The Royal Training Grounds on the edge of Aethergard reeked of scorched earth and ionized air. Prince Aurelion stood amidst the destruction. He was stripped to the waist, sweat glistening on his muscles, his palms red from the constant use of Magnetic Release.

  "Impressive," a cold voice remarked from behind him. "If your goal is to burn your hands off before you ascend the throne."

  Aurelion spun around, remnants of battle trance still in his eyes. "Anaris? What are you doing here? I'm training."

  "No," she said calmly, walking toward him. Her long Dean's robe flowed in the etheric wind, but in her hand, she gripped a heavy, white object. "You are not training. You are destroying yourself. And that offends me."

  She stopped five meters from him and tossed the weapon. "Catch."

  Aurelion instinctively caught it. His hand dipped under the object's weight. "It's heavy..." he mumbled, testing its heft. The surface was smooth, cold, but inside he felt vibrations. "What is this? Another training staff?"

  "This is Laxa - Hasta," Anaris said, crossing her arms. "And it is the only reason you will never have to shoot from bare hands like an idiot again. Try hitting something."

  Aurelion, still skeptical, approached the nearest monolith. He spun the staff—its weight gave him incredible momentum—and struck with full force.

  CRACK.

  The monolith snapped in half. The crystalline whiteness wasn't even scratched.

  "Diamond hardness," Anaris nodded. "You can block, crush, break. But that is not the main point. Aim at that hovercraft wreck."

  Aurelion aimed the staff at the target a kilometer away. The prongs at the end of the weapon opened with a quiet hiss. A golden spark jumped between them. Aurelion felt the power. A thought of total destruction flashed through his mind. The indicator on the side of the weapon turned red.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  THWACK.

  It wasn't an explosion. It was the crack of a whip breaking the sound barrier. A beam of pure kinetic force flew from the barrel. The hovercraft wreck simply vanished. There was no fire left behind. Only a crater and superheated air rippling where the projectile had passed through matter.

  Silence. Absolute silence.

  Aurelion stood with his mouth open. Longitudinal ribs extended from the front of the staff with a quiet hiss, releasing white steam—heat leaving the system. "That... that was incredible!" he exhaled and immediately wanted to pull the trigger again. Nothing. The weapon just hissed.

  "It's broken!" he shouted in disappointment.

  "It is not broken, you fool," Anaris said, walking up to him. She clicked a mechanism in the handle, and an empty, hot cylinder fell into her palm. "It is empty. And overheated."

  She pulled a new, heavy Grav-Rod from her pocket and snapped it in with a satisfying click. "You just used mode Oblivion – Mach 15. You consumed an entire rod of compressed matter on a pile of scrap. That is like throwing a moon at a mosquito."

  She pointed a finger at the holographic strip near his thumb, which now glowed blue. "Look here. Nanites are smart, Aurelion.

  Blue: Mach 8. Twenty shots. Enough for infantry.

  Orange: Mach 12. For tanks."

  She looked into his eyes again, this time not as an architect, but as a sister. "And the red one you just wasted... save that for the moment when something unkillable comes at you. Because after that, the weapon must cool for 30 seconds. Until those ribs retract, you are holding just a very hard stick."

  Aurelion looked at the cooling weapon. "And what if I run out of rods, sister? I won't always have supplies in the field."

  Anaris smirked. "Then you become the ammunition. This version is special, just for you. When the matter runs out, you can channel your Magnetic Release through it. The staff will act as a lens, turning your discharge into pure, condensed lightning. No overheating, no recoil. Just you and the storm.It will allow you to dominate without having to enter the Resonant State. Save your transcendent power for the moments when you really need it."

  Aurelion ran his thumb over the indicator and set it to blue. The ribs retracted with a quiet click. The weapon purred gently, ready for combat. In his eyes, respect mixed with pure, childish joy.

  "Thank you," he said quietly.

  Anaris just smiled and turned to leave, her coat swirling in the dust. "Thank Amara. She calculated it. I just couldn't stand the sight of your inefficiency."