Nanatsu no Maken ga Shihai suru - Volume 2 - Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 

Exploring the Labyrinth 

Six months had passed since the beginning of the school term, and so naturally, each class was beginning to stratify. The experienced drew ahead of the inexperienced, of course, but even among those who began studying at the same time, a gap was beginning to form. This was especially prevalent in subjects where the students were forced to compete directly with one another. 

“Hyah!” 

“Uwah!” 

The two students’ enthusiasm filled the great room. Their classmates formed a circle around them and watched as Guy boldly landed a strike on his opponent’s temple. Garland, the referee, raised an arm. 

“One point. The match is over. Mr. Greenwood, you show some talent, but you seem to treat the sword more like a club.” 

“Yessir. Sorry—I grew up rough.” 

“No, I applaud your fast decision-making. It’s much better than constantly having your tail tucked between your legs. But if you don’t refine your technique more, I’m afraid you’ll never stand a chance against an older student. Don’t let this victory satisfy you. I suggest you work on your technique as soon as you can.” 

Guy nodded. Garland then shifted his attention to Guy’s opponent. 

“If you had seen through that coarse technique, Mr. Martin, you would have had a good chance of victory. It’s not a bad idea to play defense, but once you let the pressure get to you, that chance is gone. Go gain some further experience—you’ll build confidence that way.” 

“Yes, sir…” 

The student named Martin looked down at his feet in frustration. 

The sword arts instructor smiled encouragingly, then spoke again. “Okay, next. Mr. Hughes and Mr. Reston, step forward.” 

“Yes, sir!” 

“Y-yes, sir!” 

The two students walked up. The bespectacled boy’s face was stiff with nerves. Oliver observed him from the sidelines. This is less than ideal. He’s got decent fight in him, but he’s still a bit too jumpy. 

“Begin!” 

Almost as soon as Garland gave the signal, Pete dashed forward. Uh-oh, thought Oliver. Pete’s actions made it far too obvious what his aim was. 

“Dyah!” 

They clashed, and Pete parried his opponent’s athame. Then he pressed forward into a stab. This was a basic sword arts combination. And thanks to Pete’s diligent practice, his movements were quick and snappy. 

“…Uwah?!” 

Unfortunately, he was so focused on his attack that he wasn’t looking at the ground. A Gravestone shot up beneath Pete’s feet, and he toppled forward. When he got back up, flustered, his opponent’s athame was already in his face. 

“One point. The match is over. I appreciate you going on the offensive, Mr. Reston, but it seems your effort was rather for naught. Don’t rush the fight. Expand your vision.” 

Garland offered his advice based on the results of the match. Once he was done instructing Pete, he turned to the opposing student. 

“Excellent job reading your opponent’s initial aggression and using Gravestone, Mr. Hughes. But remember: Don’t look at the ground. If Mr. Reston had been more composed, he would have noticed your ploy. Practice your spatial magic so that you can activate your magic without averting your gaze.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

The boy named Hughes nodded and exited the arena. His friend clapped him on the back and said, “No sweat, right?” 

“Beating an overachiever from a nonmagical family isn’t exactly worth bragging about, though,” Hughes replied. 

“…!” Pete’s shoulders twitched. 

Unlike the people who had made fun of Katie, these two students didn’t mean any particular harm. Hughes wasn’t trying to belittle his opponent; he was just chatting honestly with his friend. This made the sting even worse for Pete. He wasn’t even worth bullying—in other words, he’d never even been on his opponent’s radar. 

“I want to train more!” 

Unable to wait for lunch break, Pete gathered his friends and blurted out those words as soon as class ended. Oliver and the others were taken aback, but Pete pressed on. 

“I’ve tried training on my own, but the gap between me and everyone else keeps widening. I know it’s a pipe dream to try and beat someone more experienced, but I can’t stand being belittled by the people who started learning this stuff at the same time as me.” Pete ground his teeth. 

Oliver had had a feeling this was the case. Pete was always listening to Garland’s instructions with the most intensity, and he never slacked on practicing what they were taught. And yet, everyone else seemed to be leaving him in the dust. It was no wonder he was so frustrated. 

“In the next class, we’re going to finally start incorporating spells into our duels. If I can’t even win with just a sword, how am I going to fare then? If I don’t do something now, I’ll stay weak forever.” 

He looked down, depressed. Oliver and Chela nodded in unison. 

“I figured you were having trouble. If you want to boost your skills, then of course I’ll help you out.” 

“Indeed. I’m glad you came to us for this, Pete. Don’t worry: I’ll take it upon myself to personally train you into an excellent Rizett-style swordsman,” Chela promised with a determined glint in her eyes. 

Oliver furrowed his brow. “…Mm? Wait a minute, Chela. Considering past classes, shouldn’t Pete continue to be trained within the Lanoff style?” 

“But that’s what’s causing him trouble, isn’t it? He should explore other styles early on to see if they’re a better match.” 

“You have a point… But judging from today’s class, Pete’s technique isn’t at a level where we can determine what he’s suited to. He should avoid any easy shortcuts. If he learns the Rizett style before mastering the basics, the techniques he’s learned so far will only backfire and trip him up.” 

“I disagree. In fact, it’s my opinion that the current newcomer curriculum is too biased toward the Lanoff style. And if I may be so bold…this policy of just teaching everyone the Lanoff style while ignoring their personal quirks is akin to mental stagnation, a mortal sin for mages.” 

A fierce debate swirled between them, leaving Pete stranded in the middle. Katie and Guy exchanged awkward grins. 

“Here we go again…” Katie groaned. 

“Yep,” Guy agreed. “Look, Nanao. This here’s a classic dispute that you’ll find among any group of people. It’s one of the three great arguments of magical society: Which of the three basic styles is the best?” 

Nanao leaned forward in earnest after hearing this explanation. Oliver and Chela’s debate was heating up, and they showed no regard for the fact that everyone was staring at them. 

“You can’t say that’s unconditionally true,” Oliver countered. “For beginners, the most important thing is to get a rock-solid grip on the basics. If they start with the offensive-leaning Rizett style, it’ll just lead them to take a more aggressive approach. This might lead to more victories earlier on, but it’s easy to be duped by a style that relies on gambling. Thus, it’s totally possible to overlook big deficits in one’s technique.” 

“That’s an issue with the instructor, not the style,” Chela countered. “Furthermore, isn’t Pete seeking a tangible sense of improvement rather than rock-solid instruction? The longer he goes without a win, the more likely he will burn out before he even masters the basics.” 

They argued with equal ferocity, and there was no end in sight. As they continued, the Azian girl muttered to herself, “…Perhaps, if a conclusion cannot be reached, we should split the difference, and I’ll teach Pete—” 

“No way!” 

“Absolutely not!” 

Oliver and Chela shot her down in total unison, as if they hadn’t been arguing only seconds ago. There was no debating it: Nanao’s swordsmanship couldn’t be replicated by anyone else. 

“I get what you’re both saying. So why don’t you both take turns giving lessons?” Katie suggested. 

“Chela can teach him offense, and Oliver can teach him defense. Why not split the work that way?” Guy added. Neither of them could stand by and watch this anymore. 

Oliver, realizing his own immaturity, coughed. “If we can decide on a direction beforehand, I don’t mind. I agree, Chela; that feeling of improvement is important. In a sense, this is good timing, since we’re about to incorporate spells soon.” 

Chela nodded silently in agreement. Oliver turned back to Pete. 

“Pete. What I’m going to teach you now is a way to win a magical duel without relying on any one sword arts style.” 

“Huh…?” 

Unable to understand what Oliver was saying, Pete was clearly confused. 

Oliver continued. “Winning a duel with sword and spells—let me ask you: How do you think that’s achieved?” 

Pete thought for a minute, then gave his best answer. “…By besting your opponent with sword arts techniques?” 

“Yes, that’s one way. Anything else?” 

“…Spells?” 

“That’s a second way. Anything else?” 

He repeated the question, but Pete couldn’t think of an answer. So Oliver inched closer to the core of his speech. 

“There is a third way to win a magical duel other than the two you’ve stated. Draw your athame.” 

Oliver drew his as well and squared off against Pete. They were close, about five feet apart. Once again, Oliver asked him a question. 

“What would you do at this distance?” 

“…Attack with my sword.” 

Oliver nodded at this answer, then took six steps back. “Then what about at this distance?” 

“Cast a spell, obviously,” Pete answered instantly. If his opponent was outside the range of his sword, then as a mage, this was the natural answer. 

Oliver nodded again, then took a few steps forward. “What about at this distance?” 

“…!” 

This time, Pete didn’t reply so quickly. At first glance, it was a very awkward distance; it was too wide to be considered within the one-step, one-spell distance they’d been taught. Yet it wasn’t so wide that a single-incantation spell would be guaranteed to land. Any attack would be met with a swift counter. 

“Imagine we’re in the middle of a duel and attack me from your position. Be serious,” Oliver instructed. 

After a little hesitation, Pete drew his athame with conviction. “Tonitru—?!” 

His incantation was interrupted at the very last syllable by a sword tip pointing directly at his throat. He could say no more. Oliver stepped away from the speechless boy and sheathed his sword. 

“Understand, Pete? Just now, you didn’t compete and lose with sword arts techniques. Nor did your spell flinging come up short. You didn’t have time to execute either.” 

“……” 

“In other words, this is the third method for victory: The side that understands the battlefield’s boundaries is the winner. You can see this quite often in real battles.” 

The one-step, one-spell distance was an easy phrase, but there was no official measurement for that distance. It changed depending on each person’s speed, the length of their arms and swords, and even the stances they took. In this case, Oliver’s speed meant he was faster than Pete’s ability to predict his next move, thanks to his Lanoff technique. 

“In all magical duels, you could say that understanding distance is a basic skill as well as a secret technique. The moment you miscalculate the one-step, one-spell distance, even an expert becomes vulnerable to a lethal blow. On the other hand, if you target and succeed at reading this distance, it’s your ticket to victory. This is the same logic that caused Badderwell, who was famous for his quick draw, to lose.” 

“……” 

“I won’t ask you to perfectly calculate this distance every time. This skill is an age-old theme of magical duels, and obviously, I haven’t perfected it, either. But there’s a world of difference between those who are and aren’t aware of it. Understand? If you’re up against someone you can’t beat in sword arts or spells, aiming for this opening will give you a chance at victory.” 

“……!” 

Pete’s expression changed once the pieces clicked into place. 

Oliver smiled, then continued. “For your training, I’m going to be teaching you this. Some people call it the border dance. It won’t be easy, but if you master it, I promise it’ll be a powerful weapon. Is that okay with you?” 

Pete instantly nodded. He begged Oliver to go again, so he could build up even a little more experience before their next class. They drew their swords when an aloof voice caught their attention. 

“What is this? More roundabout methods, eh?” 

Startled, Pete spun around. His eyes landed on the classroom entrance, where a lone boy was leaning against the door. There was no mistaking his unique accent and lanky build. 

“Mr. Rossi…?” 

Oliver addressed the newcomer suspiciously. 

Instead of giving a light wave in response, Rossi spoke again. “I ’eard everything. Our friend with the glasses wants to be strong, does ’e not?” 

“……” 

“Then I will teach you. My way is much faster. Not so fussy. You want to come over to my side?” 

He beckoned to Pete with his hand. Oliver and Chela quickly strode in front of him, blocking the way. 

“…You’re interrupting our session. Please keep your invitations to yourself.” 

“Indeed. I don’t approve of eavesdropping, Mr. Rossi.” 

They kept Rossi back with sharp glares and terse warnings. 

Rossi just chuckled. “Such reliable allies you ’ave to defend you. But is that what you want, my friend?” 

“……!” 

“Feels nice, no? Protected like a princess, leaving all the danger to others. So lucky to be blessed with such kind friends right after starting at the big, scary academy. But do you really think such a person can ever truly be strong?” 

Pete just stood there, lost for words. 

Oliver, standing in front of him, lowered his voice to a growl. “Take your stupid antagonizing comments elsewhere. Or would you like me to take your medallion here and now, Mr. Rossi?” 

His words were laced with venom. If they really did come to blows, he wouldn’t mind at all. Katie and the others tensed, sensing a fight was about to break out. But Rossi raised his hands and let it go. 

“Ha-ha! Thanks, but no thanks. I will be late for class. See you, my bespectacled friend. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me, eh?” he said nonchalantly before turning around. 

Silence returned to the empty classroom, leaving the six of them feeling somewhat miffed. 

Rossi’s intrusion had thrown them off, but it was true that class was about to begin soon. The six of them ran out of the building and headed for the outdoor workspace. They formed up around the last remaining workbench, and a few seconds later, the magical biology instructor appeared. A unique tension ran through the class. 

“Today, you’ll be learning about fairies. Well, I say fairies, but it’s a very broad term.” 

Vanessa Aldiss pointed to the rectangular barrier set up behind her. Inside the glass-like structure were humanoid creatures with translucent wings buzzing all over. There were too many of them to count. 

“Species-wise, they’re as diverse as birds. The category includes creatures from sparrows to vultures. Size-wise, fairies range from barely visible to the naked eye to almost twenty inches tall.” 

She rapped on the barrier with the back of her hand as she spoke. The fairies didn’t seem to respond, which quickly clued Oliver in to what kind of barrier it was. Most likely, it was a one-way barrier constructed to allow people to view captive creatures from the outside. 

“Most fairies are also humanoid in shape. And yet, the tiny demi-humans known as pygmies are classified differently despite so many similarities between the two. Can anyone tell me why? Ms. Aalto, demi-human lover?” 

Vanessa singled out the curly-haired girl with obvious mocking intent. 

Katie answered her stiffly. “…It’s because the structure of their bodies is completely different. The biggest difference is that fairies don’t have ‘brains.’ The neural network that emits from their body acts as a replacement, but their cognitive abilities differ highly from that of humans. It’s said their sense of ‘self’ is very faint, and they are more akin to bees or ants.” 

She delivered her response without stumbling, and the instructor gave a fake gasp of amazement. 

“What a surprise! You have enough sense to separate emotion from reality. Anyway, she’s right. They might look like humans, but their insides and structure are totally different. It’s totally obvious once you dissect them.” 

Vanessa shrugged, then turned back to the students. 

“Every year, I make it a point to teach first-years about fairies. Give you a little taste of fear. Still, they’re darn cute, aren’t they?” 

None of the students blindly accepted this statement, however. In just six short months, they’d quickly learned that this instructor didn’t love living creatures at all. 

“Most fairies are attractive to the eye. But that’s not a coincidence. Cuteness is a legitimate survival tactic. It catches you off guard, makes you want to care for them unconditionally—a huge evolutionary advantage. As a defense mechanism against predators, it can sometimes even be more effective than poison or quick reflexes.” 

Oliver nodded in agreement. There were a fair few magical creatures that used “cuteness” as a weapon. The more developed ones could cast a version of a charm and even bend other creatures to their will. 

“These li’l guys have evolved into these forms on purpose. But cuteness alone doesn’t cut it. If you manage to avoid being eaten, then you’ve gotta find food for yourself. In other words, they have a predatory side as well. That’s what you’re gonna see today.” 

Vanessa grinned, exposing her canines, and pulled out a cage from underneath a nearby workbench. Inside was a live rabbit. She opened the cage and grabbed it forcefully by the back of the neck, then tossed it into the barrier. Apparently, this wasn’t the type of barrier that prevented things from the outside getting in, so the rabbit effortlessly fell into the multitude of fairies. 

The swarm, upon registering the presence of a new creature, instantly began to transform. Their fingers and toes grew sharp; fangs sprouted from their wide mouths; and the beating of their wings grew to a fever pitch. Their cute appearance from a few seconds ago was gone. Their instincts fully honed, the fairies descended upon the rabbit. 

“Impressive change, right? This is what’s called a gregarious phase. Under the right conditions and when the population density of their habitat exceeds a certain value, this aspect manifests. They abandon their cute exteriors for predatorial forms that are specialized for successful hunting. When they’re like this, they’ll even attack and eat humans.” 

The horde of fairies sliced and chomped into the defenseless rabbit. The students silently gulped as they watched its last moments. It was too gruesome a sight to be called the work of nature. 

“There’s nothing to be shocked about. You’re all the same, aren’t you? You feel stronger than you are in groups, and when you feel threatened, you do all you can to survive. This is incredibly natural for living things. Because—” 

She stopped her speech and spread her arms before the barrier. The students tensed, unsure of what she was about to do. The next moment, her arms began to crackle and transform. Her skin expanded from the pressure, revealing a sinister physique. From her hands grew long talons that were fused with her fingers. 

“…!” 

The familiar sight made all of Oliver’s hair stand on end. Immediately, faster than the students’ eyes could follow, Vanessa swung her arms—and with that, the fairies swarming the rabbit were shredded into thousands of fleshy bits and scattered around the barrier. 

“—you all know that this is what happens if you fail. Everyone works their hardest, because their lives depend on it. In this way, millions of creatures accumulate many different sorts of survival methods in their genealogy. And unraveling them is what magical biology’s all about.” 

Vanessa continued where she left off, showing off her bizarre, bloodied arms to the students. The stench of blood and guts gave her words a brutal realism. 

“There are lots of cute creatures out there. But there’s not a single one that’s just cute, without any strings attached. Don’t make light of these creatures, folks. If you don’t want to die, then throw your everything into studying them. For powerless kids like you, that’s what living is for now.” 

Once class was over, the six friends headed for the cafeteria. Katie’s rage was endless. 

“Oh my god! What the hell is wrong with that instructor?!” she shrieked, not caring about all the people staring, and viciously bit into her pie. None of her five friends tried to pacify her. It would have been more worrying if she didn’t fly into a rage. 

“Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that she had a legitimate point underneath all that garbage. But why did she need to feed the fairies a live rabbit and then proceed to slaughter them?! She could’ve just explained it all in words! She just wanted to scare us!” 

“…That was intense, yeah. Don’t really feel like eating now. Right, Nanao—?” 

“Mm?” 

Guy played with his fork in midair, then looked at Nanao to see her cheeks stuffed with food. 

He grinned wryly and shook his head. “…Nah, never mind. You’re as tough as ever, girl.” 

“I still have my appetite, too! Guy, I’m taking this!” Seeing that her friend wasn’t feeling hungry, Katie stole the meat loaf from his plate. 

“Ah, hey! My meat loaf…!” Realizing the danger he’d put himself in, Guy began eating again. 

Chela chuckled. “You’ve all gotten so much stronger since you started here. What about this afternoon, though? We have time to visit some clubs.” 

The group exchanged glances. 

“I wish to see broomsport for myself. It would be a good chance to employ my new partner.” 

“You had a lot of invites to those groups, Nanao. I’ll join you, then.” 

“Mm? You fly, Chela?” 

“I’m confident in my skills, but I’ll just be observing. I can’t wait to see how the broomriding scene will change once you’ve joined the club.” Chela’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. 

Next to her, Pete was poking at his pudding. “…I’m gonna visit the alchemy-related clubs,” he said. “It’ll help me practice for class, and I heard they have lots of students from nonmagical families, so they should be a bit friendlier.” 

“Oh, good idea,” said Oliver. “In alchemy, effort is pretty much directly related to results. I think it’s perfect for you.” He smiled and nodded at Pete. 

Guy sat back in his chair and pondered. “I’ve already checked out the horticulture clubs, so I think I’ll go watch Nanao, too. How ’bout you, Katie?” 

“I’ve got a whole bunch on my list. First, I’ll check out the Demi-Human Research Society, and then of course the Magical Creature Club. Oh, and there are a bunch of civil-rights-related groups—” Katie counted off more clubs than her fingers could handle. 

Guy shook his head with chagrin. “Guess you’re on your own, too, then. And you, Oliver?” 

“Mm…” 

Oliver felt the group’s eyes on him, and so he looked back. Then almost as he expected, he found himself staring into Nanao’s eyes, which were brimming with hope. 

In the end, everyone except Pete and Katie went to check out the broomriding club. There were four practice grounds on campus—one for the daily practice of each of the four official academy teams. The gang decided to visit the field for the Wild Geese team. 

“Ohhh! Samurai girl, you came!” 

Some older students, a boy and a girl, spotted the four of them from the air and landed excitedly. 

The Azian girl stepped forward to thank them for the welcome. “My name is Nanao Hibiya. May I have the honor of observing your practice?” 

“We’d be crazy to say no! Come on! Bring your friends!” 

The girl circled around the group and urged them toward the practice field. Once she’d sat them on the observing bench, she waved to her teammates and gave them a sign. Then the boy proceeded to explain. 

“Let me begin with a summary, then. Any sport that involves broomsticks is considered part of ‘broomsport.’ Within that category are three major types of games, known as the Big Three.” 

The boy spoke as if he’d done this a thousand times. Simultaneously, large rings began to rise all over the field. The players also set off, circling the elliptical field at a high speed atop their long brooms. 

“First, you’ve got group obstacle courses! The floating rings are the course, and you have to fly through them in order, or you’re disqualified. Other than that, the faster, the better!” 

Behind their guide, the team gave a demonstration. Then the girl pushed him from behind and leaned forward. 

“Second is a one-on-one duel between two people flying in a figure-eight shape!” she said. “In this one, you get some gnarly collisions. The players use special clubs to try and knock each other off, so it seems simple, but it’s actually really involved!” 

As she explained, two players broke off from the group that was circling the field. They faced each other from opposite ends, then flew in arcs toward each other, rising high. They drew their weapons from their waists, then rocketed toward the ground, barely avoiding a collision. The heavy sound of clubs clashing echoed, and Nanao cheered. 

“Ohhh! They fight in midair?!” 

“Intense, isn’t it? This is real broomsport!” Chela joined in on the cheering. 

Emboldened, the older girl resumed her speech. 

“And third, the star of broomsport and everyone’s favorite: team battles!” 

The players split into two teams, assembled formations, and faced off. They glared at each other for a few seconds and then clashed head-on. With clubs in both hands, the players tried to knock the opposing team off their brooms. It seemed like a real battle was going on up there. 

“The quickest explanation is that it’s like the second type, but with teams of thirteen!” the boy added. “There are a bunch of detailed rules, but the main point is if you knock down the enemy’s leader, you win. Fight, fight!” 

He whooped and cheered, and the girl pushed him aside again. 

“‘Brutal, yet beautiful.’ That’s the broomsport motto. Here, brutality is beauty, and fighting spirit is everything! So if you’re willing, I’d like to—” 

“Uwah?!” 

Just as her explanation was reaching its conclusion, someone from up above screamed. One of the players had crashed into another, knocking them off their broom. They hurtled to the ground, seemingly sucked into it—“Elletardus!” 

Right when they were about to land on the grass, Oliver jumped up from the bench and cast a spell to stop their momentum, gently lowering them to the ground. The field went quiet. Still holding his wand, Oliver felt a bit awkward. 

“Sorry. It just seemed like they were falling too fast…” 

He’d been unable to simply sit by and do nothing. He tried to apologize again, but the girl clapped him on the shoulder. 

“…You wanna be a catcher?” 

“Huh?” 

“You’ve got good eyes. Like you said, that fall could’ve been bad. The grass can handle a normal fall, but an accelerated one like that can end in huge injuries. The people who prevent that from happening are called catchers. They wait on the ground and catch falling players.” 

The girl pointed at the student Oliver had saved to help reinforce her point. Oliver was in a daze. 

“They’re responsible for our safety and are also known as the pillars of our sport. They’re really important to sport flying. Your spells need to be accurate, of course, but you also need to be able to predict the players’ movements—just like you did. None of our catchers responded in time, but you made it. You’ve got talent.” 

“…No, I just happened to be in the right spot…” 

“Or you can join the club as a player. Practice your butt off and try to become a starter, or just relax and enjoy the games. Either’s fine! Only thing is, we’re always in need of catchers for both sides. It’d be a huge help if you could fill that role. I’d be in your debt!” 

“……I-I’ll think about it.” 

It was all Oliver could do to offer that in the face of her passion and insistence. 

“Looking forward to a yes!” the girl replied, then turned and ran onto the field to check the fallen student’s injuries. 

“That could be a good idea,” Chela muttered. 

“Chela?” 

“Thinking back on flying class, I do believe Nanao is likely to be quite reckless in her flying. I can easily see her falling in a bad way during practice… In fact, I know it’ll happen. But if you were there, Oliver, I’m sure you’d be excellent support.” 

“Oh! Indeed, I agree!” Nanao clapped her hands at this idea. 

Oliver instinctively pinched his brow. “…You want me to join the club and be Nanao’s personal catcher?” 

“Only if you want to, of course. But you have so much talent. It would surely be fulfilling.” 

Chela smiled faintly, and Oliver sighed. He couldn’t dismiss it offhand as a stupid idea, which meant he’d lost half the battle already. 

Members who weren’t aiming to become starters were free to participate in the club as they saw fit, and they could quit whenever they wanted to. Oliver mulled that over in his dorm room after what had been a long day. 

“……” 

The truth was, he wanted to wait to decide on joining until after he’d visited the other three teams. But the most important thing was whether he should join with Nanao or not. She’d been pulling him this way and that ever since he started at Kimberly, for better or worse. Was it really a good idea to extend that relationship into their clubs? 

“…Actually, setting aside Nanao, do I really want to practice flying outside of class? It’ll take extra time,” Oliver muttered to himself as he thought, sitting on his bed. 

Pete, who had been studying at his desk, glanced over at him. “…If you want to do it, then you should, I think.” 

“Pete?” 

“I’m not trying to interfere with your choice, but you seem to be constantly searching for excuses not to do what you actually want to do.” 

Oliver stiffened in surprise at his roommate’s unexpected comment. The bespectacled boy turned back to his desk, as if trying to escape his gaze. Oliver studied Pete’s back as the boy resumed studying. 

“…‘Constantly searching for excuses,’ huh?” 

Repeating it aloud, he realized there was a terrible amount of truth in those words. Oliver smirked and stood up from his bed. 

“Thanks. I’ll think it over for a few days. Anyway, I better go.” 

“Oh…” 

Oliver started for the door, and Pete made a sound, as if trying to say something. Oliver looked at him, and the bespectacled boy fumbled to find the words. 

“…It’s nothing. Take care.” 

“Right. Thanks.” 

Oliver accepted his friend’s well wishes and left the room. He exited the dorm and walked alone under the stars toward the academy. 

Tonight’s entrance to the labyrinth was a giant basin in the corner of the third floor. Like paintings and mirrors, bodies of water were often connected to other realms. And yet, because the location they connected to changed depending on the day, students had to memorize their pattern in order to traverse between the academy and the labyrinth. 

“……!” 

The moment he arrived in the dark hallway, a heavy pressure weighed down his shoulders. Even after six months at Kimberly, entering the labyrinth on his own still filled him with dread. It was like the distance between him and death itself had just shrunk significantly. Would he ever get used to this feeling? 

“…Get it together. If you can’t walk around here on your own, you’ll never be able to do anything.” 

Oliver lightly smacked his cheeks and recovered his nerves before illuminating the tip of his athame and proceeding cautiously into the labyrinth. A few minutes later, he sensed people, and after the third corner he turned, he came upon two upperclassmen. 

“Whoa there, kid. We’re not your enemies.” 

“You a first-year? You’re too young to be walking around here alone. Don’t go in too far.” 

Fortunately, they didn’t linger and left him with just a warning. Oliver breathed a sigh of relief, then turned his eyes back to the dark hallway. 

“…They’re right. Can’t let down my guard.” 

But regardless of his precautions, the next run-in blew away all his convictions. Such occurrences were all too common at Kimberly. 

“Hmm? Aren’t you…?” 

After about an hour of wandering, Oliver ran into her. In a corner of the hall was a hauntingly beautiful witch sitting atop a stone and looking bored. Like their previous run-in, the air about her was thick with heart-stealing perfume. 

“……Ms.…Salvadori?” 

He called her name, as tense as if he’d just run into a monster. 

The witch, Ophelia Salvadori, grinned sarcastically. “Yes, that’s me. Calm down, I’m not going to do anything to you right now. I’m not in the mood. Can’t you tell?” 

The witch swung her dangling legs from her perch atop the stone. 

Oliver frowned. He certainly couldn’t sense any danger like in their previous meeting. 

“You’ve grown resistant to my perfume, haven’t you? Good. I could use a companion. I’m not asking you to be my friend or anything. I just need someone, anyone to talk to.” 

It was hard to tell if she was joking or serious. Ophelia pointed to the stone she was sitting on, inviting him to join her. Oliver considered turning on his heel and sprinting in the opposite direction, but perhaps it wouldn’t be a good idea to anger her in this place of endless darkness. 

He thought for a few more moments, then sat down slightly distanced from the witch. He knew she meant no harm right now, and he aimed to keep from kicking a hornet’s nest. 

“…Have you been living in the labyrinth this whole time?” he asked. 

“Oh, I’ve gone back to the academy. I get a hankering for the cafeteria’s pumpkin pie, you know? Do you like their pie, too?” 

“…I guess I prefer tarts.” 

Oliver wavered but decided to answer honestly. It would be easy to simply agree with her constantly, but that seemed too obviously fake. If she really wanted to just shoot the breeze with a lowerclassman, then this was probably the best course of action. 

Ophelia smiled. Oliver was relieved to see he’d chosen the correct response. 

“Yeah, I like them, too. I’ve been hearing rumors of you guys really making a name for yourselves. How did it feel, fighting that garuda?” 

“The truth is, I’m bewildered we won. And honestly, I’d rather never do it again.” 

Oliver answered honestly, and Ophelia giggled. 

“Godfrey said something similar once. This is just a guess, but I think he likes you and your friends.” 

“…What makes you think that?” 

“Because you’re so similar. Especially the part about first-years going on adventures that are way out of your league. Carlos and I were often his accomplices.” 

It was a surprising past to reveal. Oliver resisted the urge to instantly question her. Instead, Ophelia softly asked a question of her own. “…Have you talked to Carlos? You remember that pretentious twit who was with Godfrey, don’t you? I think they’re a prefect now.” 

Oliver considered his response to this carefully, too. If he told her about the gathering the other night, he’d be clueing her into Pete’s secret. So he spoke about everything but that night. 

“…Carlos gave me some advice about living at Kimberly, and we’ve chatted a few times. They seem like a caring person, just like Godfrey.” 

“Caring? No, Carlos just has their own little proclivities. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up being their next pet. Carlos loves younger kids who respond well to attention, like you and your friends.” 

It was difficult to tell if this was a warning or an insult. 

The witch stretched out. “Ah, I feel a bit better. Thanks for killing some time with me. However…” 

“—!” 

She touched his chin with a white fingertip, and he stiffened. 

Ophelia smiled bewitchingly. “…I don’t recommend wandering around this deep on your own. Limit your adventures and stick to your studies in the academy—especially for the next few months.” 

And with that, she stood up and walked down the hall. Once she’d disappeared behind a corner and the lingering perfume had thinned, Oliver exhaled a deep sigh of relief. 

After parting peaceably with Ophelia, Oliver walked for another twenty minutes before arriving at his destination. 

He chanted the password, revealing the secret door, and upon entering the room, he was immediately embraced by a girl with pale-golden hair. 

“Noll!” 

A bit surprised, Oliver accepted the hug. 

“Whoa! Good evening, Shannon.” 

He gently pushed her away by the shoulders. Then he looked to the center of the room, where he spotted a large young man sitting and attending to his contrabass. 

“Thanks for coming, Noll. How was the walk?” 

“I didn’t get lost, at least, and I think I avoided any dangerous areas… I still need to get used to it, though. Carefully.” 

The copper-haired young man nodded deeply at his honest remarks. The pale-blond girl smiled, too, and placed a hand on his shoulder. They were his brother, Gwyn Sherwood, and sister, Shannon Sherwood, both upperclassmen at Kimberly and his blood relatives—specifically, his cousins. 

“More importantly, I was surprised to see you the other night, Gwyn. I didn’t know you were a duo act with Carlos.” 

“It’s true. I wouldn’t call them an ally, but we’ve known each other a long time.” 

Gwyn spoke calmly as he continued to care for his instrument. Just hearing his deep, calm voice was enough to ease Oliver’s tension. 

“That said, I’m happy to hear you were able to get here on your own. This is me and Shannon’s secret atelier—think of it as your second home. Take a break or train here; it’s your choice.” 

“I’ll…make tea,” said Shannon. “Noll, want some cake?” 

Shannon began happily preparing a whole tea service. Within five minutes, she’d produced some black tea and cakes, as well as a chair, which Oliver accepted. Across from him at the table sat Gwyn, and next to him was Shannon, who smiled gently. 

Oliver picked up his teacup and took a sip. “…Ah, I can finally relax. I was so on edge making my way here. Especially when I ran into Ophelia. I nearly fainted then.” 

The moment she heard this, Shannon leaned in extremely close to Oliver. It was all Oliver could do to keep from spilling his tea. 

“You…met Lia? Where?” 

Her expression was deadly serious. Taken aback by her reaction, Oliver quickly summed up his run-in with the witch. 

Shannon rose from her seat, but Gwyn stopped her with a soft warning. 

“Don’t. If she returned to the depths after leaving Noll, then at this point, you’ll never catch her.” 

Shannon dropped her gaze dejectedly. 

Finished with his instrument’s care, Gwyn crossed his arms. “So, Salvadori, huh? She’s a dangerous one, but she and Shannon aren’t enemies. Long ago, they even used to get along. They haven’t seen each other in a year, though.” 

“…You were friends, Shannon?” 

“Lia gets…lonely,” Shannon muttered. 

Suddenly, Oliver had a realization: The girl he was so scared of was also just a student one year below his sister. 

“Funny how things work, huh? I heard you two met soon after the entrance ceremony, but it’s rare to find her this high up. She must’ve had some reason.” 

Gwyn closed his eyes and pondered what this reason might be for a while, but he decided against thinking anymore and opened his eyes. Oliver’s reflection shimmered in their gentle light. 

“Enough talk about Salvadori. Tell me about you. Anything’s fine. Shannon and I can’t wait to hear it.” 

Shannon perked up and smiled at Oliver. Feeling a little shy, the boy searched his memories for something to tell them. 

“There’s been a lot… Where do I even begin?” 

When their teacups were empty, Oliver had just about finished his reminiscing. 

“Nanao Hibiya, eh?” 

Gwyn muttered the name of the person who appeared the most in his younger brother’s stories. Oliver had described her in the most detail, so of course Gwyn would mention her first. 

Oliver nodded. “She’s still green as a mage, but she’s got true talent, even if it is unconventional,” he said. “And it’s growing, day by day. At this rate, it’s hard to imagine where she’ll be in a year.” 

He was straightforward in his explanation, including his own inability to quantify her talents. After a few moments, Gwyn spoke up again. 

“…Are you sure she employs the seventh spellblade?” 

“I can’t be totally certain… She only used it once, in the battle against Vera Miligan. She’s tried to replicate it since, but to no avail. But my instinct says it is. Even if she was a temporary spellblade user, I can say it was of the same caliber.” 

Oliver’s conviction surpassed all reason. Gwyn, too, seemed to accept what he said without doubt. Once the topic had shifted to this subject, Oliver was no longer Gwyn’s younger brother but his lord and master. 

“She also has this amazing charisma that draws people to her, don’t you think? Reminds me of a certain someone.” 

Gwyn’s comment made Oliver bite his lip. He’d expected this response, as well. 

“…At the Broom Matching, Mom’s broom accepted her.” The memory was still fresh in his mind. 

Gwyn wasn’t surprised, since he’d already been told that a samurai from Azia had tamed “that” broom. He hadn’t known anything about the girl herself, as the story had circulated around the school the very day it happened. 

“Nanao has something in her. I feel it, too—I can’t keep my eyes off her. She’s also quite reckless, and I can hardly leave her to her own devices. I don’t know what to do…” 

Oliver laid his feelings bare to his two cousins, still unable to identify the emotions that continued to bloom within him. A soft smile rose on Shannon’s lips. 

“You…really care for this girl, don’t you, Noll?” 

“I…” 

He couldn’t immediately agree, but he also couldn’t deny it. Was it right to sum this feeling up as affection? Oliver furrowed his brow. 

“Calm down, Noll,” Gwyn said. “It’s no use glossing over the truth with Shannon… The feeling of ‘attraction’ is very important to mages. This girl will most likely bring about a great change in your life. You shouldn’t hide from that.” 

His brother was telling him to stop trying to forcefully express his nebulous feelings with words and just let them exist within his heart. 

Oliver swallowed. He was at a loss. What distance should he take with her? What kind of relationship should they have? 

“When the time comes, you’ll know what to call it. Don’t rush the conclusion. Take it easy. You’re still first-years.” 

“……” 

“Certainly, we’d love to get this Nanao Hibiya to join us. But haste makes waste. Don’t let awkward selfishness cloud your mind at this stage. Just be yourself and be sincere with your friends. That’s the key to gaining allies—for both sides of you, Noll.” 

Gwyn’s grounded advice struck a chord in Oliver’s heart, and he could feel the wavering part of him settle down. Oliver nodded. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right… I’m glad I got to talk to you about this. Well, I should get going.” 

Shannon was about to refill his cup, but he stopped her with a hand and stood from his seat. If he stayed here any longer, he might grow too attached. Shannon’s face fell, and she reached out for him. 

“…Take care, Noll.” 

Oliver accepted the embrace and hugged her back. She was warm. Family. He didn’t want to let go. The feelings rose in him, but he made sure not to express any of them. He knew all too well that he didn’t have the right. At the same time, he knew that his inner conflict was clear as day to her. 

“Don’t worry. I promise I’ll come back.” 

Which was why any pretense of strength wasn’t allowed. Oliver made his promise not with empty hope but with unwavering determination. 

For about an hour after he left the secret atelier, Oliver wandered the labyrinth without any particular destination in mind. Then, about forty minutes later, he felt a prickling on the nape of his neck. 

“……” 

He changed his direction a bit, searching for a specific place this time. Somewhere wide, with flat ground and no risk of disturbances. Once he found an area that fit all these criteria, Oliver stopped again. 

“…That’s enough. Come out, Mr. Rossi,” he growled. Immediately, a lanky figure poked his head out from a corner behind him. 

“Aw, you knew? So sad.” 

The boy stepped into the hall, scratching the back of his head. It was none other than Tullio Rossi, the one who’d suggested the first-years’ battle-royal tournament. Oliver fixed him with a look and asked him a single question. 

“I’d sensed you were after me ever since you suggested the event in the cafeteria. Did I do something to earn your ire?” 

“Nah, nah. I have nothing against you or your family.” 

“Then why are you after me?” 

Rossi jokingly shrugged at the follow-up question. “I do not like that you get all the attention and I get none. Is that not enough of a reason?” 

“You’re entitled to your opinions, but I doubt I get more attention than Nanao.” 

“Nanao is cute, so she is exempt. I cannot ’ate her.” 

It was impossible to read his true intentions from such a frivolous answer. Oliver glared at him silently as Rossi quickly drew his athame. 

“But who cares about the details? A fight will reveal the truth. That is what is so great about them, no?” 

He was no longer in the mood to answer questions, Oliver realized, placing a hand on his blade as well. 

“Two things: No magic, and we keep the dulling spell to ’alf potency. What do you say, eh?” 

“……” 

“I am not into pesky shoot-outs—it’s not a real fight if there is no blood. Let us just keep it to one step above gutting each other. Then we will ’ave a battle fitting of the labyrinth!” 

Rossi sneered. Not only did he want to keep their duel to swords only, but he also wanted to purposely lighten the effects of the spell that prevented them from killing each other. Up top, this would only be allowed of senior students, but down in the labyrinth, such rules were effectively meaningless. Oliver nodded in agreement with his opponent’s suggestions. 

“Sure, I accept both conditions.” 

“Ha-ha! Down to party, eh? I like it!” 

Rossi cackled. The more dangerous conditions weren’t enough to shake Oliver, but Rossi seemed almost at home in the labyrinth. Alarm bells sounded in Oliver’s head. 

““Securus.”” 

They applied weakened versions of the dulling spell to each other’s blades, and once the white glow subsided, they took their places within the one-step, one-spell distance. 

“Are we ready? Then let us begin!” 

Rossi readied his sword. Oliver pointed his sword tip at his opponent as well, who all of a sudden shouted at him. 

“Ah, right! I forgot to mention something!” 

“……?” 

What now? he wanted to ask, but Rossi took off. He swung at Oliver from the side, trying to cut into his armpit; Oliver used his athame as a shield to block the strike. 

“Actually, on second thought, I did not.” 

“Right off the bat with this, huh?” 

Oliver frowned as their swords clashed. A head-on “surprise” attack as soon as the duel started—Rossi was proving to be as conniving as his first impression had suggested. 

The weight pressing against Oliver’s blade vanished, and his enemy attacked again. Moving from a diagonal slash into a strike at Oliver’s wrist, Rossi employed the two attacks as a feint for his thrust; Oliver blocked them all. Rossi’s volley of blows continued, and he shouted in excitement. 

“Ha-ha! Nice defense, eh! Beautiful use of the Lanoff style! You ’ad a good teacher, no?” 

Rossi dropped his body, and his blade whistled through the air toward Oliver’s shin. A strike aimed for his legs was annoying, to say the least. Oliver instantly shifted his leading foot, and once the attack missed, he countered with a thrust of his own. 

“Whoa!” 

There’s no way he can dodge now, Oliver thought, but Rossi dived onto the floor in a roll. As he passed Oliver’s side, Rossi swung at his ankle. Oliver yanked his foot up to avoid the blow. Rossi landed behind him, then stood up and got into a midstance again. 

“Unlike me, my sword can be quite rude. She is such a contrarian that I cannot even practice the most fundamental styles. That is why all my teachers ’ave bored me. Stupid, no?” 

The rule against spells in their duel allowed Rossi time to run his mouth. His sword technique, however, surprised Oliver. He was all over the place. Attacking the legs, dodging by rolling—he ignored the basics of sword arts without a second thought. And yet, surprisingly enough, there was no awkwardness in his movements. 

“You see, I am my own man. The Lanoff style, the Rizett style, the Koutz style—none of them speak to me. Every time I learned a technique, I could not help but think there was a quicker way. ’ave you ever thought about it, Mr. ’orn?” 

Oliver half ignored the arrogant question, focusing on their duel instead. There was no need to rush. First, he had to understand his opponent’s fighting style. What he’d seen so far, he assumed, was Rossi’s basic style. However, that didn’t mean Oliver was stuck in a defensive battle. 

“Hah!” 

Oliver attacked head-on, without feints. It was a standard plan to counter abnormal styles with the orthodox approach. He’d attack relentlessly, giving no openings and laying on the pressure until his opponent was backed against the wall, then deliver the final blow. From his experience, people like Rossi usually buckled under such pressure. 

“Ho!” 

Unfortunately, his plan fell apart after the first strike. Oliver widened his eyes in surprise—his blade had been blocked, but not by his opponent’s sword. Rossi’s left hand was covered in armor, which he’d used to counter the sword with a punch. 

“Like this, for example.” 

But it didn’t end there. Before Oliver could mount a second strike, Rossi stamped down on his foot. Prevented from moving backward, Oliver faltered, and Rossi struck, nearly tackling him in the process. 

“And this!” 

Forced to block from an awkward position, Oliver quickly jumped back. The flurry of blows continued, greedily aiming for his vital spots. Oliver barely managed to parry each strike. There was no time for him to counter, and his opponent was in complete control of the fight. 

“…So fighting dirty is your specialty, huh?” 

“Apologies for my poor manners.” 

Everything but their duel melted away, and they found themselves in a deadlock. Oliver could feel his opponent’s breath from across his sword as he analyzed his fighting style. 

Rossi’s nondominant hand, which was covered in a gauntlet, was his only way of blocking sword strikes other than using his own athame. And yet, using his hand as a shield wasn’t easy. The surface area was just too small. But making it larger wasn’t an option because adamant, the magical metal his gauntlet was made of, was extremely hard but also extremely heavy. In order to keep it from weighing him down, the biggest he could make it was about half the size of his hand. 

With those limits in mind, it naturally followed that the gauntlet could only be used as a shield in the direst moments of their fight. However, some fighters employed the metal in a more offensive fashion—not as a gauntlet, but as a knuckle guard for their fist to blunt their opponent’s attacks. None of the three basic sword arts styles endorsed this technique; in fact, it was practically a taboo. 

“Do what you want. This won’t be enough to break my training,” Oliver stated confidently, admitting his opponent was tricky. 

Rossi narrowed his eyes sharply. “You will regret your offer,” he spat. 

The two edged toward each other. As soon as they entered the one-step, one-spell distance, Rossi dashed forward. Circling to Oliver’s left, he unleashed two blows; Oliver didn’t miss the fact that he’d quickly stepped in with his back foot. He’s going to force me on the defensive with his fist, Oliver realized, and he focused all his effort on cleaving the incoming fist. 

“—?!” 

The blow to his face took him completely by surprise. 

“Ha-haaah!” 

Sensing his opponent’s confusion, Rossi capitalized on the opening. He rained down a flurry of blows right through Oliver’s guard. An urge to jump back welled up inside Oliver, but he stubbornly ignored it. If he retreated, Rossi would run him right through, his mind screamed. So instead, he put his all into standing his ground, continuing to play defense. 

“Hup!” 

Rossi weaved in a thrust to the face among his attacks. The moment Oliver sensed a break in the assault, he instantly jumped back and distanced himself. A sick grin spread on Rossi’s lips. 

“His calm mask has finally started to crack. It’s refreshing to see!” 

Using the back of his hand, Oliver quietly wiped away something hot that was dripping down his nose. As he expected, a line of bright-red fluid stained his skin. His nose was bleeding from Rossi’s punch. 

“……!” 

There was no mistaking it. At that moment, Oliver accepted the fact that he’d taken a hit. 

“I bet you never expected to get a nosebleed, eh? Mages are all the same. But I find it strange. We all have this piece of metal on one hand, and yet no one ever tries to punch. Why? If he is too small for defense, then just use him for offense, no?” 

“……” 

“There are so few strike techniques. That is my biggest complaint with the three basic styles. You want to know what I think? Mages are too focused on looks. This is a fight to the death, no? It is not any different from a brawl between nonmagicals. So should we not use every tool at our disposal?” Rossi shamelessly stated. 

Oliver wiped the blood from his lip. “…I have to thank you, Mr. Rossi,” he replied. 

“Hah?” 

“You’ve made me painfully aware of my own shortcomings. I’m totally worthless. Not worth the salt I sweat. Not after taking a blow from the likes of you.” It was a harsh thing to say about himself. 

Rossi’s face contorted with fury. “…’ilarious. Looking for another beating, eh?” 

Rossi’s lips drew back, revealing his canines in a most disturbing impression of a smile. 

But Oliver just shook his head and remained in his stance. “Not going to happen. Your sword will break in the next eight moves.” 

Oliver spoke with the utmost confidence. 

A gruesome smile formed on Rossi’s face. “Very funny, my friend. No one ’as made me so angry in a long time!” 

He was clearly in no mood for more talking. Rossi attacked Oliver for a third time, striking from every angle and building momentum with each strike. His wild flurry ignored all the basics of sword arts. 

Oliver calmly dodged, coldly calculating his chance for a counterattack. “Gotcha!” 

Aiming for the moment Oliver moved to counter, Rossi shot his left arm out again. An adamant-gauntlet punch—his secret move that ignored the rules of sword arts. He used his right arm to strike out with his sword as well, intending to prevent any escape this time. 

“—?!” 

But the moment Rossi was sure of his victory, Oliver snaked his arms around Rossi’s left arm and locked it in place. 

“This is the reason the three basic styles have very few fist techniques, Mr. Rossi.” 

“Kah…!” 

Rossi’s pinned shoulder began to creak from the strain. The moment he’d extended his fist, Oliver had wrapped his arms around it and circled to Rossi’s left. In this position, he was totally out of range of his opponent’s athame. Rossi’s expression twisted with pain and panic. 

“At punching distance, throws and locks also become viable. Basically, the king of your beloved close-up brawls is actually grappling, not punching. If you don’t finish the fight in one blow, it’s not even good as a distraction against an opponent who’s willing to take the hit in order to win. You’re basically asking to be grappled by extending your arm. You’re defenseless.” 

He eased off just before the joint snapped and continued lecturing, making sure that his captive student learned his lesson in the fundamentals of close-quarters combat. 

“You managed to scrape together some semblance of style on your own. I’ll admit, you have talent. You slugged me good, after all. But the history behind orthodox styles won’t be demolished with a single punch.” 

“Gah—aaaah!” 

Rossi’s shoulder dislocated with a dull pop; Rossi had done it on purpose. The pain and fear of his body breaking wasn’t enough to dampen a mage’s fighting spirit. Gladly sacrificing an arm in order to escape the lock, Rossi turned to face Oliver. 

“Do not lecture me! This is not over yet!” 

“It is now.” 

Rossi charged at his opponent in a murderous fury, and Oliver settled into his stance stoically. There was nothing to fear. Rossi was off balance from forcing his way out of the armlock, and his breathing was uncharacteristically labored from the pain of his dislocated shoulder. Tullio Rossi stood no chance of winning in his current state. 

This final clash would decide the duel. Rossi aimed a thrust at Oliver’s head, and Oliver calmly knocked it away with the back of his left hand. The blade slashed through nothing but air as Rossi’s body was defenselessly exposed to a lethal strike—this was the proper use of the gauntlet. With enough foresight and the right timing, one could strike the oncoming blade from the side and render it useless. On top of that, this also created a huge opening. The three basic styles all shared this high-level technique: the parry. 

Rossi watched in shock as the duel-ending blow raced toward his arm. There was nothing he could do to resist. A successful parry was a death sentence. 

“—That was eight moves, Mr. Rossi.” 

The loser’s athame dropped from his hands, dripping with fresh blood. There was a deep gash on his upper arm, and his weapon was on the floor. A long silence passed as Rossi looked between his wound and his athame. 

“You really piss me off…,” he hissed weakly. 

A few minutes later, he treated his injuries without any help from Oliver. 

“Here, your medallion.” 

Rossi removed the medallion from his robe pocket and tossed it curtly to him. Oliver caught it, and as he was examining it, Rossi let out an exaggerated sigh. 

“This does not look so good now. I lost the one battle I did not want to. Even got a lecture.” 

“…I was a little high-handed. Sorry.” 

Oliver gave a short apology after checking to see if the medallion was genuine. 

Rossi snorted. “And I ’ate the little good boy act. Do not apologize. Whatever. We are done ’ere. Good-bye.” 

He waved a hand and made to leave. 

Oliver thought for a bit, then called out to him. “Mr. Rossi—like I said during our duel, you have good instincts. Depending on how you polish them, they could become quite a powerful weapon. But stay as you are, and you’ll eventually hit a wall.” 

“……” 

“I suggest you choose one of the three basic styles and relearn it from scratch before you pick up bad habits. It’s not too late to create your own style once you’ve mastered the basics. Actually, the Koutz style requires good instincts, so it might be a good fit—” 

“What the ’ell is your deal?!” 

Rossi spun around, unable to bear Oliver’s advice any longer. He stared at Oliver, eyes full of bewilderment. 

“Stop pouring salt in my wounds! You already got your medallion, no? What more do you want from me?” 

Oliver chewed his lip. He realized that a gracious winner shouldn’t lecture the loser. But he just couldn’t stay silent. 

“I realize I’m meddling. But I just feel it’s a waste… Actually, I’m jealous of your unique talent.” 

“…What?” 

“In our duel, all I did was replicate what my teacher taught me. None of it came from my own imagination. It’s like that with everything. I’m only a borrower, a caretaker of others’ things… There’s nothing that’s truly my own.” 

His expression bitter, Oliver stared down at the palms of his hands. They could handle many things with ease, like sword arts techniques and the proper spell for a situation. And yet, it never felt like he’d exceeded his teacher’s instructions. 

“So I just want you to value the talent you have. That’s all. I’m sorry that I always sound like I’m giving a lecture.” 

Oliver shamefully dropped his gaze. 

Rossi furrowed his brow and studied the boy. “Good boy ’as ’is own troubles, eh? …Whatever,” he stated simply, then turned on his heel and left for good this time. 

Once he’d disappeared around a corner, Oliver finally breathed a sigh of relief. Then a voice came from right behind him. 

“Excellent work, my lord.” 

“……?!” 

He jumped forward like a startled rabbit, simultaneously spinning around. His gaze landed on a small, kneeling girl who had appeared out of nowhere. 

“I was witness to your duel. Your victory certainly put him in his place. I was utterly impressed.” 

“…Oh, it’s you, Ms. Carste.” 

He exhaled in relief once he realized who she was—there kneeled the girl his brother had introduced to him the evening he’d executed Darius Grenville. Her name was Teresa Carste; born and raised in the labyrinth, her mastery of invisibility was beyond compare. 

“Thanks for the compliment, but it wasn’t that impressive of a duel. I even took a hit in the first half. I’m really getting fed up with how green I am.” Oliver spoke honestly, not even trying to hold up a facade since Teresa had probably seen everything herself. 

The girl shook her head firmly. “He wouldn’t have been able to even catch your shadow if he’d faced the version of you from that night.” 

She slipped close, making not a sound. The air itself barely moved. 

“I admire that raw version of you, like a naked blade. Your kindness is a sheath that clouds your brilliance.” 

“—!” 

A pair of eyes peered up at him, and he recoiled. Teresa grabbed his right hand with both of hers. 

“If cutting me down will part the clouds, then please go ahead. It would be my honor to become your whetstone, my lord.” 

She placed his hand on the hilt of his athame. 

Oliver stared into her eyes. “…Your cheeks are red, Ms. Carste.” 

He meant to catch her off guard. Teresa stiffened for a moment, then immediately pressed her hands on her cheeks. 

“I had a suspicion about this when we first met, but that’s not how you normally talk, is it? I appreciate that you’re making an effort for my sake, but I think you’re overdoing it. Just relax.” 

He pushed further. He was quite aware that he was in a position to lead many, but that didn’t mean he wanted to create fanatics. Especially not out of young children. So he attempted to stress that this wasn’t to his tastes. 

“Th-that’s not true…sir.” 

The unexpected response made her slip a little. Good, Oliver thought as he observed her. The last thing he wanted was to groom this young girl into an avenger’s right hand. Even if such a wish was helplessly contradictory. 

“I won’t use and abandon you as a whetstone or as a follower. Remember that.” 

“…F-forgive me!” 

Teresa ran off, unable to hide how shaken she was. She quickly disappeared into the darkness of the labyrinth. Silence returned, and Oliver reflected on his behavior: Was I acting mature? 

Meanwhile, Rossi was heading toward the academy after parting ways with Oliver, the memories of his loss roiling in his mind. 

“Dammit… Ah, dammit, I’m so pissed!” 

His frustration had reached a boiling point. He could have swallowed the humiliation of defeat. But a different sort of bitterness dominated his heart. 

“What the ’ell did ’e say? Relearn one of the basic styles from scratch? Oh, so easy. Who the ’ell does ’e think ’e is?” 

Rossi scowled. He’d hated Oliver Horn ever since he’d first seen him in sword arts class. Oliver valued the basic styles and stuck to orthodox methods; all the complete opposite of him. But most of all, he could see in Oliver’s swordsmanship the incredible amount of effort it had taken him to get there. 

“…Just ’ow much ’as ’e trained? ’e replicates the textbook perfectly.” 

A chill ran up Rossi’s spine. He’d picked up techniques from a bunch of different styles, but he and everyone else agreed that he conformed to no one style. Aiming for the legs and using fist strikes were techniques he’d specifically developed to counter “honorable” opponents. But things didn’t look so good if a boy his own age could break down his strategy after one clash. 

And yet, Oliver Horn had done exactly that. Looking back on it, the only attack Rossi had connected with was the blow to his face. All his more dangerous sword strikes had been blocked, never making contact with Oliver’s body. He’d been completely shut down by the most orthodox, by-the-book method possible. 

“’e’s one crazy bastard,” Rossi said honestly. That wasn’t the sort of territory a normal fifteen-year-old had any business being in. If he was extremely talented or had good instincts, it might make sense. But after crossing swords with him, Rossi knew that Oliver Horn wasn’t that type. He’d just filled his every waking moment with training. That was the only thing he could think of. All to immediately obtain what he might have in ten or twenty years. The training to achieve that must have been insanely strict—torturous, even. 

“I just want you to value the talent you have.” 

“……” 

Rossi had walked a path of thorns for years and years. And it was for this reason that Rossi understood the weight of those words, whether he liked it or not. His pace slowed until eventually, he stopped. Scratching the back of his head, he exhaled deeply. 

“…Haah, fine. I can go beg Instructor Garland. It is not my style to learn the proper way, but…I ’ate losing even more.” 

He’d once again face everything he’d belittled till now. Rossi knew this was a path he would never have chosen just the previous day, and it made him chuckle bitterly. What could he do? There was no point resisting after witnessing such swordsmanship. 

“…Lost, did you?” 

Just as he’d begun attempting to accept his new situation, a chilling voice echoed in his ear from behind. 

“All it takes is one look to recognize a loser. Who beat you?” 

Their tone was past ridicule or sarcasm—this was pure scorn. Rossi’s face immediately tightened. He didn’t need to turn around to know who was there. 

“Of all the people I could meet, it ’ad to be you, eh?” 

Deep inside him, it made some sort of sense. Challenging someone to a duel, losing utterly, and then escaping unharmed was unheard of at Kimberly. 

“Before I waste my time, let me ask: You still have medallions left to give me, correct?” 

The arrogance of a predator seeped into the air between them. 

Letting out a single breath and steeling himself, Rossi placed a hand on the athame at his waist. “Ah, funny. What am I, a bank?!” he shouted, then drew his weapon and turned to face his opponent. His gaze landed on a lone mage standing perfectly still, not even reaching for a weapon despite Rossi’s total willingness to fight. 

“……!” 

The moment their eyes met, a sickly sweat formed on Rossi’s cheek. This person was sharp as a razor, far beyond any first-year. Long ago, he’d sensed something similar the one time he’d seen a Gnostic Hunter—the frontline soldiers of the magical world. 

“You’re right, for I have nothing to offer. I am merely going to take.” 

And with that exceedingly arrogant statement, Rossi’s opponent drew. 

Rossi instantly dashed forward—and into his second loss that night. 

Oliver managed to exit the labyrinth without any further trouble, and it was just past two in the morning when he got back to his dorm room. 

“…I’m back,” he whispered so as not to wake his roommate and crept inside. Barely illuminating the darkness with a dimmed lamp, he reached to undo the belt that held his athame—when he noticed the state of his friend on the bed. 

“Huff… Huff…” 

“……?” 

Pete was sleeping on his side, practically shuddering with every breath. 

“Huff… Huff! Huff! Huff…!” 

His breathing became more rapid and pained. 

Concerned, Oliver rushed over. “You okay, Pete?” 

“Ah…?” 

He patted him on the shoulder, and the boy sleepily opened his eyelids. 

Oliver gently placed a hand on Pete’s forehead. “You’ve got a fever… And your mana circulation’s going berserk.” 

“It hurts… I feel nauseous… Can’t…breathe…” 

“It’s all right. You’ll feel better soon. I’m taking your top off, okay?” 

He helped Pete sit up, then undid the buttons of his pajama shirt. Pete’s swollen breasts indicated he was currently in his female form. 

“…? Wait, what’re you…?” 

Pete was confused. After managing to remove Pete’s top, Oliver inhaled deeply and took control of the mana flowing within his own body. His preparations complete, he placed his right palm on his roommate’s exposed back. 

“Ah…” 

Pete instantly felt something warm flowing into him. 

Oliver proceeded to explain as he rubbed Pete’s back. “This is a healing art. By sending my own mana into you through my hand, I can tune your body’s flow of mana. This is only a stopgap solution, mind you.” 

Every mage knew this art. It was the most primitive of all magical healing arts. The mana that had become stagnant within Pete began to move again with Oliver’s encouragement, and Pete’s labored breathing relaxed. 

“I feel…better…” 

“You should. Like those upperclassmen said, your body’s still not used to handling the mana of your female form. When your sex changes, so does the flow of your mana. The paths have changed so much that your mana can’t flow correctly. Your mana distribution is off, which is causing you to feel sick.” 

He explained what was happening so that his friend could understand. It wasn’t enough to just heal him—both combined were the best way to give Pete relief. 

“At times like this, external moderation is the best solution. You lead the built-up mana to the parts of the body where it’s needed, like so.” 

“Mm…!” 

An intense jolt ran through Pete’s body, causing him to spasm. 

Leaving his hand on his shoulder, Oliver spoke in a calm tone. “Relax, Pete. It’s okay. There’s nothing to worry about.” 

The concern in his voice and the warmth of his hand helped Pete trust his roommate. There was no reason to resist. Slowly, he relaxed, leaving himself in Oliver’s care. 

“……Do this often?” 

“Mm?” 

“Do you do this often? You’re so purposeful. You’re, like…good at it.” 

The comments slipped from Pete’s lips as he accepted the treatment. 

The question made Oliver go silent for a bit; then he nodded. “…Yeah, I have experience. It’s not uncommon for a mage’s mana circulation to go haywire, even if they aren’t rare cases like yourself. It happens when they’re sick, for example, or during puberty. And…” 

A memory resurfaced vividly in his mind as he continued the healing art. Back then, he was terrible at it. He’d been desperate, with no hope for a relaxing conversation like tonight. Every night, he’d faced her back and suppressed the tears that threatened to overflow. 

“Ah, that feels good. Thank you, Noll.” 

Despite his awkward fingertips and inexperienced heart, she always smiled at him, as if giving him a warm embrace. 

“…during pregnancy.” 

He continued the rest of the treatment in silence. Pete basked in the pleasant feeling. Suddenly, with the pain subsided and his mind clear, he felt an strike of panic upon realizing his current situation. He was in his female form, half naked, and Oliver was still touching his bare skin. 

“H-hey… Are you done yet?” 

“Mm? Oh, sorry. I was too focused. How do you feel? Your mana circulation should be much calmer now.” 

Oliver quickly paused the treatment to check on his friend. Breathing a sigh of relief, Pete assessed himself. 

“…I feel so much better, wow. My nausea’s gone, and I can breathe.” 

“That’s good. But like I said before, this is only a temporary measure. Until your body learns to control its female mana, you’ll have to be prepared to do this a lot.” 

Pete nodded as he pulled on his pajama top. 

“…The others said it would take at least two months, or up to a year,” he said. 

“It definitely won’t get better soon, but eventually, it’ll subside. Think of it like growing pains. And I’ll be right here, so you can always count on me.” Oliver spoke comfortingly, placing his hand on Pete’s head and stroking his ashen hair. It felt nice, but the next moment, Pete snapped out of his daze and grabbed Oliver’s arm. 

“…Don’t just touch someone’s head.” 

“Oh, sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“……W-we have to get up early tomorrow. Let’s get to bed.” 

Pete bundled up in his blanket as if trying to escape the moment. 

Oliver turned to return to his own bed when a muffled voice came from within the blanket. 

“And…thanks.” 

Unable to look his friend in the face, it was the best Pete could manage. Oliver happily accepted his awkward gratitude with a smile. 

“Good night, Pete.” 

The next day, at lunch, Pete decided to tell his friends. This was something that had been on his mind ever since that night with Carlos. 

“A reversi?! No way! That’s amazing!” 

Katie’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates after hearing his story. The six of them, huddled in a corner of an empty classroom under the veil of a sound dampening spell, listened as Pete revealed his ability. 

“I’d suspected something, but a reversi… That’s quite a rare trait. Congratulations, Pete. My heart soars for you.” Chela grasped his hand and praised him. She and Katie reacted the same way Oliver had. Pete, recognizing this was a perspective unique to mages, expressed his concerns. 

“At the moment, I’m so busy being sick that it doesn’t feel like something to be proud of. How exactly am I supposed to make use of this ability?” He bluntly asked for their advice. 

Chela crossed her arms and hmm’d. “There are numerous advantages, but let’s see… Pete, come here. I’ll teach you the fastest, most practical way to control the female body.” 

She beckoned him over, and he reluctantly approached. Stooping, Chela put her fingers to a slightly questionable spot beneath Pete’s belt. 

“?! Wh-what the hell—?” 

“No need to feel embarrassed. Listen to me—now that you’re in a female body, you have one new organ. Do you know what it is?” Chela demanded as Pete freaked out. He then looked fearfully at his lower half in sudden realization. “That’s right—a uterus. Most commonly known as the womb,” said Chela. “In any case, the uterus is such a significant organ to witches that it’s even called a second heart. The reason being that it acts as one of many mana storehouses in the body.” 

“Mana…storehouses?” 

“Yes. The mana stored in here is like an emergency ration, to only be consumed in times of dire need. When you run out of mana, the door naturally opens and provides your body with nourishment. However, with training, it is possible to open and close this door at will.” 

As she explained, Chela pressed firmly on Pete’s abdomen. 

“You’re going to experience that now. Brace yourself for a shock.” 

She gave him a second to get ready, then, using her arm as a pipe, she sent the refined mana from within herself over to Pete. His heart thumped loudly, and his uterus instantly responded to the sudden, massive influx of mana. 

“Gah—?!” 

Mana coursed through Pete’s body. Waves of heat emanated through him, starting from his abdomen. His mind was completely overwhelmed; he simply experienced it. 

“Wh-what is this? Power’s overflowing in me…!” 

“It’s a fresh, raw sensation, I’m sure. The unlocking of your mana reserves causes a temporary increase in your mana circulation. Your mana output has now increased many times over, and the effectiveness of your spells will be visibly improved.” 

The ringlet girl continued her explanation. She let him experience the sensation for about thirty seconds, then touched his abdomen and sent her mana in again. Suddenly, the waves of overwhelming power within Pete’s body subsided. This time, he understood that the unlocked mana reserves in his uterus had been cut off. 

“I closed the door. The strain is too great on your body while you’re still new to this. But after that experience, what do you think? A female body isn’t bad, is it?” 

Chela puffed out her chest with pride. Seeing she was finished with her explanation, Oliver jumped in. 

“The uterus’s ability to store mana is the reason why women have historically had an advantage in the magical world,” he said. “A man’s testicles have a similar function, but it’s nothing compared with the uterus.” 

Guy looked at his crotch dubiously. 

Oliver grinned wryly at this, then continued, “However, for men, there are many such places in the body. With that in mind, total mana retention and output is similar for men and women. Thus, neither sex is unconditionally better—or at least, that’s the idea proposed by recent research.” 

Satisfied with his accurate supplementary explanation, Chela nodded firmly. Nanao, impressed, placed a hand on her hakama, which had been repurposed into a skirt. 

“I see, the uterus… I myself am but a shadow of a woman, but can I do the same?” 

“Don’t lift your skirt, Nanao! …Honestly, your mana circulation far exceeds these levels. I suspect you already use your body’s reserve mana as needed, including that of your uterus. Hence your Innocent Color.” 

Oliver forced her to put down her skirt, while Katie eyed Pete up and down. 

“…Difficult topics aside, you currently have a girl’s body, right, Pete?” 

Her eyes glinted dangerously. 

Pete recoiled from the indescribable pressure. “Wh-what? What’s with the creepy smile…?” 

He stepped back, trying to escape from her gaze. 

Katie closed in, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, Pete. Would you wanna wear a skirt?” 

“Huh?!” 

“Ever since I first saw you, I thought your small, delicate features would look wonderful in cute clothes. I gave up since you had a boy’s body, but not anymore, right? You have a good reason to wear something cute now. There’s nothing to be ashamed of about wearing frilly things.” 

“L-lay off!” 

Pete went white as a sheet and hid behind Oliver. 

Chela crossed her arms thoughtfully. “Of course, it’s up to you…but you do have the option to make the most of this trait. The great sage Rod Farquois, a fellow reversi, was famous for his many male and female lovers. I hear that nonmagical society is rather heteronormative, but relations are much more varied in magical society. There’s certainly no need to be shy or avoidant of it.” 

“Wha—?” 

Pete was reeling from this information. 

Unable to watch any longer, Guy intervened. “Leave him be, girls. His brain’s about to short out. I mean, you guys keep talking about uteruses and testicles, and like…” 

“Hey, Guy’s blushing! Perv! Perv!” 

“Shut up! Maybe I’m just not completely shameless!” Guy spat back as Katie jeered, and they were once again at each other’s throats. This was the usual pattern, so no one attempted to stop them. Just then, a voice from outside their circle spoke up. 

“You all seem to be ’aving fun. No idea what you’re babbling about.” 

Chela’s sound dampening spell prevented sound from escaping their bubble but still allowed outside sounds to reach them. Everyone stopped talking and turned to the source of the voice—Oliver was shocked to see him again so soon. 

“Mr. Rossi. What are you doing here?” 

“Aw, no need to be so tense, eh? I just came to complain. I am not your enemy any more.” 

Sensing the tension in the air, Rossi raised his hands to indicate he was no threat. 

Chela, who had been on guard after dispelling the sound dampening spell, relaxed a bit. 

“I lost more than once last night. I still ’ave medallions left, but what is the point, eh? I ’ave seen my limits and lost my motivation. So I withdraw.” 

“More than once? Did you duel someone else after me?” 

“Yes. Do not look at me like that, Oliver. ’alf the allotted time for this battle royal has been spent. Only the strongest are left. I expect you will beat most of them. But watch your back, because some of them are really strong.” 

Rossi dropped his carefree attitude to deliver a solemn warning. Oliver, unable to understand what his goal was, fell silent. Then a grin returned to Rossi’s face, and he shifted his gaze to the Azian girl. 

“That goes for you, too, Nanao. Show me what you can do. I’m a big fan of yours.” 

He grabbed her hand and shook it vigorously. Then he quickly turned on his heel. 

“Well, good-bye. Thought I should go see Instructor Garland during lunch today, eh? See you soon, Oliver. I will retrain myself, then be back to challenge you again.” 

He raised a hand and strode off. Once he was gone, Chela nodded in understanding. 

“…I see. So you beat him last night, did you? I figured Mr. Rossi wasn’t going to be a pushover, so very impressive, Oliver.” Chela cast the dampening spell again and listened with rapt attention, asking for more detail. 

“Yeah, he’s really strong. He has something I don’t.” Oliver recalled their duel from last night. 

“Oh, right! I have something to discuss with all of you as well.” 

Katie spoke up during a lull in the conversation. She paused, then continued with a serious tone. 

“What do you think about getting our own secret base? Want one?” 

The five of them could hardly believe their ears. 

Guy, not catching her drift, cocked his head suspiciously. 

“…If I had to choose, I’d say I’d want one. But where’d this come from?” 

“No, I get it. She’s suggesting a shared workshop,” Oliver interjected. 

Guy nodded, and Chela jumped in to further explain. 

“It is, quite literally, a workshop shared by multiple students. It’s not uncommon at Kimberly. However, only a handful of senior students are allowed by the academy to have one on campus. An exception for first-years with no accolades like us would be…” 

She recognized on some level what Katie’s suggestion meant and tried to be vague in her wording. 

Instead, Oliver said it for her. “…You want us to set up an unofficial workshop in the labyrinth, don’t you?” 

Guy and Pete went stiff with shock. Katie, aware of everyone’s eyes on her, nodded. 

“Yeah, that’s it. But we wouldn’t be starting from scratch. I already have a place in mind. It’s got most of the essentials, and it’s on the first layer.” 

She seemed to have something very specific in mind. 

Understanding, Oliver put a hand on his chin. “Right… Ms. Miligan’s workshop, huh?” 

“WHAT?!” Guy blurted out hysterically. 

Katie quickly followed up before he could say any more. “She has multiple bases within the labyrinth, not just the one I was taken to. As an apology for what she did, she offered to give me one. And since the area’s been a workshop from the beginning, the environment is perfect. I don’t think it’s a bad idea, personally, but what do you guys think?” 

No one spoke. Not because they had no objections, but because it was difficult to settle on just one thing to complain about first. Dozens of seconds passed in silence, until eventually, Guy retorted: 

“A-are you crazy? This is a workshop created by Miligan! Can you even imagine what she used it for?” 

“She claims it hasn’t been used for her demi-human experiments since she was having difficulties with the supply route. Honestly, I don’t know how much of what she says is true. I could list my doubts for days, but my initial impression is that it’s clean.” 

Katie answered him plainly, as if she’d been expecting this question. Guy opened his mouth to argue, but she spoke over him. 

“If we don’t take advantage of this situation, it’ll be impossible to have a workshop as first-years. Of course, I’m aware that I can’t maintain it on my own. So I want to rely on you guys. Will you help me manage the workshop Ms. Miligan gave me? You can use it for whatever you want!” 

Her desperation to persuade them seeped into her expression as Katie continued her proposal. Oliver studied her, his face stony. 

“It is certainly tradition for Kimberly students to set up workshops within the labyrinth. However, that’s usually in their third year, or in the latter half of their second year at the earliest.” 

“For first-years, the risk of descending into the labyrinth far exceeds the advantages of having a workshop. If you can’t protect yourself, it’s not even worth discussing. Katie, you understand this, don’t you?” 

Chela chose her words to be as convincing as possible. 

Katie dropped her eyes to the ground and asked, “An average of eight hundred twenty a year… Do you know what that number is?” 

It was an odd question. The five of them couldn’t answer, so Katie continued: 

“It’s the number of demi-humans exploited and destroyed by this academy. They’re used as research material, toys for amusement, and a bunch of other things—but this is only the publicly stated figure. It’s bound to be much higher if you include the incidents that go unreported. And if you add magical creatures beyond demi-humans, it’s impossible to imagine just how high that number balloons to.” 

Oliver swallowed. He’d never heard this number before. 

Katie scowled. “It would be different if every sacrifice was absolutely necessary. But the truth is, they aren’t. The students and faculty here treat magical creatures with such terrible indifference and kill them needlessly. They don’t even attempt to respect the lives of nonhuman beings.” 

She’d experienced this attitude more times than she cared to remember since starting at Kimberly. Katie looked up sharply. 

“I want to change that trend. But I can’t change anything shouting on my own. So first, I want to win an award as a researcher, with a focus on interspecific communication. I want to find a symbiotic, sustainable relationship between us that can replace this one-sided abuse for resources.” 

Chela folded her arms in thought as she listened to Katie explain her vision. 

“Interspecific communication? I hate to admit it, but this is the first I’m hearing of such a field.” 

“I’m not surprised. It’s hardly a major field. I searched every part of the library I was allowed into, and I could only find three books on the subject. Right now, I’m just scrounging through old student essays, but at least it’s something.” 

Katie smiled sadly, her tone hardly hopeful. But her strength returned with her next words. 

“You could also look at it as an untapped gold mine. If I really dig, I’m sure I’ll discover something new. Which is why right now, I want to start building up experience as soon as I can. I want to further my studies through a healthy exchange with these living beings, not whatever that witch calls a ‘class’!” 

Oliver could sense the depths of her passion from the power in her tone. Katie Aalto wanted to find a different path from the one Vanessa Aldiss taught. 

“To be very clear, I want a place under my own control where I can raise magical creatures. That’s the purpose I want to use Ms. Miligan’s workshop for. But I can’t do it on my own, so I’m asking for your help. I know this is blunt…” 

She trailed off. Her ideals were grand, but she seemed constantly tormented by her lack of power to realize them. 

“I’m sorry for being selfish. Honestly, I know it would be natural for you to refuse. I don’t even know if any of you want a workshop at this point. So if you have reservations, just turn me down right now. I’ll find another way—” 

“Count me in.” 

Nanao couldn’t wait for her to finish. The other five looked at her in surprise, so she continued without hesitation. 

“I do not know what exactly a workshop is. However, from what I can tell, Katie wants to claim territory within the labyrinth, yes? Then as a warrior, it is my job to protect the castle. Please take me under your banner, milady.” She stood in front of Katie and gripped her hands firmly and encouragingly. “Have confidence, Katie. The light of determination is in your eyes. And it has only grown brighter since meeting that troll. One day, I wish to see that light illuminate the darkness. And that is well enough for me to join you.” 

“Nanao…” Overcome with emotion, Katie hugged Nanao with tears in her eyes. 

Guy smiled awkwardly. “…Guess I’m in, too. It’s not the first time you’ve dragged me around by the nose. And…the idea of my own garden is tempting.” 

“Guy!” 

The tall boy flashed a toothy smile. After a bit of silent thought, Chela and Oliver exchanged a look, then spoke in turn. 

“…Very well, count me in, too. There are many strong-willed people here at Kimberly, and those wills take many forms. It is the mark of a good friend to support one who is trying to move forward.” 

“I figured this might happen as soon as Nanao agreed. But let me say one thing: Everyone’s safety comes first. If anyone is threatened, then we abandon the workshop. If you’re okay with that, then I’m in, too, Katie. What do you say?” 

Katie nodded repeatedly, then glanced over at their last friend, Pete. 

“Are you…out, Pete?” 

Her eyes were filled with hope, yet also prepared for the worst. After a few seconds of silence, he sighed dramatically. “…What’s the point in asking when you’ve already taken away my options? I can hardly even take care of myself right now. If Oliver and Chela are in, then I obviously have to go along with this.” 

He snorted and looked away. Katie tackled him with a hug around his torso. 

“Thank you! I love you guys…!” 

“Uwah! D-don’t hug me!” Pete struggled, eventually peeling her off. 

“…You’ve got quite a chest,” she said quietly. “You should probably wear a bra.” 

“No one asked you!” 

Pete covered his chest with his arms and hid in Oliver’s shadow. 

Chela watched them warmly, then thought of something. “You’re certainly thinking very far into the future, Katie. I had no idea you had such grand aspirations as research, accolades, and reform. I simply thought you were going to join the civil rights movement on campus.” 

“Oh, them… Yeah, I’ve checked them out. But to say they’re my allies, well… We’re very different.” She gave a dry smile as she recalled the people she’d met. “…It was like a bunch of Miligans, but different. Does that make sense?” 

No one tried to ask for further details. Oliver took a breath, then decided to change the subject. 

“If that’s settled, then we should get moving. Let’s all go together to claim the workshop. Does two nights from now work?” 

No one objected. And so their adventure began. 

Once lunch was done, it was time for their afternoon lessons, and the students gathered in the alchemy classroom with their textbooks on their workbenches. A majority of them, however, shared the same concern. 

“…Instructor Darius isn’t coming today, either, is he?” Guy whispered under his breath, and everyone grew visibly uncomfortable. Indeed, the alchemy instructor, Darius Grenville, had simply vanished. 

“You think what they say is true? That he went missing in the labyrinth?” said Guy. 

“It’s hard to say. A student would be one thing, but it’s difficult to imagine that happening to a faculty member. Oliver, what do you think?” Chela innocently inquired. 

Oliver responded without letting his true feelings rise to the surface. “I hear that only instructors maintain the lowest depths of the labyrinth. If an accident did occur, even they could be taken unawares. It’s just one possibility, however.” 

He did his best to give his usual, flat response so as not to arouse suspicion. Fortunately, no one suspected anything. 

At this point, Pete joined in on the conversation. “I’ve heard a lot of other phony-sounding rumors, too. Like there’s infighting among the faculty, or that he was killed by a mage with a grudge against Kimberly.” 

“Pete, don’t talk such nonsense,” Chela scolded. Kimberly was a breeding ground for endless numbers of such rumors, but carelessly digging into them was a surefire way to shorten one’s life span. 

“Hmm, I wonder what really happened.” 

A voice suddenly came from above them. The students looked up in surprise to find a man standing upside down on the ceiling. Golden curls were draped either side of his head, just like Chela’s. 

“Father?!” 

“Uncle!” 

Two voices shouted in unison. One was Chela, while the other was Stacy Cornwallis on the other side of the room. The man did a half flip and landed on the ground, then instantly gave the girl in front of him a tight embrace. 

“Yes, it’s your daddy! How long has it been, Chela? You’ve gotten so much prettier in the short time I’ve been away.” 

Chela accepted the man’s overbearing embrace—but only for five seconds. “This is not the time or place! Where on earth have you been?!” 

“Oh, all over. I know I’ve been busy. I’m sorry for making you feel lonely.” 

“There’s someone else you ought to apologize to first!” 

Chela admonished him, indicating her friend, Nanao, by her side. Readjusting his clothes, the man turned to her. 

“Yes, of course. It’s been six months since I last saw you. Are you having fun, Nanao?” 

“I am. I’m glad to see you are healthy as well, Lord McFarlane.” 

She smiled and chatted pleasantly with the man. 

At that moment, Oliver and the others recalled the story she’d told them of how she’d come to their academy from the faraway land of Azia. Of the mage who had discovered her on that Yamatsu battlefield. 

“I can’t believe you, dragging her halfway across the world, teaching her the language, and then abandoning her! Do you have any idea how much she’s suffered since school started?” 

“I was slightly concerned about that, but I knew you were in her class. I knew she’d be all right.” 

“What father drops all his responsibility on his daughter? You never change!” 

Chela’s tone became increasingly aggressive as she began lecturing her father. 

The man tempered her rage with practiced hands as he studied Nanao. 

“You’re looking well, Nanao. I see you’ve had many more wonderful meetings aside from my daughter. Are you her friends?” 

He turned to Oliver and the others. They each made to introduce themselves, but the man flicked his gaze to the podium. 

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I am technically here to lead the class. Maybe another time. Ah, Ms. Cornwallis. I’m glad to see you are well, too.” 

He called out to the other girl staring at him, then lazily strode to the podium. Upon reaching it, he scanned the room. 

“Now, let me introduce myself. I am Theodore McFarlane, a part-time lecturer for Kimberly. I don’t teach any subject in particular. Instead, I run around filling in for the other instructors. I hope we can all get along.” 

He introduced himself breezily. One of the students shouted a question. 

“Excuse me! Does that mean you’re going to be our alchemy instructor from now on?” 

“No, my role is only to be here for a few classes. I may be an instructor, but most of my job occurs outside this academy. I cannot stay on campus for long.” 

“Then will Instructor Grenville be coming back?” 

The ringlet instructor sighed slightly at this name. “If he comes back alive. But I suspect we’ll never see him again.” 

The students all swallowed. He’d just implied that the mage Darius Grenville was dead. 

“Just so you know, it’s not uncommon for mages to go missing. But when you’ve lived in this world for as long as I have, you just know. This is one of those times where the missing party doesn’t come back. I’m not a prophet, however. It’s just a feeling.” 

A chill went down Oliver’s spine. Calm down. There’s no way he could have caught on already. I wasn’t that careless, he told himself. 

“That said, the headmistress has already reached out to his replacement. For those of you who were Darius’s apprentices or were hoping to become one, you have my deepest sympathies. But I guarantee your next alchemy instructor will be amazing, too. You’ll just have to put up with me until they arrive.” 

Theodore changed subjects, preventing anyone from bringing up Darius anymore. Relieved, Oliver scolded himself. Don’t let down your guard. This man mustn’t be underestimated. 

“Now, shall we begin? Errr, what was today’s lesson…? ‘A chuckleshroom antidote’? Hmmm.” 

An odd look came over Theodore’s face as he flipped through the textbook. He thought for a few seconds. 

“Making this the normal way would be so tiresome. Okay! When you finish making your antidotes, give them to me, and I’ll drink them.” 

The students stared at him in horror. He didn’t seem to care. 

“I’ll grade you based on its quality. I’ll also give you detailed criticism, of course. Everyone have their tools on their desks? Then begin!” 

He clapped his hands and signaled for them to start. As he watched the students frantically get to work, he continued to speak. 

“It’s not a difficult recipe, so you can afford to listen to me chat, right? Oh, this latest adventure of mine was wild. Have any of you read my series Journey to the East?” 

A blond girl in the corner of the room shot her hand up. 

“I’m currently taking my time with Volume Twelve—” 

“I’ve read them all!” Pete raised his hand at practically the same time and shouted as well. The instructor ignored the shocked Cornwallis—the blond girl—and zeroed in on Pete. 

“Wonderful! My travels are funded by the sales of my books, so you’ve been keeping me fed! May I have your name?” 

“Pete Reston, sir!” 

“Pete, eh? Okay! I’ve committed it to memory. I’ll bring you back a souvenir next time.” 

He walked over to Pete’s workbench to observe him eagerly mixing his antidote. 

“I wrote that series based on the energy and spirit of my destinations. It’s not very helpful in learning the true feel and the culture of the land. On my most recent journey, I even found that many things I wrote needed to be corrected.” 

The ringlet instructor put a hand to his brow in reflection. 

“Like what…?” Oliver asked, continuing to tend to his antidote. 

“Mm, for example, the food item known as soba in Yamatsu. In Volume Three, I stated, ‘It is a cold noodle dish with a very delicate flavor and is served with a very salty cold soup.’ But I was mistaken. That wasn’t a soup; it was a sauce! And you don’t pour it on the noodles; you lift up the noodles and dip them in!” 

He shoved a hand in his coat pocket and retrieved two long, thin sticks. He gripped them between the fingers of his right hand. 

“Also, this is how you hold chopsticks. Clever, isn’t it? You grab your noodles like this…then slurp them up in one mouthful. The manners are different there, so it’s fine to make lots of noise.” 

He mimicked eating soba for them. Guy, half in disbelief at the foreign food culture, turned to the girl next to him. 

“…Is that true, Nanao?” 

“Indeed. That reminds me, I haven’t had soba since coming here.” 

“Got a hankering? Good, good. Then I’ll bring some back for you next time,” the instructor casually promised as he continued down memory lane. 

Chela listened in sulky silence, then eventually extinguished her cauldron’s flame. “…I’m done.” 

“That’s my daughter for you! The cream of the cream of the crop!” 

Theodore picked up the vial of finished antidote and swigged it, just like he’d said he would. Instantly, a mass of bubbles began frothing from his mouth. 

“Blrrbllrbl!” 

“Oh dear, I put too much bubblegrass in. My hand must have slipped thanks to all your irrelevant babbling.” 

“Blrggrble…! M-my lovely daughter! This is more than just a ‘slip’!” 

Theodore finally managed to swallow the bubbles and speak. Just then, a different voice spoke up behind him. “I am finished, too.” 

“?! Wait, Nanao! There’s no way you finished that quickly—,” Oliver started. 

“Okay! Round two!” 

Before Oliver could stop him, the instructor chugged Nanao’s concoction. He gulped loudly, and a second later, tears came pouring from both his eyes like fountains. 

“My eyes! My eyesss! Nanao, how could you? The bitterness of the crying onion hasn’t been tempered at all!” 

“Mmm? Did I make a mistake somewhere?” 

“It’s because you didn’t wash it in salt water after mashing it! How many times have I told you not to take shortcuts with the recipe?” Oliver lectured her as he quickly whipped up a vial of neutralizer. 

Theodore took a whiff, and eventually, the tears began to slow. 

“Ph-phew… Thank you. How many years has it been since I last cried like that? That was more intense than I expected. Um, remind me, how many more do I have to drink?” 

“Only thirty-eight more, Father.” 

“That’ll kill me!” he screamed in delayed realization. 

Stacy glared at them, then raised her hand. “U-Uncle! I’m done, too!” 

“Hmm? Oh, yes, yes.” 

The man dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief, then strode over to her. Stacy was stiff as a board as he drank her finished antidote. 

“Mm, well done. Evenly heated, and the ingredients were finely prepared, so it’s quite smooth. The taste is refreshing, too. I wouldn’t be surprised to see this sold in a store.” 

“Y-you honor me! Um, I—” 

“An A. Keep up the good work.” 

He quickly graded her and then walked away without any further chitchat. Stacy stood there, all alone. 

“Sir, I’m done, too!” 

“Oh! Yes, Pete! I’ve got my hopes up for this one!” 

Theodore went straight to the bespectacled boy and drained the vial, not bothering to study its contents. He savored the taste with a straight face, which all of a sudden transformed into an expression of pure joy. 

“Oh, excellently done! It’s every bit as good as Ms. Cornwallis’s! I can tell from this antidote that you study very hard.” 

“Y-you flatter me, sir!” 

Pete blushed crimson from the praise. 

But before his eyes, the light was fading from Theodore’s face. 

“……” 

“…S-sir?” Pete cautiously called out to his instructor. The man fell to the floor, hugged his knees, and then flopped on his side. 

“……Life is full of despair… I wanna die…,” he began mumbling. 

“Oh no!” Oliver cried. “He’s overdosed and is going into a sudden depression! He needs an antidote, now!” 

“Seriously, are you a complete buffoon?” Chela chided her father. “Any medicine can become poison if you take too much!” 

The two of them got to work trying to save their instructor. Before they got far, however, Guy grabbed the chuckleshroom sample from his workbench. 

“If he’s overdosed on those antidotes, then shouldn’t he just eat the mushroom itself to cancel it out? Here, this one’s sliced real thin.” 

“Wait, Guy! You can’t just—” 

Before Katie could stop him, he’d popped the mushroom into Theodore’s mouth. He forced him to chew and swallow, and the man’s expression instantly relaxed. 

“Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! The sky is full of rainbows!” 

“Crap, it was too effective!” 

“Guy! You need to think before you act!” 

The worsening situation made Oliver want to clutch his head. While they worked to get the class back on track, Theodore’s mood constantly sank from the lowest lows to the highest highs. 

Even after alchemy class was over and they’d moved to their next classroom, the six friends still couldn’t stop talking about what had just happened. 

“Your dad’s a funny guy, isn’t he?” 

“Please don’t bring him up anymore… I can feel the steam coming from my ears.” 

Chela covered her face in shame. This was new to everyone. 

“He acts that way virtually all the time. People call him ‘free-spirited,’ but there’s no denying he lacks the sense of responsibility needed in a parent or instructor. It causes me no end of suffering.” 

She sighed, regretfully reliving the experience. Next to her, Pete was nervously waiting for their sword arts class to begin. 

“It’s finally time for full-on duels…” 

“Calm down, Pete. There’s no need to rush.” 

Oliver tried to soothe him as they stood in their lines. Just then, Master Garland appeared before them in the usual giant classroom, garbed in a white cloak. 

“Let us begin. Like I said last time, you will be including spells in your duels today. Thus, though you have been separated by experience in the past, I will be now be pairing you up at my own discretion. Many of you will be out of your league. Think of this as a learning experience.” 

With that out of the way, Garland began casting the dulling spell on everyone’s swords as per usual. He then randomly chose one out of every three pairs of students to start their duels while the rest watched. The students stepped forward as he called them by name. 

“…Ah.” 

“—Mm.” 

And so it happened that Pete and Stacy ended up as opponents. She’d left quite an impression when throwing her name into the ring for the battle royal, and so even he remembered her. They squared off at the one-step, one-spell distance. 

“Pete’s up against one of your relatives, right?” Guy asked Chela. 

“…Yes. This will be a tough fight for him.” 

She watched their duel intensely. Oliver did the same. This was Pete’s first chance to show the fruits of his work with his friends. 

“The duel doesn’t end with one point,” Garland said. “Continue fighting until time is up. Now—begin!” 

Garland signaled the start of the duel. Pete frantically readied his sword. 

“Don’t panic, Pete!” Oliver shouted from outside the arena. “Just focus on getting one point to start with!” 

He cheered Pete on in an attempt to get him to loosen up. 

Stacy’s temple twitched. “‘To start with’? …I see you underestimate me as well,” she muttered, a sharp look in her eyes. She pointed the tip of her athame at her opponent. “Come, nonmagical spawn. I’ll show you how outclassed you are.” 

Trying to keep from succumbing to her intimidation, Pete stepped forward in his midstance. 

“Gah?!” 

The moment he tried to swing, his opponent had already read him and caught him with a thrust. The impact sent him flying, and he landed on his back. Stacy looked down at him coldly. 

“Stand up,” she demanded mercilessly. “We’ve still got plenty of time left.” 

Pete gritted his teeth and got to his feet. Recovering his stance, he attacked his opponent, who did not seem fazed in the least. 

“Haaah!” 

She skillfully parried his attack, which was aimed at her wrist. Unlike before, when she’d countered his first strike, Stacy stayed on the defense this time. Pete unleashed a flurry of blows, which she blocked with ease. 

She snorted. “…Your attacks are all over the place. Even for a beginner, you’re awful. You haven’t so much as a shred of sense.” 

She dodged a thrust and swept his feet. Pete lost his balance and fell to the floor dramatically. He then jumped up, irate. 

“Pete, stay calm!” Guy shouted from the crowd. “This is a duel with magic, remember?” 

“—!” 

Pete snapped out of his rage. Right, spells were allowed now. There was no need to continue fighting within sword range. Changing his tactic, Pete jumped back. 

Stacy exhaled with pity. “Fool. Do you really think you stand a better chance with spells?” 

The two stood apart, glaring at each other for a second. Pete fired the first shot. 

“Tonitrus!” 

He chanted a lightning spell. As if to declare his intent for victory, he followed up with a second and third shot. But Stacy didn’t even flinch. She continuously evaded the attacks, shifting to the side just enough to dodge and defending herself calmly with her athame, which was ensorcelled in oppositional magic. 

“Were you even aiming? Tonitrus!” 

She unleashed the spell while dodging. It shot right through Pete’s reckless offense, piercing him mercilessly. 

“Ah—gah!” 

“Pete!” Katie shouted as Pete collapsed from the blow. This time, he didn’t get up right away. He spasmed on the floor, his limbs paralyzed. 

“Do you see now that you are outclassed?” Stacy asked frigidly. “‘I’ve read them all.’ Ha! Don’t get so full of yourself over one measly compliment!” 

Her words were tinged with rage. 

Guy furrowed his brow in confusion. “…? What’s she mad about?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t think they’ve ever talked…” 

“……” 

Katie shared in his confusion as Chela studied the duel. Eventually, Pete recovered enough to stand, but it changed nothing. He desperately challenged her with sword and spell, but Stacy’s overwhelming skill repeatedly knocked him back down. 

“There she goes again! I can’t watch this! Is it not over yet?!” 

“No, wait, Katie,” Oliver said, grabbing her by the shoulder before she could jump into the fray. “He hasn’t given up yet. And…there may be hope yet.” 

“Huh?” 

“Ms. Cornwallis underestimates him. That’s her weakness.” 

He carefully observed the battlefield as he spoke. Only he and Chela noticed the continuously burning tenacity within Pete’s eyes, despite his total inability to make a move of his own. 

“You don’t learn, do you, weakling?” Stacy spat, bored with this endlessly repeating pattern. She still believed them to be at spell-casting range. But Pete charged at her full force. 

“Yaaah!” 

“—?!” 

His mad dash caught her off guard. Stacy quickly shot off a lightning spell, but it missed, just grazing his head—because he’d leaned forward as far as he could when he ran. Sensing danger, Stacy instantly jumped back. Pete stuck out his right hand to catch himself from falling, then followed up with a thrust. 

“—!” 

“Guh…!” 

Stacy’s eyes were wide, staring at the sword tip pointed an inch from her chest. Pete’s voice was filled with frustration. He’d been unable to bridge the tiny gap between him and his enemy. 

“The Hero’s Charge, huh? That was close,” Oliver muttered. 

The Rizett-style sword arts technique Hero’s Charge was a surprise attack that relied on an extreme forward lean to throw off their opponent’s judgment of distance. 

Chela, who had taught him that move, nodded. 

“Yes. Even Ms. Cornwallis couldn’t have expected that risky attack. Unfortunately, he lacked just a little bit of sharpness in his execution.” 

It was a bitter experience for the both of them as well. Pete reluctantly got back into his stance. The silence was heavy. 

“…Was that Michela’s idea?” Stacy finally muttered. 

“……” 

Pete said nothing. Accepting his silence as an affirmative, the girl twisted her lips in anger. 

“…You all really piss me off!” 

“That’s time! Enough!” 

Garland’s voice echoed powerfully a few minutes later, and their duel came to an end. 

“Huff… Huff…” 

“You did well, Pete.” 

Oliver patted the panting boy on the shoulder. Pete bit his lip and looked down. 

“I couldn’t…get a single point…!” 

Large tears dripped from his eyes. Oliver nodded, and Chela smiled gently. Those tears were proof that he’d never given up on the match through the very end. 

“You have nothing to be sad about. There’s always next time,” said Chela. 

“Yeah. Your opponent was really strong, too,” Oliver added, then looked across the battlefield to where Stacy was angrily stomping the ground. The boy named Fay was standing next to her, and he calmly returned Oliver’s gaze. 

“Makes sense she’d want to participate in the battle royal, that Ms. Cornwallis. We can’t underestimate her.” 

He honestly appraised her skill. Chela’s expression, meanwhile, was quite complicated. 

Two days later, after dinner was finished and the students had returned to their dorms, the six of them stayed on campus as promised. 

“Everyone’s here, then?” 

On Chela’s signal, they cast a sharpening spell on their blades and entered the mirror into the labyrinth. When everyone had landed in the hall, Guy scanned their surroundings. 

“I just realized, this is the first time the six of us have gone into the labyrinth alone. I’m a little nervous.” 

“It’s fine, it’s fine! There’s nothing to be scared of with all of us here!” Katie said brightly, but Oliver cut in. 

“Sorry to kill the mood, but honestly, the labyrinth is chock-full of scary things. There are countless risks, like getting lost, being attacked by beasts, ending up injured by traps, or even running into other students.” 

“Urk!” 

“On the first level, we mostly have to worry about the first and fourth items on that list,” said Chela. “The higher we are, the more students there will be. I have encountered a malicious senior student before, and it was not pleasant.” 

“Unnngh!” 

Oliver and Chela joined forces to temper Katie’s boldness. Oliver then proceeded to explain their formation. 

“Nanao and I will be at the front, and Chela will guard the rear. The three of you in the middle, stick together in a triangle formation. It might sound like overkill, but this formation should give us a solid defense in any direction.” 

“Okay… What if someone gets separated?” Pete asked. 

“Don’t try to move around in the dark. Just stay where you are and keep low. I promise we’ll find you.” 

Pete nodded, and everyone formed up as Oliver had instructed. Once they were ready, Nanao addressed the group. 

“Everyone is prepared, yes? Onward, then!” 

Six pairs of legs set out down the hall. As Chela was bringing up the rear, she noticed a broom attached to the Azian girl’s back. 

“Nanao, you brought your broom? I doubt there will be many places to fly on the first level.” 

“That is fine. We are still getting to know each other, which involves spending time together.” 

Nanao smiled and gripped the broom’s handle. 

Oliver grinned. That was so like her. 

Katie, who was walking in the middle, studied the bespectacled boy next to her. 

“…Hmm? Pete, you’re a boy today.” 

“H-how can you tell?!” Pete backed up in shock. 

The curly-haired girl put a hand to her chin. “It’s like…an aura? You seem calmer today, so I guessed.” 

Pete grumbled at this. Now that he was an awoken reversi, his biological sex would be unstable until he learned how to properly control it. 

Oliver, as his roommate, had known this was a “boy day” since that morning. 

“Katie, we’ll be relying on you to guide us there. Where should we go first?” 

“Um, I think it was straight down the right, then make a left at the third junction.” 

Katie explained their route. They followed her instructions, when all of a sudden, a group of small creatures cut in front of them. They were round, and their limbs diminutive. 

“Oh! A nest of ball mice!” 

“Stop. You can observe the wildlife at a later date.” 

Guy grabbed Katie firmly by the collar as she tried to go after the creatures. 

She seemed miffed, so Oliver explained. 

“Many of the magical creatures on the first level are small and timid. However, if you let down your guard, you can still end up being seriously hurt. For example, this crack…” 

He drew his athame and thrust it into a crack in the wall. Instantly, giant pincers latched onto the blade. Oliver pulled the weapon back, dragging out a crustacean about as large as a medium-size dog. 

“See? It’s a cracking-crab nest. Their pincers are super strong, and they can easily sever a finger if you stick your hand in. Be careful of cramped, dark spaces.” 

“Ooh… That is a large, tasty-looking crab.” 

“You’ve got an excellent eye, Nanao. They’re really good fresh and boiled in salt water.” 

“Don’t focus on the food! Oliver, put it back already!” 

Katie admonished him, and Oliver returned the cracking crab to its nest. Then the six of them started off again. 

As they walked, Guy seemed to remember something. 

“Say, doesn’t Kimberly have a Labyrinth Gourmet Club? Apparently, they gather creatures from down here and cook ’em up in search of new delicacies. Neat, isn’t it?” 

“Not at all! I bet they make things like kobold sauté and troll stew!” 

There was no arguing with Katie on that. 

Next to her, Pete sniffed the air. “…Is it just me, or does something smell good?” 

“No, I smell it, too. It’s very fragrant, like something being cooked.” Chela suspiciously agreed. Bewildered, they turned the corner and found the source. 

“…Mmgh?” 

“What, first-years?” 

Several faces turned to look at them. About ten students were sitting around a fire in a makeshift plaza set up in the hall. Half of them looked to be first-years, and the other half were second- to fourth-years. Unsure if they could pass by in silence, Oliver hesitantly greeted them. 

“…Good evening. Um, what are you doing?” 

“We’re the Labyrinth Gourmet Club, and this is our new-member welcoming party! Wanna join?!” 

The oldest boy stood up and beckoned them over. Just then, another student came running from the depths of the hall. In their hands was a creepy, reddish-black mass. 

“Sir! I found this massive leech! Can we eat it?” 

“You’re a real challenger, newbie! Okay, let’s try cooking it!” 

“Sir, should I be worried? My vision’s going blurry! Was it that mushroom I ate earlier?” 

“Ha-ha-ha-ha! Here, have some antidote! You’ll throw up blood and die if you don’t!” 

The Labyrinth Gourmet Club chatted exuberantly about disturbing things as they barbecued their meal. 

Oliver bowed. “…Seems we’re in the way. We’ll be going, then.” 

The six of them edged around the area and left as quickly as they could. Once around the corner and out of earshot, Katie finally spoke up. 

“I told you it was full of weirdos!” 

“Oh, lay off! It’s no different from those random-flavored drinks at the store!” Guy argued. 

Chela glanced behind them. “Labyrinth dining ethics aside… The one who invited us to join the club is quite famous.” 

“Ah, I thought so. So that’s Kevin Walker, the Survivor?” Oliver nodded in understanding. 

Guy looked crestfallen. “Really…?! Aw, man! I shoulda stayed to chat!” 

“What? Is he a big fish or something?” said Katie. 

“Of course,” replied Chela. “I heard he spent half a year lost in the labyrinth’s depths, and the academy pronounced him dead. They even held his funeral, but then he came back alive!” 

“Half a year? Here? Impossible. No one’s that tough…,” Pete scoffed. 

“He missed his graduation thanks to that, so he’s still a sixth-year currently. I dunno what he might have fed us, but it could’ve been interesting to join that barbecue.” 

Oliver was half joking. Katie shook her head furiously, but Chela looked somewhat wistful. 

“Yes, they seemed to be having fun. So that’s called a barbecue?” 

“? Chela, have you never been to one before?” Oliver asked. 

“I’m ashamed to admit it, but no… At my house, we never ate or cooked outside the kitchen.” 

“Aw, you’re missin’ out!” said Guy. “All right, let’s have a barbecue soon. We could do it in the workshop, right?” 

“Sure, but don’t get any funny ideas about the food. I refuse to go hunting in the labyrinth.” 

Katie sharply put her foot down. Soon, everyone stopped in their tracks. Before them stretched a long, narrow hall—and covering the walls, ceiling, and floor were giant slugs. 

“Ugh, it’s a den of slugs!” Guy groaned. “Hey, can we find another way?” 

“Why? They won’t hurt people,” Katie said, puzzled. 

She easily stepped into the hall, and the sole of her shoe squelched in the slime. 

“Let me through, guys. Sorry!” 

She gently yet boldly pushed aside the slugs in her way and continued forward. Her five friends stared in disbelief as she reached the other end of the hall in no time at all. 

“See? I made us a path. It’ll close soon, so hurry up!” she shouted, indicating the space she’d cleared. Forced to act quickly, the group flung themselves one after another into the hall. None of the slugs attempted to harm them, and they safely made it to the other side. 

“Easy, right?” 

“…Save for the fact that my trouser cuffs are all smelly.” Guy looked down at his slimy clothes in disgust. 

Katie ignored him and dropped her gaze to the floor. “It’s their reproductive season. If you look closely, you can find babies, too. Here, see? So small and cute!” 

“Whoa! Don’t let ’em crawl on your hand! Put it back on the ground!” 

Guy jumped back as she held out the baby slug for him to see. 

Oliver, however, couldn’t shake a nagging feeling. “Hey, Katie, is it just me, or…are we seeing a lot of magical creatures on this route? We’re not in that deep.” 

“R-really? Maybe that’s just how it is.” She quickly looked away. 

Guy, sensing what was going on, furrowed his brow. “You little… Did you choose this route on purpose? Like maybe after asking Miligan about the wildlife distribution in the labyrinth?” 

“Ha—ha-ha-ha! Of course not!” 

Katie laughed robotically and then began walking again. Once she sensed everyone’s eyes boring holes through her back, she ultimately succumbed to the pressure. 

“…I mean,” she mumbled, “isn’t a livelier route more fun?” 

“So this was premeditated!” 

“…Well, as long as we get there safely.” 

Oliver sighed in resignation and followed Katie’s lead. 

After another twenty minutes, the six of them reached another one-way hall. 

“Oh, wait,” Katie said. “This place might be a little dangerous.” 

“…Hold on. What d’you mean specifically by ‘dangerous’?” Guy asked apprehensively. Katie didn’t respond, instead taking out a ball of yarn from her bag and tossing it down the hall. Suddenly, nails flew out from every angle of the corridor, turning the ball into a pincushion. 

“…Like that.” 

“A little?! We’d be turned into hedgehogs at the first misstep!” 

As Guy shouted at her, Oliver cautiously peered down the hall. Careful observation revealed countless small holes, about the size of a pinky fingertip, on the walls, floor, and ceiling. These were the source of the needles. 

“It’s…not a trap. It’s a colony of bowshells.” 

“Yeah… But the needles are small, so they can’t kill a human. They might sting a lot, but that’s it.” 

“‘That’s it’? No thanks! …So how do we get across this?” 

Pete sounded highly concerned, as he very well should. But Katie strode ahead of the group, full of confidence. 

“Leave it to me. You just have to burn a certain type of incense, and they’ll go right to sleep.” 

She produced an incense burner, placed it on the floor, and lit it with a fire spell. Once smoke began to rise, she also urged it down the hall with a bit of magical wind. 

“Okay, there. Now we wait five minutes.” 

She continued to maintain the wind spell. Relieved that she’d brought the proper equipment, the other five waited for the signal. After only a few minutes had passed, Nanao suddenly turned around. 

“…? I hear a strange sound approaching us.” 

The Azian girl cautiously peered down the hall in the direction they’d come from. Oliver turned as well; he heard something being expelled at high pressure as the corridor began to fill with white gas. 

“Shoot—it’s a trap!” Oliver said stiffly. Water vapor was pouring out from the gaps in the walls and rapidly approaching them. If it really was steam filling the hall, then it would be scalding hot. 

“Run, as fast as you can!” Chela yelled. “You’ll be burned terribly if it touches you!” 

Sensing danger, Chela urged her friends to move. 

Katie looked horrified. “Huh?! No, wait! The incense is still—” 

“There’s no time! Go!” Oliver compelled them onward as well, and the six friends took off into the hall. If they wanted to avoid heavy, full-body burns, then they had no other choice. About thirty seconds of sprinting later, once they could no longer hear the steam, they finally stopped. 

“Huff! Huff! W-we survived, huh? Oh, my heart…” 

“You… You…” 

Katie was relieved, but Guy’s voice trembled. The other five turned in shock to look at him. 

“…What are you gonna do about my ass?” 

“Uwah!” 

Pete let out a scream at the sight, and the other four swallowed in unison. The tall boy stood there looking quite pitiable, with dozens of needles stuck in his butt. 

Ten minutes later, thanks to Oliver’s help, all the needles were removed and his injuries healed. Guy’s rear was as good as new. 

“Katiiiiie! I’ve got a bone to pick with you!” 

“I’m sowwyyy! Fohwive meee!” 

Of course, the pain was still fresh in his mind. Full of rage, Guy grabbed their guide’s cheeks and pulled them. Oliver didn’t try to intervene. Instead, he stood next to Chela and sighed. 

“Some traps only activate for a group of people. Guy deserves our sympathy, but let’s take this as a learning experience.” 

“Agreed. It certainly was terrible luck that the only place the incense didn’t reach was the path Guy took.” 

The two of them took the lesson to heart. Guy, once he had finished punishing Katie, released her. He put his hands on his hips menacingly and snorted. 

“Hmph… Okay, that’s enough for now. But don’t ever forget my ass’s sacrifice. Be more careful leading us from now on! Got it?” 

“I-I’ll try my best…” 

Tears welled up in Katie’s eyes from the pain as she resumed guiding the group to their destination. 

“That said, we’ve gone quite far already,” Oliver remarked as he followed. “Shouldn’t we be arriving soon?” 

“Y-yeah. We’re almost there. Just over this hill—” 

Katie nervously looked at her map. But once they’d passed halfway through the hall, she suddenly stopped. 

“Oh! Here it is! Stone… No, Caputalis!” 

In response to her spell, the blocks that made up the wall rearranged themselves to create an entrance after a few seconds. Katie hopped through, and her friends followed. 

“Good job, everyone! Now come on in! This is our secret base!” 

She jumped for joy at their arrival. With a flick of her wand, she lit the crystal lamp on the ceiling. Her friends ooh’d in awe at the sight. 

“Yeah, this is good.” 

Oliver was the first to comment. The workshop was about ten yards wide and fifteen yards long, and three yards high from floor to ceiling; it was around the size of two double-bed dorm rooms. In the back were candles and a stove, surrounded by cupboards full of potion-making tools like cauldrons. On the left wall was a single door, and on the right wall there were two. 

“Pretty well stocked, too,” Guy noted. “Might be a bit tight for six people, though.” 

“Hee-hee-hee, you’d think that, wouldn’t you? But your worries are unfounded!” 

Katie grinned as she proceeded farther into the workshop. She opened the left door and stepped into the dark space. 

“This is the main room. Let me get the light—” 

She flicked her wand at the ceiling like before. Suddenly, a giant lamp burst to life, illuminating the darkness. What expanded before their eyes was a room about ten times the size of the last one. Pete gaped at the high ceiling in awe. 

“What in the world? It’s huge! Can we use this, too?” 

“Of course! According to Ms. Miligan, this is a top-quality workshop despite being on the first layer.” 

Katie spoke proudly, and the echoes of her voice in the vast space amplified the effect. 

Chela walked around, checking off items on a mental list. “Yes, Ms. Miligan was certainly right about that,” she said. “There’s water, light, and a stove, not to mention they’re all properly housing elementals. We could start using this place as a workshop as early as tomorrow.” 

“At least my ass didn’t get turned into a pincushion for nothin’.” Guy rubbed his butt bitterly. “Awright, then! Let’s divvy up the space! Where should I put my garden?” 

“Calm down. Let’s write everyone’s wishes down on a piece of paper. I want to raise animals; Guy wants to raise plants. What does everyone else want to do here?” 

Katie took out a notebook from her bag and began scribbling with a pen. The others looked at one another. 

Oliver’s first instinct was to lay down the basics. “For now, I want to use this as a base for exploring the labyrinth. I’d start with making sure it’s satisfactory as a safe house and setting up some beds.” 

“Oh? You mean to sleep here? That sounds rather exciting.” 

“See? Nanao understands. That’s what a real secret base is,” said Guy. “I like the sound of this… Yeah! Let’s set up traps around the area! A base has to have tight defenses!” 

“Like ass-stabbing ones?” 

“Pete, you little—!” 

Guy tried to grab Pete for teasing him, but the bespectacled boy took off. Chela watched as the two of them played chase in the spacious room. She couldn’t help but smile. 

“…Heh-heh-heh.” 

“? What’s up, Chela?” Oliver asked. 

“Oh—I’m not sure why, but I’m feeling excited, too. Strange, isn’t it? I’ve never experienced this before.” 

Chela’s expression was a mixture of joy and confusion. 

“…We’d probably stay up all night talking about this,” Katie said quietly. “And it’s already late. If you all don’t mind, why don’t we…stay here tonight?” 

No one objected, and so they all settled in to spend their first night in the secret base. 

Once they decided to stay overnight, the six of them realized how hungry they were. Everyone had packed some food, but Guy argued that they needed something better for their first night in the secret base. They all agreed, and so everyone left the base to go on a food run. 

“…Will we really find a store in the labyrinth?” 

Once again, Oliver and Nanao took the lead, and they fell into the same formation they’d taken to get there. Katie expressed her doubts as they walked. 

There were quite a few unofficial workshops in the labyrinth, similar to the one Miligan had given them. And with so many students spending so much time down here—in other words, using the labyrinth as a living space—many needs arose, which naturally led to goods being sold to fulfill those needs. That was the sort of “store” they were searching for. 

“If we don’t find one, we can just do what the Labyrinth Gourmet Club does.” 

“We have to find a store!” 

Katie opened her eyes wide and scanned the area; she’d rather die than have their dinner table filled with magical beasts. 

Oliver grinned awkwardly. If they did find a “store,” it was still highly likely that the things they sold would be derived from magical beasts. But for now, this thought didn’t seem to dawn on her. 

“Hmm? What’s that?” 

After searching the area around their base for a bit, they spotted a figure deep in a wide corridor. As they drew closer, they could see dozens of items sitting atop a cloth on the ground. The seller’s face came into view, and she looked up at the group. 

“What’s this? Welcome! Can’t remember the last time a group of first-years darkened my door down here.” 

The older female student’s intonation was certainly unique, and her large mouth left quite an impression. She wore her uniform smartly, and from the color of the lining of the robe around her shoulders, she appeared to be a third-year. She studied Oliver and the gang, then continued: 

“Naughty, naughty, going out to play at night at such a tender age. You’ll desensitize yourselves. But I’m not in the business of picking my customers! Nee-ha-ha-ha! Go on, then. Whatcha looking for?” 

They prepared for a lecture, but she quickly switched back into merchant mode. 

Katie stooped down to look at her wares. “Wow, there really are stores down here in the labyrinth,” she said, impressed. “How do you keep stock?” 

“Ain’t it obvious? Either you lug it down from the surface or make it here. A single vial of anti-itch ointment sells for three times what it does up top. Makes all the risk worth it!” 

She gave that same curious laugh again. Most of her wares seemed to be potions, but Oliver noticed a big basket behind her that seemed to be stuffed full. 

“Do you have any food?” 

“Plenty, sure. You looking to just get by? Or maybe feeling a little festive?” 

“Somewhere in the middle, I’d say. We’d be happy with something tasty.” 

The girl turned around and began rummaging through the basket. From the mountain of items, she produced leafy veggies, root veggies, mushrooms, and meat for them to peruse. 

“Take it. Since you’re first-time customers, I’ll offer you a special deal: three thousand belc for the lot.” 

“Wait—for all this?” 

Oliver was shocked. Considering where they were, he’d been prepared for food to be incredibly pricey. This was much more palatable than what he’d imagined. Picking up on his confusion, the seller grinned. 

“I like reckless folk like you, descending this far into the labyrinth after only half a year at the academy. I hope you all survive and become regular customers.” Her “encouragement” was quite disturbing. 

Oliver made to thank her, but she cut him off. 

“But if you don’t, then I’ll have more fresh meat to sell. Either way, I win.” 

Everyone except Nanao stiffened. The seller burst into laughter. 

“Nee-ha-ha-ha! It’s a joke! A joke! Here, have some drinks on the house!” 

The six of them returned to the base with their surprisingly easy-to-find dinner. Now came the question of cooking. 

“…What kind of meat do you think this is?” Katie asked, studying the lump of red flesh. 

“Probably lamb. Judging from the muscle, it’s at least not demi-human,” Guy answered while he checked the mushrooms next to her. As he was the person with the most experience with food, the group had left him in charge of checking to make sure it was safe. 

“So what do we make? We’ve got enough for a feast.” 

“Wait—you can cook, Guy?” 

“Don’t expect anything fancy. But you can at least have faith that it’ll be tasty.” 

The tall boy stood, rolled up his sleeves, and walked to the kitchen. 

Katie jumped in next to him, smiling faintly. “Should I take that as a challenge?” 

“Oh? I dunno, should you?” Guy responded, his interest piqued. 

Sparks flew between them. A few seconds later, they’d grabbed knives and were furiously prepping their ingredients. 

Oliver chuckled from behind. “…Guess we’re in the way, then. Nanao, want to train a bit before dinner?” 

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” 

She immediately nodded, and they headed for the common room. 

Chela turned to Pete. “In that case, Pete, why don’t we study for class? I noticed you were struggling in spellology.” 

“Ugh… F-fine. Thanks.” 

Nanao and Oliver faced each other in the center of the common room. Oliver was the first to speak. 

“So…let me ask this first. Have you managed to reproduce it since then?” 

He didn’t need to say what “it” was. Nanao shook her head, and the boy crossed his arms. 

“I see… Strange. That certainly wasn’t the kind of move you just unleash by chance.” 

“As I asked before, are you certain you’re not overthinking this?” 

“No. If I was mistaken, there’s no way you could have defeated the cursed eye of a basilisk,” Oliver stated quite plainly. He was talking about her duel with Vera Miligan, specifically Nanao’s final blow—the seventh spellblade. 

The fact that she’d even managed this was a secret between the two of them. Like Master Garland had stated in class, spellblade users never made a display of their techniques. Oliver had been very careful to remind her of this, so she didn’t ignorantly let the truth slip. 

“In any case, we’ll just have to wait for it to come back to you. So until that happens, let’s focus on spell practice.” 

With that, Oliver moved on to the next subject. He couldn’t offer a single word of advice in regard to the spellblade. It was Nanao who had created it, and only she could recreate it. 

So leaving aside the problems that were outside the realm of his ability, they focused on practicing the basics for a mage. First on the list was spellwork. As Oliver prepared to teach her as usual, Nanao grinned bitterly. 

“This again? I don’t mind, of course, but… Might we first cross swords for a bit?” 

“No. Since you’re in the battle-royal tournament, you need to at least be able to handle a spell duel. This is for your own safety, as well as a show of manners if you’re going to continue attending this academy as a mage.” 

“Mm, you have a point. I understand.” 

Nanao nodded meekly at Oliver’s advice. It wasn’t that she wished to skip out on her magic lessons—she just wanted to cross swords with the person in front of her more than anything. 

Oliver knew this; he smiled and drew his wand. “Don’t worry. Your spells are getting more focused. You’re almost ready to use them in a fight. Once you can do that, you’ll have to learn to weave them in with your swordplay. It’s my job as your teacher to lead you to that stage.” 

Nanao’s expression clouded over as she drew her own wand. 

“Then…once that’s happened, you’ll no longer teach me magic?” 

She looked at him forlornly. 

Oliver shook his head. “I’ll continue to answer any questions you have, just like I do now. Only then we’ll be equals as mages in both name and ability.” 

He looked into her eyes. Suddenly, she gripped her wand tighter. 

“That…is exciting.” 

After an hour of practice, Chela called for them to come back, so they sheathed their wands and returned to the living room to find Katie and Guy standing proudly over their dishes. 

“All done! What do you think?!” 

“Eat up! Get it while it’s hot!” 

They sat down at the table. Aside from the brown bread, which they had every day, there were two dishes before them. Katie’s was a tomato-based stew served in a giant pot. Guy’s consisted of roasted meat and veggies covered in a thick, brown sauce atop a large plate. 

“They…both look so good,” Oliver marveled. 

“Let’s tuck in, shall we?” said Chela. “To our first night in the labyrinth!” 

The six of them clinked their cups of cider together. This was a drink made from fermented apples and contained a tiny bit of alcohol, which meant they could only enjoy it in the labyrinth where the normal laws didn’t apply. The sweetness of the fruit juice and sting of the carbonation pleasantly slid down their parched throats. 

With their thirst quenched, the group finally reached for the food. Katie and Guy stared intently as their friends took bites from each dish. A few minutes passed in silence as they savored the flavors. 

“…They’re both good,” Oliver muttered. “But if I had to declare a winner…” 

His gaze moved toward the plate of meat and veggies. 

Chela nodded. “Guy’s dish is a hair better, I’d say,” she noted. “Katie, your dish was superb, but this one has a deliciousness I haven’t experienced before… Um, may I have some more?” 

Chela looked at Guy awkwardly. He beamed and helped her to seconds as Katie slumped over the table. 

“I—I lost…?! My best dish was beaten by that unsophisticated mess?” 

“Ha-ha! You just don’t get it, do you? This is our first meal after walking forever through the labyrinth. You gotta have fire-roasted meat after all that!” 

“Rrrrrggghhhhh!” 

Katie’s shoulders shook with anger, as she had no retort for that. It all made sense to Oliver now. Most likely, there wasn’t that much difference in terms of their cooking skills. However, Guy had prepared the perfect dish for this specific scenario. That was the camping style he prided himself on. 

“My ass is still hankerin’ for some payback. Once dinner’s over, we’re competing with these—and you bet there’ll be a punishment for the loser!” 

Guy retrieved a pack of cards from his bag and placed it on the table. His eyes gleamed; the night was still young. 

When they were finished eating, they started playing cards. Over two hours passed in the blink of an eye. 

“Phew, that was fun! Feels like ages since I last played that much. Thanks, Katie. This secret base is awesome!” 

“If you’re really that grateful, then at least show a little more mercy!” 

Guy leaned back into his chair languidly. Katie’s long, curly hair, which she was so proud of, was standing on end: the result of a spell after coming in last place. Her tresses, now distinctively defying gravity, looked exactly like a broomstick brush. Oliver struggled to suppress a fit of giggles. 

“Th-that’s enough. Let’s put her back. Originale.” 

He dispelled her bushy hair, and it finally returned to its original shape. 

Katie cupped a curl in her hand and sighed in relief. 

Oliver pulled out his pocket watch and checked it. 

“It’s pretty late. We should get to sleep. That means setting up beds—does anyone have anything left to do?” 

A few seconds later, Chela awkwardly raised her hand. 

“Um, I have a suggestion. How about…a name?” 

The five of them failed to understand what she was saying. 

“…A name?” 

“What’re you talking about?” 

“For our group. Perhaps it’s a strange thing to suggest, but I’m having so much fun right now. It’s almost unbelievable. Which is why I’d like to make this special. This time, this space, this relationship… I want to give it a name, make it something tangible… I-is that odd of me?” 

Her eyes wandered, unsure and quite unlike her usual self. 

Guy crossed his arms and shook his head. “Not at all. A little overly sentimental, if you ask me, but that’s not a bad thing.” 

“A name for the group, huh?” said Oliver. “I’d never considered it. Pete, got any ideas?” 

“Y-you’re asking me? It’s too sudden; I…” 

Everyone settled into thought except for Nanao. “My friends, may I ask you to draw your blades?” 

She stood from her chair and unsheathed her sword. The others looked at one another, then hesitantly followed suit. 

“Form a circle and hold them out straight. That’s right… Overlay them on top of one another.” 

Six blades gently crossed; from above, they appeared like the petals of a great blooming flower. 

“Where I come from, we call this a sword rose. It’s a display of friendship between warriors.” 

“Oh, an Azian custom…” 

“Do we swear undying friendship on it?” 

“No, we swear nothing.” Nanao shook her head. The others seemed surprised, and she smiled. “We simply remember the shape of the flower that bloomed here today. No one knows where our allegiances may lie tomorrow, or who will be alive or dead beyond then. Warriors cannot speak of the future. All we can do is burn this moment clearly into our memories.” 

Suddenly, it all clicked into place for Oliver. Nanao had come from a land embroiled in war. The warriors who threw themselves into battle had no idea when they might lose their lives, and so the act of swearing upon the future was seen as insincere. Let’s meet again tomorrow. Such an insignificant promise was too ephemeral for them; only the present was certain. And this girl named Nanao Hibiya had grown up amid such impermanence. 

“……” 

He realized that the same could be said of this group, who lived in the hellish world of Kimberly. 

“Now at this moment, our flower has bloomed. No matter what the future holds, this moment will not change. Whatever fate or cruelty awaits, nothing can ever scatter the flower we formed here.” 

Which was why Nanao could be so certain that the present was unshakable. With this flower expressing their warrior friendship, the six mages gathered together displayed their bond. 

“Thus, the Sword Roses. That is what I’d name our group.” 

The Azian girl finished her speech on the softest of notes. Silence fell between the six friends as her words seeped into their hearts. 

“A sword rose, huh? It’s a little inelegant, but I like it.” 

Oliver was the first to indicate his assent. Then one by one, the others nodded as well. Seeing that everyone was in agreement, Chela spoke up. 

“Yes, very well. From this point on, we are the Sword Roses: an undying flower blooming in the corner of endless space and time.” 

Under Chela’s solemn tone, they looked down at the shape they had made: the proof of their bond. 

“All flowers bloom proudly, unafraid of the day their petals scatter,” she continued. “Let us be like them. Do not fight the scattering of our petals, nor the withering of our roots. Just bloom as brightly as you can in the present. These moments we create shall surely be more magnificent than eternity itself.” 

Chela spoke with conviction, and silence fell again. They spent a long while without saying a word, until eventually, Guy interrupted. 

“…Hey, Chela, you’re blushing.” 

“So are you, Guy.” 

“As if you’re one to talk, Pete!” 

“Bwa-ha-ha-ha! Katie’s cheeks are like ripened persimmons.” 

“You’re just as bright, Nanao…” 

“As are you, Oliver.” 

They realized they were all blushing equally. Sheathing his athame, Oliver coughed. 

“…The awkwardness will be hard to forget, at least.” 

“Chela, would you call that special?” Katie asked. 

“Yes, more special than anything I’ve ever known… I’ve never felt my own words flow so uncontrollably before.” 

“Scary how late-night excitement can get to you when you’re away from home. No one’s immune,” said Guy. 

“…L-let’s change the subject! I’m dying here!” 

Unable to bear the embarrassment, Pete forcefully shifted the conversation away. Everyone laughed and nodded. The six of them chatted for hours until they passed out from exhaustion.