Nanatsu no Maken ga Shihai suru - Volume SS01 - Chapter 3

Case 3

The Artist

A gray space, location unknown, boundaries undefined. A young man stood before a white sheet of paper, pencil in hand, lost in thought.

“…Hmm…”

A sketch and a frown. A scribble and a shake of the head. Each attempt made his neck crook farther.

“…No…that’s not it…”

He tore the page from the sketchbook, ripped it up, and clutched his head.

“…The motif itself is solid…but it refuses to become a theme. What am I doing wrong? The colors? The perspective…?”

Muttering to himself, he waved a spellbrush. He began drawing again, but soon his hand paused.

“…Wait…when did I last eat? Or drink? …No matter. I’m not hungry.”

The questions faded as soon as they arrived. His brush wandering before the paper, he muttered away.

“…What am I even trying to paint…?”

“Are you here, Carlos?!”

Godfrey burst into the lounge. Several students within jumped and turned, Carlos and Miligan among them.

“What’s wrong, Al? You look a fright.”

“Mr. Echevalria made contact,” Godfrey said, hustling over to their table. “Seems our activities got under his skin. He tried to recruit me, but that likely doubled as a final warning.”

Carlos looked grim. “And you turned him down?”

“Yeah, there was no room for compromise. That aside, I doubt he’s a man who’ll give us time to prepare. We’ll need to keep our guards up and assume he’ll come at us hard. Glad you’re here, Miligan—where are the others?”

Godfrey glanced around, not seeing anyone else.

“We split up after class,” Miligan said. “Not twenty minutes ago—normally, they’d still be on campus, but I’ve got a sinking feeling. They were arguing about who can handle the labyrinth better. They’re always competing, but today…”

“They may well have dived right in?”

Miligan nodded. Godfrey turned to go.

“Then they won’t be far from the workshop. I’m going on ahead. Carlos, you find Lesedi and catch up.”

“On it!”

Carlos was already moving.

“We might come up empty,” Godfrey said. “Miligan, can you check the halls?”

“I can. I’ll send a familiar if I find them in the next half hour—if that time passes, assume I didn’t and will be waiting where there are eyes on me.”

A wise decision. Godfrey broke into a run, mad at himself.

“Should I have avoided an answer and bought time? Both of you, stay safe!”

Meanwhile, Miligan had called it—Tim and Ophelia were bickering furiously in the labyrinth.

“Like I said, if you keep inching forward, you’ll never have enough time! Enemy detection? What a pain! Just pitch poison and silence ’em all!”

“A spectacular solution! Tell me, does your satchel generate vials without end? If you toss them out willy-nilly, you’ll be empty when you really need them. And brewing those costs time and money! You’ve got to think ahead!”

They only stopped yelling when they were out of breath.

“Dammit,” Tim said, scratching his head. “Arguing ain’t getting us anywhere. I dunno what he sees in you. You’re all talk but don’t do shit, and frankly, I’m way cuter.”

“I do respect your unwarranted confidence. Friendly word of advice—‘cute’ doesn’t just mean your physical appearance. There are several other factors: the way you comport yourself, the way you speak, et cetera. You’re no match for me on any of those—including your face.”

“…Heh, say what you like. The choice will ultimately be Godfrey’s. I trust you ain’t forgot how he rubbed my back yesterday?”

“Because you gambled on a random new drink and got a coughing fit for your trouble! And if we’re counting—he rubbed my head.”

“Not the same! He’s just treating you like a child. Mine’s pure affection! What, you too dense to tell the difference?”

“That’s not a distinction; it’s a delusion. Why are you so convinced he’s in love with you, anyway? Did you inhale too much of your own poison and rot your brain? I’m starting to genuinely worry.”

Trading insults, they headed for their shared workshop. But on the way, Tim spun around.

“What, heading back?” said Ophelia. “Don’t run away—”

“I’m not,” he growled, suddenly tense.

His eyes locked on the darkness down the passage. Ophelia picked up on it, too.

“Brace yourself, Ophelia. This one’s dangerous.”

Their athames leaped to their hands. A sinister shadow appeared before them.

“…You shouldn’t fight, children. That’s what naughty kids do.”

A pale finger pierced the darkness. The uniform encasing her long limbs was as dark as her skin was pale. Long, pointy ears, but the face between them was covered in a hideous wooden mask. Tim and Ophelia gulped—this was exactly the sort of monster little children feared.

“I take it your parents weren’t big on bedtime stories, hm? Then I’ll tell you. When children fight all the time, the scary Alp comes to steal them away.”

The elf girl—Khiirgi Albschuch—took off the mask, revealing a twisted smile. They need not ask; her palpable evil proved they were already in a battle. Tim had a vial between his fingers, and he hurled it her way.

“Now!”

“Impetus!”

Ophelia’s spell chased it. The vial burst in the air, the contents vaporizing—and the wind spell carried the lethal cloud toward their foe.

“What a dangerous toy you have! Impetus.”

Khiirgi leisurely cast a spell, blowing the mist behind her. Assuming she’d fallen for it, Tim and Ophelia launched their next moves, their incantations overlapping.

““Flamma!””

Their flames ignited the gas around Khiirgi. It exploded. The elf and the passage were swallowed by the fire.

“A flammable toxin? Too close, too close.”

““?!””

Khiirgi was still standing there. Her control over the wind was so fine it even sent the explosion over her shoulders. There were a few singes on her uniform, but she was still grinning luridly.

“Starting with a two-phase move? You’re even naughtier than I thought.” Praising their work, she licked her lips. “Ideal. Well worth snatching you up.”

“ ! Tonitrus!”

“Frigus!”

They cast again, backing away. Five winged-insect familiars flew out from Tim’s robes, launching themselves at the elf—but Khiirgi easily ducked under those and the spells.

“You can’t let me see you release them! They’re much too slow to prick anyone from the fore.”

As she got close, Tim and Ophelia aimed their wands behind her.

““Impetus!””

At their spell, the insect familiars behind Khiirgi detonated the liquid in their bellies. It vaporized—and the winds they’d made dragged it back toward her.

“Hng— Impetus!”

““Fragor!””

Sensing danger, Khiirgi used the force of her wind spell to dive forward, and Tim’s and Ophelia’s spells burst right where she’d been a moment before. The gas ignited, and flames billowed—Khiirgi side-eyed that, even as she landed on the ceiling, running across it with Wall Walk.

“…I see. If the poisons ignite, cleanup is easier.”

““Flamma!””

They sent flames at the enemy above. She couldn’t quite dodge one and had to aim her athame at it, laced with the opposing element so that the blade and her body were pushed aside. She spun through the air, landing on the floor again.

“Forcing me to use a Flow Cut?” she murmured, impressed. “You didn’t learn that in class. I see you found a good mentor in the upper forms.”

““Clypeus!””

They hit her again on her landing. Walls reared up on either side of her, limiting her movements. Ophelia spied a chance to end things.

“Now! Tonitrus!”

“Tenebris!”

Khiirgi pushed it back with the oppositional, and Ophelia had to dodge to the side. She frowned—she’d expected to lose the tug-of-war, but if Tim had managed to copy her cast, they’d have won.

“Tim? Why didn’t you—?”

“…Glk…”

She knew why the moment she looked. Tim was frozen to the spot, shaking—a scorpion familiar was stabbing his leg.

“That’s how you do it,” Khiirgi purred, explaining, “You never noticed! Slow movements can be a strength.”

Tim managed to shake off the paralytic, moving again.

“Oh, already? You have some alarming resistances. At your age! Poor thing.”

“…Ngh… Shut the fuck up!”

“Don’t, Tim! Match me—!”

But he was already out front, casting—and Khiirgi’s heel caught him in the solar plexus.

“…Gah…”

“Thought you were out of range? Awww. I was only moving at half my true speed.”

As he toppled, she landed a roundhouse kick. Tim’s head bounced off the floor, and he was out cold. With one down, the elf turned to Ophelia, and her eyes dropped to the vial that fell from Tim’s hand.

“I swear, play with toxins all the time, and you get very naughty. Don’t you agree?”

“…!”

Alone now, Ophelia kept her athame raised, and Khiirgi shrugged.

“Nice of you to keep trying, but I do recommend surrender. You’ve got no way of winning on your own—and you know that.”

Ophelia ignored that suggestion, focusing her mind inward.

“…Glad I planted one,” she muttered.

“Hrm?” Khiirgi frowned—and saw a gleam in Ophelia’s eye.

“You started this,” Ophelia said. “Don’t blame me if it kills you. Partus!”

A purple light shined over her lower belly. A mystic glow—from which emerged a hideous thing drenched in amniotic fluid.

“…Oh-ho…?!”

Like an ox, fifteen feet long, bony spurs on each flank like a chariot, and a scorpion’s tail attached to its backside. Matching no known magical beast, it earned an elven cackle.

“……Haaa-ha! I remember now—Salvadori! You’re descended from a succubus, yes? So you’re using your womb as a cradle for chimera, then? My, my, the evils of your kind never cease to delight!”

Khiirgi threw herself into battle with the chimera, ecstatic. Ophelia got Tim on her back and ran off in the other direction.

“Hah, hah…! Tim, please! Wake up! If we can just reach the workshop—”

She was clutching to that hope, but a few minutes later, a gust of wind hit her face.

“…I saw this coming. Glad I came to observe.”

“…!”

Before her stood a second-year, well-bred, uniform altered so the coat resembled a vest. Ophelia set Tim down on the floor, athame at the ready, and the man shook his head.

“Relax and make yourself comfortable, lady. No need to worry about resisting—we’re already done.”

That struck her as odd, and then Ophelia felt like she was floating in water, her vision blurred.

“Huh…?”

She put her hands to her head, staggering—sensation fading from her limbs.

“…Poison…? How…? When…?”

Searching for a cause, she looked herself over. Her eyes lit upon the back of her right hand—and several tiny objects pricking her skin.

“…Little needles…so small you can barely see them…”

“And you felt no pain,” the man said softly. “A principle I abide by.”

Ophelia gritted her teeth. Tim might withstand this much, but she lacked his resistance. She might not have drifted off yet, but she was struggling to focus—and in no shape to face a more powerful second-year.

But that was the task before her. Fighting her swimming head, she raised her athame.

“Still?” The man sighed. “Resignation would be far easier on you. You leave me with no choice.”

He raised his blade, too, stepping toward a girl who looked ready to crumple.

“Flamma!”

Crimson flames billowed between them. The man leaped back, eyes on another second-year emerging from a side passage.

“…You’ve arrived rather early, Mr. Godfrey.”

The man knew his name, and Godfrey stepped out in front of Ophelia, growling, “I saw you earlier. What did you do to her?”

“Gino Beltrami. Like you, a second-year. Please call me Barman.”

Gino offered an elegant bow. Godfrey remained grim.

“You refuse to answer, then. My friends are hurt—I’m ready when you are.”

“By all means. My door is long since open.”

Seeing Godfrey in no mood to talk, Gino lifted his blade.

“A light aperitif to begin? Let’s get a good buzz going. Impetus!”

“Flamma!”

Two spells at close range, and their blades tangled. Godfrey’s fires deflected upward, but Gino’s winds were visualized differently, surrounding his opponent—and those winds were spiked.

“Hahhh!”

With that cry, Godfrey used spatial magic, generating winds along the surface of his skin and pushing that air aside. At the same time, his blade shot toward Gino’s chest, impressing his opponent.

“Oh? Well spotted.”

“I saw the needles in Ophelia. I’m not blind.”

Walker’s training was paying off, and Godfrey had made the necessary observations before the fight began.

“An unruly customer, vaulting over the bar. This area is for staff only.”

Gino’s tone stuck to professional reprimand. Between the fingers of his free hand, he held a glass orb taken from his pocket.

“Still, handling bad drunks is part of the job. I’ll have your second drink ready in a jiffy.”

“Hahhh!”

Before he completed his throw, Godfrey knocked it away with his foot. The orb smashed on the floor at a distance, and Gino sighed.

“Not a fan of that label? You know how to make a bartender cry.”

Godfrey moved to finish this before Gino could make another play—but found himself off-balance.

“…Hng…”

“We can’t leave you sober for long. To those who administer spirits, there is no greater shame.”

Gino made it clear this was a point of pride. Catching a hint of herbal liqueur in his nostrils, Godfrey held his breath.

“The stronger the spirits, the easier they ought to go down. Ideally, the customer will not even notice they’ve been imbibing. With me so far?”

Godfrey realized this odor was drifting from the guard on Gino’s athame. He snorted—the glass orb had been a decoy. The real trap lay on the blade itself.

“…A boozy blade, paired with Lanoff-style. The founder must be rolling in his grave.”

“This is my bar—only I need remain sober. The foundation of customer service.”

Gino had an alcoholic ampoule embedded in his athame. Godfrey hesitated—get in close, and he’d inhale more of those spirits. But back off to avoid that, and he’d be putting Tim and Ophelia in harm’s way. He soon had his answer, and he stepped in.

“Still, you approach? The more you move, the more inebriated you’ll get.”

Gino shook his head. Carefully monitoring the speed at which Godfrey’s movements were slowing, patiently waiting for his chance to fight back. That moment soon arrived.

“Not much longer… Time you headed home,” he whispered.

But as he did, Godfrey chanted:

“…Dolor.”

A pain spell, cast on himself, slamming against every inch of his skin and instantly sobering him. Gino had committed to a thrust meant to end things, but Godfrey leaped off the floor from his toes, aiming for his opponent’s side.

“ ?!”

“Rahhhh!”

Gino got an arm in between, defending himself—there was a snap, and the bone broke. His body lifted into the air, flying toward the passage wall. He used Wall Walk to absorb the impact and dropped back to the floor, glaring at his dangling left arm.

“…A pain spell as a restorative? You are a nasty customer.”

“I value spells that don’t burn my arm. You’ll need a lot more booze to get me drunk, Barman!” Godfrey yelled, feeling alert again.

Mindful of the moves Lesedi taught Godfrey, Walker had suggested employing a midheight roundhouse kick as a counter. Get enough speed and force behind it, and it hit hard even as he deflected his opponent’s attack. Gino’s response had lowered the point of contact down near the knee, but with Godfrey’s superlative mana output, his kicks hit too hard for a little deflection to really matter.

As his injured foe considered his next move, Godfrey called, “I forgot to mention, but I’ve got backup coming. Think you can handle this on your own?”

This was no bluff—two friends had arrived, taking positions to defend the downed first-years. Carlos and Lesedi.

“…Perhaps I misjudged things,” Gino admitted. “But don’t be alarmed—I have help of my own.”

An elf appeared behind him, her entire body splattered in chimera blood.

“My, my, all our prey together! Gino, you tagged along?”

“I felt certain you’d let your enthusiasm get the best of you, at the cost of your mission. What exactly were you off playing with?”

“A chimera! Never fought the like before. Struggled a bit. Just finished it off and came running—and found you like this. So be it! This job’s a lot more fun than I expected.”

Snickering, Khiirgi raised her athame.

“Three on two, but you’re not backing off.” Lesedi scowled. “Arrogant much?”

“Careful, the girl’s an elf,” Carlos warned. “Khiirgi Albschuch. They say she was a drifter, pursued by her own village—and I think we can guess why.”

“The other’s a trickster,” Godfrey added. “An alchemist, but Tim’s polar opposite—doses you without you noticing. Look out for little needles on the wind and alcoholic vapors in his athame. One false move, and you’ll fall asleep mid-riposte.”

Staying close behind Khiirgi, Gino raised his blade.

“No time to heal my arm. Khiirgi, can you handle the front line?”

“Of course. I’ve got just the toolplant. One that’s never been brought out before I came along. Haaa-ha! Another reason why I can’t ever go home.”

Khiirgi cackled. Godfrey’s side wanted to take advantage of their numbers, but elven magic aptitude defied human standards, and they had no way of accurately gauging what she could do. Gino and Khiirgi were being just as cautious—neither of them quite had the measure of just how big a spell Godfrey could cast.

Tension mounted on both sides—until something unexpected rolled out of one passage.

“““ ?!”””

““…?!””

A wheel. No bigger than that of a carriage, but on fire. At the center of it was a face, like a caricature—very unpleasant. It was rolling around on its own, laughing maniacally, doing slow circles around the five of them.

“…? What is that thing?”

“Not…any sort of magical beast. It feels wrong. Like it isn’t real…”

Carlos frowned. Godfrey glanced at their foes, who looked just as lost.

“…This isn’t yours, is it, Gino?” Khiirgi asked.

“Obviously not. My establishment would not allow anything this grotesque.”

Feeling a hot wind blowing from the depths of the corridor, Godfrey turned toward it.

“…More incoming,” he muttered.

A moment later, more grotesqueries emerged from the darkness. A humanoid form, body wasted away, belly hideously swollen, dragging themselves along the floor on unnaturally developed arms in lieu of their wasted legs. A massive hulk as big as any troll, wielding instruments of torture. And leading the way, more of those wheels.

All eyes went wide.

“Carlos! Grab Ophelia!” Godfrey yelled, making a snap decision to abandon this fight.

He grabbed Tim and started to run. Carlos—carrying Ophelia—and Lesedi were close behind.

Lesedi glanced again at the grotesqueries, grinding her teeth. “…What are those things? Is hell overflowing?!”

She spoke for everyone there. On the far side of the same corridor, Khiirgi and Gino had reached the same conclusion and were running themselves.

“No time for play! Let’s bail, Gino!”

“That does seem necessary… Fair enough. I’ll brief Leoncio.”

Without anyone to carry, they soon passed the watch and took a different fork in the passageway before vanishing from view. One fewer threat to worry about, but the watch’s pursuit was gaining on them. The sinister wheels caught up first.

“Tch, can’t outrun ’em! Burn the ones in front!”

“Right! Flamma!”

““Flamma!””

All three cast fire spells, enveloping the front of the pack of wheels. They squinted into the inferno, trying to gauge the effectiveness—and the wheels burned bright for a moment before crumbling. This outcome shocked Godfrey—these things seemed far more fragile than any of them had expected.

“Hmm?”

“What the…? That was easy.”

“It’s not over yet!” Godfrey roared.

From behind the burned-up wheels came a flock of birdmen with colorful feathers, all wielding man catchers.

“““KEH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!”””

They fanned out, attacking from three sides, aiming their man catchers at the mages’ throats and ankles. The watch fought this off with their athames but could not break stride to focus on that. Defending themselves as best they could, they ran on, lest more creatures catch up.

“They’re fast…! Careful! These things are strong!”

“What are they?! What manner of beast are these things?!” Lesedi wondered, even as she kicked another.

The same question nagged Godfrey. Humanoid, with wings—a garuda came to mind, but those didn’t naturally occur in the labyrinth, and these foes didn’t have that distinctive aura higher beasts radiated. It was more like something crafted after hearing descriptions of garuda secondhand. But in this moment, he had no means to verify that instinctive assessment.

Lesedi’s kick crumpled one birdman’s head. Fluid from that landed on Godfrey’s arm and made him frown.

“Blood…? No, this isn’t— It smells like…paint?”

He’d almost reached an important realization—when a friend’s cry pulled him from his thoughts.

“Flamma! Get away from Lia, you—!”

A birdman was doggedly pursuing the girl on Carlos’s back, trying to snatch her with its catchpole. Carlos was frantically waving their athame at it, staving it off. Godfrey tried to step in, but another birdman came at him from his blind side.

“…Ah—!”

“Carlos!”

Godfrey was unable to match the birdman on speed; the catchpole snagged Carlos’s neck, pushing them back—while the birdman grabbed for Ophelia. Lesedi just barely kicked it away.

“They’re trying to carry them off…?! Push them back, Godfrey! This won’t end well!”

“I know! We need to force an opening!”

Conscious of the other creatures on their heels, Godfrey considered using a big blast to clear them out. But before he could, the wall behind him burst open from below, a massive shadow looming overhead.

“…What the…?”

Stunned, Godfrey stopped in his tracks. Before his very eyes stood a giant, clad in robes that resembled those of Chena’s court officials. The face was so craggy it was gasp-inducing; the baton in its hand seemingly carved directly from a log—and it raked the humans with a gaze that seemed to pierce their hearts.

It evoked a feeling beyond fear and into something unreal—delaying Godfrey’s spell a beat too long. The giant swung that baton, striking him and sending him flying sideways.

“Kahhh—!”

Godfrey slammed against the wall so hard it took his breath away. He’d managed to twist himself just enough to spare Tim that fate, but the boy’s body slid to the floor, and the birdmen swooped in, grabbing him and hauling him away. Godfrey was desperate to snatch him back, but his limbs were numb and unresponsive.

“…T-Tim…!”

“Lia—!”

At the same time, a new birdman snatched Ophelia off Carlos’s back. The two of them were tossed to more grotesqueries, who did an about-face and ran off, carrying Tim and Ophelia into the labyrinth’s depths. At last, Godfrey could feel his limbs again. He put a blast of fire in the giant’s face, pushing it back. While it was thrashing its baton at the flames, he and Carlos tried to turn back down the passage—but Lesedi grabbed them both.

“Pull out, boys!”

“?! W-wait, Lesedi! Tim and Ophelia!”

“Let go! Sedi, please…!”

But their cries went unheard. Lesedi dragged them both through the wall toppled by the giant’s entrance, attempting an escape through the passage beyond. When they tried again to shake her off and go back, her face twisted like a demon.

“You’d rather we all die?!” Lesedi roared. “Fuck that! Don’t make me snap any more teeth!”

The anguish in her tone at last got through to them. This situation was far beyond what they could handle. They had to leave the labyrinth as soon as possible and get word of this to the upperclassmen and faculty. That was their last resort.

It was another twenty minutes of running before they hit the exit painting and made it safely back to the school building.

“…Hah, hah…!”

“Hah…!”

All were badly out of breath. Carlos was openly weeping.

“…Lia…!”

“Stay focused! No time to rest! Gotta contact the faculty—”

Lesedi was already moving, but a moment later, grotesque wheels shot out of the painting behind them. All three panicked.

“They came out of the painting?! Why?!”

“Flamma!”

A fireball over their shoulders melted the wheels. They swung around to find some upperclassmen in the open classroom doors.

“…Second-years? Just fled the labyrinth? If you can move, evacuate to another room. The school building isn’t safe.”

“It isn’t? Hold on. What’s happening—?”

But even as Godfrey spoke, a birdman swooped out of the painting behind him. The upperclassmen swiftly dispatched it.

“See for yourself,” one barked, glaring at him. “Weird monsters are popping out of paintings all over the building. Even the instructors don’t yet know what’s going on. So move your asses! We’re not here to stand guard over you!”

That finally got Godfrey, Carlos, and Lesedi moving. In the hall, they could feel the confusion all around—and that proved the scale of this was far worse than they’d assumed.

“All students, your attention. Extermination of hostile presences on campus is complete, and all paintings serving as channels are sealed. The hostiles are believed to be paint sprites. The majority were painted in oil, so fire spells were especially effective. Should you encounter any, do not hesitate to burn them.”

The emergency broadcast came not two minutes after the three watch members escaped. Mouths formed on the walls of the school, and Garland’s calm tones spoke through them. Now that they were aware the faculty were on top of things, the students’ panic began to subside.

“We’re looking into the root cause, but we expect the paint sprites have come from the labyrinth’s depths, so it may be a while yet. Upperclassmen, remain in the building and cooperate with the investigation; underclassmen, return to your dorms and remain on standby until further notice. I repeat, underclassmen, return to your dorms and remain on standby until further notice.”

A clear order, and second-year students had to obey it. Worried about Tim and Ophelia, Godfrey, Carlos, and Lesedi returned to their dorms and sat limply in a corner of a common room, feeling helpless.

“…What’s going on…?” Godfrey said. The question of the hour.

Arms folded, Lesedi summed up what they knew. “If those monsters are paint sprites, that explains why they’re coming out of paintings all over the school. More than thirty students captured, the majority underclassmen.”

Those were the facts—the rest was her speculation.

“There were third-years among that number, so we’re lucky to have made it back ourselves. We could well have been among the missing.”

“…But…! Lia and Tim…!” Carlos’s voice was choked with tears.

Lesedi looked right at them. “Get a grip, Carlos. Magic gone wild in the halls and labyrinth. Casualties among the students. May not happen every day, but it does happen regularly here. You knew that before you enrolled.”

A harsh reminder of the realities at Kimberly. That got Godfrey’s mind working again.

“So…a student’s been consumed by the spell?”

Lesedi nodded. Consumed by the spell—an end that lay in wait in a mage’s future. The nature of it varied. Some went mad, some disappeared, some died, but what they all had in common was that their very being was warped by something magical—and irreversible. The further a mage delved into sorcery, the more likely it became—and thus, this end was considered the highest of honors.

“The natural assumption. I’m sure the faculty and upperclassmen are narrowing down the list of suspects. Even Kimberly can’t have many mages capable of this, especially if the spell involves paintings.”

Lesedi was doing her best to keep it together, but her hands clenched tight.

“Either way, we’ve been stuffed into the dorms, awaiting further news. Dammit. It sucks to be protected.”

“…If we’d at least fled to our workshop…we could have searched from there…”

Carlos was still dwelling on regrets. No matter how much they wanted to help their friends, they were not allowed into the labyrinth. Godfrey put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, comforting them. At length, he rose to his feet.

“Lesedi, can you sit with Carlos awhile?”

“? Sure, but where are you going?”

“Gonna walk around the dorm. Gotta get my thoughts in order.”

Cooling his head, Godfrey paced the corridors. His ears were buffeted by sobs and wails.

“What now…? He didn’t come back…”

“Why…? He’s only a first-year…!”

“Dammit! They shouldn’t have been in the labyrinth yet…”

Their anguish brought Tim’s and Ophelia’s faces back to the front of Godfrey’s mind. Fear rose up, and he struggled to keep control.

“…Ngh… Stay calm… You’re the leader, remember? You can’t wallow.”

Chastising himself, he walked on. Ahead of him, he saw a group of upperclassmen carrying a frame wrapped in insulation paper. He moved aside to let them pass.

“…Oh,” he murmured. “They had paintings in the dorms, too. No paint sprites emerged here, but I guess they’re removing them just in case…”

Something nagged at the back of his mind, and he started chasing it.

“Wait… The paint sprites popped out of the paintings. The cause lies deep in the labyrinth…”

He drew a line between the facts and saw it leading to a conclusion.

“…Then where do the paintings they came from lead?”

With that, he turned on his heel and ran. Heedless of the looks this got him, he burst back into the common room.

“Carlos! Lesedi!”

They looked up, startled, and he ran over.

“…? What’s wrong, Al?”

“Come with me. To our room, now.”

Confused, both followed him. Meanwhile, someone else in the room watched them go, frowning. Khiirgi and Gino had only just informed him of their failure.

“…? What are they making a fuss about?”

Leoncio Echevalria rose to his feet and quietly followed.

“What’s this about? Talk, Godfrey,” Lesedi said on the way.

Ahead of the pack, Godfrey started to fill them in.

“Had an idea as I wandered the dorm. If the paint sprites are coming through paintings, then those paintings connect to their source. And the paintings aren’t just hung in the school—they’re in the dorms, too.”

“True, but the faculty know that. I saw a bunch of paintings getting hauled away. I doubt there’s any left.”

“Not if they’re hung up properly, no.”

Reaching the door to his room, Godfrey opened it, then stepped in. He went right to his bed and pulled a painting out from underneath. Carlos gasped, and Lesedi looked surprised.

“ ! Yo, is that…?”

“The painting was kicking up a fuss and distracting us, so we took it off the wall temporarily. Actually…quite a while ago. I kind of forgot about it, so I’m not really sure how long ago.”

Trying to jog his memory, he looked down at the painting. The girl it depicted saw him looking and ran over, nearly bursting out of the frame, waving both hands.

“…She’s still pretty frantic. Even more desperate now. I just took that as another one of the notorious magic painting’s pranks before, but after that paint sprite rampage, it sure reads different. Maybe she started moving…”

“…As a precursor to this incident. That your point, Al?” Carlos asked.

Godfrey flipped the painting around. “The artist signed it. Severo Escobar. I imagine he’s the one.”

He set the painting against the bed and glanced at his companions.

“Which brings us to the point. If this links to the same source as those paint sprites, then the channel may still be open. If Garland was right, that leads to the labyrinth’s depths. I’m heading in.”

Carlos gulped. Lesedi put a hand to her head, scowling.

“You’re a madman. This is wild speculation from the get-go, and you’ve spared no thought to the risk. It’s not even worth calling it a suicide run—you’re just throwing yourself right off the cliff.”

“I know. That’s why I’m going alone.”

“ !!”

Carlos looked downright distraught, and Lesedi fought off her own surge of emotion. She used her last threat of rationality to point out the flaw in this logic.

“Even if the paintings the monsters came through lead to the source, that doesn’t mean every painting in the school does! You don’t have to go—the faculty and upperclassmen will dive in and attempt a rescue. You realize you’re just gonna die for no reason, right?”

“The rules here say faculty will not intervene until eight days after the students are lost. Until then, we’re relying on older students alone. But I don’t trust Kimberly students as far as I can throw them, let alone to wait for them to act. If the need arises, their first priority won’t be student rescues—and there’s far too many reasons why that would happen.”

“…! No…that’s pessimistic. You know how many are lost: more than thirty! If that many younger students died en masse, even Kimberly would be rocked to its core. The faculty will rethink that eight-day rule!”

“Yeah, I’m certainly picturing the worst-case scenario. But you’re being too optimistic. Even if the faculty do move up the timetable, we don’t know by how much. And there’s no guarantee Tim and Ophelia will live that long. We know better. My top priority is rescuing our friends. And doing so as soon as possible. No one else on campus will follow that agenda—no one else will prioritize their survival at all.”

This left Lesedi without an argument. No matter how flawed the rest of his logic was, this one point she could not deny. Before she could find a way past this silence, Godfrey moved on.

“Once I’m inside, report this painting to the older students. I’ll insist I had it hidden, and you tried to stop me, but I jumped in anyway. Put it like that, and at worst, there’ll be just one extra body.”

There was a loud crack. Lesedi jumped—and found Carlos’s fist buried in Godfrey’s cheek.

“I told you before. Think about how it feels to be left behind.”

“…Yeah, I remember every word.”

Godfrey nodded, poker-faced. Carlos held his gaze.

“You claim you haven’t forgotten. You knew how mad this would make me—no, you were counting on it.”

Carlos took a step closer, clutching Godfrey’s shoulders. Their face twisted with conflicting emotions.

“…You really are…hopelessly dumb.”

Carlos rested their forehead on Godfrey’s chest for a moment—then looked up, eyes wet with tears and a smile on their face.

“…But I’m afraid this time I won’t let you go alone.”

“Carlos, I—”

“Hear me out first. Two reasons. The first is simple—Lia’s life matters far more than my own.”

Carlos let that hang a moment. The weight of that phrase was enough to discourage Lesedi from jumping in. She knew full well—right now, Carlos was speaking as a mage.

“That’s not me and Lia as people. That’s our houses. The Salvadoris and the Whitrows have a contract. I’m obligated to look after her until she completes her spell. I have no right to go on living if I let her die. These facts were set in stone before we even met. This promise means everything—you’re a mage, and you know why.”

Godfrey waffled for a long moment, then nodded quietly. He, too, grew up in a mage household and could not be dismissive of what that entailed.

“My second reason is equally simple. I, personally, want to keep Lia safe. The exact opposite of the first reason—this one is all me. I swore a vow of my own long ago—if I don’t act here, I will no longer be me. I have to go.”

Deep down, Godfrey had known his friend would say just this. When Godfrey remained silent, Carlos wiped their tears.

“I might add—I’m taking advantage of your own attempt. This increases the odds of Lia surviving this, so I don’t feel bad about it. I know I was just scolding you.”

“…”

“Naturally, I’d like to save Tim, too. But…let that be your motive. My priority is set in stone. It would feel wrong to list his rescue as a reason for my actions,” Carlos stated. “But that said, Al—let’s go save them both, together. I will stand with you and bet my life on this battle.”

A stalwart declaration, and Godfrey could answer only one way: with a nod.

Carlos turned to face Lesedi. “That settles it. There you have it, Sedi. Sorry we’re both fools.”

Carlos smiled, and Lesedi balled her hands into fists, hanging her head.

“…Why don’t you ask for my help? You’re both that shameless!”

“There’s no good reason for you to risk your life here. Without that reason, you can’t commit. And taking someone who isn’t committed to their death is just a tragedy. What would you even accomplish?”

Lesedi grabbed Carlos by the collar. Her arm went up, and her fist swung—stopping an inch from their nose.

“…Don’t use that voice to get yourself hit,” she croaked, as if there was blood in her throat.

Carlos put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her close.

“…You have a kind soul, Sedi. Far too kind. Consider this a last request from a terrible friend. I want you to live.”

A request from the heart. None of them dared to break the silence that followed—

“What are you doing?”

—but a new voice did. Their heads snapped up, and they found Leoncio standing in the doorway, scowling at them. His eyes lit on the painting by the bed and flared open.

“…Is that—? Wait, are you—?!”

“Shit… C’mon, Carlos!”

“Right!”

No more time to hesitate. Leoncio was advancing across the room, and Godfrey and Carlos ran from him toward the painting—

“Hmm?”

And only then did they spot the uncanny glow. Less than a moment later, the painting’s light grew stronger and swallowed all four of them whole.

“Wha—?”

“Gah?!”

Bright light dazzled their eyes; when it faded, there was no one in the room. Just a single painting remained.