CHAPTER 85 — MASTER OF PROBABILITY

Nathaniel still had the graduation prize list on his Shiri.

Two years had passed since they had left the academy at eleven, and he still opened it whenever Percy claimed he had no money.

“One million,” he said, turning the screen toward him. “A million AWE-Dollars. Your name. Your prize. Explain.”

Percy stopped beside the training ground gate. “Explain what?”

“Why I paid for breakfast.”

“You offered.”

“I was being polite.”

“And I accepted politely.”

Clara made a small sound beside him. Nathaniel looked at her for support, found none, and enlarged the first line until PERCY GRANT filled most of the screen.

Graduating first had earned Percy a million. It had not earned Nathaniel the right to spend it, though he had been testing that distinction ever since.

The other prizes had descended much more gently. Second place received two hundred and fifty thousand; third, two hundred and twenty-five. Fourth through eighth dropped by twenty-five thousand at each step, ending at a hundred thousand. Ninth received ninety thousand, tenth eighty. From eleventh to twentieth, the awards declined from seventy-five thousand to thirty thousand in five-thousand increments. Twenty-first began at twenty-eight thousand, falling by two thousand per place until thirtieth received ten thousand. The next ten places went from ninety-five hundred to five thousand, five hundred less each time. Forty-first received forty-seven hundred and fifty; the remaining awards fell by two hundred and fifty until fiftieth received twenty-five hundred.

Nathaniel could explain the whole list. He considered this proof that he was capable of studying when given suitable material.

“You remember all fifty places,” William said, coming through the gate behind them. “But yesterday you forgot where you put your training notes.”

“I remembered eventually.”

“They were under your plate.”

“A secure location.”

“There was sauce on them.”

Percy leaned over the screen. He remembered standing beside Wycliffe when his name had been called, remembered Holar holding the certificate straight for a picture while Clara told him to stop making that face. He also remembered the work behind it: books open long after dinner, questions taken back to his teachers, answers crossed out because knowing a result was not the same as being able to explain it.

He had not won first place by showing the examiners a bigger fireball.

“You could have taken first,” he told Nathaniel.

“I could also have been born with wings. Neither happened.”

“The written exams were a problem,” William said.

Nathaniel lowered his Shiri. “I didn't ask for a cause of death.”

Arthur laughed from inside the yard. The sound had deepened over the years. So had the boy making it.

Six years ago, Arthur Green had tried to occupy the middle of every room through sheer determination. At thirteen, he no longer needed to. He stood broad through the shoulders, his red hair pushed back untidily, the dark red lining of his training coat visible at the collar. The gold edging at his cuffs was scuffed where his shields and wrists met. He was checking the fit of a glove, not looking around to see who noticed him.

Then Charlotte took his hand, inspected a split seam, and made him turn it over.

“This was damaged yesterday.”

“It still works.”

“So did the last one, until it didn't.”

Arthur looked at Percy. Percy immediately became very interested in the gate.

Charlotte's green hair fell over one shoulder while she examined the stitching. She had tied most of it back, leaving a few loose strands against her cheeks. The white and green of her clothes were bright in the morning light, but the little treatment pouch at her waist had plainly been used. Its compartments were arranged to suit her hands, not its maker's original design. She found a strip of cloth without looking down.

There was a confidence in the way she held Arthur's wrist now. She no longer apologized before telling someone they were being stupid about an injury.

“You can release him,” Percy said. “He isn't going to run away.”

“I wasn't holding him so he wouldn't run.”

Arthur opened his mouth. William got there first.

“Nobody asked.”

Clara laughed. Charlotte finished wrapping the glove and let Arthur go with a final tug that made his fingers spread.

William walked past them, brown hair combed away from his forehead, spectacles straight, his dark coat buttoned properly despite the heat. He had grown taller and narrower through the face; the thoughtful crease between his brows had survived unchanged. Frost clung to the outside of the water bottle in his hand. He passed it to Charlotte before Nathaniel could reach for it.

Arthur and William had both reached Advanced Four. Earth had given Arthur a better way to carry and distribute a blow; Ice had given William a battlefield that could be changed one careful piece at a time. Neither treated the extra strength as an excuse to stop practicing the basics.

Charlotte was Advanced Three. So were Marcus and Nathaniel.

Marcus stood beside the low wall in a dark hooded coat, the hood resting behind his brown hair. Amber eyes moved briefly over Percy, Clara, and the gate before returning to the practice ground. He had grown lean rather than broad. When he shifted aside to let someone pass, there was barely any cloth movement to mark it. The edge of his shadow lay dark against the stone beneath him.

Nathaniel had grown into longer arms, stronger legs, and absolutely no restraint in conversation. His face had lost its roundness, but the expression he wore before saying something dangerous was still recognizable from across a room.

He was wearing it now.

“We have a problem,” he announced. “Arthur is Four. William is Four. Clara is Four. Percy was Three when we were seven, and Percy is still Three.”

Percy looked down at himself. “I got taller.”

“Congratulations on growing in the cheapest direction.”

William stopped unscrewing the bottle.

Arthur's shoulders shook. Even Marcus turned his face away for a moment.

Clara's smile remained smaller. Yesterday, on the mountain, she had learned what a number could leave out. Beside her, Percy looked entirely comfortable being insulted by someone whose breakfast he had just eaten.

His black coat sat differently on him now. The gold-work no longer seemed too large for his shoulders. His dark hair still refused to stay where he put it, and the familiar expression at the corner of his mouth had become more troublesome, not less. When he lifted a hand to move a strand out of his eyes, the narrow bracelet at his wrist slipped into view.

Clara wore her own familiar reminder: the little phoenix resting against the ivory and gold of her clothes. Her pale hair was gathered loosely behind her head with a dark ribbon, bright strands escaping around her face. The wand at her wrist stayed quiet in its fitted sheath. Advanced Four had not made her noisier. She could stand beside Percy without announcing herself and still be the first person half the yard noticed.

“What about your fire?” Arthur asked him. “Still forty-nine?”

“Forty-nine now. My understanding, yes.”

“Forty-nine,” Nathaniel repeated. “Well, let's hope it doesn't turn into another nineteen—”

Clara's palm struck the back of his head.

“OW! I SAID LET'S HOPE!”

“Then hope quietly.”

The laughter faltered for a breath. Nathaniel rubbed his head, looked at Percy, and found him still smiling—but looking straight back at him.

“Sorry,” Nathaniel said, more quietly.

Percy nudged his arm. “I'm not repeating that lesson.”

“Good.” Nathaniel lowered his hand. “It was a terrible lesson. No one understood anything, and the teacher was absent for most of it.”

Percy burst out laughing. Clara tried to remain stern and failed, though she pointed at Nathaniel once more before turning away.

The rest of their old class had been arriving throughout the argument. Ethan came in carrying two practice pads beneath one arm. He was heavier through the chest now, his movements unhurried, the sort of person who would finish a set after everyone else had begun discussing lunch. Daniel helped him set the pads down. He had grown almost as tall as Ethan without acquiring his breadth; his long fingers checked each strap with practiced economy. Both were Advanced Three, as was Theodore, whose sleeves remained neatly rolled while he crouched to check the practice boundary instead of assuming someone else had done it. The boy who used to spend his energy too quickly now spent a full minute making sure no loose stone would spoil someone else's footing.

Sophia tied back her hair while listening to Amelia. Both had grown taller, their faces losing the roundness Percy remembered from the camp. Sophia gestured with the spare hair tie around her wrist; Amelia answered quietly, then laughed without covering her mouth. They no longer stood behind the louder members of the class to avoid being noticed. Lucas, all long limbs and impatience, took a pad from Ethan and tested its straps. Elias, broader and steadier on his feet now, corrected the fastening before it slipped.

“I was about to do that,” Lucas said.

“You were about to drop it.”

“That's a way of discovering a problem.”

Noah and Adrian Cole brought the remaining equipment over without being asked. Noah's longer stride had not cured his habit of getting ahead of himself; he reached the circle, realized Adrian still held the other end, and came back. Adrian yawned at him, his voice considerably deeper than the last time Percy remembered that exact expression.

“We can carry it together, or you can carry me too.”

They were all Advanced Two, each stronger than the children who had once stood shivering beside a camp lake, each used to doing their part without waiting for Percy to assign it.

There were no Core-stage students left among them. No one had advanced beyond Four. Even so, the yard felt more crowded than it had when their voices had been higher and their coats shorter.

Adrian Wycliffe found them arguing over who would warm up first.

“A wonderful sight,” he said. “My graduates, independently organizing themselves.”

“We're waiting for Percy,” Lucas told him.

“Of course you are.”

Galahad entered behind Wycliffe, fair hair still slightly damp, sleeves rolled to his forearms. Several heads turned. They had heard he was back from the raid, but seeing him standing in their yard was another matter. Nathaniel promptly forgot the prize money and went to greet him. Arthur followed. Galahad answered their overlapping questions until William asked one precise enough to require a longer reply.

Percy watched his brother talk. Awakened Five. A year away, and Galahad still put a hand on the back of Nathaniel's head to move him out of the way when he interrupted someone else.

Olsen arrived while they were discussing the training order. Eleanor came with her, carrying nothing and looking as if she had decided against a quiet morning. Holar was last. He took a seat beside the wall, where the shade had not yet reached his shoes.

“We aren't late,” Percy said immediately.

Holar looked at him. “I didn't ask.”

“You were about to.”

“Was I?”

Percy considered his grandfather's face, then decided not to continue.

Nathaniel leaned toward Arthur. “He can still calculate consequences.”

“Only after speaking,” William said.

The first three into the practice circle were Nathaniel, Marcus, and Ethan.

Wycliffe inspected the spacing, then looked at Percy. “Same training limits. A decisive hold, a clear finishing touch, or stepping outside the boundary counts. You don't have to break something to prove you could have.”

“Understood.”

“That was addressed to everyone.”

Percy spread his hands. “I answered for everyone.”

“Don't.”

Nathaniel put down his Shiri, rolled his shoulders, and stopped smiling. It happened quickly enough that someone who only knew him from the breakfast argument might have missed the change. Marcus moved to his left. Ethan took the opposite side, leaving more space than a straightforward flanking attack required.

They did not need a conference. They had worked together too often for that.

Percy removed his coat and handed it to Clara. Blaze stayed outside the circle with his things. The cloak clasp his classmates had given him caught briefly on the fabric; he freed it carefully before letting go.

“Don't fold it like that,” he told her.

Clara looked at him. “Would you prefer to hold it while fighting?”

“That fold is fine.”

Ethan exhaled through his nose. Marcus's mouth moved slightly.

“Begin,” Wycliffe said.

Nathaniel sent the first orb high and left. It was not intended to hit. It made the obvious retreat uncomfortable while Ethan stepped in from Percy's right and Marcus angled behind him.

Percy moved toward Ethan.

Ethan did not overcommit. He shortened his step, kept his elbow close, and sent a compact strike at Percy's ribs. Nathaniel's second orb was already traveling toward the space behind Percy. Marcus's magic spear cut low across the opening on the other side.

Percy's first step looked wrong. He had chosen the narrowest part of the formation, close enough to Ethan that he should have lost the room needed to turn.

Then his shoulder passed Ethan's fist before the strike had fully extended. His heel cleared the spear's path. A slight turn carried him alongside Ethan rather than away from him, and the second orb went through the space where his back had been.

Nathaniel changed its direction.

Percy had already left that space too.

“Again,” Nathaniel called.

Marcus pivoted without following Percy's shoulders with his eyes. He watched the ground Percy could actually use, the angle available to his next step. The spear dissolved and re-formed along a shorter line. Ethan turned with it, keeping Percy inside the triangle instead of chasing him out of it.

From outside, their coordination looked clean. It was clean. They left no long pauses between attacks and did not waste movement trying to occupy the same place.

Percy walked through the exchange anyway.

Not in a straight line. Three short steps, one turn, his left hand lifting just enough to touch Ethan's wrist. The pressure did not stop the punch. It changed where Ethan's knuckles pointed while Percy moved past them.

Nathaniel saw the touch and adjusted. An accelerated orb shot toward Percy's new exit. He released a second behind it, then held the third rather than giving Percy the rhythm he expected.

Percy stopped.

The accelerated orb crossed in front of his face. The following one passed behind his shoulder. Marcus's thrust arrived from the left; Percy turned his chest with it, leaving the spear a narrow line of empty air. His feet had hardly separated.

Outside the circle, Lucas lowered the practice pad he had been holding.

“Why did he stop?”

William did not answer. His gaze had fixed on Percy's feet.

Nathaniel felt the changes in the air and Orin around the exchange. He knew how to read them. He had spent years turning those tiny disturbances into useful warnings. He could tell where Ethan's movement would drive Percy, where Marcus would intercept, where his own held orb ought to go.

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But Percy was not arriving at any of those answers.

Every time Nathaniel completed the shape of the attack in his head, one of its sides was already wrong.

He let the third orb go and advanced behind it. Marcus shifted farther out, denying Percy the easy option of using Ethan to obstruct both of them. Ethan lowered his center of gravity and waited. This time, he would catch the turn instead of the initial step.

Percy smiled at him.

Ethan refused to react to the smile.

“Good,” Percy said.

“Don't teach while I'm trying to hit you.”

Ethan struck twice. The first drove at the center, the second cut off the outside. Percy let the first pass, moved his forearm beneath Ethan's returning wrist, and stepped across the line Ethan needed to recover his balance. He did not wrench the arm. He carried its existing motion a little farther while turning his own body.

Ethan felt the ground disappear beneath the foot he had expected to use next.

Percy caught the back of his shoulder before his head could strike the stone, lowered him, and placed two fingers lightly beneath his jaw.

“Ethan out,” Wycliffe said.

Nathaniel attacked during the takedown. Three orbs, different heights, one accelerated late. Marcus came in low from the opposite side, spear held close so Percy could not simply move inside its reach.

Percy rose into the space between the two nearest orbs. One knee straightened, the other remained loose. Marcus changed the spear's angle before contact.

Percy changed his step before that angle settled.

Marcus's eyes widened. He had not told Nathaniel he was going to do that. He had not decided to do it until Percy began to rise.

His next movement was the correct one: release the trapped line, disengage, make room. Percy was close enough to touch his elbow by then. A palm guided it across his center while a foot occupied the place he needed for his retreat. Marcus went down on one knee, turned to recover, and found Percy's open hand waiting beside his throat.

He stopped.

“Marcus out.”

Nathaniel did not stop with him.

His next orb curved past Marcus's shoulder, then accelerated. It was the same kind of change that had once put a hole through Percy's arm. Nathaniel did not aim for an arm this time. He aimed to make Percy avoid it in the direction he wanted.

Percy shifted the other way.

Nathaniel was already there, driving a short strike forward with his free hand. He had prepared for that refusal too.

Percy's fingers closed around his wrist.

For one startled instant, Nathaniel thought he could still finish. He had strength in the arm, a stable stance, another orb coming around behind Percy.

Then Percy stepped beside him, turned Nathaniel's wrist just enough to turn his shoulders, and drew the line of the punch across Nathaniel's own body. His supporting knee bent. The orb passed harmlessly through open air as its owner lost the angle he had meant to use.

Nathaniel sat down hard.

Percy crouched in front of him and touched his forehead.

“Nathaniel out.”

For a few seconds, only the last dispersing traces of Orin moved in the circle.

Nathaniel stared up at him. “You didn't use your fire.”

“No.”

“You didn't use your staff.”

“It's over there.”

“I KNOW WHERE IT IS.”

Percy's grin widened. He offered a hand. Nathaniel took it, stood, and immediately looked at the two places where his friends had gone down, as though the positions might explain something Percy's face would not.

Ethan brushed grit from his sleeve. “I had both feet under me.”

“Not for the step after your second punch,” Percy said.

Ethan opened his mouth, stopped, and looked at the ground again.

Marcus rolled his shoulder once. “You moved before I changed the angle.”

Percy nodded.

“I hadn't chosen it yet.”

This time Percy did not answer immediately.

William's head came up.

“Do that again,” William said.

“I'm choosing a different hobby,” Nathaniel told him.

“Not you.”

William took off his coat, placed his spectacles more securely, and stepped into the circle. Arthur joined him. Charlotte fastened her treatment pouch shut and came in on William's other side.

The arrangement changed the atmosphere more effectively than any announcement could have. Two Advanced Fours and an Advanced Three. A shield that could hold its ground, a fighter who decided which ground mattered, and a healer who had never accepted that her role meant waiting outside the fight.

“You too?” Percy asked Charlotte.

“You look healthy.”

“Thank you.”

“I can participate.”

Arthur raised his hands. Stone-colored Orin gathered across his forearm, forming a shield whose lower edge settled close to the ground. William let a narrow trace of frost travel over the stone beside his boot, then stopped it. Charlotte's hands remained empty.

No one made a joke about Percy's level this time.

Galahad had moved away from the wall. He had seen what Percy did to Clara on the mountain; he had not seen him do it between three simultaneous attacks, with no open lane and no pause between opponents. Eleanor followed his gaze down to the marks on the practice ground.

“He never pushed back,” Galahad said quietly.

“I saw.” Eleanor's eyes stayed on Percy. “They kept giving him the next movement.”

Olsen shook her head slightly. “He was there before they gave it.”

Holar said nothing. His hands rested on his knees.

Wycliffe checked that the first trio was clear. “Ready?”

Arthur looked at Percy. “Grant.”

“Green.”

“Don't start telling me where my feet belong.”

Percy laughed. “Put them somewhere good, then.”

“Begin.”

Arthur advanced without bringing the whole shield forward.

That alone made Percy watch him more closely. The lower edge stayed anchored while the upper section changed angle, offering no single rush to turn against him. William's frost spread on the far side, not toward Percy. Charlotte stepped into the space between them and sent two ordinary Orin orbs past Arthur's shoulder.

They were building the field before trying to strike.

Percy shifted left. William let him. The pale strip on the ground ended short of Percy's foot, but there was another beyond it, angled to make the next turn awkward. Arthur's shield closed the nearest direct path. Charlotte kept enough distance to refuse the close exchange Percy had used against Ethan.

Percy went right instead.

William smiled for the first time since stepping into the circle.

Charlotte's Revitalizing Strike traveled along the stone. The rising energy appeared where Percy's foot would have landed if he had completed the obvious sidestep. Percy shortened it and placed his foot nearer his other heel. Arthur was waiting to strike through that narrowed stance.

His fist crossed in front of Percy's chest.

Percy turned with barely any clearance. He touched Arthur's wrist, felt the immediate correction, and released it. Arthur had not given him the same loose return as Ethan. The shield moved with the arm, keeping the opening too small to enter safely.

“Better,” Percy said.

Arthur's answer was another punch.

Clara watched Percy's shoulders. They were still relaxed. On the mountain, he had made her feel that she was spending effort in places he had already abandoned. Here the effect was clearer because William kept changing those places for him.

And Percy kept finding somewhere else.

William did not try to freeze the entire practice ground. He laid down short stretches, withdrew one, extended another. The positions of Charlotte and Arthur mattered as much as the ice. Percy could step through an unfinished edge only if he accepted the attack waiting beyond it.

“Center,” William called.

Arthur moved half a step rather than a whole one. Charlotte sent an orb low, then another high. Between them, Percy's remaining route narrowed to a strip scarcely wide enough for his foot.

He did not take it.

He stepped toward Arthur's shield.

Arthur braced. Percy was close enough now that a direct collision should have favored the shield. William's next patch of ice cut off the retreat, and Charlotte shifted to cover the outside turn.

Percy reached toward the shield with an open hand.

Arthur angled it to receive the contact.

There was no contact.

Percy's hand passed above the edge. His body went beside it at the instant Arthur's adjustment brought the shield away from the line it had protected. A small movement—too small to call a mistake before someone was already exploiting it.

Arthur turned after him. Percy went with the turn, placing Arthur between himself and the next two orbs. Charlotte dispersed them before they could strike her teammate. William's frost stopped short of Arthur's boot.

For a moment, all three had made the right correction.

For that same moment, none of them could attack Percy.

“He's using the interruptions,” William said.

“I noticed,” Arthur answered, changing his stance.

“Not just the interruptions. What makes us need them.”

Percy glanced at William. The quick smile on his face was unmistakable.

William disliked how pleased it made him to have understood that much. He disliked even more that Percy had enough room to smile about it.

“Charlotte, separate.”

She was already moving. The triangle widened. Arthur stopped trying to trap Percy against his shield and instead guarded William's side, forcing Percy to choose whether he would chase Charlotte or attack the more protected pair.

Percy chose neither.

He stopped in the middle and waited.

“Are you taking a break?” Nathaniel called from outside.

“I'm thinking.”

“Could you do that after we hit you?” Arthur asked.

Percy laughed. “You sound like William.”

“Then hit him, Arthur,” William said.

Arthur went forward, and the yard briefly filled with laughter. It died as the next exchange began.

William had changed his plan. His first attacks no longer demanded that Percy go anywhere in particular. They left two routes open, then three. Charlotte watched one, Arthur another. William kept his own response uncommitted until Percy moved.

It was not randomness. He was refusing to complete the problem before Percy had to answer it.

Percy's gaze settled a little lower.

He did not see finished bodies moving through a finished future. There was no procession of certain events laid out for him to follow. What he could glimpse was much closer, thinner, and harder to hold: the space in which a movement could begin. Near Arthur's wrist, several possible lines existed before the shield turned. Beside Charlotte's foot, the next step had room to arise in more than one direction. William's hand could close, release, or change its angle, and for an instant Percy could see where those beginnings belonged in the surrounding space.

Some vanished when his attention moved. Others never became anything at all.

He could not make them happen. He could not choose one for William or reach farther ahead and discover how the fight would end. The glimpse gave him a place to begin looking. His years of practice had to carry him through everything after that.

He moved his left foot a few inches.

Charlotte adjusted. Arthur held. William changed the position of one hand.

The possibilities near them changed with it.

Percy drew a slow breath. There it was again: not where the next attack was going, but where several different attacks might be born, briefly visible together.

[ABILITY: MASTER OF PROBABILITY]

The words remained in his awareness for a moment. Outside him, nothing lit up. No flame rose. His opponents saw a boy standing with his hands open while their attacks closed around him.

Charlotte came in first.

She did not aim at where he had been standing. Her orb angled toward his next foothold while she approached from the other side, leaving William a clear line behind her. If Percy reached for her wrist, she would turn it inward. If he moved around her, Arthur would meet him. She had watched both takedowns in the first round.

Percy stepped inside the distance she intended to preserve, but did not take her wrist.

His hand touched her forearm closer to the elbow. Her inward turn carried the elbow across her chest; Percy turned alongside her and occupied the step needed to reopen her stance. Charlotte immediately tried to retreat rather than struggle against the contact.

Arthur's shield moved to protect her.

Percy let her go.

She stumbled only half a step before recovering. By then he was alongside Arthur's arm. A strip of ice spread behind him. Percy placed his foot on the bare stone at its edge without looking down.

William's expression changed.

That edge had not been there when Percy began the step.

Arthur drew his elbow in, denying the joint. Percy did not fight the strength. He shifted with it, pressed briefly at the outside of Arthur's forearm, and made the shield turn across Charlotte's remaining line of attack.

Charlotte circled close around Arthur's shield arm to recover her line. William released an orb past Arthur's other side, forcing Percy to account for both approaches. Percy lowered himself beneath the moving arm; the orb crossed behind his shoulders as he turned through the narrow space between Arthur and Charlotte. She had brought herself within a single step while trying to clear the shield. He came up beside her and touched two fingers to the side of her neck before she could complete the circle.

She stopped, one hand already raised to counter.

“Charlotte out,” Wycliffe called.

Arthur did not look after her. He drove forward, cutting off the route Percy had just used. William shifted right to avoid placing himself behind the shield again. They knew what had broken the formation; they were correcting it while the fight continued.

Percy's grin had disappeared. Not from fear. His attention was entirely on the two boys in front of him.

The shield's edge came across at shoulder height. Percy bent his knees, passed beneath it, and turned toward William. Arthur drew it back faster than Ethan could have recovered his arm. William sent an orb at Percy's leading side, leaving his other hand free for the next decision.

Percy took one step backward.

Arthur had been expecting a retreat toward the boundary. This was a retreat toward Arthur.

Percy entered beside the elbow carrying the shield, inside the arc through which its edge could reach him. Arthur rotated his shoulder to bring it back into line and struck inward with his free arm at the same time. Percy caught that forearm, not to hold it still, but to keep it traveling while he turned outside Arthur's shoulder. His step took him behind the shield arm before the shield could come around.

Arthur's heel lifted.

The pressure that should have traveled down through his stance had nowhere steady to go. Percy had neither smashed the shield nor overpowered the Earth supporting it. He had taken its owner out of the position from which he could use it.

Arthur dropped to one knee, released the shield, and turned his free hand into an immediate counter.

Percy was already behind the shoulder. He controlled the wrist without bending it farther than necessary and rested his other hand against the back of Arthur's neck.

“Arthur out.”

William's next orb passed so close to Percy's sleeve that the cloth stirred.

It did not touch.

Percy released Arthur and moved toward him.

William abandoned the ice patch he had started making. Completing it would leave a narrow bare edge Percy was already positioned to use. Instead, he brought the circling orb around at Percy's back and advanced behind a strike at his shoulder. Retreat would put Percy in the orb's path; turning away from the fist would leave the same narrow opening. William had timed the two attacks to arrive together.

Percy went inside the strike and turned alongside William's punching arm. William now stood between him and the returning orb. Rather than drive it into his own shoulder, William sent it higher and changed his close-range attack in the same motion.

William turned his hand over, canceled the feint, and shifted his weight toward the other leg. The correction was clean. Years ago, it would have made Percy stop and rebuild his answer from the beginning.

This time Percy's palm was waiting against his forearm.

William felt the direction of his own movement change. His earlier shift away from Arthur had brought him within two steps of the boundary. Percy took both with him, turning his recovery into a retreat. William's next foot found the line instead of the place he had intended to set it. He tried to recover inside the circle; Percy followed without hurry, and the last small pressure sent his heel beyond it.

Wycliffe raised a hand.

“William out. Match.”

The orb William had sent around Percy's back dissolved above the empty center of the circle.

William remained standing just outside the boundary. Percy stood in front of him, close enough to offer the same hand that had put him there.

No scorched stone. No shattered shield. Not one of them had forced a flame from him.

Arthur was still on one knee. He looked at the place where his shield had stood, then at William, then at Percy.

“All three of us,” he said.

Percy held his gaze. “Yes.”

There was no teasing in the answer.

Charlotte touched the side of her neck. Her expression was less wounded pride than fierce concentration. Marcus had come closer to the boundary. Nathaniel, for once, had no immediate contribution.

Wycliffe lowered his hand slowly. His mouth had opened as though to explain the result to the others, but he closed it again. Eleanor stood beside him, her fingers tightening once around her own wrist. Olsen had not taken her eyes off Percy since William's ice stopped growing beneath that final exchange.

Galahad crossed his arms, uncrossed them, and let out a disbelieving breath.

“Little brother.”

Percy looked at him.

Galahad shook his head. “No. Give me a moment.”

Nathaniel turned to Ethan. “He needs a moment. We're allowed a moment too.”

Ethan nodded solemnly. “I'm taking two.”

William finally accepted Percy's hand. He came back inside the circle, but did not let go immediately.

“You weren't waiting for the movement.”

“Not only the movement.”

“Marcus hadn't selected his second angle.”

“He could still select it.”

William's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “So you saw the choice?”

Percy shook his head. “Not what he wanted. The space where the movement could start. A little of it.”

Nathaniel came over. “Like the air changing before the attack?”

“That helps me read it. This is earlier than that in some places. There can be more than one beginning there, and none of them has to happen.” Percy opened his hand between them. “If I mistake a possibility for a decision, I can still move into the wrong one.”

“What do you call it?” William asked.

“Master of Probability.”

Nathaniel looked offended. “I should have thought of a better name.”

“You can rename yourself after you learn it,” Charlotte said.

“I meant the technique.”

“I know.”

William ignored them. “Seeing it isn't enough to move the way you just did.”

Percy smiled. Of course William had come back to that.

“No.”

He took the spent Core crystal from his pocket. Its surface had no answering glimmer when he turned it toward the light. William recognized the dullness before Percy said anything.

“I finished.”

“Advanced Three?”

“That too.”

William looked from the crystal to his face. Arthur stood beside them now. Charlotte lowered her hand from her neck.

Percy tapped the crystal with a fingernail. “Core One through Twelve. Advanced One, Two, and Three. Fifty percent in every layer.”

William's hand stopped halfway to his glasses.

“Every layer?”

“Every layer.”

Most of them had brought their reinforcement to around ten or twelve percent. They knew what each additional portion demanded, how much work it took to make denser power useful instead of merely difficult to handle. Clara had reached thirty-two. Even her expression tightened at hearing the complete count laid out in front of everyone.

Arthur reached for the dead crystal, then looked at Percy for permission. Percy handed it over.

Fifteen layers. Not a single recent achievement, not one good result used to describe the rest. From the first Core layer onward, Percy had kept going until none of them had room left within its current reinforcement limit.

“Fifty,” Arthur said. “All of them.”

The crystal looked ridiculously small in his hand.

Olsen stepped closer. “And the flame?”

“I can carry it through all those layers now. Understanding it better helped me do that without wasting so much between one part and the next.”

“Did you use the flame inside your Core during these matches?”

“No. I didn't activate it at all.” The reinforcement was work already done, part of the foundation he moved with. Calling on the flame was another choice; he had not needed to make it.

“You didn't need to,” she said.

Percy shook his head.

That was what finally silenced the last whispers. They had seen him win without casting an offensive spell. Now the amount of work resting behind those unremarkable-looking steps began to acquire a shape.

William looked down at the line he had crossed. A level was easy to compare. Two students could point at their numbers and decide who had gone farther. This had taken six years to produce and less than a morning to make them doubt the comparison.

“You stopped raising the number,” he said. “You didn't stop raising what was underneath it.”

Percy nodded.

Nathaniel looked at Arthur, still examining the crystal. “I'd like to withdraw the breakfast argument.”

“Why?” Percy asked.

“I suddenly believe you're poor.”

Arthur laughed first. Charlotte followed, and the sound finally loosened the stiffness around William's mouth. Percy took back the crystal when Arthur offered it and slipped it into his pocket.

“You could have told us,” Arthur said.

“You asked if I was still Advanced Three.”

Arthur stared at him.

“I am.”

“I hate you, Grant.”

“You keep coming back, Green.”

Charlotte put a hand on Arthur's shoulder and checked the wrist Percy had held. Arthur started to say he was fine, saw her expression, and offered it without further argument.

On the other side of the circle, Galahad finally laughed. It was short and incredulous. He looked at Olsen as if sharing a problem neither of them had quite finished understanding.

Olsen was watching Percy answer William's next question. There was pride in her expression, but she did not rush to cover the surprise with it.

“He asked me once why a target kept cracking after the flame was gone,” she said.

Galahad waited.

“I should have asked more questions back.”

“You still can,” Eleanor said.

“I intend to.”

Percy heard that and glanced over. “Am I in trouble?”

“Not yet,” Olsen said.

“That's the same as yes when teachers say it.”

Wycliffe folded his arms. “A remarkable conclusion. You could have put that much thought into answering the first time someone asked how your training was going.”

“I said it was going well.”

“Apparently.”

The first trio returned to the circle to inspect the marks left by their own feet. Ethan asked Percy to show him the second step again. Marcus tested the short retreat that had put him on one knee. Nathaniel stood still for longer than anyone expected, studying the angle between the two of them.

Percy answered without using another attack. When Ethan tried the corrected turn, he no longer crossed his feet. Marcus shortened his withdrawal and kept a second route available. Neither improvement changed the result of the match. Both mattered to the next one.

Charlotte finished checking Arthur's wrist and went to look at Ethan's shoulder. William was already writing. He crossed out his first sentence, kept the second, and asked Percy to turn his hand over once more so he could understand where the pressure had gone.

The others gathered around them. Daniel tried the foot placement beside Ethan. Theodore asked about maintaining balance when the first attack failed. Sophia moved out of Lucas's way before he could use her as a practice target, and Amelia laughed at the look on his face. Noah pointed out the route Nathaniel's final orb had taken; Elias and Adrian followed its imagined course with their eyes.

They had not become weak because Percy had become stronger. He could see six years in the questions they asked, in how quickly they corrected themselves once a mistake was visible. He did not tell them he had barely won. None of them would have believed it, and none of them needed that kindness.

Arthur tightened his glove.

“Next time, I keep the second foot back.”

“Next time, I do something else,” Percy told him.

Arthur's grin returned. “Good.”

Clara had been quiet while they worked. She placed Percy's coat beside Blaze, smoothed the fold he had complained about, and stepped away from the wall.

Nathaniel noticed first.

“Oh.”

William stopped writing.

Clara entered the circle. The conversation thinned without anyone asking for silence. In the last three interclass tournaments, she had been the one left standing at the end. Yesterday, on the mountain, Percy had put her on the ground without calling his fire. She remembered both facts as she checked the stone beneath her shoes.

She did not ask him to pretend the second one had not happened.

“My turn,” she said.

Percy turned fully toward her. His smile changed—not gentler, not mocking. Attentive.

“Your turn.”

Clara drew the short white wand from its sheath. The golden veins caught the morning light. Percy glanced at her hands, then at the position of her feet. They were not arranged as they had been yesterday.

She saw him notice.

“I was listening too.”

“I know.”

The others cleared the practice ground. Charlotte took the water bottle with her. Arthur stood beside William instead of in front of him. Galahad moved where he could see both sets of feet. Wycliffe looked from Percy to Clara, making sure they were ready before raising his hand.

Clara took one slow breath. A pale light gathered around her fingers.

Percy settled his weight and lifted his eyes to hers.

“Percy.”

Holar's voice stopped them.

Wycliffe's hand remained raised. The light around Clara's fingers steadied without expanding.

Percy turned toward the wall. His grandfather had stood up.

The smile left Percy's face, replaced by genuine surprise.

“Grandpa?”