Mercedes Caulis — First Stratum:
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
In the grand white castle floating above Colorless Garden, Paramount Kreutz typed away on his archaic magical computer, alone in his lab.
His assistant Charles had already returned to his quarters for the night.
Kreutz, for all his sociopathic tendencies, was also pragmatic. He knew draining his subordinates every night only to leave them useless the next day was inefficient to say the least.
Even he, who often ignored supposed luxuries like sleep or food in favor of nutrient injections, fasting potions, and other stimulants, didn't expect the same from his underlings.
He acknowledged their basic needs for recovery.
Charles, as his prized number two, was naturally a priority.
Though lately, Kreutz had another reason to keep the man at more of an arm's length—a suspicion, really; one he tried not to let him notice.
With all that being said, the workaholic found himself documenting yet another morally questionable magical experiment on his own.
The anger on his face wasn't caused by work he typically delegated to his assistant. Nor was it frustration over his experiments not progressing smoothly; on the contrary, they were advancing exactly as planned.
No, it came from the fact that much of the Institute's funds had been diverted elsewhere. Even after dipping into his own stash, he had to shelve many other projects.
"Tch." The scholar clicked his tongue in mounting irritation as he miskeyed a data entry. Then he froze.
Creak.
His hunched back straightened as he slowly craned his head to the left.
His eyes widened only slightly. He was too exhausted to even look shocked.
"You…?"
A blonde-haired, eyepatched elf sat casually on a dissection table, legs dangling, a nonchalant smile paired with a nod.
"Me."
Kreutz clenched his fist, then exhaled. "How'd you get here, Patri?"
Patri chuckled. "With my Ascendant privileges, how else?"
Kreutz adjusted his glasses and narrowed his eyes, unamused. "Don't play stupid. I don't have the patience for it."
Vander, Ascendants, and Adjutants could teleport anywhere in the tower, but only into public spaces. Zeo, for example, could warp into a common room of any faction's base, but never directly into someone's private quarters.
Few people would feel comfortable with others having the authority to invade their rooms at will—unannouced and uninvited—even if said others were their idols.
Having such power would simply serve as a brewing pot for numerous scandals, which could easily be weaponized to undermine and defame the High Mages. They neither needed nor desired such control over the tower.
The floating castle was a prized research facility of the Upper Institute. Warping privileges for the first stratum extended only down to Colorless Garden; they did not reach inside the citadel, and certainly not Paramount Kreutz's private lab.
Patri's mocking laughter deepened. "Well, let's just say you can do some rather strange things when you move at the speed of light."
Kreutz's face hardened. "This is a breach of protocol and privacy."
Patri beamed. "Only if you report it. No one needs to know."
Kreutz crossed his arms, then scoffed. "Pray tell, what twist of fate brings you here? We're not exactly on speaking terms…"
The Paramount hesitated, suppressing his fear. "Did Lord Masterias put you up to this…"
He feared Lihanna had indeed reported his latest attempt to coerce Will into his lab, just as she had threatened.
Patri chortled. "No…" His smile turned dangerous. "But I could request his permission, and make a formal visit, if you'd prefer."
Kreutz stiffened, gulped, and shook his head. "A-ahem. That won't be necessary… how can I help you?"
Like clockwork, Patri's grin returned to its friendly, punchable form. He raised a finger.
"Oh, I just need one tiny little favor."
Before Kreutz could reply, Patri raised another finger.
"In return, I'll give you a piece of advice… one that might very well save your life. What do you say?"
Kreutz raised a brow, then sighed in defeat as his shoulders slumped. "Go ahead. It's not like I have a choice."
Clap!
Pleased, Patri brought his hands together in an exaggerated gesture of joy. "Splendid!"
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Fourth Stratum — Thunder Faction:
Late at night, Lihanna sat on the square carpet across from Will—in his dorm—separated by the low rug table.
A coffee mug sat in front of each of them—largely untouched—as Will scribbled into a journal with a quill pen.
After a vicious day of makeup drills, they had secretly reconvened to decide where to go from here on their troublesome espionage mission.
Kiki lay curled up on her master's bed, the Carbuncle fast asleep.
Gulp.
Lihanna swallowed a dry lump in her throat. "The enemy's goal?"
Will nodded as his hand paused. "Right. At first, I thought Gohtia's plan was to eliminate the Magia Vander."
"As did I."
Will nodded again. "Yes, but to destroy the False Sky—the Great Barrier—they'd have to remove the ones who created it. Meaning the Vander themselves."
The magical swordsman took a deep breath, then held up his journal and pointed to a rough diagram.
"Let's pretend they even have such power, which is a great assumption in itself. However, the Vander rarely stay in their respective factions—they usually live at the top of the tower."
Lihanna scratched her cheek, her confusion slowly clearing.
"What's more, the entire domain of trials serves as an obstacle, blocking the traitors from reaching the top. The Vander are only really down here because of the new entrants. Come next month, they'll likely return permanently, until the next Terminalia—or some unexpected incident."
Snap.
Will clicked his fingers. "Exactly. Staying at the top is enough to prevent any attempts on their lives. Especially the greatest key to the barrier—the Wand of Light. If rumors are true, the few times he does leave the top is only when surrounded by guards. It's hard to even see him, let alone interact with the man."
Lihanna nodded and stood, catching Will's attention as she drew the blinds and shut the windows.
Will chuckled. "Can never be too careless."
Lihanna smiled softly and sat back down. "If Shade's assault and our thoughts align, Gohtia will likely make their move before month's end. But even so I don't see how she could claim she'd topple the tower with such confidence. Not even the strongest puppet magic could put a mage in position to kill a Magia Vander. That's an issue beyond fighting."
Will clenched his fists, murmuring low. "Unless she puppetized a Vander or their adjutant themself…"
Lihanna sighed, stretching her hand across the table and placing it gently on Will's. He froze.
She whispered in a heartfelt tone. "If not Madam Creirwy or Mister Sylor, then have faith in her. I don't know about you, but the Lady Elfaria I've long admired isn't so pathetic as to meet such an unsightly end…"
Will didn't seem convinced. "Isn't it the strongest people—the ones we expect perfection from—who actually carry the most burdens? The most… traumas."
Lihanna stiffened, but only gripped his hand tighter. "Will…"
He forced an awkward smile and pulled his hand back.
"I know… but you're right. Unless Shade risked her life over some sick fetish or ruse, it seems that to turn someone into a puppet she not only has to grasp their inner demons, but also incapacitate them with her chains."
Will's expression hardened. "There's no way someone as weak as her could ever beat Elfie in a fight!"
Lihanna's smile returned as she bobbed her head. "Right! And not just Lady Elfaria. The Ascendants like Professor Serfence and Adjutants like Sir Guilford should also be safe. That means the factions are filled with people immune to her control!"
Will blinked. Again with Edward-sensei? Why does everyone bring him up these days?
Lihanna grew more certain as she crossed her arms. "Then that really means Gohtia has no way to reach the top of the tower."
Will sweatdropped sheepishly. "Unless the other traitor—or traitors—include a Vander or an Ascendant. Then it's an entirely different story."
Lihanna groaned and pressed a hand against her forehead. "I'd rather not think about the worst-case scenario, thank you." She scratched her chin. "But how does the Terminalia come into play with all this?"
Tap. Tap.
Will rapped his knuckles on the edge of the table, brows drawn tight. "I get what you mean. This time the enemy's objective feels fundamentally different from what happened at the Terminalia…"
Lihanna bit a nail. "She said she wanted to crush the tower. I suppose that's different from destroying the barrier."
Rip.
Will nodded as he tore blank pages from his journal. "Of course, either she or the Headless one could be lying. Maybe both. It'd be stupid to take their words at face value."
He handed the sheets to Lihanna, along with his pen, leaving her confused.
She blinked. "What's this?"
"Paper," Will answered flatly. "I need you to write a letter—several, actually…"
Without another word, he looked over her shoulder. "Kiki, wake up. You've got work to do."
The familiar's feline ears twitched as she perked up and raised her head.
"Mreow?"
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
17th of Carnsmoon
Second Stratum — Earth Faction:
"Julius…"
On her queen-sized bed, Colette sat curled against the headboard, a blanket draped pitifully over her head as she sniffled. Just as she had ever since the incident.
Rap.
A soft knock came from the other side of her bedroom door, followed by her friend's voice.
"Colette…"
She didn't move, didn't respond.
Rose sighed from the hallway, leaning against the door. "C'mon, Colette…" The earth mage grinned brightly, balancing a bowl and ladle in her hands. "You've been holed up in there forever. Come out and I'll treat you to my special meaty soup—the one you love so much~!"
Rose waited a beat, then another. Still, no answer.
"…." Frowning, she pressed her forehead to the door. "You can't keep blaming yourself for what happened to Julius…"
Squeeze.
Colette's hands clenched together as her voice finally carried through the wall, raw with despair. "How can I not?! I'm the one who called everyone to the tavern! Who else is there to blame but me?! It's my fault Julius is… is dead!"
Rose's chestnut eyes widened, then she smiled strangely.
Thump.
She turned and slumped to the floor, hands tucked beneath her and back against the door. Tilting her head up, she let out a quiet chuckle. "You know, Colette… you've changed."
Twitch.
Rose scratched her cheek, eyes unfocused as if staring into the past. "You're nothing like the girl I met as a first-year. I remember your disheveled hair, your wrinkled uniform… you were nothing like the total princess you are now. You didn't care about anything. Not yourself. Not anyone else. You were indifferent."
She leaned back further, studying the doorframe. "You had this creepy look in your eyes. Gloomier than just about any adult I'd ever met. I didn't even want to talk to you."
Her voice trailed weakly as she recalled those close calls in The Dungeon—when she first tried to approach Colette, only to nearly get wiped out by her magic hands alongside others foolish enough to try. Even now the memory made her tremble, a trickle of sweat sliding down her cheek.
"In those days, you had a look that seemed to say you wanted the whole world—and yourself with it—to fade into nothingness…"
Rose sighed again, then smiled. "Thinking back, I believe it's safe to admit. I absolutely hated who you were, Colette."
Another twitch.
"I mean, you were terrible. I only approached you because my grandpa begged me to guide Loire's only daughter into the tower. It was basically a mission."
"But you were scary."
"...Ngh…"
"Creepy."
"U-Um…"
"I didn't want anything to do with you."
"Gh…"
"Not be your faction mate. Certainly not your roommate. Much less a friend."
Awoo…
Each confession struck like an arrow through Colette's fragile heart. If this was meant to console her, the last of the Loire line wanted to scream that it wasn't working.
Rose stared into space, her next words freezing Colette where she sat. "Honestly, I didn't see any future where we'd be more than begrudging classmates forced to tolerate one another. But everything changed after that fateful day."
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Rose Prehnite — Roughly five-and-a-half years ago:
W-what is this?!
Dirt stuck to my face, my hair whipped around by the wind as I stood shaking in the academy courtyard.
Above me—floating, impossibly—hung what looked like a gigantic meteorite. A mountain of earth just… hanging there.
H-how?!
How could a first-year pull off something like this?! Even the professors can't do that! This is Albis Vina–level insane!
And then it dropped.
The meteorite slammed into the side of the academy, crushing the atrium like it was nothing.
Rumble!
The ground shook so hard my knees nearly gave out, and I almost… I almost peed myself right there.
S-she's insane! Totally insane! Grandpa, you really want her to join us?! I know we're desperate, but not this desperate, right?!
Did she just kill someone? People?!
How many were inside…? The evacuation bell rang, but what if not everyone got out in time?!
And why isn't anyone stopping her?!
Professor Workner?
Professor Serfence?
Headmistress?!
Do something! At this rate she'll destroy all of Regarden!
Vroom.
A new shadow darkened the courtyard. My stomach turned as I looked up to see another sphere of rock forming high above.
No… no, no, no…
"A-am I going to die too? S-someone… anyone… please—!"
BOOM!
The sky tore open with fire. Crimson light seared my eyes as a blast of flames roared down from the tower's peak.
"I-Incindia Barham?!"
My voice cracked. For a second, I felt a flicker of hope—before it curdled into something worse.
Because that fire didn't look like it was here to save me.
Vroom!
The blaze swallowed the meteorite whole. It didn't just stop there—it scorched the atrium, the statues, everything.
I couldn't move. I couldn't think. Just stared.
Vroom!
Vroom!
Vroom!
Three more beams ripped down like it was some twisted light show, turning the courtyard into a furnace.
Chunks and boulders of burning rock rained down like hellfire.
And then—silence.
The tower stood tall again. Calm. As if nothing had happened. As if the academy hadn't just been torn apart.
Thump.
I dropped to my knees, my mouth hanging open. And then the tears came.
I didn't know why I was crying.
We weren't close. Not at all.
She scared the hell out of me.
And I won't lie. There were times I thought that it'd be better for everyone—her included—if she just up and vanished.
I never even understood why she stayed in Regarden. If she was so empty, if she had no purpose, then why stick around?
But…
But!
"D-did she really deserve such an end?!"
I screamed it at the sky, desperate for someone to answer me.
And what about the others?!
What happened to counsel?
What happened to justice?
To peace talks and dialogue?
Were we mages really so barbaric—to end precious lives so casually—!
Thump.
My thoughts froze.
A figure stepped out from the smoke.
S-someone survived?
A small boy, eyes hollow behind his glasses.
My breath caught.
I knew him.
Will Serfort. The other outcast… the problem child no one wanted.
The boy who couldn't use magic— the one who slipped away from the rest of us, or perhaps the one who was pushed away.
He was bleeding all over, robes shredded, stumbling as if he might collapse at any second.
And on his back—orange-brown hair I recognized at once.
Colette.
Unconscious. Her body was just as battered.
I couldn't move.
Part of me screamed to run to them, to help, to give what little first aid I knew.
But I sat there, frozen, as if something unseen bound me in place. As if fate itself barred me from interfering with what came next.
I watched him lay her down with careful hands.
And then, impossibly—her eyes opened.
Not the empty eyes I'd always known. Not the cold, abyssal stare filled with hate.
But fear.
Real fear.
And then regret. Shame.
I was stunned. My chest ached at the sight of it.
And Will…
Instead of scolding her, instead of screaming like I would have…
He just scratched his cheek, awkward, and gave her a crooked little smile.
The first smile I'd ever seen from him since Lady Elfaria was snatched by the tower.
"You good?"
Two tiny words. So plain, so small they shouldn't have meant anything.
But when Colette looked at him, I realized it was as if someone had just handed her the whole world.
That was when it hit me.
Everyone whispered about her. Everyone spread rumors, called her cursed, called her crazy.
But no one ever asked why.
We only saw her name. What it meant. What was left of it. How it could benefit us. But never her.
We didn't care for Colette. Only Colette Loire.
Swift.
Will stretched out his hand.
And she took it.
They shared the faintest smiles—fragile, almost breaking—and then, as if their wounds finally weighed too heavy, they slumped against each other and fell unconscious on the scorched grass.
At last, I moved.
I walked over, stood above them. My face felt blank, but inside something stirred.
They looked so calm there, in the middle of all the ruin. So calm I couldn't stop a little laugh from slipping out.
It was ironic.
The one no one wanted. And the one who wanted nothing to do with anyone.
Two broken pieces at opposite ends of everything.
Two pieces that bypassed everyone and everything in between, reaching out to each other first and foremost.
Maybe fate really did exist.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
"...When you became friends with him, you changed for the better."
Colette's eyes widened, a warm blush rising to her sunken cheeks as her swollen gaze brimmed with fresh tears.
But these were different tears, and Rose continued.
"You learned to treat others—and yourself—with kindness. You started to smile more. And now you can even cry and grieve for the sake of another. I just want you to know, I love who you've become, Colette."
Rose paused as she caught sight of a small figure approaching from down the hall.
Hehe…
A mischievous smile spread across her face. She slowly stood, reaching toward the newcomer.
"Anyways, I'm gonna leave you alone for now, okay? If you're going through a hard time, then I'll respect that. And I'll do everything I can to protect you. I just love you that much. So see ya later, Colette…"
Twitch.
Colette's head snapped up, the blanket slipping from her shoulders. She shot to her feet and dashed across the hardwood floor, not even bothering to fix her clothes.
Tears pricked her eyes as she yanked the door open, desperation in every step.
"Wait, Rose—!!"
Boop.
She froze as her nose pressed against something soft, startling her into a stumble that sent her crashing onto her bum with a yelp.
"Wh-what?!"
Flustered, she rubbed her nose, then blinked up to see her dear friend grinning, clearly pleased, as she hugged a very confused carbuncle tight in her arms.
"Yippe! Finally, she shows her face!"
Rose spun in an exaggerated victory twirl, rubbing her cheek against the feline familiar.
"Think I could hack it as an actress?"
"Mreow!"
Still holding the creature in one arm, Rose extended her free hand to Colette—like a prince offering to a princess.
Colette hesitated, then took it in shock. "R-Rose… wh-why's Kiki with you?!"
Beaming, Rose shrugged. "I'm guessing this cutie somehow snuck down from the fourth stratum."
She pointed at the ribbon tied around the carbuncle's neck.
"As to why… well, I'm betting this adorable letter explains."
"Mreow!"
Colette leaned closer, eyes narrowing as she took the paper. "Is that… a magimemo?"
She unfolded the square parchment only to find it blank.
Rose nodded. "Must be. Put enough—of a specific—magic into it, and the message should appear."
Pwm.
Without hesitation, Colette pressed her finger to the center of the sheet, letting her unique magic signature seep in.
The parchment rippled like a lake struck by a stone. Inky, sophisticated calligraphy bled across its surface.
Rose glanced at it once, then looked away. "Looks like Lihanna made it… but I'd bet the one who really wrote it is this little one's owner."
Kiki lifted a paw and nodded. "Meow~"
Colette clutched the letter tighter, whispering as her eyes raced over the words.
"Puppet… Emma being controlled… and… Julius is…"
Plip.
Plip.
Tears slid down her cheeks, blotting the page. She trembled, and Rose stepped back, caught between concern and surprise.
"S-something wrong, Colette?"
Colette didn't answer. She held the letter close, biting her lip.
"Oh Will…"
Haa…
She exhaled, slow and heavy, then pocketed the letter. Wiping at her tears, she tried to hide the flush burning across her face.
He's not a mage… but even his words are like a magic spell, giving me the courage to carry on…
Rose stared for a moment before grinning.
"Aaand she's back! What did your sweet little crush write to get a smile out of my beloved princess?"
Fwip.
Colette turned away, pouting in embarrassment. "I'm not telling."
She paused, then faced Rose again. Despite the heat in her cheeks, her eyes shone with resolve.
"Will, Lihanna, and all the others are doing their best out there! It's high time I start pitching in too!"
Fidget.
Her fingers twisted nervously. "Oh, and, um…"
"Hmm?" Rose tilted her head, settling Kiki on top of her head.
Squeeze.
Before she could react, Colette stepped forward and wrapped her arms tight around her.
"Thank you, Rose. I love you too!"
Rose froze. This time she blushed, before smiling softly and patting Colette's back.
When the hug broke, she couldn't resist a tease.
"Who do you love more? Will or me?"
Rose wouldn't be Rose if she didn't get the last word in.
Colette burned brighter. "I—I'm not going to dignify that silly question with an answer!"
Fwip!
She spun away, pulling her wand from her sleeve.
Fwoom.
Her jacket and shoes floated over and slipped neatly into place. She shut her door and strode past Rose with renewed strength.
"All right, Rose. Let's go—broom!"
She stopped mid-step, cheeks flaming as she clutched her stomach.
Rumble!
The humiliating sound came again.
She glanced back in dread, only to see Rose glaring mischievously.
But Rose swiftly relented, lifting her bowl and ladle with a gentler smile.
"You can't spy on an empty stomach. How about breakfast first… and lunch too, just for good measure."
Ashamed, Colette gave a tiny nod. "Okay—"
"Ooh, that looks quite nice. Mind if I have some?"
Both girls—and Kiki—froze. They stepped back together, turning toward the voice.
From nowhere, a massive round man loomed over them, smiling kindly as he patted his belly.
"Amitābha Buddha. I have successfully completed yet another Uposatha week, fasting along with the eight precepts. I am quite famished after this seclusion and could go for some good food."
Daizaemon Ōoka rubbed his hands eagerly, prayer beads clacking around his thick neck.
"Rose, your grandfather always brags about your meaty soup. Mind sharing? In return, I'll give you two something myself. What do you say?"
The duo could hardly process his words.
They stood frozen, stunned that a man so large could sneak up unnoticed.
Neither had imagined their chief in all but name capable of such stealth.
More than that, both were wary. Afraid.
Just how much had he heard?
The best they could manage was to gulp in unison.
"H-huh?"
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Sixth Stratum — Fairy Faction:
In the grand circular training facility, bookshelves lined romanesque stone pillars, aided by towering greenwood trees poking through the ceiling. Stone blended with grass so seamlessly it felt alive. Wignall stood at the center podium.
Sweat trickled down his chin as his wand pressed against his forehead. Several magical tomes floated around him to aid in training, but they were of no use.
"Ngh!"
Plap. Plop.
His focus slipped. He stumbled forward, the spellbooks collapsing onto the cobblestone.
Huff.
His ragged breaths were cut by a thump. He turned, spotting one of his mentors stepping closer.
Lefiya sighed. "Once again, concentration escapes you, Wignall." Her tone wasn't mocking—only guiding.
"You may be tired of hearing this, but allow me to refresh your memory."
She stooped to pick up one of the fallen grimoires and flipped through its pages.
"By joining the elf faction, you're expected to master several illusions of our homeland. But one above all."
She held up an illustration: kinsmen of old dipping their feet in a crystal pond, trees arching around them, glowing yellowish orbs drifting above, alive with a mystical warmth.
"Alheim, the forest of healing."
Filvis, who had been silent until now, shifted from her seat atop a tree trunk.
"Healing magic is our specialty. Light mages can cast a version of it…"
Swift.
Her hand swept toward Selia, who was surrounded by an illusion nearly identical to the book.
"However, most rhizanth are too aggressive to fully nurture this kind of magic. And that's only a small aspect of light magic—not a distinct quality like ours."
Selia frowned. "Uncle Patri can nearly accomplish the same with his magic…"
And the best healers I know are human.
"Nearly," Filvis stressed. "And don't forget, he is also an elf, Selia."
Selia blinked, then clicked her tongue with a shrug. "Whatever. Can't I use Elysia instead? It's way better than Alheim."
Lefiya shook her head, unyielding. "Do, keep that opinion to yourself. The council would never leave you alone if it reached their ears."
"Hah…" Selia let out a bitter laugh and plopped to the floor, her illusion unraveling.
Neither Filvis nor Lefiya spared her another glance. Their eyes returned to Wignall.
"The point is, illusion magic is crucial for anyone hoping not only to shield their companions, but to save them when the time comes. Such an art demands complete attentiveness. Clear your mind, Wignall."
The green-haired elf nodded quickly. "Of course, Masters Lefiya and Filvis! I'll do better!"
Even as he said that, he clenched his wand tighter.
Absolute concentration? Yeah right. Lady Selia pulled it off with a casual wag of her finger. That just goes to show a High Elf—even if it's a halfblood—will always be different from a failure like me—
He cut his bitter thoughts short, shaking his head in self-loathing.
No. That's just another pathetic excuse to avoid accomplishing something… that isn't why I've been failing today.
Plip, plop.
Sweat slid from his cheeks onto the floor.
Spying on your own kind, doubting them, is unbearably frustrating! How am I supposed to "concentrate" under this pressure?!
He tapped his wand against his forehead again in a desperate attempt to anchor himself. It was no use.
What's more, that letter from Will only adds to my stress. A shadowy mage who uses abhorrent puppet magic…
He opened his eyes, sneaking a glance at his mentors.
So it's not only one traitor I need to fear, but now I have to uncover every elf who might be manipulated?!
He let out a low sigh.
In any case, I must maintain caution until I have proof. Acting on mere suspicion, when my anxiety and skepticism are at their peak, will only provoke more harm than good…
Lost in his spiraling thoughts, Wignall failed to notice the stares fixed on him.
Eventually, Filvis and Lefiya broke the silence.
"So talented, yet so wretched… apparently, six years at the academy is worth its weight in dust."
"Ineptitude runs in the blood of the Rhizanth. They couldn't be more different from us elves."
Their voices overlapped, echoing in his ears. Wignall froze, eyes widening.
"The obtuse mages of the academy have poisoned you, Wignall, condemned you to a failure's fate. Such a pity."
The abandoned prince shot to his feet, clutching his robe tight. "Take that back!" he demanded, staring them down.
"Failure or not, I will always treasure the people I connected with at the academy!"
Neither mentor reacted to his outburst, but he pressed on, undaunted.
"Sure, to elves like us, my time there might seem like a fleeting moment… but to me, it was an era of happiness, as precious as a hundred years of life!"
He spread his arms wide.
"Elves swear upon their intangible nobility. Then why is it so hard to recognize that virtue in others?!"
"We aren't the only ones who are dignified! Who never stop pushing forward! Even when they fail, they don't fear failure! They don't give up on their dreams! That's why they accomplish more in a few years than we do in a century! They're as worthy of respect as any of us, and I'll be damned if I let you speak ill of them!"
For a moment, silence lingered before Lefiya cracked the faintest smile and shut the book in her hands.
"Hmph, wonderfully said."
Selia nodded, clapping in a light show of applause. "Wignall-senpai, you'd do well as an ambassador between races. Maybe you should consider a career change?"
Wignall froze, blanking. "Huh?"
Lefiya's smile deepened. "You managed to learn quite a difficult lesson during your time at the academy."
Filvis adjusted her mask. "The ability to not look down on others. That is a requirement for any insufferable elf hoping to break out of their shell… and as the Rhizanth put it, Bloom."
Wignall's ears twitched, flabbergasted. "S-so… all this time you were just testing me?"
Lefiya chuckled. "Oh, yes. We wanted to discern just what kind of ally you are. You passed with flying colors. The capability to set pride aside and trudge on, as well as stand up to your superiors for the sake of your beliefs, is the mark of a fine elf."
She raised a finger. "One I'm quite honoured to acquaint myself with."
"…What?"
Fwoom.
Filvis sighed as she spun her staff and tapped it against the floor. "If I may be frank… the elven sense of brotherhood and rampant elitism is exhausting for us introverts."
A circular wooden table with four chairs materialized before them.
Teacups, pitchers, and a light bowl of snacks poofed into existence as the two casually took their seats across from one another, the atmosphere shifting in an instant.
Lefiya waited for her cup to fill itself, then exhaled. "How great it would be if we could just ditch the pride and get along with everyone…"
Wignall's shock only grew as Selia sat down between them without hesitation. At a loss for words, he slowly took his seat across from her.
"R-right…"
Silence returned, though it seemed awkward only to Wignall as the three ladies calmly sipped their tea.
Watching them, he reached for his own cup—then froze.
W-wait… what if this is a trap… and these have Belledors in them, just like Will's letter warned me to watch out for?!
He gulped, masking his unease as he steadied his trembling hand and lifted the cup. He gave the tea a subtle sniff.
Then he paused. Not because he smelled Belledors, but because he realized he didn't even know what Belledors smelled like.
It wasn't exactly a common flower one might find in every street stall and garden. But it wasn't a rare luxury either, not something the elitist elves would flaunt as a prized trophy.
He ground his teeth. D-do I drink or not?
Noticing his lack of movement, Lefiya raised a brow.
"Too hot for you?"
Wignall forced a smile and nodded. "Y-yes, I do like my tea to have cooled down a bit…" He tried to probe casually. "May I ask what blend this is? I've never smelled a brew like it."
Lefiya shrugged and looked toward Filvis, who set her cup down with a clank.
The masked woman crossed her arms. "I know little of the contents, if that's what you're asking. The Rhizanth excel at some rather unique side-talents—tea recipes among them. This one's from Colorless Garden. I really only heated it up and kept it warm. You could ask them—"
"Oh for the love of god, it's not spiked!"
Everyone froze, turning to Selia, who wore a rare frown—one aimed directly at Wignall.
He blanked, but before he could respond, Selia folded her arms.
"Big Sis Lefiya, Big Sis Filvis… are you the traitors?"
Her casual question made Wignall's jaw slacken. His teacup slipped from his hand.
"L-Lady Selia?!"
Yet instead of shattering, the cup and its contents floated in the air.
Wignall sat frozen, sweat dripping from his chin, heart thumping against his ribs. He clenched his wand tight, mind racing for a way out of this mess.
But no battle came. Lefiya and Filvis only glanced between him and Selia before sighing.
Lefiya leaned back in her chair, nodding in understanding. "Oh, now I see what this is about. Heavens, no. Traitors? Us? And for what?"
Filvis bobbed her head, stammering. "Y-yeah, I'd rather stay holed up in my room than do something that troublesome. I-if the Fated Day comes, then I'll have to work hard, and then so many people will be watching me… I-I'd want to die, it would be so embarrassing!"
Wignall didn't know what to say. Selia only smiled proudly and nodded toward him.
"See? It's just normal tea. Honestly, of all people, how could you suspect them? Did you forget Master Lefiya was a Vander? She had ample chances to tear down the sky. If she had betrayed us, this world would've been destroyed long ago."
Before I even arrived in Paradise…
Wignall flushed and ducked his head, arguing weakly. "W-well, maybe she could have had a change of nature after she stepped down?"
Selia scoffed and waved him off. "Most adjutants aren't strong enough to even touch their Vander, but if these two worked together, they might actually manage a fair fight with Great Mage Ellenor. Again, with the amount of opportunities they've had for a sneak attack, the Heavenly Invaders would've returned ages ago."
As Lefiya and Filvis nodded flatly, Wignall wished he could just disappear. It was rare for him to feel so humiliated.
Unable to blame Selia, he simply reached for his tea and took a sip.
It tasted pleasant. He wanted to run away.
As he sipped his tea, Selia pointed at him. "And like I said before, don't waste your time suspecting the other elves either. They're too lame and stupid to succeed as deserters."
Another pair of nods came from their mentors.
"Very lame."
"Very stupid."
Filvis reached for a snack. "Their smug entitlement would oust them on day one."
She could picture it perfectly—those idiots storming into the Vanders' quarters, demanding the magic formula for the great barrier for 'safekeeping' or 'improvement.'
Lefiya wiped a dramatic tear from her eye. "Still, it's quite hurtful, Wignall. After how kindly we've treated you, after all the long hours we've spent instructing you… for you to suspect us—it's enough to make a lady cry."
Wignall flushed red as Lefiya carried on.
"Oh, how can we ever forgive you? Why don't you start by fixing this faction, for us?"
"F-fix the faction? H-how? And what do you mean?"
Lefiya rested her chin on her hands. "It's too oppressive and annoying. I want a place where I can sit back like this all the time. An organization's attitude starts from the top down, so why not begin with Great Mage Ellenor? Alfswood knows she'd do herself a great service if she acted how she truly is inside."
Filvis nodded eagerly. "Y-yes. Go teach her a lesson, Wignall. S-show her how frightening the quiet ones can be when pushed too far!" She hesitated before adding, "A-and remind her about my vacation requests. S-she never approves any of them!"
Wignall sweatdropped. Though Filvis spoke in near monotone, he was certain there'd be no shortage of emotion behind that mask. He could almost see the pitiful stare, the aggrieved tears.
He cringed and tried to recollect himself with another sip. "I-I'm not following. How could you possibly think I could teach her a lesson—?!"
BAM!
The entryway flew open, making him freeze as his eyes widened.
Ellenor stormed in, arms crossed. "Making inroads taming the disgrace, I hope?"
Wignall turned back in disbelief. The round table, the snacks, the chairs—gone. Disappeared in an instant.
Lefiya and Filvis' relaxed airs had vanished too. Now they stood upright, dutiful adjutants nodding politely.
"Yes, of course, Lady Ellenor."
The only chair left was Wignall's. He sat there, teacup in hand, staring wide-eyed.
Ellenor offered a dark smile. "You look awfully comfortable, Wignall. Enjoying your break?"
"…" He shivered, speechless, while Lefiya and Filvis sighed dramatically.
"It's sad, really. We tried to stop him… but it seems once a slacker, always a slacker."
Ellenor licked her lips, dangerously. "Oh? Is that so?"
Filvis whispered a hollow consolation. "We'll clean up whatever is left when she's finished with you."
The color drained from Wignall's eyes. Perhaps these two are a different sort of traitor.
As he began to accept his inevitable beating, Selia crossed the room, tugging at Ellenor's skirt.
"Big Sis, why're you spending so much time with Auntie Fana and Uncle Patri these days?"
Ellenor shrugged. "None of your concern."
Selia paused, then shook her head. "Whatever. I'm done with all my training. I'm going to the Fantafirmary."
Ellenor nodded indifferently. "Don't linger too long. That's not a playground."
Selia smiled. "I know!"
She skipped down the hall, humming.
Selia wondered if it was wrong to be glad about Emma's incident—because it kept her brother close, at least for now.
A dark part of her hoped Emma wouldn't recover too fast.
Glancing back, she saw Ellenor step forward, knuckles cracking, mana spiking as the door shut behind her.
Selia laughed softly.
It's quite the coincidence for Big Sis to arrive at that exact moment.
Almost too much of a coincidence.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Sion Ulster — Fifth Stratum — Fire Faction:
Across the throne room of the faction base, I panted as I gripped my wand tighter.
Mana swelled in my core as I forced another chant.
"Arise… flames of thy suffering! Recall…"
My focus nearly broke as Cariott just smiled, watching with that everpresent look that pushed me without lifting a finger.
It was like his silence screamed mockery, telling me my efforts were pointless.
Off to the side, Sirs Logwell and Leopold observed me with calm interest, studying every ounce of my disgrace.
That made me crave to wipe the smirk from his face even more.
"...The fiery drama of thy scorched earth!"
Bwoof!
Flames rushed along my wand and arms as something sizzled into form.
"With the flames of thy sorrowful loss… I will consume my enemy!"
"Iflamme Burdelyon!!"
Vroom!
A spiraling helix of fire surged forward, homing in on my superior in an instant.
He didn't flinch. He only smiled, and I understood why.
Chomp!
From behind him, a massive beast lunged, biting down and swallowing my spell like a midnight snack.
Its black fur rippled as it fixed me with an ominous stare, making me tremble even though it stayed rooted in place.
"Ngh!" I ground my teeth while Cariott sighed.
"You still don't get it, do you, Sion?"
The Wand of Fire spread his arms as if lecturing a stubborn child who refused to see reason.
"You must achieve victory without taking a single step. That is the core tenet of any decent mage. The ideal. Bolting around like Zeo is meaningless. Shameful, even. It discards the very advantage magic grants us."
He lifted his wand and pointed at me.
"A true mage is unflappable. As immovable as stone, even against a swordsman like Will Sefort. We set the tempo of battle, not the other way around. We are the provoker, not the provoked. Remember that."
Then he laughed.
"Of course, if all we do is attack, we leave ourselves wide open. To not only decide the terms of engagement but to maintain control of how a battle unfolds… first we must build an impenetrable defense."
Grroah…
The beast growled, and my body shook despite myself.
The secret spell of Incindia Barham—handed down by generations of ascendants.
A guardian of pure magic, the strongest one a mage could summon.
One capable of making its own decisions, and will defend its summoner to its last breath.
So real, so unbearably alive, one would think it a monster of flesh and blood rather than spellwork.
"A Blackflame Lion!" I spat.
Cariott nodded.
"What I want you to do is summon your own Blackflame Lion. To protect yourself. Don't worry, I'm not so unreasonable as to expect it to be as grown as mine…"
His smile lingered, but his tone turned dangerous.
"Although, fail to do so… and my flames shall burn you for all eternity. Understand?"
I stiffened, fury boiling inside me. How can you say something like that with such a face?!
I didn't get the chance to voice my anger. For the first time since this beatdown called training began, the guardian moved on its own.
Vroom!
It spat a blast of flames toward me, and my eyes widened.
Because I sensed a trace of my mana in the blaze.
It hadn't just devoured my spell—it had absorbed it, twisted it, and hurled it back even stronger.
"Gah!!!"
I shot my wand forward, trying to meet the blast head-on. Dodging felt too disgraceful, but maybe it was a fool's errand.
Because the next moment, I was flung back in a sea of fire.
BOOM!
"Ugh…" I groaned, clutching my side.
My edges were charred, blood trickled from my forehead, and the floor rattled my skull until my vision swam.
This psycho has no mercy! And he calls Great Mage Zeo a savage?!
Cariott stepped closer with that same infuriating smile.
"What's this? You were handpicked by yours truly. I'd like to think I have a good eye for talent. Surely you can summon at least a baby lion?"
"Grr! Damn it!"
I slammed my fists against the floor.
"This is ridiculous!"
I never asked to be Cariott's so-called golden boy.
I would've rather sparred with Sir Leopold. At least he showed discretion, humanity, and offered pointers. Cariott only found joy in burning me.
But even that wasn't the worst of my frustrations.
That moronic washout! Why did he have to send me such an absurd message right before this sadist piled on an absurd challenge?
Lyril and Gordon may be handling most of the spying while I'm… indisposed, but that doesn't mean I'm not paying attention.
How am I supposed to worry about puppet magic and stupid Belledors while fighting for my life here?!
And that idiot didn't even tell me if he and Lihanna were safe! Like worry about yourself first! What about Colette and the others?!
Does he not realize sending his cat around like this could expose all of us—
"Worried about your schoolmates, Sion?"
I froze, eyes widening as I looked up.
Cariott's smile didn't look like a smile at all anymore.
"P-pardon?"
I prayed I misheard, that it was just some misunderstanding.
But as Sir Logwell once said, my Vander wasn't one to waste time on pleasantries.
He went straight to the point.
"Or about the traitor? Perhaps the puppet magic is disturbing you? I'm well aware there are plenty of reasons to be anxious… when you're playing spy."
My pupils shrank as I muttered, "Why… how do you know about—gasp!"
I clamped my mouth shut, horrified I'd made such a rookie mistake.
But it was pointless. I was already exposed.
I shivered, dreading what would happen now… and what answer lay behind my own question.
Did the arbiter relay Cariott, Lihanna, and Will's report? Is she the traitor herself…?
The thought made me tremble harder.
Perhaps one of her colleagues? A leak from another classmate? Maybe Emma isn't the only puppet…
How was the message revealed?
How deep has this faction already been infiltrated?!
I glanced past Cariott toward Sirs Logwell and Leopold.
They looked as indifferent and cold as ever—yet conveniently blocked the door, my only exit.
Friend or foe, I didn't dare to test it. I gulped. Escape was pointless.
One worry bled into another, but none answered the truth. One fear burned brighter than the rest as I locked eyes with Cariott.
I-is a Magia Vander actually in on it?
I chewed my lip in despair. N-no, it can't be. If that were true—
"Why do I know, indeed?" Cariott cut through my thoughts with a mocking question.
His suspicious smile returned in full as he chuckled.
"Am I a traitor? Creirwy? Ceridwen? Perhaps all of us. That must be what you're wondering, isn't it, my dear Sion?"
I stiffened, but he continued.
"Well, you'll just have to get stronger if you want to find out. I'm not inclined to settle the doubts of someone who can't even handle such a trivial trial."
Cariott wagged a finger, and for a moment he looked so much like Zeo it made my skin crawl.
"If you want something… then come take it."
I rose, flashing an ugly grin through blood and sweat.
"Challenge accepted!"
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Fourth Stratum — Thunder Faction:
The entire faction was gathered in the hall, Guilford Zurgas standing at the front with a grave frown.
"The day you've all been waiting for will soon be upon us, whelps! The Party is at hand!"
Murmurs of excitement rippled through the room. Lihanna blinked, confused.
"The… 'Party'?"
Milia Zazah caught her whisper and smirked. "He means a dungeon expedition." She glanced over her shoulder with a provocative smile. "But don't get your hopes up, kid. It's a far cry from the playground antics you and your academy pals are used to. The Party is a real dungeon rush… with real stakes ♪!"
Lihanna returned her smile, undaunted.
Guilford crossed his arms, his knightly armour clinking as he hushed the crowd. "Quiet! To prepare for the day, we will engage in rigorous combat training! Whatever you do, do not fail Great Mage Zeo!"
Will perked up. "Combat training? We always spar with each other anyway…"
He didn't see what was so special.
Nanaru shook his head beside him.
"Mages don't cut it. We'll be facing the guards to simulate the dungeon."
"Guards…" Will repeated. "Just like the first stratum's Zoctonia?"
"Exactly." Olganeu Olgan ran a hand through his hair. "Just like the fiend from The Bloom. All you gotta do is unseal the pillar partition, and out comes a beast like 'em. Every stratum's got 'em."
Lihanna spoke up. "Faction bases go up to the sixth stratum. From seven onward, you must defeat the guards to climb the tower. They call these strata the domain of trials… right?"
"So you've heard about it, eh?" Olganeu cocked his head, impressed. "You Owenzauses sure know your stuff."
He folded his arms. "Anyway, if you manage to take down the guards of every stratum and reach the top, you'll become a candidate for the next Magia Vander—an Ascendant."
Milia chuckled wryly. "But so far, we've only beaten the guards up to the thirtieth stratum…"
Normally she'd say that with more confidence, but hearing of Noelle's recent feat had left many of them with shame. Accomplishing in a day what they hadn't in years.
Still, it fueled determination. Unlike other factions, the Thunder Mages didn't dwell long on insecurity.
Fwt!
Will's hand shot up like an excited schoolboy.
"Excuse me, sir! If I may ask, why do guards come out from the tower?"
"Wonderfully stupid question, my fair idiot! I ought to punish you for wasting our time!" Guilford barked. "But being the supremely benevolent adjutant I am, I will give you an answer!"
How thoughtful… Lihanna sweatdropped.
Guilford roared at the top of his lungs.
"The guards are the living will of our Mage Queen, Mercedes, the creator of this very tower! She engraved the summoning magics that produce the guards on each stratum! That is what I've been told!!"
He inhaled deeply before continuing.
"The guards are tremendous shields that protect our Magia Vander! They are the obstacles, the walls standing between every aspiring Ascendant and the pinnacle of the tower!! Does that answer your question, bespectacled buffoon?!"
"Sir, yes, sir!!" Will saluted comically.
Lihanna narrowed her eyes, lost in thought.
So they're part of the Mage Queen's legacy. But if the tower produces these guards, how is it any different from the Dungeon that produces monsters? Mercedes mastered every form of magic… but could a mere mage create this?
Lihanna soon spoke up again. "...I have an inquiry of my own, if I may." She steadied her heart, trying to sound as polite as possible.
"How do the Magia Vander go to and from the uppermost stratum of the tower?"
The Big Three smiled at her ominously, making her sweat, but she stood her ground.
"They Shift there," Olganeau began. "An ability reserved only for mages registered to the top stratum. It lets them move to and from any floor, just like that."
Milia nodded. "Along with Great Mage Zeo, all adjutants and Ascendants can come and go as they please. The rest of us? We take the old-fashioned elevator or stairs, and even then we're only allowed up to the level we've cleared—unless some emergency demands a breach of protocol."
"Now, I've got something to ask you." Olganeau's voice shifted.
Before Lihanna or Will could react, the muscular giant was suddenly behind them, arm draped around each of their necks.
"What's with all the questions, huh? There's been a lot of weird things lately, and I don't just mean the Terminalia. It's strange that it's all happening during your generation." His voice lowered, sending shivers down their spines. "What exactly are you digging for?"
Both Will and Lihanna stiffened, hands twitching at their sides.
Don't let your guard down for anyone. Consider any who approach you a foe first, a friend second.
Creirwy Serah's warning from yesterday echoed in their minds like an ill omen.
Is he investigating us? Will wondered.
Are we under suspicion? Or did we already get caught?
Lihanna bit her lip. I don't smell Belledors, so he probably isn't a puppet… but could he be an assassin?
They noticed the cold glances from the rest of their factionmates.
Is it possible everyone here… is our enemy?
Olganeau smiled at them darkly. The duo pondered how to get him off their backs peacefully and what to do about the sudden attention from all sides.
Before they could respond, a small but energetic voice cut in from behind.
"Come on, Olga, back off. You're scaring the newbies."
Olganeau blinked in surprise. "A-Anna? When did you get here?"
Imari Komari tilted her head. "Huh? I've always been here."
"You have?" Olganeau's shock deepened.
Will looked equally lost. I-I never noticed her either.
Komari frowned. "Are you calling me short or something?"
Olganeau held up his hands, shaking his head. "N-no, why would you say that—augh!"
He cried out as Komari suddenly grabbed his collar and pulled him down into a chokehold.
An annoyed vein bulged on her forehead as she gave him a noogie. "You're definitely calling me short."
"N-no I'm not!" Olganeau protested desperately, struggling in her grip.
It was a polarizing sight. His size and muscle volume should've made him able to benchpress her, yet he was helpless, gasping for air.
He patted her arms in despair. "I-I'm sorry, p-please, Uncle… I said Uncle!"
But Komari didn't relent, tightening her hold.
"Hah…" Milia sighed and walked over, tapping her back. "That's not what Olganeau meant, Anna. You're just really… stealthy. Yeah, that's it. Why don't you let him go?"
Komari blinked, then smiled brightly. "Oh! Cool!" She shrugged and released him, sending the man to his knees, rubbing his neck and coughing.
Ack!
Komari patted his back in a mild apology. "Sorry for the misunderstanding, Olga. You forgive me, right?"
The man sweated heavily but nodded pitifully. "Y-yeah. Of course."
As the atmosphere shifted from tense to chaotic, all attention fell on Komari and Olganeau. Will and Lihanna caught the faintest mischievous smile Komari shot their way.
The duo froze, exchanging a silent glance.
Did she just help us?
They weren't sure before Guilford, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke.
Instead of chewing out Komari like he usually would, he simply snapped his fingers.
"Enough! Everyone fall back into line, or do you want to be running laps for the day?!"
The faction shook their heads frantically.
"No, Sir!"
Will and Lihanna exchanged another look. Madam Creirwy did say to stay close to Guilford or Anna…
Are we overthinking this?
Guilford stomped his foot, the sound echoing off the hall. "Now, let's see how you all cooperate with the newest maggots in our faction! Show us some teamwork!"
Rumble!
From the stone pillar emerged a humongous guard.
It was a monstrous hybrid of dragon and oceanic snake, like a sea beast straight out of a tale of legend—or perhaps the sentient skeleton of one. Its body was mainly white, scales jutted from its back, and enormous fins stretched like wings.
Bzzt.
Lightning crackled along its form, dancing like some electric eel.
"What in the tower…?" Will and Lihanna whispered in unison.
The Big Three stepped outside, Nanaru leading.
"The guard of the fourth stratum, Zoctonia Asla."
Milia followed, casually fixing her hair. "It's a mouthful, so we just call it Asla for short."
Olganeau, having regained his composure, cracked his knuckles and charged forward, the rest following suit.
"All right, let's move!!"
Will and Lihanna joined the surge, hearts pounding as they ran alongside the others. The field seemed to hum with anticipation, their footsteps echoing like drumbeats against grass.
Guilford and Komari remained behind, silent observers.
"..."
Their thoughts were private, unreadable, shared only with themselves. Guilford's eyes flicked between the guard and the faction, calculating. Komari's lips curved faintly, still holding some secret amusement at the chaos she'd unleashed.
Or perhaps that was another ruse. Just another mask that she had worn along the years.
Will and Lihanna stole one last glance back but knew better than to break stride. The real trial had begun.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Author's Notes:
[1] I've started what I hope will be my final year of university. Naturally, my update schedule will slow down to about once a week. That's all I can really guarantee, though every now and then you might get 2—maybe even 3—chapters in a week. Sorry in advance!
[2] Uposatha is a Buddhist "holiday" of observance that falls on specific lunar moons. On these days, followers observe the eight precepts, one of which is abstaining from food. Since Daizaemon was in solitary confinement with nothing to do, and obviously having no way to track the exact date, he played it safe and kept the fast for an entire week. Please forgive any misconceptions or inaccuracies in my depiction of the practice—I'm not Buddhist myself and may lack proper understanding.
[3] If you'd like to chat, discuss the story, or just hang out, feel free to join the Discord: https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar