"Step back, rust-rat. You're shaking so hard you're gonna shake the bolts right out of that piece of junk," Elise snapped, her voice cutting through the humid smog of the testing arena.
Jax didn't step back. He couldn't. The living gear embedded in his chest gave a sharp, metallic tug, pulling him closer to her. He could feel the heat radiating off her leather armor, the scent of ozone and expensive star-oil clinging to her skin. He stumbled, his shoulder brushing hers, and for a second, the world tilted.
"I'm not shaking," Jax lied, his voice cracking. "I'm calibrating. There's a difference."
"Calibrating? You're holding a wrench like it's a holy relic," she countered, stepping into his personal space. She was taller, leaner, and currently looked like she wanted to throw him into the scrap heap. She leaned in, her breath warm against his ear. "If you blow this trial, we both fail. And if we fail, my captain doesn't just fire me. He strips my rank and puts me in a cage. You want that on your conscience?"
Jax swallowed hard. He looked at the 'rig'—a rusted, salvaged engine block that looked more like a dumpster than a piece of magi-tech. It was his ticket. If he could make this dead-core spark, he wasn't just a street rat anymore. He was a Magus in training.
"Just... give me the core," Jax muttered, reaching out.
Elise didn't hand it over. She held the glowing star-core just out of reach, her fingers grazing the crystal. The light cast sharp shadows across her face, making her eyes look like cold flint. "Prove you can handle the feedback first. Tell me the frequency of a Grade-3 pulse without guessing."
"Forty-two hertz, give or take a decimal," Jax snapped, his eyes narrowing. "Now give it here before the clock runs out."
She smirked—a dangerous, thin line of a smile—and dropped the core into his palm. The contact was electric. Not just the magic, but the way her fingers lingered against his skin for a heartbeat too long. Jax felt a jolt go straight to the gear in his chest, which pulsed in a slow, rhythmic thrum that matched her own heartbeat.
"Don't get cocky," she whispered, stepping back just enough to give him room to work, but not far enough to break the tether. "One wrong turn and this thing becomes a grenade with your hand on the pin."
Across the arena, the examiners were watching. High-collared elites in pristine white robes, looking at Jax like he was a smudge of grease on a clean floor. In the center stood Kaelen, the lead proctor. He didn't even look at Jax; he just looked at his watch.
"Three minutes, Renner," Kaelen called out, his voice dripping with boredom. "Try not to kill yourself. It's a lot of paperwork to clean up a corpse in the middle of a trial."
"Shut up and watch," Jax yelled back, though he was already diving into the rig's guts.
He didn't have the fancy tools the other apprentices had. He had a rusted spanner, a roll of conductive tape, and a gut feeling that the laws of magic were lying to everyone. He jammed the star-core into the primary socket. The rig groaned. A shower of sparks flew, singing the hair on his arms.
"It's not seating!" Jax hissed, his fingers slipping on the greasy metal.
"Shift the intake valve!" Elise shouted, her hand slamming onto the side of the machine to steady it. Her palm was pressed flat against the metal, right next to his arm. "The pressure's building in the secondary coil! If you don't vent it now, we're both going to be smeared across the pavement!"
"I can't vent it without the key!"
"Then make a key!" she yelled, her eyes wide with a mix of panic and something that looked suspiciously like excitement.
Jax looked at the gap in the gear-work. He didn't have a key. But he had the living gear in his chest. It was humming, vibrating with a frequency that felt like a scream. He didn't think; he just acted. He jammed his hand—bare and trembling—into the gap, letting the gear in his chest lock directly into the machine's drive-shaft.
*CLANG.*
Metal screamed against metal. A shockwave of blue light exploded from the center of the rig, knocking the wind out of him. Jax felt a searing heat rip through his shoulder, but he didn't let go. He couldn't. He was the bridge.
"Jax!" Elise screamed. She didn't move away. Instead, she lunged forward, grabbing his waist to keep him from being thrown back by the recoil. Her body slammed into his, pinning him against the vibrating machine.
For a second, they were fused—man, woman, and machine. Jax could feel her heart hammering against his back, the sheer force of her grip bruising his ribs. The star-core didn't just light up; it roared. A pillar of blinding white light shot upward, tearing through the arena's smog and illuminating the shocked faces of the examiners.
"It's... it's working," Elise breathed, her voice muffled against his shoulder.
Jax gasped for air, his chest heaving. "Told... you... I was calibrating."
They stayed like that for a moment—locked together in the fading glow, breathing hard, the smell of burnt ozone and sweat thick between them. Elise didn't let go immediately. Her fingers dug into his coat, her forehead resting against the nape of his neck. The tension was thick, a physical thing that felt more dangerous than the exploding engine.
Then, the light died. The rig settled into a steady, low hum.
Jax slumped back, sliding out of her grip. He looked down at his hand; it was blackened with soot and bleeding from a dozen small cuts. He grinned, a jagged, triumphant thing.
"I did it," he whispered. "I actually did it."
"We did it," Elise corrected, though she quickly stepped back, her face returning to its usual mask of professional indifference. She wiped a smudge of grease off her cheek, but her eyes lingered on the blood on his hand. "Don't let it go to your head, rat. You almost blew us both to the moon."
"You loved it," Jax teased, leaning back on his heels. "You love the danger. Admit it, Vane. You'd be bored to death if you weren't stuck with me."
"I'd be promoted if I weren't stuck with you," she snapped, but there was no heat in it.
They turned toward the examiners. The silence in the arena was heavy. The other students were staring, their mouths open. Kaelen was no longer looking at his watch. He was staring at the rig, his eyes narrowed in a mixture of disgust and genuine confusion.
He walked forward, his boots clicking on the stone floor. He stopped three feet away, looking at the salvaged junk that had just outperformed every licensed rig in the room.
"Impressive," Kaelen said, his voice flat. "A street rat with a knack for scrap. Truly a miracle of the slums."
Jax beamed. "So, does that mean I pass?"
Kaelen didn't smile. He reached into his robe and pulled out a small, obsidian-black device—a dampening field generator. He clicked it on, and suddenly, the hum of the rig vanished. The light died instantly. Jax felt a sudden, crushing vacuum in his chest, as if the gear had just been suffocated. He gasped, clutching his sternum, his knees buckling.
Elise reacted instantly, catching him before he hit the dirt. "What are you doing?"
"The trial isn't over," Kaelen said, stepping closer, his shadow looming over them. He looked down at Jax with a sneer of pure contempt. "The first part was technical. The second part is... viability. And as far as I'm concerned, a rat who needs a Huntress to hold him up isn't viable."
He looked at the dampener in his hand, then back at Jax's pale face.
"You passed the machine, Renner. But you're still a mistake. I'm declaring this result void due to illegal assistance."
Jax looked up, his vision swimming. "What? You can't—"
"I can," Kaelen interrupted. He leaned down, his voice a lethal whisper. "And now that I've seen exactly how your little 'curse' works, I think it's time we took a closer look at that gear in your chest. Guards!"
Two armored enforcers stepped forward, their heavy boots echoing. One of them reached for Jax's collar, but Elise stepped in the way, her hand instinctively going to the hilt of her blade.
"He's under my custody, Proctor," she said, her voice cold. "You can't just—"
"Your custody is the reason he's a liability, Vane," Kaelen snapped. He gestured to the guards. "Take them both. Now. I want that core extracted by tonight."
As the guards lunged, the gear in Jax's chest didn't just pulse—it screamed. A jagged spike of pain shot through him, and simultaneously, Elise gasped, her body jerking violently as if an invisible hook had snagged her heart.
"What the hell is—" Elise started, but she couldn't finish the sentence.
Kaelen's eyes lit up. He didn't look angry anymore. He looked hungry. He stepped forward, reaching for the chain that bound them, and said, "So, it really is a sympathetic link. Tell me, boy, does it hurt more when she screams, or when you do?"