"This is the person you chose? … He is but a boy."
Randhall's fragmented voice echoed through the burning workshop, disbelief dripping from every syllable.
Vic blinked. "Sir—what is happening—why am I here—?!"
Emery placed a steady hand on Vic's trembling shoulder.
"He doesn't look like much," Emery admitted, "but he is a dual master,"
Randhall grunted. "Whatever… I'll give you five minutes."
Emery shot up. "Five? That's barely enough to explain anything to the boy. I need thirty."
"Ten minutes is all you have."
Vic's soul form wobbled like jelly. The young magus looked like he had just been told to lift a mountain single-handedly.
"Stay calm," Emery said, tightening his grip on the boy's shoulder. "You can do this."
The words hit Vic like a divine mantra. His back straightened. His expression sharpened with dramatic resolve. "I cannot let Sir Emery down. Everyone depends on me!"
