The recovery wing was a golden cage. For two days, Elara had barely left my bedside, her silver mana constantly pulsing in a rhythmic, "soothing" wave that made my Void-Core itch with the desire to swallow it whole. Even Raiden had sent a personal guard to stand outside my door—not to watch me, but to keep the "vultures" of the other noble houses from mocking the "Broken Twin."
But the Academy's laws were older than my family's pity. To stay in the S-Rank—to keep my access to the basement and the Guardian—I couldn't just be a corpse. I had to be a tool.
"The Combat Resonance Exam," Professor Hecate announced as she entered the infirmary, her eyes sharp and unreadable. "Cassian, the Council has reviewed your Blood Appraisal. You have no mana. Under normal circumstances, you would be expelled by noon."
Elara stood up, her aura flaring. "He survived a Rift, Professor! He's a Valerius—"
"I am aware," Hecate cut her off. "Which is why we are testing for Anomalous Residue. Sometimes, when a soul fractures, the 'cracks' create a vacuum. We need to see if you are a liability... or a specialized shield."
The Grand Arena was packed. The students weren't there to see a hero; they were there to see the "Dud" get dismantled. Princess Aurelia sat in the royal box, her chin resting on her hand, watching me with a cold, predatory curiosity.
I stood in the center of the sands, my body still shaking from the lingering effects of the Fragility Draught. Opposite me stood a Third-Year training assistant, a mid-tier mage named Soren.
"The goal is simple," Hecate's voice boomed. "Soren will cast Grade-1 and Grade-2 elemental spells. Cassian, you will attempt to survive."
"Begin!"
Soren smirked, flicking his wrist. A small Firebolt—the most basic Grade-1 spell—streaked toward my chest. It was slow, weak, and pathetic.
"Don't swallow it," I whispered to the Void-Core. "Just... nudge it."
I didn't move. I didn't dodge. I let the Firebolt hit my outstretched palm.
The audience leaned forward. Normally, a Null would be scorched. But as the flame touched my skin, the Void-Skin on my hand flared a dull, bruised purple. The fire didn't explode. It didn't burn. It simply... went out. Like a candle being smothered by a wet thumb.
A murmur ran through the crowd.
"Again!" Hecate commanded, her eyes narrowing.
Soren frowned and cast Water Binding. A whip of pressurized water lashed out, aiming to wrap around my throat. As it made contact with the "fractured" lines on my neck, the spell shattered into a harmless mist.
I fell to one knee, gasping for air, clutching my chest as if the effort was tearing me apart. I made sure my "veins" pulsed with a sickly, dark light.
"Grade-3!" Hecate shouted.
Soren took a deep breath and summoned a Stone Lance. This was a higher-density spell, packed with significantly more mana. As the jagged rock flew toward me, I "tried" to catch it.
BAM.
The stone didn't vanish. It shattered against my shoulder, sending me sprawling into the sand. I rolled several times, coughing up a mixture of dirt and prepared "blood."
The Void-Core hadn't failed; I had simply refused to let it eat something that heavy. To the observers, it looked like my "ability" had reached its breaking point.
Hecate stepped onto the sand, her heels clicking as she approached my fallen form. She looked at the bruised, smoking skin of my shoulder, then at the lingering "grey mist" where the lower spells had vanished.
"It's as I thought," she said, loud enough for the Princess and the Faculty to hear. "The fracture in his soul hasn't left him with power. It has left him with a Passive Mana-Sink."
She turned to the observation deck.
"Princess, the subject possesses a rare, albeit pathetic, mutation. Because his mana-veins are shattered, they act like a 'drain' for low-level stray energy. He can negate Grade-1 and Grade-2 spells because his 'cracks' simply absorb the mana to try and fill the void. But Grade-3 and above? The 'sink' overflows. The magic hits him like a physical hammer."
Raiden stood up in the stands, his face a mask of complex relief. "So he's a shield? A specialized anti-grunt unit?"
"In a sense," Hecate replied, looking down at me with a pity that felt like a knife. "He can negate the 'pests' of the battlefield. But against a true mage? He's just a target that takes a little longer to burn."
Princess Aurelia stood up, her golden eyes locking onto mine. "A specialized tool for the front lines. He stays. If House Valerius can produce a shield that never tires of low-level magic, the Empire will find a use for him."
I lay in the sand, my face hidden.
It was the perfect lie. I had given them a "reason" for my survival that fit their logic. I wasn't a monster; I was just a broken cup that could only hold a few drops of water before spilling.
"Grade-2 limit, huh?" the Guardian's voice rasped in the back of my mind, chuckling. "You're getting too good at this, boy. They think they've measured the hole... they don't realize they're just standing on the edge of the abyss."