Nanatsu no Maken ga Shihai suru - Volume 9 - Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Distant Lights

He loved how clear the skies were in winter, especially on chilly evenings.

Shouldering a hefty rucksack and his beloved telescope, he climbed the hill. Made from the finest materials, it was far heavier than a fully grown man but felt like cotton candy. He was drawn to the starry sky, so his feet were all the lighter for it.

There was a little deck at the top of the hill. The villagers had built it for him three years after he’d been posted here. They’d refused to tell him what it was until they’d finished it, and when the building was done, they’d brought him up there. He’d been unable to speak at all, the joy so great it left him shaking.

Perhaps the city mages would have less than kind words for it. An ordinary human’s carpentry was limited in scale and function. Using golems would give you a far grander structure in much less time.

…True, but that wasn’t the point. The reason he’d been that happy? This proved the villagers got exactly what he loved the most.

As his feet neared the crest of the hill, he heard whispers up ahead. Young children’s voices. He had an idea of who. He picked up his pace and found three children in bulky winter clothes.

“Ah! Teach is here!”

“See? I told you he’d come today!”

“Shut it, Luca! I knew it all along!”

He’d expected this trio, but not the others. More children were spilling out from the back of the deck. Every one of them bundled up warm, their cheeks rosy—clearly, they’d all been waiting for him to arrive.

“What?” he yelped. “Why are you all here? Do you know how freezing it is? You’ll catch a cold!”

“No we won’t!”

“And if we do, you’ll heal us!”

“I’ve got mittens on! See? See?”

Almost every member of his class at the village school was here. It was especially cold—and the sky especially clear—and they must have known he’d been looking forward to his visit here all day. He shook his head and put the telescope down, unshouldering his rucksack.

“I don’t know what to do with you kids… I brought extras just in case, but if there’s not enough, you’re going to have to send the little ones off home first. Put these in your pockets. They’re hot, so be careful when you touch!”

“So warm!”

“Ohhh! Nothing can stop us now!”

“I could stay here all night!”

He’d handed each child a heat orb encased in a fireproof cotton pouch. A magic tool that required no mana to use, designed for ordinaries. He made a lot of these everyday-use items for the village. Village mages were famous for their quick handiwork, but that was inevitable; if you weren’t fast, you’d never keep up with demand.

When everyone had an orb in their pocket, he filled their cups with sweet milk tea from a thermal pot. When he was sure all the children were taken care of, he finally turned back to the telescope, his gaze drifting to the sky above. Not a cloud to be seen, a sea of stars awaiting him.

“…Looking good. Let’s start our observations. Everyone remember the deal?”

“No shaking!”

“No yelling!”

“Never touch the lens!”

They sounded indignant. They always said the right things, but he could count on one hand the number of times the rules had gone unbroken. But that didn’t bother him. If he was really in the mood to focus, he could just say so, and they’d leave him to his own devices. And having the children with him kept his mind from flying away from him. How many times had his parents scolded him for it? When you’re gazing, you aren’t here at all. You’re up there, among the stars.

He peered through the lens, adjusting the angle and magnification, setting the focus on today’s subject. Today he was looking at a distant star, one he rarely got a chance to see at all. A glimpse of a tír, all marbled purple and black.

“Oh gosh…,” he said, a hint of longing to his sigh. “Vanato, the Chthonic Retreat. So big and clear! In the city, it was never more than a faint light. You need clear air and high ground to make it out!”

As he gazed avidly, he sensed a little body by his side. The youngest girl in his class, Maya.

“It’s called that ’cause it’s very lonely, right?”

“You remember that? Yes, that tír is all on its own. It draws near our world far less often than the others, and if there are migrations, they soon die out, never taking hold. They think it’s the same with the other tír. The creatures from Vanato lack the strength to adapt to other environments.”

“Like how I get lonely if I’m outside too long?”

“…Yeah, maybe. But I think you can get lonely if you spend too long home alone, too. That’s why it always sends a small number of migrations. It knows they’ll be left alone and die out, but it hopes they’ll meet someone at the end of their journey.”

“…If you go there, would it be happy?” another child asked.

The boy next to Maya was the most active, boisterous kid in class. It was highly unusual for him to join in this quietly. And that made him smile.

“Wouldn’t that be nice? But it’s easier said than done. There aren’t many ways to go there or times when you can. And I don’t want to get lonely and die over there, so I would have to spend a long time getting ready. But the main thing—the way the magic world thinks these days, you don’t go to a tír. So many scary things come from them that the mages are busy wiping them out, scared of what they’ll do. Even if I said I wanted to try, no one would listen.”

“Don’t give up!”

“Are they all scary? They can’t be!”

“Some of them are nice! I know it!”

“Yeah, they’ve gotta be!”

Whenever he sounded defeated, the children jumped in to cheer him up. That brought a tear to his eye. He’d spent ages in the city, frustrated and lost, with no one around to offer encouragement. His reputation as a weird tír lover had dogged his footsteps, and he’d accepted the offer of a job as a village mage to flee that ostracization. Not a past to be proud of, but looking at these kids, he knew he’d made the right choice.

“That’s what I believe,” he said. “That’s why I’m always looking for signs they aren’t all bad. But this telescope just isn’t powerful enough to see much of anything.”

He took his eyes away from the telescope lens, turning back to the kids and smiling. Maya tugged at his sleeve.

“When I grow up, I’ll help you look.”

“Thank you, Maya. I’ll give you the best telescope I can build.”

A little promise for a bold offer. She would likely forget all about it, and that was fine. He wanted her to live her own life and be what she wanted to be: free of the harsh and cruel reality of a mage’s life. But if she grew up to be someone who loved seeing the stars, then being her village teacher had been worth it.

“The stars are so pretty, Mr. Demitrio.”

“Yes, they are. They’re very beautiful indeed.”

A pleasant hour, trading views with the little girl. Nursing his long-held dream of one day traveling among the stars, hoping from the bottom of his heart that these happy days would last forever.

The day after the junior-league finale, contestants gathered on the labyrinth’s second layer, the bustling forest, to join in the bonus exhibition round. The event’s instigator, Theodore, looked at the faces assembled.

“All participating teams are here? Good, then let me run down the concept. You’ll be competing to eliminate specific species from the second layer, earning points for your team by quantity dispatched.”

He pointed his white wand at the blackboards behind him. They contained a list of a dozen or so flora and fauna, complete with illustrations. These were the first specifics they’d received on the targets of their hunt, and as their eyes ran down the list, every brow furrowed. They had not expected the list to be more than half plants.

“Here you’ll find your targets. The descriptions include the environments you’ll find them in and how to eliminate them. Your time limit is two hours on the dot. Participating teams will be split between several areas and will hunt within those boundaries. To compensate for the advantage a year brings, our second-year teams will begin with fifty points.

“Your actions in each area will be supervised by an upperclassman. The list of who’s assigned to whom is over here. Supervisors, you’ll get no reward, but consider this a chance to demonstrate your leadership skills. I leave the specifics in your hands, but remember to balance overall effectiveness against the individual team’s performances. Neglecting the latter in particular will result in sour grapes.”

To Theodore’s side were a group of presidential candidates—Miligan, Whalley, and Tim among them—all here to prove they were good leaders. Sparks were already flying between Miligan and Whalley.

“Next up, prohibited acts. Naturally, no interference with other teams, but there’s also no trading or gifting targets between teams—not even guidance or deference. You’ve all got crafty minds and are looking for loopholes, I’m sure. I won’t dissuade you from doing so, but do remember that I’m watching from above with my eyes peeled. And if I witness any violations, I will be eliminating teams outright.” Then Theodore added, “That’s all for the rules. Any questions?”

He glanced around, looking pleased with himself. The rules themselves were standard, but the bulk of the targets being immobile vegetation was clearly not right for a combat league. Questioning that—yet also picking up on the motives that lay behind it—the students began to speak.

“I…guess it’s a question?”

“This is just…cleaning up the mess from the prelim, then?”

“Far from it! I would never pretend to dangle a carrot over the losing teams and force them to help restore the intended ecosystems! But I do highly recommend focusing on this rock-eating cactus brought up from the fifth layer. They tend to put down very deep roots, you see, and grow right back if you aren’t terribly careful with the removal. Total coincidence that they give so many points, of course, but focusing exclusively on them is a viable strategy!”

He could not be more blatantly manipulative if he tried. Everyone involved just rolled their eyes. The upper forms’ prelim had been a trail run that completely upended the second layer’s ecosystem—and this was just an excuse to make them help fix it. Waiting for the labyrinth’s homeostasis to kick in would take too long.

“…Guess we’re here to mow the lawn. Shouldn’t’ve gotten myself worked up.”

“I’m actually…relieved? If the goal is to restore the ecosystem, it’s a lot easier to live with competitive hunting.”

“But still just wiping their butts for them.”

Team Aalto wasn’t mincing words. “Mow the lawn” wasn’t far from the truth. Vanessa had already amused herself by slaughtering all the larger, dangerous beasts; now just a bunch of small fries were left. Any hopes of getting one’s clammy hands on a real monster were consequently dashed.

“Welp, guess we can’t complain. Six mil to first place, three to second, and one to third. Ludicrous riches for a two-hour chore. Gotta get that moolah.”

“Our wallets are very empty.”

“We spent so much on intel before the league began… Gotta try and make it back somehow.”

Splinter specialist Rosé Mistral and his team spoke with a tinge of desperation. Teams that had been in the league to win were deeply emotionally invested, and failing to rank at all had left them in dire financial straits. If there was a chance to rectify that, then they were ready and willing.

“Ohhh, flora are worth a lot! That’s what I’m good at!”

“I wish you the best.”

“Hey, wait! You’re not going anywhere! Stay and help!”

On Team Carste, Rita was pretty motivated, but Teresa herself was only here because Dean had his hand on her collar. Felicia’s Team—the other group of second-years—wasn’t far off.

“I will not touch dirt. You know what that means, lackeys?”

“The task is ours!”

“We won’t let you lift a finger, Lady Felicia!”

Her teammates saluted, backs bolt upright, and their leader lounged back in a chair she’d crafted from toolplants.

A variety of teams and relationships, all of which just made Theodore smile. Standing on his broom, he flew up to the skies above.

“Sounds like everyone’s here to work! Positions, everyone! Before I call start, strategize however you like. The battle itself has already begun.”

Urged into action, the students started dashing toward their assigned areas. Once their teams were together, the supervisors began doling out instructions. The most obviously skilled of these was the old-council camp’s candidate, Percival Whalley.

“We’re after three types of plant exclusively! Group A, take Area One and Group B, Area Two. Before you go to weed, cast a mild liquifying spell on the whole section. We’re shooting for these targets!”

He was writing on the ground at his feet as he spoke. Third-year teams had plenty of experience on the second layer and needed only minimal instructions. He turned from them to the second-years.

“Groups C and D, you’ll be splitting Area Three. Second-years are unavoidably slower than the older students, so focus on careful work over rushing through things. Given the handicap, that should easily put you in range of a prize!”

A plan formed on reasonable performance expectations, accounting for the difference in school years, and doing what he could to smooth out their progress in their respective areas—the kind of management that made work easier.

From the next section over, fellow supervisor Miligan was watching Whalley, impressed by his practiced ease.

“He’s sure making snappy work of it,” she said. “Really shines when he’s in charge of crowds.”

“What do we do?”

“Have you got it broken down like him?”

Miligan had yet to lift a finger, and the teams before her were starting to frown. She turned toward them, smiling and shaking her head.

“No need. Just make sure you aren’t hitting the same areas. I do recommend focusing on high-scoring plants, but I’ll leave the details to you.”

“Uh, you sure?”

“We won’t be as fast.”

They blinked, looking back and forth between Whalley’s section and theirs. But Miligan simply raised an index finger.

“Ten thousand belc for each point you earn.”

Time stopped. It took several seconds before the meaning of that string of sounds sank in. Miligan’s smile broadened, and she added the explanation they were hoping for.

“In addition to the reward the school offers, I’ll be offering my own bonus to each team. Unrelated to the rankings in this competition. And you will be paid by end of day tomorrow.”

A ridiculously generous offer, and the eyes before her were starting to sparkle. Clearly much more motivated than a moment before, so she threw one last log on the fire.

“A verbal contract, but I’m a candidate—which means I must be true to my word. I trust that’s good enough?”

At this point, Theodore sounded the competition start. Miligan’s team took off like starving animals.

“Rahhhhhh!”

“Hunt, hunt, hunt!”

“Gimme that belc!”

Eyes gleaming with greed scoured the ground. No one mocked the lawn-mowing here; as far as they were concerned, there was pure gold sprouting from the earth. What could well have been hard work for nothing was now a paying gig, and Miligan’s offer had made a world of difference. The teams on either side picked up on that momentum and paused to stare.

“Wh-what’s with them?”

“They’re really into this.”

Everyone gawked for a minute. These teams weren’t particular into the whole concept. Even with some high reward on offer, those went to only three teams. Anyone unused to this sort of work never had a real shot, leaving their labor uncompensated. Miligan had upended that, offering a guaranteed reward and one far higher than the work deserved.

And with them working the way she wanted, the Snake-Eyed Witch took that as a cue to taunt her rival.

“Narrowing the goals, assigning the areas, improving work efficiency! You really are a marvelous talent, Mr. Whalley! Most impressive. So by the book I simply had to stifle a yawn. If you want praise for those methods, perhaps you should transfer to Featherston.”

“Damn it, Miligan!” Whalley snapped, having probed her intent. “You’re bribing juniors?”

“My, how you twist things. I simply offered appropriate payment for services rendered!”

“That’s bullshit and you know it! This isn’t any old lawn-mowing! Have you forgotten the election rules? Paying for votes is a clear violation! You will be penalized!”

“Don’t be absurd, Mr. Stickler. This is a competition! A sporting event entirely unrelated to the election. And the instructor himself said to strategize however we like! I heard not one word against offering additional rewards. I’ll have you refrain from bad-faith interpretations based purely on your unsubstantiated biases.”

That made Whalley’s protests die on his lips. Theodore’s rundown had simply said “demonstrate leadership skills.” He had not mentioned doing so as part of the ongoing election. But at this stage of the election, there could be no other reason for that—and he felt it was worth getting a verdict. He glanced up at Theodore and found the ringlet instructor looking rather at a loss.

“Hmm…I do see where Mr. Whalley is coming from, but…I was the one who said ‘however you like.’ It’s our fault for slapping together an event with such half-baked rules, but exploiting those loopholes is frankly a very Kimberly move. Is that not your own stance? In light of that, and given that Ms. Miligan is not specifically soliciting votes here, I’ll allow it.”

“Tch—”

“Ah-ha-ha-ha! Allow sense to seep into that hard head of yours, Mr. Whalley! This, this here is the Kimberly way! If you’re only just realizing that for the first time, I’m afraid you’re hardly ready to serve as president.”

Getting the call she’d expected elicited a titanic peal of laugher. Objectively speaking, Miligan looked the spitting image of the wicked witches in ordinaries’ folk tales, and one might be forgiven for checking to see if her tongue was forked. Katie, who was working in the Snake-Eyed Witch’s area, was left clutching her head.

“…Guy, why am I backing her, again?”

“Don’t think, Katie! Just work!”

“We’re after the regulation faculty rewards! Just convince yourself of that for now!”

Pete was already focused on the task at hand. True enough, given the research on her plate, Katie needed all the funding she could get. She balanced that against her guilty conscience and reached for the nearest plant.

“…Uh…”

“They’re going wild over there.”

In another supervisor’s area, the teams were giving the other participants dubious looks. Tim glanced over once, then shrugged.

“Forget ’em. Just do whatever. If you wanna go for the reward, feel free; if not, just score enough points so you don’t look lazy. It may be some dumbass weeding project but remember, there’s a teacher watching. It might affect his opinion of you.”

They blinked at that reminder. Tim wasn’t blatantly winding them up but simply pointing out there probably was an unofficial minimal work threshold. Another viable approach to leadership.

And that wasn’t all he’d done. At the start sign, his spell had crafted several large basins. These were filled with potions, diluted with water from the creeks in his area. He jerked a thumb at those.

“Wash your hands in these every twenty minutes. Every fifteen if you’re a try-hard. Lots of the target plants are poisonous, and if you don’t watch yourself, you’ll end up with welts everywhere.”

“Ugh, seriously?”

“I’m definitely washing up…”

“Same.”

“If we miss the award and wind up with throbbing hands, this’ll be a real shit show.”

They all dashed off to the basins, grateful that Tim had spared a thought for the post-competition care. And then he called out one last warning.

“The layer’s still unstable, too. Stare at the ground too much and you’ll get hit from your blind spot. That’s all from me.”

“Okay!”

“We’ll keep an eye out!”

The students nodded. Aware he was thinking of their safety first, they felt their opinions of him skyrocketing. Watching all this from above, Theodore was equally curious.

“Not what I expected from him. What brought this on?”

The Toxic Gasser had long cultivated a fearsome reputation, yet now he was making a major change. This didn’t seem like a fleeting performance with the elections approaching; if he’d been capable of that, he’d have gone for it long ago. Which meant something significant had inspired real growth. Something that made Tim Linton want to step out from being Godfrey’s sidekick and be a mentor on his own. Theodore didn’t know who’d caused this but commended them on a job well done.

“…Hmm.”

A twinge hit him from another direction, and he swung toward it: where Team Ames was pushing into the thick of the forest, in search of further prey.

“…This is more enjoyable than I had imagined,” Jasmine Ames whispered, smoothly pulling a target plant from the ground. She’d been forced into this landscaping exercise, but it suited her disposition—once she got working, she began to enjoy herself.

While she was quietly plugging away, her teammates were going full-out.

“Rahhhhhhh! Bring me dat belc!”

“Gonna get our Jaz dem good eats!”

They were visibly fired up. Miligan’s offer might not apply to them, but they’d also spent a small fortune to prep for the league. And they felt the need to support their leader—especially given that they’d largely dragged her down in the actual match. Both were good kids at heart.

“Whoa, it’s huge!”

“Careful! If that snaps, it’s worth nothing!”

Certain they had a score, they were upending the soil around them. Ames turned to help but then spotted something big coming through the brush beyond them.

“ ?! Watch out—there’s something coming!”

“Huh?”

“Hah?”

They turned to look, eyes wide—and a wyvern’s face emerged from the bushes. Or what was left of it: Half had been melted off. The sinister glow of a breath attack was reddening its maw. A turn so unexpected, it stunned Ames’s companions. She leaped forward to protect them, but the wave of brutal heat bore down upon them.

The roar of it shook the layer. Every student present stopped and turned to look.

“Yikes—”

“What the—?”

“An explosion?”

“On your guard! What’s going on?”

“Stop work! Bad news!”

Whalley and Miligan both put their teams on emergency alert—but by the time the smoke cleared, the matter was resolved. The wyvern was frozen like a statue, slammed head-on by a spell of the oppositional. The ringlet instructor’s work, having swooped in on his broom.

“The four of you are unharmed, I trust?”

Certain the threat was neutralized, he turned to the students behind him. Team Ames, looking stunned—and Tim Linton, who’d leaped between them and the wyvern. The start of the breath attack had burned the left shoulder of his customized uniform, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m good. Nobody here’s hurt, right?”

“…Oh…”

“…The poison dude?”

Realizing he’d stepped in to save them, Team Ames collectively goggled. Certain everyone was safe, Theodore heaved a sigh of relief.

“Looks like one brought in for the prelim was still kicking. My apologies. Entirely our fault.”

“No biggie,” Tim said, brushing the cinders off his shoulder. “That’s why you’re on watch here, right?”

“My thanks to you, Mr. Linton.” Ames bowed, expressing her gratitude. “I thought I was done for.”

“Nah. The instructor took it down. All I did was get myself burned.”

“And in return, none of us was harmed. Allow me to offer healing. The least I can do.”

“Ah, wait, Jaz!”

“We’ll do that!”

Realizing they should have been the first to thank him, her backup crew drew their wands.

“Now, now,” Theodore said. “I’ll take care of things here. You get back to the competition. That’s why Linton was keeping you safe, after all.”

They weren’t about to argue with a teacher, so they thanked Tim once more and went back to work. Certain they’d moved on to a location with better visibility, Theodore turned to the Toxic Gasser next to him.

“…You kept your eyes peeled the moment they went into the thicker brush, didn’t you?”

“Don’t. Just hurry up and heal me.”

Tim sullenly proffered his burned shoulder, refusing to engage. Laughing, Theodore hopped off his broom and made the burns right as rain.

“…Fancy that,” Stacy whispered. “He never seemed the type to look after anyone.”

Like the prelim, the competition was broadcast via projector crystals in the larger classrooms. Groups of friends gathered here and there, Stacy among them. Oliver sat nearby, and he just smiled, shaking his head.

“Not true,” he said. “Mr. Linton’s always been there in a pinch.”

“Exactly,” Chela agreed. “But he’s more obvious about it now, and I suspect that may be your influence, Oliver.”

“? Really?”

He looked taken aback. His lack of self-awareness struck her as adorable, and Chela spontaneously threw her arms around him. Oliver let her, albeit not without reservations. This seemed like her usual friendly embrace, although given how the combat league had ended for her, he knew she needed the moral support.

“…But is Miligan really capable of that? It sure made an impact, but even ballpark math suggests she’s going to owe them a fortune. From what Katie’s said, she’s not exactly loaded…”

“Yes, so I’m sure she’ll have to borrow it. Given the state of the league, she’s likely decided the risk is worthwhile. Many election candidates have dropped out, and she has a real shot at pulling off the win. Mr. Whalley’s a fifth-year, so she won’t be facing him directly in the finals—therefore, any chance to orchestrate a direct comparison of their leadership skills is invaluable. She must have assumed she’ll get what she’s paying for.”

Chela’s explanation made a lot of sense. Borderline illegal approaches that would be frowned upon in elections elsewhere were entirely viable here, especially if you were the first in. They were a tad more underhanded about it, but the old-council camp was skirting the letter of the rules all the time. Theodore was well aware of that, which was another reason for him not chastising her here.

With the wyvern attack dispatched, the contestants were on the move again. Chela tore her eyes from the screen, released Oliver from her long embrace, and put her hand on her hip.

“Either way, our part in this long combat league comes to a close today. Once our friends come back, we must hold a party. Tonight we shall celebrate.”

“Hmph,” Stacy grumbled. “Must be nice, having a champion to celebrate.”

“Stace…,” Fay said, sighing. “You don’t need to turn everything into a pissing contest.”

Chela turned a beaming smile toward them.

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “You’re both coming tonight.”

“Huh?”

“Why are you surprised? This is our party, too. There is absolutely no reason why my team would ever be left out. I shall not allow you to skip this one! I haven’t showered nearly enough praise on your efforts.”

Chela started advancing upon them, her smile intimidating. Stacy darted this way and that, a bit overwhelmed.

“Uh…b-but I—I barely know anyone except you…”

“Then ’tis the perfect opportunity!”

She’d tried to squirm away but found Nanao blocking her path. Fay put an arm firmly around her shoulders.

“Give it up, Stace. This time, I will tie a rope around you and drag you there.”

“Fay?! You too?!”

“You promised you’d make some friends in class. We can’t depend on Lady Michela forever.”

He looked her right in the eye, hardening his heart. Stacy was left without a leg to stand on and let out a moan. Her eyes wavered a moment longer, and then at last she steeled her nerves.

“…Fine, I’ll be there! If you insist!”

“At last! Sorry, Horn. Hate to be a burden.”

“Not at all. You were always welcome. I’d love to hear more about your research—obviously, only what you’re able to share. I watched the match recordings and couldn’t believe my eyes.”

“Exactly! I ’ave been wanting to ask the same thing.”

A blithe voice broke in, and Chela blinked at the source.

“…Mr. Rossi?” she said. “Why are you here?”

“Such ’ostility! I swear, you are all far too ’arsh on me. As ’ard as I ’ave worked, I think I deserve a spot ’ere.”

“No time.”

A large hand clapped down on Rossi’s collar, and he slowly turned to find Joseph Albright, his brow visibly throbbing.

“We’ve got a postmortem, remember? Don’t go double-booking yourself while you’re in my line of sight.”

“N-noooo! I ’ave to party! Please ’ave mercy, big man!”

“Gnostic Hunter policy: Never lend an ear to desperate begging. Forgive the intrusion; I’ll ensure it doesn’t happen again.”

Albright dragged Rossi’s yowling self out of the room. Oliver shook his head.

“…Already poring back over their mistakes? They sure are dedicated.”

“That’s one of Rick’s strengths. But I suspect you’d best be ready, Oliver.”

“? For what?”

“You’ll find out soon enough what it means to be Rick’s friend.”

Chela’s smile was rather ominous. Oliver cocked his head at that, but then the ringlet girl began scanning the room. Given the nature of this bonus competition, the crowd wasn’t exactly stressing things—but with nothing better to do until the senior league resumed, there were plenty of students here to kill the time, and the noise level was pretty high. Unable to locate the one she sought, Chela put the question to Oliver.

“I haven’t seen Mr. Leik. Is this his standard wanderlust? He will be there for the party, yes?”

“…Probably. But I can’t make promises. Seemed like he’d grasped something vital in that last match. Not sure if that’s why, but…he’s been acting funny.”

Oliver had noticed that much shortly after the match ended.

Chela winced, nodding, then looked back at the screen.

“They’re wrapping up. I wonder how our friends did?”

On the second layer, a horn sounded the end of the competition, and most participants crumpled to the ground where they stood, having worked themselves to the bone.

“Landscaping is good exercise!” a familiar voice called from the announcer’s booth in the classrooms above. “Moving right to the results of the junior league bonus round! Which team got their hands dirty the best?”

You could tell Glenda was eager to find out herself. She checked over the numbers sent from below and was ready to go.

“In third place—our two second-year teams! Team Carste and Team Echevalria! They’ll be splitting the prize and getting half a million belc each! Both worked hard, but the scary part? Team Echevalria’s leader, Ms. Felicia—she didn’t move at all! She’s not Mr. Leoncio’s sister for nothing. Even at her age, she’s mastered the art of making others work for her!”

This appraisal merely made Felicia snort, lounging comfortably in her toolplant chair. Her servants were collapsed at her feet, breathing heavily. Team Carste was gazing at them from a distance.

“She really didn’t lift a finger… Loops back around to impressive.”

“Mm. And we went all out, too…”

“My hands hurt.”

As Dean and Rita whispered to each other, Teresa just held up her swollen hands.

“Acceptable results,” Felicia said, looking down at her minions. “But how long are you just going to lie there?”

“Pardon us!”

“Your orders?”

Her teammates sprang to their feet, saluting. Felicia smiled and tossed a little pot with a handmade salve inside their way. They caught it, weeping tears of rapturous joy.

Aha, Dean thought. She did have a carrot ready. He was oddly relieved.

“In second place! With a huge lead over third, we have Team Aalto! Mr. Greenwood really knows his magiflora, and his knack for swiftly locating clusters of the target plants played a major role in this outcome! I thought as much in the free-for-all, but this team sure shines in the wild! Can’t wait to see how they build on that! Let’s hope this three million belc helps!”

All three breathed a sigh of relief. Finally free of her labors, Katie gazed blearily at the sky above.

“…I’m so tired…”

“Yeah, but it was worth it! Three mil!”

“I can buy a lot of books with that.”

Guy and Pete were quietly pleased. They’d never expected to profit off the combat league, so this just felt like free money. Granted, all three friends had a lust for knowledge that would soon flush every belc down the drain.

“And last but not least, first place! Who came out on top in this swirling morass of greed? Team Mistral! They had all three members and his corporeal splinters going all out, pillaging that forest with terrifying verve! Let’s hope they keep this dedication and go for the big prize in the next league! Come and get your six million belc!”

With their victory assured, Mistral’s teammates looked up from the ground where they sat. They were pleased, just too exhausted to express it. Certain they weren’t just hearing things, they looked to their leader—who was lying flat on his face, not moving at all.

“Yo, Mistral… Nope, he’s dead.”

“It was a dead heat with Team Aalto, but we managed to pull ahead…except that six mil is split evenly with Team Ames and Team Liebert. If we’d known this was the competition, we wouldn’t have formed an alliance…”

Their insurance policy had come back to bite them on the ass. Since they’d had no clue what the bonus round involved until they saw the target list, they just had to write this one off as bad luck.

As the teams made their peace with the outcome, Glenda launched into her wrap-up.

“With the bonus round settled, the combat league lower forms division is at an end! From the prelims through the finals, it was all top-tier stuff and makes yours truly eager to see what this future will bring! Great work, everyone! Thanks for giving us all a show!” With that, she added, “The senior league finals await! Your juniors busted their butts, so you’d best not let them show you up! That’s all from me—I’ll spend the next three days imagining the greatness to come!”

The evening arrived. Tables laden with piles of food and drink carried from the Fellowship to a common room they had functionally all to themselves. Surrounded by invited guests, the party about to begin.

“…Ahem. Um, so, let’s make it official!” Katie said, clearing her throat and raising a mug brimming with white grape juice. “Oliver, Nanao, Mr. Leik—who’s running late and not here yet, but whatever! Congrats on winning the combat league! Cheers to Team Horn’s hard-fought battle and ultimate victory!”

With that, everyone clinked glasses, drops of clear liquid flying. Guy chugged most of his mug right away, then slammed it down on the table.

“That was insane!” he raved. “My guts were tying themselves in knots from the first match on!”

“Same,” Pete said, wincing, mug in hand. “Honestly, even if we’d made it there, we couldn’t have won. Really drove home how the free-for-all format helped us out…”

“I wouldn’t dare diminish the level of the final teams,” Chela said. “But the three of you are hardly that far behind. Using the terrain and ecosystem is vital in any real-world combat scenario. And by demonstrating that, you’ve ensured many more students will wish to incorporate those strategies in years to come.”

“Verily. Should the opportunity present itself, I would love to fight alongside you two.”

“Oh, really? Then let’s team up next time!”

Katie’s face glowed. She grabbed Nanao’s hands, doing a little dance. Chela’s smile grew extra warm, and then she turned to their guests.

“Every single person here’s league performance raised their profiles. And that includes you, Team Carste.”

She looked to the younger trio. Dean almost spat out his juice. He hastily wiped his lips with his sleeve. He and Rita turned toward their hosts.

“All I did was fail to get the drop on someone…”

“And I got used as a human shield! I’m so sorry, Greenwood…”

“Gah, you’re both a bunch of sad sacks! Especially you, Rita! Don’t you dare apologize again! I messed up there, too, okay? Next time, I’ll do a better job coming to the rescue.”

As he spoke, Guy ran around the table, rubbing his knuckles on both juniors’ heads. Leaning into the rough kindness, Rita looked up through her lashes at him.

“…So you’ll come save me again?”

“Huh? Damn straight. Who d’you take me for?”

“…Eh-heh-heh.”

He was just stating the obvious, but Rita couldn’t stop herself from giggling. Oliver smiled at that, then turned to the girl hovering next to him.

“…Teresa, what are your thoughts on the match?”

“Nothing of much import. At most, I should have chosen better teammates.”

“Gah…!”

“Aughhh…!”

A brutal backhanded blow that left both Dean and Rita writhing. Oliver swiftly moved to object.

“I wouldn’t say that. Certainly, you’re the standout, but Mr. Travers and Ms. Appleton both have their strengths. If they failed to capitalize on them, your first regret should be a lack of proper planning.”

“…Hrm.”

“Matching the timing of your attacks to the beasts and Mr. Travers’s surprise attack from beneath the water. Both of those could’ve paid off with one further wrinkle. And that includes your own performance. I bet you have thoughts along those lines. You know where and when you could have done more.”

Oliver kept one eye on her as he spoke. Her expression never changed, but he could tell this was the sort of silence that settled in when he’d hit the nail on the head.

He grinned and added, “You’ve got the decisiveness to seize an opportunity and plenty of courage. You’re a good team. Don’t measure them by these results alone. Rather, build on this to make all of you stronger. Do that and you’ll win next time.”

“…If you say so, then I’ll consider it. I certainly don’t enjoy defeat.”

Teresa took his advice to heart. Katie and Guy had been listening in and started whispering to each other.

“…Oliver’s extra hard on Teresa, huh?”

“Ya think? I’d say he’s going the extra mile. More like a dad than an upperclassman.”

“More like Teresa doesn’t listen to anyone but Mr. Horn,” Peter Cornish chimed in. “I mean, did you see how she reacted? We’d never get her to admit that.”

He was the last member of that second-year group and had been invited here with the league team. The most outgoing and sociable of them, he was easy to open up to. They started by talking about mutual friends, but it wasn’t long before the conversation started ranging free.

As the volume rose, Dean put his empty mug down and got to his feet, approaching Oliver.

“…Got a sec, Mr. Horn?”

“Mm? What is it, Mr. Travers?”

“Just Dean’s fine. Uh…so I watched the finals. It was a whole lot, and I know I missed a bunch, but, uh…it really got to me.”

He awkwardly scratched his head. Sensing this was leading up to something more serious, Oliver put down his glass and turned toward him.

“Well…I’m honored. Did it prove instructive?”

“It did. More like…I feel like I see a super-long-term goal now? I mean, you saw my match; I bet you could tell. My spells and swordplay are both mad sloppy. I’ve just been doing everything as an extension of back-alley punch-outs. But seeing your last battle…I started feeling like that won’t serve me well.”

“So you want to turn back and solidify your fundamentals?”

“Exactly. Which brings me to my question here—if you’re gonna rebuild, where do you start? I mean, I’m all up for brutal training! Spirit and guts, I got in spades.”

Dean spoke with fervor, and everyone listening looked tense.

“…You’ve stepped in it, kid,” said Guy.

“Huh?”

“Nothing can save you now. Go on, Oliver. There’s space over there.”

Seeing where this was going, Chela waved them to the empty side of the room. Oliver nodded, grabbed Dean’s wrist, and pulled him over.

“First, take a stance,” he said, facing him once more. “Don’t worry about textbook accuracy; just do what you always do.”

“L-like this?”

“Mid-stance with an eye on grabs. So your main goal is to snatch the wrist to an underarm lock?”

“Y-you can tell?”

“If they don’t close in, you tend to get hit with spells as they back away, right?”

“That too? From one stance?!”

“A stance has a lot more information in it than you imagine. Yet, disguising that is also the purpose of the stance. Take a look at mine. Basic Lanoff mid-stance. What can you tell from that?”

“Um…huh, not a lot.”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“You don’t know what I’m gonna do. Or put another way, I can do just about anything. That’s the potential the Lanoff mid-stance harbors. The impression you voiced is the point. Let’s take it a step further. How would you come after me in this stance? Not in words, go on and demonstrate. Like you mean it, no holding back.”

That made Dean get his head on straight, realizing this was no lecture but a hands-on training exercise.

“Um…th-then…it’s gonna be hard like this, so… Yikes?!”

“You tried to tap my athame and deflect the tip, yeah? I saw it coming, pulled my blade back out of your way, and cut your wrist on the counter. Nothing hard about it; from your stance, there’s only so many quick moves you can take. If the options are limited, then all you need is to pay enough attention to spot which. Makes it easier to respond on the fly.”

“Um, so then…I shouldn’t give them that info?”

“That’s one approach, but no matter how good you are, it’s hard to hide everything. So I want you thinking a step deeper. If you can’t hide it, how do you keep them from calling it?”

Oliver clearly wanted a real answer, so Dean thought long and hard. Eventually, he reached a conclusion that felt worth venturing.

“…If I can’t hide…then I need more?”

“Correct. Always have multiple options and throw them at your foe. If they read it wrong, you can exploit that, and if not, well, you at least made them think, which slows their reaction speed. Human concentration is a finite resource. With blades or wands, robbing each other of that is the key to any battle.”

This came in through Dean’s ears and seeped into his mind—then his eyes went wide, and he stiffened like he’d been struck by lightning. Sensing the dawn of realization, Oliver pressed on.

“I’m betting you always went into fights with your mind made up, your move set in stone. That ain’t wrong for a street fight. Those aren’t about technique as much as they are whose nerves let them hit faster. But Kimberly students are always ready to throw down. They keep their nerves about ’em like a pocket handkerchief. Which means you’ve gotta have the strength that comes beyond that.”

“…Y-yeah. I feel like…you just changed my whole mindset.”

“That’s promising. From what I can tell, you’ve got the motivation and stamina to handle hard training. What you needed was an understanding of the task at hand. Now that piece has settled in, you’re gonna see rapid improvements. I guarantee it.”

Wrapping up, he gave Dean a pat on the shoulder. The boy quivered, and then his head snapped down.

“…Thankssomuch!”

With that profound expression of gratitude, Dean spun around and returned to the table. He made a beeline for his bored-looking teammate.

“Hey! Teresa! Hey, hey!” he said, visibly enthused.

“What now?”

“Mr. Horn’s awesome! He taught me for, like, one minute, and the fog totally lifted! I get why you’re so fond of him!”

“I was listening!” Rita said. “That was so clear and easy to follow! He knew right away what you needed to hear and got it across so fast… I can see why he won.”

She was giving Oliver a look of deep respect. Teresa glanced from one teammate to the other, and something clicked inside her head. She spun around, filled empty mugs with grape juice, and dropped them before her teammates.

“Dig in, Dean.”

“Y-yeah?”

“I take back what I said earlier. Mr. Horn’s right, and we should review our fight once more. Rita, you join us.”

“Uh, okay. Um—wait, Teresa…did you just use our names?!”

This hadn’t happened even once the entire time they’d known her; they were both flabbergasted. Watching that from the sidelines, Peter’s eyes went wide, and he whispered, “Oh…”

“? What’s up, Peter? You look like someone threw a stone at a basilisk,” said Guy.

“…I just figured out how to make friends with Teresa. You need common ground. The basic of all human interactions. But Teresa never talks about what it is she likes, so we never managed to find any. And that void just got filled.”

A wealth of observation made the principle emerge—Peter sounded like a wizened academic. Guy and Chela both looked blank, and he turned red, speaking very fast.

“Mr. Horn. That’s what Teresa likes. Probably the only thing she really does. If you know that, the rest is easy. We just have to be fans of him, too. If she gets that we admire and respect him, then suddenly we’re her comrades. It all makes sense!”

Peter clenched a fist, certain he was on to something; he jumped up to his feet, heading for Oliver. Guy and Chela watched him go, stunned.

“Mr. Horn, talk to me, too! I’ve actually been a huge fan literally my entire life! Tell me everything there is to know about you!”

“Huh? Uh, I don’t mind talking, but…”

Oliver appeared a bit rattled, yet he rolled with it. Peter’s questions pelted him like a deluge.

“…He may not have joined the league,” Guy said, “but he’s just as kooky as the other three. I dig how he doesn’t let the class difference bug him. The type that does well here.”

“Indeed, he has the social skills. Something the other three lack, so he likely helps balance that out. I think the four of them will become a good team.”

Getting a sense of her junior’s strengths, Chela smiled, envisioning what the future might hold. And that gentle gaze drifted across the party to those seated next to her.

“Oh, look,” she said. “We have someone else here who’s not terribly social.”

“…Urgh…”

Stacy ducked behind Fay’s shoulder. But Guy slipped around to her other side.

“You haven’t said a peep yet! No need to get all stiff here. We don’t bite—and today, we ain’t letting you off the hook.”

Intentionally making it sound like a threat—one trick he used to push through reticence. Stacy got that on some level, but she still couldn’t quite bring herself to just join in. She had so little experience talking to anyone but Fay without spite and rancor.

How best to get her to open up? Chela and Guy were both searching for a way in, when the last person they’d expected came to back them up—Pete, who’d been quiet for some time.

“…Mind if I call you Stacy?”

“Hwuh?! Er, um, well…if you want to?”

Him calling her by name made her voice crack. She definitely remembered picking a fight with him in her first year, and she had imagined he’d been the last person to welcome her. But Pete nodded, stepping closer.

“Then I will. And you’re fine with Fay? Call me Pete.”

“Totally, Pete.”

“Then let’s talk. The partial werewolf transformation and simplification of the transformation process you demonstrated in the match really shocked me. I’d actually been looking at a similar approach myself, figuring problems long left unsolved are often cracked by perspectives mages are blind to. Seems like I was on the money there, but you beat me to it… I’m kinda jealous.”

“Um…you were researching werewolves?”

“That’s a surprise. I had you pinned as a total magineering guy.”

“I’m considering it, but I haven’t learned enough yet to pick a single path. I’m digging into magical biology alongside the engineering, and I’ve read my share of works on werewolves. The major ones are Bestial Metamorphoses, On the Lycanthrope Species, and The Beast That Lurks Among Us. And I’ve also gone through Moon Mana and Pros and Cons of Mixing Blood. And…Ms. Vanessa helped me get a body to dissect. I did that with Katie.”

“By your third year?! You aren’t even majoring in it yet!”

“I knew you were knowledgeable, but not to this degree. Hats off.”

“You’ve got your own body to learn from, and I can’t compete with that. But since I do have a knowledge base to work from, I have at least some idea of what your successes entail. You went from a perception basis rather than a physical one, yes? That alone wouldn’t explain everything, though. Specifically, there’s several magic particles we’ve identified as a required part of the werewolf transformation—ones given off by the moon itself. Those can’t be generated entirely on a perceptual plane. I’m curious as to how you managed to resolve that issue.”

Pete had laid the groundwork for a more intrusive question. And those on the receiving end were all too happy to have their hard work recognized. The answer leaped to Stacy’s lips, but she bit it back, glancing at her servant.

“Um…Fay, can we tell him?”

“Yeah, that’s covered by the dissertation we already submitted.”

“That’s right! Okay, then—like you said, there are several magic particles required by the transformation. But with a little work, it’s possible to maintain a reserve of them within the body. I took a good look at how the spleen functions, and…”

Convinced there was no reason to couch anything in layman’s terms, Stacy dove straight into the specialized knowledge. Pete followed it all, asking smart questions, keeping the conversation going. Chela and Guy exchanged smiles, deciding they could leave them to it. If the Sword Roses’ prickliest member had broken the ice first, then the rest was a matter of time.

As new friendships arose, the last guest of honor came bounding into the room—Yuri Leik, badly out of breath.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m super late! Any food left?”

“A regular smorgasbord! Seat thyself here.”

“There you are, Yuri! Where’d you wander off to this time?”

Nanao and Oliver quickly pulled him to their table. Yuri pounced on the spread, looking delighted.

“Oh, thank goodness! I’m absolutely famished. If you’d run out, I doubt I’d have made it to the store without collapsing! Ooh, I’m taking this whole plate.”

Without waiting for permission, he dragged an entire lasagna dish his way and started eating directly out of it. Oliver shook his head; Yuri already had his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk preparing to hibernate.

“Man, this is good! Never had anything like it! What’s it called?”

“Um…?”

“That’s standard meat-sauce lasagna. They have it in the Fellowship all the time.”

Everyone blinked at him, and Yuri’s hands froze. His voice turned unusually grim.

“…So I’ve had this before? You’ve seen me eat it more than once?”

“Well…yeah.”

“What’s wrong, Mr. Leik? Did you stumble upon some lethe lilies on the second layer?”

Katie came over to take a look, but Yuri shook her off.

“Nope, I’m good. I had a hunch this was going on.”

With that loaded statement, the boy took another bite. Oliver had further questions, but before he could ask any, Yuri was talking again.

“Still, this party’s really hopping! We’ve got Team Cornwallis and the second-years here, too? Awesome! I’m gonna make friends with everyone!”

“Pace yourself,” Chela cautioned. “Lots of people find you hard to take at first.”

“Yep. Don’t be scared, second-years; he’s unnaturally friendly in a way that reads fishy, but there’s nothin’ going on upstairs. He’s all surface, like Nanao.”

“Hrmph, I resent that implication,” Nanao said. “I am constantly in thought! For instance: At the moment, I am wondering how much of this meat I can claim without earning your ire—”

“Divide the whole by the number of people here and take no more than that, Nanao,” Oliver cut in. “Fine, you can have mine. Content yourself with that.”

They were soon caught up in the flow of conversation. It wasn’t long before Oliver’s doubts faded away. Then Rita came up carrying a plate. Nanao had polished off Oliver’s share of roast chicken already, and Rita offered up her own share, too.

“Er, um, Ms. Hibiya…you can have mine if we can talk a bit? Not just about the match. I also want to know more about Azian farming and food culture.”

“Hrm?! Nay, I can hardly rob the young of their nutrition. A warrior findeth virtue in starvation, though I do appreciate the offer.”

“You’ve been pigging out like crazy, though…”

“Nanao the carnivore…”

“Raised as a warrior, I’ll admit my knowledge of local agriculture is limited to rice, beans, buckwheat, and perhaps the potatoes grown in times of scarcity. Though the garden in our home played host to persimmon and chinquapin. Will that suffice?”

“Absolutely! Please tell me more!”

Beaming, Rita sat down next to Nanao, peppering her with questions on Yamatsu farming. Thus, the conversations never died, and the party remained in full swing.

Meanwhile, Theodore was kicking back alone in a top-floor meeting room. The door opened, and Demitrio came in, looking grim.

“How goes things, Instructor? What did your splinter report?”

“Nothing.”

Theodore raised an eyebrow, and the astronomy teacher elaborated.

“He did not appear at the location I’d imprinted. The urge to do so should be quite powerful, but he’s begun bucking it unconsciously. Perhaps the stimulus received during the league fights has advanced the irregularity.”

“So he’s escaping your control?” Theodore said, folding his arms. “That’s not good. We were learning so much from his point of view.”

Demitrio sighed. “The longer he spends with others, the more the weight of his experience grows, it seems. Either way, it is time I collect him. Pull him back into myself, tear apart his personality, clear the slate of his experience, and send him out again.”

“Will that work? That splinter was cultivating significant relationships through his league teammates. If we negate all those gains, he’ll suffer some significant impairments in communication.”

“The adjustments will be difficult. Perhaps attempting to retain the same individual is ill-advised. But the change itself is curious. The like has not occurred before. I shall have to analyze the cause once I receive his final—”

He was interrupted by a powerful glow from the amethyst in the corner. These were kept in faculty rooms for communication with the outside. Theodore rose to his feet and moved over to it.

“Unusual. An urgent request from the Gnostic Hunter HQ. Let’s see.”

Drawing his white wand, he made to receive the contents—but Demitrio’s wand touched the glow first. Information poured into his mind, and he quickly sorted through it.

“A request for aid from the divination division. They’re predicting a mid-scale portal soon, narrowed down to a region to the northwest of here.”

“And we’re closest, so they want us fighting it. Which kind?”

Theodore settled back down on his chair. His question was always critical in these matters. There were two main types of portal incursions: migrations, where the passage was the result of species getting squeezed out or simply wandering too far from home, and apostles, which arrived with a specific plan of invasion. Both were threats, but the latter was at least two orders of magnitude more dangerous.

“Given the timing and location, HQ estimates a high probability of a spontaneous migration. I’m inclined to agree. The tír in proximity being what it is, threat levels are certainly high, but there’s no real indication of Gnostic summoning.”

“Well, no. Unless the Sacred Light wants an all-out war, there’s no gain from opening a portal this close to us. And if it’s just a migration, she’ll get to go buck wild.”

A flame appeared at the tip of Theodore’s white wand, and he pulled a pipe from his pocket, lighting it.

“That does seem appropriate,” Demitrio said, hand on his chin. “But I believe I’ll join her.”

“Oh? Something on your mind?”

“Vanessa’s sloppy. Like that wyvern—don’t need any spillage wandering around here. And if the headmistress approves, I’d like to take the students there. Good learning opportunity.”

A bold proposal, and Theodore answered with a stream of smoke. Emotions mingled on his profile, but those ripples soon died down, and he flashed his default smile at his colleague.

“…True, there are precious few opportunities to see a portal open. It’ll be good for them. Emmy will likely be on board. Which years will you take? I do recommend leaving the lower forms behind.”

“Third-years and up. Between Vanessa and myself, we can keep that number safe.”

Demitrio spoke with confidence. It was certainly a drastic move, but Theodore voiced no objections. In terms of sheer time spent dealing with tír threats, this man was second only to Frances Gilchrist at Kimberly. Esmeralda and Theodore himself could hardly compete.

“I’ll send word around when classes resume. Handle things while we’re away, Theodore.”

The ringlet instructor nodded.

What would the students accompanying him witness? What realities would they face? His own experiences gave him all too clear a picture.

The party ran on with no signs of dying down, but around ten PM, Chela made an executive decision to send them packing. They escorted the second-years out of the building, and Yuri flitted off somewhere. Stacy and Fay split from the rest of the group and headed for their labyrinth workshop, leaving only the Sword Roses on the road back to the dorms.

“That was a blast! A shame to let it end.”

“True! I could have talked all night.”

“Now, now, we might be up for that, but there were second-years present. And you had a rigorous competition just today. An early bedtime will do you a world of good. If you feel you missed out, you can simply further these friendships tomorrow.”

Chela patted Guy and Katie on their backs, calming them down. Pete was walking with them but saying nothing, silently reviewing everything he’d learned from Stacy and Fay. This suggested he’d had fun in his own way.

Oliver and Nanao were walking side-by-side not far behind. Savoring the party’s afterglow, Oliver said, “I’m glad we brought the others in. Did you enjoy having our juniors flock to you, Nanao?”

“But of course,” she replied, flashing him a grin. “At long last, I had a chance to act the mentor.”

Looking ahead, Oliver spotted a strange protrusion in the ground—one that hadn’t been there that morning.

“Huh, that’s weird. Was someone practicing spells here? Of all places, too…”

He drew his white wand. The others had passed by without noticing the bump, but anyone walking on the wrong side of the path could easily trip over it. Best to flatten it out now.

But before he could cast a spell, Nanao stepped forward and without a word kicked the protrusion. It shattered violently, the wind sweeping away the shards, which vanished in a single blow.

“It is dispatched. Will that do?”

“Uh, yeah…,” he managed, frozen to the spot.

But inside, he was shaken. Nanao? Taking things out on random objects? Had she ever done that before? Been this obviously irritable where he could see?

The others glanced back, but Nanao waved them off like nothing was wrong. They moved on, yet Oliver was tensing up. He’d felt something off that morning, and that impression was only getting worse.

She hadn’t been quite herself. Not while they were watching the bonus competition, nor at the party. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed her time with friends and company, but if you watched closely, Nanao had been on edge all day long. Lashing out at the bump had been an extension of the same.

“Uh, Nanao…maybe my mind’s playing tricks on me, but is something—?”

He’d been about to ask what had her so angry when he was abruptly assaulted by her lips.

“……?!”

His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Before he could respond at all, she’d pushed him off the path into the nearby trees. He staggered, and his back hit a trunk, which she used as leverage to deepen the contact.

This was less a kiss than the feasting of a carnivore. Her ardor seeped through his membranes like molten lava, banishing all thought from his mind. A shudder of fear, mingled with an all-too-intense wave of lust. Oliver’s every fiber tensed, incapable of motion. Second after second passed, lost to the moment—and at last, she broke it off.

“Oliver…”

The word escaped her like the rantings of the delirious, both struggling to catch their breath. Neither one had dared inhale the entire time their lips were locked. The passion she had poured into him had been enough to restore some level of thought, and like heated iron squeezed from her parched throat, she managed to place words upon her tongue.

“Your fate lies with me.”

His heart stopped. In an instant, he knew what drove those words, this abrupt aggression.

The league’s final duel, himself against Richard Andrews. Layer upon layer of emotions and history, brought to a head in the match they’d both been longing for. Nanao herself had unfortunately run out of energy before it happened and collapsed upon the floor—where she had lain and watched. On the same stage, but unable to move, their blows just out of reach yet seared into her eyes as she gasped and moaned. Cursing her limbs for their refusal to rise, the purest form of agony the likes of which she had never experienced. A previously untouched realm of extreme emotion spitting the foundations of her heart’s equanimity, birthing hell within her. Flames gone past orange and blue to purest white, the incinerating heat of her own envy.

“If this fate comes not to fruition, so be it. If you go out and duel another, I will not mind. But I cannot abide the notion of being forgotten. The soul most drawn to your blade lies here. That fact alone you must keep ever in the recess of your mind. There for all of time, no matter whose blade you face.”

Nanao’s plea itself was like a dagger carving words into his heart. As if she needed that brand upon him or she could not bear to release her hold on him for the slightest moment. Yearning to carve her way into her beloved, or, barring that, at least pull him down and have her way with him. She had no other means of resisting that urge. The look of despair those acts would no doubt incur was itself alluring—he could imagine that all too well.

“…Ah…”

Oliver stood stock-still, at a loss for words. An unguarded moment that made her want to steal his lips once more, a lust forcing its way up from the pit of her abdomen. Barely cutting that urge down with the last of her reason, Nanao abruptly turned her back.

“An unseemly act. I will accept all reproaches and recriminations, but leave them for tomorrow, when cooler heads prevail.”

The closest to a defense she could muster. She moved to leave but drew up short not five paces hence. Must she compound her sin? Appalled at her own behavior, yet she could not leave it unsaid.

“My heart lies with you, Oliver. For every moment, sleeping or awake, from now until evermore.”

Not one word of hyperbole, simply the plainest of truths. This time the girl did leave, and Oliver watched her go without a word—until his back slid down the trunk behind.

The morning dawned bright. Students filed into the building like always and were eating breakfast when mouths opened on the walls.

“Announcement for all students and staff. A portal is expected to open in an area to the northwest of campus. The Gnostic Hunters HQ has requested assistance from our faculty, and in accordance with that request, we will be bringing students years three and up to the scene. This is a rare opportunity, so participation should be considered mandatory unless you have a commitment you absolutely cannot get out of. Departure will be an hour after first period ends, so be at the school gates ten minutes prior. Makes yourselves ready, and bring your brooms.”

A stir went around the Fellowship. The Sword Roses were all frowning. Within the Kimberly walls was fraught with danger enough, but this presented a rare exterior threat. The only ones looking blank were first-years who hadn’t started astronomy yet; everyone else looked rather grim.

“…A portal in these parts?” Chela said. “That’s almost unheard of. Which means it’s likely a spontaneous migration.”

“If they’re taking students along, it must be,” Oliver agreed. “But those predictions aren’t foolproof. Be ready for anything.”

His gaze caught Nanao’s for a moment, but each jerked their eyes away. Katie and Guy picked up on this and exchanged concerned glances. They wanted to dig further, but the situation didn’t allow it. They’d have to get through this field trip first.

“A migration… We covered ’em in astronomy, but I ain’t never seen one. What tír is it coming from?”

“Given the current celestial positions, the closest tír would be Uranischegar, the Regimented Heavens. Odds are high that’s where this portal will connect.”

“That’s a pretty weird one, right?” Katie asked. She shivered. “Ooh, I’m getting nervous. I know the teachers will keep us safe, but…”

Nanao put a hand on her shoulder, already braced for combat. She glared up at the rafters.

“Visitors from the great beyond! We shall see if it be snake, or it be devil.”

With the first class done, students gathered by the gates as instructed. Demitrio quickly took attendance—confirming his splinter was not among them.

“…Thought not,” he muttered. “Likely has no intention of showing himself before me again.”

This came as no surprise. He put the matter out of his mind, moving to the head of the student body and leading them into the sky. Vanessa accompanied them, sprouting wings of her own—which shocked absolutely nobody. In this situation, her inhumanity was almost a comfort.

A flight just shy of thirty minutes took them to the portal’s expected location. They were matching the flight speed of the youngest students here, so the formation didn’t spread itself out. Everyone landed at roughly the same time and examined the terrain. A broad open field, largely even, as far as the eye could see. The grass covering the plain was low—a relief, since they need not be concerned about things hiding or ambushing them.

“We’ll form ranks here. Unless otherwise directed by a faculty member, once the barrier is up, do not step outside of it. That is not a warning but an order. If a fool gets themselves killed, that’s one thing, but the consequences here could be far more devastating.”

Demitrio was already nailing that point home. They lined up as instructed, and the Sword Roses took stock of the faces around. Since attendance was compulsory, they recognized everyone—but the face you noticed first in any crowd was not among them.

“…So no Yuri, huh?” Guy asked.

“Yeah, hard to believe,” Oliver said. “He’s always late, but he’s also first in line for anything this unusual.”

They’d met during first period, so this wasn’t a matter of delving too deep to hear the news. Perhaps he wanted to be here but had reason to stay away—the thought did cross Oliver’s mind, but there seemed no use dwelling on it now. He and his friends focused on the task at hand.

“Formation complete,” Demitrio called. “Remain in position on standby until the portal opens. The margin of error on these can be a few hours in either direction. Until the warning signs are observed, I’ll be lecturing you on Gnostic Hunter fieldwork.”

Rows of students stood facing the plain, and Demitrio was using his wand’s amplification spell to speak. Before they saw the evidence for themselves, it was best to set the stage. They’d heard much of it before, but he felt it bore repeating.

“The rules here are pure and simple. See the enemy, kill them. Unless specifically directed to observe or capture, anything that comes through, no matter what—make it dead. Appearances, communicative abilities, whether it seems friendly—none of those things are worth considering. Do not engage.”

He began with the iron rule. When you got right down to it, everything else he said was merely a means of driving home this one principle. What Demitrio sought here was to temporarily turn his students into killing machines, the rest left by the wayside.

“The only time we leave things alive without specific orders is when our combat abilities are deemed inadequate to complete the task. In that case, a swift retreat is followed by a return to the scene with a better plan. Rinse and repeat until everything is annihilated,” Demitrio explained. “One thing to be cautious of here is that the definition of death varies by the things that come through. Severing the head may not suffice. There’s no guarantee the brain and heart are vital organs. You might pulverize a thing only to find it reassembles and starts moving again. Remember this: Here, death is defined as rendering your targets incapable of acting.”

He was making sure no one could possibly misinterpret him. Seeing one girl start to frown, Demitrio focused on her.

“Something on your mind, Ms. Aalto? Go on—speak.”

With that, Katie threw up her hand in response. Not letting her emotions drag her around, she took a moment to put together a logical argument.

“…Yes, sir. So, I’m well aware that Gnostic Hunters work in severe circumstances, but ruling out any attempt at friendship or even attempting communication sounds inherently irrational. That approach prevents us from ever learning more about what’s going on in their worlds. Especially if we want to prevent these invasions, securing and questioning prisoners seems like an appropriate action.”

She kept her tone level, working through her response one step at a time, being as persuasive as she could currently muster. Demitrio could tell she’d worked long and hard to get here.

“You certainly have learned how to choose your words, Ms. Aalto,” he said with a snort. “Quite an improvement from your first year, when you could hear the echoes in your skull.”

“I learned that approach would get me nowhere with you, so I’ll take this as a compliment.”

She didn’t sound terribly appreciative. She was still just as bitterly opposed to his philosophies, as evidenced by her undaunted attitude. Internally, he approved of her strength and the goodness of her heart.

“Let’s go through that question in order. First, attempting to learn more about the inner workings of the tír. Naturally, the Gnostic Hunters are doing that. Like you suggested, carefully selected targets with communication skills are occasionally questioned, and arguably this has even achieved a level of success. In particular, we’ve learned a good deal about the intelligent species on Marcurius. Enough that in the distant past, they even explored the option of diplomatic ties.”

Katie nodded, well aware of this. Even if they came from other worlds, she wasn’t convinced that they were inherently unknowable monsters. There had to be a path toward understanding, and she firmly believed this lied in the tireless efforts of the observer. At the very least, she felt this was true for any species in this world. From fairies smaller than a grain of sand to a colossal behemoth, they all had reasons to be the shape they were. And it was an academic’s role to work that out.

That stance was an ideal, one even a child could grasp. But that was exactly why Demitrio responded with the harsh nature of reality.

“But there are far more cases where that approach has backfired, enough to blot out all those successes. We cannot even count the number of tragedies brought about by trusting the apostles. For a recent example—well, I’m sure you know one, Ms. Aalto.”

“……!”

That hit her where it hurt, stifling her arguments. The one thing she couldn’t speak out on, since her own parents had been involved. The tragedy that had forced the Aalto mages out of the limelight—like Demitrio said, it was a prime example of how her suggestions could backfire.

“Why do these things occur? The answer is the crux of the problem. The capacity for communication itself makes them more dangerous. Highly intelligent creatures making contact with us is an inherently attractive proposition. They hide their true purpose behind an appealing facade, cleverly twist words to their own ends—leading us to our own destruction by the most devious means. That is the essence of the creatures we call apostles. Any relationships developed along the way are merely tools to further their purpose. No matter how dazzling the hope they seem to offer.”

This instructor rarely spoke with such passion. In no way was this merely imparting arguments he’d heard about secondhand; this was the wisdom of a man whose lived experience had brought him to this inescapable truth. It was underwritten with an unmeasurable remorse. Rivers of blood, innumerable losses, and the bottomless horror of the man forced to bear the burden of them all. Katie’s throat seized up because she knew full well she had no equivalent history.

“Whatever shape it may take, the moment contact is established with a tír life-form, the invasion has already begun. You must not allow them to establish a foothold in our world. You must not allow anyone to attune themselves to these alien thoughts. This is why we forbid attempts at communication and intentionally shut them out. It is safer to fight them than to talk. Do you understand me, Ms. Aalto?”

His logic clear, he sought confirmation. As if her skull had turned to lead, Katie’s head began to dip—but a last burst of willpower kept it level. She recognized the weight of his words. But she could not bring herself to nod as long as any doubt remained within.

“Everything you’ve said makes sense. But there is one point I’m stuck on: Creatures from the tír always arrive with ill intent, without so much as a single exception. Instructor Aristides, your argument and conclusions are based upon that pretext.”

A vain argument akin to the devil’s proof. Ashamed of herself for voicing it, yet she clung to the faint hope it would lead to something. Katie would hardly have complained if it were dismissed out of hand, yet contrary to her fears, Demitrio’s brow twitched.

“…Ill intent, hmm? One of the most terrifying things about apostles is how they warp our own ability to determine right from wrong. But I know what you’re trying to say. Not every creature from a tír is necessarily consciously trying to invade us. There must be some exceptions. That’s really what you mean, yes?”

Katie nodded, flummoxed by all this. Demitrio’s gaze turned skyward, and he let out a long sigh.

“I cannot refute that claim. From the historical effects on our ecosystem, not all migrations’ impact can be deemed purely negative—I taught you that myself. You may use those cases as contrary evidence, and logically speaking, claiming every microorganism has conscious intent is inherently absurd. They cross over to our world for a myriad of reasons, and a great many of them are simply adhering to the survival instinct.” He went on. “But realistically speaking—we have no real way of distinguishing. Even consulting historical records, we cannot begin to predict the consequences of tír beings upon our world. And those with the arrogance to assume they could, that they knew better…are responsible for some of the most irreparable catastrophes.”

Here, his lips pursed. Few students could make it out, and the expression vanished as soon as it appeared—but that was directed inward. Neither mocking nor ridiculing their foolish acts but a kick aimed squarely at his own posterior, though the world might now number him among their philosophers.

“The existence of ill intent is not vital to the problem at hand. Even if a creature arrived here harboring indisputable benevolence, I’m sure you can easily imagine how their actions would nevertheless cause untold destruction. Perhaps even the apostles behind history’s most notorious tragedies did not approach us with malice in their hearts. Many of them have offered salvation when rallying the Gnostics to their cause. That salvation merely proved our undoing—nothing more, nothing less.”

The irony of this was not lost on Katie, and her fists balled up tight. One eye on that, Demitrio brought the topic back to his original conclusion.

“None of that changes anything. Without a viable means of determining threat level, logic dictates we are better off treating all tír beings as hostile invaders. The risk of communication outweighs the returns to a devastating degree, so put that false hope from your mind. We can rely only upon what is gleaned from dissecting immobile corpses. Though even that is not without its risks.”

That was the end of their conversation. Vanessa had been sprawled on the ground, listening with one ear, but she abruptly leaped to her feet, stalking toward Katie.

“Aalto, you get the logic, but your heart won’t fall in line, right? No matter how nicely this old fart runs you through it, you ain’t lived it. You gotta run up against the real deal and then make up your mind. I can’t argue with that! A mage with no ego ain’t worth diddly-squat.”

Vanessa cackled wildly. She was Demitrio’s polar opposite, Oliver thought. She acted like she respected her students’ positions, but she knew how fragile they were and had nothing but contempt for them. It was like going up to a candle in the wind and saying, Burn all you want, bitch. Katie was hardly the girl she’d been her first year, but none of her growth mattered to Vanessa.

As Katie just glared back at her, Vanessa’s gaze shifted upward. A moment later, every student felt something descending toward them, the sheer wrongness of it slamming against their skin. Every athame leaped to hand, pointed skyward. Vanessa moved back to the front of the formation, her grin twisting diabolically.

“Welp, time to get your answers. Don’t worry, Aalto; logic ain’t got shit to do with it. There are some truths even the dumbest mind’ll get on sight. And this shit show is one of ’em.”

Her arms and legs swelled from within, bulging. A point of blackness appeared in the blue above, spinning furiously. Soon it was a hundred yards across, and the moment she spied the white tips of the conical things emerging from that inky blackness, Vanessa roared, “Three columns! Smashing from the fore!”

“I’ll back you. Go, Vanessa.”

The plan established, the ground beneath Vanessa burst, her body shooting forward faster than the students’ eyes could follow. The three long, thick things descending from the portal hit the ground, evenly spaced. Massive columns, the flat white surface broken only by several “eyes” that looked like red glass windows. Easily twenty yards wide, they were at least five times that tall. Nothing biological here, the inorganic rigidity downright imposing.

“What…are those…?” Guy gulped.

“Tamper pillars,” Chela said. “Uranischegar’s vanguard. Hard to classify them as living, but the nature of them is quite simple.”

Even as she expounded, the invaders demonstrated their nature. The area around the pillars was repeatedly hit by powerful shocks, flattening the ground around them like pressing sheet metal. Some sheep that had been grazing nearby and smaller creatures fleeing the anomaly were caught up in it, painting the ground red.

Once the terrain was “dead,” a horrible shade of white began oozing out of the pillars, corrupting everything nearby. Like paint splattered on a canvas, it coated the landscape. The green of the grass and the red of the blood, the brown of the earth from which both lives sprang—all was swallowed by the white in kind.

“Stab, loom, flatten. That is how they always begin,” Chela added. “Process the ground around them until it is all the exact same height. No consideration to what was there. Trees, grass, creatures, mountains, river, valleys, houses, towns, cities…or people. They drag everything in, swallow them up, and convert them to this flat white expanse. Leaving no trace behind, as if it was always like this.”

Before that enterprise, Guy could only shiver. He’d believed himself prepared. No matter what monsters emerged from the portal, he’d thought his nerves could handle it. But not this. The nature of the horror was too far removed from what he had anticipated. He’d come to face down monsters from an alien world—but all he got was hammers, pounding away at the ground. There was nothing here to face. No hostility, no enmity, merely pure white violence, a demonstration of overwhelming force.

“…Uranischegar is a world of geometric perfection,” Oliver said. “Organic or inorganic, not one thing is ever allowed to escape that regularity. Thus, anything belonging to it makes no attempt to adapt to the nature of our world. Wherever they are, they simply remake things to their own liking. Simple and brutal, an invasion devoid of compromise.”

Nanao was simply watching the pillars work, her expression grim.

“…They aren’t even alive,” Pete said, his voice shaking. “They’re like construction machines…”

“Yes, that impression is not wrong,” Chela told him. “They are the instruments of a god, made for but one purpose. And their behavior is a demonstration of that tír’s divine will. Expand the world. Allow no other way. Turn all things orderly and uniform. That’s the nature of the god that presides over Uranischegar—the Regimented Heavens.”

That was the sum of it. From a categorical standpoint, the pillars before them were within the range of a migration. Reflexively moving to a passing world, no longer-term plan or further invasion behind. Like taking a breath. Uranischegar reacted in exactly the same way to any and all worlds it encountered. No clever schemes or strategies—its invasions performed on instinct alone.

“ ?!”

Faced with a spectacle like this, no one was tempted to act. But someone here saw fit to change that. A chunk of pillar pulverized by Vanessa’s massive fists came flying through the barrier meant to keep the students safe. A second and third followed, slamming into the ground beside them. She’d thrown them here herself. A sight that earned a bellow from Demitrio.

“Vanessa! What is the meaning of this?!”

“Can it, Gramps. I’m delivering you some teachin’ tools. You’re bored just watching, right? Go on, tackle them chunks. That ain’t small enough to stop ’em, but they’re a solid first sparring partner.”

She let out a delighted cackle. The students had assumed they were safe and protected, and she was clearly feasting malevolently on their disturbed looks. The older students knew her far too well, and they never hesitated. Furious, Tim plunged right into the middle of them.

“That fucking hag… We’ve got kids here, dammit! Everyone back off—stay behind me!”

“Force them out, Leoncio!”

“I know! Extruditor!”

Godfrey and Leoncio were working together in perfect harmony. Like the league prelim, there were no factions or rivalries here. Their spells sent a pillar chunk flying back out of the barrier, and Vanessa clapped her hands, grinning.

“You pass! Picking spells their rules can’t handle, I see. Go on, show your juniors the way.”

She seemed to find their struggles hilarious. Vanessa was crossing a line even Kimberly teachers usually toed, and Demitrio looked ready to shoot her. His voice was icy cold.

“…The headmistress will hear of this.”

“Knock yourself out. But first maybe stop your precious student getting smeared across the ground?”

She pointed her deformed hand behind him. Demitrio spun around and saw her words on the verge of coming true. Even a sliver of these columns still reflected the divine will, yet where others backed away, one girl was stumbling toward it.

“…Hahhh…hahhh…hahhh…”

It was Katie. The third-years scattered like baby spiders, but her rudder was turned against the tide. Well aware this was a walk to her destruction, yet her soul demanded it, and so her body moved. In the chaos, Oliver spotted her too late.

His eyes went wide, and he shrieked, “Katie?! Wait, don’t—!”

She did hear him. And she felt it tug her backward. Nevertheless—her advance did not falter. Her eyes were fixed on the child-size fragment, already recovering its pillared form. Her first encounter with a visitor from a tír. Faced with a nature beyond the capacity of her perception, she couldn’t stop herself from trying to understand. She could not discard a thing without first making an attempt.

No matter how much love she had for her friends, on this one thing she could not bend. It was this girl’s very essence. The fate Katie Aalto’s soul bore from the moment this mage was born.

A small fragment of the whole. The power it wielded correspondingly minuscule. Yet, its behavior remained unchanged. The pressure of the pillar fragment’s pounding leveled the ground in a circle. Katie gritted her teeth against the force of it, pressing on.

“…Unh… Gah…!”

She briefly opened her eyes amid the turbulence to see that exact fragment within reach. This visitor she so yearned to reveal, right before her very eyes. And then—there, on that bleached ground, ever so slowly—she touched it.

“……!”

Through overlapped personal space, the unknown surged into her. A different order, an alien cognition, an unearthly worldview all wrapped up and pressed against her, and Katie’s mind attempted a translation, but in the first second, her head nearly detonated. Yet, she held firm. Not letting the vast wash of information drown her. She did not need to comprehend it now. But merely letting it in did not qualify as an exchange. The interspecies communication she’d learned was a discipline of magical biology. The methodology her tenacious research had isolated here urged her to a question bordering on insanity.

Why?

Right to the crux of the matter. A god this simplistic needed no detours. Her question’s theme the thing she imagined it most receptive to. Imposing geometric order on all outside worlds—an act all new witnesses instinctively believed beyond comprehension. Thus, she asked. Assuming that the perpetrator wished to be understood.

Why do you want this?

She asked again, repeating it, indicating a desire for knowledge. The act was a goal and yet a means. Demonstrating that this was a conversation, not a fight. Letting it feel that. An approach Katie plucked from the mountains of rubble other mages had left behind, heedless of the injuries it inflicted upon herself.

Something shifted behind those inorganic walls. Katie’s instincts told her it was there. Something that resonated deep within herself. Something a mere landscaping machine could never have. Writhing in isolation, far removed from mankind, yet with a heat to it that was unmistakably passion.

……!

For a moment, she got through.

Katie heard it, echoing across the boundaries—a scream not of this world.

“Dipshit!”

Tim was there, his arms around her. The same thing hit him, nearly swallowing him. He fought it off, bodily rejecting it, his life dependent on success.

“Tim!”

“Mr. Linton!”

“…Kah… Ah…!”

Godfrey and Oliver both lunged in, athames aimed—but far too late. It would be less than two seconds before their help reached him, and Tim saw no way to hold out that long. He at least wanted to push the girl to safety, but his limbs had lost all sensation, and he couldn’t even manage that. Long had it been since he felt death’s embrace, its icy hand upon his heart.

Shit. The word rasped voicelessly within his throat.

“ ” Split!

The deadly fingers reaching for him were cut off by a man’s distinctive chant. Tim and Katie collapsed to the ground, freed from contact with all things alien. Oliver and Godfrey found Demitrio standing in the path of their charge.

“To the back of the barrier,” he ordered, his voice tinged with regret. “My oversight. I swear I shall not let them any closer.”

Oliver and Godfrey each grabbed a friend and ran off with them in their arms. Demitrio’s eyes were trained in the opposite direction—not just at the fragment resiliently encroaching upon the area around it but on the three source columns beyond.

“Begone, invaders. No matter how many times you come, you shall not get your fingers in our world. Fortis Flamma Maxime!”

And flames coated the earth, vaporizing the fragment before them and melting the bases of the three pillars beyond. As they began to topple, Vanessa leaped away, swearing—her shoulder roasted by the same inferno. But her invectives were not worth hearing.

In the fight that ensued, the man uttered not one word beyond the spells he cast.

The battle ended before the sun reached its zenith. The black swirling portal above closed, vanishing—leaving the students standing before the scorched earth. Certain the threat was gone, one after another sank to their knees on the ash-covered soil. Few had directly taken part, and they had not been here all that long—but each of the students found themselves trapped in the embrace of a preternatural exhaustion.

“All done? Not too shabby a workout!” Vanessa said, the sole exception to the above.

Her limbs returned to normal, and she stretched. Her eyes pierced the crowd of students to where Katie lay unconscious, her friends desperately calling her name.

“Katie…!”

“C’mon, wake up! This ain’t funny!”

“Her heart’s beating, and she’s still breathing! Someone check for etheric damage—!”

The Sword Roses were fighting to save her, their words delivered in shrieks. Demitrio had been on the front lines and was headed their way, but Vanessa pushed through the pack first. Ignoring their horrified looks, she grabbed the downed girl by her collar.

“No way you kicked the bucket. Wake the fuck up. Only a moron falls asleep in a war zone.”

As she spoke, she slapped Katie’s cheek hard. One act of violence after another. Apoplectic, her friends reached for their athames but did not draw. Before they could, the girl’s eyes fluttered open.

“…I’m…okay. I’m still here…”

“Ah—!”

“You’re sure about that? You know who we are?!”

Oliver fought back a sob, and Pete leaned in, asking questions. Vanessa dropped the girl on the ground, and Nanao slid in to catch her. Demitrio approached, wand aimed Katie’s way, examining her.

“…No etheric damage, no signs of parasites. Luck was with you, Ms. Aalto.”

“…Thanks…,” she whispered, her gratitude tinged with sarcasm.

Forgetting themselves in their relief, Oliver and Guy threw their arms around her from each side, and Chela embraced all three. Responding to their hugs with what strength she had left, Katie looked around.

“…I’m sorry, Mr. Linton.”

“Apology not accepted. You feel better, come by the Watch HQ, and I’ll give you a slap of my own.”

Leaning on Lesedi’s shoulder, Tim shot Katie a thumbs-down. This got a rueful smile out of her. If that was all it took to even the score, he was much nicer than she thought. The stunt she’d pulled could well have earned her the beating of her life.

“Anyone else hurt?” Demitrio asked. “Then let’s head back to school. Seventh-years first. The two wounded ride with someone at the center of the pack. Vanessa and I will bring up the rear.”

“On it,” Godfrey said and started barking orders: reforming the ranks, getting the older students into the sky. Classified as wounded, Tim was waiting with Lesedi for his turn—but he glanced at Oliver.

“…Yo, Horn. C’mere.”

“Yeah?”

Oliver left Katie in the embrace of their friends and ran over to his beckoning senior. Tim settled down on the ground next to Lesedi, screwing up his face.

“…Don’t take your eyes off Aalto anytime soon,” he hissed.

“……! You mean…watch for signs? Instructor Aristides’s diagnosis isn’t final?”

“Nah, she’s likely fine in the physical sense. The problem is her. When I jumped in, I could tell. Your whole crew’s a bunch of walking red flags, but that dipshit’s the worst of ya.”

There was a real urgency in his voice that unsettled Oliver. And Tim rattled off his reasoning.

“To avoid getting swallowed by that damn column, I had to close myself off and resist. Nothing else you can do in those circumstances. But that nutcase did the opposite. Pretty sure she was opening herself up and trying to talk to those things.”

“ !”

“My personal space was overlapped with ’em both, so I could tell. Dunno anything else. Knowing wouldn’t make me understand. But I can say one thing for sure—don’t you dare take your eyes off her. Right then, she smelled exactly like they all do before they get consumed by the spell.”

At that last dire warning, Oliver shuddered—and Tim waved him back to his friends. The boy quickly hid his fear and turned away. Regardless of the veracity of that claim, Katie was clearly in poor shape. It would never do for him to unnerve her or their friends any further. Telling himself that, he hopped on his broom and hovered over to her.

“…Katie, it’s almost our turn. You’re riding with me. Can you hang on till we reach campus? I’ll tie you down just in case.”

“…Mm, I’m fine. Thanks, Oliver.”

Oliver was best at riding tandem, so he was the natural choice to carry her. Katie’s body felt heavy, but she forced it into motion. Chela and Guy both helped her onto Oliver’s broom. Not long after, their launch time came, and they took off, the other four friends clustered around them. Keeping his flight speed low to minimize the burden on her, Oliver addressed the warmth on his back.

“…Why would you do that? I haven’t seen anyone act that reckless since Nanao in her first year.”

“Sorry… I know exactly how dumb it was…”

Guilt tore its way through her, and she wanted to cry. It hurt Katie to make others worry. It hurt when her choices rattled and scared them. Worst of all: She couldn’t find it in herself to regret the actions that had caused all that.

“But…for a moment there…”

The words spilled out despite herself. She’d achieved something—and that undeniable certainty brought her joy that could not be contained. She knew that was a feeling she should not have. That expressing it trampled on her friends’ concern, a complete betrayal of their feelings for her. A drive that looked human yet was anything but—and she knew this was a mage’s affliction.

So at the least, she should not hide it.

“…I heard God’s voice.”

A raspy confession that made a shiver run down Oliver’s spine.

He longed to spin around and demand further explanation, considered abandoning the formation and landing that very instant. But even as he fought off that impulse, he knew the opposite was true—he could not afford to look back now.

“……!”

He didn’t see what look her face wore as she’d spoken those words. But if she was smiling? Oliver couldn’t guarantee he’d ever be the same around Katie Aalto again.

END