Chapter 50
To Remember
"Then… why haven't we transformed?" Teo continued, his gaze still fixed on the book. His voice no longer held its previous, almost indifferent calm. It was lower now, sharper. "Could it have something to do with that golden light in the white space?"
A murmur slipped through the group.
"Must be…" one muttered, thoughtful, as if trying to recall the exact sensation of that protective light.
Silence.
Teo kept staring at the page, but his hand had stopped moving.
The alchemist's stillness began to spread.
Eli straightened. Eilor stopped fidgeting with the pen. Several gazes fixed on him, waiting.
Then Teo lifted his head, very slowly, as if an idea had just crossed his mind and frozen his chest.
"Listen…" he said, looking at the entire group. "What are you carrying on you… that you haven't taken off at any point?"
There was a second of disconnection.
A pause where no one understood.
Then you could see the exact moment the question clicked for more than one person.
A few pairs of eyes widened.
Eli's fingertips went to her neck, to a choker.
Another instinctively touched the inside of his coat.
A girl with braids checked the pocket where she kept something she didn't even remember taking out since yesterday.
Chairs creaked as some straightened up unintentionally.
Teo watched them in complete silence, his expression saying he'd expected this reaction.
After checking themselves, one by one they began finding various things:
badges sewn onto shoulders or chests, thin bronze or crystal medals with academy engravings, small pendants bought from shops, a few handmade bracelets, a woven cord, a family brooch, a piece of mineral set in cheap metal.
Each held something in their fingers.
The first to speak was a blond boy with a triangular insignia.
"This… it's just the mechanics badge. They gave it to me two years ago."
He held it up as if expecting it to do something… Nothing happened.
A girl beside him, with golden eyes, showed a bracelet of red beads.
"I made this in my second year. Nothing weird about it… I think."
"I bought this pendant at a shop in Inter-Gate," said another, letting it drop slightly so everyone heard the sound of metal hitting his chest. "Nothing special."
The others began showing their own objects.
They commented.
Compared.
Passed things from hand to hand, trying to feel something different.
For a moment, the table was full of outstretched hands, small objects, doubts floating over each one.
But there was no sign.
Eli turned one of the amulets between her fingers, studied it for a second, and sighed.
"They're… normal. Too normal."
Eilor watched in silence, feeling the atmosphere, which had peaked with tension, begin to slowly loosen.
Finally, one from the back said what almost everyone was already thinking:
"I guess… it's none of these. I don't feel anything strange. Don't remember anything special about them."
The others nodded. Little by little, the objects returned to pockets, wrists, uniforms.
The group looked at each other, a little frustrated, a little relieved, a little unsettled.
The conclusion was unanimous:
they were just everyday objects.
Nothing that explained why they were still human…
and the others were not.
Then one raised his hand.
"Everyone here… we're Imperial soldiers, right?"
Several glances crossed.
A couple nodded immediately.
Others did so after a second's delay, as if they had to verify it first.
"Yes."
"Of course."
"Everyone," they responded, almost in unison.
But among them, the boy with the red bandana shook his head even before speaking.
He had his elbows on his knees and his fingers interlaced.
"It can't be just that," he murmured, finally looking up. "My squadmate transformed right in front of me."
The air at the table seemed to tighten. It wasn't a new revelation, but stated so directly, so personally, it felt more raw.
The one who had asked the question leaned toward him slightly, with a mix of curiosity and dread.
"Did you have something he didn't?"
The boy with the bandana went still.
He didn't answer right away.
First, he unclasped his hands, looking at his palms as if expecting to find the answer etched there.
Then he took a deep breath, a long drag that seemed to stick in his chest.
"…I don't know."
He shook his head slowly.
"He was stronger than me. Faster. Had better evaluations."
He swallowed.
"And yet… he changed. And I didn't… then I had to kill him while he screamed and twisted…"
Several people exchanged tense glances.
Teo lifted his head a little, attentive.
"Nothing?" the first boy insisted. "No object, insignia, mark, amulet, nothing special?"
The boy with the bandana searched his memory, brow furrowed.
"Only…"
He hesitated.
"Only what we all have. The uniform. Basic gear. My weapon. And this—" he touched the bandana, "—but he gave this to me."
A dense silence.
Heavy.
Across the table, someone spoke up with a confidence that didn't match the nervous tremor in their fingers.
"Then… let's try this: we should all undress. Leave only the necessities. If something we're carrying protects us, it has to stand out when there's nothing else to hide it."
A murmur crossed the room. It wasn't protest, but that uncomfortable sound of a group understanding the logic… but not liking the idea.
Still, no one said no.
Looks passed from person to person, searching for the slightest sign of opposition that would give them an excuse.
They found none.
Then, almost all at once, they began to move.
First the most determined:
They untied belts, loosened straps, unbuttoned uniform jackets. Fabrics rustled, dragging with the muffled sound of accumulated exhaustion.
Others moved more slowly, warily, looking around as if expecting someone to laugh at them.
No one did.
Soon, several blue, gray, and black jackets were folded—or simply dropped—on tables and the floor.
Metal emblems clinked against the wood.
The group was left with the basics:
pants, boots, light shirts or undershirts… the minimum clothing several had already slept in before.
Eli crossed her arms, watching the others undress.
"Well…" she murmured with a sigh mixing embarrassment and resignation.
Some laughed, nervously.
Eilor stayed still for a moment before trying to imitate the others.
But he stopped, seeing he already had the minimum and had nothing else to remove.
Teo remained seated, observing the scene with a detached patience.
Meanwhile…
The two who had started the discussion kept talking as they also undressed, their voices weaving through the sound of falling fabric and boots hitting wood.
The boy with the red bandana was the first to stop and check what he still wore.
He frowned, raised his left hand… and pointed to a distinctive bracelet.
"Hmm… I guess the only thing would be this," he murmured, picking up the thread of conversation.
It was a band of sturdy fabric, a bright orange, worn at the edges as if he'd worn it for years.
In the center was set a black stone, polished, with a golden diamond engraved on its surface.
A simple ornament… but particular enough to draw the attention of the entire group.
The young man beside him, still pulling up his sleeve as he spoke, looked at it with narrowed eyes.
"I have one too," he said suddenly.
Under his collar, he revealed the same black stone, though mounted on a worn gray band. The dawn light made it gleam, revealing the same golden diamond.
A small silence fell.
First three people looked.
Then five.
Then almost everyone.
The young man turned, showing the band and the stone on his chest, on his left side.
"Guys…?" he asked, his tone a mix of urgency and bewilderment—
"Does everyone have a stone like this?"
The group exploded into immediate motion.
Hands pushed up sleeves, pulled down collars, touched wrists, checked belts and hems.
Some found the stone immediately; others took a few seconds more, discovering it attached to the inside of a belt or discreetly sewn into the uniform fabric.
One cursed under his breath, surprised.
Another let out a small gasp upon finding hers inside her boot, as if she'd been carrying it without knowing.
In less than half a minute, more than twelve black stones with golden diamonds were exposed to view, except for those too awkward to show.
Behind the young man who first showed the stone, the boy with the red bandana spoke in a lower tone, almost doubtful, but loud enough for the whole group to hear.
"You think it's this?" he asked, looking at the orange band on his wrist.
He took a deep breath, as if remembering something he'd never mentioned before. "They gave it to me on the recommendation of someone who claimed to be from a noble family. They said it was a gift from a Saint, so I would live with 'the valor of the sun' at my side."
A contained murmur went through the room, but no one interrupted.
Then the boy with the red bandana looked down and took the band with his right hand.
He slid it slowly off his wrist.
First it passed over the bone of his hand.
Then over the base of his fingers.
The band advanced in small tugs, the stone lightly bumping against his skin.
The group watched, not missing a detail.
"It's just a silly story, but…" he added, still pulling.
The band gave a little more.
The black stone finally cleared his wrist, slipping past his fingers with one last gentle tug.
It dangled between his fingers, visible to all.
The boy held it in front of him, expectant.
The silence in the room was immediate.
Every breath became slow, measured.
Some tensed their shoulders.
Others didn't blink.
Nothing happened.
The stone was still.
Cold.
Inert.
He held it between his fingers a few seconds more, evaluating it as if expecting a delayed reaction.
Finally, he held it up over his shoulder, letting everyone see it clearly.
"I don't think it's this," he said, his voice firmer. "I mean, just imagine it. A Saint making hundreds of these for every Marked of every generation… It would be an absurd waste of the power of a miracle of humanity, right?"
A couple nodded. Others avoided comment.
The young man lowered his hand slowly and looked toward Eilor.
Eilor, who until now had only observed, raised an eyebrow.
With an open palm, he tapped twice on his right thigh, right over the fabric of his pants.
"Mine is under here," he commented. "Around my thigh."
"Your thigh?" one asked.
"Yeah. Thing is, when they gave it to me, they told me to use it on missions no matter what, and to keep it somewhere hard to remove or lose. My father recommended I wear it on my thigh. 'A place they barely attack,' were his words," Eilor responded.
Teo intervened from behind, crossing his arms.
"They're right," he said. "Those recommended by noble families get one. And the Marked from the academy do too. It's not rare for several to have them."
The group nodded, remembering loose comments from teachers or internal academy rumors.
One of those present—a boy with a cut on his right cheek—raised a finger, thinking aloud.
"If that's the case… it would be weird if they weren't special in some sense," he said. "I'm not saying they're artifacts or anything… but they must have something, at a minimum."
He paused.
He looked at the stone of the boy with the red bandana, then at the area on Eilor's thigh where he said he kept his.
"Though…" he added, "it would be exaggerated if each one was made by a Saint."
His words hung in the air, making space for an uncomfortable possibility:
that it was special… but not special enough to explain why they hadn't transformed.
And that explanatory void weighed on everyone.
Then…
A third—one with a thin build, red-rimmed eyes—approached the two who started the topic.
"I have one too," he announced.
He put his right leg forward to show it, pulling his pants up to his ankle.
But his high boot completely covered the area.
"Can't see it… one second," he murmured.
Then, in a clumsy but determined gesture, he lifted his leg, crossing it over the other, and pulled at the boot with both hands.
He leaned over too far: his center of gravity pitched forward.
"Whoa—!"
His foot slipped on the wood.
But before he could fall fully, the boy with the red bandana reacted.
A firm arm grabbed him by the forearm and held him just in time; the third boy's body barely collided with his.
"Easy," said the boy with the bandana, steadying him with a mechanical gesture. "I've got you."
The third boy took a deep breath, embarrassed, as he finally managed to pull the stone from inside his boot. It hung from a short strap, tight against his ankle.
At that moment, the young man with the stone on his chest turned toward them.
He took two short steps, just enough to stand beside them.
"On the ankle?" he asked with a mix of disbelief and resignation. "Isn't it uncomfortable?"
The boy with the ankle stone shrugged, still regaining his balance.
"Got used to it."
"Aha…" responded the one with the chest stone, crouching down. "Stay still, I'll compare them."
His hand was already reaching for the stone when the boy with the red bandana spoke from above:
"Take mine too. Compare all three."
The young man with the stone on his chest froze mid-action.
His expression twisted: first surprise, then an immediate, deeply visceral rejection.
"What!?" he recoiled slightly.
…
Tap.
A dry, small sound, but sufficiently out of place to cut through all conversations at once.
It wasn't a loud impact.
More like… the weight of something that shouldn't have fallen.
Some turned by pure reflex, their arms still caught in shirt sleeves.
Others stood still for a second before continuing to pull up collars, check belts, search for their black stones while muttering under their breath:
"Maybe the transformation depends on mana level…"
"No, no, it's the white space, the golden light…"
"What if the stone changes when we're near…?"
"What if we're already changing and don't know it?"
Each theory was more twisted than the last. The kind of ideas that, if said twice, started to feel far too possible.
Amid that noise of tense voices, dragging fabric, and metal clinking against wood…
Eilor was one of the first to turn.
His body reacted before his head did.
He pivoted on his left heel, his right knee flexing slightly, as if expecting something to be approaching from behind.
His eyes scanned the room: first the floor, seeking the origin of the tap; then the nearby bodies, trying to see who had dropped what.
The atmosphere was so charged with tension that the small sound acted like a spark.
At least five people stopped talking abruptly.
A girl froze with her hands half-out of her pockets.
A boy stopped with his hand on his belt, not having finished fastening it.
Eilor frowned.
He didn't quite focus on what was on the floor.
Because in the same instant his eyes lowered…
his eyelids, which had been narrowing to focus, began to open wider.
First a little.
Then more.
Then too wide.
As if his body had understood something before his conscious mind did.
His throat tightened.
The muscles in his neck tensed.
His mouth began to open, not from surprise, but from pure terror.
As if he were about to scream even though he didn't yet know what he had seen.
Everything began to stretch into a kind of slow motion that only exists when instinct screams danger.
Teo was watching him from his chair.
His expression, initially curious, hardened.
The alchemist followed the exact direction of Eilor's gaze…
and turned his head with a slow, almost mechanical movement toward what was behind him.
The sound of his chair creaking accompanied that brief turn.
Others didn't need to look.
The expression on Eilor's face was enough. The kind of expression no soldier ignores.
A girl stood up so fast her chair fell backward.
A boy stumbled trying to get away, knocking over the table with the clothes on it.
Two more jumped to the sides, shoving those near them.
The sudden tension spilled through the room as if everyone had received the same silent signal.
And then…
Everyone's ears caught a sound that froze their blood.
Splsh, splsh, splsh.
Something was spilling frenetically just meters away from them.
The liquid hit the floor with an obscene force, a constant, rhythmic gurgle that suggested an impossible volume of fluid.
The air filled abruptly with the smell of oxidized copper and entrails.
A few froze solid.
Others opened their eyes with the same horror as Eilor.
Because the sound wasn't coming from the floor.
The sound was falling onto the floor.