"You are far too strong to compete with us fairly," Zephyr pointed out.

"Really? With all your knowledge on essence, you still do not know it is possible to restrict your own tier temporarily?" Yvonne scoffed.

As she spoke, a translucent clock like object materialized above her head.

"There. For the next ten minutes, I am tier two."

"What about the students on the drill platforms? If one of them falls," Azrael pointed back toward the training area.

"Raven will handle it," she said, gesturing toward a figure perched atop the tree she had occupied earlier.

The figure had no discernible face. It was a drifting mass of darkness that shifted appearance constantly, one form bleeding into the next at short intervals.

Yvonne nodded toward it, then turned back.

"Now, let us make this interesting. As an instructor, I cannot race you all without putting something on the line, can I?"

Her gaze moved slowly across their faces before settling on Azrael’s.

"First place wins a tier five soul core."

The words landed with a weight that silenced everyone for a moment, mouths falling open.

"A soul core?" Nyx repeated, almost to herself.

"Like an actual one?" Zephyr added.

Valdren said nothing, but the way he stumbled backward said everything.

Azrael was simply eating his popcorn.

"What is a soul core?" He asked.

"Now that I think about it, you missed the awakening orientation," Zephyr sighed, pressing his fingers to his forehead.

"A soul core is what powers dimensional beasts," Yvonne said plainly. "It can be used to create a true construct, one that does not need your essence to sustain itself."

"So Golden Surfer would become a permanent summon?" Azrael asked, rising from his chair slowly.

They all nodded at once.

"Alright. Let us go," Azrael said, sending the popcorn to his spatial ring.

Yvonne did not reply with words. Her essence answered instead.

A humanoid figure made entirely of diamond colored essence took shape in three seconds.

"Is that spatial essence?" Zephyr asked, pointing at her construct.

She nodded with a smile.

The others exhaled quietly.

Azrael did not waste time either.

The golden surfer at the far end of the forest dissolved into golden mist that drifted away with the wind.

A new surfer formed in front of him.

More than thirty seconds passed.

"Why have you not created your constructs?" Azrael asked the others.

"We ran out of essence."

All three of them said it at the same time, as though they had rehearsed it.

It was understandable. They all knew without needing to say it that their constructs had no real chance of surpassing the golden surfer. And then there was Yvonne’s construct built from spatial essence, the fastest and most elusive type in existence.

"If you are going to lie, at least make it convincing," Azrael said, wincing slightly.

They shrugged it off together.

"Call it," Yvonne said, gesturing toward Zephyr.

Zephyr nodded.

"Go."

The world seemed to pause for a fraction of a second before both constructs launched forward.

The spatial figure flickered in and out of reality at close intervals, reappearing further ahead each time it materialized.

Hundreds of meters were covered in under ten seconds.

The golden surfer moved at a speed that split the earth beneath its board and tore trees from their roots with the wind it generated.

Yvonne’s brow twitched as she watched.

She was supposed to be winning. She had used the fastest essence type in existence. How was she losing?

But reality said otherwise.

Losing did not frighten her.

In truth, she welcomed it more than victory.

But the gap between her construct and the golden surfer was something else entirely.

The spatial figure, as if reacting to her emotion, consumed itself to move faster, drawing from its own essence reserves to close the distance.

It barely caught up after four seconds.

Then, three meters from the finish line, it crumbled.

Not from impact. Not from interference.

It had simply used everything it had.

The golden surfer crossed the finish line, leaving a trail of golden light behind it.

By the time it slowed, golden specks were all that remained where trees had once stood.

Silence held for a moment, heavier than any sound could have been.

Then a quiet smirk from Azrael.

"I won," he murmured, looking at Yvonne.

The golden surfer dissolved at the same moment.

Yvonne looked at him and smiled.

"What skill did you use to create that construct?" She asked.

"That is my secret," Azrael said with a wink.

Yvonne did not press him.

She had already known he would not answer that.

"Here," she said, placing a blue transparent orb the size of a golf ball into his palm.

She tapped him on the shoulder.

"You are welcome."

She turned and leapt back onto the tree before Azrael could say a word.

Azrael looked at the orb for a moment, then sent it to his spatial ring with a thought.

"What exactly is that golden surfer?" Zephyr asked, looking him straight in the eye.

"As I said, that is my secret," Azrael sighed, settling into a new chair that formed beneath him.

His popcorn reappeared in his palm at the same time.

"This person is something else," Nyx muttered, staring at him.

"He is a direct heir for a reason," Zephyr replied.

They all nodded at that.

"Malaric, you finished," Azrael said, glancing over as he took a long drink from the cup that had appeared in his other hand.

"Where is that food coming from?" Zephyr asked, stopping mid nod.

"Maybe he packed his spatial ring with food?" Nyx offered, furrowing her brows.

Before they could continue, Yvonne’s voice came down from the tree.

"This class was largely wasted. The ones responsible will owe me ten tier two soul cores each after your expedition to the Dimensional Rift."

She did not name anyone. She did not need to. The people she meant already knew.

They could not have been more frustrated.

Ten soul cores felt impossible. If they found three on the expedition they would consider themselves fortunate, and that was their entire expected earning from the trip.

"Your next class will be held in my personal dungeon."

As she said those words, the portal to the next class opened.