Chapter 42: I Want You To Have It

Lancet was once again in the Dean’s office. He didn’t really mind, the place was cool and the air conditioning was far better than any other room Lancet had been in.

Ordenance gently closed the door, sealing away the ambient noise of the Academy corridors. He walked around his massive desk, his dark robes sweeping gracefully over the polished floor.

He carefully pulled his chair backwards. "I know younglings like yourself would rather spend their free time playing, boasting, and running around the Academy causing trouble," Ordenance said, his deep voice holding a trace of dry amusement. "So I assure you, I will not take too much of your time."

Lancet politely smiled. "It’s an honor just to be invited into your office, sir. I have no complaints."

Ordenance nodded and took his seat, then gestured for Lancet to take the one opposite him. When Lancet did, the Dean adjusted his robes before placing both hands on his desk.

"First, I have a question," he began.

Lancet prepared for anything.

"The Main Loot of that Dungeon," Ordenance said. "Did you know it had dropped? Main Loots drop once in 3-5 years. For it to drop on the same day you chose the most dangerous Higher Dungeon we have, that’s a magnanimous coincidence, don’t you think?"

Lancet downturned his lips innocently. "To be frank, sir. I had no idea at all. My reason for choosing it was selfish, I knew Astensia could handle it and I would get more EXP and Profits to clear my Academy debts."

Ordenance looked thoughtful for a while then huffed, relaxing his shoulders. "Of course. I was only greatly curious. But there is no way you truly would have known."

They both gazed at each other for a semi-awkward moment. Then, Ordenance tapped the table gently and rose to his feet, muttering to himself.

He turned his back and walked over to a mighty bookshelf that had ancient, leather-bound grimoires spread on its aisles. The Dean waved a single finger.

A complex, glowing array of magical gears materialized in the air, unlocking a hidden compartment with a soft click. The Dean reached inside and pulled out a small, velvet-lined wooden box.

He turned around, opened the lid, and presented it to Lancet.

Resting on the velvet cushion was a band of shiny, dark metal with blue runes engraved on its body.

Lancet’s eyes went completely wide. His breath hitched in his throat.

’A Phantom Ring,’ his fanboy mind screamed. ’Fully called the Phantom Tag-Team Conduit Ring! I’m actually seeing a popularly used Item in the novel in real life.’

"That’s a—" Lancet gasped out loud, the words tumbling past his lips before his brain could hit the brakes.

He snapped his mouth shut, his teeth clicking together. ’Idiot,’ he berated himself. ’A slum rat wouldn’t have a clue what an Item like that would be.’

He cleared his throat, forcing his expression to shift from recognition to innocent curiosity.

"What is it, sir?" he asked, trying to sound appropriately baffled.

Ordenance’s eyes gleamed with that same calculating intrigue he had shown during the expedition. He didn’t press Lancet on his slip-up.

"It is a Phantom Tag-Team Conduit Ring," the Dean explained, his voice echoing softly in the quiet office. "Simply called a Phantom Ring or a Conduit Ring. It is a highly specialized artifact. To put it simply, it allows a Summoner to wield a fraction of their Summon’s active power."

Lancet feigned a look of awe. "How does it do that?"

"By absorbing the magical energy spent from your Summon’s battles," Ordenance continued. "Each time your anchored Summon secures a kill, the ring siphons a sliver of that residual energy, charging itself up. Once the runes glow fully, the ring reaches maximum capacity. At that precise moment, you are granted the ability to activate one of the Summon’s skills—though the skill is drastically scaled down to safely fit your own level and Grace limit."

"Woah," Lancet breathed, letting a genuine smile break through. "That is a really awesome item."

"It is," Ordenance agreed, snapping the box shut and holding it out. "And I want you to have it."

Lancet blinked, momentarily breaking his act. He pointed a finger at his own chest. "Me? Why?"

Ordenance looked at him intently, his expression completely serious. "Because of what I saw in the Dungeon today. The way you and your Heroine worked together... it was unlike anything I have seen from a Summoner in decades."

He smiled, thinking of a memory. Then he looked at Lancet again with his wise eyes.

"The emotional connection you two share is palpable. I felt it from where I stood. I saw it too. I saw the respect with which you treated her. You did not treat her as a disposable tool or a meat-shield, which is how, unfortunately, many others in this Academy would have used her."

The Dean sighed, sitting back. "More importantly, Leogardt... you really need it. The world of Awakeners is brutal, and your physical vulnerabilities were made glaringly obvious today."

Lancet pouted. ’They were not that obvious.’

"You cannot always rely on Astensia to swat the axe away from your neck. With this ring, you can at least earn some strength of your own after directing her towards those kills, exactly as you did with the Shamans. That was truly epic commandeering. You have the mind of a general. You simply lack the sword. So, take it."

Lancet slowly reached out. He picked the cool, dark metal ring from the velvet box. Instantly, a translucent blue screen popped up in his vision.

⸢ Item: Phantom Tag-Team Conduit Ring [ B-Grade ] ⸥

⸢ Effect: Charges via Summon’s kills (0/20). At Max Charge, host may cast one scaled-down active skill belonging to the anchored Summon. Consumes host’s MP upon cast ⸥

Lancet slid the ring onto his right index finger. The moment the metal cleared his knuckle, the blue runes flared to life. A sudden, thrilling rush of energy traveled up his arm, settling warmly in his chest. It felt like a tether waiting to be connected.

Lancet looked up, his eyes shining with genuine gratitude. "Thank you, Dean Ordenance. I’m really grateful for this."

"You are welcome," Ordenance said, relaxing on his high-backed leather chair. "But this is more of an investment. I expect great things from you, Lancet Leogardt of the Eastern Slums. Carry on with your day."

Lancet rose and gave a deep, respectful bow. Half-knowing the heavy expectations the old man was placing on his shoulders, he turned and exited the office.

He stepped out into the quiet, sunlit corridor, admiring the shiny metal band on his finger. ’This changes everything. If I consume the Orc King’s Heart to boost my MP, and Astensia farms enough kills to charge the ring, I can actually cast magic of my own. I won’t just be sitting on a rock anymore.’

"Well, hello there."

Lancet stopped walking.

Leaning casually against a marble pillar just a few steps down the corridor was Clevus Cattenham.

The senior in Summoner-B was wearing his pristine Academy uniform, flashing an oily, overly friendly smile as he looked down at Lancet.

"What a coincidence that I ran into you again," Clevus said smoothly, pushing off the pillar and stepping into Lancet’s path.

Lancet stared at him, his face deadpan. ’Coincidence? Sure.’

"Hey. Senior," Lancet said, instinctively putting his hands in his pockets. "If this is about the library book you helped me with, don’t worry. It’s safe and clean."

"Oh, no, no," Clevus chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "I’m not worried about that at all. I actually heard that you won the MVP title again this week. That’s back-to-back! I wanted to congratulate you specially."

Clevus stepped closer and enthusiastically offered his right hand.

"Well done, junior," Clevus smiled, his eyes gleaming with a hungry, predatory intensity.

Lancet looked down at the outstretched hand and back up at Clevus’s face.

"Thank you, senior," Lancet said plainly.

He didn’t move his hands from his pockets. He didn’t accept the handshake.

Clevus’s oily smile twitched. He left his hand hanging in the air for another agonizing three seconds before slowly letting it drop to his side.

His friendly face transformed to almost cartoonish anger.

"Not accepting your senior’s hand for the second time in a row?" Clevus said, clearly peeved. "You’re really courting death, kid. You know that?"

Lancet tilted his head, looking at the senior like he was a particularly confusing puzzle. "Why do you want me to shake your hand so badly? It’s really suspicious."

Clevus’s face instantly flushed a dark, angry red. "Hey! How can you go about asking your senior questions like that?!" he snapped, pointing at him.

"Don’t you know you’re supposed to kowtow to us? You’re a freshman from the slums! I heard you already got yourself in trouble with a big gun like Nereus Grimlake. Don’t you think making friends with another powerful senior is good for your protection?! All your mates are doing it!"

Lancet let out a long, exaggerated sigh. He shrugged his shoulders, closed his eyes, and kept his hands firmly planted in his pockets as he began to walk straight past the fuming senior.

"Nah," Lancet said casually, not even looking back. "Imma do my own thing."

Clevus stood frozen in the corridor, turning to watch the freshman stroll away like he didn’t have a care in the world. Clevus’s fists clenched so hard his knuckles popped. His eyes burned with toxic, humiliated rage.

’This annoying rodent of a junior,’ he thought, glaring daggers into the back of Lancet’s head. ’He hasn’t heard the last of me. I can promise that.’