Nanatsu no Maken ga Shihai suru - Volume 12 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Mayhem

Just how good are you?

There were several metrics for evaluating this, but in the upper forms, soloing a labyrinth trail run was considered the simplest. Knowing what scores the upper echelon held provided a firm point of comparison. Repeat the run, take the average, and you’d have a good measurement.

“…Hahh…hahh…!”

So Guy was running up a branch of the irminsul, headed for the top. The labyrinth’s second layer had been his primary training field under the Survivor’s tutelage, so Guy actually knew more about it than Oliver or Nanao. He had no concerns about making it to the top and back down, but if time was a factor, everything changed. Especially if his standard was the best students in his year.

“Tonitrus! Outta my way! I’m in a bad mood!”

Magical beasts heard him coming and tried to make trouble, but Guy didn’t stop, alternating spells and shouts to fend them off. They weren’t out to fight losing battles, either, so if he struck first, he could often avoid a fight at all. This was a key technique for shaving seconds off your time.

As he pressed on, the branch underfoot grew sharply steeper. Less a slope than a sheer cliff, but he didn’t have time for bouldering. Ignoring his exhaustion, he manipulated mana, trying to slow his heartbeat even as he Wall Walked up the vertical path. At last, his feet reached the peak, and he collapsed to the ground.

“Hahh, hahh…! Damn, how do they do it? And the round trip! They don’t even get outta breath!”

Grumbling, he took out his pocket watch and checked his time. Three minutes and twenty seconds behind Oliver’s—Guy’s personal metric. And he had to take a break here, while Oliver would head right back down without a second’s pause. Guy’s round-trip time would be even slower. With that point driven home, Guy let out an exasperated sigh.

“…Can’t catch him this way… You nailed that fact, Instructor Baldia.”

His fingers felt the cursed fruit in his pocket. He knew she was right—he was too far behind his friends, and desperate for a way to close that gap. If curses could help make that happen, then the idea was certainly tempting.

But his reluctance to take that step was still winning out. The transition from ordinary mage to curse wrangler was just that big a deal. What would he sacrifice for those gains? It was hard for him to accurately estimate that, which was why he couldn’t make this choice lightly.

As his thoughts spun in circles, his pulse returned to normal, and he sat up. The urgent fretting wasn’t going away, but he’d managed to drive it out of his mind for now. At the very least, the extra noise caused by contact with Katie had faded away. Glad his mind was built simply, Guy got to his feet—and only then did he realize he wasn’t alone. A girl from his year was sitting on a bump on the irminsul some distance away.

“Mm? What, already occupied? You hurt?” Guy asked her.

“…Mind your own business. I’ve healed it. Just slipped up a bit and wore myself out, so I’m taking a rest to recover.”

Her voice was curt. Guy glanced once at his watch before trying again.

“Yeah, but if you don’t head back now, you ain’t making second period. You’re running solo, then? You in any shape for it?”

“…”

The girl said nothing, and Guy was forced to shrug. It was a Kimberly pastime to make a labyrinth run and still make it to class punctually, but those plans went awry occassionally, and making up the difference was far tougher on your own. He’d tripped himself up often enough, and so he gave her a wave.

“C’mon. I still got mana left. This oughtta work out if we team up.”

“…What do you want?”

The girl glared at him, and he sighed, shaking his head.

“Nothing! Why’s everyone here gotta make it about that? Nothing wrong with helping each other out! I mess up down here plenty. Next time, you might be bailing me out.”

“…”

“If you insist, then just buy me something at the store. That sound like a deal, Mackley?”

He punctuated that offer with her name. She dithered a second longer, but eventually stood up, looking very reluctant.

Annie Mackley was on the small side, with upturned eyes. She was the girl who’d cast the spell that had put Katie in trouble on their first day at Kimberly, and she’d done little to improve that impression since.

“There you go,” Guy said, looking her over. “Why’re you running solo? Don’t you have friends?”

“I’m not with them anymore. Not like we were ever that close.”

“Huh. If you say so. I’ve been with the same group since my first year, so…”

“Yes, you’re the weird one. You’re so chummy it’s downright creepy. I sometimes wonder if you all sleep in the same bed at night.”

They’d just teamed up, and she was already making snide remarks. Her personality made Guy wince, but he put his mind on the path to the base.

“Glad you ain’t changed. Try to keep up.”

“Ohhh? Getting in that league main round certainly went to your head. Confidence like that will get you shot in the back.”

Trading barbs, they started down the slope—but halfway down the cliff, Guy stopped in his tracks. He’d spotted some demon apes fighting on the next branch over.

“KIIIIIIII!”

“GIIIIIII—!”

Fights between beasts of the same type were hardly uncommon, but this seemed a bit too violent for that. With a screech, one ape jumped at another, biting its face off. While still tearing its enemy’s cheek flesh off, it tried to go for the ear as well. This wasn’t exactly a territorial dispute; it was a fight to the death. You didn’t see fights this nasty even in mating season.

“…?”

“Why’d you stop?” Mackley asked Guy.

She frowned at him, and he perked up his ears. This place was always teeming with sounds of life, but now he could hear sounds of conflict in all directions. His senses, honed by the Survivor’s training, were sounding a warning. Something wasn’t right.

“…Careful, Mackley. Shit’s about to hit the fan.”

Meanwhile, morning arrived at the male dorm—and Oliver woke from a deep slumber.

“…Unh…”

He had little feeling in his hands, but he pushed the bed with them anyway, sitting up. He wasn’t sick or anything—just too many lingering sensations were weighing him down. Tears welled up in his eyes. His mind wasn’t moving yet, and he couldn’t tell if he was actively sad or just regretting everything.

“You’re up, Oliver? How do you feel?”

The voice came from right next to him. He jumped, and turned to find Pete on a chair, smiling, already in uniform. Memories came flooding back, clear images in Oliver’s mind: his roommate, in girl’s clothes, and the relentless exchange they’d had. But mostly everything they’d done after that.

“…Ngh…”

“Feel like shit? I know. Have some tea. Not that tea’s gonna help you reset.”

Pete held out a cup; he must have brewed a pot. Oliver took the teacup on reflex and realized Pete was back in boy’s clothes. In the same uniform he always wore, ready to head off to class like any other day. A clear statement that he had no plans to let anyone know what had happened last night. Pete himself had already worked though things.

“Take the morning off,” Pete said. “I’ll give ’em some excuse.”

“…No, I—”

“Trust me.”

Oliver had started to move forward, but Pete reached out, nudging him back. When Oliver looked confused, Pete leaned in and whispered in his ear.

“Can’t let you go with that look on your face. No matter what I say, you’d give it away.”

“……!”

Oliver quivered and hung his head. He couldn’t see his own expression. This seemed to make Pete grow all the fonder, and he brushed Oliver’s cheek.

“Try not to take it that hard. It makes me want to go another round. Even after all we did last night!”

This made Oliver flinch again. Pete kissed him gently on the forehead, then got up.

“Don’t leave till you’re sure you can act normal around Nanao. See you later, Oliver.”

With that, he slipped out of the room. Unable to even watch him go, Oliver fell back into bed, making not a sound.

It took him over an hour to calm the turmoil in his heart, and achieve baseline equilibrium. By the time he got himself dressed and left the dorm, it was past nine, which left Oliver unsure what to do with himself. He was just barely capable of acting like his usual self, but still unprepared to face his friends. He even considered asking his cohort, Theo, to double for him, but obviously that was not something he should resort to for something so personal.

He’d have to take it one step at a time. Before seeing those closest to him, he should make contact with those less dear, and ease himself into things. With that thought, he took the long way around, searching the passing crowds for someone he knew, but wouldn’t call a friend. He was disgusted at himself for even having such a standard.

“…?”

Before long, he spotted two students near the edge of the garden. Fourth-years, one male, one female, clearly distressed. They’d forgotten to put up a sound dampening spell, and Oliver could make out their words just by focusing on them.

“Found her?”

“No! I’ve been all over the campus.”

“Argh, she’s gotta be below!” the girl wailed, grinding her teeth.

Sensing trouble, Oliver stepped closer.

“…Something going on?” he asked.

“Er—”

“ ! Mr. Horn…!”

His proximity made them both brace themselves. He put up his hands, signaling that he had come in peace, keeping his tone as pleasant as he could manage.

“No need for alarm. The combat league was ages ago, and we’re no longer in opposition. Am I right, Mr. Barthé? Ms. Barthé?”

He hoped using their names would help lower their defenses. They’d been on Team Valois last year, and they’d crossed wands in the combat league finals. Lélia Barthé wore her uniform to spec and seemed rather uptight; her brother Gui Barthé gave a comparatively relaxed impression. Both served under Ursule Valois, but without her around, it was easier to tell that they were related.

Based on what he’d overheard, Oliver asked, “Ms. Valois is unaccounted for? How serious is this? How long since she was last seen?”

“…Why do you want to know?”

“It’ll help with evaluating the situation and tell me if I need to assist with a search. If someone with her skills is lost, then that tells us the threat she faced is significant. You’ll need more hands.”

They weren’t lowering those hackles yet, so he spelled out the logic. He knew he was mostly looking for a way to get his mind off things, but he did intend to help. The steadiness of his gaze must have proved convincing; Lélia lowered her guard before her brother did.

“We appreciate the offer,” she said, sighing. “But objectively speaking, we’re not at that point yet. It’s been less than six hours.”

“Six…so she was gone when you woke up? In that case, why are you so upset? Is it that unusual for her to go off alone…?”

Oliver looked puzzled, and Lélia shook her head.

“The opposite. She’s ditching us all the time, and that’s what’s got us flustered. She never did this before—she always took us when she entered the labyrinth, and never went off alone without telling us. These days, though…”

Her face crumpled, and her gaze dropped to the ground. Gui stepped up, glaring at Oliver.

“This is your fault, Horn. Ever since you trounced us, Lady Ursule’s been acting—”

“Don’t, Gui,” Lélia snapped. “You’ll only bring her more shame.”

Oliver held his tongue, seeing no advantage in discussing any grudge they might bear. Given how his team had rattled Valois in the match, it would be hard not to drag that around. He picked his next words carefully, mindful of that history.

“Our match was what it was. But that doesn’t mean I absolve myself of consequences. From what you’ve said, this requires no immediate action—it’s more a situation to keep an eye on in the future. This is merely a suggestion: If I see Ms. Valois running solo, I can send word to you. I’ll let my friends know to do the same. Naturally, she need know nothing of this arrangement.”

The siblings glanced at each other, conflicted, but weighing his idea. This confirmed his speculation. Given Valois’s character, he had not imagined she had many friends—clearly, these two lacked peers they could easily turn to. They were isolated enough that they could not immediately refuse his offer.

It took them a long time to answer, but eventually Lélia nodded.

“…I owe you one. Just to be clear, this debt belongs to me alone. No one else.”

Oliver conceded that point. He had no intention of calling in any debts here, and was frankly grateful they’d spent this time with him. Not that he could admit to that.

Once he’d arranged a means of contact, he left the Barthés and headed to the Fellowship. They’d hung out here a lot until the year before, but visiting the dining hall as a fourth-year carried a different weight. Conscious of the attention that it would earn him, he moved through the room—and those who knew him soon responded.

“Ah! Dean, look!”

“Stopping by, Mr. Horn?”

Two juniors sharing a table waved at him. Third-years he’d spent quite a bit of time with—Dean Travers and Peter Cornish. Oliver headed their way, waving back.

“Felt like checking in. How’ve you been doing, Mr. Travers? Polishing your moves?”

“Yeah, I think they’re coming along nicely! And come on, call me Dean already! I already consider you a mentor.”

“Oh, then call me Peter! I know you already have a Pete, and that makes it confusing…”

They were both so eager he couldn’t help but smile. Talking to the Barthés had helped ease him into things, and their eager cheer was helping, too. Internally grateful, Oliver nodded and took a seat.

“Okay, Dean, Peter. I’m glad you’re both in good spirits. The others aren’t around? Teresa’s one thing, but I guess in my mind, Ms. Appleton’s always with you.”

“Oh, Rita’s…” Peter hesitated, and Dean took over.

“We’re not sure why, but she’s been in the dumps since yesterday. She’s off in the flower beds, digging away. That’s where she goes to sort herself out.”

Rita Appleton, depressed? That wasn’t something Oliver took lightly. He was aware of her feelings for Guy, who was struggling with a lot himself. He felt that it had to be related, but it wasn’t something to dig into with neither of them present. Making a mental note of it, Oliver focused on the boys he was with.

“Ah. Just the impression I’m getting, Dean, but you seem like you’re forcing things—something bugging you?”

“…Huh? I-I’m hunky-dory! Not a care in the world!”

Dean denied it vehemently, but Oliver could tell the protest was hollow. It stood to reason the boy would have his own problems, and this overlapping with Rita and Guy’s issues made him wonder. Perhaps he should get a clearer picture of these relationships—but before Oliver could pry, Dean hastily changed the subject.

“T-Teresa’s wandering off, like always. She’ll probably show up when she gets hungr—”

As he spoke, there was a thud behind them. Oliver turned to look and found a blond girl gaping at him, flanked by her flunkies. There was a hefty tome on the floor at her feet; she must have dropped it, causing that sound. She made no attempt to pick it up, keeping her red eyes locked on Oliver.

“ ……”

“What’s the matter, Lady Felicia?!”

“Come back to us!”

The man and woman with her scooped up the book, calling to her. At last, she emerged from her reverie, and took a very deep breath.

“…No matter. I allowed myself to be caught unprepared! A throb below my belly.”

Smiling, the girl approached. Oliver had certainly seen her before. Like Teresa’s team, hers had made it to the main round of the combat league, and the girl herself remained one of the more remarkable third-years. Dignity and presence far beyond that of the lower forms—she had a lot in common with her recently graduated older brother, Leoncio Echevalria.

“You’re…”

“Why, hello, Mr. Horn. I am Felicia Echevalria. I had plans to pay you a visit in the near future, but for you to come to me? Heh-heh, I almost succumbed to a mild climax.”

“Uh, he’s here to see us. What do you even want?”

“Stand down, Travers. Rest assured, I shall cherish you before long.”

She brushed Dean off and turned back to Oliver, gracefully folding her arms.

“I witnessed your performance in the combat league. It was not bad! Not at all! Even now, reflecting on it brings a smile to my lips. I regret that I could not go against you myself.”

“O-oh…uh, it’s an honor…?”

“It is the utmost honor. Thus, I have prepared a gift for you. Palms up!”

Felicia snapped her fingers. One of her attendants swiftly removed a box from the bag on their shoulder, placed it on their hands, and offered it up to Oliver. The other attendant drew their wand and opened the lid with a spell, revealing the contents.

Inside was a collar. High-quality leather, studded with metal.

“…? ……? ………???”

“What say you? I picked the materials and designed it myself. I do hope you like it!”

Felicia’s cheeks were lightly flushed. Looking for all the world like a girl giving the boy she loved a gift for the first time, with a trace of age-appropriate nerves. In isolation, it would have been downright adorable, but the gift in question entirely ruined the effect. Oliver found himself rubbing his eyes, doubting their accuracy—the girl’s behavior and the gift were a total mismatch.

“…P-pardon me, Ms. Felicia. Perhaps I am misreading the size of this. Is it…a bracelet?”

“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Even your jests cut deep! Rest assured, once you don it, it will fit perfectly. I took careful observations of your neck. On my honor as an Echevalria, it is made to your measurements.”

His one faint hope was pulverized by her explanation. He was forced to acknowledge a fatal difference in tastes, and glanced at his juniors for help.

“…Sorry, Dean, Peter, I’m a bit confused. What’s…going on? How do I respond?”

“She’s always like this.”

“Just tell her to shove it.”

“No, but…it’s intended as a favor? I can’t just…”

Oliver’s eyes darted between her face and the collar—and then a hand shot in from the side, seizing the source of his consternation. He flinched and turned to see that his covert operative had materialized. Her eyes were locked onto the collar in question.

“……”

“T-Teresa.”

Before Oliver could unfreeze, she took a tight grip on the collar with both hands, applying force far beyond what those spindly arms looked capable of. The leather strap was enchanted, and must have been quite durable, but it creaked as she pulled on it—and then it tore. Oliver let out a squeak. A deathly silence fell across the Fellowship.

Metal studs clattered on the floor. The pieces of the collar were flung aside. Teresa proceeded to grind her foot on them, then pulled out her athame and pointed it at Felicia.

“A challenge, Vixen. Let’s take this outside.”

“Ha! What nerves this malnourished guard dog has!”

Felicia’s smile was downright vicious, and a stir ran through the crowd. Oliver was forced to concede there was no way this matter would end without bloodshed.

“…Why’d you give him the time of day?” Gui muttered, in the gloomy forests of the labyrinth’s second layer.

Walking ahead of him, his sister stopped dead in her tracks, then swung around. The Barthés had plunged straight down after leaving Oliver.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Gui?”

“You know what I mean. Why would you share our problems with Horn? I said some shit myself, so I know I’m one to talk, but we should have just brushed him off.”

He was clearly disgruntled, but Lélia just sighed.

“If we were capable of helping Lady Ursule, yes. But look at us. You know as well as I do we’re a mess.”

“That’s no reason to get help from him! Lady Ursule has it in for Horn—and it’s his fault we’re like this.”

But Lélia just shook off these arguments.

“That’s not remotely true, Little Brother. The cause was always with us. Horn and Hibiya merely dragged it into the light. In that match, they peered deep inside Lady Ursule.”

“…”

“Deeper than either of us could ever manage. We’ve got to admit and accept that fact. We have never been her attendants. We were merely puppets. What other word is there? We obeyed her every word, never once getting anywhere near her heart.”

“…! That’s what Lady Ursule wanted! We knew from the start we were nothing but her familiars!”

“You know better! You know that was never what she really needed!”

Lélia’s voice suddenly rose to a shriek. The tears in her eyes robbed Gui of further protests. Instead, he pulled her close. Ordinarily, she was the rigid one, chastising her brother’s impulses—but when emotions were laid bare, their roles reversed.

Feeling the heat of her quivering body against him, Gui said, “Settle down, Sister. What else can we do? Take after Cornwallis’s or Ames’s servants? Could we ever be like them?”

“…Imitation will get us nowhere. But we do need to rethink our relationship with our mistress. At the very least, those you named have not failed as spectacularly as we have.”

She sniffed, her face buried in his chest. Her words were a tough pill to swallow. At a loss, Gui turned his eyes to the canopy above.

“Maybe you’ve got a point. But I’m clueless. I don’t even know what a good servant is. How’s it different from being a useful tool? We’ve never even considered ourselves human, so how’re we gonna fill that role?”

Even voicing these doubts made his voice tremble. Stepping outside the boundaries of being “puppets” was tantamount to wandering in the wilderness without so much as a single signpost. They had no idea where to go, or what to do, but they felt in their souls they could not afford to stand still. Perhaps their mistress was the same, Gui thought. Perhaps it was not just the two of them who were abandoned in the wilds; Ursule, too, was adrift without a goal.

“ ?”

Lélia flinched and peeled herself away from him. Gui, too, was on high alert before her eyes had even started scanning their surroundings. Unearthly sounds in all directions, and infinite hostility pricking their very skin.

“…Sister.”

“Brace yourself, Gui. Something’s gone very wrong.”

They put their backs together, athames raised—and magical beasts swarmed out of the underbrush around.

Given the lead-in, Oliver was the obvious choice to ref the duel. He was hardly going to leave Teresa alone when she was this furious, and they were well past the point where he could talk down either of them. For lack of options, they moved to a corner of the garden, which was soon filled with uninvited onlookers. That was inevitable. Both duelists had made it to the main round of the combat league—and the impetus for this match could well be seen as salacious.

“How the starving cur howls. Unable to bear the thought of your owner collared by another?”

Arms elegantly crossed, Felicia was still winding her opponent up. Meanwhile, Teresa had her eyes on the ground, muttering to herself.

“…First her front teeth…then her nails…then her fingers…”

“Hoh, beyond speech, are we? Amusing. Rather novel having such fury directed at me.”

“A foe like this is beneath you!” cried one student.

“Allow us to take your place!” yelled another.

Felicia’s flunkies attempted to advance, but she grabbed each by the earlobe, twisting them.

““Aughhhhhh!””

“Stand down, you fools. Do you not see I am enjoying this?” Felicia hissed. “Say the word, Mr. Horn. Fear not—I shall not kill her. Though I imagine she’ll make no such promise.”

Her stance radiated confidence.

Oliver’s brow furrowed. Dean and Peter whispered in his ears.

“It’ll be fine.”

“We’ll jump in and stop them both if we have to.”

“…Thanks, but…I’ve got that covered.”

Oliver gave them an appreciative nod, but was unsure who would be stopping who. He could not get a read on the outcome of this duel.

Felicia Echevalria almost never deigned to fight, but what little she’d demonstrated in the recordings of the combat league proved she was far above the standard for her year. Teresa’s odds would have improved considerably in a ruleless match—one allowing sneak attacks from the shadows—but this format stifled her strengths every bit as much as the duel she’d fought with Dean had.

Still, Teresa had two extra years of training. She was far more accustomed to fighting in public than she had been back then. Whichever way these scales tipped, Oliver had to be ready for it. Possibly, he’d have to cast a paralysis spell on them both.

“Wands up.”

Steeling himself, he raised a hand. Each grew all the more intense. Feeling like he was unleashing wild beasts from their cages, Oliver opened his mouth—and there was a roar from the school building.

“Hmm?”

“ ”

Felicia and Teresa both turned toward the sound. Oliver’s attention had already moved that way as well. Given what was at stake, this duel could not be called off, but the priority here was clear as day.

“Not today, ladies. That doesn’t sound good.”

“President!”

A Watch member burst into the meeting room, and Tim froze, a sandwich in his mouth.

“…Seriously? Couldn’t wait one more minute?” he spat.

The contents of the report soon had him swearing and shoving his untouched lunch back in his basket. One of his favorites—roasted ham on a toasted baguette. It was a meal he would not be eating today.

“Underclassmen on campus, return to your dorms! There’s a major disruption in the labyrinth!”

“C’mon, move! There’s trouble on the second layer! The building may not be safe!”

Ted and Dustin’s voices carried, urging the students to act. Those who’d run from such problems were a minority at Kimberly, so their actions went a long way toward selling the gravity of the situation. The faculty did not act without meaning.

Hearing them shout, a man approached, and they turned to meet him. It was the taciturn magiflora instructor, David Holzwirt.

“…This evacuation order came from you?”

“Yes, Instructor Holzwirt. Ordinarily, we’d leave it to the student council, but with Kimberly like this, we thought it best to act. The headmistress has not approved. Are you against it?”

“Not at the moment. But do you intend to address the situation itself?”

“No. As per convention, we’ll let the students handle it, and provide support as the council requests it.”

“Then, fine. I’ll be in my gardens. Say the word if you’re shorthanded.”

With that brief confirmation, he stalked off down the hall. Ted and Dustin looked equally relieved. They had expected some friction with the other staff.

“…A more favorable reaction than I’d imagined. Thank goodness; he’d be nasty if he turned on us.”

“Yes, so let’s take him at his word, and go to him if the need arises.”

Ted chalked David up as a latent supporter. Fortunately, at this juncture, no faculty seemed inclined to take issue with their decision. All knew this was no time to be leaving campus safety in student hands, and Ted had figured a little overreach would pass without comment. Naturally, if he’d misjudged that line, his head would literally go flying.

“What a violent school! These things happen every year?”

“…Instructor Farquois.”

The great sage had appeared without a sound. Ted’s eyes narrowed.

This mage could be a major thorn in their side. The alliance was making a cautious choice to go beyond what Kimberly ordinarily did, but Rod Farquois had no respect for that tradition to begin with. Given their brash and ballsy persona, there was no telling what the great sage would do when no one was looking. Ted and Dustin might have to step in and intervene.

“I gather you’re accustomed to having students tackle these things, but am I not allowed to act? I’d rather minimize casualties among my beloved students.”

“Best to stay out of it. Kimberly works on its own rules. And I’m sure you know even the great sage cannot easily break them.”

Ted was careful with his words but was quite clear on this point. He’d upped his resistance after their previous encounter and would no longer be at the mercy of their charm. Farquois shrugged, smiling—like a parent dealing with a stubborn child.

With younger students urged to leave, older students stepped in to handle things. The Sword Roses were among those ordered to gather in the Forum.

“Oliver!” Chela called.

“Sorry I’m late. What’s going on? Are we all accounted for?”

He ran over, and all turned to face him. That alone told him something was wrong. Nanao and Katie were present, as was Pete—but the tallest of their number was not.

“Guy! Guy’s not here! I saw him this morning; he said he was going for a walk. Usually he’d tell me if he was in the labyrinth, but…”

“ !”

The hint of panic in Katie’s voice drove his hunch home. Balling up his fists to still the turmoil within, Oliver focused on taking things in stride. He couldn’t show up last and then lose his shit.

“…Okay. Then let’s bear in mind Guy might be mixed up in this, and assess. Anything else? Anyone else we know who’s unaccounted for?”

“Not at the moment. Most peers we’re involved with are assembled here. One could call that a bright side…”

Chela had clearly already run down the list. Oliver scanned the crowd—and picked out a number of familiar faces. Rossi and Andrews caught his gaze, so he raised a hand to them, then moved to the next phase.

“Right… How about our juniors? I just met Teresa, Dean, and Peter, so they’re—”

“Why omit my name, Mr. Horn?” a refined voice inquired.

Oliver turned to find Felicia Echevalria and her attendants smiling at him. Like she’d followed him from the aborted duel. A tiny shadow slipped in front of him, its athame aimed at Felicia. Clearly, Teresa Carste was still on guard.

“Keep your distance, Vixen! Do you wish to lose your head?”

“Teresa—and Ms. Felicia?! Wait, why are either of you here?” Oliver asked. “Lowerclassmen were told to evac—”

“They’re exceptions—like you were last year.”

Recognizing Vera Miligan’s voice, he turned to find their old frenemy approaching. She was with her councilmate, Percival Whalley. Oliver spotted Tim a ways off, busy discussing things with a different group.

“Ms. Miligan, Mr. Whalley… So these two third-years are mobilized to address this situation?” said Oliver.

“Appropriate for anyone who made it to the main round of the combat league,” Whalley replied. “We want them to get more experience, and having someone to look out for will force you fourth-years to stay focused. An arrangement with one eye on the future, not just the matter at hand.”

In other words, this wasn’t just Teresa and Felicia. Several other familiar faces were running into the Forum.

“Sorry—had to go grab Rita.”

“Sounds like a mess. What can we do?”

“…Augh…”

Dean and Peter, whom Oliver had just split up with, had brought along Rita Appleton, who looked very uncomfortable. Whalley turned their way.

“Mr. Cornish was not in the league, but given his rapport with Team Carste, we’ve granted permission. And…I’ve had some contact with him before. I promise he’ll be useful.”

“Thanks a lot, Whalley!” Peter said, pleased to know the basis for his inclusion.

Whalley acknowledged this with a wave.

Aha, Oliver thought. He’d known this kid was not easily ruffled, but clearly he’d put that gumption to good use, laying the groundwork for this. Since he hadn’t been in the league, he’d had to earn his position here—and the fact that he’d managed to earn Whalley’s approval was genuinely impressive. Whalley was not an easily persuaded man; Peter must have really stuck to his guns.

Rita had been hiding behind Dean, but now she emerged, having noticed a key absence.

Eyes darting around the room, she asked, “Er, um, is Mr. Greenwood here…? I don’t see him anywhere…”

“…I’m afraid we have bad news, Ms. Appleton. Guy’s unaccounted for. Odds are high he’s caught up in the labyrinth incident,” Oliver told her.

“ !”

The blood drained from Rita’s face, and Dean put his hands on her shoulders, looking grim. Oliver glanced at Teresa, and she darted over to join them. Mildly surprised that concern for her friend had taken priority over her enmity toward Felicia, Oliver soon turned his attention toward the final stage of his assessment.

“…What’s the scale here? Have the limits on labyrinth entry helped minimize the number of victims?”

“In the lower forms, we currently have three third-years and six second-years unaccounted for. Fortunately, all first-years have been located. Numbers that indicate our policy has been effective. With the upper forms, we’re still trying to verify things. We assume Guy is hardly the only one caught up in it—”

As Miligan gave them the rundown, they heard footsteps and glanced toward the entrance. A fourth-year girl came running into the Forum, late to the assembly.

“…What’s going on? What is this?” asked a distinctive voice—Ursule Valois, looking rather bewildered.

The sight of her face put a new concern in Oliver’s mind, and he quickly scanned the crowd again and came up empty. The duo he’d spoken to just that morning—and forgotten about in all the commotion—was nowhere to be seen.

“Ms. Valois, where are your attendants?” Oliver asked.

“…? H-how should I know? I was in the labyrinth solo! I only just got back.”

“…! Anyone seen the Barthés? Anytime this morning!” Oliver turned to the crowd at large.

People exchanged glances, but no one said a word. His fears confirmed, Oliver turned back to Valois.

“I guess I was the last to see them. Bad news, Ms. Valois. They were searching for you. If you’re here, you likely missed each other as they descended into the labyrinth.”

“…Huh…?”

“Still not up to speed? Listen close. All magical beasts on the second floor have gone berserk. And the Barthé siblings may be trapped down there!”

That was the shortest explanation he could muster—and it finally sank in. Valois’s expression grew visibly strained. He debated whether to give her time to process, but another student was already approaching.

“Pardon me, Mr. Horn. I feel a need to step in, here.”

“Ms. Ames—”

Jasmine Ames had crossed wands with him in the combat league. Like Valois, she was always accompanied by her attendants—and they were standing close behind. A claim Valois could not make.

“Can you predict your attendants’ actions, Ms. Valois?” Ames inquired, employing her default courteous tone. “If they were looking for you, that alone could help us narrow the search area. Anything you can tell us about where they might have gone could make all the difference.”

An appropriate condition, mindful of the recipient’s circumstances. Had Ames not asked this, Oliver would have. But their hopes proved to be in vain; Valois merely looked shifty, as if she had no answer for them.

“…I— I don’t know? I was just wandering around the top three layers willy-nilly. And lately? I’ve barely even spoken to them.”

Ames’s demeanor changed dramatically. Alarmed, Oliver made to speak—but before he could, an open palm shot in, catching Valois on the cheek.

“ ?  ?”

Valois went flying, spinning through the air—and she failed to stick the landing, instead ending up on her backside. Her Koutz training had allowed her to absorb the strike instinctively, but her state of mind left her in no shape to follow through. She simply gaped up at the newest arrival, baffled. It was Stacy Cornwallis, hand still raised from the hard slap, positively shaking with fury from head to toe.

“…You make me sick!” she snarled. “They’re your attendants!”

“Calm down, Stace!”

Her attendant, Fay Willock, was soon rubbing her shoulders. No one else dared breathe a word. This mistress and servant trusted each other completely, and all could see why Valois’s attitude had rubbed Stacy the wrong way.

Ames clearly felt much the same way and nodded approvingly. She turned back to Valois, giving her an icy stare.

“Ms. Cornwallis beat me to the punch. Not to kick you while you’re down, but I thought better of you, Ms. Valois. I looked forward to cutting you down someday, but clearly you are not even worth that.”

“ ”

“I have infinite pity for the Barthés, forced to serve under a mistress like you. We will save them—you are free to disgrace yourself however you please.”

“Oh, snap.”

“You tell her, Jaz!”

Having dropped that ultimatum, Ames spun on her heel and stalked away, her attendants following on tenterhooks. Valois was too stunned to stand up, but yet another student approached her. Nanao took a knee, putting her at eye level and forcing Valois to look into her clear gaze.

“Harsh words, Lady Valois. Have they brought you to your senses?”

“Nanao—!”

Oliver gasped, watching closely. Nothing he said could help Valois now, so he pinned his hopes on his friend. In this moment, only Nanao Hibiya could get through.

Her hands reached out, taking a firm grip of Valois’s shoulders. Locked in on those hollow eyes, calling out to what lay deep within.

“On your feet. What is lost will not return. But they are not lost. You have not yet let them slip through your fingers!”

Valois quivered. Oliver could tell those words had broken through. Emotions welled up within her shaken heart, twisting her countenance, then spilling free.

“…I’ll look for them! Of course I will!”

“Consider me relieved.”

Nanao flashed a grin and pulled Valois to her feet. Then she turned.

“Oliver, a proposal. May we add Lady Valois to our ranks?”

That caught him off guard…and Valois herself seemed equally taken aback. He looked from one to the other, assessing Nanao’s intent.

“…You mean that, Nanao? Guy’s life may depend on it.”

“I would hardly joke about such matters. If we are carrying on the league teams, then ours is missing Yuri. Who better to fill that vacancy?”

That was the last angle he’d expected her to take, but it forced him to think. They were searching the whole second layer with limited numbers, and given the threat at hand, moving in teams of three was purely practical. The friend they’d once teamed up with was gone, and someone had to take his place. In terms of pure ability, Valois was arguably ideal.

“…What do you say, Ms. Valois?” Oliver asked, focusing on the remaining concern. Namely, Valois’s own views of this arrangement. Did she have any intention of cooperating with them? His eyes bored into her, and she shifted uncomfortably, at a loss.

“……I— I never said… I don’t…”

“Just nod. No one else would team up with you now.”

The words were like a slap to the face, and Valois swung around, shocked. Stacy had her back turned, arms folded. She had fired that last volley over her shoulder.

“With Greenwood gone, Team Aalto is shaken up as well,” Stacy added. “Chela, you go with them. Don’t worry about us—we’ll find a straggler to work with.”

“Hoo boy,” Fay muttered. “Mr. Leik’s instincts would have been invaluable here. I’m missing him right about now.”

They wandered off, looking for a third member. Oliver watched them go; he had to admit, Stacy’s views were on the money. Few people would be willing to work with Valois in her condition, which could leave a valuable fighter to her own devices. They were the sole team with an opening for her—one possible purely because of the size of Nanao’s heart.

“…Fine! Not like I have a choice.” Valois scowled, clearly well aware of this.

That was enough for Oliver to allow her a modicum of trust. Her attendants were among the targets of their search, so she had the motivation and retained enough sense to put practical measures above her emotions. Given their past, he was hardly free of reluctance, but that had no bearing here.

“I can’t help but worry, but if Nanao wants to play it this way, it’s best to leave her to it.”

“Hmph, I sure wouldn’t bother.”

Katie and Pete were clearly askance, but not about to argue a settled point. Chela nodded and moved to join them. Oliver shot all three a grateful look. With Guy absent, that lineup would keep them safe—and give him peace of mind.

He and Nanao exchanged a nod and refocused on Valois. Valois hesitated a moment, then returned the nod, if somewhat stiffly. They were on the same page.

“You dipshits done now? Then buckle up,” said Tim. “We’re still confirming the particulars, but we do know it’s a curse wrangler consumed by the spell.”

All eyes turned to the student body president. This was the first intel they’d been given on the enemy at hand.

“Everyone knows the scene—the bustling forest. Even as we speak, a widespread corruption’s spreading. Make sure each team’s got at least one mage who can handle curses. Otherwise, you won’t even be able to get close.”

The teams exchanged glances, and Tim offered further warnings.

“I’ll also mention the basic precautions to take when dealing with a curse gone wild. We all know these things spread through relationships. Most basic of those is physical—meaning anyone you’re taking to bed. If you’ve done it before or do it on occasion, appropriate countermeasures’ll do the trick, but if you’re getting it on all the time, you’re in trouble—and gender ain’t a factor. Rule of thumb is anything more than every other day within the last month.”

Tim wasn’t mincing words. A buzz ran through the crowd, and Chela slipped in beside Nanao.

“…Will you two be okay?” Chela whispered.

“We will. Would that I could say otherwise.”

Nanao pursed her lips. Oliver cringed at that exchange, but if he dwelled on it at all, he’d succumb to thoughts of Pete from last night. He forced himself to remain professionally distanced.

He and Nanao were hardly sleeping together that often, so they didn’t need to be cautious. Pete had been a single encounter the night before and wouldn’t yet be a factor. Besides, now he wasn’t even on the same team as Oliver. Oliver and his friends weren’t concerned about rapid curse transmission—they needed to focus solely on the curse wrangler behind this. Heading to the scene would mean facing that person.

“…Who’s good with curses—?” Tim started to ask.

“We can all take basic precautions. Chela and Oliver are decent at handling them, but Guy is by far the best at it,” Pete said.

This was Oliver’s own assessment as well. Guy’s grades in curse class had always been top of their year. And that fact informed their assessment of his current predicament.

“Not exactly the worst-case scenario,” said Oliver. “It might even work in our favor. If Guy’s in the labyrinth, putting up a fight…”

“Tonitrus!”

“Progressio!”

Spells echoed through the forest as angry beasts closed in. A bolt felled one, and toolplant vines snared another—it howled. Handling each in turn, Guy and Mackley raced across the transformed second layer.

“Don’t finish ’em! They’re dank with curse energy!” he shouted.

“I know! But what even is this?!”

All this casting was wearing Mackley out. Guy was leading the way, doing his best to keep a level head.

“Stay loose, Mackley. Panic will only blind you.”

He was marshaling his own views. Mayhem like this was unthinkable on any ordinary day, but he was starting to see patterns in it. Not wanting to rush to a conclusion, he began breaking it down.

“We got magifauna going berserk over quite a large area. More than one species, carnivores and herbivores alike—but some variation on how crazy they get. Carnivores are definitely way worse. That means the root cause here must have taken over the food chain and spread that way. Work our way back up that, and we get—”

Guy broke off, pointing his athame at the ground. Spatial magic made a chunk of soil shoot up into his mouth. He soon spat it out, but Mackley clearly thought this was deeply gross.

“…Urgh.”

“The dirt—I thought so. Plants growing in cursed soil, herbivores that ate those, then the predators that dined on them. Curse energy gets more concentrated as it moves up the food chain. But what’s the trigger? This ain’t happening unless you transmit a lot, and real quick.”

Muttering to himself, he scanned the terrain around. He spotted a little spring, and scooped up a mouthful with a spell, tasting it. He’d expected the same results as with the dirt—but sensed nothing amiss in the water. He spit it out anyway, looking baffled.

“…? Weird. Only so many ways you can corrupt this large an area.”

“Is this any time for speculation? Focus on escaping this!”

“I’m investigating so we can. We gotta avoid the beasts, so we can’t head toward the exit; anywhere we run, if we get surrounded, we’re sunk. Or do you wanna gamble on a broom ride? If you can fly like Nanao, that might work.”

Guy jerked a thumb at the air above. Mackley looked up and pursed her lips. The skies were every bit as bad as the surface. Bird wyverns were hardly the only flying creatures here; all manner of species had gone berserk and were wheeling around, attacking each other with abandon. Attempting a flight through that would be suicidal.

If there was no escaping the danger zone, then they’d have to find a place to lie low. Guy had been searching for an appropriate location, but then they heard burst spells going off not far away. Mackley’s head went up, too. That was hardly a noise the beasts would make.

“Someone’s fighting,” said Guy. “And they’re in trouble.”

He shot off toward the sound. Mackley looked at him like he was crazy.

“I thought we were lying low?!”

“If we let them die, it’ll feel real bad. Just stay put if you’re too chicken!”

“…! I’m coming! I’ll be damned if I have to owe you anything more…”

She grumbled but gave chase. Speeding up, Guy privately thought she was far more amenable than he’d expected.

“You still with me, Gui?”

“! Yeah…! Shit, I really blew it.”

Ahead of Guy and Mackley, the Barthé siblings were doing their level best. But the tides had turned against them. Primarily because Gui had used a doublecant against the first wave of beasts and soaked up the curse energy from everything he’d killed. Curses were not his specialty, and he’d been unable to resist. That, in turn, left him too weakened to run.

“…Sis, worse come to worst, run while they’re eating me. Ain’t no point in us both dying.”

“I will deck you, dipshit! If you got breath for nonsense, cast!”

Lélia cast a spell at an incoming beast herself, snarling at her brother, who she had over her shoulder. Gui was well aware the suggestion meant nothing; if their positions were reversed, he’d never have left her. But they could not hold out like this much longer. He was searching for any other outcome—but their field of view was cut off by a surprise smoke screen.

““…?!””

“Over here! Quick!”

A whisper on a mana frequency. Turning toward it, they peered through the smoke and saw Guy and Mackley in the brush, beckoning them. The Barthés hustled toward them. Somehow, the siblings made it to cover while the smoke kept the beasts at bay, dove into the trench dug there, and faced two students in much the same predicament.

“…You’re…,” said Mackley.

“If it isn’t the Barthés!” Guy cried. “Not like you folks to screw up this bad.”

Guy raised an eyebrow at them, but the Barthés were far more shocked.

Guy was decked out in environmental camouflage, as instructed by Kevin Walker himself, and looked like a crazy forest freak. Were it not for the face peering at them through the densely packed leaves, they might not have identified him as human at all. He’d suggested Mackley do the same, and she’d adamantly refused—and arguably, that was the reaction most mages would have had.

“Clypeus.” Closing up the entrance to the trench, Guy broke things down. “Oh, your brother got himself cursed. I’m guessing you used a doublecant on first contact? Don’t blame you. The second layer ain’t usually a hotbed for curses.”

When he’d finished, no outside light got in, but there were phosphorescent fruits on the toolplants, so visibility wasn’t half bad. The roots woven around them were plenty sturdy; Lélia thought it was impressive work for the time he must have had. She doubted any other Kimberly student could use toolplants this well.

“…Sad, but true. Greenwood, can you break the curse?” she asked, laying Gui on her knees.

With a barrier complete, the camouflage was no longer necessary; Guy removed it via a spell, a dubious look on his face.

“Wish I could, but it’s a tall order right now. Quickest approach to the energy is to move it, but I’m sorely lacking in decent surrogates. Spreading it among us, I could do, but—”

“I’m not about to host or share!” Mackley said, jumping in. “The former’s no different from now, and the second could wipe us all out.”

Guy was forced to nod. She was right on the money.

“What Mackley said. I’ll add, we ain’t exactly safe here. No wyrms, but the second layer’s got its share of diggers. The barrier oughtta hold them for now, at least.”

“…Could we go deeper? Same way you dug this?” Lélia asked.

“Like I just mentioned, sitting quiet ain’t too bad, but if we start tunneling, the digger beasts will swarm us. If we gotta fight while we dig, I’d rather duke it out on the surface.”

Dismissing the idea, he lowered his rucksack and took out a canteen and some provisions. They had a brief respite from peril here, so it was best to eat and drink while they could; that was one of the Survivor’s ironclad rules. Obeying that to the letter, Guy tore a pound cake in four, and held out the pieces of it.

“So for now, we hunker down. Hold out long enough, rescue’ll come. Fill yourself up and be patient.”

“…Argh…”

“…I can’t eat right now.”

“Choke it down, then. I ain’t kidding—it could mean the difference between life and death.”

Guy clearly meant that, so Mackley reluctantly started eating. Lélia was helping her brother eat his share, first. It was far better than he’d expected, and momentarily made him forget how much pain he was in.

“…That’s very good,” Gui said, managing a faint smile.

“You got great taste, Barthé.” Guy grinned. “Greenwood grub gives ya flavor and nutrition.”

He leaned back against a trunk, keeping his tone reassuringly level.

“Best to relax. You know they’ll be coming for us. I can promise that—on the Sword Roses’ name.”

Answering their friend’s faith, the others were advancing into the chaos of the second layer. Team Horn slipped through one of multiple entrances, and quickly hid themselves in the brush, sending scout golems out to survey.

“Anything, Oliver?” Nanao asked.

“…It’s a mess. Beasts rampaging over all corners of the layer. Not many corruptions can spread this far…”

The horrors his golems picked up made his brow furrow. The bustling forest had its dangers, but was always teeming with life—it was never this bloodthirsty. Now it was but a crucible of violence. Where beasts had once killed so that they might feed, now they killed for no reason at all.

Unable to put this devastation into words, he chose to focus on scouting instead. Dodging the flying beasts took a lot of concentration, but he was getting results. He’d found a number of parties with lines drawn up, fending off the beasts. He deployed a golem wheeling in the air above each.

“…Several groups of students with barriers up, standing their ground. All mixed upper and lower forms, not likely to buckle quick. They must have grouped up quickly after the disaster began.”

“And Guy?”

“…No sign of him. Or the Barthés. They could be lurking somewhere hard to find… I suppose I shouldn’t assume those two are together. Any chance they’d split up?”

Oliver was trying to consider every possibility.

“…Lélia…,” Valois ventured, her voice subdued.

“?”

“…looks like the calm one…but she’s rather emotional. Gui often has to settle her down.”

Realizing she was attempting to describe their characters, Oliver and Nanao listened intently. Any scrap of information would help. They knew all about Guy, but had not spent enough time with the Barthés to make accurate guesses.

“…If they were looking for me? Lélia would be a mess. I don’t think…he’d, like, leave her alone like that. So I imagine they’re together.”

With that, Valois clammed up. Oliver smiled.

He’d barely spoken to either of her attendants outside the combat league match, but this brief portrait alone told him a lot. At the very least, it seemed safe to assume they hadn’t split up. It would be easier to find their hiding spot if they were together, and it would also improve their odds of survival.

“Good to know,” said Oliver. “Would’ve been nice for Stacy and Ms. Ames to hear that.”

“Indeed! You do know your attendants well.” Nanao grinned at Valois.

Meanwhile, Valois just bit her lip, turning away. She was being less prickly than they’d expected, and Oliver was increasingly convinced this team up had been a good idea. Nanao had trusted Valois for reasons he had not perceived, and that faith had resonated with Valois herself. Perhaps this was a connection Nanao had carved her way to during their match.

“If Guy or the Barthés are hiding, then they’re waiting for rescue. Beasts would converge on a rescue orb, so that’s a last resort,” said Oliver. “They might try some other means of conveying their location. If my golems can catch that, great—”

But a shock to his head made him break off. A bird wyvern had crushed one of his scout golems, and the corresponding view cut out. The recoil left him a bit dizzy, and he reported the loss.

“…! Lost one. Gonna be hard to keep them flying in this. Bet Pete’s doing a better job…”

“Then we shall let him handle it,” said Nanao. “We need merely cover the ground we see.”

She meant they had enough of a grasp on things to commence their rescue operation. Oliver considered that and nodded. They hadn’t found who they were searching for, but there was no use overcomplicating things. The fewer students stranded here, the more people could focus on the search.

“…Right. Based on what I’ve scouted, let’s start with who’s in the most danger. Those we rescue might know things, and our friends will use a rescue orb if things get hairy. Does that work for you, Ms. Valois?”

He turned to her, and she merely nodded. Perhaps she thought it was the right call; perhaps she merely didn’t think she was in any position to argue. Oliver would have liked to ease these tensions further, but that was not something he could rush. With their plan in mind, he rose to his feet.

“The beasts are cursed. I’m sure everyone knows this, but do not finish them off. Be careful how you use any spells that could be lethal.”

“Acknowledged. This is hardly the time for unfettered swings.”

“Yeah, we’ve gotta pull our punches. If you fight like you usually do, we’ll be surrounded in no time. Let’s coordinate with the other teams, and make sure we maintain a line of retreat.”

With that, all left the brush at a run. Beasts that spotted them radiated curse-laden hostility—and Oliver was the first to fire a spell back at the incoming threat.

“Prohibere! Impediendum!”

“Tonitrus!”

At much the same time, teams assigned to other entrances moved out. Team Aalto—with Chela subbing for Guy—was but one of these, maintaining an escape route while suppressing incoming beasts. Creatures of all shapes and sizes bore down, blinded by fury. Seeing them so far removed from their usual natures left Katie biting her lip.

“This is so horrible!” she moaned. “Even the sweet ones are caught up in this curse!”

“Agreed, but we’ve no time to pity them! Pete, how are you faring?”

Matching Katie’s casting, Chela called to the rock behind them. Pete was sitting cross-legged in a defensive encampment, eyes barely open.

“Quite well. Transmitting my findings to the other teams.”

Pete’s mind was processing the visual data from well over twenty scout golems at once. This took considerable focus—something that sent a chill down Chela’s spine. Neither she nor Oliver were capable of matching this feat.

“…How many are you up to?” she asked Pete.

“…Not as impressive as it looks. They’re running on auto, freeing up my resources, and second-layer beasts aren’t that good at flying. If you take the time, you can build a golem that can handle them.”

Pete’s tone was matter-of-fact, but Chela was fully cognizant of how difficult that really was. He must have been incredibly particular about how the golems were made, from their construction to the design of the mana circuit that controlled their movements, trimming all excess while maintaining a delicate balance between weight, size, and mobility—and now he was hot-swapping between auto and remote modes while simultaneously processing the observations they made. This was a feat far beyond the capabilities of the average fourth-year—and the fact that he was still improving was downright terrifying.

“…But I can only handle this number for…maybe twenty minutes. Beyond that, I’ll need to rest, or my attention will fray. Let me focus on scouting till I hit that limit.”

“Right!”

“Absolutely.”

With a hard time limit, Chela and Katie focused on the task at hand. Ideally, they’d complete all search and rescue tasks within those twenty minutes. Until then, they’d thin the numbers of berserker beasts, coordinating with other teams to reach stranded students. No hesitation on that front.

“Where are you, Guy?” Pete muttered. “Don’t make this hard for me.”

Pete added one more golem, further diminishing his capacity. His nose began to bleed, but he just wiped it with his sleeve. No matter. If it meant saving one of the Sword Roses, who cared how many brain cells he lost?

The changes wrought by their arrival were not entirely lost on those in Guy’s trench. He’d slipped a rodent familiar to the surface, and it was scanning the area from the top of a tall tree, its vision projected into Guy’s mind—and it had spotted a golem buzzing around between the flying beasts above.

“…Well? Any chance of a rescue?” Mackley asked, careful not to disturb his concentration.

Guy could only fold his arms, groaning. He was nowhere near as good at controlling familiars as Oliver, much less Pete. If he tried to send anything flying, it would be eaten immediately. Mackley and Lélia had already tried, with that exact result. That was why they’d resorted to the land-based critter Guy had on hand. The tree had afforded it a degree of elevation, but it could hardly see as far as a flying familiar.

“…I’m certainly seeing signs. The way those golems are darting about could well be Pete. So I’d say there’s definitely someone at the second layer’s entrance. If we throw up a rescue orb, they’ll absolutely spot it—but it’ll draw in all the beasts around, so…still a last resort.”

“I’ve still got more familiars!” Lélia offered.

“Yeah…most’ll get eaten on the way, but if we send enough, something’ll get through. Okay, everyone get your—”

Guy was about to act on that idea, but then he broke off. He wasn’t having second thoughts; he’d felt an unnatural tremor underfoot.

“…Wait, why is the ground shaking?”

Even as he spoke, it got worse. The entire trench was rocking. Dirt fell from overhead, and worse—the ground beneath them collapsed. Darkness yawned and pulled all four into the depths.

“Augh—?!”

“Hold on to me, Gui!”

“Wh-what now?!”

“Don’t ask me! Crap— Impetus!”

Helplessly dragged along with the falling dirt, Guy yanked a rescue orb from his pocket, and sent it upward on a wind spell. It broke through the soil to the surface and ruptured in the air, generating a pillar of light.

The search parties spotted that light immediately. Oliver’s team had just scattered the beasts and sent a stranded group toward the rear. The orange light was not that far from them.

“A rescue orb! That’s Guy’s color—!”

“On it!” Nanao shot forward, Oliver and Valois on her heels.

But their feet were soon stalled by the rippling ground. The tremors weren’t dying down—they were getting stronger still.

“Hrm—?!”

“Back off, Nanao!” Oliver cried, anticipating a major disturbance.

Nanao’s instincts had suggested the same, and she was already reversing course. A moment later, a massive section of earth sank before their very eyes. When the dust had settled, they beheld a chasm so vast they could not see the bottom. Their advance was completely blocked.

“A sinkhole…?!” said Oliver. “But the second layer doesn’t have—”

“To the air!” Nanao cried, leaping aboard her broom.

Oliver and Valois were soon on her tail. The sky was full of violent beasts, and they were forced to brave those flocks. Nanao slashed at the incoming bird wyverns, and Oliver and Valois fired spells at anything joining the creatures. With the immediate interference cleared, they reached the light’s location.

“Where are you, Guy? If you can hear us, speak! Guy!”

Oliver was straining his vocal cords, calling his friend’s name—but he heard no response.

They fled the beasts to the ground below. The collapse had left a conical pit behind, but the flowing soil had already sealed the hole and buried anything.

Oliver’s shoulders quivered. This was not a good sign.

“…No sign of him,” he said. “Did he get caught up in the sinkhole?”

“Oliver! Over there!”

Nanao spotted something gleaming, and darted toward it. When she fished it out of the dirt and held it up, Valois turned pale. Oliver could guess why. It was a silver brooch depicting flowers; the Barthé girl had been wearing that this morning.

“…That’s…Lélia’s,” Valois managed—and then she lost her cool completely.

She aimed her athame at the ground, levitating all the soil, her face crumpling like she was on the verge of tears. It was painful to watch.

“Where…where are you…?”

“……! Deep breaths, Ms. Valois! If they aren’t surfacing themselves, they must be very deep. Digging blindly will not get us there.”

As Oliver talked her down, Nanao came up behind her, putting an arm around her shoulders. Oliver raised his own blade, sending mana frequencies and sonar pulses below. This was effective to some extent, but if their targets were beyond the depth he could reach, they had no options left.

Nanao clearly knew he’d get nowhere. Warding off the flying beasts with her katana in one hand, she rubbed Valois’s back with the other, calming her down. Nanao kept her eyes on their surroundings.

“Oliver…”

“…We misread the scale of things. This is no longer the second layer we know—this is uncharted territory!”

He abandoned his fruitless sonar probe, clenching his fists. They’d been one step away, so close to grabbing their friends’ hands, only to lose them to the gloom below.

As confusion reigned above, in the pitch-black depths below, Guy fell through darkness, casting repeated deceleration spells. After a minute-long descent, he felt something solid against his back.

“……Hah, hah… Guhhh!”

“…Owwww…”

He’d taken one breath before something landed on his stomach. He recognized the voice behind that groan and sighed.

“Glad you’re alive, but if you ain’t hurt, get off me, Mackley.”

“…I was planning on it!”

Mackley scrambled off him, sitting up.

Pricking up his ears, Guy called out, “You with us, Barthés? Gimme a holler if you can hear me!”

“…Over here…”

“…Ugh…”

Both voices sounded feeble, but were close by. Guy was relieved to hear that. Things had gone from bad to worse, but at least they’d managed to stick together on the fall.

“…What’s going on?” Lélia asked Guy. “That felt like a very long way. Did we fall through the bottom of the layer?”

“Don’t ask me. I ain’t sensing danger close at hand, so I’m gonna strike a light.”

Guy still had his athame in hand, and he struck a light at the tip. This lifted the veil of darkness on their surroundings and made them all gasp. The ceiling was so high they could not make it out; even the narrowest walls were a solid thirty feet apart, and the distance before and behind so great the light could not penetrate it. The four of them were inside an unknown cavern.

“ !”

“…What the hell…?”

Lélia and Mackley sounded equally stunned. Guy scrambled up and moved straight to the nearest wall, inspecting its rocky surface.

“…So we ain’t through to the third layer. Looks like an ordinary cave.”

That was all his initial analysis got him, so he reported as much. He ran his fingers along the wall; he could see and feel a distinctive pattern carved there.

“Bark marks on the walls. Ever heard of a lava tree mold? That’s the hollow that’s left behind when a tree gets caught up in a volcanic eruption…but no clue why there’d be one under the second layer. Some connection to the irminsul?”

Muttering away, he took stock of the situation.

“…I’d rather find a way out,” Mackley said, dusting herself off. “Any way to fly back up the way we came?”

“Doubtful,” Guy snapped. “Don’t feel air flowing, and it’s hard to believe that collapse wouldn’t seal off the exit. Flying blind right now would just drain mana.”

He’d considered this himself the moment he’d realized he still had his broom. The reason he’d given was a valid one, but also—if this was a place you could fly in and out of, rescue would have come to them. Clearly, this was not the case. They had to assume they’d need to find a new way out. Once he’d reached that conclusion, he planted his butt on the ground.

“Sit, Mackley. Let’s regroup. We don’t think this through, we really won’t survive it.”

With a major shift having impacted the second layer, the Watch ordered a temporary withdrawal. All teams assigned to the survivor search retreated to the school building. They were ordered to rest and recover until a new directive came down. The Watch members were gathered in the council headquarters, discussing just that.

“Lemme break down what we do know. Pitfalls all over the layer, leading to the discovery of an unknown cave system below. Totally unrelated to the existing third layer. Don’t know much about the interior other than it’s big and gnarled.”

Tim Linton sounded pretty grim, and those around listened in silence. Kimberly’s older students were used to mayhem, but this was far worse than they’d expected.

“Student casualties. From fourth year, we’re missing Guy Greenwood, Annie Mackley, Gui Barthé, and Lélia Barthé. Their rescue orb was sighted, and we found the remains of their hiding spot. We gotta assume they were caught up in the collapse and yanked into the new cavern. Gotta rethink our rescue op from scratch—just how shitty are things? Given how unorthodox this is, we’re gonna hit up the faculty, but don’t except anything new on that front.”

“So we missed four,” Whalley said, going back to those names. “I suppose we should be glad we rescued the others in time. In hindsight, one could argue we implemented the restrictions on labyrinth access just in time. If there’d been underclassmen dragged below, they’d have little chance of survival.”

“Can’t really say fourth-years are exactly safe,” Miligan cut in. “I’d rather not be flung into unknown territory, personally. Especially if this disruption came at the hands of a mage.”

“Bingo.” Tim nodded. “The state of the layer and student reports confirm it—we’re now certain a sixth-year named Dino Lombardi has been consumed by the spell. He started acting…off toward the end of last year, so we had him on our watch list.”

That name deepened their frowns. They all knew who they had to find and fight, but that wasn’t nearly enough intel to stand against a skilled sixth-year on their turf. Sensing that the others felt that way, Tim turned his eyes to the corner where a man was sitting in silence.

“Would love to get this rescue op back underway, but to even start planning that, we need a proper understanding of the situation. There’s no time to spare, so spill your damn guts—I mean, please, share what information you can, Mr. Rivermoore.”

Tim rephrased with a nod toward manners, and all eyes turned to Cyrus Rivermoore.

“I’m sure you’ve all guessed as much,” Rivermoore began, “but when I dug up that behemoth skull, I did a substantial survey of the space beneath the irminsul. The roots spread far wider and deeper than you’d ever imagine from above. If this curse has corrupted the entire layer, that’s why.”

“That much, we figured,” Miligan said. “But no one had ‘mystery cave’ on their bingo card. Any clue what that’s about, Mr. Rivermoore?”

“I do,” Rivermoore said. “The tree that now lives is the second irminsul. Has anyone heard that hypothesis before?”

Everyone frowned. The irminsul was a tree, so naturally it had to have sprung from something. No one said this aloud because they could tell he was implying more than that.

Whalley’s breadth of knowledge was the most extensive of any of the students here; sifting through his memories, he ventured, “I’m aware of Albschuch’s paper on the subject. She wrote that before this tree grew, there was another in the same location—where lived the behemoth that served as the bed for our irminsul. She had a basis for this, and findings to back it, but did not arrive at any concrete conclusions.”

“Not surprising,” Rivermoore replied. “Given elf magic compatibility with the irminsul, that research came at Kimberly’s behest; it wasn’t something Khiirgi herself was ever particularly interested in. I imagine she did the bare minimum and then abandoned it. Which also means it’s no surprise someone else chose to dig deeper.”

With that, Rivermoore shifted his eyes to the projection crystal on the table. Catching his drift, Miligan waved her wand, activating it and displaying the images recorded by their scout golems. Rivermoore soon urged her to pause and enlarge. Miligan did so, displaying a detailed view of the cave walls, including their shape and texture. Everyone spotted biological patterns which were not found in ordinary caves.

“You see those bark marks and knots on the walls? This is a lava tree mold,” Rivermoore explained. “The old irminsul was caught in an eruption, leaving its remains behind in the form of these caves. Solid evidence that Khiirgi’s hypothesis was right.”

“Riiiight! Riiiight!” Ufa echoed, wound around his neck. A sight that eased the tension a smidge.

“So let me get this straight,” Miligan said, rubbing her chin. “We have the original irminsul. A behemoth took up residence within. The pyroclastic flow arrived, completely submerging the tree and likely killing the behemoth as well. The new irminsul sprouted from that behemoth’s corpse, and grew to its current size over an incredible span of time. Right?”

These caves were connected to the very origins of the second layer. Imagining these ancient events, Whalley looked puzzled.

“Not to ask a basic question, but…shouldn’t their positions be reversed? The behemoth would have nested in the roots of the original irminsul—or at least, below the treetop. It seems reasonable to assume we’d find these lava tree molds above the skull itself.”

“A behemoth would not be instantly killed by mere lava. We can assume it struggled mightily before its demise, which explains why I found the head first. That struggle also protected the second tree’s seed, which was likely already within the behemoth’s body.”

This was clearly Rivermoore’s interpretation, but Whalley was nodding along.

“There’s no volcano on the second layer,” Miligan grumbled. “But I suppose if—like Instructor Demitrio’s meditation field—that entire stretch of land was brought into the labyrinth from somewhere else after those events, that’s not a contradiction. It boggles the mind—but back to the issue at hand. At the very least, that explains where these caves come from; the question is how we deal with this mess.”

She prodded them to think. Andrews hesitated a moment, then raised his hand.

“…If these stem from the irminsul’s ancestor, that does give us an idea of their layout. However many branches there may be, they’ll lead back to the trunk. I suspect that will prove critical to rescuing the students. And since Mr. Greenwood is an accomplished magical botanist—”

“They’ll likely reach the same conclusion,” said Miligan. “I like the way you think, Mr. Andrews. Only problem is, that’s where our consumed mage is hiding out. The entirety of this new space is effectively his territory. Does that remind you of anyone?”

Miligan flashed a grin. Naturally, this was directed at Rivermoore, who’d turned an entire abandoned zone into his personal kingdom and given them all quite a headache. However, Rivermoore dismissed her snark with a snort.

“Lombardi’s likely connected to the current irminsul by a workshop that was transferred to the lava tree mold. You could say he’s turned the entire tree into a giant familiar, but controlling anything of that size takes a lot of work, and specific conditions. Given how swiftly the changes to the second layer occurred, we can assume our target is not that deep down. If you make a thorough search of the area right below the tree, you’ll find him soon enough. That’s the extent of the advice I can offer in my position.”

Some very concrete advice—and with that, Rivermoore closed his eyes. Clearly, this was where he drew the line.

“Fair enough,” Miligan said, smiling. “You are faculty now. Still, between the state of Kimberly and the unknown territory, this is a highly irregular situation. I think we have solid grounds to request exceptional handling from the instructors—but what do you have to say about that? Last year, you were a senior we could rely on—a man who never once ignored a mage’s morality. Give us your thoughts, Cyrus Rivermoore.”

That sarcasm could have curdled milk, and it did earn her a frown. The Snake-Eyed Witch’s implication was clear. The astra Ufa, the fruit of Rivermoore’s research—the people here had played no small part in its creation. In other words, he owed them. Tim Linton sat right there; Oliver Horn’s friend was among the missing. This should not be forgotten.

And in light of that, Miligan urged Rivermoore to take just one more step—a pushy request, but one he acquiesced to, albeit with the loudest click of his tongue he had ever mustered.

“How that forked tongue of yours writhes, snake. I will take action to the extent that I am allowed. But do not expect help from the faculty. We each look after our own—no matter the occasion, that is the iron rule of Kimberly.”

With that, he rose to his feet, and he and Ufa left the council chambers. The door slammed behind him, and Miligan shot the others an amused look.

“He’s already acting like a teacher. For all the warnings he gave, it sounds like he’ll be up to something.”

“Given how Instructor Ted’s group is moving, he may have some wriggle room. But they won’t do anything decisive. We got a candidate for the final visitor?”

Lining up their cards, Tim pushed the conversation forward.

“That’s a tricky one,” Miligan replied, closing her eyes. “Mr. Lombardi trained directly under Instructor Baldia, and is considered first or second place among the curse wranglers in his year. Naturally, there are several wranglers volunteering to help. But not one of them is an obvious fit, honestly.”

“So we lack a suitable candidate. One of those times when Godfrey would have gone in himself,” Whalley muttered.

Everyone in the room froze. Dropping that name meant winding Tim up, or at least pouring fuel on the fire. Since becoming student body president, Tim had been doing the job—objectively speaking. Yet, at the same time, he knew better than anyone else that what he could do was no match for what Purgatory had achieved. And Whalley’s remark gouged that wound.

The silence was oppressive. Whalley had his eyes locked on Tim, not wavering an inch, and Tim met that gaze. Eventually, Tim sighed.

“If he was still in charge and told me to do it, then I would. But I can’t be as cavalier with my life as I used to be.”

A bit of a self-dig. Tim had changed considerably. His position, his attitude—he was no longer the reckless Toxic Gasser working for the man he loved, unconcerned about his own survival. He’d had no compunctions about throwing his life away for Godfrey, nor had he ever imagined he’d survive to his seventh year.

But here he was, still alive. And he’d taken over presidency from Godfrey, had kids like Oliver looking up to him, and was leading a new council of his own fellows. He had things to protect. There was no going back to his days as part of the rank and file, and he could not afford to kill himself in a vain attempt to imitate Purgatory’s feats. He could protect nothing that way. The trust Godfrey and Lesedi had placed in him, and his feelings for the late Carlos and Ophelia…plus their original motivation—the desire to make this school a little better than it used to be.

That all fell upon him, and he could not take it lightly. Thus, Whalley’s dig had not hurt at all. Certain of that, Whalley slowly smiled and let the moment pass.

“Glad to hear it,” he said. “And you have my apology.”

“I ain’t mad. Damn, you’re even uptight when you test people.”

Tim rolled his eyes, and the others let themselves relax. They got why Whalley would want to take the measure of their leader’s state of mind, but that had been nerve-racking. Tim clapped his hands, drawing their attention back to the matter at hand.

“Just gonna have to put a bunch of wranglers on the team going after Lombardi himself. The question is: How do the rest of our people search for the remaining fourth-years? This ain’t like Ophelia; they ain’t been kidnapped. Odds are high they’re nowhere near Lombardi himself.”

“But they’re in completely uncharted territory,” Miligan said. “If we can’t predict how the missing will behave, the odds of locating them will plummet. Considering motivation and ability, we’re gonna need the Sword Roses to play a key role in this.”

“Throwing them into the thick of things, again?” Tim scowled. “Damn, and I just swore I’d keep ’em safe…”

“? You seem perturbed. Something happen between you?”

“None of your beeswax.” Tim waved her off. “Go on, let Horn’s group know. Before they decide they ain’t waiting!”

But the more he tried to avoid having this be personal, the more a certain boy’s smile got lodged in Tim’s head.

Meanwhile, the students the Watch had placed on standby were gathered in the Forum. Eating and resting, prepping to resume the search. The Sword Roses were waiting quietly. With Guy still in the labyrinth somewhere, Katie was looking a bit uneasy, but Chela and Oliver were keeping her calm, preventing her from running off ahead of them. And this concern was not limited to their group.

“You must eat, Lady Valois.”

Valois was sitting sullenly at a table some distance off, and Nanao had taken a seat next to her. They’d been so close to rescuing her attendants, and she was visibly more upset than before. The plate of food in front of her had gone cold without a bite taken, so Nanao offered her a sandwich from her own plate.

“In times of strife, food and sleep may seem a secondary concern, but that is precisely why they are of value.”

“…”

Lacking the energy to refuse, Valois sluggishly took the sandwich. She chewed like it had turned to sand in her mouth, watching as Nanao resumed her own meal.

“…Aren’t you, like…scared?” she asked.

“I know how resilient Guy can be. If your retainers are with him, then they are assuredly safe as well.”

She said this with no hesitation—a fact that ate at Valois. Trust based on understanding. Something Valois could not have even if she desired it—not after years of dismissing her attendants as mere familiars.

“…I don’t know anything… Not about Gui…or Lélia…”

“You described their characters.”

“No…that much is simply their quirks as tools. I don’t know anything real. Nothing about them as people.”

The words just came tumbling out. She was past trying to put on a brave face. Already disgraced, she could not make things any worse.

“…I didn’t want to know. Knowing would mean…I couldn’t use them anymore. I’d be scared of losing something that mattered…again.”

“Was that successful?” Nanao inquired.

Valois’s words died on her lips. She hung her head. “…I hate you so much.”

“My apologies. That was rather mean.”

Nanao smiled as she spoke, then turned her chair to face Valois, looking right in her eyes.

“Listen, Lady Valois. We have fought before, so I can speak with conviction. You are strong. Not just the cut of your blade. The emotions you carry within you are far more powerful than most of us possess. People of that nature cannot live without someone to hold on to.”

“…”

“Do not fear loss. You have the power to protect. I know not what it is you lost before, but you are far stronger now than you were then. That alone you know as well as I.”

Her words echoed through Valois, and she could not help but listen. Meanwhile, the Sword Roses were watching them talk, stifling their nerves.

“…She’s really going for it,” Oliver marveled.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t join them?” Katie asked.

“Yeah—I’d just make things worse,” he said, shaking his head. “This is a task only Nanao can handle.”

He lacked the delicacy to pry open the lid Valois had placed on her heart. Thus, he’d entrusted the task to Nanao. It fell to her to keep Valois going, to lead her eyes to the path ahead. Only then could Valois truly begin.

Two figures entered the Forum and stole the Sword Roses’ gazes. Miligan and Whalley, the president’s aides. Their presence here meant the council had reached a decision, and the words they spoke did not betray those expectations.

“Thank you for waiting,” said Miligan.

“We have a plan,” Whalley told the group. “It’s time we resumed this search.”

Everyone had been waiting for this, and rose to their feet. Pleased to see them all ready and willing, Miligan smiled—and began the briefing.