Following Phase Two, the survivors were immediately herded into the subterranean Decontamination Vaults.
The exam had been deliberately held miles underground to prevent the catastrophic bleed of volatile mana into the surface realm.
The vault itself was a brutalist, damp stone cavern glowing under the harsh, clinical light of suspended mana-lamps.
Long rows of frost-chilled marble slabs lined the hall, separated by heavy velvet curtains.
The procedure was deceptively simple: the human body’s mana nodes acted like miniature pressure valves.
By applying firm, targeted pressure to these specific points, an ally could manually force the volatile, trapped energy to vent out through the skin like steam from a kettle.
Why? Because volatile mana gets trapped in the nodes like sludge or air bubbles caught in a hydraulic line. If left alone, it corrupts the surrounding tissue or causes a backfire.
Basically, the node can’t drain itself, it needs an external, refined mana current to break up the crystallization.
Unpleasant, but infinitely better than letting one’s internal organs spontaneously combust.
Which brought Callista to her current predicament.
She was now locked inside a private stone stall, sitting on a freezing marble slab with Corvina, isolated from the rest of the surviving examinees.
"What are we doing here?"
"What do you mean, ’what are we doing here’?" Corvina pulled Callista closer by the waist with zero warning. "We’re here to clean each other, of course."
"...Say what now?" Callista hiccuped.
"Turn around," said the black haired woman impatiently.
Clean each other?!
There wasn’t a drop of water, a bar of soap, or a towel in sight. Her mind immediately spiraled into a catastrophic detour of thoroughly inappropriate interpretations.
She hadn’t read the manual for this world yet, and right now, her complete lack of local knowledge was actively threatening her sanity.
"Look, boss, if this is some kind of hazing ritual, my skin is notoriously sensitive to—ah!"
A pair of impossibly cold, slender fingers pressed firmly into the junction where her neck met her shoulder.
"Stop wriggling, stray," Corvina growled softly, her breath hovering warm against the shell of Callista’s ear. "If I miss the conduit alignment, your shoulder blade will burst like an overinflated bladder."
Great. Terrifyingly comforting.
Corvina’s thumb dug deeper into the tight knot of muscle, and a sharp pulse of high-density energy shot straight into the node.
The volatile combat residue trapped inside her pathways instantly shattered, turning into a scalding wave of liquid energy.
Callista gasped, her spine arching involuntarily as Corvina’s hand dragged slowly down her bare back, physically pulling the liquefied sludge along her skin’s meridian.
"N-Ngh... wait—!" Callista whimpered, her hands frantically gripping the edge of the marble slab.
The sensation was pure torture, but not the painful kind. I
t felt like an intense shiver running straight down her central nervous system, flushing her skin bright crimson from her collarbone all the way to her knees.
"You’ll get used to it," Corvina murmured, her crimson eyes gleaming with a dangerous, satisfied amusement.
She didn’t lift her hand; instead, her fingers lingered over Callista’s spine, feeling the frantic, rapid flutter of the girl’s pulse. "Your mana channels are wide open, yet completely undisciplined. You’re practically shivering from a single trace pulse."
Callista buried her burning face in her hands, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Damn this body’s ridiculous biology! I’m not supposed to be like this, I’m not a sensitive harp!
"I-It’s just... cold in here!" Callista squeaked, her voice muffled by her palms.
"Is it? Because you feel positively feverish, Callista," Corvina smirked. "Now... hold still. We have six more nodes to clear."