously."

  "He wanted this to happen?" Philo growled. "These professors are insane!"

  "As much as I want to debate the morality of student endangerment, the worms are gone."

  Philo stiffened and looked across the ground. His legs tensed and he took a few steps backward toward the bush. "Philo really hopes whatever plan you have in mind will do the work, because Philo doesn't know what we can do. When he gets back, he's going to study how wizards deal with dead zones like this so that this doesn't happen again."

  Rolam threw Nima's arm across his shoulders and lifted him up. He looked over at Mal and nodded. "Come on, we’re not far."

  Mal didn't know if they would be able to get to the bush dragging around Nima. The professor wasn't going to let Nima die.

  This was supposed to be a realistic simulation of something that could happen, right? If that were the case, then sacrificing one of their teammates for the sake of the greater whole wasn't something beyond the realm of impossibility. It happened all the time in war, and this was meant to be an accurate simulation.

  "Drop him," Mal said.

  Nima, having turned pale at this point, looked up and stared at Mal. "What?"

  Mal ignored him and looked at Rolam. "Drop him. The professor will make sure he doesn't come to harm."

  Rolam blinked as if attempting to process what Mal had just said. He blanched. "Are you serious? You want us to leave a comrade to die?"

  "He won't die. The professor will keep him alive. Drop him."

  "Absolutely not!"

  Mal felt a growl build up in the back of his throat. Could they not understand that this was the logical decision?

  He looked to Philo for support. "You understand, right? He can buy us time. Not to mention, just a flash of magic when the professor rescues him might be enough to scare them off."

  Philo's eyes flickered back and forth between Rolam and Mal.

  “Philo…” Philo's voice trailed off. “Philo trusts your judgment, Mal, and he's sure this will result in the victory that we’re looking for, but do you feel no sense of disquiet at the idea of letting him die?"

  "He's not going to die."

  "You don't know that!" Rolam tightened his grip on Nima and adjusted his position. "What if the professor is late?! What if Nima gets seriously injured?!”

  Mal wanted to scream—

  "He's right."

  Rolam's neck snapped over toward Nima. Mal's eyebrows raised. Nima pushed Rolam away and stumbled into a straight pose. He gave a firm nod.

  "I—I think I might just be able to make one illusion. That'll buy me a little bit of time. Then, maybe if you’re fast enough, you can run over there then lure them toward you guys. Maybe they'll ignore me after that."

  His tone was hesitant, it was pretty clear that he didn't believe what he was actually saying.

  Mal found himself respecting Nima a little bit more. Simulation or not, it took a lot of bravery to do what Nima was about to do.

  Philo pursed his lips. Rolam shook a little before he nodded. "If that's your choice."

  They nodded at each other and Mal took a single step back. Rolam and Philo did the same. They took another step. Then another.

  Nima looked down at the ground and stomped with his bad foot. He winced at what was clearly a common and painful move. "Come on!" he shouted. "I'm right here!"

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Nima strained his ears. The noise was coming from the right. An illusion.

  The ground rumbled and a sand worm popped out several feet away from where Nima was standing. Its head snapped at the air. It looked around in confusion as if wondering what happened.

  Mal glanced backward behind him. The bush was just a little bit away. He licked his lips and took his chances. He jumped backward toward the bush.

  He clapped his hands. "Come here! Don't you want something a bit tastier than that skinny guy? He's all skin and bones!"

  Nima squawked incredulously.

  The sand worm looked over in Mal's direction, then darted underneath the ground. Mal stood next to the bush and waited. He felt a rumbling from underneath him. One to his left, one to his right. He took a deep breath.

  Right before the worm exploded out, he took a step forward. The ground cracked open and the worms moved out of the ground in sync like some kind of hydra. Mal stretched out a small amount of internal mana toward the bracelet. It spiked, and an instant later, the bushes snapped out their branches toward the worms.

  The worms, sensing the bushes, tried to tunnel back. This only caused the branches to dig underneath the outer ridges and catch the worms in place. The worms struggled from side to side while the bushes continued to grow and grow and trap the worms further and further. They thrashed around, desperately attempting to move, but they were unable to.

  Mal took a few steps back, then rubbed the sweat off his forehead.

  Philo's mouth opened and shut several times. He looked between the branches, then back to Mal, then back to the branches, and back to Mal again. "How did you…? Wait, Philo doesn't understand, did you pack an external source of mana? This doesn't—"

  Mal waved him off. "I'll tell you about it later."

  "But—"

  "Shouldn't we focus on getting Nima back to school?"

  Philo snapped his mouth shut and then after a few seconds, gave a nod. "You're right. Of course."

  Mal walked past the worms as if they were completely unworthy of his notice. Now that they'd been captured, that was completely true. Another successful goal achieved.

  The rest of the hike back was extraordinarily long. Thankfully, they weren't accosted by any more worms, but Nima was slowing them down to a high degree. Eventually it got to the point where Philo simply picked Nima up and threw him onto his back. Nima had tried to protest, but at this point he was so exhausted that he couldn't really do anything about it.

  Rolam had made the surprisingly smart decision to wrap Nima's leg using his shirt. Meaning that Rolam was now shirtless and soaking in the sun.

  From an outsider's point of view, it looked like a funny scene. An elf, a draconid carrying a man, and Mal in the center of all of it. What an outsider wouldn't notice are the thinly disguised glares that Rolam kept on shooting at Mal and the look of discomfort on Philo's face.

  Mal could guess what they were mad about. Using Nima as bait. It'd worked, and Nima was even safe, but he supposed it was understandable that they would still be angry.

  This was a lie, he didn't think it was at all understandable.

  He'd taken the correct tactical decision. He would make it a hundred more times. Nobody had even got hurt.

  Much.

  Mal decided to ignore their gazes and just focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

  After what felt like hours of walking, they finally arrived back at the city. Vigil was waiting at the front gate, along with the rest of the students who had been waiting. Vigil looked at them with a piercing gaze and then nodded.

  "Pass him over to me," Vigil said.

  Philo paused, then stepped over to Vigil and gave Nima over to him. Vigil shut his eyes and muttered an incantation and Nima disappeared with a flash of light.

  "Cassandra's on standby, she'll be able to take care of him."

  He cast a look across the students. Most of them looked beat up, but Nima had been by far the worst hit, Mal noted.

  "All of you did excellently, with some notable exceptions. Even the ones who I had to bail out showed quick thinking, levelheadedness, and grit."

  Vigil’s voice dropped.

  "However," he said. "There were a few of you who made the interesting decision to abandon your classmates."

  At that, Vigil looked directly at Mal.

  Mal supposed he should've felt scared or fearful. He was tempted to laugh but decided that would be a terrible idea for a number of reasons.

  "I understand why this decision was made," Vigil said. "You were thinking that I wouldn't allow serious injury. That I was keeping an eye on all of you. You were correct. However, there are consequences for this sort of behavior."

  Mal furled his eyebrows. Was he seriously about to be punished? For making the right decision?

  "If you were willing to abandon a member of your circle during a simulation, then what would happen if lives are actually on the line?" Vigil's tone was still, quiet, without any of his usual firmness. "The other members of your circle are now asking that question. They know you can't be trusted. They know that when the time comes, you're the type of person who will cut and run in a heartbeat. Going forward, you're going to have to deal with that burden in all future group assignments for the rest of your time here at Exodi, unless this is fixed."

  It seemed that Vigil had no idea that he was planning on leaving his circle.

  "With that said," Vigil’s tone relaxed and he nodded. "The rest of the day is free. Do as you will."

  A faint cheer went out from the other students. Mal was pretty sure that they were all too exhausted to make use of this free time, but it was still nice.

  Before any of his circle mates could speak to him, Mal turned around and walked off toward the wilderness. He still had to fetch the final ingredient for the Shattercore potion. It would probably take him some time to get to the approximate location of this potion.

  Footsteps came up from behind him. Someone wanted to stop him? He turned around and faced the individual.

  Vigil leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his coffee. After his assignment, he’d gone back to the professors' lounge in order to spend the rest of his evening. His metallic arm crunched against the mug.

  When he’d done that assignment, he was absolutely certain of how the students would react. They'd panic and flail about, desperately trying to figure out what to do without magic. Some would adapt on the fly, figuring out some kind of rough plan, usually involving stealth and avoidance. The bullheaded sorts would try to manufacture weapons—which almost always failed, and Vigil would have to bail them out. A rare few would actually succeed, perhaps because they had training in physical combat arts before they came to the school.

  What had first shocked him about that young nobleman’s reaction was his lack of surprise. When his magic had been taken away, he’d jolted instinctively, but from then on it was as if he didn’t care in the slightest. There was no emotion, no fear or rage. He was a blank canvas.

  When he’d noticed the danger through the scrying orb, he was sure that he would have to bail them out. It wouldn’t be a strike against them. The purpose of this assignment wasn’t to test their ability, but to teach a lesson about their powerlessness under the right circumstances.

  But then, without the slightest hint of hesitation, the boy had come up with a plan to abandon one of his teammates in order to execute some sort of plan.

  This, in and of itself, wasn’t too shocking. It happened every once in a while, with a particularly thuggish or callous student. Typically, however, there was a different feeling about it. Vigil could tell that these were still children who hadn’t understood what they’d just done. But there was something about Mal’s eyes, the certainty of the way he’d given the order.

  It was like he’d made similar choices a hundred times before. There was experience in the way that he approached the situation. Which shouldn't have been possible—he would expect that more from a veteran of the Beastkiller War than he would from some random teenager.

  A knock at the door broke him out of his thoughts.

  "Enter," he said.

  The door swung open, revealing none other than Igna. Vigil’s neutral expression turned into a tight frown.

  "Igna, what do you want?" Vigil said.

  "Is that any way to treat a colleague?" Igna smiled, the poison in her lips evident. "We’ve been working together for so long, Vigil."

  "Can you drop the act? I’m not in the mood."

  Igna rolled her eyes. "Fine. I’m here to talk to you about something."

  "What is it?"

  Igna sat down in the chair opposite Vigil and leaned back. "I’m sure you’ve noticed an anomaly. A strange student. Someone who doesn't quite match."

  Vigil raised an eyebrow. That was incredible timing. "You’re talking about Malfrasius, aren’t you?"

  Igna smirked. "Exactly. I knew as soon as you told us what you were planning to do for this latest assignment that he would surprise you."

  "He’s already surprised me," Vigil admitted. "In the very first class that he was in, he made the other students look like toddlers."

  "He did something similar in my class," Igna said. "He was rattling off second and third year magical theory like it was nothing."

  "That’s not too much of a surprise. He clearly read ahead. In addition, he scored second on the exam. That has to count for something."

  "Does it?" Igna cocked an eyebrow. She stood up and placed both her hands on Vigil’s desk. "I actually did some digging, and I found something rather interesting."

  Vigil resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He should at least hear out his fellow professor. "And what would that be?"

  "He scored horribly on the written exam. 23/50. Is that the kind of score you would expect from a magic theory prodigy?"

  He scored terribly on the test, then when he arrives at school, he suddenly becomes significantly better?

  "That has happened before, though," Vigil said. "Sometimes the school environment causes people to awaken their full potential."

  "Over the course of years, not a month."

  Vigil was starting to see where she was coming from.

  "I took a look at some of the quizzes I’ve been handing out. You know what I found?" she asked.

  This would be interesting. "What?"

  "Directly in the middle of the bell curve. Every single quiz."

  Vigil furrowed his eyebrows together and leaned back in his chair. His metal prosthetic seemed to burn at his shoulder. An old pain that occasionally flared during times of stress.

  "Maybe he’s just average?" he said.

  "Consistently? Across every single quiz I’ve given? There’s no way."

  As Vigil mulled this over, he blinked and realized the glaring flaw with all of Igna’s assumptions.

  "What exactly are you suggesting? That he’s intentionally tanking his rating? For what?"

  Igna raised a hand, then paused. "I’m still figuring that part out."

  "Even if he is, what exactly are we supposed to do about it? Unless you’re suggesting that he’s a dark wizard in disguise or something, it really isn’t any of our business. Except perhaps as professors seeking to have him grow to the best student he can be—but I sincerely doubt you are concerned about that."

  "I haven’t ruled the dark wizard theory out," Igna muttered, then raised her voice. “But my point is that there’s something off about this kid, and it warrants further investigation."

  "We’re not going to stalk one of our own students. It sounds like a fast way for the both of us to get fired. If you want to do it, you do it on your own."

  "I wasn’t going to suggest that!" Igna scoffed and tossed her head back, her greying hair catching the sun through the window. "I just needed a sounding board for my theories. Do you actually think I care about your opinion?"

  This woman was really trying to push his buttons, wasn’t she?

  "Evidently not."

  She nodded. "Whatever he is, I doubt it's anything good."

  "Be honest with me, what do you actually believe him to be?"

  Igna shrugged. "I don’t know. There just hasn’t been enough time to gather enough evidence. But I’m going to find out."

  "Good luck with that."

  Igna stepped back from the desk. She walked over to the door, turned the knob, and took a step out, then stopped at the door frame.

  "You know just as well as I do that there are plenty of creatures capable of mimicking a wizard. Shape-shifters and the like."

  Vigil stood up and his eyes narrowed. "That is a serious accusation. You cannot make those sorts of claims against a student without evidence."

  Rather than respond, Igna shut the door behind her, leaving Vigil alone in an empty room. Despite his firm statement against her, he couldn’t help but roll over what she’d said in his mind.

  The most famous of shape-shifters were demons. The height of magical beasts, they were perfectly capable of mimicking the power and appearance of a wizard. But there were tells. Imperfections. No illusion could remain stable for a long period of time.

  Unless...

  Vigil had tried to block out most of his memories of his time in the underworld. Most of it had been spent starving and barely surviving by the skin of his teeth. But he remembered rumors from the lesser demons.

  Was it beyond the realm of possibility that one of these higher demons might’ve decided to infiltrate Exodi?

  Even with all his experience, that was the one thing Vigil had never managed to figure out—how to reliably detect them when they were shifted—

  He immediately shut down the train of thought. There was absolutely no evidence to suggest that Mal was a shape-shifter. All they had were Igna’s wild superstitions.

  Despite that, he jotted down a mental note to keep an eye on the boy during his classes. Better safe than sorry.