The pause after Novak's words was heavier than any shout.

  Sery was torn between the offence he took at me and at my master. Slowly, he straightened up.

  The air in the corridor thickened. The lighting dimmed, and even the sounds faded, as if everyone present had collectively held their breath. Only my heart thundered, the blood rushing so loudly in my ears it drowned everything else.

  He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. He simply unleashed his aura.

  “You’re overstepping, Vacv,” he said evenly. “I’m not afraid of anyone here. And if someone needs proof of that — I’m ready.”

  The pressure hit us like a sb of stone. A suffocating weight crushed our shoulders, sank deeper, and squeezed our lungs. Breathing became as strenuous as pulling oneself up on a bar. The air had thickened and turned against us. The corridor itself seemed to narrow. My legs began to tremble.

  Novak responded.

  His aura was cold and sharp. It didn’t press against everything, it went straight for the spine, slicing into it with a thousand icy sparks, making one want to straighten up and stand at attention. The two forces collided. One bent and broke; the other pierced and forced upright. For a moment, it felt like the corridor itself creaked under the strain, unsure how to withstand it.

  And this was just an aura csh — nothing compared to what fifth stage combat techniques were capable of. These two could level this pce in a few blows. Or, considering we were underground, perhaps dig a nice crater instead. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure how deep the facility went, but I had no time to think about that. Like everyone else present, I was resisting the pressure, each to our own extent.

  Poor Pete, despite his prophetic cultivation level, couldn’t withstand it at all.

  He staggered, slid down the wall and colpsed onto the floor, desperately trying to gasp even a mouthful of air.

  “Enough!” Bulsara’s voice cut through the pressure like a bde.

  His intervention was unexpected.

  The bald doctor, in his white coat, eyebrows sharply arched in fury, looked almost ridiculous without any visible aura at all.

  “Stop it at once!” he snapped, pointing at Pete.

  Novak gnced at the cadet, and the cold grip on my spine withdrew.

  The pressure remained, just as aggressive and lethally heavy.

  “I’m the one in charge here,” Sery said, without even gncing at Bulsara. “And I don’t take orders from outsiders.”

  Bulsara did something extraordinary with his eyebrows, arching them in a dispy of both fury and indignation.

  “Your rank doesn’t give you the right to kill cadets,” he replied coldly. “And in a situation of direct threat to life, I am the senior authority. Medic!”

  For a moment, it seemed Sery might actually go through with it.

  But then, slowly, the pressure began to lift.

  Not all at once. Reluctantly. But the corridor began to feel like a corridor again, and not some twisted variant of a Flow Chamber.

  Bulsara bent over Pete. He was breathing, even conscious, but clearly in a terrible state.

  The conflict, of course, wasn’t resolved, only pced on pause, while Bulsara, with absolute authority, decred that he was taking Pete to the infirmary. And neither the guards nor Sery dared object.

  By then, the pressure had fully dissipated, and the corridor didn’t feel lighter so much as emptier, as if extra space had suddenly been added. Still, the danger hadn’t vanished. The guards stood frozen, clearly uncertain what to do with how things had unfolded. What could they, mere fourth stage cultivators, possibly do against two fifths? Stop them?

  Ha! Two enraged fifth stage cultivators were practically an atomic bomb.

  Though, in truth, only one of them had shown any anger. Novak remained as composed as ever. His voice was calm, too calm, considering what had just happened.

  “You’re losing control, Sery,” he said evenly. No reproach. No raised voice. Just a doctor delivering a diagnosis. “And this isn’t the first time.”

  Sery turned his head towards him slowly. It was an expression of offence. Pure, almost childlike.

  “I’m losing control?” he echoed. “It’s because everyone keeps sticking their nose into my work — people who have no business being here. Doctors, diplomats, observers. You all think you know better how to do my job!”

  Novak didn’t interrupt. He let him finish.

  “This is my project,” Sery went on, his voice rising. “My work, my calcution. The result you’re all marvelling at now only exists because I was willing to do what no one else dared! And every time one of you comes in with your bloody ‘concerns’, I lose time. Time we don’t have.”

  Novak inclined his head ever so slightly.

  “I’d wager you said something simir st time,” Novak said. “Right before everything went to hell.”

  Someone in the corridor inhaled sharply. That was a verbal punch to the bollocks. The opponent was already curled up on the ground, but Novak decided to stomp on him for good measure.

  “We truly don’t have time,” he continued, just as calmly. “No time to start over because you cked patience. And this is my school, my alma mater, I’d rather not have to rebuild it from scratch.”

  Sery was silent for a few seconds. His jaw worked as if he were chewing on both his words and his fury. Then he exhaled sharply and stepped forward.

  Not towards Novak.

  Towards us.

  His gaze slid over the faces of the b technicians, then stopped on me. There was no hesitation in his eyes. He had already made up his mind.

  “Your school, but my project!” he snapped. “You have access, but no voice!”

  He turned to Li.

  “Remove this shift from the project,” he ordered. “Completely. I don’t want to see any of them inside again.”

  Li flinched.

  “Master…” he began, but Sery didn’t let him finish.

  “Team optimisation,” he continued in an official tone. “Low resistance to stress. Breaches of discipline. Potential security risks.”

  He looked at me again.

  I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel. Everything had taken a strange turn, and far too fast.

  I gnced at my master, but Novak said nothing.

  Sery seemed to believe he’d won. And maybe he had. He had shown strength, made a decision, and decred it publicly. To override it immediately would’ve meant losing face.

  “You’re dismissed,” he said, turning away from us as if we no longer existed.

  Well then. About time I got back to cultivating.

  “Let’s go,” Novak said, gesturing for us to follow.

  This time, the guards didn’t try to stop us. But once we were out of earshot, Novak said to the team, “Keep an eye on your inboxes. Every order must be accompanied by an official letter.

  “Jake, don’t make any pns for the evening. I might need you,” he said by way of farewell, making it clear our paths were parting, even if we were taking the same metro line.

  We gged behind a little, and Byron suggested we celebrate. Unlike Dave, he saw nothing but positives in what had happened, and was more than willing to foot the bill. Since he chose Mo’s himself, I didn’t object. They had real Earth milk there. And my craving for dairy hadn’t quite passed yet.

  I ordered a milkshake and raspberry cheesecake. Byron, of course, hadn’t dragged us to Mo’s just for the treats, he wanted to pry out everything I knew about the project head and his tension with Novak.

  I didn’t even pretend. I told him ft-out I wasn’t going to talk about it. So the cheesecake ended up being on him, free of charge.

  The rest of the time until evening passed in strange jerks. After everything that had happened, my body still hadn’t quite registered that the danger had passed, and kept behaving as though any shadow in the corridor might once again fall on my shoulders like a sb of pressure. The cafe passed in a blink, but the metro ride home dragged on forever. More than once I caught myself tensing up for no reason, my mind drifting from the book in my hands to phantom noises that weren’t really there.

  As my master had asked, I hadn’t made any serious pns for the evening. ‘I might need you’ in his case meant a 95% likelihood, 80% of which typically involved tea. A lot of important matters got resolved over tea with him.

  But this time, it wasn’t tea that awaited me, it was a full dinner. Not the small tea table in the sitting room, but a properly id table in the next room over.

  It was the first time I’d been allowed beyond the sitting room. The first time I’d been seated facing the window.

  There was a kind of hierarchy at the tea table. Master always sat facing the window, with its splendid view of the school grounds. We, his disciples, typically sat to the sides, with the youngest getting the spot with their back to the window.

  At the dinner table, Novak sat side-on to the window, facing the guest. Perhaps, to equalise their social standing. Or maybe for some other reason…

  She was petite, with dark hair tied into a restrained knot, and sharp eyes that missed nothing. Her clothing, a business suit, matched the master’s in tone. I was the only one in a standard-issue uniform.

  Akira Tanaka was the administrator of the Portal Project. Her role was to keep Sery in check. Being fourth stage didn’t help her much in that regard, but Novak believed the main issue y elsewhere.

  I’ll skip the formalities, and the array of dishes Novak had personally prepared!

  During their idle conversation, which served as a means for Tanaka and Novak to sound each other out, I kept silent. Tanaka spoke carefully, weighing every word. Novak spoke gently, but precisely. No pressure. No fifth-stage authority. Just pure argument.

  It was Master who first began steering the conversation in the direction he wanted, and Tanaka didn’t argue. The discussion swiftly turned to the incident.

  She’d seen the recordings, but I was given the word, until Novak took it back again.

  “What you witnessed today was the consequence of a ck of control,” he said calmly. “And I’m not talking about Sery. I’m talking about the system.”

  Akira didn’t respond right away. She looked into her pte, as if gathering her thoughts.

  “He’s a rather difficult person to work with. And I can’t monitor everything at once.”

  “That’s because you don’t have the people,” Novak said. “Formally — yes. In practice — no. All the project’s key points are tied to him and his students. The rest simply follow orders.”

  “I can’t really argue with that.”

  “Which is exactly why I’m proposing a temporary solution.” He looked at me. “Jake isn’t part of his structure. He’s not bound by any contracts. But at the same time, he’s already too deep inside to be considered an outside observer.”

  Akira turned her gaze to me. This time, more intently.

  “Second Stage?” she asked, as though uncertain. “Do you think he could handle that kind of pressure again if you’re not there?”

  “Sery won’t pressure him,” the Master replied.

  I wasn’t quite so sure about that.

  “At least not directly. But he’ll definitely forbid anyone else from speaking to him.”

  “And how does that help us?”

  “Would you have thought to test the tea?” Novak asked. “I wouldn’t have. He’s quite observant. Temporarily, I’m pcing him under your supervision. Not as a resource. Not as a battery. As a representative. With just enough access to see the real picture and raise the arm when needed.”

  She stayed silent for a while. Far too long for a simple formality.

  Then Tanaka allowed herself a slight smile, for the first time that evening.

  “Alright,” she said. “We’ll take him on a trial basis. Until the first serious report.”

  She looked at me again.

  “Questions? Concerns?”

  “I’ll need permission to carry a pocket,” I replied. “That’s the main thing. The rest... I’ll need to think over.”

  MaksymPachesiuk