CHAPTER 4 : Games of the Sky

When delving into the labyrinth, parties of five or six were highly encouraged. But if you could stomach the fact that no friends would be there to save you, there were benefits to solo runs.

For one, it was easier to hide yourself. In a group, there was just that much more noise to stifle. Where a group might be discovered and forced into combat, a solo explorer could often weather the crisis. Even if found, the lack of encumbrance increased the odds of a successful escape.

"...…"

In fact, Oliver was currently using a camouflage spell to disguise himself as part of the wall, waiting for a group of students to pass by.

The labyrinth's first layer had the most foot traffic, and that could often lead to trouble. Deceiving other mages was even more important than beasts or ghosts. And depending on the mage, that could be rather challenging. A simple disguise might be enough for second-years—like this passing group—but against a skilled upperclassman, more advanced stealth techniques were a must… Although in that case, it was best to just turn around and head in the other direction.

"…Whew."

Once they were a safe distance away, he released the spell and set out once more. There were three key rules for traversal without backup: maintain a safe distance, don't get reckless, and minimize time spent. By following all three rules strictly, Oliver could currently manage the top two layers on his own.

He kept this up until he reached his destination. He stood before a blank stretch of wall and said the password. The blocks shifted, forming a door—one of the first layer's many hidden entrances.

"…Sorry I'm la—"

As he stepped in, someone grabbed him by his shoulders. Pale-golden hair—his "sister," Shannon Sherwood, now a sixth-year. Looking very intense, she was inspecting every inch of him.

"Stand still, Noll."

"Wh-what's this about…?" he stammered.

His cousin Gwyn's voice echoed from the back. "Leave her to it. She's been concerned about your condition. You've not been yourself since the Ophelia thing, right?"

Oliver winced. He'd known he couldn't hide it from them, but this was the first time they'd actually brought it up.

Shannon finished her fervent inspection and blinked at him.

"…Huh? …You're all…better…" She peered into his eyes, and he gulped, feeling an arrow to his heart. "You…had it taken care of? Who…?"

"━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━!"

"Ohhh?" Gwyn said, rubbing his hands together. As Oliver squirmed out of Shannon's grasp, his brother insisted, "Don't you run, Noll! No secrets from us. What're you getting from him, Shannon?"

"…Turmoil. He's blaming…himself… And…lots of self-hatred. But also…affection. He doesn't…resent this person."

Shannon proceeded to straight up plow the depths of his heart. Oliver clenched his jaw. He'd known there was no point trying to hide. She always knew what he was feeling.

Gwyn folded his arms, thinking. "So someone close caught him by surprise? …Gotta be one of the kids in his core group, then."

That was enough information for anyone to narrow down potential candidates. When his little brother still refused to speak, Gwyn shot him a soft smile.

"Don't get upset. I'm surprised you've let anyone get that close; it's actually a good thing," he insisted. "You know you'd never have let us handle the problem."

"…Hrmph…"

Shannon spun around and headed into the back room. Gwyn watched her go, then pointed after her.

"See? She's sulking now. Go let her fuss over you!"

Oliver did, of course. He found her standing at the sink, her back to him—and couldn't think what to say. All he managed was a faint whisper.

"Um, Sis…"

"Sit. I'm…making tea."

He did as he was told. Feeling awful, he moved to the table, and Gwyn took a seat across from him.

"Just to be sure," his brother said, "you did use protection?"

"…Didn't do anything that would require that."

"Hmm. So they just nibbled at you?"

Oliver made a face at the euphemism, but that sort of talk was standard at Kimberly. He knew full well he was the touchy one here, so he left his gripes unsaid, sitting in sullen silence—until there was a thump behind him. He jumped, turning toward the noise.

"...?!"

"Oh, nothing to worry about. If you're curious, go pry it open."

There was a wooden box in the corner. Gwyn waved him to it, and Oliver gingerly approached, lifting the lid.

"…Zzzz…zzz…"

"...…"

There was a girl in the box, curled up like a cat. His covert operative—Teresa Carste.

"She says she feels…safest there. Just…leave her be, okay?" Shannon asked, eyes on her tea prep.

Oliver had a lot of questions but didn't want to disturb the girl's slumber. He carefully closed the lid and went back to the table.

"She'll wake up soon enough. Let's get these frying."

Gwyn hopped up and moved to the stove in the corner. He lit the fire with his wand and put a frying pan on top. When it was warm enough, he cooled the bottom with a spell, and once he was sure the temperature was completely even, he poured in the contents of a bowl that had been left on a nearby shelf.

A sweet scent filled the room. Oliver sniffed.

"Pancakes…?"

"You want one, Noll?"

But before Oliver could answer, the box lid popped open, pushed upward by a girl's head. She stretched—very catlike.

"Good morning, my lord."

"…Morning, Ms. Carste."

Greetings exchanged, Teresa came over and sat down at the table with him. After several seconds of silence, he decided he had to ask.

"…Why a box?"

"I find dark, cramped places relaxing."

"…It doesn't take its toll on you, physically?"

"I am in peak condition."

Her stoic responses drove home the fact that this was just what she always did. While Oliver tried to figure out if he should say anything else, Gwyn came over with a steaming plate.

"All done! Use all the syrup you like."

He pulled the syrup bottle close and put the fresh pancake in front of Teresa. The very color of her eyes changed.

Shannon brought the tea over and whispered in Oliver's ear. "Don't…be alarmed, Noll…"

"Mm…?"

As he blinked, Teresa poured a lot of syrup onto her plate, then reached out, grabbed the pancake with both hands (heedless of how sticky they got), and bit in.

"━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━Uh…"

This was not how he'd expected her to eat. It was extremely…carnivorous. Sensing his surprise, Teresa glanced up at him, licking syrup off her fingers.

"…Something amiss, my lord?"

"…Wh-why bare-handed?"

"It's faster."

"But…your hands get dirty…"

"I can simply wash them," she replied, a baffled expression on her face.

Unable to think of any further arguments, he looked up at Gwyn, who shrugged.

"Side effect of her covert upbringing. We've mentioned it before, but…she won't budge."

"…How do you eat during school hours?"

"Not a concern. I don't eat with anyone else."

She dug into her pancake again. At least she seemed to be aware that this was not fit for the public eye. The fact that she was eating like this here was because all three people present were close enough to count as private.

Still, he thought. Not eating with anyone else? As in, she doesn't eat in public at all?

"..."

That wasn't something he could let slide. After a long moment of contemplation, he turned to his brother again.

"…Can I ask for two more?"

"Coming right up!"

Catching his drift, Gwyn headed back to the kitchen. Oliver turned back to the girl.

"Ms. Carste, stop for a second."

Teresa paused, returning her half-eaten pancake to the plate.

"…That's an order?"

"It is. And go wash your hands."

Figuring half measures would get him nowhere, he deliberately chose a harsh tone. She rose mechanically and moved to the sink. Once her hands were clean, she returned, and the pair sat in silence a few minutes until Gwyn brought two plates over. One was for Oliver; the other was placed in front of Teresa.

"Now I'll teach you table manners," Oliver said. "You'll eat the new pancake per my instructions."

"To what purpose?"

"To instill behavior appropriate for my covert operative. Save further questions until we're done."

With that, he put his knife in his right hand and his fork in his left. A flicker of a smile crossed his lips—he remembered teaching Nanao the same thing a year ago.

"There's a marked difference between individual nutritional acquisition and eating around a table with others. For the former, you need only fill your belly, but with the latter, the meal is a means by which to relate to those with you. To prolong the social act, you want to avoid eating too quickly; and keeping things tidy will make a good impression on your peers."

Oliver was cutting his pancake into bite-size pieces. Nanao had merely been unfamiliar with foreign table manners; Teresa, meanwhile, was familiar yet rejected them. It was a rational, efficient decision in light of her role and lifestyle, but it was a bit too extreme for her current position.

"There's no need to tie your every action to your mission," he said. "I think it's a shame to miss out on the social opportunities life brings. Especially since you're a student now."

"My current approach has yet to cause any issues."

"Are you sure?"

Teresa frowned at that, which proved Oliver was right to be concerned. He sighed. She was definitely not making friends.

"I'm aware you've received no training for this…but if you're going to attend Kimberly as a student, it's a problem if you can't blend in. What I'm teaching you will help you avoid unwanted attention and make your life here seem normal. I'm speaking both as a fellow student and as your lord, here."

He let that sink in a moment.

"And to start with, you'll dine with me. We don't want these pancakes getting cold, do we?"

"…Understood."

She nodded emotionlessly and picked up her silverware. He'd explained the basis behind his orders hoping to convince her of the logic involved, but her poker face gave him no insight into how successful that had been.

He sliced off a bite-size piece of pancake, and Teresa copied him. One eye on that, he made conversation.

"My brother's pancakes are something else, aren't they? Do you have a sweet tooth?"

"Sugar converts quickly to energy."

"It does, but we hardly go around sucking down rock candy, do we? What do you make of the coloring?"

He pointed at the fried surface of the cake. Teresa stared at it a moment, thinking.

"…It looks like a fox's pelt."

"Right, and every bit as consistent. Unless the pan's surface temperature is completely even, you get a much more mottled look. He's taken extra time and effort to make your dining experience enjoyable."

Oliver shot his brother a quick glance and got a smile in return.

"The batter shows extra care as well. You'd never get this consistency just by mixing milk and eggs into store-bought flour. I can tell he's stirred in a meringue, but I could never make it melt in your mouth like this. There must be some other secret," he deduced. "And this pancake is crafted so that it tastes better when cut into bite-size pieces. Compare eating it like this to your handheld approach. You can tell the difference, right?"

She took another bite, considering it.

"...Mm..."

That sounded like she could tell the difference—and she started eating faster. Oliver concluded that she'd never been taught to enjoy her food.

"And taking a sip of tea between bites refreshes your taste buds. When you go back to the pancakes, the flavor will be as striking as it was the first time. So there's meaning to the beverage pairing, as well. Your tea isn't just a liquid for clearing your clogged throat."

Teresa heeded this advice, following a sip of tea with another bite.

"...!"

Her eyes went wide. Pancakes had a very simple flavor, and that could easily grow dull halfway through; strong-brewed tea was an effective palate cleanser. Something everyone else knew from experience—but her operative training had kept her mealtime to a bare minimum.

"..."

And that upbringing had all been so she could serve him. That fact had never sat well with Oliver—but then her eyes turned toward him, gleaming with the thrill of new discovery. For once, she looked her age—perhaps far younger.

"...I could eat this forever."

"Precisely," Oliver replied, stifling his emotions. Now was not the time for self-reproach. "My sister brewed the tea extra strong to match the sweetness of the syrup, something you might not notice from shoveling it in…and manners dictate we take the time to appreciate the care she took."

Teresa was still a little clumsy with the knife and fork, but she was thoroughly absorbed in her meal.

"I've learned three things about you today," Oliver said, smiling. "You prefer a practical approach, have a sweet tooth, and show your true self while enjoying fine food. Quite a productive meal."

"...!"

Teresa paused, mid-slice. For the first time, she realized her observation subject was observing her right back.

"There's a crumb on your cheek. Turn toward me."

"…I-I'll get it," she said, raising her arm to her face. He stopped her.

"Wiping with your sleeve would be a faux pas. Must I make this an order?"

She froze, and he cleaned her up with his handkerchief—gently wiping her mouth and cheeks, careful not to hurt her. She had her eyes closed and was turning rather red.

"All better now. By the way, do you own a mirror?"

"…No. Not much use on duty."

"Then take this one."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a hand mirror. The one he always used.

"Mirrors allow you to check your appearance and gauge how others see you. Keep this on you and be mindful of that."

He held it out. She reflexively accepted it with both hands and then examined her face in its reflection.

"…Thank you very much," she said with utmost formality. She put the mirror in her pocket and went back to her pancakes. Eating even faster than before, she quickly polished off the rest. When she was done, she turned back to Oliver, but for a long moment, she couldn't meet his gaze. At last she asked, "…Is the meal over?"

"Yes, that's enough for now. Join me again sometime."

He smiled at her, and she nodded, then stood up. As she slipped behind him, she whispered, "…Just say the word, and I am there."

When he turned back to her—she was gone. He scanned his surroundings but could find no traces of her presence.

"…Where'd she go?"

"The rafters. I think she hit peak embarrassment."

Gwyn pointed, and Oliver looked up.

"She's a born operative. Great at observing people but not at all accustomed to being observed. Your conversation here was uncharted territory."

That explained a lot. She'd abruptly changed her demeanor before, and in hindsight, that had always been prompted when she herself became the object of conversation. Grasping this principle alone deepened his understanding of her.

As he finished Shannon's tea, more and more comrades joined them, taking seats at the table. Once all eight chairs were filled, Gwyn spoke.

"Everyone's here, Noll."

Oliver reached into the pocket of his robe, took out his mask, and put it on. He could feel his mood shift with the gesture. In that moment, he became lord of the insurrection running rampant in the labyrinth.

"With the new year, our preparedness improves. It's time we act again," Gwyn said. "Let us hear it directly from you, Noll. What are we to do?" he asked as his younger brother's vassal.

This was no discussion; what Oliver decreed was law. Mindful of that, he gave voice to the decision he'd reached.

"Before the year is through, we take out Enrico Forghieri."

Oliver's brief statement echoed heavily through the hearts of everyone present. After several long seconds, Gwyn nodded gravely.

"Acknowledged. Our second target is the mad old man, then."

"…M-may I ask the reason, my lord?" a sixth-year male inquired. His voice was halting despite the advantage of age. "N-not arguing, of course. J-just…of the remaining six, he's…incredibly dangerous. I don't think we can win without losses—which isn't a p-problem, but…I don't want to leave the why unsaid. I—I want to do this convinced, i-if that makes sense."

A direct request from a man whose life was in his lord's hands. Oliver was not one to take that lightly.

"First, a simple process of elimination. At present, who do we stand a chance against? Based on our current combat readiness, the strengths derived from our specialties—we're a good match for a builder like Enrico Forghieri. We all know that without me providing specifics."

Their silence signaled agreement. The vassals here were key members and well aware of what magic their comrades had mastered. It was clear those skills could be combined into an anti-Enrico hit squad.

"Next, his position within Kimberly. Esmeralda may be at the top, but the 'box' of the school itself belongs to Enrico Forghieri. No teachers know the labyrinth or school building better than that mad old man," Oliver went on. "Which also means that with his loss, we can expect significant oversights in the management of the campus itself. It will be easier for us to move through the shadows."

There was a long road before this revenge was complete, and any directive had to consider the effect upon the future. That had influenced Oliver's decision.

"So we wanna take him out early on. That much, I get," said a seventh-year girl across the table. "But if we're talking current odds, I dunno if he's the easiest target. Honestly, I think we've got a way better chance against several others."

She leaned forward, looking him right in the eye.

"Your Majesty, do you get what it means to fight him inside Kimberly? Really?"

Oliver didn't even flinch.

"I appreciate your concerns. You want to be sure I am correctly assessing our opponent's threat level. But the best way to alleviate those concerns is concrete strategy," Oliver replied. "How do we fight the mad old man, you ask? How can we take him down? …Allow me to explain."

From that point out, it was all business: a method to pry away each obstacle and slay the warlock named Enrico Forghieri, and more importantly, Oliver's own role in that struggle.

Oliver was not alone. Advancing a year placed all students a big step closer to the madness of the spell.

"…Urgh…"

"Yes, yes, that's it."

Katie was gingerly moving her hands, the Snake-Eyed Witch behind her, giving instructions.

On the worktable before them was the corpse of a kobold. Miligan had brought it in for them to dissect. Katie had insisted they not use one brought in for labyrinth entertainment, but rather a kobold exterminated for causing harm in the outside world, with all the proper paperwork complete.

"…Sorry," she whispered to the corpse.

Her athame sliced its ribs open, revealing the organs beneath, lungs and intestines alike. It felt like sin seeping its way into her through her fingertips. But her hands did not stop. No one was forcing her to do this; she'd made the decision for herself.

"You're still a tad stiff but getting used to it. With this many under your belt, are you starting to get a sense of how magical fauna are built?"

"…I think so. There's still a lot that shocks me, though…"

Katie wiped the sweat from her brow with a sleeve. She'd cut open far more than a handful of creatures by this point. Miligan had had her start with ball mice and work her way through a variety of species. And building on that experience, today she was attempting her first demi-human dissection.

"Everyone's like that at first. Organs and nerves are often located where no ordinary animal would have them. You could also say that unnatural construction is the hallmark of magical fauna. There is always a specific logic to it—it's never just crazy."

"…Right…"

"Wherever your path takes you, if you wish to study magifauna, you'll have to dissect them. Reading about them in books and doing it yourself are worlds apart. For now, you need quantity. Especially if you intend to be a magifauna vet."

Katie nodded several times. She'd known this lay ahead since she enrolled—Miligan had simply helped her get here faster.

Ordinary folk thought mages could heal illness or grievous injury with a wave of the wand. They weren't completely wrong, but—not quite right, either. Healing magic itself was a vast field with a dizzying range of disciplines.

And given their sheer differences in physiology, healing a human was very different from healing other creatures. Even among humans, treating a mage and an ordinary might require completely separate treatments. Katie had learned only the most basic level of human healing; that is, only the fundamentals taught in spellology class. If her troll, Marco, were ever seriously hurt—there was little she could do about it.

"But you certainly are picking the thorny path for yourself. You don't need veterinary skills to campaign for civil rights, you know. The anti-dissection crowd will have it in for you. Not that you should care, mind."

"…I know that."

Katie scowled but kept cutting. She reached for the tray next to her, and the familiar on it—Milihand—handed her the forceps. If Miligan was the brains here, this was literally her right (well, left) hand.

Once the skin and muscles were held open, Katie spoke again.

"Regardless…beast or demi, I want to do everything I can for them. And treating injury or illness is the best thing I can do."

At Kimberly, nobody listened if you spoke of ideals. She'd had that point driven home her first year. That's why she was doing her best to acquire practical skills. And a comprehensive knowledge of healing magic for magifauna and demi-species was one of the most critical therein.

Learning that required real understanding of the physical construction of the patient. Reading documents and papers would never be enough. What it really took was seeing and touching the creatures herself, observing them, and learning. As she was doing now.

"I agree, but a healthy share of the movement would consider that cultural invasion. The demis have their own standards of living and should perish when their time comes—they argue we shouldn't interfere with that process lightly. And there are parts of that worth listening to. If kobold survival rates increased, they'd be a blight upon the lives of ordinaries. What's your take on that?"

"I've been thinking about that since my trip to Galatea… If our habitats are overlapping this much, then I don't think the arguments for maintaining ancient demi lifestyles hold much water. Regardless of how we got to this point, now we've got to find ways to survive together."

"Once again, I agree. I was trying to teach trolls to speak because I was sure that would be the first step toward interspecies communication."

"…And whatever my gripes about your methods, I get that part. I often wonder what it would be like if I could just talk to them."

She looked down at the lifeless eyes of the kobold. Even within the activist community, there was a clear line drawn between demis you could or could not converse with. It was much easier to justify protecting a species that was capable of communicating with humans, especially if they had actual language skills. Which meant any demi-humans that didn't meet those standards were looked down upon and treated that much worse. Like these kobolds.

Naturally, Katie took issue with that. She didn't believe being able to speak to humans was the sole factor in determining a living thing's intelligence. But in a purely human-centric society, her voice didn't carry far.

"There's no easy right answer. I've gotta feel my way between a rock and a hard place… That's why I'll do these dissections. I just won't ever enjoy it."

Silently, but with purpose, Katie kept working—until Miligan's arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind.

"Honestly, you are so cute."

"...…Um, you can't even see my face, though."

"The top of your head is plenty. Pay me no mind."

Katie thought this was ridiculous, but her pace didn't slow at all.

Even if she wound up under the knife someday, she'd have only herself to blame.

"Once you're done with that one, let's take a quick break and then check out the labyrinth. That's a lot for one day, but if we don't push ourselves that hard, you'll never be satisfied. Right?"

"Of course not," Katie snapped.

Focus and energy seemed to well up as fast as she could use them.

"…Hahh, hahh..."

"Almost there. Don't falter now, Guy!"

The bustling forest—the labyrinth's second layer. This was where Oliver, Nanao, and Chela had their first perilous fight with a chimera on their way to rescue Pete. Two students were scrambling up a bunch of the layer's landmark irminsul.

"…Hahh…hahh…"

"Well done! Catch your breath here."

Their long climb reached the end—of this stage, at least—and the expedition leader, year seven's very own Survivor, Kevin Walker, finally gave Guy permission to keel over.

"…They climbed this thing while fending off chimeras, then kept fighting on the other side? Are those three even human…?"

"It's certainly not something your average underclassman can do. Here, rations."

Walker tossed him some fruit. Guy caught it and peeled the rind with his athame, tearing into the scarlet flesh beneath. Faintly sweet but with the rich umami of fat—the nourishment his tired body craved.

"Mm, tastes good… Thanks for helping me like this."

"Hmm? I'm merely training a new club member," Walker replied, biting into his own rations. "Not many as gung ho as you, so I'm happy to pass on what I can."

Grateful for these words, Guy stared down at his hands.

"It really helps," he muttered. "I'm done being left behind."

An oath that made Walker fold his arms.

"Not to brag or anything, but you've come to the right place. Here at Kimberly, the vast majority of problems arise within this labyrinth. Only way to deal with them is to plunge its depths. Which means…"

"The more I know about the place, the more options I'll have, right?"

"Exactly! And there's no better person to teach that than me. There are plenty of better fighters here, but I feel confident in my claim to being the best at staying alive. I didn't repeat a year for nothing."

His grin was indomitable. The kind of grin that made you feel safe, like if you stuck by his side, you were guaranteed to come back in one piece. Guy had come to the Survivor for help because he wanted to smile like that himself.

"And—though risks abound—that's what makes the labyrinth so fascinating. Especially from a gourmet perspective." Walker caught his eye, then continued, "So don't take this too seriously. Joining me down here means you get good grub. And before you know it, you'll be owning the place. I guarantee it!"

"…Right on! Can't wait."

Guy finished off his fruit and scrambled to his feet. Walker nodded, then—a flicker of sadness crossed his face. He looked away, out across the bustling forest.

"Wish I could've convinced her, too," he said. "This place isn't all dark and hostile."

But the girl he spoke of was no more. And these regrets, this grief, would remain with him the rest of his life.

"Oh, there's Guy! And he's with Walker!"

"Unh. Guy, good?"

Katie was peering up at the irminsul through a telescope—riding on Marco's shoulder. She and Miligan had brought the talking troll with them on their walk through the second layer.

"Firsthand instruction from the Survivor?" Miligan said, sounding impressed. "He's no slouch, huh? Every bit as proactive as you."

"You bet! We've made up our minds that the next time something happens, we're not gonna let Oliver leave us behind."

Feeling thirsty, Katie took a swig from her canteen.

"You're such a tight-knit group," the Snake-Eyed Witch said, smiling. "Which brings me to an important question."

"?"

"Who you gonna bang first?"

Katie coughed so hard she almost fell off Marco's shoulder.

"Cough, cough…! Wh-wh-where'd that come from?!"

"What's there to be so flustered about? You'll be a third-year soon enough, and everyone here knows this is when you get your first time over with. Most go for someone close to them. Pete's trait means some delicacy would be required, so that makes Oliver and Guy your leading candidates."

Miligan was clearly just speaking the truth as she knew it.

"O-Oliver and Chela told us not to rush into things!" Katie stammered. She was bright red and couldn't meet the older girl's eye. "They said don't let the mood sweep us along and be sure it's really someone who matters!"

"…Are they your parents?"

"They care about their friends! A-and we're done talking about this!"

The girl had Marco push on through the trees. Miligan followed, repeating what she'd just heard like it was an entirely new concept.

"Be sure it's someone who really matters, huh…? There was no one to tell me that when it was my time."

Miligan shrugged, a strained smile on her face.

"My, my…I'm envious," she said. This girl had friends who genuinely cared about her.

Ten AM on a sunny day. Second-year students were nervously gathered in a first-floor room, waiting for magical engineering class to begin.

"…This class alone I'll never get used to," Guy grumbled.

"Quite a few students have stopped coming," Chela said, glancing around. "At least a ten percent drop since our first class."

Standing one row ahead of her, Oliver didn't blame them. The magical trap disassembly had only been the beginning; in this class, failing to complete an assignment always resulted in injury. Withdrawing was one way to protect yourself.

"..."

"…You okay there, Pete?"

Next to him, the bespectacled boy had a tight grip on the fabric of his pants. It was clear he was fighting his own fear. He'd been like this every time—but had never once missed a class.

"I'm fine," Pete insisted, steeling his nerves. "No matter what he throws at us, we just do the best we can."

Oliver nodded—and as he did, the floor beneath their feet disappeared.

"Wha—?"

"Augh!"

"Whoaaa?!"

Forty-plus students went plunging into darkness—but soon hit a sloped surface, which they slid down. A few flailed around in search of clues or tried stabbing the slope with their athame to stop their descent, but to no avail. It was like the whole slope was made of hardened gel.

Their descent did not last long. In less than a minute, they were flung into a wide-open space. Oliver caught himself and rolled to his feet, athame at the ready, assessing the situation. A rectangular room, at least ten times the size of any classroom. Three things spaced out on the floor, and at the center of this triangle—an old man with one lollipop in his left hand and two in the other.

"Kya-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Welcome to today's arena, children!"

His loud laugh proved more than capable of filling this space, and the students shuddered—he seemed exceptionally sinister this morning, and all of them knew what that meant. There was a clear indicator of how dangerous today's magical engineering assignment would be: the number of lollipops. Only one: comparatively doable. Two: caution required. Three or more—

"Our usual classroom was a tad cramped for today's undertaking! So I wasted no time dragging you into the labyrinth. As you've no doubt noticed, today's class is a joint one, involving all second-years enrolled in magical engineering!"

There were three holes in the walls of the room, and students from two other similar-sized classes were tumbling in. Clearly, everyone had met the same fate and were looking just as confused and alarmed.

"You're going to be dismantling and observing three golems. Naturally, they'll be live. Everybody sees them, right?"

Enrico glanced at the three objects around him. Each of them was maybe five yards wide and rather different looking—if equally intimidating. One was a white sphere; another, a rhombus with six insect-like legs; and the last, a mass of pitch-black gel with ripples cascading across the surface. Pete looked at each and gulped.

"They're…"

"Go on! Approach! Prod away! Magical engineering has given rise to countless successes, but golems stand above the crowd! Each of these three is a work of art, constructed by yours truly! Worth a look for any mage."

Learning what these things were did not really reassure anyone. Oblivious to their concerns, the mad instructor prattled on.

"Nonmagical people often confuse them with familiars or with marionettes and automatons. Certainly, they employ similar techniques, but this impression comes from a failure to discern the true essence of a golem. Why do you think that is, Ms. Cornwallis?"

Enrico suddenly spun around, pointing at a girl—Chela's half sister, Stacy Cornwallis.

"…The core concepts are distinct," she answered, her voice trembling. "Golems are constructs born of magical architecture, a specialty field of magical engineering. Their nature is closer to moving buildings than familiars or dolls."

"Most impressive! A hundred-point answer! Have a small lolly!"

The old man waved his wand and a piece of candy flew out of his pocket toward Stacy. She caught it without smiling, and Enrico spun around to face a new section of the room.

"Yes, golems are buildings, not pets or toys. Thus, they aren't necessarily humanoid and come in all shapes and sizes. There are constructs so big you might well mistake them for castles! Doesn't that very idea make you positively giddy?"

He took a big slurp of his lolly, then threw his arms out wide.

"These three golems are much more sensibly sized, but you'll find they are stuffed to the gills with functionality. Use everything you've learned to date to observe and dismantle them, learning every inch of what makes them tick. That is today's lesson."

That sounded entirely too normal. Nothing was ever normal in this class. The students braced themselves for the inevitable…and Enrico held his white wand high.

"Let us begin! Satus sursum!"

The moment his incantation ended, the golems shuddered to life. A single thought crossed every student's mind: I knew it.

"The toll upon your bodies will be greater than usual, but never fear! They've been ordered not to crush your skulls or hearts. Come! You've gone up a year! Let me see how much you've all grown!"

His expectant cry echoed through the room, and the ground shook with the multi-legged golem's footsteps.

"Y-yikes…"

"Back off before it steps on you!"

Students nearby scurried away. The rhombus golem's legs might be bug-like, but they were articulated, allowing for smooth movements akin to some sort of mollusk. They supported the entire construct's weight, and mechanical tentacles mercilessly pounded anything nearby. The pointed tips easily cracked the stone flooring.

But even as the students braced themselves to handle this threat, their ears caught an altogether different sound—the noise of something hard scraping the stone floors. The sphere golem, bearing down on a group of students—by rolling at them, much as its shape implied.

"I-it's rolling this way!"

"Move! Now!"

Fearful of getting run over, the student body parted in both directions. The sphere golem rolled through the gap, slowed as it neared the wall, and turned—rolling in a new direction. Several students were casting, but their spells were just bouncing off its surface. They weren't even slowing it down.

"Scatter, everyone! Crowding together will only make you a prime target!" Chela cried, already running.

People instinctively moved together when fighting large enemies, but this gave them no room to maneuver and could leave the whole group downed at once. Chela's friends followed her, moving away from their class and spreading out—but staying within earshot. Others were doing the same, following the instructions of experienced students.

"Single incantations ain't doing shit… These things are hard as hell!" Guy yelled.

The two golems were each drawing concentrated fire but not even wavering. Clearly a worrying level of resilience. They'd have to find the right element and focus their attacks or locate a weak point to target—but as Oliver scrambled for a viable approach, Katie suddenly yelled, "L-look out!"

She'd seen the sphere golem curve its course, rapidly closing in on a group of students fleeing in that direction. Katie broke into a run, but a moment later, several students were caught under the golem, unable to get away in time. The sight of them twitching, their lower bodies crushed, made her stop in her tracks.

"Augh…! This is awful…!" She impulsively took a step toward the injured.

"Don't, Katie! If we run in without a plan, that'll happen to us!" Oliver yelled.

It might seem cruel, but this was no time to be worrying about the fallen. He looked up at the sphere—its white sides now stained with the blood of the crushed students—and was about to start barking orders, but a forceful voice interrupted.

"Quit screaming, nobodies."

Light shot from multiple athames, hitting the ground beneath the sphere as it neared a wall and slowed to turn. The stacked barrier spells raised the floor levels, trapping the golem between the walls.

"Ball golems aren't a threat if they aren't up to speed. Hit 'em by the walls or when they slow down to turn. Barriers and obstacles will get 'em stuck easy."

The large boy leading this defense was using an amplification spell to project his voice—Joseph Albright, already barking further orders. Oliver blinked once, then grinned. This was exactly the approach he'd been about to suggest.

And a different voice was calling out in the other direction—Tullio Rossi.

"You are surely not allowing these six legs to alarm you, no? You see how it must 'ave three on the ground at all times or it cannot maintain its balance. You need merely watch out for the uplifted leg nearest you."

Oliver turned to find the Ytallian boy dancing through the multi-legged golem's flurry, not one limb coming anywhere close to hitting him.

"""""Flamma!"""""

Multiple fire spells all hit the same leg, striking the joint closest to the body. Oliver glanced at the source and found a blond girl—Stacy Cornwallis. Like Albright, she was leading several others into battle.

"The joints are a clear weakness," she called. "From this distance, we can still hit the upper joints with their limited mobility. Keep the element at fire and focus your attacks."

"I admire your courage, but stay out from under it. No telling what'll fall on your head," the half-werewolf Fay Willock added.

While Rossi kept it engaged from up close, they continued the barrage on its weak points. Not long after, lids popped open on the main body's sides, and dozens of smaller golems came spilling out—shaped just like the host.

"Impetus!"

But all of them were swept up in a gust of wind. As the small golems hit the ground, off-balance and not braced for a landing, a long-haired student strode into the midst, blade raised high.

"Crush any that get near you!" Richard Andrews yelled. "We can't have these running around underfoot!"

His confidence got several students attacking the small golems.

Rossi pinned one to the ground and stabbed it with his athame, grinning.

"Ha-ha! What a lark. Well done, Signor Andrews!"

"Fay, finish them."

"Mm!"

Rossi and those in Stacy's group were making quick work of the smaller golems. New attack patterns were a constant threat but also proved their approach was effective. Oliver looked back to the sphere golem to find it had extended several drill bits and was trying to demolish the containing walls. Like the multi-legged golem, it had a second form.

"A futile effort. Match my lead, nobodies. Lutuom limus!"

Albright's spell hit the ground just before the wall the drills were gouging. The students around him followed suit, magically softening the floor around it. The sphere golem punched through the wall and rolled out but sank into the mud a few yards away. With the floor itself a quagmire, the creature was trapped again.

"You see how to handle it? Then take it from here." Albright turned and stared across the room—and Oliver did the same.

"That one's the real problem," Oliver noted.

As they watched, the third golem began slithering across the floor. Its slimy black liquid body had a metallic luster—clearly a very different threat than the other two.

"━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━! Katie, Guy, Pete, back away!" Chela called, figuring it out.

She, Oliver, and Nanao stepped forward. A dozen other skilled students joined them at the fore.

As they drew within twenty yards of the new threat, Oliver spoke its name.

"A liquid golem…!"

The third construct slid toward them. A part of its body extended, a gesture that reminded Oliver of an upswung arm—which spelled trouble.

"Jump!" he yelled.

Nanao, Chela, and several others all leaped into the air—and something passed rapidly underfoot. They landed a moment later—and eight students who'd failed to react in time hit the floor.

"Gah…!"

"M-my legs…my legggs!"

They had good reason to scream. Not one of them had anything left below the knee. Oliver gritted his teeth—that had been much faster than he'd expected. The attack that claimed their limbs had been a high-velocity liquid metal whip, enhanced by centrifugal force. If you failed to read the premotion, it was nigh impossible to dodge.

"Quit squealing and back off!" Albright yelled, stepping up next to Oliver. "Only room here for those who can read the attacks!"

Several front liners admitted they were outclassed and backed away, replaced by Stacy, Fay, Rossi, and Andrews. Rossi glanced down the ranks and grinned.

"Ha-ha-ha! We meet again, eh? All my favorite faces!"

"Skip the chatter, Mr. Rossi. This is hardly the time for a reunion."

"First, we need info. Anyone here got facts about this thing? Fought one before?" Andrews asked.

Faced with this unknown threat, everyone was looking to one another.

"Afraid it's a first for me," Albright said. "All I got is that there'll be a single brain in the center controlling it. Any corrections or addendums, Mr. Horn?"

His voice was free of the scorn it once held. That alone was admirable progress. However—

"…I don't know much more," Oliver admitted. "But be careful about touching the liquid itself. I've heard there's a lot of corrosive—"

"It's black lidium!"

A voice came from behind. Though surprised, Oliver kept his eyes locked on the liquid golem. "Pete?" he called.

"There's only three magic metals used in liquid golem creation," the bespectacled boy said. "Silverized miarki, kaja dwerg alloy, and black lidium. And the last one's the only one that's this color. Melting point at one atmosphere is minus ninety, boiling point is three thousand two hundred and eighty-eight!"

"Minus ninety…? Then if we get close and use freezing spells, they'll work. Hat's off. Good intel, Pete Reston."

Pete looked surprised, clearly not expecting a compliment from Albright.

Armed with this new info, Oliver quickly put a plan together.

"…Anyone capable of dodging its whip attack should move in and freeze the liquid parts. Then we've just got to dig through the frozen metal with our athames and reach the core to destroy it. We clear on that plan?"

Everyone nodded. They all knew one another's skills, so no one argued. The sheer speed of this consensus made Oliver wonder if the canceled first-year battle royal had actually not been a total waste of time, after all.

"Go!"

All dashed forward. The liquid golem shifted shapes, once again thrashing with the whip. This blow came at waist height, but they'd all spotted that from the premotion and ducked under it. The golem transformed again, now swinging multiple whips both horizontally and vertically.

"Gets worse as we get close! But so far—"

"Hahh!"

Chela's fancy footwork got her through, and Nanao knocked them away with her blade. Everyone was fending off the attacks their way. Five yards out, they stopped, going back and forth until Rossi spied an opening and soft-stepped up to the golem's side. Fully expecting a counterstrike, he was about to chant a freezing spell—

"Augh?!"

But before he got a word out, the golem's body shot a spike right at him. His natural instincts were all that allowed him to dodge, but it still scraped his side. He hastily backed away.

"Hup…! W-wait, this thing—it 'as no eyes?! Is it not detecting us with sound?"

"━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━?!"

Oliver had seen the whole thing and was just as shocked. That golem's counter was bizarre. Rossi had approached it undetected, so if it had been sound reliant, its strike wouldn't have been that accurate. Sound was far less accurate than vision to begin with. Since it had been sticking to wide-range slashes, he'd assumed that was compensating.

But the golem upturned his theory again. Chela, Stacy, and Albright each found thrusts aimed at them. These were much narrower than the whip attacks but came straight out with no warning, and it was hard to react in time.

Stacy barely dodged hers, yelling, "Hey, why did it change things up? What's with this thing?!"

"Stace, it's too dangerous! Stay behind me!"

"A second phase? Damn…we were so close!" Albright swore.

Like the other two golems, the liquid golem had shifted attack patterns to fend off their advance.

"...Hmm?" Nanao said. She leaped sideways as if she was testing something. The golem thrust right at her, and she deflected it with her blade. "It's anticipating our movements. Like fighting a human."

"A human?"

That word caught at the edge of his mind, and Oliver dug in after it. These reactions were less like a golem than a living creature—and more like a human than an animal. If it could predict their movements, then the golem had experience in combat. The mad old instructor was famous for a reason, but could he make a golem that did that?

"━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━!"

Dodging another whip, Oliver racked his brain. It might be possible. But it didn't quite make sense to him. For example—the attack he'd just dodged. Like Nanao, he was stuck at the five-yard range, so why was the golem using the whip? Why didn't it come at him with the pinpoint thrust? Why was it able to attack the others but not him?

That thought was enough to reach a hypothesis. His position was the key. They didn't know what the golem's eyes were, but he might be standing somewhere that prevented it from accurately locating him. So where might that be? What could be making him invisible to the golem?

Suppose the enemy's eyes were literally light-detecting organs. In that case, the most obvious reason why he'd be out of sight was because there was something between them. And the primary candidate for that obstacle was the golem's own bulk. So the eyes must be on the other side of it, which meant…

"Katie, Guy, Pete! Cover the instructor's eyes!"

That was the logical solution. The flow of battle had led him to be on the far side of the golem from his friends. They heard him cry out from behind it and looked at one another.

"H-his eyes?"

"…Come on!"

"Mm!"

None of them knew what this meant. But they turned around despite that, ignoring any trepidation. All three ran right for the source of this horror show—Enrico Forghieri.

"Oh? What is it, children?" he said, all smiles. "Question about the assignment?"

Guy and Pete drew up close, looking uncertain of their next step. You couldn't just point an athame at a teacher, and even if you tried, you wouldn't be able to actually manage anything.

"…What do we do?"

"..."

Katie knew why they were hesitating. But they didn't have time to think. The curly-haired girl sheathed her blade and stomped right up to Enrico.

"Pardon me!"

"Ohhh?!"

She put her hand over his eyes. Shaking his head, Pete did the same, and Guy loomed behind them, using his tall frame to further obscure Enrico's view. And the moment they were in place—the liquid golem's attacks lost all accuracy. A horizontal slash passed harmlessly to one side, and Oliver took this as proof his theory was correct.

"…The pattern's reverted! It was being remote controlled!"

There had been hints. The old man himself had pointed out that technology was shared between marionettes, automatons, and golems. And that meant golems were not guaranteed to be self-directed. It was entirely possible someone else was issuing directives. That had been the trick here; when it shifted to its second phase, the golem had been acting based on Enrico's visual data.

Liquid metal spikes were still shooting out of the golem's surface, a harrowing threat if aimed right—but now that the trick was uncovered, it was nothing this group couldn't handle. All eight of them could leap back to evade the thrust, then lunge in close as the spike retracted.

"Take it down! Frigus!"

"""""""Frigus!"""""""

Each jabbed an athame into the liquid golem and began freezing it from point-blank range. The golem tried to fight back, but the frozen sections couldn't shape-shift. A half-formed whip lost shape, and the golem stopped moving.

"Don't relax yet!" Chela turned to the room behind her. "Anyone nearby, step in and lend a hand. If we don't keep this thing frozen, it'll be up and active again in no time!"

Students in earshot came running in, adding their blades to the pile and pouring in more cold. The sheer volume was too much for the golem to withstand. Certain the chill had stabilized, Oliver removed his own blade.

"Keep that cooling going!" he said. "Nanao, let's dig in!"

"With pleasure!"

Nanao freed her katana, and the two of them began excavating in tandem. The frozen metal was as hard as steel, but to a mana-charged athame, that was no worse than hardened soil. The hole in the golem's side grew quickly in size. At this point, Oliver paused.

"Okay, we're almost at the center! Careful, there might be—"

Before he could finish that thought, there was a cry from the sphere golem team.

"A—a magic trap! There's a magic trap in the golem!"

Oliver turned to look, and a third voice went up from the other direction.

"Same here! Shit, one false move and it'll trigger…!" yelled a student digging into the top of the now-legless golem.

Chela glanced at both, then spun back to their own golem. "…Oliver!"

He nodded, took a deep breath, and dug in once more. Less than two minutes later, they had their answer—right next to the golem's control core was a box laden with sinister mana. It was nice enough to include a countdown timer.

"…This one, too," he growled, gritting his teeth.

Across the room, Enrico got his face free, laughing maniacally.

"Kya-ha-ha-ha-ha! All three golems are defeated! Well done. Excellent work! But the assignment isn't over yet! We're in the exciting bonus round, now! Golems are fundamentally architectural constructs. We discussed this earlier, remember? Homes, warehouses, or castles—all of them are built to contain the people or things within. That goes for golems, too! They frequently have a space at the heart, in which something is kept safe!"

As the old man motormouthed his way through this exposition, Oliver fumed—precisely because it did make sense. Despite the ludicrous threat levels of his assignments, Enrico Forghieri's classes always emphasized understanding the fundamental nature of the topic at hand. And experience with this principle was enough that he knew this was the final trial of the day.

"And what do we have inside today? Your favorite! Magic traps! Safe, stable, timed, spring-loaded ones! If you take too long or get the disarming sequence wrong, they'll go off! Everyone within ten yards will meet a horrible fate. Kya-ha-ha-ha-ha! A crisis, indeed!"

Enrico slurped away at his lollipop, making no effort to hide how thoroughly he was enjoying the spectacle. Meanwhile, Albright withdrew his athame and turned around.

"…Can't leave these to nobodies," he muttered. "I'll take the ball golem."

"We'll head to the multi-legged golem, then," said Stacy. "Take care of things here, Chela." She and Fay ran off. Andrews joined Albright at the sphere golem.

Rossi shrugged. "Disarming 'as never been my forte. Maintaining this icy chill will be my sole contribution."

"Shamed as I am to admit it, I, too, am ill-suited to gadgetry."

Nanao bowed out as well, which left Oliver and Chela eyeing each other.

"…Guess it's down to us, Chela."

"I'm afraid that's our only option."

But before they could tackle the trap, a voice called out from behind.

"—Wait!"

They looked back and saw the bespectacled boy running toward them.

"…Let me in on the dismantle. I know I've worked harder than anyone in this class. Let me prove it."

"Pete?! But—," Oliver began, then swallowed his protest. He remembered something Pete had said before. "Quit acting like you're our guardian. We're not here to get in your way."

The boy in front of him was no longer the frightened first-year who didn't know his right from his left. He was a full-fledged mage, survivor of a year in the Kimberly hellscape. It was high time Oliver adjusted his own perception accordingly.

"…Okay," he said with a nod. "Help us out."

"Mm!" Pete instantly slipped in between them, and together, they started taking the trap apart. All students in range watched closely, a cold sweat on their brows.

This stage of the assignment was as grimly quiet as the combat had been raucous. A mistake would mean disaster, not only for the people working but everyone keeping the golem itself pinned. And if that wasn't stress enough, the clock was ticking—

"Disarmed!"

"Ours is done, too! And just in the nick of time…"

Cheers went up from two directions. Albright's and Stacy's teams had successfully disarmed their golems' traps. But the jubilation soon died down—all eyes turning to the last location.

"…Two minutes left. Hate to say it, but we're out of time to analyze," Oliver muttered, lowering his wand.

They had the trap interior almost fully exposed. Chela and Pete looked up at him.

"No time to debate the right approach, either," he added. "We've gotta pick someone and leave it to them."

"You cannot be serious!" Rossi wailed, taking another turn on freeze duty. But the trap's clock just kept ticking.

After a few more long seconds, Oliver said, "I nominate…Pete."

"…Huh?"

The bespectacled boy looked genuinely surprised, so Oliver hastily added a rationale.

"From the work we've done so far, Pete's been the sharpest mind, always one step ahead on picking apart how it works. He's really thrown himself into magical engineering, and it's apparent his knowledge already trumps our own. I think that's grounds enough to put the final choice in his hands."

He made it clear this wasn't preferential treatment but an objective determination based on the disarming procedure so far. Chela nodded.

"…True enough. It pains me to admit it, but I'm in agreement."

"━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━!"

When they both looked to him, Pete swallowed hard, not moving.

Oliver gave him a nod. "We've made our choice. One minute left. If you're willing, take it away." He shot the timer a meaningful look, well aware the bespectacled boy's shoulders were shaking.

Pete knew this was no time for nerves—and so, white wand in hand, he stepped up to the trap without steeling said nerves in the slightest.

"…Hah…hah…"

He knew what to do. The steps to disarm this trap were already clear in his mind. But he couldn't bring himself to actually take them. His arms and lips were petrified, his breath and heartbeat throbbing in his ears.

"…Hahh…hahh…hahh…!"

Pete knew further worrying was a waste of time, but his mind wouldn't stop spinning. If his approach was wrong—he wasn't the only one in harm's way. Everyone around him would go down, too. Oliver and Chela were right next to him and would bear the brunt of it. But they'd put their faith in him.

And that was what really scared him. That was far more terrifying than getting hurt himself.

"…Can…"

"?"

"…Can you hold me, Oliver…? Doesn't matter how…"

Feeling a desperate need for reassurance, the words left Pete's mouth before he knew it. Oliver let a single beat pass, then stepped up and put his arms around his friend from behind. Like spreading his warmth through the boy's frozen body.

"…I've been watching you. I've seen how much you've improved," Oliver said softly.

"...…"

"So trust me. You've got this, Pete. Do what you think is best."

He put his all in that brief phrase. Coupled with the embrace, it felt like the sun beating down on Pete's back. And the bespectacled boy's arm finally budged. The golem's shell was peeled off, exposing the trap's inner workings. With his right hand, he slipped several toolplant seeds in, each the size of a poppy seed, and then shook a small bottle of nutrients over them. He held up his wand…

"━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━Brogoroccio."

A growth-enhancing spell. The seeds sprouted, sending spindly roots through the circuits. These sucked up the elementals flowing through the device, and the magical connection binding the components was lost.

There was a click, and the timer's needle stopped. Two seconds left. No one cheered yet. The silence was palpable.

It was broken by a soft clap.

"All traps disarmed and the assignment cleared. Congratulations, children."

His maniacal laugh gone, Enrico Forghieri was now dishing out compliments. As he did, he waved his wand around, sending candy from his pocket—five pieces, for five students.

"Mr. Albright, Mr. Rossi, Ms. Cornwallis, Mr. Willock, and Mr. Andrews—a treat for each of you. Not only did you disarm the traps, you immediately identified the golem functions and took action against them. Well done. Far fewer people injured this time!"

Here he turned toward the liquid golem. Again his wand swayed, sending lollipops their way.

"And treats for Mr. Horn, Ms. Hibiya, and Ms. McFarlane. Bravely charging into battle against the liquid golem, leading directly to its defeat. Mr. Horn's unraveling of the remote function is especially impressive. The fruits of your bountiful combat experience, I gather?"

A gleam of curiosity appeared behind those glasses, and Oliver had to fight to keep himself from looking perturbed. At length, the old man's eyes turned to the boy in Oliver's arms. He waved his wand once more, and over a dozen lollies flew into the air, a ribbon tying them together. The sugary mass swooped toward Pete.

"But above all, Mr. Reston—your efforts deserve an entire bouquet of goodies."

"…Oh…"

The bespectacled boy caught the candy bundle, clearly stunned.

"First, you knew the types of magical metals that could be used in a liquid golem and could distinguish between them," Enrico said, moving closer. "That was genuinely astonishing! That isn't knowledge you can obtain without systematically reading your way through tomes upon tomes of treatises. Goodness knows how much time you've spent in the library the past year.

"On top of that, you had both the observational and analytical skills to determine the magic trap's construction. The trap within the liquid golem was far more difficult than the others. The fact that you were able to disarm it at all is proof of your diligence."

By this point, Enrico was right in front of him. Oliver's arms tightened, clearly worried, but the old man never even looked at him. He leaned in close to Pete, their glasses almost touching, the mad old man's eyes gleaming.

"Excellent work. You have potential."

"━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━!"

A shudder ran down Pete's spine—but mingled with it was a rush of joy. This horrifying warlock was praising him. He'd said he had potential—Pete, whose nonmagical background had left him dismissed by all and sundry.

"Tell me—would you be interested in visiting my laboratory?"

Propelled by forces he could not resist, Pete nodded. Oliver knew he had no right to stop him, but his grip about the bespectacled boy's slender frame tightened. Feeling a wave of panic, Oliver had a thought…

I've gotta take this madman down. As soon as I can, before he destroys my friend.

"…All three of them have improved tremendously," Chela said, teacup in one hand. She, Oliver, and Nanao were in the dining hall for lunch, having just finished one of their greatest classroom trials yet. Katie, Guy, and Pete were all elsewhere, studying or training. As they often were, lately.

"…Yes," Oliver said. "They always had the appetite, but lately they've learned to act despite the dangers present. I find that hard to applaud without reservation, but…let's just say, they're gaining the mental fortitude of a mage."

He took a bite of his meat pie.

"A year at Kimberly makes all the difference," Chela agreed, nodding. "Compare anyone from our year with the new students and you can tell at once. See those kids over there? That's us, a year ago."

She pointed, and Oliver looked. Through the crowded lunchroom, he saw several faces he recognized, walking nervously together. One girl towered over the others—Rita Appleton.

"Teresa!" she yelled. "Teresa, where'd you go?"

"Aw, forget her! She doesn't know the meaning of the word coordinate."

"B-but she actually ate with us for once! That's progress, right?"

Dean and Peter were behind her. The name they were calling was all Oliver needed to figure things out. He'd told her to eat lunch with other students, but perhaps he should've insisted she not vanish instantly when they were done. Suppressing a sigh, he voiced what Chela was thinking.

"Yep… They look like newborn deer."

Trying not to laugh, Chela looked across the table to the Azian girl. "But in your case, Nanao…it's your surroundings that are changing."

"Hmm?"

Nanao glanced up from her drumstick. Her appetite suggested there was no cause for concern, but Chela elected to ask anyway.

"You have your first senior league match tomorrow. You'll be sharing the skies with veteran fliers. Feeling prepared?"

"I am at the ready, my heart soaring with anticipation."

Not a trace of stress or trepidation. Clearly just looking forward to it.

But then she put the chicken down, straightening herself up, and turned to face Oliver.

"That said, I imagine—nay, I am certain—the battle will be far fiercer than any before. Falls will be truly spectacular. Oliver, do you have me covered?"

Oliver put his fork down and turned to face her in kind.

"…Of course I do. I'm your catcher," he replied. "Just…don't forget the dangers that flight poses. Winning a match is nowhere near as important as coming back safe and sound. Promise me you'll see to that."

He'd said this to her time and again. Nanao nodded solemnly, and Chela grinned at the two of them.

"A rider goes nowhere without a skilled catcher," she said. "I'm looking forward to seeing both of you in action."

And the big day arrived. By ten AM, the stands were filled to the brim, the skies teeming with masterful broomriders. The student doing commentary was already yelling.

"It's the moment you've aaaaall been waiting foooor! The day of reckoning! The sixteenth match of the senior league, the Wild Geese versus the Blue Swallows! And the senior league debut of Nanao Hibiya, the shining new star who's rocketed to the top with lightning speed!"

The crowd was already roaring. Clearly, everyone here was certain this would be a match for the ages. Before it had even begun, their enthusiasm had already reached a fever pitch.

"And today's commentary is not just by yours truly! We've invited the broomriding instructor himself, Dustin Hedges! Instructor Hedges, what are we looking out for today?"

"Ms. Hibiya's flying and how the senior league welcomes her. It oughtta be a shock to the system."

"So it won't be as easy for her as the juniors?"

"Of course not! The Blue Swallows aren't gonna just let a rookie show up and have fun."

Hedges leaned back against his chair with a creak. His eyes were on one corner of the sky, where Nanao and the Wild Geese were having their final pre-match meeting.

"…They've got Instructor Hedges in?" muttered a male student—the Wild Geese team captain. "Now we really can't screw up."

Every player had their instructions, and they were waiting for the match to begin. There, Nanao raised a hand.

"Pardon the repeated confirmations, but…am I really just to fly like usual?"

"That's right," the captain answered, grinning. "Your first task is to fly how you want to and get a taste of the senior leagues. We can add in strategies afterward."

He glanced over at their opponents.

"Though they'll have something to say about that."

"Oh, they're putting the rookie in!"

"Well, Ashbury? How do we butter her up?"

The veteran players were clearly enjoying this. But the Blue Swallows' ace player—Diana Ashbury—kept her tone curt.

"You handle her in the opening act. Just don't drop her."

"Sure…and after that?"

Ashbury reached for the club on her hip, running her fingers down it.

"I'll put her in a tailspin. She's gonna crash so hard it'll be a month before she can look at a broom again."

Her teammates whistled.

As the crowd waited impatiently—a fanfare rang out.

"—And they're off!"

"Show 'em, Nanao!"

Katie, Guy, Pete, and Chela were all in the stands, cheering as loud as the other team's supporters.

In the sky above, three shadows were closing in on Nanao.

"Oof, already three players marking her! Rude!"

"…Not so much marking as…"

"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Hibiya."

"Welcome to the senior leagues! It's an honor to have you here."

"We've even got a welcome gift for you. Hope you like it."

"—Hrm."

Three voices behind her. Already outnumbered, but Nanao was not one to let that bother her. She pulled on the broom's head, rapidly ascending—and kept going, tracing a circle that placed her behind her foes.

"Ooh, nice loop the loop."

"Glad you've got the guts to get behind us instead of running away."

"Well worth leaving space above you!"

All three Swallows were grinning. A second later, their broom pitch leaned back into a rapid ascent, gaining height but losing speed, then flitting through the air like feathers on the wind.

"━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━Mm?!"

Trying to follow would risk losing control, so she maintained speed, shooting underneath them, but—

They all used inertia to right themselves and were on her tail yet again. Once more, they jeered at her back.

"Surprised? That's called a feather fall."

"Speed alone won't help you survive up here. You've gotta learn to stall."

They'd intentionally used the stall of the up pitch to swap positions. She'd never seen a maneuver like that in the juniors and was genuinely impressed. Sacrificing the stability of speed midflight could easily leave you dangerously exposed. But these riders all had the raw skill to keep it under control.

And the pressure they were putting on her made her fly faster. They clearly had the upper hand when it came to jockeying for position, so before they took initiative, she was better off gaining distance and coming at them head-on. But of course—they knew what she was doing.

"Already pulling away? Decisive!"

"I can't keep up with that boost. That broom's famous for a reason."

"Still, that leaves her just fast."

They nodded at one another and banked left. Nanao had headed into a turn at the far end of the arena, and their tighter turn left them coming in right on her tail again.

"They caught her! Those three Blue Swallows won't let Hibiya shake 'em!"

"They anticipated her move. Hibiya's maneuvers are still a tad too obvious."

Hedges was watching the dogfight above. For all her talents, the first wall Nanao Hibiya was facing was exactly what he'd expected—and what every rookie struggled with.

"In the boundless open sky, she might win, but in this narrow field, you've always gotta turn. And other players can read the timing and trajectory of that. Experience will make her better at feints and tricks, but so far, she's outshone her competition so hard she never needed any of that. The downside to her talent."

"She was too good to ever need strategy…! What irony! Hibiya can't seem to shake the veterans' mark!"

There was sweat on the student commentator's hands.

"That's not a mark." Hedges snorted. "They're just saying hello. A nice way of telling the rookie exactly where she is now."

Meanwhile, Nanao's friends were watching, mouths parched. They'd never seen her pursued so doggedly, unable to turn the tables.

"Damn, she can't get away!" said Guy. "And she's so much faster!"

"They're more experienced. They know exactly what she's going to do," Chela explained.

"Three-on-one's too much! Why aren't her teammates helping?!" Katie asked, looking around for the other Wild Geese. But they clearly had no intention of stepping in.

"…They're riding her hard. You sure we shouldn't do anything, Captain?"

In fact, the same thought had crossed her teammates' minds. They weren't usually prone to letting their comrades suffer the squeeze. But this time alone the captain shook it off.

"It's what we expected. No need to help. Plus, I don't think she'll spend all day reeling from surprise."

He flashed a mischievous grin, then jerked his chin at the Azian flier.

"Don't worry… They'll soon learn just how dangerous their prey is."

Dogfights weren't only about the chase. Each time they drew close, three clubs swung at her, and Nanao was forced to fend them off no matter how awkward her position.

"Hard to avoid a hit from your blind spot, isn't it? Especially on your off hand!"

"Here's a tip: If you're right-handed, best to make your turns clockwise. That way, if you get cut off, they're on your dominant side."

The Blue Swallows were alternating attacks with advice. Which was, of course, partially manipulative. Yet, at the same time, they hadn't seen any results.

"…She really doesn't crumble, huh? No matter how many times we swing…"

"Her speed advantage makes it hard to land a finisher. I'm gonna take a run from the front."

"Oh, already going for it? You know if you drop her too easy, Ashbury's gonna lose her shit."

"I don't give a damn what she thinks. Plus, if we keep three on the samurai all day, it'll cost us the victory."

One fed-up flier broke off pursuit, gaining distance. As Nanao exited her turn at the far side of the course, she was right in front of her.

"…Mm!"

"Sorry, rookie."

"It's been fun, but your lesson's over."

The two opponents on her tail were still jeering, making no bones about this being a pincer attack. They were winding up their rookie hazing with a takedown. The moment Nanao took the hit from ahead, with the loss of momentum or stall that caused, both Swallows would hit her from behind. A classic formation for polishing off an outnumbered foe. But…

"—Hmph."

"…Huh?"

As their clubs clashed—it was the Swallow who lost her balance. Seeing their teammate reel and lose altitude, and their chance at a follow-up hit evaporate, the rear party looked surprised.

"Yo?!"

"Wh-what the heck are you doing?!"

"S-sorry…! …Huh? What…what was that?"

The Swallow was baffled though still flying—but until she recovered altitude and speed, her teammates were on their own. They looked at each other.

"I don't like it. Match me on this turn and let's make sure she goes down."

"Two at once on a rookie? Even here, that's—"

"Just do it! We let her get away, Ashbury really will kill us."

Now they were the ones stressing this. The Azian girl might be talented, but she was a second-year, fresh out of the juniors—they couldn't let her win.

Nanao hit the far end and went into her umpteenth turn. They'd both read her course and came at her from above and below. Even if she dodged one hit, the other would get her. A polished combo showing their years of training.

"—Down you go, rookie!"

He was sure he had her. The player above swung his club back, aiming for her head; the player below was going for the body blow. But just before they committed—Nanao's broom jumped forward.

"Huh—?"

"Wha—?!"

The Azian girl's unexpected acceleration threw off their timing. The player above failed to take a swing at all, and the one below clashed with her a moment earlier than he'd expected. First she was on him, then—

"Gah—!"

His adjustment came too late. Nanao's club hit him square in the chest, and he was off his broom, plummeting headfirst toward the ground.

"Ohhhhhhh! He's going doooown! Hibiya broke out of the three-man mark head-on!"

"They rushed to finish her and got the timing wrong," Hedges grumbled. "Come on! You should have known she wasn't at top speed yet. That's what you get for underestimating a rookie."

"Instructor Hedges, can you tell us what Hibiya just did?"

"You saw it yourself! She's better with a club than that downed idiot. That's all."

There was a small smile on his face. He might not realize it, but that look spoke volumes.

This was what a true star brought to the game.

"To think I'd be employing Hibiya-style mounted swordplay in the sky," Nanao muttered. She could feel that hit in both hands and knew it was true. She looked around for her next opponent—and at last, the Wild Geese captain let her teammates join her.

"Nice work, Nanao. You returned that greeting properly."

"Indeed!" Nanao replied, grinning happily. "The senior league does not disappoint. Not a warrior to be trifled with."

"I think you pulled the rug out from under them," her captain said with a chuckle. "Try to drop a rookie, get dropped instead."

He glanced toward the Blue Swallows, and their entire atmosphere had changed. Their formation was shifting, radiating caution. That one drop had completely changed their opinion of Nanao. Thoroughly pleased with this, the captain turned toward her.

"Keep it up," he said. "Take on anyone you like. But just know that they'll be taking you seriously now."

"I wouldn't want it any other way."

With a nod, Nanao took off like a shot. It was her turn to attack.

"Wow, wow, wowww!" Katie yelled. "Nanao's still in this! She took down a senior league player!"

Nanao's daring escape had left the curly-haired girl waving both arms wildly. Chela was just as elated but at least trying to maintain a semblance of cool.

"Swinging a weapon while riding something is not a technique so easily mastered. I assume she's applying skills learned on horseback—yet another product of her homeland. That experience gives her the edge with the club."

"And it works here in the senior league, too! Let's see how many others she takes out!"

Guy was feeling pretty optimistic, but Chela shook her head.

"It won't be that easy," she said. "She took advantage of her opponent's error—but now that they know her skills aren't rookie level, they'll come at her in kind. This is where her real battle begins."

Her eyes sought out the opponent's biggest threat: a witch so terrifying she'd downed three Geese while Nanao had managed only one Swallow.

"Remember—the Swallows have an ace of their own."

"…S-sorry, Ashbury," the male Swallow said, regrouping with his team. An apology was all he could offer. They'd gone after a rookie with three on their side, and they not only failed to drop her—they'd lost a teammate.

"Fall and you're dead. Start over from scratch. That's what I'd usually say, but…"

Ashbury never minced words, but for once, she was actually smiling. Her attention was clearly on something other than her teammates' failures.

"She's not bad at all. Hey, losers, focus on the match. I'm gonna go play with her."

With that, Ashbury shot off across the sky. Total grandstanding, ignoring all strategies—but no one complained. That's how the Blue Swallows' ace operated.

In seconds, she was at her target's side, flying neck and neck.

"How's your day going, Ms. Hibiya?"

"Milady Ashbury."

"Nice job waking up our dumb asses. Figured I should thank you in person."

She raised her club. She was on the right; Nanao, the left. Since both were right-handed, this formation gave Nanao the ostensible advantage in combat.

"I'll let you have the dominant side. And don't worry, my team won't interfere."

"A joust, then?" Nanao said, delighted. "I'll gladly take that offer!"

And their aerial clash began.

"Hibiya accepts the challenge! This is gonna be a doozy! The rookie hope versus the school's top player, one-on-one!"

"Not a shock, given their personalities. This is a team sport, people!" Hedges shook his head. Then he sighed, cutting off his amplification spell. "Shame, though. I'd have liked to see Ms. Hibiya fly a little longer."

Only the student commentator next to him heard. He quickly cut his own spell.

"Instructor, you mean—"

"Their talents might be even. But experience in the sport? And sheer…specialization?"

There was clearly no doubt in his mind. He'd been watching the Swallows' ace for years now. There was no disputing what was to come.

"Get her on a broom and she's faster and stronger than anyone. That's what Diana Ashbury was born to do, how this mage has lived her entire life…as Ms. Hibiya is about to learn."

"Hahhhhhh—!"

With a roar, Nanao put her back into a swing. They slammed together like their entire bodies were blades, knocking each other back, hearing their very bones scream.

"Very good!" Ashbury cried, exultant. "Never seen a swing like that! Don't hold back! Show me all you got!"

Not all her land-bound moves applied in the air, but Nanao's flurry was nonstop. And Ashbury was not only blocking, she was deflecting every strike—an astonishing feat all on its own. Since the first clash of clubs, she'd just been letting Nanao spar with her.

"Didn't think you'd be this good! It'd be a shame to drop you in a side fight."

Ashbury parried a blow and sped up, upping her pitch until she was rocketing skyward. Nanao followed, climbing higher and higher. The Blue Swallows' ace called over her shoulder.

"Follow me. Your efforts deserve a reward—I'm gonna show you the magic."

An invitation to still higher skies. A hundred yards, five hundred, a thousand, and still they climbed. Leaving the crowds and their teammates far behind. Ashbury didn't seem to care. They burst through the clouds, bound for what lay beyond.

"...Ngh...!"

As they crossed the four-thousand-yard mark, Nanao sensed something awry. Her broom was getting hard to control. The higher they went, the bumpier her flight, and the more mana it took to combat that and maintain speed.

With good reason—they higher they got, the less air there was, and the fewer magical particles in it. With the brooms drawing no power from the air, the demands on the rider's reserves grew that much steeper.

"…Huff…!"

A trail of white breath streamed from Nanao's lips. The temperature was long since below freezing, and they were at half the surface atmosphere. Even for a mage, this was a harsh environment. If she climbed any farther, her life would be in danger. Her instincts were warning her to turn back now.

But she wasn't stopping. As long as her opponent was still out ahead of her, Nanao wasn't about to turn back. This wasn't just stubbornness on her part—if she gave up and turned back, Ashbury would turn and strike, and a blow to the back while headed straight down was not good news.

But if they kept flying, it became a test of endurance. Her foe was struggling just as much with the altitude. Not even the most hardened broomrider could ascend forever; once she reached her peak, she'd have to turn. And Ashbury should, in theory, hit that a moment before Nanao.

This was her one shot at winning this. Read Ashbury's trajectory and cut her off, landing a blow from the side. Given how tiring this climb had been, odds were high a blow like that would connect.

"━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━Huff━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━"

But Ashbury knew that's what Nanao had planned. And that's why—she did something Nanao could never have predicted.

"Go on," she said.

And her feet left the stirrups. They were over eight thousand yards in the air. A gulf opened between them and the earth below, at heights even birds dared not fly.

But Ashbury let go of her broom.

"━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━?!"

Her opponent above split in two. That made no sense, and Nanao boggled at it.

Flung free into the air, the inertia of Ashbury's upward trajectory gave the witch a few seconds before she began to fall, and she used those to flip herself. She was now looking straight down at Nanao—and their eyes met.

Meanwhile, her broom was still rocketing higher. It took several seconds for it to burn through the last of the mana Ashbury had fed it. Unencumbered, without her weight slowing it down, the broom flew even faster. And at the end of that burst of speed, it traced an arc across the sky and came back—reaching Ashbury's hands just as she finally began to fall.

"That's the Ashbury magic, Nanao Hibiya."

The broom slipped between her thighs, and her feet caught the stirrups. The broom and the rider joined seamlessly once more—and already at full speed. She'd reversed direction far faster than a conventional turn would ever allow, leaving the witch primed to take a run at her opponent. Nanao was at a massive disadvantage, both on speed and positioning.

This was the Ashbury Turn. In the history of broomsports, no one had ever defeated it.

"Down you go."

The two shadows crossed, and the witch landed a final blow. Awestruck, Nanao swung her own club—

—and a long moment later, the audience learned the outcome.

"Ah—!" Katie clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Nanao!" Chela called her friend's name.

Guy and Pete could not speak at all.

A girl, falling through the curtains of the clouds from far above. For an agonizingly long time, all they could do was watch.

"...Mm...?"

The cold air rushing past gave way as something softly scooped her up. A gentle warmth, enough to wake her—and she saw a boy's face peering into hers.

"…Oliver…"

His name escaped her lips. He smiled.

"…Still with us, I see. Any pain? Headaches? Nausea?"

She checked herself over and shook her head. Sensations were returning to her limbs, and realizing that, he set her on the ground. She was steady now.

"Time you left the field, then. You lost this one, Nanao."

He put a hand on her shoulder. There was a long silence. The Azian girl looked up at the battlefield above and nodded.

"…A magnificent adversary. She left no latitude for rancor."

"Awww, Hibiya's down! Her first-ever loss! Even our most promising rookie can't handle the magic! The catcher Mr. Horn caught her safely and is escorting her out of the pitch," said the commentator. "Diana Ashbury remains a terror! The Ashbury Turn prevails! Is there no one who can defeat it?!"

"Don't sell it too hard. Sure, it's amazing, but the audience can't see it," Hedges grumbled.

Once he saw Ashbury finally break through the clouds herself, he snorted.

"It's her way of showing respect. She'd have won in a normal fight, but she made a point of taking her opponent out with the turn. That's how much Ms. Hibiya's flying impressed her… And I'd call that a pretty promising senior league debut."

"Entirely agree! There's still lots more action to come, superfans! Let's give Ms. Hibiya a big round of applause! We know she'll turn this loss into inspiration and come back even stronger than before!"

While Nanao and Ashbury hogged the limelight, the overall match was pretty even; ultimately, the Blue Swallows emerged with a one-point victory.

"Aw, so close."

"Dammit! We just needed one more!"

The Wild Geese lamented their loss on the way to the team room.

As they entered, Nanao bowed her head to them.

"I was of no use in the back half. My apologies."

"? What are you talking about? You took down a Swallow."

"And dueled Ashbury on your senior league debut. That was literally insane."

Her humility was met with praise. She seemed surprised, so the captain came over.

"This isn't a war. Winning matches definitely matters, but the real goal is to show the audience a good time."

"Captain?"

"And in that sense, you delivered in spades. Don't get discouraged, Nanao. Losing to the Ashbury Turn is considered an honor among broomriders."

He gave her a grin and wink. Oliver had been at her side this whole time, clearly waiting for something like this.

"…She's a powerful foe, but the match itself was winnable," Oliver said. "Let's put Nanao in a proper formation next time. And I've got some ideas about strategy—"

"Oh, Horn's all fired up!"

"His wife got dropped! That'd get anyone ticked off."

"I hear that catch was extra gentle."

"Well, yeah, you gotta be. It was his wife falling!"

"…Um, could we please take this a bit more seriously?" Oliver was not good at being teased.

The captain bumped him on the shoulder and turned back to the team. They might have lost the match, but his duties were not yet done.

"Horn's right. Time for a postmortem. Nanao's got a feel for the senior league now, so next time, we're gonna want her working as a fully fledged member of this team," the captain said. "Looking at the match as a whole, I think we're a bit too eager on the offensive…"

"...Urp..."

"...Eek..."

Meanwhile, in the Swallows' room, a boy and girl were standing bolt upright, afraid to sit, shaking like prisoners awaiting execution.

"…? Why are they cowering?"

"Waiting for Ashbury's lashing. Hibiya nearly downed one and did down the other."

"Ah."

This earned them looks of immense pity. But a moment later, a new teammate came in and spared them further terror.

"Relax, you two. Ashbury already left."

"━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━Huh?"

"She did…?"

"Skipped the postmortem, didn't even change, just flew outta Dodge with a grin on her face. She must have really enjoyed going against that rookie. Looked like she'd totally forgotten your screwup."

The teammate shrugged, and the two doomed players collapsed onto the bench behind them.

"…We're saved…!"

"Thank you, Hibiya… Thank you…!"

"Don't thank our enemies! I mean, I get it, but…"

The whole team nodded. Win or lose, good or bad, they were always at the mercy of their ace's mood. That was how the Blue Swallows did things.

"Nanao, Oliver, there you are! Great match!"

"So close! If they'd downed one more, it would've gone to overtime!"

Once the meeting was over, Oliver and Nanao found their friends waiting outside. The Azian girl smiled.

"A powerful foe, and my training proved inadequate. I shall hone myself so that I might prevail next time."

"That's the spirit. Your potential is limitless, Nanao," Chela said, putting her arm on the girl's shoulders.

"If you're joining us, mind going ahead to the cafeteria and grabbing a table?" Oliver asked. "We'll catch up as soon as we've changed."

"Sounds good," Pete said. "Make it quick!"

He headed out, and the other three followed.

As she watched them go, Nanao said, "They're all too kind. Here I am, fresh from a loss."

Her tone dropped as she spoke. Oliver stood silently by as she hung her head, fists clenched tight.

"An abject defeat. I never stood a chance…"

He'd never seen her regret anything to this extent, not since they first met. Oliver stepped around in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. He'd already prepared what to say in this situation long before.

"What matters isn't winning or losing. What matters is that you're safe and sound, Nanao."

This was how he really felt. Not just as her catcher but as her friend.

"You didn't do any crazy flying, and you fell right toward me. You emerged without any serious injuries. In my book, that's full marks."

"━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━"

Nanao spoke not a word but simply looked up at him. As they stood alone in the hall, there was a long silence. And then her lips parted.

"Then…"

"?"

"I think full marks deserve a reward, Oliver."

She spoke in earnest. Aware of that, he thought hard, then cleared his throat, mind made up—and put his arms around her.

The lingering Perfume was long since gone. But still his pulse quickened, and he was forced to control himself.

"…Is that enough?" he asked.

"…Heh-heh-heh."

With a purr of a laugh, Nanao pulled him close. The comfort of each other's heat made it hard to let go.

"...A touch longer."

"..."

And before he knew it, he'd blown his chance to end the embrace. They stood silently in each other's arms for a good ten minutes.

Dinner was a cheery one, buoyed by talk of the day's match. By the time they headed back to the dorms, it was late. Pete had fallen asleep over a book, and Oliver carried him to bed, pulling the covers over him.

"…Good night, Pete," he said, softly brushing the boy's head.

Certain his friend was asleep, he left the room, then the dorm, and headed into the darkened school building.

By this hour, encroachment left the line between labyrinth and school ill-defined. He quickly chose an entrance and plunged into the first layer. The darkness lurking in these halls made it impossible to stay calm.

"I'm too late—I should hurry."

He checked his watch and picked up his pace. He could feel the mask in his pocket. He'd meant to don it once he met with his compatriots, but given the risk of being seen before he reached them, perhaps he ought to put it on now.

"…Here should do."

He found a secluded corner and reached into his pocket. As his fingers closed around the mask…

"...Mm? Oliver...?"

A voice from behind. His heart leaped out of his chest, and he spun around. Is that—? But no; it was a tall boy, in a sleeping bag, inside what appeared to be a basic barrier.

"Guy?! What are you—?!"

"Oh…it is you, Oliver," Guy replied sleepily. "Kevin's suggestion. Good way to get used to labyrinth camping… Hey…did you just hide something?"

Guy was rubbing his eyes but had spotted Oliver's hasty motion. To cover, he quickly switched the mask for something else, pulling out a pack of cookies.

"…Just nibbling on a little provisions. Want one?"

"Oh…nah, I'm good… Too…sleepy…"

Guy drifted off again, but something about the way he rolled over bothered Oliver, and he knelt down next to his friend.

"Wait, Guy, lemme see your back."

"Mm…?"

Guy looked up, bleary-eyed; Oliver forcefully peeled the sleeping bag off him, then pulled off his shirt. His body was covered in fresh cuts and scratches.

"…What are these?!" Oliver gasped. "You just…smeared ointment on them? No healing spells?!"

"Ah…yeah, that's the thing. I can't use healing spells yet. And with my skills as they are, I'm not getting around the second layer uninjured."

"Then don't go solo! Stay still; I'll heal you up!"

Oliver pulled out his wand, shaking his head.

"Seriously, both you and Pete… And Katie was always like this, too. You've got all the nerves in the world, but this is clearly going too far. Nothing's even happened yet—"

"But once anything does, it's too late. You gotta train yourself now, or you'll be helpless when shit goes down."

Guy had his back to Oliver, letting the healing magic work. His voice was grim.

"Getting down to the second layer made that real clear to me. I know how much danger you were all in and how crazy it is you guys came back safe…not to mention just how weak I am."

"..."

"I can't catch up to you sitting on my heels. So lemme go too far. Long as it doesn't kill me, right? And next time…"

He locked an arm around Oliver's head. As he pulled his friend close, Guy's voice grew even more intense.

"Next time, I ain't letting you go alone."

This was clearly Guy's main motivation. The arm around his neck made Oliver painfully aware of that, and he smiled.

"…You're getting pretty ripe, Guy."

"Aw, shut up. It's a guy thing. Can it."

"…True, I've never been one to mind a little sweat myself."

He nodded and gently freed himself, standing up.

"Sorry I woke you," Oliver apologized. "Still, if you're gonna camp here, put the alarm line farther out. And don't be late for class."

"You got it. Redrawing it's a real pain, though…"

But the boy started fixing the magic circle.

Oliver left, mad at himself for failing to notice Guy lying there.

Get it together. A mistake like that could cost you.

He walked for a good length of time, finally reaching a room off the passage—the prearranged meeting spot. His comrades were all assembled.

"Oh, there you are, Your Majesty."

The group of six included Gwyn, Shannon, Teresa—and the plainspoken seventh-year girl who'd been at the last meeting. She gave him a look of appraisal.

"Not in the best mood there, huh? You gonna be okay? We're in for a long night, you know. Could be rough on a second-year."

A blunt question, equal parts concern and condescension. He knew that but merely shook his head, not arguing. He thought it was only fair that the older students would feel that way. And the best way to change their minds was to show what he could do.

"Noll…," Shannon said. Hers was all concern. But he couldn't afford to let her indulge him. He wasn't her brother here; he was her lord. Even if he still had to remind himself of that.

Certain the coast was clear, he pulled out the mask and put it on. Then he took his place at the head of the group, speaking over his shoulder.

"Come. Let's scout the field of battle."

He set out, and his comrades followed. They melted into the darkness of the labyrinth. No one here showed any hesitation—not even if in the not too distant future, this darkness might consume them.

END

Chapter 27: CHAPTER 4 : Games of the Sky

Batch unlock chapters

Chapter 27: CHAPTER 4 : Games of the Sky

Batch unlock chapters

Table of Contents

Display Options

Chapter comments

Paragraph comments