Mounting Frustrations

John set down his pen and closed his notebook. As thinking about Abyss stuff had done nothing but stress him out this morning, he had decided to take a break from it and apply himself to something that didn't require much of his brain, like homework. Now finished, John looked at the clock and sighed. It was still only half past five, plenty of time before he had to leave to catch the bus but not enough to try to squeeze in a dungeon run. With that thought in mind, John stood up and opened his menu. Dungeons weren't the only kind of instance he could make, right?

Create Instance opened up its suite of windows and John set everything to as neutral as possible: no hostility, no environment, no population, and no difficulty. The only setting checked when he hit 'Create' was privacy.

<Manifesting Instance>
Null Zone - Lv 6.
Inhabitants: None
Nature: Neutral
Owner: John Newman, Private

<Entering Barrier>

John prepared himself to drop out of reality again, but this time was different. The world did not shatter and restructure itself around him, it didn't even crack at all. Instead, John's room, or maybe just his perception of it, pulsed in a way he could feel with each of his senses. For an instant it was like he could feel the heartbeat of the world. Lightheaded, John grabbed on to his desk as his nervous system worked to process what had just happened. It passed quickly and he was left standing alone in his room as before.

Only, not quite. The edges of the surfaces in his room seemed almost intangible: undefined, wispy, shifting, or some combination of the three. John had first thought it an effect of the disorientation that hit him, but it remained as he looked around his room. Curiously, whatever he looked at appeared normal, but the further from the center of his vision something was, the less cohesive it became. It reminded John of the Barrier Wentworth had pulled him into the day before, only this time he could afford to pay attention to what the interior was like. It was bizarre, touching and seeing solid, focused objects that had appeared unstable the second prior.

-
<Skill Level Up!>
Create Instance - Lv. 2
Time Dilation (±10%) Unlocked!
-

If John had needed any confirmation that he was in a Barrier, there it was. John sat down on the strange copy of his bed in the strange copy of his room, taking in all the strange copies of his things. His bed at the center of the wall across from the door, his desk in the corner near the window, his dressers, mirror, posters, TV, even the pair of dirty socks on the floor near the closet across from his desk; everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.

"This is kinda creepy."

To John's surprise, his computer turned on when he got up to try, although it had no internet connection. Neither did his phone, nor did his TV have a cable signal, but all three of them worked. Stepping gingerly into the hardwood hallway, the Barrier continued. The floor creaked in precisely the same spots as the real one, so John was careful to avoid them, just in case. Cracking open the door to his parents’ room revealed it to be equally identical, sans his mother, who should have still been in bed. The sight made John's heart leap into his throat until reason crossed his mind and he realized that she was almost certainly still there, sound asleep in the real world.

A quick sweep of the house found it all in the same state. The windows, however, did not show anything beyond the house, only a shifting of blues, whites, and the occasional gold that gave the suggestion of a daytime sky. He tried and failed to open any of the windows and doors, but did find that the plumbing somehow drew water in from the aether. All together, John declared his attempt to create a private pocket dimension a rousing success.

"Finally." John smiled. "Something actually goes off without a hitch."

Content with his accomplishment, John climbed back upstairs, grabbed the Barrier's copy of 'Introduction to the Abyss' and sat down to read for about an hour.

---

The bus ride to Ashford was bumpy as ever as John waited for it to get to Liam's stop. After reading for a while, John had dropped his Barrier and gotten ready for school with his mother none the wiser. The book was full of fascinating information presented in a mind-numbingly clinical manner. He was still mentally digesting what he had read, and for that reason did not notice that Liam had never gotten on until the bus approached the school lot. John pulled out his cell as he exited.

---

[John N.]: you still alive?

[Liam S.]: as if you get to ask that after your disappearing act last night

[Liam S.]: but yes

[Liam S.]: Liam Suffield still lives

[Liam S.]: he just wont be at school today

[John N.]: you okay? aren't we supposed to talk about yesterday after school?

[Liam S.]: yes

[Liam S.]: and yes

[Liam S.]: but no

[Liam S.]: STUFF happened

[Liam S.]: can we do tomorrow night?

[John N.]: but Liam, we're supposed to raid tomorrow!

[Liam S.]: (╬ ≖_≖)

[John N.]: i'm kidding. i'll see you tomorrow. stay alive until then.

[Liam S.]: of course

[Liam S.]: ( ‾^‾)ゞ

[Liam S.]: you too

---

Alright then, Liam. Keep your secrets.

John pocketed his phone and trudged through one of the school's front doors. He was immediately greeted by a meaty fist swinging towards his skull. To everyone's surprise, including his own, John ducked under the blow. It was ungraceful but successful, more falling out of the way than a deliberate maneuver. Either way, Frank's fist slammed into the door behind where John's head had been and the overgrown slab of meat let loose a string of cusses. He shook out his injured hand and turned to snarl at John.

"You're gonna regret that, shithead!"

John's breath froze and he stood stock still for half a second while his brain ran through hundreds of simulations of how the situation might go down. He blinked once, then turned tail and sprinted down the hallway at full tilt.

The halls were packed, but John's skinny build let him slip through gaps between people without much effort. On the other hand, Frank was a muscle-powered bulldozer. He didn't squeeze through the crowd, he didn't have to. All Frank had to do was charge; anyone not quick enough to get out of his way was easily shoved to the side. John was thrilled that his escape attempt was already going better than any of his previous tries, but he was still losing ground. Frank was a star athlete, a pithy few extra stat points from achievements wouldn't be enough to give John the upper hand in a contest of physique.

Which reminded John once again that he had yet to spend his points from leveling up. He pulled up his sheet and frantically slapped numbers around, heedless of how strange he must look, pawing at the air while running for his life. Five points were immediately dropped into Agility and another two each into Strength and Endurance. He wanted to add three to Endurance, but all the jostling about caused him to miss and hit Intelligence. Rather than waste time fixing his mistake, John slammed 'Confirm' and closed the window.

The effect was immediate. John felt a weight lift from his lungs and a small but noticeable surge in speed. He felt lighter, springier, and more balanced, like his legs had never truly been used before. Glancing back, John saw that Frank was still easily keeping pace. If anything, the spindly nerd's sudden boost had spurred Frank, red in the face, to redouble his own efforts. Fortunately, John would reach homeroom, and thereby safe haven, soon. Unfortunately, it would not be soon enough at the rate they were going. He gritted his teeth, focused his mana, and hoped for the best.

He reached back and cast Alter Body twice on Frank's feet. The invisible biomantic energy crossed the distance between them in a split second and sunk into the quarterback's body with an unsettling tingle. His right foot swelled up, tight in his shoe, while the left shrunk ever so slightly. The change was small, but enough. Frank tumbled to the ground without apparent cause, legs flailing. Just before crossing the threshold into class, John caught the sight of Frank's left shoe flinging off his foot. It sailed down the hall and smacked directly into the back of Mr. Stone's head. A burst of laughter and confused shouting followed, but as far as John was concerned, it was miles away.

Safe, John sputtered to a stop against the front desk and gasped for air. Several of his classmates were already there, either idly chatting or sitting and killing time on their phones. Only a few of them even bothered to look up at the commotion, and none gave more of a reaction than a shake of their head before returning to their own business. It was better to ignore John, to keep their heads down and not get involved; that was how it had always been. John's elation at escaping deflated in the face of such apathy. He slunk over to his seat like a dog with its tail between its legs and sat down in silence.

A cute and prim young woman with bouncy, blonde curls that reached her chin entered the room a few minutes later and introduced herself as the substitute art instructor, Ms. Maritty. Supposedly June had come down with a nasty flu and would not be able to teach for some time, so the school reached out to her as a replacement. It was a convenient cover for the truth that kept John's mood grim. Under any other circumstances he might have liked the cheerful new teacher, but the fact that she both represented June's absence and hid it from the world drew resentment from John. She stood, bright as a sunflower, where June should have been. Bile rose in John's throat at the idea and he spent the duration of homeroom stewing in discontent.

The classes leading up to history passed without note, although John was careful to keep an eye out for Frank at all times regardless. His hands grew clammy as he entered the classroom, nerves already shot at the thought of his private meeting with Wentworth after school. He endeavored to be early and attentive during class, a model student, so as not to raise her ire. Even so, he wilted under Wentworth's piercing stare. Her eyes followed him all the way to his seat and lingered on him for an uncomfortable measure of time. The bell rang and she rose from her desk.

"We left off yesterday at the Council of Clermont and Pope Urban II's call for an expedition to retake the Holy Land of Jerusalem, better known today as the First Crusade," she began. "This was in response to a request for aid from the Byzantine Emperor Alexios I. Alexios had merely asked for troops to assist in reclaiming Byzantine territory that had been conquered by the Turks, so can anyone tell me why Urban saw fit to declare a holy war instead?"

Wentworth paced the room in her typical manner, a vulture circling a dying animal. A moment passed in silence before someone in the front raised their hand.

"Because he wanted Christians to have control of the city?" they said. Wentworth's expression somehow grew more disappointed than usual.

"That was the given reason, yes. Pilgrimages to Jerusalem had grown perilous for pious individuals of his faith," she said. "But why under his name, and with such gratuitous ****? Remember, he promised atonement of all sins for anyone who devoted themselves to the cause. To many, that was worth more than their weight in gold."

"For power," piped up a typically quiet girl dressed entirely in black. "To show that he had control over so many people."

"Correct, Ms. Nui," Wentworth sounded almost pleased. "Pope Urban II struggled in his early years thanks to several blunders by his predecessor. Mobilizing such a **** led credence to his supreme authority. Any other reasons?"

The classroom once again fell silent as students weighed the risk of calling out a wrong answer. John, of all people, raised his hand.

"Because he had something personal to gain?" he asked.

"Good, Mr. Newman." Wentworth appraised him over her spectacles. "But what?"

"Uh…" John faltered. "I… don't know."

The history teacher's face fell flat. John could swear he felt a physical weight from her stare.

"Then keep that thought in mind as I continue this lecture," Wentworth swept her hand over the room, "all of you. See if you can come up with the answer. The declaration did not come without risk, and not only for Urban himself. After all, the so called 'People's Crusade' formed as a result of his speech, leading not only to heavy Christian losses, but the massacre of several thousand Jews."

"Wait, wasn't that the Nazis?" one particularly tired student interrupted. Wentworth pivoted to face him. Her glare could freeze a volcano solid.

"The rule of the Third Reich was hardly the first time the Jews have faced persecution throughout history, Mr. Cunningham, or do you believe the second World War was fought over nine hundred years ago?"

"Um…" the boy sputtered as he shrunk into his seat, realizing his mistake.

"Good," Wentworth snapped. "Illuminate yourself on the oppression of the Jews under the reign of Emperor Hadrian in the early second century; I expect a five page paper regarding the subject on my desk by Monday."

"But that's not even what we're studying!" the boy shouted in protest, slapping his desk. Wentworth quirked a brow.

"Six pages."

The student's mouth hung open and his cheeks flushed, but he restrained himself from complaining any further, lest his punishment would worsen. Content with the response, Wentworth carried on as though the exchange had not happened.

Jesus, what a hard ass...

---

The rest of the day was uneventful, aside from fielding a few texts from Moira about his training later that evening. He let her know that he would find his own way to the manor when it was time and subsequently lied to his mother about having a study group at the library. She sounded excited for John to be socializing, which made John feel even worse for lying. Regardless, the deed was done, and his schedule and alibi were set. That brought him to his current location, hesitating outside of the door to Victoria Wentworth's office. Dread crept into the back of his mind, fear of a repeat performance of yesterday's exchange, but John accepted that he had no other options. He tried to look at it as a blessing; at least this way he would be able to dodge Frank's after school ambush again. He raised his hand to knock and his knuckles had barely met wood when a sharp voice called from the other side.

"Come in, Mr. Newman."

John opened the door and was immediately slammed with vertigo as his vision went hazy. This time he knew why, but the transition was rough all the same.

-
You Have Entered a Barrier
Owner: Victoria Wentworth
Level N/A
-

"Present on time, good," Wentworth said by way of greeting. "Close the door behind you and have a seat."

John didn't see any reason to close the door for privacy when they were the only occupants of an isolated bubble of reality, but he didn't argue the point. The door clicked shut and John sat down across the desk from Wentworth in a chair that was almost comfortable. The room was small and sparsely decorated, congested by filing cabinets, bookshelves, and the large, wooden desk at which they sat. A few paintings of some European looking townscapes broke up the bare, wood-paneled walls, joined only by a single tapestry of a sort which John could not recognize that hung behind Wentworth. Only two other accessories gave the office any character: one questionably healthy plant hanging from a hook in the back corner and a snow globe on her desk that featured a modern but sunken city.

"So," Wentworth said, "you delivered the letter and met with the Brightons."

"I did." John nodded. "Moira wasn't super thrilled about it, but she took me anyway."

"As I had warned you," she said, almost in reprimand. "But I am glad you took my words to heart. It is good that your… encounter with the Cambion did not derail your meeting."

John flushed bright pink in an instant.

"Y-you know about that?" he stammered. "I thought only Moira-"

"There is scarcely an event within these walls that I do not know about, Mr. Newman," Wentworth interrupted. "Not that she was remarkably subtle about it, though I don't suspect she was trying to be."

"Wait." John shook his head. "So you knew that there was a Demon-"

"Half-Demon."

"You knew there was a Half-Demon in the school pretending to be June and you didn't do anything about it?" John questioned, irritated for many more reasons than being rudely corrected.

"Of course not," Wentworth replied curtly.

"Why not!?" John tried to keep his voice down and respectful but only partly succeeded. "Aren't you, like, the most powerful mage in the school?"

"Because it was none of my business," Wentworth snapped. Her stern face had turned harsh and her eyes sharp. "Nor are my decisions any of yours. You should keep that in mind in the Abyss, Mr. Newman, especially here. Live and let live, it is how this academy continues to function in spite of its Abyssal activity."

"Hard to do when my soul is getting sucked out," John griped, having no tolerance for his teacher's lecture. "Was the fake June living and letting me live?"

"Did you die?" Wentworth asked, unsettlingly calm.

"...No." John was taken aback. "But that was only because Moira showed up."

"Is that so?" the woman on the other side of the desk questioned, seemingly genuinely.

"Yes?" John replied. He was completely flummoxed by both the sharp change in tone and how Wentworth had disregarded his emotions in such a cavalier fashion.

"If you say so," she said. "In either case, the Warden drove the woman off and she's of no more trouble to you, so that is enough about that."

"But-" John began to rise and explain to his condescending teacher exactly how much it really was his problem before he recalled the student from earlier that day. Back then she had only assigned the guy extra homework, but John had no idea how harshly she might react here, in her private, magical sanctum. He closed his eyes and shook it off. "Fine."

"Good." Wentworth's lips curled into a thin smile. She leaned forward and steepled her fingers. "Now tell me, how did your meeting with the Brightons go?"

"Fine," John repeated, terse. He was going to play Wentworth's game, but that didn't mean he had to be polite. To her credit, she was unphased.

"And?" she pressed. "They offered you a Writ of Protection?"

"The one with all the clauses about how they'll keep tabs on me and keep me safe if I'm a good little boy?" John spat. "Yeah, they did."

"It seems you do have a sharp mind in there somewhere after all." Wentworth looked pleased. "Keep it up and perhaps I can help you skirt those terms some day. I trust you signed it, regardless."

"As if I had a choice?" was John's snide reply. He didn't sign it, but he didn't have a choice about it either. He was getting fed up with how Wentworth treated him like an incompetent toddler, and if her actions were none of his business, then neither were his hers. He wouldn't risk lying to her, but if he could lead Wentworth to believe he signed the Writ of Protection instead of the Writ of Contract without doing so, he would.

"Smart boy." Wentworth sat back against her chair. "You'll need their double-edged offer to find your feet in Abyssal Springfield. Better to approach them of your own accord than to be pressed into service by surprise, at least if you have any intentions of falling off their radar."

A moment of silence passed as John stared at Wentworth, refusing to acknowledge her guidance.

"They warned me about you, you know," he said. "Told me that you wanted something from me."

Wentworth pulled back, mildly astonished.

"Of course I do!" she declared. "And so do they. I have no doubt they instructed you to attend this meeting with me as a means of using you against me. Naturally, they must assume I intend to use you in the same way against them, that is simply the way of things. Whether or not they are correct is another matter."

John was nonplussed by Wentworth's absolute transparency. Was she really so confident that she could blatantly declare that she had ulterior motives?

"Everyone has a hidden agenda, Mr. Newman," she said as if reading his mind. "Never doubt otherwise. You, me, and every Abyssal organization out there, the Order included. The difference is that I am willing to admit it, while the Brightons would have you believe their intentions are pure. Weren't you paying attention in class today?"

"Yeah, why?" John didn't see the relevance.

"Because I called your here today to give you a warning of my own, and to enlighten you to the Order's involvement in the Crusades."