The day was quiet as he walked past the academy's garden, his step echoed dully on the cobblestone. The last echoes of pain in his chest now faded into memory.
The class hadn't been held for a while after that sparring match, leaving all the students on a free schedule as the day went by. The hall yawned empty, as the students clung to their dormitories or the other training field.
"Even if there's a class, I can't even attend it," the words breathed into the air, a confession for no one to hear.
The paper in his hand fluttered—a leaf caught in the updraft of his stride. An expedition pass, still warm from the headmaster's seal.
A moment ago, in the principal's office. When Erik came without notice, the principal was sitting straight as he gazed at the door even before Erik opened it, as if he already knew that Erik would come.
A smile was on his face, his voice warm like sunlight seeping through the glass.
"I am expecting you to come here soon."
Not a single sound was coming from Erik's mouth. He was still and silent as a dead leaf, waiting for the wind to blow him away.
A bead of sweat trickled down the line of his throat. He was fighting with his inner monologue as the person in front of him stared straight, like a curious child.
It is because I sent the Tower Master heir to the infirmary???
The letter he received didn't mention anything, yet the recent event was the sparring incident. Erik didn't know the politics inside the academy, but he felt like he had touched something untouchable.
"I'm thankful that you saved the students."
It was unexpected as he didn't even know what this was about. His eyes were full of questions as the headmaster was talking.
"What Kian used at the practice ground wasn't meant to be used near people," he said. His voice was sharp, cutting like a seared blade. "It was for annihilation."
Erik's silence was enough for an answer. About what?
"Thanks to you," the headmaster continued, "It remains a lesson, not a tragedy."
His smile was paper-thin and bloodless as he said, "The tower master prefers it that way."
Damage control, I see.
It is a careful move to discard the broken glass, or just a mere pride?
When it was still a mere game, there was no such thing as connection. Only the strongest will survive as the game progresses. But this living, breathing world thrummed with connections - invisible threads that could strangle as easily as they could bind
"Do you have anything to say?"
Erik met the headmaster's gaze, unreadable as a sword left in its sheath, "No." A pause, "But there's one thing."
"May I have the expedition permit?" Added Erik.
The expedition permit—a slip of parchment, a badge of recognition, a freedom, escape, a chance to step beyond the academy's gilded cage. It was meant to be granted after the first dungeon dive, half a year from now. But Erik has no intention to wait. He couldn't sit idle; time gilded like a passing sun as the world began to be covered in tragedy.
The headmaster's eyelids lowered, "I see,...." The words were velvet—wrapped poison, "There's nothing that this academy can teach you, so you want to practice yourself,..."
What is he talking about?
A question mark developed inside Erik's head, sharp and disorienting. Yet the headmaster had already turned around, his robe whispering better unspoken secrets.
He halted as he turned around, facing Erik, a smile carved on his face. "Here."
"Enjoy."
That was the last thing Erik heard before he stepped out of the office.
"Where are you planning to go?"
The voice was warm and gentle, pulling him back to his consciousness as he walked to the entrance gate.
As he turned his head, there was a girl behind him. Watching like a hawk, spying on its prey. "Edna."
"Expedition permit?" She asked, her voice frisky as she noticed the parchment in his hand. "Surprisingly, the headmaster gave it to you so early."
"....The academy can't teach me anything, he said."
"Aah, I understand," her expression soured as she spoke. "So what will you do?"
"The same as the agreement," he said, the words came out like a sigh under his breath. "I'll handle the outside for a while."
"How long?"
"A month at least," he said.
Edna's gaze didn't waver; the silence was enough to become an answer to the hanging words between them.
"You know well what will happen after this," he said, his voice cut like a grain of sand falling inside an hourglass.
Edna's eyes clouded as if a veil covered her gaze, "...The parade."
The words choked on her throat, hanging, left unattended as though a tiny spike prickled from inside. Her memories came like a flow of water, a scene where all the seniors were coming back from the supposed final exam for the year. An expedition where hundreds are coming back, victorious, yet the ones on their shoulders aren't trophies but the caskets of their fallen comrade.
"Well, that's it," he said. "It's not soon, but I need to prepare."
Edna was still silent, her gaze now wandering to the person in front of her.
"Your role is to prepare the heart, and I will prepare the sword," he said, turning and leaving her in silence.
Deliberately, he walked away, leaving Edna alone at the end of the academy's road. His eyes focused on the front, to the place where he needed to go.
Yet the sound of the step wasn't only his; there was another one slowly picking up the pace, until the sound was clear enough to the ears as the echoes bound together in rhyme.
He halted, not abruptly, but steadily.
"Why are you following me, Edna?" The question hung in the air. He turned, his face scowling—full of questions as his gaze looked at the girl before him.
Her head tilting in genuine, uncomprehending confusion—a face pure of innocence. "Why?" She echoed. It was as if she heard a question about why the sky was blue.
"You need to prepare, right?" She gestured ahead, past the gates of the academy, where it was connected by a bridge. "That's why I intend to join you."
"Huh?"
The syllable was less than a word, but it was his internal wiring short-circuiting.
"What are you waiting for? Come, let's go," she fastened her step, a little skidded as she walked away from the baffled Erik. He doesn't understand how her way of thinking, even when the world is still inside a game he has played so many times.
That's a waste of good atmosphere for parting ways
The thought passed like a raindrop.
She spun her heel, sharp enough yet girly at the same time. Her hand cupped around her mouth, shouting to the person she left behind.
"What are you idling for?!"
She dropped her hands, planting them on her hips/ A portrait of pure, unadulterated impatience. She scowled, as if asking Isn't it you the one who said need to prepare?
"Haaaah,...." the word slipped out on a weary breath. "Yeah, coming."