Chapter 51 by MeedrowH

What's next?

Women and men

[A/N: I would like to wish everyone Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! It's a shame this chapter happened to be the one I would be posting here at this time, though.]

Faint ringing echoed in Ophelia's ears, accompanied by the soft whirr of the barrier.

'Why did he do that?'

Her plump lips let some air escape her lungs, but her eyes couldn't focus. Even as seconds passed since her white-headed brother disappeared behind the Academy's door, she couldn't process the situation in full. Blankly staring at the barrier separating the massive building from the rest of the world, she repeated his words to her.

'I can't leave someone to die... not again.'

She recalled his gaze, the one she had not seen on him in forever. The time when he'd last looked at anyone like that, over six years ago. Back when their father fell ill, there was no medicine capable of helping him. She could still clearly recall the days she'd spend, shifting between lament and defiance, between grievance and acceptance. Aveline had joined her, processing the undeniable truth in her own way.

But Lucas? When the time drew near, her mongrel of a brother locked himself in his room and barely left it for three whole days. Ophelia still felt the sour bitterness in her chest at the thought he'd skip his own father's funeral. More than that, he lingered in his mopeness for weeks whilst she had to keep up a composed appearance.

However, in this moment, her heart thumped strangely. Her fingers quaked as she slowly focused. Yet, the door was still closed, the barrier still stood, and the black-haired maid was still kneeling against it. The world moved on regardless of her ponderings and memories.

She was reminded of it when she heard Deuce boom at her.

"Stormrider!" he beckoned to her. "Are you with us or not?!"

"!"

Ophelia looked at the man, startled out of her state.

"I need a fire spell here. You can do that, right?"

"...right," she murmured in response before lowering herself.

Then, her gaze momentarily looked at the elf man. Lis'te appeared to be only partly conscious anymore, either the blood loss or pain of the wound dimming his mind. Looking at the bloodied place, she could see that there was no doubt a hole in his leg, spewing hot blood before Deuce covered it to stem the flow.

"This is going to hurt like hell," the dark-skinned man said, half to himself and half to Lis'te. His hands were working, the belt of his pants removed and tied above the wound. "Hey, are you with us?"

The sitting man mumbled something in Mins, the speech incomprehensible. Deuce sighed before turning to Ophelia. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small knife before handing it to her.

"Heat the blade. We need to causterize this wound quickly."

Ophelia almost frowned before wrapping her hand around the handle. Summoning a basic fire spell, she barely even focused on aiming it properly, her eyes instead darting to the road where Alisha was. The blonde Rune Mage was still ****, lying under a wall, alone.

Then, she looked at the elf woman by the barrier. Nimue had stood up, nails scraping slowly against the barrier like she could phase through it with sheer will. Although the distance was several meters, her voice could be faintly heard through the overall ruckus, but the words were an untangible mess, most likely Mins, not Siles.

"Nimue!" Ophelia called out.

The black-haired quieted down before slowly turning. The Stormrider woman easily noticed the anguish written on her pretty face, tears streaking down her cheeks.

"Come here, we need to get everyone to a safe place."

But strangely, the small maid didn't react. Overshadowed by the blue glow behind her, her face appeared riddled with shadows. But almost immediately, her green eyes shimmered as she gently wiped away the tears. As they locked gazes, Ophelia noticed a glint of determination pierce through. And she realized something.

"...I'm sorry, Lady Ophelia. But I must go."

She would not listen.

"Nimue!" Ophelia frowned, anger simmering beneath her composed tone. "What are you talking about?"

The pointy-eared woman shuffled on her feet, but the motion didn't look nervous at all. For some reason, Nimue seemed... strangely calm, like she put her mind to something.

"...there might be another way in. I'll look for it and get young master out."

"You will not," Ophelia demanded, her brows furrowing. However, reading Nimue's expression, she felt a pang of nervousness stir within. "The barrier is already finished! There is no way in!"

The black-haired elf flinched as though she also realized that. Everything about her screamed that she wanted to disagree.

'But that's the truth. The speed of barrier formation might differ due to its size, but it's not larger than a few seconds at most. This one is already a fully formed ward by now. There's no way in for anyone short of an Antimage.'

"...I will only check, and come back," she said, every next word rolling out heavier. Ophelia could tell with ease that the whole sentence was a blatant lie.

"Nimue, don't--!" but before the silver-haired woman finished even three words, the maid bolted. The black cat followed right after, almost melding with her fluttering hair. "Stop, goddamit!" Ophelia shouted, cancelling the current spell and aiming her hand. A sigil formed, ready to shoot a Shock spell forth.

...

But after a second or so, Ophelia lowered her hand. Looking at Nimue's hair, shimmering and shifting with every hasty step she took away. Something prodded at her mind, telling her it was wrong. The obviously correct choice was to stop her, to justify her own morality. But another, quieter part, was worried about something.

Her ponderings were cut short by Deuce. The man bellowed to her, demanding the knife she'd heated. The almost red-hot blade sat in her hand before she snapped out of her motionless state, handing it over.

...

Seconds slowly passed. Every following beat of her heart felt more distant, like she covered her ears with water. Even Lis'te's scream as Deuce cauterized his wound fell and washed down her ears. Ophelia barely registered what she was doing anymore, her mind skittering through the realm of her thoughts. A strange feeling welled inside her heart, unplaceable even for the one who felt it.

But...

'There's no way to help him... that mongrel chose to run in-- wait.'

The voluptuous Stormrider flinched.

'...why am I thinking of him like this...?'

The ponder filled her mind, disrupting any concentration she might've still held. She looked at the Academy. The building, tinted blue due to the barrier, looked as mighty as ever. However, despite knowing what the situation was currently like, Ophelia couldn't help but feel a memory surface.

Years ago, back when she'd just started her studies in this place, she had taken Lucas on a walk around these parts. She was nineteen back then, and he was only twelve. She told him of the Academy's grandeur, of its history, even engaging in a discussion about the grand-scale effects of Western Sweep on the building's importance to Weydan. And after that, she'd taken him to the marketplace in the northern district to meet up with Aveline, who'd ventured in the city with their father. While waiting, they'd sit under the grand fountain in the center.

'...why am I reminding myself of this now?'

But the question remained unanswered. As she helped Deuce move Lis'te near the blonde Rune Mage (when did she even agree to that?), more thoughts surged.

She remembered - still, after years - the many stares she'd received back then. Her expansive chest was always a point of interest, and even though she picked a dress that attempted to hide it, there was only so much the material could do. Back then, she willingly placed herself in that situation because she wanted to spend time with her brother. His bright smile, his hopeful assurances of how he'd help her be a great Mage, his childish but genuine admiration of her abilities - all of that outweighed all the disgust toward the people's stares. Humoring his little desires, she'd bought him a glazed apple and meandered around, keeping an eye on him.

The remembrance made Ophelia almost gasp. Back then, she was ready to put herself in discomfort just to see her brother smile. Hell, if anything, seeing both him and their sister smile made the hardships of every day worth it. She wanted to be a strong Mage, but it wasn't always for the sake of strength. Once, there was a time she simply wanted to make her family proud. A few years ago, just seeing her siblings and parents happy was enough for her.

Then why...?

Why was there so much bitterness in her when she thought of Lucas for the past few years?

It wasn't only an issue of his grievance, or just about him being Classless. After all, he was still a Stormrider, right?

Right?

...

...right?

Ophelia suddenly snapped out of her pondering, finding herself leaning against a shadowed wall. Looking around, she saw Deuce sitting a few meters away, his breathing labored as he attempted to regain some energy. Between them, Lis'te and Alisha lay, both ****. Color had drained from the elf's face, but he breathed stably.

Her eyes drifted as her mind played catch-up with the situation. She seemed to recall the man saying something about moving to a medical ward, but also about them two not being enough. He faintly mentioned something scolding about the elven maid, but the exact wording was lost to her.

After a couple of seconds, Ophelia once again looked at the Academy. She thought of Lucas, who charged in there without hesitation.

When was it that their relationship started breaking down to this point? It wasn't just after their father died. She tried to support him, held him close, maybe even hugged him to sleep once or twice. Then, when did it happen? After he started becoming ****? Sooner than that? Later? When did the wedge between them appear?

And... why?

This felt wrong. Conflicting. Her brother - the mongrel, the Classless - was now risking his life for someone he barely knew. He did it... why? Why would he do that? Were they that close?

She reminded herself of Seraphina speaking with him at the arena. That was the only time she'd seen her smile, at her Classless brother, no less. With everyone else, she was a stern presence that appeared nearly disgusted. Even with Illan, she looked interested at most, but still restrained. But with Lucas... she appeared at ease, like they were lifelong friends.

Then why? Why couldn't she stop thinking of him in such a derogatory way? Why was she like this now? Why didn't she stop him? Why didn't she protest like Nimue did? All she did was stand there. Where has her nice and welcoming attitude from years ago gone? And... why?

...

She wasn't sure how long it took for anything to happen. The time felt like it'd come to a standstill as the blue-eyed Stormrider only watched the building blankly, incapable of forming a coherent thought for the first time in ages.

However, incessant as that state felt, it was eventually broken by a familiar voice.

"Ophelia!"

She turned, seeing the tail of gold behind Aveline's head as her robust sister rode a horse near.

"What the hell happened here?" she asked, her violet eyes scanning Lis'te, Alisha, and eventually landing on Deuce. Her concerned expression turned to one of shock. "Master Hunber?"

"Aveline," the dark-skinned man said as he rose against the wall, faint groaning accompanying his every move. "It's an emergency. Where are the reinforcements?"

"Busy. It's complete mayhem in the western district. I'm assuming it was Classless here as well?"

Deuce nodded. "A lot of Ureliar people, too. Spewing nonsense about bringing a change and whatnot. We need to take this man to the medical ward," he gestured toward the **** elf. "We did what we could to help him, but he needs a Healer."

Aveline nodded. But then, her brows furrowed. "Where's Lucas?"

"...he went inside," Ophelia muttered, voice empty. "Before the barrier finished forming."

"Inside?" Aveline frowned, something between concern and apprehension shifting on her face. She cast a hasty gaze back at the place. "...you let him go?" she nearly barked, a layer of concern intertwining her voice.

"He slipped past us when we were tending to these two," Deuce answered. "He wouldn't listen to reason."

A short beat of silence passed, filled with the barrier's soft whirr. Aveline inhaled deeply as though to expunge negative thoughts within. "But Nimue's with him, right?" she looked at her silver-haired sister with an expectant, almost hopeful gaze.

"...he pushed her out before it formed. She said she'd try to find another way in, even when I told her to stand down."

Aveline's skin turned pale. "...what? When?"

"A few minutes ago. She should be back by now," the dark-skinned man frowned, seemingly seeing some irregularity. "Do you reckon something happened?"

Ophelia could swear she saw so-far unused gears in her sister's head turn as her mouth moved silently, the violet eyes eyeing the barrier as though she could calculate something about it. Or... perhaps it wasn't about it.

"...do you think we could break through it?" Aveline suddenly threw a question.

"What?" Deuce uttered a single word, aghast. "Aveline, this is not the time for this! We need to get this man to the--"

"Princess Seraphina's retinue will come soon. We were supposed to meet by the Academy," Aveline cut him off, her voice steeled. Something about her told both her instructor and sister she was not in the mood for arguments. "So I'm asking a field question. Can we break it?"

Deuce fell silent. Leaning on the wall behind him, he appeared to ponder her question.

"Barriers like this don't just collapse when you pierce them," he answered after a few seconds. "It's runic magic. You'd need someone specializing in that or defensive magic to maybe stabilize a rupture, but I don't know much about the subject."

"...someone like a Rune Mage?" Ophelia inquired.

The man's attention was immediately brought to her. "Yes, someone like that. Are you one?"

She pointed at the **** Alisha. "She is. Lucas said she's from his assembly group."

"What happened to her?" Aveline came closer, kneeling by the Rune Mage in question.

"Knocked out cold," Deuce gave an answer. "Lucas and his maid dragged her away, but she'll likely be out of it for the rest of the day."

But Aveline's focused expression didn't change. After a few seconds, her sister realized that she was thinking deeply. The violet eyes shone, a hand reaching to her chin as she almost began humming something. In that moment, Ophelia's mind flashed another image, this time of their father, when he'd be hung over documents on a table, putting a hand on his chin in the exact same way, his eyes just as concentrated.

Her heart stung. She didn't understand why she was reminding herself of all that right now. But seeing Aveline suddenly snap to an upright position, she couldn't help but see Valerian instead. The illusion was so great that she almost expected to hear his voice.

But the tone was Aveline's.

"Ophelia, I need you to do something."

Her brow raised as she focused on her sister. "What?"

"We need to wake her up. But I need a few things first."

"Why do you want to wake her?"

Aveline instantly snapped back. Her entire body tensed up. Her eyes looked at her fiercely.

"Listen, you may hate Lucas for all I care, but he's our brother. Besides, we can't sit around and do nothing. She might help us break that barrier."

Ophelia flinched, taken aback by the grimness with which Aveline looked at her. It lay between sorrow and anguish, like the robust blonde knew something utterly dire she didn't want to expose openly.

But as her sister looked away to answer something Deuce asked her, the voluptuous Stormrider couldn't help but shake a thought from her mind.

'He's our brother... he's a Stormrider.'

Then, a half-remembered specter appeared. It felt like a dream, like a wild thought given form. However, the image of Lucas was clear. His mouth moved.

'If you really hate me that much, just say it! It's not like I don't know!'

It felt strange. Out of place... almost. It was like something birthed of her own subliminal thoughts, a dream she didn't want but was **** to see. But within that, a glint of realization stirred.

Lucas wouldn't say that... right? He was a Stormrider, even if a Classless one. And above that, he was her brother, no? Then why... why did it feel like something he might've said to her once?

Ophelia looked at her hand. Her fingers quivered lightly. Then, her eyes gazed upon the Academy. One question permeated her mind.

'Do I... really hate him?'

-Meanwhile-

Egis shuffled forth down the corridor, a dozen men following his steps.

Watching the aged walls, he couldn't help but feel a bitter smile attempt to **** itself on his lips. Once, he'd strutted down these halls, aiming to reach his next classroom. He'd bicker with Valerian at any chance given, meet with Sienna and Elaine on longer breaks. It'd been so long he'd almost forgotten how mighty the aged walls looked.

'This place never ceased to amaze me. Buildings even half its size are unheard of in Ureliar. Etnal's architecture deserves all the praise. I wish the circumstances were different, though.'

As his gaze ventured sideways, he noticed Minerva, in her battle outfit, her staff held loosely yet with a firm grasp. Her steps were silent and careful on the carpet, her dark eyes constantly surveilling the path ahead.

'She'd be a perfect fit for the swordsmanship department. Even without aura, her raw ability is no less than that of a Bishop-rank. This rotten system wouldn't take her in just because she's Classless... ridiculous.'

The woman suddenly reciprocated his stare. "Something happened?"

He shook his head. "It's nothing. It's feeling a little weird, walking down these halls again like this, is all," he mused for half a second before clearing his throat. "Are you well?"

Minerva nodded lightly. The light sheen of sweat still covered her skin, but she didn't care to wipe it away. Her breathing was stable, and the flush of her skin had already started receding.

"Good," Egis almost sighed. The firearm was in his hand still, dormant, a shackle rather than a weapon. "What about the men inside?"

"Already split into groups. So far, no reports of difficulties."

"What about the Liveren Descendant?"

"One group is tracking her down. She's evasive, but they will be able to corner her in the assembly hall as planned."

The gray-haired man nodded. As the group approached a crossroad, Egis slowly came to a halt.

"You know your assignment, Minerva. No lethal **** unless necessary. Come to the assembly hall when you're done," he said, his tone lowering. However, underneath the lowly warning lay a sense of concern he held.

The dark-eyed woman didn't answer. Instead, she spun the staff in her hands, exhaling sharply before shooting one glance behind her. The gathered men, all armed as they were, immediately responded with sounds of readiness. Then, most of them followed in her tracks as she went left, only five out of twenty men left with Egis.

He watched her group leave. As the last of the men disappeared from his view, he beckoned to the remaining ones, "Let's set off as well. We have a stop to make before we join the group in the assembly hall."

None of the men so much as dared look at him, barely even making sounds as they followed him like sheep led by a shepherd. This was the difference between Egis and Minerva: while both of them were top-of-the-line individuals in the Ureliar district, his presence as the alchemist and scientist was well known by the people deep in the circles. In contrast, Minerva was recognized by few and between. This wasn't just because of their different allocations, but also a product of their personalities. The woman usually kept to herself, speaking little and preferring to simply act.

Egis, on the other hand, wasn't afraid to show off anything he'd made to the outside world. His innovative thinking was what enabled him to gain admission to the Academy decades ago, and even after being expelled, he continued to refine his designs. Alumeris - the vial of power many participating in today's events had - was a great example. From a simple stimulant he'd devised to help himself study late at night, it had evolved through many iterations, eventually landing as a battle-enhancer mixture. Albeit some of its side effects were problematic, all was well as long as it wasn't overconsumed. The dosage he'd provided to his men only enough substance to strengthen the men around him.

For that achievement alone, the Ureliar army had wanted to employ him into their ranks, offering lavish titles and wealth beyond measure. And although Egis never truly rejected their offers, he didn't work with them for their ends, but for his own. It was only that their objectives made his own plans easier to execute, one way or another. The same was with Ismeria. They cooperated, but calling them 'friends' would be a big stretch.

'That woman always struck me strange.' he thought of when he first met Ismeria, over twenty-five years ago.

During one of his regular visits, not too long after graduating from the Academy, Valerian brought the silver-haired woman in tow, wanting her to meet his best friend from the study times. Already, during the first encounter, Egis had noticed something that ticked him off about the woman. She appeared... controlled, too much so. It felt almost like her every breath was calculated perfectly, her eyes always focused, but beneath the silent intelligence and mannerly eloquence, something else hid. What that thing was, Egis never learned. After their initial meeting, they only came to meet a handful of times before Valerian's demise. But then, when he began investigating, she finally reached out. From one talk to another, they came to a uniform conclusion that Weydan's authorities had to be put in line, one way or another. However, as time passed, Egis started becoming aware of their overall differing agendas.

'My personal interest in this is uncovering whatever the higher-ups covered about Valerian and his final days. But Ismeria doesn't seem interested in that much. So much for a loving wife, huh, Valerian?' Egis sighed as his group began ascent up the final flight of stairs, leading to the top floor. He'd never understood what his friend saw in the queen of ice that Ismeria was. 'She'd spent a good sum and used some of her contacts to get us the mana stones. But despite going to such lengths, she doesn't want to even look at Ylla's Tear. Makes me wonder what exactly is her personal agenda in all of this. What does she stand to gain from this chaos?'

Egis had already put this to the question many times. However, even when he'd ask her personally, Ismeria refused to provide a clear answer, always skimming over some 'recognition' or some such. And even when pressed, she wouldn't give in.

He hummed nearly silently. It didn't matter to him, not on a personal level, at least. Ismeria wouldn't backstab him, not with her level of involvement. Even if she stayed in the back and only watched things unfold, she had no less a hand in this than he did.

Egis looked at his hand. The machination - firearm, as the tinkerer had called it - lay within, the rugged handle rubbing his skin. Then, as his gaze ventured upward, he noticed a mighty door standing at the end of the corridor, leading to a place he had been in a few times in his time at the Academy. Its previous headmaster briefly flashed in front of his eyes, a spectre of a memory that almost tried to drag him down.

Egis briefly closed his eyes.

He pulled out two small bags from his pockets. One weighed in his palm quietly, like it was filled with sand, while the other let out a faint jingle of metal balls hitting one another.

But before he managed to do what he should've with them, a familiar whirr came from another pocket. Minerva's voice came through the device, slightly distorted but understandable.

"Egis, we have a problem."

He wasted not a split second more, reaching for the device.

"What is it?"

"There is an elf here blocking our path. She can use magic, and is quite strong."

Egis's heart skipped a beat. Looking out the nearby window, he confirmed that the barrier still stood strong. This meant that the anti-magic field was also active.

'To use magic, one would have to overpower the level of restriction anti-magic puts on them. This means the person Minerva is speaking of is at the very least on verge of becoming a 7th-circle Mage. But... there are no elves in Weydan capable of such magic...'

"Can you overpower her?"

"I don't know. She beat two of our men instantly, even with enhancements. Something about her is off."

'Suspicious indeed... even if one could resist, their abilities would be severely dampened. Assuming one of the elven teachers managed a breakthrough we didn't know of, they should be no stronger than a 2nd-circle under the field's effects. A Mage of that level would barely put a scratch on our men...'

"Can you pick a different path?"

"Negative."

"Dammit," Egis cursed to himself. Looking at the men who were with him, he saw the readiness in their eyes. Though they feared to so much as speak a word, they wouldn't disobey if he sent them to support, even against a clearly stronger opponent. "Can you win against her?"

For a long moment, only silence answered. He could imagine the dark-eyed woman scrutinizing the elf she'd spoken of, analyzing anything she could.

"I'm uncertain," finally, Minerva answered. "But I'll try."

"Obtaining Ylla's Tear is top priority. Focus her attention and let others get the artifact. And if things get out of control... you know."

"...yes."

"Good. Be careful, Minerva. Get back in one piece."

The only thing that answered was calm static. Egis breathed heavier, the air charged with uncertainty, before he pocketed the device. Clenching the firearm in his hand, he exhaled sharply. His heart beat stronger, a sense of uncertainty stirring in his abdomen. Despite it, he turned to the five with him, his voice calm and collected.

"Prepare."

The simple command was enough. The men spread a little over the corridor, their aim to act as guardians, letting Egis deal with the person in the room ahead by himself.

But as he stepped closer and began reloading his firearm, the man's thoughts diverged.

'Minerva isn't second-rate by any means. She tempers herself to the point that even I consider it ridiculous, all while refusing to take so much as a drop of Alumeris. But her saying victory is uncertain in a situation like this... just who is that elf?'

-About 10 minutes ago, outside the Academy-

Nimue halted. Her breathing began slowly stabilizing as she stroked the tiny bead of sweat off her temple. A subconscious motion swept across her attire, fixing up any wrinkles in the maid's outfit.

She looked around. Having purposefully circled the Academy from the southern side to avoid having Ophelia see what she was doing, she calmly confirmed nobody lurked in the streets. Only Seraphina's familiar sat nearby, the black cat watching her with his brown eyes.

'The scorcher isn't the only thing that made the streets empty.' she thought, noticing a few plumes of smoke above the roofs, signifying that the earlier explosions had happened mostly across western Weydan. The breeze that came carried a smell of burnt wood, faint but gradually intensifying. A momentary ponder of the chaos happening there surfaced before she squashed it into oblivion. That didn't matter to her. There were already Enforcers there, she was sure.

Looking at the mighty building for a protracted moment, she measured it with her eyes before focusing on the blue barrier separating her from the inside. She brought her hand to it, feeling the smooth, chill surface. It appeared to be shifting right underneath her fingertips, pulsing subtly with magical energy. She felt it resist when pushed, more like a wall of steel than a glass sheet.

Her green eyes located the black cat, Cileres, as it sat a few steps away.

"=Are you certain that brat is inside?="

"=Yes. I saw her enter with my own eyes. Although I could stand you calling her something else,=" he made a comment.

Nimue's fist clenched. Cileres immediately flinched, his fur bristling as he saw the ireful stare she gave him.

"=Be grateful that I'm even willing to help. If not for Lucas, I'd be happy to leave her. Now, step back.="

The cat didn't answer, his snout stirring slightly before he backed off, giving her some space.

Nimue's hand went back. She took a solid swing, loosening any restraints she'd normally put up. Her fist rushed, the sheer pressure of the motion crushing.

*BANG!*

The wall rang, almost like a bell. From the impact point, a wave surged, small but noticeable, sweeping across the nearby barrier's area before vanishing into it. Yet, it still stood strong. The residual **** stirred the air, making her dress flutter.

But Nimue didn't stop for a blink.

*BANG! BANG! BANG!*

She hit it several times more, each strike punctuated by the same effects. But as Nimue took her hand away from the magical obstacle, she noticed that it was barely even cracked. Before she managed to follow through with more strikes, the crack vanished, the smooth surface looking like she'd not touched it at all.

Nimue looked at her hand. The frail skin of her knuckles was torn. A bit of blood trickled.

With a sigh, she stepped away several steps.

'It didn't even cave in, and it regenerates. I'm not sure how much power it has, either. I could break through at once if I wasn't so close to the boundary... I'll have to work out something else.'

Nimue's hand wormed into her pocket. The vial she'd always carried was cool to the touch, almost as if reassuring her of its availability.

'But if I use it, I won't be able to do much for a while.'

She wasn't going to make herself a sitting duck after entering. That'd defeat the entire purpose of breaking through the barrier.

Therefore, she quickly turned away toward the empty street. Searching for anything of use, her eyes eventually landed on the ground itself. The polished stones forming the nearly even surface seemed to almost gleam in the harsh sun. However, the small breaks between some of them gave her an idea.

"=Is there no one around still?=" she asked, barely looking back at Cileres as she stepped forth.

"=We're alone, yes. Why?="

"=...step away from the barrier. It will be messy.="

As she said the words, Nimue stopped. Watching the stone panel in the ground, she felt her fingers tremble.

Leaning down, she dug her fingers into the crevices. She felt the binding break under the pressure with which she pressed, faint cracks spreading before she gripped the stone.

Her muscles tensed briefly as she pulled, the panel suddenly coming out of the ground. Broken pieces and dust rained from the piece of the street she'd picked up.

She exhaled heavily before shooting a look at Cileres. Although the cat's whiskers didn't move, his wide-eyed expression told her of the amount of shock he was experiencing at this exact moment. The large stone in her hands was a piece that was put in the ground by at least two workers, and she easily carried it around on her own. In truth, she barely felt its weight.

But she needn't bask in that. She had a job to fulfill.

Nimue immediately shuffled. Her muscles worked as she quickly turned toward the barrier, lobbing the piece of road with tremendous ****.

The sound of it hitting the barrier echoed dully. Whole as it was while flying, the projectile immediately broke into a thousand pieces of debris that were flung all around. Dust rose in the air, swirling around like smoke.

But as it began settling, Nimue saw that her attack was ineffective.

The barrier didn't have so much as a scratch on it.

Nimue wasn't having any of it. Picking up a second panel, she threw it as well.

However.

'This won't work.'

The thought appeared after she'd tossed the third projectile. Despite their heft and the kinetic energy they carried, they weren't strong enough to survive the impact and ended up shattering. Every time she attempted it, the only effect was a rain of tiny pebbles and the billowing dust.

'They're heavy but fragile. It's no different from throwing punches at it like this...'

Then, she looked at her hand.

'I don't want to, but I don't have the time to consider other options. I've wasted enough time.'

She breathed out sharply. Swiping the slight sheen of sweat from her forehead, the black-haired elf approached the barrier. On the tips of her fingers, mana threads began forming, swirling languidly as though unaffected by her movements. Shooting a look at Cileres, she beckoned him wordlessly. As the cat complied, Nimue closed her eyes. Gathering all the air she could, she stifled the cough in the back of her throat.

Then, she reached for the barrier.

The mana threads shot forth. Lodging themselves in the smooth surface briefly, they almost immediately appeared to lie atop it like seaweed surfacing to meet the air atop an aquifer. While their motions appeared random, they were all guided by the black-haired woman.

'Come on...'

She focused, the threads obeying her commands. Within seconds, she had them converge in the middle.

'Just a little more...'

Within her, she felt the barrier's power fight against hers. It crashed in waves against the boats that set a net on the ocean's surface. It fought for control, for stability, for equilibrium.

But Nimue wasn't giving up.

After a few seconds had passed, the effort of her work showed an effect. It started as a small ring of the threads, expanding at a snail's pace somewhere around her head level. However, as it grew, she saw that the inside was not tinted by the barrier.

'More...!'

She redoubled her efforts. A cold shiver ran down her spine, her fingers trembling as she felt the heat from them escape. Even the sweat that beaded down her cheeks and neck slowed down.

But eventually, after eleven long seconds, the rupture grew large enough.

Without wasting a second, she jumped in, followed by the black cat. Right after that, the hole sizzled as the threads receded from it, the barrier closing in silently.

"=Where should we go?=" she heard Cileres ask.

However, before she answered, Nimue dropped to her knees.

*COUGH COUGH!*

A powerful cough ran through her body, and she went to all fours, trying to control it. The metallic tang of blood graced her tongue before she spat it forth, staining the ground with a few red droplets.

It took a few seconds for the attack to finish. As Nimue felt the cough recede, her heart throbbed painfully. It was never pleasant, but this was definitely one of the worst cases she'd ever experienced. Breathing heavily, she began calming down, feeling warmth slowly return to her limbs.

She looked at Cileres. For the first time ever, she saw something new in his eyes. He looked... compassionate, almost, despite his silence.

Gathering herself, Nimue said, "=This is where we part ways. Look for that brat yourself. I'm here for Lucas only.="

The cat flinched, looking at the Academy briefly. "=How am I to enter? With the field in place, I cannot--!="

*CRASH!*

The sound of glass breaking interrupted him. Shocked, Cileres looked in the direction, seeing a nearby window shattered, its glass splintering before crashing down in a rain of sharp, reflective shards. As they hit the ground dully, a faint crystalline echo rose before dying off.

"=There. Now leave,=" Nimue said, her tone almost a growl as she lowered her hand from the raised position. Slowly, she brushed her dirty fingers against the ground, right next to the now-empty spot where she'd ripped a piece of stone from.

She imagined the multitude of questions passing through Cileres's head; he couldn't have noticed how quickly she'd picked and tossed the projectile, the speed enough to seem like her position had changed instantly to an unsuspecting eye. Just before she thought about speaking a word more to scare him off, the cat skittered, disappearing within.

Nimue sighed, feeling the last of the cough ripple through her lungs before she managed to stabilize. Slowly, she got up, looking up at the Academy.

'...all of this because of one stupid brat.'

She grimaced unpleasantly, thinking of the green-haired elf Lucas rushed in here for. Just the thought made her fists curl. That stupid, spoiled royal child had been a thorn in her side since their first meeting. Just the thought of how she'd endangered Lucas by insisting on meeting with him, and the man relenting to her wishes, made her quietly wish she hadn't made it out of this place.

'Enough of that, Nimue.'

She berated herself.

'First, Lucas. Then, I'll think about that brat.'

She cast a long gaze around. Some movement crossed her vision, coming from a distant crossing - most likely, Enforcers gathering to investigate the barrier around the Academy. She didn't have much time.

She sighed. Focusing some strength in her legs, Nimue almost immediately jumped toward the broken window. As she cleared it and landed on the carpet inside the lengthy corridor, she shot a sweeping glance in both directions.

However, much to her satisfaction, she was alone. The mighty corridors - a sight she'd seen a few times, decades ago - stood strong as they always had. Nearly five meters across, their walls were painted a burnt sienna color - the kind of red-yellow mixture that failed to be considered either but didn't quite strike as their combination. The imperfect finishes on them showed some of the bricks underneath, the dark red blending nicely and giving the place a rather warm atmosphere.

Nimue immediately fixed up her attire, which had wrinkled and twisted from the acrobatics she'd done, before bolting in the direction of the Academy's main entrance. It was only a few minutes away at her pace.

'Strange.' she thought, passing a crossing. 'Why isn't anyone outside the rooms? They must've noticed the field's effects by now. Something fishy is going on. In the first place, Classless setting up an anti-magic field around the magical academy was most definitely planned. What exactly is their agenda? Just aiming for that brat would be possible, but they had no way of knowing she'd be here, and that barrier definitely wasn't made in five minutes. On the other side, there were many more explosions we heard, which means that something is happening elsewhere. Are they aiming for the Academy itself?'

Her pondering suddenly stopped when she turned a corner. In the distance, she saw several men quickly march toward her position, each armed, their attire and dark skin indicating that their origin was most likely Ureliar.

Immediately, they spotted her. Two in the front appeared to almost smile as they sped up. They said something that fell on her ears as she ignored the words.

But then, she noticed her. In front of the group that stopped, the brown-haired woman who had fought Deuce shuffled.

'That one. She might know where Lucas is.'

The woman appeared to recognize her, her dark eyes shining briefly as she clutched her staff firmer, clearly surprised at her presence.

But then, the staredown was interrupted as the two men reached Nimue's position. One of them, holding a thick bludgeon, took a heavy swing, possibly aiming to crush her arm.

Nimue was hardly fazed. With a swift motion, she evaded the strike, her lithe hands striking the man's sternum with ****. A sickening sound of ribs cracking echoed against the aged walls as he fell on his back, air pushed out of his lungs.

The other man retaliated, the shortsword he unsheathed gleaming as he aimed it at her neck.

But before his strike found its mark, his entire hand was entangled in blue threads, stopping it mid-strike. His eyes widened before Nimue jumped, her knee meeting his jaw, crushing it and sending the man out of commission as well. As she landed, the threads receded, reduced to a few shimmering centimeters extending from her fingers.

A beat of silence followed.

"Was that... magic?" one of the men from the group, still ten or so meters away, blurted, utter disbelief in his voice. The others visibly tensed up, their frames shuffling as though they wanted to step back.

'I didn't intend to use this, but it's best to finish this quickly.' Nimue sighed before raising her hands. Her fingers curled, the emerald eyes focusing as she sized up all the opponents in front of her.

She saw the woman - Minerva or whatever she was called - hide some item in her pocket before looking at her.

Deciding that this would be her best chance, Nimue took a defined step forward.

"You. Where is Lucas?" she growled dangerously, the question aimed at Minerva. The threads below her hand shifted as though preparing to lunge.

For the first time, a glint of unknown emotion crossed Minerva's face. "Lucas?" she repeated the name, her voice measured as if testing the importance of its owner to Nimue. Stepping slightly closer, she exhaled lightly. "Everyone, leave us. This is between me and her."

The men around her shuffled. Uncertainty beamed from their tense postures, all of them no doubt shaken by the sight of their two comrades rendered powerless in less than five seconds.

"Do you think I'll let you go?" Nimue asked, leering at them. Several of them flinched, visibly apprehensive of her despite her tiny posture.

"I think you care about Lucas more than about what we're doing here," Minerva answered.

"...you're not wrong."

Nimue's words came with a glint of hesitance. In truth, she did care, even if only a little bit, about the Academy and the people within. However, ultimately, her mindset was more pragmatic than the bigger picture; all that mattered to her was her immediate surroundings. That included Lucas more than anyone else who was in this place.

The mana threads receded.

"Then, I'll get my answers from you," she said, suddenly bolting forth.

Minerva barely managed to respond. Lifting her weapon, she lunged to meet Nimue's advance.

The first swing belonged to the taller human. Minerva's staff spun in her hands as she aimed a clean strike right at Nimue's cheek. The black-haired elf evaded, her own fist lunging forth to strike her shoulder but missing as her opponent bent sideways. Immediately after, Nimue was surprised to find the other end of the weapon strike her chest, meeting her large breast and sending a jolt of pain through her frame.

Both of them ignored the surroundings as their focus was on one another. The cold steel met flesh and bone, the dull sounds falling on deaf ears as the men around scattered, disappearing further in the corridor.

'She's fast...' Nimue conceded. It felt annoying, feeling her every strike be met with a nigh-perfect block, and her every attack evaded. Truth be told, the elf had little technique behind her blows - she'd never trained in fighting styles, which made her blows simple and predictable despite their swiftness and ****. Minerva, on the other hand, was clearly experienced in her style; very little of her motions was wasted, and every minute move prepared her for counters Nimue might've thrown. 'But I'm far too close to the boundary to risk going all-out...'

Suddenly, she saw it. A chance appeared, as Minerva's side was open.

Rather than aiming an attack, Nimue sent her hand out in a grabbing motion, expecting it to be read.

Suddenly feeling the cold steel grasp her fingers, she smiled. Forcing her body to move faster, she got a better hold of it, immediately immobilizing it.

Minerva's eyes went wide. She tried yanking her staff away, but Nimue's grip was absolute, the hand barely budging.

"Now," Nimue said through her teeth, seeing Minerva's complexion shift to uncertainty. "Where is Lucas?"

*Click!*

A sound entered their ears. Nimue flinched, feeling Minerva twist the shaft. At its middle, the weapon split, the elf woman now holding only half the staff, while the human swiftly aimed the other half, its end meeting her chin.

Nimue cursed, backpedaling as she felt the blow reverberate in her skull. Her vision blurred momentarily as she felt blood immediately trickle.

In place of the pain, newfound fury surged.

She clenched her fist. The steel pole in her grasp whined as she crushed it before discarding the item.

"You little...!" Nimue instinctively pointed a hand at Minerva. Before either of them could realize what was happening, a few threads of mana shot forward, ensnaring the human woman with an icy-cold grip.

She spat, a bit of blood staining the ground. She saw the dark-eyed woman struggle, but the threads held her tight.

'I didn't want to do this... but playing with her will take too long.'

"Where is he?" she growled.

Minerva flinched, her dark eyes meeting Nimue's emerald orbs. Still, she kept silent, almost as though she knew the elf wouldn't kill her.

"Answer," Nimue's tone lowered, her hand twisting slightly. In response, the threads around the human's body tightened, eliciting a faint groan. "Where is--!"

Suddenly, Nimue felt her heart throb. The feeling was familiar to her.

'What? No!'

She backed off, steadying herself against a wall as a violent cough began running rampant in her lungs.

'Not yet!'

She begged her body to stop as she tried to stifle her body's reaction, but to no avail. It felt like a surge of electricity ran through her every fiber, her every inhale sharply interrupted.

*COUGH COUGH!*

The threads that held Minerva immediately thawed. However, the elf woman barely registered, her attention focused on herself.

'No! Fight it! I-I can't give in now!'

But her begging fell on deaf ears. Heat escaped her body, the chill coursing underneath her skin like it had a life of its own. She knew; she had to do it, whether she wanted to or not.

Her vision dimmed faintly, the silhouette of Minerva's blurring momentarily. The woman still stood at a distance, clearly wary and not engaging in whatever was happening.

'I-I have to...!'

Nimue's hand moved to her pocket. Grasping the small vial within, she barely cared about her opponent; without it, it wouldn't matter anyway.

But as she lifted the vial and undid the cork, she saw it. A glimmer of understanding appeared in the human's eyes. Before Nimue managed to lift the vial with shaky hands, Minerva moved.

*WHACK!*

Pain radiated from Nimue's hand as Minerva's weapon struck.

Her grasp on the vial loosened, her fingers stiffening as the glass slipped out of her palm. As incessant milliseconds passed, all she could do was watch the shiny vial tumble to the ground, its contents spilling into the carpet.

"NO!"

Nimue's heart froze. A primal fear within her surged. But all she could do was watch, her body rocked by another coughing fit. She felt the all-too-familiar taste of iron roll on her tongue.

Her fist clenched. Fighting the coughing sensation, she lunged, aiming a powerful hook into the woman's side. But Minerva was too distant and managed to evade. Nimue's hand crashed into the wall, wrecking a brick beneath the paint. Shards of adobe fell to the ground as she recoiled. However, her hand was unharmed, only dusted.

She saw the human woman flinch, eyes widening in utter disbelief. The metal pole in her hand moved, aiming for the elf's head.

But Nimue moved, much faster than before. To Minerva, it likely looked like she blinked half a meter rearwards, but Nimue experienced the motion clearly. For just a moment, the world slowed down, Minerva's rapid speed almost coming to a standstill. The state didn't last long, though. She barely managed to evade the blow before things returned to normal. Then, her vision immediately blurred, her heart palpitating.

She coughed again, blood filling her mouth before she spat.

"Enough!"

Nimue rushed forward, ignoring the next attack. Clenching her hand around Minerva's neck before the dark-eyed woman managed to react, she pressed her against a wall.

She watched her squirm, the warmth of her skin like red-hot iron against her ice-cold fingers.

Their gazes met. Nimue recognized the feeling of fear that Minerva no doubt felt. Breathing heavily, she tried to control her state so that her hand wouldn't crush the human's neck. But it wasn't easy. Every fiber in her body felt like it was about to explode, her vision blurring by the second, her mind clouding. In the back of her consciousness, something moved, alien but familiar, threatening to come forth if given time.

'I have to rush back. I need to take another vial. Aveline should have one... but first.'

"Where. Is. Lucas?" she growled the question.

Minerva flailed, attempting to **** Nimue's hand off, but the elf's strength was leagues above hers. Seemingly recognizing this after a second or two, she stopped the futile attempts, her eyes focusing.

"I don't know."

Nimue huffed. Anger in her boiled, her hand squeezing tighter.

"Bullshit. He went in after you."

"B-But he d-didn't follow us..." Minerva stammered, her breathing reduced to sharp rasps. However, that wasn't all she did. Nimue's focus was wholly on her head, and she didn't notice a thing.

The black-haired elf almost hissed with irritation.

Before she managed to respond, a voice echoed in the corridor.

"Nimue?!"

Her heart halted. Turning her head, she saw the white-haired man in question just by the nearest crossing, about fifteen meters away. His gaze was full of utter shock and disbelief at her presence here. The shortsword he'd picked up earlier gleamed in the sun's rays entering through the windows, showing its clean surface.

"Lucas...!" the elf said, first with disbelief, then with relief.

Her hand loosened its hold on Minerva's neck. But before she turned to Lucas completely, she felt something press right against her sternum.

"Nimue!" Lucas cried out, his expression shifting to worry as he bolted toward them, his sword raised.

But it was too late.

A click resounded in the air.

-A few minutes ago-

As Lucas entered, he felt a cold shiver wash down his spine. A feeling of guilt welled up in his guts, knowing the anguish Nimue was no doubt going through right now.

However, he reassured himself.

'I have to do this. I have to do something.'

The thought surged in him together with the mounting blame. If he stood by the sidelines, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself. Even if it was dangerous, he'd step in.

The presence within his mind nodded, coiling around his mind like a quiet guide. It agreed with his reasoning.

'What are you doing here?' Lucas asked in his thoughts, looking down the corridors by the entrance, but failing to see a single person. Whoever the intruders were, they didn't spend a single second waiting for anything. And neither did he, picking the corridor leading south. He had to start his search somewhere, after all.

The voice in the back of his mind answered.

'[You need to go. Seraphina is in danger.]'

'Why do you care?!' Lucas almost roared as he looked out a window before halting. Although it was extremely faint, his reflection looked back at him, the violet of its eyes watching him intensely.

'[We share a goal, Lucas.]'

"A goal?" he snapped, angry tone escaping his lips. "We share nothing. You tried to possess me."

'[I was trying to help you see what you refuse to acknowledge.]' Adlin's retort was sharp, but Lucas couldn't help but feel a glint of guilt in his tone. Or, perhaps, he was feeling it wrong. His own feelings were all over the place at the moment. '[You're walking on thin ice, Lucas. If you're not careful, you could end up added to the **** count.]'

"And what's your deal in all this? I'm just a pawn to you, aren't I? And you suddenly care about me?"

'[...You were never a pawn to us, Lucas. But sometimes, you need a push to do the right thing.]'

"The right thing? Which part of you beating Illan up was the right one?!" Lucas retorted, his fists clenching.

He felt Adlin's presence shrink, if only for a blink.

'[...Yes, I might have overreacted back then, I admit. I am but a human, after all.]' the man answered, a sigh punctuating his voice. '[But that doesn't mean you can afford to tarry. You need to find Seraphina.]'

Lucas grimaced, but closed his eyes before turning away from the window. He didn't want to agree with Adlin's words, but the man was right; who knew how dire a situation Seraphina was in right now?

"...we aren't done here," he said through his teeth. "When this is over, I'll squeeze every last answer out of you."

Adlin hummed, though it almost sounded like a chuckle.

'[Very well.]'

Then, Lucas rushed down a corridor. He wasn't sure if this would lead to the green-haired elf; in truth, the best he could do was hope. As for when he'd eventually run into the intruders... well, he preferred not to think of that. All he hoped was that at the end of the southern path he'd taken would be Seraphina, huddled in a corner and unfound. That was the best-case scenario for this situation.

A minute passed. His steps were quick, but the young Stormrider tried to not break into a run, preserving all stamina for when it'd be needed. He summoned his status, his hand phasing through it as it appeared before the instinctual motion finished.

[Lucas Stormrider (Age: 19)

Class: Hybrid Class (Dream Walker / ???)

Level: 2

[HP: 489/489

MP: 1380/1380

WP: 450/450]

'Good. I may not be able to use skills at this moment, but I don't know if it will affect Willpower-based ones.'

But his ponderings halted as he heard something. It sounded like a voice, but the tone and exact words were not audible to him.

'Seraphina?'

Lucas's heart beat faster at the possibility. His legs shot him forward into a sprint, his violet eyes just barely scanning the surroundings for immediate threats as he turned the corner.

But it wasn't Seraphina. Instead, another, even more familiar elf, entered his vision. The sight stunned him.

"Nimue?!"

His heart stopped as he took in the scene. The black-haired maid - without question Nimue - stood strong, a hand on Minerva's neck as she pressed her against a wall. The human woman's staff lay nearby, split into two pieces, one of them bent severely, as its user struggled against the elf's hold. The plush carpet beneath their feet was tangled, moved around by what no doubt was a fight.

But that wasn't all. As Nimue's head turned and her emerald eyes locked on him, he saw blood dripping from a corner of her mouth, a slight trickle also dripping from one of her nostrils, staining her pristine skin like a scarlet river tainting a snow-ridden valley. A big bruise on her chin showed that she'd taken a strong hit to the jaw, the bone miraculously not broken.

The change in her fiery expression was immediate.

"Lucas...!" from anger at the woman, through worry about him, to happiness at seeing him, her face expressed it all in a span of less than two seconds. The emerald eyes appeared to shimmer as though she was about to cry, of any aforementioned emotion.

'[No... no no no... how is she here?]'

Adlin's voice filled Lucas's mind briefly. The white-haired man himself asked that question in his mind. Something was wrong. Nimue couldn't have broken through the barrier... right?

But that brief ponder was thrown aside as Nimue released her hold on Minerva's neck. As if in retaliation, the human woman raised the hand hidden from the man to Nimue's chest. Within shone a familiar machination, similar to the one Egis had used on Lis'te, yet slightly different, like swords with a unique flourish to their designs.

Lucas felt his heart stop, realizing Minerva's intention. He rushed forth.

"Nimue!"

A click sounded. A spark ignited.

"!"

*BANG!*

The thunderous sound roared across the corridor, reverberating like a beast's growl. But its ear-splitting volume, just like the faint smell of sulfur that arose, barely registered.

Nimue's eyes widened, wordless pain crossing her face. Shock painted on her face, she looked down, only to see a red, growing stain on her attire, together with a hole in the material.

Minerva rapidly made space, passing by the elf woman before skittering full-speed in the corridor.

Nimue staggered. Her body lost strength, a cough rippling through her frame as the rupture wound on her chest spewed blood. She dropped to her knees just in time to be caught by Lucas. She looked at him, her eyes blurring as painful tears gathered.

'[NO!]'

"Nimue... no!" he lamented, bringing his hands to the wound. However, as he ripped the attire slightly, he saw it; the rupture was huge.

"L-Lucas..." Nimue **** out, her voice stammering. Yet, despite its pain-ridden tone, it sounded as beautiful as ever. "Y-You're safe..."

"N-Nimue!" Lucas's voice cracked, his hands reaching for the wound. "H-Hold still, I'll d-do something..."

However, as he pressed against the wound, he felt only more blood gush out, staining his fingers in dark crimson. The liquid felt cold against his fingers, but he didn't care to notice in the slightest.

But Nimue reached out to him weakly.

"Lucas..." her voice, weaker now, caressed his ears as she grabbed his elbow. "D-Don't... waste time... I... *Cough!* It's u-useless..."

"No, N-Nimue, I-I c-can d-do something...!" Lucas uttered, but his voice broke. Tears streak down his cheeks, dripping down into her attire. But he knew she was right. Even if he could heal her through a miracle, the internal damage that made her bleed profusely was most definitely extensive. Chances of her survival were none.

"So... t-this is how it ends... hah..." the black-haired elf **** a small chuckle out. "I-I... thought... it'd be Aveline..."

Lucas didn't respond to her quizzical words. His hands were still on her chest as he tried to stem the flow, but he felt it; the amount of blood was diminishing rapidly.

"I-I-I... I can't... p-please..." his words came out broken and twisted.

'[Nimue...]' the presence almost whispered, the tone begging as it matched Lucas's despair.

"Lucas."

His eyes lifted to meet Nimue's. The elf woman, her face paler than ever before, looked at him with slowly blurring eyes. Yet, her expression was focused.

"Please... y-you must go. Please," she urged. "Go... a-and live... please..."

Her hand slipped from his, his own catching it. Lucas felt her hand, ice-cold. Her fingers slithered between his.

"Nimue... I-I can't...!" he lamented.

Then, he noticed it. A small smile graced the dying elf's face. Her emerald eyes, glassy as they were, held warmth that contrasted with the chill of her skin.

"It's alright..." she said, a weak cough stirring her body. "It's... all fine... Lucas."

"...yes?"

"T-Thank you..."

"W-What...?"

Nimue's muscles relaxed under him, the woman losing the last of her strength. Her breathing was less than shallow whiffs blowing through her thin lips, her eyes barely opening after blinking anymore.

"I... y-you made my t-time here worth it... t-thank you..." she said, her voice thinning. Nimue's ears lowered, brushing against the black expanse of her hair.

"N-Nimue... d-d̴on̶'t... I ca̸n't... I can̷'̷t̷ lose̶ ̷yo̶u... n̴o̷t̶ ̸a̵̸̴g̴̷̷a̸̷̷i̴̶̴n̴̷̷..." the white-haired man begged, tears flowing down his nose and dripping into her outfit.

She barely reached, her smile not waning one bit as she tightened her hold of his hand to the best of her ability, trying to reassure him. Her mouth opened, barely a whisper escaping.

"I... I love you..."

Then, Nimue's lips released the final exhale, her eyes dimming before she closed them. Her chest lowered without rising again. Her lithe fingers loosened around his.

"I-I too... I love you too...!" Lucas wept, leaning in to hug her. He grasped her, craddled her, brushed her hair with his fingers.

But there was nothing to be done. The wound on her stomach stopped spewing blood, the scarlet liquid barely flowing anymore. The pulse of her heartbeat was gone, her skin cold to the touch. Even the air around became chillier, like the world itself was in bereavement.

...

He wasn't sure how many seconds had passed. After what felt like eternity, Lucas felt it. The presence, overcome with grief equal to his, encroached. It didn't say a word. It didn't have to. For once, they agreed.

They felt closer. With every prolonged, empty beat of their heart, the two approached one another. Its ocean-like presence against his puddle of consciousness - it wrapped around him, coiling like a snake, tightening like a bind.

The status screen pinged, unprompted.

[?ality: 5 -> 5]

The numbers bled, dripping, extending, shortening, like paint picked up and mixed by waves.

[?sality: 5 -̵≯ ̵5̷ -> 6 ̵̎-> 4̴ ̵̤̎-̸≯̾ ̴͋ͅ7̷͐]

[????? -> ?????]

A new sound appeared, something between a wordless screech and a metallic tang. It attacked his ears with the ferocity of a hornet nest. The air vibrated, everything around him shifting like it fought against an invisible ****.

[É̴r̸̤̾r̷̿o̶͝r̵̼͘]

But he didn't care. Now, none of it mattered to him anymore.

Darkness swallowed him. Lucas closed his eyes, allowing it to take him. He felt diminished against the ever-increasing presence that took over.

[Causality: 9 -> 10]

[Cau̷s̷a̷l̸u̶̷̶̟͓͆̑á̶̶̴̩͕͝2̸̷̸̺̣̈́̒a̴̷̵͖͊̕͜4̶̴̵͕̝̋̊1̷̶̴̙̻̐̾!̶̸̸͕͇͊̏%̷̴̶͎̯̄͠&̶̴̴͎͈̇̕@̸̴̵̧͖̐͐]

[SEGFAULT]

[S̴͌Y̷̽SC̵̈́Ó̵̗͚͂R̵̈Ŗ̵͌U̷͆̊P̴T̵̞̫̈́]

[E̷RR̴̄O̵̠̊R̵̈́]

[E̸̶̵͕̅̈́R̶̴̶̶̺̝̯͌̓̇̉R̶̴̴̯̽̓O̸̴̵̦̿R̴̴̶̵̶̡̮͕̝̍̒͝͝]

̶̷̴̷̶͓̹͈̏̂͑̚ͅ[Ȇ̵̷̸̷͇̼̽͐R̴̸̴̪̔̽Ṛ̴̴̷̴̶̢̧̫̥̀͋̎̚̕Ó̸̸̶̟̺̓͋R̴̴̷̶̥̙̋̋̅]

...

He took a deeper breath.

The air was cold, unfitting for the summer's atmosphere. However, the question of why that was didn't cross his mind.

He looked down woefully. The beauty of an elf that lay in his hands. His fingers were covered in the blood that surged from within her abdomen, the deep scarlet coagulating slowly. Yet, despite that, she looked almost... normal. Like at any moment, she could wake up, scold him for being reckless, do anything except... not.

His lips quivered, unbearable guilt gnawing at his spirit.

"...I'm sorry, Nimue," he said, his voice deep and sorrowful. "I..."

He closed his eyes, unable to finish the sentence.

'...I couldn't help you... once again, I let you down...'

Slowly, he moved, putting her body down. His hand then found the sword's handle. The blade fit in his hand loosely.

His violet eyes looked at their reflection in the weapon. However, what stared back was a blank stare. Whatever was left of the soul within had wilted together with her.

'(Get up.)'

A voice called out within him. A familiar tone that he'd used to call his friend in the past.

'(The Liveren needs you.)'

Almost against his will, he rose. His eyes didn't leave Nimue's body for a microsecond as his hands made refined, experienced motions. Within seconds, his hands were mostly wiped against his attire, no consideration for the clothing.

Some voice entered his ears. But it didn't belong to himself or ahjussi.

Turning around, he shot a glance down the corridor. A dozen or so meters away, he saw a group of four men, all outfitted in Ureliar clothes. Some banter was shared between them, mayhaps touching on how easy it was to keep Mages down in their lecture halls or something about how grand their revolution against the Classed was. Not that it mattered. His blood boiled all the same at the mere sight of the Ureliar pests.

Noticing him, the four halted. They took a careful look at the situation. Something in their half-empty heads must've triggered, as suddenly, one of them smiled widely, taking his steps forward. Clearly, they must've thought the opposite of the situation as to what it was.

Disgusting.

The mere thought that anyone would think so lowly of him made the air around him shift. The pressure oozing from his body immediately made the four knuckleheads flinch. The emotionless stare he gave them was somehow still full of fury that transcended what their brains could've comprehended.

His free hand twitched. Between the long fingers, a small ball of orange hue appeared, spewing tiny flares of heat around its shifting form.

The four looked at him with apprehension, understanding his feat. One of them spoke something between an order of retreat and stating the obvious.

Forgettable.

His hand poised in their direction before they came to a sound decision. The orange ball emanated a sharp whirr as it rapidly spun. Its colors shifted as it drew in the surrounding mana, changing to a light blue within seconds. The searing heat made the air around boil, projecting heatwaves strong enough to distort everyone's vision. A whirring sound emanated, quickly evolving into an ear-splitting screech.

Disposable.

The ball didn't shoot forth. Instead, it transformed into a stream of white-blue fire. The screams of the four men intermingled with the roar of raging flames.

In less than two seconds, it was over.

The ball of fire vanished into nothingness. However, the effects of its rampage were obvious.

The paint on the walls was scorched almost black. The windows creaked, a few panels cracking with the sudden change in temperature. The carpet ahead, usually a nice red hue, was blackened, some parts of it still smoldering as **** smoke lifted into the air. The four men were reduced to charred husks, and whatever was left of their melted organs bled outward with disgusting sounds.

He blinked. The spectacle stirred absolutely nothing within. Only a faint sense of serenity emboldened him. However, he turned around. He had to go. He would not rest until that woman paid. She and her chief were both responsible for this.

Suddenly.

A strange sound rang in the air.

[Lucas Stormrider (Age: ̷̔͜$̷̻̾@̶̠̈%̴̦͗!̴̺̎)

Class: @̸̱̊*̷̯͌%̴̬̆)̶̪̔^̴̢̊@̷̛̮)̷̥̃!̵̘̊?̷̦̒

Level: %̸̙͗!̴̠̒@̷̭̕(̶̯̉#̸̛̟

[HP: ERROR/ERROR

MP: ERROR/ERROR

WP: ERROR/ERROR]

The status screen lit up in front of him, showering him with the same word. The ringing sound continued, like the world was giving him a final warning.

But he didn't care. Silly machination, made by the demigods of old, would not be telling him what he could and could not do. It didn't dictate causality. It was a mere messenger. An annoying, disgusting little thing that didn't know its place.

His hand lifted. Fingers curled before the fist flew down.

*CRACK!*

A massive split appeared in the middle of the screen. It cut through words and numbers alike.

The digits flickered. Letters shifted. The whole panel changed colors randomly, glitching out.

*CRACK!*

The second strike solidified the result. Fragments of the screen broke off, floating freely like in an anti-gravity field. But no sooner than when he'd breathed in, the whole charade ended. The status screen disappeared, never to return. Together with it, the sound faded into obscurity.

He exhaled deeply. Tightening his hold on the sword, he focused on the far part of the corridor. He knew where to go. He knew who to get. He knew what would happen. It had already happened, after all.

The blade shimmered against the sun's rays. Its edge shifted faintly, like a wave of darkness surged on its surface. Together with it, an aura of a violet hue emboldened the entire weapon, if only for a moment.

The time was barely a minute after noon yet. Egis and his men still ran rampant in the building. Seraphina Liveren was still in grave danger. In the classes, people started realizing that something was off and would become targets as well. Outside of it, his two sisters were, likely treating the hurt elf and Rune Mage together with the old man he'd once called his teacher.

However, none of them were aware yet.

Nobody could've predicted what monster was about to be unleashed upon the Academy's grounds.

...

-???-

(The following snippet is from a 1st-person perspective)

Cold.

...

*BA-THUM!*

...

It's so... cold.

...

Frigid. Still. Unmoving.

There's blackness as far as I can see. There's nothing I can feel. It's all... gone.

...what did it ever matter?

...

I cannot remember. There used to be a reason, but... not anymore. Now... this stillness is everything. I no longer remember it. I can't recall even my own name.

<̴̵̴̵͝D̷̴̸̂-̶̴̶7̴̸̸̶̂.̴̵̶̴̴̮͌.̸̶̸̴̝͋.̶̸̵̸͋>̵̸̸̷̸̨̾

I hear a voice. It calls out quietly. It's... familiar. The name it's speaking is also known to me.

But... why?

Why?

Why...

...

*Ba-Thum!*

I don't know how long it's been. Hours... days... or however long is 'longer'. All I can feel is this darkness. It's eternal, ever-consuming...

But then... I see something.

A faint reflection of something appears. Although I have no body, I try to move. And then, I see her.

It's a girl, of barely adolescent age. She has black hair and green eyes. She looks familiar for some reason...

"Youngling."

The girl turns as she's called. Her eyes glimmer. There's sorrow in her gaze.

The scene clears a little. She's standing by what remains of a burning house, somewhere in a forest. The debris is hot, and her hands are all burned. She's in pain. I'm in pain...

"Are you alright?" a voice beckons.

She focuses on him. He's a lean man, much taller than her, with dark eyes and gleaming hair. Behind him, there are several more people. A few of them... are familiar.

...siblings...?

Why does that word seem right...?

...

<̴̢̈́W̷á̸k̶e up̵.̶.̸.̸>̷

...

"Do you want **** for them?" the man speaks. His voice is soft, and I can feel his anguish for her. Yet...

"...I do," she replies.

"Then, come with us. We can help you."

...don't... please don't...!

But she can't hear me. I can't hear myself.

*Ba-Thum*

"...who are you?" she asks.