Lire

Arc#4 Interlude: Titans

Transcendence and the nature of power it bestowed to those who achieved it was a mystery to most.

People simply wrote it off as Transcendents obtaining even greater might in the same way mortals did when they became Ascendants. Transcendents were simply "better", and that was why their powers were so tremendous. That wasn't such a strange misconception, considering Sentorale Continent only had six Transcendents, and none of them could be met easily. There wasn't a book detailing what they could do and how they could do it, either.

Whenever someone asked Rolf the Sword Star what differentiated someone of his rank from Ascendants, he would offer the same explanation every time.

A Transcendent's physical capabilities were actually similar to an Ascendant's. The only difference was that "reality" gave them special treatment when it came to the intensity of their effect on reality and reality's effect on them.

If Rolf snapped his fingers normally, the shockwaves could create fissures on the ground should he wish it. An exhale could sweep away an entire city. Should he spit on the ground, the glob of saliva would penetrate the earth deeply and tunnel to depths unknown.

Of course, this is on the premise of "if he wanted to". Otherwise, the Aizen Kingdom would have been accidentally erased a long time ago. And in a similar manner, everything aside from other Transcendents moved slowly in his eyes, as if they were within an invisible bog of sludge. Even with their best efforts, he likely wouldn't even feel any of their attacks.

Transcendents obviously gained all sorts of abilities depending on how they rose to power too, such as how he could cut through space or how Leonel could spread his madness through his presence alone. But this explanation was enough to give the curious children who asked him a good enough idea.

Rolf wasn't strong because his body could somehow release the force to shatter mountains. The world simply surrendered to his will easier than most.

Even time succumbed to a Transcendent's authority.

'So. Antonnel made the first move, hm? I wonder how long he's known.'

The Sword Star leisurely shot across the sky, letting his perception blanket the world below. It was raining in Aizen but that didn't bother him. The raindrops fell, but as he passed they made way for him. Thunder rumbled just as lightning fell from the sky. But to his eyes, even this was as slow as a baby's crawl. In the same way that the children of Aizen below him lived their peaceful lives as if deliberately moving with the speed of a particularly slothful snail.

Aizen's citizens weren't collectively enacting some sort of nationwide prank, however. This was simply how Transcendents saw the world when they focused.

And Rolf was extremely focused at the moment, ready to enter combat any time.

Eventually, he left Aizen behind and entered Arkhan's skies. For him, it was a flight that had lasted an hour. But for the mortals below, it had likely been a mere few seconds of their short lives. Rolf paused in the air as he concentrated, spreading his perception as far as he could. He was worried he would find nothing and have to spend even more time searching, but he was fortunate. It was slight, however, he caught some fluctuations westward—where he assumed combat had erupted already.

Wasting no time, he resumed flight, heading straight for the former Aizenian Embassy. Minutes passed for him that wasn't even a second for most of the world—a time he could have utterly omitted by teleporting. Considering he was about to fight fellow Transcendents, however, it would be the height of foolishness to use up his power just to save a couple of Transcendent minutes.

When he arrived, the embassy was no more. Rolf had never taken a break from his eternal vigil to take a look at the place, so he had never seen the embassy or what it looked like. But he did know where Arkhana was.

Or rather, where it used to be. There was no sprawling city to be found where his gaze fell.

Arkhana, the center of the republic's government, was a mere wasteland now. Anyone laying eyes on it would not have even thought that an awe-inspiring metropolis had once been there. The earth was upturned and some swathes of it even had burn marks, the smoky scent still filling the air. Famous for its perpetual chilliness, the cold had been banished and replaced with a sweltering heat that licked his skin—a heat that could make even him sweat, it seemed.

It was an utter tragedy.

'The children...'

Rolf’s old heart ached when he thought of the knights who stayed behind. But a cursory sweep of his perception revealed good news—there were residual spatial ripples left behind by spatial travel. It wasn’t sophisticated or stable enough to have been caused by a fellow Transcendent, so Rolf reckoned that Valter made the ripples.

He hoped it was Valter, who likely took the other knights with him in the retreat. It could have also been that brat, Mordred.

As for the ordinary citizens that had once inhabited Arkhana, they had likely all perished. A sad thing it was. And Rolf would never have wanted it to happen even if these people weren't his own. But the relief over the knight’s possible survival eclipsed his pity for the countless citizens of a foreign nation, loathe as he was to admit.

Suddenly, the winds of a tremendous force caressed his face. Rolf’s penetrating gaze followed it to the source, his eyes narrowing in concentration. He focused his perception on reaching as far in that direction as possible.

And it bore fruit for he felt five powerful presences locked in combat.

‘Five?’

There was only supposed to be himself, the War God, the Gladiator King, and the Sage King. Possibly the Sage King’s spirit beast as well—though according to Leonel, they didn’t have to worry about that because the Sage King was alone. He still doubted if that statement was true at all, however.

If the information was true, however, that meant Rolf should have, at most, felt three entities. There were two Transcendents unaccounted for.

'Unexpected variables. Wonderful. As if this wasn't dangerous enough already.'

Laying an ambush to take one out without a fuss was no longer possible though. By perceiving them, Rolf had all but announced his own presence. They may not know who he was specifically or his location, but it would hardly matter at this point, so he threw caution to the wind and bent space, immediately reaching the battlefield. Saving his power was important, but keeping his temporary allies alive was even more so.

Immediately, he recognized Leonel. The War God was present with his real body, and it was a true sight to behold. From his epithet, one would assume the War God was some muscle-headed brute with a hulking body. And they would only be half-correct because Leonel was anything but muscle-headed.

He was, however, a hulking giant of a man.

Practically three meters tall with limbs as thick as tree trunks, Leonel’s mane-like head of blonde hair billowed behind him as he laughed maniacally, surrounded by ghastly phantoms ripped away from a world that wasn’t this one. The phantoms wailed, announcing their agony to the world even as they orbited the War God protectively.

Not to be missed was the giant silver owl in the sky, fighting a comparatively minuscule figure that Rolf recognized as the Gladiator King.

That pretty much accounted for the three Transcendents he had expected, so his sharp gaze then fell upon the other two.

One was painfully noticeable, seeing as it was a serpentine dragon that Rolf recognized as a “Ryuu”. Its length likely spanned the diameter of a small city and the beautiful crimson scales covering it distorted the air with the heat their massive form radiated. It had a muscular pair of clawed arms that looked positively tiny when compared to its length and overall size, but was still big enough to grasp Rolf even if he was four times as tall and thick. Peeking out of its scaled lips were glistening white teeth, each as long as the tallest lighthouse he knew of.

And on its head was the other Transcendent.

“A newcomer?” the small figure atop the Ryuu’s head muttered. “Ah, you must be the Sword Star I’ve heard so much about!”

Rolf frowned, immediately recognizing what the figure was.

‘An elf…?’

The Elven Transcendent looked down at Rolf, a confident and imposing presence wafting off of him—which was even more amazing because the elves looked like children with pointy ears and completely white eyes.

This one was no different, except for the wrinkles on its cherubic face. Despite the marks of aging, however, elves never actually looked old due to the eternal youth their racial qualities granted them. It was jarring, seeing a child’s face have crow’s feet marring the corners of their eyes.

‘An elf with a red dragon for a spirit beast…’

Rolf dug through his memories, eventually coming up with a name. “Born of Ash and Blood.”

The elf’s brows shot up, sweeping back its silver hair. “That would be an accurate translation in your language, yes. That said, if you’ll address me at all, I’d prefer you call me Yabo. Do you know of me, human?”

“An elf called Igleya spoke of you.”

“Igleya…” Yabo echoed thoughtfully, even as the battle raged on all around him. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in many springs. Can you grace me with the tale of her fate?”

“She perished,” Rolf spoke honestly. “It was a great many years ago that I met her on my travels. A time before I settled down and chose a hill to die on.”

“Ah. A true shame.” That seemed about as much as Yabo cared for the acquaintance. He then flicked his wrist nonchalantly at Rolf. “In any case, it seems you have a problem with Antonnel over there. But he owes me a debt. A debt I cannot collect if he is dead.”

It was here that Leonel chose to interject. “I’m glad for the break in fighting, but Rolf, I’d like it if you handle that midget. I’m a bad match. That mercenary we hired has refused to switch, saying he was only hired to fight the Sage King and nobody else.”

Rolf’s face hardened as he gripped the sword tightly, keeping his eyes on the elf. “Just what and how much does he owe you, enough for you to wander out of your forests to make trouble? Perhaps we can agree on something.”

Yabo shook his head. “The debt is a service to be rendered. So my apologies, but it is not possible for anyone else to pay in his place. The matter is related to the existences you call spirit beasts after all.”

He expected that, but Rolf couldn’t help but sigh in his heart. If the elf still wasn’t revealing the information, then it must truly be something only the Sage King could do.

With great regret, Rolf nodded in acceptance. “Then we fight.”

“Indeed.” The elf nodded with a small smile, revealing a peek at the sharp teeth that all elves had. “I’m sorry it had to be this way.”

In a strange gesture that somehow conveyed deep respect for a worthy opponent, Yabo cupped his fist and bowed, jumping off the dragon’s head and levitating in the air right beside it, flowing white robes waving elegantly in the wind.

‘Damn the stars…’

What had initially been a three-versus-one was now three-versus-three. The risks had just risen tremendously and his spine chilled at the thought of what would have happened if he had gone alone. Furthermore, seeing as the Gladiator King was a mercenary paid for with benefits, if the odds tipped to the other side’s favor a little too much, he might flee—or worse, turn on Rolf and Leonel.

At which point, Leonel would turn on him. Rolf was quite sure of that. The bastard did not lack a pair of testicles when it mattered most, but they weren't exactly best of friends.

‘So that’s the Sage King…’

Rolf chanced a quick glance at the giant silver-feathered owl in the sky, creating cyclones with every flourish of its wings and gashes in the earth whenever its talons made a grab for its opponent. It looked anything but human, as he’d initially expected the Sage King to be.

Was that Antonnel? Or was it the Sage King? Perhaps, were they the same person?

Questions birthed more questions but Rolf didn’t think he would be getting an answer. And he didn't need to. What he had to do wouldn't change even if he knew.

“Surprised, old friend?” Leonel called out to him with a smirk. “Antonnel wasn’t a human. He was some filthy non-human thing, though different from that ugly little midget and his overgrown worm.”

“Leonel,” Rolf called out to one of his oldest and most hated acquaintances. “I will deal with our guests from beyond the western seas.”

The War God whistled in mock admiration. “Both of them?”

“Both of them.”

“You’re quite confident, hm? But fine, I’m a really bad match for this particular set of inhuman scum. You deal with them.”

The elf silently listened to the conversation, speaking to the dragon in a language nobody but them understood. Then he smiled. “My friend here thinks you’re overestimating yourself, human. She thinks you’re going to make for a fine piece of charcoal.”

“More fearsome beings than you have tried.” Rolf shook his head and couldn't help but chuckle as he spread his hands outward. “Yet here I stand.”

Leonel eyed the exchange with a serious expression before shrugging. “Rolf.”

The Sword Star frowned. “You have squandered the opportunity to make your exit, Leonel.”

Ignoring his words, the War God simply scoffed. “I just wanted to say that if either of us dies here, the treaty still stands. On my honor, I will make sure of it.”

“Your honor? You have none.”

“I’m serious this time, Rolf. C’mon.”

Leonel sighed and for a moment, Rolf truly thought the snake-like bastard was actually being sincere. But the old knight had been stung a little too much by this piece of trash so he wouldn't believe it until both of them met in whatever afterlife awaited killers like them.

"I've seen the light, Rolf," Argonia's founding emperor said. “We can’t let more of these demihuman garbage into our lands. Let the children squabble over material riches. The ageless must seek to reach higher realms to ward off foreign incursions like the one that’s happening right now.”

Rolf saw some sense in that. Truly, the other continents were catching up to them in sheer number of Transcendents and it was getting quite alarming. And they were starting to stir, eyeing the continent nearest to them—which just so happened to be the one smack dab in the middle of them all.

Sentorale.

“You have a point, Leonel.” Rolf shook his head. “But I cannot trust you.”

The War God froze for a moment, but nodded reluctantly. “I suppose I deserve that.”

“But… Since I cannot trust you, I suppose I’ll refuse to die today.”

The Sword Star’s words seemed to shock Leonel for a second before the madman started laughing. “Hah! Great! Then I shall also refuse death today!”

“I’d rather you not.”

Their gazes met, and in them were the memories of all the times they clashed. At this point, nobody else in the world knew more about them than the other. Strangely, that had formed a twisted form of trust between them.

Leonel trusted Rolf to take every chance to kill him. While Rolf trusted Leonel to play every dirty trick possible.

Rolf wasted no time in flying toward the elf, intent on killing him first. After all, even if there were two Transcendents, he only really had to kill one to end the fight. Leonel also moved to join the fight against the Sage King, which was at a stalemate.

As the world around them slowed, six Transcendents began one of the most destructive battles in human history.

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Rolf reached his target in the blink of an eye, even for a Transcendent. He then wasted no time in swinging down the Night Splitter on the elf’s head.

Yabo preemptively dodged, zipping to the left before dashing right back in and aiming a small fist at Rolf’s chin, which was then redirected upward by a pommel strike. The elf then followed it up with a kick to the torso, but again, Rolf knocked it away with a pommel strike, quickly transitioning into a slash that would separate the elf’s head from everything else.

Unfortunately, the dragon made its move, biting down on where Rolf was and forcing the Sword Star to retreat with a calm gaze.

‘So it’s true he mainly fights with his body.’

It made sense, seeing as few weapons could handle a Transcendent, much less be affected by the special treatment granted to them by the world. Among the six Transcendents present, only Rolf had a weapon. The Gladiator King was also fighting with his fists.

But where the Gladiator King focused on brute force and technique, the elf was a lot more agile. And through the short exchange, Rolf noted how sharp the attacks were, precisely targeting openings.

Openings that Rolf intentionally revealed.

Yabo muttered something in a language Rolf couldn’t understand, though, from the look on the elf’s face, it could be inferred that he had cursed. There were cuts on the pristine white robes he was wearing, and he probably didn’t even know why.

‘He’s strong… But I’m a bad match for him.’

Opponents that relied on evasion were Rolf’s favorite opponents, right next to big lumbering ones that would serve as an easy-to-hit target for an unending barrage of attacks.

Lucky for him, the two opponents he faced fell into those descriptions.

“I will not chase after you if you retreat,” Rolf offered. Truly, he would rather not use up his power fighting anyone other than the Sage King.

But the elf merely shook his head. He slapped his palms together and said something in what Rolf could only assume was elven tongue. Immediately after, a spine-tingling screech spread outward with the elf as its origin.

The earth beneath their battlefield deteriorated even more, as grass, plants, and trees withered into nothingness.

Even parts of Rolf’s skin started to harden and flake off, as if they were made of rotten wood. It took a lot of effort just to purge the effect.

‘What was the point of that…?’

That didn’t strike him as something meant to deal with other Transcendents given how relatively easy it was to undo. But when he focused back on the elf, Rolf realized the scream had been a distraction.

The giant dragon had vanished and so too had the elf. In their place was what Rolf could only assume was their combined form.

It was humanoid for the most part and about three meters tall. Red scales covered its entire body as a tail lazily swayed behind it. The gorgeous white robes that Yabo had been wearing were ripped to shreds from the sudden transformation, but that hardly mattered in the face of the power roiling off of the figure.

‘How annoying. They merged.’

Rolf would have loved it if they had remained un-fused, but it seemed time hadn’t dulled Yabo’s instincts. The elf had realized the danger and chosen the optimal choice against the age-old tactic of “Divide and Conquer”.

Now, Yabo had additional durability while not being a particularly large target.

In the end, however, Rolf viewed it as a minor annoyance.

Durability was meaningless to him because he would cut through anything. And a smaller target could be made up for with unrivaled precision instead.

The elf had made a mistake by fusing, but the demi-human's first mistake was coming here at all.

And in combat, one must not stop an opponent when they are making a mistake.

════════════════════════════════

Jerme had somehow stumbled into becoming the Gladiator King.

And he was a lofty figure now too, having lived more than a thousand years in luxury despite still being “technically” a slave. He could break free any time he wished, so he didn’t feel very restricted. And by simply existing, the Star of Fortune gave him everything a man could ask for.

Good food, good women, and words of affirmation. Just the way he liked it.

It was everything he’d wished for, during those days when he was a beggar on the streets. Done were the days when he would dig around trash heaps for moldy bread crumbs. He deserved it, too.

During his travels as a slave-turned-mercenary, wasn't he the one who went around and saved a bunch of people during the empire's expansion? Sure, he was a bit of a money-grubber throughout it all, but food for himself and all the people he saved wasn't going to buy itself, now was it? What was he supposed to feed all those people—hopes and dreams? Promises of a brighter future? No way.

Saving people was expensive. You had to be rich to afford it long-term. That's why the storybooks didn't go as far as to tell what came after the dashing warrior saved the day.

It likely wasn't pretty.

At the very least, Jerme couldn't exactly walk the straight and narrow path while maintaining such a heroic lifestyle. He assumed few people could. Maybe those born into money, but a street rat like him? Yeah, you'd much sooner see a mermaid in the desert.

Anyway, the only reason he, a Transcendent, remained a slave was because of a promise he made to a particularly kind owner of his. Jerme did a lot of bad things before he got caught and enslaved for the umpteenth time, but he wasn’t one to forget debts of gratitude. He would protect his master’s descendants—in exchange for the lavish lifestyle those descendants provided, of course—until the ten-thousand-year contract was done.

Never had he thought of breaking that vow.

Until today.

Jerme barely dodged out of a giant talon’s path, trying to aim a punch at the Sage King’s exposed giant owl belly in response. The force behind his fist was tremendous, enough to permanently delete part of the map. But it barely fazed the Sage King and its massive body.

‘I was contracted to fight the Sage King… Are they sure this is the Sage King, though? I thought it’d be an old man! What the fuck is this...!?’

It seemed the Star of Fortune's information network needed to get their shit together.

Luckily, the owl’s attacks didn’t really faze him all that much. Yes, just one of them could end his story then and there, but Jerme was fast enough to dodge its talons. And those silver gusts of wind felt like a nice breeze to him, as long as he ignored the lacerations.

Unfortunately, he didn't have an opening to attack because he was too busy trying not to get killed. And in the few times he managed to land a blow, it barely made the massive silver owl feel anything.

In other words, it was a deadlock.

‘Should I abandon ship?’

What had initially been a three-versus-one was now a two-versus-three, with his side holding the disadvantage. And his battle brother was the fucking War God—who he knew was a big stinking piece of shit. Jerme had been raised in the empire, and he hated it there. Naturally, he didn’t like the people who ran the place either.

Yes, it made him stronger. But he would have also been perfectly fine with keeping both parents, not having to live off the streets for years before being enslaved, then escaping slavery, becoming a mercenary—only to be caught and thrown into slavery again. Escaping was really troublesome even though he'd gotten good at it at some point.

A normal life with a normal death. That sounded pretty good to him, but sadly, that wasn't the life he got to lead and he was a little sick of it.

When being strong is the only path to survival, it gets pretty tiring.

‘Where’s that scary old man from Aizen when you need him…?’

Then, on a whim, Jerme chanced a glance at what was happening below and noticed a newcomer. It was an old man with something Jerme could only describe as a white bathrobe, except it looked way better than any of the bathrobes he got to wear.

Then he grew fixated on the black sword in the old man’s hand.

‘Oh, wow. That looks nice. What’s that? Wonder if I could get one too.’

Distracted, Jerme barely dodged out of a giant talon’s way. He was a few inches away from having his head torn off, though he’d probably survive that much because his body wasn’t really a body anymore.

Jerme wanted to listen in, but he had withdrawn his perception as much as he could to focus on occupying the Sage King. There was no way he could kill such a massive owl alone, so earlier, he’d resolved himself to stall for time until more allies arrived.

Sadly, he was a bad match against the Sage King and the stinking War God was a bad match against, well, literally two opponents—a pointy-eared kid with an attitude and a ginormous crimson worm with pointy teeth. Jerme would have loved to switch opponents, but his contract stated he would only fight the Sage King, so his own honor tied his hands a little.

Eventually, Leonel broke off, leaving the old man alone before heading toward Jerme.

“We take care of this one fast, mudskin.” Leonel jerked a chin toward the Sage King, who had flown away to presumably do something magical. “If Antonnel dies, the elf will probably cut losses and leave.”

"Don't call me mudskin, you fucking..." Jerme almost pulled out his extensive knowledge of expletives, but he managed to calm down. It wasn't really the time for that, so with a sigh, he asked the racist motherfucker a question. “Got any ideas?”

Leonel smirked. “A few. I’m sure you’ve heard that we’ve fought before.”

“Sure…” Jerme sighed, trying to recover his energy.

'Well, this should get easier now, eh?'

This was the first time he was fighting a Transcendent and it was surprisingly more normal than he thought. Sure, it was hard and he was making little progress. But he was sure he'd have more trouble fighting someone twice or thrice his age. Apparently, not. He smiled, thinking that he was more amazing than he gave himself credit for.

That is, until the Sage King summoned four spirit beasts around him.

Arc#4 Chapter 72: Eyes in the Dark

Around a month after Mira got kidnapped, the list of Transcendants who would go after the Sage King was finalized.

Just as Aizen had predicted, the Pontifex of the Orthodox Sormon Faith had ultimately refused to participate even after numerous negotiation attempts by Argonia. Additionally, Frey the Saintess wasn't even informed due to the sheer unlikelihood of her agreement. That meant Rolf the Sword Star and Leonel the War God, joined by the Gladiator King—who was apparently named Jerme and would be joining on account of the wealth both nations promised to pay upon the job’s completion.

The news that only three out of six Transcendents in Sentorale would team up against the Sage King was unfortunate, but then again, what else could they do? It was a lot better than just Sir Rolf going by himself.

Not everything was bad news, however, as Saintess Frey agreed to keep an eye out for anything in the Sword Star's absence. According to reliable sources, she was visibly alarmed by the existence of the portal to the Outlands and didn't hesitate to volunteer her aid in keeping whatever lurked beyond it in check. As expected, she was a kind soul who wouldn't participate in offensive endeavors but would be happy to aid in defending Aizen from evil.

The crown didn't want to reveal it to her, but present circumstances required adaptation. It was a good thing that all signs of the kingdom's damning endeavors around the portal were removed in time, so there was no risk of souring relations with the Saintess even after she came to know about the Outlands.

As for Reivan and all the other mortals, all they could do was wait for the fated day, too powerless to even think of interjecting themselves into the fight that would decide the continent's fate.

'All that waiting around and the empire fumbles the negotiations anyway. What a waste of time!'

Reivan sighed to himself as he enjoyed tea in the garden, basking in the scent of flowers and the whistling wind. Internally, however, he was just annoyed at the lack of agency. A very momentous event was about to happen and all he could do was wait for a result. No matter how powerful he had become, he was still, in the end, a mortal. The fight with the Sage King was something only Transcendents could step into and it mildly irked him.

Of course, he understood that there was nothing he could do. That was simply how it is. Even if he suddenly became an Ascendant tomorrow, he still couldn't do much.

"What a drag..." Reivan sighed once again, idly squishing the black blob on his lap. Was it his imagination that Dippy's fur seemed more lustrous than he remembered? It was softer too, and its body seemed a lot more malleable. "I wish I was as relaxed as you, Dips."

"Wee...?" It looked up at him with those adorable red eyes, wondering what he was talking about.

In response, he just shook his head with a chuckle and stuffed it with a snack to pull its attention away from his words.

'What should I do now, I wonder...? Training... has gotten boring, to be honest.'

Reivan had been extensively sparring with anyone he could get his hands on, even fighting against a heavily handicapped Valter when every mortal knight in the embassy had to get to work. Jiji would have had a lot of free time, but she'd recently returned to the capital because there was nothing left she could do here and her skills were better put to use domestically.

'That's nice... I wish I could go back for a bit.'

Sadly, Reivan was needed in the embassy for a number of reasons, so he couldn't leave even if he wanted to.

One of them was Mira, who only really responded to him—though she also cussed him out for no reason from time to time. She, in turn, was set to remain at the embassy as bait for the Sage King. Aizen wasn’t really counting on her drawing the oldest sorcerer in the world out, but they were adopting an “If it works, great! If it doesn’t, then it’s fine” approach to the plan. Sieging the Spirit Tower was still the most likely outcome, which was also why a lot of people were of the idea to feed Mira’s spirit beast to Reivan’s so she would stop being a variable at all.

Another reason was how the royal family obviously had to be represented in any major operation, especially one as major as this one. It wasn't very practical, but sometimes, pragmatism had to take a back seat. There were times when a statement had to be made through actions, after all.

If the royal family could not risk itself, what right did it have to ask others to burn their lives? That was the basic premise for such impracticality.

Reivan liked it though. It made him proud to be part of a bloodline that had such admirable views on leadership. Even in his past life, he had admired the knights in fantasy stories. And here was a royal family that ruled with such chivalrous and honorable ideals.

‘That’s probably how all the other royals got killed though. Otherwise, there’d be a lot more of us.’

Well, not all of them though. Some royals simply married out of the family, becoming commoners or businessmen when they couldn’t take the throne. In a way, Reivan would eventually follow in their footsteps, becoming a knight once he felt like he had enough of being a prince.

Or not. Call it a hunch, but he didn’t think that he’d ever be allowed to shed the mantle of royalty in his lifetime.

It would have been one thing if he was a layabout or not all that talented in combat. But he wasn’t. As such, he wouldn’t be allowed to spit out the silver spoon in his mouth. The royal family needed a strong royal like him to stay royalty.

‘Wonder when the empire’s people will come…?’

The last and most important reason why he had to remain in the embassy was that Reivan had to use his [Supreme Insight] to examine the personnel Argonia would send over. Because apparently, said personnel was in Arkhan at the moment and had a special ability regarding oaths.

Naturally, the crown—in other words, his brother—wanted as much information about the ability as possible. Particularly, knowing if breaking sworn oaths was possible. How seriously the Treaty of Alexander would be treated depended on it.

The empire’s people could come at any time, so Reivan couldn’t move around too much. If he could, he would have wanted to make a not-so-quick stop over at Lageton so he could reunite with Elsamina—who was busy scratching her head at all the businesses affected by the Tower’s fight with the Pentagorian Spirit King that the Everpresent caught.

Apparently, the state offered compensation for all damages incurred by the fight, but while repairs were underway, a lot of businesses had halted their operations.

‘It’s been a couple of months since then. If she’s still reeling from it, the damages must be more severe than I thought.’

When Reivan and Mira were there, they hadn’t seen that much damage. But then again, they weren’t anywhere near the shorelines. Given the opportunity for a scenic view of the sea, Ouroboros must have had plenty of businesses near the beach—businesses that were undoubtedly more affected than the buildings deeper in.

‘Well, I’m sure she can handle it.’

Surely, she didn’t need his help for such things. At the very least, Reivan believed she could handle everything with ease. In fact, wouldn’t he just get in the way if he poked his nose in where it didn't belong? He had very little understanding of business and economics.

“Guess I’ll go bother her for a bit…” Reivan, having grown bored of his relative solitude, got up with Dippy hugged to his chest. With light steps, he headed for Mira’s room.

Gwen was, as usual, busy making life easier for him. Really, she brought out the worst in him because of how little he had to do when she was around. He wasn’t complaining in the slightest, however. Just like Jiji, she had also left the embassy to direct field personnel among other things. She had even mentioned joining Elsamina in Lageton eventually, to both protect and help her.

In any case, he couldn’t ask her to spar with him like he had this past month. And even if she was still around, he would truly reach new lows if he disturbed her work.

So instead, he would fool around with their resident hostage instead.

Lately, he’d been amusing himself by watching how she reacted to all the crap he spouted. Now that he was back in his real body, she was actually a year older than him. But that didn’t stop him from treating her like an amusing toy. Aside from Valter, she was also the only person he could comfortably talk to ever since most of the personnel got sent back to Aizen.

Every non-combat personnel and even the mortal knights returned around three days ago, so Valter was actually cooking for him now—like some sort of super combat butler. Besides Reivan and Mira, all who remained on the premises were Ascendants—who were all loyal and dutiful, but weren’t very fun conversation partners.

That’s why it was perfectly normal for him to bother her when he got bored.

‘The thing in her arm still hasn’t tried to kill her though.’

All battlemages had to take an oath at the start of their career, and by doing so they allowed a fragment of the entity called “The Watcher” into their body. Should they betray the Tower, that same fragment would take their life.

The very fact that Mira still wasn’t dead meant that she hadn’t fully betrayed the Tower. In her mind, she must still be searching for a way to return.

Reivan would have been lying if he said that didn’t sting at all. But in a positive light, that meant Mira was someone who could foster great loyalty. Perhaps one day, that loyalty would be toward him and the kingdom.

They had to watch out for her resistance, however. And naturally, they also had to be ready to help her out when the fragment of The Watcher tries to kill her. Unfortunately, they didn’t have knowledge of what to do for battlemages who’d had a fragment in them for more than a few months.

For all they knew, just cutting off their arm and killing what popped out wasn’t enough. Maybe she’d die in the process. Maybe she wouldn’t. They didn’t know, and that was exactly why Reivan didn’t quite know what to do.

‘Well… I’m sure we’ll figure something out eventually.’

Another possibility that Valter whispered into his ears a week ago floated in his head though.

‘Maybe the Tower removed her fragment.’

Reivan and all the knights didn’t know how quickly a fragment could kill its host. But he was sure that the Tower didn’t want Mira dead under any circumstances—at least, not until they had some other spirit king seed eat Fawks.

Now, what if Mira resisted having Fawks eaten? Wouldn’t that count as treason against the Tower? Surely, the Tower knew that her refusal was highly possible. Also, for the Tower, her loyalty wasn’t very important—all that mattered to them was her spirit beast. And so, Valter had hypothesized that the Tower removed Mira’s fragment at some point, just so they could remove the possibility of her dying by accident. Now, even if she did betray the Tower, they could simply track her down and retrieve her.

Of course, if she remained loyal, then they would let her continue what she was doing.

‘Honestly? It’s an extremely convincing theory.’

If Aizen had been in the Tower’s shoes, Reivan was pretty sure it would take that course of action too. In the end, however, it was all just a theory. The Spirit Tower wasn’t full of idiots though, so he thought it was highly plausible.

Another thing Reivan would have added if he were in the Tower’s shoes was something that enabled him to track Mira down no matter where she was. But given how the Tower hadn’t made any moves in the past month, he thought it was unlikely that they had such a method—at least, one that knights couldn’t see through.

‘So many to think about, not enough brain cells.’

Reivan hummed a random tune as he looked forward to turning his brain off when conversing with Mira. He didn’t need it all that much because teasing just came so naturally to him.

Just as he was about to knock on her door, he froze. And in a moment of pure instinct, he forced Dippy back into his soul before kicking down Mira’s door. She wasn’t inside, but he followed her presence to the bathroom, bursting into it too.

“Wha—!” Mira, who was soaking in the tub, exclaimed in shock as she covered herself. Surprise quickly turned into embarrassed anger though. “What the hell are you doing in here!?”

“Sorry.” Reivan hastily stepped toward her and grabbed her by the arm as he took out a silver bell shaped like a sphere. Somewhat forcefully, he pulled her out of the tub and threw a thick coat at her—which was probably too big for her, but now wasn’t the time to be picky. “I think we’re in danger.”

“Danger?” she seemed to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t just here to suddenly force himself on her, quickly slipping into the long coat despite being soaking wet. “What do you mean?”

For a moment, he tried to think of the quickest way to explain that knights were given esoteric training that sharpened their intuition, but suddenly realized that he didn’t have to.

Valter jumped out of a dark puddle that suddenly appeared in the corner of the bathroom. “Your Highness. It’s good that you’re ready. You must leave with her. Now.”

Reivan didn’t bother asking too many questions. He assumed the embassy, which was stacked with powerful enchantments, wouldn’t be enough to protect them from whatever was coming. There were other Ascendants in the building too, but he assumed they could escape on their own.

Hopefully.

“Sorry about this, Mira.”

“What do you—”

Before she could finish her words, he poked her on the forehead. And in that moment, she lost consciousness similar to what happened when she got kidnapped. Zouros then appeared and snapped her up.

‘Thanks, Zee.’

Reivan gripped the small bell and almost rang it. Just before he did, however, his vision darkened and the world went silent. His acute nose was filled with the scent of soap earlier, but even that had disappeared.

He was standing in a void of nothingness. In it, there was only him—and a giant pair of purple eyes looming down on him from above.

Reivan felt his heart tighten at the sheer intensity of the gaze, feeling something similar to when he first met eyes with the Sword Star. Except this gaze was less friendly—and a lot more greedy.

“Found you.”

The voice was old but clear, yet seemingly carrying the vicissitude of time.

Like a deer in headlights, he could do nothing but stare into those eyes. But perhaps because the Sword Star put him through something similar before, Reivan managed to force at least his hand into moving.

Barely managing to do so, Reivan's hand shook just enough to cause the bell to ring.

Jingle!

A pleasant tinkling echo filled his ears and the next thing he knew, the void vanished and was replaced by the familiar scenery of cherry blossoms and verdant grass.

And standing right next to the only white cherry blossom tree he’d ever seen was the most reassuring back he’d ever known. Straight as a sword despite more than a thousand years of vigil.

The Sword Star — Rolf Suprana.

“Old man…” Reivan gasped out, his knees moments away from buckling. But he didn’t let it, using the tree's trunk as support. “Old man, something’s gone wrong. Valter stayed behind too...”

Turning around the Sword Star regarded him with a serene gaze. With a wave of his hand, a chair appeared behind Reivan, its legs digging into the grass. “Why not sit first? Explain.”

Nodding, Reivan let himself collapse on the chair before hastily recounting what happened. “I don’t know what prompted it exactly, but I suddenly felt like we were about to get attacked. Valter confirmed it too, though we didn’t have time to exchange information. So I took Mira and got the bell ready, but then… everything went dark.”

“Hrm.” Rolf walked over to the white cherry blossom tree and placed a palm on its trunk. “And then? Did you see anything? Meet anyone?”

“Eyes… Massive ones. Purple, I think. My head's a bit foggy...”

“Then?”

“Then… a voice.” Reivan reclined on his chair, realizing that his forehead was riddled with beads of sweat. He wiped it off with his hand before continuing. “It said it… found me.”

Rolf silently closed his eyes for a few moments before nodding. “Just tell me your impressions. Do you think that was the Sage King?”

His mind still somewhat reeling from his brush with a less-than-friendly Transcendent, Reivan tried to calm his breathing and his heart while trying to remember. But he’d never even met the Sage King, so how would he know?

Still, now that he was somewhat recalling it in safety, he started to remember some things.

The big round eyes emanated a purplish glow. The shape, however, somehow gave him a familiar feeling. It was of an animal he was familiar with.

‘An owl.’

With only that, he couldn't be sure if it was really the Sage King. But the Sword Star didn’t need him to be sure.

“I think it’s the Sage King…” Reivan nodded. “I think. I can’t be entirely sure as we’ve never met in person or anything.”

“I see.” Rolf hummed, seemingly accepting his answer. He then reached into the tree trunk, his hand going through as if it were made of water. When he retracted his hand, it now held a sword.

Old and worn, the longsword looked nondescript and undecorated. Yet the very fact that the Sword Star held it so reverently made it obvious that it was anything but the piece of junk it looked like.

Holding the sword with one hand as he closed his eyes, almost as if in prayer. “Today, I do battle once again.”

Reivan almost instinctively used [Supreme Insight] on the sword, and was shocked at the simplicity of its effect.

════════════════════════════════

Soul-Bound Empyrean Item

[Yoru no Kaikou - The Night Splitter]

One of three sibling blades. Extra effects are made available when near its siblings. Can be fused together with siblings to unleash its true potential.

Effects: This sword can attack all types of creatures beneath the Archon-realm, unhindered by Planar Laws. Additionally, the stronger its owner’s conviction is, the more durable this sword becomes, increasing its resistance to all types of damage.

Current Durability: Unbreakable
Currently bound to [Rolf Suprana].

════════════════════════════════

“Ah…” Reivan just stared at it, more focused on the part that finally revealed the realm below Archon and above Transcendence.

Rolf noticed his look and most likely knew he was curious too. “Your ancestor gave me this sword.”

“Really…? Where the heck did he even get such a thing…”

“I asked him that too, but he didn’t answer.” Rolf chuckled, taking it out of the ground and seemingly musing on how it perfectly fit in his hand. “All he said was that this sword would never break as long as I wielded it.”

Reivan looked at the sword's effects and then back to the sword. “My ancestor must have thought very highly of you, then.”

“I can only hope so.” Rolf chuckled, looking toward the white cherry blossom tree for a moment before steeling his expression. “Can you get down the mountain on your own? Or should I...?”

With a frown, Reivan shook his head. He didn't want the Sword Star to waste a single drop of power before heading to battle. “I think I'll manage.”

“Then wish me luck.”

Reivan bowed. “May the fortunes of battle be with you.”

Aizen’s oldest guardian patted him on the shoulder before vanishing from sight. A gentle wind blew past, pleasantly caressing his skin and ruffling his hair.

Despite having been left alone, Reivan did not straighten his back for a long while. He etched that feeling into his heart, the very sight of the first knight as he left for a fight that he may not return from.

And if he did die. Then...

'You will not go unremembered.'

At the very least, Reivan would never forget.

Arc#4 Interlude: The Damsel's Turmoil

Mira rolled around in bed while hugging a very old stuffed rabbit to her chest, too lazy to get up. She was now two weeks into her involuntary stay in the Aizenian Embassy, and she couldn’t deny it anymore.

She was starting to like it here.

Part of it was likely because she met with her family literally a day after that infuriating bastard promised to retrieve them. They were all safe and well, thank goodness. Actually, the extraction went smoothly because her parents agreed to cooperate the moment they were told where she was. It touched her heart, it really did. But she also wished they were a bit more skeptical of people suddenly showing up and claiming to have her prisoner. Their family held a considerable amount of land and properties and her parents just left it. Just like that. Without even trying to verify if the information was true.

Of course, she was glad they loved her so much, but still. Even her uncles and aunts came along with their own families, abandoning everything to stay together.

At the back of her mind though, Mira sometimes wondered if the people she'd met were really her family. That infuriating bastard had some way of transforming into other people without being seen through by silver cloaks, after all. Who was to say that only he could do that? Maybe it was some kind of technique that all of Aizen's knights could use.

What was truly horrifying was the possibility that her entire family was dead, and what she’d talked to were corpses animated in some way.

Well, she'd asked them questions only her real family would know just to make sure, and they did answer everything promptly and correctly. But the doubt was there. Gnawing. Clawing at the inside of her head. Not even sleeping on her unnecessarily comfortable bed made it better.

In any case, her reunion with her family didn’t last long, because they would apparently be sent somewhere to the Aizen Kingdom, where they were promised property to compensate for their losses. It wouldn’t be as expansive as what they lost, but her parents had mentioned that it was a much better deal than everything they owned going up in smoke when the empire invaded from the north—which, Mira mused, was still a doubtful scenario.

She would be damned if she trusted anything that infuriating bastard told her.

All things considered, however, he had made good on his promises. So maybe that infuriating bastard wasn’t that bad.

‘No, no, no. Mira, you can’t fall for it. He’s trying to trick you! Again!’

Mira clenched her teeth and balled up her fists, steeling herself. Everything was confusing and she still hadn’t worked out how she felt about that infuriating bastard. Part of her remembered their time together before the big reveal, but now she was unsure if her memories had any weight at all.

That infuriating bastard said he hadn’t been entirely pretending but he hadn’t elaborated on what parts were real and what parts weren’t. It was, understandably, infuriating. With absolute certainty and without a shred of doubt, Mira was sure that he was being vague on purpose just to make her squirm.

And it was working. Damn him, but it was working.

“Graaaaah!” she screamed, suddenly unable to take it anymore. Rolling out of bed, she got up and momentarily took pleasure in the pleasant texture of the carpet against her feet before looking for the fluffy slippers they’d given her—which she would steal given the chance. It was a really nice pair of slippers and they looked adorable after all.

Still a bit groggy, she lumbered to a nearby dining table, finding a pleasant spread of food waiting for her—none of which was there the last time she’d checked, which was just a couple of seconds ago.

Boop, her favorite fluffy marshmallow in the world, was already waiting for her on an adjacent seat. It had been there since earlier, having figured out that food showed up on the table right around the time she woke up. Really, it only showed off how smart it was when it came to feeding itself.

“I’m glad you like it here.” Mira quipped with a sardonic chuckle as she patted Boop on the head.

It bounced up and down as it flooded her mind with incessant complaints about how she slept too much, but she, like always, told it that she would try to wake up earlier tomorrow—though her success was up for the stars to decide. Sending back feelings of exasperation at her, the part just under its eyes tore open to reveal a gaping mouth that led to what she could only assume was the sun, given how bright it was.

Knowing what it wanted, Mira casually dumped some food into its mouth to shut it up. Hopefully, they wouldn’t charge her for everything she’d eaten thus far, because Boop’s bill would singlehandedly bankrupt her to the point of being sold into slavery. Well, the government called it indentured community service but everyone knew what it really was. There was no use dressing it up in pretty words.

Regarding the meals they served her, she’d initially found them ridiculously delicious the first time around—which was warranted, given how they were prepared by a chef who was apparently very experienced, using top-grade ingredients brought over from the kingdom.

But after the novelty wore off, she realized that it was better than anything she’d ever tasted, but not by that much. Arkhanian cuisine matched her palette more, she felt. The kingdom seemed to prefer sweeter flavors and it took a bit of getting accustomed to.

Now, their deserts, on the other hand, were godly. Part of why Mira was starting to consider a somewhat long-term stay here was the eternally stocked five-layered display of various pastries in the room. No matter how much she took, it would restock the moment she looked away. It was the best thing ever. Every household needed one of these in every room.

It’d make her fat, but who cared about her appearance at this point? She certainly didn’t. If that infuriating bastard kicked her out because she got chubby, then so be it. No skin off her back.

After her breakfast, she headed for her room’s attached bathroom for a bath, once again marveling at all the artifacts filling it. There was some sort of bottle that turned water into a liquid version of soap, a tub that instantly filled with water, a literal knob that instantly adjusted the heat or coldness of all the water in it, and all manner of things.

‘If I stripped down this bathroom and sold off all the stuff I take, I could probably buy a few buildings in Vel Ayala. Maybe a small property in the Upper City, even.’

Artifacts, after all, were different than the magitech stuff that was prevalent in Arkhan.

The former would, depending on the artificer’s skill, last a certain amount of time before it turned into junk. On the other hand, the latter would also turn into junk after a while—the only difference being that it needed fuel to function while artifacts did not.

Well, magitech was easier to mass-produce, so it had that going for it. You didn’t have to practice for years, risking death by explosion, just to make a glowing bauble that would lose its effect in a few days. Just grab a set of engraver’s tools, follow an outlined procedure, and work with relatively steady hands… then bam, you have a magitech item of questionable quality and a limited lifespan. It was why most households, even relatively poorer ones, had magitech appliances to aid in daily life.

That said, extremely skilled artificers could apparently make artifacts that lasted in perpetuity, so Mira was honestly undecided on the subject of which was superior. Something told her every artifact she came in contact with in the past two weeks was the kind that could be used forever.

‘Speaking of…’

Mira languidly observed a luminescent orb embedded into the nearest wall, feeling something getting sucked into it and disappearing. She could only feel the something during the short instant just before it was absorbed.

Presumably, it was to power the artifact, but that “something” was a mystery to her. Was it magic power? If so, where was it getting it? In the air? How did that even make sense? Why would there be magic power in the air and why couldn’t she feel as if it was magic power?

So many questions. The same questions that had popped into her head when she was just a little bit younger. She’d noticed it by coincidence when her father showed her an artifact that turned water into ice instantly.

It was what sparked her desire to study abroad. She wanted to go there to satisfy her curiosity.

Because Mira loved lazing about. And whenever she got curious about something, she couldn’t laze about properly. As such, satisfying said curiosity was, understandably, a very important matter to her. Her plans had gone up in smoke though, so she just went with her backup plan of entering the Spirit Tower to become a battlemage.

The tests were pretty easy, despite what a lot of people said. So she aced it and got in, with the intention of making it big and retiring at some point after saving up to bribe some knight to let her into the damned kingdom. She didn’t even intend to stick around for too long, just enough to find out how artifacts worked.

Of course, she had also wanted to do some good for Arkhan when she decided to become a battlemage. In fact, she would have shared her findings if she’d actually been allowed into Aizen, ultimately benefiting the republic.

But alas, plans had gone awry.

“Must be nice, not having to use fuel to power stuff…” Mira muttered as she sunk deeper into the tub full of warm water, Boop held closely to her chest. It didn’t need to breathe, so there were no problems even when it was fully submerged. Vacantly, she watched the bubbles it blew with its half-open mouth rise up to the surface.

After soaking enough, she climbed out and left Boop there because it wanted to float around on the water for a bit more. Then she dressed herself into the simple Arkhanian garbs she’d been given and stepped out of her room to get some exercise in.

Her laziness would have protested, but being forced into confinement during her first week there inevitably made going outside a lot more appealing.

Besides, if she was lucky, she’d make it in time for some entertainment.

Mira walked briskly through the halls, still not entirely used to having the freedom to roam the embassy—whose interior was built how she imagined a palace would be. Given how it was still temperate despite windows being open here and there, she assumed the building itself was somehow enchanted to maintain comfortable temperatures. It interested her greatly, but she instead tried to distract herself with the pleasantly warm rays of sunlight that caressed her skin every time she passed by.

Eventually, she made it to a balcony overlooking an indoor courtyard that was currently acting as the stage for a fight.

The moment she peered down from the balcony, the people below stopped what they were doing and gazed toward her. She hadn’t been particularly noisy, but it was like they sensed her from so far away. Freaky. However she'd gotten used to it after the third time it happened.

“Here again?” That infuriating bastard smirked up at her, sweeping back his somewhat sweaty ash-colored hair.

Right next to him was a blonde beauty whose vibrant emerald eyes focused Mira down only for a moment before disinterestedly returning to the infuriating bastard. She then spoke in English Mira could just barely understand after being exposed to so much of the language lately. “Your Highness, should we stop?”

“Hm? Ah, no. We’ll continue. Seems she’s here to see me get beaten up. May as well give her what she wants.”

The infuriating bastard chuckled sheepishly before some strange variation of a spear appeared in his hand. Mira didn’t know what it was called, but the spearhead didn’t look like it would be very good for thrusting. Rather, it looked like it was meant for chopping off large animals.

The infuriating bastard gazed at her briefly, calling out in Arkhanian. “Glaive. This is called a glaive.”

Mira stiffened, but quickly fired back. “I didn’t ask.”

“But you were wondering what it was called, no?”

“I wasn’t.”

Strangely, her answer seemed to amuse the infuriating bastard, his annoying grin widening before he winked at her. Then he looked back to the blonde beauty. “Polearms only, Gwen. I’ve been using swords too much these past few days and it’s not good for me.”

The blonde beauty nodded, summoning a glaive of her own. “Understood.”

Mira then groaned as both of them vanished. The incessant clangs of metal colliding and the growing number of cracks in the courtyard’s stone floor told her the two were still there, just fighting at speeds she couldn’t follow.

Sometimes, however, they would flicker back into existence. But they would quickly disappear right after. Even from afar, their violent clashes was deafening. And at some point, the scent of blood wafted into her nose. She could literally feel the shockwaves produced by the fight on her skin.

Eventually, the battle ended and the infuriating bastard was sent flying with a black eye, a loose right arm, and a left foot that seemed about ready to fall off if it weren’t for the few strands of muscle and bits of his boot keeping it attached.

Mira’s body twitched, almost springing into movement to help. But she managed to stop herself in time. That infuriating bastard wasn’t the man she’d known and he also didn’t need any help.

“Damn, I’m really rusty…” That infuriating bastard griped as his injuries visibly healed right before her very eyes. The bruise in his eye returned to a healthy color, his arm snapped back into place, and his foot was reattached.

His boot seemed beyond saving, however, as he kicked it aside to opt for being barefoot. He then tossed something at the blonde beauty, who then tossed that something into her mouth.

Mira hadn’t noticed it earlier, given how the infuriating bastard drew her attention, but the blonde also had a few gashes on her face and a left arm that was bent in the wrong direction. The injuries healed rapidly, similar to what happened to the infuriating bastard who’d inflicted them.

Despite having sustained such grievous injuries, the two looked like such things were perfectly normal. Then they started fighting again. And again. And Again.

Watching that infuriating bastard get the crap beaten out of him by whoever he happened to be sparring against that day was a cathartic experience for Mira when things didn’t go too far, but at the back of her mind, she was starting to realize something.

These people were nutjobs. All of the knights were, probably. And Arkhan was right next to a country full of nutjobs like these.

Additionally, if what that infuriating bastard said was true, then it seemed war would erupt between the three nations of Sentorale once again.

‘Crazy. Isn’t that a bad idea?’

Mira was of the opinion that while her laziness wasn’t something to be emulated, wars were the result of people being too diligent. Couldn’t they just stay in their homes, wrap themselves in a blanket, and enjoy a lazy afternoon every day?

Hers was a minority opinion though. Everybody seemed to think that everybody else was out to get them.

With a sigh, Mira turned around to return to her room. Her gentle heart could only take so much violence. Yes, that infuriating bastard was endlessly irritating and she cheered when he got punched in the face, but getting cut up was a little too much. That annoyed her even more though, because it was conclusive proof she still held some attachment to him.

‘Stupid bastard… Why’d you have to be fake!’

Every day had been fun. She’d sleep in, get scolded by her juniors, apologize sheepishly, and then be forgiven. Aldimir was hilarious, Inaria was a doll, Alini was adorable, Kantor was pitifully endearing… And Clover had been… Well, he was annoying at times, but spending time with him was fun.

She still didn’t understand what love was and wasn’t sure if that was what she started to feel for him, but she liked being with him, grew anxious when he wasn’t in her sights because of his history of womanizing, and looked forward to their outings even though she tried to seem aloof about them.

Was that love? She didn’t know. Maybe she was just horny? Perhaps she was just unexpectedly giddy about meeting someone she could get along with so well? Or maybe she liked him, but just not that much.

In any case, whatever it was had lost its meaning with the revelation that the man she’d felt those emotions for wasn’t real.

Maybe, if things had progressed a bit more, she could have truly fallen in love. Maybe she’d have a firmer opinion about the revelation. Or maybe she’d be more devastated and confused?

Mira didn’t know anymore. She wasn't sure of anything anymore, after everything that happened. Thinking was hard and she honestly just wanted this whole affair with Aizen to be over so she could think it over with her family. Her parents were so in love that it was sickening sometimes—especially when they went too far while she was in the general vicinity—so perhaps they could offer advice on what she was supposed to feel now.

“Oh? If it isn’t Miss Serandina. Good morning.”

“Ah?” Mira dumbly snapped out of her vacant thoughts to notice that a relatively familiar figure stood in her way.

It was a white-haired young woman with an extra pair of ears atop her head—cat ears, to be exact.

“Princess Jiji…” she muttered nervously. “Good morning to you as well.”

They hadn’t run into each other often, given how Mira only started taking walks outside three days ago. But on the first day, she’d seen this girl sparring with the infuriating bastard in place of the blonde beauty.

And so, Mira was sure that despite the princess’ youthful appearance, her form held a tremendous capacity for violence. She could take punishment and dish it out.

‘She doesn’t like me… Like, at all.’

It was very obvious. Mira likened the princess’ cold gaze to how delusional women looked at her when they thought Mira was out to steal their man.

‘Eh… But aren’t they siblings though? Ah, but they’re adopted… But still…’

Yet another subject that confused her, but prying struck her as incredibly unwise. Mira was somehow convinced that the infuriating bastard wasn’t out to get her, given how well she was treated. But this absurdly beautiful princess wasn’t so inclined to be kind.

Mira would probably be kept alive because the kingdom needed her as bait. But there were an endless number of ways to make her miserable without killing her—and she had an inkling that the princess knew every single one and probably a few more.

“You seem to be enjoying your freedom.” Princess Jiji giggled, covering her mouth with a fan. It was then that Mira realized the princess was speaking fluent Arkhanian, just like the infuriating bastard. “I daresay, a stroll here and there is nice, hm?”

“Yes…” Mira unconsciously shrunk into herself, withering under the princess’ gaze. She just couldn’t look into those feral golden eyes of hers. “I was simply stretching my legs… I hope I didn’t inconvenience anyone.”

“Oh, no worries. You were an inconvenience even before coming here.”

The sharp remark made Mira quiver, only to be startled by a hand appearing on her shoulder.

Right next to her stood Prince Reivan, who was sighing in exasperation. “Didn’t I tell you not to bully her?”

Princess Jiji snorted as she averted her gaze. “You may have said something along those lines.”

“I did say something along those lines. Literally last night. Three times, over dinner.”

“Ah, yes. I remember now.”

“Uh-huh.”

Despite the reprimand, the princess didn’t seem the least bit remorseful, fixing Mira with a sharp glare before scoffing at the way she flinched. “I don’t see why you want to keep her around. She doesn’t look anything special, Yani.”

Prince Reivan stepped forward and, to Mira’s surprise, wordlessly pinched both sides of the princess’ cheeks.

Princess Jiji merely stared at him in annoyance, not particularly struggling to break free. “Let go.”

“Why are you so cranky this morning?”

“I’m not cranky. Let go.”

“That’s a lie. You weren’t even trying to hide it.”

The adopted siblings stared each other down before the younger one turned into a formless cloud of white mist that flew past Prince Reivan, rematerializing behind him to walk in the direction of the previous courtyard. “Let’s spar. I need a break from all the paperwork. Full-contact. Let’s armor up.”

Prince Reivan’s eyes shot up. “Gwen just finished fixing the courtyard…”

“Just ask her to fix it again! Get over here!”

“Man, she’s really in a mood today…” he muttered to himself, then clicked his tongue. Only when the princess was out of sight did he smile at Mira. “Don’t worry about her. She’s usually not… uh, catty like that.”

Mira looked away from him, feeling a pang of pain in her chest. He talked just like him. The voice was different, but everything else felt the same as how he talked when they were alone.

And it confused her even more.

Prince Reivan cleared her throat. “Well, I have to go deal with her. But I’ll come over for lunch later.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Don’t say that…” Prince Reivan gently grabbed her hand, and it annoyed her how she didn’t instinctively pull back instead of just letting him. “What we have... is not without mending. Let’s fix this, hm?”

Perhaps on a whim, or perhaps because of the sincerity she felt in his words, Mira turned to face him. His golden eyes, the same shade of molten gold as the princess earlier, were gentle yet intense—just like his eyes had been. They were a different color now, but the person behind them was the same.

This. This man before her was him. A different name and a different personality. But they were the same.

“Do you love me?” Mira squeezed out, trying hard not to look away as she watched for any signs of dishonesty—or hesitation.

But there was no such thing as he shook his head. “No. I don’t think so.”

She bit her lip as her chest tightened. “Then there’s nothing to fix.”

His grip tightened as she made to leave, stepping in to block her path. “A bad choice of words on my part.”

“What do you…”

“Let’s build something then.”

Mira frowned, not quite understanding what he meant. And really, he was a little too close and it was making her a little lightheaded—which was something he didn’t know could happen to her just by being close to someone.

Thankfully, the prince elaborated. “Look, I… I didn’t love you. And I still don’t think I do. You don’t either, do you?”

“I don’t know…”

“Right? We don’t know,” he repeated as he took a step forward. “We aren’t sure because we didn’t really have much time to work things out. But we had something. And I don’t think we should ignore it.”

“O-okay, but you’re kind of close…” Mira placed a hand on his chest to try to stop him from going any more forward. She was momentarily distracted by how hard his chest was and how immovable he was despite her effort.

“So let’s try.” Prince Reivan brought his face close, making her squeal. “Let’s just try to see if we can make something of what’s already there. I’m curious too.”

“You’re too close, you bastard! Shove off!”

“It’s intentional. C’mon, you know you like it.”

“Damn you! I do not…!”

For some reason, his eyes widened in surprise before his grin widened even more.

‘Wh-what’s wrong with him now…’

It annoyed her how the first thing to pop into her mind was how adorably boyish he was when he did—only then did she wonder why he was surprised. Did he somehow find out that she was lying? Her heart was drumming in her ears and she was fairly certain she wouldn’t be able to hear him if he said anything now.

Mira groaned, her knees buckling until she collapsed. He caught her in time, however, softly laying her on the ground and letting her sit against the wall. “Go away… You perverted bastard…”

Squatting right in front of her, Prince Reivan snickered before he apologized in an obviously unapologetic manner. “My sincerest apologies.”

“Why don’t you shove your apology up your—”

He placed a finger on her mouth, stopping her from talking but presenting her with the opportunity to bite his finger. She did, but he didn’t even grace her with a wince for her trouble.

Prince Reivan pried his finger out from between her pearly whites, chuckling as he stood up. “You sure are hard-headed for someone who kept on gushing about me. I remember you even fantasized about meeting me on the train...”

Mira immediately felt her face burn in embarrassment. The worst part was how she couldn’t even deny it—she had gushed about her half-serious aspirations of living a life mooching off Aizen’s second prince. Naturally, she wasn’t delusional, so it had been said in jest. But in her mind, she had believed that with enough luck, maybe she would be successful. At the very least, there was no harm in hoping.

She never would have expected to actually snag the prince. Well, he wasn’t snagged by any means, but it was close enough.

Still, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of getting her to admit to anything. “Shut up.”

“Hm…” Prince Reivan hummed in amusement, kneeling on one knee to meet her gaze. “Well, what do you think? You only saw me from afar, but you said you really liked my face, no? How is it? Is it better up close? C’mon, you can come closer if you want a good look.”

Mira’s brows shot up as she hugged her knees and hid her face in them. “Shut up.”

“You’re not denying it?”

“Fuck off!”

“Goodness.” He sighed. “Please refrain from uttering such foul language in front of royalty. I could have you executed for that, you know?”

“Do it, then.”

“You know I can’t.”

“That’s what I thought.” She peeked out from her knees, trying to look smug. But went back to hiding before he could do anything else. “Now go away. Princess is waiting.”

Reivan grunted. “You’re right… Well, expect me later. Let’s have lunch, hm?”

“I don’t want to…”

“...Okay then.”

Mira peeked out again, watching him stand up. Maybe it was guilt. Or maybe it was how she really felt, but she cleared her throat. “If you bring Dippy to play with Boop, then maybe I’ll have lunch with you…”

Reivan grinned, nodded, and then offered a hand to help her up. She took him up on his offer and for a moment, hesitated to let go. Noticing that, he squeezed hers softly. “When everything’s over… Ah, never mind.”

She frowned. “What?”

“No, I felt like I was going to raise a fla—I mean, I was just about to jinx us. Good thing I stopped in time.”

‘What the hell is he talking about now…? Is it a kingdom thing?’

The next thing she knew, he had his hands on her shoulders. Which was fine, but he was slowly bringing his face closer again. “Wh-what are you doing now!?”

“Picking up where we left off at the cave.”

“The cave…” Mira echoed, blushing when she realized they’d been talking about how she was fine with slightly advancing their relationship even without meeting her parents.

‘Ah, technically, he’s already met them… Wait, that’s not important right now!’

“W-We’re doing it now…?” she asked, anxious but strangely not against the idea. Her heart was once again beating rapidly. Dizziness overcame her from all the blood pumping into her head, but she tried to steady herself.

“Close your eyes,” he said, his voice deep and commanding.

Mira did as told, shutting her eyes and waiting… and waiting… and waiting…

Until she cracked her eyes open to see what was taking so long. Then she realized that he was gone.

“H-He…” Mira, realizing she’d been tricked, clenched her trembling fists in a mixture of anger and shame. “You bastard…!”

‘I can’t believe it! He did it again! That’s two times now! He better not think I’ll still play nice with him at lunch...!’

Despite her righteous indignation, however, Prince Reivan still came over for lunch with the black blob named Dippy resting atop his head.

Boop and Dippy finally got to play together, all while the infuriating bastard annoyed her to death.

Arc#4 Chapter 71: Dealing with the Damsel in Distress

[Author's Note]

It's another long one today~! I hope you enjoy!

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An entire week of relative mundanity passed by in the blink of an eye.

He’d been a bit concerned with Dame Mordred’s fate given how the trope of someone staying behind to buy time usually ended up. But a few hours after Reivan arrived at the embassy, she had shown up with a grand total of eleven heads swinging from her hands.

According to her, Arkhanian Ascendants kept on coming, so she kept on killing them until they stopped. Nobody got to scry the crime scene’s past in the end, so the truth of what happened there remained a mystery to the Tower for now. And because all the silver cloaks died without knowing who killed them, those who scry the dead’s memories wouldn’t get much information either.

She also stayed in the area to observe and reported that his squadmates were understandably devastated by what they thought happened to him and Mira.

Alini passed out from shock when she saw the crime scene. And Aldimir adamantly looked through the ruins for Clover Salwyn despite the others telling him to stop. In the end, the usually perverted young man had to be knocked out to get him out of the area, as the others feared the possibility of the culprit remaining nearby.

Surprisingly, Kantor took it well, stepping up as the squad’s pillar of rationality after their officers up and vanished. As for Inaria, she seemed a bit distant—but with Dame Mordred scrutinizing her, she couldn’t hide her trembling hands by simply stuffing them into the pockets of her robes.

In any case, about a hundred Ascendant battlemages arrived eventually, long after the time limit for scrying passed. One of them was the Gold Cloak and he was, in Mordred’s words, “very cranky” about the loss of yet another spirit king seed. Inaria and the others were interrogated less than gently, but were ultimately let off because many witnesses in the village testified to their innocence.

And besides, the scale of the destruction and the missing silver cloaks were enough of a sign that this wasn’t something a bunch of first-years could accomplish.

Ultimately, the ruined wasteland produced to stage Clover and Mira’s deaths was destroyed a second time by the Gold Cloak’s “cranky tantrum”. Dame Mordred was understandably not crazy enough to do anything when a hundred Ascendant battlemages were around, so she’d retreated after a job well done.

And that was how she eventually ended up back in the embassy, showing off her severed head collection to Reivan and asking if he wanted help starting his own—an invitation he respectfully declined.

As it turned out, she initially planned to leave the heads in random cities all over the republic just to fuck with the Gold Cloak’s head. But she refrained from doing so because the battlemage’s temper tantrum was enough to satisfy her. She promised to do it next time, however. But by then, the heads she possessed would have already dissolved into energy, so she complained about the need to replenish her dwindling stock.

With all that said, a knight of Mordred’s skillset couldn’t remain idle for long, so she left with an excited smile shortly after. Reivan blissfully remained in the embassy with Jiji, trying hard to re-acclimate to his own body again. He was so out of touch that even his little sister stole a few bouts from him when they sparred, much to his frustration.

Reivan wasn’t an unsportsmanlike asshole, so he gave credit to her growth. But he definitely noticed how dulled his fighting instincts were. If Helen wasn’t in the middle of some mysterious training with his mother, she would have mopped the floor with him ten out of ten times. It was, in a way, amazing what a few months of inactivity did to him. His daily routine had been understandably messed up because of his duties.

Valter theorized that it had more to do with how he was stuck in a body that lacked his original body’s physical capabilities for so long. The guardian knight had also spent extended periods of inaction whenever he attempted Transcendence, but his instincts had never dulled the same way Reivan’s did.

Fortunately, things were going well. Or as well as they could, at least. Getting the shit beaten out of him by a cat-eared girl one year younger was excellent motivation to not suck. Her smugness about each victory was like a steroid or that shot of energy someone listening to Phonk music got when they heard the beat drop.

Gwen was there too. And despite being the administrative prodigy that she was, she was still a knight. As such, she enjoyed a good spar when the opportunity arose. Unfortunately, she was also far too strong for Reivan’s current state, especially when she made use of her precognitive special ability. So rather than a spar, he ended up roleplaying as her punching bag. She may not have looked bulky, but the force behind her punches was cataclysmic due to her mastery of the [Earth] attribute and its gravity-controlling aspect.

All things considered, things were progressing smoothly. He wished he could say the same thing about Mira.

“So. She’s still refusing food?” Reivan after, once again, getting beaten up by Gwen in a spar. Luckily, his healing prowess made sure none of the bruises and broken bones would stay that way.

“Affirmative. She’s refusing all meals, throwing it back to the knights delivering it,” she recounted while using a towel to dry her sweaty hair.

Unintentionally, Reivan’s gaze ran down her tight form. She wasn’t wearing a uniform at the moment, but a tight tank top and those absolutely fantastic breeches that female knights preferred. It was one of the reasons why he kept on sparring with her even though the current gap between their conditions placed her far above him.

‘Damn.’

A white chick flew over and glared at him, however. This was Grace, the [Light] attribute swan-type spirit beast he’d given Gwen as a souvenir. She was in her energy-saving form and was clearly quite protective of her new mistress. They had a true bond, so it was par for the course. Gwen was apparently a very tantalizing partner for Grace, and the spirit dew pills made from his blood were a very alluring resource that made it impossible for the spirit beast to refuse.

In any case, a true contract had been formed just like that and now Grace was clingy toward the relatively aloof Gwen.

He shooed Grace away while wishing she wouldn’t tell Gwen he’d been leering a little. Really, it was only a little. “It’s been a week… I thought she’d fold faster. But I guess not.”

“She’s surprisingly determined.” Gwen slung the towel over her shoulder and leaned on the blunted spear she’d been using as a handicap in their spars. “I believe it’s time for you to go and see her. Personally.”

“You really think so…?”

Given how he betrayed Mira, Reivan thought it was a good idea to refrain from meeting her directly this past week, giving her space and time to calm down. Or at least hate his guts a little less. She was assigned an exquisite room and served the finest cuisine, but she’d rejected their hospitality in every way. Reports even mentioned her sleeping on the floor, refusing to use the comfortable amenities she was provided.

That had started a week ago, and Mira hadn't eaten a single thing nor did she drink a single drop of water since. The only aspect of her room she interacted with was the bathroom, and she seemed to still be bathing at least. But she insisted on using the same clothes she arrived with instead of the ones they offered—that said, she had multiple pairs to cycle through since her spatial ring wasn't confiscated.

‘Fine… I guess there’s nothing to it. I’ll go see my damsel in distress.’

Reivan sighed and stood up. He would strike while the iron was hot. But first, he should pick out a peace offering of some kind.

"The bath is ready, Your Highness,” Gwen reminded him with aptly concealed distaste. "If you would be so kind."

Correction, he should bathe first.

════════════════════════════════

Since he was in a safe place now, Reivan had summoned both Dom and Dippy, letting the wolf and the… black-furred blob-thing roam around the embassy freely.

Dom was obviously forbidden from going after Mira or anywhere near her. The giant wolf had immediately sensed the presence of worthy prey, but Reivan didn’t allow him to. And strangely enough, Dom reluctantly acquiesced. This was because, apparently, Reivan was the “leader” of the pack after he defeated Dom. And that meant what Reivan said goes. But one of these days, a challenge would be offered once again.

That was evidently something he had to watch out for.

But when he presented the spirit dew pills and told Dom he could produce it infinitely, the wolf reluctantly admitted to a hundred-year truce. Now, he was in a constant state of hibernation because of the pills he ate. Dom would wake up once every ten hours, eat three pills, then fall asleep again. His newest canine companion certainly wasn't winning any congeniality contests with this type of reclusive lifestyle.

Dippy, on the other hand, was a curious little blob that explored everywhere, utterly ignoring the pills he showed it. If the knights guarding the embassy hadn’t stopped it and if it wasn’t tethered to Reivan, Dippy would have likely gone out into the city. Maybe it would have gotten run over by a magitech carriage or something.

Reivan rarely got to see it these days, even when he knew where it was at all times, but Dippy just so happened to be lingering on the way to Mira’s chambers. As such, he picked it up while he was at it.

To his amusement, Dippy was trying to gnaw on a troubled knight’s leg. It didn’t hurt, however, so the knight just let it be.

“Don’t bother people like that, okay? They have important jobs to do.” Reivan scolded it, holding it in front of his face with both hands. "Or else, I’ll bring you around with me all the time.”

“Wee!” Dippy squealed, its beady little red eyes staring at him with confusion. It apparently didn’t know what he meant by bothering people. And it also didn’t particularly hate the idea of him bringing it along all the time.

Reivan playfully squished it, finding the texture and elasticity satisfying. The victim of his squishing squealed in happiness and mentally told him that he liked what was happening. Its mouth momentarily opened, jaw slack and revealing rows of serrated teeth before snapping shut.

Sensing its desire, Reivan pulled out an apple, holding it over Dippy’s mouth. Almost immediately, his entire hand was enveloped by the black blob-thing’s mouth, teeth gnashing on his skin before it retreated with a squeal of joy.

“Want more?” he asked as he wiped his saliva-coated hand on its soft ebony fur. It made him recall a few days ago, when Dippy was still careful not to accidentally nick him with its very sharp chompers. That all stopped when he demonstrated just how durable he really was.

Nothing Dippy could do would hurt him—unless it went for his eye or something.

After a bit of walking and seventeen premium-grade apples from a famous orchard in Shinobu City, they finally arrived in front of Mira’s room. At Reivan’s orders, the room was fit for a member of the royal family to stay in. Honestly, it was structured a bit like a high-end apartment—complete with a bathroom, a dining area, and an enclosed space that housed a king-sized bed along with a few other amenities.

There were also a few adjoining rooms for guards or servants to stay in. This was where a few knights kept an eye on Mira, making sure she didn’t kill herself or break the furniture. Reivan had also informed them that Mira could melt floors, so the guards were watching out for that too.

Naturally, all of said knights were female. Of which there was strangely a lot of in the knighthood these days.

"Hello." Reivan knocked on the door and spoke aloud. “It’s me. I’m opening the door in a minute so if you're naked or something, make yourself presentable.”

There was no response, which was as expected. Mira hadn’t said a thing since she woke up, according to her observers. She didn’t even manifest her spirit beasts—though nobody could be sure if they weren’t around, just not materialized. For all he knew, Fawks was right next to him, dancing whatever dance foxes did.

When a full minute passed, Reivan knocked again before granting an extra five seconds just in case. Maybe he was being hyper-aware of any romcom-like plot developments, but it didn't hurt to be sure. After enough time went by, he turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Only to be met by a burst of magic power heading right for his face.

To Reivan, whose perception and reflexes went beyond the natural, the light practically traveled in slow motion. As such, he had plenty of time to dodge or respond. But instead, he leaned forward to deliberately shorten the spell’s travel time, taking it straight to the face.

He ended up being blinded by the light for a moment but was otherwise fine. The Penetration Spell she just used was a very efficient spell of considerable lethality for its easiness and mana cost, but it wasn’t quite meant to go up against people of his caliber.

No armor was needed and no qi was focused on protecting him. The spell simply connected with the tip of his nose and caused it to wiggle a little bit, but otherwise bounced off before fizzling out.

Reivan gently placed Dippy down on the floor before smiling at the hostile lady in the room. Then he spoke in fluent Arkhanian so they could actually converse. “Good morning to you too. I see you’re putting the wand I didn’t confiscate to good use. But really, though. A murder attempt already? I didn't know you were such a violent person.”

“What do you want?” she rasped, her once beautiful voice coming out in dry gasps as she kept the tip of her wand pointed at him.

After a week of forcefully submitting herself to bad living conditions, Mira Serandina was understandably worse for wear. She looked pale, her soft cheeks were just a little less meaty, and there were dark circles under her eyes that were different from the ones she usually got due to a lack of sleep.

All things considered, she still looked clean and her clothes were neat. Her hair looked a little silkier than it once was, strangely enough. Must've been the soap, he thought.

“I heard you haven’t been eating. Or drinking water.” Reivan didn’t draw too close, closing the door behind him and choosing a nearby sofa to park his ass on.

Sensing an opportunity for more food, Dippy happily hopped into his lap and opened its mouth so he could stuff it with very expensive things. He gladly gave it another apple, though he was slightly concerned with how much it was depleting his stock. They were fantastic snacks and he enjoyed them a lot. But when the blob-thing asked so nicely, how could he refuse? Well, he could always just eat something else. No harm done, now that he thought about it.

“I don’t accept handouts from the enemy, much less a bastard like you.” Mira glared at him, though her gaze momentarily lingered on Dippy, no doubt because of its similarities to Boop, the white version of the eldritch blob. “For all I know, there could be mind-controlling crap in there.”

“I suppose that’s a valid concern. Though I could only wish we had such means at our disposal. It would make things a lot easier for us if we could just brainwash people by feeding them. We could also simply force people into eating this hypothetical brainwashing substance instead of coaxing would-be victims into not starving themselves to death.”

She snorted, crossed her arms, and refused the logic behind his words. “I won’t eat anything you people give me.”

“I heard some of the dishes were your favorites.”

“I don't care.”

“There are dire consequences to fasting for so long, you know? You are slightly stronger than ordinary mundane people, but still.”

“I don’t care,” she repeated, her grip on the wand tightening as she donned a brave face. “Where’s Clover?”

Reivan hummed in thought. “Now, who was that again…? Would you be so kind as to remind me?”

“Don’t play dumb!” Mira screeched, the tip of her wand glowing menacingly. She must have already realized nothing she did could hurt him, but tried to act tough anyway. A common response for cornered rats. “He’s the man you impersonated!”

“Ah, I see. You seem very concerned about him. Who was he to you anyway?”

“Answer the question!”

“Well.” Reivan chuckled. “It seems we are at an impasse. I want you to eat and drink. You want me to answer questions. While I see no problem with answering your inquiries, I can sense that you’re not very receptive to my own wants. As such, let’s make a deal.”

With a snap of his fingers, a tray of donuts appeared on a nearby table. Dippy tried to jump for it, but Reivan stopped it immediately. It struggled though, but it wasn't quite strong enough to break free.

“You eat one of those pastries over there,” Reivan said, lazily motioning at the tray. “And I will truthfully answer as much as I am allowed. Do we have terms?”

Mira grimaced and averted her gaze, making it clear she wasn’t taking the offer.

But again, Reivan hadn’t expected her to. So instead, he took out multiple trays of freshly baked donuts and laid them out right next to the first one. Then, while holding down a rabid Dippy, he procured a fan made of peacock feathers.

Actually, he stole it from his sister when she wasn't looking and it seems she forgot about it entirely, but that wasn't important.

A few seconds of fanning later, the scent of donuts filled the room. Of course, there was no way ordinary donuts could permeate a chamber as large as this one with their scent at such speed. And it was correct, seeing as the donuts were specifically mixed with materials that released an intensely tantalizing smell, like vanilla extract among other things.

Reivan was also receiving the aid of a knight with the [Wind] attribute—which was, honestly, the largest contributor. The fan he took out was purely to piss her off.

Mira groaned quietly, but remained stubborn, not even giving the donuts a glance. In fact, she moved farther away, squatting on a spot as far removed from him as possible.

“These are called donuts and they’re a common pastry in my homeland.” Reivan took one and deftly kept it away from Dippy’s long tongue. He held it up to his eye and peeked through the hole in the middle. “Kids love these. Honestly, I do too. And these were made by a very talented baker we brought over from the kingdom. Before we had to ship him back, that is.”

“I. Don’t. Care,” Mira snarled.

“Is that so? Well. Don’t mind me, then.”

Reivan took a deliberate bite and chewed very slowly, making a point of producing noises of enjoyment. It was delicious, though. He wasn't necessarily faking. So he just had to play up his reactions rather than pretend. “Mm… Delicious.”

“Wee!” Dippy cried out in betrayal, its beady red eyes trained on the donut. Since he had taken a bite, it was reluctant to snatch it out of his hand. But even then, it really wanted the donut.

As a reward for its good behavior, he gave it the rest of the one he was holding before picking up another for himself. This cycle repeated for a while, with him taking a bite before giving the rest to his ever-hungry pet—or rather, his second ever-hungry pet.

‘Fuck, I just realized there’s two of them now…’

The first one liked to sleep a lot though, which was good for his expenses.

“Mhmm… Yummy.”

“Wee…!”

“This is so tasty, right Dippy? Ah, this flavor's nice too. Here, try it.”

“Wee!”

“You like it, huh? Want some more?”

“Wee?”

“Yes, you can try eating three at once. Actually, keep your mouth open. It's time to do some limit testing. Lemme see how many I can fit...”

Reivan then made a game out of seeing how many donuts fit in Dippy’s mouth, dumped tray after tray into it.

In the end, the answer was never found because he ran out of donuts.

“Oh, dear! It seems I am out of donuts. Whatever shall I do?” Reivan theatrically cried out, slapping his forehead and causing Dippy to go into a bit of a panic. “I know! I can just snap my fingers and magic them from thin air, just like all princes can do!”

He did just that, and tray after tray of different pastries appeared before him, filling the air with their appetizing aroma.

“There we go. Now we can get right back to—”

Reivan’s one-man-one-blob play was interrupted by the sound of a stomach growling. It wasn't particularly loud, but he had very good hearing and the way he stopped talking made it very clear to the culprit that he'd heard. Besides, after the amount of donuts he and Dippy ate, it was obvious who was still hungry in the room.

Mira, her ears blushing crimson, bit her lip and stood up. With a glare that a certain subset of people would pay good money to receive, she stomped over to the sofa opposite him and picked up a random pastry. She then stuffed it into her mouth and tried very hard not to look like she was enjoying it.

Afterward, she took the glass of water he left for her and slammed it down on the table. “There. Now answer the question. Where is Clover and what have you done to him?”

“I believe you only ate one, so I’ll only answer the first one.” Reivan smiled. “Currently, Clover Salwyn is in an underground city in Aizen. They're new, but they're great places to live.”

Mira grimaced, took a cream puff, and stuffed it into her mouth. Before she even finished chewing, she asked the question again. “Whaff haf foo funn foo fim?”

“We have granted him a home of respectable size and provided him a modest stipend to financially support himself and whoever he wishes to support.”

The strangeness of his answer must have irked her in some way, because her grimace only deepened. Swallowing, she drank another cup of water before wiping her lips with her thumb. “You’re hiding something.”

"I won't deny it." Reivan nodded. “I am, in fact, hiding a lot of things."

"Bastard..."

"Since it seems you'll have a lot of questions, let's make another deal. If you manage to consume an entire tray's worth of pastries, with some glasses of water sprinkled here and there so you don't choke to death, you get unlimited questions for the rest of the hour that I’m here. How's that?"

Mira clicked her tongue but hastily brought pastry after pastry into her mouth, obviously enjoying them but schooling her expression to seem indifferent. It was a good ten minutes before she was done, seemingly full of unhealthy junk food. But at least she wasn't about to die of hunger any time soon.

“The deal,” she said. “I’ve held up my end.”

“Indeed you have. Now, ask.”

“For how long have you been impersonating Clover?”

Reivan grinned. “Before he even stepped foot in the Tower.”

“...Huh?” Mira’s brows shot up. “So… So the person I know has been…”

“It has been me all along."

"Wha... That can't be! The Tower has really deep background checks! You can't fool me!"

Reivan plucked out a meat bun from one of the trays and broke it in half, giving one part to Dippy. "Clover Salwyn is a real person and a talented young mage who would have benefited the republic had he been nurtured. Unfortunately, we helped him cure his mother’s illness when Arkhan did nothing. As such, he was more than happy to cooperate with my plans to infiltrate the Spirit Tower in exchange for a quiet life in Aizen, together with his mother, the love of his life, and his in-laws. Maybe they'll get a dog, one of these days.”

“But… But the spells…”

“I learned them all in my spare time. Actually, I have reason to believe that I know more spells than you do. What with all the books Aizen have stolen from dead battlemages throughout the centuries.”

Mira clenched her fists. “Then… Then…”

Reivan smiled sadly, but chose not to lie. “I was genuinely attracted to you to a certain extent, but not enough to want to seduce you. That was because I wanted to earn your trust—which would increase the chance that you would agree to go overseas with me. Then we would abduct you like we did last week. Ultimately, as you can see, that ended up not being necessary because the Tower foolishly allowed you to leave with a mere three Ascendant guards.”

Ignoring the hurt expression on her face, Reivan then began explaining why she was necessary at all. Going into how the spirit king seeds worked and how he slowly pieced it all together—though of course, he didn’t mention his special ability. Some people would have berated him for revealing such information to a potential enemy, but at this point, there was nothing Mira could do. And besides, in a week or two, the attack on the Sage King would commence—making everything he was telling her worthless knowledge.

Mira listened to it all with a pensive look on her face, her hands lying uselessly on her lap. He didn’t know if she was still processing his words or if she wasn’t listening at all, but he kept on going anyway.

But just as he finished, she spoke with a voice devoid of hope. “I see. So? What’s going to happen to me now? Are you going to kill me, then? If you are, then just get on with it. Why keep me alive for so long.”

“That will depend on you.” Reivan reclined and crossed his legs. “I don’t want to kill you though.”

She scoffed, momentarily looking him in the eye like he was dirt. “I get it. You want to keep me around as a plaything, don’t you? Gonna rape me? Pass me around like a rag?”

“What? No!” he exclaimed, accidentally letting Dippy go. "What the fuck!"

The blob immediately surged forth to devour the rest of the pastries Mira hadn’t eaten, attracting Mira’s curiosity.

“I can’t possibly believe you. But never mind that.” Mira pointed at Dippy, who had voraciously eaten two trays worth of pastries in just a few seconds. “Who is that?”

“This is Dippy.” Reivan flicked his wrist nonchalantly. “I made a contract with him back when I entered the Sanctuary.”

“Hah? If you’ve been the Clover Salwyn I know from the start, isn’t Sen your spirit beast?”

He nodded. “She is. But I caught Sen with an orb. Dippy is with me because it wants to. Right, Dippy?”

The eldritch black blob stopped eating to bounce up and down on the remnants of its gluttony. “Wee! Wee!”

“See? He loves me. Or rather, the food I give him. In fact, he only formed a permanent bond with me because I gave him the crappy jerky the Tower gave out as rations.”

“Pff.” Mira accidentally giggled, covering her mouth immediately after and pretending it never happened. “It’s… It’s very similar to mine…”

“That’s because they’re the same species. Apparently, they have an ability that makes them change appearance depending on the beings they’re around with. You mentioned Boop being gray when you were young, right?”

“I see. That makes sense. This poor creature must look like this because it’s near you all the time.”

Reivan’s cheek twitched. “Okay, first of all, Dippy was like this when I saw it. Second, we’ve been apart all this time because I was afraid the Tower would find out about my additional spirit beast. Third, it’s a bit much to assume black is a bad color, no? That's really racist... No, colorist...?”

“Whatever.” Mira crossed her arms and harrumphed, looking away as if he was a demon that corrupted her just by being looked at. “I don’t trust you at all. Kill me, rape me, or do whatever. I can’t stop you anyway.”

‘I kinda expected this, but she really hates my guts!’

He’d looked at it earlier, but thought that it wouldn’t hurt to check her Favor again after their conversation.

════════════════════════════════

Favor: (Distrust / Hostility) -65 / 100

════════════════════════════════

‘Oh. Well, that’s not as bad as I thought, actually.’

All his work raising it had gone to waste, in a way. But as a wise man once said, the opposite of love wasn’t hate, it was indifference. The fact that she disliked him so much was a measure of just how strong her previous feelings were.

Well, that was how he wanted to interpret it, at least. He could be wrong. Girls were hard and didn't really make sense to him most of the time. Even Valter hadn’t completely figured out the female psyche and he was a thousand years old. Trying had merit but any man saying they completely understood women were either lying or were women in disguise.

Of course, if one spent enough time with one, then a man could accumulate a decent level of understanding. But that wasn’t the case right now.

“There are a number of things that can happen to you.” Reivan popped some food into his mouth, letting the ensuing silence overcome the room before swallowing. Only then did he continue. “One, the Tower somehow gets you back and the Sage King survives. In which case, Fawks will ultimately be devoured by another spirit beast. Probably the Sage King’s spirit beast. But it’s also likely that she’ll be eaten by some other spirit king seed that’s been alive for a long time.”

Mira clenched her fist. “All this stuff about spirit king seeds… They’re a bit too far-fetched.”

“Well-founded doubt. But I believe you’ve mentioned before that the Tower seems to be placing special care of you.”

“That’s…”

“Remember Lageton? A silver cloak was worried sick about you. In particular, she was concerned with your Spirit Beast, no?”

“E-Even so—”

“And do you really think Aizen would have done all this without being sure? Do we seem that incompetent to you?”

Mira gulped, seemingly starting to believe. “Let’s say that it’s real… What do you intend to do to me?”

“Well.” Reivan hummed in thought and let her stew in suspense for a few moments before answering. “There are voices calling for your death. You’re a variable, after all. We would rather remove the chances of the Sage King making use of you permanently. And by that, I mean you die.”

She stiffened, but seemed to master herself quickly after by taking a deep breath. “And yet I’m alive.”

“And yet, you’re alive,” he repeated with a bot of his head.

“Why?”

“Because I have a spirit king seed too.” Reivan chuckled, causing her to grip her wand tightly. “And there’s also the possibility of using you as bait to lure out the Sage King.”

Mira gulped when she realized what his words implied. “You plan to kill the Sage King…”

“Indeed. There’s a whole plan for it. A plan I won’t be telling you, that is.”

“...And after?”

Reivan regarded her calmly before sighing. “After, I will have my spirit beast devour yours. Then you’ll be free to go. If you want, I can even take you in as a concu—”

“Like hell, I will,” she instantly said. "Eat shit."

“Yeah, didn't think so...” He laughed, picking up Dippy, who’d cleansed the table of anything edible. “I suppose you wouldn’t like that anymore, given everything that’s happened.”

“Of course. Who would continue admiring a piece of trash like you?”

Mira then began unloading a string of curses and expletives that amazed him because she was quite creative. There were some that he couldn’t quite understand, like being the son of what was probably an animal he didn’t know or the lint under the testicles of yet another creature he didn’t know about.

In any case, Reivan spent the next dozen minutes letting her finish before laying out his ultimatum.

“Very soon, I will obtain possession of your parents.”

“What…” Mira’s face fell. “You wouldn’t…”

“Relax. I’m actually doing you a favor. After the Sage King’s death, the empire is going to begin its invasion. And where do you live again? Right. The northern part of the republic, right next to the Argonia Empire. It’ll obviously be struck first. So, you see? I’m saving your family from a tragedy they will never see coming.”

She bit her lip. “You say that you’re doing me a favor, but they’re your hostages, aren’t they? To make me do what you want!”

“Exactly. So I sincerely ask for your cooperation. No more of this…” Reivan gestured at her and then to the rest of the room’s interior. “Hard-headedness. Or whatever it is you call what you’ve been doing. Eat properly. Drink properly. Sleep properly. Dress properly. Do this, and your family will be treated well when we extract them.”

Mira pursed her lips, and remained silent. No longer did she have the guts to cuss him out, but the hate behind her eyes had yet to abate.

‘Wow, she really hates me.’

Reivan was just about to check her Favor again, but stopped himself. It was pointless. He was quite obviously human-shaped dog feces in her eyes.

“You know…” he scratched his head. “I’m not your enemy, Mira.”

“Don’t call me so familiarly.”

“There is another outcome.” Reivan uncrossed his legs, slowly stroking Dippy’s soft fur. “An outcome where Fawks doesn’t get devoured by my spirit beast or the Tower’s seeds.”

Mira looked at him skeptically. “What do you…”

“I mean, it would be better for Aizen to have two spirit beasts capable of advancing through the devouring of spirit king seeds instead of just one. At least, that's my excuse.”

Reivan took a deep breath and sighed.

“What I mean,” he said. “is that you should join the kingdom’s side. Or at least stop being on the Tower’s side. If you do, Fawks will survive. You and your family can relocate to Aizen. Or Lageton, if you hate our people's guts. I can even grant you free access to that library that you said you wanted to see. Plus a large stipend so you won’t ever have to work to support yourself. You can live the life of a slacker for the rest of your life.”

“That…”

"Mira, I can give you everything you have ever wanted. And more. If you just cooperate."

Mira shifted in her seat, her brows furrowed in thought. “That’s way too good to be true. There’s a catch. There has to be.”

Reivan shook his head and raised both hands. “No, there’s no catch. And before you ask, no, the offer doesn’t come with the condition to marry me or provide… uh, sexual favors and whatnot. You’ll be under constant watch, but as long as you live quietly, you’ll be allowed to do whatever you want.”

His offer was quite unexpected, it seemed, because Mira was at a loss for words.

“Think about it,” Reivan said as he stood up, then he knelt down next to her. She twitched in surprise before trying to scoot away, but he grabbed her hand and stopped her. “Make the right choice, Mira. I’m not your enemy. And Aizen isn’t some evil nation—we just really love our country and can’t tolerate some old bastard growing powerful enough to destroy everything that our ancestors have left us.”

She tried to pull her hand away, but couldn’t muster much strength given her foolish lifestyle choices in the past week. But to a certain extent, it seemed his words had some effect.

And that was all that mattered.

‘It won't be like last time.’

Reivan recalled Maya, the problematic girl he had to kill in the Sanctuary.

That time, he didn’t have the leeway to even try to save her or come up with a way where she survived.

But this time was different.

Now he had the time to think and plan. He could set the board in a way advantageous to him. There were people all around him to ask for counsel or direct aid. Communication was within his reach, allowing him to make sure his own actions wouldn't ruin other national-level plans.

Mira didn’t have to end up like Maya. He could get what he wanted, what the country needed, and save himself from slaying someone he formed a connection with. Because when given the choice of doing what was right and what was easy, Reivan wanted to be a person who chose the former.

Even if future circumstances forced him to take paths that could be interpreted as evil.

“Mira.” Reivan stared deeply into her trembling eyes. “It’s still me. At some point, I think the Clover you knew was more me than him. The person you shared those fun times with? That’s me. It always was.”

“Liar…” Mira muttered, her blue eyes still locked onto his own.

“Look, I’m just a lot more handsome and taller now. And maybe less cranky and snarky too. That’s quite literally the only difference. Believe me.” He tightened his grip. “Not all of it was a lie.”

She bit her lip and averted her gaze. “How can I be sure…”

“I don’t know. I’m actually pretty stumped on that part.” Reivan chuckled, scratching his head and moving to sit right next to her. “The only thing I can think of is to prove it over time. Through actions.”

“Actions…”

“Here’s the first one.” Reivan placed a box on the table and pried it open, revealing dozens of pills, each one emanating a faint purple vapor. “Spirit Dew Pills. They’re better than the potions they gave us. The spirit beast only sleeps for ten hours and you can even feed these to spirit beasts directly. Fawks will love them.”

Mira peered down at the box and was just about to say something when a red fox appeared out of nowhere to snatch the box out of the table, bringing it to the corner of the room.

“Well, there’s proof. Kind of.” He gestured at Fawks, who carefully swallowed three pills seemingly without asking permission from Mira, given how she’d almost jumped out of her seat to stop the beast. “Think about it, I wouldn’t be strengthening Fawks if I planned to have my spirit beast eat her, right?”

“That’s true… But you could still be trying to trick me…”

Reivan could only chuckle sheepishly at that, because she was right. “Like I said, I guess only time will tell.”

With that, he let go of her hand and stood up, smoothing out the edges of his clothes before walking slowly toward the door. “Remember, take care of yourself. And from now on, you’re allowed out of your room as long as there aren’t any visitors.”

“Wha—Really?” she squeaked in surprise.

“Yes, yes. Oh, and I almost forgot…” Reivan turned around just as he reached the door. “While your parents and loved ones will be evacuated to save them from the coming imperial invasion, there is plenty of room to bring over some personal effects. Do you have any sentimental possessions that you wish to be retrieved?”

Mira’s brows shot up for a beat before she turned away. “I… There’s no need to do that...”

“Really?” He smiled, trying to look reassuring. “We have hundreds of the highest-grade spatial storage rings, so we can literally bring your entire house if we wanted. Piece by piece, that is. A few items are no trouble at all.”

“...Then, there’s a box under my bed…”

“Box under the bed. Alright. Any more?”

Mira clenched her fingers and lowered her gaze. “There is a really old stuffed rabbit in the wardrobe by my bed…”

‘A stuffed toy. How cute.’

Reivan nodded and mentally noted it down for later. “Mira.”

She looked up. “...What?”

“I’m not your enemy. And I never will be. As long as you cooperate. So please cooperate.”

Leaving those words behind, Reivan turned around and left, but not before taking one last parting glance at her Favor.

════════════════════════════════

Favor: (Uncertainty) 43 / 100

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‘It’s still low and I'm not even sure if that's positive, but it’s a great improvement.’

Reivan closed the door while thinking about how to raise it higher. Everything he’d said was true. He truly didn’t want to be her enemy and fully intended to make good on his promises as long as she didn't cause trouble.

As for the romance they could have had, Reivan didn’t see it going anywhere. His face wasn’t blessed with skin thick enough to bear the shame of still wanting her affection after he’d essentially tricked her for months.

He wouldn’t apologize, because he’d done it for a reason. But even so, he would reach the heights of shamelessness if he continued pursuing her at this point. At most, he hoped they could be awkward friends.

Realistically, however, she would cut ties after things settled down.

‘At least I didn’t have to kill her in cold blood.’

A grim silver lining, but a silver lining nonetheless. His heart was thankful for it.

Arc#4 Chapter 70: Betrayal

Reivan thought that the way he and Valter exited the place was really cool.

What was uncool was how they had to make multiple consecutive portal jumps because Valter couldn't do one giant jump. Which wasn't his guardian knight's fault, because only Transcendents and the Everpresent could teleport that far on their own. The thousand-year-old knight mentioned something about "understanding the ever-changing fabric of space" that honestly went way over Reivan's head. He supposed it proved that spatial manipulation was still too far for him.

In any case, despite going through multiple jumps, they arrived at the Aizenian Embassy in Arkhana without much trouble. It only took a minute or two, and they were suddenly in one of the facility's many guest parlors.

Strangely, Gwen was already there.

"Your Highness. Sir Valter," she said with a crisp salute. "Welcome."

"Well met, Dame Gwendolyn." Valter returned the salute.

"Hello, hello~" Reivan made a peace sign and grinned widely.

Gwen nodded before turning to him. "Your Highness, I have things to discuss with you."

"I've been here for literally under a minute..." Reivan muttered, but could only chuckle in exasperation as he carefully lay Mira on the nearest sofa. "Is it urgent?"

"No. I merely stated that I had things to discuss. Not that they had to be done so right this moment."

"I see. That's fair."

"Yes."

The conversation halted there. And it would have sounded awkward to most, but it was par for the course when it came to them. There simply wasn't a need to waste energy talking when you had nothing of value to say. At least, that was the case for them. As such, pauses were somewhat common, and were usually filled with the scratching of documents being checked or signed.

Instead, Reivan turned to his guardian knight. “Sir Valter, seeing as we’re in a safe place, I think it’s fine for you to take a rest for now. Though you can’t really call what happened a battle, it’s better to rest when you can.”

“I am hardly tired, Your Highness,” he replied.

“It’s fine. You’ve been on duty every day for the past few months. Just relax for now. We have plenty of knights here anyway.”

“That’s true… Then I suppose I’ll take your offer, Your Highness.”

“Sure, sure. Have fun.” Reivan watched one of the people he trusted most slink into a portal and vanish.

‘Xanthus should be somewhere around here. And I believe his wife should be too. I’m sure he’d love some off-time.’

In the meantime, Reivan would be a good little boy and stay put.

"Anyway, it's good to see you again, Gwen." Reivan smiled, opening his arms wide. "Hug? Or how about a kiss on the cheek? To commemorate our reunion~!"

She shook her head. "I am also glad to see you again, but I would rather keep things professional."

"A hug is professional though. I'm a prince, and I said so."

Gwen frowned, just as he expected. Even if it didn't make sense, because he said it, it would be true.

Just as she was about to stiffly step forward to hug him, Reivan stopped her with a chuckle. "Okay, stop. Don't submit to workplace harassment, goddamnit. You should only hug people you want to hug."

"But you told me to."

"I was joking, Dame Gwendolyn."

"A joke... I see." she nodded with an impassive gaze. "By definition, it is something that causes amusement in those who hear it. How long does it take for the emotion to arrive? I fear it has been delayed."

Reivan cleared his throat to clear away his embarrassment. Sensing that it was time to change the subject, he procured a shiny purple orb. "Oh! What's this? I just remembered. I have a present for you."

"Accepting presents is unprofessional and can be considered participating in bribery."

"Lots of holes in that argument that I’m sure you’re aware of, but fine. Call this a souvenir, then. That's not against any protocol, right? I know the loopholes."

"...That is so."

"Okay, then!" Reivan tossed it at her and watched as she caught it without trouble.

Gwen received it and bowed in thanks before examining the object, recognizing it in an instant. "This is an orb. A Tower-made item made to catch spirit beasts."

"That's right. You've seen one before?"

"I was in charge of sending it to Aizen. As per Sir Valter's request."

“And the research on that…”

“Has yet to produce results,” Gwen finished for him.

Reivan hummed in thought. “Unfortunate but understandable. Anyway, look inside.”

Her gaze fell to the orb in her hands, narrowing. “There’s something inside.”

“Excellent observation. That’s the gift, by the way. Not the orb. It’s a spirit beast with the [Light] attribute. It’s physically weaker than you, but it’s relatively close to the human limit for Might and somewhat close to Ascendence. And I think you’d find a spirit beast useful in other ways.”

“A spirit beast certainly has more uses than just combat.”

“Right? So my gif—I mean, the souvenir I got you is pretty nice, huh? I only have, like, four of them to give out.”

“It is.” Gwen nodded, extending her hand and presenting the orb to him. “It is also too much. I can’t accept such a thing.”

Reivan smiled sheepishly, having expected this scenario. It was also why he wanted to give the souvenir personally. “Don’t say that, you’ll break my heart. Accept it as my thanks for all your hard work.”

“But—”

“And,” he cut her off. “If you’re going to be serving me more in the future, raising your survivability and power is to my advantage. It’s an investment, on my part. You get it, right?”

Gwen silently stared into the orb, seemingly grappling with something before she finally eased up, sighing.

“I will gratefully accept His Highness’ expectations.” She knelt on one knee, something knights only ever did in secure places and when they really meant it. “And I’ll work twice as hard to live up to them.”

“I’m gonna stop you right there and say that the current pace is more than fine, Dame Gwendolyn. But the intention is received. I’m looking forward to our future together. Oh, and I’ll help you bond with the beast later. When time allows both of us some freedom.”

“Understood.”

Gwen stood up and saluted the normal way, and Reivan nodded magnanimously before gesturing at the unconscious Mira on the sofa.

“She’s the spirit king seed,” he said. “Keep her safe.”

“As you wish. I’ll have her thrown in the dungeon immediately.”

“A dungeon…” Reivan echoed pensively, unconsciously licking his lips. “Get her a room instead, would you? No restraints.”

Gwen’s brows rose momentarily. “I see. I apologize for assuming she was an enemy. I made assumptions when I noticed her lack of consciousness.”

“You weren’t wrong. She is hostile at the moment.”

“...I see? So you failed in seducing her, but made enough progress to have a foot in the door.”

“Yes…”

“A shame. Truly.”

Reivan averted his gaze. He had to admit that he didn’t exactly exhaust his hat of tricks when it came to seducing Mira. Maybe it was his conscience, preventing him from doing unsavory things that weren’t absolutely necessary.

Gwen continued looking at him but the reproach and accusation he expected never came. She was simply waiting for him to continue the conversation so they could get on with business.

“I have reason to believe I can convince her. Eventually,” he said as he looked around. “On a side note, I feel as if this place has considerably fewer people than I remember. There’s not as many footsteps even though it’s morning.”

“The kingdom has switched to a war stance, Your Highness. As such, all the diplomats, except your little sister, have been secretly recalled. We’ve given the public reason that they’re all unavailable due to sickness.”

“What a flimsy reason. It seems we have completely abandoned all pretext,” Reivan said with mild amusement. “The republic must be quite panicked. We still have the girl they lost.”

“They’ve tried to hide it by not rushing us. But we’re more than aware of how important the girl is.”

“Where is she, by the way?”

“She’s been moved from Grimharbor to the capital.”

‘There’s no escape or stealing her back from there. Poor battlemages…’

Reivan then recalled something mentioned earlier when Valter and Mordred retrieved him. “Gwen, I believe the republic has something for me…”

Gwen wordlessly presented a ring to him, which he took with a word of thanks.

Peering inside with his senses revealed about a thousand vials of spirit dew. All of which were tagged as “low-quality”, however.

Reivan casually chugged one while motioning for Gwen to continue. As for the mysterious energy, he instantly purged it out of his body by having Zouros swallow it. The giant snake didn’t want or need the spirit dew, but Reivan didn’t want to test what happened when he drank another potion when he was already full of the mysterious energy.

Incredibly wasteful. And if a battlemage knew what he was doing, they’d scream in horror. But for Reivan, the potions were only useful for unlocking its unlimited creation. His own creation might be even better, honestly. No, it definitely would.

“As for the plan of attack, we’re still waiting for the empire to finish its preparations.” Gwen continued as Reivan took out another vial. “We do not maintain constant correspondence with Argonia, but as far as we know, they are still in negotiations with the church.”

Reivan wiped his lips, taking out yet another vial. “And our estimates on its success are…”

“Low. At best.”

“So we can expect only the War God, the Gladiator King, and the old man?”

“Affirmative.”

‘What a horrible piece of news.’

“You know…” Reivan downed his umpteenth vial of spirit dew, feeling thankful for its lack of flavor. “What if the empire betrays us?”

Gwen nodded. “The Sword Star has told us of such a possibility. He says not to worry too much about it.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like us mortals can really do anything even if we wanted to.”

Afterward, Gwen briefed him on everything else that happened and on what would happen before they eventually ran out of official matters to talk about. By then, Reivan had downed about three hundred potions and a few female knights came by to take Mira away.

Reivan cleared his throat as he crossed his legs. But just as he was about to say something, Gwen cut him off.

“I assume you’re curious about your fiancees,” she said, pulling out a few sheets of paper and running her gaze down lines of text.

“That… is completely correct. Thank you, Gwen. You always know what I want.”

“You are not a very complicated person to understand, Your Highness.”

Reivan wasn’t sure how to interpret that, but given who said it, he simply assumed that it wasn’t meant as an insult. “So? How are they?”

“Who would you like to know about first?”

“...Gwen, that’s a really dirty line of questioning,” he complained.

She tilted her head. “Is it?”

“Yes. Just inform me of them in the order you choose yourself.”

“Very well. Alphabetical order, then.” Gwen looked down at the document again as she spoke. “Lady Elsamina has been in constant travel between businesses all over Arkhan. Currently, however, she is in Lageton. The damages caused by a recent incident will require her attention for some time. I have preemptively hindered her efforts to make her there for longer. Lageton is the safest city in the republic, considering our plans for it.”

“Darn. So she’s not here.” Reiva heaved a sigh of utter disappointment.

“Unfortunately. In other news, she hasn’t been in contact with any other men in your absence, other than in a professional capacity. There is no need to doubt her fidelity.”

“I never did… But I appreciate this information nonetheless.”

“Additionally, she has been observed to mention you in her sleep. Especially after relieving herself or with her female servants.”

Reivan slammed his palm on the table, which surprisingly didn’t break despite his strength. “The person who reported this is a woman, right?”

“Of course. All knights guarding Lady Elsamina are women. Even the guards she hires herself are women.”

“Good.” Reivan cleared his throat. “Also, there is no need to document such private actions in the future.”

‘Even though it makes me happy to hear it, I feel weird to have it on paper!’

Privacy, it seemed, was truly a luxury.

‘So… Elsa’s relieving herself with other women, huh? That’s... That's kind of hot. I'm all for it, surprisingly.’

Reivan licked his lips, wishing he could watch. Maybe if he grew tired enough of life one day, he could invite both of his wives to do something similar with each other.

“As for Dame Helen,” Gwen only has one short glance at the paper before looking up. “She stayed here for the first month after you left, but returned to the capital afterward. She has been cooped up in the palace since. According to my contacts in the palace, she is spending a lot of time with the former queen, Lady Vianna. They appear to be undergoing training of some kind.”

‘That sounds horrifying.’

Reivan loved his mother to death and he’d charge into certain doom for her. But he absolutely didn’t want her poking around his wife’s head and implanting strange habits.

Gwen then offered him a report on his concubine candidates but he refused, as he honestly wasn’t interested and it would take too long given their sheer numbers. He held no emotional connection with them as of yet. Though, maybe something would form when they were already married. Who knew? At the very least, he was open to the idea.

“Now,” Reivan began, crossing his legs and downing another damned spirit dew potion. “What’s this about a treaty?”

“The Treaty of Alexander,” She explained. “Named because it was proposed in a secret meeting at Fort Alexander.”

“And it’s a written agreement to only use mortals when warring with fellow humans?”

“To be specific, it is an agreement between signatories that only mortals should participate in conflicts with other signatories. This participation encompasses just about everything. Planning, strategy, scouting, combat… everything.”

Reivan hummed, noticing the proverbial writing on the wall. “So we’re allowed to unleash whatever we please on non-signatories and monsters. Is that it?”

“Affirmative. We plan to have whatever remains of Arkhan sign it after the Sage King’s death and the Tower’s dissolution, however. Pentagoria too, will have to sign eventually if they wish to maintain sovereignty.”

“I see…”

“There is a clause where the restrictions don’t apply in one’s own capital regions, however. For Argonia, this corresponds to the Arcella Province. But to us, the agreed-upon area swallows the whole mainland Aizen. This stipulation will have to be modified for Pentagoria’s five principalities, however.”

Reivan raised a brow. “So… We can freely attack everything with mortal knights but we’re free to defend the motherland with all our might?”

“Correct.”

“The empire allowed that to pass through? Is the War God crazy?”

Aizen had the greatest mortal army in the continent. This was simply a fact. Their only weakness was their lack of numbers given the level of talent becoming a knight required.

But numbers weren’t really an issue if Aizen simply wanted to be a nuisance. A raiding party of ten thousand knights running around imperial territory without fear of Ascendant retaliation was a calamity the empire couldn’t recover from.

The Aizen Kingdom didn’t want more land and resources, after all. They just wanted to keep their neighbors in check while they waited for another Transcendent to sprout from their incredible pool of talents.

“His Majesty is also wondering the same thing, but this is an unconditional advantage for the kingdom.”

“Well, whatever.” Reivan shrugged, downing another potion. “And? How is this treaty going to be kept?”

“The empire has someone with a gift regarding agreements. His Majesty has implored Your Highness to be present during the signing so you can get a glimpse of whether this is true. And whether it is probable for the empire to break it while we remain bound.”

“Right… And when will this happen?”

“Presumably, some time before the assault on the Sage King.” Gwen banished all the paper she was holding before standing up to prepare tea for them. “Preferably, it would be sometime this month. In the meantime, we have been slowly trickling our forces into the republic in a wide net so we can exterminate the Ascendant battlemages more efficiently.”

“The war’s already begun, then,” Reivan muttered thoughtfully, his eyes suddenly widening for something other than what they were talking about. “Ah. I’ve memorized the spirit dew potion…”

Gwen nodded. “That’s wonderful news.”

“Yeah, it only took, like, eight hundred vials… and a bloated stomach.”

‘It’s a good thing I didn’t wait around in the Tower for more spirit dew. I could have toiled away for decades and still not have enough potions to memorize the effect!’

Reivan made an incision on his own palm with his fingernail, watching the blood seep out before condensing into a purple pill. He healed his palm and brought the product up to his face, observing it carefully.

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Spirit Dew Pill (Special)

A pill produced through mysterious means. Consumption will provide immense benefits to bonded spirit beasts, raising Might by an indeterminate amount depending on their current power after a brief digestive period of 10 hours. The stronger a spirit beast is, the less of an effect spirit dew potions will have on them.

This pill is only effective for spirit beasts in the Mortal Realm.

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Reivan couldn’t help but smile when he saw the effects. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a significant improvement over the original. And he could produce it infinitely as long as he had blood—which could then be replenished by medicine he could infinitely reproduce.

The digestive period couldn’t be removed completely, which was truly unfortunate. But he managed to lower it to 10 hours instead of a month. A significant imporvement by all acounts. Additionally, the medicine now affected all spirit beasts in the Mortal realm, not just ones who had 1000 Might or less.

‘Theoretically, I can prevent Dom from advancing to the Ascendant realm and keep feeding him pills to make him stronger.’

Of course, that was just a theory. It was possible, but since the medicine grew less effective the stronger the spirit beast was, he would have to spend a monumental amount of time to make Dom as strong as a normal Ascendant. It would have been great if he could remove that effect too, but unfortunately, it wasn’t optional.

For some reason, the substance’s method of consumption could be modified though. The original spirit dew potions had to be consumed through the anchor—in other words, the human—but these pills could be given to spirit beasts directly. An ultimately useless quality of life change. But it was something, at least.

Reivan told Gwen about the effects and had her show it to the spirit beast in the orb, immediately causing it to rampage inside.

Typical of her, she immediately thought of a way to use the new resource.

“Once the treaty has been signed and the Sage King is dead,” she said, setting down the pill right next to the orb as she looked up at him, teasing the beast inside. “We can offer these as compensation for the leftover mages, urging them to fight for us or converting them into informants. Is it not possible to make the medicine benefit Ascendants instead?”

“Unfortunately not. Mortals are the limit.” Reivan chuckled wearily. “That’s actually what I tried to do first, given how I wanted to boost his spirit beast’s power.”

“I see. Still, this is wonderful news.”

“Yes. We’ll have no trouble coaxing your spirit beast into forming a permanent contract with this.”

She nodded, picking up the orb and impassively observing the agitated swan inside. “It’s pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you—” Reivan instinctively said, only to clear his throat awkwardly. “Sorry about that. It’s a recent habit I formed. I’ll work on fixing it in the coming months.”

Gwen, however, seemed amused. Which was rare. “I don’t mind. Again, thank you for this… souvenir, Your Highness.”

“No, thank you. For everything. You’re the unsung hero of my life.”

With that, their business was done, so Reivan stood up with the intention of taking a nice long soak in a giant pool of boiling hot water. Village life had been refreshing, in a way, and so was living in the Tower. But he was a prince and he’d been living like one for eighteen years now.

He missed all the luxuries he was owed.

“We’ll crack the orb after I’m back, Gwen. I just really need a bath right now—”

Reivan stopped talking when a very familiar scent wafted into his nose. She’d tried to conceal it, but it was hard not to notice when they were this close and with a single door as a barrier.

“Jiji,” he called out. “Stop trying to eavesdrop. Come and welcome your brother.”

The door opened a moment later to reveal an obviously annoyed young lady, whose snow-white hair trailed behind her in an elaborate braid. Jiji wore an elegant white dress that accentuated her youthful curves and resonated with her already angelic appearance.

Reivan knew that she was anything but, however. “There you are.”

“Yani.” Jiji smiled as she looked about ready to run into his arms only to freeze with a grimace on her face. “You reek!”

“Eh…” He raised his arm and sniffed his armpits. “It’s not that bad. I’ve smelled worse after a training session.”

“I’m not talking about the smell of sweat or milk on you. I’m talking about the smell of women. It’s a different one too. I don’t recognize this one!”

“Ah… Well…”

Gwen, thankfully, explained in his stead. “His Highness has secured an important piece in our eventual clash with the Tower. This piece just so happens to be a woman, Princess.”

Jiji clicked her tongue, her tail was hidden in her dress so he couldn’t see it, but he could imagine it shooting straight up. “Typical. You’re gone a few months and you come back with another one. At this rate, you’ll have more women than maids.”

Reivan’s cheeks burned at that remark. “Hey, that's going too far. I was doing it for us! For the kingdom!”

The catty princess rolled her eyes. “Just get in the bath already. You irritate me with your mere presence.”

“You little…”

Before she could react, Reivan dashed forward and embraced her. He wrapped her in mana so she couldn’t just turn into mist and get away.

“Ah! Unhand me~!” Jiji squirmed in his embrace, though she wasn’t trying very hard. “Knave! Get away! You stink!”

“There, there. I love you too.” Reivan hugged her tightly, even playfully blowing into the two alert cat ears atop her head, making her squeal. “Stay still, I’m recharging my energy.”

“What kind of nonsense are you talking about this time…”

“Well, it just means that I missed you.”

Jiji growled but eventually stilled. Then her arms wrapped around him in an embrace as she squeezed. “Me too. Even though you’re an insufferable womanizer and the enemy of anything with female.”

“Again, that’s a bit too much, no? You’d think otherwise if you knew about this guy I met in the Tower…”

They let go and she walked with him to the baths, with Gwen sending them off saying she had to send the palace an update. He could have reached his destination on his own and much faster by running, but he didn’t rush. In a different way than earlier, Reivan caught up with his sister, not really talking about national interests and the fate of the continent. Just a simple conversation assuring each other that all was well.

‘I was only gone a few months but… she’s grown.’

Jiji was a year younger than him, meaning she was seventeen years old. A few months shy of eighteen, given how Reivan was almost nineteen. Though she acted silly when they were together, appearance-wise, she had lost all the things that made her look childish.

The bit of baby fat on her cheeks. Girlish accessories she used to prefer because they made her look cute. Even the demeanor of a teenager was shaved away at some point, replaced by the temperament of someone who looked down from the top—someone who moved people around like pieces on a board.

“By the way.” Jiji stayed in step with him with a smile. “Where’s my souvenir? Hm?”

Reivan licked his lips in thought. Honestly, he hadn’t caught one for her. He had one for Elsa, Helen, Hector, and Gwen, but not her. He didn’t get to meet one that was a good match for her after all.

Still, she didn’t need to know that. “It’s a surprise for now. Just wait. I’ll make it good.”

“Oh? Interesting.” Jiji hummed as she turned to him with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll look forward to it. Don’t make me wait too long though. Otherwise, I might think you didn’t get me a souvenir at all.”

‘She knows. Fuck, I'm screwed.’

Her mounting irritation likely awakened the part of his brain he didn’t use too much because he remembered something. “You like dogs, right?”

“Dogs?” Jiji raised a brow before her smile turned impish. “Well, I’ve grown to like one naughty dog in particular. But I don’t have a general liking for dogs in general… Rather, I don’t like them much.”

“...Are you talking about me?”

“Yes, I was talking about you.”

“Don’t call me a dog, you…” Reivan caught her under his arm and roughly rubbed her head, messing up her hair.

“Ah! Stop!” She turned into mist to get away from him, rematerializing a few paces in front of him. “Why do you always mess up my hair… Don't you know how annoying it is to fix everytime?”

“I do it because it annoys you.”

Jiji shot him with a jagged piece of ice that bounced off his forehead like it was made of rubber. He was incredibly resistant to ice-attributed attacks, after all, so that was about as much as they could do to him. “Anyway, why are you asking that? Are you going to give yourself to me?”

“I’m going to have to say no. We don’t support slavery, after all.”

“Don’t give up so easily. I’m sure we can work something out if we try hard enough.”

“This is the wrong reason to work hard.”

Jiji snorted. “Then what is it…? I’m saying it now, but I’m not interested in other dogs. Or wolves. Or anything else that’s just under a different name but is really a canine of some kind.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know…” she squinted in thought, trying to dredge up an answer. “I just don’t like them. There’s no logical reason for it. It’s like how I like eating fish and meat but hate carrots. Personal preference.”

“So no dogs?”

“No dogs, please. I don’t mean to be an ingrate, but no thank you. Maybe give it to someone else if you can’t return it to where you got it. Now, if you really want to make me happy, why don’t we—”

Reivan tuned her out for a moment, ruminating on his own thoughts.

‘Guess it’s a no-go for one of Dom’s pups.’

Initially, he had planned to have Dom summon his kin to the material world and anchor them here by making them form contracts with knights. Jiji was a candidate given how she also had the [Ice] attribute. But he also wanted to respect the people forming the contracts and the spirit beasts being contracted.

He really wanted her to take one of Dom’s kin though, because there were some really strong ones and he wanted to grant his sister extra protection.

‘Eh, in hindsight, she’s a non-combatant…’

After a bit of contemplation, he took out an already cracked orb with a tiny white panther inside. He called out Sen and it responded, having already known about his real form a long time ago.

“Oh!” Jiji’s eyes immediately brightened, swooping down to scoop the white panther into her arms. “Who’s this little guy? Or a girl? Oh, she’s a girl, I can tell! She’s so precious! I love her. She’s the souvenir, right? She gets to stay with me now, right? She will. I won’t let you take her. Try me, mother gave me some stuff to protect myself from bullying…”

“Okay, slow down a little.” Reivan chuckled as he came over to stroke Sen, who seemed to be taking very well to her new home in his sister’s embrace. Jiji drew away from him like he’d try to steal Sen, which was annoying but he continued anyway.

“Uh, so since our contract’s not permanent yet,” he said to Sen. “You can form one with anybody, in theory. Or you can be released if you want. And don’t worry, I’ll give you lots of that yummy stuff no matter which of us you choose. You can also take a few more months to think about it.”

Sen looked at him, then to Jiji. In particular, her curious gaze lingered on the animal ears atop a crown of beautiful white hair. There was no hesitation, the spirit beast buried herself deeper in Jiji’s embrace with an affectionate purr that Reivan had never heard before.

“Oh my!” Jiji exclaimed, staring pensively into the air. “So this is what it’s like to form a bond? I didn’t think it’d be this... easy. There we go! She’ll stay with me from now on!”

Reivan looked down at the cracked orb in his hand and watched it shatter into a pile of purple dust. He felt a bit annoyed by how fast Sen quite literally abandoned him despite how nicely he’d treated her these past few months. Where was the loyalty? Some hesitation would have been appreciated.

But then again, his sister benefited so he considered it a win. He felt betrayed, but it was a win overall.

‘It’s a win, Reivan. Don’t be sad.’

“Oh, I love her…” Jiji hugged Sen tightly, giving the tiny kitten a peck on the head before running up to Reivan and kissing him on the cheek too. “Thanks, Yani. She’s the best souvenir ever. I don’t think you’ll top this. Ever.”

Reivan grinned as he touched the part her lips touched. “Don’t count me out of the fight just yet. There’s no telling what the future holds! Oh, and this counts as my gift for the next twenty birthdays, okay?”

“Do you want to die?”

“No, but I literally had to infiltrate an enemy nation’s stronghold and pretend to be someone else for this, you know?”

Jiji bit her lip. “Five birthday presents. Final offer.”

Reivan gasped. “Sen is only worth five birthday presents? Oh, goodness. It seems her new partner doesn't value her very much!”

“Hey! That is not it. Stop putting words in my mouth, please. She’s worth presents for all my birthdays—Ah! You bastard!”

Reivan ran away with a chuckle. “Too easy~!”

“Come back here! Seven birthdays! We’ll do seven!”

They chased each other around until they eventually reached the entrance to the bathing area. It actually split off toward the men’s and the women’s areas.

“Well, here we are.” Reivan shooed her away. “Go away. I’ll find you after.”

Jiji smirked as she put Sen down, letting the kitten explore on her own. “Hey, Yani. How about we bathe together for old time’s sake?”

“Scram!”

He picked her up by the scruff and threw her away.

Arc#4 Chapter 69: Whisked Away

Reivan mused on the things Mordred told him about as he descended the stairs to the first floor.

With how suspicious it would have been for Reivan to just stand in his room like a fool for too long, Mordred didn’t get to talk to him too much after suggesting a plan that he’d already considered. For one thing, the Treaty of Alexander was mentioned and its nature conveyed to him, but she hadn’t mentioned the specifics or what Aizen planned to do once Ascendants were restricted to their own nation’s capital regions—which for Aizen, meant the entire kingdom itself given how small it was.

There were a few smatterings of information and the loli knight had to talk very fast for it, which was both hilarious and enough for him to decide on his next course of action.

“You sure took your time,” Mira remarked with a hint of irritation, though her enthusiasm was apparent by how she stood by the door.

“Sorry about that.” Reivan laughed, finding it a lot easier to smile today than ever before. Like a heavy burden had finally left his shoulders. He reached her side and took her hand in his. “Let’s go?”

“Yes… Wait a minute, why are you suddenly holding my hand like we’re about to walk out of here like this?”

“Because we are.”

“No, no, no. We can't!”

Reivan chuckled, his grip slightly tightening to prevent her from getting away. “C’mon. Humor me. Just for today.”

Mira groaned, her lower lip jutting out in a cute pout. “You’re being really pushy.”

“This’ll be the last time.”

“What is that supposed to mean…?” she muttered. Yet she offered no resistance. “Fine. Do whatever you want.”

“That’s a very dangerous thing to say to a man who’s attracted to you.”

“Scoundrel. That's obviously not what I meant.”

Together, they stepped out of the lodging provided to their squad, basking in the early morning sunlight. The breeze felt cool against his face, filling him with renewed vigor. Birds chirped all around them and if he tried hard enough, he could even hear bees.

He’d initially expected the village to smell of manure and its paths caked in mud but that illusion had faded in the two weeks he’d spent here. This was a place where people lived. And people didn’t want to live uncomfortably like pigs. So it went without saying that the village folk strived to better their lives within the confines of this corner of the world.

It was beautiful. In its own way.

“Hey, people are staring…” Mira whispered as he pulled her along. “I think you should let go for now.”

Reivan followed her gaze and found a few scattered housewife congregations whispering about them with smiles on their faces.

It was early in the morning but the village was wide awake and in fact, they had begun working hours ago. Housewives took care of children, ranchers tended to the animals, beekeepers to the bees, farmers to the fields, milkmaids squeezed cow udders to fill buckets, and dairymaids were off somewhere making butter or cheese. Everybody was doing something to contribute to this community.

But even then, one couldn’t avoid being seen by somebody when walking through the literal village. Even if this was the better part of the settlement, where comparatively few people lived.

Reivan gave them a smile and a wave. Because why the hell not? “Does it matter if they see us? We’re not doing anything bad.”

“That wasn’t the issue.” Mira frowned again, the tips of her ears growing slightly red. “What in the world is wrong with you today though? You’re being weird…”

“Maybe there was something wrong with me from the very start. Today is just the day I reveal it.”

“Oh, dear. Is this where you confess that you’re a raving lunatic who seduces girls so he can murder them in cold blood?”

“Pff.” Reivan held in a chuckle. “If I was, would you let me kill you?”

“Of course, not. What the hell? Are you crazy?”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not out to murder you, then.”

She rolled her eyes. “Lucky me. I feel thankful for your amazing moral conduct.”

“You’re very welcome.” Reivan grinned before pointing at a dirt path just visible through a few buildings. “See that? That's a shortcut to the spot, apparently. Had to beat a villager at dice for the information. He had nothing but his pants on by the end of the night, you see, so information was the only thing he could give.”

“Gambling.” Mira tightened her grip on his hand so he couldn’t escape the pinch that followed. “On the job, no less. You oughta be ashamed of yourself.”

He winced at the sharp pain but found himself smirking. “I’ll be sure to change my ways after this terrible scolding you’ve put me through. The world will know that Mira Serandina is not a woman to be trifled with. An advocate of professionalism. A paragon of beauty and an exemplar of good conduct.”

“It's good that you understand this. Spread the word. Tell all your friends... Ah, but you don't have many, huh?”

Chatting and fooling around, they walked down the path and eventually reached a very small clearing with an abandoned shack in the middle that was probably the subject of local horror stories. Needless to say, this wasn’t the romantic spot they were seeking out, but circling around the shack revealed a hidden animal trail.

They followed it for about a dozen minutes and were left breathless.

The two of them were in a cave—wet, dreary, and normally starved of light. But spread out all around them was some kind of glowing moss that cast a brilliant reflection on the surface of a sprawling lake. Blue light filled the cave, casting dark shadows that should have menaced beholders with the unknown but enchanted them instead.

Reivan could have had something exactly like this arranged for back in Aizen but seeing one that was naturally birthed by time and nature, even he couldn’t help being moved just a bit.

“Oh.” Mira’s gaze wandered, a smile on her lips. ”We had a place just like this back home.”

“Huh? Really?"

She nodded, letting go of his hand and finding a nice flat rock to sit on. “It didn’t have a lake though. But this really brings me back. Thanks for bringing me here.”

Reivan sat down on the ground by her feet, leaning against her rock. There wasn’t enough room on the rock for both of them, after all. “Are you thankful enough to make out with me? This is a makeout spot, you know? Some even go for a swim to clean off after… you know.”

“Screw off.”

“Ah. Well, I had to give it a try.”

With a shrug, he crossed his legs and appreciated the timelessly beautiful scenery in front of him. Melancholy sprouted within him as the thought of what was about to transpire here today.

'It seems my identity as Clover Salwyn has outlived its usefulness.'

That had been his conclusion after Mordred gave him her report and suggested a plan.

If he was being honest, he was relieved that he could finally return to his real life. The initial estimate for how long he'd spend as a spy was a year. Maybe even two, depending on how guarded the Tower was with its secrets. But the Tower was secretive. Even now, Reivan would have to give up on the accumulated knowledge of sorcery hidden in there.

Spirit dew would not be a problem anymore, according to Dame Mordred's hastily delivered report. Because in exchange for the release of the runaway spirit king that Sir Lancelot captured, the royal embassy here in Arkhan managed to extort the republic for a few crates of the stuff and its production method—which, sadly, used ingredients the kingdom had never heard of, making it was temporarily worthless.

Naturally, there was no actual intention of returning the runaway girl or letting the Tower eat her spirit king. Aizen would delay the process while making it look like they just wanted to squeeze as many benefits from the other side. All the while, the Tower would be happy to give those concessions because the value of the runaway was simply that high.

Anyway, Reivan hoped the potions they obtained would be enough for his special ability to memorize the effects. It would be very troubling in all sorts of ways if it wasn't, because its source was about to be destroyed.

As for spying on the battlemages of Arkhan, that was about to become irrelevant because their nation would soon become irrelevant too. A sovereign nation without a Transcendent. In a way, it was like a country on Modern Earth that didn't have nuclear weapons or defenses against it—they weren't even a threat anymore because they could be deleted off the face of the world anytime.

'Well, provided the assault on the Sage King succeeds, that is...'

It probably would. Even if the Sage King was the literal son of god, four Transcendents against one would result in an absolute loss to any Transcendent. Though with the unlikelihood of the Pontifex participating, perhaps the number of participants had to be cut to three.

Three was still a lot when it pertained to god-like beings though.

Even the Sword Star himself didn't think he could take three at once. Maybe two, but it would have to be against relatively unskilled opponents. If the Sword Star could take on that many without issues, Aizen wouldn't have waited so long to conquer Sentorale. He would have just killed the War God and Antonnel, ending all international conflicts in the continent and allowing Aizen to rule it all.

But he couldn't. The Sword Star, for all his strength, could not fight every Transcendent at once while also guarding the portal. That was why the kingdom had to resort to such roundabout methods, all while gambling on the possibility of another Transcendent sprouting up from one of its knights.

In any case, today was the day Clover Salwyn would die.

The fake one, of course. Reivan didn't know what the real one was doing, but if all were going well, the Salwyns should have a nice two-story house and a liveable monthly stipend. Their movements around the kingdom were restricted though, but that restriction would be removed soon.

“Hey,” Mira said, nudging him with her knee. “Say something. You’re the one who invited me here.”

“Sorry about that.” Reivan gestured at their surroundings. “I was just taking in the beauty, you know?”

The answer seemed to satisfy her since she nodded with a smile, looking upward and pointing at the moss. “See, I heard there were other glowing mosses in other places, but I really like this one.”

“Because your hometown had it?”

“I mean… yes. But it’s also because it looks prettier than the other glowing plant stuff!”

“That so? I wouldn’t know. Not exactly an expert on luminous fauna.” Reivan poked a patch of moss, his brows twitching when its light flickered off when he made contact. “Anyway, I wanted to ask you something.”

“I’m not making out with you,” she said preemptively, with a hint of exasperation.

“That wasn’t what I was about to ask. But it hurts that you’re so decisive about it.”

“Then what?”

Reivan took a jagged piece of rock and tried to draw a wolf on the ground, but failed to produce anything good because the ground was a bit too hard. “You’re really interested in Aizen, right? The kingdom.”

“Yes…” Mira regarded him with skepticism but nodded.

“Why though? What’s so great about it?”

“What’s so great about it…?” she echoed, looking as if the question itself was foolish. “What’s not? It’s a nation that has persisted for multiple millennia, Clover. The records are a bit fuzzy, but back in the era before the nations of Sentorale existed, no nation ever lasted for more than two hundred years.

‘Believable. That’s roughly how it went back in my old world too.’

Mira continued, her hand tapping on her knees as she went on her tirade. “Nations always got destroyed in war or by a dumb leader. Empires fractured in succession disputes when their leader perished. A hundred years or two was the best they could do until a different banner flew above their castles. But here stands Aizen, surviving for dozens of times that. They’re obviously doing something right.”

“The empire and the republic are both pretty long-lived too, no?”

“Yes, but the structure of a republic means it can just keep on going. It’s made to last and it’s made so a leader can be selected from literally every citizen. And as for the empire… Well, I haven’t heard good things about it. Even if they’ve lasted just about as long, they’re not really a good example to replicate, no?”

Reivan chuckled. “Fair enough. But why would you even want to know about those kinds of things? Are you planning to be a politician at some point?”

“No way,” she said, giggling as she lightly slapped his shoulder. “That sounds like the most troublesome thing ever. I grew up with Inaria, you know? Politics is a mire I don’t want to get involved in.”

“Then why?”

Mira hummed to herself. “Let me ask you a question instead: why not…?”

Reivan frowned. “Why not...?”

“Uh-huh. Do I need some grand reason? I’m just curious why and so I want to know. I was curious about magic so I studied it and here I am, a battlemage. Oh, and I was also curious about spirit beasts like Boop, so I entered the Tower wanting to know more about them too.”

As if to punctuate her words, she summoned the white furry blob named Boop, who looked a lot like one of his spirit beasts—just bleached white and with a pair of tiny, but ultimately useless, wings. She squeezed the spirit beast, causing it to flap its wings excitedly as its beady red eyes squinted in what could only be perceived as bliss. With no mouth, however, it didn't make a sound.

Reivan watched her for a few moments before asking. “Then what about your fixation on that prince?”

“Oh, that?” Mira raised a brow, her lips slowly teasing upward. “What. Are you jealous?”

He shook his head and answered immediately. “Not at all.”

She frowned. “Well, that’s a terribly un-cute answer, Clover. This is where you blush and look to the side while pretending to deny it.”

“Are you actually serious about aiming for him?” he asked, ignoring her nonsense.

“Well…” Mira trailed off, giving it some thought before shrugging. “I mean, I was half-kidding. I’m not delusional. There’s no way I’ll be lucky enough to meet the prince. Plus, maybe I’m a little pretty, but that guy probably sleeps with gorgeous women every day. Maybe he lines them up and chooses them based on the weather. Probably does it with his maids too.”

Reivan tried very hard not to frown. He had a very professional relationship with all the palace maids and he did not, in fact, fornicate with them. It was quite hard to do that with people who literally watched him grow up. Hell, they had all helped him bathe when he was young. While they all had charming appearances, they were also much older than him.

There was the case with Elsa, who was more than a decade older than him, but she wasn’t among the people who changed his diapers, bathed him, dressed him, or doted on him as a child. They had met when he was physically mature enough to confuse people about his actual age.

‘Why the hell does she think that about me though? Is it just stereotyping princes or do I give off that kind of impression?’

One of the things he’d do when he got back was ask a bunch of people about this. He did not want to have such a bad aura around him. What would happen if his kids thought he was a sleazebag? That was a nightmare. Doubly so if he fathered any girls—which had a high chance of happening because the odds were literally fifty-fifty per pregnancy.

Breaking him out of his thoughts, Mira nudged him with her knee again, her tone hesitant. “You don’t have to worry about him… I, uh… I kinda like you more, you know? So keep at it and stuff… Agh! This is embarrassing! Why are you making me say this!?”

“You’re saying it by yourself though.” Reivan couldn’t help but laugh, slapping his knee. This earned him a light hit to the back of the head, but he bounced back immediately, smirking at her. “So. You like me?”

Mira groaned. “Comparatively speaking.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“I mean that, if all the men in the world were on a list and arranged by how much I liked them, Dad would be at the top.”

“And I’d be just below him?”

Mira shook her head. “No, I have a few nice uncles just below that. You'd still be in the top twenty though. Rejoice, puny mortal.”

Reivan clicked his tongue, earning an amused giggle from her that echoed pleasantly throughout the cave. “What if we removed relatives from the list? Am I at the top?”

“Hmm~? Who knows?”

“Alright, that’s it.” Reivan caught her leg and braced it under the crook of his arm, hastily taking off her boots.

“Hey! What’re you doing!?” she exclaimed.

Remaining silent, he pried off her boot and revealed a beautiful foot that would have likely been drooled over by certain perverted enthusiasts in his old world.

Sensing his intentions, Mira’s voice was tinged with nervousness. “O-Okay, Clover, let’s be civil here…”

“No.”

He mercilessly began to tickle her. Each second that his fingers wriggled on the flat of her foot, the lady with the voice of a siren produced unintelligible noises that bounced off the cave walls, creating a fiesta of unladylike sounds.

Oh, she struggled to break free. And maybe she could have, if hurting him was on the table—after all, his head was exposed to her fists, and fueled by her higher Might, would knock him out and probably cause a concussion.

But all she could do was beg and plead in between gasps and uncontrollable laughter.

Finally, her struggles brought her over the edge. Of the rock, that is. She fell off and landed on the ground, forcing Reivan to adjust so she didn’t break her leg or something. Unfortunately, both of them being on the ground gave her a lot more room to break free. After some rolling around, she somehow managed to find an unexpected weak spot—his thigh—making him surrender.

Curse Clover Salwyn’s body. Reivan didn’t know it was oddly vulnerable to tickling. The bastard’s thighs were ridiculously sensitive for some reason.

“You… bastard…” Mira panted, out of breath and covered in beads of sweat. Her clothes were also in slight disarray, though this was caused by her own attempts to get away rather than something he did himself. “I’ll… remember this…”

Reivan looked at her and found that she was poison to the eyes in this condition. So he took his coat off and threw it at her. “You’re unsightly.”

She seemed to understand just from that, sitting up and covering herself with it. “Scoundrel.”

He stood up and picked up the boot he’d thrown away earlier, finding it just on the lake’s edge. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What?”

“The list.”

“Oh…”

“This…” Reivan walked over and knelt in front of her, helping her put on the boot he’d removed. “Well, this is the last time I’ll ask.”

Mira pursed her lips, staring up at him as he carefully tied the laces. And only when he was done did she answer. “Top…”

“Come again?” he asked, even though they were close enough for him to hear.

She glared at him in irritation but answered anyway, the dim light failing to hide the coloration on her ears. “You’re… at the top.”

“If relatives are removed.”

“Yes…”

“So I’m basically the closest romantic partner, hm?”

“You’re being really annoying.” Mira scowled at him before looking away. “You’re the only one… I haven’t entertained anyone else…”

“I see.” Reivan smiled. “But that’s not quite enough for me. I want the top spot among all the men you love, both familial and romantic.”

“Y-You can’t… That’s Dad’s permanent spot.”

Her insistence on it made him smile. Hopefully, any future daughters he fathered would have the same sentiments about him. “Fine. I suppose I’ll have to make do with second place."

“Third. Grandpa’s second. He’s dead though…”

“Fine. Third.” Reivan cleared his throat and relented, not really willing to compete with a dead person. His sister in a past life had a special place in his heart that no one could ever replace so he understood her, in a way.

“It’s good that you understand,” she said.

“By the way.” He smirked as he brought his face closer. “How high do I have to get up the list to get a kiss?”

Mira grimaced, pushing his face away. “Why are you so insistent on that…? Are you sick in the head? And the only cure is a kiss?”

“No, I just really like the way you react to it. You’re such a prude.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Domestic violence already, I see.” Reivan placed the back of his hand against his forehead, feigning distraught. “At least buy me a ring first. You fiend.”

Mira’s lips curled in disdain. “I have to buy the ring? Isn’t that supposed to be your job?”

“I am an advocate of equal opportunity for all genders. Women should be allowed to buy the rings instead of men.”

Reivan laughed, knowing she probably wouldn’t get it. With a wistful look at the lake, he let his instincts take him as he walked toward it and started taking his clothes off.

“Why are you stripping!?” she exclaimed in shock. And when he looked over, her hands were covering her face, but there was a very obvious gap where she could peek through. Also, since both her hands were on her face, she’d dropped his coat on the ground. Which still irked him despite knowing he’d probably never use it again. “You went from kissing to that…!?”

He didn’t even bother to correct her as he took off everything but his pants, even setting his glasses aside. Breaking into a run toward the lake, he jumped at the very last second and performed a self-proclaimed picture-perfect dive. The lake was thankfully deep enough for such antics. And clean too, for some reason.

When he rose up to the surface, he shook his head like a dog and looked around, taking in a cold gulp of air. “The water feels great! Hey, hop in.”

“I’m not really dressed for that.”

“Just jump in as is. We can dry our clothes instantly anyway. You know the spell.”

“But my shirt...”

“I’m not hearing any downsides here.”

“I know an electrocution spell that seems very dangerous to you right now.”

Reivan raised both arms in surrender. “Okay. Fine. Don’t hop in.”

Mira groaned, but she eventually walked up to the water. “I’ll do it if you promise not to look.”

“I’ll try not to do it too much. I mean, realistically, I can’t not look, you know? It’s just that kind of thing.”

“Men are horrible… My dad was right.”

Reivan could only laugh at that because that was quite similar to what he always told Kyouka back then. And he’d probably warn any daughters he fathered about men too.

Mira hesitantly lowered her skirt and Reivan was slightly disappointed to discover that she was wearing something that resembled shorts. It reached just above her knees and didn’t look very stimulating when compared to the panties of his past life.

But it would have to do. For swimming, that is.

She understandably didn’t take her shirt off, but the coat she had was folded neatly and set aside nearby. Then she walked up to the water and dipped a toe in it. “So cold! I don’t wanna go in there!”

“It’s fine after the first plunge. C’mon.”

“We’ll get sick.”

“We’ll get sick together,” Reivan said, but then thought of an even better reason. “And then we’ll get to slack off even more.”

“That’s…” Mira’s eyes brightened. “You’re a genius. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you slack off regardless of whether you have a proper reason or not. That’s why you never tried to think of a good reason.”

“Hey. Can’t you be nice?”

In any case, it seemed he managed to talk down her hesitation because she sat at the lake’s edge and slowly lowered herself into the water, shivering as she did. Her teeth clattered from the cold but she still smiled. “Th-th-th-this is k-k-k-kind of n-n-n-n-nice.”

Reivan held in his laughter as he summoned his Wizard Claw, watching it be set aglow. This would likely be the last spell he cast as Clover Salwyn. With a snap of his fingers, orange balls of warmth appeared in the dozens, floating above the water. They melded beautifully with the blue light from the scattered patches of moss, shedding a warm light on this momentous occasion.

“That’s a bit better.” Mira swam unskillfully toward him, revealing that she wasn’t a very good swimmer. Her strokes didn’t have a rhythm and the movement of her arms wasn’t in sync with her feet. She barely even moved.

“You’re horrible at this,” he said with blunt mercilessness.

“I’m from a land-locked town that doesn’t have any bodies of water nearby, okay? Give me some credit.”

Reivan swam toward her, took both her hands, and brought her deeper into the lake.

She was more focused on the act of swimming, it seemed, but eventually, she realized something. “Wait a minute, it’s getting deeper! HEY! It’s too deep!”

“Just calm down. You won’t sink.”

“That’s what people who sink think before they sink!”

Reivan blatantly laughed at her but was surprised when she suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself to him. She was trembling. And it made him realize that maybe he went a bit too far.

“Okay, sorry. Let’s backtrack. We’re fine, don’t worry.”

She nodded but didn’t seem up for a conversation until the risk of drowning lowered a little.

They went back to the shallower parts, which was hard to do when she was deadweight. But it was his fault to begin with, so he didn’t complain. She still wasn’t letting go despite that, so he decided to just take her to the lake’s edge again.

He sat her on solid ground, taking the spot right beside her and patting her back. With a wave of his hand, some of the balls of warmth floating over the water flew toward them and started to revolve around their position. The gentle heat radiating from them dried their clothes slowly.

Mira’s clothes, he noticed, had grown quite transparent.

Poison to the eyes. Reivan tried not to look. “Sorry about that. Didn’t think you’d be so scared. I thought it’d be fun.”

She seemed unwilling to speak until she shook her head. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t know either.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“I don’t think I like swimming very much,” she confessed, ignoring his apology. “See, we’re land creatures at our core. That’s what our feet are for. We weren’t meant to be in the water.”

Reivan snorted with a grin. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course. I’m subjectively correct all the time.”

“You make it sound impressive, but it’s not actually.”

They shared a laugh, but when the silence eventually followed, they found worth in filling it with something else. Like physical contact, though not as sweetly as it seemed. She idly bumped him with her shoulders, her weight against his. Then she kept doing it again and again, being an utter annoyance.

Obviously, he had to return the favor. But perhaps he’d been too enthusiastic or she simply hadn’t been ready for it, because he ended up pinning her to the ground.

“Uh, I didn’t mean to do that,” he said defensively.

Mira averted her gaze. “I know… Get off me.”

“Right. Of course. I'm on it.”

Reivan was just about to, but he couldn’t help but notice how alluring she looked in that moment. Damp strands of brown locks clinging to her soft white features. Her blue eyes were slightly shaky from apprehension, yet her gaze flitted to his body on occasion, lingering on his stomach or his chest.

There was a reluctant invitation in her gaze. Hesitant and tinged with guilt. But welcoming nonetheless.

He’d seen it quite a few times, the most intense ones obviously possessed by his fiancees. That was why he instinctively took it. Maybe the warrior in him was responsible for his inability to let an opening go unpunished. This wasn’t a fight, but the moment he sensed the weakness, his body moved before his mind could process it.

While one hand remained pressed to the ground to support him, the other reached for her chin, hooking her face to force their gazes to meet. Her lips parted to let a gasp escape, and like a frightened animal, she seemed about ready to run off or take flight. But she didn’t. And there lay the proof that this was prey serving itself on a platter.

Reivan brought his face closer, slow but seemingly unstoppable. On his chest, her arms pressed with practically no resistance. And when he drew near enough for their breaths to clash, she closed her eyes and waited.

“Pff.”

“...Huh?”

Reivan pushed away and laughed uncontrollably, slapping his stomach. “Oh, man. You should’ve seen your face. Priceless."

Mira remained on the ground, staring up at the ceiling for a good ten seconds before she bolted up in anger. “YOU! You tricked me...!”

“Ahahaha~! It’s like you wanted me to kiss you. You were puckering your lips and everything!”

“I’m…” she muttered, her hands trembling as her wand appeared in her grasp. “I’m going to kill you… I'm going to kill you and then kill myself!”

Despite that surprisingly sincere-sounding threat, Reivan’s laughter did not abate. And Mira just sat there, looking like she was about to cry from embarrassment.

Reivan gasped for air, his palm to his chest. “I’m dying… I’m dying of laughter.”

Finally unable to take it anymore, Mira reached forward and strangled him. “Stop it! Stop laughing!”

He did not, in fact, stop. Reivan even threw fuel to the fire by puckering up in an imitation of what she looked like. This did not go over well, naturally. But he continued up until her grip tightened so much he couldn’t anymore. It seemed she wasn’t truly out to kill him, however, since she let go when his eyes were about to pop out.

“I can’t believe you!” She punched him on the arm, a little harder than she usually did. It would likely bruise if left as is.

“Agh!” Reivan winced, raising both arms to block any more incoming jabs. “Why are you so mad? You’re the one who told me kissing’s not allowed until I meet your parents. Or get married.”

“That’s…”

“I’m right, aren’t I? Shouldn’t you be thanking me for keeping my cool? You were practically begging me to do it! And it would have happened because you didn’t resist!”

Mira groaned, her shoulders slumping. “You know, I’ve been doing some thinking of my own…”

“Oh yeah?”

She nodded. “I’ve been thinking that maybe I’ve been too unfair to you.”

Reivan grunted, confused. “About what?”

“You know what I mean…”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

Mira bit her lip, grabbing a portion of her hair and squeezing the water out of it. “About… skinship and that kind of thing. Like kissing.”

“Huh. You do understand that I was just joking around when I mentioned wanting to do the kissing stuff, right…?”

“I do.”

“Okay, great. It’s good that at least that part is clear,” he said, flicking his wrist dismissively. “You don’t have to feel pressured about that kind of thing, you know? Just go at your own pace. Do stuff when you want to. Screw what other people think or say.”

As long as it's not NTR or Loli stuff, that is.

She bit her lip and looked at him. “It’s because you’re like this that I feel confused.”

“Hah?”

“Nothing.” Mira palmed his face and shoved it away gently, with affection. “I’m saying that… Maybe kisses aren’t something I should hold out until marriage… That kind of thing.”

He paused, not really expecting her to say something like that. “Seriously…?”

“But!” She turned to him, a serious look on her face. “But you have to promise you’ll come meet my parents. A-And you’ll try to get their approval and stuff…”

“Wait a minute, aren’t you moving a bit too fast…? This is just because you’re horny…”

“I’m not horny! What the hell!”

Reivan frowned, noting the lack of notification from [Lie Detection]. But then again, he was aware that his gift had a weakness against the ignorant or the inexperienced.

Maybe she was horny. She just didn’t know what that state felt like. Hence, she didn’t tick his special ability’s sensor.

‘Well, it doesn’t really matter. Because I have no intention of going that far. Not today, at least.’

“This is marriage stuff we’re talking about,” he clarified. “That’s what you mean, right?”

“You don’t want to?”

Mira’s eyes trembled, just a little. But they remained fixed on his own. As if watchful for any hesitation.

Reivan suddenly thought back to what his sister—the crazy one who legalized polygamy just so she could have a harem—had said, about how a woman’s boundaries were unassailable because she’d simply never met someone she was willing to tear those boundaries down for. Once they do, all that talk of “can’t” or “won’t” will vanish.

The hard part, of course, was being the person they’d want to lower those boundaries for.

And it seemed he’d managed to become that person for Mira. Because she’d been unwilling to go beyond hugs and hand-holding with anyone but her husband.

‘Well, well. I guess I was right about the eighties being the Favor range where women start considering marriage.’

“I wouldn’t take it that far…” Reivan cleared his throat. “But I suppose I’m not opposed to the idea.”

Mira poked his chest with a finger, her brows furrowed. “Yes or no.”

“I reserve my answer for a future occasion.”

“No kisses then.”

Reivan tilted his head. “You think that’s a threat? I literally refused one just a few minutes ago.”

Mira grimaced, her brows furrowing in annoyance. “You don’t think I’m worth kissing?”

“You’re such a pain in the ass…” Reivan chuckled in mild exasperation. “Fine. If you really want one, I’m willing to do it.”

“Wha—I didn’t say I wanted one!”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me! You were puckering your lips and waiting for it.”

She tried to punch him again, but he blocked. It still made his palm hurt though. “Can you stop mentioning that already!?”

“Don’t try to make this out like it’s something that happened years ago. It was literally just now. Right there. See that spot?” He pointed at said spot on his cheek. “That’s where. That’s where you were eagerly waiting for me to take your lips and go beyond.”

Mira’s face blushed crimson. “I did not.”

{ [Lie Detection] has activated! }

Boom. Checkmate. But only in his head.

With a smirk, Reivan teased her some more. “Just one should be fine, right? You obviously want to.”

“No!”

“Well, maybe I’ll answer after I get a kiss. Who knows? Give me a nice sloppy one.”

“My lips don’t give out free samples like shops in Aizen do sometimes!”

Reivan’s brows rose, surprised she knew that obscure aspect of the kingdom. And with its mention, he was jolted out of the comfortable happiness of the present. He wasn’t a guy fooling around with a pretty girl.

He was Prince Reivan of the Aizenwald royal family.

“Hey, Mira.”

She frowned, crossing her arms under her chest as she averted her gaze. “What? I’m not changing my mind.”

Undeterred, he continued. “If Prince Reivan showed up right in front of you. Right this instant. And said he’d take you in, whisking you off to the kingdom. Would you go?”

“The heck? You’re still on about the prince…?”

He smiled. “Just answer.”

Mira frowned in thought. “You’re really hung up on him… Which is partly my fault for gushing over him so much, I guess. But really, you don’t have to worry about him. He’s out of reach…”

“I’m saying what if.” Reivan took her hand and gripped it tightly. “What if Prince Reivan was right here? Holding this hand. Talking to you right now. Telling you he fancied you and he would like to bring you to the palace.”

“But I have you…” she muttered, but quickly covered her face in embarrassment. “Forget I said that! Forget it!”

Once again, he held her by the wrists and pried her hands away from her face. “Hypothetically. If I wasn’t around. Or if I stayed as just another squad member. That kind of thing.”

“These are a lot of hypotheticals…”

“Just humor me.”

Mira groaned under the weight of his gaze, but she seemed to give it some thought. His hands distracted her though, since they had returned to holding her hands instead of wrists.

Eventually, she seemed to find an answer she was satisfied with.

“I don’t think I would go, in the end…” she laughed awkwardly.

Reivan’s breath caught on his throat, but he managed to ask. “Why?”

“Uhh… This is really hard to explain… But, you see, I just like it here.”

“Here? You mean… The republic?”

She nodded. “Even if it’s always really cold. Even when there are all sorts of monsters all over the place that someone powerful should exterminate. Even when every stagecoach driver tries to fleece you. And even when everybody in the city’s too frivolous with their bodies… Well, I like it here.”

The silence hung in the air between them, and she chose to fill it with even more of her thoughts.

“It’s not the prettiest place. And really, it’s not that great at all.” Mira said, a bright smile slowly blooming on her face. “But it’s my home. It’s where my grandparents were born and buried. It’s where my parents met and decided to have me. It’s where they raised me with love and care. So maybe it’s not as great as the kingdom. And maybe I’m too lazy to make this country a better place. But I like it. With all its strengths and flaws.”

Reivan slowly let go of her hand, though she didn’t seem to pay it any mind.

“So, yeah!” Mira chirped with a smile that would melt the sun. “I’d stay here. With you. A-And the others too, of course. Even Aldimir… though he’ll have to be kept on a leash so he doesn’t get half the women we encounter pregnant.”

“I see.” Reivan sighed, a decision forming in his head. “I see…”

"...Hm?" she tilted her head as she looked at his face. “Something wrong with my answer?”

“No. It was a wonderful answer.”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me.” Mira frowned, leaning forward and closely examining his face. With some reluctance, she reached up and held his face. “Did I say something wrong? Tell me.”

Reivan shook his head and reached into his pocket, pulling out a couple of stones. “There was never a wrong answer. I just wanted to know how you felt.”

“Well, okay… By the way, what’re those?”

“Precautionary measures.”

“Huh…?”

Not bothering to explain, he knelt to place the stones around himself. She watched with muted confusion, but her observant gaze focused on the stones he held.

“Huh. Those look like runestones,” Mira said, a bit unsure.

Reivan chuckled, placing down the last of the twelve stones. “That’s because they are.”

“What? I heard those are really expensive since only the kingdom knows how to make them properly.”

“They normally are, but I didn’t pay for any of these.”

“Huh?” Mira paused to process his words. “Where’d you get them then?”

“I asked nicely.”

Reivan stood up and smiled as the surface of his flesh squirmed, unshackled.

His legs grew longer and consequently made him taller. Reivan's arms grew a bit thicker than they already were too. What used to be a head full of blonde hair turned to a gunmetal silver as blue eyes took on a bestial gold tint.

“Hello. Recognize me, I hope?”

Prince Reivan Aizenwald, in all his glory, purged his clothes in a burst of frost just as his usual regalia wrapped around his body—black as night with lines of gold. The glasses he once needed as Clover were tossed like dirt to the side, as he grinned, revealing his sharp canines.

“What…” Mira backed away.

But how could Reivan let her get away? With a quick step forward, he grabbed her shoulder and a pulse of darkness erupted from his fingertips, immediately draining her stamina. She collapsed, her body falling to the floor like a discarded doll. He caught her just in time, though, gently carrying her like a princess.

An easy task given his strength.

‘They’re taking their time.’

Just as he had that thought, a resounding boom almost shattered his ears—though fortunately, one of the runestones at his feet protected him against most attacks. Under the force of an Ascendant’s might, the cave shattered into nothingness and even the lake evaporated.

In an instant, the surroundings became a wasteland of flattened earth.

But not even a moment later, rather than enemies, two figures appeared in front of him—both familiar.

Valter, his trusty guardian knight, slithered out of a dark puddle in the ground in full armor. Freed, a black hawk, was perched on his shoulder with bloodstained wings.

And the other was Dame Mordred who, like Valter, was covered in steel everywhere. The only difference was her lack of a helm. Noticeably, she was smiling and holding three heads by the hair.

Three severed heads. There were no bodies attached to them.

‘Ugh, why is she bringing them over here…’

Reivan wouldn’t balk at a severed head. Not even if there were three of them. But he also found no love for looking at them. They were creepy. And disgusting too. These ones were especially so, for they once belonged to elderly women, shock frozen on their faces forever.

Clearly, they belonged to the Ascendant battlemages sent to watch over Mira.

“We did it, Your Highness~!” Mordred gave him a V-sign, making him wonder where she learned it. But the question lasted only a single second before it was answered: the founding king probably spread it around at some point. “We killed ‘em all~! We beat them with the power of friendship and a sword through the neck! A sharpened wing through the neck works too.”

“I can see that.” Reivan adjusted his hold on Mira before turning to Valter with a smile. “Glad to see things turned out well.”

“It was an ambush while their attention was gathered on you and the target, Your Highness. It could not be any easier.” The thousand-year-old knight's armor disappeared, revealing the handsome man underneath. He looked at the bird on his shoulder, a smile on his face. “Right, Freed?”

Freed screeched, though not too loudly. Then it snapped its beak in greeting toward Reivan, past feuds settled long ago.

Reivan nodded, his smile slowly falling off. “Let us address the elephant in the room; why is Dame Mordred carrying three heads?”

Mordred snickered, purposely showing off the heads. She raised them up and they bumped into each other, which did not make for a pretty picture. “They’re trophies, Your Highness.”

“Trophies…?”

“Indeed. Also, I’m trying to see if I can turn Ascendants into puppets,” she said. Almost as if she was talking about the weather. “I’m not hoping for it too much since there's no way I can be as good as the War God. We don’t really leave behind bodies when we die. This head won’t last long before it starts turning into… well, nothing. You don’t mind if I keep them, right?”

“Uh…”

“Please?”

Reivan groaned. He saw no need to hinder her studies. “I don’t mind. You didn’t have to ask for my permission anyway.”

“That’s not true. What if you wanted them for something? Lowly knights can’t be stealing loot from princes, Your Highness.”

‘Why the hell would I want a head!?’

Reivan couldn’t help but sigh and he was quite sure Valter did too.

He looked around at the destruction and was satisfied. Actually, Reivan had intentionally thrown away his glasses so traces of it would be found here, but that was a failed endeavor because everything was obliterated into dust. The attack that turned the surroundings into a wasteland had been allowed so he could fake "Clover Salwyn's" death as well.

With any luck, the Tower’s investigators would think Mira Serandina and Clover Salwyn perished as collateral damage in a fight between Ascendants.

Scryers who could peer into the past wouldn’t be deceived by such things but they had a makeshift countermeasure against that.

Exhausted in many ways, Reivan looked to his guardian knight. “Sir Valter. Please.”

“Understood.” Valter nodded. “Are you sure you have no unfinished business here? It is unlikely we’ll ever return.”

‘That… That sounds like something an NPC would say to the player just before moving to a different area.’

With that stupid thought floating around in his head, Reivan looked back in the direction of the village, where Aldimir, Kantor, Alini, and Inaria were. He’d probably still get in contact with Inaria at some point, given what would likely happen here in the republic soon. But he’d likely never interact with the other three again.

Thinking about it, Reivan would be lying if he said it didn’t matter at all. But they were, in the end, just passing acquaintances in life. He had to move on while wishing them well for what was to come.

“I’m sure, Sir Valter. Let’s go.”

With a snap of his fingers, a portal on the ground appeared and Reivan made to jump into it with Valter. As for Dame Mordred, she would be staying behind to kill any battlemages who tried to scry the area’s past for the next hour—according to her, a battlemage was most vulnerable when they were scrying, providing the perfect condition for a stealthy ambush.

Once an hour passed without anyone getting away with the truth of what happened here, then Reivan would have gotten away with kidnapping Mira. They could then use her any time they wanted to lure out the Sage King. There was the runaway girl from the Everpresent incident too. With two seeds as bait, that old coot was sure to come out of his hole.

As his foot sunk into the puddle, Reivan nodded toward the knight who would stay behind.

“Good hunting, Dame Mordred.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. I'll give 'em hell!”

With that, Reivan’s vision turned black.

Arc#4 Chapter 68: Guilt

It had been two weeks since Reivan and his squad arrived in Florris, and things were going well for the most part.

The village elderman made good on his promise and put up the battlemages in a spare house nearby. It was well-furnished and relatively spacious, specifically reserved for battlemages who stopped by. That also meant it wasn't used all the time. And it showed.

But with the combined aid of a few very nice villagers and six young sorcerers, the place looked about as new as it could get. There weren't any problems, in any case, because none of the trainee battlemages had personalities shitty enough to complain—not that there was anything to complain about because the lodging provided truly was nice, if not a bit dusty.

Two weeks of living there had been enough to drive off whatever remained of that inconvenience.

As for food, the villagers happily pitched in to provide ingredients for their meals. The elderman's daughter, Verbena, came by to cook for them every day even though she didn't need to. Nonetheless, all the young battlemages appreciated the kindness. Especially the boys.

It went without saying that Aldimir had tried to hit on her numerous times since, and it was getting quite alarming because it seemed to be working—as far as Reivan could tell, that is. She did not seem to find his approach unwanted. Any day now, this poor village girl was going to have her purity taken by a city boy she'd never see again. There’d probably be a song about it, warning future generations not to fall for some passing mage’s honey-coated words.

Well, that wasn’t any of Reivan’s business anyway.

It wasn’t like Aldimir was forcing himself on her. They just talked. He said something stupid, she’d laugh, then he’d grin and tell her some corny line about how she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever laid eyes on when she smiled—and the second most beautiful when she wasn’t laughing. Then she’d look away all shy, saying how he was surely just joking, even though she was obviously quite happy about the praise.

All things considered, Reivan really wished they didn’t flirt before breakfast was prepared.

Anyway, she was an adult so she should be held accountable for the consequences of jumping into bed with sleazy men. It would also be terribly uncouth of him to hinder his fellow man’s romantic endeavors. Even if his current persona was not his own, he would not break the bro code unless the woman was someone he cared for or the man in question was stooping to unsavory means.

Besides, who could say that Verbena wasn't the woman who would change Aldimir for the better? Probably not, but there was merit in allowing her to take a shot.

“Good morning.” Reivan greeted the room as he came back inside the house, sweaty and shirtless from the early-morning exercise routine he’d taken up recently—one that didn’t involve equipment because the village had no such things.

Looking around, the aforementioned man-whore was in the middle of talking to Verbena, who in turn, was cooking for them all. Kantor was sitting quietly nearby, his eyes aglow with the blue luminescence caused by the use of a scrying spell.

‘How diligent of him. Meanwhile, a certain person is being diligent in the wrong thing.’

As for the others, Mira wouldn’t be getting up until around lunchtime, as is the way of her people. Both Inaria and Alini took up late-night watch shifts, so they were likely getting some much-needed sleep at the moment. So for now, it would just be the three boys.

Needless to say, this arrangement was because all three of them wanted to be present when the eye candy came over to help prepare their meals. Even Kantor had shyly nodded along. And Reivan would have been lying if he said that he didn't like looking at pretty girls.

It was just looking, after all. Nothing wrong with that.

“Good morning, Mr. Salwyn,” Verbena called out, her eyes momentarily running down his exposed upper body before shyly looking away. “Breakfast is just about ready. It’ll be done by the time you finish washing yourself.”

'See? Looking is perfectly fine. That goes both ways~!'

Aldimir, who was right beside her, frowned at him before shooing him away when she wasn’t looking.

Reivan resisted the urge to roll his eyes because the village girl among them might misunderstand. “Thank you, Ms. Craywin. I’ve grown to like your cooking and will probably be troubled when I have to go back to eating ordinary food.”

She giggled, demurely covering her mouth. “I’m sure you’ll make do.”

“I dread it already."

"Well, you can always stay here... We've plenty of young women of marriageable age."

"...I'll consider it." Reivan awkwardly cleared his throat, being reminded that he had two fiancees and a troupe of concubines waiting for him in Aizen. "Well, I’ll head up now. Aldim, don’t bother her too much. If breakfast still isn’t ready by the time I get down, I’ll use my authority as vice-captain to make you eat nothing but crud for three days.”

“I’m not bothering her!” Aldimir snorted, before turning to Verbena with a smile. He even went so far as to grab her hand. “Am I?”

She shook her head, not making any attempts to pull her hand away.

Triumphant, Aldimir smugly grinned at Reivan. “See, Win? It’s fine.”

"Good for you." Reivan didn’t bother to resist the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes this time, shrugging before heading upstairs where all of their private quarters were. The door closest to the stairs belonged to their captain, who immediately declared ownership of it for the reason that a captain needed to be closer to the stairs so they could respond to situations much quicker.

Obviously, she was just a lazy bum who wanted to shorten the distance between her room and places like the bathroom and dining room, which were both on the ground floor. She slept so deeply that there was no way she was responding to any emergency.

Anyway, Reivan’s designated room was the one right in front of hers.

“Whoo. Finally…” Reivan ducked inside the decently sized one-person bedroom and sat on his bed. With deft use of his foot, he hooked a nearby stool closer and took the small bucket that lay atop it.

A simple flick of his wand filled it with water that would vanish by itself in an hour or two.

‘What I’d do for a shower… Or a bath! A big bath with maids helping me wash myself when I clearly don’t need any help…’

While reminiscing about the life he’d once lived, Reivan wiped off his sweat with a damp towel. Once that was done, he donned a fresh white shirt and threw his dirty laundry into a nearby basket that would likely be washed by a village girl other than Verbena. When he climbed down the stairs again, Kantor was still scrying in the same position as earlier and breakfast was thankfully ready. Verbena the eye candy was gone though, which was a bit unfortunate, but Aldimir’s bored expression was entertaining enough by itself.

“Looks good,” Reivan remarked as he looked at the spread on the table.

“Of course. Vena gave her all for this, you know?”

“Nicknames already? Neat.”

Aldimir smirked. “It’s going really well, Win. I can feel it. Village girls really aren’t as easy as those in the city, but as a wise man once said, any tree can be cut down if you keep swinging!”

“I can see that.” Reivan sat down and started eating by himself. Their squad rarely ate together these days. “Which wise man said that, by the way?"

"I did. Just now."

"Fuck, I set myself up for that one..." He sighed before giving Aldimir a pat on the shoulder. "Good job, I guess?”

“Uh-huh. You know, you could help out by not strutting around and tempting her with your naked body.”

“I wasn't naked. Never was.”

“Oh? So we're getting into semantics. Fine. Half naked, then. She kept asking questions about what you do and why you look like that! It really threw me off my game!”

Reivan snorted, tearing into a soft piece of bread with some creamy butter slathered on it. Uncouth as it was, he chose to snark even with food in his mouth. “Maybe try not to flirt in the room where everybody passes through on their way outside or to the second floor. What, you want me to fly to my room and get inside through the window?”

Aldimir raised a brow. “Could you?”

“Uh…” Licking his lips in contemplation and also to clean the butter off it, Reivan gave it some thought before shrugging. “I probably could. There’s a tall tree close enough to my room’s window to climb. Or if I go fast enough, I could use it as a ramp for my hoverboard.”

“Really? Thank you very much. You really are my best friend.”

“I’m not gonna do it, just so we're clear. That's too much of a pain in the ass.”

“Then wear a shirt, at least.”

“Don’t wanna. I get extra sweaty, so it’s extra laundry.”

Aldimir bit his lip, hesitating on something before sighing. “I’ll do your laundry for a week. Just keep your damned shirt on when she’s here.”

“Wow.” Reivan stopped eating for a moment to gaze at him in mild admiration. “You’re a dedicated bastard, I’ll give you that.”

“Can you blame me?”

Thinking back to Verbena’s stunning looks and amazing personality—which was, in turn, complimented by her actual personality—Reivan could not, in fact, blame him.

Ignoring the idiot, the disguised prince of Aizen gulped down his mouthful of hot stew and called out to the other person in the room. “Kantor. You should take a break, bud. Have some breakfast. You're already thin enough as it is.”

He flinched in surprise from suddenly being called out while focused on something else, but stood up as the light in his eyes faded. “It’s okay, I’m not that hungry…”

“Did you lose your appetite because of this guy’s incessant skirt chasing?” he pointed at Aldimir with a grin. "Sorry about that. He was dropped as a child so a bunch of blood in his head went to his crotch instead. Permanently."

“No, I’ve grown used to him already, so it doesn’t really bother me.”

“I see. You poor thing. Make sure you don’t become like him, okay?”

“Of course. I would never.”

“You guys…?” Aldimir chuckled awkwardly. "I'm still here, y'know?"

“Oh, right,” Kantor continued unabated. “The Vladeken are doing it again…”

Reivan clicked his tongue, throwing a glance at his unfinished breakfast. “They always do it when I’m halfway finished eating…”

Aldimir raised a brow, his arms crossed. “We can just wait until after, no?”

“No, no. We’ll make more work for ourselves the more we delay. And we'll also waste their efforts... Poor little guys have it rough enough as it is.”

With a sigh, Reivan walked to the side where he’d propped up his hoverboard and picked it up, carrying it under his arm with bread in his mouth.

“I’ll come too. Just let me get mine.” Kantor hastily ran up the steps.

“Maybe I’ll sit this one out… or not.” Aldimir raised both hands in surrender when he saw Reivan’s glare. “Should we take the guns with us this time too?”

The villagers were all kind and good people, giving them food and just generally being pleasant. But they were even kind enough to lend them a few firearms, which in truth, weren’t all that useful seeing as they weren’t killing things and they knew spells that did so much more.

Still, Reivan remembered the relative helplessness of fighting people equipped with sorceron cloaks and spellbane bullets while he only had magic—it was the complete and utter opposite of fun.

“Can’t hurt to bring ‘em,” he said through a mouthful of bread. “Better to have more options in case something happens.”

“Okay. Also, dude, you gotta stop talking when your mouth’s stuffed.”

Reivan responded in the most reasonable way someone could respond when Aldimir of all people tried to give advice on proper behavior—by flipping him off.

Once they all had their affairs in order, the three young men hopped on their boards and ventured into the great unknown—that wasn’t really all that unknown because this wasn’t the first time doing this.

With one of the greatest innovations to personal travel ever to come out of the Spirit Tower’s think tank, Reivan and the others sailed across the three-foot fence surrounding the village and zoomed through the sea of trees outside. If everyone had one of these, nobody would ever be late to anything. Too bad they were extremely expensive to produce, finicky to handle, and required a passable level of control over magic power since they couldn’t be powered by stardust and the power of friendship.

“Hey, whose turn was it, again?” Aldimir asked as he lagged behind their trio, being the least proficient at using hoverboards. Given the lack of anything to hold on to while flying, he looked very unsteady. Two weeks, it seems, was not enough practice to be truly proficient.

“I did it last time,” Reivan reminded them. "So it's either you or Kantor."

Kantor groaned, hesitantly raising his hand. “It’s my turn…Inaria hasn’t taken a turn yet though. Which is incredibly unfair… Just because they're women they make us do all the leg work...”

“Well, why don’t you tell her that to her face?” Aldimir teasingly smirked, though only Reivan caught it by coincidence when he checked the surroundings.

Kantor remained silent, which served as enough of an answer.

“It’s not like she’s been intentionally skimping.” Reivan chuckled, inherently feeling the need to defend her. “She just got lucky. Nothing really happens when it’s her turn to keep watch. Same with Alini and her. I think we’ve just been especially lucky that the Vladeken keeps doing shit in the early mornings. It's probably karma because we took up morning duty with ulterior motives.”

The three steadily made their way to the flower field the Vladeken wanted to set roots in, all while trying to escape reality by conversing or complaining about this or that. Chatting was all well and good, but while the Vladeken’s presence warded off most monsters, they still couldn’t let their guards down. Things had a tendency to go wrong precisely when you least expected it. Reivan felt it was his responsibility to remain vigilant all throughout. It would also match the real Clover’s earnest personality.

Fortunately, his worries ended up being for naught, because a few minutes later, Reivan and the two other young men came upon an expansive field of many-colored flowers. Some of the village’s much-renowned bees were there in scattered buzzing dots, probably doing whatever it was that bees did to flowers.

Somewhat ruining this beautiful view were about a dozen earthen hovels that strangely resembled igloos. A few more were being erected by short child-like entities that they had come to know were the Vladeken.

“Ugh, there they are…” Aldimir grimaced, not in disgust, but rather, as if he was being forced to swallow something bitter. “Kantor, get it over with so we can go back… And, like, try to be nice to them when you do it…”

Kantor frowned in confusion. “How do I even do that nicely…? What we're doing is the opposite of nice.”

“I don’t know… Just try.”

Now, Reivan had seen an illustration of the creatures on his first night in the village. And so too did the other members of their party that arrived the morning after. But as they say, seeing something once was better than reading about them a hundred times. The Vladeken were indeed child-like humanoids and only reached up to one’s knees. They also had beady red eyes, no ears, no nose, and no mouths just like illustrated. Also, they were utterly incapable of making any sounds.

But nobody told them just how expressive the Vladeken were despite their faces missing quite a few vital parts.

Groups of Vladeken were diligently forming circles and doing some sort of vibrant dance, the base of an earthen hovel slowly forming in the middle. While the adults worked, smaller Vladeken happily chased each other around, some of them making flower crowns or helping what seemed to be elderly Vladeken walk from place to place. Reivan also spotted a few of them holding small bundles of leaves that likely contained babies.

It was a thriving, happy community of harmless woodland creatures.

Kantor hovered forward with his wand held up, immediately attracting the attention of the Vladeken.

In utter silence, the dwarfish creatures who saw the intruders coming wildly flailed their arms and communicated with their kind in some imperceivable way that didn't involve verbal sounds. They pointed at Kantor, their fingers trembling and horror in their eyes, as dozens of other Vladeken fled out of the few finished homes. Many threw fearful glances at the trio, paralyzed or outright fainting. Most, however, fled as fast as they physically could in the opposite direction.

Some, like the children or elderly, often fell behind or tripped, falling face-first into the grass. Too weak or too afraid to get up, they trembled and awaited what fate would become of them when the big scary humans reached them.

Fortunately for the pitiful ones, a few other Vladeken came to try and pull them away. Some even spread their arms protectively while standing between the battlemages and the weak, intending to sacrifice their lives for the downtrodden. One especially heroic Vladeken even threw mud at Kantor with a furious glare, though the projectile barely even flew a few strides forward before flopping to the ground with a wet slap.

“I…” Aldimir, his face sour, took a blanket out and tried to cover his face with it. “I feel like shit.”

“You and me both.” Reivan sighed, agreeing wholeheartedly. When he accidentally made eye contact with Vladeken holding a baby, it fell to its knees and peed itself. Hastily, Reivan looked away and tried very hard not to meet any more gazes or do anything else to terrorize the poor creatures more than needed. “Kantor, not to put pressure on you, but kindly hurry up so we can go back.”

“I know," he whined. "I don’t like this either, you know!”

‘Nobody does.’

Reivan and Aldimir went from hovel to hovel, tearing each of them down with ease. They didn’t even need to use spells. Just ramming their hoverboards into mud buildings was enough to collapse the primitive structures. As for the unfinished hovels, experience had already taught them that those would collapse on their own if the Vladeken left them incomplete for a minute or two.

“P-Please go away… I don’t want to hurt you guys… I’m so sorry for this… I'm so sorry...” Kantor, hesitantly and slowly, herded the swarm of Vladeken away from the flower fields while muttering apologies the woodland creatures would never understand. From his wand, bright tongues of fire erupted with every swish, terrifying the Vladeken more than they already were.

According to the village elderman, the Vladeken’s greatest fear was magic. It was second only to their fear of fire. There was nothing these forest dwellers feared more than a good hot flame. It absolutely terrified them and they ran away with even more fervor.

Heartbreaking didn’t even begin to scratch the surface of how it felt like to see the few heroic Vladeken who’d been ready to undergo anything for their fellows run away, abandoning those they had intended to save earlier. There was an exponential increase in incidents where Vladeken peed themselves too, some even peed while running away. Even that one valiant Vladeken who threw mud turned tail, though not without frequent glares dripping with hatred thrown at them in regular intervals.

It was truly a sight to see, though not at all in a pleasant way. Absolutely heart-wrenching. What bothered Reivan was how the experience would be worse if the Vladeken could talk or make any sound at all.

‘This… This is kind of traumatizing…’

Reivan was no saint, but he was at least proud that he wasn’t a complete asshole. Maybe he did some bad things, but they were, in essence, for the good of his family or his country. That didn’t absolve him of sins and never would. But it certainly helped him sleep at night.

This? This scene right here would stay with him forever. The sheer terror these tiny insignificant beings had for him would make a mark. They looked at him like he had a hundred arms and nine heads, each with a mouth full of sharp teeth.

With the use of the sheer mass of their steel hoverboards and a few well-placed spells to snipe the hovels farther away, Reivan and Aldimir made quick work of the Vladeken’s homes. They were understandably very motivated to complete their tasks as fast as possible to get away from the pitiful Vladeken who viewed them as monsters.

By the time they were done, Kantor had also finished herding the fleeing Vladeken away from the field of flowers that was essential for Florris’ economy.

════════════════════════════════

“Oh, welcome back, guys. Had fun?”

The three young men all felt united in wanting to cuss out their captain’s thoughtless question, but they all managed to hold it in.

“It was horrible. As usual.” Reivan answered for them all, checking his pocket watch to make sure it wasn’t time for lunch yet. “Also, isn’t it too early for you to wake up? It’s only eight in the morning.”

“Can you please not throw veiled insults at me…?” Mira chuckled sheepishly as she picked at her breakfast. “I’m still your senior, you know.”

“You only pull out that card when it benefits you.”

“When else am I supposed to with it? Pull it out when it's disadvantageous?”

“Alright, fair enough.” Reivan shrugged with a grin, turning to the other two. “Well, guys. Since we just finished unleashing a calamity on those innocent creatures, they probably won’t try again until tomorrow. Let’s all just relax and try not to let it bother us too much.”

“Right.” Aldimir propped his hoverboard up against the corner and headed for the door. “I’m heading out to catch some air. See you guys at lunch.”

“Sure.” Reivan rolled his eyes, knowing his lusty squadmate would likely head for where Verbena did her duties as a village dairymaid or look for some other pitiful village girl to bother. “Kantor?”

“I think I just wanna lie down…”

“Alright, buddy. Rest up. Don’t worry about it too much, what we did is for the greater good. Also, you did great back there.”

“Thanks, Clover.”

Kantor left, shoulders slumped, and Reivan turned to Mira when he was sure nobody else was within earshot.

“Wanna walk around? There’s apparently a nice spot overlooking a stream.”

Mira glanced up at him. “What’re we gonna do there?”

“I dunno. Catch fish? Watch ‘em do fish things? Preferably while sitting.”

“I heard about that place too. Young couples go there to make out.”

Reivan shrugged with a grin splitting his face. “I mean, we can do that too, if you want.”

She kicked him, but he dodged it right in time.

“Were the Vladeken really that bad?” Mira asked, after giving up on inflicting domestic violence on him.

“You should try it at least once. I guarantee that it’ll change your life.”

“Don’t wanna. It’s obvious enough from your expressions. I’m lucky they never act up when I’m on watch.”

Reivan snorted with a shrug. “It wasn’t them that was bad, it’s how doing what we did to them makes us feel that’s bad.”

“I see… Sounds rough.”

“I am utterly stunned by the sincere empathy hidden very deeply in your words, oh captain of mine.”

Reivan sat down right next to her and grabbed her hand from under the table, an act that she allowed as long as nobody was around. Then he brought it up to his lips and gave it a kiss.

“So? Are you coming with me to that make-out spot? You are, right?”

She frowned. “Fine… But not to make out. I’m just curious about the spot. And the fish doing fish things.”

“What about hugs?”

“No.”

“You’re so stingy, I can’t believe you.” Reivan chuckled, though he wasn’t actually all that frustrated. Checking her Favor once again, it was already at 85. Which was insane, because that was marriage level but she wasn’t even allowing him to hug her.

‘Gods, just how high is her barrier of entry?’

Going by her behavior alone, it was hard to believe her Favor was that high. He might have started to think his [Supreme Insight] was showing him lies if he hadn’t performed extensive research into its intricacies.

With all that said though, the emotion was still “interest” and “trust”. Not desire or affection, which were what Elsa and Helen had. Once more intense emotions appeared, the score would go down again. If they appeared, that is.

‘Wait, am I maybe headed to the friend zone somehow? Shit.’

It wouldn’t be what Reivan planned, but he supposed that would be sufficient if he just wanted her to trust him enough to follow him to the kingdom. Maybe this was better, actually. He’d feel less guilty when he was done with her.

“Alright, great. I’m going up to change, wait here.”

Letting go of her, Reivan climbed up the stairs to get to his room, only to find an unexpected visitor inside.

Dame Mordred, knight of Aizen, was sitting pretty atop his bed with her legs dangling from the edge. With a smirk, she placed a finger against her lips, signaling for him to stay quiet and act as if she wasn’t there.

Reivan obliged, walking toward the window and pretending to admire the rustic village scenery.

“First of all, a pleasant morning to you, Your Highness.” Mordred hopped out of bed and gave him a crisp salute, perfected over centuries, though marred by the fact that she was doing it atop his bed. Luckily, she'd taken off her boots. “Just so you know, that girl has three Ascendants tailing her. Which is troubling, because part of why I came here was to abduct Mira Serandina. Three very alert silver cloaks will be hard to ambush on my own without them somehow being clumped up together—which they aren’t. I could take them and their beasties in a fight easily, but they'll probably call help. Which I can also deal with, just not while abducting someone.”

He grunted vaguely, almost as if he was just making an idle sound.

“It was a stroke of luck, how she’s now out of the Tower. My plan is to bring Valter and some other friends here. But we’ll talk about that later,” she said. “Big news came from the palace; a deal with Argonia was established. There was apparently some giant explosion, but nobody got hurt. Sounds fun. I wish I was there.”

Again, he grunted. Though he wondered what caused the explosion.

“Unfortunately, we couldn’t convince the War God to try battling the Sage King on his own. But the War God did agree to team up against the Sage King. Now, their fleshing out an agreement with the Pontifex of the Orthodox church. There’s the Gladiator King too, so we can have four Transcendents on our side for the battle.”

‘God… Four Transcendents…’

It was a monumental force considering a single Ascendant could solo Modern Earth.

Continuing, Mordred sat back down on the bed. “We don’t expect the War God to succeed in persuading the Pontifex, however. But either way, because the War God agreed to split the bill for hiring the Gladiator King the normal way, the crown has decided to save the slave key for now. Obviously, its existence will be hidden.”

After another grunt that meant he had no problems, Dame Mordred nodded.

“For now, the plan is to wait. Specifically, we need to set people up in positions where we can hunt down the rest of the republic’s Ascendants. They're kind of all over the place. We need to hunt them all down because one of them must be close to Transcendence. Either it’s because of the normal way or because they have that spirit king seed ability. The method doesn’t matter, in this case. The result that neither the kingdom nor the empire wishes for is to have another Transcendent show up afterward. A valid concern, if you ask me.”

Internally, Reivan whistled in admiration. It seemed a whole lot of Ascendants were going to wound up dead very soon. Clearing his throat to get her attention, he tapped a question on the windowsill using Morse code.

“What. Me. Do. Now?”

“With all due respect, Your Highness.”

Mordred smiled kindly, and there was none of her usual impish teasing or the smirks that made you think there was something more than what she just said.

“You are far too weak. You’ll be worthless at this current juncture. There might be a place for you on the battlefield when the Treaty of Alexander is put into effect. Which now puts us back to something I’ve talked about a couple of times. The girl waiting for you downstairs. We can kidnap her and use her to lure out the Sage King or someone else important. Maybe it's a long shot, but it's something.”

Mordred smiled a wicked smile as she stood up.

“I hope you cooperate, Your Highness. Though, I suppose you are currently incapable of refusing. Which, if I may add, is the reason I chose this time for my pitch.”

Arc#4 Bonus Interlude: The Traitorous Mage's Day

When Clover Salwyn awoke at the crack of dawn, it was to the pleasant sight of a ceiling he was steadily growing used to.

The only thing that would have made it better was if his lovely wife was next to him, but she'd probably gotten up early to prepare breakfast for him. She didn't have to, since he was perfectly capable of fixing something up for himself. But she did it anyway and he loved her all the more for it.

'Another wonderful morning. Well, pre-morning.'

Looking out the window to lay eyes on the bleak darkness of the undercity, Clover mused how strangely beautiful it was to his eyes now that he'd established a home here. When they'd just arrived, he thought Prince Reivan gave him the short end of the stick. But now? Clover thought this was better. If they tried to give him a house on the surface in exchange for the one he had here, he'd refuse. They even had neighbors who were also ex-Arkhanian citizens and a nice old Aizenian lady who got along with his mother despite the language barrier.

Soon, the door opened to reveal the most beautiful woman in the world, who also happened to be his wife. Official too. They had papers for it and everything. His wife was too embarrassed to frame it up, but he'd talk her into it someday.

"Oh, you're awake." Ellin smiled that pretty smile of hers, the one that made him weak in the knees. Even when she had sleepy eyes, she was too beautiful for his eyes. "I made you breakfast."

"Thanks." Clover stepped forward and took her into his arms, running a finger through her ginger hair and basking in the happiness he'd betrayed his country for. "Going back to bed?"

She nodded sleepily. “My shift's still in four hours..."

"Alright, sweet dreams."

He gave her a kiss on the forehead then another one on the stomach before sending his wobbly wife off to the large soft bed they shared. Really, if he had his way, he'd just make her stay at home all day. However, according to the benevolent priests who healed and advised them for free, it was actually better for pregnant women to move around a little. Also, she wasn't even that far along in the pregnancy, so it was fine.

And anyway, they could just go to any chapel and ask for healing if anything felt wrong.

Truly, Aizen was the best. Clover never believed in gods, but he felt as if he'd found one who was actually worthy of his worship. He didn't even care if people gave him crap over how his faith was born of tangible benefits.

In any case, the house he’d been granted for his treachery was pretty big, but not big enough for him to be out of breath on his way from the bedroom on the second floor to the dining room on the first floor. Surprisingly, however, his mother and mother-in-law were both there too.

Wearing very tight clothes and covered in sweat.

“Mothers.” Clover’s gaze switched to one and the other. “Sunbath?”

“Yes. They’re so nice.” His mother smiled, looking younger than her actual age of forty-five. “We also took a run around the block. Which reminds me, you haven’t been doing any exercise at all, lately. What’re you going to do if you get fat?”

Reflexively, Clover looked down to his belly, which was sticking out more than it should.

Since he no longer had to maintain a persona for the prince, Clover had understandably abandoned some routines and one of them was exercising. And honestly, he blamed all the meat he was getting to eat for his gradually increasing body fat. He never liked meat back in Arkhan, but being the cheapest food here in Aizen made him partial to it.

“Now, now,” Ellin’s mother giggled. “I’m sure it’s all the good food my daughter’s been feeding him. Why, back there, he was barely eating anything. Now he can eat all he wants. It's a good thing.”

His mother threw him a glance before sighing. “I know, but what if he gets so fat that Ellin leaves him?”

That made his heart sink a little. They’d both made love very vigorously at the beginning and so it was quite noticeable when his vigor ran out faster than ever—clearly the effect of being out of shape. Initially, he thought the physical labor in his job would be enough to burn off the fat he gained, but he’d severely miscalculated on that part.

‘Damn… Alright, I guess I should go for a run starting tomorrow... Agh, I'll have to wake up even earlier...’

Clover knew that he should go on a diet too, but honestly, he needed the energy for his job.

“Look, now you’ve got him all depressed.” Ellin’s mother giggled before heading off to bathe.

“I’m fine,” he sheepishly said. “You’re right, Mother. I should try to stay in shape.”

“Good.” She smiled, ruffling his hair. “You know what your father always said about bodies and minds. You gotta keep both of them sharp!”

“I know, I know.”

“If you’re too lazy, apparently, the Sunbaths help burn fat through sweat. I don’t quite understand how it works, but the priests said so. It must be true.”

‘Wow, really. Damn, they have everything here…’

Clover hastily finished his breakfast before changing into a nice blue tunic his mother gave him as a gift when he first arrived. He then went off to work, walking the well-illuminated streets of the undercity. Looking up, one could only see the underside of Northgard, a very old city far north of the capital.

It was, to his eyes, a strange wonder.

Despite how early it was, there were people walking around already, dressed in all manner of colorful clothing as opposed to the endless sea of monotone prevalent in Arkhan. The buildings too, were painted appropriately to evoke the impression their dwellers wanted to evoke. His own house had been painted vibrant orange because his mother liked the color.

From time to time, he would walk past some stalls hawking food or drinks for people too busy to cook breakfast for themselves. Clover had yet to completely learn the language so he couldn’t understand most of what he heard. But since money was incredibly important, he made sure to learn those.

And the prices he occasionally heard still made him wince sometimes. Which shouldn’t be happening. But nobody could blame him.

Eventually, though, he would get it into his head that while those Aizenian prices were ridiculous by an Arkhanian’s standards, Clover was now earning Aizenian lumens. As such, Aizenian prices were no longer steep, for he was no longer burdened by the horrible exchange rate between lumens and the Arkhanian ranii.

A few dozen minutes of walking later, Clover finally made it to his place of employment—The Undergard Harvesting Complex.

Clover was a farmer-slash-rancher now. Generally speaking, however, Aizen continued the two interchangeable because on some days, you’d be farming, and on other days, you’d be ranching. However, he was surprised to discover just how unhinged the kingdom was if they thought their definition of farmers and ranchers was just.

That said, farmers and ranchers were outdated terms for the profession. These days, as shown by the big sign atop the big metallic gates he stood in front of, the kingdom’s government now referred to them as harvesters. It was a far more apt term, which was probably why the government changed it in the first place.

Once Clover made it to the gate, he had to place his hands on a crystal ball as large as his head that apparently confirmed if he was allowed in. Afterward, he was greeted by burly guards who methodically patted him down for anything he wasn’t supposed to bring inside. These men were peacekeepers, he knew, just in a different uniform.

He also knew they could squish his existence into nothingness with a flick of their wrist, which wasn’t a thought he liked having in his head but sometimes he didn’t get to decide what floated around in there.

They let him in easily enough, and Clover dutifully walked to where he was supposed to go, trying very hard not to look at all the moving plants that tried very hard to get out of the glass-but-not-really-glass pods they were in. But try as he might, he couldn’t help but curiously peek at a very angry giant lizard that was as big as the neighborhood his house was in. The fearsome beast almost burned someone to a crisp, right before his very eyes.

Fortunately, that someone was a knight or a peacekeeper, so all the giant lizard got for its trouble was a punch to the face that had it slumping to the ground before having its tail cut off for what was probably the fourth time this week. Then its foot was severed too, minced, and finally forced down the lizard’s throat so it would have enough nutrients to use for regeneration. It still didn't make sense to him why that was how its regeneration worked. It probably had something to do with mana or something but he was far too tired to really dig into the specifics.

Harvesting was not a job for the faint of heart. Clover would stick it out, however, because they gave him so much meat to take home at the end of every day. Job perk, apparently. His household saved so much money on food. They even sold the excess to neighbors, though his mother gave them out for free, as thanks for stuff Clover didn’t know about. Not that he would complain, given how he’d get more the very next day. The neighbors shared stuff too, anyway.

Man, he loved this job. Even though the stuff he saw happen on a Tuesday afternoon could keep most people awake for years, traumatized. Barely anybody understood what he was saying though, because he still couldn't speak English that well. Which was kind of sad because he kind of wanted to make friends now that he wasn’t forced to be a recluse. There was no lack of friendly Aizenians who didn’t seem to treat him badly just because he was a foreigner. But having a language barrier was pretty rough. Clover couldn’t even invite them for drinks or something.

There were, of course, exceptions.

“Hey, Clover!”

Clover followed the voice to the source and found a fellow Arkhanian who’d been working as a Harvester for an entire year now. “Ludi. Good morning.”

“Same to you, my friend. Same to you.” Ludi came up and gave his ass a friendly slap. “I heard we got a rough one today.”

“Yeah? I just saw one of the lizards get cut up by a knight. Do we have to clean up its shit again?”

“No, it’s the poppers today. Sector P-23.”

‘Fuck.’

Clover didn’t like the poppers. Nobody did. Especially the ones in the 23rd greenhouse because he saw one of the fuckers knock someone out on his way out for a lunch break last month.

Poppers was the nickname given to a plant monster that blew out clouds of black dust and then ignited it all to quite literally blow up everything around it. They had a name, but nobody used it because the person who had been in charge of naming it decided that it was a good idea to use a really long and hard-to-pronounce one. Everybody, even the knights, just called them poppers.

Now, the poppers in harvesting centers everywhere already had the organ that produced sparks cut off, so all the poppers did was blow the black dust and that was it. No danger whatsoever.

The annoying part was how they’d have to collect the dust and inject the plant with some kind of chemical substance that would accelerate the rate at which it replenished the black dust. As for the dust itself, it would be sent to a refinement center where it would turn into a condiment that Ellin really liked, saying it added lots of flavor to just about any dish.

One had to wonder how someone went about collecting dust. But they had it covered. They’d be given some kind of tube-like artifact connected to a giant metal barrel strapped to their back. The tube would suck in the dust and all the Harvester had to do was stroll around the surroundings and make sure all the black dust was sucked up. Long and boring manual labor, but that was it.

Now, injecting the chemical into the plant was a bit hard because this was a monster plant. So obviously, it would fight back if some asshole tried to stick a needle into it. It was weak though, so the worst that even someone like Clover would get was some bruising and a concussion easily fixed by a trip to the nearby chapel. Still, he wasn’t among that small subset of people who enjoyed being bruised or struck, so he naturally didn’t like having some stupid plant beat the crap out of him.

There were restraints for it too, but those weren’t absolute on account of the guy he saw get knocked out last month.

“Eh, let’s just be careful.” Ludi shrugged.

Clover nodded with a pensive expression, musing on how just a few months ago he was literally ready to bet his life on the line and now he was worried about some minor bruises.

════════════════════════════════

Long story short, Clover didn’t get knocked out by some crazy plant. It tried, though. He’d give it that.

Because his team was highly motivated to get the hell out of P-23, they worked very hard to complete their task, finishing an hour before lunch. As a reward for their zeal, the overseer shouldered them with another task they would start on after their break. Clover would have preferred a cash reward or maybe an extra kilo of meat to take home, but it would have to do. Not that he would voice out his complaints anyway. He liked his wages and didn’t want to get fired for giving the overseer lip.

Thankfully, the afternoon task was just shaving some strange breed of sheep that apparently lulled people to sleep. The beasts were muzzled, of course, so it was just an ordinary shaving task that Clover was still a little bad at, but according to Ludi, the overseers weren’t very particular about the quality as long as the wool still looked like wool. A low hurdle that he appreciated quite a lot.

Anyway, when that was done, Clover and his team were allowed to clock out early and got to take home ten kilos of lizard meat that probably came from that pitiful giant lizard he saw in the morning. Lizard meat tasted surprisingly amazing though, so he wasn’t about to advocate lizard rights any time soon. Plus, those bastards would eat him the first chance they got.

‘Good riddance. Enjoy a life of being harvested repeatedly.’

“Clover, you up for some drinks today?” Ludi asked as both of them left the Undergard Harvesting Facility. “Let’s go, yeah? Everybody wants you to come. You’re hilarious when you’re drunk.”

Behind them were the other dozen people in their team, who all couldn’t understand a word Clover ever said, but still acted nice and friendly. Except Galodine, who was more of a quiet type that kept to himself. Unless he was drunk, that is. The guy went crazy after a few shots.

If his colleagues were to be trusted, Clover wasn’t different. Apparently, he tried to plow a chair once. Then his wife had to pick him up from the tavern. They had a very long talk about it and his drinking habits the next morning. Both agreed he should stay away from alcohol when outside, though a sip or two was fine as long as it wasn’t the strong stuff.

Strangely enough, Ellin told him it was perfectly fine to drink at home. In fact, she encouraged him to do so. He didn’t know what he did after she picked him up, but it seemed she liked it. He just hoped he didn’t black out next time so he could actually remember.

'The prince turned into me... Ah, no way. Why would he copy my alcohol tolerance too? He probably left that part out when transforming.'

“I’m gonna pass…” Clover declined as politely as he could. “Besides…”

“Oh, is it that time of the month for you again?”

“Don’t say it like that. It’s an immigration officer meeting. Also, yes. It’s that time.”

Ludi guffawed before seemingly explaining his circumstances to the Aizenians behind them, some of which probably didn’t even know immigrants had to meet an officer at the end of every month.

Clover said his farewells before heading home. The walk back saw a lot more people and a lot more stalls. He could barely hear himself think just from the sheer number of voices mixing into the air. And to think Northgard, the city above, was apparently more populated and busy.

Picking up some snacks to take home to his family along the way, Clover traipsed his way home just in time for a tall and imposing figure to leave while being escorted by his mother and Ellin. He knew that it was the knight tasked with “making sure they behaved”. The person changed every month so he didn’t even bother remembering the names.

Besides, it was all a front anyway.

Clover and the others were sent here by order of a prince so of course they weren’t about to get evicted from Aizen just because they botched a rudimentary interview. The thing is, they didn’t need other people to know that, so they had to play out a farce where someone who's obviously a knight does come to check in on them.

Once the knight was gone, Clover walked up and immediately met the gazes of his wife and mother. All of them agreed not to talk outside, however, quickly ducked into the house.

“Everything went well, I assume?” he asked, pushing up his glasses.

“Uh-huh.” Ellin nodded with a smile, holding an envelope. “The knight even gave us some money. Just like the one last month did. There’s more than what you agreed on with You-know-who.”

‘Hush money.’

Naturally, he wasn’t complaining. He would take it gratefully with the intention of keeping the secrets he knew to the grave. Not even his future child would know who Clover used to be. That, to him, was just one of the prices he would gladly continue paying in exchange for the peaceful life he was currently living. What use was the truth when you'd have to live like rats? Or worse, die?

“Well, that’s nice.” Clover smiled as he headed for the kitchen. “I brought home some meat again. Hope you guys aren’t getting tired of lizard tails. Oh, and I bought a few of those weird fruits that your parents like.”

“Lizard tails…” Ellin muttered.

“You don’t like it?”

“No, I like them. They’re amazing and new. But…”

“But?”

Ellin bit her lip, shyly looking away. “I think they’re making me fat…”

“Pff.” Clover held in a chuckle before reaching around her and pulling her close. “Ellin, you’re pregnant. Getting a little fatter’s perfectly ordinary.”

“No, but under my arms… and my cheeks too.”

It took a bunch of whispered compliments and assurances that she was still the most beautiful woman in the world before Ellin finally pushed him away, citing how she had to get dinner ready. His mother hadn’t left the room through all that, and from the look on her face, she approved of his actions. Honestly, he was used to being spied on by the older trio in this household, so it didn’t bother him as much.

While dinner was prepared, he played some cards with his father-in-law, helped his mother tend to the garden that was somehow thriving despite them being underground, and then assured his worried mother-in-law about the intensity of their nightly activities now that Ellin’s pregnancy was confirmed.

Then they had a wonderful dinner and the couple retired to their room, where they dutifully pulled out English studying materials, doing their best to learn the local language before turning in for the night. Obviously, it did not need mentioning what a relatively newlywed couple who were deep in the throes of their love did before the sleeping part.

‘This… This is happiness.’

As he lay in bed, utterly exhausted but his wife huddled in his arms, Clover ruminated on his current life. He would likely never hold a wand again, which was both sad and something his father would be disappointed in. It hurt him too, honestly. Magic was, to him, a ticket to a better life. That was all. With it gone, however, he realized that it was so much more than that—that it was something he loved.

It was something that connected him with his father.

But for all it was worth, Clover liked to think that he’d made do with what he had. A man had to bend when the roof got lower, as they say. And he actually eked out the best outcome given his circumstances.

His mother was alive and well. He, himself, was alive too. Though one of his arms got cut off at some point, what mattered was that it really was regrown, good as new. Other than that, their finances were in order and he even had an honest job that was worthy of doing.

All was well. Clover hoped his father would be proud of him despite his betrayal. But even if that wasn’t the case, Clover wouldn’t have changed a thing. 

As for Arkhan? Well, that country was none of his business now.

‘Give ‘em hell, Prince Reivan. Just, you know, don’t die. Seriously...’

Clover didn’t know if their arrangements would hold up if the prince somehow died doing whatever the hell princes did after stealing someone's identity. So for his own sake and his family’s sake, Clover hoped Prince Reivan lived a very long life while continuing to uphold past agreements.

Sometimes, he wondered what the hell was being done in his name though.

Royal Interlude: The Crowns Convene

Fort Alexander.

One of three famous forts in Aizen, the fort was named after an apparently legendary conqueror that nobody but the First King of Aizen had ever heard about.

It had a bit of an outdated name, in most people’s opinion, given how it was still referred to as a “fort” despite being far too large to be considered as such. Yes, there was a very large building on Aizen’s side of the Wolf’s Jaw that could roughly be considered a fort. But Fort Alexander wasn’t just that building, it was also the hollowed-out space within a portion of the mountains that served as a base for the knights stationed in the fort as well as the mountains themselves, for they were imbued with multiple millennia’s worth of the kingdom’s defensive preparations. There was even an underground area too, where a strange culture was blooming among the knights who practically lived there.

So in a way, Fort Alexander was too vast to call a fort, but it was somewhat aptly named if you completely ignored everything that wasn’t a fort.

In any case, it was in this fortress that Aizen’s current king, Roland Aizenwald, waited with five hundred Ascendants who were ready for anything. Even the Sword Star himself had a portion of his focus diverted to the venue, though he remained at the capital for very obvious reasons—such as a portal to an apocalyptic world that could potentially lead to their eventual destruction.

While an important place in the defense of the kingdom’s border with Argonia, it was most definitely not a location that warranted the attention of so many Ascendants, one of six Transcendents in Sentorale, and the king of Aizen himself who likely had a gradually worsening pile of paperwork in his office. Given the current attention it was getting, anyone with enough intelligence to outmatch a chicken could tell that something big was about to happen.

And they would be right, because Argonia’s War God, its Founding Emperor and the Transcendent that ruled it from the shadows, was coming.

“What a waste.”

Roland Aizenwald’s sigh echoed softly through the chamber, the cool mountain air slipping through the window and brushing against his face. The view beyond the Wolf’s Jaw was bleak, the wasteland stretching endlessly, a harsh contrast to the meticulously crafted interior of the mountain he chose to loiter in.

The land, scorched and lifeless, seemed to swallow light itself, as if even the sun hesitated to shine too brightly over Argonia’s domain. One would think the destruction was a more recent renovation, but it had been centuries since the two side’s Ascendants clashed due to an unspoken agreement not to waste the lives of the truly powerful. Despite that, the Gray Wastes still had yet to recover and was still a land where nothing would grow.

But what truly sent a chill down Roland’s spine was the thought that if the knights of old faltered or failed even once, a city on their side of the mountains might not look very different. Luckily, they had won every battle that mattered so the fighting never reached anywhere actually populated.

‘Yes, but what if they hadn’t…?’

It was, perhaps, a useless line of thought. The cities were safe. His people lived in them still and his people would live in them tomorrow. As a king, however, Roland was inclined to think about these hypotheticals. Because it was his job to make sure they remained in the realm of possibilities, forever barred from reality.

“Sad, is it not, Your Majesty.”

Someone asked a question that wasn’t really a question from beside him, and Roland was forced to acknowledge that he wasn’t alone in the chamber. With him was the matriarch of House Mercer—who also happened to be his wife’s relative.

“Indeed it is, Lady Sarina.” Roland nodded with a smile, musing on how her presence here probably had a hand in influencing his father’s decision to stay in the palace. There was a strange tension between the two and Roland didn’t miss it. “Your house’s forces look upon it every day. It must get quite bland.”

“It is House Mercer’s privilege to act as the kingdom’s wall here,” she said with deliberate firmness, as if it was a matter of course. After letting a beat of silence punctuate her words, she cleared her throat and continued. “Though I will admit that the Gray Wastes aren’t pleasant to look at. Most dread their turn to take watch.”

“I can imagine.” He chuckled, turning away from the window with his hands clasped behind his back. “The crown appreciates House Mercer’s dedication.”

Sarina Mercer, known for her stern strictness in all manner of things, eased her expression and saluted. “House Mercer will faithfully carry out its ancient duty. Because we can. Because no one else will. Because We Must.”

“Mercer’s famous words…” Roland muttered, his throat tightening at the feeling flooding his veins upon hearing of the ancient promise between this woman’s ancestor and his. There was a power to it that he could hardly describe. It wasn’t mana, qi, or essence.

Strangely, it felt like a will. A will so strong it lived in House Mercer’s blood and was passed down to each and every single one of its descendants. Even three thousand years later.

Blood that ran in his wife’s veins too. So why was it that she treated him like a toy sometimes? Well, he had to admit that she only acted that way because she knew he liked her just the way she was, but still. It wouldn’t hurt to mellow down so he could be the one to take initiative sometimes. She was so aggressive he never got to make a move first—though she would probably disagree with such a notion.

In any case, now was not the time for him to think about how well his marriage was going in private. He simply couldn’t avoid thinking about it given how he’d received news that she had probably succeeded in her attempt to Ascend. Now, she was in the middle of the process that turned flesh and blood into whatever Ascendants were made of.

“I hope House Mercer’s forces are ready, should the need arise?”

Sarina Mercer, a woman as old as his father, nodded respectfully. “Always.”

“Good. Though, I do not believe there’s much to worry about. The War God will apparently send some sort of relay device he can use to communicate with us from his seat all the way on the other side of the continent. Sir Rolf merely insisted on this level of security because… uh…”

“The War God is what you get when you put a hundred angry badgers and a hundred venomous vipers into a bag, taking out the last remaining one,” she finished for him.

Roland raised his brows. “That was not the exact wording he used when he advised me, but it is close. He used cats instead of badgers.”

“Ah, yes. The Sword Star likes to change parts of the analogy from time to time. For unpredictability, so people don’t finish his sentences for him.”

The essence behind the words remained the same, however.

“I believe their envoys have arrived, Your Majesty,” Sarina suddenly said. “Two people. An Ascendant and a human, the latter seems to be unconscious.”

“Unconscious…?” Roland echoed with mild confusion but shrugged it off. “Are you sure they’re envoys? We’ve recently encountered an incident where an unaffiliated Ascendant tried to flout our border. Some say lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, but to me, that merely means it hasn’t yet. Do they have something on them that can prove their identity?”

“They’re waving a banner with the Argonian lion on it. With traces of a higher power woven into it.”

“I see. I suppose that’s somewhat indisputable evidence, then.”

‘Just two people though?’

One, if they didn’t count the unconscious person. In the first place, why was one of them unconscious anyway?

Feeling somewhat tired already, Roland walked away from the window and flicked his wrist indifferently as he sat on the seat prepared for him, his words aimed at someone who was likely a fair distance away from him. “Sir Gertrude, kindly escort them inside.”

A few moments later, three figures appeared where Roland had been, likely entering from the window.

The first was Sir Gertrude—that oh-so-familiar knight who had guarded Roland faithfully for most of his life and was unfortunately given a girl’s name by his parents—accompanied by another figure with a person slung over their back like a sandbag.

Lady Sarina chose to stand by the wall somewhere behind Roland, intent on joining the other five hundred knights who likely had their focus directed in the very room they were in. Sir Gertrude silently offered his liege a quick salute before joining House Mercer’s matriarch somewhere behind Roland.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, King of Very Far Away.” The Argonian Ascendant with olive-tinted skin smiled as he nodded, speaking in very fluent English. “This one here is the envoy of Sentorale’s one true ruler.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Roland answered evenly, letting the blatant attempt to rile him pass like a breeze. Not even deigning to get up from his seat, he bit back. “I hope the journey through your barren lands was not too boring. Oh, but I’m sure you ran into a few decrepit peasants along the way and made sport of their suffering.”

The envoy smirked but did not reply any further, setting down the man he’d been carrying and sweeping back his dark red hair. “My most sincere apologies, I must quickly prepare the means by which The Ruler of Everything Under The Heavens will bless your blighted ears with his words.”

“By all means.” Roland rolled his eyes and crossed his legs, taking a nearby carafe and pouring himself a drink. “So we may go home and be free of each other’s company sooner.”

“How wise of you.”

The envoy who hadn’t bothered to introduce himself properly took out a vial with a small mote of light flickering inside.

‘No. That’s…’

Looking closely, the light was actually a glowing splotch of ink in what appeared to be a vial of crystal-clear water. Thick and with countless vein-like appendages squirming outward, as if looking for something to latch onto.

It was, from the kingdom’s recent studies into the empire’s forces, what Argonia referred to as espers.

Or rather, this was probably what the spiritual entities looked like before they matured and took the form of whatever they parasitized.

“My apologies for the noise,” The envoy blandly said. “The subject has to be conscious during the merge.”

Without waiting for Roland’s response, the envoy gave the man he’d brought a kick to the stomach that may have looked like a mere nudge—from the way the previously unconscious man’s eyes flew open as the air in his lungs forcefully made an exit through his mouth—but it was anything but.

The man on the ground coughed violently, his eyes wildly scanning the surroundings before landing on the imperial envoy, speaking in the Argonian Common. “No… NO! I’m innocent!”

“While that may be true,” said the imperial envoy with undisguised indifference. “The fact of the matter is that you are now here and I find it too cumbersome to go back and find another suitable vessel.”

“You accursed…!” The man spat through gritted teeth before turning to Roland in panic. “Please! Help me!”

Roland looked indifferently at the foreigner asking him for help, before turning to the envoy. “I’m assuming you’re going to use that thing you’re holding on this man and he’ll lose his sense of self?”

“How astute of you. That is precisely what will happen,” the envoy replied.

“Is there a need to?”

“If you wish to halt negotiations with the One True Ruler, then yes. There is a need.”

“I see.” Roland sighed as he looked at the confused man on the floor, who hadn’t understood them speaking because Roland had switched back to English, pretending he didn’t understand the imperial tongue.

He closed his eyes for a moment, musing on how he could help the man. But he wouldn’t. Because if he started trying to save every single crying soul in the world, he would exhaust himself to the point he couldn’t protect his own people. The very belief that had ensured their nation’s power for eons was to select a limited portion of reality to protect and protect it with everything they had—to shepherd one’s flock and only that flock.

In the end, Roland was the king of Aizen. His duty was to its people. The moment he wore that crown, morals, and whatnot were thrown out the window. Because his job was to protect his own people and maintain the sovereignty of the royal family when there were no better alternatives.

Had it been a citizen of Aizen in distress, Roland would have blown the horn and heralded conflict to save them. But no obligations were owed to this man who he didn’t even know.

“Well?” Roland raised a brow at the envoy, acting as if the man on the floor didn’t exist. “I do not have all day.”

“Neither do we.” The envoy nodded, snapping his fingers to freeze the man who’d tried to crawl away. He then walked up and kicked the man again, forcing the poor fool's back to the ground.

“Help… I’m innocent…” the man pleaded.

The vial was uncorked and mercilessly tipped, the contents dropping onto the man’s chest. Absorbed, the water quickly turned into a wet splotch on the man’s garments. Unfortunately, the thing that had been inside remained, seemingly standing up and crawling toward the man’s face with countless tendrils.

Watching the thing get closer to his face, the man devolved into primal screaming that even Roland’s extensive linguistic education couldn’t help him decipher.

“I’m sorry, they always make noise like this.” the imperial envoy stonily gestured at the results of his actions with utter nonchalance. “His Majesty must not be used to such noises.”

“You’d be surprised.” Roland reclined and brought his glass up to his nose, appreciating the wine’s refined aroma as he watched. He wished his brother was here, since those eyes of his might glean a lot more information from the unfolding events than any of the people who were watching.

Soon, the thing made of flickering light managed to make it to the poor man’s forehead before digging into flesh and seemingly trying to rip open a hole to crawl through. Strangely, however, there was no sign of the flesh itself being touched. One thing was certain, the process was not particularly enjoyable for the human participant.

“Excuse me.” Lady Sarina stepped forward and waved her hand, surrounding the man with a nigh imperceptible bubble of wind that stopped the shrill screams from filling the room.

Roland turned to her and nodded. “Much appreciated.”

With that, she returned to her previous position but continued watching the man on the floor who wanted to writhe in pain but couldn’t. The disgust on her face was masked perfectly, though some of it still made it to her eyes.

“The kingdom’s famed elementalism…” The envoy muttered in wonder. “I saw something good today.”

“I wish we could say the same,” Roland snarked.

“The Ruler of All He Beholds instructed me to do this in front of our newest allies. As a token of proof, for the trust that will soon bloom within our great nation and your people.”

“I see. I lack the capability to come up with a way to show my gratitude.”

“No gratitude is asked. There was a practical aspect to this as well, you see.” The envoy flicked the empty vial in his hand. “This special... esper, I believe you call it in your language, can only live for an hour or two at most. Every second counts, so I was told to do it only when I was in the King of Very Far Away’s presence.”

“That is good. I’m afraid I’m all out of thanks to give. But perhaps working together might change that.”

“Perhaps.”

A moment of silence passed before they both noticed that the man on the floor had gone limp. The barrier of wind prevented them from hearing, but it seemed the man had also stopped screaming, judging from the relaxed nature of his throat.

“Well, then. I believe my job here is done.” The envoy turned around. “I ask for the Faraway King’s patience. It will take a minute or two for the esper to truly take root.”

In a fraction of a second, the envoy was gone from the room, a gust of wind blowing out the open window. Nobody stopped them, for the envoy was truly just a glorified messenger boy. And in a way, the message has been delivered.

Well, not quite. The delivery part was an ongoing process.

“Nasty little shits, the lot of them.” Sir Gertrude cursed under his breath and Roland immediately forgave him for the harsh language, largely because they shared the same sentiment. “Fleeing so fast, it’s almost like this thing’ll explode.”

“Will it?” Roland looked behind him, calmly raising a brow. “Explode, I mean.”

“There is a lack of energy for that.” Lady Sarina answered first. “Though if it's a Transcendent's working, none here will notice a thing. Sir Rolf will have to deal with it. He can also retrieve you far before an explosion reaches you, Your Majesty.”

“Yes, well, there’s still the knights.”

“The knights can handle themselves,” she replied without a moment’s passing. “House Mercer is always ready.”

Roland nodded sheepishly before letting his attention return to the figure on the floor, wondering what would happen next.

Nothing did, for a while. Until the man got up as if it was just another Tuesday.

And maybe that would seem to be the case if the man’s right eye didn’t look like some kind of eldritch growth. It was black and bulging, veins that resembled roots bursting out from what used to be the eyeball crawling across the skin of his face, pulsating rhythmically. Right in the middle of what resembled an eyeball was a red dot that glowed menacingly as it scanned the surroundings.

“Seems everything is in order,” the man said, mostly to himself, before taking a seat opposite Roland’s and pouring himself a cup of wine without asking. After taking a long pull, he looked to Roland and spoke in a very old version of Argonian Common. “I presume you are the kingdom’s current ruler?”

Roland placed his own glass down, feeling the urge to drink leave him as he answered in the same dialect. “You presume correctly.”

“Then I’m in the right place. Know that before you sits Leonel, Argonia’s Founding Emperor. Though, not in the flesh. Also, your accent is wonderful. You speak it better than some natives.”

“It’s an honor.”

“The honor is mine.” Leonel, in a body that didn’t belong to him, smiled as what became of his right eye squirmed. He gestured lazily at it. “Please ignore this. It won’t explode, I assure you.”

“Now we have reason to believe that it will.”

The War God laughed, slapping his knee. “Old Rolf has told you about me, then. He likes spreading bad rumors about me. It’s a bad habit that I had hoped a few centuries would fix, but it seems that wasn’t the case. A shame.”

Roland resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t need his brother’s gift to tell that he was being lied to in some way. Maybe the growth wouldn’t explode. But surely, something bad would come of it.

Despite that, Roland couldn’t very well stop negotiations.

“I was told your time in that body is limited.” he gestured toward Leonel.

The War God nodded. “That is the case, unfortunately. I’m sure my very rude envoy explained it well. Oh, and by the way, he wasn’t too much trouble, was he?”

Roland shook his head, sneering in his heart. “Perish the thought. It was a once-in-a-lifetime event that I will cherish, with the hope that it remains a unique memory.”

“That’s a relief. And it makes me very happy that you enjoyed his company. Next time, if there is a next time, I will surely send someone who can provide an even better experience.”

“I can hardly wait.”

Leonel’s smile grew as the red dot’s glow intensified, in contrast to the abyss that was his pulsating right eye. “I like you, King Roland of Aizen.”

“I’m not quite sure if that’s a good thing.” Roland poured himself another glass before taking a pull. “Now, I don’t believe our nations are friendly enough to play niceties for so long. Hence, down to business.”

“I’ll allow it.”

“How benevolent.” Roland, despite trying very hard not to, rolled his eyes. “I assume you haven’t forgotten the information we leaked to your spies?”

“Would I be here if I had?” Leonel chuckled. “Thank you for killing all but one of the spies, by the way. Decades of work in planting them, down the drain.”

“I’m told they resisted.”

“As they should.”

“Then that’s that.” Roland flicked his wrist indifferently. “Have you confirmed it on your end? Having fought with the republic more than us, you must have access to better records regarding their agents.”

Leonel grinned as he nodded. “Certain bright Ascendants have disappeared for seemingly no reason from time to time. I merely wrote it off as the Tower’s failed enterprises in dealing with Wysterian elves. But now I have a more plausible hypothesis. There are also certain incidents where the Tower went to great lengths to save certain, seemingly unimportant, people. On a few occasions, the Sage King even went personally—though that ended very badly for them anyway because of a certain knight.”

“You have members of the imperial family enrolled in the Tower as well, I remember.”

“They have told me of this Sanctuary where the Tower gets all their spirit beasts and those orbs. That is the only practical bit of information they have given me.”

“A piece of information that reinforces our findings.”

“Indeed it does.”

It was hard to believe the words of one’s enemies. Roland and his father had both agreed that simply telling the War God their findings and hoping the foreign emperor believed was an exercise in futility. As such, they merely encouraged the empire to perform their own investigation.

And in probable reluctance, the empire acquiesced.

Roland drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair as he maintained eye contact with one of the world’s most powerful people. “You should be thankful that we’ve told you of your demise before it happens.”

“I’ll be sure to bring a gift next time.” Leonel’s red eye pulsed with the black roots steadily occupying more of his face. “And so, you have told me this because you believe I will be inclined to participate in killing the Sage King, given our history.”

“And we are correct in thinking this.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Then good luck in your endeavors.” Roland smiled in feigned friendliness. “I will pray for your success when I next offer a prayer to Sormon.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. Neighbors should help each other, no?”

“Your envoy’s demeanor was worse, but you’re no paragon either. I’m afraid the way you act does not properly reflect the behavior of someone who is asking for aid.”

“And what would you suggest?”

Roland stretched his neck and massaged it. “Lately, I’ve grown stiff from all the paperwork I’m doing. Because of that, I have trouble looking up for too long. Perhaps if you lower yourself, just enough so I can prop my foot up on your back, then I will be more inclined to offer aid.”

Silence filled the air in the room as the gazes of two rulers clashed. And for a moment, the growing intensity of Leonel’s eye alarmed the two other Ascendants in the room. Leonel’s current body was that of a mortal, nothing compared to his real body. Roland should theoretically be capable of fighting against him.

But his intuition screamed at him, telling him that doing so alone was a very bad idea—not that he was alone. A king was never truly alone.

Moments passed and went as nobody said anything, Roland holding the emperor’s gaze without any intention of apologizing or taking back his words.

After what seemed like an eternity, the fierce crimson light died down and Leonal smiled widely. “I really like you, King Roland. You might be the most amusing Aizenian king I’ve met.”

“You haven’t met any other kings.”

“That’s true. Haha!”

Leonel slapped his knee before crossing his legs and leaning into the back of his seat. “I do not kneel, King Roland of Aizen. But let us talk about terms anyway.”

Roland shrugged. “I am listening.”

“You help me take down the Sage King and I won’t send word about your half-breed brother to the beasts in the east—whom I am sure will greatly appreciate the favor.”

Despite all the conditioning he’d undergone, Roland still found his face stiffening at the sudden strike.

‘He knows. He knows that the east will want Uncle, Mother, and Reivan’s heads. Damn it all to the hells…’

The fact that the War God hadn’t told the East yet meant that he was aiming to get some leverage on Aizen. They could have leaked it to the East earlier to maybe form an alliance and crush Aizen, but Leonel hadn’t done so. Which meant, strangely enough, that the War God wasn’t interested in making an attempt to destroy the kingdom.

‘Why, though?’

Roland would have liked to think the kingdom and the empire were eternal enemies. It was obvious what the former would do if it got its hands on a way to plausibly eradicate the latter with a good chance of success.

‘Sir Rolf said Leonel was extremely racist… Is it really that? Just that?’

It would add up, however. Argonia’s people were generally discriminating against other human ethnic minorities. So it went without saying they’d be a lot more racist toward other races. But even then, that didn’t seem entirely enough for Argonia to stay its hand in eliminating an enemy that spanned multiple millennia.

In any case, Roland's thoughts returned to the present. Aizen’s policy on other’s attempts at terrorism or threats was to shove a fist into their face. If Roland let himself get threatened into doing something, Leonel would come to know that he was a king who surrendered to threats.

And besides, it wasn’t like Leonel would magically forget everything about the East’s desire to eradicate Reivan’s bloodline. The emperor could still divulge the information to the east after the Sage King perished—and subsequently, he could reuse the threat of doing so to continuously extract concessions.

That could not be allowed.

“Perhaps I was a bit too hard on you, young one.” Leonel’s grin was absolutely feral as he chuckled. “Let us be more civil. Hm?”

“Aizen does not answer to threats.”

“Oh, I'm sure you don’t. You never have, and you likely never will. Never counted on it either. I bet you’d just give the East what they want if they asked for the mutts your father took in. The kittens too. Aizen cannot afford a war on too many fronts, after all. The East is lacking in enemies, it won’t hesitate in making war here.”

Roland stayed silent, letting the War God’s misconceptions be. The Kingdom would not leave its own out in the cold. What it chose to protect, it would do so. Even against the world.

“But even if the threat isn’t enough to move Aizen, it will hurt, won’t it, Your Majesty?” Leonel leaned forward, the red dot in his right eye gleaming fiercely. “It will hurt you. I can hurt you. In ways violence never can. Do remember that before disrespecting me again.”

Snorting, Roland crossed his own legs. “Negotiation, then.”

Leonel nodded once. “Negotiation.”

“You, who we both know will be the Tower’s most likely first target, will do it alone. And should you fail, we will pick up where you left off to finish the job with the promise that we won’t try to kill you if you come out of the battle injured.”

“This doesn’t sound like a very good proposition.”

“In exchange, a truce will be declared between the kingdom and the empire. Aizen will, barring extreme circumstances that risk the sovereignty of the kingdom, not take any actions to break this truce first. Also, Aizen will refrain from directly interrupting Argonia’s annexation of republican lands. For as long as the truce lasts.”

That got Leonel’s attention, the emperor taking a moment to think before speaking again. “There is a very obvious implication that you will interrupt indirectly.”

Roland raised a brow. “Would you have believed us if I said we wouldn’t interrupt at all?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“As you should. Let us move on, shall we?”

“Very well. Let us now define what constitutes direct intervention.”

“Knights.”

“Rephrase that to military forces, lest you rebrand a few of your knights into something else.”

Roland rolled his wrist. “Very well.”

“As for food and other services—”

“Those are not included. We’ll want to profit from the entire affair before you ruin the whole place.”

“Bastards.” Leonel spat, but nodded. “Fine, then. And how long will the truce last?”

“Fifty years.”

“That’s far too short. Three hundred.”

Roland frowned. “Why would you need three hundred years to annex a place without a Transcendent?”

Leonel shrugged, remaining silent.

“Hm…” After a bit of thought, Roland relented. “A hundred years.”

“That... will do.”

“I see. Then do we have terms?”

The War God hummed in thought for a few heartbeats before shaking his head. “I think not.”

Roland grimaced. “Are you purposely wasting my time?”

Leonel wagged a finger at him with a snicker. “I merely wanted to gain insight into what your best-case scenario was, King Roland of Aizen. Now, let us try to meet halfway.”

“What do you…”

“Your push for me to deal with Antonnel mostly on my own initiative is under the assumption that Antonnel will attack me first.”

“Which is very likely.”

“Yes, indeed it is. Our homes are quite close to each other, so we’ve clashed on numerous occasions. Different from old Rolf, who’s quite literally on the other side of the continent.”

“And your point?”

Leonel chuckled. “I was getting to that. Now, say that negotiations between us break down, turning into a game of who flinches first—I play coy a little too much while Aizen stays back planning to take advantage of the fated clash between me and the Tower’s Transcendents, of which, for the sake of our scenario, there are two. Listening so far?”

“Keep talking.”

“Now, let us say that I tragically perish without taking anyone with me. Would that not place Aizen in a very bad position?”

“It would,” Roland said. “Will you play hard to get to the extent you get killed for it?”

“It’s not playing if I know I’ll get what I want.” Leonel smiled widely. “When I am taken out of the picture without much trouble by the Tower’s Sage King and the hypothetical Transcendent, what will happen to Aizen then?”

“The Sword Star will triumph over the winner, who will be injured.”

“What if I don’t manage to injure the Tower’s duo at all?”

“The Great War God of Argonia.” Roland rolled his eyes mockingly. “Is that how you wish to go? Will you go quietly into the night? Not in a roar of bloody struggle but with a whimper?”

“Of course, I won’t. But let us say that despite my struggles, I do not manage to inflict a meaningful wound. What then?”

“There are too many hypotheticals here.”

“Humor me.”

Roland sniffed, taking a pull from his wine glass to give himself time to think. “If all of that happens, we will be in a slight bit of trouble.”

Leonel sneered. “You will depend on the Saintess and the Gladiator’s aid. Maybe the Pontifex too.”

“Something along those lines.”

“The pacifist, the slave of gold, and the fanatic? You’ll depend on them? None of the three have any stakes in this. Because though Arkhan won’t rule as well as you or I, it will rule. Not destroy.”

Roland felt that there was some truth to that, though whether Saintess Frey would help them defend Aizen since she thought highly of the royal family’s ruling prowess was up in the air. It was, in the end, still a gamble. The orcs too, were an undesirable ally to bring into Sentorale. Roland didn’t want to do it unless the kingdom was literally about to burn down.

“You are beginning to understand.” Leonel nodded in approval. “By not working together, you possibly subject yourselves to a much greater risk. On the other hand, if I and Rolf work together, taking Antonnel down will be a guarantee.”

“So you suggest taking equal risk so that we can both come out of it relatively unharmed.”

“That is the case. I’m sure I can convince that crazy bastard in the church to stop praying for a day to help out. That makes three Transcendents. Victory is all but assured. And even more so if we pool together our riches to hire the Gladiator Boy. That makes four Transcendents versus Antonnel. There has never been a guarantee of victory more assured than this one. The risk to us is practically negligible.”

Roland grunted. There was some sense in what the War God was saying. In fact, it was one of the plans he and his father conceived if the War God ever rejected the first one—which actually had a high chance of getting denied, because the War God wasn’t just the warmongering brute that his moniker made him out to be.

Schemes and Intrigue were also part of the ancient conqueror's arsenal. In fact, Leonel had apparently made use of those more than violence when the empire was starting out. That stopped when he obtained enough of a power base to just be a warmongering degenerate, however.

In any case, what Leonel suggested was acceptable. Sadly, it wasn’t without issues.

‘Since we’re all working together, no concessions to the other are necessary.’

The problem was what to do with the Arkhan that would soon lose its only Transcendent.

Argonia would want to annex the republic while Aizen, in contrast, didn’t. Which was why Roland wanted to extract a concession in exchange for “allowing” the annexation to go uncontested. It was basically getting something in exchange for nothing.

In the case where no concessions were given to anyone, however, the empire ironically won out. Because it would likely claim Arkhan without resistance from the kingdom’s side.

While Arkhan would be a source of revenue if they vassalized it completely or even just partially, it would take a great deal of resources and time to develop it to the level of mainland Aizen. And even without that, the crown didn’t really need money.

It was a good thing to have, but Aizen’s royal family had a lot of other sources of income.

Due to crushing and preventing capitalism from ever truly gaining a foothold, the royal family owned a lot of enterprises in the kingdom, such as artifact trade and monster meat—which made sense, because artificing knowledge was a state-managed art due to its dangers and monsters weren’t really beings that ordinary people should and could manage. The crown also owned quite literally every notable patch of farmland in the nation.

Every time someone in the kingdom ate, the crown got a cut. And that wasn’t even all, merely a scratch on the surface.

These enterprises were the reason why the royal family could afford to run the country with such low taxes. And on a darker note, it was a way for them to maintain power. Nobody would rebel if they’d go hungry for it, though they thankfully haven’t ever thought of doing so.

‘If we ever put a despot on the throne, everything would be ruined.’

Luckily, that hadn’t happened yet. And Roland would have to scrutinize his successor closely before even thinking of abdication. The system the kingdom was running with only worked because the royal family weren’t assholes, after all.

Back on topic, the royal family simply didn’t have a reason to take over Arkhan other than to prevent Argonia from taking it—which honestly wasn’t all that great of a reason given how many knights they’d bleed in the endeavor of keeping the land they took.

“You have a lot to think about, King Roland of Aizen.”

Leonel’s chuckle broke Roland out of his own thoughts, making him look up to see that practically all of the emperor’s face was covered by black veins.

“You look like a monster,” he said.

“That is what I had to be.” Leonel smiled. “The world didn’t leave me alone until I fought back, see.”

Roland stayed silent, not even bothering to ask for an elaboration. “The current terms aren’t enough.”

“I guessed so, judging from your face. I’m assuming you want concessions—that you won’t be getting, by the way, because I’m not an idiot—in exchange for allowing me to take Arkhan afterward.”

“...Either way, it is not enough with just this. The empire gains too much.”

“Then we are at an impasse.”

“Indeed.”

The two rulers remained silent for a few moments, though this time, they weren’t trying to intimidate the other. They both truly wanted the negotiations to pull through, but didn’t want to give too much to the other side in doing so.

Only when every inch of the emperor’s face was covered in the black veins did he speak again.

“These past few centuries, there has been an implicit understanding between our nations not to use Ascendants in skirmishes, yes? Of course, I am willing to ignore how the kingdom sent that insidious little brat to wreak havoc in the empire for a time. I still remember that wench and her eternally unripe face.”

Roland nodded, inwardly amused at just how much of a nuisance Dame Mordred was to the kingdom’s neighbors.

Leonel continued. “Why don’t we put that into writing? Into an actual treaty. It is an advantage to both of us. We humans must stick together, especially with all the vermin around us. Orcs to the south, elves to the east, those tiny little ice freaks in the north, and those beasts in the east. Humanity is surrounded. And when they come knocking, because they will, we can’t be too bloody, hm?”

“There…” Roland drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair in thought. “There is some sense in that. The terms?”

“In conflicts between humans, only mortals participate. Neat and simple. At some point, let’s have whatever government the remains of Arkhan erect sign it too. Ah, and let's not forget about Pentagoria’s principalities.”

“How generous. But ‘participate’ is a broad term.”

“It is supposed to be, for I mean it to encompass everything. Scouting, espionage, combat, rescuing particularly important mortals like royals and imperials… everything. Let the mortals fight for mortal riches. The immortals stay out of it and wait for the fight of all fights. The fights that actually matter.”

Roland sneered. “Until one of us can gain the upper hand in Transcendent numbers. Then the treaty goes into the pyre.”

“Exactly.” Leonel laughed loudly, even as his body visibly seemed to be deteriorating.

Giving it some thought, Roland felt inclined to agree. If only mortals would participate, occupying Arkhan might be plausible. Naturally, he wouldn't trust Leonel completely, so Ascendants would still be posted along the borders of Aizen.

But to be honest, mortal knights didn’t have much to do that Ascendant knights couldn’t accomplish with a flick of their wrist. A mortal knight’s ultimate goal was to become an Ascendant. Only then would they start truly becoming a national-level asset.

‘We can blood knights with low risk while profiting from the republic’s bounties.’

While money wasn’t an issue for the royal family, more riches was always a good thing. Besides, knights excelled in combat and a real conflict would probably push a bunch of them to Ascendance. With Ascendants taken out of the equation, few things could kill them as long as they were careful.

It would also prevent the empire from sharing a border with Aizen on both the north and the west—which was the main reason Roland was even considering the occupation of Arkhanian territories.

‘We don’t need all of it. Just the parts close to us, acting as a buffer zone so conflict never reaches the motherland.’

Very appealing. The War God’s offer of a treaty was very appealing indeed.

Which was why it made Roland so skeptical. “It’s surprising for you to suggest this, given how it’ll make occupation much harder for you.”

At that, Leonel laughed.

“You think I’m afraid of difficulty? I am Strife, King of Knights. I am its incarnation and its child. Let it drown Sentorale so the wheat may be separated from the chaff and humanity come out stronger for it. And besides…”

Leonel leaned forward as the red dot in what used to be his right eye glowed intensely once again, and looking at the War God’s face, Roland could no longer find an inch that wasn’t covered with the black veins.

“Watching mortals struggle is a lot more fun.”

“Fun…?”

“Indeed. Ascendants, normally, have already found themselves. They are developed, their wills tempered in flame. Because of that, there is no longer a need for flame. There is little growth to be had. Little to watch.”

Roland grimaced as his fingers clenched the arms of his seat. “You’re crazy.”

“Maybe.” Leonel smiled widely. “Everyone who reaches where I am isn’t quite right in the head, King Roland. Just look at the ones around you. A man who stands vigil over the legacy of his friend for eons, unmoving. A girl whose helplessness made her obsessed with an ideal. And the son of strife who wishes to fill the world with heroes. We’re all crazy. It is the trials we have been through that define us.”

After saying that, the War God stood up and spread his arms.

“Forged in Blood and Tears.”

The Imperial Credo.

Spoken by the very man who embodied it, Roland felt an indescribably force clamp onto his heart. In his eyes were visions of fire and steel and men who’d lived through it—men who’d become more because of it. And Sormon help him, Roland felt the pull hard. He felt the desire to see if he could be one of them.

Jingle!

A moment later, the visions vanished, and Roland looked to his shoulder to find an elderly hand resting gently on it.

“That’s enough, Leonel.” Rolf, the Sword Star, sighed.

Leonel laughed. “Merely passing torches down to the younger generation, Rolf.”

“What you do is more akin to setting fire to a house and telling them to see if they can stay inside until the embers die out.”

“Ah. Well. You know how it is. These young’uns are too lazy. They don’t know how hard it was before we came along and it makes them soft.”

“There are other ways to foster growth. Ways that don’t involve constantly pushing them into a gauntlet.”

Leonel scoffed. “Maybe. But such a thing… I cannot acknowledge it.”

Rolf snorted. “We do not need your acknowledgment. Keep your mistaken ways away from the kingdom's children.”

“Bah. You’ve grown soft, old man. You used to be more like me.”

“I have grown sharper.”

Leonel grunted in disinterest, turning to Roland instead. “King Roland of Aizen, first of his name. Do we have terms?”

Roland gulped, trying to calm himself—trying to see if he was still himself. He threw a questioning glance at the most reassuring presence in the room.

Rolf nodded. “There is merit in the treaty. Leonel will not break it first, at least. Not unless another Transcendent sprouts from his little garden of strife. Which I highly doubt.”

Leonel frowned as he grumbled. “Have a little faith, here.”

“I have no faith in your ways whatsoever, fool. I hope you never darken this nation’s soil again.”

Before the two ancient figures devolved into arguing, Roland cleared his throat and nodded. “We have terms.”

“Great! My people will contact you once I’m ready. Now, with that out of the way...!”

Leonel clapped with a smile as the red dot in his eye suddenly grew blindingly bright.

‘He’s going to…!’

Rolf flicked his wrist and the War God vanished. But a moment later, a cataclysmic explosion shook the air, and if the Sword Star himself wasn’t there to protect him, Roland would have been blown away or outright died from the shockwave.

The furniture was not so lucky, as anything made of glass or wood outright shattered.

‘That crazy bastard actually blew up!’

“Is… Is everyone okay?” Roland looked around to the others in the room other than Sir Rolf because he was far too wet behind the ears to worry about the Sword Star.

“I don’t feel very okay…” Sir Gertrude grumbled, footing unsteady.

And even Lady Sarina, ever the picture of composure, looked visibly shaken. “Th-the Fort’s enchantments…”

“Do not worry,” Sir Rolf said, smiling warmly like the kind old man he really was. “I transported his body far enough away that only the furniture was damaged. Everything else, including the knights, should be fine. I could not protect everything because Leonel made it so that the force of the explosion would be focused in the direction of the Fort, likely foretelling I would banish him away.”

“I see. That’s great.” Roland chuckled wearily, turning to the slightly relieved matriarch of House Mercer. “Lady Sarina, the crown will reimburse the cost of fixing everything up. That’s how it’s supposed to be, anyway.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she bowed, truly grateful.

‘Eh, are they having trouble with money…?’

In any case, Roland found himself surprisingly aghast at the War God’s lie. In hindsight, he hadn’t really trusted the bastard but he’d still ended up getting caught completely off guard. Luckily, the damage was contained to just the furniture, which could be replaced in a matter of days. The enchantments being crippled would have been a devastating loss that they had fortunately averted thanks to the Sword Star.

‘Damn him. Next time, I’ll talk through holostones instead.’

Coming face to face with Leonel, even a weak disposable corpse he controlled, was far too risky.

Arc#4 Chapter 67: The Vladeken

Sometimes, Reivan thanked his lucky stars that reality wasn’t as eventful as fiction. Because their squad splitting up had been the perfect opportunity for fate to spice things up needlessly.

It didn't take much effort on his part to come up with possible developments. He’d be alone with an attractive young woman he was pursuing, so rom-com hijinks ensuing would have been an annoying but appreciated development. They could have also suffered an ambush from the monsters they were supposed to kick out of their very homes. Or they could have stumbled upon a villager with a lost child along the way.

Thankfully, nothing happened.

After a short trip of about thirty minutes on their surprisingly fast hoverboards, Reivan and Mira arrived within view of the village. Even from afar, they could see the warm orange lights leaking out of windows and the trails of black smoke from their chimneys that may have been for cooking or simply to stave off the blasted cold that Arkhan was eternally plagued with.

Regardless of their utility, Reivan found himself wishing that the Tower invented a flying implement similar to the broomsticks from a certain story about a boy with a lightning scar instead. Or even a flying carpet. Because as short as the trip was, his feeble mortal knees did not enjoy having to stand like a statue for half an hour while going forty to fifty kilometers per hour.

Mira herself had complained incessantly despite her superior physical prowess. If Reivan wasn’t working on seducing her, he would have already snapped and told her to shut up about five times by now. Thankfully, he didn’t do something that would have wasted weeks of progress. Sometimes, it amazed him how far a man's patience could be stretched when they were chasing skirts.

“Finally! My knees can rest,” she griped as the light of scrying on her right eye flickered out in the darkness, her hoverboard easing to a halt. “Seems we didn’t need to rush here after all.”

“It’s better this way,” Reivan answered as he gradually came to a stop right next to her. “Now we can stay and prevent anything from happening. Or help mitigate damage, at least. It’s not like we’re all that great.”

“Oh, don’t be such a downer. C’mon, let’s say hi. Let’s go slow so they don’t get spooked.”

Even from far off, they could see scattered villagers here and there, talking to their neighbors from across different sides of a wooden fence or momentarily coming out of their houses to retrieve firewood from a nearby stack. So if the smoking chimneys weren’t enough of a clue that everything was fine, they now had inconclusive evidence that the village wasn’t under monster-induced duress.

Also, there were what appeared to be two middle-aged men—village militia they assumed—armed with outdated rifles standing guard by the wooden archway that served as the village entrance. The archway seemed a bit useless, however, given that the fence surrounding the village was merely three feet high. Even a child could climb over it with enough grit and effort, much less a monster motivated by hunger or bloodlust.

Reivan and Mira were spotted rather quickly given how they were waving around glowing wands while surrounded by wisps of flames that they had conjured for warmth, causing the guards to tense and ready their weapons. However, they must have quickly realized that the incoming pair were battlemages because the two men quickly relaxed.

Surely, wearing combat robes and riding hoverboards was enough to clue them in.

“You do the talking,” Mira whispered loudly as they neared the militia. “I’m shy around strangers!”

{ [Lie Detection] has activated! }

Reivan grimaced at her blatant attempt to get out of doing work, but he couldn’t really do anything about it. Besides, he had agreed to be the effective leader, though that was when he still had the misconception that their captain was utterly useless. She wasn't, however. Just lazy. And a little insecure about being a leader.

‘There needs to be a renegotiation of duties soon.’

In any case, Reivan continued forward as Mira slowed to a halt, putting on a friendly smile as he raised both hands. “Good evening, misters. We mean you no harm.”

“Battlemage.” One of the men inclined his head in respect. “We was told you'd be coming. But we didn’t think you was coming today though…”

“Ah, well... We came as fast as we could. It would be a tragedy if we dallied for a day or two and ended up arriving too late.”

That seemed to go over well with the two men, who shared a look and nodded.

“These’re good kids, they sent us,” the one on the left said.

“Right.” The other grunted, cocking a brow as he gave the battlemages a suspicious glance. “I thought there’d be more’n two.”

“The rest are trailing behind us,” Reivan chimed in. “The two of us went ahead. Just in case.”

“You got a badge or somethin', sir mage?”

‘Oh. Right. Probably should have gone with that first.’

Managing to hide his embarrassment at such an oversight, Reivan pulled out a tiny bronze badge with the engraved figure of an owl on a tree branch, glowing in pulses of purple light. It was one of the lesser-used articles of possession so he almost completely forgot that he’d been given one.

“Seems real,” One of the guards commented with a look that made it obvious that he was just acting like he knew what he was talking about. “You got a name, mister mage?”

“Clover Salwyn.” Reivan then gestured behind him. “The woman behind me is Mira Serandina.”

“Right then. Guess you folks can come in. We’ll lead you to the elderman so they can set ya up.”

“Thank you. And may the cold winds bring warm tidings to you.”

“Same to you, mage.”

With that cursory greeting out of the way, Reivan gestured for Mira to come along as one of the militia escorted them inside. Of course, they decided to go on foot from here, carrying their hoverboards under their arms given how full their spatial storage artifacts were. Thankfully, the boards were practically weightless despite being completely made of metal.

“Good work back there,” Mira elbowed him with an impish grin. “Should’ve shown the badge first though.”

“I know, alright?” Reivan grumbled back.

“Don’t worry about it, our squad leader made the same mistake back then.”

“That's good to know. Would've been even better if you'd warned me, don't you think?”

“These types of things are supposed to be learned through experience.”

Reivan rolled his eyes. “That’s a load of bull.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

As they were led through the village of Florris, Reivan got to appreciate the quaint atmosphere for all its good pros and cons. Surprisingly, the houses, though small and made of wood and stone, looked clean and sturdily made. Their boots also didn’t have to get slathered with mud and manure given how there was a network of stone-paved paths that connected every place of import to everywhere else.

It was nice, actually. And a whole lot less stinky than Reivan anticipated. Actually, there was a pleasant scent of warm milk and freshly baked bread wafting in the air that stoked his appetite along with the relaxing symphony of bustling houses.

“You kids are just in time.” The man leading turned toward them as they walked. “The cruds should be just about ready tonight.”

‘The what now?’

“That sounds lovely.” Mira smiled, throwing a glance at Reivan as if to get him to agree. “Right?”

“Uh, yeah… Of course.” Reivan nodded with an awkward smile. In many cases, ignorance should be amended by simply acknowledging it. But in this particular situation, he didn’t want to appear like the only idiot. He’d just have to wait and see what the hell cruds were and make his decision.

Along the way, their escort warmly made conversation with them about all sorts of subjects, most of which were about how great the village was. It came off as a bit boastful because that was precisely what it was, and the man was being entirely unapologetic about it. Which was fine, in Reivan’s opinion. A little pride never hurt anyone.

It also helped him paint a better picture of the place they’d be staying in for a month.

Eventually, he and Mira were led through a set of wooden stairs that led to an elevated area in the village where everything was noticeably better. The houses were all stone and they were all two or three stories with pristinely maintained hedgerows separating every house’s territory from its neighbors.

Obviously, this was the rich part of the village.

‘Why am I not surprised…?’

Even in villages, it seemed, there was a gap between rich and poor. But then again, what did it matter to him?

There was no clear way to distinguish which house belonged to the most important person in the village because, honestly, any of them would have fit the bill. If they didn’t have a guide, they would have been utterly lost.

They did though. Have a guide, that is. As such, they were escorted to the current elderman’s house without any issues. Truly, it was great when everything worked out without strange or surprising plot developments. Maybe it was boring for anyone spectating him, but he sure as hell loved it when absolutely nothing but good things happened.

Anyway, the elderman’s house was amongst the bigger ones in the rich neighborhood. It was only two stories tall but was especially wide, so it was actually bigger than the rest. Painted a clean white and with a friendly puppy wagging its tail while leashed to a pole near the door, the house looked like a good place to live in.

“Wait here,” Their guide gestured for them to stay behind before easily opening the wooden gate to the elderman’s home. With a smile, he gave the puppy a pat on the head as he knocked. “Excuse me, elder. Them battlemages arrived early!”

‘Why’s he knocking if he was just going to shout anyway…’

Mira, on the other hand, focused on something else. “Look, Clover. That puppy’s adorable. I always wanted a dog, but I was scared it wouldn't get along with Boop. But anyway, you think it’ll let us pet it?”

“Take this more seriously…” Reivan shook his head in exasperation before shrugging. “Well, if it does, I wanna do it too.”

He was, after all, a lover of dogs. Passing up the opportunity was not in his nature, even if he was playing a character at the moment.

The door soon opened to reveal a beautiful young woman who was quite obviously not the elder. She was probably blonde, though the cloth she wore to cover her hair hid it well. And even when he wasn’t trying to notice, she also had an absolutely fantastic set of assets on her chest. Really, they were just kind of there, so he wasn’t to be blamed for being made aware of their existence.

So the pointed glare he could feel coming from beside him was wholly unwarranted.

Reivan cleared his throat and looked away from the conversation happening by the door, suddenly finding the stars in the sky incredibly interesting.

“Good for you, Clover.” Mira elbowed him a little harder than she should have. “Aren’t you glad a beauty like that’s around?”

“I didn’t even say anything…” He rubbed his arm where she struck. It hurt more than his manly pride wanted to admit. “And there’s no need to get jealous. Didn’t I say I wouldn’t play around while we were having a thing?”

“You did say that…” Mira squinted at him before looking away. “Fine. Also, who says I’m jealous?”

“Your actions do.”

“Shush. Be quiet, minion. They’re coming.”

Reivan shut his mouth but he felt very pleased overall. His eyes then turned toward the door again, where their guide and the eye candy were already finished with their conversation. They were indeed coming, which was a convenient development for Mira.

“Good evening, esteemed guests from the Tower.” The girl gave them a polite smile and an awkward attempt at a curtsy. “I’m Verbena, the elderman’s daughter. My apologies, but my father turned in early for the night so he’s not quite ready to welcome you yet. We’d love for you to come inside to warm up while he makes himself presentable though.”

“Thank you.” Reivan placed a hand on his chest and bowed before readjusting his glasses. “My name’s Clover Salwyn and this is Mira Serandina. There are others, but they will arrive tomorrow. Or later in the night, if they get lucky by finding a stagecoach that’s willing to travel at this hour.”

“Unlikely.” Verbena giggled before stepping aside. “Please, this way.”

Reivan and Mira thanked and bid their farewell to their middle-aged guide before ducking inside the elderman’s home at Verbena’s invitation. The interior was made of polished wood in contrast to its stone exterior, and the hallways were illuminated with magitech lanterns that radiated a warm orange light.

“I hope the trip here wasn’t too difficult?” Verbena politely inquired as she sat them down in what was probably a guest parlor. Which was quite unvillage-like for a house to have. “Uncle Ba—I mean, the man who guided you earlier told me that you rushed here in worry of our welfare. On behalf of the people of Florris, I thank you.”

“We’re just doing our job,” he replied.

“And we appreciate it,” she smiled at him. “Ah, you’ll find that my father is very slow, especially when he’s just awoken. Would you care for a meal? Or have you already eaten?”

“We wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Not at all, it would be our pleasure to host you. We couldn’t possibly offer much compared to the city, but we have mead, milk, bread, and butter that I made myself. There’s also crud. We were just about to have dinner, actually. Why not join us?”

Given how he’d already refused once, it would be rude to do so any more than this. As such, Reivan respectfully bowed his head. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Oh, there’s plenty to go around.” Verbena clapped her very soft-looking hands, dimples on her smooth cheeks. “Please, come this way. My sister has already set the table, I believe.”

They all got up and Reivan was once again stabbed by Mira’s glare, to which he merely replied with a wink and a pucker of his lips to make her stop, punching his arm with barely any force.

Joining them on the table was Verbena’s sister Verina, who was apparently twelve, and her little brother Viklin, who was five. As for their mother, Reivan was just about to write her off as dead because novels ruined his brain, making him think everyone had a tragic backstory. But apparently, she was alive and well. The elderman's wife was currently in Varros, managing a business of some kind in the elderman’s name and acting as the village's representative there.

Oh. And a bit of casual inquiry revealed that Verbena was actually the same age as Mira.

They didn’t make them the same in the villages, it seemed. Or maybe Verbena was an outlier, given her little sister was tiny even by twelve-year-old standards. Mimi and Jiji certainly weren’t that small when they were twelve, and they were malnourished from a life on the run in the eastern continent.

Anyway, the following meal was nice and filling. Bread with warm milk and butter. There was honey too, and boy was that great. Reivan was also treated to a mug of the best mead he’d ever had—which was really saying something because he’d tasted the very best Aizen could offer.

Also, Reivan came to discover that “crud” was just cheese, only made from the milk of something other than a cow. It tasted quite different from cheese but was made in the same way and looked alike. The taste was a bit… strange if Reivan was being honest. Particularly the strong smell it gave off was too pungent for his picky nose. He much preferred cheese. Normal, good ole cheese from amazingly normal animals called cows. Sometimes goats.

It seemed Arkhan in general agreed with his opinion because crud was a type of food that mainly circulated in villages where the beasts it came from were raised. Which was rare, so it was an acquired taste for locals.

As it turned out, Mira’s hometown had a few nearby villages that traded it in from time to time, which was why she knew about it. Crud was never served in their restaurant, however, because it was too smelly. She liked it though, so Reivan gave her his portion.

There was a bit of an incident where Verbena mentioned she was a dairymaid, and that working with milk all the time gave her very soft hands. She had innocently demonstrated this by letting him feel them, much to Mira’s annoyance. The grumpy captain had wasted no time in stepping on his boots, which barely affected him because of their defensive enchantments.

After the meal, Verbena led them to a study on the second floor, where the elderman was waiting by the window.

‘He’s younger than I anticipated.’

Thirty years old, give or take. Maybe halfway to forty. The elderman was most definitely Verbena’s father given his slicked blonde hair, fair skin, and handsome features. Perhaps this was what aging like fine wine meant, Reivan mused. He was also insanely tall. A rough estimate put him at six foot eight. Reivan saw plenty of tall people and Aizen'n's average was pretty up there too. But this guy was on another level.

'Verbena wasn't that tall though... Ah, did all her height go into... Uh, never mind.'

“A pleasant evening to you two,” the elderman said. “I apologize for making you wait. I wasn’t really in a state to meet guests, you see.”

“No apologies necessary.” Reivan smiled and accepted the invitation to sit. “It’s our fault for arriving at night.”

“Oh, but you did so for our sake. Nobody in Florris will fault you for such kindness. Thank you.”

“I hardly deserve the credit. It was our squad’s captain that urged us to hurry.”

Mira stiffened upon having the spotlight turned on her, pinching Reivan’s thigh as she smiled at the elderman. “It ended up being for naught. But I’m glad that there was never a need.”

“Indeed. Peace and quiet is wonderful.” The elderman chuckled before extending a hand to her. “Where are my manners? I’m Vultario Craywin, and I am this village’s elderman. It is a pleasure to meet you both.”

“Mira Serandina.” She shook his hand.

Reivan then moved to take it next. “Clover Salwyn. Vice-captain.”

Vultario gripped his hand firmly before letting go, a kind smile on his face. “I’m glad they sent us such capable battlemages despite the mundanity of our village’s issue. Makes me feel like we aren’t paying those taxes for nothing.”

With the introductions out of the way, the elderman pulled out a very simple map that featured the village and its surroundings. Really, simple was a bit of an understatement because the village was portrayed as a circle. Everything else on it was drawn with the same level of simplicity.

“May I ask about how much you know about what we need from you?” Vultario inquired.

“We’re to send away monsters that have made a home close to the village,” Reivan answered. “But try not to hurt them because they’re also beneficial to the village.”

“You have the basic gist of it, then. Which is honestly enough, for this isn’t all that complicated. Just not something ordinary people can do.”

“We were told that the elderman would explain more.”

“And so I shall.” Vultario then pulled out a book, and in contrast to the lackluster map, this one had very refined illustrations of plants and creatures within. He flipped to a page and showed it to them. “This is what you’ll be sending away. Oh, and calling them monsters is a bit much… They’re as much a resident of these lands as we are.”

Reivan nodded and pulled the book closer to their side of the table so he and Mira could get a better look.

The creature was, quite frankly, a strange caricature of a child.

According to the notes on the page, the villagers called them “Vladeken” and they could at most get tall enough to reach someone’s knees. Though the sketch on the book had no color, a note mentioned they had grayish skin, beady red eyes, and dull nails. Strangely enough, Vladeken didn’t have a mouth, ears, or a nose but they could hear and smell. As for eating, they mainly subsisted on morning dew that formed on their skins. Vladeken tended to build small igloo-like burrows out of earth-molding abilities that they innately had.

For the most part, they seemed entirely harmless.

They were actually beneficial because their waste—which, really, was just piss because they didn’t eat anything solid—had extremely beneficial effects on the soil. When the Vladeken eventually left, which they always did after living anywhere for a year or two, the area that was once their burrow would be absolutely filled with all kinds of mushrooms and herbs that the villagers would harvest for years.

Another boon was the scent of their waste. It was absolutely atrocious to just about every other creature except humans Vladeken, warding off dangerous monsters and even snakes or wolves from settling in the vicinity of the village.

“If letting them live around here is so great,” Mira tilted her head. “Why do you want them sent away at all? Do they make a lot of noise or play pranks?”

Vultario shook his head. “No, they don’t do anything of the sort. They generally keep to themselves and are practically incapable of making a sound. The Vladeken are nice, all around. Everybody likes them.”

“Now I'm even more confused, then.”

“It’s because while their waste is unattractive to almost everything else, they are also extremely attractive to certain species of insects.”

Apparently, these insects also weren’t harmful by themselves. But the problem lay in the fact that the Vladeken had just made their home on a particularly important field of flowers that the village beekeepers have their bees pollinate in. And some of the insects that the Vladeken attract were invasive to the bees, crippling the honey-making capabilities Florris possessed.

‘Honey…’

“Ah. The mead.” Reivan recalled what he had drunk a few minutes ago. It would be a while before he forgot that. There was absolutely no way that wasn’t the village’s specialty, sold for large profits.

“You seem to have taken a liking to it.” Vultario smiled, a bit smugly despite his age. “Our village is quite proud of it. I’d be happy to send you off with a bottle of our finest when this issue has been resolved.”

A bribe. Blatantly so, too. But Reivan would not comment on it. He liked the mead, after all. Having more wouldn't hurt anybody.

Reivan cleared his throat. “There’s no need for that but it would be rude to refuse such a thoughtful gift.”

“Right. Rude…” Mira looked at him skeptically from the side before turning back to the elderman. “Are the Vladeken truly harmless? If so, why can’t the villagers just fend them off without calling up battlemages?”

“They are harmless but they are also incredibly stubborn.” Vultarios gestured at the very crude map. “Forgive me for this, but the more detailed map of the village I once had was ruined by termites. They had a couple of years to eat it all up before I noticed it earlier.”

‘Oh. So that’s why.’

Honestly, Reivan just thought there wasn’t a map at all. “How are they stubborn?”

“The Vladeken have natural abilities to mold earth,” the elderman said. “So even if we come over to destroy their hovels, herding them somewhere else, they’ll just come back and rebuild them in a couple of minutes.”

“Ah… that sounds incredibly troublesome.”

“Indeed it is. We don’t really want to hurt them either, and though they are quite capable of hurting us by simply making a very deep pit under our feet, they don’t. So really, we’re at a bit of an impasse. We can’t just let them stay where they are, else our bees will get devoured by the insects they bring here.”

Reivan nodded. It truly was a dilemma. They wanted the Vladeken around because they warded off more dangerous creatures and left behind a treasure trove of natural resources after a year or two—just not where they were right now.

“This here is the village.” The elderman pointed at the circle, then pointed at an X-mark a bit to the west. “This is the field they’ve settled down in. They’ve only been there a week, but they’ve already built their hovels. They're even building walls, last time I checked. Historically, this means they’re there to stay.”

“What if,” Mira tapped on the map. “We destroy their hovels. And at some point, they just decide not to rebuild anywhere near Florris?”

“The chances of that are slim.” Vultario shook his head. “We’ve interacted with the Vladeken for centuries and have come to understand a little bit about their behaviors. Generally speaking, they’ll stick around after having their homes destroyed. And once they get bored of the process of rebuilding on the same spot and having it destroyed, they’ll just move somewhere else nearby and build. That’s how it’s always been.”

Reivan hummed in thought before posing his own question. “Is there a precedent of Vladeken hurting anyone?”

“None… Oh, there was one.”

Apparently, the lone incident involved a drunken man who was known for beating his wife and children. So the incident with the Vladeken, where the man lost an eye and had a few fingers broken, ended up being the last straw that broke the camel’s back. The man had gotten kicked out of Florris for disrupting the peace.

So the general understanding was to simply not be an asshole and the Vladeken wouldn’t do anything past slinging mud at you.

‘Wait a minute… Destroying their homes unprovoked counts as being an asshole, right?’

Arc#4 Chapter 66: Splitting Up

Upon Mira's urging, Reivan and the others were ready to embark on their journey to the troubled village of Florris the day after. It was apparently because she was worried about the people in the settlement.

Which made sense. Because every hour their squad spent away from Florris exposed it to danger. Nobody really had anything to say against that because it was the naked truth. And so, despite possible complications caused by a lack of proper preparation, they all agreed to leave the very next morning instead of taking the full two days of preparation.

Unfortunately, Reivan's lack of spatial storage artifacts—other than the belt buckle doled out by the Tower—made things a bit difficult for him. But only a little bit, really.

Last time, Aldimir had kindly stored Reivan's things for him, but understandably, that choice was unavailable at the moment. They were told that they might have to be deployed for a month or two, so Aldimir and Reivan's other squadmates naturally brought along a sufficient percentage of their belongings. Reivan could not and would never fault them for doing such a thing, so all he could really blame was Clover Salwyn's misfortune for having been born a peasant—and there was no use in blaming the man for that, as status wasn't something anyone could choose.

That was why Reivan had to lug around his luggage as he and his squad boarded the first train of the day. As it turned out, having very limited material possessions helped out, because though he was carrying around at least thirty kilograms worth of clothes, boots, and other sundries, it could honestly be worse. He was quite certain that every female member of his squad had twice as much as him, maybe even more.

“Goodness, vice captain,” Aldimir teased with a breezy grin as they all sat in one of the train’s private compartments. “Carrying stuff with your bare hands? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were some peasant!”

“I am a peasant.” Reivan rolled his eyes while promptly sitting down next to Mira, instead of next to Aldimir, somewhat forcing Alini to take the last remaining seat right next to their resident playboy. “Or did you miss the smell of dung I release from every pore of my body?”

“Oh, right. Carry on, then.”

“Don’t mind him, Clover.” Kantor smiled from his seat near the window. “Just get one for yourself. I know places that let you pay in installments.”

Reivan dipped his head. “Thanks, Kantor. You’re a good guy.”

“Don’t mention it. This is just par for the course, no?”

“I think you may have forgotten that our dear friend over there just mocked me for it. Your reaction is incredibly kind by comparison.”

“Right…” Kantor’s brows rose and he turned to Aldimir with a frown. “That wasn’t very nice.”

Aldimir raised both hands in surrender. “C’mon, Kantor. I was just joking around. Win knows it too. Right, Win? Tell him.”

Reivan shrugged, reclining on his seat and deliberately bumping shoulders with Mira. “I just don’t know, Aldim. I feel quite hurt and offended. I probably won't recover from this internal agony any time soon.”

“Oh, fuck you and your feelings.” Aldimir understandably flipped him off before changing the subject, gesturing at their relatively cramped private compartment. “Anyway, shame about the lack of express trains there, huh?”

“The Western Arkhana isn’t called the boonies for nothing, after all,” Inaria lazily commented, her crimson eyes staring down at an open book on the table. Then she suddenly seemed to realize something, turning to Reivan with an awkward expression on her face that he recognized as her apology face. “Sorry. Forgot you were from around there.”

Reivan waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I call it that too.”

Inaria smiled in appreciation, but like a cat that got burned, turned her attention back to her book with seemingly no intent to speak out again. Probably for the rest of the trip.

“What’s it like there?” Alini asked gingerly, clutching a pillow she’d brought along to her chest—which was an incredibly good idea, now that he thought about it. Nobody was sure about the quality of bedding they’d be provided in the village.

“Just about the same as anywhere.” Reivan shrugged with the feigned nonchalance of a local. “Just worse. And colder.”

As he had never really been to Clover’s homeland, Reivan had very limited information about the place. He only had word of mouth to go by as well as books. But as they say, seeing something once was better than hearing or reading about it a hundred times. Understandably so, he was quite thrown off by Alini’s question.

A glaring oversight on his preparation. He should have given the place a visit once or twice.

‘I was just too busy though. And Clover wasn’t the only candidate for my ticket to the Tower.’

Excuses were all he had, and nobody else could be blamed but himself if he ever garnered suspicion for being unknowledgeable about the place he’d supposedly spent twenty years in. But then again, if everything went well on Aizen's side, Reivan wouldn't be sticking around for very long.

“Well.” Mira subtly bumped him away, speaking up with a somewhat cheerful tone. “We’ve got spells for keeping warm if it gets too cold out west. It’s no problem. What I really don’t like is how I’ll probably find it hard to slack off~!”

“You could slack off anywhere.” Inaria rolled her eyes as she flipped a page.

“No, I wouldn’t. I have standards. I’m very selective of where I do my slacking off.”

“That’s not something to be proud of, okay?”

Their journey didn’t last long, but one could say that it was spent in lively conversation. They’d all shared roughly the same space these past few weeks, most of them spent helping each other or trying to coordinate who learns which vital spell first. Understandably so, the initial walls between them were just a little bit torn down by now, so the noisy ones made noise and the quiet ones listened along comfortably, throwing in their thoughts from time to time.

It was peaceful and it wasn’t a bad feeling at all.

At times like this, Reivan wondered how many days or weeks he had left to appreciate it.

════════════════════════════════

Because of a lack of express train services heading for the village of Florris or the town closest to it—which made sense, since the place didn’t see enough traffic to warrant regular trips—Reivan and the others had to switch trains multiple times.

Fortunately, it only took them the better half of a day to reach Varros. It was, as mentioned by the battlemage that briefed Reivan and Mira of the mission, the closest town to their actual destination.

And the town scenery they were met with was ample warning for the level of civilization the village would be.

‘So bleak…’

Stepping foot outside the station, Reivan looked around and that was all he could say about the place.

While all the buildings were stone, lights seeped through the windows, roads had some traffic, and even pedestrians filled the streets, the place undoubtedly gave off a sense of dullness. It wasn’t like the people they could see had frowns and grimaces on their faces nor did the structures seem in disrepair.

There was just an indescribable lack of glamor. And even the skies saw fit to join in by letting very little sunlight through the clouds. Sure, it was quite far into the afternoon so the big bright ball of fire in the sky should be dying down by now, but Reivan couldn’t deny that the natural lighting wasn’t doing the place any favors.

“Wow, I feel sad all of a sudden.” Aldim, with both hands on his hips, rudely said that as he looked around right next to Reivan. “That's new. I’ve never looked at a place and just felt sad. For no reason.”

“That’s rude.” Kantor frowned, but with a bit of difficulty, also couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “I can’t say I feel any different though.”

“Really?” Alini tilted her head.

Mira raised a brow as she fixed the other boys with her gaze. “I think the place is nice, don’t you, Aria?”

“Reminds me of home.” Inaria nodded, a small smile on her lips while she gazed upon the bleak scenery.

‘There’s a very clear divide in perception here.’

Aldimir and Kantor had both grown up in large cities while Mira, Inaria, and Alini all may have come from humbler regions of the republic despite coming from well-off families. Reivan knew that Inaria, specifically, had a phase in her life where she was raised away from her father for being an illegitimate daughter. It wasn’t until the president’s official wife died did she and her mother finally came out from under the proverbial bed. Outwardly, she was the president's adopted daughter even though she was his real child.

‘President’s record ain’t as clean as everyone believes.’

Sadly, it wasn’t the time to ignite that particular barrel of oil.

Reivan had worked to obtain a bit of leverage on Arkhan’s president in case the man ever tried to get too loud against Aizen, but the politician had remained largely neutral in the boiling debates over which of the other titans of Sentorale the republic should work to ally with. And Reivan wisely chose not to do anything that would push the president to side with Argonia—such as an attempt at blackmail, for instance.

As such, Inaria’s predicaments and all the other secrets the president managed to hide so well would have to be kept in Reivan’s back pocket for now. Which was also why, above all else, he should try to keep Inaria alive as much as possible. Her priority was just below Mira’s on that note, maybe even above.

Because Mira’s only relevance to Aizen was simply not falling into the Sage King’s clutches when the time for her to devour or be devoured came. The kingdom itself couldn’t make much use of her spirit king seed, other than to let Reivan’s spirit beast eat it. And even if Reivan did that, it wasn't as if he'd get an Ascendant spirit beast right there and then—he'd have to find another mortal spirit seed.

Of course, that would be very advantageous for Aizen, but at this point, another Ascendent wasn’t going to turn the tide of war when Transcendents existed.

So in that sense, Inaria was actually more useful, though less important. When the right strings were pulled, she could move an entire government. The lesser half of Arkhan’s ruling hands, yes. But still.

“Right.” Reivan snapped out of his thoughts and clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention, because their conditionally lackluster captain certainly didn’t seem to be in the mood to get things moving along. “We’re to head to the town hall. Then we’ll go from there. Chop chop. Aldim, stagecoach.”

“The hell is it always me!?” Aldimir complained theatrically, even going as far as to throw his hands to the sky and beseech the dark clouds for an answer. Naturally, he never got one.

But the good sport that he was, he merely shrugged and got going, pulling Kantor along to help out.

That left Reivan in the strange situation of being surrounded by three very attractive young women. From his evenings at the Serpent’s Haven back in Aizen, he wasn't a stranger to such enviable situations. But it was still enough to garner a few looks from the locals around them, even some envious gazes from a few young men who just happened to pass by.

Reivan, naturally, grinned at them because he had nothing better to do. Of course, he was careful not to look too smug about it.

Naturally, the recipients of his smile didn't like him very much after that.

“Uhm…” Alini walked up to him with obvious hesitation.

“Yes?” he raised a brow. “Something wrong?”

“I was wondering if I could use the uhm…”

“Oh.”

Reivan felt a bit speechless before he nodded repeatedly, internally berating himself for the oversight. Obviously, after multiple hours spent on trains, they’d have to answer the call of nature eventually. And since they’d been together the whole time, he knew they hadn’t used the bathroom even once since leaving the Tower.

“Sorry about that. Go ahead.” With a sheepish smile on his face, Reivan gestured for her to go on before turning to the other two. “If you two have to use the lady’s room, feel free. We'll wait.”

Inaria nodded, taking Alini’s hand. “I was going to wait, but if you insist. What about you, Mira?”

Their captain waved a lazy hand. “I’m fine.”

With that, the two girls went off to handle their business while the other two boys still searched for a stagecoach. That, in turn, left the two officers within their squad alone with themselves.

“You’ve been annoying the entire trip!” Mira wasted no time in pinching him in the arm, aware he couldn’t fight back too well because of all the bags of crap he was carrying.

Reivan tried very hard not to wince at the sharp pain, wearing an innocent expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You keep bumping into me!”

“Total accidents,” he lied. “Besides, why is it such a big deal?”

Mira groaned, fixing him with an aggrieved glare. “You can’t just… be so close to a lady like that.”

“But I think I only just bumped shoulders with you a little. Is that bad?”

“It is!”

Reivan grinned, deliberately bumping their shoulders together again. “We’ve been in close proximity with each other a couple of times in the past, like when we were attacked in that alley and when we were in the sewers. You never saw it as a big deal back then. What changed? Why are you so conscious about it now, hm~?”

“That’s…” Mira frowned, her gaze falling to her feet in quiet contemplation. “That was different…”

“I see, I see~ It's different, she says~? How so, how so?”

“I… I don’t know! Stop asking me this stuff… And you're being annoying.”

"I'm just trying to talk like you do though?"

"...I don't talk like that."

“Your speech tics aside, you know what I think?” Reivan smirked, stepping away from her and shrugging. “I think it’s because you never saw me as anything back then. But now it's different. Now, you’re conscious about me.”

Mira grimaced as she looked at him. “I can’t believe you can just say stuff like that… Don’t you get goosebumps? Are your toes curling up right now?”

“They are. I honestly thought that sounded better in my head. Actually, I wish I could go back in time to stop myself from saying it.”

“Well, at least you can admit to it…”

“But am I wrong, though?” Reivan chuckled. “That level of physical contact wouldn’t have mattered to you a couple of months ago. Which is oddly frustrating, because you let a junior you barely know touch you more than someone you’ve known for around two months and have gone on a couple of dates with. Don’t you think you’re a giant weirdo for that?”

“Oh, shut up…” Mira crossed her arms and turned away from him, checking to see if any of the others had returned. “Anyway, no more of that stuff when we get to the village. Just because we’re not in the Tower doesn’t mean you can just sneak into my room…”

“Are you implying you’re desirable enough for me to force myself on you?” Reivan snorted. “Sorry, but I was raised properly. You are never going to be attractive enough for me to break my morals.”

“If you were raised properly, you wouldn’t be fooling around with girls you don’t intend to marry.”

Reivan flinched. He felt that. Right in the guts.

Doubly so because it applied to his real identity more than his fake one. He’d slept around with a whole lot of other women he had absolutely no plans of marrying. None of it was of the forced variety, of course, and they should be held responsible for whoever they jump in bed with. But her words stung him more than he cared to admit because he had been a bit… debauched, so to speak. If he'd been a woman, people would call him a slut.

Mira seemed satisfied with his reaction, smugly grinning as she chuckled. “Yeah, you felt that, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” he snapped, adjusting the bags slung over his shoulders.

The pretty yet annoying woman next to him seemed to notice that and gestured toward them. "Sorry, I can't help you with those. My ring's fit to burst. The space isn't that big, y'see."

"That's alright. I mean, we're going to be here for at least a month, so it makes sense you brought most of your stuff."

“You know, you should really consider buying a spatial storage artifact. I mean, you probably can’t afford the stuff trickling in from Aizen, but the lower-level ones like what I and the others have are surprisingly affordable given your current salary, you know? They fit a lot more stuff than the belt buckles, at least.”

“Too expensive.”

“You’d have to cut down on spending for half a year, but still. It beats lugging around all that luggage. Plus you can keep a lot of spellballls in them just in case you're ever in a pinch.”

"Do you have lots of spellballs in case you're ever in a pinch?"

"Maybe. You should consider that the next time you try to piss me off," she said as a smug grin spread across her face. It made her look adorable, but he didn't want to say it out loud. "Anyway. Spatial storage artifacts. You should get one, Clover. Stop being such a miser and think of it as an investment!"

Reivan grunted and was about to insist that it was fine, playing into Clover Salwyn’s characteristic miserliness, but then he was struck with a bright idea. “Okay, sure.”

“Oh, really? That’s unexpected…”

“Yeah, but only if you come with me when I pick one out.”

Mira’s shoulders jumped as she gazed at him. “You… You want me to pick out rings with you…?”

Reivan snickered. “I mean, I was thinking I’d go for a necklace-type or an anklet. But if you wanna go for a ring... I'm fine with it. You're rushing our relationship too much, though. I feel pressured all of a sudden.”

Naturally, she responded to his teasing with a swift kick to the shin, which he managed to dodge despite how encumbered he was.

“No violence please,” he playfully implored with a wide grin.

“Careful there, boy.” Mira waved a fist at him. “I may not look it, but I can beat you black and blue! I don't need spellballs to do it too!”

‘Judging by your Might stat, yes. Yes, you can beat me black and blue as I am now.’

Reivan just shrugged. “I’m not hearing a no. Or do my ears deceive me?”

Mira crossed her arms and groaned in silent contemplation before finally answering, her tone bellying how defeated she felt. “Fine… After we’re done with this mission, I’ll help you look around. I guess I can count this as performing my duties as a captain and a senior.”

Victorious, Reivan gracefully stopped himself from gloating. “Thanks. I’d be clueless without you. I don’t know the first thing when it comes to buying spatial storage artifacts.”

Reivan never bought the ones he used, after all. There were loads of them in the treasury from all the practicing Sir Rolf and a few of the other Ascendant artificers did. They were literally scattered around like trash. As the prince, he was naturally free to take however many he wished to take as long as it was for the right purposes.

Of course, Ouroboros needed to purchase some and he obviously couldn’t have them use such high-quality storage artifacts since they’d be linked to Aizen’s royal family rather easily, but in those cases, he’d simply given the order for storage artifacts to be bought—he’d never done the buying himself.

As such, he hadn’t been lying. Which, ironically, made him less believable.

In any case, he had yet another valid justification for Mira to go out with him, though it didn’t seem as if she was all that keen to refuse him nowadays.

“That’s right.” she grinned. “You’re absolutely hopeless without me, your pretty captain who's also smart and capable!”

“I'm not as hopeless as you are, but yeah.”

“Hey!”

Reivan, unfortunately, wasn’t able to dodge her kick to the shin in time.

════════════════════════════════

After Alini and Inaria got back from their little trip to the bathroom and the boys secured a proper stagecoach, Reivan made sure the driver understood that they were battlemages and were not people that a coachman should try to fleece, as most coachmen were inclined to do in the republic. Honestly, Reivan was starting to think Arkhanian coachmen being like that was part of the republic's culture—kind of like the notorious Turkish ice cream guy.

When the coachman "wholeheartedly" agreed to a fair price for his services, Reivan and his squad squeezed into the stagecoach and rode off to the town hall, where they had to go through an incredibly boring process that lasted for hours.

Really, democracy has its downsides sometimes, what with all the red tape in a vast majority of its affairs.

Reivan and the others were literally sent over from Vel Ayala to save a village in danger from monsters and they had to spend three hours waiting or filling out documents before they got to see anyone of importance to get a better idea of the situation, as well as clarify what kind of assistance they could expect from the local government unit.

Frankly, it was somewhat worth it because their squad came out of it with rental hoverboards—magitech devices that looked like steel boards, able to float off even the most uneven surfaces and allowed their users to travel quite fast.

Apparently, hoverboards were quite expensive, so they weren’t given out as standard equipment. Upon serving the Tower enough, one would eventually be granted a hoverboard of their own, but quite obviously, Reivan and the others weren’t part of that club. As such, they could only ever borrow the vehicles depending on their mission. Since their current one had them doing a lot of traveling around the area of the village, they had clearance to borrow the hoverboards kept inside the Varros township’s storage for emergencies.

It’s just that their squad—particularly, their captain, but she saw fit to delegate the shitty duties to Reivan instead—had to fill out a lot of paperwork and had to listen to repetitive but polite reminders to be very careful not to damage the hoverboards.

For three hours, Reivan suffered. Just for these damned hoverboards.

‘These pieces of fucking shit better be worth it.’

He was, understandably, fuming.

“Woah!” Aldimir, who had immediately tried to ride his hoverboard, promptly crashed into a wall. or he would have, if Kantor hadn’t saved him. “Thanks, man. I love you.”

“Uh, thanks?” Kantor, the man who’d just had love declared to him by a fellow man, seemed unable to react for a moment as he expertly glided across the ground on his floating death machine. “The trick is to not panic. You’re not doing that. That’s why you’re losing control and panicking even more.”

Mira smiled in approval. “You’re good at that, Kanty. Did your family let you practice at home?”

“Kanty…? Ah, well, yes, captain. They did. it wasn’t restricted information so a few of the elders trained us all from a young age.”

“Neat. I had to fall on my face a few times. Don’t you think it’s unfair you never had to go through that~?”

Reivan hit her on the back of the head lightly. “Stop bullying Kantor. Also, where’s Alini?”

“Uhm! Help!”

Following the source of the voice, everybody found Alinie slowly floating away while waving her hands in panic, Mr. Kip followed along behind her with a concerned look that seemed oddly expressive for a bear.

“Kantor, could you please?” Reivan gestured at the girl getting spirited away.

“Understood.” Kantor nodded, looking oddly pleased to be so useful.

Someone else spoke up at that moment. “Can I get some help here too?”

“Huh?” Reivan looked around and was surprised to find that Inaria was slowly drifting off into the horizon much like Alini was, though she was being a lot calmer about it. With a sigh, he jumped into his own hoverboard and glided to her, stopping her by placing a hand on her shoulder. “We almost lost you.”

“This thing’s tricky,” Inaria complained with a frustrated look on her pretty face, her eyes descending on his own feet, which were firmly planted on his board. “How come you’re so good at that?”

“My father was a battlemage. Had me try out his board on occasions when he had time to come home. I was a brat and wouldn’t stop pestering him until he gave me lessons.”

This was yet another fact that he felt thankful for, because Clover really did learn the basics of riding a hoverboard from his father. And as he understood it, riding a hoverboard was like riding a bike; once the sensation clicked, you’d never unlearn it.

Reivan himself had tried the Arkhanian hoverboards looted from dead battlemages over the ages. They were cool and all, but he covered much more distance in a shorter time by running—which was also why horses went out of fashion for knights. Few mounts could keep up with their superhuman physical capabilities.

In any case, because of Clover Salwyn’s convenient bit of background information, he could comfortably ride his hoverboard without having to do a one-man play where he made a fool of himself trying to learn—similar to the other three members of his squad. Honestly, it was a bit entertaining to watch them have so much trouble with it, because he sure as hell did when he'd tried it all those years ago. They could make a show about people having trouble with hoverboards and he'd probably tune in every night. Of course, that was only possible once the television was invented.

Anyway, it seemed only Reivan, Kantor, and Mira—who was in her second year as a battlemage—could ride hoverboards.

“Vice-captain.” Mira set a glance toward the night sky and gestured at the others while whispering. “I think we should split up for now. What say you?”

Reivan hummed in thought. “You, me, and Kantor go ahead on hoverboards while the other three follow behind on a stagecoach?”

“Too risky, you think?”

“You’re supposed to be more knowledgeable about these things, so I’d hoped you’d have more insight.”

“I do, but I want your opinion so that if something goes wrong, we can share the blame.”

“Wow, you’re... You're a horrible person.” Reivan shook his head in exasperation before grinning, his face brought close as he whispered. “I don’t know why I like you so much.”

Mira went a bit red as she pulled away, looking quite intent on telling him off. But she didn’t, because there were others around. “This is a serious situation.”

“You’re the one who joked around first.”

“Well… Okay, I’ll give you that.”

“Anyway.” Reivan gesticulated at the others. “I think we should just go off, just the two of us. Kantor will stay with the other three.”

Mira narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Your words reek of ulterior motives.”

“Maybe a little.”

“You’re horrible.”

“No, but think about it. If something happens to the other three, nobody will have the mobility to escape and warn us or the township about it. Understand?”

Mira made a noise of agreement. “You have a point. But shouldn’t you or I stay with the others? You know, so that an officer is with each half of the group.”

“You have a point, but like I said, I had ulterior motives.”

“I can’t believe you…” Mira spent a moment or two looking at him before sighing. “What’s the real reason?”

Reivan shrugged. “Honestly, Kantor’s a good guy, but he’s kind of weak to pressure. If he’s part of the group that goes ahead, whether he’s with you or me, I doubt his ability to help in a meaningful way. On the other hand, if he’s with the second group, the only thing he’ll have to do is run and get reinforcements. Maybe act as a scryer or scout, courtesy of his avian spirit beast. He can’t possibly mess that up.”

“That’s kind of…”

“I know what I just said makes me sound like an asshole, but I think that when you’re leading people into danger, you don’t have the leeway to consider vague things like feelings. You have to be cold and practical."

“But…”

“Look, Kantor’s a great guy, I like him. And as someone from a clan of mages, he’s extremely knowledgeable about a crap ton of things. But at this moment, he’s a bad piece to play on the battlefield when he isn’t in a very secure position—like when we’re split up, for example. He’s ridiculously useful outside of battles though, probably more so than everyone here but you. Leadership isn’t forcing everyone to be of use in every situation, it’s knowing where your subordinates will shine the most and letting them raise hell there.”

‘Well, that’s one way to lead. There’s like, a bazillion more.’

There was a compendium about it back at the palace. And the very first page said that true leadership was knowing what type of leadership to employ in a given situation. Times change and so does the nature of ruling. A good king knew how to rule no matter the era, being what his subjects needed.

Reivan read a bit of it just to get his father off his back, but Roland probably knew it all by heart. And so too, did everyone who ever sat on the nation’s throne.

Anyway, it seemed Mira was convinced. She even seemed to find his words enlightening, given how her pretty blue eyes shone. But then she went right back to being skeptical. “You sounded really cool just now, but then I remembered you admitting to an ulterior motive…”

“Ah. Well.” Reivan chuckled. “You agree though, right?”

“...Yes. We’ll go off on our own then. Just to make sure Florris doesn’t get sacked by monsters before a charted stagecoach gets there. Ugh… I wanna go home and lay down…”

“You would have been perfectly stalwart battlemage if you hadn’t added that last part.”

Mira rolled her eyes and walked up to the others, explaining what she wanted out of the squad.

Reivan listened, internally thinking what a right old farce it all was. Because he was willing to bet both of his testicles that Mira currently had an Ascendant guard right this minute, intent on guarding her at all costs. And so, Mira could go off completely on her own and be perfectly fine. She didn’t need him or the other squad members because she had one of the most powerful types of plot armor ever to grace the pages of any novel.

A powerful guardian watching her from the shadows.

Arc#4 Chapter 65: Setting Out Once Again

A few weeks passed after the mildly successful first step in the siege—of Mira's favor, that is.

As previously agreed upon, they went to the store secretly owned by his people and he helped Mira negotiate for more of the books that were supposed to just serve as an aesthetic display. The store unfortunately couldn't sell her as many as she wanted because there might be complications with Arkhan's tax laws. They weren't a bookstore, after all, but a carriage rental and touring service. However, the store did agree to let her borrow them for a few days, making it very clear that it was only because Reivan negotiated vehemently for the right.

The store employees caught on fast. This was but one of the things they did to help him with his endeavors.

Reivan understandably obtained Mira's gratitude, and she was a lot more amiable in agreeing to his invitations—of which he'd extended quite a lot despite the strain it caused his finances. That said, she was still quite adamant about keeping their growing connection a secret.

Finding nothing wrong with that, he'd readily acquiesced.

And just like that, time passed peacefully. Reivan and the others learned spells in their free time, often with Mira's very helpful input. The others, like Reivan, were starting to realize that their captain wasn't just a lazy bum—she was a lazy bum who could sometimes be useful.

Aldimir, as usual, chased skirts. Kantor kind of did his own thing, earnestly trying to be the best version of himself. Alini, for her part, was steadily coming out of her shell as she got used to interacting with everyone. Inaria still maintained the no-bullshit attitude they'd come to know her for, which was quite a ways from how Reivan knew her to be in private. And Mira floated around and did whatever she wanted, as usual, though with the added caveat of going out with Reivan from time to time.

As they improved their skills and rapport, all of their spirit beasts eventually woke up from their spirit-dew-infused power naps. It happened at various times, with Aldimir and Kantor's spirit beasts waking up before the others, but for Reivan, it happened just as he was going to bed.

'What the...'

Reivan froze in place, barely stopping himself from swallowing a mouthful of cleansing solution that was basically this world's version of mouthwash. His brows shot up as he gazed at the purple orb he'd placed on his bedside table. Surprised, he rushed to the attached bathroom in his room and spat out the mouthwash before hastily wiping his mouth and returning to his bed—only to discover that the beast inside had already come out and was proudly sitting on his pillow.

"Sen. You're awake." He smiled and walked up to the diminutive white panther before picking it up and placing it somewhere else on the bed that normally wasn't in contact with his face. "Don't rub your butt on my pillow. You're not dirty, but it feels nasty. We talked about this."

'Well, I talked about it, mainly. Because you can't talk. But you get the idea.'

Sen snorted and hopped off the bed, strutting around in a circle before sitting in front of him, her chest puffed out. Without saying a single thing, she managed to boast. And if that wasn't enough, she sent all sorts of little signals through their shared connection, conveying how much she'd grown stronger. There was a part there that roughly meant something along the lines of "You should be glad we can't fight because I'd smash you to bits!" that he opted to ignore because of just how incredibly untrue it was.

That said, she did have cause for celebration, given how she'd just gone from roughly 30 Might to 160, even going as far as unlocking her qi—though that was apparently an automatic thing for spirit beasts, unlike humans who actually have to work for it.

'Huh. They said the first dose would be particularly more effective than subsequent ones... But still. Wow.'

Sen had drunk three vials of the stuff, but even then, it had taken her a mere three weeks to raise her physical prowess by about 130 Might.

"I'm glad to have you back, buddy." Reivan smiled and reached down, patting Sen on the head. His hand grew more enthusiastic when he saw that she actually seemed to like it. "Want more?"

Without missing a heartbeat, Sen delivered a stream of affirmation through their connection, jumping onto his lap and meowing in excitement.

"Cute," he couldn't help but say out loud before schooling his expression and clearing his throat. "Well, Sen, if you want more of the stuff, you'll eventually have to form a permanent bond with me, you know? We only have a year otherwise. And you're going to spend most of that time digesting the dew, fast asleep. Then we'll have to complete missions before getting more dew, which might take weeks or months depending on what the missions entail."

She growled in irritation but deflated in acceptance of the fact. Reivan was then treated to the rare sight of a feline creature looking conflicted. It was strange how evocative her bestial face could be at times.

“Eh. Well, don’t feel pressured to do it now. We still have time. Think about it.”

Reivan rubbed her head the same way he used to do so with his lovely oh-so-loyal hounds before lying down on the bed and curling up in preparation for his regular trip to the land of dreams. But when he felt a small feline form squeeze its way into his arms, he smiled and embraced Sen, letting a yawn escape his lips.

Soon, his consciousness faded and his gentle breath filled the room.

════════════════════════════════

The next morning, Reivan discovered that his spirit beast wasn’t the only one to have woken up, as the rest of his squad’s spirit companions finished digesting the spirit dew too.

It was obvious, because all of them were gathered in the common room, talking about one thing or the other while their spirit beasts played around. The big ones were in their energy-saving forms, thankfully, so they didn't damage furniture with every other movement. Most noticeable were Mr. Kip and Inaria's lion, who was named Johny—which was probably because the name Reivan used to interact with her was John Doe, for lack of creativity.

Needless to say, he would leave the naming activities to other people when he had kids.

Really, he still cursed himself out for feeling particularly lazy about thinking up another name for yet another one of his secret identities. He had way too many and had exhausted his pool of ingenuity. Where was the random name generator when he really needed it? Oh, the things he would do to have access to the internet again.

“Morning, everyone,” Reivan lazily greeted as he stepped off the teleportation platform in what had now become his after-training attire. The baggy clothing he now called his training attire was in the space within his belt buckle, absolutely soaked with sweat from his morning routine.

“Good morning.” Kantor greeted him with a wave from where he was seated, a grimoire on his lap. On his shoulder was a tiny bird. His gaze then went to the tiny white panther trailing along behind Reivan. “Oh, Sen woke up too? Great. That's all of us now, I believe.”

“Happened last night, for me.” Reivan nodded, accidentally catching Mira’s gaze. He smiled and winked at her. “Good morning, captain.”

Mira’s shoulders jumped before she hastily checked if anyone had noticed. With a subtle sigh after realizing that nobody did, she glared at him for a moment before crossing her arms. “Good morning, vice minion.”

“Like I said, don’t call me that. It makes me sound lower than Aldim.”

“What…” Aldimir looked up from the grimoire he’d been studying after Kantor and Alini bugged him into learning more spells. “I was just minding my own business over here!”

“Sorry.” Reivan unapologetically apologized, making sure to grin just in case his lack of remorse wasn’t clear enough.

"Fuck you, Win."

"Yeah, yeah. You too. We still up for drinks later though, right?"

Aldimir nodded. "Of course. I even convinced Kantor to come!"

Reivan glanced at Kantor and smiled when their shortest friend nodded with a hint of shyness. "Looking forward to it. Anyway, I’m gonna go rest for a bit. Everything hurts and I'm in pain. And yes, I was redundant on purpose.”

“Wait a minute,” Mira called him back, rising from her own seat. “The elders need to be informed that our spirit beasts are all awake. That way, we can be assigned a new mission.”

“Okay. Good luck with that, captain.”

“You’re obviously coming with me, vice-captain. You need to know how it’s done. Your salary's higher for a reason, y'know?”

"But I thought I was vice minion? That's not a job for me."

"Clover."

Reivan groaned, his fingers unconsciously scratching the back of his head. “Fine. Just let me put on something more decent.”

Mira raised a brow and looked him up and down. “You look fine. Let’s go.”

“Are you blind? Do you not see the absence of a robe on my body?”

“Fine. Just hurry up.”

“I left my robes in my room, just give me a minute.” Reivan gestured to her own clothes. “Or rather, you should wear your robe too.”

Mira snorted and snapped her fingers, a robe appearing on her body. “There. See? Hurry up.”

“I’m going, I’m going…”

Reivan turned around and rolled his eyes before briskly walking into his room and hastily taking one of the two official robes he’d been bestowed.

He should technically keep it in his Tower-issued belt buckle, but the space inside was extremely small. There wasn’t a lot of room left for unofficial equipment. That was why he had made it a habit to leave some unessential stuff behind so he had available space. Just in case he had to take something with him that was far too cumbersome to carry around—like his sweaty clothes, soaked with his nasty juices right after working out.

Lately, it had come to contain books he was bringing over and returning to the store with a serpent-inspired name just like every branch company Ouroboros secretly owned. It was a theme, at this point, to name things that way. And really, they’d have to stop one day. Reivan liked it though. It was cool. Courtesy of Zouros, snakes had climbed very high on his list of favorite animals. Dogs were still there at the top, but still, he now liked snakes very much. Hence, the serpentine theme they were going for with all these company names pleased him.

One of these days, he’d name one after a dog. Specifically, he'd name them after the ones who stayed with him until their last day.

“There we go…” Reivan smoothed over his thick robes one last time before stepping outside, only to find Mira impatiently waiting by the platform with her arms crossed. “Sorry for the wait.”

“Hurry up.” She frowned before stepping onto the platform itself.

“Yeah, yeah…”

Reivan climbed onto the platform too, and just before they teleported, he caught Aldimir’s gaze. The other man was looking at him with schadenfreude, probably wondering what he’d done to put their usually lax captain in such a bad mood.

'Jokes on him.'

With a shrug, Reivan and Mira vanished from the room in a flash of light.

════════════════════════════════

The moment his vision returned, Reivan found himself in the middle of a large open hall, with various doors arrayed around them. It looked roughly like a ballroom, with sparse furniture scattered here and there for people to sit and converse, though nobody was doing so at the moment.

He did notice plenty of people coming in and out of the rooms placed all around them.

“C’mon, follow me.” Mira took his hand and pulled him off the platform. “Also, didn’t I tell you we have to keep things a secret?”

Reivan chuckled and let himself get dragged. “I knew nobody was looking when I did it.”

“Still…”

“Besides, we’re just going on dates from time to time. It’s not like we’re together, no? We’re not even sure if something will come of it. There’s nothing bad about what we’re doing, so why even hide?”

Mira frowned, letting go of him. “Maybe you’re right.”

Sensing her annoyance, Reivan shrugged as he fell into step beside her. He decided to employ one of the age-old tactics of mankind when they accidentally said stupid shit to womankind: changing the subject.

“Anyway, what do we do here, exactly?”

Mira didn’t answer for a few moments, but she must have realized that she couldn’t not tell him. It was a work question, after all, and she would be extremely unprofessional if she left him unanswered for personal reasons. “This is a multi-purpose floor, filled with meeting rooms. Officers can give mission reports here, receive missions, and be briefed on them too.”

“Interesting.”

“Well, that’s what I was told, anyway. This is the first year I’ve had access to the place. I wasn’t an officer last year.”

“Gee.” He tapped his cheek and feigned confusion. “I wonder why that is? Ah—Wait, it was a joke!”

Mira pinched his arm even though she normally wouldn’t have been offended by that, given her general understanding of her own shortcomings. The sadistic satisfaction of seeing him in pain must have gotten rid of any remnant annoyance from earlier, because her frown was replaced by a playful smirk. “Anyway, now that you know where it is, I’m going to delegate tasks that have anything to do with this place to you. Be thankful.”

“That's gotta be against the rules...” Reivan grimaced, rubbing where she’d pinched him. “You can’t just do that. The captain should be present for this sort of thing. Also, it’s unfair. An abuse of authority, even.”

“If you don’t, I’ll never go out with you ever again.”

Reivan glanced at the testily impish grin on her face and realized she wasn’t all that serious about the threat. As such, he decided not to treat it too seriously either. “Honestly’, it’s your loss. I'm, like, the catch of a century.”

“Wow. Look at this guy. I wish I had your confidence.”

“This was really nice, Clover,” Reivan said in a horrible attempt at imitating her pleasant voice, his hands clasped together as he blinked deliberately. “I wouldn’t mind doing this again, Clover. I love you, let’s be together forever.”

“Okay, I did not say that last part.” Mira lightly punched him in the arm and broke into a fit of giggles. “And is that supposed to be me? There’s no way I sound like that.”

“I am understandably inexperienced in the art of sounding like a woman. After all, I’ve only ever been a man. One can even say that I specialize in being a man, seeing as I’ve been one my whole life.”

Reivan decided not to think about that one time when he tried being a woman though. For science and discovery, of course. It didn't happen for too long, so it didn't count. Kind of like the five-second rule for food.

“Pff.” Mira stifled a laugh, nodding in mock seriousness. “I see. Alright, I find your reasoning acceptable.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

“Very good, minion. For your sharp wit and colossal confidence, I now promote you to the position of Lesser Footrest. Be thankful and work hard.”

“I don’t want to be the Lesser Footrest. Can’t you at least remove the Lesser part…?”

Mira shook her head with a serious expression. “You aren’t experienced enough for that position.”

“I see. I have a long way to go, then.” Reivan struggled to stifle a grin. “Lesser Footrest, huh…?”

Some people with certain fetishes would have been killed for the position, given how pretty Mira was and how presumably nice her feet would be. Sadly, he had more normal tastes, and hence, couldn’t be too happy about his new position.

‘Wait a minute….’

“So since I’m now the Lesser Footrest… doesn’t that mean I’m not the vice-captain anymore?”

Mira groaned, realizing that he had a point. “You’re right. I guess I’ll have to rescind the promotion, vice-captain. Terribly sorry about that. I'm sure you were looking forward to it.”

“I’m sure I’ll get over it.” Reivan shrugged before gesturing at the doors around them. “Oh, right. Can we just go in any of these?”

“That’s right.”

They eventually stopped right in front of a room and Mira boldly opened it before stepping inside. As he followed her, Reivan noticed that some of the nearby doors had glowing metal plates hanging on them, while theirs did not.

‘Glowing ones must be occupied, I guess?’

Closing the door behind him, Reivan looked around and noted that the room looked just like how he would have imagined a principal’s office in a magic school would look like. There was a desk with an old man behind it at the far end of the room, bookshelves covering the walls, and strange baubles here and there. Hell, there was a flaming bird curiously watching them from the corner of the office, making him feel like that one boy wizard with a lightning bolt-shaped scar.

“Good morning. Please. Take a seat.” The old man gestured at the seats in front of his desk, a kind smile on his face. “May I have your squad number?”

Mira nodded and plopped down on a seat before answering. “Year one’s squad one, Elder. I’m the captain and this is my second.”

“Good day, Elder—” Reivan also sat down as he glanced at the bronze nameplate on the desk. “Damos. I serve as our squad’s vice-captain.”

“Ah, trainees. I knew you looked young.” Elder Damos nodded with a chuckle, standing up to take a file from out of nowhere. “And no need to be too nervous. I’m just a bronze cloak. Same as you. Albeit with a few more decades under my belt. Now, I'm assuming you have something to report.”

“Yes.” Mira nodded, glancing at Reivan before continuing in what must have been her attempt at sounding serious and captainly. “As of this morning, all of our squad’s spirit beasts have awoken.”

“Ah, splendid,” Damos remarked as he read what was probably their squad’s profile. “No complications, yes? You’re all ready for your next assignment, yes? Added spells to your repertoire and whatnot?”

“Yes, Elder.”

“Very good, very good. As expected of the first squad. Now, let’s see…”

The elderly sorcerer took out another, much thicker, sheaf of papers and flipped through it while occasionally sparing a glance at the first set of documents from time to time, as if confirming something. All the while, Mira and Reivan simply waited.

“I suppose this should do. The others would be too easy…” Damos picked one sheet and stowed away the rest before fixing the two of them with his gaze. “Your squad is to head to the village of Florris, near a town called Varros.”

He took out a roll of parchment and unfurled it, showing a very basic map of the republic and pointing at a spot on its western reaches. It was very close to Clover’s hometown, Reivan noted. Which would have been bad, so he was thankful they weren’t being sent there.

Damos continued after they both had a good look. “We received a request for deployment from the Capitol yesterday, and given how powerful your spirit beasts have become, this mission shouldn’t be too hard of a challenge.”

According to the briefing that followed, the local wildlife, otherwise referred to as monsters, were building their nests a little too close to the village. This wasn’t so strange, and as far as the Tower and the village itself were concerned, it was simply time to once again teach the monsters why there weren’t already nests there before they came along.

Elder Damos also assured them that the forest wasn’t that dangerous, and the monsters themselves were left alone precisely because they weren’t much of a concern. Actually, the monsters were beneficial, in a way. As long as they didn’t build their nests too close to civilization, that is.

As such, their mission wasn’t to exterminate the monsters. It was simply to drive those monsters away from the village and then destroy the nests built a little too close for comfort. In fact, they were instructed not to harm the monsters at all.

The mission was estimated to last for a whopping two months, to Reivan and Mira’s shared dismay—though they naturally did not voice it out loud. Apparently, the reason why it would last so long wasn’t because of the job’s difficulty, but rather, because their squad had to stay nearby to make sure the monsters didn’t just rebuild on the same spot. As it turned out, the monsters were quite stubborn.

“Don’t worry, two months is the maximum.” Damos must have noticed their inner feelings because he chuckled. “By my personal experience, a month will do. Maybe just two weeks if you’re lucky.”

“That’s a relief.” Mira let a sigh escape her lips.

“Just remember to scry the surrounding areas regularly. Once the wildlife gives up on the village’s surroundings, they’ll build their nest elsewhere instead. That would mean you’re free to go. Do keep in mind that there will be sanctions if it is later discovered that you did things sloppily. Make sure that the beasts are truly settled far away before returning.”

Reivan nodded. “We’ll be careful, Elder.”

“Good lad.” Damos smiled in approval. “Then you have your mission. We expect you to depart within two days. You will not have a supervisor or any senior battlemages to shadow, so do take care of yourselves. Be vigilant.”

The elderly sorcerer gave them a few more pieces of advice before sending them off with what was their mission budget, an advance of two months' worth of wages in case they really got stuck there for two months, and the approval to use certain pieces of equipment.

════════════════════════════════

“Well, there you have it.” Reivan clapped his hands together after briefing the rest of their squad in Mira’s stead. “Make sure to pack plenty of clothes… Though I suppose we’ll be wearing our combat gear for the most part. Maybe.”

“A focus on sundries for personal care, then,” Kantor suggested. “Villages aren’t known for their abundance of amenities.”

Aldimir raised his hand. “Do they have toilets out there? You know, ones that disintegrate my crap for me.”

“Aren’t you underestimating villages too much?” Inaria crossed her legs and looked at Reivan. “Well? Do they have toilets there?”

Reivan shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

“Huh?” Kantor tilted his head. “I could’ve sworn you were from the countryside, Clover. I think you mentioned it one time?”

“Clover came from a town near Sayal,” Alini eagerly answered in his stead. “He wouldn’t know about village life.”

‘Hm. Come to think of it, nobody here would know.’

Aldimir wasn’t anyone important in the Adamantes clan, but he must have still lived a good life in one of the republic’s cities. Alini apparently came from a good family too. Kantor was born and raised in Vel Ayala. Inaria and Mira had apparently shared a portion of their childhood in the countryside, but at the same time, one was a prominent politician’s daughter while the other was the spoiled little princess of a restaurant successful enough to establish a branch in Vel Ayala—they lived in mansions or large manors on the countryside, basically.

The real Clover wouldn’t have known either, even if he was here. While he may have been born in the countryside, he wasn't that far. As for Reivan, he obviously never felt the need to know about the tiny little settlements dotting the republic’s lands, unmarked in most maps. There was nothing to gain from interacting with such small communities from the standpoint of a foreign royal like himself. Not even from a business standpoint.

Most of the Magitechnocratic Republic of Arkhan’s advancements were most prevalent in their cities, while the towns, like the one Clover and Mira had grown up in, were developing settlements that were aiming to reach the same level of as cities.

Villages, on the other hand, weren’t even trying to catch up. They were perfectly satisfied with their humble lifestyles.

Still, they were part of the republic. They voted, they paid taxes, and they occasionally birthed a mage talented enough to be accepted into the Tower. As such, the government and the Tower couldn’t utterly ignore them. Apparently, a lot of battlemages even retire to villages to enjoy the peace and quiet they offer.

Reivan, despite himself, was a bit excited at the notion of visiting one. Aizen no longer had villages in the traditional sense, as most land was already occupied and developed. It was to the point they were resorting to the creation of underground cities just so they could keep on supporting their growing population. And because of the First King’s antics, there were all sorts of stuff integrated into the culture that absolutely ruined the medieval aesthetic.

Of course, he loved the kingdom. But he’d always been a bit disappointed at being denied a medieval environment after getting reincarnated.

Arkhan wasn’t any better, with its magitech and the influence of Aizen in its history. But the villages, from his experience of visiting one a few months ago, were underdeveloped to the extent that they should be properly medieval.

And Reivan found himself looking forward to the experience of living in one.

‘It’s probably going to be extremely inconvenient though.’

He held no delusional grandeur for the medieval lifestyle. In fact, despite his disappointment, Reivan was very glad to have grown up in a country of swords and knights influenced by knowledge from modern Earth.

After all, he'd read all sorts of web novels. Some of them depicted medieval life very realistically and he was glad he’d never have to live in a country where people didn’t wash their hands regularly or threw the contents of their chamber pots on the streets. Bread was soft and delicious, people weren't overly superstitious, and criminals weren't left hanging from a noose in the town square for weeks.

But for all the inconveniences he anticipated, he was still looking forward to it.

His main reason was something else, however—the mission would give him a chance to get away from the Tower, keeping him safe in the unlikely event that his brother decides to light the proverbial powder keg of war without warning him first.

‘Eh. He probably won’t. Not yet, at least.’

First off, they still had to try to get Argonia to join in. And secondly, the Star of Fortune probably hadn't been informed about anything yet, given how their businesses in Vel Ayala still ran as they normally would. He'd taken Mira out a lot these past few weeks, so he managed to check on their general movements.

Still, the clash with the Sage King wasn’t a question, it was already a certainty. As such, Reivan appreciated any excuse to be as far away from the Tower as possible. Ironically, it was one of the most dangerous places in the continent at the moment, because at any point, a bunch of Transcendents were going to be fighting nearby.

And really, who the hell would want to be around that? He did not have the same mentality as the random cultivators in the peanut galleries that appeared whenever the main character of Xianxia stories had a fight in public. Watching god-like entities fight was interesting, but more than likely, you wouldn't even comprehend what was happening. Then before you knew it, you were dead because of a stray shot.

Ascendants fighting was bad enough. Reivan could only imagine the cataclysmic destruction that Transcendents could wreak.

Arc#4 Chapter 64: The Art of Wooing

Just as he'd expected, Mira did not look very pleased with the notion of pausing her reading session. It was a good thing she wasn't selfish enough to do much about it. They were on a date, after all. A date she'd agreed to go on.

After some time, the carriage lurched to a stop and the driver opened the hatch at the front by just a crack so his voice would carry inside. "We're here, valued customers."

"Thank you," Reivan called out in an even voice. He waited for the door to be opened by the driver before getting out, offering the lady inside a hand. "C'mon. You can read them later."

Mira hugged the small cloth sack to her chest. "You won't have to return them to the store yet?"

"I already bought them."

"Really? And you're giving them to me?"

Reivan shrugged. "If you behave."

"You make it sound like I misbehave all the time..." Mira groaned before taking his hand and climbing out of the carriage, once again exposed to the howling cold. She deposited the bag into her spatial ring before looking around. "The train station? So that's why we rode for such a long time... Hold on a second, are you taking me out of town?"

"No, no. There's a new place nearby. Just a short walk, but carriages can't really go there."

"Oh. Never heard of it."

"Didn't think so. It's only been there for a month, apparently."

"Neat."

Reivan cheekily didn’t let go of her hand and led her toward a nondescript path a few dozen yards away from the station. It was more akin to an animal trail than anything established by humans. But the dirt was heavily beaten down and hence, wasn’t muddy at all, providing relatively stable footing despite the subtle incline.

“I have to admit,” Mira began from right beside him. “A guy's never taken me through a mysterious hidden path that leads into the forest like this. Usually, I’d hex them if they tried.”

“Don’t hex me,” Reivan warned as he adjusted his pace to match hers. “I’m not planning to kill you in the forest.”

“You know what? I think that’s exactly what someone planning to kill me in the forest would say.”

“You got me. That is exactly what they would say.”

She giggled, looking around and taking a deep breath. “This is nice. If not a little cold. I hope the murder shack’s not too far away?”

“Don’t call it a murder shack,” Reivan retorted, lazily using his free hand to flick his wand. A moment later, orbs of glowing lights that spread warmth and warded off the cold appeared around them and orbited them as they walked. It was a very basic spell—a cantrip, even. But he felt ever so thankful for it. “And yes, it’s not that far. Just a ten-minute walk. Maybe.”

“Oh, well that’s not too bad. I’ve been feeling cooped up in the Tower.” Mira nodded in approval as she smiled. “I was planning to unwind in Lageton, but then stuff happened.”

“You can say that again.”

“I was looking forward to seeing the sights and trying to talk to tourists.”

Reivan frowned. “Why would you want to talk to tourists? Your English isn't very good. They would have just thought you were a weird local.”

“Eh, I would’ve bridged the gap with gestures and enthusiasm. It would’ve been fine.”

Rolling his eyes, Reivan snorted. “I just remembered, you tried to get into Aizen to read the stuff in its libraries, right?”

“Mhm. That’s right.”

“Those books are probably in English. With lots of big words and technical jargon too. Would you have been able to read any of it reliably?”

Reivan himself had read a few. And while this world didn’t have “Ye Old English” because the First King quite literally spread it around in its current state, a lot of the older books tended to lean on the long and fancy words to appear more impressive—just as a lot of works did.

Conversational expertise wouldn’t have been enough and Mira didn’t even have that.

She groaned at his question. “I would’ve hired a translator… While I got tutored by a native on the side.”

“Huh. And how much would that have cost?”

“...A lot. Most food’s really cheap in the kingdom, apparently, but services aren’t. And so is rent. The conversion rate of currency would have made things even worse.”

Reivan whistled under his breath. “And you were willing to go that far to satiate your curiosity? Impressive. Your parents must love you a lot.”

Mira groaned again, replying defensively. “I would’ve used my savings. So I wouldn’t have depended on them for all my expenses, you know?”

“I see, I see. How admirable.”

“...Stop making fun of me!”

He couldn’t help but laugh, causing her to try to pinch him. She would’ve succeeded too, if he hadn’t caught her hand just in time. “Alright, alright. My bad.”

“Minus points for being mean. You’re in the red, mister.”

“What if I give you the books though?”

Mira closed her mouth and grumbled to herself before nodding. “Okay. I accept your peace offering.”

Reivan smirked. “There are more, actually. I could probably convince the store owner to give me a few more…”

“Really!?”

“Wanna come with me next time?”

“Yes!” She eagerly nodded, her grip on his hand tightening.

Reivan chuckled as he gestured forward. “Great. We’re close to the place now.”

“Mhm… I’m looking forward to.. it… Wait a minute.” Mira’s brows furrowed in suspicion. “Did you just get me to agree to a second date?”

“Yes," he nodded. "I believe I did.”

“I almost didn’t notice…” Mira shook his arm. “Actually. Just tell me where it is. I can go on my own.”

“Hm. Lemme think. On one hand, I have the perfect excuse to spend time with my gorgeous beauty of a captain. On the other hand, I get a pat on the back. Oh, woe is me, whichever shall I choose?”

“You’re not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to. Anyway, the answer is no. Let’s just go together.”

“Grr… In times like this, the man is supposed to give in.”

“True enough. But remind me again, how many men have gone on second dates with you?”

“Huh? Ah… Well… Zero, I guess?”

“Exactly.” Reivan squeezed her hand lightly while grinning at her. “I’m going to be different from other men.”

Silence reigned for a few moments before she muttered. “I could just ask the driver…”

“Hey, c’mon. Don’t be just a spoilsport. It’s not like you hate spending time with me. Not so far, right?”

Mira groaned. “Well, no…”

“Great. So we’ll just go together next time. Maybe tomorrow. Who knows?”

“...Fine.” she gave in, looking away as she muttered about how sleazy he was.

Reivan smiled in triumph as he looked forward.

════════════════════════════════

After a few more minutes of relaxed walking that wouldn't have been relaxing at all if they weren't physically fit, they finally caught sight of a building in the middle of a flat clearing that crowned a hill surrounded by luscious greenery. It was, by his estimation, trying for a cottage-in-the-woods aesthetic but was sadly failing at it because of how decidedly uncottage-like it was.

No cottage was three stories tall and was as wide as a small palace, after all. They normally didn’t have big wooden arches at the entrance either.

Or guards, for that matter.

Reivan nodded at the guards who gave him and his date a quick once over before bowing respectfully. Not saying a word, they returned to imitating stone statues. Their hospitality left him wanting, but he had to admit they looked quite dependable as protectors.

“What’s this place?” Mira asked as she looked around with a hint of doubt. “A hotel…?”

“Yes.”

“I knew it! You sleazebag!”

He chuckled and stopped her from marching off. “Relax. It’s not just a hotel. There’s a nice lounge on the third floor. The food’s apparently okay too.”

“Well, okay then…” Mira let herself get pulled into the building.

‘The Star sure works fast.’

Mira must not have noticed it earlier, but the Star of Fortune’s mark was on the wooden archway they passed through earlier.

This building was but one of their business ventures since Aizen slowly started to trickle down the rights for the stations. As it turned out, Aizen owned the land the stations were on, but not the areas around it. In cases where the stations weren’t in the middle of a town or city, however, the kingdom often owned the land around it as well. It was to secure the area against monsters and other harmful wildlife.

The Star of Fortune made use of that fact by establishing the business Reivan and Mira was patronizing at the moment.

Conceptually, it was a hotel that doubled as a lounge of sorts. Which wouldn’t have been all that appealing if it didn’t offer an incredible view all around it.

“Oh, wow…” Mira’s brows rose up as far as they could as she spun on her heels, trying to take in the entire third floor of the building.

It was just one giant room with tables, armchairs, and sofas among other things. But the best part was the massive walls of glass on all sides, offering a stunning view of nature. And on the left was Vel Ayala in all its glory, with its floating islands chained to the Spirit Tower.

Given Mira’s background as the daughter of a somewhat famous restaurant, it would have been an exercise in foolishness to try to impress her with fine cuisine. She would have probably eaten at all the good places already.

So instead, he’d focused on picking out a place that emphasized atmosphere and relaxation. He’d accurately predicted that she’d want to engross herself in reading, too impatient to wait until they got back to the Tower.

And to that end, this place was perfect.

There was a wonderful view. The tables and sofas were a fair distance from each other, offering a certain level of peace and quiet. Also, the place wasn’t very well known yet, so not many people would even come here.

Actually, in typical Aizenian fashion, Reivan had multiple plans to see how Mira reacted to the books. If she wasn’t too enthusiastic about them, he would have redirected the carriage driver somewhere else. As it turned out, she loved the translated books. And was very eager to have a crack at them.

The worst thing he could do right now was to stand in between her and that desire.

So he wouldn’t.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” Reivan asked as he escorted Mira to a table very close to the window that showcased more of the unmolested greenery rather than the one marred by train tracks or a massive city of magic.

“Not yet…” Mira sat down and ran her palms down the velvet chair’s arms.

“Right. Me neither.” He sat down too and picked up a very small menu and offered it to her.

The place was very similar in concept to a cafe, where seating didn’t have a cost and you could stay for hours, but everything on the menu was quite pricey.

Despite that, Mira didn’t really react to the cost. Though perhaps that was par for the course given her background. And in any case, the rates here weren’t significant enough to scare two battlemages off. “I’ve never seen some of these before.”

“Some of the recipes are from Pentagoria, apparently. While some are from Aizen.”

“Really? Which ones?”

Reivan smiled and got up, standing behind her chair to get a better look at the menu. Though he’d heard some things, he hadn’t bothered to look into the entire list of what the place offered. “Pancakes. And French toast is from Aizen, I believe. The rest of the stuff you don’t know about should be from Pentagorian principalities.”

Thankfully, there were painted illustrations of what each dish looked like.

“They both looked really good…” Mira’s gaze flitted back and forth between the two, obviously troubled over which to choose.

Reivan hummed in thought. “How about you order both?”

“I can’t eat that much for breakfast.”

“Then I’ll eat the one you like less. Or we can split. How’s that?”

Mira’s eyes brightened as she nodded. “That’s a great idea.”

“Tea? Should I order a pot? They have a special brew, apparently.”

“Is it sweet?”

“No. But the dishes we ordered are already sweet, so…”

“Okay, then.”

With their orders decided, Reivan hailed nobody in particular as he sat down. They were told the waiters would generally stay out of sight but were ready to respond to their calls at any time. True to their words, a waitress climbed up the stairs to the third floor and walked briskly but gracefully in their direction.

Reivan ordered for them both and watched the waitress sashay away, earning a light kick from his date. He smiled sheepishly at her. “I wasn’t looking at her ass, by the way.”

Mira rolled her eyes. “Men.”

“I’m telling the truth, though… And why would I bother with her when I’ve got you right in front of me?”

She scoffed. “Don’t think you can get me with those cheesy lines. I’ve heard them all!”

“You’re so annoying.” Reivan rolled his eyes. “Just take out the books you want to read so much and get to it already.”

“What? But aren’t we on a date?”

“We are.”

“Then…”

Reivan shrugged as he flicked his wrist dismissively. “Wouldn’t you say that you’d have more fun with that than talking with me?”

“That’s a bit harsh… though I can’t deny it...”

“Besides, it’s not like we don’t already know a bit about each other. The entire point of a first date—getting to know each other—is pointless for us. We even had an entire episode where our lives were on the line. I doubt there’s anything more exciting than that.”

“That’s true.” Mira giggled, smiling as she took out the books and placed them on the low table between them. “Alright. I like this. If you're sure you don’t mind, that is.”

“I don’t. Oh, but if you want excitement, let me remind you that this place is a hotel. I can show you lots of exciting things if you want me to.”

She squeaked in surprise before picking up a book and raising it over her head, threatening to chuck it at him.

He raised both hands in surrender. “It was a joke. Well, no, it wasn’t really a joke. The offer’s always there, I won’t pretend it isn’t.”

“I can’t believe you…” Mira scowled but still lowered her improvised weapon. She crossed her legs and reclined, popping the book open where she’d stopped earlier. Her right brow rose as she looked at him skeptically. “Are you sure I can just read?”

“I’m sure.”

“We can only have a first date once, you know?”

“I just want you to have fun.” Reivan shrugged. “Name something you’d rather do than read these transcribed works.”

Mira paused to think on it for about a minute before she eventually shook her head. “Can’t think of anything.”

“Exactly. Do as you wish.”

“Well, okay…”

Mira smiled as she looked down, immersed in her reading, not even noticing when the waitress arrived with their order.

Reivan, on his part, took one of the only books he hadn’t read yet, partaking in a bit of reading as well. Though he didn’t get to do it much these days, few things relaxed him more. Whether it was through a phone screen or with a fragrant book in front of him, immersing oneself in literature was wonderful.

It reminded him of times past. Times that may not have been very pleasant, but still held enormous value to him.

Before that, he had to break Mira out of it so they could have breakfast warm.

════════════════════════════════

The pancakes, french toast, and the tea were all wonderful. Mira ended up eating both dishes, despite her previous statement about being unable to do that exact thing that she did.

Reivan didn’t mind, and he actually offered his halves to her, ordering a more filling breakfast instead—which was honestly better for him, because he was more curious about the dishes from Pentagoria than the ones he’d already eaten plenty of times before and after getting reincarnated.

After breakfast, the two bookworms promptly forgot about each other and dove into the books of their choice. Mira was still flipping through the treatise on how stupid and harmful slavery was—a superb work, that one—while he partook in a slightly raunchy story about a dairymaid and two knights passing by.

The setting of the fictional story took place in an era called the Pre-unification Era, where the First King had yet to unify the peninsula that Aizen now occupied. It was a time of great strife, with wars fought between small nations and terrifying monsters still roaming the lands. Technologically speaking, the people lived like slightly civilized barbarians compared to how Aizen was right now.

Reivan supposed it was the equivalent of modern earth writing historical fiction set in the medieval ages.

‘Good lord, this is just smut. But with extra steps and with prettier prose.’

He should not have included it in the books he’d give Mira. But he wanted to include fictional works and there hadn’t been a lot of options on the store’s shelves. Which made sense, because it wasn’t a bookstore, but a carriage rental and touring service. The books were for decoration.

Admittedly, he’d just grabbed what was there. How the hell could he have known that “The Arlesian Fantasy” was a smut story? The title wasn’t clear enough about how much sex was in the thing.

‘At least they're really good about depicting the scenes.’

It was, he was ashamed to admit, quite a fun read.

In the end, Reivan and Mira had lunch there too before sinking back into reading. He was a somewhat speedy reader, so he finished off the unexpectedly raunchy story and picked up a thin book of children’s stories—which, as he’d expected, all depicted knights in some way. Some of them had probably made it to Arkhanian bookstores already, but there were a lot of old ones that even he wasn’t aware of.

He found them quite enjoyable as well. Mostly because of how different authors of this world wrote compared to the ones in his past life.

Before the two of them noticed, the sky was already beginning to turn orange. And they were forced to admit that their bladders had gotten quite full from consuming prodigious amounts of tea while they were there. Reivan called for the waitress to hand them their bill and tried to pay for it.

“I’ll pay for my share,” Mira announced, already in the midst of handing over a few gold coins from her spatial ring.

“No, let me pay.” Reivan got to the waitress first, telling their servant to keep the change. “I invited you out. So I should pay, no?”

“But I can’t let my junior pay…”

“I’m older than you though.”

Mira groaned. “We’ve had this conversation before…”

“I know.” Reivan chuckled. “Anyway, I’ve already paid for it so you can’t do anything about it. If you feel guilty, just get me something next time.”

“I suppose that works.” She nodded, putting her money back into her spatial storage artifact, not even noticing that she’d once again agreed to a next time. “Anyway, that was fun!”

“You’re welcome.” Reivan smugly grinned, offering his hand to help her get up. Though she didn’t need it, obviously, it was the gesture that counted. “You wanna do something else after or should we just head back to the Tower?”

While what he said may have been construed as an invitation for raunchy action, it was not entirely so. Though old-fashioned, it was rude to keep an unmarried lady out at night unless they were participating in a festival or an event that could only happen at night.

Quite obviously, this was normally not observed anymore. Not in urban environments, anyway. The night was the perfect time to hunt for people to share a bed with, after all. But Mira was old school, as she had mentioned, so he wouldn’t keep her for too long.

Unless she wanted to continue. There was nothing in the old Arkhanian traditions that said you couldn’t keep a lady out if she wanted to be out.

Sadly, Mira didn’t seem inclined. “No, I think we should head back now.”

A slightly disappointing outcome, but one he’d expected. Rome wasn’t built in a single day, after all.

In any case, they both left the establishment after each borrowing the comfort rooms. The walk and the carriage ride back were relatively jovial, and there was barely any silence because they could simply talk about what they'd just read. Mira was quite happy to share her opinion and praise the insights of ancient Aizenian scholars, hoping that Arkhan fully abolish slavery in the country soon.

Reivan didn’t bother sharing his own opinion on what he’d read because she would read them in due time anyway. He may have been a somewhat gentlemanly pervert and a questionably murderous bastard, but even he would never sink low enough as to intentionally spoil a fellow bookworm. There was low, then there was really low. Sormon help him, he wished he never fell to the latter.

All in all, Reivan was quite sure he’d made the correct decisions today. Maybe they weren’t the best. But Mira’s Favor was now in the sixties—a significant improvement from before. If she was an ordinary Arkhanian girl, she would already be in bed with him by now. As it turned out, she had a high barrier to entry because of her proper upbringing.

‘Nice. This is good data for my Favor research.’

The carriage dropped them off at the Tower and Reivan flipped the driver a coin before taking Mira inside, where they decided to split off so the other squad members didn’t get suspicious. Not that they needed to hide, but they were both aware that plenty of minor inconveniences would sprout up if their closeness was revealed.

Particularly, Aldimir wouldn't let them hear the end of it. There was also Alini to be considerate of, though Reivan was of the idea that she'd snap out of it if he left her alone long enough.

“Uh, thanks for today, Clover.” Mira pursed her lips and smiled shyly up at him. “That was more fun than I’ve had with one of these dates.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Reivan smiled, feeling a bit mischievous. “Did you have a good enough time to give me a kiss?”

“Wha— No!” She squeaked, taking a step back with blushing ears. “I already told you—”

“Even just a peck?”

“No!”

“What about on the cheek?” Reivan turned his head and grinned, tapping his right cheek. “Pretty please?”

Though significantly less intense than a kiss on the lips, one placed on the cheek was still beyond what a demure Arkhanian from an old-fashioned household would grant to anyone but a serious romantic partner or a family member. As such, he hadn’t really expected her to go through with it.

That was why it was all the more surprising when Mira took a step forward and stood on the tips of her toes, planting her soft pink lips on his defenseless cheeks. It was a mere peck that lasted barely a second, but it was real. And it happened.

“Th-there!” She jabbed a finger on his chest, blood rushing up her face. “Satisfied?”

Reivan gulped and rubbed the spot. “Barely felt a thing. I think I'm gonna have to ask you to do it again.”

Mira smiled sweetly at him as she raised her hand and flipped him the magic finger. “Screw off.”

Leaving those parting words behind, she turned around and ran toward the teleportation platform before disappearing in a flash of light. As for Reivan, he chuckled smugly to himself while recalling his first sister’s words. Truly, no matter what boundaries a woman set down, they would all be ignored by the person herself when they met someone they liked enough.

And it seemed Mira liked him enough to give him a kiss on the cheek—which wasn’t much, to be honest. But it was far more than anything she’d given out and he saw that as a big win.

That said, if every date cost as much as today's date though, he wouldn’t be going to a whole lot of them in a single month. The cafe expenses weren't much, but the carriage rental and buying all those books put a nice gaping hole in his finances that wouldn't be recovering for a while. He wished the day when he was so rich he didn't even need to know how much something cost to buy it.

‘I need a fucking raise.’

Wooing women the right way, it seemed, was a very costly enterprise.

Arc#4 Chapter 63: D-Day

Reivan woke up at the crack of dawn as usual and went down to the training hall for a quick workout even though he technically had a date coming up in a few hours.

The militant discipline ingrained in him made him uncomfortable if he skipped a day for such a relatively insignificant reason. It wasn't a valid excuse because his life wasn't on the line and he didn't have an energy-intensive task lined up today. Now, if he was meeting up with Elsa or Helen after months of being apart, he would want to save his vigor for obvious reasons, but that wasn't the case—and even then he could just restore it since he probably wouldn't have to intentionally "seal" his special abilities.

"There we go..." He grunted quietly as he fastened the weights to his body and offered a cursory nod to the Argonian Prince doing his own routine on the other side of the hall. They saw each other a lot, given they started their daily regimen at roughly the same time. As much as Reivan would have loved not to be involved with the prince at all, they already were, so he may as well try to get along to ferret out bits of info from the imperial.

Satisfied with his preparation, Reivan began his routine and left his body on auto-pilot. All the while, he thought about his plans for his date with Mira.

'Surprisingly, there's not a whole lot to do in Vel Ayala, to be honest. Though I suppose my opinion's biased because I know about Modern Earth.'

After his squad captain fled from him yesterday, Reivan took the chance to ask a few seniors he spotted in the Mess Hall shared by all battlemages. It was embarrassing, yes. But Reivan managed to accurately pick out the ones who'd actually give him a good answer.

Honestly, he just went up to the group of handsome seniors who seemed like they got laid a lot.

It involved a bit of exploitation on Reivan’s part, because anyone in the group who didn’t offer any advice at all could be doubted as someone who wasn’t knowledgeable about the subject. Naturally, that was a bit of a stretch. But logic didn’t matter much to guys when they teased friends. Reivan would go to great lengths if Hector ever dared him to do something while saying that he was gay if he refused—it was the same principle applied to the group of handsome seniors. Nobody amongst this band of strapping young lads wanted to be known as the one with the least game.

All in all, it worked.

Actually, there was no need for Reivan to play his mind games because the seniors he approached had been quite nice, and the entire affair turned into some sort of forum. The seniors themselves profited by discovering a lot of places they never knew about from the others. That said, Reivan profited the most out of any of them because he hadn’t known any of the places they spoke of. Partway through the advice, the seniors ended up regaling the others of all the girls they bedded after taking them to those date spots, citing how effective they were. It seemed Reivan truly lucked out and unknowingly approached a group of irredeemable mansluts—but that was a good thing, because these unsavory men who he would never want to marry his daughters to were just what he was looking for.

In hindsight, being such a frivolous playboy wasn't all that hard to do in Arkhan, if Reivan was being completely honest. There was a reason Arkhan's urban population density was so high, almost rivaling Aizen. He was absolutely sure there was something in the food served in cities that made all these people so damned horny all the time.

Well, he wasn’t one to talk. But he liked to think he wasn’t as frivolous as these Arkhanians.

'In any case, I guess I'll just have to do my best with what I found out.'

Reivan himself had a lot of dating experience to draw upon, but most of those dates were with Elsamina or Helen. With Jiji too, though those were more like sibling outings, to be honest. Sadly, such experiences weren't very useful, because he wasn't courting those three women. One was his sister, another already confirmed her feelings for him, and the other was his lover. In all three cases, he wasn't trying to appeal himself, rather, the point was simply to enjoy the event.

In Elsa's case, it normally ended in a dim and quiet bedroom with their naked bodies bared, having an overall fantastic time—if her praise of his skill in bed were to be believed, that is. Her words, of course, made him feel quite good about himself but he also knew that the love-rot in her brain was probably raising her opinion of said skill.

Anyway, things weren't so easy for him here. Mira was, in essence, the equivalent of a work colleague with no significant relationship binding them. She was not a sibling, a fiancee, nor a lover, and hence, had to be courted. He did not have a lot of know-how regarding that. So the only dating experiences Reivan could draw from was when he was doing his research on how Favor worked. Oh, and he supposed there was the questionably applicable knowledge from his past life sister, Kyouka.

'I don't think her advice is very helpful, but there must be something from it I can absorb.'

Reivan managed his breathing as he ran, contemplating the many stories Kyouka had told him about her love life.

Not a whole lot of people at the time knew, but his sister had been a giant lesbo. A woman who was attracted to other women. And if the World Devouring Serpent's words were to be taken seriously, it seemed his sister truly went crazy with her womanizing up until she croaked.

While he was alive, said sister had—extensively and in excruciating detail—shared her sexcapades with him. All of it. Every single instance. Even after he said he didn't really want to hear it.

If Kyouka scissored with anybody, he ended up knowing about it from the person’s mouth herself, much to his dismay.

Now, a lot of people would have interpreted her actions as boastful. But Reivan had seen it for what it truly was. His sister had simply tried, in her own misguided way, to educate him on how to bag a lady of his own. Unlike him, she actually held out hope that he'd be cured one day. That meant that he was going to have to get married at some point. And she didn't want her brother to be a maidenless bachelor forever, which was shy she incessantly told him stories of how she convinced incredibly attractive straight women into bed with her. As she was wildly successful at doing exactly that, he couldn’t even deny the authenticity of her advice.

Obviously, he hadn't gotten cured in the end. Hence the whole "dying" portion of his life story.

But as it turned out, her weird but affectionate actions weren't totally wasted because Reivan ended up reincarnating.

Unfortunately, a lot of Kyouka's advice about dating wasn't applicable here, because the world was in a completely different era and he didn't have dating apps to exploit with the combination of his inherent good looks, filters, and lies about his income. He also couldn't message multiple girls at once nor could he play the mind games involved in texting.

Furthermore, the world he was in was still in its medieval era.

A certain otherworlder who came into the scene a few thousand years ago truly went and messed up the medieval aesthetic by revealing a crapload of advanced knowledge. But for all it was worth, the world was still a "swords and magic" kind of place.

In fact, the First King’s interference probably slowed the world’s progress. Because Aizen, and by extension everyone else who tried to replicate its technology, didn’t have the necessary foundation to build upon everything. People on Modern Earth didn’t suddenly have cars, after all. There was a lot of stuff that had to be discovered to give birth to it. Like the intricacies of internal combustion, advanced metallurgy, and all that other crap that was too complicated to remember for someone who didn’t work with cars.

‘The supernatural aspects of the world and its requirement of talent probably slowed scientific development too. But anyway…’

Point being, even thousands of years after the first king dumped a whole bunch of isekai knowledge into the world, it was still, at its core, a medieval one. Just, with a bunch of out-of-place stuff here and there. Like guns or magic toilets that vaporized your shit instead of delivering it to the sewers.

In any case, a lot of amenities that were common in modern Earth weren’t present.

And that meant “dates” were extremely limited in variety.

Basically, the “atmosphere” was of vital importance. Meaning the view and whatnot. Piers, beaches, and high places overlooking the cityscape were the best, apparently. That was the skeleton of what constitutes a date, according to his seniors.

He ended up ignorantly asking where dinners came in, and it seemed that they were supposed to just eat somewhere nearby whatever viewing spot got picked. There were usually a few spots nearby, as restaurant owners primarily competed over such business locations—which, ironically, probably ruined the view when too many popped up.

‘That adds up with one of Kyouka’s advice, huh?’

Reivan’s dearly departed sister had a chauffeur and multiple cars for her to use as she pleased, but she obviously didn’t use them much when dating, because while it was a big flex, it also meant they’d have an unwanted third party around. Plus, it would expose the proclivities she was hiding from their parents.

And since she didn’t have a driver’s license of her own, she did a crapload of walking. While strolls were apparently quite nice, it was important to keep them short. As such, each “stop” was to be within a ten-minute walk, and a minimum of thirty minutes had to be spent at each stop to have sufficient time to rest—which made it sound like there were a whole lot of stops, but Kyouka kept it at three, most of the time. An activity stop, an eating stop and if things worked out, there would be a hotel stop too.

As it turned out, Kyouka usually managed to get a hotel stop. The cheeky little brat. He still remembered all the times she had proudly flashed him double peace signs while boasting about it.

In any case, Kyouka insisted on keeping the distance between each stop short. There had to be a flow. And preferably, the stroll in between spots was scenic, which would make it easier because admiring the atmosphere could fill any awkward silences that would inevitably spring up.

Such intricate date planning was easy to organize with the help of online maps, accessible with a few taps on a phone. But there were no such things in this world.

So right after soaking up all the useful information from his seniors, Reivan went out to the Lower City and scouted out the area. This ended up eating a lot of time, but following a piece of wisdom from his senior mansluts, he found a spot to rent horses for a day.

Now, knights in Aizen were no longer attached to mounted combat. But he still knew the basics, though his middling expertise mostly pertained to riding giant huskies rather than horses. Then again, how much harder could riding a horse be? They were domesticated and didn’t try to bite you if you nudged them a bit too hard, after all.

Apparently, not all that hard but it was quite different all the same. Reivan didn’t want to admit how many times he almost fell off or how his butt unexpectedly hurt from being bounced up and down the whole way. All things considered, having a horse on hand helped him scout the Lower City as much as he wanted and even gave him ideas on how to possibly spice up his date.

He had gotten back quite late at night and managed to catch a very shy Mira before she ran away to her room, reconfirming if the date was still on among some other things, like if she was allergic to anything—which was incredibly important and in hindsight, he should have asked it way earlier.

She apparently had a bad reaction to poultry, of all things. Which eliminated seventy percent of the restaurants his seniors told him about, because Arkhan had a long list of birds offered up as sacrifice to humanity’s taste buds. Reivan was quite glad that he asked, avoiding a catastrophic mistake that would have ruined the entire date.

Thanks to all of that, Reivan had a pretty good idea of what he would do. There were no good hotels around any of the places he intended to take Mira to, but then again, the likelihood of something happening was low from the start.

‘Huh. Reminds me of something else that crazy sister of mine said…’

Kyouka, as a woman with a taste for other straight women, was met with plenty of reluctance. And one thing she always told him stuck.

“My dearly beloved brother who's still a super mega virgin,” she had said, which was infuriating because it could be argued that she was a virgin too, having never done it with a man before. “When a girl says she’s not the type of girl to have sex on the first date or the second date or outside of marriage or something, all she really means is that she’s never met anyone who made her want to have sex at that stage. The trick is making them want to! And I'm good at that! Kneel before my greatness!”

After setting aside all the useless bullshit she spouted, there was basically a threshold of attraction that, once surpassed, would make them jump under the sheets with you despite her supposed perception of herself. Which was dubious information all around. But coming from someone highly successful in bagging girls who weren’t supposed to be attracted to other girls, it had quite a bit of persuasive power.

Obviously, as a man who was about to die, Reivan didn't value the information at the time. But he also had proof that it was real.

Inaria, for one thing, had been a serious and somewhat prickly girl who wouldn’t have given most men a second look. In somewhat nice terms, she was cautious in who she interacted with. More frankly, she was a snob to anyone she wasn't already close with or anyone who happened to have a penis. Yet, the people who knew her would be surprised at how she acted around him—or rather, one of his fake identities. It was honestly scary what she would agree to do as long as he asked her to.

‘Oh, right. I think it’s about time for me to meet her… There’s just not a good chance to do so, unfortunately. Maybe that's why she's been especially cranky at times...? Eh, maybe not. A woman's life doesn't revolve around their love life, so maybe she has some other problem?’

Reivan finished his regimen and started taking off the weights strapped to his limbs, putting them back where they belonged. He glanced at Prince Alfon and decided to vacate the hall quietly, opting not to disturb the man’s apparent focus. Actually, Reivan usually would have worked out more and they would have ended their regimen at roughly the same time, but he didn’t want to be too sore for his date.

A quick shower later and he was back in the common room, where the rest of the squad but Mira was suspiciously present. Which was troubling, because he’d have preferred for them not to be around to see him and Mira go out together. Aldimir wouldn’t let him hear the end of it, for one thing, and Alini had some apparent interest in him that he had no plans to entertain—not only would it be insincere to her, but it would also further complicate things with Mira.

The last thing he wanted was for the trope of the kind older woman giving way for her much more timid junior in romance. He had to draw a clear line in the sand so Mira wouldn’t have any easy outs.

“Hey, Win.” Aldim lazily waved from one of the sofas, where he was, in a rare turn of events, reading a book. A book, of all things. Sormon’s mercy, the world must be ending soon. “You’re done early.”

“I have a thing.” Reivan shrugged. “Can’t get too tired.”

“Oh?” Aldim shut the book with a smirk. “Tell me more.”

“No.”

"Yes?"

"No."

“Eh~? Why, though? Don’t be shy. Tell Papa Aldim everything, child."

“The fuck is Papa Aldim...?” He rolled his eyes. Deciding to derail the conversation, he looked around at all the others. “Why are you all here, anyway? Was there a meeting I wasn’t told about? Are we having secret meetings, now?”

Inaria didn’t even raise her head from the grimoire she was perusing. “This is the common room. It’s not that strange for us all to be here.”

“I’m hiding here,” Kantor said in a quiet voice, as if he was scared someone other than them would hear, but didn’t elaborate further.

“Since Mr. Kip is asleep, I thought I should learn a few more spells,” Alini volunteered, turning to face him with a shy smile. “The others except Kantor had the same idea. Would you like to join us? We’re, uhm, trying to coordinate with each other so we don’t learn the same spells… It’ll give our squad more versatility.”

“That sounds like a fantastic idea.” Reivan nodded with a sheepish smile. “But not today. Maybe some other time. Don’t worry, I’ll adjust what spells I learn to what you guys are studying.”

“Okay…” her shoulders drooped, but she nodded in understanding.

Reivan waved at his squadmates and headed into his room, he’d just showered down—or was it up? He still didn’t know—at the training hall’s shower rooms, but he wasn’t exactly dressed to impress. Here in Arkhan, however, the general trend made it impossible to be too fashionably elaborate, as everyone just wore white tops and dark bottoms, with the obvious thick dark coats when outside because Arkhan’s horrendous weather would suck you dry of warmth otherwise.

Nonetheless, Reivan had bought a new set of clothes last night and tried to up his appearance where he could, such as a new black suit vest—with a nifty little pocket to put his new gold pocket watch in, its chain fastened to the part near his navel. It added a fair bit of elegance to his look, if he did say so himself.

While Clover Salwyn’s countenance wasn’t especially striking, a man would go a long way by simply dressing well and making sure his facial hair was under control. On the latter note, Reivan judged that Clover looked better clean-shaven and with his ash-blonde hair slicked back.

A contrast to his real self. He really wanted to grow a bit of stubble, though the results ended up quite lacking, unfortunately. Must be from his mother's side because his father and brother could grow very nice facial hair if they wanted to, judging by how often they shaved.

Anyway, none of Reivan's new drip was cheap. But he had the relatively generous salary of a battlemage to thank for his recently crazy expenses. It was a good thing they added a bit extra to his rates because he was apparently a vice-captain. It was the only good thing about being a vice-captain though. The twenty percent was a lovely little boon considering Clover Salwyn had no real sponsors to leech off of.

“Hm.” Reivan looked at himself in the full-length mirror in his not-so-private quarters, examining a body that didn’t really belong to him. It was as good as it was going to get. He’d just have to go confidently, he supposed. That seemed to help a little as long as one wasn’t too ugly—which Clover, thankfully, was not.

One last smooth of his clothes and he put on a new black overcoat while making sure the Tower-issued belt buckle that held his weapons and his money was securely fastened. Satisfied with everything, he went back out and ignored Aldimir's catcalls and jeering, rushing to the mini teleportation platform in their common room.

Mira would know that he intended to wait on the ground floor.

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Reivan had to admit that considering his date’s character, there was a very realistic possibility that she’d completely oversleep and make him wait for hours.

Thankfully, that wasn’t the case.

After about ten minutes of waiting by the yawning spatial marvel of a doorway leading outside the Tower, the incessant lights of teleportation finally gave birth to a familiar person on the platform. Obviously, it was Mira, and she found him after a quick scan of her surroundings, jogging up to him with an apologetic face.

“Sorry,” she panted. “I got a bit held up because the others kept asking questions…”

“It’s fine.” Reivan smiled and flopped his wrist dismissively. “I didn’t wait that long. And you’re early, besides. Which is surprising.”

“You didn’t have to add the last part.”

He shrugged and gave her a quick once over. In typical Arkhanian fashion, she wore a white top and a thick black skirt that reached just below her knees. Both pieces in question were of exquisite quality, however, and so was her black coat with white fur on the collar.

‘Never seen her with makeup before…’

It was barely noticeable, but her complexion, which was already fair and smooth from the start, had a nice glow to it that wasn’t normally there. Her pink lips were just a bit more eye-catching today too, drawing away from her sapphire eyes. Honestly, if he wasn’t around great beauties like his mother, Stella, Helen, Elsamina, his sisters, and Gwen all the darn time, Mira would have left him mesmerized.

“You look great.” Reivan smiled as he gazed at her lovely blue eyes. “Well, you always do. But even more so today.”

“Well, yeah. That’s what makeup is for.” Mira rolled her eyes and looked away, but she couldn’t hide how the corner of her mouth teased upward. “You clean up nicely too.”

“A bath from time to time can do wonders, I gotta admit. You caught me at a good time.”

“Ew, gross. Please bathe every day!”

She giggled and he smiled, his small jest going over well. In any case, it seemed things were fine so far.

“May I escort you, my lady?” Reivan offered his arm, speaking in fake accented English, which was surprisingly hard to do because he was fluent.

“Oh, fancy. Where’d you learn that?” Mira’s eyes widened. “I mean, it could use a bit more work, but that was great.”

“I know it sucks. Stop pointing it out.”

“Well, not that I’m any better. English is weird. They have words that sound exactly the same but mean completely different things.” She shrugged, placing a hand on his offered arm after a theatrical curtsy, holding up an imaginary skirt. In equally broken and heavily accented English, she spoke quite importantly. “I love to.”

“I would love to,” he corrected.

“You’re ruining the moment," she shot back in Arkhanian. "Just shut up and escort me, vice-minion.”

Reivan shrugged and did exactly that. It seemed she was a bit reluctant to walk too closely with him, even though they’d been in much closer physical contact. A good sign, he thought. it would have been a bad one if it was accompanied by obvious anxiety on her face, but in this case, she was just being demure.

This, to him, also meant she now considered him a member of the opposite sex in the truest essence, not just a squad junior that she joked around with, cursed to remain in that role for eternity. Like a more professional version of the friend zone, where they would literally feel nothing about asking you if their nudes were good before sending said nudes to the guys they actually like.

Kyouka had also told him of very unfortunate men who fell into that role, all while she was receiving said nudes.

“Wah! Damn, it’s cold!”

The moment they crossed the spatial boundary separating the Tower’s interior and the outside world, both of them were blasted with the frosty morning air and Mira couldn’t help but exclaim in surprise. Even the howling wind was almost deafening, making it difficult to hear each other.

It was a wonder how it could be so chilly without the republic being constantly snowy. Logically though, Reivan surmised that it was the southern winds blowing northwards from the expansive sea south of Sentorale. Though it felt a bit too much for just that. Southern territories in Aizen weren’t this cold despite being in contact with the southern sea.

Then again, it didn’t really matter. He just had to complain about the damned cold like everyone else did. As was tradition in the republic.

Mira took her hand off him in favor of rubbing both palms together, though the gloves she wore probably got in the way. A subconscious action, most likely. She eventually realized the futility of her actions though, instead pulling a thick white scarf out of thin air and wrapping it around her neck.

She turned to him with a pleading gaze. “Please tell me we’re not too far from wherever you’re taking me…”

“We’re not.” Reivan pointed somewhere. “I got us a ride.”

“You did…?” Mira followed his gaze and found an ornate white and gold carriage waiting by the gates, with two equally white stallions at the front to pull it forward. “Wow… What the heck is that?”

“It’s a carriage.”

“Thank you, for that obvious bit of information I already knew. But what’s it doing here? Why’s it so fancy?”

“I rented it.”

“Rented. You can do that?”

“Yes.” Reivan chuckled. “It’s a new service I chanced upon.”

Actually, it was surprisingly a venture by one of Ouroboros’ branch companies. A fact he almost missed if he hadn't seen a small decorative figurine of a serpent eating its own tail tucked away in a corner of the shop's reception area. Obviously, the decision was made while he wasn’t around, but he really had to thank Elsa. Or Gwen, honestly. Either of them could have arranged for it, though Gwen had a higher likelihood because she knew Reivan would be in Vel Ayala.

Not that he needed more proof the business was under Ouroboros' umbrella, but another piece of conclusive evidence was how the workers offered him a discount for no apparent reason other than just because he was one of their earliest customers. Obviously, they knew him by face. Which was dangerous, in its own way, but he simply had to hope Gwen had their reins held tightly so their mouths wouldn’t grow loose.

Anyway, the service provided a renting service for high-class carriages, plus a driver that could take them anywhere for the whole day as long as it was still within Vel Ayala’s vicinity. Reivan was surprised such a business model hadn’t already existed before Ouroboros came up with it.

‘With this, the proximity of each stop isn’t much of a problem.’

Kyouka had been limited because she couldn’t use her cars, but Reivan had no such problems, though he was careful not to plan stops too far from each other all the same.

“That looks like something a princess would ride on.” Mira couldn’t take her eyes off it.

‘Actually, we ride on better stuff, but this one’s pretty good too.’

Instead of horses, their carriages were normally pulled by giant huskies or at least horses with part monster blood, specially bred to be brave and ridiculously sturdy. These ones looked good but they were, in the end, inferior stock. Not that most would notice a difference.

“I didn’t rent it for you to ogle out in the cold, y’know.” Reivan offered a hand and nudged his head toward it. “Let’s go?”

“Okay…” Mira unconsciously took his hand and followed.

‘Gradual increase in physical contact.’

Earlier, she had merely placed a hand on his forearm. Now they were holding hands. Which was lewd, but hey, they were both wearing gloves so it should be fine.

‘Man, I miss memes…’

As they neared, Reivan noticed a middle-aged man with a kind face and a heavy-duty cloak that looked snug and warm on his crooked body. Their eyes met and they both nodded at each other.

“Clover Salwyn and Mira Serandina?” the carriage driver asked.

“That’s us.” Reivan pulled a slip of paper out of his inner coat pockets, handing it over. “They gave me this.”

“Ah, yes. That’ll do. Thank you for using the Wandering Wurm's Touring Services.” The man gave a deep bow, which wasn’t all that hard given how his bent back ensured he was always a quarter of the way there. “Please, step inside, dear customers.”

The driver opened the carriage door for them and Reivan gently led Mira inside, who was still somewhat spellbound by it all. He knew she would be, given how interested she was in everything related to the kingdom and its fairy tales; princesses being escorted by knights and riding carriages was a very common trope in Aizen's literature.

Reivan spent a moment confirming in a hushed whisper if the driver knew where they were initially headed. While they were generally free to dictate wherever they wanted to be driven to as long as it was within Vel Ayala, he’d already shared the basic outline of his plan. Of course, any plan with more than four steps wasn’t a plan—it was wishful thinking. As such, he left a lot of room for adjustment. Still, the first destination wouldn’t have changed.

After the driver gave a satisfactory answer, Reivan followed Mira inside and allowed the kind old man to close it after him. The carriage only had seats on one side, so that meant he had no choice but to sit somewhat closely with his date. This, obviously, was intentional. He picked this particular carriage not just because it would make Mira feel like a princess, but also because of this.

Sitting face-to-face was fine too, but he preferred the proximity. Plus, the legroom was hard to pass up.

As the door closed, Reivan fully noticed how comfortably warm it was inside. There was even a pleasant smell wafting in the air, like the scent of a freshly opened book.

‘These are enchantments.’

He recognized the feeling immediately, as the difference between artificing and whatever Arkhan did to make their magitech items was stark. It also reaffirmed his thoughts on Gwen being responsible, because the quality of the enchantments was beyond anyone but the experts working in the Royal Workshops could produce. Commercial workshops in Aizen only had access to the, well, commercial stuff.

These were a bit too advanced for that, considering that the enchantment responsible for the smell was a type that changed the smell depending on the recipient. It basically took on the scent of whatever was perceived as comforting—in Reivan’s case, that was a fresh book. Honestly, it could have also been Elsa’s body scent, though he supposed that would make him horny, not calm. In which case, his mother’s scent would have been good too. She always invoked this feeling of safety in him that he couldn’t quite grow out of, even when all she did lately was pester him about making babies and reviving the clan.

“Smells like the pie my Ma always made on special occasions…” Mira murmured quietly, though, in the enclosed space, she may have been yelling into a megaphone. “How’d they do that?”

“Kingdom magic, probably.” Reivan shrugged, answering as a normal Arkhanian would. “You know they have weird voodoo, right?”

“Right… Gosh, what I’d do to get a crack at their libraries…”

Reivan smiled as he watched her poke at even ordinary unenchanted parts of the interior, suddenly having the thought that perhaps this whole seduction thing was pointless. This girl did not look like she needed convincing if it involved going to Aizen.

‘Hm… Next time, I should arrange for some way to get her a visa. That would push her into going on her own.’

There was plenty of paperwork needed to get one, but such processes were trivial to a prince like him. He could wave his hand and it would be done. Who the hell would stop him if he said he wanted to let someone into the kingdom? With his discovery of Ouroboros’ new business here, he could just have Gwen make up some convoluted contest for a free all-expense-paid trip to the kingdom that was rigged for him and Mira to win.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to be extra sure. Life had this weird tendency to flip the board from time to time, so it wouldn’t hurt to have contingencies anyway.

The carriage lurched forward and they went on their way.

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Since the carriage was going to take them out of the Lower City, it would have been a somewhat long and boring ride. But it was an opportunity for conversation, which was essential to getting closer.

Unfortunately, Reivan sprung a gift too early, and utterly lost Mira’s attention.

‘Goddamnit.’

Reivan chuckled wryly at his fellow passenger, poring over the book he’d borrowed from the store renting the carriage out. He had no doubts that the bookshelf and the tomes in it were simply meant as a decoration for the establishment’s reception area, but he’d taken advantage of it all the same.

Some of the books were translated from famous Aizenian classics, after all. He was quite sure an official translation for any of the books he saw there didn’t exist. For any language. But here they were, accurately translated to Arkhanian, though with some inevitable bias from its translator.

This reeked of something Gwen got up to. Somehow, the translation had a hint of her writing style, which he was quite familiar with since he read a lot of her reports. She must have done it in her free time.

'Actually, did she have any free time? And can I even call it free time if she's in another country, far away from her family?'

Anyway, Gwen was a great help yet again. Honestly, if Aizen could have a few dozen more Gwens, they’d rule the world. Or not. But life would be a lot easier for the royal family and the knighthood in general.

‘That woman needs a raise. Again.’

Reivan even considered the plausibility of going around Argonia and gathering up all the fatherless girls he could find in the hopes they’d grow up into another Gwendolyn. Sadly, there would be far too many girls to gather and he didn’t really think it was possible to mass-produce Gwens.

He’d just have to be satisfied with the one and only, he supposed.

“Interesting…” Mira murmured as she flipped through the pages.

Reivan peeked over and recognized the work, but still asked anyway. Just for the sake of asking. “What’s it about?”

“It’s an ancient treatise on the harmful effects of slavery on the economy and the deterioration of public morality it induced,” she answered him, thankfully enough, though it seemed most of her focus was still on the pages. “It seems the kingdom eradicated it extremely early on. Judging by the timeline, it happened even before the concept of democracy bloomed in what is later known as the Magitechnocratic Republic of Arkhan, which even now practices slavery, though in a very limited capacity.”

“I see.”

That was it. That was the end of the conversation and Reivan didn’t get much out of Mira after that. She had this lazy air about her most of the time, but she’d recently revealed a different side of her that came out in serious situations.

It seemed this situation was serious for her, because her focus was razor-sharp.

Sadly, it was on something else that wasn’t the guy she was supposed to be on a date with. Which was kind of sad. He lost to a book. A book. Reivan would not be forgetting this defeat for a long time. Though he could argue that he wasn’t the one who lost, because he wasn’t himself at the moment.

And so, he chalked this up as Clover Salwyn’s loss. Reivan Aizenwald was undefeated.

‘Eh. Whatever. She’s having fun, at least.’

That was the most important part of a date, he supposed. After today, she would remember who she had that fun with. He just had to hope that she actually remembered the part where he was right next to her the whole time and was somewhat responsible for why she even got her hands on the books.

As for getting to know more about each other, that didn’t necessarily have to be done today. They were in the same squad. And with a questionably successful date, he had the pretense of asking her out again.

Hell, the date hadn’t even truly begun.

Knightly Interlude: The Insidious

After parting with Prince Reivan, Mordred did not return to the safe house.

Instead, she returned to the area right at the edge of what was predicted to be Aguru's perception range. It was a nifty thing, how she figured it out. An Ascendant's perception wasn't like a veil or a net cast across a wide area—it was like an enormous ghostly hand covering part of the world. Other ghostly hands could cover the same thing, but each hand would inevitably feel the others.

The fact that Mordred did not feel any hands she didn't know meant that she wasn't in Aguru's range or the Simian wasn't reaching out at the moment. And if she was in range, she could quite easily make sure that she wasn't detected using her unique gift.

'Hm. Should I kill it, after all?'

Unbeknownst to the prince, she had orders to discern whether to slay the hidden sage of Arkhan after the deal was done. It pleased her that High Command—meaning the current king advised by the Knight Commander and a host of numerous experienced people—thought highly enough of her to believe she could complete the task without much trouble. After all, a battle between beings of their caliber rarely went unnoticed. Ascendants did not go quietly into the night, and the ape-thing was particularly formidable according to Prince Reivan's very useful gift and her own discernment.

No matter how much of a pacifist Aguru apparently was, power was power. Even when unskilfully utilized, a force that could shatter mountains could, well, shatter mountains.

'I always get stuck with the worst jobs.'

Mordred chuckled as she stood still in the middle of the forest, even the wildest of animals giving her a wide berth. No matter how much she complained, she knew who she truly was. She wouldn't have become as strong as she was if she didn't like the work. Having no free time was a boon to her, though not many people in the world would understand.

If she wanted to have an ordinary life, she wouldn't have signed up as a squire and taken her oaths. She would have become a farmer like her old man—or a harvester, as recent generations called it. And while she didn't have some grand reason to fight for her nation, some kind of heroic origin story like so many of her fellows in the Twelve Helms had, Mordred had been born and raised on that soil just like most of them.

On a tiny hut, close to the Wolf's Jaw and far away from the big cities, her farmer of a father raised her on his own when her mother died giving birth to her. At a time when the Church of Sormon was yet to truly take root, such occurrences were relatively common. It was a quiet and peaceful childhood where she ate until she was full and went to a small mountain school like the rest of the kids who lived in mountain huts. And as soon as she could, she'd signed up as a squire so she could be a big strong knight that could buy a nice house for her old man—minus the "big" part, since she'd always been a runt.

In that tiny little corner of the world, she'd been born and raised. That was where the mother she loved but never met was buried. It was also where her father who died from old age rested too. And impudent though it may be, she'd like it if she was laid to rest there too, if they ever found enough bits and pieces of her to bury. As she understood it though, Ascendants didn't really leave behind much of a body when they died, being creatures mostly composed of energy and whatnot.

Preferably, of course, she'd like to live forever. Hey, maybe if it was in the cards, she'd become a Transcendent too. Unlikely, but a girl could dream. Mordred lived under the assumption that her life would end with a blade or something similar. Living so closely with violence tended to make people think that, she assumed. Luckily, she was quite proficient with the use of violence, so she'd always ended up on the surviving side.

But even with that experience and proficiency, she still didn't want to fight whatever that monkey-thing was. Her gift ensured that she would be the first to strike. And because of it, she had honed the lethality and absoluteness of her ambushes—a very un-knightly way of fighting but the crown never complained as long as she delivered the heads they wanted.

Unfortunately, that didn't mean everybody died from the first exchange. Mordred was a bit uneasy about whether Aguru was one of those cases. Her instincts told her that he was, and it had rarely, if ever, been wrong.

'Good thing I'm not alone, then.'

A familiar presence popped up in the edge of her perception and she made sure that he could feel her reach.

Moments later, a spatial rift opened up close to her, and Galahad, a colleague of hers, stepped out. He was as handsome as usual, like all those of the Mercer bloodline were, and it really made her want to try sitting on his face. Just for a bit. Sadly, past attempts had already proven that she'd have more luck trying to fuck a tree. What infuriated her the most was how she still hadn't figured out what team the knight swung for, and at this point, she was beginning to think that he didn't swing for any team at all.

It would have been fine if he rejected her for looking like a pre-pubescent girl—she could accept that—but the man didn't seem to like anyone. And it bothered her quite a bit because what twisted god gave the man such divine looks and decided "Hm, yes, you're not going to be making any children. Ever."...? To top it all off, the man was such a stickler for rules and protocol that Mordred really wanted him to just loosen up a little.

"Dame Mordred." Galahad greeted him formally and with a crisp salute even though they'd fought together back to back on countless occasions, making her feel as if she was the only one who thought they had a bond between them. "Well met."

"Oh, fuck off, Galahad." Mordred crossed her arms. "Where have you been, anyway? You completely missed the Second Prince who we were supposed to be corresponding with. Terrific job, on your part, by the way."

Galahad nodded and didn't even comment on her rough language. "I saw him. After you left. Though I didn't waste his time with a greeting. There will be other opportunities."

"Whatever."

"And so? What is your judgment on the sage of the forest?"

Mordred raised a brow. "Is that what we're calling that monkey-thing now?"

"A respectable creature needs to be referred to in a respectable manner."

"And we're going to kill that respectable creature, y'know? Possibly, that is."

Galahad nodded as if it was a matter of course. "I am aware. But even then, we can't just call him, as you put it, the monkey-thing."

Mordred rolled her eyes. To her, such measures of respect hardly mattered to the creature in question once they became a mere corpse. Though perhaps it was exactly that kind of thinking that led her to develop the technique on how to create puppets out of cadavers. "You've been observing him too, presumably. What is your opinion?"

"I was not given jurisdiction on this. The trigger is in your hands. I am here for support."

"Humor me."

Galahad hesitated for a few moments before, surprisingly, sharing his thoughts on the matter. "I do not believe combat to be wise."

'Oh? Well, would you look at that...'

It wasn't every day that this colleague of hers felt so cooperative outside of official duties. That inevitably raised her mood a little, enough to let a smile grace her lips. "And why is that?"

"Because that's how it feels."

"I know right? I thought the same thing."

Both nodded and left it at that. It was a lackluster explanation for the vast majority of the world, but it made enough sense to knights who'd lived as long as they had. They practically breathed combat by the time they swore their eternal oaths. Their instincts were a weapon unto itself.

Galahad gestured toward her. "You were the one who presumably accompanied His Royal Highness, the Second Prince Reivan, to get a closer look. What is your opinion on his nature?"

"Oh?" Mordred impishly grinned, sensing an opportunity to raise his hackles. "Is that doubt toward the royal family I hear? The information that the sage-thing being a pacifist came from Prince Reivan, y'know?"

"Fool. One does not doubt the crown." Galahad, as she'd expected, immediately blistered. Showing the first true bit of emotion in a while. "I was merely asking what you thought."

"Sure, sure. I believe you, Galahad."

There was a tense silence before the male knight sighed. "Well? What are your thoughts? Speak quickly."

Mordred smiled, glad she'd teased out some semblance of humanity from the man who seemed to always have a stick up their asshole. "There wasn’t much to go off of, but he didn't strike me as particularly malicious."

“I see…” He crossed his arms and nodded. “Then that’s that. We don’t need to kill him. According to the outline of our orders, we’re to let him Transcend if possible and see where that goes. Whether he lives quietly or comes into conflict with the Tower, both are to our advantage.”

She frowned with a tilt of her head. “That’s it? You’re just going to trust my judgment on this?”

Though knights generally had ridiculously sharp intuition when it came to combat and staying out of danger, that sixth sense didn’t seem to apply too deeply to other things. Otherwise, Mordred would have used it to lead the way toward a decently good-looking man of fine moral compass with a good personality and a stomach for her childish appearance. And then she would have done everything in her power to get that man to marry her so she could finally stop being a spinster.

Sadly, that was not the case. Fighting was all it was good for. Most of the time, anyway. It did tell her whether someone was a pedophile, however. Which was certainly useful, but not what she needed.

Galahad nodded as if it was a matter of course. “Dame Mordred the Insidious says so. How could I not trust her words? You are the expert on all things… unsavory.”

Mordred froze before clenching her fist. It was a good thing her oaths prevented her from going after fellow knights because she may have opened up a spot on the Twelve Helms otherwise.

Being part of such a group was bad enough, but then she went and got called The Insidious of all things. Who the hell gave her such a name anyway? It made her sound like some demon. What really annoyed her was how the others had such grand titles.

Like Lancelot the Everpresent.

Or Bedivere the Unbroken.

Lamorak the Mistweaver and Percival the Abyss had nice monikers too. Heck, the prick right next to her had a good title too; Galahad the Unforgiving, he was called, because he would obliterate all who trespassed against the kingdom’s interests.

Damn her for feeling so, but she wanted a different one. Something that made her seem more amiable or cute. Sormon save her soul, maybe it’d help her find a man or a woman who wasn’t a degenerate pervert to marry.

As it turned out, nobody ever got to pick their own nicknames, and before she knew it, the name had stuck while she was away, deep behind enemy lines and slowly whittling down imperial Ascendants like a festering disease—which was precisely what got her such a villainous name in the first place. The fact that it fit her to a tee did nothing to alleviate her irritation. She’d threaten everyone to stop calling her that if she had the time and if the literal Sword Star wasn’t one of the people who used it.

Well, the old man only ever said it with that familiar affection that old men had, so she could kind of deal with that. He was allowed, and not just because he was too far up the heavens for her to threaten.

Mordred the Insidious.

By Sormon’s fluffy pillow, if that wasn’t a big scary villain’s name, nothing was. Big wasn’t an adjective she was normally associated with though. She wasn’t a villain either. Not to the kingdom, at least, but most definitely so for everyone else. And fine, she’d admit that she had a bit of a rough personality too. It was deeply entertaining to tease friends to see their reactions. Of course, seeing her enemies break down in fear from the paranoia of never knowing when she would see fit to reap their lives was also deeply satisfying.

‘Agh, fine. It fits so well. I deserve it. I’ll admit that my personality isn’t the best!’

Damn it all to the hells, though. If she could.

When she found out who decided it was a good idea to call twelve randos the Twelve Helms, there were going to be words. Maybe she wouldn’t kill them, but she’d shave their head or steal every left sock they had. That’d show them what she thought of their so-called bright ideas.

Bastard hid so well though. But she’d find them eventually. She had faith in destiny.

“So that’s that?” Mordred wearily gestured in Aguru’s direction. “We just leave him?”

“As I’ve said, you hold the trigger, Dame Mordred.” Galahad clasped his hands behind his back and looked at her with serene calm. “Dangerous though it will be, I will complete the trials bestowed upon me. Or die trying. I’ve lived a good life and I won’t stop until someone stops me. Permanently.”

“You’re not helping…” Mordred rolled her eyes and decided to ignore the hopeless loyalist, falling into her own thoughts.

The fate of Aizen was potentially in her hands with this decision, as taking Aguru out after he rose to the next stage of existence would be significantly harder or even outright impossible without the fatal loss of Aizen’s one and only Transcendent.

Now was, perhaps, the last chance.

‘What do I do here…?’

Just like all little girls and boys in Aizen, Mordred was raised on stories of knights and heroes fighting against monsters of all kinds.

Growing up meant realizing that the true monsters were on their side. While the stereotypical ones were locked away somewhere, chained to a wall, and harvested for everything they were.

Regularly, at that. Their intrinsic regeneration and hardy nature were a curse, their meat feeding the majority of the kingdom’s population for millennia.

Mordred would know, because her father had been a farmer—a profession that served a very different purpose in Aizen compared to the rest of the world. For in the kingdom, one did not farm just the soil, but whatever once lived in it.

Who could blame them? Monster meat tasted amazing. Better than chicken, pork, or beef. And a hell of a lot cheaper too. Her father was always sent back home with a few kilos worth of meat every day as a job perk, which was a huge help since they were on the impoverished end of society. She got sent to a pretty good school because of the money her Pa saved up from their meals being taken care of. They even got to eat some of the good stuff once in a while, like Grade-S dragon meat, something they would have never gotten to afford even if they sold everything they owned ten times over.

And so, truthfully, she looked at Aguru like a monster. An intelligent one, but still a monster. Something to be harvested, but not feared. Never feared.

Her father had always talked about being careful around monsters, but the man had never talked of dread. And that had bled onto the daughter who devoured the words of her hero, a man who raised her on grit and love. As such, she would be careful. It was a farmer’s greatest shame for mere livestock to get the better of them. Today was not the day she would shame her father’s memory.

Mordred pondered, combining her intuition, discernment, experience, logic, and everything else she could. It was only for a few minutes, a long time of thinking for an Ascendant, but Galahad waited patiently all the same.

Eventually, she came to a conclusion and turned to her colleague with a solemn gaze.

“We leave him.”

Galahad nodded, accepting it without question. “Understood.”

Mordred tilted her head. “C’mon. At least ask me why.”

“I don’t need to. As I’ve said, the decision was handed over to you from the start, Dame Mordred.”

“I had this whole bit thought up, y’know? About how he could have taken what he wanted and not given Prince Reivan anything as payment. Or how his humane mannerisms showed a lack of trickery and whatnot. Go on, ask.”

“No need.”

Galahad, in a surprising turn of events, smiled at her as he ripped open a hole in reality.

“I trust you. I always have.”

Mordred’s brows rose but before she could respond, he’d already stepped through the rift. And she was left there, thinking about how annoying his face was. That a simple smile could send her heart into a frenzy. Or words of implied camaraderie could fill her with so much joy. It wasn't fair, how easy he had it.

Really, who the hell had any right to be that handsome? One of these days, she was going to sit on that man’s face and he was going to admit that he liked it.

Not today, it seemed. For she wasn’t as great at rending space as the Everpresent or his biggest admirer, Galahad the Unforgiving.

But one of these days, she would get her dues.

‘Now that this entire affair is dealt with…’

Mordred recalled the instructions Princess Jiji gave her. Nothing too complicated. Just a few foreign politicians who apparently tried to step on Aizen's toes these past few months.

Though the princess had phrased it nicely—requests, she called them—Mordred didn’t see them as such; they were orders and she knew it. The Insidious Knight knew her place on the hierarchy and she was nice and cozy in it. She didn't want to do something stupid like leave or try to climb higher.

Because if shit ever hit the wheel, the royal family was probably going to eat all the blame. Which struck her as terribly unjust, because the knights they tasked duties with were only human, and as such were fallible. It only took one fuck up to, well, fuck up everything. All the people involved were to blame, not just the royal family.

But that was simply how society worked. Authority was a boon and a chain. Unfair though it was, one couldn't deny the fact that people placed their expectations on their rulers and were disappointed when those expectations weren't met. Mordred wanted no part of that. Life was easier and simpler when the only thing she’d ever get blamed for was her personal failings—and she was competent enough not to have those on a regular basis.

She’d toil away like the good little soldier that she was because she liked being one. And she was damned good at it too.

In any case, it seemed the adopted princess wanted Mordred to kill some people. Quite understandable. Mordred wanted to kill a lot of people too. Sadly, a number of them were fellow knights—and of course, she was kidding.

Jokes aside, she just really wanted the freedom to beat them up a little for all the lip they gave her about her height and whatnot. They all refused her sparring requests though, the craven whelps.

‘I’m free to choose how they die. I just need to make sure it’s never linked to us. So it has to look like an accident or the work of someone else…’

In typical royal fashion, she was given decision-making power in her unofficial mission—which, she realized, should probably be communicated to the king and officialized, just in case. There apparently wasn’t any beef between the royals of this generation either, but it never hurt to be careful not to get caught up in highborn games.

Not that those were ever prevalent in Aizen. But years in Argonia were enough to convince her she wanted no part in that kind of mess. She preferred her messes to be of the red and liquidy kind, and of course, at the expense of her enemies.

‘Vicious little thing, that princess. I like her too.’

Truly, the Aizenwald royal family could not disappoint. They always popped out whatever the era needed, one way or the other—in this case, they adopted. Mordred was only 400 years old, nothing compared to the true old guard. But even if she initially took up her oaths for monetary reasons, she’d eventually grown convinced that the crown and its brood were meant to be there. And she’d fight however many battles she had to keep it that way.

‘Well, back to work, then.’

Mordred grinned, happy to have a job worth doing.

Arc#4 Chapter 62: Assault

Reivan and Mordred had some difficulties having him replace the thing that had taken his place while he gallivanted around.

While Dame Mordred could play around with someone's perception as she pleased, if someone—such as a battlemage with scrying powers that was specifically tasked to keep an eye on him—was looking hard enough, they would notice something weird afoot. That's why they had to wait for the battlemage to either fall asleep or for their attention to wane.

Unfortunately, said battlemage was dutiful to an unnecessary level, hanging around the puppet Clover's room and presumably having his invisible spirit beast peek inside without regard to privacy—not that a corpse made to look and act like a living human needed such luxuries. Mordred had worked around it on the train because apparently, the battlemage had manifested its spirit beast for a few moments to feed it snacks instead of having it tail Reivan in secret.

As it turned out, however, few human beings could remain in a state of constant focus all day.

And so, when the battlemage had to go to the bathroom, Mordred had Puppet Clover ride a carriage farther away. According to her amused remarks, the battlemage was devastated when they found out—presumably through the spirit beast—but one did not just refuse the call of nature when it came.

Understandably, the battlemage was left completely in the dust. Or the outhouse, in this case.

“That was a bit more complicated than it had to be, wasn’t it, Your Highness?” Dame Mordred giggled as they snuck into the moving carriage that the puppet chartered to a nearby brothel.

“Indeed.” Reivan sat down next to the thing and held back a grimace. “What do we do with this thing?”

Beside him was Clover Salwyn. There were no two ways about it, the thing looked like a carbon copy of the man Reivan saw in the mirror for the past month or so. Following its previous orders, it continued to act like Clover Salwyn, utterly ignoring the existence of the other two people inside the vehicle.

“It is technically an item,” Mordred gestured at it lazily, even kicking its shin and snickering at its lack of a reaction. “So you can store it in a spatial storage ring and use it as you please. Or you can throw it away. Up to you, Your Highness.”

“An item…” Reivan murmured. Even if it wasn’t, he could have stored it inside Zouros, but he was curious if he could really store it inside a ring. He placed a palm on the puppet and a moment later, it was gone.

‘Holy fuck.’

Seemingly finding his reaction amusing, the loli knight—a name he would never mention out loud, as he knew that it would definitely offend her—giggled. “Do take note that it will, at most, last about a week of uptime before it falls apart. Also Ascendants will detect the ruse quite easily. Mortals would be none the wiser. Sorry, I'm still in the middle of improving the technique, so its use is very limited.”

“That’s amazing, Dame Mordred…” Reivan tried very hard to keep a straight face. “I didn’t even know something like this was possible.”

The puppet had been so realistic that even he would have gotten tricked if he hadn’t manually checked its status screen. This experience would probably have him obsessively checking anyone he was talking to out of sheer paranoia until he became an Ascendant himself and gained whatever seventh sense allowed them to tell humans and puppets apart easily.

Just another reason to seek strength, it seemed.

“Yes, it’s one of the most recent fruits of my studies into the dark arts.” Mordred smiled. “I’ve been meaning to pen my musings into a manual so that future knights can learn it too, but I’ve yet to find the time to truly get into it.”

“Ah, yes...You’ve been busy in Sutherim.”

“Indeed. Ah, you have the darkness affinity, yes? Perhaps once everything’s in order, I can instruct you personally? Doesn’t that sound nice, Your Highness? You can make your own little corpse puppets.”

Reivan gulped. “I’m not sure I deserve the honor…”

“Oh, perish the thought.” Mordred giggled, eyes gleaming with mischief. Or something else. “I find you quite interesting, Your Highness. It would be an honor to pass my knowledge on to you.”

“I see… Well, it will have to wait until we’re not quite as busy anymore.”

“True.”

With that, Mordred said her farewells. And just like that, she was gone.

Reivan took out the puppet again and stripped it of its clothes before throwing it into Zouros’ stomach, which had all sorts of shit inside at this point. It would consume whatever energy Mordred used to create it just by existing, so it was better to store it inside his buddy’s stomach instead of a spatial ring, given its time-freezing property.

And then, with a deep grimace, Reivan transformed back into Clover Salwyn and donned the clothes that a literal corpse had just been wearing. Yet another thing that would cause some trauma. He wasn’t exactly lacking in those, so another one wasn’t a big deal, right? Surely. Maybe he would get some kind of cosmic reward if he gathered enough.

“Fuck.” Reivan cursed under his breath. “I wanna go home…”

Truly, nothing would make him happier than going back into the comfiness of the royal palace. The maids never let him wear nasty clothes worn by dead people. They made him tea and gave him compliments that may or may not have been lip service. If he wasn’t so disciplined, they probably would have let him sleep in whenever he wanted to.

But no. He was all the way out here in the bleak cold lands of Arkhan. The carriage he was riding looked fancy too. Mordred probably hadn’t thought about stuff like prices and whatnot because she, like all old knights, had more money than they knew what to do with. Reivan's present financial state wasn't as great as hers though.

‘Goddamnit, how much am I gonna have to pay when I get out…?’

Reivan, or rather, Clover Salwyn got paid a bit higher than most of his colleagues because he was an “officer” in their squad, but all the same, he had limited resources. Spending it on slightly nicer seats and an enclosed space was… well, it was nice and Reivan Aizenwald would have paid the extra amount for the added comfiness, but it wasn’t what Clover Salwyn would have done.

If the Tower brought that up, Reivan would have a bit of trouble explaining it away.

‘Eh, I’ll just say that I wanted to try it out at least once…’

A floppy reason, but he’d have to make it work. Besides, the Tower's days were numbered.

════════════════════════════════ 

Given how Clover supposedly went out of town to blow off some steam, Reivan, to maintain the ruse, had to spend the evening with a lady of the night.

It wasn’t his fault that he had to pick out a really pretty lady with a nice pair of melons to sleep with. He was forced into it, by dire circumstances beyond his control. National interests and all that. Very important stuff. Reivan had a role to play and he would play it diligently, even to the extent of defiling his innocence with women he didn’t love.

Oh, the horror.

And it definitely wasn’t his fault that he felt like going for a second and third round that night. With two other ladies than the first one.

‘Well, I guess I’m going to hell for this.’

Or not. Maybe if Helen found out, she wouldn’t let him die. She’d make him suffer.

Obviously, that was an exaggeration. She'd probably make her blows a bit heavier during their spars, but that was all. And it was a good thing too, because it kept him abreast of how strong she’d become. Reivan couldn’t deny that growing up around battle junkies had made him a bit of one too, so he enjoyed the occasional roughhousing, even if he came out bruised afterward. The pain told him he was still alive.

No, she’d probably be somewhat upset but come to accept it as long as there were no feelings involved. She didn’t mind the array of concubines he would have at some point, and she saw Elsamina as her only significant rival.

Everybody else was, in her words, a passing fancy.

‘I kinda wish she’d be more… jealous, in a way.’

It made him feel like trash to think like that, but who didn’t want their woman to like them so much they got jealous? Surely he wasn’t the only one. And maybe he was trash. Maybe it was time to own it.

On that note, both his fiancees were a bit too blase. He’d expected them to take issues with him literally making babies with a few dozen women. But then again, he appreciated how understanding they were. Especially Elsa, who didn’t even know who he really was but didn’t mind him being legally married to a bunch of other women.

‘She’s the best… Fuck, I miss her so much… I wanna go home!’

Reivan clenched his fist and fought with his homesickness as he got off the train at Vel Ayala, looking up at the Tower in the distance. It was just as big as he remembered and he couldn't help but imagine what it would look like snapped in half under the power of multiple Transcendants. And though he tried not to, he also remembered Maya saying how the Tower looked like a giant cock.

It did. It did look like a giant cock. Or maybe he just had a dirty mind.

'In the first place, why build a Tower? Castles are awesome. You could even build towers on castles.'

Reivan couldn't think of a reason to choose a Tower over a castle other than wanting to be different. Both the empire and the kingdom still used them, so perhaps the Sage King wanted to set himself apart by building a tower. But then again, he supposed he'd never know. A puny little battlemage like him would never get a meeting with the head honcho himself—unless he revealed Dom, who possessed the spirit king seed.

Continuing to go through the motions of returning to the Tower, he rode a stagecoach that took him from the city outskirts to the center of Vel Ayala itself. All the way into the tower’s teleportation platform.

Shortly after teleporting into the squad’s common room, however, Reivan suddenly had to duck past a pillow that would have hit him on the face and possibly messed up his glasses.

‘Fuck. Shouldn’t have dodged that.’

Reivan had dodged it purely out of reflex and intuition but he should have let it hit his face. Still, he shouldn’t have had to dodge at all; he'd walked into his squad's common room, not a battleground. With a withering gaze, he looked at the source to find Aldimir with a slightly shocked look on his face.

“Of course. It’s you again…” Reivan sighed, picked up the pillow, and used it to swat away a second one. “Quit it, will ya?”

“You could’ve invited me to have fun outside, man!” Aldimir complained immediately. “I was so lonely!”

Naturally, Reivan couldn’t just tell him why he wanted to go alone, so he made up a completely innovative reason.

“I really had to go. And you didn’t really seem to be in the mood for that kind of thing after what happened in Lageton, so…”

Aldimir paused, taken aback. “Wait, are you telling me you were so horny after almost getting killed?”

Reivan shrugged, not bothering to correct him.

“Damn, Win… I never thought the day would come that I'd say it, but you’re worse than me.”

“Hey, you take that back…” Reivan warned him seriously. "I won't stand for such an insult!"

They bickered like idiots for a bit but had to stop when someone came out of her room, stretching and yawning.

“Good morning, everybody,” Mira said, her usually droopy eyes being extra droopy at the moment.

Reivan raised a brow at her. “It’s almost twilight, Captain.”

“Ah…” She froze, looking at a nearby grandfather clock. “Well, that doesn’t seem right…”

“Your head doesn’t seem right.”

"Wow, why are you being so prickly this early in the morning?”

“We’ve already established that it’s afternoon now.”

“No, no, no.” Mira shook her head and parked her ass on one of the armchairs nearby. “That clock is wrong.”

Reivan sighed. “The current absence of the sun in the sky says otherwise. I was just outside so I should know.”

The slovenly captain sheepishly laughed as she stood up. “Anybody up for a bite? What about you, minion?”

“I’ll pass.” Aldimir shrugged. “Not hungry yet.”

“Okay.” Mira nodded before turning to Reivan. “How about you, Clover?”

Reivan was just about to refuse, stating how he’d just eaten. But then he remembered Dame Mordred’s words about seducing Mira and bringing her over to Aizen. “Yeah, sure. May as well.”

“Great!” She smiled. “I didn’t really want to eat with my fellow second years.”

“Oh? What’s up?” Aldimir latched onto the opportunity for gossip.

“It's nothing…”

“Romance troubles?”

Mira’s brows shot up as she gazed at Aldimir. “How’d you know?”

He shrugged. “I mean, that’s what it usually is when women make that face.”

“I made a face?”

“You did.”

“Darn… Was it a pretty face, though?”

Aldimir chuckled. “Yes, Captain. I'll give it an eight out of ten.”

“Hey, that's a pretty good score considering I just woke up. I'll take it.” Mira giggled before shrugging. “Some crazy girl apparently thinks I’m trying to steal her boyfriend and made a scene about it in our Mess Hall. So now it’s kind of awkward. And my old squad members are out on a mission so I’m completely alone in there!”

“Seems rough.” Reivan chimed in.

Mira bobbed her head wearily. “Tell me about it… Like, I don’t even know who she was talking about. Lots of people come to talk to me. How the heck am I supposed to know who’s who and who’s taken? None of them’s a prince from Aizen, so why should I even care!?”

Reivan found himself exasperated by how serious she seemed about her pursuit of foreign royalty. He’d initially thought that while she was being truthful about her desire, she still saw it as unlikely. Now he was beginning to think that she was more serious about the notion than she let on.

‘Maybe I don’t even need to coax her into coming at all. I could just bring her somewhere and show her who I really am.’

That was the problem though. Given how the Tower had just lost an Ascendent spirit king seed—or was it a spirit king already, not just a seed?—they would likely be guarding Mira like hawks, not letting her out of their sight. At the very least, that’s what he would do if he were in their place.

No interaction with her would go unobserved.

Still, he supposed there was no harm in trying. The plan to destroy the Sage King was already underway outside. But taking Mira away would help their purposes should the plan fail. Reivan highly doubted it would, but one had to prepare for the worst outcome in order to attain the best one.

Or something like that.

He could also just find a quiet place and have Dom eat Mira’s spirit king seed. That would remove her as a variable in the Tower’s interests, reducing her to an ordinary battlemage. It would also push his own spirit beast closer to Ascendance.

One could say he was hitting two birds with one stone. He just had to be careful that the stone he threw wouldn’t end up breaking his own window, so to speak.

The part he was stuck on was getting her to come with him to a place where he could do all that. Preferably Aizen itself, disguised as a pleasure trip for her to sate her very obvious curiosity about the foreign country—a curiosity that wasn’t unique to her, as plenty of Aizenians were curious about the republic too.

When she stepped foot in Aizen, Reivan could make up any excuse. After all, “Clover Salwyn” was but an insignificant mortal. What could he do if Mira and her Ascendant guard suddenly vanished? Hell, at that point, Reivan could already abandon the Clover Salwyn persona he had. Mira was more than enough to make up for the loss of an insider in the Tower. Reivan would not need to go back afterward.

But given recent events, he highly doubted the Tower would allow Mira to leave the country for any reason, making the ideal scenario just that—an ideal. She probably couldn’t quit being a battlemage either, not before the Tower made someone eat Fawks.

‘I wonder how I can play this…’

Honestly, one way of doing things was to just sacrifice his identity to assassinate Mira.

He had very dangerous and powerful runestones tucked away that nobody expected him to have. As long as the attempt isn't made in the Tower, he was confident he could eliminate Mira regardless of a protector and then ring the Sword Star’s bell to make a clean getaway. That was an option he wanted to leave last as much as possible, however. And besides, he still had to get enough spirit dew to have the capability of producing it with his special ability.

“You ready, Clover?”

Reivan nodded at Mira’s question, not particularly sinking too deep into the mire of his own thoughts this time. He was, after all, in enemy territory. Presence of mind was par for the course. “Let’s go?”

“Uh-huh.” Mira nodded and donned her formal robes, the thick and heavy mantle concealing her feminine figure. “To the shared Great Hall, then!”

Aldimir waved at them as they stepped onto the dark purple platform. “Have fun, you two~!”

Reivan frowned as the light of teleportation enveloped them. He’d have to learn a few good hexes to use on Aldimir. Preferably ones that caused muteness.

════════════════════════════════

Trainees like Reivan and the others had access to two different halls for dining: the Mess Hall for their particular batch of trainees and the Great Hall—where battlemages of all ages and seniority ate.

Most trainees tended to eat at their own Mess Halls, but given Mira’s current troubles, they chose the latter option.

Which, understandably, made the two of them a bit nervous because of all the seniors and elders just walking around. Anyone you bump into could be quite important and personally powerful. Fortunately, everybody in the relatively occupied chamber just tended to mind their own business unless they were acquainted, aside from the occasional smiling nod when an elder saw two newbies scuttering around anxiously.

‘Well, it wouldn’t be a Great Hall if it wasn’t great.’

It was even more massive than the chamber with the giant flaming ball of fire in it. This one had no such decorations, however, just a supersized version of the first-year Mess Hall—simple and functional.

“It’s really something, huh?” Mira commented with an awkward smile after they found an empty table. “Look at how many people are in here. And they’re all sorcerers. Most of them can squish us like we’re made of pudding too.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself, back there.” Reivan smiled, sitting down and gesturing for her to order first. “Actually, you were pretty incredible.”

She laughed as she tapped on a cold metal plate, already having a meal in mind. “Ooh, compliments? Usually, it’s supposed to be the girl saying those things to a guy, right?”

“I suppose so. Still, thanks. And sorry for being kind of useless back there.”

“It’s no biggie~!” Mira laid her head on the table, her white cheeks smushed against the cooled surface. “I’m a year ahead of you so it’s perfectly understandable for me to know a few more spells, y’know? Stop making such a big deal out of it, you big doof.”

As they waited for their food to arrive, Reivan was made to face the reality that he wasn’t as good with women as he thought. Because no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t think of an angle of attack. She had already made it clear on multiple occasions that she wasn’t entertaining romance at the moment, so that would provide an additional hurdle.

‘Damn. How do ordinary guys get girls, anyway?’

He had to admit that he may have been leaning on his looks and his money a lot in the past. Now, as a broke and slightly above-average young man, he had no idea how to seduce a girl. Much less, a very attractive one like Mira who was actively avoiding romance.

As Reivan, or as any of the identities he used during his experiments, he had a multitude of ways to break the ice and artificially induce positive feelings. Like stealing their wallet and “returning” it to them as a handsome young man. Or he would drop something and bait them into returning it, allowing him a clean excuse to ask them out as “thanks”.

A pretense, so to speak. Sometimes, that was all one needed to get the ball rolling.

He would be a lot more trustworthy if they thought he didn’t have ulterior motives. Almost as if the meeting was the result of fate or serendipity. According to Valter, women ate that shit up. While running straight up and asking worked well enough, a spy needed a bit more than that to create an actual asset. Things had to appear more natural, even though it was completely artificial.

Suddenly though, his usual weapons were absent. His looks, his money, his status, his information network, and his lackeys. Gone. All he really had was Clover Salwyn’s identity.

And that, right there, was the problem.

Reivan never thought himself some kind of casanova who could invoke moisture in a woman’s loins through conversation alone, but he had this image of himself as being average or decent at it. Sadly, average didn’t seem to be good enough to bag a chick like Mira, who had her eyes set on a goddamn prince.

His toolkit was severely limited here.

‘Eh, fuck it. What do I have to lose? This ain’t my identity anyway. I'll just keep throwing shit until something sticks!’

“Hey.”

“Hmm?” Mira looked up, her droopy eyes making her look permanently drowsy. “What?”

Reivan hesitated for a moment before throwing caution to the wind. “Are you busy? Tomorrow, I mean.”

“Not, really, no. Why? Are you having trouble with a spell? I'd be happy to teach you if you say please. And maybe give me your pudding. For a month.”

“No, I was thinking of inviting you to look around the Upper Cities with me. Or maybe explore new places in the Lower one.”

Mira’s brows rose so high her bangs hid them. “So… Uh, you wanna play in the city? You know, that's a great idea. Let's invite the others too…”

Reivan shook his head. “That sounds nice, but I wanted it to be just the two of us, if possible.”

“Just the two of us…” she murmured. “So you want to be alone with me…?”

“I believe that was implied, yes.”

“Seriously…?”

“Yes.”

"Is this... you know, a date. Man and woman, that sort of thing?"

"There you go. You got it right."

Mira bit her lip and averted her gaze. “Why though?"

"Well..." Reivan raised a brow. "What do you think?"

"Urgh... Is it because you've finally gotten fed up with me and want to assassinate me, taking my place as captain?"

"No. What the hell?"

"But..." Mira looked away. "You know, I don’t think I made a very good impression…”

Reivan hummed in thought before he brought up her Favor stat, which was at 39, at the moment, still displaying that she felt interest, trust, and goodwill toward him. While he had limited weapons at the moment, he still had this.

If he just watched how the numbers fluctuate, he could figure out which answers she liked.

‘She always seems pleased by compliments to her looks so…’

Reivan shrugged. “Can’t it be just because I find you pretty?”

Right after saying that, he checked again and found, to not much surprise, that her favor had dropped by five points. Which was quite sharp, to be honest.

‘Welp, guess she’s not as superficial as she let on.’

“You’re so direct!” Mira exclaimed in exasperation before sighing. “Alini’s pretty too, though? Why not go for her, instead?”

“Why are you suddenly talking about her?” Reivan tilted his head.

“C’mon. You’re not that thick. Surely, you’ve noticed by now.”

“...Okay, fine. It’s kind of hard not to when she keeps looking at me.”

‘Also, I have a nifty skill that tells me when people like me.’

Mira nodded. “Right?”

Reivan drummed his fingers on the table and sighed, staring deeply into her watery eyes. “Even so.”

She groaned under his gaze, though with how her favor bumped back up by one point, it seemed he wasn’t worsening the situation somehow.

‘If looks aren’t the key, then…’

Reivan pushed on, following Valter’s words to strike while the iron was hot. “Besides, I have a feeling it’d be more fun with you than with her.”

Mira groaned, and again her favor increased.

“She’s a good girl, don’t get me wrong.” Reivan rested his elbow on the table and palmed his chin. “You seem like more of a fun person, you know?”

“The heck is that supposed to mean…” She muttered in feigned disgruntlement, turning away even as an invisible screen betrayed her true sentiments. “E-Even if all those things are true, can’t we just be friends…?”

“Perhaps.”

“Right? So—”

“Mira,” Reivan cut in softly, freezing her in her tracks. “You know, I’ll admit that I didn’t have a great first impression of you.”

“Okay, ouch.” Mira chuckled sheepishly. “Understandable though.”

“But that thing… What happened in Lageton? That turned everything around.”

“It really wasn’t such a big deal...”

“Maybe not to you.” Reivan shrugged, smiling as he looked straight into her eyes. “But you were really impressive back there. Can you blame me for being interested in someone so skilled? We’re sorcerers who’ve decided to make magic our life, after all. I want to get to know you more, and maybe some of your greatness can rub off on me too. Maybe we can be even greater. Together.”

Even he thought that was a bit of a leap in logic. Reivan was trained as a knight, after all. How the heck was he supposed to know how sorcerers ticked? But in the same way, his eyes shined whenever Helen beat the crap out of him in an artform he considered highly, it wouldn’t have been strange, in his head, if a sorcerer grew interested in an incredibly skilled magic user of the opposite gender.

Admiration, after all, easily turned into infatuation.

And it seemed that citing her skills did wonders to her Favor, more than anything else he ever said. A whopping ten points at that, bringing up her total to 46—which was, from his research, more than enough to secure a date.

Proverbially speaking, he now had a foot in the door.

“So persistent…” Mira crossed her arms, a very faint blush across her cheeks. “Fine! I haven’t gone out in a while anyway.”

Reivan smiled. “Great.”

“But first!” She slammed her hands on the table with a huff, though seemingly not as hard for fear of disturbing the hundreds of seniors and elders all around them. “I have some stuff to clear up.”

“Uh, okay. Let’s hear ‘em, then.”

“First. I don’t know what other impressions you have of me, but I’m a country girl, okay? I was raised in a small, old-fashioned town in the north. Maybe we were a little wealthier than most, but still.”

Reivan pushed up his glasses to give him time to digest that information. But even then, he couldn’t understand the point of it. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

Mira groaned, her ears truly reddening as she spoke. “It means I’m not like all these city girls! I’m not just going to… to come with you to an inn afterward. O-Or go around kissing and stuff.”

“Oh.”

“That sort of stuff… It won’t ever happen until I introduce you to my parents and they like you…” She continued with embarrassment, but her eyes told him that she was serious. “They’ve taken really good care of me so I’m not going to entertain anything more with someone they don’t approve of.”

“Huh. That's nice. I am completely fine with that.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m not going to change my mind on this.”

Reivan chuckled and shrugged. “Understandable. I was raised in a small town too. Out west. I’m just as old-fashioned.”

“Well, you could've fooled me.” Mira rolled her eyes. “Don’t think I don’t know about your sexcapades out of the city. I’m a modest rural maiden but my squadmates last year were the opposite of chaste and I’ve just about heard it all. I know what guys get up to when they leave the Tower with stupid grins on their faces.”

“Ugh…”

“You probably had a good time before coming back, huh?”

Reivan pursed his lips. He really couldn’t say anything back because it was all true. As it turned out though, everything she was saying wasn’t enough to take a point out of her Favor. A silver lining, that was.

Or maybe her Favor had already dropped earlier before he started checking.

“So, yeah. That’s it.” Mira crossed her arms and glowered at him. “If you’re just trying to get under my skirt, you better give up now.”

“As I’ve been trying to say since earlier, I’m fine with it.”

“...Really?” Mira frowned, muttering to herself in a voice so soft that Reivan could barely hear it. “Darn, guys usually back off after that…”

“Yes, Mira.” Reivan nodded slowly and deliberately. “I have no problems with that.”

“Really, really?”

“Yes…”

“Really, really, really?”

“I’m not fucking doing this,” Reivan snapped, only to chuckle in exasperation a moment later. “Treat this more seriously, please… You think it’s easy to come out and ask someone out?”

“For a manslut of Aldimir’s level, yes.”

“Hey. You’ve gone too far. Take that back right now or the wands come out.”

Mira paused for a second before relenting. “Okay, I'm sorry. You’re still a manslut. But not at Aldimir’s level.”

“Thank you.” Reivan dipped his head. “I’ll accept that, given my recent actions. If it means anything at all, I’ll refrain from those kinds of services and entertaining other women while we get to know each other.”

‘Finally, a decent excuse.’

While deep down, Reivan enjoyed his little brothel trips, he was also relieved by the ready-made excuse not to continue. He was already racking up quite a bill, and that didn’t just pertain to money. At some point, he was probably going to confess his sins to his fiancees. This was a different world with different morals that allowed men to marry more than one woman, but it wouldn't sit right with him to be sleeping around so much without at least informing the women he promised himself to.

Of course, he would confess but he wouldn’t apologize. He did it for Aizen, after all. Mostly, anyway. It was his duty to use his junk for the greater good, even if he only really liked using it on those he loved.

“That’s…” Mira raised a brow at him, gazing deeply into his eyes. “Surprisingly sincere. You don’t have to, you know? We’re not even in a relationship. I just agreed on one date.”

Reivan shook his head and didn’t break eye contact. “No. It’s only right to do so. Until you turn me down decisively, I will devote myself to you.”

She hummed appreciatively. “Well, okay. Suit yourself.”

It was then that their food finally arrived and they ate their early supper in relative silence, with Mira only offering curt answers to his attempts at rekindling conversation. The agreed-upon date was still on the cards, apparently, because she confirmed what time they would go before they parted ways, saying she had “stuff” to do somewhere she wouldn’t say.

Reivan watched her scurry away to the teleportation platform with an amused smile. The nice big "50" in her Favor stat told him that he’d made good progress.

Arc#4 Chapter 61: Three Oaths

While Reivan would have loved to return to the Tower immediately, he had other matters to handle.

Namely, upholding his end of the bargain with Aguru, the wise simian hermit hiding in some out-of-the-way forest. Reivan had initially wanted the pearls of wisdom that could take the knowledge of someone and distribute copies of it to an infinite number of people. Now, however, his main purpose was Aguru himself. While the instructions stated that he was to go ahead with the terms they had agreed upon initially, Reivan was open to the possibility of renegotiating those terms.

It was a dick move, he knew. And it was even worse because he was taking advantage of Aguru's pacifistic nature. Had the monkey been the violent and unreasonable kind, Reivan would have never considered such a thing. But Aguru was not, in fact, violent and unreasonable.

"This should be far enough away from his perception range. More than far enough, hopefully." Dame Mordred set him down on the lush forest floor. Even though she didn't need to physically carry him during their flight, as every other Ascendant Reivan had ever met demonstrated, she insisted on doing so. It was insolence of the highest degree, and quite frankly, Reivan felt mortified at being a princess carried by a little girl.

But what's done is done. Things happened far too fast for his mortal senses.

Reivan smoothed out his clothes and adjusted his glasses. He'd already transformed into Clover on their way here and worn appropriate clothing, so there was no need for anything else. He started walking toward Aguru's haunt, with Mordred walking right beside him. Apparently, she could sense Aguru already and had already blocked off his perception of her. Which meant she could listen in on their conversation and guard Reivan without any the wiser.

There was no need to inform Aguru of who he was truly dealing with, so for all intents and purposes, Reivan was just an insignificant battlemage called Clover Salwyn.

"By the Sun God..." Mordred murmured, seemingly looking at something. "You weren't kidding when you said he was crazy strong."

Reivan, of course, didn't reply. His fellow Aizenian could speak as much as she pleased and do whatever she pleased, but if Aguru was close enough for her to perceive, then he shouldn't out her existence by responding to her in any way. They could have talked through the dream crystals processed from materials taken out of The Outlands, but that would require Reivan to take it out—and there was no way Clover Salwyn would have something like that.

Dame Mordred knew this too, so she wasn't really expecting a response, speaking more to herself than him. "Stronger than an orc, too. Hm... If it comes to blows, I can't throw down with this ape. Martial skill won't even be a factor when the physical disparity is this wide. I'll have to go for the kill. Having four arms is unsettling, but the throat looks soft enough. The stomach, too. The heart, on the other hand, is too dangerous to go for, so I'll have to refrain from that. I don't even know if he only has one heart..."

'We're not here to kill him.'

He wanted to remind her of that, but she probably never forgot. It was, perhaps, typical of a knight known as Mordred the Insidious to think of how to kill someone before being introduced to them. She was similar to Valter in that the essence of her fighting style hinged on taking out the enemy before a fight ever ensued.

Assassination, so to speak. Though others called it pre-emptive combat.

Not that they couldn’t fight like normal knights, slugging it out with steel and muscles. They were just extremely proficient in murdering their opponents before it devolved into a slugging match. Reivan could get behind such a fighting style. It would be nice if he could fight like that but when the chips were down, he went right back into being a brute that just hit stuff until they died—assisted by elementalism, of course.

“Ah. He sensed you, Your Highness, I believe he’ll either retrieve you or come to you.” she helpfully informed him, holding a naginata that may have been twice as tall as her.

It was strange seeing a Japanese weapon wielded by someone dressed in a knight's uniform. Much less, a knight that was so lacking in height. But of course, Reivan caged his thoughts, not letting them see the light of day. Angering someone who was supposed to be guarding him seemed incredibly unwise even if she was incapable of betraying him.

“Well, let’s hope this works.” Mordred shrugged. “Fighting such a monster wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, but I really imagined myself dying in a more heroically tragic setting… This? This would just be tragic.”

Just as she’d predicted, Aguru appeared nearby. Perhaps it was a consideration on the simian’s part that he’d teleported in Reivan’s peripheral to avoid causing too much of a shock.

“Young Clover.” Aguru nodded in greeting, a big smile on his face as it offered a large hand with rocky black skin. “It has been a while.”

“Of course.” Reivan nodded. “I hope you haven’t forgotten me.”

“Thankfully, I have not.” The white-furred monkey chuckled as he led Reivan deeper into the forest instead of simply being there. Which would have been convenient since he wouldn’t have to walk.

Apparently, though, they wouldn’t have to walk all the way to that hidden pond Aguru stayed by. Just a short dozen paces away from where they met was an abandoned hunter’s cottage that Reivan was fairly sure shouldn’t have been there.

“Spatial manipulation…” Mordred muttered from beside Reivan before trotting over to Aguru and observing the ape’s face closely. “No strain. Guess it was easy? Or was it optimistic of me to come here and expect to understand simian facial expressions?”

Reivan tried very hard not to look at Mordred so he wouldn’t give anything away, but the fact that she could simply get within a step’s distance from another Ascendant without the other noticing was jarring to behold. She even went ahead of them and peeked inside the cabin.

Aguru looked at Reivan and smiled while gesturing at the hut. “Care to join me inside?”

“It looks clear, Your Highness,” Mordred offered, entering the cabin by flying through the window she’d peeked through. “It’s just an ordinary cabin. He subtly teleported you both so I just followed the… Ah, well, it’s complicated. You’ll understand when you’re older. Or maybe not, if you think spatial manipulation is too boring to understand.”

Reivan nodded respectfully. “I’d love to, Elder.”

The inside of the cabin was, justifiably, quite run down and it was clear that nobody used it regularly enough to stave off rats from making nests out in the open. They were gone already, but their little footprints on the dusty surface of the floor made it obvious what stayed there.

Well, it could also be squirrels or ferrets, he supposed. It didn’t have to be rats, his most hated vermin in existence.

“I apologize for the disrepair.” Aguru fixed him with a sheepish look before waving his hand. Immediately, all the dust and dirt was gathered into some giant puffball of ick before being unceremoniously thrown out the window—where Mordred was standing by.

“Ah!” she exclaimed, barely getting out of the way in time. “How rude…! Doesn't he know how much effort I put into keeping my uniform clean!?”

‘Probably not. Plus, he couldn’t see you… And you’re technically being more rude by eavesdropping like this.’

Aguru gestured toward a table with two rickety old seats and both of them chose one as their perch. “I’d offer you tea, as is your customs, but I have no reliable way to procure it. I can make something similar, but I've been told that my creations taste terrible to humans.”

“There’s no need, Elder.” Reivan shook his head and procured the pink pearl that Valter had given back to him earlier. “I still have your gift.”

“So it seems.” the simian said with barely disguised excitement. “Your return bodes good news, I hope. Particularly about our little exchange of knowledge.”

“I have taken it into consideration and view it favorably.”

“That's fantastic.”

Reivan drummed his fingers on the table hesitantly while rolling the pearl in his other palm. “It’s just that I have certain… misgivings.”

Aguru grunted in confusion, fixing him with a gentle but inquisitive gaze. “About what, if I may ask?”

“Well… first off, how can I be sure that you won’t renege on our promise? Or if you'll stop at being satisfied by what I offer. I’m just a weak little mortal boy, Elder. I can’t do anything if you threaten me.”

“A fair argument.” The white-haired monkey murmured, seemingly not offended in the slightest. “I don’t believe that all your concerns are aired out?”

Reivan lowered his head. “I also fear that you will spread the knowledge you obtain from me. Or use it and the power you obtain from it against me and my people.”

“I see… I suppose trust is not something freely given.”

“My apologies, Elder. I do not intend to call your integrity into question.”

“It is fine.” Aguru chuckled, gesturing around him. “Does the fact that I live as a hermit far away from civilization not prove that I don’t actually trust that easily either? Pay it no mind, young one. Your worries are warranted.”

Reivan dipped his head. “I thank you for your understanding.”

There was a moment of silence as Aguru rubbed the dark rocky skin of his chin. “Then I will make an oath, young one. And you may place doubt on it if you wish, but beings such as I cannot go against such things without drastic consequences.”

“Really…?”

“A vow freely given is stronger than an agreement.”

To the side, Mordred nodded. “So he knows. You can trust that he won’t betray any oaths he swears to, Your Highness. He’s too powerful to do so now. It would have been different if he was a newly Ascended whelp, but that’s not the case.”

Reivan frowned. No lies were spoken in his presence but he was ignorant of these matters, which irked him more than he cared to admit. Still, he supposed there wasn’t any reason for him to know of knowledge that only really applied to the top percentile of people in the world—it would be a long time yet before he sat at the same table as them.

“That is acceptable then, Elder Aguru.” Reivan bowed. “Thank you for humoring me.”

The monkey of white fur and black skin smiled, baring terribly unsharp teeth. “Pay it no mind.”

With a soft clunk of the chair, the towering Ascendant stood up and closed his eyes, placing a hand on his chest. “On this day, I swear to three oaths. I swear to never betray the intentions of those whomsoever I make deals with. I swear that the knowledge I obtain, the knowledge of the deal being made at all, and all further assumptions gleaned from the entire affair, are for my mind only. And I swear that I will never harm humanity and its interests, except if it involves harming me, in which case, I will simply flee. Now and forever more.”

A moment of solemn silence followed the pacifistic hermit's words, but nothing else. No loud gong reverberating through the air or some kind of pulse of power that would make nearby mortals tremble. Just a vow punctuated by a moment of silence before Aguru sat down once again.

‘That’s it…?’

Mordred nodded with a smile while playfully waving a dagger at Aguru. “Seems absolute to me. Trust me, Your Highness. I’ve scammed a lot of people over my lifetime.”

Reivan’s cheek twitched and he wanted to retort on why she sounded oddly proud of that. But he knew he’d get a typical knightly answer that the ones she scammed were enemies, and so every successful scam was a badge of honor. Or something like that. Maybe she was right, in some twisted way.

The knighthood really attracted a lot of weirdos. Or maybe it was the knighthood itself that made ordinary people into weirdos?

Mordred giggled as the dagger and the naginata she’d been holding vanished. “We have slightly more ostentatious ceremonies regarding these things but it seems to work without them. The oath has been sworn, Your Highness. I can feel it on my skin. Unfortunately, he swore to keep his hands off you and the entire human race. Not just your people. Guess we couldn’t scam him.”

‘Indeed. This works fine, however.’

At least Aizen could now be sure that they wouldn’t have to worry about Aguru suddenly entering the fray. It would have been ideal to receive help of some kind, but that struck Reivan as incredibly unlikely.

The bright side was that Aizen still got out of the deal with a way to accelerate the training of knights. For all the physical conditioning they did, squires spent a lot of time poring over scrolls after all. They could also have the entirety of the knighthood learn every single language Aizen knew of among other things.

Also, if Aguru became a Transcendent, his presence itself would threaten the powers around him. Which would likely involve the empire, as by then, the Sage King would be dead.

Hopefully dead, anyway. That part was still up in the air.

Reivan nodded. “Once again, thank you for your understanding, Elder.”

“I’m sure you still have your misgivings,” Aguru smiled as he sat down. “But please accept my sincerity. There is quite literally no other way for me to assure you that I won’t renege on our agreement other than what I’ve done… There is that oath spell the Tower uses, but…”

“There won’t be a need. I have felt your sincerity, Elder.”

“Is that so? That’s wonderful news. So, about what you promised…”

Reivan couldn’t help but chuckle at the hesitantly eager monkey in front of him. If Roland and their father were here, maybe they wouldn’t have doubted Aguru. Perhaps they would have seen that deep down, the monkey was just one massive lore hoarder.

‘Time for my end of the bargain, then.’

He looked down at the pearl with a bit of apprehension but dove in anyway, willing all sorts of otherworldly knowledge into it. As an avid consumer of stories, the “knowledge” was mostly about that, as it was obviously too dangerous to let Aguru know about quite a lot of the things that show up on Modern Earth.

Like the existence of nuclear bombs. Reivan didn’t know how those were made, but the possibility itself should never be revealed to anyone.

Honestly, he was about to include things like cars among other things. But given how the founder of Aizen left behind all sorts of incomplete knowledge about technology and whatnot, there was a high chance that they would show up in this world eventually. Other than that, he added a bunch of other inconsequential things he discovered in his travels from before he got sick and quite a large chunk of ultimately useless trivia about Aizen’s culture.

There was one incredibly heavy piece of information included, however: the knowledge that there were other worlds out there.

Of course, it wasn’t that knowledge directly that Reivan would store in the orb. No, that felt like a recipe to turn crazy. He would still have knowledge of otherworldly stuff among other things, so what would happen to his mind if he suddenly forgot that otherworlds existed? Wouldn’t he have a breakdown? Maybe he wouldn't, but he certainly didn't feel the urge to risk it.

Rather than send that information directly, since he’d added maps of Earth in there, by assumption, Aguru would come to know that other worlds existed. Because as Reivan knew, The US of A didn’t exist in this world, nor did the land of hockey and maple syrup.

‘Hopefully, it’s enough to satisfy his conditions for Transcendence.’

Reivan gasped as he felt the information being ripped out of his head. It was, in a word, strange how vital puzzle pieces in his life were just… gone.

His memories took a particular hit. Because he spent quite a lot of time reading in his past life, but now, he couldn’t remember any of it. Like a massive part of him simply disappeared. A lot of the conversations he had with his dear sister rang hollow too, as they talked about their shared interests quite a lot.

It was… horrible.

Though it all happened a long time ago and was ultimately insignificant, it was important to him. Every second spent with his loved ones, before and after his sickness, was a treasure. And now that treasure felt defiled. They were still there, but the words spoken grew muddled and everything felt disconnected from the other in strange ways.

“The pearl…” Reivan held it out with trembling hands, fighting the dreadful feeling of something missing and knowing that something was supposed to be there. “I will need the knowledge back quickly, Elder…”

“Of course.” Aguru nodded as he gently plucked the comparatively tiny pearl with his big hands. “Once I have taken the copy, you may have the original back.”

Reivan closed his eyes. It felt like he should be making some kind of joke about what he’d just heard, but a fair amount of stuff in his head was currently not there. Strangely enough, the most vivid ones that came to the surface were the memories that didn’t involve reading stories at all.

All those lonely dinners before Kyouka was born. The anguish of trying his best in his studies, hoping it would urge his parents to come see him. And that one silent night in his hospital bed when the final embers of his love for them died as he mourned the pain his existence caused the people who actually cared for him.

Depressing was not a strong enough word.

But in the darkness came light. He had new parents now. Ones that actually loved him. And though he still longed for his loved ones in his past life, he had family here too.

It was because of them that he was here, far away from home.

Reivan clenched his fist under the table. He’d never forgotten his purpose. But now, with all manner of other drivel missing, he felt even more motivated. Everything else seemed trivial in comparison.

Morals? Especially ones from his old world. Ones he’d never truly gotten rid of. Was that going to protect his family’s interests? When the monsters came, were his morals going to keep the night away? War was coming, and after that, there was still the Outlands to worry about and the eastern continent’s vendetta against his warbeast bloodline.

Yet, here he was. Was he really doing all he could to prepare against those threats?

Maybe not. Maybe he was doing the best he could and he should be proud of that.

But maybe he could do even more.

For he was no longer that sad lonely boy who could only wait and hope for the situation to improve. He was Reivan fucking Aizenwald. Prince of Aizen. And he had the power to grasp his own destiny.

‘Do not forget those nights. Never forget. Never return.’

Reivan was jolted out of his thoughts when the knowledge he’d lost was returned to him. And all the bad memories receded like a black tide, back into the corner he usually kept them in. But the fire had already been lit, and it would not be quelled so easily.

“This…” Aguru murmured absentmindedly as he gently put the pearl on the table and gave it a soft flick, rolling it toward Reivan. “This is…”

“A secret,” Reivan finished for him. “One that, as I understood it, should not be shared with others or spoken of.”

The white monkey still seemed dazed but clear-headed enough to speak. “Ah... Of course, of course... But this is a monumental discovery... Enlightening, even.”

“And how many pearls is enlightenment worth, Elder?”

“Hah.” Aguru chuckled, taking out what appeared to be a large leaf folded into a pouch. He placed it on the table and sighed. “All yours...”

Reivan picked it up and peered inside to find nine pearls instead of the six he was promised. In their previous encounter, it was mentioned that there were eight pink pearls. But including the one Reivan was sent off with, there were ten.

‘He wasn’t lying last time, so something must have happened for him to create two additional pearls.’

Seemingly sensing the questions behind his gaze, Aguru smiled. “I have recently acquired a new non-human friend that granted me knowledge about the lands to the west, beyond the sea, in exchange for what I know about this one. Hence, I was able to form a few more pearls because of that.”

“West?” Mordred’s brows shot up as her jaw slackened. “Was it an elf? But they don’t leave their forests…”

‘Elves… Yet another variable. Fuck.’

Reivan cleared his throat and carefully packed away the ten pearls that he now legally owned and stood up. “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

“Indeed, young human.” Aguru smiled, a bit slovenly. It was almost as if he’d gotten drunk from the information. “This was a very fruitful exchange, though one that I admit cannot be done repeatedly. I cannot produce pearls so easily now that I’ve accumulated so much.”

“Of course. Next time, it’ll be knowledge for knowledge.”

The white-furred monkey nodded and closed his eyes, saying nothing but implying that it preferred to be left alone now. Mordred shrugged and flew out the window as Reivan stepped out.

Just as he did, he suddenly found himself somewhere else. Somewhere very close to civilization, if the buildings he could see in the distance were anything to go by. Clearly, however, it was Aguru's doing because his invisible escort hadn't been included.

A few seconds later, Mordred appeared beside him, giving him a smile that somehow managed to be elegant and impish at the same time. “Well, that worked out well. Didn’t it, Your Highness? And don’t worry, he’s not paying attention to us now.”

Reivan licked his lips and nodded, taking out the pearls. “Take eight back with you, Dame Mordred. I’ll keep two for now.”

She respectfully received them with a bow. “This will be a wonderful contribution to the nation. I thank the prince for his generosity.”

“Don’t thank me. I am, after all, someone who lives off taxpayer lumens,” he joked. "Also, this is ultimately to strengthen the royal family's forces. Selfish reasons all around. Take your pick."

Mordred straightened up and smiled. And maybe his eyes were deceiving him because he thought the way she looked at him turned a bit more warmer than earlier.

"Well, with that done," she said. "Let's get you back in the game, Your Highness. Or do you have anywhere else you want to stop by?"

"No, let's go back. Oh, and do you mind if you don't carry m—"

"Very well! Onwards!"

Mordred blurred to his side and easily took him into her arms like a princess, which just so happened to be exactly what he was about to tell her not to do. She knew what she was doing, however. The impish smile on her face was conclusive evidence of this. If they took it to court, he would win. Unless the judge and jury were her zombie puppets.

Just as he was about to protest, his vision blurred and he could no longer speak.

Arc#4 Chapter 60: Back into the Fray

Reivan, wearing one of the many faces he'd used while he was experimenting with the Favor stat in the republic, sighed as he rested all his weight on the back of his armchair. He and a few others were using one of Ouroboros' many safehouses for their impromptu meeting, though in this case, a safehouse meant a relatively posh apartment in the middle of Vellasinna, a fancy Arkhanian city they had decided to meet in randomly.

Mordred was there with him, idly snacking on peanuts with her legs crossed while Valter had shown up at some point to take Reivan's report. Apparently, another one of the Twelve Helms was in the area but left on some kind of business. The ruby-eyed little girl who wasn't actually young in any sense of the word assured Reivan that he wasn't really losing out, because Gallahad — the aforementioned missing member of the Twelve Helms — had a stick shoved very far up his ass twenty-four hours a day.

Her words, not his.

Xanthus, Valter's descendant and the knight-turned-spy Reivan trusted with Ouroboros' security, was there too. Though, the poor soul was visibly stiff as he stood by the wall. Considering his present company — a prince, a living legend, and the progenitor of his bloodline who was also a living legend in his own right — Xanthus, otherwise known as Xander Suprana, was quite understandably reluctant to take a seat even though Reivan invited him to do so. He was the one responsible for getting them to the safehouse without alarming the Ouroboros employees who were maintaining the place.

"The information has been sent on a relay to the palace, Your Highness," Valter informed him after a time, a dream crystal in hand. "This was a monumental discovery. It warrants an assassination attempt on the Sage King."

"Assassination?" Mordred rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I would hardly call the effort it would take to kill the Sage King an assassination. We'd need to blast that giant cock he lives in open before Sir Rolf can take the old wizard on. Maybe with some help from the Gladiator King too."

Valter frowned. "Language, Dame Mordred."

"His Highness knows what a cock is by now, Sir Valter.” She giggled, sending Reivan an impish glance. "Pretty sure he's used it a lot since coming here. Everybody knows Arkhanian city dwellers are horny monkeys by default. It’s why their population can support the empire's constant harassment and the occasional monster stampede."

Reivan cleared his throat, deciding to shift the subject away from cocks and whatnot. “How long will the information take to get to my brother?”

“A few minutes at the latest, Your Highness. We’ve established a dedicated relay for this issue.” Valter placed the dream crystal on the table and sighed. “To be honest, your information simply served as a confirmation. The crown made a similar assumption a few days ago and handed me instructions to pass on to you.”

“...My brother did? Did he suddenly develop prophetic powers without my knowledge? I'm not complaining if that's the case though.”

“No, Your Highness. Actually, the incident you encountered in Lageton was…”

Valter then explained the encounter between the Gold Cloak and Lancelelot the Everpresent near the border, as well as the mysterious prisoner they managed to snatch away from the republic. By sheer coincidence, at that. The information extracted peacefully from the captive truly did confirm what the Tower was up to. And Reivan found himself growing even more convinced that he wasn’t just some crazy bastard chasing conspiracy theories.

‘So the latest plan was to leak the information to the empire as I finish the trade with Aguru.’

It made a lot of sense. Their improving relationship aside, the empire would undoubtedly be the first to receive retaliation if the Tower ever went to war seriously. The enmity between the populace of both sides was just too immense due to frequent border skirmishes. Diplomatic improvement didn’t matter as much to the families who’d lost people to imperial expansionism or were affected by the war front’s proximity to their homes.

As for Aguru, the process of Transcendence itself would likely keep him busy for months — maybe even years. Sir Rolf, at least, took a while to go through the process, according to the man himself. It was akin to how a mortal took around a year or a half to complete the Ascension process. Power was not gained instantly, after all. One had to change so they could contain it.

In any case, a year was more than enough time for the kingdom to finish its conflict with the Sage King. And if, by some miracle, Aguru managed to Transcend faster than a normal human would, then maybe Reivan could ask the ape for help of some kind. Since Aguru was a pacifist, simple aid through the form of transportation or protection would be more than enough. Maybe even scouting of some kind.

The aid of a Transcendent, even while limited by the notion of avoiding violence, was something nobody could scoff at. They were quite literally gods among men, after all.

There was also the added bonus of removing a chaotic element. Aguru wouldn’t know of Aizen’s plot to assault the Sage King, after all. So with its newfound strength, the sagely monkey would hopefully reveal its true colors. Depending on what those colors were, Aizen could either make use of him or eliminate him before moving on to the Tower itself. It was a much more preferable development than having to simultaneously deal with the Sage King and an Aguru — who could become a Transcendent at any time.

Divide and Conquer, a wise man once said. It might have been Sun Tzu. He couldn't quite remember.

With all that said, Reivan didn’t miss the doubt his brother placed on his discernment of Aguru's temperament. But rather than be offended by the lack of faith, he actually thought that this level of caution was exactly what a king needed. A king couldn't just believe everything he heard, even if the words came from family. Truly, Aizen was better off with Roland on the throne than a brute like Reivan. He was only good at hitting stuff and maybe seducing girls.

Or not. Probably not, yeah. He got lucky with the last part.

“Provided the assault is successful.” Reivan traced his lower lip with his thumb in contemplation. “What do we do about Arkhan itself? I mean the lands, its people... everything.”

Valter shook his head. “There was no mention of occupying the republic's lands.”

“A good thing, if you ask me.” Mordred shrugged with a snort. “We don’t have as much ancient stuff laid out in these lands, so the order will bleed if we try to protect it. Taking Arkhan’s lands will mean that Sentorale will basically be split in half — the empire and the kingdom taking one piece each. It’s too big a place to protect for a lone Transcendent, so Sir Rolf will obviously be stationed back in the motherland. At most, we could leave Ascendants here, but those can’t stand up against the War God if that crazy old fool decides to stroll the south.”

“What about the Tower?” Reivan raised a brow. “Without the Sage King, it’s just a bunch of land with a bunch of people and a bunch of Ascendants.”

“It’ll collapse by itself.” Mordred crushed a peanut shell and popped the edible bits into her mouth as every other bit evaporated into nothingness. “Their government is a joke. I don't speak for all of them, but most of these politicians will probably try to flee to Aizen or Pentagoria. With no Transcendent protecting the nation's interests, Argonia can just threaten the republic's remaining leaders into being annexed. They'll probably absorb the Tower too, while they're at it. Which is why we’ll have to either absorb the battlemages and take them all back to Aizen, or level the Tower and hunt down all the powerful battlemages before we return. I vote for the latter, honestly. Cleaner that way.”

“Do not forget, there’s also a possibility that the Star of Fortune will make a bid for Arkhan's lands,” Valter suggested. “It’s a great opportunity to go from a mercantile enterprise to rulers.”

The other Ascendant nodded. “That too. If that doesn’t happen, however, Argonia will go after the Pentagoria Continent afterward. Those poor saps don’t have a Transcendent, as far as I know. When that’s done, the empire will devote their full attention to us. Again. Boy, those guys really have to find something better to do than bother us... All we're trying to do is raise another Transcendent so we can take over the world. Why can't they just stay quiet and let us?”

Reivan chewed on his lower lip. Mordred's sarcastic musings aside, having their border with the empire doubled was most definitely not an ideal outcome. If that was true, Aizen’s entire north and western sides would be under threat. Not to mention the non-zero possibility of war with the continent-spanning nation to the east. And the threats trying to burst out of the portal too.

‘Surely, we can’t just leave it like that… right?’

Valter seemed to sense his troubles and shook his head. “Don’t worry, Your Highness. Even if the borders with the empire double, when it comes to true war, the only players that truly matter are Transcendents such as the Sword Star and the War God. Mortals and Ascendants are just there to keep the peace and serve as seeds for future Transcendents. If we huddle up and focus on protecting mainland Aizen, there are two Transcendents constantly in range to protect everything. While Argonia will have too much land to protect. The dynamics of war between kingdom and empire haven’t changed much, if you think about it.”

“We endure,” Mordred spoke up with a smirk. “Grab a tiny part of the world and protect it with all we’ve got. Rather than try to grab too much and end up losing it all. That's always been the kingdom's way, Your Highness. Argonia’s pool of Ascendants may be doubled but at the end of the day, Aizen is an unassailable rock. While Argonia will have very big and juicy flanks for us to assault whenever we want to. Their War God can’t be everywhere at once, after all. Their forces will be spread too thin to protect all their new territory. Especially if we actually decide to kill all the Tower’s Ascendants or take them with us.”

“What about the pontifex?” Reivan drummed his fingers on the arm of his seat. “Aren’t they allied?”

“Allies is too strong a word.” Valter shook his head, the beginnings of a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “The Orthodox church despises the Saintess. And the Saintess is in Aizen. That’s all. They have a common interest in invading the kingdom. Protecting Arkhan is not in the interest of the church, as republicans are godless folk. They probably will send missionaries, however. But their core followers are in Argonia, so they won’t invest too much to protect Arkhan.”

Reivan hummed in acknowledgment, his head starting to hurt from processing so many continental considerations. “What about the possibility of the Star allying with Argonia?”

“Unlikely." Mordred was the one to answer this time. "I spent a lot of time in Argonia, once upon a time. It’s not the kind of place a mercantile power like the Star of Fortune would like. It’s why they mainly buy imperial goods but sell elsewhere. If they choose a side when the dust settles, they’ll either continue being neutral or side with us. And though I’m not sure how much they know, they’re probably aware of our budding relationship with the Orcish Chiefdom of Sutherim.”

“How so?” Reivan tilted his head.

“Because I saw some of their people hanging around down south,” she said. “The Star tries to profit from business with as many sides as they can. Obviously, they’ve extended their reach to Sutherim. Wasn’t sure, though. I didn’t bother to investigate. The orcs didn't mention anything, so relations must still be at the beginning stages between them.”

‘Huh. Interesting.’

If the Star knew that Aizen secretly had ties to Sutherim, then they would know that the kingdom wouldn’t be on the back foot even if Argonia takes most of Sentorale and the entirety of Pentagoria. That would make them less likely to side with the empire as the “winning side”.

Reivan hummed in thought for a few more heartbeats until he cleared his throat. “Enough about that. It’s up to my brother to think about all the politics and overall strategies. How can I help things along?”

“You don’t plan to return home, Your Highness?” Valter cocked a brow.

“No. I want more of that spirit dew before we maybe blow up the Tower.”

"Personal?"

"Yes... However, I was also hoping to modify it. Perhaps I can refine a version that works on Ascendant spirit beasts."

Valter's brows rose, a clear sign he realized that Reivan was talking about his avian partner. “Thank you for your consideration, Your Highness. If you are adamant about this, we can simply negotiate for it instead. Whatever the plan ends up being, the horns of war won’t be blown in the following month, at least. The Tower will push the Arkhanian government to negotiate for the return of the prisoner we snatched. We simply time the switch with our assault.”

“By Sormon’s light… We're like villains.” Mordred cackled as her feet kicked out, and Reivan tried very hard not to look like he’d noticed how her feet dangled from her seat, unable to reach the floor. “Talking in a secret base owned by an underground organization. All while plotting to kill the Sage King, planning for the eventuality of the republic’s collapse, and now, we’re talking of robbing them under the treaty of extradition. We even have wine and peanuts. All we're missing is some fat bastard stroking a cat!”

“We are the villains of Arkhan and Argonia’s stories, yes.” Valter nodded. “But we are the heroes of Aizen’s tale.”

Mordred smiled as she reclined on her seat. “Eh. Works for me. I like it this way.”

Reivan let the somber silence hang in the air for a moment before he reluctantly spoke up. “I think I’ll go back to the Tower for now. I might be able to get more information. Who knows?”

At this point, the knowledge stored in the Tower’s archives was no longer important to him. After the Sage King was dead, they could just loot the place for everything it was worth. Even if they couldn't it would also be fine, for there would no longer be an organization of sorcerers to threaten Aizen when the Sage King was gone. In exchange, his priorities had shifted to finding out anything else that could help smooth over the coming assault.

“Here’s an idea.” Mordred raised a finger in the air and set a glance toward Reivan. “Let's really lean into the villain role while we're at it. Why don’t you bring that girl over to Aizen? Mira, or whatever her name was. The one with the spirit king seed.”

Reivan’s brows shot up. “What for?”

“What not for? You can feed her spirit beast to yours, Your Highness. Or, we can abduct her and use her as bait to draw out some more of those pesky Ascendants before the assault. Maybe we can even bait the Sage King out of his Tower! Old man Rolf said Transcendents are always stronger in their chosen battlefields. So if we draw the Sage King out of his, then the old man will have an easier time.”

'That's genius! And also really villainous! It's a good thing she's on our side...'

“There is merit in that endeavor.” Valter agreed with a slow and deliberate nod. “How many did you say your bond needed to devour before Ascending, Your Highness?”

“Three.” Reivan thought back to the information about Dom’s spirit king seed ability. “But he’d already eaten one before we met, so he only needs two more.”

“Excellent.” Mordred clapped her hands together with a smile. “Have yours eat hers, then you’ll only need one more to have an Ascendant guard dog that comes back even after getting killed. Everyone’s happy.”

Reivan didn’t bother to point out that Mira likely wouldn’t come out of that exchange with anything resembling happiness. The Sage King too, would be too dead to be happy. Instead, Reivan thought of the probability he’d successfully smuggle Mira into Aizen, even if she probably had an Ascendant watching over her at all times.

He didn’t know a whole lot about the Tower, but they would likely be reluctant to let yet another one of their spirit king seeds into Aizen, even if they didn’t know that the kingdom was aware of their modus operandi.

‘She seems really interested in the kingdom though. So her willingness to go isn’t much of a question. It’s whether her watcher will allow her to go at all.’

In which case, it meant he’d have to abduct her while they were still in Arkhan.

“You think it’s possible, Your Highness?” Mordred asked him with a smile. “Doing it quietly, that is.”

Reivan shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Really? Can’t you just seduce her into coming along? She’s nineteen, presumably. She can’t be that hard to woo. Girls that age are so gullible. Sormon knows I was.”

Valter frowned. “Not all of them are. It’s best not to take yourself as a basis for generalization.”

Mordred rolled her eyes. “This is coming from a man who married when he was in his hundreds.”

“This coming from a woman who didn’t marry at all?”

‘Oof.’

That did some damage, if the stiff twitch in Mordred’s temple was anything to go by. In Valter’s defense, she had walked right into that one.

She cleared her throat after a moment. “That matter is beyond my control.”

Valter dipped his head respectfully. “I’m sure it is, Dame Mordred.”

Though they both appeared cordial, Reivan noticed how the teacup Valter was holding vanished without the man showing any signs of noticing. Mordred impishly smirked as she sent Reivan a wink.

A moment later, Valter tried to take a sip from a cup that wasn’t there, throwing an annoyed glance at the culprit. “Four hundred years old, but you still have a youthful spirit, Dame Mordred.”

“It’s one of my selling points.” she sneered, taking a sip from the cup she’d stolen from Valter. “What an odd taste, this tea has. It tastes like old man. Almost as if it was a thousand years old.”

Reivan watched the interaction with mild amazement. He’d already been informed of Dame Mordred’s ability to manipulate perception, but seeing it in action was better than a thousand-word essay on how it worked.

‘Which reminds me, I haven’t taken a look.’

They’d only met face-to-face recently, and Reivan’s mind was filled with other thoughts than sating his curiosity about her special gift. Now seemed as good a time as any to do so.

But just as he was about to use [Supreme Insight], Mordred suddenly turned to look at him with a squint, her crimson gaze as sharp as a naked blade. The abruptness of her action made his shoulders jump.

Her face eased up and she smiled a moment later though. “Were you just about to do something, Your Highness?”

Reivan cleared his throat and nodded. “I was just about to use my ability to examine you… My apologies.”

“Oh, you haven’t already done so?” Mordred tilted her head. “I thought you would’ve done it while we were on the train.”

“To be honest, I had other things on my mind.”

“Fair enough.” She demurely covered her mouth and giggled. “Well, please feel free to do so, Your Highness. I’m curious about what you’ll see as well, so I’d love it if you could share your findings with me.”

“Certainly…”

Reivan awkwardly loosened his collar, slightly shaken by the fact that someone other than a Transcendent sensed his use of [Supreme Insight]. However, perhaps it could also be chalked up to the sharp intuition cultivated in most knights.

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

Name: Mordred Suprana

Species: Human

Realm: Ascendant

Age: 397

Sex: Female

Might: 13,743

Special Abilities

[Deception]

[Envy]

Extra Skills

[Paranormal Intuition]

[Qi: Unleashed]

[Malevolence]

[Limit Break]

[Elemental Resistance]

Elemental Affinities

[Darkness]

[Fire]

Favor

(Loyalty, Goodwill, Curiosity) 100 / 100

Threat Level

N/A (This unit's favor is too high)

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

“Oh. There are two special abilities…” Reivan muttered.

Mordred, who was supposed to know, looked equally shocked. “There are?”

“...You didn’t know?”

“Honestly, I thought it was just one gift but with multiple applications. Never imagined anyone could have more than a single gift, after all.”

‘She has a point. Anyway, let’s see what these babies actually do, then.’

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

[Deception]

Because the truth is overrated

Passive:

Every entity or object within the user's perception range is marked, automatically revealing them while ignoring perception-modifying effects.

Sub-skill #1: [A Vanishing Act]

Surrounds the user or a "marked" in a veil of deception that makes them imperceivable to the orthodox senses of all other marked entities. This effect wears off when they initiate hostilities and can be used on multiple targets with sufficient control and focus.

Sub-Skill #2: [House of Mirrors]

Upon activation, a "marked" is perceived as another "marked". This effect wears off when they initiate hostilities and can be used on multiple targets with sufficient control and focus.

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

Reivan made a noise of understanding, finally figuring out how one of the most troublesome gifts — responsible for Mordred’s slipperiness when deployed behind enemy lines — worked.

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

[Envy]

Bring them down to your level

Passive:

The user is inherently more perceptive of beings who possess special abilities and when they are about to activate them.

Sub-skill #1: [Envious Rage]

Passive: The user will operate at increased efficiency and power when fighting against entities that possess special abilities.

Sub-skill #2: [Heavenly Castration]

Active: When a sufficient number of wounds have been inflicted on a target, the user may activate this ability to disable their capability to use special abilities. This effect does not have a duration, but lasts only while the user is in the general vicinity of the target.

Sub-Skill #3: [Curse of Envy]

Passive: Objects can absorb the user’s blood, bestowing a curse on it that will nullify special abilities with sufficiently prolonged physical contact.

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

‘Ah. Here it is. The source of Aizen’s special shackles.’

Reivan hadn’t forgotten how he had his special abilities utterly nullified during his first mating season. Those shackles had made a deep impression on him and he now confirmed their source. It was Dame Mordred’s doing all along.

This special ability also explained how she sensed that he was about to use [Supreme Insight] on her earlier.

At the diminutive knight’s urging, Reivan listed down the abilities on paper and she nodded in acceptance.

“Seems about right.” Mordred smiled. “I’m glad I didn’t miss anything, but I was actually hoping there was more to them than what I’ve already figured out. Well, at least I can stop thinking about them too much now. Thank you for helping shed light on the subject, Your Highness.”

Reivan smiled and stood up. “That’s about it. I think I should go back now. Ah, and Sir Xander? Are you still with us?”

The man who’d been trying very hard not to be noticed by everyone else in the room twitched. “I await your commands, Your Highness.”

“Please try to procure some spirit dew for me. Don’t bother telling Elsa. Use disposable intermediaries that have no ties to us. Trainees only get them through missions and I hardly have the time for that now, given present circumstances.”

“By any means necessary?”

“Yes, as long as secrecy is still kept. Make sure any fallout doesn’t spill over to Ouroboros. Ask Dame Gwendolyn for help, if you need to.”

Xander saluted. "Thy will be done..”

“Dame Gwendolyn is somewhat occupied, at the moment,” Valter said with a bit of hesitation.

Reivan raised a brow. “With what?”

“There is a rebel faction sprouting up everywhere in Arkhan, and they’re troubling tourists from Aizen. The crown is even thinking of banning travel to Arkhan for a while — an act that is more than justified, seeing as even the republic is aware of the issue.”

“Ah. Right… I’ve had a few run-ins with them too. As myself and as Clover Salwyn. You haven’t found much about them?”

“They’re like rats.” Mordred snorted. “Also, our Ascendants can’t really move around Arkhan as they please to investigate this, so we’re leaving it all up to the republic. I would investigate it myself if I wasn’t handling a much more dire issue, which involves being stationed here in case you need help.”

Reivan grunted. Sending Dame Mordred to handle an issue so small was too much. Like chopping meat with a greatsword instead of a kitchen knife. “How is it going so far?”

“Progress has been slow,” Valter admitted. “That boy you picked up has been our only agent in this matter.”

“Filth?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. Man’s working hard, I see.” Reivan nodded approvingly. He wished he had the free time to give the guy a pat on the shoulder, but he was a bit preoccupied at the moment. “Well, just do what you can, Sir Xander. If you can get Filth's aid, he can help confuse anyone trying to investigate.”

“I will do my utmost.”

“Thank you.” Reivan smiled. “Dame Mordred, shall we go? We still have to pay Aguru a visit before I switch back with Clover's clone.”

“Yes.” She hopped out of the chair too high for her height. “Let us go so you can return to the Tower and start seducing that girl.”

‘I won’t... Maybe. Eh, I'll think about it...’

Reivan frowned but didn’t correct her. He signaled Valter with his gaze and his trusty guardian knight conjured a portal that would take them where they were supposed to be. Or somewhere close to it.

And with that, Reivan headed back into enemy lines once again. Because a life of peace and quiet was overrated anyway. Who the hell wanted to get married to the loves of his life, have a bunch of cute kids, maybe write a book, and just be all around happy all the time?

He did. And a whole lot of other people too, probably. But everybody had to work hard to get nice things.

'Ahhh... I wanna go home, goddamnit!'

Royal Interlude: Two Kings

In the current era, the Aizen Kingdom was undoubtedly outmatched when it came to relaying information across great distances. Mainly because they had access to resources that could only be found beyond the portal, in a world that nobody should ever visit if they could avoid it. Really, that place was horrible.

Roland, at least, wished he could torch the entire thing and be done with it. But they were slowly starting to discover signs that there were intelligent beings somewhere out there that weren't just some intelligent monstrosity. And both Roland and his father were of the opinion that interacting with them could prove useful. Perhaps they could even serve as allies to Aizen, for they were strong enough to survive in such a god-forsaken place. In any case, nobody had the power to just blow everything away, so Roland and all his subjects would have to live with a naked blade in their throats for the foreseeable future.

His job was to make sure the people didn't know the naked blade existed. They couldn't really do anything about it, and the crown was already doing all it could to handle matters. If they remained ignorant, they could continue on and live full lives filled with simple happiness and simple problems.

But in any case, it was because of the rapid relaying of information that Roland received his troublesome little brother's first report since going off and playing at spyhood.

And what a report it was.

'It's good that he's fine.'

Roland smiled as he drummed his fingers on his desk. He was enjoying one of the rare breaks in the day when there wasn't any work to be done. And he was using it to muse on his brother's good health — though the good health bit remained dubious at best. At least he was alive. That would have to count for something. Of course, he was aware of the Transcendent artifacts Reivan had with him, but as a brother, he still felt uneasy about having his brother so far away from home and behind enemy lines.

He supposed this was how the relatives of the spies the kingdom sent all over the place felt. The dread of never seeing their loved one again. With not even a body to bury or a cause of death to muse on.

Just the cold hard news that they were dead.

And that was if they were lucky that news of death arrived. Some simply waited for decades, yearning for people who would never return.

"You look like you're thinking of something complicated."

Roland looked to the side to see his father, the former king of Aizen, lounging on one of the office sofas with his foot resting on the low table. The man looked quite comfortable too, reading some kind of treatise written by a king of centuries past.

"Father." The king nodded. "What are you doing here?"

Rodin chuckled. "I came to see my son at work. Is something the matter?"

"You make it sound innocent, but our profession is not really one where you can simply drop in and observe, is it?"

"So I can't be here?"

Roland drummed his fingers on the table, something he noticed was slowly becoming a habit. He only did it when he was talking to annoying people whose heads were too heavy for him to have chopped off. Of course, he'd never had anyone's head chopped off, but he could, just not with certain people.

Well, he could if he really wanted to. But he didn't.

"If you're going to loiter here anyway," Roland sighed. "At least offer me counsel of some kind."

"You seem to be doing very well on your own so far." Rodin smiled, though he didn't look up from the book he was reading. "I don't want to intrude."

"This is a bit too big for that kind of worry." Roland stood up and poured himself some wine from a nearby carafe. He didn't drink often, but his recent thoughts granted him a headache that he couldn't quite deal with sober. "I did not transfer it to you, but you got a hold of Reivan's report, yes?"

Rodin nodded, tapping at a bracelet with a small gem that allowed for instant transfer of information. "You told your mother. She and I have no secrets."

"Sure." Roland rolled his eyes but he did not contest his father on this mistaken assumption. "Then I believe you should know that our little... guest in Grimharbor Penitentiary has finally spoken."

"Torture?"

"Of course not. Even if she is technically a criminal under our laws, We chose not to go that far in consideration of how important she seems. She also deems us a lesser evil than the republic that wants her spirit beast dead."

"Spirit beast...?" Rodin frowned at the sudden mention of them, though it hadn't been that long since he was reminded of the strange beings. In Reivan's report, there had been a part about the spirit beasts he'd caught in strange objects called orbs. "What about them?"

"Yes, well, I believe you haven't gone senile enough to have forgotten what Reivan reported about his newest friend, hm? The one who can Ascend after devouring a certain number of spirit beasts with that quality. Dom, or whatever his name was."

"The white wolf, yes." Rodin nodded. "I remember. Though, I could have done without the snide comment about my age."

"In any case, let us assume that after a spirit beast seed Ascends, it becomes a Spirit King."

"Go on. That's probably exactly how it works though."

"Focus, Father. Now, hypothetically speaking let us assume that these Spirit Kings are the same. They need to devour other Spirit Kings to advance to..." Roland paused to think. "Spirit Emperors. Or Spirit Saints, maybe? In any case, their advancement will also require the devouring of their own kind."

Rodin smiled and nodded, giving Roland the gnawing impression that his father knew everything he was alluding to before he even said it.

"Alright, hold onto that idea." Roland rolled his eyes. "Now, merely going off how long the Tower has been utilizing spirit beasts in such massive droves, we can assume that they know how this works too, right?"

"There is some sense in that, yes." The former king nodded to his son. "Of course, we could be wrong. But it is not a farfetched assumption, as the Tower has worked with the creature for centuries."

"And so." Roland paused, taking a pull from his cup before pouring himself another one. "Provided that the Tower knows, has access to a world where people who've never been there yet could catch spirit beasts, and take them out against their will, it is not hard to imagine that the Tower will want to farm seeds to produce Spirit Kings, thereby producing enough to birth a Transcendent."

“That,” Rodin nodded slowly, his smile having faded already. “Is a sound hypothesis. And so, I’m assuming you are bringing up this assumption because our guest has provided damning evidence?”

“I questioned her personally, and the way her spirit beast advanced the ability Reivan described. And the beast itself matched how his newest pet acted, hunting down certain worthy foes.”

“I see.”

Rodin sighed as he reclined, his back sinking into the sofa’s embrace. His eyes closed in silent thought for a moment before they opened once again, two pairs of blue eyes meeting in the air as he spoke again.

“I assume you have the makings of a plan?”

“Is there any other plan than to declare war?” Roland laughed sheepishly.

The very nature of Aizen’s defense was offense. Knights would eliminate threats before they really became threats. And way before any damage would spill over to the kingdom’s soil. That was the thing they wanted to avoid the most, as the royal family and the knighthood were all well aware of just how destructive a fight between Ascendants could be to the surroundings.

Cities could quite literally disappear as collateral damage.

So every single knight in service of Aizen’s crown would agree that they would rather take the fight to the enemy than sit in their fortresses and wait. Yes, the kingdom had centuries of enchantments and all sorts of supernatural hoo-hah built up in cases when the fighting actually does spill over to the motherland. But those were a last resort. They did not want to test those defenses.

And why would they consume them when they could just sally out and break their enemies? That had always been the thought process behind the kingdom’s aggressive defense strategies. It was why the knights frequently culled the nightmare spawns beyond the portal from time to time.

Because when the monsters came, be they from the north, the west, the east, or from another world, Aizen wanted the threat to have ceased being a threat at all.

And so, war.

They would wage war on the Tower. And they would not stop until the Sage King was dead.

‘No, wait. That’s not quite true…’

Roland looked down and combed his dark hair back, considering the kingdom’s victory conditions.

The threat, in this case, was the possibility that one of their neighbors could spawn another Transcendent, potentially breaking the balance of the continent. Aizen simply needed to neuter that possibility, and the most sure-fire way was to slay the Sage King. That way, even if the Tower successfully waited its way into producing another Transcendent, it would have a net gain of zero.

Another way, which was only now known to him because of his dear brother’s excellent work, was to destroy the world that allowed the Tower to so easily acquire spirit beasts.

Now was the time to strike. Because judging from the information, the Tower could not send people into the world all year round, meaning now was the time to strike. As they had roughly a year before a new wave of spirit beasts came into the Tower’s clutches, each one potentially being a spirit king seed.

‘No. No… I shouldn’t be too hasty.’

They needed to do things cleanly. And for that, some preparations had to be made. At the very least, Reivan’s information had already ensured they had the better half of a year to place their knights in strategic locations around the republic, ensuring that their siege of the Tower would not be interrupted from other directions.

There was a portal, now that he thought about it. Reivan’s work. Again. Or rather, it was a combination of Reivan’s people and that thug organization he had his fiancee run.

In any case, with that portal, positioning people in Arkhan would be a lot easier, as they could bypass the borders completely. Ironically, Arkhan’s interior defense was brittle, as much of their lands were uninhabited and unfortified, unlike Aizen, who had kept to a much smaller territory for thousands of years so they could more easily defend everything.

With that, an assault plan was decided. It was a simple plan, but it would have to do. Besides, a plan that had more steps than one had fingers wasn’t a plan — it was wishful thinking. Variables were bound to show up when the operation started. It would then be up to the participants to adapt. And a thirty-step plan didn’t encourage such things.

The main participant, of course, would be Sir Rolf, the Sword Star. He would most definitely have to be mobilized. And that had a whole host of problems. For one thing, the portal could not be left unattended.

‘The Saintess, then.’

Roland would have to negotiate her aid in its defense. That would reveal an incredible amount of unwanted information. But the portal’s existence wasn’t damning in the eyes of the church. The royal family hadn’t wanted the damned thing either. It had simply appeared. And that was the truth.

Information had a way of leaking the more people knew about it, which was why the crown had never told the Saintess about the demonic portal to another dimension. Besides, the Sword Star could still handle most things and had already stained his blade with the blood of countless Transcendent Nightmares.

Despite that, the crown had never questioned whether she would aid or not. It was a matter of course. She would not help them invade another country — even if it was in the name of defense — but the portal? With nasty little hellspawns running around everywhere? That was something she would not ignore.

Now, though the Saintess was a significantly duller blade than the Sword Star, she was unnaturally sturdy when she wanted to be. The Sword Star had even admitted that he wouldn't be able to penetrate the tiny little church Aizen had bestowed upon them. Not without wailing on it for an extended period of time.

That troubling aspect of her was what made her the perfect sentinel. Now, Sir Rolf would be free to leave Aizen for a while.

‘There’s the Gladiator King as well.’

There had always been a balance of power in the continent as far as Transcendents went. Aizen’s Sword Star and Saintess. Argonia’s Wag God and the Pontifex. Then there was Arkhan’s Sage King and Gladiator King.

That balance was broken a while ago, when Aizen obtained a promise from the Golden Star that they could use the Gladiator King once.

It was a net gain of two Transcendents. Because not only did Aizen gain a temporary ally, but they would also smother the chance that the Gladiator King would turn its blade on them.

The only remaining problems were the Sage King’s defenses — which he wouldn’t know until the siege began — and Argonia’s response. But the latter was already somewhat answered by Roland’s intention to finish the war in one go.

Just the press of a trigger, and it would end just as soon as it began. That would give any third parties little chance to respond.

‘It’s not enough… It’s missing something.’

Roland bit his lip as the cogs in his head turned. He noticed his father looking at him with serenity, so Roland decided that he might as well pick the former king’s brain. With a sigh, he divulged his thoughts.

“It’s not enough.” Rodin shook his head, saying exactly what Roland thought. “You forgot about Aguru.”

“Right.” Roland slapped his forehead. “He’s also a factor in this…”

The supposedly sentient monkey on the verge of Transcendence was a bit of a wild card that nobody had expected. Reivan had mentioned the ape’s pacifistic nature, but it wasn’t as if Aizen’s prince had a foolproof method of discerning people.

If he did, Roland and Rodin wouldn’t have figured out a way around his ability to tell convincing lies. Jiji was starting to notice it too, as she grew in experience.

It was, after all, in the nature of those who handle politics to doubt everything they heard instinctively. Roland and Rodin even doubted their own wives and each other. Of course, this doubt would be quickly squashed because of the trust that had already been built up and because their familial bonds were strong.

Still, it was in their nature to doubt everything. And in the constant allaying of those doubts, the foundations of trust were strengthened. For example: every day Roland woke up with his wife right next to him, he was steadily more convinced that she wasn't out to stab him in his sleep. The doubt was always there, ingrained through years of conditioning, but trust would silence those doubts as soon as they came.

They would have to come before being silenced, however.

And that was the problem with Reivan’s ability. Roland had infinite trust in his brother, but no amount of trust was enough for Roland to just not feel any doubt at all. But when his brother lied, the promised internal question of “is he telling the truth?” was completely absent.

That was the thing that exposed his lies, in the end. Of course, only inherently paranoid individuals like those who lurked in Aizen’s court and had

Roland didn’t know if there was a similar loophole or workaround to all of Reivan’s other abilities, but the fact of the matter was that Reivan’s judgment wasn’t ironclad. Not when it came to his special abilities, at least. That would have to be fixed over time, just not by Roland. And certainly not any time soon, as they were much too busy to do so.

And so, that brought Roland’s thoughts back to the subject of whether Aguru could actually be trusted to stay out of things. Sure, the ape was just an Ascendent at the moment. The main players of the operation would be Transcendents, with Ascendents simply offering moral support in the background or perhaps serving as a net, preventing the Tower’s Ascendents from flying over to the relatively undefended Aizen and waging utter destruction across its lands in revenge.

Some errant hermit, even an Ascendant, had no place in the story at all.

The variable in this was Reivan’s impression that the beast was close to rising. And that had implications. Protocol would dictate that they kill Aguru to remove a chaotic variable, but Roland’s neck itched at the notion. Somehow, that didn’t seem like a good idea.

“Then…” Roland frowned, drumming his fingers on the table for a good few moments as he arranged his thoughts. “Then we help the hermit become a Transcendent.”

Rodin raised a brow, the embers of a smile blooming on his face. “For what reason?”

‘Damn you, Father. You’re actually testing me right now?’

Still, it was heartening that he had an actual experienced king to bounce ideas off of. “We see what he does. Instead of Aguru being a chaotic variable, we intentionally raise him up. Reveal his colors and whatnot.”

“If he is a pacifist as he says he is…”

“Then all is well. We convince him to leave. Go elsewhere. As payment for our help.”

“And if he is a more feral player than he lets on? People often reveal their true colors after obtaining great power.”

Roland nodded, waving his hand in nonchalance. “Then the Tower can deal with him. Aguru is in the republic. So let the republic deal with it. It could potentially weaken the Sage King as well. If the ape comes to Aizen, he’ll be in for a treat. Saintess Frey will gladly help rebuff a monstrous invader. And we won’t have to bring Sir Rolf too far away from the portal. And we won’t have to reveal the portal’s existence to anyone.”

Rodin’s lips became a genuine smile as he nodded in approval. “Better.”

“Better…?” Roland echoed, noting the bare hints of nuance in his father's voice. “Did I miss anything else?”

“You wrote off Argonia too easily.”

“Argonia…?”

Roland took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the cogs in his mind spin once again. It didn’t take long though. “You mean we could leak information to them? Have them join the assault on the Tower?”

“There is that.” Rodin nodded. “Do you not think it is in their best interest to smother this as well? The republic’s enmity toward the empire is much greater than whatever resentment they have for us. Fear is what Arkhan has for us, and that could certainly act as a catalyst. But Argonia will know that, after the Tower obtains another Transcendent, no matter who the Tower goes after first, they will try to vanquish the other.”

“I disagree.” Roland shook his head as he poured himself another cup of wine, downing it in one pull. “There is a chance that Arkhan will lose one of their Transcendents in the eventual clash.”

“You forget to keep in mind the nature of the Transcendents of Argonia and Aizen.” Rodin gestured roughly in the direction of the giant mountain smack dab in the middle of the nation. “The Sword Star may be a noble individual who sees nothing wrong with dying to protect the nation, but Argonia’s Transcendent is also their emperor. Not the ruling one, but still the power behind the throne. And what are the chances that Arkhan goes after them first?”

Roland’s brows furrowed in thought. “They’ve been building alliances so…”

“Arkhan knows that those alliances are just a farce to stop the skirmishes that have happened for centuries. It is a friendship born of a desire to stop hitting each other with their sticks. Now, imagine that Arkhan suddenly gets another stick?”

“I suppose they’ll want revenge.”

“Yes.” Rodin nodded. “It is, of course, a convenient interpretation. But nonetheless, it is publicly perceived that if Arkhan ever had the chance to, they would want to take out Argonia first. It is not reality that matters, in our particular case. It is the perceived notion that matters, because Leonel, the War God, will also think that he’ll be first on the chopping block. And no tyrant will want to risk their throne on bad odds. He might take the enemy down with him, but any outcome that results in his death is, ultimately, a loss. He will try to avoid it at all costs. There are records of this kind of behavior from the era before Sentorale had any Trascendants. A time when Ascendants were gods.”

“I see... And so, if we leak the information, the empire will want an alliance. To crush the Sage King.”

“That is what I believe. This is, of course, in the case where Leonel actually believes us.”

“That is the hurdle, yes…” Roland rested his chin atop his palm and hummed in thought. Eventually, he gave up and sighed, turning his gaze toward his father. “Got any ideas?”

Rodin chuckled wryly and shook his head in exasperation. “I have a few. Why don’t you try thinking about it a bit first?”

“This isn’t really the time for a lesson, Father…”

And so, the two kings, current and former, exchanged thoughts on the nature of how the Sage King would fall. Peace was never discussed, however, as both understood that Aizen would never be safe with such a volatile situation festering right next to them.

A few days later, Reivan’s second report, one that gives mention of Mira, arrived and the two kings had to revise their plans all over again.

Arc#4 Chapter 59: Swap

Everything after Mira showed him Fawks was a bit of a blur for Reivan, but it all more or less ended with them arriving at the Tower.

Apparently, the others were safe and only Senior Crag died. Nobody else had gotten attacked, so all the seniors and his squadmates were safely back at the hotel by the time Reivan and Mira returned. Despite that, the seniors were all quite unhappy about Crag's death — and by unhappy, he meant absolutely livid. Understandably so. Not unhappy at their juniors, of course. Their ire was pointed at those who wrought the tragedy. They were actually quite concerned with Reivan and Mira’s mental states, offering platitudes that they were faultless and they responded very well to the situation.

The rest of the first years were somewhat shaken that it could just have easily been them under attack though. And despite the time they had spent with Senior Crag being short, the senior's sudden death brought them face to face with the reality that their profession was incredibly dangerous. Reivan mused that they had probably known that in theory, but only now were they truly seeing it.

Alini, though she tried to conceal it, was visibly disheartened while pretending to be fine. Kantor was pensive all the while. Inaria was, well, reading a tome as usual, but seemed terribly unfocused. And even Aldimir’s usual brand of idiocy and inappropriacy was absent, the young man choosing to stay mostly silent. As such, nobody was in the mood to fool around in Lageton any longer. Mira, though she probably did want to roam around somewhat, sanctioned the return as captain. The whole trip back, she had tried to raise the mood by acting like a moron. Again. But the somewhat gloomy atmosphere hanging over the squad throughout their trip back to Vel Ayala remained even after they were back in the safety of the Tower.

Reivan, on the other hand, didn't really feel anything. Which was slightly terrifying to him, but he reasoned that his interaction with the fallen battlmage amounted to a little more than an hour at most. Still, even if he was mostly indifferent, he wasn't dumb enough to act like it was. Obviously, he joined in on the somber mood. Which was thankfully not that hard at all because all he really had to do was shut up and stare off into the distance.

Anyway, as Mira had previously mentioned, she got called away upon their arrival at the Tower. Not for too long, though, as she returned shortly after and gave each of them three bottles of Spirit Dew each — which was, apparently, the first time Mira had ever gotten more than one bottle for a mission. The Tower ahd only ever given her one, no matter how difficult the mission itself was.

First years ahd it rough, it seems. Though he supposed they also wouldn't need that much spirit dew to improve.

“Oh, right.” She gave her forehead a light slap before turning to Reivan. “I confirmed it with an Elder, but apparently, there are no bad side effects to drinking more than one. It's actually more efficient. And the time your spirit beast naps afterward is the same as if it had only drunk one. Oh! But there’s a limit of three. If you drink more than that at once, it’ll lose its effect. You have to wait until the stuff’s digested before drinking more.”

As it turned out, Reivan and the others had been given more than one vial of the precious resource as a kind of consolation for the whole affair. The Tower, through their captain, expressed apologies for assigning them to a mission that was, unexpectedly, far above their station. They didn't have to, but everybody in the squad appreciated the gesture.

Reivan, on the other hand, thought that wasn’t the complete story. In some corner of his mind, he saw the act as a subtle way to funnel resources into Mira’s spirit beast, fattening it up so it could be eaten eventually.

That said, he’d checked Fawks’ ability and it had apparently not eaten another Spirit King Seed yet. So even Reivan’s assumptions were up in the air. For all he knew, the Tower could have a mortal seed ready to devour Mira’s Fawks at any time.

‘No, they wouldn’t let her last for an entire year if that was the case.’

It was, Reivan mused, the biggest piece of circumstantial evidence he had of Mira’s importance to the Tower. There might not be any more seeds at the moment, so Mira was the only option. But more often than not, they had probably deemed her as the seed they wanted to raise to the Ascendant realm.

And when Fawks Ascended, some other Ascendant was going to eat her. Probably. Again, all hypotheses.

Once the Mystery Ascendant got to eat enough seeds to Transcend, Arkhan would be in a superior position against all the other nations in Sentorale.

‘God forbid the Sage King isn’t one seed away from becoming something more. We’d be all sorts of fucked then.’

Reivan shivered at the thought. No amount of mortals could combat an Ascendant. and no amount of Ascendants could trump a Transcendent.

By that pattern, no number of Transcendents could win against… whatever it was that lay above. It wasn’t the Archon realm, he was sure. There was something else in between Transcendent and Archon, and it impressed upon him even more how powerful the being who helped him reincarnate was, especially since the very planar laws themself worked to restrain them.

Then again, he didn't think the Tower would wait that long. After all, for someone with the special ability to advance a realm, they didn't need to eat only one seed. They needed more. And so, it was terribly inefficient for the Tower to wait until they gave birth to something above a Transcendent. If it were up to him, he'd try to get two Transcendents as fast as possible, dominate the continent to get rid of any threats, and then try to advance someone beyond the realm of Transcendence.

In any case, something truly had to be done about this. The Tower couldn’t be allowed to do what it wanted, whatever the hell that turned out to be.

Perhaps an immediate declaration of war was in order. Maybe his brother would even leak the information to Argonia so they could crush Arkhan together. The Tower and its people would need to be uprooted, but Aizen would not be remiss to hand over the republic’s lands to the empire afterward.

‘If Argonia takes over Arkhan… it’ll probably look to conquer Pentagoria next.’

Unironically, taking out the small continent to Sentorale’s southwest was an easier endeavor than taking on Aizen, a kingdom that had firmly entrenched itself upon its lands for eons. Especially since the place didn’t have any Transcendents waiting at the heart of its lands, unlike the other two nations.

The expansionist nature of the empire would push it toward easier prey first. That would give Aizen enough time to make preparations. Also, Dame Mordred’s presence back in Sentorale meant that diplomacy with the greenskins of the Sutherim Wastes was established. Only time would tell if an alliance would be struck.

From what information he knew of the orcs, they were a race of sub-intelligent humanoids that saw battle as their purpose, and they had fierce respect for the strong. That was why one of the strongest knights was sent as a diplomat of sorts. She had just gone around and punched as many strong orcs as she could in the face, simultaneously garnering respect, admiration, and friends with fist-shaped bruises on their mugs.

They were potentially staunch allies, though it would likely cause quite a lot of collateral damage. Raiding, pillaging, and eating the weak of their foes to nourish the strength of their allies was an aspect of their culture that an alliance would not change. It was their way. And it had always been their way.

If Aizen allowed them into Sentorale, only their people would be safe. There would be no neighbors left unless the green horde was wiped out. They even had some kind of king too. A Transcendent. If that came over for some fun, Reivan wasn’t quite sure if it would stop with just their enemies.

Aizen might have to deal with an orc king after their neighbors were in ruins. They had measures and a lot of data on the latter, but orcs? The kingdom knew very little and had practically no countermeasures for them specifically.

Which, obviously, was not good if the greenskins ever turned coats.

‘God, this is getting so fucking big…’

Reivan slumped into his bed and massaged the bridge of his nose, basking in the comfort of his not-very-private quarters. His head hurt from the scale of his thoughts and considerations. This was why he truly disliked the notion of being sitting on the throne, celebrating the fact that he’d been born as the younger brother.

No doubt Roland would have a seizure. He was, after all, the man who had to actually make the decisions, not just think about them.

Sen broke him out of his thoughts by lightly tapping him on the feet. It hurt, if he was being honest. She may not have meant to do so, but she’d used a bit too much force. He would forgive her, in the end. Which wasn't very hard since she was cute.

“What is it?” Reivan asked groggily, though he already knew the answer.

As expected, she pointed her light-tipped tail at the three vials he’d left to rest right beside him on the bed, an eager glint in her eyes. She couldn't have possibly understood what any other human said, so Mira’s explanation on what it did was irrelevant to her. But it seemed she had an instinctive idea that whatever was inside the vial was a good thing.

And she also instinctively understood that she couldn’t drink it directly, or so it seemed. Spirit beasts were all kinds of weird so he wouldn't put it past them to have such a nifty function. Which wasn’t something new, so he simply shrugged.

“Form a permanent bond with me and I’ll drink it,” Reivan grinned, testily seeing how the mini white panther would react. It was insincere, and he planned to drink the three bottles anyway no matter her answer.

As expected, Sen looked somewhat hesitant. But that hesitance soon gave way to irritation. She bared her teeth and growled at him, though it caused him no fear.

“Eh. Well. You can’t blame me for trying.” Reivan chuckled and sat up, taking one of the vials and uncorking it. He’d already checked each one to make sure they were the same potion Mira had shown him earlier, not some kind of supernatural laxative or something.

'Bottom's up.'

He uncorked the vial and drank the entire potion in one gulp. Not a very big gulp, mind. Barely a mouthful, really. But it surprisingly didn’t taste like anything at all.

It wasn’t similar to water, no. But it also didn’t have a taste.

‘Strange.’

Reivan licked his lips and pushed up his glasses, trying to see if he could feel any changes. It took a moment, but he did feel something like mana bubbling up from inside his stomach and heading off… somewhere else. His soul, probably. Or wherever it was that strange mana-like energy went.

Sen was restlessly jumping up and down the bed, sending mental urgings through their connection. She was, quite apparently, a very impatient kitten. Or panther. He had half a mind to tell her to behave before he drank the other two vials, just to build discipline.

But she was being adorable. And he didn’t want to punish her for doing something he mildly enjoyed watching. As such, he let it go with the realization that he would probably be a very bad father who spoiled his kids a little too much.

The other two potions went down the hatch too and he laid back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he pondered on the bubbly feeling in his tummy. Maybe this was how being impregnated felt, except for the part where something hard and long — or maybe not, size shouldn't matter — rammed one of his holes. He felt quite thankful that part was left out, if that was the case.

Soon, the bubbling stopped and whatever the energy drinking the potion gave him, it had settled calmly in his soul. It also felt like it had filled up a container of some kind, and even if he drank more potions, it would just go to waste.

‘As expected, I can’t reproduce it yet…’

Sadly, even after having drunk three vials, it wasn’t enough for [Drug Memorization] to... well, memorize the drug, allowing him to reproduce its effect, modify it, or make medicine out of it by using his body fluids. It seemed he would have to procure more, in some way.

They would apparently be given some after every mission, but he knew not how many vials it would take to fully memorize the potion. And hence, he knew not how many missions he would have to sit through to finally get what he wanted.

The sooner he memorized the drug, the sooner he could coax the other spirit beasts locked in the other orbs in Zouros’ stomach. Speaking of the giant snake, it seemed to have no interest whatsoever in the Spirit Dew, further reinforcing his scaly friend’s difference from spirit beasts. Which was mildly disappointing because he wanted to use spirit dew to power up Zouros, who had stopped growing since reaching 1000 Might.

‘I remember Mira saying I could trade with the others…’

Money was something he had a lot of as Reivan Aizenwald. Not so much as Clover though. There was a need to be more creative here.

The senior battlemages, who likely had more spirit dew to trade away, most likely didn’t need money that much. On the other hand, the newer recruits could be tempted with riches but also had more need of the spirit dew, as the potion was apparently a lot more effective for weaker spirit beasts.

Basically, the two potential clients had to be approached in very different ways.

‘Hm. Maybe Elsa can help out… Though, I don’t really want to put her in danger.’

The potion had been around for a very long time, yet, the kingdom had never heard of the thing. So it was, quite obviously, a very well-kept secret. Even defectors must not have revealed it after leaving the Tower’s influence for fear of earning intense retaliation.

If he had Elsa sniff around to procure the potion, it would then be revealed to the person she approached that a mere businesswoman knew of state secrets that she shouldn’t have ever known. Elsa wasn’t dumb, of course, and would use a long train of intermediaries. But the nature of what she was trading for required plenty of negotiation and would compel her to give up valuables that could be traced back to her, endangering her position. There would always be a trail, and for battlemages, who could scry the literal past, it was even more difficult to hide.

Hence, he absolutely couldn't have Elsa do this for him. Or Ouroboros, sadly. They were very big and very well-trained hunting dogs, but he couldn’t send them into a tiger's den, knowing the tigers would chase them to the ends of the world.

The Tower was not to be trifled with by such a paltry force of mortals.

‘Hm… Then I’ll have to ask through official channels.’

Diplomacy, basically. Sure, the Tower would be flabbergasted as to how Aizen found out. But the kingdom didn’t need to answer. And even if Arkhan tried to force the issue, it wouldn’t have mattered, as the kingdom was strong enough to simply say no.

They were, after all, still potential enemies. Aizen could never be blamed for the act of sniffing around to see if they could find any kernels of information.

‘Which makes it even more imperative that I make another report.’

Reivan was about to stand up when Sen smacked him in the face, causing him to wince and cradle his cheek. It was, to his relief, not as strong as her earlier prods, but it still surprised him. “What the hell! Why’d you hit me?”

Sen stomped her feet in frustration and hissed.

‘Oh. Right. Sorry, I forgot.’

He’d gotten lost in the mire of his own thoughts about the fate of the continent, so he’d inevitably forgotten to actually send her the spirit dew energy that had built up... wherever it was that the energy built up in. His soul, presumably. But he wasn't sure. Anyway, it was useless just staying there, so he had no reason to let it.

With practiced finesse, he controlled the energy like he would control mana and then funneled it through his connection like he did their thoughts.

Amusingly, Sen’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy and her body spasmed as she stiffened, eventually tipping over and resting on his bed. Her tail was straight as an arrow and her joints looked as if they’d locked. The glowing tip of her tail was shining brighter than ever before.

This only lasted for ten heartbeats, however, as she slumped and breathed easily. Her eyes were closed and her face slack, almost as if she was having the best dream of the world.

‘Jesus… It looks like she had the biggest nut of her life!’

Reivan’s nose crinkled. He had never wanted to know what a young white panther looked like when she had a really long orgasm. That was information he would have been perfectly fine never having to float around his head for the rest of his life — which, if things went well, would be very long.

A moment later, the sleeping panther turned into a white blur that was sucked into his orb. He hadn’t done that, so it must have been caused by the sleeping kitten or whatever state the potion put her in. His money was on the latter.

It was convenient too, since he planned to head out of the Tower for a few days, and a cat with the most severe case of post-nut clarity was not his idea of a good travel opinion.

Reivan changed into a fresh white shirt before heading out of his room. Nobody was there, fortunately. So he left a note saying he would be gone for a day or two to unwind. They were on break until all their spirit beasts woke up from their dew-induced sleep, and they could do with that break as they wished — though it was implied that they were to use that time refining their spell work.

Obviously, Reivan didn’t give as much of a shit about that as the monumental news he had. If the Tower still had an Ascendant following him, it was completely worth it to have the poor sap assassinated so he would be free to act for a few days.

As for the possibility of war, that was irrelevant, given how the news he bore would spark it anyway.

════════════════════════════════

“Good day, Your Highness.”

Surprisingly, Reivan didn’t even need to get to the city where Valter should have been waiting for him. On the express train there, he suddenly found himself sitting right next to a young girl with black silk for hair and rubies for eyes, a doll-like innocence on her pretty face. Her skin was fair and white, with a smooth milky finish. Being seated did not help him gauge her well, but she looked to be about thirteen years old.

She was not, in fact, thirteen years old.

Reivan knew her from portraits and was aware of the vast list of accomplishments she garnered in Aizen’s service. He gulped and sent a glance at the young lady who was boldly wearing the knightly regalia of Aizen's knights, her chest riddled with medals and accolades that, ridiculously, didn’t fit her entire chest. Some of them had to be pinned over the others, creating the illusion of curves that didn’t exist.

“Dame Mordred," he said with a slight dip of his head. "Well met. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Indeed it is. Well met, Your Highness.” Mordred smiled impishly, her voice very much belonging to an adult despite her appearance. “You appear surprised.”

“That would not be a mistaken assumption.”

She covered her mouth and giggled. “You have questions and concerns. The kingdom has many. And finally, it seems like it is time you come back so all of those can be dealt with. Of course, only if that sits right with you, Your Highness.”

Reivan licked his lips in thought as he gave his surroundings a quick scan. “I have no observers?”

“Just a mortal one.” Mordred lazily waved somewhere behind them. “They will not be a problem.”

“Good…”

“I'm happy to see that this pleases you. As I’m sure you’ve been briefed, I have a gift when it comes to these things. Please rest assured.”

“Yes, I’ve heard…” Reivan trailed off, feeling strangely uncomfortable at the notion that all his special abilities could be neutered with a touch. Temporarily though it might be. “Dame Mordred, why have you approached me so far away from the meeting point? Were you doing something around the vicinity?”

“It’s a secret… is what I would normally say. But I suppose a prince would have clearance.” One of the oldest knights in the order cleared her throat softly. “There has been some hubbub down south. So I was sniffing around the Tower to see if I could find anything and was debating on whether I should try to penetrate Vel Ayala. I was slowly inching toward it when I found you by coincidence. It's a good thing I've seen the real Clover Salwyn.”

“I see…”

“Yes. It was by my judgment that I decided accompanying you was a better use of my time than an enterprise that could get me killed for no gain. I can take you to the Embassy now, if you so wish.”

“What about the observer?”

“I can simply leave a corpse puppet behind. I have finished preparing it. A mortal will never know the difference.” Mordred smiled, the expression seeming horrifyingly innocent despite the woman’s history and what she had just said. “I’d dabble with his brain, but...”

Reivan shook his head, spine-tingling. “There’s no need for that. The puppet will do.”

“How merciful of you. I am in awe of your grace.”

“Can it… uhm, speak? The puppet, I mean.”

She nodded. “I have been studying the real Clover Salwyn and I have reason to believe that my puppet can replicate his actions completely. Just so long as no Ascendant takes too close of a look, it’ll blend in with everyone else.”

“That’s a relief.”

“It would, of course, have gone much smoother if you’d allowed me to make Clover Salwyn himself into the puppet. There would have been no need to put so much effort into fleshmolding and training it.

Again, Reivan shivered at the horrors uttered by a girl with such an innocent appearance. “I gave him my word… And though there were no bindings involved, I intend to honor it until I am forced otherwise.”

“And I respect your intentions.” Mordred giggled and reclined in her seat, crossing her legs. “You are intimidated by me, Your Highness.”

Reivan’s breath caught but he nodded. “That would not be a mistaken assessment.”

“I seem to have that effect on people. Though I never quite understood knew why.” She tilted her head. “It has, I may add, made finding a partner difficult. And I never did get married, in the end. Though, I suppose it cannot be helped when I have such a child-like physique in a nation that quickly gets rid of people with… disgusting preferences.”

Reivan laughed sheepishly. “You are very beautiful, Dame Mordred. And quite a capable woman as well. I’m sure you have a fated one out there somewhere.”

“Oh, truly…?”

“Of course.”

“Hm. What about you?”

Reivan didn’t get to process the question before Mordred slowly leaned her weight against his shoulder, her hand hovering over his own. Their flesh did not touch, and all she did was draw soft circles on the top of his hand with her pristinely maintained nail.

And loath as he was to admit, Reivan found electricity zap climb up his spine at the ticklish sensation.

“You know, Your Highness.” Mordred spoke softly, her sultry voice snaking into his ears. “I’ve never laid with a prince. Princesses, yes. Many times. But a prince? Never. It makes me quite curious.”

“I-Is that so…?” Reivan was torn between letting her continue or pulling his hand away, but he was wary of offending her in some way, even if she couldn’t possibly hurt him.

“Indeed. What say you, Your Highness? You’ll have to do away with your disguise, however. I prefer Aizenian features to your current one.”

“That’s…”

Reivan gulped, oddly exhilarated. He was finally starting to understand what Mira had mentioned about eyes and how they could be enormous points for attraction. Because his preferences were as far away from thirteen-year-old girl as possible, but found himself lost in Mordred's eyes longer than he cared to admit. To break himself out of her spell, he tried to remember Elsa's incredible body, how soft everything was, and how warm she felt in his arms. Of Helen, and her lithe muscles that had the grace of an apex predator.

“Well? Care to have a go?" Mordred leaned a little closer, forcefully pulling his mind back to the now, to the enchanting eyes that drew all his attention. "I am almost 400 years old. That’s a very long time to accumulate experience. I can show you pleasure you didn’t even know was possible.”

‘I think she’s talking about butt stuff… I don’t like butt stuff!’

That was usually what it was, when they said it was weird. That, or dressing up as animals or something that involved ropes. Either way, he wasn’t so inclined.

With that, Reivan was finally able to snap his gaze away, looking anywhere but at her face instead.

“I would not dare…” Reivan tried, very hard, to say it in a way that wouldn’t be too offensive. “And I am already spoken for.”

“A shame.” Mordred giggled and her hand retreated. “Do forgive me for being forward. I have found few pleasures in a long life, and this is merely one of them. Being stuck with orcs for the better half of a century has not been pleasant for me on that front. For very obvious reasons other than their general tendency to be absolutely hideous. I have understandably grown quite... pent up.”

Reivan could practically hear the unspoken complaint in her words. Right after finishing her duties in Sutherim, she was then sent off to Arkhan. She had probably built up quite a lot of vacation time, but the fact that she was here meant that she had loyally chosen to postpone it in favor of fulfilling her duties.

Knights were loyal, and would do anything ordered of them, but they certainly weren’t inclined to like those orders completely.

“My apologies for the trouble, Dame Mordred.” Reivan dipped his head a little, with all the sincerity he could muster. “And thank you for your service.”

“Goodness, don’t take my complaints so seriously, Your Highness.” Mordred laughed sheepishly, her previous demeanor changing to a more… natural one. Embarrassment was clear in her expression. And for a moment, she seemed every bit the young girl she appeared to be. “You’re too serious. It makes me feel guilty about teasing you.”

“I’d rather you not tease me at all.”

“Ah, well.” She shrugged, grinning at him. “It is in my nature. I do hope that I have eased your nerves, somewhat, Your Highness. I am, very much so, a loyal hound of the crown. I mean you no harm.”

Reivan chuckled sheepishly. “One does not need to mean harm to be intimidating. Take Sir Donovan, for example…”

“Ah.” Mordred’s face fell. “I don’t like talking about that person, Your Highness.”

“Acknowledged.”

Mordred nodded in thanks and snapped her fingers. In front of them, a naked body dropped out of thin air. It stood, though shakily, twitching and spasming all the while. But still, it tried.

Eventually, the puppet that appeared just like Clover Salwyn looked at Reivan and spoke with the exact same voice he'd been using.

“What is my purpose?”

Arc#4 Chapter 58: Fawks

"Clover," Mira whispered from across the table, looking up from the menu. "I think this place is more expensive than I thought."

Reivan nodded, glowering at his own copy. "I think so too. I wouldn't have guessed from the outside."

"Must have been the broken windows."

"It was the broken plates and wrecked fruit stand nearby that did it for me. Gave the place that whole run-down look."

"Ah, yeah. That too."

"Should we leave?"

"I mean..." Mira scratched her cheek while looking around. "We were already given menus. Isn't it already too late to back out now?"

"Don't give up so quickly. Show some backbone."

"You're the man, here. Show some initiative. Besides, I can actually afford this sort of stuff... Plus, we just got paid the other day. It's not that big of a deal for me."

"You just called me poor."

"Well, you are. A cheapskate too. Don't deny it."

As they debated, a waiter walked up to them and asked them for their orders before offering a quick apology for any delays. Apparently, a few of their chefs understandably ran away during the earlier debacle, intent on securing their family's safety or spending their last few moments in life with their loved ones.

With that, Reivan and Mira both resigned themselves to spending a portion of their monthly salaries to avoid the embarrassment of walking out at this point. Mira didn't know much about crabs and left her order entirely to Reivan as she went to the bathroom, with the caveat that she wanted to try eating one with its shell still on.

Reivan went and ordered a kind of monster crab that was as big as a dog. They could just share it between themselves. It was caught in the waters between Aizen and Arkhan, so it was actually a breed he was familiar with, as it showed up on the palace dinner table from time to time. This one was cooked in a special wine he’d never heard about, so he was interested in how it would taste. The meat in the body was poisonous though, so they’d only be served the limbs.

Since Mira was angling for the experience, he went and ordered a platter of smaller crabs she could play around with. And in anticipation of her laziness, Reivan ordered additional dishes where all the crab meat had been extracted in some way already — to be delivered shortly after the initial course. And purely because he saw something familiar, he also ordered a cheap bottle of sake imported from Aizen.

It was all extremely expensive for a single meal, but they could handle it. The real Clover would have gone insane with how much he would spend, though.

"So." After returning from the lady's room, Mira crossed her hands atop each other on the table. "This is where you declare your undying affection for me. To which I, with a hint of deliberately polite reluctance, will tell you that I want to keep our relationship professional."

"In your dreams." Reivan rolled his eyes. “I was going to ask you about spirit beasts.”

“Oh. Well, what do you wanna know? I have, like, two of them.”

“Right…” he paused to think of how he was going to lead the conversation into his desired subject without sounding too desperate. “Is there a way to better ensure that I form a permanent bond with mine?”

Mira raised a brow, leaning an elbow on the table and resting her chin on her palm. “Why are you scared? From what I’ve seen, yours likes you. I wouldn’t be too worried.”

“I need to be more sure. My career is kind of on the line here, no?”

“Hm, I suppose so…” Mira seemed to think about it before waving a hand and procuring a tiny vial of something from her within her spatial ring. “I was going to tell you guys about it after the Tower gives us the rewards for the mission, but I guess there’s not much of a difference to telling you now. Here.”

Reivan frowned at the vial but took it anyway. “What’s this?”

Though he asked that aloud, he obviously still used [Supreme Insight] to gain more information.

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

Spirit Dew Potion (Low-grade)

A fusion of rare materials from both the spirit world and the material world. Drinking it will provide immense benefits to bonded spirit beasts after a brief digestive period, raising Might by an indeterminate amount depending on their current power. The stronger a spirit beast is, the less of an effect spirit dew potions will have on them.

This substance cannot be drunk by spirit beasts and must be consumed by their anchor instead.

This potion does not work on spirit beasts above 1000 Might.

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

‘Oh.’

Reivan kept his poker face on as he rolled the vial over on his palm since he wasn’t supposed to know what it did yet. But he could already infer a lot just from this.

“It's called a Spirit Dew Potion.” Mira gestured at it. “You drink it yourself, but it’s your spirit beast that benefits from it.”

“How the hell does that even work…?”

“Beats me. Maybe it’s because spirit beasts can’t process material food properly. They can eat it, but it's not like it fills them up or gives them energy. Boop, for instance, just likes eating tasty things. I’m not all that read up on it. I just drink the stuff and BAM. It just works.”

“Huh.”

“After you drink it, you’ll feel some kind of power. And then you can just kind of… direct it? You can direct it to your spirit beast so they can absorb it. It’s like mana, so it’s easy to do. Don’t worry about it.”

“What a lackluster explanation…” Reivan licked his lips in thought, suddenly remembering something. “What happens if you have more than one spirit beast?”

Mira nodded and pointed at him. “Good question, my lovely minion. In cases like that, the power can only go to one. Fawks gets mad if I don’t pick her though. Boop doesn’t really care about anything except being cute and eating food, so I just kind of let it go. And Elders also suggested that I focus on strengthening Fawks instead, so I’m just doing as I’m told. They even give me extra missions I can do on my off-time, like scribe work or just helping out with a few experiments.”

“I see. So this is how battlemages entice spirit beasts to form more permanent bonds, huh?”

“Exactly. Spirit beasts love this stuff. They go completely nuts over it. Fawks does, at least. Boop’s never had any. After you give them the power though, they’ll fall asleep for a few weeks. Maybe a month. But they come out of it a bit stronger than before.”

“And I’m assuming the Tower gives these out as mission rewards?”

“Yep.” Mira nodded, straightening up as the waiter neared with their orders. "If you’re strapped for cash, you can also sell your potions to other battlemages. The seniors will buy it from you for a lot, but I don’t suggest it. It’s better to use it than to sell or hold on to it. Especially right now, since it’ll help convince your spirit beast that forming a permanent bond with you is in their best interest.”

Reivan gulped down a mouthful of spit. “Is there a limit to how much I can drink?”

“Eh?” Mira’s jaws slackened for a moment before her pretty face screwed up in contemplation. “No… Not really, I don’t think. I drank three vials straight up one time, before I even realized how dangerous that could have been. But nothing happened.”

“Uh-huh... What about your spirit beast? I think I remember you saying she was named Fawks…?”

“Yep, that’s the one. She woke up at around the same amount of time. But with three vials’ worth of strength, as far as I know. Don’t worry, I’ll ask an Elder when I get back, just to be sure. I'll tell you all about it, together with the rest of the squad.”

“Oh, okay…” Reivan licked his lips, internally glad he didn’t have to worry about exploding when he drank the potion, eventually reproducing it through his ability. Depending on the quality, he had to drink more than a few vials worth before he could reproduce it, after all.

‘This is a great discovery…’

It also meant he couldn’t leave the Tower until he got enough of the stuff to reproduce it himself. Maybe he could even modify it so it worked even after the spirit beast reached 1000 Might. Hell, maybe he could have it work on Ascendants, that way, he could strengthen Freed, Valter’s spirit beast.

His guardian knight was due for a bit of an extra reward, after all. Well, he felt like Valter was always due for a reward, for all the shit he did. Still, Freed was already so strong, so there might not be any more room for growth in that department until Freed advanced its realm.

‘Okay. So I can’t just run off after this. I’m glad I got to know before doing anything drastic.’

Reivan returned the vial to Mira with a thoughtful grunt. "So we do missions to get these potions. Then we use the potions, which will then make our spirit beasts fall asleep, killing our efficiency in doing missions. But we'll then have time to learn spells, do some research, or do other things. Once our spirit beast wakes up, stronger than before, we repeat the process, doing harder missions for greater rewards. Do I have it right?"

Mira clapped her hands. "That's it, Clover. You now understand the flow of what'll happen for the entire year. And probably for the years after that. That's also why we'll be getting a break to do whatever we want for a while after we submit our report to the Tower."

"I see. Neat."

"Uh-huh. And don't forget, we get paid every month. That's pretty important. I guess in a way, the potions are our spirit beast's salaries. They're the Tower's employees too, y'know?"

Reivan grinned. "You've got a point."

Mira crossed her arms and looked incredibly smug when she smiled. "Of course, my minion. I'm the senior for a reason."

Reivan rolled his eyes as the waiter set their food on the table. They both tacitly agreed to pause their conversation, since they were talking about matters of the Tower. Once the waiter left, Mira curiously eyed the giant crab legs between them, gingerly prodding one of them with a fork.

She eventually picked one up and looked troubled at it before helplessly turning to him. “How in the world do I eat this…? My teeth can't bite through shells, y'know?”

“Watch.” Reivan took one of the giant crab legs, pressing a thumb in the middle and cracking it before pulling a portion off to expose the crab meat inside. It hung out and wiggled, an appetizing smell wafting into his nose.

“So that’s how you eat the legs…” Mira put down the giant legs and took one of the normal crabs in hand, inspecting it like it was some alien. “What about this?”

With a sigh, Reivan took one of the crabs and demonstrated that for her too. For a while, they simply ate, with Mira slowly and carefully trying to do what Reivan did. But she couldn’t quite get it right and asked Reivan to do it for her.

“You’re such a pain in the ass…” Reivan gave her the one he was about to eat instead before taking a new one.

Rather than taking it with her hands, however, she leaned over the table and took a bite. “Yum!”

“...Use your hands, will you?” Reivan complained, putting the half-eaten leg on her plate. Just in time, the waiter arrived with the rest of their dishes, which he’d instructed them to delay because he wanted Mira to actually try to eat it the hard way.

As expected, the moment an alternative showed up, she completely gave up on eating the first batch in favor of stuff she could eat with low effort, leaving Reivan to eat the rest.

‘God, she’s like a troublesome sister… Kyouka never caused me so much trouble though. She made me tea. And even peeled apples for me while telling me entertaining stories about her day.’

Reivan licked his fingers and took one of the empty shells, pouring sake into it before holding it over a small brazier he had asked for. He’d seen people do it in anime and had tried it a few times since turning eighteen in this world. Hector loved doing it too, and they often went out to eat crab from time to time.

The best ones he knew were found in Starwater City, where the most famous monster crab breeder was based, but the ones in Lightharbor weren’t so bad. Especially price-wise. Hector grew to prefer the latter, at least.

“What are you doing?” Mira was halfway finished with some kind of crab lasagna dish when she noticed Reivan doing something strange. “Is that some sort of voodoo ritual?”

“Why is that the first thing that comes into your mind…?” Reivan eyed her strangely before shaking his head. “I’m using the alcohol to get all the bits of crab meat I couldn’t take out with a fork. Soaks up the flavor too.”

“Yeah? That looks cool. Give me some.”

“I thought you didn’t like drinking?”

“I don’t. But I’m also curious.”

“Do it yourself. You’ve got shells too.”

“But what if I get it wrong and it tastes like crab guts? And aren't crabs poisonous?”

"Only the huge ones. These are small, see? That means they're not the monstrous kind that can control water."

"But what if I still get it wrong, though?"

“It’s not that complicated.” Reivan frowned and looked down. It was ready. He tipped the contents slowly into his mouth and sighed, licking his lips. “Good stuff…”

“Me too…” Mira called out from across the table like a kicked puppy.

“Fine, fine… I’ll make you a shot too.”

“I knew you were a good guy, vice minion!”

“You know what? I just changed my mind.”

After finishing their meal and washing their very crab-juicy hands, Mira, in a show of gallantry, paid for everything before Reivan could stop her. The privilege of a senior, she called it. Which was somewhat funny because Reivan was actually older than her by one year.

“That was fun!” Mira tapped her belly. It still looked flat, Reivan noted, which was surprising given how much she ate. “Y’know, Clover. I think I kind of get why you’re so popular. Even more now.”

“The hell are you talking about…?” Reivan eyed her strangely as they walked out of the restaurant. He’d asked a waiter for directions so he led the way toward the inn where the others were. Apparently, the recent hubbub over the ocean scared all the horses to the extent that the carriage services nearby were temporarily unavailable. “I’m not popular. I just made a show of myself by dueling Kantor in front of everybody.”

“Liar,” Mira teased. “You obviously know your way around dates. How many girls have you lured into your scheming arms!?”

“Are you talking about the extra dishes thing? I just knew you’d get lazy. So I made preparations.”

She poked his shoulder as they walked, an impish grin on her face. “That’s what I’m talking about. I’ve been out on a few sort-of dates and nobody’s done that before.”

“Don't be impressed by normal stuff. Pick better guys to date, instead.”

“Eh, I just kinda go with it if they ask too many times. Just to humor them, y’know? I get a free meal out of it too~! All I need to do is smile and thank them as I say goodbye and they’re all happy.”

Reivan grimaced. “Poor guys. I pity them...”

“Hey, they’re the ones who keep pestering me, alright?” Mira giggled, softly slapping the back of his head. “That was great though. I enjoyed it. I guess I’ll have to promote you to Meal Planner Minion now. Or the MP Minion for short.”

“That sounds a lot lower than vice-minion. I’d rather not get demoted. Again.” Reivan sighed. As they walked, he suddenly thought to ask something that had been gnawing at the back of his mind. “Hey, captain. You’re a girl, right?”

Mira stayed silent for a few heartbeats before she giggled, a distinct lack of amusement in the sound. “Can you please explain why you even need to ask that? Remember, I’m armed. With a wand.”

“Am I attractive?”

“You’re just going to ignor— Argh, never mind. Whatever.” Mira punched him on the arm, a little harder than usual. “Attractive... Why are you suddenly asking that? I’m gonna tell you right now, but my heart’s set on Prince Reivan until maybe next year. Or until he does something stupid and uncool.”

Reivan frowned. She still wasn’t stopping with that and he was starting to think she was actually gunning for him. The real him. “No, it’s just… Before, in my hometown, I didn’t get much attention from women… Just the one.”

“Oh. Okay…” Mira crossed her arms and nodded. “That changed?”

“Yes.”

“Like, by how much? Do girls just throw themselves at you or something?”

“Honestly…” Reivan licked his lips in contemplation. “There have been cases of that happening.”

Mira tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I don’t wanna sound like a bad person, but how ugly were they…?”

Reivan hesitated for a heartbeat before answering. “She was pretty.”

“Hoh.” Mira raised a brow at him. “Like Alini? Or Inaria...?”

“No, not that much. And definitely not at your level.”

“Wow. A sudden compliment. Maybe the world as we know it really will end today.”

Reivan frowned at her. “Take this more seriously.”

“Fine, fine…” Mira went quiet for a while, humming thoughtfully. “You’re fit, which is a huge plus, because the guys in my year all look like twigs. And I mean, your face is okay…? Not bad, but not great, either, y'know? You’re not short, but not too tall either.”

“Gee. It sounds like you’re trying really hard not to be mean.”

“I’m not!”

Reivan adjusted his glasses and scoffed. “Try harder then.”

Mira groaned before she ran up to block his way, forcing him to a stop. Then she eyed him up and down, her gaze stopping on his own. And it was at that moment that her eyes brightened.

“Ah! I finally got it.”

“Got what?”

“It’s your eyes.” Mira pointed at his face, the tip of her finger almost touching the tip of his nose. “It’s your eyes, Clover. Maybe that’s why. I don't know why I never noticed.”

“My eyes…?” Reivan tilted his head slightly, looking to the side where he could vaguely see himself reflected in what remained of a store’s glass window. All he saw were a pair of green eyes staring back from behind spectacles.

For all intents and purposes, he looked like Clover Salwyn. As he should. Because that was who he was impersonating right now.

“There's just…” Mira bit her lip and tried to find the words, turning around to continue walking. “I think there’s just something about your eyes. It’s piercing, you know? Like, you’re really intense sometimes. There’s this confidence, like nothing can get in your way. Actually, I think you’re really similar to Prince Reivan in that aspect. When I saw him, the way he looked at the world was different. Like he owned everything he beheld or something. Like he was the cock of the town and he knew it.”

Reivan pursed his lips. Somehow, he was starting to glimpse what she was talking about.

‘Is it because of [Supreme Insight]?’

That was the only explanation he could think of. But it could also be caused by the simple fact that, while he could act as Clover Salwyn as much as he wanted, the person inside was still Reivan Aizenwald — the second prince of Aizen. Valter had given the seal of approval for his disguise, but Reivan supposed he had accidentally bled a bit of himself into his Clover disguise.

Which was understandably not good at all. Especially since someone managed to link him to his actual identity directly. She got lucky, yes, but who's to say nobody else would see the connection?

‘I don’t know all that nonsense about owning everything I beheld though.’

He absolutely did not think that way, so she was completely off. Why would he want to own a country he didn’t like that much? Reivan would much rather keep living in the palace and cuddling with his future wives every night. Arkhan could suck it for all he cared. Honestly, how Mira described his real self made him sound like some arrogant prick and he didn’t like it. Like some two-bit villainous prince that would pester the main character of some trashy isekai novel.

Her mistaken impressions aside, Reivan had to be more careful. He didn’t know what to do though. Sunglasses, perhaps? Or should he start wearing a blindfold? That wouldn’t do. How could he see, then? Ordinary people couldn't just learn echolocation on command like blind monks in novels.

“Anyway, that’s what I think.” Mira shrugged. ”But maybe you should ask those girls what they find attractive about you if you’re so curious?”

“Right. I suppose you wouldn’t be the best person to ask since you’re not attracted to me, huh?”

Mira hummed, sending him an impish glance. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“... Huh?”

“Hah! Your face is killing me!” she laughed, causing him to grimace and search for a change in subject.

“Right. Why didn’t you summon Fawks in all of that?” Reivan finally got into the meat of his purpose today. He felt as if her guard was sufficiently low enough after a meal and casual conversation. “You seemed to have tried, at least.”

“Oh, curious?” Mira scratched her cheek. “It’s not that strange. Fawks was way too powerful for me to handle, but it still allowed me to catch it because it wanted to get out of the sanctuary.”

“It wanted to get out…?” Reivan echoed, suddenly finding something else that was somewhat similar to Dom.

“Uh-huh. That’s why it kind of just does whatever it wants… I suppose it’s time for a lesson. A bond doesn’t mean I can make it do what I want, Clover. Bonded spirit beasts help their contractors out not because they’re forced to, but because they want to. They like they’re contractors and want to do what they can to help out. That’s my relationship with Boop. But not so much with Fawks…”

“I see…” Reivan licked his lips in thought, realizing that the dynamics of his bond with Zouros were quite similar. To be honest, he never felt like he had control over the serpent. It simply did what he told it to because it wanted to.

At the same time, Reivan tried his best to get the giant serpent what it wanted, except for maybe eating an entire town. That definitely wasn’t something he could let it do, and it seemed Zouros understood that too since it was holding its own desires back.

“So what’s the point of keeping it around, then?” Reivan asked after some thought. “Do you like her? Fawks, I mean.”

“Eh… It’s complicated…” Mira scratched her head. “I want to like her too and I’m trying, but she doesn’t really let me do that… It’s actually kind of depressing. She comes out if I’m in danger though. Or if I tell her I won’t drink any potions if she doesn’t let me see her.”

‘Fawks sounds like a bitch. I’m glad Zouros isn’t like her.’

Reivan gained a newfound appreciation for his comrade. He supposed he had to give it a good rub once they got back. Zouros always liked those. “So I can’t see her?”

“Fawks?”

“Yes.”

Mira raised a brow and tilted her head. “Why would you wanna see her?”

“Why not?” Reivan shrugged. “I’ve seen all our squad’s spirit beasts but Fawks. Isn’t it normal to want to see everyone’s partners? What if I see her one day and get freaked out, thinking she's an enemy?”

“That’s a good point. Alright…”

Mira stopped to look around, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into an alley before taking out the potion she’d shown him earlier. “Wait a while, I’m blackmailing her to come out and show herself…”

After a few moments of seemingly nothing happening, fire erupted out of Mira’s skin and coalesced into the infantile form of a fox-like spirit beast with luscious red fur.

“There we go. You’re so much trouble sometimes…” Mira scolded it lovingly, giving the fox a pat on the head. It snarled at her but the way its bushy red tail wagged from side to side revealed its true feelings. “Say hello to my minion over there, Fawks. He wants to meet you so don't try to kill him.”

Fawks’s golden eyes darted toward him for only a moment before it snorted, turning its nose away.

‘So this is her…’

Wasting no time, Reivan used [Supreme Insight].

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

Name: Fawks (True Name - Foxxy)

Species: Spirit Beast - Vulpine Embertail

Realm: Mortal

Age: 19

Sex: Female

Might: 323

Special Abilities

[Spirit King Seed]

[Flame Domination]

Extra Skills

[Spirit Bond: Mira]

[Qi: Unleashed]

Elemental Affinities

[Fire]

Favor

(Disdain) -30 / 100

Threat Level

Absolute

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

Reivan closed his eyes in resignation. With this, the chance of his suspicions being correct had gone up drastically: the Spirit Tower knew about spirit king seeds and was somehow making use of them. How, specifically, was yet to be confirmed. But the mere fact that the Tower had a relatively surefire way to produce Ascendants — even Transcendents — was bad enough for his spine to chill.

In any case, Reivan needed to deliver his findings to Aizen. Immediately, if he could afford it.

Arc#4 Chapter 57: Suspicions

Reivan glared into the distance, trying to see if he'd be fortunate enough to see something — anything — that would shed a bit more light on what the ominous storm clouds were.

Unfortunately, his luck was proving to be quite turbulent today, so he couldn't see shit. Just clouds. Very, very dark clouds. Oh, and giant bolts of lightning accompanied by deafening thunderclaps that assaulted his ears every so often. One thing he was sure of was how loudly his instincts screamed at him to get as far away from that as possible. And he wasn't even the only one to feel this way.

Beside him, Mira had stiffened up in fright at the sight of it, like a deer in headlights. The only movement she allowed was a surprised flinch every time lightning shattered the silence. Civilians nearby, who should have been surprised that a young man and a young woman came out of the sewers that should have been out of use for years, were there as well, wholly ignoring Reivan and Mira as they also opted to stare blankly at the dark horizon.

'Are a bunch of Ascendants fighting something over there...?'

That was his best guess.

Mira scooched closer to him and shook his arm. "Wh-what is that..."

“How should I know…? I think we’ve already proven that I’m kind of useless.”

“No, you’re not. Don’t say that…” she managed, even as she stared apprehensively at the darkened skies. “I think we should head back to our inn. I’d like to go back for senior’s body, but we’re out of our depth. Senior battlemages shouldn’t be dying in a shadowing mission for first years.”

Reivan had no qualms so he agreed, and they both moved. They were thankfully in a part of town that Reivan did recognize, so he pretended to bumble around, leading Mira into the main streets, already bustling with people milling about — or they would have, if they weren’t still staring at the dark clouds. Some even started shrieking their heads off in panic, while some tried to take advantage of the situation by doing some very stupid things.

Like robbing a store. Or trying to kidnap people.

With a stun bolt to the face, Reivan knocked out a man who had tried to force a woman into an alley during the confusion. Mira was still a bit out of it, but a woman almost getting raped snapped her back awake and she quickly went around to calm people down, with Reivan trailing behind her as support and to also watch her back. He was increasingly building a better opinion of her in his mind with how efficiently she acted when it actually mattered. Now, if only she would act that way all the time, she'd be perfect.

Still, even with their volunteered services, there were far too many instances of people erupting into panicked anarchy because of fear. Two battlemages who had barely grown to fill their cloaks simply weren’t enough.

And this situation was further exacerbated when a powerful shockwave spread out from the direction of the sea, shattering windows and blowing people off their feet. Oh, the people most definitely hadn’t liked that. Not one bit. Everyone who was only on the verge of panicking fully committed to the whole “I’m gonna die anyway, so I’m going to do whatever I want” schtick.

The giant pillar of water that was caused by monumental levels of force being exchanged in the depths of the sea wasn’t promising either.

Even then, Reivan felt exasperated at the sheer terror the populace was in. Did they not trust their own soldiers to defend them? Surely, there were battlemages on their way to make sure the city wasn’t leveled to the ground. Maybe they were already there, fighting whatever it was that was causing this.

Hells, maybe the storm was a battlemage’s doing? Who knew?

‘Eh. I can’t blame them.’

Reivan wanted to run away too, for unlike the citizens of Arkhan, he absolutely had no reason to trust this nation’s military when he knew so very little about it. And he absolutely didn’t want to waste Frey’s Blessing to block some random event that triggered when he was doing the equivalent of a fetch quest in the starter town.

Thankfully, just as Reivan thought to pull Mira somewhere safe to wait out the apparently intensifying conflict of whatever was out there, the dark clouds dispersed. Reivan’s intuition stopped blaring warning signals too.

Just like that, the calamity was over.

The damage, however, remained. With any hope, the establishments owned by Ouroboros only had shattered windows to replace. There were fires in other places though, and all around, people fell to their knees in relief.

‘This is what happens when Ascendants fight, huh?’

In a fight between gods, mortals were merely collateral damage.

This was also why Aizen tended to sally out and fight foes on their home turf instead of waiting for the fight to be taken to them. The country didn’t want to bring devastation anywhere near its cities and its people. As a testament, there was a vast wasteland just beyond the Wolf’s Jaw, where nothing lived and nothing grew. It was in this place that battles between Aizen and Argonia were usually waged.

“People of Lageton.” A booming voice that sounded oddly youthful suddenly echoed throughout the city, snaking its way into the ears of every man, woman, and child. “Calm yourselves. I am the Gold Cloak. And I am here to inform you that the threat has already been dealt with. Have no fear. Please return to your normal lives and refrain from perpetrating additional crimes. I am not in the mood to be nice and cannot promise leniency if I catch anyone acting up right now. Thank you. And may the cold winds bring warm tidings to us all.”

With that, the announcement — and the crisis — officially ended.

Reivan heaved a sigh of relief and he heard Mira do the same. She had not an inch of laxness on her face, and was an entirely different person from how she usually was. Dependable. A senior. A captain that her squad could count on. Honestly, Reivan liked her a lot in this state. He reminded him of Helen, Elsa, and Gwen. All of them had a purpose in their eyes. A passion. Or a sharpness that made them even more attractive than they already were.

Too bad Mira’s was too fleeting.

“It's over~!” she linked her fingers and stretched them upwards, arching her back a little. “We didn’t die, Clover. Isn’t that nice? Not dying, I mean. I can’t laze around if I’m dead, after all.”

Reivan lost a significant amount of interest when she started talking like she usually did. “I agree. Anyway, let’s get back to the inn.”

“Yup. Let’s go.” Mira nodded as she flicked her wand, and one of her eyes glowed blue. “Darn, that shockwave really did a number on the city..."

They were both just about to start walking toward where they believed the inn to be, but suddenly, they found their path blocked by a young woman wearing battlemage attire, a worried look on her face. Judging by how she suddenly showed up from out of nowhere, Reivan surmised that the woman must have been a silver cloak, though he couldn’t quite tell because all battlemages wore similar battle robes.

The woman seemed winded, which was strange for an Ascendant, and her trembling eyes were locked on Mira. Seeing her squeal in surprise but still manage to draw her wand and fire a spell at the silver cloak, the mysterious battlemage heaved a sigh of relief as she flicked Mira’s spell away with a wave of her hand.

“Ah!” Mira, realizing she’d just suddenly attacked what was probably an elder, quickly bowed. “I’m so sorry!”

“No, no, it’s fine.” The woman shook her head, a tired smile on her face. “What happened to you two? Why is the senior battlemage you were meant to shadow dead?”

Reivan and Mira shared a glance before he eventually won the very short non-verbal argument on who would explain. With a sigh, Mira stepped forward and began to give an account of what happened, shocking the elder into silence.

It was only after a few moments of silence did she curse. “Damn... Just when we were busy too…”

“Elder?” Mira tilted her head and asked hesitantly. “If you don’t mind me asking, what was that storm…?”

The battlemage massaged the bridge of her nose. “Let’s just say it was a very big shark. Even I got called away to help out. Never mind that, are you alright? You don’t look injured, but is there something wrong with you?”

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine. At most, I’m a little hungry and thirsty, but that’s all.”

“That’s good… And what about your spirit beasts? Are they okay? Nothing happened to them, right?”

“My spirit beasts…?” Mira seemed confused by the sudden concern for her spirit beasts’ well-being but still nodded. “Well, yes. They’re fine…”

“Both of them?”

“Yes, Elder.”

The lady placed a hand on her chest and heaved a genuine sigh of relief. “Very good… I thought the worst.”

Mira’s eyes darted to Reivan for a moment before clearing her throat. “Clover’s doing well too, by the way. Right, Clover? Tell her.”

Reivan adjusted his glasses and nodded.

The female battlemage took one look at Reivan and nodded before seemingly ending that line of conversation. “Your mission is now over. Seeing as this has gotten bigger than it should be for a couple of first years and a second year, this mission is now canceled. We’ll mark it as a success and you’ll still get the rewards. But you are to return to the Tower by next week.”

After saying that, the elder who didn’t really look like an elderly person vanished, leaving Mira and Reivan standing in the middle of the street, suffering under the scrutiny of the surrounding populace.

“Well.” Mira looked at him and he could practically read the exasperation in her eyes. “What can I say? I miss Elder Bernadine already.”

He almost wanted to tell her to shut up since that elder was most definitely still observing them, just from afar. “Seems the Tower places special importance on you.”

“It’s because they can’t afford to lose someone as pretty as me. It’ll be a disaster to mankind!”

Reivan rolled his eyes and ignored her nonsense, sinking into his own thoughts.

Obviously, he hadn’t missed the apparent concern in the Ascendant’s gaze, nor did he miss the disregard for Clover Salwyn’s well-being. For whatever reason, it seemed his squad’s captain had a silver cloak for a guard. And that silver cloak suddenly responded to the threat that eventually caused the ominous storm clouds far out at sea, leaving Mira undefended.

It seems even the attackers that killed senior Crag were an unexpected factor for the lofty Ascendants sent by the Tower.

‘Incompetence.’

A hunter that chases two rabbits can’t catch either one. In this case, an Ascendant had the choice of responding to a threat and protecting Mira. If it was a knight, they would have just secured Mira’s safety first before helping out — depending on Mira’s value as a target for protection.

Because the idiot battlemage chose to abandon her original duty, she almost ended up losing Mira.

‘What exactly is she to the Tower though…?’

Reivan and Mira continued making their way through the city, with the latter chattering on and on as Reivan contemplated her significance. He had just seen her abilities, and acknowledged that she was most definitely an incredibly talented sorceress. But while that would warrant a guard and some special attention, the earlier battlemage’s concern felt… more than just someone looking after a recruit with great potential.

‘Ah. She asked about her spirit beasts.’

That had struck him as strange.

Unlike Reivan, Mira already had a permanent bond with her spirit beasts. And that meant that they couldn’t just be separated by crushing a very durable orb.

At the moment, there were no known ways of slaying or permanently harming a contracted spirit beast. There was some kind of self-destruction function, but even that wasn’t permanent. It would take the spirit beast a very long time to come back, but it wasn’t that concerning in the grand scheme of things.

The only way, of course, was to kill the human they were contracted with.

‘Wait…’

Reivan frowned in thought, tuning out Mira’s idle chatter about how that place looked nice or how that Aizenian tourist was really tall. Somehow, it felt like the silver cloak had been fixated on the spirit beasts themselves, rather than Mira herself. The woman had simply cared about Mira because her well-being needed to be secured if the spirit beasts were to be safe.

‘Right. Now that I think about it, I’ve never seen her other spirit beast.’

He had seen Boop, who was simply the evangelized version of Dippy. But Mira had another spirit beast. Some kind of fox that apparently had a fixation on fighting strong opponents.

‘...Wait a minute. Strong opponents?’

Reivan’s steps halted and Mira just kept walking on without him, unaware that he suddenly stopped. There were goosebumps all over his arms as a possibility was slowly, but surely, coming together in his head.

A strong fixation on fighting strong opponents. That was a quality that was shared by someone he knew.

Dominance. Otherwise known as Dom, the lupine companion he met in the Sanctuary.

And the wolf’s fixation, Reivan assumed, was somewhat related to an ability called [Spirit King Seed] that would automatically raise the wolf to the next realm if he devoured other spirit beasts with the same ability.

‘If her other spirit beast has it too…’

Then that had some implications on why the Tower was so protective of Mira — or rather, Mira’s spirit beast. That would mean they knew about the ability, which would make sense for an organization that worked so closely with spirit beasts in general.

As for why they were so protective of her spirit beast.

‘They’re… Are they farming seeds? And artificially letting one eat the others to raise them to the next realm…’

The thought made Reivan shiver. It was slightly fine if they gathered a few mortal seeds and made an Ascendant. But what if they made another Transcendent? The balance of power in the continent would tip. Arkhan would go from the weakest of the big three superpowers in Sentorale to the unconditional strongest.

‘Good thing that hasn’t happened yet.’

But it could. And this was the type of information he had to relay to his people.

Reivan didn’t know how close they were to another Transcendent, but it was better to prepare or take preemptive action before that happened. He felt the need to just rush out and go home, which would be a lot easier since he was in Lageton, the Arkhanian city closest to Aizen.

But just as he did, he calmed himself.

‘Right. It’s just a hypothesis.’

Honestly, the information felt a little too… convenient. And that made him a bit skeptical. Which was good, actually, since he couldn’t just jump to conclusions. He wasn’t sure of anything yet, simply drawing insight from what he knew and his own impressions of the silver cloak from earlier.

For now, he would shelve the possibility until he found further proof.

“Clover? Hey!”

Reivan was suddenly jolted out of his thoughts by Mira’s very cold, very soft — and for some reason, very fragrant — hands on his cheeks, smushing his face together.

“Let go of me,” he said with a frown.

“You can’t just space out in the middle of the street, vice-captain.” Mira gave his cheeks a pinch before letting go. “You’re blocking the way!”

Reivan looked around and he was, indeed, blocking the street. “Right. Sorry.”

"All is forgiven." She nodded slowly and with great magnanimity. "Now, c’mon. Let’s go. I wanna eat~!”

As he fell into step behind her, he observed her with a hint of skepticism before finally deciding on a course of action. “Hey.”

Mira raised a brow and glanced at him, her steps not slowing. “What?”

“Do you have any plans today?”

Mira stopped. She turned around and looked at him skeptically. “Why do you ask?”

Reivan also stopped, contemplating whether to remind her of what he’d just told him earlier about blocking streets and whatnot. “Nothing. Wanna get something to eat?”

Her eyes widened for a brief moment before she raised both hands to her chest. "You shouldn’t be trying to hook up with your captain, y’know?”

“...What?”

“I said that it’s not okay. Y'know, from a professional standpoint...”

Reivan frowned until he realized that the way he said things may have left enormous room for misunderstandings. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. You said you’re hungry, right? We’re done with the mission, so why don’t we get a bite to eat? Restaurants are empty since the window thing. I bet we could eat anywhere without having to line up.”

“...And?” Mira’s eyes narrowed, still suspicious of his intentions. “That’s still a date. You’re asking me out on a date. That’s not cool, Clover. Trying to seduce your captain? Is Alini not enough for you?”

‘What the fuck does Alini have to do with this…?’

Reivan massaged the bridge of his nose and pushed up the glasses he’d displaced by doing so. “Seems I need to be even clearer. Okay. I have some questions about spirit beasts. I wanted to ask you about them while you’re not whining about being hungry and how your feet hurt. Hence, going to a restaurant. To eat and sit down — the most well-known remedies for the problems you’re whining about.”

Mira pursed her lips and even her ears burned a bit red. "Wh-why didn’t you say that from the start? You almost gave me a fright… I thought I was gonna have to break another young man's heart.”

“I’m older than you though… Whatever. So?”

“I agree with this plan of yours. Food and sitting sound good to me. Lead the way, minion.”

“Vice-captain or minion, can you just pick one and stick with it?” Reivan rolled his eyes and looked around for anywhere good, quickly finding an establishment with a drawing of a knife and fork framing a crab. “You up for some crab?”

“I’ve never had it.”

“I’m not hearing a no.”

“That’s because it’s a yes!” Mira laughed. “I’m curious. I didn’t get to eat much seafood up north. We’re kind of landlocked up there. Preserved and frozen stuff makes it, but my parents are kind of picky with that stuff so they only want the freshest stuff on the table.”

Reivan snorted and gestured at the shop he saw. “Shall we?”

“You paying, vice-minion?”

“No. Also, what the hell is a vice-minion...? That sounds lower than a minion.” Reivan grimaced but remembered that he was supposed to be asking a favor. “Actually, fine. My treat.”

Mira raised a brow at him. “Hey. I was just kidding. There’s no way I could get a junior to pay for me. My senior will never let me hear the end of it if they heard. They'd think I'm bullying my juniors!”

“I’m asking a favor though.”

“It’s my duty to answer questions. That’s how it worked when I was a first-year too. I asked lots of questions. I drove my captain insane. She was nice though, so she answered anyway.”

Reivan hesitated but nodded in the end. He didn’t have much in the way of funds, to be honest. “Alright.”

Mira snickered. “I knew you’d agree.”

“...What’s that supposed to mean? Huh?”

“Oh, you know.” She giggled impishly as she ran over to the store and headed inside without waiting for him, leaving Reivan walking to it on his own.

Come hell or high water, he would confirm his suspicions by the end of the day.

Even if he had to sacrifice his disguise prematurely.

Knightly Interlude: The Everpresent

There were many small islands dotting the fringes of mainland Aizen.

Some actually had the privilege of being included in simple maps shown to children when they were taught about the kingdom's basic geography. Most didn't, of course. But normally speaking, ordinary citizens weren't allowed to go to them — not that they had any reason to. The islands were uninhabited and undeveloped. There was quite literally nothing there.

Of course, for some, having nothing there provided a certain appeal in and of itself.

"Weee! Look at this, I found a crab!"

"These trees look weird!"

"No, they're not! Coconuts are brown. Look at those, they're green!"

"They are coconuts, dummy. Go ask grandpa!"

Under the shade of tall coconut trees, an elderly man and an elderly woman sat on a laid-out blanket. An expanse of white sand and water lay before them, where dozens of children were running around everywhere. For anyone watching, it seemed to be nothing but a warm scene of an old couple watching over their many, many grandchildren.

But it wasn't.

"Ancestor," the elderly woman frowned and looked at the old man right next to her. "You should really start fixing how the kids address you."

The old man chuckled, rolling his wrist as if it wasn't a big deal. "I like being called grandpa. It makes me feel young again."

"But it's wrong. You're turning 800 soon, aren't you?"

"Yes, but I am technically their grandfather, no? There's simply a number of greats attached to it. You used to call me grandpa when you were a kid too, Eleanor."

Eleanor sighed and shook her head, her wrinkles deepening. "It's like talking to a brick. Honestly, maybe a brick's better. At least it wouldn't talk back."

"Talking back to each other is the essence of conversation, my dear." The man leaned against a coconut tree's trunk and closed his eyes, taking in the sea breeze. "This place is nice, no? Your brother used to love it when I took them here."

"Yes, and that's why he drowned in a fishing trip gone wrong." Eleanor dryly commented. It had been such a long time ago that she felt fine joking about it now. Or perhaps that was because she felt her own death nearing? She didn't know. But all the same, she felt thankful that their ancestor brought them here. "Thank you, grandfather."

"What?" The old man leaned over with a frown, cupping his ear. "I didn't quite catch that. Say that again."

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "Don't try that on me. I know you'd hear me even if I was at Lightharbor."

"That's a bit too far, my dear. We're in the far southwest. Even the Sword Star can't hear that far."

"In any case, thank you for taking me and the kids all the way out here, Ancestor." Eleanor intoned, placing specific emphasis on the last word and earning a chuckle from the old man. "What brought this on? You suddenly felt like crossing the country and sightseeing on an island we're probably not allowed to be on?"

"It's fine~ It's fine~" her ancestor smiled widely and held her hand, gripping it tightly. "I simply wanted you to get out as much as you can before you can't anymore."

Eleanor's brows rose for a beat, but then she sighed. "Of course, you would find out."

"Well, I have this power where I can hear very far, see."

The two of them enjoyed a moment of silence before the old man spoke again, though, with a much more feeble and serious tone this time. "What is it? The cause, I mean."

"Nothing. I'm as healthy as I can be at this age, ancestor." Eleanor smiled. "It's just, well, when you normally get this old, some of the stuff inside apparently starts not working. I don't really understand what the priests say sometimes."

"Organ failure. Happened to your grandfather and your uncle." The old man nodded in understanding, his grip on her hand growing warmer. "I heard they can do something about it. The church, I mean. If it's money, you know you can always ask me. I have more than I know what to do with."

"Ancestor, how do you think I lived to a hundred and forty as a baker?" She chuckled. "My sons have already been pitching in, not that it's all that expensive. Could've paid for it myself, actually, but they wouldn't shut up so I let them. Because of that, I've been undergoing the ceremony at the church. Every year, I go back. Must've been doing it for twenty years? I can't remember."

"I see... And it stopped working?"

Eleanor nodded, her face serene. "That's how it apparently is. A person can only undergo the treatment so many times until it stops working. It’ll be some time before I see any effects. But for me, the legs are apparently the first that’ll go. Then the eyes. Then everything else, all at once."

A long silence followed her words, but it only lasted between them. The joyous squeals and excited yowling of the children pleasantly echoed outward into the see, lulling them into a sense of peace.

"Ancestor?"

"Yes, Ellie?"

Eleanor smiled sweetly at the affectionate name. How long since she last heard it? She could no longer remember. Without her notice, her hands tightened around the old man's, and the ancestor did not miss the way she trembled.

"Were they scared? Father, Mother, and the ones before them... Were they scared? When their time came."

The old man held her hand with both of his and nodded. "Yes. They were. They all were."

"I see..." Eleanor looked into her ancestor's wizened eyes. "Then I'm not the strange one, hm?"

She couldn't fathom living for as long as he, seeing all the things he saw. Perhaps her own fate was not as bad as she thought, then.

With a peaceful expression, she returned her attention back to what really mattered. To what would be left behind. "Thank you for bringing the kids too, grandpa."

The old man smiled and let go of her, yet he remained close. Like a guardian. Or a guide. "It's nothing. It's the least I can do."

"You say that, but we really shouldn't be here."

"Oh, it's fine. There's nothing classified here." The old man casually gestured at the surroundings. "They just don't want people to come here by boat. They're rare, but some fishies in these parts are very dangerous."

"...I assume you've taken care of anything dangerous by now. Some of the kids are already in the water."

"Of course, I have. You worry too much."

Eleanor sighed, though truly, she hadn't been that worried. She didn't know how strong of a knight their Ancestor was, since he always kept an insurmountable line between work and private life, but the fact that they could flout laws so blatantly was very telling. "Ancestor, when are you returning to service? My sons and grandkids don't even know you're a knight. They just think you're an old man with too much time on his hands."

"Is that really what they think about me!?"

"Well, no. Some think you're a secret agent or whatever it's called. They read it in a book somewhere."

"No, that’s Valter and Lamorak, not me…" The old man sighed wearily. “But I suppose it’s better than thinking I’m some unemployed old coot.”

Eleanor giggled in amusement. “Well, why not just tell them?”

“Why should I? I had two hundred years' worth of days off to spend. The information was irrelevant.”

For some knights, especially those that had to work out of the nation itself or just generally far away from any cities, you would have to work a month or even a year consecutively. However, you would get a very long period of time to do whatever you pleased after.

The old man hadn’t cashed any of his in for centuries. As such, he had inevitably piled up quite a lot. And one day, he had simply realized that Aizen was doing well enough on its own that he could probably afford to take a very long break and spend it with the reason he fought so hard in the first place — his family.

Well, his original family was all dead now. But he had descendants. And they were all adorable.

They would also be dead by the time he consumed all the days off he had leftover. Proud as he was to be a knight, he didn’t want any of his family to have anything to do with the business.

He wanted them to live ordinary lives. With ordinary happiness.

The best way to do that was to never let them know they had a knight in the family at all. It had worked for the past few centuries. And he had no reason to think it would stop at this point.

“By the way…” The old man stroked his chin, which was utterly hairless because kids never liked his stubble. “I heard you bought a house in one of those… undercities, or whatever they’re called. How is that going?”

“Oh, it’s lovely. You should come see it sometimes.”

“I imagine living underground isn’t very healthy.”

“On the contrary, I actually feel better there than in my old house.” Eleanor took out a napkin to wipe a bead of sweat on her forehead. “Maybe it’s because there are priests everywhere? They have these things called sun baths and it’s amazing.”

The old man hummed in thought as he lazily waved a hand, adjusting the nearby trees to let more of the sea breeze catch them. “Tell me more.”

“I’ve handed over the bakery to my daughter so I’ve taken up gardening to pass the time. And this family from Arkhan moved into this big house across the street.”

“Arkhan? The republic?”

Eleanor nodded. “Nice family. Can’t speak a lick of English though. And I don’t know Arkhanian either.”

The old man rolled his eyes. “How can you tell they’re nice when you can’t understand each other?”

“Well, in the mornings, I sit on my porch and watch people pass by.”

“Ah, the age-old hobby of people-watching. You’re as much of a gossip as your mother. The neighbors must tread carefully around you.”

“Oh, shush. I’m telling a story.” Eleanor slapped her ancestor’s thigh, shutting the old man up. “Now, where was I… Ah, so there’s five of them, see? Two old women, an old man, and a young couple.”

“Not an entirely weird combination. The young couple probably got married and took their parents in. Bless them for not leaving their folks somewhere. One’s missing though, so one of the fathers must have died at some point.”

Arkhan didn’t practice conscription during warfare, leaving the grunt work to golems. Golem didn’t need to be fed and they were also much more accurate with guns than humans. They were perfect cannon fodder when fighting the empire.

On the other hand, knights could practically ignore them with their armor. Battlemages were the only threat when conflict with the republic ensued.

‘Not that I would know. I’ve never been deployed there.’

The old man was much more intimate with how the empire fought than the republic. Though, maybe that’s because there weren’t a lot of conflicts between the two. On the few times that there had been fighting, he hadn’t needed to step in.

“That might be it, yes.” Eleanor bobbed her head in agreement. “But get this, ancestor. I think they’re someone important.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because I saw a knight visiting them.”

The old man cocked an eyebrow. “A knight…? Did you know them? Or were they in full regalia or something?”

“No, but…” Eleanor paused to think about it, before seemingly finding an answer. “It’s the way they walk. It’s different than other people.”

“The way they walk…?” Ancestor chuckled. “So even a baker can tell knights apart from civilians from their gait. Truly, the world is ending.”

“A baker that’s spent her whole life with a knight, yes.”

“...Hm. Alright, I’ll give you that.”

Just as the old man began to come up with a witty reply, he suddenly stood up. And in that moment, at that very second, all signs of frailness or age vanished.

“I’m sending you all back.”

“What are you—” Eleanor began, but before she even finished her words, she and all the children were gone.

A coat of steel plate coated the man as he looked into the distance, where a storm was starting to form. Naturally, he didn’t give a crap about storms. But this one wasn’t a natural one.

And it was moving.

The old knight took a step forward, pinching the very fabric of space to temporarily close the distance between where he was and where he wanted to go. And just before his foot touched the sand, he was somewhere else.

He was in the middle of a vast expanse of water just within the territory of the kingdom, his feet floating freely a few meters above it. With but a thought, he flew up to get a better view.

And soon, he wasn’t the only person there.

“Good day, Sir…?”

The old man didn’t even need to look behind him to know that there were ten other Ascendants floating behind him, all geared up in the exact same armor he was wearing—though with quite a bit less decorations.

That said, they didn’t need to look at each other at all. Because their perception was already crashing into one another, and it was that familiar trace of a soul armament that immediately told them they were sensing an ally.

“Who is the overseer for this quadrant for this quarter?” the old man asked no one in particular.

“It is I, senior.” One of the knights flew to his side and spoke up. “Should I defer command to you?”

“No, keep it. I’m off-duty. Have you sent for word?”

“Yes, I have. Sir...”

The old man hesitated to give his name, but if things went awry, combat may be joined. And he would have to fight with these men. And women, he realized, as there were two women among the ten behind him.

‘Well, may as well. Wouldn’t want them to insist on staying with me when I order them to leave me behind.’

If they knew who he was, they would be less inclined to think he was angling for some heroic last stand. When really, he wasn’t.

“You may know me as… the Everpresent.”

There was a stir. There always was, whenever he revealed who he was. It was unpleasant, if he was being honest. He couldn’t fathom why people lauded him so much. Why they gave him so much more respect than he deserved.

The old man was just a man with a family. A man who liked his hometown. A man who liked his country, and all its bad traits, few as they were.

He was just a knight.

And that was all he needed to be.

“Can you all sense it?” The Everpresent gestured at the ever-expanding dark clouds, and the increasingly violent waves.

All the knights made various noises of agreement.

“Must be eighty… no, ninety? A hundred? It’s increasing.”

“Half of those are spirit beasts.”

“You never know, some of ‘em might have two pets.”

“D’you think Arkhan’s finally gone mad? Why would they attack us from the sea? Everything on the shores are fortified.”

“Everything’s fortified, Jerry. Not just the shores. They’d have a harder time going through the mountains since it borders the empire. Shores are the only choice, if they suddenly want to assault us.”

“Hey, Brian. You really have to fix the way you talk like everyone other than you is an idiot.”

“I don’t think everyone other than me is an idiot. I just think you’re an idiot.”

“The fuck…!?”

The Everpresent listened to his younger colleagues’ words and nodded. It seemed they still had the composure to banter. A good thing. He used to be a mouthy bastard too, back in the day. That had to stop when he almost got punched in the mouth for it, but these boys and girls hadn’t learned that lesson yet.

They would. And the Everpresent wouldn’t ruin the surprise.

Brian, who was the knight overseer of this area cleared his throat and turned toward the Everpresent. “Senior, may we count on your aid should blows be struck?”

“Of course.”

“And if they cross the border…”

“Then we kill everyone who crosses.” the Everpresent answered immediately and without hesitation. “There is no tolerance policy for suddenly bringing a horde of Ascendants across the border.”

One or two. Maybe even three or four. If it was just that, then at most, there’d be an argument before the intruders were told to fuck off or go through official channels to cross the border.

Such a large amount of Ascendants was intolerable, however. That could not be anything but an act of war. It was like bringing bombs to a neighbor’s birthday party.

And if they let them do it once without retaliation, the enemy would know that they could do it again.

‘Don’t you fucking dare step foot in my home.’

The Everpresent fists clenched and he could feel it — the rage and passion that he had set aside whenever he took off the armor.

“There’s something there.” one of the knights murmured as he gestured at the waters below.

“He’s a water elementalist, senior." Brian explained to the Everpresent, who didn’t know any of the others. "A pretty damned good one too. The only guy we could spare since most of the good ones are in that place.”

The Everpresent nodded, understanding that he was talking about the underwater citadel that the previous king cooked up, not the accursed lands that could only be accessed through a portal in the heart of Aizen.

“Where is it?” The old knight asked.

“My apologies. It’s not hiding well enough for it to completely slip past me, but it’s skilled enough that I can’t pinpoint it. It'll probably beat me if I go in there along too.”

“But do you know a general area, young man?”

The water elemental knight gestured at an area below them. “About eight kilometers below surface level. It’s going deeper and will cross the sea border soon.”

“Then it is a trespasser.” The Everpresent spat. “It doesn’t matter if it’s a battlemage or some monster.”

Brian made a noise of agreement. “We’ll kill it. Whatever it is. What say you, senior?”

The Everpresent agreed with the decision, turning toward the water elementalist. “Kindly tell me when it crosses. I will stop it. Please help me kill it if it resists.”

“Yes, senior.”

A few seconds of silence passed as they waited. And as they did, the number of battlemages they could sense over the horizon grew.

“By Sormon’s Light, did they bring all their silver cloaks here?” Brian muttered, the shock in his voice loud and clear.

Fear, on the other hand, was not. It was there, undoubtedly, but the knight must have pushed it down for now.

‘Good lad.’

As an old hand, it was always good to see that good seeds continued to be sown in the lands of his people.

“Senior—”

The Everpresent did not wait for the knight to finish their words, immediately punching out with his right.

And as if in response, a massive portion of the sea simply vanished.

Right in the middle was a gigantic tunnel to the seafloor, the water that used to occupy it gone without a trace. Fish, monsters, and everything else were left behind, trying to swim in the air but failing. It was as if reality was a drawing and someone had an eraser that could only erase the blue parts.

And the Everpresent simply erased all the water between his spot and the bottom of the sea.

A second later, gravity took hold and all the fish and monsters started to plummet toward the bottom of the abyss. The walls around the tunnel began to collapse as the sea tried to refill what was lost.

‘There you are.’

No matter how good a water elementalist was at concealing their presence in the water, they would be unable to do so if there was no water to hide in. And the veteran knight understood that.

The Everpresent held out a claw and grabbed something far away, pinching the fabric of space between his arm and his target, delivering them straight into his grasp. A blink of an eye was all it took for what appeared to be a young girl to appear, her neck firmly held in his fingers.

“Good lord…” Brian muttered from the side, sending a glance at the swirling vortex below. “So that’s why they call you a god, senior.”

“A god…? Me?” The Everpresent snorted, restricting the mysterious girl’s body by taking away the space right outside of her skin, making her as still as a statue. She was an Ascendant, he knew, so she didn’t need the air. Beings made of energy like them did not need such mundane things. “You haven’t been paying attention to the Sword Star, hm?”

All the knights chuckled. Every Ascendant Knight would have already become familiar with the Sword Star, after all. Compared to that man, truly, nobody in Aizen could hold their head high.

“Name, girl?” The Everpresent turned toward their prisoner. “So we can put a name on the grave we won’t be using. Because there won’t be a body.”

Despite the intruder’s young appearance, the Everpresent remained cold and ruthless. He knew that appearances could be deceiving. Mordred, that insidious little shit, had stolen a few sparring wins from him by taking advantage of the fact that his bloodline recently welcomed a baby girl.

He would not make that mistake again.

Male or female, young or old, pretty or ugly. All were equal under his wrath.

“...!” the girl spoke, but in a language he could not recognize. Still, his threat seemed to have been received since she didn’t try to resist.

“Ah, she’s speaking Isarian. It’s one of the languages in Pentagoria.” A knight at the back suddenly spoke up, earning the gaze of the others. She shrunk back from their attention. “What? I took language studies before I became a knight…”

The Everpresent nodded, incredibly satisfied that his nation had knights capable of speaking multiple languages just lying around randomly. “May I know what she said?”

“She asked for help, senior.”

“Help…?”

“They’re coming,” Brian reminded them, though nobody needed it. Everyone was ready for the swarm of battlemages flying toward them. “The moment they cross, we strike. No questions asked. No warnings.”

The others all grunted in understanding and the Everpresent was the same. It was a bit difficult, but he sent the prisoner all the way to Grimharbor Penitentiary.

And just as he did, the storm clouds on the horizon vanished.

‘This is all very confusing…’

Regardless, he was still a knight. And a knight had to be the shield that guarded the realm, as well as the sword that slayed its enemies. That was his role. That was his duty. That was his privilege.

And that was what he would do.

It did not take long for the host of Arkhanian battlemages to get within sight range. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like they were here to declare war or to trespass. All of their spirit beasts were either gone or unfused with their masters. Additionally, they had all stopped a respectable distance from the actual border, giving the knights plenty of space to see just how many battlemages there were.

‘Six hundred…’

He was quite sure that wasn’t all the Ascendants the Tower possessed. But that wasn’t a number that was mobilized casually. Aizen would only do that if the king was stepping foot in the Outlands or something of similar import.

In any case, the odds of eleven knights dealing with six hundred battlemages didn’t even need to be discussed. Even if the Everpresent was… well, present, then it would hardly matter. Maybe he could take on a hundred by himself. But that still left five hundred against ten. A depressing ratio of 50:1 wasn’t possible even for knights, who were used to fighting multiple enemies at once.

‘Escape, then.’

The Everpresent immediately decided to escape if the situation escalated. If there was a chance for victory, he would have fought to the last man. He would have danced like the madman that he was and taken as many of his enemies with him to hell.

But as it stood, he and the other younglings would be smothered without trouble.

Losing his life here would serve no purpose or meaning. And it would not benefit his nation in any way.

‘I should be able to take these kids with me. There’s only ten.’

They would fall back and wait for reinforcements before striking out. He had coincidentally met Sir Bedivere and Sir Gareth at Lightharbor earlier, so he had two more of the Twelve Helms coming as reinforcements. Three, because Sir Bors lived in Fort Magellan.

That would mean in a few more minutes, four of the Twelve Helms would muster. And a crap ton of other knights too.

‘Agh, I hate that name…’

He wished it had never caught on. Now all his fellow knight colleagues looked at him like he was special, when he wasn’t.

“Greetings.”

Though far away, everybody present could easily hear everybody else from such a distance. One in particular walked forward from the massive swarm of mages.

And most notably, he was wearing gold-rimmed robes instead of those coats that battlemages usually wore into battle. An almost criminally young face peaked out of a dark purple hood, and all sorts of glowing runes were orbiting around him.

‘The Gold Cloak is here…? And it's a different one than the one Gawain almost killed… ’

The Everpresent felt his spine run cold, quickly shoving his apprehension aside. Certainly, the Gold Cloak was a formidable figure, but he was a figure that could bleed. And if he could kill it, then he would. Because there was nothing he could not reach.

Brian the young knight overseer looked toward him for guidance, like some lost child. It was an action that would have warranted censure if not for the sheer absurdity of the current situation — the most powerful battlemage under the Sage King was here with a small army of Ascendants.

This was most definitely not something on his level to handle.

The Everpresent sighed. “Defer command to me.”

“Yes, senior.” Brian eagerly nodded, his relief could almost be felt from beneath his helm. “I defer command.”

“Right. I’ll talk with our guest.”

The Everpresent held back another sigh as he flew forward a little, signaling that he was representing Aizen in this… whatever it was. It did not seem to be an invasion, at least. He did not know what to make of it.

‘Probably has something to do with the girl I just chucked into prison.’

“Greetings, friend from Aizen.” The Gold Cloak spoke in fluent English, his voice even and beautiful. “I am the Gold Cloak. And you are…?”

The Everpresent licked his teeth in thought before eventually answering. “I am Lancelot.”

The young-looking mage’s brows rose. “The Everpresent? In the flesh? Goodness, what an honor. I was raised on stories of what you did in Argonia. I didn’t think it was possible to just erase a city.”

‘Son of a… Even foreigners know it?’

This was just one of the reasons why he didn’t like all the titles. There were at least a dozen people named Lancelot in the order. If his title didn’t exist, enemies would have confused him for some of the others from time to time, splitting the accomplishments and the attention.

“Enough.” Lancelot snapped. “Why are you here? And with such a large retinue.”

“Yes, well, about that…” The Gold Cloak chuckled sheepishly. “We were initially confining our activities in our own territory, see? But the wench we were chasing ran off to your side of the border.”

“We’ve met.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. I saw the giant hole in the sea.” The Gold Cloak gestured below, where the body of water and the border between their two nations was drawn with invisible ink. “And you caught the wench. Thank you for taking the trouble, I’ll be sure to send a very finely worded letter of thanks in response to your kind and generous aid to our humble nation.”

Lancelot crossed his arms and snorted. “She has illegally trespassed. Hence, she is a criminal and will be judged by our laws.”

“And what does your nation do with illegal trespassers again…?”

“They die.”

“That would certainly be a problem for us.” The Gold Cloak was still smiling but Lancelot could practically feel the air tense with a power he wasn’t familiar with. “She is still a beloved child of the republic, after all.”

“Lies. She spoke Isarian. Not Arkhanian.”

“Ah, that is because she has an affliction where even though she means to speak Arkhanian, it comes out as Isarian. It’s a truly unfortunate condition, it truly is. Turns people all funny in the head. Contagious too, which was why we wanted to catch her before she spread it, see? Aren’t we nice? Could you please just hand her over so you don’t catch her stupid too?”

“Cut the bullshit and fuck off.” Lancelot rumbled, his voice deep and powerful. “She broke our laws. She will be punished by our laws.”

“How troublesome…” The Gold Cloak’s smile finally fell away as he furiously swept back his blonde hair, throwing back his hood in the process. But that only lasted for a moment, as he took a deep breath and smiled again. “Look, I know you’re a big strong knight. We all know that. I’m old too, despite my appearance. I heard the stuff you did. But see, I’m a scary bastard too. The difference is that nobody was ever left behind to tell stories about me. Understand?”

“I feel threatened.” Lancelot tilted his head, acting confused. “Am I being threatened?”

“Of course not. See? I’m smiling, aren’t I? It means I’m nice.”

“I see. Nice foreigners shouldn’t be bringing armies with them and being a nuisance at the border.”

“I suppose so.” The Gold cloak silently scanned Lancelot and the other ten knights in the back and chuckled. “Why is it that logically, I know my side will win if it comes to blows. But I still can’t pull the trigger because there’s always that one chance that someone like you will pop up from one of the ten younglings over there? Fucking knights, I swear…”

Lancelot uncrossed his arms in preparation. Declarations like that were usually followed by the start of hostilities.

Fortunately, that did not seem to be the case today.

“Fine. We compromise.” The Gold Cloak clapped his hands together and his smile was replaced with a placid expression. “You Aizenians like your death penalties, but sometimes, the trials are delayed, yes?”

Lancelot frowned. “Sometimes.”

“Yes, well, that’s what we want right now. We’re not asking for the prisoner back. We just want to negotiate. And to do that, we need her alive. You can chop a few limbs off, I don’t give a rat’s ass. But we need her alive. Kindly deliver that message to your king. We will submit a formal request for extradition through the people’s government. Alright? That’s not against your knightly code of valor, yes? This will benefit Aizen more than another dead corpse in that hellish tower of yours.”

‘They really want her back…’

Internally, Lancelot was relieved that things turned out peacefully. But on the other hand, the other side’s zeal was truly… unsettling. His instincts told him to kill the girl right now, but the Gold Cloak was right.

He was just a knight.

A powerful one, yes. But just a knight.

His job wasn’t to decide things on a national scale. As an Ascendant, he was a strategic resource. A giant exploding sword that can take out cities in a blink. Or a very good shield that can protect a city instead.

Thinking and decision-making were a king’s job. They were absolutely, without a doubt, much better at it than he was. The royal family had proven that for centuries and he believed in them.

“Very well.” Lancelot nodded. “I will inform the king.”

“Thank you, sir.” The Gold Cloak seemed genuinely relieved. “And just in time too. Your friends are here.”

Behind Lancelot, a hundred Ascendants were steadily growing closer. Three of them were particularly familiar.

‘We can take them now.’

A hundred and eleven knights against six hundred battlemages. Those were favorable odds, as far as Lancelot was concerned.

It seemed even the Gold Cloak knew that too, for he spoke fast and turned around. “We’re leaving, everyone. Say goodbye to the friends we made along the way~!”

And with that, the entire army turned around and made to leave. For an instant, Lancelot hesitated. If he led a charge here, the others would follow without a word.

But again, he was reminded that he was a knight. His job wasn’t to start wars.

It was to end them.

A few moments later, the reinforcements from Fort Magellan arrived and he was reunited with a few of his old colleagues, bathed in the admiring gazes of his fellow knights.

It left him uncomfortable. Their expectations. Their admiration.

No matter what they said about him, Lancelot knew that he wasn’t special.

In fact, he was the representative of the ordinary folk.

No elemental affinities. No heavenly gifts. No special bloodline.

He had just been a baker’s son, who wanted to be a knight because he admired the one that always bought bread at their store. There were many difficulties, and he almost didn’t make the cut because he unlocked his qi just before turning thirty. Ascendance came late for him too, judging by his old appearance.

Lancelot the Everpresent was nobody special, despite all the medals and laurels they attached to his name.

Any one of these knights could become like him. Any one of them could become better than he was.

Hell, he wasn’t even the first one to prove it was possible.

Lancelot was just a cheap copy of the Sword Star, who also had no elemental affinities, no heavenly gifts, and no special bloodlines. Rolf was all the proof Lancelot ever needed to know that his hard work would bear fruit. That he wasn’t simply running into the edge of a cliff.

He was nobody special.

He was, in his mind, the second example of what a knight could become if they climbed high enough. His existence was proof that it could be done. That the Sword Star wasn't a unique case. And he was convinced that any knight could achieve what he achieved.

A knight.

Lancelot was simply a knight, taken to the extremes.

And that was all he ever needed to be.

════════════════════════════════

[Author's Note]

Believe it or not, today's delay isn't because I overslept. I was actually right on time. But as I gave this chapter a last read-through, I was suddenly inspired with something to add.

Particularly, the conversation with his old and dying descendant. That wasn't supposed to be that long. Or emotional(?). She was just supposed to softly mention the Arkhanians that moved in across the street and then Lancelot would see the storm clouds on the horizon.

I just thought to put a bit more depth into Lancelot. Hehe.

I also cut out a few parts of what came later because of the new addition. Hence, it took a while. I have work tomorrow (or rather, later, because it's 5 am now) but I just had to do it. Lol

Leave your thoughts!

Arc#4 Chapter 56: Into the Sewers

Reivan had a lot of expectations about how the day would end but he definitely didn't expect how it started. Watching a senior battlemage get shot in the forehead with a special bullet designed to take out mages was definitely not anywhere on his list of possibilities. But here it was, happening anyway.

"Clover!"

Just as he was about to summon his shield, Reivan heard Mira call his name. And when he looked over to her, a flash of light was followed by a pulse of force that launched him flying backward. His body broke through a wooden door and he was sent sprawling into the dusty interior of whatever building he'd ended up in.

He immediately understood who did that and why, so after forcing himself through the dizziness, he crouched near the doorway and took a peek outside. It seemed Mira had also taken cover inside a building — except she'd created her own entrance by somehow melting a hole through the concrete. That was new. He wished they had time to do that for him since cannonballing through a door wasn't one of his preferred ways of entering any structure. Beggars couldn't be choosers, however.

"Sorry if you were surprised!" she called back from the other side of the alley. "It was kind of a sudden situation, y'know?"

Reivan nodded to show he understood and kept his ears peeled for anything that might help. "What do we do now?"

Mira's eyes suddenly glowed with light for but a moment before she answered. "There's a guy with what I think is Sorciron Cloak. Y'know, that thing that blocks off sorcery below a certain level? Spellbane bullets too, by the look of how Senior Crag got shot so easily."

"...That's not good for us, huh?" Reivan momentarily paused, surprised she got all that information in just a few seconds. "You think help is coming? Someone's scrying us, right?"

"Definitely," Mira answered soberly, looking like the opposite of her usual slovenly self. Her eyes resumed glowing with the magical light of scrying as she recounted what she could see. "I don't think offense is a choice here, Clover. We don't have any firepower that can go through those cloaks. There's also more coming. Same equipment, by the look of things."

"We escape, then."

"Yep. It's the only thing we can do! We literally have no way to stop them!"

"They can probably hear us talking right now."

"Uh-huh. Doesn't really change the hopelessness of our situation. Guess we gotta hold out and hope for the best!" Mira shouted theatrically, a mischievous grin on her lovely face despite their dire circumstances. She then placed a finger on her lips, gesturing for him to be quiet.

After he gave her a confused nod, she suddenly bolted out of her building. She clutched her long skirt and hiked it up to run easier, dashing toward him as fast as she could. Just as she barely got inside, a bullet streaked through the air where she once was, barely missing her.

"I made it!" Mira whispered a cheer, wiping some sweat off her forehead. Strands of hair clung to her skin as beads of cold sweat ran down her cheek. "A little too close for comfort though. My heart's going dumdumdumdum."

"That was way too reckless. You could've gotten shot."

"Eh. We're on the back foot here, so we had to take risks. Playing safe is for people who have the advantage! That's what my dad says about this card game called—"

Reivan pressed a hand to her mouth and listened carefully. It was faint, but he could hear a series of taps coming from where they assumed the first gunman was. For a moment, he thought it was Morse code but the message didn’t make sense in that case. Whatever it was, it must have been some other code he didn't know. Since he knew all the codes Aizen used, it was obvious these people weren't Aizen's agents.

And anyway, by the king’s command, none of their agents were to kill battlemages unprovoked—and these attackers definitely knew they were battlemages given how they prepared sorciron cloaks and spellbane bullets.

This was planned.

‘Killing battlemages…’

That was when he had a sudden realization.

'I'm probably not being watched by anyone right now, huh?'

There was a very dead battlemage on the street right now, so it would be strange if he did have an Ascendant watching him. There would be no reason for them not to help. Crag was, as Reivan understood it, an experienced battlemage. Yes, he was just a puny little mortal and when Reivan checked, Crag hadn't been all that strong. But experience always meant something in an organization that handled combat. You could not underestimate anyone who grew old in such a profession.

Reivan would have loved to confirm his theory with Valter, but the route Reivan's squad used didn't go anywhere near where Valter was stationed, so his guardian knight didn’t even know he was here in Lageton. Probably.

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Reivan felt that his logic was without a flaw here. Someone might be scrying him right now, but he didn’t have an almighty silver cloak looming behind him.

'Okay. That gives me a little more room to work with… But let’s keep it as a last resort. Just in case I’m wrong.'

Reivan decided to see how things played out first.

Mira pushed him away and freed her mouth, pointing at the ceiling. She didn’t talk, simply mouthed her words very deliberately. “Gun. Man. Up.”

"Fuck." he cursed under his breath, annoyed at not even having the chance to come up with a plan. Reivan listened carefully and he did hear a soft creaking noise coming from the wooden ceiling. There weren’t any stairs leading upstairs since this place seemed more like a storehouse, so he scanned the ceiling and found what was probably a hatch.

He pointed at it with the intention of ambushing the man as he opened it. Mira nodded before pointing outside and miming a gun.

‘Does she mean that the guy outside is closing in?’

Reivan summoned both shields and gripped them both very tightly. Given how limited his repertoire was, he would be much more useful as a meat shield while Mira did all the spell-slinging. Hopefully, spellbane bullets didn't fuck up the enchantments on his shield. That was the last thing he wanted. He'd be wasting the Saintess' artifact on a mere bullet.

As for his surprisingly dependable captain, she had stopped scrying earlier so he wondered how she knew so much. But then he realized she had probably let her spirit beasts skulk around in spirit form — and he couldn’t see them since they technically weren’t in this world until they manifested.

Suddenly, Mira put up five fingers before promptly putting one down. Then another one. And another one.

‘Eh? What? Why are you counting down? What are we doing...!? Stop!’

Confused, Reivan was just about to stop her to ask what she meant when a resounding explosion from the ceiling shook his brain. Smoke filled the room in an instant and the ceiling started to come down on them.

But a second later, a bubble surrounded both of them as Mira smiled sheepishly, scratching her cheek. “Oops. Sorry about that. I kinda mistimed the explosion. I was going to time my shield with it but… uh, y'know. These things happen!”

Reivan licked his lips and watched more of the ceiling collapse on them, huddling up with her as they crouched. Though the hastily created ward served as protection, he still felt the need to hold his shields up above them just in case. “What the hell was that?”

“An explosion spell.”

“There’s an explosion spell?”

“Of course, there is, silly.” she giggled, her hot breath touching his neck as she hid under his shield. “There’s lots of them. They even come in different colors.”

Reivan frowned. “And? Why’d you use it when we’re also inside the house?”

“About that…” Mira laughed sheepishly as she explained. ”See, they have those cloaks, so we can’t attack them with our cruddy magic, right? But I’ll bet they didn’t expect a house collapsing on them! And I told you, I was going to time my shield with it… I just made a miscalculation. We’re okay, aren’t we? It worked! I’m great! Can’t you just praise me?”

They both flinched as a particularly large piece of the ceiling slammed into the ground right next to them. Bits and pieces of stone and dust and wood were launched in all directions, some of them bouncing off the barrier Mira had erected.

Reivan gave the woman a look and she averted her gaze.

Mira cleared her throat and pointed outside with a shaky finger. “A-Anyway, I was going to get Fawks to fight the gunman outside, but she won’t listen because the guy outside is apparently too weak. So yeah. We’re not out of the woods yet… Let’s get out of here. Just follow me, Clover.”

“Follow you where?” Reivan looked around and suddenly realized what she intended. “Are you going to use the spell to melt walls? The one you used earlier?”

“Ding ding. Correct. But see, it doesn’t just melt walls.” Mira smiled and pointed her wand at a part of the floor instead. With a flick of her wand, the wooden floor and the ground beneath it started melting to form a tunnel of some kind. “Nice, huh? I invented it!”

‘...Invented?’

Reivan felt incredibly curious but focused on the matter at hand. “You can tell me more about it later.”

“Oh, right, right. Sorry. Wait a while, thicker stuff takes time to melt. And nothing's thicker than the ground.”

Once the tunnel was formed, Reivan peered down and surmised that it had penetrated into the sewers. He insisted on being the first to slide down, slowing his descent with a whisperfall spell just before he became a crimson splotch of blood on the stone. There had been quite a drop and with no water to break his drop, he was definitely glad that the convenient spell wasn’t restricted by the Tower.

In any case, Arkhan’s sewers had gone unused for decades because of sorcerous innovations in waste disposal, so there thankfully wasn’t any shit to speak of. It was completely dry too. He’d expected rats, but there weren’t any either. Good things all around, if it weren't for the mysterious men trying to kill them. It was notably dark too, which he'd noticed late because his eyes were the best things in the universe.

Well, maybe not. But they were still pretty great.

“Hey!” Reivan produced some wisps of light as he shouted toward the tunnel. “It’s clear! You can jump down now! Just get a featherfall spell ready!”

A moment later, Mira fell through the hole with an amused squeal, and Reivan had to frantically look away when her skirt flipped up in the process.

“Whoops,” Mira landed gently on the dry and dusty ground, her blush was far too noticeable with a source of light so close to them. She smoothed out her long skirt and giggled awkwardly. “You got an unexpected treat, vice-captain. Aren't you gonna say thanks?”

“I didn't get a good look..." he lied. "But thank you very much.”

“I was joking!” Mira punched him on the arm, growing even more mortified. “Why are you being so sincere!?”

After Reivan raised the white flag, she calmed down and pointed upward, at the hole. “I want to close the tunnel but it’s too far. Any ideas?”

He looked up in contemplation and shook his head. “I think we're okay for now. The building collapsed and will cover the tunnel after all, especially after the bubble protecting us disperses. And anyway, whoever’s attacking us are ordinary people with unordinary equipment. They’re not mages so they can’t clear the rubble and reveal the tunnel easily. And they can't jump down easily either. This is quite a drop, after all. Plus, the tunnel will help reinforcements figure out that we're fine.”

“Alright. Then I guess we just have to find an exit…” Mira looked around the expansive dark sewers. “Y’know, I heard there used to be giant rat monsters in Vel Ayala's sewers. You think they have some here in Lageton too?”

‘Fuck… She just raised a flag! There’s definitely gonna be some now!’

Reivan sighed. “Let’s hope not. I hate rats.”

“Same, same. They're the worst things to see in a restaurant kitchen, right up there with roaches and laggermites. But don’t worry, vice-captain.” Mira elbowed him as she led the way down the dark sewers, conjuring her own wisps of light and sending them forward to illuminate the way forward. “I’ll protect you if it ever comes to it.”

“Thanks, captain. I'm counting on you."

"Of course! I gotta protect the damsel in distress."

"I'm swooning right now," Reivan said with a roll of his eyes. "And I feel so emasculated too.”

Mira laughed, her beautiful voice echoing throughout the darkness. Reivan, in turn, stared at her back for a few heartbeats before falling into step behind her.

"Captain."

"Hm?"

“Thanks.”

Mira threw a glance at him and raised a brow. "You're saying it again?

"Yeah. Because it's important."

"Hmm... For what?”

“Everything? I dunno.” He shrugged. “And sorry I can’t be of much help.”

Mira grinned, a quiet giggle escaping her lips. “This isn’t exactly a situation first years usually get into. Heck, I don’t even think I’m supposed to experience something like this. Gosh, this is the worst mission ever. I wanna go home…”

“...Me too. I miss my bed.”

“Right~? Home is the best, isn’t it~? Oh, but I wouldn't refuse a vacation in Aizen though. But it’s so difficult to get a visa.”

Reivan cocked a brow. “You've tried?”

“Yup. I wanted to study there when I was fifteen. Even packed too. And I also got someone to teach me a bit of English. I was aiming for the grand library that's apparently in the capital."

"Huh."

"You know how Aizen is the oldest nation in the continent, right? Before the empire ate up most of Sentorale, before the democratic confederation became Arkhan... Aizen was already what it was. And they apparently take really good care of their books so they have stuff dating back thousands of years ago, y'know? A thousand years. Think of all the stuff you could read in there."

Reivan pushed up his glasses a little. "Why didn't you then?"

"I couldn't get a slot! Or even a normal visa! There’s so much stuff that needs to be checked! Why can't they just give it out for free?”

‘Because there wouldn’t be a point if everyone could just come in.’

Reivan grinned unknowingly when she reverted back to her usual slovenly and drawn-out way of talking. And yet, her tiny back seemed just a bit bigger than when she was the captain who woke up late and lazed around in the common room.

‘What the heck, she's actually pretty cool, huh?’

He supposed the Tower wasn't entirely wrong to place her in a leadership role after all.

════════════════════════════════

At some point, they simply had to admit that they were hopelessly lost.

“Why can’t we find an exit!?” Mira exclaimed in frustration, her angry voice somehow still managing to sound like a siren call in the massive echo chamber they were trapped in. “I’m glad it doesn’t stink and there aren’t any giant rats, but we’ve been here for hours and still haven’t found a way up! Where are all the damned ladders!”

In her anger, she kicked a stray rock as hard as she could. It must not have flown as far as she expected because her mood grew even worse. She turned to him with a frown on her pretty little face.

“Vice-captain."

"What is it now..."

"Tell me a joke. Chop chop.”

Reivan frowned. “People can’t just tell jokes on command like that.”

“What? Aren’t guys supposed to have at least one joke for when a pretty girl says she likes funny guys?”

“I don’t know where you heard that, but I’m pretty sure—”

Reivan stopped. Now that he thought about it, Hector told jokes from time to time. And even Aldimir looked like the type of person who’d have one. He didn’t know if any of the other men in his family were the same, but he couldn’t be sure if he was the odd one out there.

‘...Am I the weird one?’

“Clover Salwyn, minus one hundred points for not having a joke."

Reivan clicked his tongue and ignored her for a while, but that didn't deter her from whining.

"I’m bored…” Mira complained quietly as they continued walking. “And tired.”

“Then stay here forever. Raise rats or something.”

“There aren't even rats... And I’m thirsty too… And it’s cold down here. I wanna go home...”

Reivan conjured some orbs of heat that followed them around. In hindsight, they should have done that earlier. “Happy now?”

“I’m still bored, hungry, thirsty, and tired. Carry me?”

“What? No.” Reivan looked at her like she was crazy. The second year continued to whine though, so he proceeded to ignore her. Honestly, if he hadn’t known about her dependable side, he would have already flipped the lid earlier on.

She was rapidly consuming the gratitude and admiration she'd built up though.

‘Ouroboros used the sewers to hide things in the past…’

That was not the case now, however. But he’d been to the sewers of Lageton before — just not this part of the sewers. Honestly, he was debating just asking Zouros for help navigating.

‘Should I give it a shot?’

They weren’t in the Tower so he didn’t have to be wary of a Transcendent potentially seeing his serpentine friend through some mysterious yet-to-be-known method.

Just as he was about to call his companion out of his soul after such a long time, Reivan suddenly froze on the spot as he saw someone through the darkness.

It was Filth.

And he didn’t mean something dirty on the ground or a shit smear on the wall from a decade ago. He meant Filth, the person who had the special ability to turn imperceptible while in the dark.

Filth seemed to be surprised to see two people who shouldn’t be in the sewers.

“Something wrong, Clover?” Mira noticed his reaction and stopped to tilt her head at him. “If you got mad, then I’m sorry. I complain a lot in stressful situations.”

“No, it’s not that. I mean, you are annoying. And really, I'd rather just run off without you. But that’s not why I stopped.”

“It’s kind of refreshing that you can say that to my face so easily. Do you think it means we’ve gotten closer as a squad? Isn't that great? It's great, isn't it?”

Reivan chose to ignore her nonsense again and gesture at Filth’s general direction, deciding not to blow his cover yet. “I just thought I heard something over there.”

Filth, obviously having heard that, cursed loudly and looked around his feet, probably wondering if he nudged something before activating his ability.

‘The hell is he doing in here…?’

As far as he knew, Filth should be in Arkhana, the republic’s capital. Gwen must have already arrived at the embassy and handled his matters in his stead, including Filth's assignments.

‘Did she send him here for something?’

That was probably the case, now that he thought about it. It was the only real explanation.

‘Hm... Maybe we can follow him out of here?’

Filth seemed like he didn’t want to stick around for too long, so he turned around and started walking away, obviously taking care not to step on anything — which wasn’t something he needed to do, given how his ability also muffled the sound of anything he moved while imperceptible, accidental or otherwise.

Reivan suppressed a smile as he led the way, herding a complaining Mira in the correct direction.

════════════════════════════════

Eventually, Reivan couldn’t handle Mira’s incessant whining, so he agreed to carry her on his back. To her credit, she was incredibly light so it wasn’t very difficult for him. In a way, she was like a chatty backpack full of useless things.

When he had suddenly offered to do so, Mira had been surprised at first, refusing with a hint of embarrassment. But it seemed the hours of walking were hard on a girl who lazed around every chance she could get. With a tired word of thanks, she hopped on him like some steed and rested her weight against him.

At first, Reivan was annoyed at being irritated into carrying her. But that unexpectedly changed when she actually got on him. The arrangement of a decently endowed young woman pressing herself onto his back wasn't bad. He also had to hold her very smooth and soft legs to keep her from sliding off. Plus, for some reason, she smelled better than anyone as sweaty as she had any right to be.

He hadn't been aiming for it, but he also wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. It wasn't ungentlemanly to enjoy the unexpected perks of helping her out.

The whining never stopped being unwelcome though. Reivan wished he had a spare sock he could stuff inside her mouth. Sadly, he only had a handkerchief and it wasn't thick enough to fully stop her from talking, though he could probably tie it over her mouth instead. Over time, the urge to do so grew within him.

As for Filth, he had unintentionally led them out of the sewers simply by trying to get away from them. It was quite amusing to watch him frantically thinking of a way to lose them at first, only to get used to their presence, even chuckling along at their banter.

“Finally!” Mira pointed at a column of metal bars that served as a ladder leading upward. She pushed her soft hands against Reivan’s back and got off. “We can finally get back!”

Reivan didn’t like how disappointed he was but he supposed putting an end to their little escapade was a lot better.

They never did get to see any giant rats in the sewers, but Reivan wouldn’t mourn the lost opportunity. For nobody in the entire world hated rats more than he did. He loathed them with the burning passion of a thousand suns. If he ever became a Transcendent, he would probably roam the world and eradicate their kind from existence, ecosystems be damned. Stories about him would sprout, probably, and he would be known as the "Ratslayer" or something. Maybe "Verminslayer" if he exterminated a few other types of pests.

Of course, the rats of this world were sinless. But he couldn’t help how he felt. Then again, perhaps by the time he became a Transcendent, he’d be more mature and forgiving. Who knows?

Right now, he was just a young man who was slightly disappointed.

“I’m going up first, okay?” Mira said so and didn’t wait for him to reply, climbing up the ladder.

In a skirt.

A long skirt, but still a skirt.

Reivan sighed and turned around. Maybe he was a little perverted here and there but he liked to think he was a gentleman — a perverted gentleman.

‘That sounds so wrong.’

In any case, once the careless captain finished climbing, he followed after her and was surprised at the massive storm clouds on the horizon. He'd seen storms before, and this was most definitely different from that. They swirled like a hurricane and struck the sea with bolts of lightning as thick as buildings, sending smoke and seawater flying everywhere as shockwaves shifted the water's tides.

It was like the end of the world was coming and they'd made it out of the sewer just in time to see it coming.

Arc#4 Chapter 55: Alley

There was a pregnant pause in the room after the senior battlemage's question.

"Huh...?" Mira was understandably flummoxed at suddenly being asked to room with a boy. It was certainly a strange sight, given how she seemed easygoing and relaxed most of the time. A rosy blush colored the pearly skin of her face as she tried to salvage what remained of her composure. "Wh-why me?"

Crag raised a brow at her. "Should your juniors do it then?"

Mira groaned as she sent a glance to Inaria and Alini, eventually sighing to herself. Despite how bad of a leader she considered herself, she wasn't bad enough to throw her juniors under the carriage. With reluctant resignation, she nodded. "I understand..."

"Alright then. Ah, just so you know I'm not harrassing you." Crag pointed a finger at the room where the senior battlemage in charge of scrying was. "We have two women in our party. They're bunking up together. And as for the other three, we don't all sleep at the same time since one or two's always out on the field or helping out with scrying."

"I see..." Forced to make a choice, Mira scanned the faces of her three male subordinates and made a face when her gaze landed on Aldimir, immediately turning to Kantor. She stopped, seemingly giving it some thought, but then she glanced at Reivan and sighed. "Vice-captain. You're with me, then."

"Queen Mira," Aldimir cut in, his tone filled with grievance. "Why'd you look like you ate a sukrita fruit when you looked at me?"

"Oh, don't act like you need to ask," she rolled her eyes, seemingly drained by the mere act of making a choice.

"Alright, then. That's decided." Senior Crag nodded and sent Reivan a wink before warning him with the seriousness of a veteran advising a rookie. "Don't get into any funny business. We've got an early morning tomorrow."

Reivan nodded. "I wouldn't dream of it, senior."

"Right. Go get some dinner downstairs and go to sleep, then. You better be outta your rooms by dawn. I'm gonna get some shuteye since my turn on scrying duty's in a few hours."

Their senior bid them farewell as he headed to one of the rooms, trying and failing to stifle a yawn.

"Darn, Clover." Aldimir sidled up to him and elbowed him on the side, whispering in a volume that rivaled a mouse's. "When'd you put the moves on her, huh? I didn't even notice."

Reivan's clicked his tongue and pushed up his glasses. "I did no such thing."

"Well, she didn't pick me for obvious reasons. But wouldn't she have picked Kantor because he's... y'know."

"...I thought we liked Kantor?"

"I do. He's great. I'd take a bolt to the thigh for the guy. BUT. He is what it is. We've all noticed."

"I mean..." Reivan licked his lip in thought, not finding sufficient material to defend Kantor in this matter. Over the course of their short friendship, the three of them had gotten close and both Aldimir and Reivan noticed that Kantor clammed up a little in front of the fairer sex.

It was... subtle. And wasn't to the extent that he couldn't talk to them at all. But he was visibly very guarded around them, and it wasn't hard to notice. That was also why Aldimir didn't invite Kantor to hit on girls or something similar, yet always tried to get Reivan to tag along so they could team up. Of the three of them, the safest one for a woman to room with was unarguably Kantor.

Mira wasn't blind, so she must have noticed that over the past two days too. In fact, she'd been considerate enough not to pester Kantor too much, bothering Inaria and sometimes Reivan instead. The fact that she chose him anyway was very strange. So much so that he checked how much Favor she had for him just to sate his curiosity.

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

Favor

(Interest / Trust) 38 / 100

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

'Oh, shit.'

Reivan pushed Aldimir away from him and led the squad downstairs, sinking into his own thoughts. The last time he'd checked her Favor, it was at 50. However, the emotions had only mentioned "Goodwill". Though the number itself got lower now, there was both "Interest" and "Trust" so it could be said that it was an improvement of sorts.

'I don't think I did anything though...?'

All he'd done, really, was interact with her normally. One could even say he'd been a bit harsh on her. However, he did consider the fact that "Interest" may not necessarily be romantic in nature. It could be that she was simply curious about him, seeing as he was the guy she'd planned to throw all her leadership responsibilities to.

'That... actually kind of makes sense. Yeah, that's probably it.'

It was low, but trust did exist. Perhaps what she'd seen of him these past few days was enough for her to give him the "Not A Rapist" stamp of approval. And he was, indeed, not a rapist. In fact, there had been plenty of times when he'd found himself in someone's bed with no recollection of how he got there. That meant that, in a twisted sense, he had gotten raped a couple of times.

Not that he would complain.

'Why the hell am I even thinking about this...?'

By the time he noticed it, they were in the supposed hotel dining hall, and a nearby employee directed them to a table for six. Just like the suite, it was surprisingly nice inside, a very stark contrast to how dilapidated the exterior was. Truly, they should work on that. Reivan felt like the owner of the place needed to be schooled in some very basic common sense when it came to how to run a business. Plenty of potential revenue was being lost because of poor management. Not that any of that was his problem, that is.

After they all sat down, Reivan was handed a menu, from which he promptly chose a dish that Clover Salwyn would have liked and passed it along to Aldimir. Then he noticed Alini whispering something to Mira from across the table.

He was ready to dip his hand in boiling water if he was wrong about them talking about him. The furtive glances that they thought they were hiding were very telling signs.

‘What I’d do to have my hearing back…’

With just Clover Salwyn’s paltry ears, he couldn’t hear what they were saying. And he didn’t have the specialized training to read Alini’s lips. Actually, it wouldn’t have mattered if he did have the training, because her hand was in the way. Why did people always do that, he wondered. It made it so obvious when they were having a secret conversation. They were practically waving their hands in the air and shouting “We’re whispering secrets to each other!" or something along those lines.

Aldimir seemed to notice too since he prodded Reivan’s foot with his own, a knowing grin on his face.

Reivan flipped him the magic finger under the table and ignored him for the rest of the meal, talking with Kantor about wizard stuff instead. The short pretty boy was the best person to talk to about that since he was quite studious — though not as studious as Inaria, who was reading a grimoire even as she ate. He couldn't help but think that the president's youngest daughter needed a crash course on table manners. Who the hell even brought a book to the dinner table? More than the impracticality and the affront to manners it represented, Reivan was slightly more irked about the risk the book was placed in by being so close to an infinite number of ways to permanently damage it. One of these days, he'd meet her as her lover and tell her off.

As he finished his own meal, he saw Mira glance at him before shaking her head at Alini. Alini, in turn, seemed confused but didn’t push whatever it was. The two young women both returned to their mostly abandoned meals, leaving Reivan internally conflicted on whether to ask what they were talking about. They were practically begging him to at this point. So bad were they at hiding their secret little conversation that he almost found it funny.

‘Whatever.’

If they weren’t plotting his death or to set him up in some way, then perhaps it wasn’t his business to pry. He stood up and returned to the suite before the others.

════════════════════════════════

Reivan took a hot bath after returning, washing away the fatigue that had built up from an entire day of being stuck in a train.

Because of the perpetually cold climate throughout the republic, hot baths were a bit of a cultural thing, though traditions for it were probably born from more practical reasons. Unlike his previous home country of Japan though, they were a bit more private about the relaxing activity. It was one of their most developed aspects, even having a wide selection of bath herbs to make each bath an even greater experience.

‘I should take note of it and bring some to the palace…’

“Good stuff…” Reivan stepped out of the suite’s bathroom wearing a baggy set of clothes fit for sleeping. There was a nice robe made of silver silk that reminded him of his original hair color, but walking out in that may cause misunderstandings. He'd been an eternal virgin in his past life, and the only time he saw bathrobes was in those short moments before something lewd happened. Inevitably, he had prejudices about bathrobes in general.

A whistle welcomed him as Aldimir waved from across the room, seemingly about to head inside his own room. “Nice. Ladies like it when you’re clean.”

“Fuck off.” Reivan felt his words were insufficient so he flipped Aldimir off too — an act that he was getting too much practice for recently — before deciding that just one wasn’t enough. If only he had three arms, he mused, he could do more.

“One of these days," Aldimir, unfazed by Reivan's fingers, snickered. "I’m gonna get you to teach me how you do it.”

“Would you be quiet, what if you wake up the seniors?”

That, apparently, was enough for Aldimir to stop his antics. “Whoops, you’re right.”

Reivan walked over to the room he would be sharing with Mira and shooed Aldimir away. “Go to sleep, Aldim.”

“Oh, I will. Not sure about you, though.”

“One of these days, I’m gonna shove a wand up your…”

With another snicker, Aldimir ducked inside the room and closed the door, apparently not bothering to bathe before heading off to bed. Absolutely disgusting, in his opinion, given how they'd probably sweat up a storm underneath the thick clothes they'd worn. As for the other girls, they were either still downstairs or already in their rooms, because there was nobody in the common area.

Reivan let a yawn escape his lips as he opened the door, stepping inside the surprisingly spacious room. There were two single-person beds but it was more than big enough to accommodate five people.

‘We could have just taken the mattresses from the bed and brought it over… Hell, we could probably carry the beds over to the other room and just return them when we leave. It would have been hard for us, but surely the seniors were strong enough to do it with ease...'

There was no way the seniors hadn’t thought of that though. And with that, Reivan suddenly realized they were being toyed with. That, or his seniors were giving him an unexpected and unwanted bit of help in lucking out with a pretty girl. Of course, it could also be something else entirely.

‘Is it hazing? I wouldn't put it past the republic. We have it too, in a way.’

Even the knights had their own way of hazing their newbies, so Reivan wouldn't have been surprised if that was the case. Of course, back home, hazing was done with love and affection. Just small traditional pranks like having you do a supply run for a nonexistent item or drawing things on your face after you inevitably pass out from training.

Reivan hadn’t been hazed though, seeing as he was the prince. Having the ability to see through lies also eliminated a lot of the pranks anyway. It did make him a bit upset, however. Every knight went through it so he kind of wanted to be subjected to it too. He felt weirdly left out and it served as a tiny bit of annoyance in his heart that he'd ignored.

“Clover?”

“Hey.” Reivan nodded toward Mira, who was already in bed, covering everything up to her neck in a thick fur blanket. “Bath’s free, if you want.”

Mira twitched, bringing the blanket up a little higher so only her eyes peeked out. “Why would I bathe…?”

“Uh, because we’ve been stuck in a train all day and it was cold on the way here?”

“Oh.”

Reivan looked at her obviously guarded state and scoffed as he strode to the bed she hadn’t laid claim to. “I’m not gonna jump you, so you don’t have to be that scared.”

“Hm…” Mira glared at him with narrow eyes, humming in suspicion. “How can I be sure?”

“You can’t. I could be lying and have a grand master plan to trick you into letting your guard down.”

“I knew it!”

“I was joking.”

“I knew that too!” Mira chuckled as she pulled down her blanket and sat up, her usual easygoing smile back on her face.

Reivan rolled his eyes and laid down, kicking off his shoes before crawling under his thick and surprisingly comfortable blanket. These were wonderful, he thought. Maybe he could buy a few from the hotel and bring them to the Tower? He'd have to ask the staff tomorrow. After snuggling into a good enough position, he closed his eyes and curled up, his back to his roommate as he was moments away from falling asleep.

Mira’s voice called out to him in surprise. “Wait, you’re just going to sleep?”

He wanted to ignore it. Really, he did. But against his better judgment, he turned over with a sigh. “That's what I wanted to do, yes. Before you ruined it for me.”

“It’s so early, though.”

“Yes, but you see, we have to wake up early, right? Hence, I want to sleep early too. You get it?”

“You really have a way of talking like you’re speaking to an idiot, Clover…” Mira frowned, her pretty little eyebrows furrowing. “You have to work on that.”

“...You have to work on a lot of things.”

Mira froze before turning away, muttering under her breath. "I know that..."

Reivan took one look at her and yawned before closing his eyes. The duvet was really nice and it was accelerating the intensity of his drowsiness like never before. “Go to sleep, captain. Goodnight.”

“I’m not sleepy yet.”

“Doesn’t matter. Go to sleep. Didn’t you say I was the leader now?”

“So you agree with what I said?” Mira asked, sounding somewhat hopeful. “We trade positions?”

Reivan sighed, opening his eyes again, realizing how heavy they were. “I’ll take charge when needed. You keep doing what you’re doing now… Y’know, the mood, or something? Also, please behave.”

“I am behaved.”

“Behaving like a misbehaving child, you mean?”

“You’re so harsh!” Mira forcefully laid down and hid under the blankets. “And fine, I’ll keep being the kind and beautiful mom of the squad and you’ll be the bossy old man across the street.”

“What kind of analogy even is that…”

Reivan shook his head in exasperation and closed his eyes, thanking his vast experience with women for how relaxed he was in this situation.

════════════════════════════════

Before the first rays of the sun graced the skies, Reivan awoke refreshed and energized.

As soon as he climbed out of bed and searched for his roommate, he discovered that she was still sleeping soundly in her bed. And he also discovered that she had horrible sleeping habits. Because everything that was supposed to cover her was on the floor — kicked away, presumably — and her shirt was hiked up to reveal her smooth white navel.

‘What an unladylike appearance.’

Reivan got up and tried to wake her up, trying very hard not to notice how much more endowed Mira was than he’d expected. “Hey. Wake up.”

After a few nudges of her shoulder, Reivan switched to softly tapping on her face since the former unintentionally shook other parts that peeked out of her loose pajama top. He really had to thank his lucky stars that he, at this point, had quite a lot of sexual experience. Because if he'd still been an uber virgin, he wasn't sure if he could've slept soundly with such a defenseless beauty sleeping literally a few steps away. Naturally, being raised properly meant he wouldn't have done something untoward, but he would have been so antsy that he probably wouldn't have gotten any sleep at all.

Now, he felt a bit more calm about the matter. Thankfully.

'Anyway, she's not waking up...'

Mira groaned every once in a while, but otherwise stayed fast asleep despite his attempts to rouse her.

“Hey!” Reivan shouted a little loudly, growing steadily more annoyed at the fruitlessness of his actions. He’d been trying to wake her up the gentle way for an entire minute and his patience was understandably running thin. If she didn’t look so angelic when she was quietly sleeping, he probably would have snapped even earlier.

‘This is a waste of time.’

Two minutes after he started shouting, he finally got angry enough to just push her off the bed, letting her fall to the floor. There was a carpet, and the bed wasn’t that high, so he believed she wouldn’t die or something. Though he would have derived some sort of satisfaction if it caused a bump in her forehead.

There was a thud, and she collapsed in an unmoving heap on the floor, the soft sound of her breaths the only sign that she wasn’t a corpse. She still wouldn’t wake up though.

“What the fuck is wrong with her…” Reivan’s forehead creased like never before as he combed his messy hair back with his fingers. “How can someone sleep so deeply?”

He wouldn’t have done it, of course, but if he had done something untoward to her last night, he was now confident that she would have slept through the entire thing. Who even slept through falling off their bed...? If that had ever happened to him in his past life, he would have been howling in pain for hours. Of course, such an intense reaction couldn't be expected from a physically normal person but surely they'd wake up, right?

Not so, if their captain was taken into consideration.

After debating on what to do, Reivan knelt down next to her sleeping form and pinched her nose close while holding her soft pink lips shut.

A few moments later, Mira’s eyes shot open and she breathed deeply, her lungs begging for air.

“Glad to see you’re awake.” Reivan stood up with a grimace. “Get dressed. It’s dawn.”

Mira sat up with the appearance of someone who’d left half of themselves in the dream world. "Clover...? I thought I was going to die..."

"You were. If you hadn't gotten up."

“Is it time already…?”

“Yes.”

“No, that can’t be right… I just closed my eyes a few seconds ago. It can’t be morning already…”

Reivan scratched his head and helped her off the floor. “That's kind of how sleeping works, as I'm sure you've noticed.”

Mira made a sobbing sound as she let herself get pulled up, wobbling a little when he let her go.

He took one final look at her before nodding, deciding that she should be able to take care of herself at this point. “I’m heading over to the guys’ room to get dressed. You sort yourself out on your own. Alright?”

“Okay…”

Reivan was still a bit unsure, but he internally argued that since she was nineteen years old—a year older than his real age—then she should, at least, have the capability of getting dressed on her own.

“Don’t take too long.”

With those final words, Reivan took a change of clothes with him and headed for the door.

════════════════════════════════

It would have been comically hilarious and also infuriating if Mira was still wobbling around in their room by the time they were expected to gather, but luckily, she seemed her normal lazy self when she stepped out. Reivan and the other two boys, and the girls—who had all risen quite early and gathered in the living room—greeted her as she joined them.

“How was last night?” Aldimir teasingly asked their captain as she sat down on one of the sofas.

Mira laughed airily, scratching at her cheek. “I think Clover has to take responsibility and marry me soon.”

Reivan scowled at her. “Stop saying things that can be misunderstood. Nothing happened.”

“But the baby, Clover! What are we going to do about our baby?”

“There’s no baby!”

Both Aldimir and Mira snickered at his expense, the former looking like a mischievous imp in his eyes while the latter was a giggling sloth. They were going to be the bane of his time here in the republic, he just knew it. Supposedly, he was the de facto leader of their little not-so-merry band, but already he was surrounded by insolent subordinates who'd give him lip at every opportunity.

“Glad to see everyone’s so lively!” Crag walked in from the hallway leading outside, followed by two male battlemages who seemed to be about the same age. “You guys ready?”

“Yes, senior.” Mira stepped up after being pinched in the arm by Reivan. “Last night, we decided that Aldimir and Kantor would be fielded. Inaria would help with scrying. And Alini would be on standby here in case anything happened.”

Crag nodded as he sent Reivan a knowing grin. “Alright then. Aldimir’s going to patrol with Vexos over here. And Kantor’s with Lar, careful with him, by the way, he likes messing with newbies. Sisters Alini will stay in the common room and Inaria can head inside that room over there to wake up our scrying expert who was complaining about unfair wages.”

There was a short round of introductions as the two other middle-aged senior battlemages shook hands with the juniors. Then Crag took both Reivan and Mira out with him.

Though they weren’t specifically told to do so, Reivan and Mira were dressed in civilian attire, abandoning their robes and concealing their belt buckles under their thick coats. This ended up being the correct decision since Crag was doing the same.

“Right. Let me brief you a little.” Crag walked through the cold streets of the early morning city. “What we’ve been doing these past few weeks has basically been asking tourists if they’ve been bothered by anyone, taking note of any characteristics they can offer. Sometimes, we’ll show them a portrait of some suspects. That has proven fruitful so far, as certain suspects on our radar have been pointed out multiple times.”

Mira hummed seriously. “Poor things… What are they doing to the Aizenians, senior?”

“So far, just petty harassment. Intimidating them into lending money. Intruding on their meals by suddenly sitting on tables. Bumping shoulders, that kind of thing. It’s wrong, but that’s not the kind of stuff the government calls us for.”

“The problem is that it's organized,” Reivan posited as he rubbed his cold hands together, cursing himself for not wearing gloves. This was the kind of thing a native should never forget, given how perpetually horrible the weather was in Arkhan. “And it might escalate into something more.”

Crag nodded with a grave expression. “That’s right. The kingdom takes the safety of its citizens very seriously. They’re kind of crazy about it. Both the capitol and the Tower don’t want to ruffle the Aizen's feathers, so we have to handle this before anything drastic happens. If this blows up and they demand retribution, we’ll have to hand over our own citizens or risk retaliation.”

Reivan grunted. “The former will demean our sovereignty while the latter means war. Or not. Maybe just some other way of getting back at the republic. Like sanctions?”

“Exactly, kid. It’s not above Aizen to send a few knights to assassinate the criminals if we refuse. And that’s the worst outcome. Because it's bad for publicity and we pissed off the kingdom. Especially since they just gave us a huge favor for free with those battlemage train passes. We’d look like the biggest fucking ingrates in Sentorale. And that’s saying something, since we’re on it with Argonia. Nobody does treachery more than those guys.”

Mira tilted her head. “So all of this is to avoid looking bad?”

“Yes.” Crag chuckled. “But it’s also to save a few hapless criminals from whatever the kingdom’s going to do with them if they go too far.”

‘That’s for sure.’

Reivan looked around, already thinking of how to bury the fools who were targeting his countrymen in his city. Sure, it was in Arkhan’s borders, but Lageton belonged to him in all but name.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have any access to his assets here in the city. The people from Ouroboros who no doubt infested this city probably weren't making a move to stop it because their businesses weren't suffering. After all, on paper, their interests lay in private ventures. It technically wasn't their job to protect the kingdom's people or ensure they were comfortable here in Lageton.

He could’ve done it himself, as Reivan Aizenwald, but there were very obvious problems with that. After all, he wasn’t sure if an Ascendant from the Tower was still watching him.

‘Guess I’ll rough ‘em up as Clover Salwyn then.’

“If we’re asking questions…” Mira suddenly asked. “Why are we out here so early? Shops haven’t even opened. Workers are only just waking up, too.”

Reivan hummed in agreement. He’d also been wondering why.

Crag threw a glance at them as he led the way into a side alley. “Because we’re no longer doing that. Just last night, before you guys arrived, our scryer found their little rathole. So we’re going to stand by and see if we can hit it.”

“Shouldn’t we have brought more people then?” Reivan raised a brow as he followed the senior, checking to see if Mira was keeping up a step behind him.

“They have more than one hideout. So we want to scout more than one. Besides, we’ve got three battlemages here.”

“One’s a first year and the other’s a second year.”

“Point taken.” Crag raised a thumbs up with a chuckle. “But we’ve got our spirit beasts to help or scout ahead. Hell, mine’s doing that as we speak, making sure we aren’t walking into any trouble. Also, if push comes to shove, you can at least cast a barrier to protect yourself. Understand that you were assigned to this mission because you guys are good enough to be here. I like your caution, kid, but don’t underestimate yourself too much. We’re not fighting the kingdom's knights here, just rounding up a bunch of hooligans. At most, they'll have some outdated guns. No big deal.”

Reivan nodded like a good little rookie. “Yes, Senior Crag. I’ll keep your words in mind.”

“Sure, sure.” The senior shared a look with the last member of their trio. “You’ve snagged a good vice-captain here, Captain Mira.”

Mira giggled and playfully punched Reivan’s shoulder. “I know. That’s why I’m gonna work him to the bone!”

“Oi.”

Reivan frowned as the other two battlemages laughed at his expense, and he was starting to feel like that was happening a little too much lately.

The three of them made their way through a winding alley, and at some point, Crag raised a hand for them to stop. “Quiet.”

Reivan shoved his right hand in his pocket while also summoning his wizard claw, ready to cast a spell at any moment. Mira was shamelessly staying close to use him, presumably to use him as a shield, if the grin on her face was any indication.

Crag’s spirit beast was apparently scouting ahead, so it must have found something that caused the senior battlemage some pause. Reivan would have liked to send Sen out like that too, but unfortunately, that would have to wait until they form a more permanent bond. Anytime spent outside the orb made her very visible.

“Uhm, senior…” Mira whispered, her demeanor alert despite her usual self. “Should I send mine to scout too?”

“Are they good at it?”

“Not really… One's just cute and the other only wants to fight.”

“What? You have two?"

Mira nodded.

"That's unexpected. Must have missed that on your profiles..." Crag mused, before shrugging. "Oh, but don’t bother. My partner's got the scouting side under co—”

BANG!

Crag’s words were interrupted forever when a flower of blood bloomed on his forehead, his head thrown back from the impact.

‘Spellbane bullet!’

Reivan had been staring at the senior battlemage, so he managed to see how the bullet that completely ignored a barrier surrounding Crag, penetrated the man’s skull.

And in the face of spellbane bullets, every defensive spell a first-year like him knew was irrelevant.

Arc#4 Chapter 54: Room Assignments

Monster attacks on trains like the one Reivan experienced on his way to Vel Ayala were rare occurrences that only happened to the incredibly unfortunate.

Not rare enough that people scoffed at the possibility, but rare enough that nobody considered walking a viable alternative. Or those crazy death wagons they called magitech carriages. Riding in those for such long distances would make anyone want to just end it. Besides, not many monsters had the balls to challenge a giant metal serpent that shook the earth as soon as it passed by.

They did come by from time to time though. Fortunately, that wasn't the case for the trains Reivan's squads were on, allowing them to reach their destination on their second night after leaving the Tower's protection.

"Wow, I heard about this place but it's more amazing than I thought!" Aldimir commented excitedly as their party stepped out of Lageton's station. Having been raised in Arkhanian culture, the sight was understandably enough for him to gawk.

The others had milder reactions, but seemed equally amazed—except Mira. Somehow, their captain managed to seem even more excited than Aldimir even though she wasn't saying anything. She was scanning her surroundings with starry eyes and a very slack jaw.

Reivan acted like he was curiously marveling at the beautiful neon lights scattered in a canvas of darkness, but inside, he was more amused by his squad's reaction. He'd been to Lageton on numerous occasions, so he was very intimate with what the City of Lights looked like at night, having taken both his fiancees on many outings here—some of them, particularly ones with Elsa, ended in very happy memories in some hotel.

'There's more than I can remember though... Elsa's been selling them like hotcakes, huh?'

The city's mayor lay firmly in Ouroboros' pocket so they no longer needed to maintain risky enterprises in the city, focusing on legitimate businesses and buying up as much land as possible to serve as sites for those businesses or to sell at a much higher price when demand for it ballooned. One could argue that having the most authoritative person on one's side gave one the license to commit as much evil as one could, but Elsamina had a different view.

It was the perfect chance to "dominate the light" as she put it.

By staying in the dark, they merely removed the risk of suffering consequences for it. But by focusing on the legal side of things, they could grow their power exponentially with the help of the mayor—whose authority was mostly in the legal part of society anyway.

Reivan didn't really know if she was correct in her thinking, but he cheered her on and let her do as she pleased. Ouroboros may have been birthed by him, but she was the one who raised it, after all. And Gwendolyn didn't seem to have anything to say on the matter either.

Everything worked out, it seemed.

All the stores in front of the station belonged to companies and brands that were secretly Ouroboros. And if he looked hard enough, all the businesses farther away were the same. It was beautiful, he thought. Capitalism was coming for the republic and they were letting it in. Well, it was there all along even before Reivan and Elsa came along, but now it was backed by a very wealthy nation with money to spend and a reincarnator with some "bright" ideas.

'Maybe one day, we'll come to own the entire city on paper.'

Once his squad had gawked at the sights long enough, Reivan looked toward their captain to get them going but frowned when she saw her drifting off toward one of the shops. He chased her down and dragged her back to the others.

"Everyone~!" Mira clapped her hands, the scruff of her coat firmly in Reivan's grasp. "Our vice-captain has decreed that we should get going."

"Decreed, my ass." Reivan let her go and took out his pocket watch, popping the lid open to show her the time. "We're on the clock, captain. Senior battlemages are expecting us soon. We don't have time to look around."

Seeing as the subject of their mission involved Aizenians being targeted by some group of violent individuals, Reivan was actually very invested in their mission. The entire purpose of his coming here was to help his country, so he wasn't willing to miss the chance to do it more directly. Hence, needless delays were highly undesirable.

“Sorry…” Perhaps sensing the intensity behind his words, Mira dipped her head in apology, her gaze falling to her feet.

Given how genuinely apologetic she seemed, Reivan didn’t feel the need to pursue the matter. He snapped his watch shut and slotted it back into a small pocket on his vest, readjusting his coat to stave off the bitter chill that plagued this damned country. “...Well, as long as you understand, it’s fine.”

Aldimir booed them from the side. “Vicey’s bullying Queen Mira again. Not cool, man.”

“I wasn’t.” Reivan snapped, turning to the person in question, who was still looking at her feet.

But instead of answering, she just averted her gaze with her lips pursed.

“Hey…”

Just as he began to think that she was actually upset, she suddenly threw her arms up with a lazy smile on her face.

“Kidding~! I’m not upset!” Mira laughed and put her arms down since other people were staring at her. “But I am sorry. You'll forgive me, right?”

Her playful pout and the way her eyes looked like a puppy’s were cute, but he simply snorted. “Whatever. Aldim, go get us a stagecoach. There’s a few over there. Make sure they don’t fleece us, we’re on a budget.”

“Why’s it always me…?” Aldimir asked with a troubled chuckle but went off to call for a coach anyway.

“I-I'll go help him!” Alini suddenly volunteered, with surprising eagerness. Before Reivan could stop her, she had already fallen into step behind Aldimir.

‘Who the hell needs two people to call for a coach…?’

Well, it didn’t really matter if she wanted to do it. Free country, and all that—as long as one ignored the almighty beings that could impose their will on everyone if they wanted to.

Reivan shrugged and inspected the rest of his retinue. Kantor was a ways away, leaning against a wall to shield himself from the cold night winds and shivering in his coat despite how thick it was. Except for the shivering, Inaria was doing the same, her eyes exploring the beautiful sights—as far as he knew, she’d never been to Lageton. In fact, she'd asked Reivan, or rather, one of his other identities, to take her here.

As for Mira, she was obediently staying close to Reivan while watching the sights as well.

“Hey, Clover,” she suddenly said.

“What is it now?” Reivan threw a glance at her as he shoved his hands into his coat pockets to hide them from the cold.

“I’m really sorry. Y’know, about earlier.”

He raised a brow and noted that she was being serious so he decided to be soft on her. “You’re still hung up on that? It’s fine. Let’s move on.”

Mira giggled lightly and bumped him with her shoulder. “Thanks. I’m really not a good fit for a leader, huh?”

“Oh. I’ve noticed, alright.”

“Aaand you’re back to being mean. Ten seconds, that’s a new record.”

“Lying is bad. I was only telling the truth.”

“Yeah, but you could have denied it a little… Lip service, you know?” Mira pouted and looked down, lightly kicking his shin. Then she scratched her head. “Seriously though, why'd they have to go and make me the captain... Heck, I wouldn't want me as a captain.”

Reivan shrugged. “There must have been some reason. It can’t just be because you’re pretty and have a great singing voice.”

Mira’s eyes widened as she turned to him. “Heh. You think I’m pretty?”

“...I don’t think you’re pretty. You just are. It’s not subjective opinion.”

“Wow. Are you hitting on me? Gosh, I just knew you were even more dangerous than Aldimir…”

“I’m not!”

Mira tittered, wiping away a tear before her lips teased upward into a teasing grin. “If you think I’m pretty shouldn’t you be nice to me?”

Reivan frowned. “How is that connected?”

“I know right? You’re the only one who gets it!” Mira gave him a few congratulatory pats. “Good job. You can't fall for just the pretty face!”

“Thanks, I guess.” Reivan rolled his eyes. “Anyway, if they made you the captain, then there should be a reason. Maybe it's because of your family background?”

Mira scoffed at the notion. “We run a restaurant. I mean, it’s pretty famous among closed circles and the locals, but it’s still just a restaurant. We only have two spots, though one of 'em is in Vel Ayala, so that's a pretty big deal. Among restaurants, that is. It shouldn't be worth anything to the Tower.”

“Okay. Then maybe it’s because you’re a really good sorcerer? On an individual level.”

“I mean, I am,” Mira admitted, crossing her arms under her chest. “But individual skill isn’t prioritized when it comes to leaders, y’know? Last year, the captain assigned to us wasn’t that great at duels and stuff but was an amazing leader. We basically had to leave all the thinking to him and follow orders.”

“Is that why you turned out this way?”

“The heck is that supposed to mean? And no, I’ve been like this before I came to the Tower… I actually wasn’t even expecting to pass!”

“I can imagine that…”

“Hey…” Mira nudged him with her shoulder a little stronger this time. “Stop being an ass.”

Reivan ignored her protest, shrugging with a blank expression. “Then isn’t it because you have two spirit beasts?”

“I don’t think that’s it either…” Mira rubbed her gloveless hands together, breathing into them from time to time. “I think it really is because I’m pretty… Even our sleazy vice-captain thinks I’m pretty, so it must be true.”

“...I wonder what’s taking Alini and Aldimir so long?”

“Don’t ignore me!”

“Maybe I should go see what they’re up to…?”

Mira pinched his arm, but couldn’t get through his overcoat. She gave up rather easily though. “Anyway, Clover. I’ll be counting on you from here on out.”

“Don’t just give up and try to pin all responsibility on me…”

“No, no. I mean, I’d just get us all killed. No matter who’s placed in power, wouldn’t it be better to put someone who knows what they're doing in charge? I gave it a lot of thought and I think you should be captain. There’s nothing worse than an incompetent leader, after all!”

“It’s sad that you’ve reached a point where you can actually say that about yourself.” Reivan joked but froze when he noticed the surprisingly serious look on her face. “You’re not joking…”

“That’s right. I’m not.”

“You do know we don’t have the authority to just switch ranks like that, right?”

“You have a point…” Mira nodded to herself, giving it some thought. After a very short pause, she clapped her hands and smiled. “Then I’ll just be captain-in-name. You'll be the captain in the shadows or something. The True Captain, so to speak.”

“I’d rather not be called that.”

“Oh? That means you agree as long as you don’t get called that?”

“That’s a very large leap in logic.”

“But it makes sense, no?” Mira nudged him with her shoulder and tilted her head to look up at him. “I’ll follow your lead. Then I’ll just try to help out with managing the team’s mood. Y’know, keeping them happy and not at each other’s throats. I think Aria’s about to blow up at Aldimir if he keeps on bringing girls to his room once we get back, so I’m focusing on her for now.”

Reivan raised a brow and looked at her. “He’s bringing girls to his room?”

“You didn’t notice? Sometimes they make out in our common room, which is what she’s really mad about. If he just took them to his room and back, she wouldn’t have any complaints.”

“I… uh, I never noticed. He must have been doing it when I was at the training hall…”

“Kantor’s troubled with something too, but I’m not sure what it is. He won’t spill yet, but I’m slowly trying to get him to open up. It might be something only a man will understand, so you may have to step in if I fail.”

“Kantor, huh…?”

“Yep. And Alini too. I won’t tell her what her troubles are, but she’s got stuff on her shoulders too, y’know? Pay attention to her.”

Reivan scratched the back of his head. He hadn’t noticed any of those, but he did know that Mira hadn’t said a single lie. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Mira nodded with a smile, her droopy eyes that made her look permanently sleepy narrowing in delight. “Thanks, vice-captain. And if you don’t mind, could you host the drinking parties from now on? I’m not really fond of alcohol.”

“...What?”

“Hey!” Aldimir called out to them from afar, Alini right beside him. “We got the coach! It took a while since all of ‘em were gonna rob us with their prices!”

“Oh, let’s go!” Mira punched a fist into the air and called out to Inaria and Kantor, gesturing for them to follow.

Reivan kept his hands in his coat as he also got going, his impression of Mira slightly changed.

════════════════════════════════

The stagecoach promptly took them to their destination—the hotel where the senior battlemage squad was based.

Because they didn’t want the troublemakers to think the government was cracking down on them, the mission remained as secretive as possible. That was also the reason why Reivan's squad was encouraged to come to Lageton in civilian clothing.

Apparently, there wasn’t a full squad of seniors waiting for them. This was because they were still at the investigation stage. Nothing was truly confirmed yet.

That there was a group of Akhanians specifically going after visiting Aizenians—those were mere rumors for now. There were a lot of rumors though. And the local enforcers had noticed there was a pattern to the “group’s” actions. That was the only reason battlemages were even paying attention to this instead of local law enforcement.

There was a very real possibility that Reivan and the others would be sent home after discovering that there was no group at all.

“It’s… It’s this place?” Inaria squinted at the building and quietly muttered. “Couldn’t they have picked something less run down?”

“Now, now, Aria. Not everyone can afford fancy hotels.” Mira chided her, wagging a finger in the air. “It’s the smaller businesses like this that run the country.”

“Don’t just call it a small business.” Reivan hissed at them, gesturing for both of them to be quiet. “And Inaria, they picked this out because it's near places of interest.”

“I know that…” Inaria crossed her arms and looked away. “It’s not like I would have refused to go inside.”

“Of course.” Reivan nodded and then glanced at the others. “Anyone else has any complaints about the hotel that our seniors chose? No? Then act natural and stop insulting the fucking hotel. If any of the employees hear us, who's to say they won't spit in our food?”

He led the way inside and asked for their senior’s fake name. Contrary to how Reivan’s squad wrote the hotel off as run-down, the place actually had a suite that had already been reserved by their seniors. A hotel employee promptly led them to their accommodations. Once there, Reivan knocked on the door and gave a fake name he’d been assigned, the door eventually opening to reveal a rugged middle-aged man with a big smile on his face.

“Come in, kids. Must have been a long way from the countryside, eh?”

“Yes, uncle.” Reivan played along since the hotel employee who led them there was still present. He glanced at his squad and nodded inside. “C’mon, cousins. Get in.”

Seeing that everything was in order, the hotel employee bowed and left with a generic line that involved wishing them a good stay and a few other things.

With a calm gaze, Reivan watched the employee disappear down the stairs before heading inside the suite, taking off his coat and hanging it on a nearby rack.

“Evening, brother.” The middle-aged man from earlier extended a hand to him. “They call me Old Crag. But I’d love it if you could skip the old part.”

“Nice to meet you, Senior Crag.” Reivan took the hand and shook it firmly. “I am Clover Salwyn. Just the first name will do, no need to call me by my full name every time.”

“Funny. I take it you’re this squad’s captain?”

“Vice.”

Crag frowned, seemingly puzzled. “Vice?”

“I’m the vice-captain.” Reivan clarified, gesturing at Mira, who was in the middle of looking out the window at the pretty night view. “She’s the captain.”

“Huh. You’re not playing a trick on an old man, right?”

“I’m not. I’m the vice-captain.”

“So you’re a first-year?”

“Yes.”

“Huh…” Crag squinted at his face. “You look older than that girl.”

Reivan pulled away from the old man since their noses were almost touching. “I am. But I’m in my first year because I failed to get in a couple of times.”

“That so? Good on you for trying again and again. I really thought you were the captain though. From what I’ve seen, you’re the one in charge. I've been scrying you fellas since you got off the train.”

“I’m flattered. But I’m only in my first year and she’s the captain.”

“Right…” Crag took one look at Mira and then back at Reivan, leaning in to whisper to him. “D’you think they’re picking captains for trainees based on looks these days?”

Reivan shrugged. “I don’t believe such a change has been put in place. But who knows?”

“Damn. Well, nothing we can do about it now.” Crag gestured for them all to follow him deeper into the surprisingly lofty suite, prompting him to call out to his scattered squad mates.

It seemed that despite how run down it was on the outside, the interior was very well taken care of.

“Individual introductions can come later since we’re incomplete,” Crag spoke as he led the way to the suite’s lounge, pouring himself a drink from a carafe. “I’m Crag and I’ve been put in charge of this investigation. My half of our retinue has five people, three of which are currently out on patrol in the city, asking questions and the like. Our scryer’s in her room so she can focus, currently watching the three on the field. And I’m here as reinforcements in case our scryer thinks any of the three need help. Anyway, is there anyone here who can speak English?”

Reivan looked at his squad and saw them give each other looks.

Except Mira. She raised her hand with a smile. “I can. But only conversational stuff. And some scattered proverbs...”

“Really? Let me hear it.” Crag grinned and suddenly switched to surprisingly fluent English. “What’s your name?”

Mira paused for a moment before answering, obviously unaccustomed. “Mira Serandina is my name.”

“And how old are you?”

“Uh… Ten and nine?”

Crag chuckled, switching back to Arkhanian. “The word you’re looking for is nineteen.”

Mira scratched her head with a sheepish smile. “I haven’t learned numbers higher than ten yet.”

“Eh. It’s better than nothing. You’re with me tomorrow. On the field.” Crag scanned them one by one, his eyes stopping on Reivan. “How good do you think you are in a pinch?”

Reivan didn’t really know how to answer such a question.

But luckily, he didn’t have to because Aldimir volunteered the information. “Clover’s the best out of all the first years, senior.”

“The best, huh?” Crag appraised Reivan, looking him up and down. “I’d believe it. Right, you’ll come too. The rest of you will shadow the others in my squad. One’s stationed here to help scry the nearby areas. Another one stays for emergency reinforcement. The last two can patrol with the other two seniors on the field at the time.”

Crag then pointed at Mira. “Your captain will decide who has which duty. Talk about it amongst yourselves and decide by tomorrow. Wake up at dawn. Dinner’s downstairs, they’ll serve you something if you ask. Any questions?”

Kantor raised a hand. “Senior, where will we be sleeping?”

“That's a good question.” Crag nodded before gesturing around them. “There are three unallocated rooms, all of which have two beds each. Pair up and choose as you please.”

“B-but we’re…” Alini hesitantly spoke up. “Three men and three women…”

“Yeah, that’s gonna be tricky.” Crag crossed his arms and shrugged, looking at Mira. “Captain Mira.”

“Yes, senior?” Mira tilted her head.

“If you had to share a room with any of your male squadmates, who would it be?”

Arc#4 Chapter 53: Mission

A bit of chaos was loosed when Mira pulled out wine bottles — mostly caused by her and Aldimir — but the following drinking session wasn't as bad as Reivan thought it would be.

Mira poured everyone a glass before downing her own in one go. She then graced them with an impromptu concert that was, honestly, the best thing Reivan had ever heard in both lifetimes. His ears were blessed and he felt as if he now understood why some people teared up when listening to music. Of course, he didn't tear up, but he now understood that it wasn't such a strange thing. There were quite a number of scenes in movies and animes that caused him to outright bawl his eyes out silently in that somewhat lonely hospital room, and music had been a part of that experience. But he never expected music alone could move him so.

Reivan started to understand why singers and music artists were so popular in his past life.

Still, that didn't really alleviate how undependable their new captain seemed. He did not have a very good impression of her at all.

After she had sung enough, she took a moment to complain about how her throat was getting hoarse before she joined the others in the circle, having their drinking party on the floor because of the lack of tables. Really, why were there no tables?

Honestly, he preferred whiskey, but their captain's wine tasted incredible. Sintran Summer Wine, it was called. Good stuff. Reivan secretly planned to get some eventually to gift acquaintances who secretly enjoyed alcohol, such as his uncle Viktor who he'd not seen for quite a while. He knew a few of the maids and manservants in the palace who saved their wages on particularly expensive drinks too, stating that such luxuries were the spice of life. He'd gift some to his mother too, but he didn't want to find out how she got when drunk.

Unfortunately, though the wine tasted amazing, it was also quite strong. Everyone was rather tipsy after a few glasses, and some got wasted because the deceptively strong wine pulled the rug from under them. Reivan liked to call it a "delayed activation", only for inebriation. Seriously, whoever produced it should affix a warning sign to the bottle.

Kantor was swaying back and forth, his eyes a hair away from closing. He occasionally woke up just before toppling over completely, but most of the time, he only woke up after hitting the floor. Then he would apologize, lose against his drowsiness, and repeat the process. Reivan wanted to suggest he just turn it in, but apparently, their captain said some wise stuff somewhere very deep between all the bullshit, and Kantor didn't want to miss a chance to learn. Nobody could fault the young man for lack of drive, that was for sure. It was unfortunate that driving and alcohol didn't mix, and as such, he found himself crashing frequently.

'Heh. Puns.'

On the other hand, they were all surprised to discover that the normally timid Alini was a completely different person when she was drunk, turning into a bubbly extrovert who comfortably talked with Reivan all night. She didn't slur nor did she seem unsteady in any way, so those who didn't know her wouldn't even notice that she was drunk, but she most definitely was.

Aldimir, Mira, and Inaria drank like sailors though. Their livers must have been made of titanium.

Reivan only kept up with them because he'd been holding the same cup with the same wine in it for dozens of minutes now, occasionally pretending to drink it before praising how great it tasted. He felt quite clever for it. Like a ninja or something. Luckily, his conversation partner lacked the alertness to notice his ploy.

"I know, right?" Alini nodded with a big smile, drawing unnecessarily close to him in her enthusiasm. "It's really tough being a repeat taker. Everyone's going to discourage you all the time, saying that you should just give up and get married or something. You should just find a man to settle down with or something. Something something something! Gah!"

"Yeah..." Reivan took a pretend sip from his glass and tried to channel his inner Clover. It was fortunate that the observers he'd assigned to the owner of his current identity made note of what people said when they thought Clover wasn't listening. "In my case, it was whispering behind my back. Because of how well I did in the academy, it was still fine after I failed once. But after failing twice, everyone just kind of made fun of me for still trying."

Alini stayed silent for a little while before suddenly resting her hand on his knee. "That must have been rough. I only failed once and I almost gave up. I can’t even imagine how hard it was for you… I know I would have given up if I failed a second time.”

“Well, it's good that you didn't… Also, I think you should ease up on the wine.” Reivan smoothly took the glass she’d momentarily rested on the floor, downing it in one gulp so she couldn’t drink it.

“Hey, that was mine...” Alini pouted. Her eyelids looked just about ready to fall any second now, and her gaze was terribly unfocused. Still, she managed an impish little smirk as she leaned against him, resting her chin on his shoulder while hooking an arm around his. “I think I really am a bit drunk...”

"That's a good sign to start thinking about heading off to bed."

"But I don't think I'll make it there..."

Reivan frowned, looking from her to the door plaque with her name on it. It was about a dozen paces from their position. Obviously not a monumental distance to travel. "I think you can do it if you try... Believe in yourself more."

Alini whispered, her breath warm. "You'll come with me?"

"Ah..." Reivan licked his lips as he averted his gaze. Honestly, he wasn't too against the idea. But at the same time, she was drunk. Absolutely hammered, even. Taking her up on her offer was not just morally dubious, but also had the potential of throwing their squad dynamics into disarray.

Even knights were discouraged from romancing on the job, though it was perfectly fine if their assigned posts weren't too related.

Aldimir, who had been slowly balancing objects on top of the barely awake Kantor, noticed them and whistled. “My brother over here sure works fast! I should ask you for advice on how to get girls.”

If the others didn't notice how close Reivan and Alini had gotten, they did now. Mira and Inaria, who had been absorbed in hushed conversation, stopped to look at them, with the former looking like she'd found a new toy and the latter seeming entirely indifferent as usual.

'Goddammnit...'

Obviously, he did not appreciate the metaphorical throwing of oil into the fire. Reivan tried to softly push the drunk Alini away, but she wouldn’t budge. In fact, she doubled down, straddling him and burying her face into his neck, giggling all the while as if she found it funny. The blatant and unladylike action in front of others quite frankly freaked him out, but it was a sad truth when he could admit he'd seen the worst drunks. The knighthood attracted all kinds of weird people, and some were better off never getting near a bottle ever again.

"Oh my!" Mira covered her mouth in surprise and made to cover Inaria's eyes. "Aria, don't look."

"How does he do it..." Aldimir murmured, making a point of doing so loud enough for him to hear.

Reivan snarled at him. “Shut up and help me, Aldim.”

“I think the greatest help I can give you would be to let things play out, no?”

'Fuck this guy...'

“Help…” Reivan mouthed toward the two other girls in the room but suddenly failed to repress a gasp when the crazy chick on top of him lucked out on a sweet spot even he did not know of — though it would make sense, since this wasn't his body, technically.

‘Ah, well… Maybe it wouldn't be too bad…? More allies and all that good stuff.’

Alini’s surprising proficiency in kissing his neck made him waver slightly, but he finally mustered up the strength to push her aside without hurting her. She got up with a bit of a pout and seemed about ready to jump on him again, but Inaria, fortunately, saw fit to interrupt, hooking her arms around Alini’s and dragging her away from him.

"No! Let go of me!” The drunken girl kicked and struggled. “Don't ruin this for me!”

“Agh, she’s strong!” Inaria complained, almost letting her escape. Eventually, she finally couldn’t take it anymore and threw Alini to the side before drawing her wand. “You need to sober up!”

Tendrils of light shot out of Inaria’s wand and flew toward the drunken woman, wrapping around her body and turning her into a human-sized glowing caterpillar, whose muffled protests couldn't quite get through the tendril blocking her mouth.

Mira watched, stowing away her own wand, which she'd drawn at some point without Reivan noticing. A sheepish chuckle escaped her lips. “You have to give her points for honesty. Girl knows what she wants. Bit too bold, though. City folk sure are eager...”

“You could’ve helped,” Inaria snapped, smoothing out her robes.

“I could’ve. But you seemed to be handling things well enough on your own. And I think part of a good leader is knowing when to step back and give subordinates the room to grow!”

“You got the timing wrong, then.”

With an amused giggle, Mira clapped her hands loudly, enough to snap Kantor awake and send all the stuff on him everywhere. “Now that we’ve finished off the very expensive wine that I used last month's salary for, it’s finally time to talk about official squad stuff.”

“We should have talked about this before the wine, Mira.” Inaria said exactly what Reivan was thinking, sighing as she massaged the bridge of her nose. “Look at them. One’s about to fall asleep and two are about to start fucking.”

“We were not about to do that.” Reivan defended, but even he knew that his words rang hollow. "Anyway, let's all agree to keep her away from alcohol when we can."

The redhead nodded. "Agreed. I thought there was only a single wolf in our squad, but I guess wolves don't go it alone. There were actually two."

Aldimir pointed at himself. "Was I the first one?"

"Yes."

"Agh. I've been marked from the start...?" he shook his head and sighed as he put an arm around Kantor. "Guess it's just you and me, buddy."

"What is happening...?" Kantor, the poor innocent soul, was understandably very confused about the situation. Confused enough to banish the drowsiness. "And why's there so much trash around me...?"

"We were about to talk about official squad stuff, Kantor," Aldimir said seriously. "Pay attention."

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry." The smaller man sheepishly dipped his head. "Uhm, please continue, Captain."

Mira nodded, clearing her throat. “First off, I got you all drunk so you’d take the news a little better if you had any issues against it. We’ve actually been assigned a mission! And it’s in Lageton!”

Reivan grunted in surprise at the mention of the city that Ouroboros now owned in all but name.

“Lageton…?” Kantor echoed as he rubbed his eyes, barely managing to stay awake. “Isn’t that the city nearest to the Aizen Kingdom?”

“Yep. I heard it’s crawling with Aizenians.” Aldimir rubbed his hands together. “And I also heard that all the women from Aizen are amazing! All the guys who’ve been to Aizen say it’s true.”

“You'll have to step up, if you want to woo one, minion.” Mira raised a finger as she sat on one of the nearby armchairs. “They probably see us as little impoverished gremlins. They’re also more accustomed to handsome and taller men, You’re probably average over there. And shorter than average there, too.”

“Short…” Kantor muttered to himself, looking as if he’d aged a few decades.

Mira unexpectedly seemed sympathetic. “Ah, well… It’s just the kind of people they are, Kantor. They're huge by default! Even their women get pretty tall there. Must have been all that monster meat they eat all year round. You shouldn’t feel bad. I-I think Arkhanian women actually prefer men that aren’t too tall?”

{ [Lie Detection] has activated }

Reivan frowned at the blatant lie but it was one he could appreciate. He gave Kantor an encouraging pat on the head because at the bottom of his heart, he knew what Mira said was roughly correct. The thing about monster meat was mildly surprising though, but strangely, he couldn't refute it.

'Wait, is that actually...?'

He knew what went on in the farms, and it wasn't exactly top-secret information that a lot of the cheap and staple food in the market was monster meat. Aizen's people had simply learned to accept that and some even preferred monster meat exclusively. While there were monsters all over the continent, and some areas did eat them from time to time, nobody but Aizen had industrialized the harvesting and processing of the resource to such. To the extent that they could oversaturate the market regularly, pushing aside orthodox meat like chicken, pork, or beef. Orthodox meat had become a luxury simply because of just how accessible monster meat was.

Mira's words made him think, however, if that truly had something to do with his people's heights and general attractiveness. Or more importantly, the unnaturally common talent for elementalism that was absurdly rare literally everywhere else in the continent.

'Huh. There's probably someone researching that, to be honest...'

Something to think about on another day.

Kantor looked up at her with anxiety. “...Really, captain?”

“O-of course!” Mira subtly looked away. “A lot of people prefer home-grown stuff. You know, people like what they’re used to. It’s just that, but with men, y’know?”

Aldimir suddenly raised his hand with a grin. “Queen Mira! I have a question.”

“What is it now, minion…?”

“Does that mean you prefer Arkhanians to Aizenians?”

“Nope.” Mira instantly shook her head, even making an X with her arms.

“Eh…” Aldimir deflated, theatrically flopping to the floor. “Does that mean I have no chance?”

“Even if I preferred local men, I don’t like playboys like you. You'd cheat eventually!”

“You’re so harsh! I can change, Queen Mira!”

“No, thank you.” Mira giggled. “It’d cause me too much stress thinking about what you were up to when I couldn’t see you. Hence, you’re disqualified. Sorry~!”

“No way…”

“In the first place, I dislike local men because I know they fuck around so much!” Mira sighed. “The stuff you overhear in our restaurant… One time, this guy took three different families on the same day. And they all called him Dad!”

Inaria poured herself another glass and grinned. “I’ll drink to that…”

Reivan watched her from the side, knowing she had issues with her father’s secret affairs. Affairs that she had been too happy to divulge when he asked her for dirt on her father.

“Is there really no chance, Queen Mira!?” Aldimir asked with a dramatic tone that could have been interpreted as either sincere or joking.

“No way. You'll remain a minion for life.” Mira shook her head, apparently treating his inquiries as a joke. “Besides! I already have my sights set on someone!”

Inaria's brows furrowed as her head tilted to the side. "Who?”

“Hehe... It's Prince Reivan Aizenwald!”

Reivan, the man who just got mentioned so suddenly, almost spat out a bit of the wine he was pretending to sip. He had been content with letting their conversation play out until it actually turned into something important, but he never expected to hear his real name so suddenly.

“Oh, that guy?” Inaria inclined her head and also took a seat at one of the surrounding armchairs. “I saw him on the papers. Isn’t he at the newly built embassy in Arkhana? What, did you see a portrait of him and get a crush?”

“No way.” Mira giggled and shook her head. “I saw him in person. The day he arrived in this massive flying ship thingy as big as a mansion. Or bigger than one, actually. You should've seen it, Aria. I bet you could fit everyone from back home in that thing."

‘Was she there…?’

Reivan tried to recall, but the mob had been incredibly large back then, and he hadn’t taken the time to look at every single face. Also, his attention was on certain persons of interest, so he hadn’t bothered to pay attention to any of the other people. If he relived the memory through [Glimpse of Eternity], he could probably pick her out eventually, but there wasn't really a need to go that far.

“So…” Inaria crossed her arms and reclined. “You like him for his face?”

“Yes!” Mira agreed without a second thought, even pulling out a portrait of the foreign royalty and showing it off. “See? He’s a thing of beauty, isn’t he? Let me tell you, the portraits they sell don't do him justice but they also aren't bad. He's like... well, like a prince! Like the ones in the storybooks we used to read. But he's in real life. And he's rich and handsome!”

Inaria's nose wrinkled as she looked at the older woman, her face managing a whole monologue's worth of disdain without really saying a word.

Mira bristled at the blatant scorn. "You're looking at me like I'm shallow or something!"

"How perceptive of you. That's exactly what I was thinking."

"So you’re telling me that you don’t think your little boyfriend’s handsome?”

“Of course not.” Inaria huffed, sitting up a little straighter, only for her to deflate in embarrassment. “H-He’s way more handsome than some snooty prince… But I don’t like him just for that! I don’t care about his looks!”

Mira scoffed. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

"It's the truth... He's more than his face!"

"Anyway, I don’t like the prince just because of his looks either. I mean, he’s the prince, so wouldn’t he also take care of me for the rest of my life? I wouldn’t have to worry about a thing!”

Inaria gave up talking to her. "That's even worse than me. You like him for his face and his money? Seriously?"

‘Well… she wouldn’t be the first person to have that thought.’

Reivan mused how a number of his future concubines actually had similar thought processes. None of them were poor, but they wanted a way to maintain a luxurious life and get some prestige in the meantime, since Aizen’s royalty normally didn’t take concubines in too often. A result of marrying women of powerful backgrounds and personalities, no doubt. He truly pitied any women trying to compete with his mother or his sister-in-law in... well, in anything, really.

Of course, Reivan didn’t hate that sort of thinking either.

He was simply giving them what they wanted, and in turn, they would give him what he wanted, which was a healthy child with desirable attributes. It was a transaction, and as long as both sides ended up happy with the exchange, then there was no problem with that. Money and status were also part of who he was, so women liking him for that wasn’t a bad thing in his opinion.

‘I’d prefer they like something else though, but hey, to each their own.’

Well, he wasn't obligated to like people liking him for the wrong things though. They weren't at fault for liking what they liked, it was a free world on that account. But he also wasn't wrong for liking what he liked.

“That’s enough about my future husband!” Mira chuckled, hiding away the prince’s portrait in the pocket of her robe. “We leave for Lageton in three days. Pack up for a long stay. Don’t worry about our transportation, my hubby's country has provided us with free passes, so we’re riding on express trains for free!”

Aldimir raised his hand as he remained lying on the floor. “Captain, what are we doing in Lageton?”

“Oh, right. I haven’t said that part yet, haven’t I? Well, there are some problems with hoodlums popping up there. Apparently, some xenophobic assholes are making trouble for our foreign guests, and some investigations have brought to light that it’s organized. Not just isolated incidents.”

‘Hm…? Is it those brothers or whatever that tried to attack me?’

Reivan hummed in thought. “So our job there is to stop them…?”

Mira shook her head with a kind smile. “You have an overinflated impression of what we can do as trainees, vice-captain. We’re just there to accompany senior battlemages and basically shadow them. Maybe do some grunt work for them. Whatever they deem safe enough to leave to us. That’s what our so-called missions are going to be like for the next year or two, apparently. Mainly observing real battlemages do real work.”

Kantor scratched his head. “But I thought even trainees were at risk sometimes?”

“It happens.” The captain nodded. “Not all the time though. Usually, we trail urban squads and stay relatively safe. We might have to fight off a few criminals if we’re unlucky, but that’s it. Sometimes though, you get unlucky and have to trail a squad that’s been sent on what was supposed to be an uneventful patrol along the borders of a monster-infested area.”

Reivan grunted in understanding. “But sometimes, events do happen.”

“That’s right, vice-captain.” Mira pointed at him with a willowy white finger. “I haven’t experienced anything like that though. But one squad in my batch lost a few people on a normal patrol mission in a forest up north.”

Inaria raised a brow. “Argonia?”

“No, not that far up north. It was just a forest, one of many. We’ve been at peace with the empire for a while now, barring the occasional border skirmish. They never take trainees anywhere near where the skirmishes happen, so don’t worry. You’ll still get to come back and smooch around with your boyfriend.”

“Would you shut up about that?” Inaria got up and charged at Mira to shut her up, but the older girl was unexpectedly nimble, slipping past the aggressor despite the sheer amount of wine in her system.

“Well then! That’s all.” Mira giggled as she stopped right in front of the door to her room. “Are there any violent reactions to our mission to Lageton? We sometimes get that. People expecting they can sit all cushy in the Tower for a few years.”

Reivan scanned the others and found that nobody had anything to say, except Alini, who couldn’t say anything. He, on the other hand, loved the opportunity to leave the Tower legitimately.

"And finally...." Mira scratched her cheek, a bit hesitantly. With a deep breath, she bowed low. "Uhm, to tell you the truth, I don’t know why I’ve been placed in the second-year leadership course. I wasn’t my first-year squad’s vice-captain so it doesn’t make sense to me.”

“That sounds about right, considering it's you,” Inaria raised a brow. "Couldn't you refuse?"

"I’m going to ignore the jab you just took at me, but yes, I did try. The assignment wasn't really phrased as a question, however. Apparently, they have plans for developing my potential or something."

"Huh." Reivan rubbed his chin. The Tower wouldn't have placed her in a leadership role without a reason. Surely, it wasn't just because she had two spirit beasts, right?

'Maybe there's more to her than meets the eye?'

His eyes couldn't see anything though. And he was pretty sure he had really good eyes.

"So here I am,” Mira said, a sheepish smile on her face. "I am absolutely convinced that I shouldn't be a captain, but for all its worth, we're kind of stuck with each other for a year. I'll try my best to fill out the shoes I've been given and not hold everyone back."

Despite himself, Reivan felt a bit sympathetic to her situation. Certainly, the mantle of leadership wasn't easily taken. It certainly wasn't easy for him, and he'd been educated to be one. The weight of responsibility, of possibly dictating the life and death of other people who look to you for guidance, was heavy. Judging by what he saw of her status screen and his general impressions, the girl may have been inept, but she wasn't a bad person.

A bad person wouldn't have felt the weight at all. She certainly did, it seemed.

"And because of that..." Mira cleared her throat. "I have decided to delegate the majority of the work to the vice-captain. I am going to work him to the bone!"

Reivan frowned, feeling all his sympathetic feelings drained out of him. "You're actually going to say that with the person present...?"

“Alright. Dismissed! I’m heading off to bed. See you at breakfast, everyone. Or lunch, if I sleep in.”

Saying nothing more, and wilfully ignoring his protest, their captain ducked into her room and shut the door, the click of a lock following shortly afterward.

Reivan sighed as his gaze fell upon the empty bottles, the half-finished plate of cheese, and the used wine glasses spread out on the floor.

‘Who’s going to clean this all up…’

“I’m gonna head in too.” Aldimir already had one leg in his room by the time he said this, so Reivan was unable to stop him. "Night, everyone~"

‘Bastard. So that’s why he was so quiet…’

“I’ll help…” Kantor started picking up the stuff on the ground.

Inaria looked around and sighed. “I’ll help too. Sorry about her. She’s always been like that, just doing what she wants and saying what she wants. Just worse, now, for some reason. She’s a good person deep down but…”

“But you have to look really deep?” Reivan answered dryly, prompting a rare snicker from the redhead beauty.

“Perhaps. Her parents spoiled her, that’s for sure. Anyway, vice-captain, are you going to help or not?”

“I’d rather supervise. I'm the vice-captain, after all...”

Inaria glared at him and Reivan raised both hands in surrender, walking over to help too.

════════════════════════════════

The next few days went by uneventfully.

Alini woke up sober the next day and apologized profusely for her actions. Apparently, she was the type of drunk who didn’t forget what they did while under the influence. Who knew? She did seem much more amiable to Reivan, even asking him if he had eaten already and whether he wanted to eat with her. According to her, it was because she felt closer to him as someone who also didn’t get into the tower on their first try.

As for their captain…

They all discovered that their captain tended to sleep in by default. Their first day’s disaster wasn’t just a fluke, even though she headed to bed early, she would wake up around lunchtime.

Which was strange, unless she wasn’t actually sleeping when she headed in her private quarters.

Mira, Reivan discovered, also had a preference for lounging around in the common room, perusing the books on the shelves. Apparently, all squad common rooms were configured the same way, so she was familiar with most of the tomes on display. She wasted no time in suggesting a number of spellbooks that would be very useful and relatively easy to learn while citing complementary grimoires that provided some better insights that could only be read in the archives.

It was her only captain-like behavior though.

She was utterly slovenly most of the time, sitting in ways that left her vulnerable and not even bothering to wear the formal robes that all battlemages were supposed to wear at most times. Of course, seeing as the common room was a relatively private place that not many people had access to, perhaps dressing more comfortably was the norm. Unfortunately, she had a tendency to lie down on the sofa in strange ways while immersed in reading. And when a woman wore a loose blouse and a loose pair of shorts while she was doing that… Well, it was a sight her father wouldn’t want strangers to see.

In any case, it was perhaps a blessing for her that Aldimir rarely spent any time in the common room, but sadly, Reivan did, because he'd followed her words and read the books there instead of going to the archives. He got quite a few unexpected flashes from her, understandably. The thick formal robes that battlemages usually wore over their clothes hid their frames very well, which was part of the reason Aldimir and Reivan both never noticed that Alini had such a great one. Mira, by strutting around without her robes on, revealed that she wasn’t so blessed in that regard. But she wasn’t bad either.

Not bad at all.

Hence, Reivan had to make an effort to keep his eyes away from her, helping her preserve the dignity she failed to protect. His recent actions and the influence of the people — really, it was just the one guy though — he kept around him proved otherwise, but he believed himself to be a gentleman.

And gentlemen looked away when faced with that sort of serendipity.

Even when he asked her to sit properly or to fix her robes, the effect would last only a few minutes until she would unconsciously revert back. When he did it too much, she’d tease him about being too conscious, so he just stopped after a while.

Of course, he would have loved to read in his room. But the books were magically bound to the common room and would fly off his hands whenever he tried. And according to an embarrassed Mira, if one tried to hide the books in a spatial storage artifact, it would still fly out of the artifact and back onto its assigned shelf. The books in the archives had a similar function, and there was a whole story about it because she had to learn that through experience, not word of mouth.

In the end, Reivan didn’t have a very good opinion of their squad’s captain. And he also didn’t have a very good opinion of the Tower for putting her in a leadership position.

But he did recognize that she was, in her own incompetent way, trying to improve.

Anyway, there was nothing he could do but accept it. He may as well try to look at the silver linings and whatnot.

‘Maybe it was because she has two spirit beasts?’

Mira herself had revealed this information, but they had only ever seen one of her bonds because the other one was a “difficult child” and didn’t want to come out unless it was to fight things.

The other one was, surprisingly, similar to Dippy. Not just similar, they were the same species.

Except Mira's blob was white and didn’t have hair. Also, its mouth wasn’t filled with rows upon rows of serrated teeth. Despite this, checking their status screens told him that they were the exact same race with the exact same skills, so Dippy [Innocence] and [Disarming Presence] weren't unique to it.

‘And hers has an attribute.’

That was also one of the main differences — Boop, her spirit bond, had the [Light] attribute.

Reivan managed to easily probe out more information since she was all too happy to tell anyone who asked about “the cutest girl in the world” that she’d been with since she was a child. According to her, it used to be gray, gradually turning white as they both got older and even obtaining the ability to light up. It also got softer, which she had Reivan confirm by pushing the white blob to him.

“He’s like a marshmallow!” she had said.

Reivan didn’t know how she knew about marshmallows since only Aizen had them and weren’t even that common over there, but he did manage to confirm that Boop wasn’t the reason Mira was given a leadership role.

It was weak, after all. Even Sen could beat it and Sen wasn’t even a year old. Her voice, even when just talking normally, was so lovely he’d want to hire her to sing to him while he ate and he probably wouldn’t get tired of her yapping off for hours. But he didn’t think vocal quality was something that mattered to the Spirit Tower.

‘Maybe she’s unexpectedly skilled in tough situations?’

Reivan certainly knew a few knights like that — ones that looked lazy and undependable but were actually monsters in human skin, capable of doing work that normally took multiple knights to accomplish. One of them, over drinks, had told him a proverb that fits with their way of life.

One had to crouch before jumping high.

Thinking so, Reivan decided to recall his previous assessment of Mira. It was dangerous to let first impressions dictate his thoughts. Who knew, perhaps it was all a trap of some kind to lure people into underestimating her. An insidious scheme, the likes of which nobody would ever expect.

‘I doubt it though.’

“Squad One-One! Are you guys ready!?” Mira asked energetically on the morning they departed for Lageton.

“What the hell is one-one…?” Reivan asked, lugging around a newly bought bag to put his clothes in. It was styled as a duffle bag, except it was made with the leather of some unfortunate monster. Additionally, it was quite durable, so he wouldn't have to keep buying replacements — fitting, for Clover Salwyn's miserly personality.

Every other member of his squad apparently had personal spatial storage artifacts, so he was the only one carrying anything as the six of them stood just outside the Spirit Tower's grounds, waiting out in the cold for a stagecoach to take them to the station.

‘Fuck. It sucks to be poor…’

“Yep. This squad is year one’s squad one.” Mira explained, visibly deflating from her previous excitement. “That means the Tower treats our squad as the best one in the year. Congratulations, my lovely minions! Feel the pressure!”

“Whoo!” Aldimir cheered, smoothly taking Reivan’s bag and putting it into his spatial ring. “It’s all thanks to our vice-captain over here. We can’t have you lugging anything around, so I’ll take it for you, vice-captain.”

“Thanks.” Reivan shrugged, accepting the help. “Also, stop calling me vice-captain and shit. I'll hex you.”

“Vice-captain!” Mira suddenly called for him with a grin.

Reivan sighed, turning to her. “...What is it, captain?”

She grimaced at the form of address but quickly reverted back to her usual demeanor and did a little spin on the spot. After a second and third spin, she faced him, her footing slightly unsteady, then raised a brow. “How do I look?”

He inclined his head. “What? Was that a dance?”

“No! I mean my clothes! Tell me what you think!”

“Uh… Why ask me at all?”

“I need a man’s opinion. Aldimir would just try to flatter me so he could get under my skirt, and Kantor seems like the type who’d say something nice because I’m the captain.”

“So I’m the only option by default…?”

Mira giggled. “Yes. You’re the best I’ve got, so I gotta work with it. Well?”

They’d been instructed not to wear their robes or anything that would identify them as battlemages on the way, so Mira was wearing a long-sleeved white top that clung elegantly to the contours of her lithe body and a long dark checkered skirt. It was normal fair as far as Arkhan was concerned, but she was pretty from the start so her simple attire actually complimented her beauty quite well.

“You look good,” Reivan admitted honestly.

Mira grimaced. “How good? Details. Quickly.”

“I don’t know what you want from me here…”

“Like, if Prince Reivan was on the same train with us, would I turn his head?”

Reivan, the person in question, was a bit stunned and didn’t quite know how to answer.

“Why would that even matter?” Inaria, who was wearing a very well-made dark red overcoat over whatever she was wearing, spoke up. “Why would the prince be on a train from Vel Ayala to anywhere? Shouldn’t he be in Arkhana?”

Mira wagged a finger at her childhood friend. “You’re late on the news. His little adopted sister, my future sister-in-law, is the one at the embassy now. The one that’s apparently part cat? I don't really get it either. Anyway, while she’s getting swamped with marriage proposals from everyone and their brother, he’s traveling the country incognito! So there’s a chance he’s been in Vel Ayala all along and is on his way out!”

“That’s way too optimistic… There are literally hundreds of cities in the republic.”

“Luck is a mixture of preparation and opportunity!” Mira countered with an English quote that Inaria didn’t even understand but surprised Reivan because of how fluently she said it. “Anyway, vice-captain! I need to look like someone that’ll make the prince say ‘Yes, that’s the girl I’m taking home to the palace!’...!”

‘Wait, did I seem like the type of person to just pick people off the streets and take them home with me…?’

Hopefully not.

It seemed Inaria had similar thoughts as him. “Even if he thought you looked nice, would he just take you home like that?”

“Of course, he would.” Mira nodded as if it was a matter of fact. “Have you seen him? He probably sleeps around a lot.”

‘Hey! That’s just not… Wait… Shit. I don’t think I can refute that. Fuck. No, no, no, no... My reputation...’

Reivan felt a bitter taste in his mouth, frustrated that some girl he’d never met had such a clear impression of him.

In the end, he didn’t get to give Mira the answer she wanted because their stagecoach arrived. And anyway, by the time they hopped on, Mira didn't seem to care anymore, instead opting to complain about how cold it was — which was an age-old tradition in Arkhan. One literally couldn't go outside in a group without one or two people complaining about it. Traditions and whatnot, apparently.

They reached the station shortly after that and caught the earliest express train to Lageton.

A city that he practically controlled from the shadows of Ouroboros.

Challenge Complete: Transcendent tier is OPEN!

Welp, does everyone still remember the bet I made with myself at the start of June?

Heh.

To no one's surprise, I, Lire, have triumphantly succeeded.

The Transcendent tier is open for anyone interested. Right now, there are 10 advanced chapters, but I'll slowly get that up to 15 or something.

Maybe by next month? I'm not starting another challenge btw. WAY too much pressure.

It's pretty expensive, so I'm not actually expecting a whole lot of people to sub for it. The main money-maker will likely still be the Ascendant tier.

Since most of my financial supporters are there, it feels dumb to cater to Transcendents.

I gotta give my Ascendants some love too, y'know?

So instead of 5 chapters, I'm going to give the Ascendant tier 7 advanced chapters soon. But only when I have, like, maybe 12 advanced chapters on the 10$ tier? Eh, maybe I'll do it on Wednesday, who knows?

I don't have a plan! Wait this is kind of a plan, so maybe I do have a plan?

I don't know! I've never written so much in the span of two days and my brain's too fried for the incoming Monday.

Anyway.

Thanks for all my continued supporters. It really warms my heart that there are people out there who like my work — and hopefully me too.

This achievement was thanks to you guys. You are all the GOATs.

I'm gonna go to sleep now.

It's a Monday tomorrow and I hate those, so I'll need as much energy as I can muster.

Arc#4 Chapter 52: Squad One's Captain

Reivan fell asleep in the infirmary-like chamber but when he woke up, he was in his room with a brand new pair of glasses on the bedside counter. They were significantly better than what Clover wore, so he was quite happy about the arrangement. Maybe he would break his wand or rip up some of his clothes next time. That way, the Tower would reimburse him with something better.

He just had to avoid getting caught. Which, due to all the Ascendants running around, was highly unlikely.

Thankfully, he was still wearing his battle robes so it seemed nobody was manhandling his delicate body while he slept. But that made him realize that someone must have done so before the assessment — after all, someone donned the battle robes on him. And he definitely didn't do it himself. As far as he knew, he also didn't have the type of sleeping habits where he swapped his pajamas out with combat garb.

'Meh. It's not my body anyway...'

In any case, Reivan took a bath and changed into more comfortable clothes, only to lay back down on the bed to think about what happened.

For example, how he was shouldered with the responsibility of being a squad’s vice-captain.

'Damn.'

But when he really thought about it, he couldn't really blame anybody but himself. It really was because he'd been showing off a little too much. Or rather, he failed to anticipate how easy it was to be impressive. Before coming to the Tower, he'd expected to meet with extremely talented young sorcerers from respectable mage clans that would make Clover Salwyn look like a fucking child. He'd even mistakenly estimated Clover Salwyn as somewhat close to average before taking his identity.

Boy, was that a mistake. Reivan had truly overestimated the children from the mage clans and underestimated Clover Salwyn a little too much. Perhaps it was time to turn his performance down a notch. Or two. Hell, maybe three.

As he sat there and drowned in his own musings, Reivan’s stomach suddenly announced its complaints, urging him to stand up and get some food. He found his formal robe hanging on a rack near the door, so he slipped his arms through it and headed straight for the Mess Hall.

Only to pause as he stepped foot outside.

“Huh…?” Reivan unconsciously frowned and looked around, adjusting his glasses.

The hallway outside his room was gone, replaced by a circular chamber that seemed like a lounge of some kind, filled with sofas, bookshelves, and other pieces of furniture. There was a smaller teleportation pad in the middle too, which meant the other five doors spaced out along the wall weren’t exits.

With a glance behind him, he noted that instead of Room #99, the door to his private quarters now had a plaque with his full name on it. A short circuit around the circular lounge revealed that the other rooms were for the other four people in his squad — with an additional room marked with the name “Mira Serandina”, who, he assumed, was the second year meant to be their squad's captain.

‘Judging by the name, it’s a woman. Aldimir’s going to have a field day…’

Reivan debated knocking on Aldimir’s door but decided against it, heading to the pad by himself. Luckily, it seemed his key still gave him access to the Mess Hall for first years, since he faced no problems teleporting. When he next opened his eyes, the familiar hall greeted him. And surprisingly, Aldimir was already there, sharing a table with Alini and a few other young women — which came as no surprise to Reivan. Honestly, that guy had to ease up at some point.

Noticing him as well, Aldimir waved him over with a smile. “Hey! Over here, vice-captain!”

Reivan bit his lip and debated whether to cast a hex of some kind but managed to hold down the urge. Since he’d been called over anyway, he may as well join them.

“Morning, everyone.” Reivan greeted as he sat down on an empty seat, grabbing the plate so he could punch in his order.

“Sir, vice-captain, sir.” Aldimir suddenly stood up and saluted with a serious expression. “With all due respect, it’s five in the afternoon, sir!”

“Oh…” Reivan pulled out his pocket watch and confirmed that it was, in fact, five in the afternoon. It seemed he’d slept quite a bit. He nodded in acceptance but still grimaced. “Also, stop calling me that.”

“But sir! You’re the vice-captain!”

Everyone at the table giggled at his antics and he seemed to think that was enough fooling around, so he sat back down with a satisfied grin. “You guys should have seen Clover last night. He just went to town on those… uh, I don’t know what they’re called. The dead guys?”

“I asked Elder Bernadine and they’re called zombies.” Alini volunteered a bit reluctantly. “It’s a borrowed word from Aizen since we don’t have an equivalent one in Arkhanian.”

“Huh. Neat. Zombies, huh? Weird word.” Aldimir muttered the new addition to his vocabulary repeatedly before suddenly tilting his head. “Wait, why does Aizen have a word for zombies? Do they have zombies over there? I thought they only had knights. And trains. And, like, a giant mountain the size of an entire province.”

“Pff.” Reivan barely held back his laughter, shaking his head. “No, they don’t have any zombies, as far as I remember.”

“I don’t think so either.” Another girl cut in. “I’ve been there before. My Father took us there on business once.”

A different young woman clapped her hands, a big smile on my face. “Ah, me too! Starwater City was so nice!”

Reivan enjoyed the novel experience of eating as he listened to foreigners’ stories about their visits to his own country, feeling oddly happy from all the praise they showered the kingdom with. He also came to know that some of the people he was sitting with right now were very wealthy, considering how they mentioned Starwater City and a few other stores he knew without complaining about the price.

‘Or maybe they don’t know it's expensive because their parents pay for them…?’

In any case, he finished his meal in quite a pleasant mood.

“Hey, Clover, you came out later than we did. Did she come out of her room?” Aldimir asked after they’d all finished their meals and the other people they were eating with left. "Our captain, I mean. With the pretty name."

“I don’t know.” Reivan shrugged. “I didn’t hang around in the common room for that long. Wait, you haven’t seen her either?”

“I don’t think she’s there at all…” Alini trailed off, hugging a small bear on her lap — which was apparently the big bear that was nearly unstoppable last night, just in an energy-saving form. It was nuzzling up to her and resting its chin on her mountains, the lucky bastard. “Maybe she’s out and won’t be back until later?”

“Huh.” Reivan licked his lips and adjusted his new glasses again, unused to them. “Where’s Kantor? And Sister Inaria?”

“Oh, Aria must be in the archives.” Alini tapped her chin thoughtfully. “She mentioned wanting to learn a wider range of spells.”

“Kantor’s got a visitor,” Aldimir said with a grin. “Pretty girl. I think she’s his girlfriend or something.”

“It was his sister…” Alini corrected in a quiet voice.

“What? Really?”

“They looked alike, so…”

“Excellent.” Aldimir snapped his fingers. “You think he’d be okay with introducing me?”

“Give it a rest, Aldim.” Reivan sighed and stood up. “I’m actually gonna head off to the archives too. I’ve wanted to go from the very start.”

‘Not that I’ll find anything important. I only have access to the lower floor, after all.’

Still, any information was better than no information. He may as well steal it now so he wouldn’t need to steal it later.

“Sounds boring. Good luck." Aldimir shrugged and turned to their other squadmate. "Allie, you wanna go hang out in the city with me? Or maybe we could explore the Upper City!”

“A-Allie…?” Alini parroted the unexpected nickname she received. “I-I don’t know… I heard it’s expensive, and I don’t have a lot of money on me.”

“Money? What do you need money for when you’re going there with a man? I’ll pay for everything. Don’t worry about it.”

‘This guy spouts some good advice sometimes but he doesn’t follow them…’

“Don’t bother her too much, Aldim.” Reivan shook his head in exasperation and left them alone, heading for the pad.

“Oh yeah? Is that the order of our esteemed vice-captain?”

“Yes, it is. Why don't you jump off the Upper City while you're there too.”

Aldimir chuckled. “Alright, alright. Offer still stands though, Allie. Just say the word, I’ll show you a good time.”

Reivan didn’t get to hear the rest, since the light of teleportation filled his vision as soon as his feet touched down on the purple stone platform.

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Reivan had a lot of fantasies about what the archives would look like, but he was disappointed when he discovered that it looked like a fairly ordinary library.

Except there were numerous floating wisps of gentle blue light instead of lamps or light bulbs, collectively illuminating every corner of the place. There were also golems roaming around, carrying stacks of thick tomes here and there. Also, like most floors in the Spirit Tower, it was shaped like a circle, with the teleportation pad right in the middle.

‘Okay, never mind. It’s not like a normal library at all.’

Reivan looked around, noticing that there weren’t only first years there. In fact, the first years were heavily outnumbered, the floor dominated by what he assumed were second years. This was because the first level of the Bronze Archives was filled with spells at around the level of power that first and second years needed — according to what Elder Bernadine told them at orientation, that is.

It didn't take long for him to single out Inaria because of her distinct red hair, but he let her be seeing as she was absorbed in reading something, her face screwed up in focus. Instead, he browsed the nearest bookshelf with disinterest. Just by entering the archives, he’d already completed his objective. Because now, he could recreate an exact replica of the entire floor through [Glimpse of Eternity].

‘I just wished it let me recreate the entire tower and all its floors…’

Unfortunately, he learned, his ability was heavily reliant on his own knowledge and experiences.

For example, in one of the most memorable visions it showed him, the kingdom was completely overrun with hordes of monsters and everything went horribly, horribly wrong. But back then, Reivan was ignorant of just how obsessively Aizen and its past kings prepared for such a possibility. There were layers upon layers of defenses and enchantments in the capital, and some of those enchantments even spanned the entire nation. None of that appeared in the nightmare he was shown. And it wasn’t because [Glimpse of Eternity] intentionally left it out to fuck with him, but rather, because Reivan didn’t know — and hence, the ability also couldn’t replicate it.

There were a bunch of other mistakes caused by his ignorance. Like how his mother managed to fight off a Transcendent at all — she had already told him that even if she broke through her limits, she still wouldn’t last a second against one in the same way a mortal wouldn't last a second against an Ascendant. But the Reivan of that time thought his mother could do it, so his ability thought so too.

None of the Twelve Helms showed up in the dream either. Because Reivan didn’t even know about them at the time. He didn't even know there was a Twelve Helms at all.

Such was the ability’s limitation.

And so, to replicate the archives in a fragment of eternity, he had to at least enter it once. Physically reading every book in real life wasn’t required, strangely enough. It was a fact that was surprisingly easy to confirm, since all he had to do was see a physical book in order for [Glimpse of Eternity] to replicate its contents. Karuna, the fairy living rent-free inside his head and [Glimpse of Eternity]’s previous wielder, was also surprised by the discovery. Admittedly, she never tried to use it the way he did — though, that may be partly due to the fact that there weren’t any books in her world.

‘I should make sure…’

Reivan pretended to be rubbing dirt from his eyes as he activated his most troublesome ability.

{ [Glimpse of Eternity] has been activated. }

He was immediately met by a world of pure white, but he wasted no time in willing a replica of the archives into creation. The surroundings morphed rapidly, distorting into the place his real body was in.

Reivan glanced at where his real body was before strolling over to the opposite side of the expansive library. He picked out a random book, flipped to a random page, and pointed at a random line. He then closed it shut and memorized the title and where the book was placed in addition to everything else.

Done with his business on that side, he deactivated his ability and opened his eyes in the real world once again. Such smoothness was something he could only achieve because he’d been using his ability a lot these past few years. It was all paying off, and he was steadily starting to think that he’d mastered it to some extent. A dangerous assumption, he realized. He'd have to fix that.

‘Alright, let’s see if it works as I intended.’

Reivan turned around and glided across the hall, his purple robes billowing out behind him. Nothing made him feel like a wizard cosplayer than wearing such a thick and flowing robe while walking around a library filled with robe-wearing people too. What was it about robes, anyway? Why did mages seem to prefer them, he wondered. There were literally hundreds of types of clothes, so why robes?

Honestly, it would have been somewhat funny if they wore animal suits or something. He wasn't sure he could ever take a wizard seriously if they walked around in one though.

As his idle thoughts ran rampant, he eventually reached the same shelf he’d gone to in his dream. He spotted the book at the same spot as the dream. Its title and the author credited on the cover were the exact same as well. Smiling, he flipped to the page and, as expected, the word he’d seen in the dream was right there.

‘Yep. Broken. This shit's broken for stealing information.’

Reivan closed the book and held back a snicker. His next target was the upper floors. Once he was done, he could go back home any time with his chest puffed out in pride — not that he would, seeing as he could still do a lot more by staying.

He really wanted to though. He really really wanted to go home and get married. Probably have a crap ton of kids too. Like, maybe a dozen. Or two dozens? Hell, he'd keep 'em coming. Let it be known that he was a man of vigor and willpower.

‘Right. Let’s do our best here for a little more… For my future kids, I guess. Shit, I'm not looking forward to thinking of names for them all...’

Reivan put the book back where it came from as his mind was filled with thoughts of tiny Elsaminas and Helens clinging to him and asking him to lift them up. He quickly cut off such thoughts upon realizing that he may not have the willpower to stop himself from smiling if he kept going.

‘Hm… Considering Clover’s personality, I should probably come back here every once in a while and pretend to read.’

Now seemed as good a time as any, so he asked a few nearby seniors about spells to learn as a first-year, and they all suggested defensive spells — which was incredibly ominous since it meant that he would be attacked a lot. He certainly hoped not. Though, when was the last time his hopes actually ended up being fulfilled? Probably more lately than he thought, but still. What's strange was that even when he mentioned that he already knew the Resonance Bulwark spell, they all still recommended defensive spells without telling him a specific reason why.

Reivan chose to follow their advice, dedicating the next few hours to reading up on a particularly tricky shield spell that sent the sorcerer back depending on the force it blocked. He thought it would be pretty useful because spells that sent the attacker back could be resisted while this one couldn’t — because the sorcerer was doing it to themself.

‘It defends and helps create space. A good spell.’

It wouldn’t be too useful against anything too powerful though. The knockback effect only activated if the shield wasn’t completely destroyed, after all. But it wouldn’t be a bad spell to add to “Clover Salwyn’s” repertoire. He would just have to be careful about using the spell if there happened to be a cliff nearby — which happened a lot more than he was comfortable with.

“I wish we could at least take these books to our rooms…” he muttered under his breath, annoyed that books couldn’t be taken out of the archives.

“Hm? Oh, there’s a copy of that book in every first-year common room. Just read it there.”

Reivan’s shoulders jumped and he turned around to see a woman he didn’t know. “Uh… Is that so? Thank you.”

“No problem.” She smiled, her somewhat sleepy eyes squinting in delight. “I’m happy to help. Oh, and I’m sorry I overslept.”

"Overslept?" Reivan’s head unconsciously inclined to the side at the sudden shift in topic. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, I didn’t explain clearly… Let’s start over.” The woman laughed sheepishly, stepping back and seemingly taking a moment to arrange her thoughts. “My name’s Mira. I’m your squad captain.”

“Oh…”

“Yes… Are you okay?”

“Ah.” Reivan snapped out of it and nodded. Somehow, there was something about how she talked that lulled him into a daze. “I’m, uh… I’m Clover Salwyn, ma’am.”

Captain Mira raised her brows before she covered her mouth and giggled. “Yes, I know. Aria over there was the one that pointed me toward you.”

He looked to where she pointed and saw Inaria with her arms in the pockets of her robes as she leaned against the wall, her crimson eyes hinting at them to hurry.

“Uhm, Clover, was it? Can I call you that?” Mira asked with a slight hesitance, pushing a stray strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. “Or is that too informal?”

“No, Clover’s fine. And you don’t need to be so careful around me.”

“You’re older than me, though. Is that okay?”

“Oh, yes…” Reivan paused, remembering that Clover had to retake the exam multiple times. He should have been in his third year by now, so he would be older than a second-year who got into the tower on their first try. “I’m fine with it.”

“Okay! That’s a relief. Let’s just speak casually then.” Mira looked visibly relieved as her smile returned. “Oh, and I don't like being called captain this and captain that. Just call me Mira, okay?”

“I don’t really think that’s okay…You’re the captain, after all.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine! I said so. Captain’s orders.” Mira giggled and pointed toward the pad. “This is a bit hard for me to say since I overslept and all that. But would you mind helping me gather all the squad members? I should have woken up before all of you and waited in the common room… but I have this condition where I fall asleep right after waking up sometimes.”

“Uh, right… That might be a bit hard to do right now.” Reivan scratched his head and resisted the urge to make scathing retort about what she'd just said. “I think Kantor got dragged away somewhere by a visitor. Two others, Alini and Aldimir, might have gone out to the city to have fun.”

“Oh, no. They headed out to the city?”

“Yes, Captain Mira.”

“How nice. I wanna play in the city too.” Mira sighed before shrugging. “Well, there’s nothing we can do, now. I’ll just brief you guys later.”

“Huh?” Reivan frowned in confusion. “You looked for me and Inaria. Shouldn’t we at least look for the other too?”

“We should.”

“Then…”

“But the city’s so big, you know? It’ll be a lot of work looking for them down there. Right?”

“I mean, that’s true, but shouldn’t we still at least try?”

“No, no, it’ll be fine.” Mira shook her head with a smile. “They’re bound to come back later right? I’ll stake out in the common room and wait there. That’ll be more efficient, don’t you think?”

“But—”

“Also, they might return while we’re out there looking for them. Then we’d just end up missing each other.”

Reivan stopped, licking his lips in contemplation. Eventually, he was forced to admit that she had a point. “Okay.”

Mira clapped her hands together and laughed. “Right? It’s better to just wait for them. Let’s go, okay? I’ll show you where the book is and you can tell me a little more about yourself.”

Reivan nodded, letting himself be led astray by this woman who the Tower entrusted with their squad.

‘...Something tells me she’s just lazy, but she does make a good point.’

Reivan found himself mysteriously carried along with her pace. Actually, now that he had the time to think, he realized how unnaturally relaxing her voice was. It was to the point where he suspected funny business.

As such, he decided to take a peek at her through [Supreme Insight].

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

Name: Mira Serandina

Species: Human

Realm: Mortal

Age: 19

Sex: Female

Might: 51

Extra Skills

[Spirit Bond: Boop]

[Spirit Bond: Fawks]

Elemental Affinities

[Light]

[Fire]

Favor

(Goodwill) 50 / 100

Threat Level

S+

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════ 

'Huh. I guess she just has a relaxing voice. I thought for sure I’d see my first siren. Or maybe a succubus.’

Reivan was slightly surprised by how high her Might was despite how delicate the arms peeking out of her robes looked, but it wouldn’t be the first time he saw something similar — Saintess Frey looked like a sheltered girl but could destroy a house with a single wave of her hand.

What really attracted his attention was how many spirit bonds she had.

‘Two… One here… Hm. Did she already have a bond before she came here?’

If that was the case, the girl was a walking rarity. As a captain though, she made him very anxious. He didn’t know what the Tower was thinking, making her a captain and making him a vice-captain when sociability was his most notable weakness. But then again, it didn’t really matter. Because if everything went well, he’d be out of here before it mattered too much.

“Aria~!” Mira suddenly hugged Inaria tightly, nuzzling her face against the younger woman. “Let’s go hang out in the common room.”

Inaria’s brows furrowed. “What? I thought we were going to gather so you could brief us? Aren't you supposed to be the captain?”

“Those plans are canceled. The others deserted and the three of us are all that’s left.”

“No, they didn’t.” Reivan cut in before their captain confused Inaria even more. “We just don’t know where they are. They could be anywhere in the city.”

“Uh-huh…” The redhead glanced at Mira and seemingly came to a conclusion of her own. “And this one said that it’s better to wait in the common room? Because it’s more efficient or something like that.”

He nodded. “That’s exactly what she said.”

“Oh no, my vice-captain betrayed me.” Mira giggled unrepentantly, hooking her arm around Inaria. “C’mon. Let’s go, Aria. I wanna catch up with you.”

Inaria, surprisingly, smiled as she let herself get pulled along. “You never change…”

Reivan followed a step behind them, realizing that they knew each other outside the tower. “You two seem close.”

“Uh-huh!” Mira looked back and nodded. “Aria here used to run away from home a lot, and she’d end up hiding at our hous—”

“Mira!” Inaria covered her mouth, mild annoyance on her face. In a reversal of roles, she started pulling Mira toward the teleportation pad, vanishing with her in a flash of light.

Reivan didn’t step into the pad yet, giving Inaria a moment to tell her childhood friend off.

‘Hm. She never told me about her… Not that it would’ve come up.’

The Inaria he knew spent more time complaining about her family and asking him to take her away than telling him about her childhood, so it was a given that he didn’t know every little thing about her. But judging from their interactions, it didn’t seem like her childhood was as lonely as he thought.

‘Good for her.’

A smile tugged on Reivan’s lips as he stepped into the pad, also disappearing into a flash of light.

════════════════════════════════

Unexpectedly, when the three of them returned to the common room, the other three members of their squad were there too.

Kantor was back from wherever he came from and the pair Reivan left in the Mess Hall hung out in the common room instead of burning money down in the city — or up in the city.

“See, vice-captain?” Mira turned toward Reivan with a smile that made her look smug, sleepy, and cute all at the same time. “It all worked out.”

“For now.” Reivan sighed, picking one of the chairs to park his ass on. “So? You were going to brief us, captain?”

“I was, but isn’t that kind of boring? I’ve just realized that I don’t know most of you and most of you don’t know me. Let’s spend some time to get to know each other! We need to get along since we’re going to be squadmates for a long time!”

“Wow.” Aldimir leaned toward Reivan and whispered. “I like her.”

“You like anything with tits.”

“Hey. That offends me. I also like flat ones.”

"Flat tits are still tits, idiot."

“You two over there!” Mira suddenly pointed at both of them. “Stop that or I’ll make you stand in the corner.”

Aldimir grinned. “We’re sorry, ma’am!”

“Ew, that makes me sound so old. I’m only nineteen!”

“Captain?”

“I don’t like that either.”

“Queen Mira!”

Mira's brows raised before she burst into a fit of giggles. She then cleared her throat and nodded in what she probably thought was a queenly manner. “That’ll do, minion. I’ll have fun sending you off to fight the zombie in the frontlines!”

Aldimir froze. “What? We're fighting those things again...?”

“Oh, too far? Sorry, it was a joke. I don’t like zombies either. Especially the big ones that come out accidentally sometimes.” Mira scratched her head sheepishly. “Okay, enough fooling around. Let’s start with introductions. I already know all your names because they gave me a sheaf of papers with all your dirty little details, but I wanna hear it from you.”

“She’s doing whatever she wants again…” Inaria muttered as if she’d had enough of their captain already.

Mira suddenly pointed at Inaria. “Let’s start with you, Aria! Introduce yourself to everyone!”

“I don’t want to.”

“Insubordination already. Then do you want me to do it for you?”

Inaria bit her lip, reluctantly standing up and scanning the room. “Fine. I’m… Inaria Netral. I’m eighteen years old. Thank you.”

“No, no, no…” Mira placed her hands on her waist and shook her head. “That’s no way to introduce yourself. At least tell us some hobbies or interests.”

Frowning, Inaria acquiesced. “My hobby is studying. My interests involve studying too. Thank you.”

Mira still wouldn’t let her off, it seemed “What about love? Do you have someone, Aria?”

“That’s…”

“Oh my, you do, don’t you? Your face’s all red like your hair!”

Inaria fought back a furious blush. “I-I do… We don’t see each other very much because of his work though…”

“A working man!” Mira exclaimed, a hand covering her mouth. “How nice. Do you love him?”

“I do…”

“How much? Have you smooched already? Huh, Aria? Did you smooch him real good?”

Inaria threw a fierce glance at Mira, and that finally seemed to be enough for their captain to let her sit back down.

“Goodness, how envious.” Mira giggled, sending her friend a teasing glance. “So even that little Aria is in love now. How nice!”

Inaria picked up a nearby pillow and threateningly held it up.

“There you have it boys, Aria’s unavailable!” The captain made an X with her arms, a grin on her face. “Anyway, it’s my turn to introduce myself!”

After clearing her throat, Mira placed both hands on her stomach and bowed politely, managing to look every bit like a rich young lady.

“This humble one is named Mira, surnamed Serandina. This year, it is my second year as a battlemage and it’s also my first time as a captain. I am bound to make many more mistakes, but I will do my utmost not to repeat them too much.”

“No, you should try not to repeat them at all.” Inaria retorted snappily.

Unexpectedly, Kantor seemed to recognize the name. “Serandina…? The restaurant?”

Mira’s eyes brightened as she nodded repeatedly. “Yes. You know it?”

“I eat there with my family on special occasions. The branch here in Vel Ayala, I mean. Not the main one up north.”

“Oh! Thank you for your patronage.” Mira bowed again, deeper and much more politely this time, like a picture-perfect waitress. “Tell them you know me and you’ll get a discount!”

“No way, I couldn’t…” Kantor coughed into his fist. “Are you sure, though?”

“Yep. All of you can eat there at a discount! I’ll tell them about you guys.”

“Wait a minute! I have a question!” Aldimir suddenly raised his hand. “Captain, are you a singer?”

“Singer? No, but I’ve always wanted to. Now, I only sing in the bath.”

“Bath… S-speaking of baths, wh-which part do you wash f—”

Reivan stopped him before he sexually harassed their captain. With everything he’d seen so far, perhaps the woman would even answer, despite jokingly. “He asked that because your voice sounds really good.”

Mira smiled shyly, patting down her dark brown hair. “I’ve been told that a lot. I don’t see why people think so, but I’m inclined to believe it when so many people keep praising me.”

“Sing for us!” Aldimir hollered. “Please sing for us, Queen Mira!”

“I dunno… Oh, but maybe I’ll do it over drinks.”

Reivan’s brows shot up, suddenly having a bad feeling. “Drinks…?”

“Yes! Drinks!”

Mira giggled with a big grin as large bottles of wine appeared in each of her hands.

Arc#4 Chapter 51: Dawn

The Spirit Tower had many floors, each serving a specific purpose.

A few of them contained vast spaces that housed cryptid horrors for trainees to face in tests — collectively known as proving grounds. There was also a floor dedicated to observing and controlling certain aspects of the proving grounds, adjusting the difficulty to better suit the skill level of the squad undergoing assessment. Ascendants could innately peek into the majority of the floors in the Tower including any of the proving grounds, but to help any mortal elders in their endeavors to foster the youth, large mirrors were placed all around the room.

On the observation floor, a number of battlemages donning bronze-rimmed robes were buzzing over one particular mirror.

Separated from these bronze cloaks was an elder named Ozran Esteros, the silver cloak assigned to proctor for the first years from time to time.

"I see, so Salwyn is Squad One’s Sigaron..." He rubbed his chin in admiration. His eyes may have been staring at the other elders in the room but his attention was elsewhere. "He's displayed his skill, but I thought it would be the Adamantes boy."

Elder Bernadine giggled from beside him. "You sure like to play favorites, Elder. Do you see yourself in that one? You certainly have your adorable sides."

"You dare tease me, woman?"

"I dare say that I do not. In any case, I thought it would be the Netral girl. Quiet, studious, keeps to herself... Just like how I started, back in the day.”

"I do not recall you being as well-behaved as that one though.” Ozran sneered at her from the side. “Did you not lord your status over everyone? Saying how they should speak carefully around you because you were a scion from the Four Magus families? You were horrible."

Bernadine ignored him, wagging a finger in the air. "I suppose we're both horrible judges of character? We failed to predict which one was the Sigaron."

Ozran scoffed at her before shaking his head. "There were multiple leader candidates in this squad, so it can't be helped. Besides, we should just be happy that the squad produced a Sigaron at all."

Sigaron Harkon.

He was a legendary battlemage from hundreds of years ago and was famed for his leadership skills, which manifested relatively early on.

Now, centuries later, his name was used as a blanket term for the one who steps during high-pressure situations, especially ones that happen unexpectedly. It didn't mean just anyone, or someone who aimed for the role in the first place.

No, a Sigaron wasn’t such a calculating person.

People, especially those who were used to peace, were weak when placed under sudden pressure. They buckled, and more likely than not, would want to depend on someone else — someone else that seemed like they knew what they were doing. Even people who thought they were good leaders froze in certain situations, risking those under them. Realizing the irreversibility of their actions and the weight of their subordinates' lives might even shatter them completely.

A Sigaron was the complete opposite of that.

Pressure pushed them into action — they thrived in it.

When the stakes were down…

When everything was happening all at once…

They stood out as the people who took charge, with the sole purpose of preserving the group. The privileges of authority and other ulterior motives were the least of their concerns — they knew what truly mattered and did what had to be done.

Of course, their orders and choices weren't always the best.

Decision-making was something that could easily be improved over time and so was skill in sorcery. However, the qualities of a good leader that the Tower valued were incredibly hard to foster in an artificial manner. It was something that came intrinsically, depending on how someone was raised.

Each person who showed those qualities must be nurtured — that was common sense among people like Bernadine and Ozran.

"The Lizeth girl and Targov's boy were expected to underperform..." Ozran cracked a smile despite himself. "But they're doing quite well."

“You’re too harsh on little Kantor. Isn’t he working on his anxiety problems? He’s been following my advice and trying to get out of his shell. He even proactively looked for dueling opportunities to work on his weaknesses. In fact, he did pretty well against Clover last month, he didn’t fumble a single spell. And there were so many people watching too, thanks to certain nosy elders.”

Her words did not go unheard throughout the observation chamber, some elders clearing their throats awkwardly or shamelessly laughing about it.

“Dueling with set rules is hardly enough pressure…” Ozran trailed off, suddenly frowning at the large mirror. “They triggered the giants.”

Bernadine nodded with a forlorn sigh. “It’s because little Clover killed so many at once. Well, he’s not the first person to think of gathering them into a mob and setting them on fire. But it tends to trick the proving grounds into thinking the difficulty is too low.”

“Indeed…”

“Should we pull them out now, Elder? I think they’ve done enough… I don’t like how Clover heroically split off and essentially left his team to themselves. Such things are the domain of knights, not us. But he did take most of the pressure with him and the rest of his squad made it through the rope bridge. I think they deserve to pass on to the squad training stage with this.”

Ozran hummed in thought for a minute, observing Clover run for his life.

Despite the situation, the will to keep going was palpable in the youth. He was constantly keeping stock of his surroundings even while running, trying to come up with a plan.

“Let’s see how they handle the giants first,” he said, as he crossed his arms and shut his eyes, focusing on Squad One’s proving grounds.

Bernadine frowned, unsure if she should agree. “Are you sure?”

“It’s almost dawn. They’d pass regardless. Might as well let them play out the last few minutes.”

“You have a point. But…”

“We should let them have the pleasure of passing legitimately instead of passing because they accidentally triggered something beyond them. Don’t you think so too?”

“Fine, fine, I’m convinced.” Bernadine cracked a smile. “You’re a big softy, Elder. If you were like this normally, you’d be more popular.”

“...Be quiet. I’m trying to focus.”

════════════════════════════════

“Shitshitshitshitshit!” Reivan cursed as he ran through the forest. He was carefully navigating through the sea of trees and foliage, but that was a bit hard to manage since he unconsciously sent frequent glances behind him. Which was, he insisted, a reasonable reaction to being chased by giant fucking zombies.

‘Those ugly bastards have 100 Might. They will outrun me, no matter how slow they look.’

Their legs were longer too, and as undead, they probably had no concerns over stamina.

Fortunately, the ordinary zombies were all but gone now. They weren’t the slow and lumbering kind of zombies like in the movies, but he was relieved to know they weren’t the types that ran at you like madmen. In a sense, they were somewhere in the middle and were prone to breaking themselves from their haphazard way of moving around.

Unfortunately, that didn't mean much, because the ordinary zombies hardly mattered.

“Ah!” Rerivan cried out, his foot accidentally getting caught on a root or something. It would have been fine if he hadn't slammed into a tree from lost his balance. He inevitably crashed into the ground, legs burning and lungs begging for air, but he forced himself up and kept running.

‘Goddamnit, maybe I should just let them get me. Fuck this stupid ass test…’

It was going so well too. Until it didn’t. Because of course he couldn't just cruise through the freaky zombie test that a coven of sorcerers put him through.

Reivan continued running for his life though, unwilling to give up. He was Clover Salwyn right now, and for the character he was playing, being a battlemage was both his dream and the only path to a brighter future. Obviously, giving up wasn’t an option, so Reivan couldn’t do so either — not until he’d completely exhausted his options as Clover Salwyn.

Fortunately, Sen was once again proving her worth, leading the way forward. Apparently, she could vaguely track the scents of the others. In particular, the bear’s scent was quite vivid to her, probably because they were both spirit beasts. The tiny blip of light on the tip of her tail was a comforting beacon in the howling darkness of the night.

Suddenly though, she shot something above them with it.

A bird-like cry echoed in Reivan’s ears as something fell to the ground. He barely caught a glimpse of it while passing by and inwardly cursed.

‘Seriously? Zombie crows. Or are they ravens? Shit, where’s Google when you need it…’

Unfortunately, there were more of them coming and they completely ignored Sen.

“Fuck!” Reivan summoned a shield in his right arm and smashed it into an incoming carrion, launching it off to who knew where. “Off!”

He couldn’t afford to get bogged down by the murder of zombie crows, so he summoned both shields and focused on deflecting them as he ran. The extra weight somewhat slowed him down, but it was better than any of the alternatives. Like beak in his eye, for one thing. Or a claw. Hell, a feather could do a lot of damage if they shoved it into his eye at the wrong time. A Resonance Bulwark would have been ideal, but it slowed him down far too much.

Things just kept getting better and better. Just not for him.

“Keep going, Sen!” Reivan called out to the young white panther, who had stopped to check on him. “I’m okay!”

Sen shot another one of the zombie crows — or ravens, honestly he didn’t know the difference, and maybe he also didn't care that much — and resumed following the scent, though she intentionally slowed down so she could help Reivan when he needed it.

They continued navigating through the forest, and at this point, adrenaline was the only thing stopping Reivan from face-planting into the earth from exhaustion. He managed to protect himself well enough with the shields on both arms, but inevitably, some of the ravens got through.

Luckily, they weren’t that strong nor were they heavy, so his battle robes mitigated most of the impact.

Unfortunately, one of them managed to hit him in the back of his head, knocking his glasses off his face — and Clover Salwyn wore those for a reason.

‘I can’t see shit…!’

Through his eyes, all details were nonexistent. Everything was a mix of colors that vaguely resembled shapes, blending into the color right next to them.4

Or that was how they should be. If he was the real Clover Salwyn.

‘The things I do for acting...’

“Sen, I need help!” Reivan ground to a halt and activated the Resonance Bulwark, shielding him against further obstruction. Loathe as he was to stop, he knew he couldn’t continue without his glasses.

Losing them was a near-fatal handicap considering Clover’s horrendous eyesight. But since it was actually just Reivan fricking Aizenwald — bearer of [Supreme Insight], and by extension, probably the best set of eyes a mortal could ever hope to have — then he could see clearly, as a matter of course. Even putting on a thick pair of glasses, his eyes adjusted to give him perfect vision, something he only realized after shapeshifting into a man with foggy eyeballs.

The problem, was that Clover Salwyn shouldn't be able to see. And so, Reivan would have to stop and get his glasses back because not doing so would be out of character. With how shit Clover's eyesight was, there was absolutely no way the man was making it through this forest without bumping into every single tree in his path.

Sen joined him in the bulwark shortly after and easily pinpointed where the dropped spectacles were. She grabbed it with her tail and trotted over to Reivan.

“Thanks. Good girl!” Reivan roughly ruffled her head as he pushed his glasses back into his face. They were caked with dirt and the right glass was cracked, but they would do. Hell, they'd have to do.

With his eyesight slightly restored, Reivan wasted no time in canceling the bulwark and kicking off the ground. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

Sen easily overtook him on account of just being better and led the way as Reivan continued to be pestered by zombie carrion birds. Which was bad, but still manageable, he supposed. Eventually, with a large host of unwanted followers, they made it out of the sea of trees, stopping right before a gaping cliff.

The others were nowhere in sight, causing man and panther to look at each other in confusion.

‘Did they jump down the cliff? That’s actually pretty viable, now that I think about it… Maybe I should do it too?’

It wouldn’t be the first time he did it in Arkhan, that was for sure. He wished he didn't have to do it more than once, though. What the hell was wrong with this place...

“Clover!” voice echoed out from the other side of a chasm, on a similar cliff as the one Reivan stood on. “Look! Here! Hey!”

Reivan looked over at him and the staggering distance between them.

“Bridge! There!” Aldimir yelled at the top of his lungs, pointing to Reivan’s right. “Others! Waiting! Hurry!”

‘A bridge… I guess we aren’t supposed to fail this test after all. There was a way out from the start.’

Reivan quickly surmised that they had likely found the bridge because of Aldimir’s wyvern spirit beast. And even without a flying spirit beast, the bridge also could have been found with scrying. With a path to safety decided, Reivan made a circle with his arms above his head and continued running, Aldimir did the same and followed form the other side.

Unfortunately, blessings didn’t come in pairs but calamities never come alone.

There was a reverberating roar somewhere in the distance and he could vaguely hear trees getting uprooted or outright snapping.

The giants were coming. He was ready to put his hand to the flame if he was wrong.

‘Son of a bitch…’

Reivan soon made it to the aforementioned bridge, which, he noted, was made of rope and wooden planks. It didn’t seem durable, but ironically, it was perfect because of it.

‘The giants can’t use that bridge. And I don’t think they can jump the distance.’

Seeing as the bridge was about a few hundred meters long, the giants needed a lot more than 100 Might to have the jumping power to leap such a great distance. All Reivan had to do was get to the other side and the giants couldn’t do anything. Destroying the bridge so the ordinary zombies never reached them was rather simple too.

Alini’s bear and the lion — which he guessed belonged to Inaria — were fighting off zombies on Reivan’s side of the bridge, heroically stopping the zombies from pursuing the others.

‘Well, they can instantly be retrieved into the orb, so it’s not as cruel as it seems, I guess.’

They also didn’t look like they could fit on the bridge that was only wide enough for one person, so they would have been forced to stay behind or be temporarily useless inside their orbs until the others made it through. Judging by the number of undead strewn around the two spirit beasts, the others must not have had much of a choice, pursued by so many.

“Good boys. Just passing through.” Reivan nodded toward the two spirit beasts and jumped into the rope bridge, hastily crossing it as fast as he could. It was far too shaky and he couldn’t help but doubt its integrity.

If he hadn’t been used to heights, the view below would have been enough to make him pass out. Getting mauled by giant zombies was a much worse fate though, so he hurried as best as he could, regardless of how the bridge swayed with every step.

Unfortunately, the giant hulks of rotten flesh didn’t bother to wait for him, breaking through the treeline just as he reached the bridge’s mid-point. Their hollow eyes spoke of savagery and undying malice, immediately locking on to where Reivan was.

One of them charged forward, slapping the two spirit beasts aside as it, to Reivan’s horror, leaped high into the air.

“I am…” Reivan pushed his dirty glasses up the bridge of his nose in stunned silence as he watched the giant descend toward him. “So screwed.”

He knew that he didn’t have a barrier spell strong enough to endure the force from such a massive pile of rotten muscle and the rope bridge would give out from such an impact anyway, so he decisively forced Sen inside her orb and then jumped to the side, plummeting into the depths of the cavern.

‘I wish all the falling I did only involved love, but nope. Just holes... Wait... Falling in love involves holes too, in a way...’

The silly thoughts bumping around in his head helped ease his nerves. Reivan was, after all, in the middle of being swallowed by the literal abyss. The falling didn’t even bother him as much as the apprehension of what was down there. He looked above him and saw the somewhat amusing sight of a giant zombie spread-eagled in the air but still intent on tearing him apart.

‘Jesus Christ, man. Fuck off already…’

Being stuck in a hospital bed for the majority of his first life meant Reivan didn’t really have much of an education. Though Hanzo and some tutors taught him a few essential things, physics wasn’t really something they delved into.

And as such, Reivan wasn’t sure how long it would take for the much heavier zombie giant to catch up to him, but he did know enough to be sure that it would. It was an eventuality, not a possibility.

The silver rings on Reivan’s right hand glowed in the darkness of the chasm, as he shot a penetration spell at the giant’s head, successfully piercing a hole through it. He already knew that this wasn’t enough to kill it, but he didn’t need to.

After he saw the giant go limp, Reivan immediately activated another spell — the whisperfall spell. Magic coated his body and he instantly decelerated, almost stopping in mid-air. The zombie giant kept falling and passed dangerously close to where he was floating, but his earlier attack meant that it couldn’t capitalize on the opportunity.

‘See ya.’

Reivan watched it get swallowed up by the darkness and waited for the crunch of its body against the bottom of the chasm. But seconds passed and turned into a couple of minutes, yet he heard nothing. That was enough to tell him just how deep the chasm was and why it was so damned dark. Even with his eyes, he still couldn’t see the bottom because of how distant it was.

Or maybe there wasn't a bottom at all? His spine chilled at the thought.

“Elders!” Reivan yelled out in a panic, coming to terms with the fact that there was now nothing he could do. “ELDERS! I give up! I don’t think I can do anything here!”

The spell’s effect would fizzle out soon and he wouldn’t be allowed to recast it on himself for a while.

When he received no response, Reivan started thinking that perhaps he was wrong and this wasn’t some kind of test prepared by the Spirit Tower. “Elders…!? Or anyone! The spell’s running out soon so I’d really like some help here!”

‘Surely they won’t just let me die, right…?’

Like a string pulled taut until it snapped, the spell died and Reivan was suddenly jolted downward as he was sucked into the yawning tunnel to hell.

But then the scenery suddenly changed.

════════════════════════════════

“Urgh!” Reivan face-planted on what felt like a soft mattress. He pulled his face out of the pillow and fixed his glasses, looking around in relieved silence when he realized he wasn't surrounded by demons or devils or eldritch monstrosities with various deepsea creatures for heads.

Instead, he was in some kind of infirmary. A much more promising alternative. Ah, he so missed it when things actually went well.

“Oh, hey! You’re okay!” Aldimir, lying on a bed right next to him, waved with a smile. A white-robed old man was poking his body with a wand, seemingly checking his vitals. “Those giant things really scared the crap out of me. Did you see them jump?”

Reivan sighed and turned over, laying back down on the bed. “Yeah… I was there, remember?”

“Man, you’re just a bright bundle of sunshine, ain’t ya? Anyway, the girls are fine too — or they were, last time I saw them. As for Kantor, he vomited a few times because some gunk got in his mouth, but I think he’ll be okay. He’s passed out over there."

“That’s good.”

"The gunk is still there too, mixed with barf.”

"Not okay."

“I’m fine too, by the way. Thanks for asking. You’re the best friend anyone can have, man.”

“With all the yapping you just did, I’d be worried if you weren’t okay.” Reivan grinned and sat up when prompted by a nearby elder, also wearing white robes. It was his turn to get poked with the wand now. “So it really was a test, huh…?”

Aldimir grunted in agreement. “Yeah. I got that eventually too, but when you’re in the moment… Y’know? You just kind of forget the part that it’s a test. But anyway, those rotting things? I never wanna see another one of those in my life…”

“Don’t worry, I think those were just for the test. We have to fight monsters and people instead.”

“Great. Guess who's not sleeping after this. Just a clue, it starts with Ald and ends with imir.”

They both chuckled, completely drained from the experience. The elders examining them silently let them talk and left just as silently when they finished. Aldimir and Reivan were both too tired to care about why they didn’t say a thing.

“Good work, boys.” Elder Bernadine suddenly appeared out of nowhere, bouncing up and down on her heels with a big smile. “You did very well.”

Aldimir’s shoulders jumped from the sudden intrusion, but he tried to hide it with a fake cough. “Hello, Elder. I’d like to lodge a formal complaint for the sleepless nights I’ll suffer after this.”

“Complaint rejected,” Bernadine announced in a sing-song voice and sat down on a nearby stool. “In any case, I’d like to inform you that you’ll be moving on to the next stage of training. The people you were with during the trial will be your squadmates. A second year will be assigned as captain, with Clover as the vice-captain.”

“Eh?” Reivan pointed at himself, stunned.

“Elder!” Aldimir raised a hand. “Can I ask a question?”

“You just did, dear.” Bernadine giggled before nodding. “But yes, you can ask another one.”

“Uh, thank you… You said at orientation that we’ll be squadding up in six months. It’s only been one month, but we’re already doing it?”

“That was the case if you kept failing. But you did very well in this assessment and you’ve all learned the basic spells we asked you. There’s no need to hold you back. We'll fast-track you if you have the ability.”

Reivan cleared his throat. “Uhm, Elder. About being vice-captain…”

“It’s non-negotiable, Brother Salwyn.” Bernadine cut him off with a smile before turning back to Aldimir. “Don’t worry. Even if you’re squadding up already, you still won’t be given any missions you can’t handle. Your first year is more about getting you used to things. And for your second-year captain, it's to develop their leadership skills.”

“Non-negotiable…” Reivan echoed with a frustrated sigh, earning another giggle from the elder.

“That’s all for now,” she said, clapping her hands with finality. “In any case, there’s apparently nothing wrong with you but you should stay here and rest. Once you wake up, you’ll be returned to the Mess Hall.”

Leaving those words behind, Elder Bernadine vanished.

“Well, I’m gonna take her advice and pass out.” Aldimir laid back down, pulling the covers over his body and curling up with his back to Reivan. Apparently, the exhaustion was enough to forget their nightmarish experience with the undead. “Oh, and by the way…”

Aldimir turned around with a shit-eating grin.

“I forgot to congratulate you, vice-captain. Congrats.”

“...Fuck you. Go to sleep. Forever.”