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Nanatsu no Maken ga Shihai suru - Volume 1 - Chapter 2




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CHAPTER 2 

Sword Arts 

Kimberly, the enchanted temple—it’s difficult to say what exactly this giant, enigmatic building is. Opinions differ even among residential research students, and there even exists a designated field of learning known as “Kimberly structural studies.” 

It more closely resembles a fortress than a school, with grand decorations on its outer walls and tall spires that seem to pierce the heavens. Thus, many believe the architecture to be Cygan, popular in the eighth century. Within its walls, you’ll find at least twenty banquet halls and over three hundred smaller rooms, although their numbers fluctuate depending on the day, and new rooms are often discovered. The building’s size as it appears from the outside clearly does not match its interior—and that doesn’t even take into account the innumerable mysterious places contained within the dark bowels of this magical palace. 

Meanwhile, the students’ dorms were situated quite a distance from the main building. In room 106 of the five-story boys’ tower, Oliver blinked awake atop a bed that had undoubtedly been there for generations. 

“…Mmm?” 

The first thing he experienced upon opening his eyes was confusion. Before he’d gone to bed, he’d placed a clock on the side table. Its hands now indicated it was 9:27 AM. If that was true, then not only had he overslept on his first day of class, but he was also incredibly late. His internal body clock was loudly telling him something was off. He calmly picked up the timepiece and studied it. Squinting at its face in semidarkness, he could make out some things clinging to the hour and minute hands. Their bodies were long, thin, and slightly translucent, with protuberances like wings or fins on either side. Satisfied, the boy nodded. 

“Whoops—I forgot this place has clocknoks,” he said, blowing out a breath. That was all it took for the creatures clinging to the clock hands to pitifully scatter. Time scamps, as they were more commonly called, were a race of lower fairies that messed with clock hands. They were most commonly found in places with a high concentration of magic particles. 

I should put a glass cover on it, Oliver thought as he hopped out of bed and began to prepare for the day. As he put on a shirt, he surveyed the room. A faint light shone through the curtains. In the neighboring bed was his roommate, Pete, fast asleep and snoring slightly. 

“Ha-ha… Don’t catch a cold, Pete.” 

The boy must have tossed and turned in the night, as his blanket was thrown off, exposing his stomach. Once Oliver’s uniform was on and his athame at his waist, he pulled the blanket up gently so as not to wake him. If possible, he wanted to get along with his moody roommate. He could still remember the grumpy look on Pete’s face last night when they learned they’d be sharing a room. 

“Okay, time to go.” 

Oliver pulled himself together and left their room. It was still a little early to be up, but this way he could explore the school’s grounds at his leisure. This high level of freedom was one of Kimberly’s tenets—it also meant his safety was his own responsibility. 

With that in mind, he stepped into the dorm hall. No other students seemed to be around, and it was quiet as a library. Most of the new students were probably still asleep, exhausted from the previous day. A lot of them were likely to be victims of the clocknoks and tricked into falling back asleep. Oliver considered coming back and waking them later. 

“You’re an early riser, aren’t you?” 

As he approached the back door at the end of the hall, suddenly and yet unsurprisingly, a mouth appeared on the doorknob. Oliver’s cousin had told him this doorknob was skeptical by nature so it could keep track of the students’ comings and goings. As a result, Oliver spoke to it without the least bit of surprise. 

“I’m Oliver Horn, a first-year. I was thinking of taking a walk around the dorm.” 

“I see. You may do as you please, but don’t you even think of entering the girls’ dorm.” 

And with that light warning, the door opened on its own. Oliver bowed, then stepped outside. Even the vaunted freedom of Kimberly had to draw a line somewhere. 

Outside, Oliver gazed at the eastern sky. The sun still hadn’t risen; he assumed it was a little past five AM. The air was brisk, and the sky was as clear as the previous day. 

“…Haah…” 

The area had a much denser concentration of magic particles than any other place he’d lived, so much so that his heart rate increased a bit when he took a deep breath. Oliver circled the dorm building, inhaling and exhaling to try to get used to it. 

Over a thousand male students, from first- to fifth-years, lived in these two towers, so even one seemed massive. The girls’ dorms were about the same scale. The sixth- and seventh-years, however, had their own dorm elsewhere. A good number of the students who made it to their sixth and seventh years of schooling were practically bona fide researchers themselves. They could request suitable arrangements for lodging, research, or whatever else they needed. 

Once he’d gotten a rough look at the outside of the building, Oliver headed for the garden between the boys’ and girls’ dorms. There was no greenery, only a large fountain surrounded by several smaller ones and benches for people to sit and chat on. He’d heard this place was used not only for mingling among students, regardless of year, but also as a rendezvous point for lovers. 

“The garden’s bigger than I expected, too… Hmm?” 

Upon reaching the center fountain and looking about, he noticed a figure in one of the six smaller fountains. The moment his eyes focused for a better look, Oliver was nearly knocked on his butt from surprise. 

“Phew! So cold and clear! This is excellent water!” 

He heard splashing as the Azian girl scooped water from the fountain’s pool with a bucket and dumped it over her head repeatedly—completely naked from the waist up. 

“…Mm? Is that you, Oliver? An early riser, too, I see!” 

Noticing him, Nanao waved her hand energetically. In that instant, Oliver dashed forward as quickly as he could, spun her around, and chanted a spell as he pointed his athame at the boys’ dorm. 

“Covell!” 

Instantly, dark pigment began to bubble into existence before his eyes, clinging together to form a dark curtain that hid the both of them. Nanao was taken aback by the up-close-and-personal display of magic. 

“Ohhh! One spell created this black barrier? You are indeed a mage!” 

“More importantly!” Oliver shouted without turning around, trying to maintain the barrier spell despite his racing heart. “What the heck are you doing?! This is a public space! Boys use it, too! What if someone saw you exposing yourself like this?” 

“? Why, what is there to hide?” 

“Maybe you don’t have any shame, but think of everyone else! …I hate to assume this, but is this normal in Azia? Do girls bathe in public without bothering to cover themselves?!” 

“Nay, in my country, women even cover themselves when among one another. But before I am a woman, I am a warrior,” Nanao said without shame, splashing herself again. Oliver gaped as she continued. “Besides, this is not bathing. It is a purification ritual. Before I join another war here, I thought I should wash away the blood from my previous one. Why don’t you join me, milord? It will dispel any stray thoughts and leave you clear of mind.” 

“So it’s like a kind of ritualistic washing? Even so, you shouldn’t be using fountain water— Ah! Hey! Stay still, would you?!” 

The black curtain wasn’t particularly large, yet Nanao didn’t seem to care, as she moved about freely. In a panic, Oliver accidentally looked behind him—and instantly froze, his breath caught in his throat. 

Her skin sparkled in the morning sun—and carved into it were countless scars. 

“…How did you get those?” 

“Hmm? Ah, they are remnants of a previous war. If they offend you, I apologize.” 

“Uh…no…” 

Oliver couldn’t bring himself to ask any of the questions popping into his brain. What war? What must a girl his age have gone through to get so many scars? What had happened to her back home? He didn’t know her well enough to ask, though. 

And yet, he couldn’t avert his eyes. Her muscles expanded underneath her scarred skin with every breath, her body tempered like a sword from continuous training. Pure mana flowed through her with every beat of her heart. And pulling it all together was her direct and sincere personality. For a few seconds, Oliver was able to get a glimpse of this full picture. Then… 

Go ahead. Admire it, Noll. Now is the time. 

Once, he had witnessed a similarly sublime beauty—by accident, the two scenes compounded in his mind. 

“…!” 

With a gasp, he brought himself back to reality and tore his eyes away. He kept his back to her as he attempted to regain his composure. After many deep breaths, Oliver was finally able to speak. 

“…This ‘purification’ of yours or whatever—you can finish it this one time, but at least make it quick.” 

“I understand. In that case, this shall be my last.” Nanao didn’t seem to realize the effect she was having on him. She poured water over her head and shook it off in sparkling droplets, then placed the bucket on the edge of the pool to indicate she was done. All of a sudden, she paused. 

 

“…Mm. Blast. I left my towel in my room—” 

“Use this!” 

Seeing where this was going, Oliver cut her off and threw his robe at her. Nanao caught it and tilted her head. 

“Use this? Oliver, this is your robe, is it not?” 

“Just use it! I’d love to dry you off with a gust spell, but if I do that, I can’t maintain the barrier!” He harshened his tone to cover up his discomfort. 

The Azian girl giggled and nodded. “You are a curious one, Oliver. If you insist, then I shall use it… But do you have a replacement?” 

Oliver kept silent and didn’t answer. 

Nanao laughed and said, “Then it is a great debt I now owe you.” 

Kimberly students ate their meals on campus every day except on holidays. According to the rules, they could choose to eat in any of the three giant cafeterias, but thanks to an unspoken code, many of the first- through third-years ate in the lowest-level one, the Fellowship. 

“Good morning, Guy, Pete, and Oliver. Did you sleep well last night?” 

The Fellowship was already full of students eating breakfast by the time the three boys got there. Chela called out to them, so they joined her and the other girls at a table. 

“Yeah, I did. Maybe a bit too well, actually. Man, the teachers shoulda told us this place has time scamps,” Guy grumbled as he rubbed his sleepy eyes. He’d nearly fallen back asleep when Oliver saved him. Chela seemed to pick up on this and smiled. 

“I suggest you abandon such naive thoughts early. As this is a magical academy, it’s only natural that you’ll experience a fair number of magical run-ins on a daily basis. If you’d like to know how to deal with anything, ask a teacher or a friend.” 

“Yeah, you’re right… Geez, you sure are strict this morning.” Guy moaned over his wounded pride. 

Katie was busy cutting her fried eggs as she asked, “Time scamps, huh? We didn’t have any in our room. Although Nanao did get up super early.” 

“I know not what these ‘time scamps’ are, but my body is made to wake up at the sixth hour every dawn. I cannot skip training, lest my skills rust,” Nanao said as she devoured her plate full of sausages, pies, and other breakfast items. Oliver was a bit relieved to see it—her fork and knife skills were shaky, but at least she was keeping to the bare minimum of manners. 

“Oh!” Guy exclaimed. It had taken him a little longer than Oliver to notice her major change. “Nanao, you’ve got a uniform today.” 

“Indeed! It had already been delivered to my room last night, that it had. The skirt’s been converted into a hakama, and as you can see, the length is perfect.” 

“I taught her how to wear it. Once a samurai, now a mage. She looks great!” Katie said, pausing her meal to compliment Nanao’s style. This made Oliver curious. 

“So Pete and I are roommates… Is it the same for you two?” 

“Yes, we are. I’m so happy!” 

Katie and Nanao clasped each other’s hands gleefully. Oliver couldn’t help but smile. They’d already seemed quite friendly at the party yesterday, and spending the night together only brought them closer. Across from them, Guy ruminated as he watched them with his arms folded. 

“C’mon, that can’t be a coincidence, right?” he asked. “I’ve heard the faculty change up room placements during the welcoming party.” 

“Since you’re both from out of the country, you’ve already got something in common. This way, you’re less likely to feel ostracized. Makes sense.” 

“Hmm. Guess they put some thought into this, eh?” Guy then turned his gaze from the two girls to the boy sitting next to him. “…By the way, Oliver. Is it just me, or is your robe kinda wet?” 

“It’s definitely just you,” Oliver replied curtly and didn’t say another word. Guy cocked his head suspiciously. 

And then, finally, it was time for their first class. Over fifty students gathered together in a large room with no desks or chairs. Before them, their first teacher appeared in a white robe. 

“Mm. All here, then? Good. Let’s begin. Welcome to sword arts class.” 

He was a handsome man in his early thirties. Some of the girls squealed in delight, but Nanao’s “Oh!” was for a different reason. Oliver knew what she was thinking. It was said that those with the proper training could understand a swordsman’s skill from just their footsteps. 

“I am your instructor, Luther Garland, and I will be teaching you all sword arts for at least the next four years, possibly seven. You may call me Instructor Garland. I don’t mind Master Garland, either, but I don’t intend to be very strict about formalities. I don’t care for them, either, you see.” 

Garland spoke candidly, as if trying to relieve his students’ nerves. After seeing how effective he’d been, he continued. 

“Now, we won’t be drawing athames just yet—it is tradition to start with an introduction on your first day. This may be boring, but we need to go over the history of magical swords. Can any of you explain their origin?” 

“I can, Master Garland!” 

Seated next to Oliver was Pete, whose hand shot up faster than anyone else’s. 

Garland smiled at him. “I like your energy, Mr. Reston. Very well, you have the floor. Take your time if you need it.” 

Pete’s face glowed once he’d received approval. After clearing his throat, he explained at length: 

“In modern days, we carry an athame and white wand, but the mages of yore only used staves—what we call white wands. That was all they needed to cast spells, even without a blade. It was actually considered a dishonor for a mage to wield a sword, since they were the weapons of the common folk, who were incapable of experiencing the occult.” 

“Correct. Continue.” 

“Yes, sir. It wasn’t until about four hundred years ago, in 1132 of the Great Calendar, that this attitude began to change. This was the year a commoner swordsman cut down High Sorcerer Wilf Badderwell. A few mages had been killed by common folk before, but two things made this incident special. One was that Badderwell was the famous Gale of Darmwall. The other thing was that—that, um…” Pete stumbled. He was speaking too quickly and was having trouble finding the next sentence. Before he could panic, Oliver whispered in his ear: 

“…It wasn’t an assassination.” 

“R-right! The other thing was that it wasn’t a surprise attack, but a fair-and-square duel between two ready combatants.” 

“I’m impressed you remembered Badderwell’s nickname. Continue.” 

“Yes, sir! Until this incident, it was believed commoners could only kill a mage if they had the element of surprise. After all, it would only take a quick, basic spell to render someone powerless. But the mages who witnessed Badderwell’s death realized this was too slow.” 

Oliver nodded to himself. An expert swordsman’s draw far outpaced a quickly cast spell. 

“So they set to analyzing the loss and soon arrived at the undeniable conclusion—within a certain distance, even the most skilled mage can be killed before casting a single spell. Badderwell was famous for his quick casting, and his death is proof of this. It was a legal loss, and carelessness had nothing to do with it.” 

Sensing a break in the flow of speech, Garland applauded. 

“Wonderful, Mr. Reston. That was the most easy-to-understand explanation I’ve heard in years. I give it my seal of approval. I’d of course love for you to continue, but then I’d be out of a job. Would you mind taking a break?” 

“Y-yes, sir! Pardon me!” 

Pete’s cheeks flushed from the instructor’s acknowledgment. Oliver was happy for him, but at the same time, he could see some other students whispering among themselves. Were they jealous? Well-to-do students from magical families didn’t always look fondly upon the actions of those from nonmagical backgrounds. 

“Well, how do I follow up on that excellent explanation? Yes, this is the reason we mages wear swords at our sides—to defend ourselves from close-range attacks that no spell can react to, we needed to take up arms. So that no one else has to die like Badderwell did.” 

Garland paused for a second and put his hand on his athame. 

“And yet, this is only the beginning. A sword simply puts you on equal ground with your opponent. I am sure this makes you all nervous. After all, what is the point of being a mage when you’re too close to even cast a spell? But don’t worry. If that were true, then I wouldn’t be teaching this class.” 

With that, he drew his blade and raised it high above his head for all the students to see. Instantly, a raging flame erupted from it. As he waved the flaming athame from side to side, Garland continued: 

“As you can see, even if you’re prevented from casting, it is still possible to perform magic without an incantation. In an instant, you can wordlessly light a flame, summon winds, shoot electricity—and much more.” 

The flame extinguished, and in its place, blue-white electricity surged from the tip. The students ooh’d in awe. 

“Of course, the strength of such magic pales in comparison to a proper incantation. This alone isn’t nearly enough to render an opponent powerless. Given how difficult it is to control and the amount of practice required, it is still not much more than a parlor trick. It is for this reason that the mages pre-Badderwell ignored this area of study. But I’m sure you’re all thinking by now—what if magic and the sword were combined?” 

This resonated with the students. For example, even if they were alone and overpowered, there remained many practical uses of magic, such as blinding or distracting their opponent. Combined with swordsmanship, the number of combat options available to them would skyrocket. Thus, new forms of systemized techniques were developed for that express purpose. Garland ended his spell, lowered the blade to midstance, and swung as if cutting into an imaginary opponent in front of him. 

“If you can take one step and strike down your opponent with your athame, you are in what’s called the ‘one-step, one-spell distance.’ In this limited realm, you fight using your understanding of the sword and magic—this is what we call sword arts.” 

His lecture on theory over, Garland swept his eyes across the students’ faces. Once he saw that they understood, he continued. 

“After hearing all this, I’m sure a few of you have your doubts. Those of you whose families honor traditional magic values might even be revolted by this. Perhaps you believe sword arts to be heresy—that a true mage would kill anyone before they got a chance to get so close. This may be true. But if you do think this, I have a few facts I want you to remember. 

“First: Sword arts is mostly the art of self-defense. Unless you are planning to become a total social recluse, you have nothing to lose from learning ways to deal with the rare chance of a surprise attack. You absolutely cannot say the world is safe enough for this to be unnecessary—even while you are here at Kimberly. 

“Second: Now that the study of sword arts is so popular, it is more than a means of self-defense against nonmagical people. In fact, our understanding of the art has deepened thanks to duels between mages. Additionally, the more evenly matched two mages are, the more likely it is that the finishing blow will be dealt at close range. Given all of this, there is a large advantage to learning sword arts.” 

Oliver felt a slight smile creeping up on his lips as he listened to the instructor’s deliberate explanation of all the merits of sword arts in order to quell any opposition. He was using this first day of class to instill in them the will to learn sword arts. Actual techniques could come later. Clearly, he valued the order of instruction. 

“Well, that was long. I’m sure many of you have already learned sword arts from your families, too. However, it is tradition here to liven things up by having the experienced students spar for the class.” 

The students began to mutter excitedly the moment they heard those words. Garland smiled wryly at the clichéd response as he scanned their faces. 

“It’s just a little show. If no one wants to, then we can skip it, but…do I have any volunteers?” 

The room grew tense as the students sized up one another, feeling a mix of pride in their own skills and a reluctance to be embarrassed in front of their peers—all of which caused them to hesitate. 

“Me! I would love to try!” 

As a result, the Azian girl who didn’t bother with any of that raised her hand first. Garland crossed his arms, his expression troubled. 

“…Ms. Hibiya. I appreciate your enthusiasm, but do you truly have experience in this area?” 

“I’d like to volunteer as well, Instructor Garland.” 

Another student’s hand went up, this time a long-haired boy behind Oliver. His mannerisms and tone were quite similar to Chela’s, meaning he was probably also of similarly distinguished background. But there was something nasty about the grin on his face. 

“I hear she took down a troll with a sword on the day of the entrance ceremony. If that is true, then I would love to take this chance to see a bit of Azian swordsmanship,” he said and looked at Nanao with not a glimmer of goodwill in his eyes. 

The students near him snickered. That was when Oliver knew—this boy was planning on ruining the achievement Nanao had risked her life for by taking advantage of her unfamiliarity with sword arts. 

“…Hmm. Well, if that’s what you two want—” 

“I request a duel against Nanao!” 

Before Oliver realized it, his hand had shot up. Murmurs filled the room. The other boy sent him a dirty look, unamused by the interference. 

“Back down, you. I raised my hand first.” 

“No, you back down. I met Nanao way before you. We even fought that troll together,” Oliver responded insistently. 

The boy’s face went red, twisted with rage. Oliver then realized he’d been one of the many students to turn tail and run in the face of that troll. Not that there was any shame in doing so. 

“You…!” 

His pride wounded, the boy fixed his ire on Oliver, who glared back at him. The message was clear: Then how about we fight? 

“Allow me to be your opponent, Mr. Andrews,” a graceful voice cut in just as Oliver was ready to step into the fight. It was Chela, from up front next to Katie. The boy jumped at the sound of his own last name and nervously turned to her. 

“……Ms. McFarlane…” 

“Nanao is skilled with the sword, but she is still new to magic. It would be difficult for her to fight against the sword arts your family has so devoted itself to over the years. If you are to defeat someone, then wouldn’t defeating me be more impressive?” 

The boy struggled to come up with a rebuttal to her sound logic. 

Chela pressed her advantage. “Or are you frightened of fighting me in public?” 

“In your dreams!” the boy instantly responded, as if any other answer would besmirch his family’s good name. 

Watching them argue, Oliver mentally offered his sincerest thanks to the ringlet girl. Half of the ill will meant for him was now aimed at her. 

“…So are we all settled, then? Round one will be Ms. Hibiya versus Mr. Horn. Round two will be Mr. Andrews versus Ms. McFarlane. Any other takers?” 

Garland didn’t intervene or even acknowledge the squabble happening before his very eyes, seemingly uninterested in meddling in his students’ affairs. Once intentions were settled, he stepped in and turned them into action. 

“Okay, then let’s begin. Everyone, clear some space in the center of the room. Good, just like that. Once that’s done—Mr. Horn, Ms. Hibiya, you two stand in the middle.” 

At the instructor’s direction, the students moved aside to observe the duel. Everyone’s eyes on them, Oliver and Nanao stepped into the middle of the room. They squared off against each other at that one-step, one-spell distance they’d learned about earlier. 

“Bow, then draw.” 

They both did as they were instructed and drew the athames from the sheaths at their waists. Immediately, Garland chanted a spell. 

“Securus!” 

A white light enveloped their blades. After a few seconds, it faded, leaving Nanao confused. 

“I cast a spell to prevent you two from killing each other,” Garland explained. “As long as it’s in effect, your cuts and stabs won’t injure each other. Not that your athames had edges to begin with, but now they’re completely safe.” 

Hearing this, Nanao gently pressed the tip of her sword into her finger. Suddenly, a mysterious elasticity pushed her back. Amused, she began using more and more force, even slapping her palm with the sword. Even so, she couldn’t produce a drop of blood. Amazement filled her face. 

“Ohhh, ’tis true!” 

“As a rule, bouts between students are only permitted once this spell has been cast. Anyone who breaks this rule will face a harsh penalty, so make sure to remember it. Once you’re older, you will be permitted to lessen the effect to make the experience more realistic.” 

With that established, Garland next moved to set up the rules of the duel. 

“During the fight, you might step outside the prescribed distance, but if that happens today, you aren’t allowed to cast spells. Can’t have a class about swordsmanship turning into a bunch of spell flinging, after all. You have unlimited time; if one of you lands a lethal blow, the match ends. I shall be the judge. As a note: Strikes to the head, chest, and torso are considered lethal. So is getting struck on your sword arm. For the other arm, unless you block with Adamant, you are prevented from using that arm for the rest of the match.” 

Garland paused, giving them time to indicate they understood. Oliver nodded; after a moment, Nanao asked a question. 

“Master Garland, what happens if one is holding the sword with both hands?” 

Garland’s eyes grew wide with surprise. He looked at her hands, and certainly enough, both were wrapped around the handle. The rules he’d just laid out assumed the duelists wielded their swords with one hand. The sword arts instructor crossed his arms and thought for a while, then shrugged in defeat. 

“…There aren’t enough precedents for there to be a clear rule. For today, we’ll count a strike on either arm as lethal.” 

“Understood.” 

Nanao nodded. From their exchange, Oliver reconfirmed something he’d been curious about since yesterday. During her fight with the troll, she’d also used both hands. Was that a two-handed sword, then? The athames mages normally wielded were short swords between thirteen and twenty-two inches. Any longer, and they’d take too long to swing, meaning a simple cast would be quicker. This naturally led to wielding the short sword with one hand. 

However, Nanao’s blade was clearly longer than twenty-two inches. Including the hilt, it was probably over twenty-five inches. It was no long sword, popular among nonmagicals, but there was no denying that it was a disadvantage as an athame. 

“And that’s it from me. Contenders, take your stances,” Garland said. Oliver extended his right arm and right leg forward, blade at midheight. It was only natural that Nanao’s blade wouldn’t be suited for use as a wand, since she’d never had any mage training. How could she know the basics of sword arts? This was never going to be more than a duel between a novice and a veteran. So he decided he should refrain from using magic and instead focus on enjoying crossing blades with another country’s sword style. He wouldn’t focus on winning or losing and, once they’d gone at it a few times, would end it. With that in mind, Oliver faced his opponent. 

“Haaah…” 

Across from him, Nanao slowly raised her blade above her head. Oliver had never seen such a grand high stance in the sword style he’d learned. 

“Begin!” 

Garland signaled the start of the duel. Oliver remained motionless, holding his stance. As planned, he’d remain defensive and observe. He waited for her to make the first move. 

Are you really fine with this? 

A voice mocked his ineptitude. A jolt ran up his spine. 

Look at her. Can you still be so naive? 

The image of her scarred body came back fresh in his mind. An ominous chill surged out from deep within his chest—without a doubt, his instincts were sounding the alarm. 

“Let us have a good and honorable fight, Oliver.” 

The moment his instincts took over and put the boy on guard, the Azian girl’s body became one with the wind. 

“?!” 

Withdraw, and I’m dead. Sensing this, Oliver quickly stepped forward instead. The next moment, a fierce blow rocked his right arm, raised to defend himself. The two swords clashed at eye height, sending sparks everywhere. Fear filled the boy’s heart—She’s so fast and strong! 

“Oh…!” 

The pressure from the sword pushed him back. A mere second after the first blow, his wrist screamed; it could take no more. That was when Oliver knew—he didn’t have time to dance around and observe. At this rate, he’d be beaten in no time. His body was already reacting, his training taking over. 

“Mm?!” 

Nanao suddenly lost her footing. The once-solid ground had swallowed her leg up to her ankle. This was Lanoff-style sword arts, earth stance: Grave Soil. Using a bit of magical interference, the floor had turned as soft as a quagmire and snagged her foot. 

“Hmph!” 

With Nanao off-balance, Oliver quickly dodged to the side and swung a follow-up attack aimed at her back. Mercy was the last thing on his mind now. But halfway through his swing, a blade appeared on his opponent’s shoulder. 

“—?!” 

Sensing danger, Oliver jumped back. As soon as he did, the blade’s tip shot up, half an inch from his face—she’d shown him her back, only to immediately jab at him. But instead of turning around and then stabbing, she converted the act of turning itself into a thrust. 

“Haah…” 

Nanao had righted her footing by now, and the positional advantage Oliver had worked so hard for with Grave Soil was gone. His mind raced as her pure-white hair, filled with magic, captured his gaze. They were even closer than one-step, one-spell distance! 

“Yaaah!” 

Another clash of blades. Circulating magic through his athame, Oliver bet the whole match on this one full-power technique. The sound of cracking bamboo exploded between them as they lunged forward at the same time, making a beeline for each other. The blades audibly crashed together with a flash of metal on metal. 

“Guh!” 

“—!” 

The struggle lasted only a moment, their momentum carrying them past each other. With space opened up between them again, Oliver immediately spun around and prepared to attack once more. 

“Huff… Huff…” 

She was a good distance away, and yet the goose bumps across his whole body wouldn’t subside. This was no joke—she’d come at him with the intent to kill. Oliver had no doubt she’d taken lives in her past, and not just one or two, or even ten or twenty. How much blood had she spilled to get here? Hers was a genuine warrior’s blade destined for that very purpose. 

“There…” 

Nanao muttered something, but Oliver didn’t catch it. He was too busy analyzing the situation. Should he try to drive her back with another spell? Or should he take the initiative and attack? Either way, conventional tactics would be of no use here. 

Maybe I can get a hint as to what I should do next from watching her eyes, Oliver thought as he glanced at his opponent’s face. 

“There…you are.” 

What he saw left him utterly speechless. Tears, clear as crystal, streamed down Nanao’s cheeks. Her lips, trembling with joy, struggled to put words together. Suddenly, he realized her eyes were fixated on him. 

“…” 

Oliver’s mind went blank. He’d never seen a girl cry before. It felt as if a spear had been driven into his chest. He didn’t understand. What had she learned in those two brief clashes that had totaled less than ten seconds? They’d only known each other for two days. There was no way he could understand what she was feeling. 

“……Don’t cry.” 

And yet, despite not knowing anything, one thought overtook Oliver’s mind: With every last fiber of his being, he wanted to stop those tears. 

“Hey. I said don’t cry.” 

Before Nanao’s eyes, the boy’s stance changed from the orthodox midstance of the Lanoff style to a lower diagonal stance that didn’t quite match any of the three basic styles. Whatever it was, no one in the room could make out its meaning. However… 

“…Thank you.” 

Only the Azian girl understood: This was him being serious. 

Their fighting spirits were raging, melting together. As if in response, the light from the safety spell around their swords dispersed. What’s more, everything else in the room vanished from their consciousnesses, save for each other’s presence. The noise was gone; the world was closed off, as pure and silent as possible. This was the signal—there would be no stopping their blades until one of them was dead. Without a shred of hesitation, they both stepped forward— 

“That’s enough!” 

Just before they could clash a third time, Garland jumped between them, firmly preventing their rendezvous. 

“I said that’s enough, Mr. Horn, Ms. Hibiya! Lower your weapons!” 

They froze, still gripping their swords. The instructor barked harshly at them. 

“I told you in the beginning—this is just a little show for fun. I did not tell you to fight to the death.” 

Oliver’s face grew paler by the second. Right, this was supposed to be nothing more than a mock duel. So what the heck was he doing? 

“As far as first-day exhibitions go, that was good enough,” Garland said, further scolding them. “Now, sheathe your swords and take a break. I forbid you from drawing again until you have both calmed down. Understood?” 

Oliver guiltily sheathed his sword; Nanao regretfully did the same. 

“Um… What just happened?” Katie asked from her position in the audience, a confused look on her face. Guy, Pete, and many of the other students around her were equally dumbstruck. 

“I don’t blame you for not understanding. That was an incredibly high-level duel,” Chela said from some distance behind her. She continued, this time addressing the crowd. “Let me explain from the beginning. First, Nanao’s initial strike—a blow from a very high stance, which Oliver did quite well in blocking. I’m certain ninety percent of you here wouldn’t have been able to do the same. The speed of her erratic advance, combined with the weight of her magic-filled strike—she’d slash through anyone who tried to simply meet her blade. The same goes for anyone who stepped back out of fear. She’d instantly follow up and cut you down.” 

Chela drew her athame and began replicating the duel from Oliver’s perspective. Her right hand extended at midstance just as he’d done, she faced off against an imaginary version of Nanao. 

“To block something like that, you must step in yourself. This cuts off the attack’s trajectory at the base before it can gain momentum. Then, twist the elbow and pull back your wrist, swinging your right leg and arm as you pivot. If you don’t do this, your wrist will shatter at the moment of impact.” 

She moved as she spoke, slowly replicating the instantaneous movements. The students listened with rapt attention to her expert analysis as she fluently continued. 

“From here, it gets difficult. The initial blow is deflected, as I explained, but in a grapple, the two-handed sword’s advantage becomes clear. Attempting to take it head-on would only result in defeat. Thus, to break the deadlock, Oliver employs Grave Soil, a basic spell in the Lanoff style. By aiming for the moment she puts weight on her front foot, he’s able to throw her off-balance.” 

Chela pointed the tip of her sword at her feet. A question formed in Katie’s mind. 

“I could kind of understand that from watching, but Oliver didn’t point his wand at the ground. So how did he use magic to unbalance her?” 

“It’s a technique called spatial magic. Normally, a spell comes flying from the tip of one’s wand. But at very close distances, it’s possible to direct a spell with your will regardless of your wand’s direction. For example, like this.” 

The moment she said that, a crack of electricity flashed directly to her side—right in front of Katie’s eyes. She shrieked and hopped back. Chela had used magic, yet her athame was still pointing at her feet. 

“Beginners tend to shift their eyes toward their target, but Oliver… His spell had pinpoint accuracy without moving his eyes. This is another very impressive skill.” 

Chela’s eyes flicked to Oliver and Nanao. A little distance away, they were listening to her explanation in a daze. They didn’t seem dissatisfied with it. 

“Now, to continue. With Nanao tipping forward, of course Oliver moves to attack from behind. But here, we see an incredible response from Nanao. She instantly shifts her weight to her free left leg and unleashes a stab directly behind her as she twists. Sensing this counterattack, Oliver stops his attack midway and jumps back to put more distance between them.” 

This time, Chela reenacted the duel from Nanao’s perspective. Stabbing backward and seeing that her imaginary Oliver retreated, Chela raised her voice a bit louder. 

“Here is where it gets really interesting. In an instant, they simultaneously unleash an attack. On Oliver’s side, it is the Lanoff style’s advanced technique Encounter. Other styles employ something similar, but since he used a Lanoff-style stance, we shall say that is what it was. Obviously, I cannot explain it fully, but think of it as a countertechnique for striking down the opponent’s attack and then slaying them. 

“As for Nanao… My, was I surprised. For you see—I cannot claim to know the style she employed, but her technique was the exact same one Oliver used. Their instructors and even countries couldn’t be more different, and yet they clashed using the same technique, as if they’d discussed it beforehand, and struck each other head-on with truly unbelievable accuracy. Neither was able to land a killing blow, and it ended in a draw.” 

The duelists crossed, then distanced from each other. Chela, having fully re-created the duel, sheathed her sword. Then she turned her gaze on a lone student some distance away. 

“How many of Nanao’s strikes would you have managed to block, Mr. Andrews?” 

“……!” 

She was talking to the long-haired boy who’d picked Nanao as his mock duel partner earlier. He panicked, unable to come up with a response, and she sighed. Chela turned back to the sword arts instructor. 

“Master Garland. I’m sorry to say it, but even if Mr. Andrews and I were to duel, it would pale in comparison to the previous one. I respectfully withdraw my hand and request you continue with the lesson.” 

“…Right. If that’s what you want, then fine.” 

Garland nodded, a bit relieved. He signaled that class would begin again, breaking the students from their temporary high. One by one, they returned to their original lines. 

And so, their surprisingly chaotic sword arts class ended. Oliver was among the first to leave the classroom. He walked down the academy hall alone, reflecting intently on what had transpired. 

“……” 

He just couldn’t understand. Why had he done that? Why did he lose himself in his duel with her? The moment he and Nanao crossed swords, he’d been deeply impressed by her strength. That much was true. As a result, his plan to keep things light had fallen apart. However, he didn’t regret that part. His years of training had instantly shown themselves, which any mage should have been happy about. 

But the problem was what came afterward. Upon distancing himself after their third clash, regaining a bit of composure, and facing her again—that was when he saw those tears. 

“……!” 

In that moment, everything had broken down. His reasoning and logic—gone without a trace. Only the urge to answer her had risen within him, certain that there had been a void only he could fill. With that instinct pushing at his back, he’d gone into a deadly stance he’d sworn never to reveal. 

“…That was careless.” 

He balled his hand into a tight fist. However, he was certain she’d sensed his sincerity as well. In that utter silence, Oliver remembered reaching a mutual understanding—We fight until one of us dies. It was most assuredly not a one-sided desire. In that moment, a contract had bound their swords’ fates together. 

“Oliver!” 

A familiar voice rang in his ear, disrupting his repeating thoughts. He snapped back to reality and saw he’d turned a corner in the hall. Nanao was running toward him. 

“There you are! You disappeared right after class ended, so I had to go searching high and low!” 

She stopped in front of him, beaming innocently like a friendly puppy. Oliver was at a loss for words. 

“That duel was excellent—truly excellent,” she continued. “I can honestly say I’ve never experienced a more fulfilling moment in my life, from the time I first picked up the sword to today.” 

She spoke passionately, her eyes full of wonder. Suddenly, she looked down and made a tight fist. 

“My only regret is that the fun was spoiled halfway through. Even now, I cannot stop thinking about what might have happened. My heart burns with yearning for it—don’t you feel the same? Do you not feel it as well?” 

“……” 

Oliver remained silent, unable to answer. With no doubts that he felt the same, Nanao raised her head, eyes sparkling with joy. 

“Thus, I request you duel me again, Oliver!” she proclaimed. “Next time, we can duel to our hearts’ content without any handicaps!” 

Nanao insisted, completely seriously—Let’s fight to the death next time. Her request was so at odds with the innocent expression on her face. A chill ran up Oliver’s spine. 

“Hell no!” he responded instinctively, shutting her down completely. 

Nanao’s expression stiffened. “…Huh?” 

“I said no. I’m never going to fight you again. And I will absolutely not use deadly force,” Oliver stated to the frozen girl. Having said it out loud, it felt so natural. There was zero reason to have a lethal duel with a fellow student. 

“B-but why?” 

And yet, the girl didn’t seem to understand that this was the way of things. She was shaken to her core, her voice trembling. Guilt pierced Oliver’s heart even though he bore none of the blame. Those crystalline tears he’d witnessed during their duel—the memory still fresh in his mind, he endeavored to maintain his chilly demeanor. 

“Isn’t it obvious? I don’t want to kill you, or be killed by you. At all.” 

That was where the meaningful dialogue ended. Oliver turned on his heel and walked off, ending the conversation. Nanao watched in a daze as he disappeared into the distance, a single tear sliding down her cheek. 

“………But why…?” 

Second period was spellology. Before the first-years packed onto the benches, an old witch clothed in a robe of a muted color appeared. 

“Welcome to spellology. I am your instructor, Frances Gilchrist. And it seems every year, I am destined to be thoroughly disappointed by the sight of you all.” 

The students were shocked at this harsh beginning to the class. 

“Those unsightly metal things on your waists… How can you call yourselves mages while wearing them? I simply cannot understand it. Perhaps they are necessary for the poor nonmagicals, but we live alongside the mysteries of this world. Only a wand is fitting.” 

Sighing, the old instructor pulled out her wand from her waist. Katie raised her hand, unable to accept this. 

“P-pardon me, Instructor.” 

“Yes? What’s your name, dear?” 

The witch’s attention instantly zeroed in on the curly-haired girl. After Katie introduced herself, Gilchrist nodded and bade her continue. 

“Very well, Ms. Aalto. Share your thoughts with us.” 

“Y-yes, ma’am. You called them ‘unsightly metal things,’ but all the Kimberly faculty wear athames except for you. The headmistress is even a famed practitioner of sword arts. Do you intend to insult them as well, Instructor?” Katie asked confrontationally. 

The classroom buzzed, but the old instructor wasn’t fazed. “What a foolish question. I respect my fellow instructors, and I obviously have zero intention of besmirching the headmistress’s good name. However, considering all of that—no one at this academy has lived longer as a mage than me.” 

Katie’s expression turned to shock. 

Gilchrist softly placed a hand to her breast. “I know how the mages of yore presented themselves. This is why I act the way I do, no matter how many people call me an old fogy.” 

The elderly instructor’s gaze shifted from Katie to the rest of the students. 

“But this isn’t enough to convince you, I suppose,” Gilchrist continued. “So allow me to criticize this recent trend of sword arts… As you know, mages the world over began wielding athames after Badderwell’s embarrassing loss. To defend against attacks from nonmagicals, they said—a convenient slogan. However, do you know what the results were?” 

Her question lingered in the air as she sighed deeply. 

“It’s quite comical, really. With a reduction in deaths from nonmagicals came an increase in deaths from mage-on-mage violence. It created a reason to carry a sword whenever you would go to meet someone. And for those who would harm their competition, this was an advantage.” 

Silence fell over the students. A means of self-defense turning into a weapon for hurting others was an incredibly natural evolution. 

“Considering this fact, I can say for certain that the popularity of athames has not made the magical world safer, but instead has harmed it. It is an undeniable reality, which would be easily solved if you all changed out your swords for wands. However, this is not so easily done. You there, can you tell us why?” 

The question was posed to Oliver, who was sitting in a corner of the classroom. Nanao’s presence was keeping him from focusing on class, which the instructor must have noticed. He gathered himself and stood up. 

“…Because they are treated as a necessary evil. For example, when a mage with an athame commits a crime, those who attempt to bring them to justice must be similarly equipped or be at a disadvantage. You can say the same thing in regards to self-defense, which is why no one wants to relinquish their swords.” 

“Correct. What’s your name?” 

“Oliver Horn, ma’am.” 

“An excellent answer. I hope to see more of this,” she said, indicating that his response was satisfactory. Oliver bowed slightly and made to sit back down when his eyes met Pete’s. He smiled back lightly, which just made Pete quickly avert his gaze. Oliver’s smile turned awkward; it was going to take a while before they became closer. 

“As Mr. Horn said, it is no easy feat to overthrow a bad practice once it has taken root. And yet, that is no excuse for complacency in our modern world. It is precisely because everyone is so comfortable with athames all over magical society that I try to remind others of a better time, when such things did not exist,” Gilchrist lectured. 

His eyes on her, Guy whispered to his neighbor, Chela. “…Hey, does that mean she’s lived for over four hundred years?” 

“You didn’t know? She’s one of the few witches in all of magical society who directly experienced ‘pre-Badderwell’ life.” 

“Seriously?” Guy boggled. The living historical figure paused her lecture and turned to her pupils, each of whom were even younger than her great-grandchildren. 

“With all that said, I have but one simple creed—if you are a mage, solve your problems with magic. That’s it.” 

This conclusion obviously caused the students to frown. After all, wasn’t the difficulty of this the reason mages post-Badderwell took up the sword? 

“I can see you’re all thinking that’s impossible. But this is an embodiment of your immaturity. Let me give you an example,” Gilchrist said to the doubting crowd. Suddenly, silhouettes appeared around her. Once freed from their camouflage, they seemed to be constructions of various shapes. On their faces were six eyes of glass, and their limbs were connected with ball joints. Their movements were incredibly detailed, yet they gave off no presence of life. 

“Whoa, marionettes!” 

“You there, the one who spoke. What’s your name?” 

The instructor immediately singled out Guy. He quickly jumped up and introduced himself. 

“Incorrect, Mr. Greenwood,” she sternly corrected him. “These are automata. They are handmade familiars created by mages and can move without the need to control their every action.” 

As she spoke, the automata moved into a defensive circle around her. Their organization was perfect; Oliver swallowed at their obvious efficiency. 

“Do you understand now? Even the most unskilled mage can shore up their close-range defenses like so. It doesn’t even have to be an automaton—a beast familiar will also do. Either way, if you study the technique for mastering these, the option to pick up your sword and fight disappears as a matter of course,” Gilchrist stated with confidence, then beckoned to the students. “If you think automata are unreliable, I invite you to try to cut them. If you can lop off one of their arms with your swords, you might be able to convince me to revise my policy.” 

Oliver nervously looked over at Nanao, worried she would take the challenge just as she had during sword arts class. But much to his surprise, the Azian girl remained silent by Katie’s side the entire period. 

“…Man, I’m wiped. I mean, I sort of expected as much, but this is way more intense than I thought.” 

With morning classes over, it was now noon. At Guy’s request, they decided to eat outside, and after packing up their cafeteria meals to go, the six of them found a bench outside the academy building to sit and eat on. 

“Like spellology. It’s only the first day, and I’m already full from theory. And what’s with having us do sword arts first, then with the very next class telling us that was all useless? Is that even legal?” Guy complained, stuffing his face with an open sandwich loaded with bacon and lettuce. Next to him, Pete was eating the same, but in a much more reserved manner. 

“I can agree with a lot of what the instructor said,” Pete replied softly. “But I don’t agree that she’s right on all accounts.” 

“Well, that’s curious. Pete, would you mind telling me why?” Chela asked, intrigued. Pete readjusted his glasses before responding. 

“Those automata were obviously top-of-the-line. A novice like me wouldn’t be able to cut through them no matter how many times I tried. But the burden of controlling that many familiars at once isn’t normal, either.” 

This time, it was Katie who raised her head from her half-eaten lunch. 

“You’re right about that. I can summon lesser familiars, but if I had too many at once, I’d be exhausted in no time. Magic stores increase over time and with training, but there are still limits. Nor is everyone the same.” 

“Even if we all could do that, we wouldn’t be able to use that magic for anything else. That means our other spells would be limited, which isn’t practical. The only reason she can put her theory into effect is because she has monstrous stores of magic,” Oliver surmised. 

After hearing them speak, Chela smiled. “That’s right. Still, I believe Instructor Gilchrist understands that when she speaks of her ideals. Even if we can’t all copy her, we ought to find another magical solution. No matter the age we live in, we must continue to polish our skills and not let them rust. Perhaps this is the ultimate meaning behind her creed, ‘If you are a mage, solve your problems with magic,’” Chela said. 

Katie crossed her arms and hmm’d. “…You have a point. She seems strict, but maybe she’s also a good teacher. She did remember my name, after all.” 

“Who’s going to forget a person who lashes out at them? And you really should quit challenging every opinion you meet, since you suck at debating.” 

“Sh-shut up! I’ll fill in the gaps in my knowledge soon enough! And I do not challenge every opinion! That’s complete fiction!” 

“Your Honor, the plaintiff is making no sense.” 

“Why, you!” 

Katie battered Guy’s shoulders as he teased her. It was never a quiet moment with those two. 

Giving them a sidelong glance, Chela turned to Nanao, who hadn’t said a word yet. 

“You seem a little down, Nanao. Are all these unfamiliar classes tiring you out?” 

“……Mm, nay, I am fine. I was merely adrift for a bit,” Nanao answered meekly. She hadn’t even touched her meal. Chela shook her head kindly. 

“There’s no need to put on a front. No one will blame you if you take a little time to get used to the environment before exerting yourself. For now, just focus on acclimating to the Kimberly air,” she said, picking up her own sandwich and taking a bite. Nanao followed suit but hardly made a dent, her previous appetite nowhere to be found. 

Once their short-lived break was over, they moved to an outdoor space to continue their lessons. 

“Ah, new students. Welcome to magical biology. I’m your instructor, Vanessa Aldiss. Remember that.” 

The first voice they heard came from a woman in casual clothing. The class was split into groups of six around big worktables that she patrolled while talking. 

“Let me just ask first: Are any of you animal lovers? Are you or your parents advocates for demi-human rights?” 

Her odd question made the students look at one another. Eventually, a few hands began to rise. Once a third of the class’s hands were up, Vanessa snorted. 

“Huh, a lot of you this year. Well, I hate to say it, but you all need to throw your precious ideals in the trash. I’m warning you for your own benefit here. If you don’t, you won’t last long in my class.” 

Unrest rippled across the students’ faces at her sudden warning. Next to Oliver, Katie pressed her lips together. But Vanessa was relentless. 

“Let me make this clear right away: In this class, we’ll be handling magical creatures, and they are considered ‘natural resources.’ This is no place for your starry-eyed ideals of cohabitation or friendship. You would not be wrong to assume these resources include everything other than humans and those with recognized civil rights. Incidentally, centaurs were considered resources not even twenty years ago. The court hadn’t come to a conclusion on the civil rights of their kind back then. Hunting, killing, and eating them was totally normal. Hell, I even loved me some centaur liver skewers. I still haven’t gotten over the fact that I can’t eat them anymore.” 

“Wh-wh-wha—?!” 

Unable to listen to her barbaric speech any longer, Katie shot her hand into the air, her intent to argue clear. 

Vanessa gave her one glance before ignoring her. “Maybe it’s normal to waste time on theory on the first day of class, but I’m more of the sink-or-swim type. It’s experience you need, not theory. And so today’s topic is this.” 

With that, she pulled the white wand from her waist and waved it. The lids on the wooden boxes at their work stations all opened, and the students curiously peered inside to find pure-white creatures huddled up within. 

“Some of you might already know, but these are magical silkworms. These insects are completely domesticated thanks to selective breeding and can’t survive unless fed magic by mages. For this reason, they often try to cuddle up to humans. Some people keep them as pets. At the moment, they aren’t dangerous, so go ahead and touch them.” 

Emboldened, the students cautiously reached out their hands toward the creatures. The magical insects were covered in fine white hair. At about the size of three-month-old kittens, they completely dwarfed the variety that nonmagicals farmed, but thanks to their fluffy forms and lovely round eyes, it was unlikely a human would feel the aversion associated with normal insects. The students picked them up one by one, starting with the closest. 

“Th-they’re so cute and fluffy!” 

“They really snuggle up to you, too… My family doesn’t raise silkworms, so I’ve never touched one before, either.” 

The magical insects crawled their way toward the students with zero caution, who happily let them hop on their hands for a closer look. Smirking as she watched them, Vanessa started her lecture. 

“These creatures’ value obviously comes from their silk production. The cocoons they make for their metamorphosis into adults are what we harvest. They are larger than normal silkworms, produce more silk, and add magic properties to the product, but the really special thing about them is that one specimen can create multiple cocoons.” 

“Huh? They don’t grow into adults?” 

“If left alone. But if the cocoon is harvested before the point of no return, their metamorphosis reverts. They can live as larvae forever. By feeding them magic and repeating this process, they can produce an almost limitless amount of silk in their lifetimes. They basically live to serve humans. Unfortunately, they aren’t without drawbacks. Fine tuning of temperature control and feeding environment aside, they have a pretty annoying ecology. Let me demonstrate.” 

And with that, she strode toward a worktable. Roughly grabbing one of the insects from its wooden box, she raised it for everyone to see. 

“All the insects here have been raised to the stage right before they can begin producing cocoons on their own. Give them a little bit of magic, and they’ll start spinning. Like this.” 

As she spoke, she brought her white wand closer to the insect. The next instant, the creature twitched from the magic flowing into it and began spewing thread from its mouth. The elegant, pure-white material covered its body and a little over ten seconds later was a full, newly formed cocoon. The students ooh’d in awe. 

“However, the last bit is the delicate part. This one went well, but if you give them too much magic, things get messy. Let me show you.” 

Vanessa put another insect on the worktable and brought her wand to it. From the onset, everything seemed the same as before. But the next moment, the creature spasmed violently from the influx of magic and began spewing black thread from its mouth. The students swallowed audibly as they watched it become covered in darkness. 

“A b-black cocoon…?” 

“Get back. It’s gonna hatch soon,” Vanessa warned, moving the students away. A few seconds later, they could hear a rustling sound from within the cocoon, and something burst forth. 

“…?!” 

“Whoa!” 

“Waaah!” 

Its black outer shell was constructed of some hard-looking material, the wings underneath beating at high speed to propel the kitten-sized insect through the air. The students recoiled in fear at its beelike flight pattern and menacing clicks of its mandibles. 

“Okay, okay. Flamma.” 

Seeing their reaction, Vanessa waved her wand. An orange flame flickered, setting the black insect ablaze as it buzzed around. It plummeted to the ground. The students stared down at it in silent horror as it burned and writhed. Once it was half ash, Vanessa crushed its remains under her boot and spoke again. 

“As you just saw, an overdose of magic turns them into violent monsters. It’s a side effect of their accelerated development. A gentle process keeps this from happening, but then their silk production is far too slow. Thus, you’ll have to accept some losses. Even the most seasoned silkworm farmer will lose one of every thirty larvae.” 

Vanessa shrugged, the only emotion on display a tinge of regret that the silk harvest would be down one worm. Whether they liked it or not, the students now knew firsthand what it meant to treat magical creatures as resources. 

“As you may have guessed, your task today is to perform this final step. Each of you gets ten worms. If you can make five or more successes, you pass. Sounds fun, right?” 

The students gulped audibly at their prospective assignment. Vanessa gave them one more warning. 

“Also, any failures, you’ll have to clean up yourself. They’re not hard to kill—just burn them with a fire spell before they hatch, or stab them with your athames. You aren’t allowed to help one another. The secret is to think of your wands as teaspoons and magic as water. You want to give them three and a half teaspoons of magic. Every worm is different, though, so that’s just a rough estimate. What I’m saying is, whether they live or die is up to you.” 

And without giving them time to prepare, Vanessa clapped her hands. 

“Got it? Good. Now, get to work!” 

It was exactly like dropping someone who couldn’t swim into the water. With wands in hand and wavering hearts, many of the students grabbed a worm—and exactly as in years past, pandemonium erupted. 

“Agh! It just suddenly went black…!” 

“Hurry up and burn it, you moron! If it hatches, we won’t be able to handle it!” 

“How much is three and a half teaspoons? I suck at these really detailed measurements…” 

“Be quiet! I can’t focus!” 

Even the slightest mismeasurement would spoil their efforts. All around Chela, the mages-in-training tried desperately to succeed while she alone seemed disappointed. 

“…What an easy assignment. This will take me no time at all,” she said, placing the ten worms in a row on the worktable. She waved her wand above each one in turn, infusing them with magic and causing them to spit silk. One cocoon, however, turned black. 

“Nine successful cocoons out of ten, with one failure. Well, good enough. Flamma.” 

As soon as her results were in, Chela cast a fire spell on the black cocoon and burned it. Guy’s mouth gaped in shock at her nonchalance. 

“G-geez, you sure didn’t hesitate…” 

“? Even a veteran farmer will lose about three percent of their worms, so one failure is quite good. Getting a perfect score is up to pure luck. If you’re not going to become a silk farmer, there’s no need to practice so intensely,” she explained, as if what she was saying was obvious. Since she was the first to finish their assignment, she looked around at her friends. 

“Oliver, I’ll bet this sort of assignment is in your wheelhouse, too. I’ll watch over Nanao, so why don’t you help Katie and Pete?” 

“N-no help for me?” 

“Guy, you go and fail five times first. Once you’ve got the feeling down, you can ask for advice.” 

“Dammit, is it that obvious I suck at this stuff?” 

Seemingly unsuited to the delicate work required, Guy took up his wand with resignation. 

Oliver turned his attention away; he was concerned about Nanao, but he was mostly concerned with someone else at the moment. 

“…Katie, can you manage it?” Oliver gently asked. 

Katie’s face was pale as she stared at the worms inside the wooden box. After sitting frozen for a few seconds, she nodded stiffly. 

“I-I’m fine. I’ll have you know, I’m good at adjusting my mana…!” she said, as if to summon her own willpower. Her hand shaking, she drew her wand from her waist. Her face was far more serious than any of the other students. Oliver wasn’t sure whether he should say anything further. It would be terrible if he messed up her concentration. 

“Pete, do you—?” 

“I don’t need any advice. You’re distracting me, so don’t stand behind me.” 

Oliver received a curt reply hurled at him for his concern. But it wasn’t as if he hadn’t expected as much. Obediently, he stepped away. He picked out his own worms from the wooden box, one eye on Chela instructing Nanao. 

“Guess I’ll get my own assignment done, then.” 

He lined up ten magical silkworms on the worktable and infused them with magic, just as Chela had done. Nine of them succeeded as he’d expected, but one failed and spun a black cocoon. 

“……” 

After a moment’s hesitation, Oliver deftly readjusted himself and hid the black cocoon where Katie couldn’t see. 

“…Flamma.” 

He chanted the spell, and before his eyes, the undesired life quickly burned to ash. 

Twenty minutes after she’d given the assignment, Vanessa, who had been mostly observing, addressed the class. 

“All right, that’s about enough time. Well, kids? Did you average three successes?” 

She weaved through the class, a sadistic look on her face. The students’ results varied wildly. Vanessa appraised the charred remains spotting the worktables as she might accessories at a bazaar, grinning gleefully as she flitted about. 

“Hmm, hmm… Well, better than other years, I suppose. No one got attacked because they failed to kill their mistakes, either… Hmm?” 

She suddenly stopped muttering to herself. Upon visiting a fifth table, her eyes spotted Katie facing off against the worms, wand at the ready and completely still. All around her, her friends watched with bated breath. 

“Hey, hey, you’re still not done? You’re taking way too long. It’s just a bit of mana infusion.” 

“I’m doing it now! Please be quiet!” Katie shouted. She was no longer even aware she was talking to the instructor. All her concentration was on the worms in front of her, refusing to fail even once in ten thousand tries. 

Oliver was sweating from watching as Chela popped up beside him. 

“It was mostly failures, but Nanao’s finally done. What’s happening over here?” 

“…Everyone’s done except for Katie. She’s been really careful so far, which has fortunately meant she’s had nine successes, but…” 

“Why, that’s wonderful. She needn’t be so careful anymore, then.” 

Seeing the confusion on Chela’s face, Oliver bit his lip. Complicated feelings swirled inside him. This wasn’t an issue of personality or good sense. Chela came from a famous magical house—in her world, all this was normal, so it was difficult for her to sympathize with Katie’s conflict. 

“One more… One more…! It’s fine. I can do this…! I swear I’ll save you…!” Katie repeatedly muttered to herself. Then, finally, she swung her wand down with conviction. 

Just then, a single breeze like a chilly finger blew across the sweat she’d built up on the back of her neck after so much concentration. 

“Yeep! …Huh?” 

Her focus only slipped a hair. And yet, that was the crucial difference between success and failure. Before her eyes, the overinfused worm began to spit black thread. 

“Ah—ah, ah, ah…!” 

An ominous deep black covered the creature in her hand. Despair filled Katie’s eyes as she watched; her shoulders quivered, and she stood stock-still. 

Worried, Oliver jogged over. “It’s a failure, Katie! Hurry and burn it! It’s gonna hatch soon!” 

The black cocoon had to be burned quickly. That was the most important rule of this assignment, and it took priority over even success or failure. But she wouldn’t do it. Katie threw her wand onto the worktable and picked up the cocoon with both hands. 

“K-Katie?!” 

“There’s still time! If I can remove the cocoon before…” 

Her wits were so fried, she could only come up with such a foolhardy plan. In her desperation, she was like a parent cradling a dead child—only to receive her punishment for breaking taboo. The insect, its face poking out of the cocoon after chewing itself free, mercilessly chomped down on her right hand. 

“Augh…?! Ah-ahhhh…!” 

“Well, that was stupid. I told you they were violent. If you don’t kill it quickly, it’ll eat your finger,” Vanessa said, unimpressed. And yet, she didn’t attempt to intervene. Realizing this, Oliver and Chela drew their athames and sliced at the insect assaulting their friend. 

“……Ah…” 

Katie watched, dumbstruck, as the insect fell to the ground in three pieces. The bite on her hand had struck bone, but she didn’t seem to notice. She just continued to stare at the remains of the life she’d failed to save. 

“Are you all right, Katie?! That was reckless, sticking your hand into a failed cocoon!” 

“Show me your hand! I’ll cast a healing spell right away—” 

Chela and Oliver fussed over her from both sides. Nanao, Guy, and Pete ran over, too, but the voices of her friends no longer reached the girl’s ears. 

“…Ah…oh…” 

Katie stretched out her bloody right hand toward the insect’s remains, as if forgetting all about the pain. 

Oliver’s face twisted with grief. He’d seen this coming a mile away and yet could do nothing to stop it. 

Vanessa, watching her students hop to their friend’s care, snorted in disdain. 

“Shorted a circuit, huh? Man, and on the first day, too. God help me, these princesses with cushy lives…” 

Her words lacked any shred of concern. Oliver’s shoulder twitched. 

Catching a glimpse of his expression, Chela was taken aback. 

“…Instructor, Katie was also injured in the parade yesterday. Her finger isn’t hurt too badly, so I think she’s just in shock. May we take her to the infirmary?” Oliver asked emotionlessly, refusing to look at her. Vanessa roughly waved her hand. 

“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead. Oh, and, Mr. Horn, Ms. McFarlane? You fail for ignoring my warning to not help with the disposal of others’ failures. That’s your penalty.” 

She applied the punishment without mercy. Chela quietly accepted it as she lent Katie a shoulder and stood her up. 

“I have no issue with that. Now, let’s go, Katie. I’ll walk you to the infirmary.” 

“I’ll come with you. Guy, Pete, Nanao, stay in class. I’ll be right back.” 

And with that, they left the outdoor practice space, supporting Katie from both sides. Once they were far enough away, Chela whispered to Oliver. 

“Oliver, take a deep breath.” 

“…Huh?” 

“There’s a dangerous look in your eyes. I was sure you were going to attack the instructor back there,” she said, her voice filled with unease. 

Oliver bit his lip and breathed deeply. His hand still quivering with rage, he managed to sheathe his sword. 

Magical biology proceeded without the three of them as if nothing had happened. Once class was over, Guy, Pete, and Nanao returned to the academy building, where they met up with Oliver and Chela in one of the halls. 

“Class is over, but…what now? Do we all go see her this time?” Guy asked, suggesting the first thing that came to his mind. 

“It’s not a bad idea, but I was thinking Oliver should go first,” Chela cut in. 

Oliver raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Just me? Why? All five of us are here.” 

“Because you’re the one most likely to understand how Katie’s feeling right now,” Chela stated, crossing her arms. Admitting it seemed to pain her. “I can’t say I do. I understand loving animals, and I can guess she’s traumatized over not being able to safely bring that worm to a cocoon. But…that’s just conjecture. I can’t truly empathize.” 

Oliver could tell that this incident had made her realize how differently she and Katie regarded living things. And that she was afraid of hurting her further by trying to cheer her up. 

“I believe Guy feels the same way I do,” Chela continued. “Nanao hasn’t been herself since lunch, and Pete isn’t the type to soothe others. That leaves just you, Oliver. Only you can empathize with her well enough to know how to encourage her.” 

Oliver’s face stiffened, and he crossed his arms at the claim that he was right for this role. 

Chela smiled wistfully at him. “I’m sure you’re displeased with the sudden responsibility. So if you’re having trouble, come out. We’ll go back in with you as a team.” 

“…Okay, I’ll do it. I’m not sure how well this will go, but wait for me in the cafeteria.” 

His mind made up, the boy turned on his heel and strode off. Shouldering the weight of his friends’ worries and hopes, he quickly headed for the infirmary. 

After Oliver announced he was there to visit a student, the academy doctor showed him to a bed at the back of the infirmary. Sensing the girl beyond the privacy curtain, Oliver nervously spoke. 

“…It’s Oliver. Mind if I come in, Katie?” 

“Oh—sure. Go ahead.” 

Her reply came quickly, and Oliver stepped past the curtain. The girl was sitting quietly on the bed. He smiled lightly. 

“Sorry it’s just me. Everyone else wanted to come, but I figured that’d make it harder to talk. If you’d rather see someone else, just tell me…” 

“No, I’m glad you came… Sorry for worrying you again. It’s almost dinnertime, isn’t it? Don’t worry, I’ll go right back—” 

She spoke quickly and tried to stand, but Oliver stopped her with a hand. 

“Sit, Katie… Please sit,” he urged her, and she sat back down. Oliver sat in the visitor’s chair so that they were facing each other and sighed. “I knew you’d try to smooth things over, no matter who came to see you… But if you don’t mind, could you humor me for a bit? I wanted to talk about something kinda complicated, myself.” 

“Oh…o-okay.” 

Katie, sensing his seriousness, straightened up on the bed. Once she was ready, Oliver continued. 

“We’ve only just met, and it’d be rude to all of a sudden ask you to open up to me… So first, do you mind if I tell you a story from my past?” 

The girl nodded. 

Oliver paused to choose his words, then began. “When I was seven, I had a pet. His name was Doug. He was just a regular beagle, not very smart, but he was sweet and very friendly. Since I was an only child, we became best friends overnight. We did everything together back then.” 

A faint smile touched his cheeks as he remembered those happy days. Katie listened intently. 

“One day, Doug suddenly came down with a fever. He wouldn’t eat and was always in pain. I was so worried. My father told me it was something seasonal, and he was sure that after a week of rest, Doug would be totally fine.” 

Oliver’s expression soured as he recalled his beloved dog’s illness in great detail. 

“But I couldn’t wait a week. I couldn’t bear to just sit and watch Doug suffer… So I got the idea to create a medicine to heal him. By then, I’d learned the basics of mixing magic potions. My parents had told me I was good at it, so I was confident I could whip up something simple. In secret, I read my parents’ grimoires, gathered the ingredients, and blended them together. Then I gave it to Doug.” 

He stopped, balling his hands into fists. His head hung low. 

“The results were dramatic… Less than an hour later, Doug started coughing up blood and died.” 

“……!” 

Katie’s breath caught in her throat. His eyes still downcast, Oliver forced himself to continue. 

“I’d gotten the wrong ingredients. I looked into it later, and apparently, I’d mixed a highly toxic plant in with the herbs I’d gathered. The correct herb had similar leaves but differently shaped roots. If I’d known, I could have told them apart. But I hadn’t studied enough, so I didn’t know the difference. So I crushed the plant up without knowing it was poisonous and boiled it in a pot. I told Doug it would make him feel better. He didn’t doubt me for a second.” 

“……!” 

“Not that I’m trying to compare that to what happened earlier in class, but…I just feel like I can sympathize a little. That’s what I wanted to say.” 

And with that, he finished his story about a painful mistake from his childhood. A long silence fell between them. 

“…I had a lot of animals at home, too.” 

At last, Katie began to slowly open up. 

“Dogs, cats, birds, reptiles, big magical beasts, and even demi-humans. I was closest with Patro, our troll. He’s been my protector since I was little. Patro was always kind. When I was crying, he’d put me on his shoulder and take me for a walk. On nights when I couldn’t sleep, he’d stay by my side and sing me lullabies. Did you know that trolls can sing? Their voices are strange, like a flute made from a big seashell.” 

The gentleness in her voice and the softness of her expression made Oliver smile. Noticing his calm gaze on her, Katie retreated a bit in embarrassment and smiled. 

“From the outside, my family must seem weird. Guy is probably right. My parents told me they were once devout Utopians. When they were younger, they put a lot of effort into researching ways to create a world where all creatures could live without hurting one another. From vegetarianism to developing magic particles filled with nutrition, they tried everything… But when my mom got pregnant with me, I guess she narrowed that down to the protection of demi-humans. That’s why—and maybe this will sound strange, but there was meat on our dinner table like everyone else’s.” 

The girl bitterly chewed her lip as she remembered this. 

“…Yeah, I eat meat and fish, too. They’re no different from that magical insect. I tried to understand my mom’s logic. Society can’t advance if we forbid everything because it could hurt someone else. This holds true for magicals and nonmagicals alike.” 

“……” 

“But my feelings can’t keep up. I just can’t commit to that way of thinking—that all creatures other than those granted civil rights are resources for mages to use. I can’t accept the lines being drawn. I don’t want to accept what goes for normal here…!” 

Katie hugged her knees and violently shook her head. Oliver silently considered her dilemma before speaking again. 

“…‘Say this “heaven” the nonmagicals believe in exists.’” 

“…Huh?” 

“It’s a quote from a book I read long ago. ‘The “angels” that live there never hunger, thirst, fight, or get jealous. If everyone around you is like this, then it is easy to be kind.’” 

Katie looked at him blankly as he continued. 

“‘But our stomachs grow empty, and our throats grow parched. It is common for people to outnumber bread; those we dislike, we fight; and those who outwit us, we envy. In a world where it is so difficult to be kind, what must we do to better ourselves?’” 

Katie swallowed her breath. The quote finished, Oliver exhaled. 

“The quote is from the second half of the book. It represent the conflict the story’s protagonist has been carrying around. Whenever I see people suffering for trying to be kind, I remember that passage.” 

“……” 

“As long as we live in this world, adversity to kindness will always exist. To be kind is essentially giving up your advantage. This isn’t limited to just our treatment of demi-humans, either—giving someone else bread means there is less for you. Giving your cloak to someone means you’ll have nothing to cover yourself with when it gets cold. You gain nothing from it, and that’s what kindness must always contend with.” 

Katie stared up at Oliver’s face as he spoke. No one other than her parents had ever spoken so seriously with her before. 

“It’s much easier to live without facing this headwind. No one would complain if you did. But still, some people out there still fight back. I’ve seen it my whole life—people who endeavor to be kind despite the difficulties.” 

Who is he thinking of? Katie wondered. 

“Your parents must have been the same. So in some sense, maybe the home you grew up in was a home of angels, overflowing with kindness and hospitality, where all variety of creatures could live in happiness and harmony. But now, you’ve descended to Earth and experienced its cruelty. So…you can no longer remain an angel.” 

“……!” 

“It’s up to you whether you accept this reality and live on, or refuse it and struggle. Whichever choice you make, it won’t be wrong. No one will blame you for your position. But if you make the choice to try to be kind to others…” 

Oliver paused and looked her straight in the eyes. Katie, enthralled, looked back into his. 

“That way of life, in my opinion, is noble. Much, much more noble than any angel.” 

His words contained an incredible vulnerability. A second later, Katie’s face flushed red. 

“Um…er…” 

Sitting on the bed, she dropped her gaze and awkwardly shifted her shoulders. Oliver, realizing his choice of words had been too intense, quickly raised his voice. 

“A-anyway…! What I’m trying to say is that you definitely aren’t alone! Our way of life is constantly being challenged by the bioethics of the magical world, and we’re making progress. It’s the reason the pro–civil rights movement has such influence. You aren’t fighting alone… You can’t let yourself think that instructor’s opinion is everything,” he emphasized, then looked her again in the eyes. “Don’t rush yourself, Katie. You’ve only seen a small section of Kimberly. Your despair and decision can wait until later. Search this academy, and I’m sure you’ll find like-minded individuals. We’ll support you, too. Even if our opinions and values differ…we’re friends now, aren’t we?” 

The moment those words reached her ears, it was as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. 

“You’re right. You’re so right, Oliver. I’m so stupid. What was I thinking, trying to be some lone crusader?” 

Her mood had completely flipped. The world seemed bright again, and she hopped off the bed. 

“Thank you, Oliver. I’m fine now. This time, I really am better.” 

Her voice was firm, her strength rekindled. Oliver smiled warmly back at her. 

An hour later, after finishing dinner in the Fellowship, the six friends were walking down the halls of the academy building. 

“Ahhh, that was good! I’m so full!” Katie said energetically. 

Chela smiled as she walked next to her. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I couldn’t stand to send you both back to your room depressed,” she said, her eye turning to their other friend. Nanao had remained quiet for the rest of the day. 

Lively again, Katie moved over next to her and tried to strike up a conversation. 

“Nanao, are you okay? I know how you feel, coming from so far away. Of course you’re homesick. If anything’s bothering you, just let me know. I’ll always be here to lend an ear.” 

“…Mm. Thank you, Katie.” 

Nanao smiled weakly at her friend’s thoughtfulness. Compared with yesterday, it was as if a flame had died inside her. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver observed her. It was obvious it had something to do with their altercation that day. 

“…Oh,” Pete breathed, seemingly realizing something once they’d exited the building, and he stopped. The others looked at him curiously as he searched through his bag. He frowned, then opened his mouth. 

“…I have to go back inside. Go on without me.” 

“What’s up? Forgot something?” 

“Just a book. I have an idea of what classroom it’s in, so I’ll be fine on my own,” Pete said and turned on his heels. Just then, two figures immediately appeared on either side of him. 

“Two heads are better than one, right, Pete?” 

“And three should be especially reassuring, shouldn’t it?” 

Sandwiched between Oliver and Chela, Pete panicked. 

The two of them continued in perfect sync. 

“You shouldn’t expect to find lost things at Kimberly as easily as at other places.” 

“Prankster fairies might have taken it back to their nest. Do you know what to do if that happens?” 

The bespectacled boy squeaked an “Erk!” when they pointed this out, and they smiled. Just like Nanao, Pete was not accustomed to living as a mage. There was no way they could let him go back into the academy building on his own. 

“Don’t worry. I’m actually quite good at finding lost items. With me and Oliver combined, I guarantee we’ll be able to find almost anything.” 

“Three’s more than enough. Nanao, Katie, you two head back to your room and go to sleep early. And, Guy, aren’t you keeping your roommate waiting?” 

“…Yeah. It’s hard for me to get a read on him, so it’d be great if we could get a chance to talk. I’m no good at finding stuff, either, so I’ll leave this to you all,” Guy answered, waving his hand. Katie and Nanao nodded as they continued on as a pair. Pete snorted; Oliver set off toward the academy building. 

“That’s that, then. Let’s go!” 

The academy building was quiet, like a different place compared with how it was during the day. The three of them walked down the hall and soon came upon the place where Pete claimed he’d lost his book. 

“The spellology classroom, huh? Pete, were you sitting over there?” Oliver asked. 

“That’s right. If no one moved it, it should be under the desk…,” Pete replied and jogged over to the desks, then stopped where he’d sat during class. He bent down and rummaged around on the shelf beneath the desk, his fingers touching the familiar sensation of a leather cover. He breathed a sigh of relief. 

“…Found it! See, that was easy.” 

“Well, that’s good,” said Chela. “I was convinced we’d have to follow some fairy footprints.” 

“Or a ghost could’ve taken it. Pete, you’re lucky.” 

“Are you guys trying to scare me on purpose?! Your first assumption ought to be that another student took it!” 

Pete carefully placed the book in his bag as he pouted over their jokes. Oliver and Chela smiled. 

“Still, I’m glad that was quick. Let’s get back to the dorms before it gets late,” said Oliver. 

“Indeed. It’s too early for us to be spending nights in here,” Chela agreed. 

The two of them nodded at each other and spun around. Pete frowned slightly. 

“…Are there…really such things as ghosts and fairies?” 

“? Of course. This is Kimberly, after all.” 

“It’s especially dangerous at night,” cautioned Oliver. “That’s when the encroachment happens. Ghosts are one thing, but you can also run into much nastier stuff.” They stepped out of the classroom into the hall. As they retraced their steps, Oliver continued his explanation. “Kimberly is also known as the Academy Temple of Demons mainly because the school was built as the cover for a huge labyrinth—” 

“I know that much. The first mage to explore its depths was our founder.” 

“Precisely. However, there’s one problem. The academy building is a lid that keeps something sealed—but the temple itself is alive,” Chela said, looking at her feet. Pete, in the midst of his next step, pitched forward. 

“During the day, it is silent, but at night, when the magic particles are denser, the temple awakens. This is when the encroachment occurs,” Chela continued. “The temple starts to appear in places, and the boundaries between it and the academy start to blur.” 

“The later it gets, the fuzzier the boundaries are. There’s not much danger at this hour, but any later and we could be kidnapped—” 

Oliver was in the middle of his sentence when all three of them froze. Before them was a stone wall stretching from the floor to the ceiling. It was so sudden, it actually cut off the hall they were walking in. 

“…A dead end. Did we take a wrong turn?” Pete turned around suspiciously. The two at his side, however, had much more dire expressions. 

“…We didn’t. It’s the path itself that changed. Chela!” 

“Right!” 

They barked at each other and jumped to flank Pete, surveying their surroundings. 

“Pete, don’t make any sudden movements,” Oliver cautioned. “We’ve got ourselves a bit of a situation here.” 

“Indeed… I’ve never heard of the encroachment happening so quickly after sunset that it warps the halls.” 

A heavy tension weighed on their conversation. Confusion rose on Pete’s face at what was happening. 

“W-won’t we be fine if we just go back the way we came? There are plenty of other halls that lead to the exit…” 

“There’s no guarantee they haven’t been warped as well. Remember what Chela said? The temple is alive. As we speak, it’s encroaching on the academy.” 

The moment Pete heard those words and put them together with the reality before him, the bespectacled boy felt a chill crawl up his spine. 

His back to the dead end, Oliver spoke firmly. “Let’s decide on our plan of action. I say we should wait to run into an older student or teacher while we search for the exit. Is everyone fine with that?” 

“I concur. I could deploy an SOS spell, but I’d like to save that till the last possible moment. I can handle the damage it might do to my reputation, but there’s also the chance it could summon something worse.” 

The both of them agreed without argument. Pete was too flustered to get a word in. 

“Huh? Uh, ah—” 

“No need to panic, Pete. It happened much earlier than I expected, but these things aren’t out of the ordinary at Kimberly. Faculty and upperclassmen should be patrolling the academy to prevent new students from going missing. Being a little lost isn’t the end of the world—” 

“That’s riiight. I’m sooo glad you find me reliable.” 

The voice was charming, dripping with honey. A white finger slid through the sticky darkness enshrouding the labyrinth, cutting through it. The three friends spun toward the sound to find a lone witch grinning widely. 

“Three little lost lambs… How looovely. I just want to eat you up.” 

She walked toward them, the sound of her footsteps echoing on a slight delay. Immediately, Oliver stepped forward. 

“…Good evening. You’re…an upperclassman, correct?” 

“Yes. My name is Ophelia Salvadori. I’m a fourth-year,” the witch replied, then cocked her head quizzically and put a pointer finger to her chin in thought. “…I am still a fourth-year, aren’t I? I haven’t shown up to class in some time, so I can’t be sure. But I think that’s right. Must be. Nice to meet you, little lamb.” 

She smiled, her bewitching beauty enough to melt away one’s senses. 

Chela swallowed. “Oliver…” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

He nodded carefully. Salvadori—as far as they knew, this was one of the names of people they especially didn’t want to run into in the labyrinth. Oliver licked his lips. Pointless silence was not going to get them out of this. 

“I’m Oliver Horn, a first-year. I never imagined I’d run into the famous Salvadori here of all places.” 

“Oh, you’ve heard of me?” 

“But of course. I was very engrossed in A Study of Rapid Development from Interbreeding Krakens and Scyllas before I became a student here.” 

Good, Chela silently approved. He’d established that they weren’t ignorant, something this opponent would struggle with if she assumed Oliver was another naive first-year. 

It was hard to tell just how much of his implication this Ophelia girl picked up on. She maintained her thinking pose for a bit before clapping her hands together. 

“…Ah, that dissertation I scribbled out in my third year. How embarrassing. I’m sure you thought it was inelegant.” 

“No, I could hardly believe a third-year had written that theory, not to mention how precise the logic was… It gave me chills,” Oliver added, his throat dry from nervousness. Now he’d clearly declared he knew the depths of her terror. 

The witch’s mouth curled into a smile. That was all it took for him to know she’d understood. “You’re very wise for a first-year. May I know the names of your companions?” 

“I’m afraid not. If you wish to speak to them, please do so during the day.” 

He maintained the bare minimum of respect an older student deserved while flatly rejecting her. Her attempt to prod the others into talking was proof that she considered him difficult to contend with. 

“Hee-hee-hee. You don’t need to be so scared. Right, little boy?” the witch called out to Pete over Oliver’s shoulder. The bespectacled boy flinched. 

“……” 

“Pete?!” 

He stepped toward the witch, eyes empty. Oliver grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him back. At that moment, Oliver’s nose picked up a musky, enticing fragrance circling the area. 

“It’s Perfume!” he barked. “Chela, hold your breath! Plug Pete’s nose!” 

“Got it!” 

Chela picked up on the danger at nearly the same time and covered the boy’s face with her hand. Oliver immediately glared darkly at Ophelia, whose face was a mixture of disappointment and awe. 

“You can resist me? Hee-hee, what self-control you have.” 

“……” 

“Don’t be so angry. I haven’t used any drugs to charm your friend. It’s just how I am. I spread it simply by living and breathing as I normally would.” 

A bit of self-deprecation seeped into her tone. But the next moment, it vanished. The witch laughed and beckoned with her hand. 

“Boys, aren’t you a bit too far away? Why don’t you come closer?” 

The fragrance became much heavier. It was a lascivious smell that loosened reason and stoked instinct. Summoning his self-control and disgust, Oliver resisted the temptation. 

“We refuse!” he shouted resolutely. “Let’s go, guys!” 

He dashed forward. Chela pulled the dazed Pete by the hand, and the three of them ran past Ophelia. But before they could make it ten paces, endless white fences shot up to block their way. 

“…?!” 

“No need to rush, boy. She’s lonely. It won’t kill you to humor her a bit more,” a deep, manly voice intoned through the hall. But before Oliver could even think to look for the source, he shuddered at the sight in front of him. Bones. The fences were all constructed of bones from a great variety of creatures, linked together endlessly. 

“I’m Cyrus Rivermoore, a fifth-year. Apparently, you’re quite studious. Have you read my dissertation as well, Oliver?” 

From beyond the grotesque fences rose a sorcerer, the vomit-inducing smell of death exuding from his direction. His dark eyes appraised the three of them with the dignified air of a heretical priest. Pete, who had just been freed from his curse, twitched as he felt Rivermoore’s gaze upon him. 

“Ugh… Ah—” 

“Stay still, Pete!” Oliver shouted sternly, grabbing the boy’s arm as it reflexively reached for the athame at his waist. Pete’s wrist jerked, then froze. Chela put her hand on him as well. 

“Indeed. If you draw, it’s over. You’ll just give him the alibi of self-defense.” 

The mage named Rivermoore eyed Chela gleefully. “You must be McFarlane’s daughter. My, this crop of first-years is so sharp.” 

The man chuckled from beyond the bone fences. The three of them faced off silently against his menacing aura as the witch slowly approached them from behind. 

“Why, long time no see, Rivermoore. I believe the last time I saw you was on the fourth stratum. Are you already finished with your nightly ravaging of the dead?” she asked. 

“It’s human nature to want the touch of fresh meat every now and again. I see you’ve already found yourself a young plaything. Still can’t resist the urges of your lower half, can you, Salvadori Harlot?” Rivermoore replied with strange familiarity and an overwhelming amount of scorn. 

The smile vanished from the witch’s face. “…I assume you’re prepared to die if you’ve dared to call me by that name.” 

“Ha! Have you already forgotten how I ripped out half your bowels in our last skirmish?” 

“Ooh, I haven’t. It hurt a lot. Which is why I can’t stop thinking of how I’ll play with your guts while you still breathe.” 

The air became heavier with every threat they flung at each other. Their murderous hatred screeched unpleasantly like two giant gears that wouldn’t line up. For those stuck between them, it was sheer torture as their minds and consciousnesses were shredded. 

“Ugh… Ah… Ahhhh!” 

“Calm down, Pete! It’s fine, it’s fine…!” 

Oliver wrapped an arm around Pete, who had succumbed to fear, and desperately tried to calm him. It wouldn’t be long before they could simply no longer bear this. 

Chela was painfully aware of this as well and whispered anxiously, “We have to run, even if it seems impossible. We’ll be hit by a stray shot if we remain in the middle of a fight between a fourth- and fifth-year.” 

“Yeah… I’ll count down. When I give the signal, run as fast as you can.” 

Chela nodded bitterly at his suggestion. There was no guarantee they’d be able to get away, but they had no other option. That they were sorely outmatched went without saying—if fighting broke out for even a moment, it would hit them as hard as any natural disaster. 

“…Okay, now!” 

He would cut through the bone fence and run, refusing to stop no matter what happened behind him. Steeling his nerves, Oliver started to move when… 

“I smell battle.” 

…gracefully, a familiar Azian girl appeared on the other side of the bone fence. 

“…Nanao?” 

“Mm? Ohhh. Oliver, Chela, and Pete. I finally caught up to you, did I?” 

Spotting her friends, Nanao jogged over without any sign of caution. The distance between them shrank before their eyes—suddenly, a new cage of bones sprouted up, wrapping around and around them all. 

“?! Damn—!” 

“More meat, hmm? First-years, do not leave my territory, or I cannot guarantee your lives.” 

“The more the merrier! Just be patient, little lambs. I’ll be there to welcome you all shortly.” 

Their words were the signal for the fight to begin—the witch and sorcerer drew their athames at the exact same time. 

“Balthus.” 

Ophelia’s chant echoed. Her chest shone faintly purple, and from the mysterious light, a giant arm shot forth. Nearly as thick around as her torso, it scratched around at the unfamiliar realm it now found itself in. 

“Congreganta.” 

Rivermoore followed with a spell of his own. Bones of all shapes and sizes gathered together before their eyes, quickly forming into a four-legged beast. Coiled up and ready to pounce, it was like giant, fleshless wolf, or a lion prowling the realm of the dead. 

“Ha! You’ve given birth to another sinister child again, I see.” 

“Says the man who refuses to stop playing with bones. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten bored yet.” 

The two of them bantered, each ridiculing the other’s magic. The pair were inhuman—especially Ophelia, with her bizarre form. Pete, finally managing to regain some of his sanity, quivered as he opened his mouth. 

“…I-is that summoning magic?” 

“No. A simple spell wouldn’t be able to summon such a powerful magical beast,” Chela responded, her voice shaking. They watched as Ophelia chanted again. 

“Balthus!” 

The extended arm grabbed the floor and dragged its way entirely out of her torso. The witch’s expression shifted between pain and ecstasy, blurring the distinction between them. Covered in dark-red mucus, the giant chimera was now fully born. 

“ROOAAAAAAAAAAARRR!” 

A joyous howl surged forth from the chimera’s throat, as if to celebrate its own birth. The atmosphere of the labyrinth quivered with electricity, and the perfume already in the air mixed with the stench of blood and amniotic fluid. 

“She just gave birth,” Oliver stated, his skin covered in goose bumps. “There’s no other word for it!” 

At that moment, Ophelia’s chimera leaped forward. Its massive arm flashed horizontally, easily destroying the bone creature. 

“Congreganta deformatio.” 

But in response to Rivermoore’s spell, the scattered bones quickly reconstructed themselves. Whatever he was doing, it was much more mysterious than the witch’s work. Was it puppeteering? A magical beast familiar? Necromancy? Most likely, it was a mix of all three. The bone beast, grappling with the chimera, rearranged itself into a giant serpent and constricted itself with unbelievable strength for something without muscles. 

“RAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” 

The chimera struggled, letting out a husky howl. The serpent’s bones creaked under the herculean strength. Rivermoore clicked his tongue. 

“…So a serpent can’t bind it, huh? What monstrosity was gestating in that promiscuous belly of yours this time?” 

“I could ask the same. I don’t recall seeing that spinal column before. Tell me, what corpse did you pillage it from?” 

The bone serpent failed to contain the chimera and fell apart again. Rivermoore began another chant, summoning new bones from behind him. 

“Unh… Ugh…” 

Pete’s hand was tightly gripping Oliver’s uniform sleeve. It wasn’t surprising—this was probably his first time ever witnessing a duel between mages. All Oliver could do was hold Pete’s quaking hand so that he didn’t lose his mind to fear. 

“Ah—this is a place of certain death. It truly takes me back,” Nanao commented, completely inappropriately. Oliver looked at her, appalled. But the next moment, she’d drawn the blade from her waist and cut through the bone barriers surrounding them with one swing. 

“Mind if I join in?” 

“…?!” 

The three first-years couldn’t believe what they’d just heard. Even Ophelia and Rivermoore paused their duel to look at her curiously. Nanao remained unfazed. 

“Oliver, Chela, Pete, if you’re going to retreat, now would be the time,” she called over her shoulder. “Once I join in, it will become a three-way struggle. In such an equal battle, it will not be possible for any party to move easily.” 

Is she stupid? Oliver reflexively thought, but a part of him also realized she had the right idea. If either of the two duelists were to become distracted by Nanao’s entrance for even a second, the other would strike them down. It wasn’t impossible for Nanao to have an impact on the battle. 

“What are you—?” 

Even so, he couldn’t just stand by and watch her get killed. Oliver stretched out a hand to grab her shoulder—but just before he could, the energy radiating from her back stopped him. 

“I do not need your concern. Ever since my first battle, the rear guard has been my position,” Nanao said, rebuking his attempt to stop her. Just as when she faced off against the troll, there was not the slightest glimmer of hesitation in her eyes. 

“A walking corpse has simply been given a place to die—that is all. Go, you three!” 

Nanao shouted and, sword poised, took a step out of the bone barrier. Oliver had missed his chance to stop her—after a moment’s hesitation, Chela followed after her. 

“Oliver, take Pete and run.” 

“Chela?!” 

Once she was past the bones, she also drew her athame. Unexpectedly, she smiled and said over her shoulder, “Let us protect one friend each. That should work, don’t you agree?” 

Oliver’s breath caught in his throat. His heart ached uncontrollably at the thought of Chela going to her death to protect a friend. 

“……!” 

Turn around and run! the logical part of his brain screamed. That would be the correct response. If he stayed, it would just increase the likelihood of them dying together. Pete was losing his grip on his sanity. They wouldn’t get a better chance of escaping. 

And yet, Oliver thought, How many times do I have to endure this? It burned him inside to take advantage of the kindness and dedication of others in order to survive. How many more times would he have to suffer through this—watching someone die to protect him when he wanted more than anything to keep them safe? 

“Dammiiiit!” he howled and stopped. Oliver drew his athame from its sheath. 

Chela stared at him in shock, but he was past caring what she thought. That fact gave him an ironic comfort. 

His direction was clear: He was going to join in on this unwinnable superhuman battle. He would never survive, but somehow he’d snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. As a mage, he hardened his resolve— 

“Ignis!” 

“—?!” 

“Gwah…!” 

Suddenly, a crimson flame consumed the unearthly beings, setting them alight. 

“That’s enough. I thought I warned you two about bullying new students,” a new voice echoed. It was stern and disciplined, fundamentally different from the other two. 

Oliver turned to look down the hall to see a mage in a Kimberly uniform just like them, his athame drawn resolutely. 

“…Ash cannot answer you. I see you still fire first and ask questions later, Purgatory,” Rivermoore sneered. Somehow he had managed to form a shield from the bones and had avoided the flames. 

The other man snorted. “Please don’t use that terrible name in front of the new students. Don’t worry, you four. I won’t let them hurt you anymore, or my name isn’t Alvin Godfrey, Kimberly student body president.” He spoke softly, yet they heard him clear as a bell. From the burning corner of the hall, another figure moved. 

“Hear that? Fun’s over. Now be a good girl, Lia.” 

“Carlos…!” 

Ophelia, who had been hiding in the shadow of her charred chimera, waiting for the chance to strike back, suddenly realized someone was standing behind her with a blade pressed to her neck. Rendering the witch immobile, the fourth older student spoke up in a friendly manner. 

“I’m Carlos Whitrow, your cool fifth-year prefect. Nice to meet you, kittens,” they said and, with their free left hand, blew a kiss. They were slim and androgynous, with a very unique way of speaking. Most of all, their beautiful high-pitched voice was so entrancing that it made Oliver and the others forget where they were. Their frame was that of a man, but Oliver couldn’t immediately place their gender. 

“Your punishments will be handed out later. Salvadori, Rivermoore, if you understand, then get back to your workshops. Deep-dwellers like you two have no business on the higher strata,” the older student calling himself Godfrey said sternly. 

Two tongues clicked in frustration. 

“…All the bones I’d gathered were burned in this farce. Lucky you, succubus.” 

“Oh, you’re the lucky one, scavenger. Go fester in your rot until I come to kill you next time.” 

“Heh-heh—funny!” 

They nastily argued one last time before melting into the darkness. Once they departed, Godfrey sighed and lowered his blade. 

“They’re gone, huh? …I have some idea of what happened here. You four certainly are unlucky, getting caught by the likes of them so early into the year,” the man said sympathetically. He gave a gentle smile. “First, let me thank you for holding out until we arrived. It would have been much more difficult if any of you had gotten kidnapped. I’d hate to have to chase them into the depths.” 

“They never hang out on the upper strata, but right after the entrance ceremony, they’ll poke out their heads for a bit. I guess it’s only natural to be curious about new faces, no matter what year you’re in.” 

Whitrow chuckled tiredly. It took a little while before Oliver and the others realized that the joking conversation meant they were saved. 

His legs still quivering, Oliver stepped forward and bowed to the older students. 

“…I’m Oliver Horn, a first-year. Thank you very much for saving me and my fr—,” he began, but Godfrey raised a hand. 

“Save the formalities. Let’s get you out of here quickly. I’d love to hear you praise my heroics, but I’m sure you’re exhausted as well. We can get to know each other more during the day.” 

And with that, he pointed down the hall. Whitrow, who had taken a position behind them, chimed in. 

“You heard the man. I’ll guard the rear, so follow Godfrey’s instructions. There’s no safer place in all of Kimberly than within a fifty-yard radius of him.” 

Ironically, it only took them a few minutes to reach the exit while following their guide through the labyrinth. The moment they burst through the familiar front door, the voices of their friends called out to them. 

“O-Oliver!” 

“And there’s Nanao, too! Oh, thank goodness…!” 

They ran over with undisguised relief. Katie grabbed Nanao’s arm with both hands. 

“I turned around, and you were just gone… I was so worried!” 

“Forgive me, Katie,” Nanao apologized weakly. That was when Oliver noticed the older student behind their friends. She had a scholarly, witchy air to her; her long bangs covered her left eye, but he could see a kind glimmer in her right one. 

“Oh!” Katie exclaimed. “Let me introduce you. This is Ms. Miligan, a fourth-year. She found Guy and me wandering the halls and guided us out here.” 

“The upperclassmen are always tasked with this job at this time of year. Don’t sweat it. Still…” The girl named Miligan paused and sniffed the air. “Perfume and death. You four certainly reek of danger.” 

“We found them trapped between Salvadori and Rivermoore,” Godfrey explained from over Oliver’s shoulder. 

Deep sympathy filled Miligan’s face. “That’s terrible. You’d have been safer stuck between a cerberus and a hydra.” 

The hopelessly accurate expression made Oliver dizzy. 

Miligan chuckled, then turned. “I’ll see you to the dorms. President Godfrey, Senior Whitrow, you can head back in now.” 

“Thanks, Miligan. Seems a few more people are still lost inside. See you.” 

Before Godfrey even finished speaking, he and Whitrow had turned back toward the academy. Katie tried to ask something, but they were already too far away. 

“…They’re gone. I didn’t even get to ask their names.” 

“Those two are extra busy this time of year. You can greet them properly later,” Miligan gently insisted before leading the six of them toward the dorms. “Did you have enough fun on your night adventures? Now, let’s head back.” 

Once they reached the dorm courtyard, Miligan left them with nary a lecture. In the silent darkness, the six of them looked at one another. 

“It’s, uh, pretty late, huh? Guess we should break—” 

Katie started to speak when Oliver cut her off, grabbing Nanao by the collar. 

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he asked, his voice shaking with rage. The other four were so surprised that they couldn’t even react. 

“…Huh? Wait, Oliver?!” 

Katie quickly tried to stop him, but he firmly kept her at a distance with his other hand. 

“I can forgive you for following us alone into the academy at night,” he continued harshly. “Every new student is going to be naive and curious, and I’m at fault, too, for failing to explain the dangers.” 

Nanao stood there silently, her face a blank mask as Oliver raked her over the coals. He stared deep into her eyes. 

“But inserting yourself into a duel between two older students is neither of those. You said yourself that a walking corpse had merely found its place to die.” 

“……” 

“You knew it was suicide, but you tried anyway! No, death was exactly what you wanted, wasn’t it?!” 

“Calm down, Oliver!” Chela exclaimed, unable to stand by and watch. Realizing he’d gone a little too far, Oliver gritted his teeth. 

“I understand how you feel,” said Chela. “I was going to ask her about that later, too. But now that it’s happened, perhaps we should all discuss it together.” 

This undid some of the tension; taking Nanao by the hand, Chela led her and the others to a corner of the courtyard. They took their places around a small fountain, and she chanted a deafening spell to cover them. 

“Now we needn’t worry about eavesdroppers. Nanao…you can take your time, but would you please tell us what on earth brought you to do that?” 

Chela sat down on the fountain bench, bidding Nanao to sit next to her. Katie also sat down, but Oliver stubbornly remained standing. Guy and Pete stood with him. With everyone’s eyes on her, Nanao eventually began to open up. 

“Oliver is likely correct… I have long since lost the will to live,” she said and, somewhat meekly, gripped the fingers of her right hand. “But more importantly, it is hard for me to feel that I am truly alive right now.” 

Her five friends balked at this unexpected confession. Nanao, looking up at the foreign night sky with a distant look in her eyes, told them of her past. 

She’d long ago stopped counting the number of enemies she killed—and the number of her fallen allies. Her reasoning was simple: As long as there were adversaries to defeat, there was no meaning in keeping count. Similarly, if their numbers were to reach zero eventually, then keeping count along the way wouldn’t change anything. 

““““““Haaah!”””””” 

She parried the charging spear, brushed it aside, and cut down the enemy before her. She’d been doing this all day, ever since the sun reached its zenith. After repelling countless waves of attackers, the girl and her surviving allies were able to keep breathing for just a little longer. 

“Huff! Huff! Huff! Huff…!” 

The mountain path was narrow. They’d been here for what seemed like hours, fighting to protect their retreating main force from a follow-up attack. From their impromptu defensive setup on the mountain path, they were able to resolutely drive back the overwhelming enemy forces trying to get through. 

This was a miracle in itself. All they had to repel an army of fifty thousand were two hundred soldiers. They were well past the point of forming any sort of strategy. Hours of hard fighting had left them with less than half their original numbers. However, they remained in high spirits. None of them tried to turn tail and run, and even their slain allies toppled forward with their dying breaths instead of back. For fighting on the front lines was a small, young girl, and no one could afford to be cowardly with her around. 

“What’s the matter, Kiryuus? You’re shaking in your boots!” 

“Damned suicidal maniacs,” cursed Souma Yoshihisa, commander in chief of the Kiryuu clan’s forces. A passage from his own book on the art of war that he’d written years ago surfaced clearly in his mind: It is not the master whom you must fear on the battlefield, but the man with nothing left to lose. It felt like some kind of joke. How perfect it was for this situation! 

“What’s the matter? You outnumber us a hundred to one! No need for fancy plans or maneuvers! If you truly are the great Kiryuu warriors of legend, then just a single one of you should be enough to clear the path!” Someone was taunting Yoshihisa’s men from the hilltop. The voice was clear and pleasant on the ears, yet also incredibly infuriating. How was it that this cut through the warriors’ battle cries? 

Yoshihisa glared up at the speaker. At the top of the rise stood the losing side’s leader, a small-framed warrior. This person was the sole reason they were so tied up, stoking the battle spirits of their bruised and battered compatriots and turning them into top-class, suicidal soldiers. 

“…She banishes fear from the soldiers’ hearts; her very existence allows them to fight against colossal odds. She is a hero, this…child.” 

Yoshihisa’s face twisted; he could not accept this. From the sound of her voice, he could tell she was very young. At first, he assumed it was a boy who’d just had his coming-of-age ceremony and took pity on him—but the moment he realized it was a girl, his head spun so badly, he nearly toppled over. After an hour, his opinion began to change; now, after three hours, he realized his initial pity had been completely pointless. A girl? Ha! This thing was nothing so lovely. 

“…Let loose the arrows,” Yoshihisa muttered after a long silence. His second-in-command recoiled. 

“Are you sure, Father? They are so few…” 

“Do it. If even a child can taunt us without repercussion, then our honor as warriors is long lost. Is it our job to add pages to the tale of their heroic deaths? Answer me, Yasutsuna!” Yoshihisa responded, calling the warrior before him by name. 

Yasutsuna looked down and grimaced. After some struggle, he looked up again. 

“Vanguard, pull back! Archers, forward!” 

“Mm.” 

The front line of soldiers retreated, and in their place, the archers stepped forward. Seeing the enemy army move, the girl could feel that the end of the long battle was approaching. 

“It seems they are no longer willing to oblige us,” she muttered and chuckled. They lacked any sort of shielding and thus had no means to defend against arrows. The enemy had realized this from the beginning. The fact that they only now employed them meant they had been forbidden from doing so before. It would be dishonorable to dispose of a mere two hundred soldiers from long range. 

But now that stubbornness had crumbled. An army of famous Kiryuu soldiers led by the storied commander Souma Yoshihisa, a man of strategic wisdom and valor, was trading honor for results against one rebel army camped on a hill. To her, this was cause to shout for joy. 

“To the horses!” 

But it wasn’t over yet. In response to her signal, someone behind her moved. Hidden right on the other side of the ridge, where the enemy army below couldn’t see, were a hundred horses. Now set free, they quickly appeared on the mountain path. The girl hopped up onto one, then looked over at her allies as they followed suit. With a perfectly clear smile, she spoke to them. 

“Men! Let us go—to our final battlefield!” 

“““““““Rahhhhh!””””””” 

The warriors’ spirits were untouched by sorrow. Then, turning to the land of death at the bottom of the hill, the girl charged forward in a straight line. 

“Wha—?!” 

“Impossible! They still had horses?!” 

The blood drained from the Kiryuu soldiers’ faces when they saw this. Naturally, they’d expected their enemy to make one last, desperate charge before the rain of arrows swept them away. But they’d only accounted for human speed. Who could have predicted that at the last moment, after losing soldier after soldier in multiple clashes, this ragtag band would still have enough horses to mount an assault? 

“I come for General Yoshihisa’s head! Meet me with your swords, Kiryuu warriors!” the girl loudly proclaimed from the front of the line. The archers, who had struggled to set up on the narrow mountain path, were unable to get behind their spearmen in time. They offered little resistance to the oncoming horses. The screams and howls of soldiers, as well as the cracks of breaking bone, echoed across the battlefield. 

“Haaah!” 

At the very center of this melting pot of chaos, the girl leaped off her saddle, her body arcing smoothly through the air. She landed gracefully on the other side of the scrambling archers, right in front of the spearmen. 

“What…?!” 

“She jumped in alone?” 

“Don’t get full of yourself, little girl!” 

In response to the raging warriors’ welcome, the girl drew the sword from the sheath at her waist. This was her only weapon, and it wasn’t even half the length of a normal tachi. Not only that, but she wore little more than the bare minimum of armor. 

“Haaah!” 

She let out a breath and then dashed forward. 

The spears that thrust forth to stop her pierced only air, but the Kiryuu warriors were a hair too slow to understand this. Their eyes couldn’t even follow her shadow before they sensed her right in front of them. 

“Gwah!” 

“Gaaah!” 

The moment they reached for their swords, she cut them down. Blood sprayed into the air behind her as the girl rushed through the army, not pausing even for a second. She moved from soldier to soldier, hiding from their spears literally under their noses. One by one, she slaughtered them, hopping between their blind spots. 

“Father, get back!” 

Somehow the Kiryuu forces’ second-in-command, Yasutsuna, managed to apprehend the danger and bellowed at his father-in-law. How could this be? The girl was small yet superhumanly fast. With every jump, she played the spearmen for fools. Their close formation to protect the general was now working against them—the small girl with her wakizashi short sword was nimbler than any of the warriors in bulky armor pressed up shoulder to shoulder against one another. 

“…Curse you!” 

There was no longer any purpose to the personal guard. As the girl approached with blazing speed, Yasutsuna lost his wits and drew his sword. Unlike the other warriors, he was not about to let his guard down. With the sword in his hand, the training etched into his body, and a tempered heart—he met the girl in battle. 


“Raaaaaah!” 

A fountain of blood erupted from a nearby spearman, and at nearly the same time, a small figure jumped out from the shadows. Yasutsuna, who had predicted this, swung with all his might, intending to cleave her in two. It was a merciless frontal strike, a scoff at any fancy trickery. The girl’s size and speed, which allowed her to dance around the Kiryuu warriors, would be meaningless against it. 

“Haaah!” 

Which was why, when she chose to meet him head-on and let her sword clash and grapple against his, his astonishment was indescribable. 

“Wha…?!” 

He went straight from astonishment to shuddering with fear. He was being pushed back. In size and strength, he should have outdone her, but her sword pressure was so fierce that he had to give ground. 

“Ahhhhhhhhh!” 

With every second that passed, this pressure increased. The sword his father-in-law had gifted him for his entrance into service screamed under the unexpected stress. Fear overcame Yasutsuna. What is this? What is this thing masquerading as a girl? 

“Oh…oh…ohhhhhh!” 

Giving up the struggle against this encroaching power, he jumped back. Don’t be scared. If you can’t crush her by force, use a technique. He’d never missed a day of training in reverse attacks. But this time, he failed. As if to put all his intentions to waste, the girl was already under his nose. 

“Wha—?” 

He’d lost the moment he’d taken a step back. None of the Kiryuu warriors had been able to even get in her shadow, she was so fast. And until this moment, Yasutsuna could not have predicted just how fast she could be in the pursuit. 

The girl’s blade passed through the man’s defenseless torso like the wind. Small and fast, bold and effective. Yasutsuna’s eyes had seen these qualities in his enemy, yet his observances still weren’t enough—for he had failed to accept the most important point of all. 

“Gah!” 

Strength. This girl was incredibly strong. Far stronger than he could hope to compete with using his own sword. Concluding that this was why he had failed—the man died. 

“Haaah…!” 

Once her opponent was slain, the girl finally stopped. But not by her own volition. The reason was obvious—it was a miracle it had taken her this long. After fighting a defensive battle for hours, not to mention employing those incredible moves just now, the girl was overwhelmed with exhaustion. Her body groaned, as if someone had dropped lead on her back. 

“Surround her!” Yoshihisa shouted immediately, and she was beset by a ring of people who wanted her dead. She scanned her surroundings to find herself trapped by a wall of spearmen, with not a single gap. 

“…Well, well. You certainly spared no effort for me. I’m honored,” the girl calmly said to the line of warriors ready to crush her. Yoshihisa glared at her bitterly, but her eyes were tranquil, holding no fear or anxiety. She’d never hoped to survive. Just like the soldiers under her, she was a suicidal warrior as well. 

“You did well for your age. Would you like a piece of candy as a reward, little girl?” 

He wanted to rage and insult her, but as a general, he couldn’t stoop so low. So instead, he suppressed his emotions and opted for sarcasm instead. 

The girl chuckled and shook her head. “Unfortunately, it isn’t candy that a warrior craves in their last moments, but a fair fight,” she stated plainly. 

She still wishes to fight, even after all this? Yoshihisa stared at her, half incredulous and half afraid. 

“I hear your son-in-law, Yasutsuna, is a top Kiryuu warrior. If you wish to reward me for my exploits, please grant me a duel with him,” the girl said, completely serious. 

The moment he heard those words, Yoshihisa lost all self-control. “…You don’t even know who you just killed…?” 

His voice shaking, the shadow of despair crept over his face. His reaction was what put the pieces together for her. 

“It can’t be…” 

She shifted her gaze to a place not too far outside the ring of spear tips, where the body of her latest casualty lay. Even in death, the crest of his house was proudly engraved on his armor. 

Yoshihisa desperately forced his voice to stabilize but was unable to suppress his emotions entirely. It was difficult to tell whether he was crying or laughing. 

“Yes, he was an excellent warrior… But he was more than that.” He began bragging about his son in a way he’d never done before, even when drunk. “He loved songs, poems, and flowers. For someone like me with only talent for war, he was like the brightest star. You had no idea, did you, girl? No, I’m sure you didn’t.” 

He gritted his teeth hard while the girl stood there, frozen and silent. Yoshihisa exhaled deeply and, once he’d regained a bit of composure, spoke softly. 

“Don’t worry, girl. I won’t torture you. I would not employ such methods on a valiant warrior who fought till the very end of a losing battle, and especially not on a child.” 

“……” 

“But I won’t ask your name. You will die a nameless soldier, and no one will remember you. That is my revenge,” Yoshihisa stated solemnly, then raised his right hand high for all his men to see. “Do it!” he barked and dropped his arm. The soldiers stirred, hesitating for a second, then stabbed. 

“……” 

In that brief extension she was given, behind gently closed eyelids, the girl thought— 

Finally, my end is nigh, and yet I was not able to find happiness in battle. 

It was truly disappointing. She’d fought so hard until the very last, yet her life was going to end without her achieving her greatest wish. It was too much to bear on her journey to the other side. 

Even so, she wasn’t given much time to ruminate. The deadly spear tips raced toward her defenseless chest and back— 

“Boy, I just can’t get used to this country’s culture.” 

A totally unfamiliar man’s voice cut through her final thoughts. “Would you mind explaining this to me? What sort of logic is it that not asking her name is revenge? Does this have anything to do with the Bushido I learned about the other day?” 

“…?” 

The stranger continued, unabated. Tired of waiting for the end that wouldn’t come, the girl slowly opened her eyes to see that the spears thrusted toward her had all been frozen in midair an inch from her body. 

“Wh-what…?” 

“My spear! My arms won’t move—” 

The warriors half screamed. Some mysterious power had frozen them midthrust, and they couldn’t take a step in any direction. Baffled by what was happening to his men, Yoshihisa looked up—there, in the sky, was the source. 

“A Western sorcerer…!” His voice trembled with equal parts fear and anger. The girl looked up, in a daze. 

In midair stood a man on a broom. 

“Of course, I understand some things. I love songs, poems, and flowers, myself. This country’s food is delicious. And normally, it is my policy to keep my nose out of other people’s business.” 

As he spoke, the man flicked the short sword in his right hand. It was a full size shorter than even the wakizashi in the girl’s hands. There was also a thin wooden rod about the same size at his waist. But what really stood out was his golden, spiraling hair. 

“And yet, before my eyes, I see a child with enormous potential trying to die a pointless death. As a teacher, this is the one thing I cannot ignore,” the man pontificated, his face very serious now. His feet still on the broomstick, he flipped upside down and dropped his head to her eye level. His clear blue eyes were alight with uncontainable curiosity. 

“Nameless girl, would you care to come to my country and learn to be a mage?” he asked, extending an invitation she didn’t understand in the slightest. 

“……” 

The girl was sure she was experiencing some near-death hallucination. And yet, compared with her previous daydreams, the beginning was quite bizarre. 

“…Very well, then. I accept.” 

She nodded, still not comprehending even a bit of what he’d just said. But she was curious. If this was a dream that would eventually evaporate like foam—then for now, that was all the reason she needed. 

Upon finishing her lengthy story, Nanao sighed heavily. Her friends all swallowed. None of them had imagined such a bloody tale; they could find nothing to say. 

“It was a terrible battle. Not even a tenth of our forces had any hope of surviving. I, too, should have died back there. Then…Lord McFarlane appeared. He saved my life in a most unexpected way.” 

Clenching and unclenching her fists, Nanao stared at her hands as if she couldn’t believe this was reality. 

“Ever since then, I’ve felt like I was in an extended dream. I thought I had died on that battlefield, and this was all an illusion before I was taken to the other side. If this is real, then how absurd a reality it is. How can it be that a mage appears the moment I am to die, saves my life, and whisks me alone off to an academy across the ocean?” 

A light smile surfaced on her lips, but it quickly vanished, and everything about her body language exuded tension and stress. 

“So I was desperate. Desperate to fulfill my dearest wish before I awoke.” 

“…Your dearest wish?” Oliver repeated. 

Nanao nodded. “‘Enjoy not the sword of vengeance, but the sword of mutual love,’” she stated. 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s an ideology passed down in my sword academy. In essence, a proper swordsman must not meet hatred with hatred and fight for revenge. To have a duel with an opponent one accepts and respects, with no animosity between you—on the path of the sword, this is called shiawase.” 

Katie cocked her head at the unfamiliar word from another language. 

“…Shiawase?” 

“Happiness… Fortune… My studies are lacking, so I know not the proper translation,” Nanao replied, failing to find the right word. 

Oliver immediately picked up on the implication, and a shiver went up his spine. 

“You call a duel to the death with one you love and respect…happiness?” he asked, voice stiff. 

Nanao smiled at him sadly. “Mm… Twisted, isn’t it? I understand that. Emotions can be shared without a clash of swords. Talking, touching, and caring for each other is true happiness—from a normal point of view, this is natural.” 

She spoke as if gazing at a distant star, then dropped her gaze to her lap. 

“And yet, that is battle. That is when swords, not words, connect people. Thus, even if it is a twisted happiness, it is still happiness to be sought out.” 

No one could say a word. Having expressed the cruelty of the world she’d lived in, Nanao quietly raised her head. With tears swimming in her eyes, she looked straight at Oliver. 

“Thus, Oliver, when you and I crossed swords—I felt that more than ever before.” 

“……!” 

The boy froze, as if his heart had just been pierced. Her eyes still locked on him, Nanao continued. 

“In that moment, I was overcome with joy. Here, I’d finally found my shiawase. Which is why I asked that we might continue, in a true duel. And with my death by your blade, I’d go to the swordsman’s paradise.” 

She cut off, closing her eyes. As if delirious with fever, she looked to the sky. After a long silence, her shoulders drooped dramatically. 

“But of course, you refused me. I should have expected as much. It wasn’t right of me to ask someone I barely knew to help me in my dark endeavor. And yet, I am a helpless fool who cannot even consider such things. I was so hurt, disappointed, and miserable at being rejected…that in my despair, I began seeking my own death.” 

Her voice was hoarse, and tears dropped onto her balled fists. Katie quickly moved to put a hand on her shoulder, but Oliver could only stand there in a daze. Somehow his actions had caused the girl before him to seek death—that, he knew. 

“Did your duel with Oliver truly leave that big of an impression on you?” Chela asked, placing her hand on Nanao’s fist. 

Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, the girl nodded. “You should experience it for yourself, Chela. He’s not just strong and skillful. Oliver’s sword has an unfathomable weight to it. His training and study that’s built up over time, as well as all the experiences, emotions, and concerns that became the cornerstones of his style—getting to experience that up close through our duel made my heart flutter.” 

Her extremely detailed description made the boy’s heart skip a beat. 

Katie folded her arms in thought. “Um, so to summarize what you’re saying, Nanao…” 

About ten seconds passed as she sank into deep thought. Sticking out her pointer finger, she eventually uttered her conclusion. 

“…you got depressed because Oliver rejected you—is that what I’m hearing?” 

“Sorry, Katie, but would you mind shutting up?” 

“What?!” 

With a single sentence, Oliver sliced through his opponent’s guard for a lethal blow. 

A smile tugged at Nanao’s lips. “Nay, she’s mostly right. Was it the person I was infatuated with, or the sword? As long as swords are wielded by humankind, perhaps there is no real difference.” 

“Hear that, Oliver?” 

“Not much difference there.” 

Guy and Pete spoke in unison. 

Oliver pressed his head into his hand, feeling a headache coming on. 

Chuckling, Chela interjected. “Truly, a swordsman’s way of thinking… But I can’t say I don’t understand. That feeling of clashing against the perfect opponent—no matter the subject, there is no replacement for that moment of joy.” 

After Chela had indicated that she understood, her expression once again became serious as she looked at Nanao. 

“However, when it comes to a deadly duel, I cannot overlook this. Is a practice match not enough?” she asked, half knowing the answer already. “Since you are both students here, it follows that you should have multiple chances to spar.” 

After some silence, Nanao shook her head. “If the goal was to improve myself through a rivalry, that would be fine. However, the swordsmanship I learned is, at its core, a tool for killing. My soul simply cannot get into a duel with no lethal stakes.” 

“So you can’t get serious unless it might cost your life? Talk about difficult…” Pete frowned and hmm’d. 

Considering everything that had been said so far, Chela nodded. “I see… Yes, I understand now. It’s quite a deep-rooted problem. However, first of all, I’m glad you decided to open up to us,” she said and placed a hand on Nanao’s shoulder, looking her straight in the eyes. “And so let me say this, as a friend: It’s time to change your manner of living, Nanao.” 

“…Chela.” 

Nanao looked up at her. 

Chela’s tone became more firm, as if to make sure her message reached Nanao’s core. “Those of us here and this academy are most definitely not a dream or illusions. You don’t need to panic; we won’t suddenly disappear on you. Without a shadow of a doubt, you are alive. And you are living a new life here.” 

She gripped the girl’s shoulder harder, as if to prove they both truly existed. 

“Cease this tomfoolery of looking for a place to die. Kimberly will give you plenty such opportunities, whether you go looking or not. As long as you endeavor to learn magic here, the specter of death will always be nearby. It is for this reason that we need strong wills, so we can banish it.” 

The authority with which she spoke made Guy, Pete, and Katie instinctively sit up straight. What the ringlet girl was sharing with them was the key to survival in this magical environment. 

“Nanao, you asked earlier if it was the person or the sword you were infatuated with. And you suggested that there perhaps wasn’t much difference between the two.” 

“…Mm, I did say that.” 

“Then look at the person. You and Oliver needn’t use swords to see each other. If you wish it, and he agrees, you can exchange words or even touch.” She paused. With an extremely kind expression, Chela looked between the two before her. “If you do that, I am sure you will experience joy. After all, that short duel was enough to affect you this much. The time you two spend as friends will surely be special, too. And Oliver isn’t the only one here. You have Katie, Guy, Pete, and of course me—everyone here wants to spend their future with you. No one wants you to give up on your life so easily.” 

Chela’s gaze swept across the group, and Nanao’s followed. For the first time, she noticed the anxiety, concern, and irritation within each of her friends’ eyes. 

“…She’s right. It would be boring if you just kicked the bucket after our crazy first encounter. Let’s have some more fun, Nanao. We can hang out and do dumb stuff,” Guy said, caught up in the moment. After a pause, he smiled with slight embarrassment. “Plus, I’d gotten my hopes up about you. The way you took down that troll, I was sure you’d do something crazy again.” He laid his honest feelings bare. 

Next, the curly-haired girl—Katie—gripped Nanao’s hand. 

“The next time you’re in danger, it’ll be my turn to come rescue you. I won’t let you die. We’re friends now… I couldn’t bear always being saved without ever saving you,” she announced and closed her eyes, making an oath to herself. 

Pete followed with a comment of his own. “There’s no reason to rush to your death. I have plenty to learn about this place, too. If you consider what lies ahead, there’s nothing wrong with having more familiar faces around,” he said, stone-faced as usual. But for a boy who was typically so reserved, it was his best attempt at encouragement. 

Once the three of them had said their piece, Chela’s gaze moved to the last member. “Oliver, what do you have to say?” 

Everyone’s eyes focused on him. The silence this time was the longest yet. After careful consideration of the Azian girl and himself, Oliver solemnly opened his mouth. 

“…When you’re trying to survive at Kimberly, you can’t afford to be around people with a death wish. They’ll just drag others into their own messes. Just like what almost happened earlier.” 

It was the strictest opinion so far. Katie leaned forward, ready to defend Nanao. But with a hand, Oliver stopped her and continued. 

“So I only have one question for you. Can you promise me, Nanao, that no matter what happens in the future, you won’t rush to your death? That you’ll always swing your sword with the intent of living?” 

This was the only thing he wanted to know. As long as they called this place home, he couldn’t back down on this. The other four swallowed hard. Nanao stared into Oliver’s eyes, unmoving, as the others observed them. After a long time, she suddenly swung both arms up. 

“Hyah!” 

Moving so fast that her hands whistled through the wind, she slapped both her cheeks. 

“…Forgive me. I was a coward and a fool.” 

When she removed her hands, bright-red handprints were left on her face. But in exchange for that pain, the light had returned to her eyes. The emptiness was replaced with a forward-facing resolve. 

“It is false to think that not fearing death is to be obsessed with it. And I’d become so lost that I couldn’t even remember such logic,” she muttered as she stood from the bench. Straightening her back with dignity, Nanao bowed her head deeply toward her friends. 

“Oliver, Chela, Katie, Guy, Pete—I am truly sorry, you five. I swear to you now, I will never attempt to throw away my life again. From this day hence, I shall value my life as I remain by your sides.” 

After firmly swearing, she raised her head. All her friends in view, she smiled innocently. 

“So if you wouldn’t mind, please teach the ways of life here. Although, I must warn you, I am a dunce in all areas of life but the sword. Honestly, I was completely unsure whether I could keep up in any of today’s classes,” she said, scratching her head in embarrassment. 

Her friends were filled with relief upon hearing her resolve. 

“Of course we’ll help you out. Pete’s just getting started learning magic, too. You’re not too late to anything,” Oliver said. 

“Indeed. You have me, too, and as my pupil, you will have nothing to fear. At this point, you show more promise than Guy.” 

“Wait, what did I do?! Chela, am I that talentless?” 

“It simply means you must put more effort into your studies. But don’t worry—I’ve already cooked up some assignments for tomorrow.” 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Especially that smile! Pete, let’s do our best tomorrow, huh?” 

“Don’t drag me into this!” 

Guy took the initiative to lighten the mood between the six of them. They would have chatted all night, but eventually, Chela stood up from the bench to put an end to it. 

“We should be going, else we’ll miss curfew. I hate to say it, but let’s head our separate ways for today.” 

“Huh? Whoa, look at the time! Nanao, let’s get back to our room! We’ve gotta get ready for tomorrow!” 

Katie hurriedly stood up and pulled Nanao by the hand. They disappeared into the girls’ dorm, and soon after, Guy and Pete made their way to the boys’ dorm. Once the four of them were gone, Oliver and Chela waited alone in front of the evening fountain. 

“…Sorry, Chela. You really helped me out.” 

“It was no big deal. Not when it involves a friend’s life anyway,” she replied, smiling gently. After another pause, she quietly added, “I can also understand losing my calm in that situation. Do you feel responsible?” 

Oliver’s expression stiffened when she pointed this out. 

The ringlet girl continued, as if she could see into his mind. “What Nanao felt in your duel—I suspect she wasn’t alone. In that moment, you responded in kind.” 

“…!” 

It felt as if he’d been struck through the heart; Oliver couldn’t think of a single reply. How could he even refute it? He was indeed the same. He’d forgotten himself in that duel, so desperately had he wished to see what would happen when they crossed blades. At the very least, in that moment, his feelings were no different from Nanao’s. 

“But then you rejected it. For that reason, I believe Nanao’s pain was even greater. Of course, I’m not blaming you. In fact, I’m relieved you were able to calm down. The last thing I want to see is two of my friends fighting to the death.” 

A heavy silence followed. After a while, Chela continued, a troubled look on her face. 

“But the moment you two crossed swords, you realized your destinies were intertwined. I hear this is a rare phenomenon in the world of magic and swords. Perhaps you and Nanao formed such a connection. If it’s true, I’m equal parts fearful and envious.” 

Chela stopped abruptly and put her hand to her breast, as if to desperately try to quell the raging fire burning within. 

“Pardon. It seems I was hit by a wayward spark. Your duel was so bright, I could hardly manage to watch it,” she said jealously, then quietly turned on her heel. Her proud figure disappeared into the darkness. 

Even after she’d gone off to the girls’ dorm, Oliver remained behind for a long time until his pounding heart returned to normal. 

The morning after their troubled night—to put it mildly—the six of them met up back in the courtyard where they’d had their conversation. 

“Good morning, Oliver!” Nanao exclaimed excitedly as soon as she saw him. Oliver was taken aback by the stark difference in her mood. 

“Y-yeah, good morning.” 

“You seem in high spirits today. Feeling better?” Guy asked, grinning. 

“Good morning, Guy and Pete!” Nanao responded, grinning similarly from ear to ear. “Forgive me for worrying you last night!” 

She bowed her head. Pete huffed and turned away. 

“I wasn’t worried… But I guess you do seem more like yourself now,” the bespectacled boy added quietly. 

Oliver and Guy looked at each other, exchanging wry smiles. 

“We are all here now. Now—to the academy!” Full of energy, Nanao rushed to lead the way—then slowed, instead walking next to Oliver. She beamed at him innocently. 

“…Nanao, why are you next to me?” he asked, confused. 

“To observe you more closely, of course. Milady Chela told me to see you without the sword.” 

“I don’t think she meant for you to study me up close…” 

“Am I bothering you?” she asked, suddenly anxious. He couldn’t exactly brush her off after last night, so Oliver sighed in resignation. 

“No, I didn’t say that. You’re free to be wherever you like.” 

Having earned his permission, Nanao swung her arms and legs in a dramatic expression of joy. She stuck to him like glue as they walked. 

From the side, Guy and Pete studied Oliver’s expression. 

“…I think I see a smile.” 

“I think I do, too.” 

“Guy! Pete!” Oliver shouted at them as they jokingly whispered to each other, feeling as if he were the only adult around. 

Katie, who had been watching from behind, pulled on Nanao’s sleeve from the side opposite him. “Ahem… N-Nanao? If you stick too close to him, you could get in trouble for violating, um, academy conduct. Oliver is a boy after all, you know?” she said, pulling on her harder. 

Guy and Pete brought their heads together again. 

“…Seems a storm’s brewing.” 

“I think so, too.” 

“You two!” the curly-haired girl erupted, and the boys scattered like baby spiders. Chuckling, Chela watched as Katie chased after them. 

“A very fine, lively morning. Not so bad, is it, Nanao?” 

“Mm, indeed!” 

Nanao nodded without hesitation. Seeing her overflowing with life and energy, Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. He could sense the sword wasn’t the only thing in her life anymore. 

Their first period of the day went by without issue. After making it through their magical history class and exiting the classroom, Guy and Nanao both grabbed their heads in a show of pain after the huge amount of knowledge that had just been crammed into their brains. 

“Man, this is gonna be rough… There’s so much stuff to remember in magical history.” 

“Oh, the words are spinning in my head.” 

The two moaned together. 

Pete rolled his eyes and sighed. “You two are sad. You’d fail out of a normal academy with that attitude.” 

“Don’t feel like you have to remember it all at once. Start with the basic bits first, then connect the dots from there. Otherwise you’ll forget it right away, and then what’s the point?” Oliver said, trying to teach them the secret to studying. Just then, he spotted a familiar girl running toward him from the end of the hall. It was Chela, who had been attending class with Katie in a different room. 

“Oliver, you need to come with me!” 

“Chela? What’s wrong?” 

“Katie just ran out! She heard they were going to execute the troll that attacked her! She’s trying to stop it!” 

Oliver’s eyes went wide. He chased after Chela as she led the way, neither of them wasting a single moment. 

The housing for the magical beasts was on Kimberly property, but for safety monitoring and habitat preservation reasons, it was situated far away from the academy building itself. The land area surrounded by fences was large, but in reality, this was only the tip of the iceberg, and most of the facility cut into the underground labyrinth. It expanded and shrank depending on the number of creatures being cared for, so it was impossible to get an accurate picture of its full scale. However, according to alumni, the most dangerous creatures were kept on the lowest levels. 

As for trolls, their living space was on the surface. Everyone was free to observe them from behind a fence, and there were no real barriers to touching them directly. Creatures that killed thousands of nonmagicals every year didn’t even rate as dangerous for mages. 

“There are very few things that truly infuriate me.” 

In a corner of the facility, a man in a black cape stood solemnly before a giant cage that was used to quarantine sick creatures. Inside the cage was a troll—the same one that had gone berserk during the parade—that was cowering from the man’s overbearing presence and shivering in fear of its imminent death. 

“One of them is repeating myself to the same person. There’s nothing that irritates me more than having my precious time wasted by fools. That time spent talking could be better spent on valuable mental pursuits.” 

And between the man and the troll, her back to the metal prison, stood a girl. She faced the man head-on, looking him straight in the eyes. Who else could it have been but Katie Aalto? 

“Repeating myself once is already vexing enough. But to make me do it a second time, I have no choice but to assume I am actually speaking to a human-shaped monkey. First-year, do you wish to be a monkey?” the man coldly asked. 

Summoning all her resolve, Katie responded. “Please don’t change the subject. I’m begging you—don’t kill this troll!” she implored with all her might. 

 

The man cracked his neck. “Don’t kill it, you say? Let me ask—what position are you in to make such a demand?” 

“I’m the one it attacked and injured! I believe that gives me the right to say something!” That fact was her only card to play. 

But it was to no avail; the man didn’t budge an inch. 

“You seem to misunderstand. Any beast that harms a human must be put down. This is for the safety of the students, including you.” 

Rather than a conversation, it was more like a teacher giving a one-sided lecture. The man glared coldly at the demi-human cowering behind Katie. 

“Let’s say I let this troll live. How will you take responsibility for the risk that would create? Would you retrain it? Even a kobold would have more luck surviving that.” 

Katie’s breath caught in her throat. The man sighed at this completely predictable reaction. 

“‘Have a heart! Don’t kill it!’ No matter the age, some irresponsible dullards are always spouting such drivel. You have no intention of doing any of the work yourself; you simply want the temporary satisfaction of saving a life. All the while pretending to not know how many other humans the subject of their mercy will go on to kill. First-year, what is your name?” 

“…Katie Aalto, sir,” the girl nervously replied. 

Suddenly, everything seemed to click for the man. “Aalto—ah, those Aaltos. Now it makes sense. Even among the fools of the pro–civil rights movement, none chase the fad of the day quite so persistently as them. My sympathies. You were unlucky to be born to them.” 

Oliver arrived just in time to hear this. The man glanced at him for a second, but that was all. 

As Katie’s friends contemplated how to intervene, Katie herself gritted her teeth in anger over the insult to her family. 

“I’ll pretend just this once that I didn’t hear you insult my parents. Please don’t kill this troll. I’m not all talk. I’ll convince him to not attack any more humans,” Katie pleaded, desperately holding back her emotions. 

But instead of humoring her, the man burst into exasperated laughter. “…Convince! Convince it, you say! What, are you going to talk to it? I’d love to see that! Perhaps you’ll do it while sitting around a table on the terrace sipping afternoon tea?” 

“Stop laughing!” She shouted so loudly that her voice cracked, quieting the man’s laughter. That was the limit of her self-control. 

Katie glared at the man, forgetting that he was an instructor. “We can communicate with feelings, even if we can’t speak each other’s language. Even if we’re different species…!” the girl insisted, her voice about to break. 

In the face of such passion, the man’s smile vanished from his face. “…I see. I suppose I can’t laugh if you are this far gone,” he muttered, voice low. At the same time, he quite naturally drew the wand from his waist. 

“Dolor.” 

His wand tip pointed at Katie, he chanted the spell without hesitation. The moment he flicked his wand, pain like she’d never experienced raced through the girl’s body. 

“Guh…! Ee… Ah-ahhhhh…!” 

“Katie!” 

The girl fell to the ground, writhing in agony. Unable to stay silent any longer, Oliver and the others jumped in. They stood before their suffering friend, covering her. Chela glared daggers at the man. 

“You would cast a pain curse on a first-year…?! That’s going too far, even for an instructor!” 

“Too far? Not at all. Pain is an excellent teacher.” The wand whistled through the air like a whip as the man continued, his tone completely level. “No matter how highly refined the lecture, it will only bounce off the ears of fools. But everyone feels pain. Suffering alone teaches the foolish and the wise alike. Thus, education cannot be effective without it.” 

From his matter-of-fact tone, it was clear he believed this from the bottom of his heart. A chill ran up Oliver’s spine. 

“I am attempting to elevate that monkey over there to the human realm,” the man stated coldly to the five kids protecting their friend. “If you’re going to interfere, then perhaps you need guidance as well.” 

As he threatened them, all five of them instinctively reached for their athames. But at the same time, everyone there seemed to understand that resisting was pointless. 

“……!” 

Their only choice was to bow down and beg for forgiveness, Oliver decided and released his hand from the hilt. He could easily imagine this instructor’s “guidance” was simply torture by another name. So rather than expose his friends to that, he was prepared to swallow any humiliation— 

“One second, please. I admire your beliefs, but surely the whip alone is not an effective educational tool.” 

Just before Oliver could open his mouth, a familiar voice intruded upon the battlefield. The boy looked to see who it was and saw a female student standing there, her long bangs covering one of her eyes. He remembered her—she was the older student who had shepherded them to the dorms after getting caught up in the academy’s encroachment last night. Perhaps her tone was just that influential, but this time, the man couldn’t ignore the intrusion as he turned his attention to her. 

“Fourth-year Miligan, eh? What do you want?” 

“I actually came here to tell you that an objection has been raised in regards to the troll’s execution. The interested party should arrive soon.” 

Not a second later, a white cape fluttered behind Miligan. 

Pete let out a small exclamation of joy. There stood Master Garland, like a ray of light in the darkness. 

“That’s enough, Darius. The use of the pain curse in education was banned five years ago.” 

“…Garland. I have no intention of deviating from my teaching principles. More importantly, what is this about an objection to the troll’s execution?” the teacher named Darius shot back indignantly. 

Garland looked from Katie, collapsed on the ground, to the troll stuck in the cage. A stern expression on his face, he replied, “The investigation into the parade incident’s source isn’t satisfactory. I proposed we keep the troll alive as evidence, and the headmistress agreed.” 

His words were an unshakable opposition to Darius’s actions, especially by bringing the headmistress into it. 

Darius clicked his tongue. “You’re all so soft… Are you one of those pro–civil rights fools, too?” 

“No, I have always been in staunch opposition to the movements involving demi-humans. However, the mages you call ‘fools’ are currently quite influential. An execution carried out without a proper investigation will be like giving them a silver bullet.” 

Garland remained incredibly calm, pointing out the deficiencies in Darius’s plan without resorting to harsh words. A heavy silence settled between them. 

Eventually, Darius turned on his heel. “Have it your way. But if it is allowed to live, it will only crush that monkey under its foot,” he spat, then walked away. 

“I’m not…a monkey,” an unexpected voice shouted after him. “I won’t be…so easily…crushed…!” 

Her friends stared in amazement as Katie sat up in intense pain, struggling to get the words out. 

Even Darius turned to gaze at her in wonder. “…What a surprise. I kept the spell mild, but you can already speak? It would appear monkeys these days are dull in both mind and nerves. Evolution weeps,” he said spitefully before leaving for good this time. 

Unable to let it go, the curly-haired girl tried to go after him. “Ah…guh…!” 

“Don’t force yourself to stand, Katie!” 

“I’ll lessen the pain for you…!” 

Oliver and Chela rushed to the aid of their friend as she screamed and curled up in agony. But before they could do anything specifically, the older student who had come with Garland whipped out her wand. 

“Are you okay? You sure are a crazy one,” Miligan said softly, waving her wand and casting a pain-lessening spell over Katie. 

The fog of suffering gone, Katie stared at the figure before her. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a student not break from that instructor’s ‘guidance.’ You’ve got guts, girl.” The witch praised her fiierce battle with a smile. 

As the pain subsided, Katie’s brain began to function as normal again. Once she could make out the person talking to her, she called out her name. “Oh…Ms. Miligan…?” 

“I’m glad you remember me. I haven’t forgotten your name, either, Katie Aalto.” 

Miligan extended a hand, and the curly-haired girl cautiously took it. As she helped the girl up, the witch with long bangs looked over at the troll shivering in the cage. 

“This troll’s execution caught my attention as well. As fellow lovers of demi-humans, I think we can help each other in many ways. If you ever have something on your mind, feel free to come talk to me.” 

“Oh—y-yes!” 

Katie’s face shone with happiness. For the first time since coming to this academy, an older student had sympathized with her. To her, those words were the greatest encouragement her heart could receive. 

Just under an hour later, after shaking off Oliver and Chela’s recommendation that she visit the doctor, Katie joined her fellow students in sword arts class. 

“Haah! Hyah! Yah!” 

With unusual vigor, she unleashed her practice thrusts. 

Guy, who was practicing next to her, gave a whistle. “Well, you sure are motivated. You feeling better already?” 

“Yep! I can’t let something like that bring me down anymore!” she said briskly. As if to blow away even the memory of the pain curse, Katie lost herself in her basic training. 

Garland watched her and the other students’ progress with a pleased look on his face. “Okay,” he said. “Beginners, continue your basic training. Veterans, pair up and practice striking each other. Be sure to take turns attacking and defending. Oh, and, Ms. Hibiya, you come here.” 

Hearing her name, Nanao paused her training to turn around, then sheathed her sword and jogged over to the instructor. 

Oliver watched her out of the corner of his eye as he continued his training. 

“To be perfectly honest, I’m unsure how to instruct you. Your swordsmanship and mine differ quite heavily. So before I begin, I have to know what you were taught.” The instructor gave Nanao no chance to respond. “That said, you have nothing to worry about. I’m not trying to trick you. Way back when, I used to live for crossing swords with masters of other styles. I welcome with open arms the stimulation of an encounter with an unfamiliar style.” 

Garland grinned excitedly, like a naughty child. 

Sensing his honesty, Nanao looked at him with candid appreciation. As they faced each other, the instructor’s expression quickly turned serious. 

“With that in mind, my first question: You wield your sword with two hands. Can I assume you will not change that?” 

Nanao dropped her gaze to the blade at her waist and immediately shook her head. 

“You are correct. If I were to wield my sword with one hand, it would be when my other hand was chopped off. “ 

Oliver, eavesdropping as he trained nearby, shivered for the hundredth time since meeting Nanao. She’d mentioned losing a hand so casually, even though she came from a world where healing magic didn’t exist. The severity was striking. 

“Very well. I’m happy to hear that. If you wished to change your grip and learn one of the three basic styles from the ground up, as an instructor I wouldn’t be able to tell you no. However, Instructor McFarlane has insisted that I keep your uniqueness in mind while teaching. But more importantly, this is my wish as well.” 

Garland’s eyes glittered with hope for the future. However, it wasn’t long before a bit of guilt crept into his expression. 

“Whatever the future holds, I cannot begin unless I know more about your sword style… However, the title of Kimberly sword arts instructor is an incredibly heavy one. I absolutely cannot duel a new first-year, no matter how promising she might be. It would be an affront to the position.” 

“Mm, that is a shame,” Nanao muttered, her hopes dashed. The next moment, however, that naughty grin returned to Garland’s face. 

“But as long as no one finds out, we’re fine. Can you do this?” he asked, setting up against Nanao in the one-step, one-spell distance. He refused to touch his sword, but seeing the intent in his eyes, the girl nodded in response. 

“I see. A mental battle, is it? Very well, then I shall be your opponent.” 

Once they had both given consent, instructor and student faced off. Oliver had some idea of what was about to happen. In the Lanoff style, this technique was called shadow matching—in other words, the two of them would be conducting image training. 

“Haaah…” 

Garland remained on the defensive, so Nanao made the first “strike.” From the outside they seemed to not be moving at all, but in their minds, both of them could clearly see an image of Nanao attacking. In response, the man also sent out his will into the battlefield. This give-and-take was exactly the same as shadow matching—and the more experienced the duelists were, the more realistically their clash was reproduced. 

“…! …! …!” 

“……” 

It wasn’t long after they started before beads of sweat formed on Nanao’s face. Across from her, Garland remained calm and unperturbed. 

Oliver swallowed. Even if he couldn’t see the battle unfolding in their minds, it wasn’t hard to imagine. 

The duel lasted less than two minutes. Eventually, to no one’s surprise, Nanao sank to one knee. 

“…Impressive. You decapitated me one hundred and two times.” 

“Ah, but you surpassed my expectations. And at such a young age, too. Yamatsu swordsmanship is truly amazing.” 

Honest admiration on his face, Garland praised the girl’s sword skills. As Nanao struggled to catch her breath, he continued. 

“I will analyze our duel and use it to inform my teachings. I’m sorry to make you wait, but for the rest of today, please observe the other students.” 

“Understood… Although I require a few more minutes before I can move.” 

The girl nodded, desperately trying to get her breathing under control. Finally, she got up, bowed to Garland, and staggered toward the other students. Her eyes quickly met Oliver’s, and she grinned. 

“It ended before I could find even one opening. The world is vast, is it not, Oliver?” 

“…Yeah, it is.” 

Her expression was 30 percent frustration at not being strong enough, 70 percent excitement at having met a new, formidable opponent. He felt a pang of jealousy at how refreshed she looked, and he couldn’t stop his mouth from running. 

“If you’re looking for formidable opponents in the world of sword arts, Master Garland is one of the strongest and most famous men out there. Surely you must have realized from your duel that I don’t even compare…” 

“Mm?” 

“…Aren’t you drawn to him, as a swordsman?” he asked hesitantly. 

Nanao snorted. “Let’s say there was a girl who was perfect in your eyes, whom no one could rival.” 

“?” 

“Then one day, the greatest beauty in the world appears before you. Would your feelings change?” she asked, turning the tables. 

At that surprising response, such a scenario popped into Oliver’s mind. “…They wouldn’t. I’d feel exactly the same as before the second girl appeared,” he replied without a moment’s hesitation. No matter how beautiful this hypothetical girl was, there wouldn’t be any room in his mind to consider her. To him, external beauty wasn’t something that could seize his heart and never let go. 

“I am the same.” 

Nanao smiled from ear to ear and looked at the boy with utter joy. Embarrassment exploded in Oliver like a geyser, and he quickly became hyperaware that others might be listening. It was just a random conversation, but this was the kind of thing you didn’t want others hearing, wasn’t it? 

“Okay, three-minute break. Anyone have questions?” 

Unaware of Oliver’s turmoil, Garland clapped his hands and called out to the students. One of them raised their hand instantly. 

“Me, Instructor Garland!” 

“Very well. What?” 

“I’ve been super curious, but can you use a ‘spellblade’?” 

The question was like a stone cast upon a calm water’s surface, sending whispers rippling through the class. Garland smiled an incredibly awkward smile. 

“…I knew it. Every year around this time, someone asks.” 

The students’ eyes glittered with curiosity. 

The sword arts instructor gazed at them, recalling years past. “My answer is ‘I can’t answer.’ I say it every year. But you knew that before asking, didn’t you?” 

Most of the students moaned unhappily. But seeing some of the others look confused, Garland continued. 

“I’m seeing some confusion. Very well, let me use this time to explain. In the world of sword arts, there are secret techniques known as ‘spellblades.’ Their definition is exceedingly simple—a technique unleashed from within the one-step, one-spell distance that will, without fail, kill the opponent. There is no way to resist them,” he said. This knowledge was hard to accept for the uninitiated. 

Nanao’s eyes opened wide in surprise and curiosity. 

“Of course, they are by and large a secret even to mages. It is not published anywhere how to access such knowledge, and their users are rarely revealed. Some even question if they truly exist. Even so, there is a never-ending stream of people like yourselves who want to know more. Long ago, I was the same.” 

Garland’s tone was half-joking, but Oliver could sense a bit of shame in the instructor’s reflection on his younger days. But quick as it came, it was gone. Garland spread the five fingers of his right hand and held them up for the students, adding the index finger from his left. 

“In total, there are six ‘spellblades’ in existence. Their number was frequently in flux at the dawn of sword arts, but for the last two hundred years, they have neither increased nor decreased. Many try to construct new spellblades, or analyze and break down the ones we already know of. And yet, after all these years, only six have stubbornly persisted.” 

The students swallowed. The history their instructor spoke of confirmed to them these things existed. 

“It goes without saying that these are unrealistic goals for sword arts students. However, I don’t believe it is meaningless to discuss. It simply stokes something inside your hearts, doesn’t it?” 

Garland grinned widely. Instantly, the hands of excited students shot up. 

“Instructor! Please give us a hint at least!” 

“Can the other instructors use them? What about the headmistress?” 

“What happens if two spellblade users clash?!” 

The questions rained down like a volley of arrows. Seeing them react exactly as he’d expected, Garland shrugged as in years past. 

“…As you can see, it’s a topic that can instantly ruin a class. Honestly, this always happens.” 

Oliver smiled wryly. He liked this instructor. 

“I won’t be taking any more questions. Now, return to your training. Your three minutes have long since passed!” 

The sound of his clapping hands signaled the end of the discussion. Oliver quickly returned his focus to his training. Nanao crossed her arms and hmm’d. 

“What a curious story that was. Oliver, did you know about these things?” 

“Well, only as much as he just explained. It’s the hottest topic among all new students.” 

For him, it was nothing new, but for someone like her who didn’t know about them, it was probably very stimulating. He imagined she was about to harass him with questions, but before she could… 

“Chatting instead of training? You must be quite confident, Mr. Horn, Ms. Hibiya,” a malicious third voice intruded. They turned to see a long-haired boy gripping his athame—Mr. Andrews. 

“We were just discussing spellblades, same as everyone else. No offense meant.” 

“Same as everyone else? …Are you talking about me, too?” 

The anger in his eyes grew as he glared at Oliver. He’d tried to choose his words carefully so as not to provoke him, but apparently, he’d failed at that. Oliver attempted to smooth things over. 

“I’m not trying to pick a fight with you. You’re making too much of this, Mr. Andrews.” 

“I see. So I’m the one lacking confidence, eh? That’s what you’re trying to say?” 

His reaction only worsened. Oliver could see that nothing he said would change things. Chela, who had been practicing nearby, picked up on this and stepped in. 

“Enough of this, Mr. Andrews. Continue to criticize every little thing he says, and I’ll start to doubt your integrity.” 

“Butt out, Ms. McFarlane. It’s him I’m talking to.” 

Trying to remain neutral wasn’t going to work this time. Mr. Andrews was too fixated on Oliver for him to play this off smoothly. 

“…So what exactly would satisfy you?” 

“Isn’t it obvious? Or is that sword in your hand a prop?” He glared at Oliver’s right hand and pointed the tip of his athame at him. “A duel, with spells allowed. Then I won’t lose to a bunch of nitwits like you!” 

He was looking for a fight, and Oliver sighed at the boy’s raw pugnacity. 

“Fine, I’ll do it. You’re okay with a practice duel, right?” 

“Call it whatever you want, Mr. Horn. Stand before me. I’ll return the humiliation you gave me ten times over!” Andrews snarled as he angrily turned. Was he going to get Master Garland’s approval? Oliver doubted he’d allow a full-on fight at this stage, but he followed anyway, feeling as if it almost didn’t concern him. 

“You can’t, Oliver.” 

Nanao’s hand grabbed Oliver’s robe and pulled him back. 

“…Nanao?” 

“There is no fight in you. You intend to lose on purpose, don’t you?” 

Her words pierced his heart. 

Her eyes wavering, the girl continued. “I don’t want that. I absolutely do not want that. I don’t want to see my destined partner fall in such a hollow manner. It would be too—too sad. I don’t think I could bear it.” 

Tears were welling in her eyes as she pleaded with him. 

“It’s not just about winning or losing. If you’re going to fight, then give it your all. Please.” 

“Well, I…” 

It wasn’t the duel that concerned him, but rather his relations with others going forward. But as he tried to explain his rather pretentious logic to Nanao, he suddenly realized his own error. Panicking, he returned his gaze to the front. Andrews’s eyes, wide with shock, told the entire story. 

“You—you think so little of me? You don’t even consider me worthy of a serious fight?” 

“Wait, Mr. Andrews! That’s not it—” 

It was too late to make excuses, but his brain wanted to anyway. He should have denied it immediately. If his plan was to lose and make his opponent look good, then he had to maintain the act as if he was serious. 

“Y-you… Youuu!” 

The howl of the boy’s injured pride filled the classroom. By responding, even barely, to Nanao’s statement, Oliver had signaled to his opponent that he had no interest in fighting him. This was worse than any verbal abuse and had resulted in injuring Andrews’s pride. 

“Enough talk over there! Focus! A hundred more strikes from your partner as punishment!” 

The instructor’s shout stayed Andrews’s hand just before he drew his sword. 

Chela used this opportunity to jump in. “You heard the instructor. Save your duel for another day, you two. Understand?!” 

She looked at them both in turn, moderating with a sterner voice than she’d ever used before. 

Andrews gritted his teeth, gave Oliver one last dirty look, and gruffly turned on his heel. 

“God…” 

After class, Oliver and Chela told the others to go on ahead. In a corner of the empty hall, they stood with their backs against the wall. 

“I know you mean no ill will, but that went about as badly as it could have. At this point, I doubt it will be easy to repair your relationship.” 

Chela sighed. Pressing a hand to his head, Oliver moaned. 

“I know I shouldn’t have answered that way, and I won’t make that mistake again. But why was Mr. Andrews so insistent anyway? Why is he so obsessed with proving his strength? It’s way more than his personality at this point.” 

This was the most mysterious part. Bitter regret colored Chela’s expression. 

“He wasn’t always like that. I probably bear some responsibility in that regard.” 

“You do? How…?” 

“We grew up together. Our families have been intertwined for generations.” 

Oliver’s eyes went wide in surprise. From their brief conversations, he’d sensed they were acquaintances, but he’d never expected them to be so closely connected. 

“Since we’re the same age, he inevitably ended up being compared with me growing up. I won’t share any details to preserve his honor, but I believe he always felt that his position was threatened.” 

Her words were conflicted and bitter. Oliver tried to imagine the environment they’d grown up in, as two children of historic houses. Constantly compared by those around them and forced to compete in everything—the pressure must have been massive. 

“Due to that, we mostly stay away from each other now. If you asked whose side I am on, I’d say yours, since you’re my current friend. However, I don’t want you two to fight like today. If you get to know him, he has plenty to like.” 

Oliver gritted his teeth. Even the compassion Chela was showing right now would probably come off as an insult to Andrews. She must have tried a million ways to help her childhood friend as he succumbed to negativity. Stern lecturing, kind chiding—but it all had the opposite effect, and her only choice was to give him space. 

He sighed heavily. Now this was even more difficult. After imagining the boy’s story, he could no longer describe him as simply “a nasty person.” 

“Now that I know, I can’t simply disregard that—” 

As he spoke, something clicked inside him. This was his friend’s earnest wish—he already owed her for helping him in their first class together. 

“Next time, I’ll try my best to slowly build up our relationship. I’ll even apologize if need be. I’d like to think I’m sensible enough.” Oliver shrugged as he assured Chela of his intentions. A pained smile appeared on her lips. 

“I’m glad you’d say that, truly… But I can’t ask you to apologize when you’ve done nothing wrong. I wonder if Mr. Andrews even has the presence of mind to accept an apology from you.” She paused for a moment, a terribly lonely look on her face. “I also don’t want to disillusion Nanao, either.” 

“It’s way too hard to do both,” Oliver moaned, remembering her on the verge of tears. He didn’t know what to do anymore. Both of them remained silent for a while; then, as if to banish the stagnation, Chela spoke up. 

“It’s no use standing here worrying together. Let’s change the topic…to Katie.” 

He jumped. The moment Oliver heard his friend’s name, his thoughts switched over to her. 

“That’s the other big problem, huh?” he said. “My eyes nearly popped out of my skull when I saw her standing between that instructor’s wand and the troll.” 

“Yes, she’s of much stronger character than I thought. Not everyone could have said what she did after suffering a pain curse. I’m sure she’ll continue to grow.” 

“I agree…as long as she doesn’t accidentally get killed first.” 

“Precisely. Do you know what this is?” 

Chela pulled out a ball of paper scraps from her robe pocket. Drawn on its surface in red ink was a magic circle, and some creature’s fur seemed to be woven into the inner area. Oliver studied it for a bit before giving it his best guess. 

“…A magical catalyst? Looks like a tool for spying, maybe some kind of trap?” 

“I knew you’d recognize it. I recovered this in front of Katie’s room this morning,” Chela replied sternly. 

Oliver’s expression became instantly more serious. “…Is someone coming after Katie?” 

“I don’t see how it could be anything else. It’s not a lethal trap, but neither is it something we can pass off as a simple prank. Remember the parade incident? The perpetrator still hasn’t been caught. The academy is supposedly looking into it, though,” she said, holding the evidence of someone’s ill wishes in her hands. Her tone heavy, she continued. “In addition, Katie’s parents—I could never say this in front of her, but they’re a bit infamous even among the civil rights movement. Given that she’s their daughter, I can’t deny the possibility she might be getting caught in the crossfire.” 

“…All the elements for a disaster.” 

Realizing the gravity of the situation, Oliver put a hand to his chin and thought. Much of this was shrouded in mystery, but one thing was clear: Someone was targeting Katie. Whatever their objective, remaining silent wouldn’t improve the situation. 

“Okay, let’s look into this ourselves. First, do you think you can narrow down who set that trap? It’s most likely someone from the girls’ dorm.” 

“Of course. It would be ideal if I could simply lie in wait for their next move, but that relies a bit too much on this person making a mistake,” Chela replied calmly, returning the catalyst to her robe pocket. 

Oliver nodded. “We need to be more proactive. Would it be possible to figure out the perpetrator behind that parade incident, too?” 

“That would prove difficult. We might be able to learn something if we gathered statements from eyewitnesses, but once the perpetrator realized our plans, it would all fall apart.” 

“What a dilemma. If only there was someone other than a student or faculty member present at the time…” 

Suddenly, he stopped. His thoughts arriving at one possibility, Oliver lifted his head. 

“Wait, there was! Not someone, but something!” 

“Why, good day to you!” 

“Nice to see you again!” 

“Did you enjoy the welcome party?” 

“No one peed themselves, I hope.” 

“Kya-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” 

Three days later, on the weekend, they acted on Oliver’s idea. The six of them stood before the noisy dahlia flower bed, having second thoughts. 

“Hey, Oliver. I understand the logic in coming here, but…” 

“Don’t, Guy. I didn’t pick this because I wanted to,” Oliver cut him off. Watching the plants swaying their stalks in excitement, he continued. “But this is what we have to work with. These pride plants witnessed the entire parade. With this many ‘eyes,’ the dahlias would’ve seen if anyone was acting weird.” 

This was why they were all here on their precious day off. The Flower Road was outside the academy gates, but it was still on Kimberly property. It was easy to get permission to visit from the faculty. They just had to remember to come back to campus in time, or a fearsome punishment awaited them. 

“I see. Clever indeed. However, is this really the best spot?” asked Nanao. “The incident happened right past the academy gates. This area is too far away.” 

“It’s fine. Pride plants with roots in the same earth all share the same memories. It’s better that we’re harder to see from campus.” 

There were pride plant flower beds within the academy gates as well, which the ones outside could pull memories from. However, along with the reason he’d already given, there was another serious reason to go out of their way to come here. 

“I get that. But the biggest problem is, how exactly are you planning to get a straight answer outta these things?” Guy frowned, clearly not expecting much. 

Listening to their conversation, the dahlias all stretched out their stems. 

“Why, what’s this? Do you have a question?” 

“Don’t be shy. Ask away!” 

“On one condition, that is!” 

The eager plants were like a chorus. 

Oliver sighed. “And there you have it. There’s only one way, Guy,” he said, his voice low. Guy’s face darkened more and more by the second. 

“No way—dude, you’re not thinking of doing Hell’s Greatest Comedy Hour right now, are you?” 

“What choice do we have? I’ve already made up my mind.” 

Guy swallowed. The other four didn’t seem to understand. Oliver turned to them and explained, hoping to warm them to his cause. 

“The pride plants bloom differently every year during the entrance ceremony. What determines the magnitude isn’t someone’s green thumb, but a single event held right before. A ton of sixth-years gather here and do their best to amuse the plants. Essentially…they try to make them laugh with a show,” he explained. More than any fertilizer, the magical flowers preferred human comedic routines. 

“The execution of this contract is the only way to retrieve accurate information from them. Did you each think of a joke like I asked?” Oliver looked at each of them in turn, incredibly serious. 

Katie snickered. “You’re so dramatic! It’s not that serious. We just have to do something funny and make them laugh, right?” She stepped forward, brimming with confidence. “Let me start. I’ll get them giggling in a flash so we can get to finding whoever’s after me!” 

The dahlias cheered expectantly at the girl’s conviction. 

“Are you first?” 

“I wonder what she’ll do.” 

“I’m excited.” 

“Heh-heh-heh! Don’t laugh so hard your petals fall out, now. Everyone ready?” she said fearlessly as she retrieved a folded-up white cloth from her pocket. All spread out, it was large enough to loosely wrap a small person. Katie used it to cover her head with a flourish. 

“Then here we go! …Radish!” 

The moment she spoke, she wrapped the cloth around her and dropped to the ground, arching her back and hugging her limbs into her chest. Given the unevenness of her whole body covered in the cloth, she did somewhat resemble a radish. 

“……” 

“……” 

“……” 

“………?” 

But it didn’t seem to matter. When the audience laughter didn’t come, the girl started to panic. 

“H-huh? …Onion!” 

This time she flipped over and, body still curled up like before, put her arms together and stretched them straight up. The white, round sphere with a slight tip sort of resembled a peeled onion. 

But as expected, it didn’t matter. The silence grew heavier. Placing her last hopes on this next trick, Katie instantly got to her feet and spread her arms and legs wide. 

“M-mandragora!” 

The mandragora was a magical plant with roots shaped like a human. Revealing her human body after pretending she was a vegetable wasn’t a total non sequitur—it was a kind of punch line to a common three-part bit. It wasn’t too difficult to figure out with a little thought. 

“……” 

“……” 

“……” 

“……” 

But once again, it didn’t seem to matter. 

“Yeah, that’s enough.” 

“Could you come a little closer?” 

“Yeah, get over here. Right now!” 

The dahlias paused their judging to call Katie over. Nervously, she approached the flower bed. The moment she was close enough, their stalks extended and surrounded her with a cacophony of criticism. 

“What was that, a children’s talent show?” 

“Where was the comedy? What was I supposed to laugh at?” 

“And you asked if I was ready! Ready for what, disappointment?” 

“All you’ll get with a performance like that is crickets! And then they’ll come eat all my petals!” 

“Tell me, do you think comedy is some sort of game?” 

“Do you think life is some sort of game?” 

Their vicious words rained down on the frozen girl. After over three minutes of constant castigation, Katie turned around, shivering and tearful, and jumped into her friend’s arms. 

“Sniff… Waaaah! Nanaooo!” 

“There, there, Katie. There, there, ’tis all right.” 

Nanao consoled the crying Katie, patting her head gently. 

Comforted by a girl her own age, the curly-haired girl wailed. “That was my best joke! Mama and Papa always burst out laughing when I did it!” 

“Ah, no wonder… You have very kind parents,” Chela said, wiping away a tear while thinking of the warm family Katie had grown up in. Their first attempt had bombed spectacularly. 

Oliver spoke up, an unpleasant expression on his face. “Now you all see that the pride plants are incredibly harsh critics. That’s where the true hell of this event is. If you don’t make them laugh, they’ll surround you and rip you and your joke to shreds. The shock has left people bedridden for days.” 

“I’d heard stories, but that was more terrible than I could have imagined.” 

“I—I don’t want to do this! No way I’m gonna stand up just to be slaughtered!” Pete violently shook his head and shrunk back. 

Seeing the fear of his friends, Oliver felt guilty and stepped forward himself. 

“This was my suggestion, so I’ll go second.” 

The boy faced the fearsome audience head-on, and the plants quickly focused their attention on him. 

“Are you next?” 

“That first girl must have been a mistake.” 

“He looks prepared. I’m expecting big things.” 

The flowers laid on the pressure before falling silent. In the tense silence, the boy prepared his act by burying a seed in the ground. He pointed his wand at it and chanted a growth spell. The seed sprouted and grew before their eyes, turning into a young tree. It twisted in complicated ways, eventually forming a small table. The secret to this was the treatment he’d given this special seed beforehand. 

Atop the finished table, he placed a book he’d retrieved from his pocket and a single teacup. Pete squinted; judging from the book’s cover, it was a magical handbook for beginners. With everything ready, Oliver took a deep breath and opened his mouth wide. 

“I present to you, The Novice Mage’s Failure!” 

The moment Chela heard this, her eyes went wide in amazement as she watched. 

“That skit…?! Are you serious, Oliver?” 

“Huh? Y-you know it?” 

“Of course! It’s a classic, known as the height of the magical comedy world. The techniques required are so high-level and complex that hardly anyone does it these days.” 

Pressure mounting from both sides, Oliver began. First, he opened the book on the table and read the first page. After some hemming and hawing, he nodded and closed the book. Then, with a look of confidence, he brandished his wand, pointed it into the air, and chanted: 

“Ffffflammaaa!” 

A flame erupted not from his wand tip—but from behind and right into his butt. 

“Oh! Ouch!” 

Oliver jumped at the burst of heat. Once the heat had subsided, he looked with confusion between his wand and the book. As Katie and the others gawked, Chela explained excitedly. 

“First, the preliminary test: He tries to cast a fireball, but the fire comes from behind him and burns his butt. He mispronounces the word flamma, drawing out the beginning and end to make it dramatic.” 

Chela nodded to herself. 

As his friends watched, Oliver closed the book, left it on the table, and readied his wand again. 

“Ffffflammaaa!” 

Boof! went the flame. But again, instead of coming from his wand, it erupted somewhere else, this time from the teacup behind him. 

“…? Ffffflammaaa! Ffffflammaaa!” 

Not realizing the fire was appearing in the wrong place, Oliver repeatedly chanted the spell to no avail. Worked into a frenzy, he spun around and reached for the book on the table. 

“??? ????? …Ouch!” 

While checking the instructions, he had licked his lips and absentmindedly reached for the teacup—only to let out a howl and drop it. 

As he blew on his fingers to cool them, Chela smiled and explained further. “Now the second part. The fire refuses to come out of his wand, instead heating up the teacup nearby. Frustrated, he takes a tea break and, in reaching for the cup, burns his hand and screams. The flow is so natural, too. He’s really practiced a lot.” 

“Um…he’s doing it on purpose, right?” Katie asked. 

“Of course. By employing difficult-to-control spatial magic, he can fake very humorous failures. That’s the secret to his act. The next bit requires some real creativity,” Chela said expectantly. 

Meanwhile, Oliver, having given up after two failures, was perusing a different page of the book. He withdrew two seeds from his pocket and buried them at his feet. He was going to try that growth enhancement spell he’d used earlier to set up the skit. 

“Brrrogoroccio!” 

He chanted another spell with incorrect pronunciation, then looked at the dirt at his feet and waited a moment. But nothing happened. 

“Brrrogoroccio! Brrrogoroccio!” 

Convinced the spell wasn’t strong enough, he repeated it again and again. Then something strange happened. The seeds, which had been planted in front of him, sprouted from behind and stretched upward. 

“What…?! Oliver, behind you! Behind you!” Katie shouted frantically as the plant grew. But the “novice mage” Oliver was playing didn’t hear her. Unbeknownst to him, the plant continued to grow. 

“??? …Wow!” 

The moment he turned around to consult the book, he found himself staring into a sunflower in full bloom. Surprised, he slipped and fell on his butt. He stared up vacantly at the yellow petals for a few seconds. Then he gathered himself, stood up, and tried casting straight at the sunflower. 

“…Brrrogoroccio! Brrrogoroccio!” 

He repeated the spell loudly, but the sunflower didn’t budge. Instead, the ground behind him began to rumble. Breaking free from the earth, a stalk shot up. 

“????? Ohhhhhh!” 

Sensing something, the boy turned around to see a second giant sunflower in full bloom. Caught between the two giant plants, the boy shouted and fell over. Chela’s cheering followed. 

“Bravo! Not only did he remotely cast a luxuriate spell, he simultaneously guided the plant’s growth! What a high-level technique! Without even looking behind him, he managed to get the plant at exactly eye level! Who wouldn’t be impressed? Oh, and look how beautifully symmetrical the plants’ curves are!” 

She heaped on the praise. A little disturbed by her excitement, Pete and Guy whispered to each other. 

“…Yo, apparently he’s doing some crazy magic. Can you tell?” 

“No…but I have learned that Chela loses her mind when she starts talking about something she loves.” 

None of the amazing things Oliver was doing made an impact on the two of them, who had far less of a discerning eye for magic. While they studied him intently and tried to understand, Oliver escaped from the sunflower sandwich and consulted a different page of the book. At last, it was time for the finale. 

“Ducere!” 

He chanted and waved his wand, casting a spell to summon a pebble from far away. His pronunciation was on point this time, but after waiting a few seconds, the rock remained in place. Oliver cocked his head. 

“Ducere! Ducere! Ducere! Ducere!” 

He tried the spell over and over, hoping for at least one success as he tried every pebble he could see. Five casts later, nothing happened. Clearly frustrated, the boy stamped the ground. 

“Mm…? Nothing happened this time.” 

“Shhh! It’s starting now!” Chela sharply shushed Nanao. 

The novice mage, growing sick of his repeated failures, picked up his book and teacup and was about to give up on practicing. Just as he spun around and took a step, the five inert pebbles suddenly shot at his back. 

“Ohhh?!” 

The projectiles all landed direct hits, and Oliver face-planted onto the ground. With that final piece of acting, Chela erupted into applause. 

“How… How wonderful! He timed the delay spells so precisely that the five rocks all flew at him simultaneously! So many differing factors like size and distance, yet they all landed at the same time! What skill! I’m running out of ways to praise you, Oliver!” 

She continued to clap vigorously. Eventually, Oliver stood up, brushed the dirt from his robe, and bowed respectfully to his audience. The plants sat there silently judging him as he waited for their scores. 

“Hmmm… Thirty points.” 

“What the…?!” 

Their decision struck him like lightning, and he goggled in shock. 

The dahlias continued. 

“Well, it was certainly impressive.” 

“Yep, yep.” 

“Good work. I can tell you practiced a lot.” 

They unenthusiastically complimented him before mercilessly cutting to the quick. 

“But, well…it wasn’t exactly funny.” 

“……!” 

“Did anyone laugh while watching that?” 

“I certainly didn’t. Even if it was impressive.” 

“I saw someone singing high praises, but that was for the techniques employed.” 

Chela gasped and looked at her four friends. Their expressions were awkwardly apologetic, cruelly giving credence to the plants’ words. 

“There’s too much tension in your act.” 

“It’s hard to approach, like traditional art. Feels like we’re being forced to watch you show off.” 

“All we want is some much more natural laughs.” 

Their words were daggers, gouging out Oliver’s heart. It felt as if they were denying the very core of the path of comedy he’d dedicated his life to. The impact from such a blow left him dizzy, and he sank to his knees. Katie hurriedly ran over to him. 

“O-Oliver…!” 

“…I knew it. Oh, I knew it…! My art is just cheap tricks! I can master the details of the technique, but it has no soul. And I knew that, I really did! But—but how do I find that soul? I learned the theories of my predecessors, practiced for ages until my techniques were perfect, yet nothing! How else can I improve…?!” 

He clawed at the earth in anguish. His friends rushed to find the words to console him. 

“Wh-what do we say? Guy, do you know?!” 

“No idea! Pete, say something!” 

“Don’t push this on me just because you can’t think of anything! Um, uh…w-want some candy?!” 

They were starting to panic as they failed to think of something. Chela crossed her arms, a stern look on her face. 

“Oh dear. Normally, I’m on the audience side of magical comedy, so there’s no way I can surpass that. If Oliver isn’t good enough, then we have no chance.” 

It felt as if they’d suddenly hit a dead end. Just then, Nanao stepped forward proudly. 

“Seems we find ourselves in a predicament. Heh-heh-heh! Then let the star take the stage.” 

“Nanao? You’re a comedian?” 

“But of course. I was always the main act during my village’s festivities,” she said confidently. She took off her cape and handed it to Chela, then fearlessly stood before the dahlias. “Now, monstrous flowers, behold! My special belly dance!” 

And with that, she suddenly grabbed the bottom of her blouse. Her stomach started peeking out, when suddenly, Chela and Katie stormed forward and grabbed her by both arms. 

“…Hwuh? Why are you two grabbing me?” Nanao looked in confusion between her friends. 

Chela gravely shook her head. “I’m sorry, Nanao. According to this country’s ethics, a young lady exposing her skin in broad daylight is not a form of art. Katie! Keep her arm secure, please!” 

“Right! Th-that was too close…” 

Katie nodded, and the two of them dragged Nanao away. Not understanding why she was stopped, Nanao continued to swivel her head between them. 

As their third participant fizzled out, Guy sighed and scratched the back of his head. 

“…Oh well. Guess it won’t hurt to try,” he said and stepped in front of the flowers. Chela’s eyes went wide. 

“Guy, are you serious? They’ll cut you to shreds if you aren’t even remotely funny.” 

“I know. But they’re just plants. I’m not that sensitive,” he replied with a shrug. He began to hum a cheerful melody. 

“Doo doo duh da-doo! ? Doo doo duh da-doo! ?” 

His hands and feet moved with the rhythm. Keeping to the beat, he suddenly stuck his hand into his cape. 

“Bell pepper! ? Bell pepper! ?” 

Out came a fresh-looking green vegetable. Holding it in one hand, he bit into it raw. It crunched loudly as he chewed. Then he swallowed, smiled, and gave a thumbs-up. 

“De-li-ci-ous!” he said dramatically, and he began humming the “Doo doo duh da-doo! ?” melody and dancing. It was so bizarre that Katie couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Carrot! ? Carrot! ?” 

Next, he retrieved a bright-orange carrot from his cape. He held it with both hands in front of his body, put the tip to his lips—and curled them back, revealing his front teeth. Like a squirrel, he nibbled on the carrot with impressive speed. After that sudden funny face, Chela did a spit take and had to cover her mouth as she laughed. 

“De-li-ci-ous!” Guy said in his signature dramatic voice, sticking his thumb up once he’d eaten the carrot up to the top. Yet again, he started humming and dancing, this time retrieving an onion from his cape. 

“Onion! ? Onion! ?” 

He peeled the onion as he sang. His friends watched him, on edge—was he really going to bite into it? And once he was done peeling, he did indeed bite into the onion as they watched. Chomping through it like a crunchy apple, he gulped it down. As soon as he did, he stuck his tongue out from the spiciness and held his head with one hand. 

“……De-li-ci-ous!” 

Tears welling in his eyes, he forced himself to give a thumbs-up. Pete nearly fell over in hysterics. Once he’d recovered from eating the whole onion, Guy went back to singing, apparently having not learned his lesson. 

“Zucchini! ? Zucchini! ?” 

The fourth vegetable he produced made Katie and the others gawk. It really was a zucchini. Except this one was massive at over ten inches and as thick around as the boy’s arm. There was no way he could eat the whole thing. 

His friends watched anxiously as Guy spun around, turning his back to them. As the audience was wondering what he was up to, they heard a gwomp like something being shoved into an ill-fitting space. Suddenly, they noticed a strange protuberance in the silhouette of Guy’s head. Everyone waited with bated breath as he slowly turned. 

“Dewishus!” 

The entire zucchini was stuffed into his mouth, his cheeks stretching to the side like a frog’s. This didn’t stop him from delivering his line, though. A hush fell upon the group, like the calm before a storm. 

“““““““GYA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA- HA-HA-HA!””””””” 

The pride plants burst out laughing, their dignity be damned. Katie, Chela, Nanao, and Pete clutched their stomachs and covered their mouths, wheezing. 

“…! …! …!” 

“Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Oh my god! Oh my god!” 

“W-wait…! I—I can’t, my stomach…!” 

The laughs just kept coming. Seeing that his joke had been successful, Guy removed the zucchini from his mouth and bit into it as he walked over. 

“Funny joke, eh? Guess it was worth a shot after all.” 

“Huff, huff… Guy, what in the world…?” Chela asked between gasps for air, wiping the tears from her eyes. 

Pete answered for him. “Th-that was based on a nonmagical comedian’s joke. I’ve seen their act before. This gentleman pulls out vegetable after vegetable from his pockets, then wolfs them down and strikes a pose… That’s all…,” the boy recalled, trying to keep the laughs from resurging. 

Guy proudly smacked him on the shoulder and grinned. “The zucchini was my own thing. I cast a softening spell on my mouth to make it flexible beforehand. I’ve always liked nonmagical comedy. Sometimes I’d even sneak out to go see shows. This was my favorite gag. You could even get a kid to eat their veggies with it.” 

The boy smugly rubbed the bottom of his nose. Behind him, a figure rose like a ghost from the grave. 

“Guy…” 

“Whoa! O-Oliver?!” 

The low moan made him jump. Before he could move, Oliver grabbed both of his shoulders in an iron grip. 

“You…,” he rasped desperately. “How…?! How did you do it? I worked so hard, but it was as natural as breathing for you…!” 

“C-calm down, Oliver! Your face is starting to scare me!” 

“I understand how you feel, Oliver. Go ahead and cry. No one will think less of you for your tears,” Chela said mournfully, gently putting her hand on his back. By the time the kids finished talking, the dahlia’s riotous laughter had finally begun to subside. 

“Ah-ha-ha-ha! Mm, what a surprise!” 

“I haven’t seen such a masterpiece in a long time.” 

“The previous two got my hopes down so much I laughed extra hard.” 

“These new first-years are nothing to scoff at. Not so good with consistency, however.” 

The dahlia relayed their comments one after the other. 

Seeing their reaction, Katie suddenly remembered something. “Oh! Then will you answer our question?” 

“Mm, I’d forgotten all about that,” Nanao said, clapping her hands together. 

“I think a lot of you did,” Pete added, sighing tiredly. 

The dahlias vigorously bounced their flowers up and down. 

“Yes, of course.” 

“After those laughs, of course. The favor must be repaid.” 

“Ask me anything. What do you want to know?” 

“Well, you see…” 

Nervous, Katie explained the situation. Once she’d finished, the flowers thought for a few seconds. 

“Oh, the parade incident? Yeah, there was someone acting suspicious,” they replied easily, almost making the group’s previous efforts seem pointless. “They were right behind you.” 

They executed their plan at noon the next day so as to catch their target unawares. 

“I know this is sudden, but can you come with us, Ms. Mackley?” Oliver asked, blocking the hall. “We have some questions for you.” 

With nowhere to go, the girl looked at him crossly. “D-do you have a problem here? Move aside.” 

“We will once you answer our questions, Ms. Mackley.” 

Chela appeared from around the corner behind her. The moment panic started to show on Mackley’s face, Katie quickly strode up to her. 

“…!” 

“Let’s just cut to the chase. Are you the one who cast a spell on me on the day of the entrance ceremony?” Katie asked, looking directly into the girl’s eyes. 

Succumbing to the pressure, Mackley averted her gaze. “I don’t know what you’re—” 

“She’s guilty.” 

“Guilty.” 

The moment she tried to deny it, Oliver and Chela cut her off. The girl froze, and they began to offer their analysis. 

“Her eyes, her face, her disrupted magical flow, that stiffness in her throat—ironic that only her words lie.” 

“I agree. You aren’t nearly cunning enough to fool me, Ms. Mackley.” 

“…!” 

Obvious fear appeared on her face as she melted under their cross-examination. Her secret exposed, Katie stepped in to question her, anger clear as day. 

“So it was you… Why? Why would you do that?!” 

“I—I told you, I don’t know what you’re—” 

“We have eyewitnesses, Ms. Mackley. There’s no point in playing dumb. If we report this to the faculty, you’ll most likely be placed under a confession spell.” 

Oliver matter-of-factly backed her into a corner when she tried to weasel her way out of the interrogation. The moment Mackley heard the words confession spell, her expression became twisted with fear. She knew the pain that entailed. 

“If you admit to your actions and tell us your motive as well as who else is involved, we’ll have no reason to escalate this. So will you confess?” 

He laid out the conditions for her, making it easier to come to a decision. Even so, the girl hesitated some more, calculating her safety versus her secret. Finally, the scales tipped. 

“I—I never intended for that to happen. I just wanted to scare you a bit…!” she desperately explained, doing a complete one-eighty from just moments before. 

Chela studied her. “So you admit it. Now, calm down and tell us bit by bit. First, what was your motive for targeting Katie?” 

“…M-my family are proper mages. I was taught that pro–civil rights people and demi-human lovers are a blight on the magical community.” 

“So you simply didn’t like her philosophy?” Oliver summarized her confession, his voice like steel. The girl nodded. 

This didn’t sit well with Katie. “Then say it to my face! Why would you go and spring a surprise attack on me?” 

“……!” 

“Katie’s right. All you achieved was making your faction look bad. Very shortsighted of you, Ms. Mackley,” Chela said with a sigh. The girl looked at the floor and gritted her teeth as Chela continued. “I’d love to lecture you more, but we have priorities, so let’s move on. Who were you working with? You couldn’t have bewitched Katie and incited the troll at the same time.” 

The moment Chela asked, Mackley’s head snapped up, and she shook it from side to side. 

“I told you, you’re wrong! It wasn’t supposed to be like that! All I did was make Ms. Aalto run toward the parade. Then all of a sudden, the troll came at her, and…” 

The girl begged them to believe her. Oliver and Chela carefully studied the change in her expression before coming to a difficult conclusion. 

“…She doesn’t seem to be lying.” 

“…No.” 

“Huh? What does that mean?” Katie cocked her head in confusion. 

Oliver adjusted his conjecture and laid it out for her. 

“This girl was the one who attacked you, but she has no idea what happened to the troll. Perhaps she was being unconsciously used, or a separate perpetrator just so happened to act at the same time…” 

“If that’s the case, then we can’t use her to obtain their identity,” Chela muttered as she crossed her arms. The three of them looked at one another as Mackley shrank into herself, quiet as a mouse. 

Kimberly had numerous school-run shops where students could buy snacks, drinks, an assortment of magical tools, and everyday essentials. The beverage corner in particular kept a constant stock of over twenty varieties of drinks, which were rotated on a constant basis except for the most popular staples. Ambitious new products often appeared: For example, the bloody orange juice from a few months ago was quite literally a cocktail of orange juice and chicken blood. According to the older students, it was “still drinkable; much better than the name suggested.” 

“Here, Oliver. You get the purple one.” 

“………Thanks.” Oliver handed Guy a coin for his trouble and took the bottle of noxious-colored liquid. More often than not, when buying new products at random, they’d pull a dud, but the risk was what drew the students in. Rather than the safe, tasty drink, it was the unknown they flocked to—perhaps this was part of being a mage. 

“…This thing just never ends,” Oliver said as he cautiously popped the cork. 

Sitting next to him, Chela had a flaming-red bottle in her hand. 

“Yes, it’s like trying to capture a lizard and coming up with only its tail. We still don’t know anything about what set off the troll.” As she spoke, she took a swig of her drink. She let it sit in her mouth for a bit before swallowing and frowned a bit. “…Angry Radish juice,” she muttered. It was a spicy magical vegetable used in smelling salts. Oliver was impressed she only needed a frown to deal with the burn. 

“However,” she continued, “we do know that this magical trap was set up by a first-year Ms. Mackley is acquainted with. As we expected, there is a conservative faction of new students who are out to make trouble for Katie.” 

“Rather than trying to find this other person, we should try to stop their actions before things get out of hand. If we leave them alone, the bullying will only escalate. Nanao and Pete might get caught in the cross fire, too.” 

Voicing his concerns, Oliver took a swig from his bottle himself. Suddenly, an intensely fishy taste raced through his throat and pierced his nose. This was definitely not the smell of something drinkable, but the taste was familiar. It was the mucus from a sea slug, which was often used as a component in magical drugs. Oliver struggled to keep the contents of his stomach down. 

“I’m concerned about that as well… Perhaps we need to consider a more political response,” Chela ruminated. 

Oliver waited for the assault on his mouth to subside before responding. 

“You could say we haven’t been treating this seriously enough. But—” 

As he spoke, he watched the scene before him. They were at the magical beasts compound that they’d visited before, together with Nanao, Guy, and Pete. Katie chugged her drink and, rolling up her sleeves, approached the troll cage. 

“I’m back! Today’s the day we become friends!” 

“Ha-ha, you sure are motivated. But there’s no need to rush. He doesn’t seem very happy today,” Miligan warned as Katie rushed ahead. 

The troll was curled up in a corner of the cage. It uttered a low growl, like a warning signal against humans. 

“Most of Kimberly’s trolls are used to humans, but this poor creature’s been like this ever since the incident at the parade,” said Miligan. “Won’t even touch his food. He just keeps growing weaker.” 

“He’s scared, the poor thing,” Katie said with pity. A bowl of troll food in one hand, she sidled up to the cage and called out to it. “Hey, there. It’s okay. I’m not your enemy. You must be hungry, right? Have some food.” 

“……” 

The troll remained curled up, merely staring at the girl. Katie wondered how she could get it to be less wary of her—and then an idea occurred to her. “Ms. Miligan, what’s in this?” 

“? It’s just your normal grain porridge. Why?” 

“Then it’s fine if I eat some?” 

Miligan’s eyes went wide. Without waiting for a response, Katie stuck her hand into the bowl, scooped up some of the goop, and put it in her mouth. She chewed the bland, unseasoned boiled grains and swallowed. 

“See? It’s fine. Nothing bad mixed in,” she said to the troll with a smile. Then she sat down and pushed the bowl slightly through the iron bars. “It’s no fun to eat alone, is it? Let’s eat together.” 

No one could say a word to stop her. They all knew this was her way of trying to get the creature to open up. 

Oliver smiled as he watched from a distance; he and Chela sighed at the same time. 

“…I don’t think I have the heart to tell Katie to be more mindful of what others think.” 

 

“Indeed… For better or for worse, Kimberly is full of strong wills. Katie is still growing; I don’t want to force a young sprout to bend,” Chela said with a sincere look. 

Oliver nodded in agreement. “We’ll just have to gain more allies among our class and the upperclassmen,” he added. “That’ll be the biggest deterrent against anyone who would mean her harm.” 

“Yes. In that sense, this friendship with Ms. Miligan is a stroke of good luck. A fourth-year who’s skilled, respectable, and pro-demi-human—I don’t think Katie could find a more reliable ally,” Chela said as she watched the witch standing behind Katie. She then turned to Oliver. “As for gaining more allies on campus, I’ll do my best to round some up. Have you any leads?” 

“Like I said before, my cousins are students here… If I explain the situation, they might lend a hand.” 

Chela cocked her head at his less-than-certain tone. “You don’t seem very enthused about the prospect.” 

“It’ll be like telling them I can’t handle my own problems not even a month into the semester… I’d hoped I wouldn’t need to ask for their help until much later down the road.” 

Oliver closed his eyes and sighed. 

A smile appeared on Chela’s lips. “I very much like that about you, Oliver.” 

“…? It just sounded like pathetic whining to me.” 

“No. You have pride in your heart, but you have no problem prioritizing your friends’ safety. And I very much like that quality.” She earnestly praised her friend—but the next moment, her expression clouded over. “Perhaps Mr. Andrews could have turned out the same…if he hadn’t had me to deal with.” 

She bitterly chewed her lip. Oliver had lost count of how many times she’d blamed herself for that. But even knowing that, as a friend by her side, Oliver refused to let her. 

While Katie attempted to communicate with the troll, Oliver and Chela held a strategy meeting on how to improve their situation. Before they knew it, weeks had passed—and things had only gotten worse. 

“Hey, did you see her just now? She went to visit the troll again.” 

Just before afternoon class was about to start, one of the students gathered in the spellology classroom started gossiping to his friends. Those who heard snorted derisively. 

“I can’t believe she hangs out with those dumb, barbaric creatures. Birds of a feather, I guess.” 

They all snickered at the open insult. Since Katie wasn’t in the room, they didn’t bother to keep their voices down. 

“……” 

Oliver, sitting in a corner of the classroom, pricked up his ears. Every day it seemed as if the gossip about his friend got worse. Trying his best to keep calm, he couldn’t help but feel a deep shame. 

“I mean, she can do what she wants, but I wish she’d at least bathe after. She brings that troll’s stench here and stinks up the classroom!” 

“Ah-ha-ha! Hey, that’s going too far!” 

The students held their noses in mockery. 

Oliver gritted his teeth hard. It was a terrible lie. Katie always made sure to have a deodorizing magical ointment on hand so that she didn’t gross out the other students. It was true that trolls had a unique body odor, but she’d never brought that into the classroom. She was a considerate girl, after all, and had never once forgotten to do her due diligence. 

“…The hell’s their problem?” 

Guy angrily made to stand up from his seat, but Oliver grabbed his arm. 

“Guy, Pete, just ignore them. There’s no point in starting a fight here.” 

“I’m certainly not gonna get involved… They’re just so blatant about it nowadays, though,” Pete said as he flicked through his textbook. The gossip continued. 

“Speaking of birds of a feather, her friends are a bunch of freaks, too, y’know?” 

“Oh, totally. Like that samurai!” 

“What a joke. Even after her seventh spellology class, she still can’t cast a single fire spell. That girl seriously can’t do anything except swing a sword around.” 

The small crowd burst out into cackling laughter. 

Guy’s lips twisted with anger. “…Now they’re making fun of Nanao, too. Bastards.” 

“Petty fools. Do they think belittling others makes them better?” 

“……” 

Oliver stared down in silence. The topic of the students’ gossip then turned back to Katie. 

“Hey, guess what—I saw that Aalto girl talking to a troll once.” 

“What? She actually talks to that thing? How?” 

“I know, right? …Pfft! It’s hilarious… She just, like, grunts!” 

“Huh? Grunts? …Like, troll grunts?” 

“Yeah, yeah! Exactly like a troll! It’s the weirdest sound!” The kid slapped his leg and laughed. But as if that wasn’t enough, he started imitating the sound. “Yeah, she goes like this: HOO! FOH! FOOH!” 

“Pfft—ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Oh my god, what even is that?” 

“Ugh, she’s so gross! That’s hilarious!” 

The students continued their mockery with abandon. This was no longer quiet gossip at all. Guy balled his fist tight. 

“…Hey. Do I still have to sit and listen to this?” 

“……” 

Oliver said nothing but gripped his friend’s arm firmly. Don’t do anything you’ll regret, he tried to say. If they let their emotions get the better of them and started a fight, the conflict would become more public and earn them more enemies. Not only would a possible resolution become even less attainable, but it would only end up hurting Katie further. 

“Huff! Huff! …We made it!” 

“We were almost late again!” 

Just then, completely unaware of the situation, Katie and Nanao came running in. The students instantly went quiet. Surely they weren’t brazen enough to keep this up in front of her. 

“Here she is! The expert herself!” 

“Huh?” 

But Oliver’s hopes were dashed. The boy who’d led the mockery attempted to involve the victim herself, now that she’d unwittingly stumbled into the midst of it. The students around him were surprised for a moment, but they quickly joined the flow. 

“Hey, do the troll calls. They’re your specialty, right?” 

“Is this how it goes? HOH! FOO!” 

“Huh? U-um…” 

The poor girl was extremely confused by the commotion. But to the heartless students, that just made it funnier. 

“Hey, what’s the matter? You forget how to speak human?” 

“See? That’s what you get for doing troll noises all day.” 

“Tough luck, Aalto! This classroom’s for humans!” 

“If you love that troll enough to visit it every day, why don’t you go shack up with it already?” 

Please shut your damn mouths, Oliver thought. All the filth they were flinging at her made him dizzy. If anything, the opposite was true: If this classroom was for humans, then the bullies were the ones who didn’t belong. Why weren’t they all locked up in cages? If they couldn’t recognize the vulgarity of their own actions, daring to laugh at a girl trying earnestly to save a life, then how were they any better than beasts? 

Nanao couldn’t just watch her friend be insulted, and Guy’s patience had run out a long time ago. 

“Scum…” 

“Hey, you pieces of sh—” 

They both started to defend her when— 

“Fragor.” 

—a violent magical explosion above their heads instantly halted all the bullying. 

“Gyah!” 

“Uwah!” 

“Yeek…!” 

The students who had been laughing at Katie screamed from the sudden blast and rain of sparks. The class fell silent for a few seconds—then those who realized where the spell had originated one by one turned their eyes to the caster. 

“Y-you!” 

“What the hell was that for?!” 

They glared daggers at Oliver. He was standing with his right arm in the air, wand still smoking. 

“H-hey, Oliver…?” Guy said nervously. Oliver’s expression remained frozen. 

“How are you in a fight, Guy?” he asked shortly. The resolve in his eyes was strong. Guy gaped for a second at Oliver’s stark change in demeanor—but the next moment, he flashed an incredibly satisfied grin. 

“…Ha-ha-ha. I like you even more now,” he replied and took a short breath. He punched his left palm with his right fist. “Leave the fighting to me. I ain’t a farmer’s son for nothin’.” 

“Don’t forget the daughter of a warrior,” came a voice from the classroom entrance. Nanao stood resolutely next to the shocked Katie. 

Hearing the taunts, the problem students flew into a rage. 

“Wh-what the hell’s your problem?” 

“You wanna go?!” 

Everyone drew their wands. No one made for their athames, not even Oliver—a last bit of self-restraint. Even so, there was no stopping the fight now. One student cast a spell in retaliation. Guy dropped low to dodge it, then planted the sole of his boot in their face and sent them flying. 

The entire classroom descended into chaos. 

“…I have no words…,” Chela muttered, sighing deeply as she looked at her friends in the dim room. The fighting hadn’t lasted even five minutes before an instructor came running. All the combatants were restrained, and naturally, Oliver and the others were tossed into the detention room. 

“I took down five of ’em. I’ve got no regrets.” 

“Indeed, I sent ten of those villains flying!” 

A nasty blue bruise rimmed Guy’s right eye, while Nanao appeared completely unharmed. Both proudly stated their accomplishments. They’d been shoved into smaller rooms separated by thin dividers, known as discipline cells. Katie and Pete, who hadn’t participated in the fighting, weren’t punished. They were here at the detention room with Chela, who had been attending a different class. 

“Guy and Nanao, I hate to say this, but…well, I wouldn’t expect otherwise. However, Oliver… I can’t believe you’re here, too.” 

It had come as a great shock to learn that Oliver had landed the first blow. He stared at the floor and gritted his teeth in the dark, cramped cell. 

“…I have no excuse. Go ahead—rake me over the coals,” he lifelessly managed to say. 

Unable to bear seeing him in this state, Katie flung herself against the iron bars of his cell’s tiny window. “I could never do that…!” she wailed, violently shaking her head. Her greatest regret was that she had been too stunned to participate in the fight. It hurt her more than anything to not be punished alongside her friends. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Oliver…! You got angry for my sake, didn’t you? You, Nanao, Guy… If only I’d defended myself, this wouldn’t have happened…!” 

“No… No, you’re wrong, Katie. This isn’t your fault. I just couldn’t keep myself in check when I needed to. That’s all,” Oliver said, thinking back on what he’d done, and put his head in his hands. 

In the cell to his right, Guy snorted. “Who cares? Gossip’s one thing, but those jerks were insulting you right to your face. If you’re gonna snap, that’s the time, in my opinion,” he said, not a shadow of regret on his face. 

Katie wiped her tears and turned to him. Honestly, she was the most surprised to see Guy there in the detention room. 

“…Guy, it made you angry when they were making fun of me, too?” 

“Eh? Uh, yeah. They were saying shit about my friend. Course I’m gonna be mad,” Guy replied blankly. The differences in their opinions over demi-humans that had continued since the day they met were irrelevant as far as he was concerned. 

Katie smiled, tears in her eyes. Next to her, Chela sighed. 

“…I have no intention of lecturing you for what’s in the past. Personally, I agree with Guy. But now, thanks to this incident, our conflict with those students will be impossible to reconcile.” She sympathized while also stating the harsh truth. Oliver nodded bitterly. Now that he was stuck in a cell, all the responsibility was on Chela. “The students who bullied Katie are probably looking for allies at the moment. Since you have a McFarlane on your side, they will be wanting an ally of similar noble stature. As for who would join them… Oliver, I think you already know.” 

Oliver gritted his teeth again. He’d had a bad feeling that fight could serve to fuse all the problems they’d been dealing with into one giant threat. The conversation died, replaced with a heavy silence. Suddenly, the faint fluttering of wings broke the quiet. 

“Oh…” 

“A familiar?” 

A small bat had flown in through the room’s entrance and was circling above Chela’s head. She extended her pointer finger as a makeshift perch, and the animal quickly landed. Tied to its neck was a sealed letter, which she took and opened. After reading it, she announced its contents to the room. 

“Speak of the devil, I suppose. Oliver, Nanao—Mr. Andrews has challenged you both to a duel.” 

Now, Oliver knew, his worst fears had been realized. 



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