Halo: Magicka

A/N: Im going to be writing in the third person for this chapter as there are other characters I want to look at, even though it will also focus on Eli for some time. Also don't bitch at what Elysius reveals here, he knows the Spartans' characters better than they think, especially the main ones.

"....." - Speech

'.....' - Thoughts

A/N: If you guys like this work and feel like supporting me, you can do so at my:

P*treon: /Djini

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~1 year after beginning training,

"What the hell is this kid?" A tall, tanned Asian man muttered as he looked at the End-Of-Year-1 data presented on his desk, another page opened that displayed the targets for each year as a comparison. Kurt had four years to get them up to scratch, compared to the eight years that he and his peers got.

Spartan-B312. Physically dominant, mentally unyielding, and alarmingly adaptable.

"This kid might be the most talented in the company," he thought as he flipped through mission logs, training evaluations, and psychological assessments. Every report painted the same picture: Jon excelled. Every metric shattered expectations—endurance, combat effectiveness, tactical analysis. But it wasn't just raw talent that made Jon stand out—it was something colder, sharper. An edge.

The man leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. He had seen talent before, countless prodigies trained and broken down in this very program, but Jon was… different.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Enter," he barked.

The door slid open, and Instructor Soong stepped in, posture rigid, expression unreadable.

"You wanted to see me, Sir," Soong said, saluting.

The officer gestured vaguely at the reports, "Yes, You've been overseeing these kids for months now. Tell me—what's your take on B312?"

Soong let out a sharp breath before responding. "Sir, B312 is… a machine. He doesn't stop, doesn't hesitate, and doesn't flinch. It's like he was built for this. But there's something else—he doesn't fight for himself. He's managed to harness his rage against the covenant, unlike some of the other children."

Kurt nodded slowly, "A leader, then?"

Soong hesitated. "Not exactly, sir. Although he's capable of being in that role, he doesn't bark orders or play hero. He's… steady. Unyielding. Like a rock in the middle of a storm. The others naturally follow him because he gives them something to anchor to."

The officer tapped a finger on the holographic report. "And his relationship with his brother, B313?"

Soong's expression flickered, just for a moment. "Close, sir. Almost… too close. B313 is sharp—smarter than most, but I can tell he's holding back. For what reason? God knows. I think B312 knows it. They complement each other. Where one falls short, the other fills in. It's an unspoken dynamic, but effective. Usually, however, when they are paired together, it's B313 that takes the lead."

The officer's lips pressed into a thin line. "That kind of bond can be a strength… or a liability."

"Agreed, sir," Soong replied.

For a long moment, the room was silent, save for the faint hum of the holographic display.

Finally, the officer spoke, his voice low and firm. "We'll see B312's ability in the next live round exercise. Let's see if that edge of his holds up when he's forced to cooperate."

"Two sides of the same coin," he mused, "But I wonder...Why is he holding himself back... Send B313 to my office in the hour. Dismissed."

Soong saluted sharply. "Understood, sir."

As the door slid shut behind him, the officer turned his gaze back to the glowing reports before an AI popped up at the corner of his desk,

"Deep Winter, what do you have for me on these brothers?" Kurt asked.

"Well sir, B312 and B313 are unique specimens, specifically due to their genetic inheritance," The smart AI began, "but the odd thing I managed to uncover were two specific reports dating back to their original escape from Jericho VII in 2532."

Kurt nodded, indicating for the AI to continue,

"The first comes from Spartan-061, I wouldn't have found it if I didn't allow for wider search parameters to include data on his father. Spartan-061 noted that the child seemed to have some sort of sixth sense to be able to detect danger," Deep Winter elucidated, "He managed to accurately detect the number of enemies from a distance of approx. 200m away."

Kurt's eyes widened, this fact reminded him of himself. He was also able to detect danger, but he possessed more of a gut feeling that had never betrayed him... nothing as exact as what Spartan-061 described B313. Kurt knew that there were Spartan-IIs with unique traits like himself and the absurd luck that John-117 possessed.

"The next report is by our resident Dr. Pershing, who just so happened to be the one to obtain the original samples from them on evacuating them from Jericho VII," Deep Winter continued, "Her report concluded that B313's mental faculties were factors greater than B312's. In my personal opinion sir, I think B313 is pretending to be average, after all, he has scored 50/100 in his exams time after time. A 'perfect' average six consecutive times."

"Now why would he have anything to hide from..." Kurt wondered aloud.

"I don't think it's something that he's hiding from sir, I think he wishes to stay among the masses," Deep Winter concluded.

"Well, I guess we'll have to pick apart this kid's thoughts when I see him in a bit," Kurt sighed.

....

Knock. Knock.

"Enter," Kurt said, his voice firm, eyes still scanning the holographic reports floating before him.

The door slid open with a soft hiss, and Elysius-B313 stepped in. His small frame stood out against the cold steel backdrop of the office, but his posture was sharp, disciplined—and unwavering. His sharp, almost unnervingly clear green eyes locked onto Kurt's for just a moment before snapping to the wall behind him in textbook Spartan fashion.

"Spartan-B313, reporting as ordered, sir."

Kurt studied him for a moment, letting the silence stretch. Elysius held firm, not flinching under the weight of the senior officer's gaze. For an eight-year-old, there was an eerie calmness about him—a quiet confidence that Kurt had only seen in seasoned veterans.

"At ease," Kurt said finally, leaning back in his chair. Elysius shifted slightly, his hands clasping behind his back. "You know why you're here?"

"No, sir," Elysius replied evenly.

Although he said that, Kurt noticed the smallest change in his pupils, something a non-Spartan wouldn't have recognised.

'So he has an idea or two about what this is about... Interesting kid,' Kurt spoke.

Kurt tapped on the holographic screen, pulling up reports and evaluations, "Your performance is... curious, B313. Your physical scores are solid. Mental acuity? Off the charts. And yet... you seem content with mediocrity in certain areas. Your written evaluations, your marksmanship..."

Elysius said nothing, his expression unreadable.

"Six perfect average scores in a row," Kurt continued. "A statistical impossibility. Now, that would only be possible for someone who completely grasped the current curriculum like a baby to toys. You're holding back. I want to know why."

The faintest flicker crossed Elysius' face—something caught between consideration and restraint. Then, he spoke carefully.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

Elysius tilted his head slightly, his voice steady, "Sometimes a blade should stay sheathed until it's truly needed."

Kurt's brow lifted slightly. It was a polished answer—too polished for a child. He studied Elysius again, his sharp blue eyes narrowing.

"And who decides when it's 'needed'?"

"Me, sir."

There was no arrogance in his voice, no hesitation. Just certainty.

Kurt leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and clasping his hands together, "You're smart, B313. Too smart for your own good, maybe. But you're also a Spartan, and Spartans don't get the luxury of choosing when they're needed. They're needed always. Understand?"

Elysius nodded once. "Yes, sir."

Kurt let out a slow breath, his gaze softening just a fraction, "You've got a brother out there, B313. Trainee-B312. He's the perfect sword—sharp, unstoppable, devastating. But you... you're something else entirely. A scalpel, maybe. Precise. Controlled. But a scalpel that refuses to cut is just another piece of metal."

Elysius held his gaze, unflinching.

"I want to ask you about an interesting trait that you possess. Something similar to mine," Kurt continued, "I read a report by Spartan-061 on evacuating you from Jericho VII that you were able to detect danger from a distance away...near accurately," Kurt continued.

B313 didn't respond immediately. His face remained neutral, but his sharp eyes locked onto Kurt's with a clarity that belied his young age.

"Is that true, B313?"

For a moment, silence hung between them, heavy and unyielding. Elysius finally spoke, his voice calm and even.

"I don't know how it works, sir. I just… feel it. Like an itch at the back of my mind, or a faint murmur in the air. Sometimes I just know things. Sometimes, I just… see them."

Kurt studied him carefully, leaning back slightly in his chair, "It's not something you were taught here, is it?"

"No, sir," Elysius replied honestly.

Kurt tapped his fingers against the desk rhythmically, his eyes narrowing slightly as if piecing together a puzzle. "This isn't the first time I've come across something like this. Spartan-IIs occasionally displayed unique traits—extraordinary luck, instincts that go beyond any augmentation—but yours feels... refined. Almost deliberate."

Elysius said nothing, his posture remaining rigid.

"And yet," Kurt continued, leaning forward slightly, his tone dropping an octave, "you hold back. You intentionally blend in with the rest. You play average. Why?"

Elysius hesitated this time, just briefly. His shoulders subtly tensed before relaxing again.

"Because if people notice me, I come under more scrutiny," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, "More eyes. More questions. And eventually… mistakes. Mistakes that get people hurt. If I'm just another face in the crowd, I can do what needs to be done without anyone second-guessing me."

Kurt's expression softened—not pity, not sympathy, but understanding. He knew the weight of expectation, the crushing pressure of being exceptional in a program where failure was paid for in blood.

"That's a heavy burden for someone your age, Elysius," Kurt said quietly as he began calling him by his name, "But you have a gift—don't squander it."

Elysius nodded slightly.

Kurt exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "You're sharp, B313. Sharper than most. But you're also still growing, and this little act you've got going won't last forever. Eventually, you'll have to make a choice: stay in the shadows, or step into the light. Either way, I'll be watching."

Elysius straightened slightly and saluted, "Understood, sir. May I ask one thing, sir?"

Kurt nodded.

"Whatever you do, don't pull me from Beta Squad."

Kurt studied Elysius for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing the weight behind those words. The room felt heavier, the air thick with unspoken tension.

"Don't pull you from Beta Squad, huh?" Kurt repeated, leaning back slightly in his chair. "You care about them that much?"

Elysius hesitated for the briefest second before nodding. "It's not just about caring, sir. I... feel something. Something bad. If I leave Beta Squad, something terrible will happen—not just to me, but to the whole company. I can't explain it, but I know it."

Kurt's expression hardened, his gaze locking onto Elysius with an intensity that could burn through steel. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Finally, Kurt exhaled and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk.

"Spartan-B313... intuition like yours has never been seen before. And when it's been evidenced by another spartan, I'd be a fool to ignore it. But understand this—you'll need to prove every day that keeping you with Beta Squad is the right choice. If I see you holding back, if I see you hiding more of what you're capable of… I will pull you, and I will place you somewhere where your skills won't be wasted. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir." Elysius' voice was firm, and steady, leaving no room for doubt.

Kurt nodded, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "I want to see you become the sharpest scalpel. Dismissed, B313."

Elysius saluted crisply before turning and exiting the office,

"It's Trevelyan, by the way, sir, that question that you've always had."

Kurt's eyes widened as Elysius exited the office. The door slid shut behind him, leaving Kurt alone once more with the soft hum of the holographic displays.

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air. Kurt leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he stared at the closed door. Trevelyan. The name echoed in his mind, something that seemed almost buried in the back of his mind.

"Deep Winter," Kurt said, his voice low.

The AI's avatar flickered into view, a crystalline figure with sharp, angular features.

"Sir?"

"Pull up everything we have on the word Trevelyan. Cross-reference it with invasions or evacuations."

The AI hesitated for a fraction of a second before responding, "Accessing those files will require higher clearance, sir. I can request temporary override permissions, but it will draw attention."

Kurt exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. "Do it. Keep it quiet, but do it. And while you're at it, monitor B313 closely—training logs, combat assessments, and personal interactions. I want everything."

Deep Winter nodded, his crystalline form shimmering under the dim office light. "Understood, sir."

For a moment, the AI's glowing visage flickered, processing vast amounts of data at unimaginable speeds. The room was silent, save for the faint hum of the holographic displays and the occasional soft buzz of circuits.

A few minutes later, Deep Winter's voice returned, measured and deliberate.

"Sir... It would seem that Trevelyan is your... surname."

Kurt's breath hitched ever so slightly, his stoic exterior cracking for the briefest of moments. His piercing eyes remained locked on the AI's shimmering figure, but the revelation echoed in his mind.

"That shouldn't be possible," Kurt muttered, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk, "No one here should know that. Only ONI has access to that information."

Deep Winter's crystalline form pulsed softly as if hesitating. "Elysius referred to it with certainty, sir. Not speculation, not guesswork. Certainty."

Kurt's mind raced as he pieced together fragments of memory and stray observations. Elysius—B313—had always been a puzzle. Talented beyond measure, dangerously perceptive, and yet... withholding. Hiding something beneath that sharp gaze and calm demeanour.

"If he knows that..." Kurt said, voice low, "then he knows far more than he's letting on."

Deep Winter's form stabilized, his voice firm. "Shall I conduct a deeper analysis on B313, sir? Review psych evaluations, off-the-record interactions, even data logs?"

Kurt hesitated. His instincts told him to pull at this thread, to unravel the mystery surrounding Elysius. But another part of him—perhaps the same gut feeling that had saved his life countless times—warned against it. Elysius wasn't a threat. At least, not yet.

"No," Kurt said finally, exhaling slowly. "Not yet. Keep an eye on him, but don't let him know he's being watched. He's valuable, Deep Winter. Maybe more than any of us realize, I'll trust him, for now."

Deep Winter inclined his head slightly, his form pulsing in acknowledgement, "Understood, sir. If I may sir, this trait of his seems less like a danger sense and more like..."

"Some sort of Past/Future Sight, I know Deep Winter."

Kurt sat back in his chair, staring at the closed door Elysius had walked through minutes earlier. The weight of the revelation settled heavily on his shoulders.

"Kurt Trevelyan," he whispered to himself, "What the hell are you, Elysius?"

Outside the office, Elysius walked calmly down the corridor, his expression unreadable. But deep within his eyes, there was a flicker of something—knowledge, certainty, and... relief.