《Netherwitch》 Chapter 1 -oOo- Chapter 1 -oOo-
Name Eric Swallow
Level 5 Exp 59 / 60
HP N/A MP 0 / 10
Str 0 Mag 2
Vit 0 Spr 1
Agl 0 Wit 2
A message box hung in midair, a blue screen torn from a digital universe floating in the real. ¡°Not much longer now,¡± Eric said with a grin. His heart pattered with excitement. Eric spared a glance at the clock. It was half past midnight, but he¡¯d happily stay up till morning if that was what it took to catch the big event. It wasn¡¯t the status window that had Eric on the edge of his seat. Oh, no, no. That was old news. Eric had received his System seventeen years ago at the tender age of twelve. No. What had Eric thrumming with anticipation was a rare and wonderful occurrence. He was going to level up. ¡°Five years,¡± he sighed. His office chair squealed as Eric leaned back. ¡°Has it really been five years? Well, I only get one experience point a month, so I suppose it must¡¯ve been five.¡± The System¡¯s algorithm was pretty simple. Ten points to level one. Twenty to level two. Thirty to three. The big reward? A single attribute point to be assigned freely. His dumb brat self had dumped two of them into magic. If Eric met the little idiot, he¡¯d slap him. The mental image conjured a chuckle. ¡°A pity I never found a way to gain experience faster,¡± Eric lamented, poking the blue window a few time. ¡°How about you offer a tutorial. Or a help screen? Is that too good for you? Are players supposed to stumble around and figure it out themselves? At least give me a quest.¡± The fat man snorted. As though that would ever happen. Lazy at school. Lazy at sports. Few things had gone right in Eric¡¯s boring life. He grew fast as child, out pacing his peers. Then he suddenly stopped at five foot nine. Not small. Not tall. Just average. And that wasn¡¯t the end of it. Eric¡¯s parents were both thin. Eric? One bowl of ice cream and he¡¯d put on three pounds. It hadn¡¯t been so bad when he was young. Back then he¡¯d been pudgy in an endearing sort of way. Also, he¡¯d been physically active, which left him with some semblance of shape. These days, even Eric felt disgusted by his three hundred pound frame. Health aside, his family life was nonexistent. No friends either. He had a few acquaintances at work, but they hardly counted. His job paid the bills sure, but it was the definition of dead end. On top of that, he still had thirty-thousand dollars in student debt. It could be worse, he supposed. Eric had a college degree. His head was above the water. Not everyone could say that. But, at twenty-nine years old, Eric could feel his soul withering. The future was a bleak tunnel into the darkness. The System and its blue message box a faint spark in that shadowy abyss. ¡°I suppose everyone has to accept the truth eventually,¡± Eric sighed. ¡°I know it. I¡¯m not special. But wasn¡¯t teasing me like this worse?¡± The fat man toyed with his status window, squeezing the frame just for fun. Then he placed it back in the air where he could check it. A smile stood on his lips. Levels were levels. No matter how dull life got, they always made him bounce with excitement. ¡°This time I¡¯m putting a point into vitality,¡± Eric told himself, patting his bulging stomach. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll lose a few pounds.¡± Older men were more practical. He didn¡¯t regret the two points spent on wit, but if the other three had been placed in vitality then maybe he¡¯d weigh two seventy-five. Or even two-fifty! Wouldn¡¯t that be grand? Ding. A bell tolled in his head. Eric perked. His glorious moment had arrived. ¡°Happy level up to me. Happy level up ¨C,¡± Eric¡¯s song stopped in mid-word. ¡°Wait a minute.¡± This wasn¡¯t the screen Eric had expected. Instead, it was a new one, the blue window superimposed in front of the first.
New Quest: Academic Invitation A mysterious academy has sent out an invitation. Intercept it and a chance at a new, magical life will be yours.
Quest Reward: Accepted by a mysterious academy.
Quest Failure: Die, pointlessly, at age 35, from heart disease.
Objectives: [ ] Complete all objectives before 01:27 am [ ] Proceed to 111th and Greenwood
¡­ Eric pinched his nose. Sometimes he hated his piece of shit System. ¡°How many times?¡± He growled, glaring at the blue window. ¡°How many times did I ask for the quest log? And now you give me one? What the hell. Am I supposed to check every few months? And what do you mean, die pointlessly at age thirty-five?¡± To release his frustration, Eric grabbed the box with both hands and twisted it into a furious knot. The window bent between his fingers like a post card. The words and letters remained unchanged, cool and aloof. When Eric let go, the twisted shape sprang back in an instant. Letting out a breath, Eric dropped into his chair. Metal groaned beneath him. Long seconds ticked by. ¡°When I find whoever designed you, I swear¡­.¡± Shaking his head, Eric read the message again. This time his expression was serious. The most important bit was: ¡®complete all objectives before 01:27 am¡¯. That was only, Eric glanced at the bottom corner of his computer, forty-five minutes give or take. Accounting for travel and preparation, Eric didn¡¯t have a whole lot of time to plan or think. And this might well be the only quest Eric received in his entire life. ¡­ Dead at thirty-five. ¡°Fuck,¡± Eric cussed, shoving his chair back violently to give himself space. ¡°Shit. This is my first quest and you tell me I¡¯ll die if I fail. Are you even giving me a choice?¡± ¡­ Shit. Heart disease at thirty-five. He could believe it. Eric could feel the weight of his body on his bones. He knew it wasn¡¯t healthy. But knowing and changing were two different things. And the System had never lied to him before. He sat back down. ¡°I really I should¡¯ve put all my points into vitality.¡± Not that he could do anything about it now. The lodestone of ennui became a boulder of depression. Six years. He only had six years to live. Six years of a shit life, in a shit job. What was it even for? To make his boss and landlord money, Eric scoffed. He stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, his mind conjuring shapes in the popcorn features. ¡°Sometimes, I wonder if I went insane seventeen years ago,¡± he murmured, leaning back. What was reality? Reality, Eric had long since concluded, was that which had meaningful consequence. Cryptocurrency was real to those it made rich or poor. Sports and video games were real to those who played professionally. But to the casuals, they were nothing more than games. Reality was just a word for things that had weight. Were levels real? Eric wasn¡¯t certain. Their impact was too ephemeral, weak to the point he couldn¡¯t say for sure. Was the System real? It was. He knew this because the information it held was real. The System had many layers and beneath the statistics was a screen that showed his biometrics in exact detail. And those numbers could be objectively checked. There wasn¡¯t a choice, was there? Having come to terms with his fate, Eric sat up. His right hand grabbed the mouse. With quick motions, he navigated the web. A map appeared on his computer screen. Checking the position twice, he stood. He was shaking. Eric fumbled his keys. He was sweating, nervous. A quest meant many things. Truth. Discovery. A beginning and an ending. The known was so much more comfortable than the new. ¡°I¡¯m really not made to be a protagonist,¡± Eric laughed to himself. He stepped out the door¡­. Then a second later he backpedaled and dug his rifle from the closet. Who knows. Maybe he¡¯d need it to shoot an owl or something. -oOo- The night was cold. Eric liked it. It was late autumn. The sky was a pit of black hued orange by the city lights. Illuminated strips of concrete wound through the hills, surrounded by shadowy buildings. Eric pulled into a parking lot near 111th and Greenwood. It was pitch dark. The lot held an abandoned store, the windows long since fogged by dirt and grime. The ground crackled beneath his boots, bits of sand and gravel shifting under his weight. Popping the trunk, Eric scanned the neighborhood. A string of lamps provided a safe glow along the sidewalk. Then his eyes returned to the quest.
New Quest: Academic Invitation A mysterious academy has sent out an invitation. Intercept it and a chance at a new, magical life will be yours.
Quest Reward: Accepted by a mysterious academy.
Quest Failure: Die, pointlessly, at age 35, from heart disease.
Objectives: [ ] Complete all objectives before 01:27 am [x] Proceed to 111th and Greenwood [x] Park in the small lot [ ] Equip the wrench in your trunk
Eric¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°Equip. Tch. Can¡¯t you say take or carry?¡± That kind of wording would¡¯ve been cute when he was twelve. Making light of the latest objective, Eric found the wrench. It was big and heavy. Eric had long since forgotten he¡¯d left it there. That was comforting and frightening. It made the System more real, yet it made the System¡¯s enticement more terrifying. Was a new, magical life what Eric wanted? As a kid he would¡¯ve screamed ¡®yes!¡¯ As an adult, he felt that adventure would inevitably lead to PTSD, a mental breakdown, then death. Eric¡¯s eyes paused on the rifle, still in its sack. He¡¯d bought the weapon in his early twenties. As a gamer, Eric knew murder was the surest path to experience. So he¡¯d tried his hand at hunting. No dice. Since then, it¡¯d been sitting in his closet half forgotten. Thunk. After a moment, Eric slammed the lid closed. On second thought, carrying the gun was stupid. It was coming up on one o¡¯clock. If someone saw him, they might freak out and call the cops. Worse, they might shoot him dead in ¡®preemptive self-defense¡¯. Eric checked the quest log again.
[ ] Proceed down the street until you find a mail box
¡­ With dull eyes, Eric afforded the window a suspicious look. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you want me to smash open the mailbox and steal the letter.¡± ¡­ As usual, the System provided no answer. Eric contemplated the merits of going home then grit his teeth and proceeded down the street as instructed. The pudgy man glanced at his phone as he walked. 1:02. 1:04. 1:07. Huffing heavily, Eric dragged his unfit the body past two gray, metal mailboxes before arriving at a third. The quest objective was marked off. From the nearby house Eric heard the rhythmic thump, thump, thump of music. On the driveway Eric spotted a drunk man slumped on the hood of a car. More vehicles spilled out onto the street, flush to the curb. With a grimace, Eric looked at his next task. It was exactly as expected.
[ ] Smash open the mailbox with the wrench
Your honor, it wasn¡¯t that I wanted to commit the crime. I had no choice. The text box in my head told me to do it. Eric checked his phone again. 1:10. Seventeen minutes left. Plenty of time. ¡°But why 1:27?¡± Eric muttered. He glanced back at the house behind. He had a suspicion. ¡°Is that when the party is going to end?¡± He was stalling. Eric gripped the wrench. The metal was slick with sweat. The textured surface dug into his palm, providing a shaky grip. The moment he swung, there was no going back. Did he trust the System? No. Did he think the System was real? Yes. Eric trembled. He raised his arm. Do it! ¡°HA!¡± Clang! Metal reverberated. The shock jolted through Eric¡¯s hand. For a second, he froze. The man glanced back over his shoulder in terror. Nothing. A quiver of fear. Then certainty. A strange madness took him. With increasing fury, Eric swung his weapon. Clang! Clang! Clang! The sound was like gunshots in the night. Steel caved under the repeated force. The bolt snapped. The door bent inward. Eric huffed in place for a few seconds, his heart beating wildly in his chest. ¡°I¡¯m so screwed. So, so screwed,¡± Eric muttered dizzily. Tossing his wrench aside, Eric shoved his thick fingers into the gap left by the bent metal plate. Reeee, pop! Metal squealed, then gave way. Eric fell onto his ass. ¡°Shit!¡± He spat, shoving a bleeding finger into his mouth. He stumbled to his feet. Stretching his T-shirt, Eric rubbed his blood off on the metal edges. Then, as an afterthought, he rubbed the metal plate with his sleeve for good measure. That would take care of the DNA and fingerprints. Hopefully. ¡°I¡¯m freaking out. Nobody is calling forensics for a mailbox,¡± Eric mumbled, making fun of himself. ¡­ ¡°I¡¯m going to jail for this, aren¡¯t I?¡± The music went quiet. Eric froze. Heart pounding from exertion and terror, he hurriedly checked his quest log.
[ ] Take the parchment letter from the second box on the right.
What an atrocious description. How was anyone supposed to know which box counted as second? Well, there was an expedient solution, Eric emptied all six. Half held nothing. One bore the promised letter. It was obvious at a glance. The paper was thick and leathery. On the front was a wax seal, a coat of arms stamped with a quill and wand crossed in front of a giant star. Was this some poor brat¡¯s Hogwart¡¯s letter? Contemplating the morality of his action, Eric stooped to pick up his wrench. Then he scurried away, letter in hand. The System, being in a rare helpful mood, provided an instruction even a six-year-old would¡¯ve understood.
[ ] Read the letter.
Eric didn¡¯t. Not until he was half a block away and around the corner. Even then the only reason he stopped was because his phone read 1:25 am. The wax seal broke. The parchment unfolded. The letter was a single page boxed by a silver frame. Strange symbols glinted under the lamp light. Foreign words seemed to squirm and slither. Eric¡¯s eyes watered. For a faint moment, they looked like English writing. Then they were squiggles again. Yet, impossibly, he could read what they said. Dear Eric Swallow, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted by the Starlight Nether Witch Academy. All necessary books, equipment, and clothing will be provided upon your arrival. Debts incurred by your education will be registered to your account, to be paid after graduation. If you are unable to pay in a timely manner the school will instead sell your debt and your person to recoup any and all unsettled fees. It is our fondest wish that you use these years provided to become a lovely and formidable witch. It is a rare privilege for souls to enter the netherworld with their memories intact. We hope you remain diligent and use the opportunity to as a stepping stone to success. Transport will be provided shortly. Sincerely, Baroness Esmeralda Vallenfelt, Dean. ¡­ A horrible, sinking feeling formed in Eric¡¯s gut. He scanned the letter again. Then his angry eyes shifted to the quest screen floating to his right. ¡°I hate you.¡± Foof. The parchment burst into fire, filling the air with the stench of brimstone and sulfur. Startled, Eric tossed the parchment aside. The blaze moved faster, leaping from paper to limb as though it were a ravenous snake. Eric had just enough time to shriek. Flame tore through flesh like a hungry beast. Blood and bone unwound into ash so fast the fat man hardly had time to feel pain. In a second, his arm was devoured. In the next, Eric¡¯s entire world was erased. As the conflagration consumed his last spark of his consciousness, Eric had just enough time to think: at least I¡¯m not going to jail for this. -oOo- Darkness. In a dark, empty, abyss he floated. Seconds. Minutes. Months. Eons. In this abstract nothingness, these held no meaning. Then, an alien existence intruded. A force jolted through the dark. Its presence was like a bolt of thunder, crackling with light, feeling, and sensation. Sharp, jagged pain splintered the impenetrable gloom. He struggled, wishing to turn and thrash, but he had no limbs, no form, and no body. He was trapped. Helpless. The cruel alien force pressed in, a needle piercing deep into his soul. From its tip, spindly strands flowed. The foreign matter wiggled, glowing with ghastly light. Slimy. Slithering. He shuddered, his being reacting with sick rejection. Unauthorized code detected. Querying response¡­. Against the emptiness a cold, metallic voice rang out. Deep in the void, strange shapes stirred. Gears and wires. Copper tubes and silicon chips. His soul groaned. A great, monstrous machine came to life. Steam hissed. Chung. Chung. Wheels turned. Electricity crackled. Directive received. Proceeding¡­. ¡­. sample collected. Initiating core dump¡­ Shadows whirled. A new void opened. Darkness trembled then flowed. An undefinable fluid cascaded through his existence. The ghastly, wiggling strands were sucked down and out of sight. Shadow swirled for long, unknowable moments. Then the machine quieted. Sparks faded into dark. Gears stilled. He was left alone in silent slumber. But this time the sleep was not so deep. There was a whisper in the void. Something called to him. Tap. Tap. Tap. But, before he could catch it, a fist knocked on the edge of the world. Not a sound. An impression, like that of a finger tapping against glass. He stirred. A faded image appeared in his mind. Not seen. Dreamed. Or perhaps, remembered. A woman. A witch. She wore the classic pointed hat. Her lips curved in strange delight. She spoke. The words soundless, but somehow understood. ¡°An irregular. Ke ke ke. How interesting,¡± the witch mused. ¡°It looks like you rejected the code. I¡¯ll give it another try, but don¡¯t blame me if things end poorly.¡± The face faded. Shadow fell like a shroud. He tumbled deeper into sleep. He felt a pull. A longing. The whisper was there, calling from beyond the edge of hearing. It longed to reach him. He reached back¡­ Only to be jerked away. A second, alien lance jabbed into his soul. Ghastly strands spilled out, as wretched as those before. They wiggled and coiled in his core, slimy squirming worms writhing inside his consciousness. The mechanical voice rang in response. Unauthorized code detected. Querying response¡­Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡­ administrative override found. Bypassing core dump. Remote resources requested¡­ ¡­ granted. Collating data¡­ ¡­ collating¡­ ¡­ collating¡­ ¡­ collating¡­ ¡­ collation complete. Simulating optimal structure¡­ ¡­ simulating¡­ ¡­ simulating¡­ ¡­ optimal structure found. Begin code optimization¡­ The great machine thrummed. Gears and wires were illuminated by dull light. Thrum. Thrum. The machine churned, a heart beating with life. Copper pipes whisked while lightning crackled within glass tubes. But the shadow remained still. The wiggling strands burrowed into the darkness, into him. There it coiled, twisting into a filthy, foreign sphere. The writhing ball bulged and boiled. Then it split like an egg. From it fell two yolks. And from those yolks spilled two sets of disgusting worms. In his soul they wiggled and coiled. Through his being they twisted and borrowed. Then, once again, they coiled forming spheres. Eggs that bulged then split. So two became four. Four became eight. Eight became ¨C Shhununung!!! Sharp light cut the void. Strands and spheres shattered. The splintered parts cascaded through his soul, dead fragments without their ghastly light. Panels opened in the great machine. A hundred robotic hands reached out, snatching shards. Some were cast away, dropped into the drain in the abyss. The rest were reassembled piece by piece into new wiggling worms. Then the cycle started anew. Strands coiled. Spheres formed. Yolks spilled. Once. Twice. A dozen times. Then they were shattered. With each cycle the mechanical voice rang out. Optimizing¡­ Optimizing¡­ Optimizing¡­ Optimizing¡­ ¡­ Optimization limit achieved. Then it stopped. Light faded. The last detritus was washed away into the void beyond. A lone ball of worms remained. Squirming. Slimy. Worms. And yet, not so alien as before. Instead, they slithered in the dark, slipping through his soul with an odd, comfortable familiarity. A part of himself. Something that belonged to him like his hands and his hair. Quietly, they coiled. Silently, they split. Again. And again. And again. Hundreds. Thousands. Millions. Endlessly they repeated until the entirety of his soul was filled with pulsating eggs. Or rather, his soul became the eggs. He was no longer he. Then it slept. An unborn child in its mother¡¯s womb. Timeless. Dreamless. But now, concrete. -oOo- When Eric awoke, he was falling. There was brief second of weightlessness. An instant of fear, confusion, and panic. Then ¨C splat! ¨C he hit the ground. Against Eric¡¯s expectation, pain didn¡¯t follow impact. Instead, a thick, bulbous bubble caught his momentum. For a second he sank through viscous liquid, then the bubble popped releasing grotesque mucus in all directions. The slimy, yellow-green substance sank into the ground, flowing through the stone grate beneath. Remnants clung to Eric¡¯s skin along with the thin, white cloth draped over his body. Slowly, the slime evaporated. The sensation was surprisingly refreshing. Dazed, Eric¡¯s gaze took in the room. He was in a hall. The chamber spread out thirty meters in diameter. Ten meters above, stone tubes loomed, sealed by metal shutters. One tube remained open, vomiting forth a ball of yellow-green mucus. Plop. The ball hit the ground, splattering in all directions. From within was born a dainty girl in a pure white dress. She stumbled in confusion, glancing around with eyes as blank as Eric¡¯s own. She wasn¡¯t alone. All around Eric were girls. Each appearing in their late teens and wearing a white dress. All as tall or taller than Eric himself. Their figures were delicate, with skin colors ranging from beautiful brown to perfect porcelain. Long streamers of hair cascaded down their backs, half following the human palette, others ranging the rainbow. Young, pretty, and unblemished. A veritable vase filled with flowers. Girls. Girls? Why was he surrounded by girls? Eric remembered the letter. Starlight Nether Witch Academy. With deep dread, he looked down. A white dress sat on dainty shoulders. Thin, lithe arms rose according to his will. A delicate hand turned. Then, stupefied, Eric reached up. Boing. Boing. Two enticing lumps of flesh bounced when Eric applied pressure. An extremely weird and alien sensation crawled through his brain in response. Well, shit. ¡°I¡¯m dreaming right?¡± Eric muttered, bewildered. His voice sounded sweet, gentle, and light. A hand slapped him on the shoulder, shaking Eric from his thoughts. ¡°Yours bigger too? First thing I noticed. Well, the first thing I noticed beyond this.¡± A blonde girl gestured to the whole room, staring at him with intense green eyes. She smiled, nose crinkling. Her cheeks were covered in cute freckles. Her hair gold, like wheat ready for the harvest. Eric gazed back, utterly blank. A girl was touching him. A girl was talking to him. A girl was smiling at him. And she was half his age. Also, ¡®he¡¯ was a ¡®she¡¯. Confusion plunged into depression. Then a woman in the crowd screamed. ¡°Kidnappers!¡± An instant¡¯s silence followed. A stillness that left the word perfectly heard. Then, the cry set off a deluge. A cacophony of shouts and shrieks filled the chamber. Eric cringed against the echoing sound. ¡°Let us out!¡± ¡°~Aaaaah~¡± ¡°Help! Help!¡± ¡°Shut up!!!¡± ¡°Let us go!¡± ¡°I want to go home!¡± The blonde¡¯s nose scrunched, this time in irritation. Still cute, but not nearly as cute as before. ¡°Those idiots. Didn¡¯t they read their letter?¡± Eric blinked a few times before pulling ¡®herself¡¯ back to together. ¡®Herself¡¯. Ugh. He would deal with that problem latter. The first issue was, well, this. ¡°You¡¯re taking this well,¡± Eric replied, expression twisting. The sound of his voice was foreign. His brain insisted there was something wrong with his ears. ¡°Well, my ex-boyfriend tried to kill me. So I killed him. That was right before the letter showed up,¡± the blonde explained. She paused. ¡°Wow. I can¡¯t believe I said that. I must be in shock.¡± Eric stared, digesting the words. ¡°I broke into a mailbox, found the letter, and got lit on fire.¡± He conveniently left out the part where a magical blue screen told him to do it. Sounded less crazy that way. ¡°That¡¯s a shit thing to do.¡± Eric raised an eyebrow. Really? Breaking into a mailbox was going to far? The blonde paused then slapped herself on the forehead. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have said that. I shouldn¡¯t have said anything. I fucked this up.¡± The girl gave a nervous smile and offered a hand. ¡°Riley Smith.¡± Eric¡¯s gaze fell to the offered appendage. ¡°I guess it¡¯s a bit off-putting, seeing that I just I killed someone,¡± Riley murmured lowing her hand. ¡°Ah,¡± Eric noised, realizing that his own state had left him as dazed as the blonde talking to him. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m Eric ¨C ¡± ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö ¡ö¡ö¡ö.¡± The air thummed. Silence followed in the wake of the reverberation. A stillness that froze the words in Eric¡¯s throat. The entire room plunged into quiet. ¡°Ladies.¡± The crowd turned. Eric belatedly, not so much by realizing that the phrase referred to ¡®her¡¯ as because everyone else was turning. A woman stood at the head of the room, flanked by two wooden doors. Thin streams of sunlight flowed out from behind, silhouetting her skirt and suit. ¡°I am Allison Myers, and I¡¯ll be the head instructor for your class. You¡¯ll refer to me as Professor Myers, or Miss Myers as you prefer. Propriety is very important at this Academy, so I expect you to hold to this standard,¡± Professor Myers said, tone strict. Professor Myers¡¯ heels clicked on the stone floor as she strode in. She had dark, shoulder-length hair cut in a fashionable bob. With sharp, violet eyes the woman scanned the group, brooking no argument. Not that anyone could argue, seeing as though none of them could talk. ¡°Now, I¡¯m aware that most of you are confused and some of you are angry. Therefore, I will be direct. ¡°In accordance with the Law of Acquisition, your souls belong to Baroness Vallenfelt. You are therefore hers to enslave or indebt. ¡°The dean, in her kindness, has chosen the path of debt. Each of you will be enrolled as a student in her Starlight Nether Witch Academy. Here you¡¯ll be educated so that you may, one day, repay that debt. If this seems unfair, that is because it is unfair. However, there is nothing to be done about it. Those who refuse to accept this reality will find your debts redeemed by the expedient means of selling you to the highest bidder.¡± Eric blanched. Riley glowered. A girl with flaming orange hair tried to scream, face turning purple with rage. Most girls trembled in place. Professor Myers violet eyes softened. ¡°Now that I have clarified the situation, let me say that the Academy is not a cruel place. Magic is a valuable art. Should you take your lessons seriously you should have no trouble thriving in the netherworld. I hope none of you fall off the path. I¡¯ve made it six years without having a girl expelled, and I would like to make it six more.¡± Allison Myers smiled at the gathered girls then turned to the door. ¡°Quickly please. We¡¯re on a schedule. Before your first class starts, I¡¯ll give you a tour of the facilities.¡± The professor gestured them forward. For a few seconds, nobody moved. Riley Smith was the first to walk. Eric hesitated for a moment before following. Slowly, the rest of the group trailed out, one after another. Even the angry, orange haired girl chased, though late and stubborn. Beyond the wooden doors, Eric found a small courtyard. To his left and right were empty arches guarded by rippling, green fields. Barriers, Eric dubbed them based on his questionable expertise as a gamer. Ahead lay a check point manned by a stern, spear wielding catgirl. Eric perked at the sight. Only for his shoulders to droop in disappointment. Rather than catgirl, the guard was better described as a panther woman. The triangular ears perched on the guard¡¯s head were the only thing cute about her. The woman was tall. Far taller than Eric and his classmates. Her cruel smile revealed rows of sharp teeth. But it was the ugly patchwork of feline fur and tanned skin that was truly off-putting. A dark tuft of fur covered the left side of the cat woman¡¯s face, only to reveal an eye that was eerily human. The guard¡¯s right hand was a cat¡¯s paw, complete with sharp claws. Without an opposable thumb, the guard had no choice but to grip her spear with her ordinary left. The asymmetry dashed Eric¡¯s fanboy dreams. The guard let out a low, raspy chuckle as Eric walked by. The group piled up in a mob outside the building. Eric studied the Starlight Nether Witch Academy. It was beautiful. Green grass glistened with morning dew, casting shimmering light. Trees spotted the landscape, splitting the space between warm sun and cool shade. Cobble paths wound their way through the lightly wooded lawn, the trails broken by small gardens and elegant benches. Ahead lay the school itself. A broad, two storied structure with turrets, spires, and many windows. To the sides were two buildings, taller than the school but not half as broad. Eric spotted a few girls in dark robes and green dresses passing through the grounds, gesturing and chattering with bright smiles. Faint murmurs drew Eric from his thoughts. The magical silence had ended. But a new quiet fell as Professor Myers whisked past the group dragging a reluctant laggard behind. Eric¡¯s gaze locked onto the dark haired professor¡¯s sleek legs. The Professor was definitely rocking the strict and sexy teacher look. And those high heels. Eric gulped. ¡°Are you staring at her butt?¡± Riley accused in a whisper. Eric jumped. ¡°No?¡± he denied, weakly. Riley gave Eric a suspicious look, bright green eyes gleaming. Eric felt a little bad, but that feeling was quickly swept aside by the reaffirmation of ¡®her¡¯ sexuality. The only problem? The wrong parts were hardening. Eric was once again reminded that ¡®he¡¯ was a ¡®she¡¯. Professor Myers faced the group. ¡°The Starlight Nether Witch Academy was founded by Baroness Esmeralda Vallenfelt forty-four years ago and is the first and only academy of magic in the Timeless Beryl Wilderness. While the Starlight Academy is not restricted to witches, it rigidly limits attendance to women. Men are not allowed on the school grounds for any reason.¡± The Professor¡¯s gaze stopped on Eric for a good long moment. Then the teacher continued. ¡°The school¡¯s facilities consist of the Academic Building, the Recreation Hall, the Grounds, and the Dorms. First, we will ¨C ¡± With the expertise of a ¡®man¡¯ who¡¯d endured twelve years of compulsory education and four years of college, Eric promptly tuned the professor out. Instead, he opened his status screen.
Name Eric Swallow Class Apprentice Witch
Level 5+30 Exp 252 / 60
HP 82 / 82 MP 147 / 147
Str 3 Mag 9
Vit 3 Spr 8
Agl 3 Wit 9
¡­ That was different. First off, why were his attributes so high? Where did the two-hundred experience points come from? Oh, and suddenly he had hit points. Fucking System, it never explained anything. Scanning closely, Eric¡¯s eyes found a new addition. An event log. Eric glowered. It was rather suspicious that the System was happily unlocking features now. Would it have left him high and dry if he never finished the quest? Eric scrutinized the log regardless. Event Log: Quest Complete: Academic Invitation Warning! Unauthorized code detected Warning! Unauthorized code detected ¨C Administrative override ¨C New Race Obtained: Starlight Witch New Class Obtained: Apprentice Witch ¡°I¡¯m on to you,¡± Eric noised, glaring the screen. ¡°Don¡¯t think I don¡¯t know that you screwed me.¡± ¡°You say something?¡± Riley whispered. Eric ignored her. Instead, he navigated to the extended data the System kept buried. Fortunately, Eric had long grown out of the wave his hands phase, otherwise he might¡¯ve come across as a madman. Madwoman? Know what? Eric didn¡¯t give a shit.
Race: Starlight Witch (Asteri) Lineage: Hecates Genus: Magissa Potential: Medium A synthetic bloodline whose code derives from three separate beings of the hecates lineage. This race is optimized for magecraft and mana manipulation at the expense of physical ability. No innate ki release or magical abilities were found.
Trait: Flawless Astral Core * 85% Hp * 125% Mp * +10% Elemental affinity and sensitivity * -10% Chaos spell costs Nether cores support the stability and function of the phantasmal body. Every core represents a vital organ the loss of which may result in death. Compared to the common core, this one provides greater mana capacity and enhanced ether exchange at the cost of reduced blood essence and ki reserves. Due to its elemental alignment, this astral core also improves a starlight witch¡¯s compatibility with chaos domain elements. This provides a small increase to ether affinity and sensitivity for attuned elements. You are also able to directly nature mana with these elements. Finally, when using any chaos domain spell, mana costs will be reduced. Attuned chaos elements include: Space, Void, and Causality
Trait: Pure Starlight Eyes A unique organ possessed by all starlight witches. Starlight eyes are able to see energized ether and even detect its element or aspect. Runes, spells, and enchantments also have increased visibility making them easier to comprehend. The sensitivity of the starlight eyes is sufficient to see in the dark, provided there is ambient illumination from an ether atmosphere. The clarity and purity of a witch¡¯s starlight eyes correspond to the witch¡¯s compatibility with her nether code.
Trait: Ultra-fine mana Your mana is smooth and elastic. This enhances the innate integrity of all mana structures. You will find it easier to cast spells while minimizing energy expenditure. Spell casting will be stealthier. Runes and rune structures will be more durable. Theoretical casting speed will be majorly improved.
Surprise. Surprise. Eric¡¯s new body was designed for spell casting. No shock coming from a race named starlight witch, if the whole magic academy matter hadn¡¯t made it abundantly clear from the start. Still, it was good to know the exact traits he had picked up. And the fact, he could have traits. Another thing the System had never defined prior. Eric scanned down to the next window.
Class: Apprentice Witch +50 Hp/Mp +3 all Physical Attributes +7 all Magical Attributes
And that explained where the free attributes came from. Eric felt a buzz of excitement. Putting aside the whole male-female issue, this was the first major reward the System had given. A new race. A new class. A pile of traits. Oh. And don¡¯t forget the sweet, sweet experience points. Feeling better about himself, Eric pumped spirit and wit to a nice neat ten.
Name Eric Swallow Class Apprentice Witch
Level 8+30 Exp 42 / 90
HP 82 / 85 MP 147 / 158
Str 3 Mag 9
Vit 3 Spr 10
Agl 3 Wit 10
Three levels in a day. A new record. May there be many more. Snapping the window closed, Eric focused on the tour. Professor Myers guided the group through the Academic Building, introducing the clubs, classrooms, the library, and the faculty offices. Then she brought them back outside, taking a moment to point out Vallen. Vallen was the town that sat at the Academy¡¯s foot. Then she showed them the Vallenfelt manor on the high hill to the east. Finally, the professor dragged them past the Grounds and the Recreation Hall. The tour ended in front of a three-story dorm building. A hundred meters to the east was the stone structure from whence they began. Thick. Heavy. Gothic and fortified. Gargoyles sat on every corner casting wretched faces toward any who dared approach. Other than the academy gates and Vallenfelt manor, it was the only building visibly guarded. Riley nudged Eric. ¡°Hey, do your feet hurt?¡± Riley whispered. ¡°I want to know if it¡¯s just me.¡± That was an interesting question. Eric looked down at the cobbled path he¡¯d been walking on. ¡®Her¡¯ feet were slim, delicate, and very naked. ¡®She¡¯ wiggled ¡®her¡¯ toes experimentally. ¡°No,¡± he answered. ¡°I¡¯m beginning to suspect we¡¯re not human.¡± Which fell into the category, no shit Sherlock, given his System¡¯s rather explicit statement that his race had changed. And the rather obvious reconstruction of ¡®her¡¯ sex. ¡°What do you think we are?¡± Riley asked. ¡°Witches,¡± Eric said bluntly. Riley gave him a look. The blonde was not amused. ¡°It¡¯s the netherworld, which usually means the land of the dead. Also known as, Hell,¡± Eric explained. ¡°So we¡¯re probably ghosts or demons.¡± Riley frowned. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that mean that we¡¯re dead?¡± ¡°I distinctly remember being lit on fire.¡± Riley¡¯s bright green eyes were shadowed by darkness. ¡°Yeah, that was pretty hard to forget.¡± ¡°Dorm rooms are assigned to threes,¡± Professor Myers continued, leading the group in through the door. ¡°The rules are posted on the board to your right. Books, uniforms, and your schedule can be found on the table. Take one and choose a room to change in. All the rooms on the first floor are free. The second floor and up is for third years.¡± Professor Myers paused. Her strict, violet eyes found Eric. ¡°Miss Swallows, please grab your books and uniform then follow me.¡± -oOo- System Codex Core Attributes: The System defines six core attributes: Strength, Vitality, Agility, Wit, Spirit, and Magic. Attributes increase by one per a level with additional attributes awarded through class advancement and secondary mechanisms. The System evaluates strength using the aggregate level. Core level is only displayed for the User. Attributes affect the physical, mental, and mystical performance of the User. The impact of attributes is proportional to the natural traits of the User¡¯s body. This is particularly true on material worlds. As such, a larger body with greater fitness will have greater overall strength even if the strength attribute remains unchanged. In low ether environments, such as Earth, the impact of attributes may be reduced in non-linear ways. Different body types may distort, reduce, or otherwise change attribute effects. Eric¡¯s notes: Yeah, like how I didn¡¯t have hitpoints on Earth. That¡¯s a pretty big change! All attributes and their impacts are separated into sub-attributes, the first being most directly influenced by the body and the second being more abstract and tied to the soul. Attribute: Strength Sub-Attribute: Force Raw Calculation: 100% + 4% * Str The raw amount of force that can be applied to physical objects with the body or by means of ki. This also amplifies the maximum amount of ki that can be released in a single action or attack. When using material bodies, this scales with muscle mass and can influence physical speed. With phantasmal bodies, size is less relevant and the law ¡®F = MA¡¯ does not apply. Sub-Attribute: Scale Raw Calculation: 100% + 1% * Str The scale of force without regard to physics. This allows one to hold, grip, or control physical objects as though their body was larger by the scaled size. Scale also impacts the application of force, allowing the User to trade speed for amplified strength as though they were a hydraulic press. Thus, at 150% scaling the User can lift 1.5x more if they are willing to move 2/3 of their ordinary pace. Scale impacts the externalization of ki, allowing ki constructs to be proportionately bigger. This can improve the reach and area impacted by various arts. Young Eric¡¯s notes: If I have 100 Strength, do my sword beams shoot twice as far? Chapter 2 -oOo- Chapter 2 -oOo- Eric stepped into the staff room, books and folded clothes in hand. Atop the pile lay two black, buckle shoes. The shiny type fit for a dainty schoolgirl. Eric bumbled over to a table before setting his burden down. The room was simple. Three windows faced the Grounds, framed by white curtains. Two tables filled the center while a line of bookshelves ran along the wall in the far corner. There Eric spotted multiple copies of the textbooks he now owned. ¡°Please take a seat,¡± Professor Myers said, motioning to a chair. Eric sat awkwardly. Everything about the motion was alien. The size of the chair. The lightness of ¡®her¡¯ frame. The way ¡®her¡¯ feet floated above the floor, just short of the stone surface below. Even the height of the table compared to ¡®her¡¯ misshapen chest was wrong. These tiny things grated. The faint differences left Eric hyper aware of ¡®her¡¯ body. The touch of ¡®her¡¯ hair. The movement of ¡®her¡¯ dress. The size of ¡®her¡¯ hands. This unnatural information was being fed into his brain in a way that was impossible to ignore. It was hard not to grind his teeth. Then there was the other problem. ¡®Her¡¯. ¡®Her¡¯. ¡®Her¡¯. He was a ¡®she¡¯. What did that mean? Not just physically, but socially and psychologically. Was his brain being deluged in female hormones? If so, how would that change his thoughts? Eric supposed ¡®she¡¯ was about to find out. ¡°Miss Swallows, I¡¯m sure you understand why I brought you here,¡± Professor Myers said gently. ¡°Swallow,¡± Eric corrected, dragged from his thoughts. ¡°As in the bird. It¡¯s because I am a man, right?¡± The professor¡¯s violet eyes narrowed. ¡°Were, Miss Swallow. You were.¡± Allison Myers¡¯ sharp gaze didn¡¯t make Eric shrink. It had been years since he left college. A young looking teacher like Miss Myers felt more like a peer, or even a junior, than an authority figure. If anything made Eric nervous, it was Allison beauty. She was gorgeous. The professor¡¯s violet eyes shimmered, deep and enticing like the night sky. Her skin was smooth and flawless. Her bust ample. Her fashion almost perfect. Eric felt out of place. Why was ¡®he¡¯ here, alone in a room with such a beautiful woman? And there it was again. ¡®He¡¯ and ¡®she¡¯. His head was a mess. Eric did his best to adapt and focus. ¡°I want to make clear, Miss Swallow, that you are not the first irregular to grace this academy,¡± Professor Myers said into the silence. ¡°And, on this, the dean¡¯s policy is quite clear. The Starlight Nether Witch Academy is a women¡¯s academy and anyone who is not a woman will be expelled.¡± Eric grimaced. ¡°And what happens if I¡¯m expelled?¡± ¡°Seeing as how you have no means to pay your debt, you would inevitably be sold,¡± Professor Myers said, bluntly. ¡°Slavery is a reality in much of the netherworld. Hell is not an exception. As for your outcome, I¡¯m sure you can guess. I won¡¯t be so crass as to put it in words.¡± Fuck. Eric felt sick. ¡°Hell.¡± ¡°Yes, the Timeless Beryl Wilderness is a colony of Hell,¡± Professor Myers confirmed. ¡°Geopolitics is covered in my Netherworld History class. For now, it suffices to say that Hell is not as bad as rumored, but it isn¡¯t nice either.¡± ¡°Hell,¡± Eric repeated, grimly. ¡°Yes. Hell,¡± Allison said, exasperated. ¡°I need to know your answer. Can you accept that you are a witch, or are we going to have a problem?¡± Eric gave a bitter laugh. Slave, much less sex slave, wasn¡¯t on his bucket list. What choice did he have? ¡°It looks like I¡¯m a witch.¡± Professor Myers let out a breath of relief, her strict demeanor fading. ¡°Good.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not like I have an alternative,¡± Eric said bluntly. ¡°If my choices are slave or student, I¡¯ll be going with student.¡± ¡°You¡¯d be surprised. Fourteen years back we had a girl¡­, boy I suppose, that was adamant that he was a man.¡± Allison Myers¡¯ lips were tight. ¡°The outcome was not pleasant.¡± ¡°What would happen if I insisted?¡± Eric asked out of morbid curiosity. ¡°First we would stage an intervention. Then we would apply discipline. Finally, you would be expelled. Once your debt payments fell a year or two behind, you¡¯d be sold to cover the default,¡± Professor Myers said clearly. ¡°Though, to be honest, I planned to appeal to Lady Vallenfelt to have you fitted with a psychic tool. Better you be made unable to think of yourself as a man than the alternative.¡± The professor¡¯s tone held a lingering regret. Eric felt the whole affair was absurdly excessive, but he knew well enough that professors didn¡¯t set school policy. ¡°No matter,¡± Professor Myers dismissed, before continuing. ¡°Since you¡¯ve accepted, your new name is Sylvia Swallows. I wish I could say that your former sex won¡¯t be held against you, but the Academy will in fact judge your manner and appearance more strictly than that of your fellow students.¡± Well, that sucked. Also, Sylvia Swallows? What the fuck. Was that supposed to be ¡®her¡¯ porn name? Eric¡¯s eye twitched. He could already tell he was going to ¡®enjoy¡¯ his experience at the Academy. There was no doubt he was in Hell now. ¡°Swallow,¡± Eric reminded, dully. ¡°It¡¯s Swallow. Like the bird.¡± ¡°Right. I¡¯ll get that fixed,¡± Professor Myers noted. ¡°And can I at least change my name to something familiar, like Erica?¡± Eric interjected. ¡°That attitude is precisely why the Academy did not provide a choice,¡± Miss Myers said sternly. ¡°What happens after you graduate is beyond our purview, but while within these walls please make serious effort. This is for your sake, not mine.¡± Eric sighed. That was that. For the next ten years ¡®she¡¯ would be ¡®Sylvia¡¯. The raven haired woman offered a gentle smile. ¡°Don¡¯t look down. Ten years will fly by in a flash. There is a lot to love about living in the netherworld. Besides, transformation magic exists. Though¡­,¡± Allison¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°We do not permit students to assume false identities while at the Academy.¡± Sylvia perked. Right! This was a magical academy. With the right magic, she could just change herself back. Why didn¡¯t she think of that before? ¡°Now, let¡¯s get you dressed. Since it¡¯s your first time, I¡¯ll show you how to put on your clothes.¡± -oOo- Sylvia felt like she was walking in a dream. ¡°So, Eric¡­,¡± Riley drawled. Sylvia twitched. But this was not an illusion. It was reality. Sylvia found herself shuffling through the halls of the Academic Building, surrounded by a gaggle of school girls. Surrounded, because Sylvia was desperately trying to convince herself that she wasn¡¯t part of the gaggle of school girls. Riley Smith walked alongside. The freckled blonde looked much more comfortable in her new robes and uniform. Her hair had been cut to shoulder-length. Which, with her posture, lent the green-eyed woman a tomboyish look. Riley wasn¡¯t the only one who¡¯d changed. All of Sylvia¡¯s classmates were sporting new styles. The uniforms were, well, uniform but everything else was fair game. Some girls let their locks flow down their backs. Others had tied their hair into tails and braids. A few were sporting ribbons and bows to assert independent fashion. As for Sylvia? She, too, had become a schoolgirl. On her feet were adorable, shiny, buckle shoes. The hard wooded soles clacked on the polished floors. Dark blue ¨C nearly black ¨C socks ran up her slim legs ending at her thighs. Robes of identical color hung on her shoulders trimmed with gold embroidery. The hem ended at her knees, with two triangular tail coats streaming behind. Beneath the robe and exposed by the open front, was a shorter green dress. Clasping her chest was a cute, blue bow with a medallion in the middle bearing the Academy¡¯s coat of arms. Two books: The Lesser Codex, Edition XCIII and Introduction to Magic were held in Sylvia¡¯s arms. Sylvia was waiting. Waiting with apprehension for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for all the girls around her to burst out laughing. Laughing at the fat man dressed up in women¡¯s clothes. Riley wasn¡¯t helping. ¡°At first, I thought I heard wrong, but when Professor Myers grabbed you it clicked,¡± Riley probed. Yep. Sylvia¡¯s nightmare was all but realized. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it,¡± Sylvia said between gritted teeth. ¡°Seriously. Don¡¯t. I might get in trouble and¡­.¡± Sylvia waved a hand at the rest of the group. Riley¡¯s intense green eyes lit up. Her smile turned sly. ¡°And I¡¯ll be counting on you not to mention my ex.¡± Was this blackmail? Well, fair enough. Riley had just as much reason to be concerned. More really. The group pushed into the classroom. It was a lecture room. The seats and tables formed a semicircle while the main path led down to a platform and podium. There were enough chairs to fit fifty, twelve of which had already been taken. Sylvia squeezed into one far to the right and near the back. Riley took the spot beside to her. ¡°You got another name then?¡± ¡°Sylvia Swallow,¡± Sylvia answered, delivering her name correctly. Thud. The two textbooks hit the table. Sylvia flipped open the book at the top, The Lesser Codex, Edition XCIII, not because she was planning to read but because she was curious. The left page depicted a complex string over layed on itself in a natural form and a regular glyph. The right side provided a description of the rune Trishullrunt, its use, affinity, history, and tips on how to construct it. ¡°Sylvia Swallow?¡± Riley snorted. ¡°You¡¯re lucky this isn¡¯t middle school or that would be butchered into swallows in a second.¡± Sylvia gave the blonde a dead eyed look. Then a point of curiosity flickered. ¡°How old are you?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you know better than to ask a girl her age?¡± Riley teased. ¡°Twenty-nine.¡± ¡°Twenty-two,¡± Riley answered seriously. The blonde scrutinized her classmates with her intense green eyes. ¡°That¡¯s quite the gap. We won¡¯t be able to tell ages just by looking.¡± Sylvia flipped through the tome in front of her. Each pair of pages followed the same pattern. A rune on the left, a description on the right. At a glance, it was clear that The Lesser Codex was going to be a boring read. She could only hope the class was more interesting than the text. ¡°Miss Myers looked a few years older,¡± Sylvia mused. ¡°So an aging principle of sorts must apply.¡± ¡°And here I thought we might live forever,¡± Riley joked. ¡°Since this is the netherworld, don¡¯t you mean ¡®be dead forever¡¯,¡± Sylvia quipped. ¡°I don¡¯t know about you, but I feel pretty alive for a dead woman,¡± Riley replied. After skimming another page, Sylvia slapped the cover closed. Frustrated, she shifted in her chair. Her long hair tugged painfully. Angrily, Sylvia leaned forward before pulling her locks out from behind her back and whipping them over the chair¡¯s back. Her hair, incidentally, was silver. Long, glossy, silver that spilled all the way down to her bottom in a pure, silken stream. Objectively speaking, Sylvia thought it was beautiful. She might even like it, on somebody else. On her? Sylvia was desperate for a pair of scissors to slice it all off. And that was coming from a man who had started going bald. ¡°Let me help you with that,¡± Riley offered, already standing. The blonde slipped behind Sylvia¡¯s back, gently lifting her hair. With a length of ribbon she tied the silver locks into a simple ponytail. ¡°That¡¯ll have to do for now,¡± Riley said, satisfied. ¡°I¡¯d rather cut it,¡± Sylvia complained. ¡°We¡¯ll do it we get back to the dorms,¡± Riley agreed. The green-eyed girl paused. ¡°Is it just me or are we short?¡± Sylvia felt it was very odd for a woman to say we so naturally in conjunction with her. However, on Riley¡¯s question Sylvia had an exact answer. ¡°I¡¯m five nothing.¡± She squinted, then sounded out uncertain. ¡°You¡¯re, maybe, two inches taller than me?¡± The System had layers of hidden menus and secret statistics. Sylvia had discovered the extended status screen more than a decade ago. When she did, she spent a month trying to pry out additional information. There were pages with biometrics, including height, weight, and even sugar levels. A couple of times ¡®Eric¡¯ had even used the data to self diagnose an illness. Of course, she was never sure how much the System kept hidden. Which, was evidently a lot, because now she¡¯d received quests and had a fucking event log. Thus, Sylvia knew her exact height. 151.2 centimeters. That was just under five feet in American. Yeah, she¡¯d exaggerated her height by half an inch because four foot eleven sounded pathetic even to her. Incidentally, she massed 45.7 kg. Sylvia feared a hard breeze would make her fly away. Riley cringed. ¡°Are we really that small?¡± Then her eyes narrowed. ¡°And how would you know anyway?¡± ¡°Miss Myers told me,¡± Sylvia lied, throwing blame on the absent professor. ¡°Ugh,¡± Riley noised, sinking back into her seat. ¡°I¡¯m a shorty.¡± ¡°You¡¯re taller than me,¡± Sylvia pointed out. Small girls were cute. But Sylvia didn¡¯t want to be cute. She¡¯d rather be big and intimidating. Or, you know, have her feet touch the god-damned floor. Seriously, given that none of her classmate had more than six inches on her, why were the chairs so fucking high? ¡°I was five-ten,¡± Riley grumbled. ¡°Now I¡¯m five-two. I¡¯m not just short, I¡¯m a midget. We¡¯ll grow taller, right?¡± ¡°Professor Myers is only an inch taller than you,¡± Sylvia pointed out, ruthlessly. She was kind enough not to say that Riley was probably closer to five foot one. Their teacher arrived. The old woman ambled into class, leaning heavily on her cane. ¡°¡ö.¡± Bang! With one, incomprehensible syllable, the classroom door slammed closed behind her. Slowly, the crone made her way to podium. Tap. Tap. Tap. The old woman rapped a short rod against the wood three times. The air reverberated, drenching the room in silence. ¡°I am Roisin Owsley. You may refer to me as Professor Owsley, Old Witch Owsley, or Master Owsley as you please,¡± Roisin said with a crackly laugh that sounded akin to a sick cough. The crone gazed at the students over her long, crooked nose. ¡°Not that you will be saying anything in this class because talking is forbidden. And there will be no questions either.¡± ¡­ Sylvia scowled. Was that supposed to be a joke? Riley leaned close and whispered something. Soundless. Clearly, when Professor Owsley said no talking, she meant it. Likewise, there would be no questions because her students were incapable of asking them. Seriously, why was this allowed? Right. This was Hell. A sour expression wasn¡¯t just on Sylvia¡¯s face. Many of her classmates shared it. ¡°He he he, do you think I am here for your pleasure?¡± Old Witch Owsley jeered. ¡°I am here to teach, but whether you learn is only of consequence to you and none to me. Now, I hope each of you brought a copy of the Lesser Codex. That will be the only text we use for the next year. If you have questions, your answers can be found within. If not, consult your mentor after you find one. Don¡¯t bother me.¡±The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Roisin Owsley paused, seeming to indulge in the class¡¯s distress before continuing. ¡°The name of this class is Basic Runes. Runes are the core of magic. They are the most fundamental knowledge required by any mage or witch. Runes fix ether and grant it form. Runes shape the earth, the clouds, and the sky. They transform the abstract into the concrete and the imaginary into the real. Without runes the chair you sit on would be naught but vaporous gas and you no more than a disembodied soul floating through the starry void. ¡°In the nether, runes are the root of everything.¡± Professor Owsley stopped for a second, allowing time for her words to sink in. ¡°The first runes were discovered by the titans at the start of the Ancient Era, the Age of Myths. But it wasn¡¯t until twelve thousand years past that they were recorded for all to see. The Great Codex, compiled by Marduk himself. Three thousand runes engraved on a stele. This was one of several wonders that characterized the Age of Magic. ¡°In modern times, the number of officially recorded runes has crossed seven thousand, two thirds of those theorized. As for how many are privately known,¡± Owsley¡¯s smile was hideous. ¡°Nobody knows.¡± ¡°I will not be teaching the Great Codex. He, he. That¡¯s too much for empty-headed first years. This class will instead focus on the Lesser Codex, which covers the five-hundred runes most commonly used in magic. It is only after learning these runes that you can call yourself a witch. Until then, you are nothing more than helpless, little girls. The denizens of the nether do love playing with pretty little girls like you.¡± Owsley¡¯s dry voice crackled and wheezed as she laughed. Several classmates shifted uncomfortably. Riley in particular, had a dark expression. Sylvia was tempted to roll her eyes. The silver haired girl had the distinct suspicion the old witch was jealous. ¡°Now if everyone would turn to page thirty-seven, I will show you your first rune, Voya.¡± Sylvia complied. Voya¡¯s shape consisted of loop crossing over itself four times. Her eyes shifted to the description on the right. The book was written in a language Sylvia had never seen. The words squirmed as she gazed upon them. Somehow, she understood what they meant. It wasn¡¯t the first time Sylvia had noticed this oddness. The invitation letter had been the same. Then there was Roisin Owsley. Not a single word the old crone spoke was English. Sylvia could hear the foreign sounds and accent. Still, she understood. Translation magic or something more? Sylvia couldn¡¯t help but wonder. At the front of the class, Professor Owsley swished her short rod. With the tip, she drew multiple loops of pale green light, stroke never breaking. When she finished, the line ended on the point where it began. Voya. The air stirred as the rune took form. The witch gestured, sending the sigil floating toward the first row on the left. Gracefully carving another, Professor Owsley spoke. ¡°Voya is a pure rune of the wind element. Its concept is most aptly described as: ¡®the air on which the arrow rides¡¯. This rune is commonly used in projectile spells, often coupled with the lightning rune Morhalshin: ¡®a streak of light¡¯. The simplest combat construct is Voya Inferenze, a spell Professor Fisher will teach in the first three months at this Academy.¡± A dozen glowing copies of Voya floated, scattered to every corner of the room. Sylvia gazed at the turning structure that hovered in arms reach. Riley boldly poked it, her hand passing through the rune as though it were a mirage carved from light. The class droned on. -oOo- ¡°Thank god I can finally talk,¡± Riley breathed. The freckled blonde stretched her arms as they filed out of the classroom door. ¡°Professor Owsley might be the second-worst teacher I¡¯ve ever had.¡± Sylvia followed with shoulders slumped. Basic Runes had been draining. Two hours. Two hours of forced silence. Two hours of listening to a teacher prattle on about rune after rune, passing through ten in total before the class was complete. It was the single most mind-numbing lesson Sylvia had ever attended. ¡°The second worst?¡± Sylvia grumbled, giving the blonde an incredulous look. ¡°Say what you will, but at least Owsley gave examples,¡± Riley explained. ¡°That bastard just wrote on the chalkboard and mumbled. I don¡¯t think I made out a single word he said the whole semester.¡± Silence hung for a moment. ¡°So,¡± Riley noised. ¡°How long do you think?¡± ¡°What?¡± Sylvia replied, distracted. The silver haired girl¡¯s eyes were drawn to a newly logged event. Sylvia gave the System a mental nudge. A quest window expanded in her vision.
New Quest: Wizard Means Wise I Every mage is a scholar. Only through study and effort can a mage reach the pinnacle of magecraft. Read books. Attend lessons. Learn secrets. Seek all forms of knowledge and carve a path for all those who follow behind you.
Quest Reward: * 1x Blank Skill Book * Wizard Means Wise II
Objectives: [ ] Obtained knowledge: 1 / 100 pts
Another quest. And this time it looked to be a chain quest. One with an actual reward at that. What inspired this generosity? Sylvia¡¯s eyes narrowed. Suspicious. ¡°Magic,¡± Riley clarified. ¡°How long do you think it¡¯ll be before we get to use magic?¡± ¡°That?¡± Sylvia shrugged. ¡°Who knows. Our next class is Introduction to Magic, so maybe then.¡± How long depended on how deep a subject magic was. If it were simple, they¡¯d start soon. If it was difficult, it might take months before they started casting. Riley nodded. Then she looked around, green eyes cautious. Her voice was low. ¡°Why do you think they kidnapped us?¡± It was then that Sylvia noticed they¡¯d separated from the rest of the group. This was the question Riley had been nursing. Sylvia pondered. ¡°Best case scenario, money,¡± she answered. ¡°They snatch us. Educate us. Then we pay them back with our knowledge.¡± Riley frowned. ¡°You really think it¡¯s that simple?¡± ¡°Money is always strong motivator,¡± Sylvia answered. ¡°I doubt they¡¯d waste time teaching us magic just to whore us out to the highest bidder. Also, if this is the netherworld, perhaps this is the only way they can make new witches.¡± The netherworld. The underworld. Hell. The afterlife. In all the stories Sylvia had read, this was where souls went when they died. Can a world of death have birth? If there were no children, then whence came the next generation? From the souls of the recently dead, obviously. Sylvia felt it fit, but what she knew about Hell was more myth than fact. Sylvia glanced out a window, taking in the cheery sunlight and green grass. And a lot of it was false, judging by the lack of fire and brimstone. ¡°Still, why kidnap? Why not wait until we¡¯re dead?¡± Riley pressed. ¡°How the fuck would I know?¡± Sylvia retorted, starting to feel annoyed. ¡°Maybe the souls of the living are better. Maybe the school wanted to pick of the litter and snatched us in order to jump the queue. The letter mentioned that it was rare to keep our memories, so maybe they did it to save on education expenses.¡± Riley snorted. ¡°Save on education expenses.¡± ¡°How many years does it take to teach reading, writing, and arithmetic,¡± Sylvia pointed out. ¡°Never underestimate the lengths a corporation will go to save a buck.¡± Riley let out a laugh, slapping the silver haired girl on the shoulder. ¡°Ha. That¡¯s hilarious. I feel better now. That¡¯s so stupid it could be true.¡± Sylvia didn¡¯t think it was stupid at all. However, it was nice to have a pretty girl hanging with her, so Sylvia let it slide. Was that shallow? Oh, it was. It very much was. ¡°What¡¯s your plan then?¡± Riley asked seriously. ¡°Well, if they¡¯re going to teach us magic, then I figured I would learn magic,¡± Sylvia explained, dryly. At twenty-nine years old, Sylvia wasn¡¯t looking forward to another ten years of education. Especially as a ¡®she¡¯. Her best plan, right now, was to learn and level up. If her level was high enough then no one could tell her what to do. What followed after could be decided later. The two of them stepped into their next class. Compared to the lecture hall used by Basic Runes, Introduction To Magic¡¯s room resembled a stage. In the back, three meters above the class¡¯s center, were a set of high theater style seats. In the front was a broad, stone platform which, Sylvia judged, could easily serve as an arena. Off the side were shelves and cabinets filled with various tools ranging from orbs to staves. Sylvia dropped into a seat heavily. This time she made sure she wasn¡¯t sitting on her long, silken hair. Mentally exhausted, Sylvia flopped forward resting a cheek on the desk. ¡°Ugh,¡± she groaned. ¡°I want to eat.¡± ¡°I have bad news for you then. The cafeteria has food, but we have to buy it. And, as you might have noticed, we have no money.¡± Riley¡¯s nose crinkled, making the freckles set against her lightly tanned skin more apparent. ¡°What do you think would happen if we ran away?¡± ¡°Won¡¯t we starve?¡± Sylvia asked, aghast. ¡°According to Professor Myers, we don¡¯t require food. Weren¡¯t you paying attention during the tour?¡± Riley paused. Maybe they were ghosts. Hungry ghosts. Though Sylvia felt rather solid. ¡°So?¡± Riley probed. ¡°Don¡¯t do anything stupid,¡± Sylvia said, sharply. ¡°Where there¡¯s debt, there¡¯s a way to enforce it.¡± ¡°I just want to think things through and keep my options open,¡± Riley said, eyes narrowed and uncharacteristically dark. ¡°I don¡¯t trust them.¡± Perhaps because Sylvia came here ¡®voluntarily¡¯, she never really thought of herself as kidnapped. She blamed the System for her predicament, not the Academy. It was easy to forget this was Hell. Professor Myers seemed to care about Sylvia¡¯s welfare, which went against her anti-Hell prejudice. Then again, Professor Myers had made clear Sylvia could be sold. And that she¡¯d arrange for Sylvia to be ¡®fixed¡¯ if she didn¡¯t play the role of a girl. On that regard, Riley was right. The Starlight Nether Witch Academy was no friend of hers. The question still lingered though, was it an enemy? ¡°Seems a waste though,¡± Sylvia mused. ¡°A waste of what?¡± Sylvia gestured broadly. ¡°Magic academy.¡± Riley snorted. ¡°I suppose we should stick around and learn a few spells first.¡± That was when a witch floated down from the ceiling. A witch. Floated down from the ceiling. On a fucking broom. By witch, Sylvia didn¡¯t mean an old crone like Roisin Owsley. Nor did she mean a violet eyed beauty like Allison Myers. No. This was a blonde haired woman in a witch¡¯s costume. The cheap kind a woman might buy before going to a Halloween party. That kind of witch. ¡°Ke, ke, ke, ke, ke!¡± The blonde professor released a cheesy cackle. The woman hopped off her broom, one hand stabilizing her pointed hat. Her clothing was¡­ highly inappropriate for a professional setting. A little black dress, fishnet stockings, and high-heeled boots. Gazing at the students, the teacher¡¯s red lips split into villainous grin. The entire room stared. Riley groaned. ¡°Is this a joke?¡± ¡°You¡­.¡± the professor drawled. ¡°Have no sense of humor. Boring. How boring. Look at you, sitting in the back of the room like somebody murdered you, snatched your soul, then forced you to attend a dull lecture.¡± Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. That description was a little too on point. A faint giggle sounded from one corner of the room, lonely and out of place. ¡°Better. Better,¡± the professor sounded. The blonde teacher raised a hand. Her broom flew up, rotated from horizontal to vertical, then dissolved into the teacher¡¯s body. With a mad smile, the teacher spread her arms then gave a bow. ¡°Welcome to the Starlight Nether Witch Academy. I¡¯ll be your teacher of magic, Glenda Fisher. Here you will learn to harness the eldritch forces. To bend the fabric of the universe to your will. To conjure abominations beyond the comprehension of man. And maybe, just maybe, one of you pitiful fools will learn to have fun. ¡°First, let me tell you a little about myself. I was born in Fort Wayne, Indiana to a single mother. I earned a scholarship in high school and was set for college when I was cruelly slaughtered by the Academy forty-four years past.¡± Professor Fischer made a playful cat¡¯s claw swipe at the air before continuing. ¡°As part of Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s first class, I had the pleasure of being taught by the baroness herself. Ke ke ke, I even had the opportunity to become her retainer after graduation. Let me tell you, that is one woman with an excessive fondness of propriety and etiquette. ¡°But she is very brilliant. Very brilliant indeed.¡± Professor Fisher paused, then gave a wide, mad grin. ¡°What? Did you girls think you were the first? Or the second?¡± Glenda laughed. ¡°Allison is your senior by thirty-six years. Abigail, who you¡¯ll meet in Field Studies, is your elder by thirty-two. There is not a single starlight witch in all the netherworld that was not born on Earth, except the dean herself. ¡°As for Roisin and Isabella? Who knows from which of the twenty-three material worlds their souls were spat.¡± Glenda Fischer paused, then she lazily pointed up toward the stands. Sylvia traced the blonde professor¡¯s hand to a woman with a raised arm. ¡°Natalie Ward, I believe,¡± she said. The girl in question stood. Natalie had forest green hair that spilled down her back in a rippling fountain. She was tall. The tallest in their class, though perhaps not tall compared to ordinary women. Natalie had a stately demeanor tinged with arrogance. When she spoke, her words were clearly enunciated. ¡°When do we go home?¡± Natalie¡¯s question was closer to a challenge. ¡°Go home?¡± Glenda laughed. ¡°You¡¯ll have to graduate before you can try. Getting to Earth ¨C Origin as they call it here in the nether ¨C isn¡¯t easy. But the most troublesome part isn¡¯t getting there. No, it¡¯s the fact that all of us are very, very dead.¡± Sylvia slumped. She suspected it, but suspicions weren¡¯t the same as confirmations. Natalie stared, her eyes a blue abyss. Then, with a flip of her green locks, the girl sat. ¡°That¡¯s right. Poof,¡± Professor Fischer noised, making an expanding gesture with her hands. ¡°You burned up and your body with it. The Academy even used your ashes to make a phylactery. Forget about Earth. You¡¯ll never return. It¡¯d be easier to colonize Mars.¡± Glenda Fischer clapped her hands, excitedly. ¡°But we aren¡¯t here for regrets. Being dead has its benefits, like eternal youth and beauty. And¡­¡± Glenda breathed a puff of air into her palm which burst into a ball of fire. ¡°Magic.¡± The Professor turned and wrote the word on the chalk board, ignoring the still raised hands. The text was in English. ¡°What is Magic? Magic is the utilization of mana, in combination with runes, which engenders a change in the world. In the classic view, magic consists of three components: runes, intent, and energy.¡± Glenda spoke. ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö.¡± Unknowable words fell from the Professor¡¯s burgundy lips. Glenda swirled her hand in the air above. Wind whooshed, sending Sylvia¡¯s hair aflutter. A few girls squeaked and braced themselves against the gust. On the other side of the room, cabinets rattled. Thirty palm sized spheres were torn from the shelves, before spiraling over Glenda¡¯s head. ¡°Runes are like cups. They hold power and meaning. They give shape to malleable ether. I won¡¯t be teaching runes. For that you may consult the despicable hag, Roisin Owsley. Instead, I¡¯ll teach you how to string runes together into spells. How to weave mana and ether. And how to control the result with your intent.¡± Professor Fischer waved her hand. Thirty orbs flew across the room, distributing themselves around the class. Riley jumped up and snatched her crystal orb from the air. Sylvia allowed hers to land on the desk in front of her with a clunk. ¡°Mana is defined as ether refined by a psyche. It is, therefore, a substance that is both energy and intent. If this were the dawn of the Ancient Era I¡¯d have to teach you how to form mana through meditation. Ke ke, you¡¯ll still learn it later this year. However, you¡¯re in luck. Witches and, indeed, nearly all the bloodlines of the netherworld can create mana as naturally as humans convert food into calories. ¡°Which means each and every one of you is brimming with mana right now. The only thing you need to learn, is how to control it.¡± Glenda grinned then held up a sphere. The glass orb instantly burst with fiery, red light. ¡°This is an ether light orb. Think of it as a light bulb. Except, instead of consuming electricity, it feeds off ether. Nothing fancy.¡± Professor Fisher said, tossing the orb from her left hand to her right. The light¡¯s glow changed, shifting to yellow, green, then blue. ¡°But it¡¯ll serve as the main tool of this lesson.¡± Sylvia grasped her sphere curiously. The crystal remained dark. The silver haired girl cast her eyes to her right. The orb in Riley¡¯s hand let out a faint, green glow. A sudden gasp drew Sylvia¡¯s attention. In Natalie¡¯s haughty hand the sphere let loose brilliant blue illumination. ¡°Is she showing off?¡± Riley grumbled, sounding disgusted. ¡°This isn¡¯t a contest.¡± Sylvia rolled the sphere in her palm, examining the insides. Faint, golden light flickered. Runes? Sylvia held the orb up next to her eye, peering deep within. ¡°Controlling mana is easy,¡± Professor Fischer continued. ¡°Mana already contains your thoughts and feelings. Don¡¯t think. Believe. Believe that the orb will light,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s the beginning. Once you have lit your orb feel it. Feel the flow from you to it. Use your intent to control the color and brightness.¡± Will it? Feel it? That sounded hokey to Sylvia, but it couldn¡¯t be that hard. Half the class already had their orbs lit. A few students, Natalie Ward included, had successfully changed their orb¡¯s color. Glaring at her ether light orb, Sylvia directed her thoughts forcefully. Light! It did. And Sylvia instantly regretted it. An explosion of silvery illumination flooded Sylvia¡¯s vision. It was like a curtain was torn away in a pitch black room revealing the sun. Sylvia shrieked. ¡°Ghack!¡± Instinctively, she squeezed her eyes closed. Clunk, the sphere fell from her hand before rolling loudly across the table. Sylvia flailed and managed to snatch it before it slipped off the edge. ¡°The hell was that?¡± Riley grouched, blinking her eyes rapidly. ¡°I think you freaking blinded me.¡± Sylvia rubbed her eyes a few times while recovering. No tears and no spots, she noted absently. Still, it took a few seconds to adjust. Sylvia¡¯s gaze shifted up. A blue bar appeared in the corner of her vision, helpfully annotated with: ¡®156 / 158¡¯. Two points. She¡¯d burned two points. A bubbly, gleeful feeling rose from her chest. After seventeen years, she had finally used magic. Well, she lit an orb anyway. ¡°Good. Good. It looks like everyone is getting it. When you can manage color and intensity, the next trick is distance. Place your orb a meter from you, then without touching it, make it light to your will.¡± Light. Sylvia thought again, this time more gently. A silver glow filled the orb as bright as a sixty-watt bulb. A glance at her bar showed it hadn¡¯t moved. Whew. The System didn¡¯t force her to expend points in integral units. Feeling more confident, Sylvia closed her eyes and did her best to sense the flow and ebb of her mana. -oOo- System Codex Attribute: Vitality Sub-Attribute: Toughness Raw Calculation: 100% + 4% * Vit The raw durability of the User¡¯s physical or phantasmal body. This enhances the structural sturdiness of bones and tissues but not the ability to survive or endure injury when it does happen. This also impacts the toughness and stability of ki and ki structures, allowing them to survive against various physical forces. Sub-Attribute: Resilience Raw Calculation: 100% + 1% * Vit The ability to endure injury or physical loss. High resilience allows the User to survive with less blood, overcome critical injury, or even fight with reduced impairment after losing a limb. While resilience offers no psychological resistance, it does diminish the disruption caused by shock and physical pain. Resilience also improves recovery speed. Injuries will heal faster. Illnesses will have less duration and effect. Material bodies will metabolize more slowly or quickly as need demands, better maintaining youth and fitness. Ki will also have enhanced recovery speed. Attribute: Agility Celerity: Raw Calculation: (100% + 4% * Agl)^0.5 Celerity improves the speed of physical action. This includes running speed, punching speed, and reaction speed. The speed at which ki flows is also decided by celerity. With material bodies, the effect of this attribute is much diminished as it only control the speed at which muscles can contract, meaning that the User must also have sufficient strength to enhance their speed of action and movement. With phantasmal bodies, physics is removed. This allows speed to increase without strength but, in return, means that this speed comes with no additional power. Precision: Raw Calculation: 100% + 1% * Agl The accuracy of movement in terms of both fineness and consistency. Higher precision means steadier hands, a better ability to repeat prior motion, and tighter control of force applied. This scales without regard to celerity, meaning that even if the User¡¯s action speed doubles due to high agility, precision will not fall in the slightest. Precision also influences timing, balance, and judgment. The User will have a better sense of where their limbs are. They¡¯ll better predict the path of projectiles, whether launched by themselves or others. They¡¯ll better judge where physical objects will be and when. Similarly, they have a stronger sense of when to act and with how much force. All of these traits apply both to the physical body and to actions completed with ki. Chapter 3 -oOo- Chapter 3 -oOo- Sylvia Swallow squinted. The light outside the Academic Building was glaring. The sun hung on the horizon, shedding a brilliant cheery glow. The intense rays swept over the grounds, glinting off a thousand beads of dew. A shimmering curtain of diamonds glimmering on every blade of grass. A cool breeze made the trees rustle. The comfortable chill brushed past Sylvia¡¯s face, sending her long, silver hair aflutter. Annoyed, she reached up and brushed back the few stray locks that teased her face. Long hair sucked, she decided. For some unfathomable reason, the Academy had resolved to torture the new students on their first day. A pile of introductions had followed their first two classes. Fields Studies. Nether History. A brief explanation of clubs: hunters, potions, charm, curses, chess, and more. They even had something similar to a D&D club. By the end she¡¯d endured ten hours of lectures. The experience had been harrowing, leaving Sylvia drained. But finally, they were free¡­. ¡­ free to attend another class. She was in Hell. After wiggling her ponytail in irritation, Sylvia glared up at the sky. ¡°Is it just me, or does it still feel like morning?¡± she groused. The low sun tinted the sky with a hint of orange. This could¡¯ve been the sign of evening. But, taking into account the morning the dew and the cool air just touched by the sun¡¯s heat, Sylvia felt as though not a second passed since her awakening. Riley turned her gaze up, shadowing her intense green eyes with a hand. ¡°Weird,¡± the blonde looked around, trying to get her bearings. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure the sun¡¯s still on the same side.¡± ¡°Timeless Beryl Wilderness,¡± Sylvia recalled. Then she scowled. ¡°I think I know where the word ¡®timeless¡¯ comes from. This is going to get real annoying when it¡¯s time for bed.¡± ¡°You sure we sleep?¡± Riley joked. Sylvia¡¯s shoulders dropped. ¡°Ugh. I¡¯m hungry. I want to shit post on the internet. And the fucking sun can¡¯t even be bothered to move. I hate this place already.¡± Their group was headed toward Armed Combat. This bought Sylvia to the Grounds, just west of the Academic Building. At the very least, their marathon run of classes finally let them move rather than forcing them to sit. The Grounds consisted of a set of sporting fields. Some had low grass. Others were circles of dirt. Shacks, racks, and dugouts held appropriate equipment. Between the fields a scattering of trees grew, sometimes thick or thin. This gave the space a private feeling. Riley peered at the fields curiously, bouncing with a hint of excitement. Sylvia traced her gaze to another class of witches gathering in an open field. She wondered if Riley was the sporting type. ¡°Shit post on the internet?¡± the blonde suddenly asked. Riley¡¯s grin turned sly. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you were a neckbeard.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll have you know, I was always clean-shaven,¡± Sylvia pronounced with great authority. As for the company ¡®Eric¡¯ kept¡­. Back then it was basically him, his hand, and his computer. The less said about Eric¡¯s internet ¡®friends¡¯ the better. Even before turning into a girl, Sylvia felt that most of them were slime. The class piled up on a small grass pitch. The rounded field was no more than twenty meters in diameter. The center was filled by a cloth covered cage. Deep growls and skittering claws sounded from within. Several girls shuddered. With her back against the cage, a redheaded woman waited. Their latest professor was armed and armored. A leather corslet covered her chest, while boots, bracers, and a plated skirt guarded the rest of her body. Thighs and biceps were left bare, reminding Sylvia of a roman soldier. On the redhead¡¯s back was a bone blade. The two-handed sword stopped near the woman¡¯s knees, the breadth matching the thickness of her waist. The redhead spat before stepping away from cage. ¡°Brats from Origin.¡± Their teacher swaggered forward, her slit eyes radiating contempt. She was tall. No, tall didn¡¯t do her justice. The teacher was two full heads taller than Natalie Ward. And that was ignoring the pair of horns growing from the redhead¡¯s skull. Sylvia felt as though she were twelve when set beside her. The woman sneered. ¡°Never held a weapon. Never been in a fight. Never killed ¨C ¡± Riley flinched. The woman rolled on, reaction unnoticed. ¡° ¨C Trash,¡± the professor pronounced. The redhead¡¯s lips spread in a broad, toothy smile. Her canines longer and sharper than they ought. Suddenly, the woman lunged. A few girls squeaked, flinching back. ¡°Pathetic.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± Riley shouted, green eyes burning with anger. Whoomph. The instructor¡¯s sword flashed, ripping through the air, stopping just short of the blonde¡¯s nose. Despite being carved from bone, the blade was terrifyingly sharp. ¡°Got a problem with that, girlie?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got a problem with bullies,¡± Riley retorted, uncowed. The woman stared, her slit yellow eyes glaring into Riley¡¯s own. Then, the redhead¡¯s lips quirked. Whoosh. The sword returned to the woman¡¯s back. ¡°You¡¯ve got spirit. I like it,¡± she praised. ¡°But here in the nether, spirit gets you nowhere.¡± The teacher turned to the group then added, louder. ¡°If you want to get somewhere in this world, you need strength.¡± The redhead stomped on the ground in emphasis. ¡°To you brats, I¡¯m Instructor Isabella. I¡¯m not your friend. And I¡¯m not your professor. I don¡¯t teach worth shit and I don¡¯t know the first thing about magic. What I know, is how to turn newborn demons into fighters. And that¡¯s what you¡¯ll learn here. How to fight. How to kill. And most importantly, how to live. Isabella paused then sneered. ¡°Either that, or you¡¯ll learn to scream, cry, and die.¡± The redheaded instructor chuckled. Sylvia suspected that the redhead would be happy enough with either outcome. ¡°Now, I¡¯m guessing at least one of you snotty brats bothered to learn the name of this class. Maybe you¡¯re even thinking something stupid like: ¡®I¡¯m a witch, why do I need take Armed Combat¡¯?¡± Isabella¡¯s lips spread in a broad, evil smile. ¡°The answer? Ha ha ha.¡± Laughing, Isabella whipped the cloth cover off the wooden cage. Trapped behind wooden bars were three quadrupedal creatures. Thick limbs. Ruddy red hide. Talons as long as knives. The bare, leathery skin was only broken by their fluffy tails and a patch of fur running down their back. The beasts stood, one by one. Vicious eyes focused on the gaggle of girls standing beyond their prison. Maws parted, dripping with saliva. The rows of sharp teeth were far longer than any natural beast deserved. If Sylvia were generous, she might call them wolves. And for a lack of a better word, Sylvia treated them as such. Three, hideous wolves prowled. Talons clicking against the wooden floor. Sylvia shuddered. The presence of such a beast invoked a primal terror. A horror augmented by the slow comprehension of what was to come. ¡°Grab a spear,¡± Isabella ordered. Her lips twisted into a horrifying smile. ¡°Or don¡¯t. It¡¯s all the same to me.¡± ¡°She¡¯s got to be joking,¡± Riley hissed, her body rigid. Sylvia gulped. From where she was standing, Sylvia could see Isabella slowly raise one finger, than another. ¡°Shit! Get a spear!¡± Sylvia shouted. The silver haired girl didn¡¯t waste a second before following her own advice. ¡°This is insane, those things mass twice what we do!¡± Riley spat. Then the blonde looked around, seeing her classmates still standing stunned. ¡°What the hell are you waiting for? Take one!¡± As she spoke, Riley tore five polearms from the weapon rack. Without hesitation, she tossed four of them, shaft forward, to her nearby classmates. Three were caught clumsily. The last bounced off a blue haired girl¡¯s head, waking her from her daze. After raising the fingers on her left hand twice, Isabella strolled to the cage¡¯s door. Shhfft. The redhead pulled the wooden bolt back. ¡°The rules of today¡¯s lesson are simple. Kill these three beasts and you live. Don¡¯t and you die. Try to run away?¡± The redhead laughed cruelly, whipping the broad blade off her back. ¡°Then I¡¯ll gut you like the cowardly shit you are.¡± With that said, Isabella threw open the cage¡¯s door. One hop put redhead atop its roof. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to teach us anything first?¡± a long haired brunette screeched. ¡°Oh, you want lessons?¡± Isabella crowed from safety. ¡°Here¡¯s one. Stab them with the pointy end! That always works better!¡± The first wolf emerged. The creature moved slowly, yet smoothly. Its long talons dug into the grass, drawing lines of brown and black where once stood green. Terrified students stepped back, fearful of the beast¡¯s approach. Sylvia glanced across the group, her expression turning bitter. A third of them were still unarmed. A second followed the first. It dropped from the cage with cat-like grace. The third came right on its heels, dark, hungry eyes taking in the delectable buffet of witches set before it. The world stood still. Crunch! Red and green streaked. Five meters were crossed in an instant. Time was like a still frame. A massive wolf perched on the shoulders of a delicate witch. Steel jaws clamped around her alluring neck. Then the flow resumed. The raven haired girl smashed into the grass, talons sinking through skin as though it were butter. The beast¡¯s head shifted. C-crack. Bone splintered. Flesh tore. A head hit the ground, then rolled. The face, a rictus of existential horror. Girls started to scream. ¡°The beryl blood wolf is a class I, mid-ranked phantasmal creature,¡± Isabella narrated. The redhead¡¯s powerful voice pierced the cacophony, clinical and commanding. ¡°They are bigger than you, faster than you, and stronger than you.¡± While atop the cage Isabella stood rational, in the crowd a wave of madness descended. Shrieks and howls banished all thought. The talons of terror shredded all sanity. Two more wolves surged forward unopposed, releasing a flood of red as they rent their victims into parts. A beast flashed across Sylvia¡¯s vision, landing atop a blonde to Sylvia¡¯s right. Crack! Sylvia didn¡¯t know if the thing breaking was her mind or the other girl¡¯s neck. A steady, psychotic scream filled her ears. Cognition stopped. Her brain glitched. She felt as though she were frozen, yet the wolf loomed closer. Closer and closer. Then ¨C Thfft. A jolt ran down the haft of her spear. Sylvia stood dazed and confused. She gazed at her weapon without comprehension. Wood was pointed forward, piercing through the wolf¡¯s neck. The tip beyond buried deep in the earth. ¡°Looks like we¡¯ve got a wild one!¡± Isabella cried, like a sports announcer captured by a brilliant play. ¡°But this isn¡¯t the material world. Phantasms don¡¯t die that easy.¡± The beryl blood wolf howled. The beast twisted. The force of its motion translated through her weapon¡¯s handle. The shock shook Sylvia from her mania. Instinctively, she adjusted her weight, resisting the wolf¡¯s strength. But she was too weak. More importantly, she was too light. As the creature turned, Sylvia found herself lifted clean off the ground. ¡°Aaaaahhh!¡± she shrieked like a little girl. The haft bounced. Elastic motion threw Sylvia¡¯s feet above her head. The wolf span again, confused by the mobile prey clinging to the stick stuck through its neck. Sylvia whipped through the air then ¨C THUD! ¨C smashed into the ground so hard her vision went black. Her ears rang. A beast growled. Sylvia¡¯s senses returned just in time to watch the enraged monster willfully drive her spear deeper through its body just to reach her. A taloned paw slammed down on her chest, heavy enough Sylvia could feel her ribs crack. Claws dug in, puncturing through cloth and skin. Knives of fiery agony piercing into her innards. The wolf¡¯s maw opened, teeth crackling with red energy. Thffft! Out of nowhere, a second spear punched into the wolf¡¯s chest, slicing through flesh before piercing out the other side. Rattled by the blow, the beast¡¯s teeth snapped short, spraying spittle on Sylvia¡¯s face. Above her, Riley wrestled with her spear trying to shove the creature aside. ¡°You¡¯re fucking insane!¡± Riley¡¯s shout drew Sylvia¡¯s gaze up. The blonde was grinning like a crazy woman. The wolf twisted, and turned, trying to escape. Its foot lifted, talons tearing. Blood bubbled and oozed, thick and goopy. Sylvia hardly noticed it. Her mind was so taken by the heat of battle, she barely felt the pain. Instead, she rolled, escaping out from under the distracted beast. Jumping to her feet, Sylvia seized her spear. Then she lifted. The weight of two witches was too much. The wolf howled, feet scrapping as it attempted to gain purchase on the earth. Heart pounding, teeth grit, Sylvia spared a glance back. A blonde corpse was on the ground no more than two meters from her, slowly disintegrating. Ah. The class had more than one blonde. Ha ha ha. ¡°The beryl blood wolf has two innate abilities,¡± Isabella roared, her voice rising over the din. ¡°Wind dash and blood fang. When using wind dash its ki will take on a greenish tint, and the beast¡¯s speed and acceleration will increase by half. Blood fang fills its teeth with crimson energy. With it, it can slice though flesh and make your blood flow out like water.¡± The blood wolf jerked angrily, struggling against the two girls. Heavy, jarring force jolted through Sylvia frame. For a moment, the silver haired girl wished she still had the obese body of Eric Swallow. C-crack. The sound was soul rending. Wood splintered. Sylvia¡¯s stalwart spear bent as the material yielded. The wolf lunged forward, its left foreclaw ripping through air. Syliva grunted and shoved. Snap. Her weapon broke in twine, but not before she nudged the creature to the side. The wolf scampered. Riley wrestled for control, but the beast was too strong for one girl to manage on her own. The creature quickly found its footing. Then it lunged. Sylvia reacted through pure instinct. A wood haft smashed into Sylvia¡¯s palms. She flew back, carried by the body of a massive wolf. By pure luck, the beast¡¯s claws landed on either side of her abused chest. The wolf¡¯s muzzle struggled toward her face, jaw barred by the other half of Sylvia¡¯s spear. The wolf ground at the wood in its maw, crimson energy tearing the handle into fibers. Thffft. A third weapon rammed into the wolf¡¯s rump. Brilliant light crackled down the spear¡¯s length, ripping through the wound. The wolf howled, its angry roar transforming into a high pinched whine. For the first time, Sylvia felt the beast¡¯s muscles slack as though it had taken a terrible blow. Mana! The instant she saw it, Sylvia understood. With mad determination, she released the broken handle of her spear. The distracted wolf didn¡¯t notice, giving her just enough time to lurch forward and grab the other half of her weapon, which was still thrust right through the wolf¡¯s neck. Then Sylvia let loose with everything she had. Glenda¡¯s lesson was clear in her mind. The feel. The experience. The intent. It was natural. Easy. Like moving an arm. Energy exploded out in an uncontrolled flood, flashing with silver light. It crackled like lightning, crawling down the weapon¡¯s haft straight into the blood wolf¡¯s neck. The beast trembled as though electrocuted. With a whine, the wolf slumped. Shink. Thfft. The new girl was merciless. Without hesitation, the short haired brunette drew her spear back then stabbed the wolf again. Golden energy jolted the creature a second time. The beast¡¯s body shuddered once more. Then it fell. Right on top of Sylvia¡¯s chest. Sylvia groaned. She grit her teeth against the pain and tried to squirm free. No luck. Breath wheezing she slumped under the wolf, watching with confusion as flesh and fur slowly dissolved into mist. Something flowed out only to be drawn inside of her. Experience? Sylvia perked. Excitement was almost enough to banish her pain. ¡°Uhm,¡± the new girl noised shyly. ¡°Are you okay?¡± Sylvia looked up. The new girl was tiny, a touch smaller than Sylvia herself. She had pretty, brown hair that swept out adorably around her ears and shoulders. Her face and figure were so delicate Sylvia felt the brunette would break at the slightest touch. She was cute. Very cute. Not unsurprising. Every girl in Sylvia¡¯s class was good-looking. Sylvia suspected that was a perk which came with being a starlight witch. While Sylvia stared, the petite brunette peered down with curious emerald eyes. ¡°I¡¯m fine¡­ I think,¡± Sylvia groaned. On second thought. She wasn¡¯t fine. She was very much the opposite of fine. While Sylvia¡¯s mind flailed, a name made its way to the forefront. Emily Clark. That was the girl¡¯s name. Emily Clark. ¡°Here, let me help you with that,¡± Riley said. The blonde leaned into her spear, shifting the blood wolf¡¯s corpse. With a portion of the weight lifted and another part turned into fog, Sylvia wiggled out from underneath. Small spikes of pain shot through her when she moved, reminding Sylvia that she came very close to being eviscerated. Actually, come to think of it, her wound hurt a lot less than Sylvia would¡¯ve imagined. Standing shakily, she resisted the urge to check her status sheet. Instead, Sylvia stooped down and grabbed a discarded spear to replace her old one. ¡°I hate to be the bearer of bad news but,¡± Riley said, drawing her weapon from the corpse. The blonde gave the haft a quick check over. ¡°There¡¯s two more.¡± The first thing Sylvia noticed was that half the class was dead. Two bodies laid scattered along the tree line, sliced in half by Isabella¡¯s cruel sword. Others were strewn about the field¡¯s center, limbs sundered, clothes and bodies slowly dissolving into light. Invisible energy spread from each, forming a strange, hidden fog. Sylvia could feel it sinking into her. But only a portion. The rest slowly spread out diffusing into the great beyond. But right now, at this moment, Sylvia took no joy in it. The scene was far too grim. Among the dead stood survivors. A courageous squad of seven was lead by Natalie. Spears out, they hounded a blood wolf, closing in from all sides. The beast¡¯s bloody hide was a testament to their success. The last wolf though, prowled around a group of three girls, one of which was bleeding out on the ground. Sylvia couldn¡¯t help but notice how lucky it was they still had so many fighting. If she hadn¡¯t snapped and caught their wolf by surprise, then the class might well have lost another three to five. ¡°If we¡¯re already dead, then we should be able to come back again, right?¡± Emily whispered, hiding behind her spear. ¡°Can you promise that?¡± Riley snapped. Riley¡¯s question hung in the air. Nobody could promise that. The three of them had been in the netherworld for less than a day. Most of what they knew was guesswork rather than certainty. So while Sylvia felt Emily had a point, she couldn¡¯t deny Riley¡¯s concern. The blonde¡¯s hands tightened on her spear until her knuckles went white. Then Riley shot forward, bellowing, ¡°Use your mana!¡± Fuck. Sylvia dashed in Riley¡¯s wake. So much for hanging back and letting the others do their part. ¡°Ah,¡± Emily echoed behind, before following. Riley charged toward the group of three, spear at the fore. But this time the blood wolf wasn¡¯t caught off guard. As the blonde¡¯s spear lanced in, the beast¡¯s paws pattered. The creature floated back with unnatural grace, skittering just out of reach. Then, when Riley¡¯s strike was fully extended, the wolf lit with a green hue. One foot touched the earth. The beast blurred, vanishing only to reappear at Riley¡¯s flank. Sylvia lunged. The long leap threw Sylvia off balance, but the flash of her spear forced the beast to abandon its attack. The wolf¡¯s claws tore through grass and dirt as it slid to a stop. Sylvia stumbled for three steps before restoring her balance. Sensing weakness, the creature snapped forward with another strike. Sylvia wanted to cry. Why is it always me! Twisting desperately, Sylvia imposed the shaft of her spear between her and the wolf. The next instant, the creature slammed into her. The beast¡¯s mass sent her tumbling onto her back. Moving too fast, the creature¡¯s flailing claws flew over her, rolling with the silver haired witch.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡­ She totally meant to do that. Thffft! Emily¡¯s weapon struck at the perfect moment, the bladed tip punching straight through the creature¡¯s ribs. Light surged with golden force, sizzling through the wolf¡¯s flesh. The beast howled, twisting angrily to face its attacker. Sylvia scrambled to her feet. ¡°Haa!¡± Riley was faster. With a shout, the blonde rammed her weapon into the wolf¡¯s back. Green light crackled. The blade bit flesh, then skittered off the beast¡¯s hip. ¡°Shit!¡± Riley cursed. The wolf went wild. It whirled, throwing the delicate brunette into the air. Emily¡¯s weapon cracked. The girl flew three meters before landing, impossibly, on her feet as though she were a cat. Sylvia rushed forward only to realize that, during the earlier scuffle, she¡¯d lost her spear. So Sylvia did the next best thing. She jumped on the beast¡¯s back. Only to recall that ¡®she¡¯ was a no longer a three-hundred pound ¡®man¡¯. While Sylvia was small, her momentum was not. The two went down in a pile of flesh and fur. Arms wrapped around wolf¡¯s neck, Sylvia clamped herself to wolf¡¯s back. The world whirled. The wolf span then rolled. It bucked, turned, and twisted trying to throw her off. ¡°Shit,¡± Riley cursed. ¡°I can¡¯t hit it while you¡¯re on its back!¡± ¡°The second I let go, it¡¯ll rip me apart!¡± Sylvia cried back. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The field was a blur. Her guts and ribs screamed in agony. Was she going to die here? You know what, screw it. Sylvia pushed off. Grip loosened, the wolf¡¯s turn sent her spinning across the ground. The angry beast regained its footing in a second, then dashed straight at her. Helpless, Sylvia could only watch in horror as the creature struck. Riley slammed in from the side. Ssshunk! This time her spear found the wolf¡¯s belly and punched clean through. The blonde¡¯s weight was small, but the sudden shock threw the beast to Sylvia¡¯s right. But in her rush, Riley forgot to release her mana. The rolling ball of red and silver transformed into a ball of red and gold as Riley and the wolf went tumbling down together. Dizzily, Sylvia spotted Emily circling while holding Sylvia¡¯s discarded spear in hand. The girls Riley saved? They hung back, too cautious to lend aid. Fucking cowards. ¡°Use your mana!¡± Sylvia screamed in reminder, as she struggled to her feet. Green light crackled. The wolf whimpered. The shock slowed the beast, granting Emily the opening she¡¯d been looking for. The tiny brunette¡¯s thrust took the creature right in the neck before inundating it with golden light. The beast went slack. Huffing, Riley rolled away. The blonde stood shakily, her breath huffing in and out. ¡°How on earth did you deal with that bullshit twice?¡± ¡°Poorly,¡± Sylvia grumbled. Dizzy, she slumped to the ground, falling onto her butt. Sylvia cupped her stomach and looked down. Thick, red, sticky, jelly-like liquid oozed from the holes punched into her chest. Small gaps were torn through her robes and flesh. But the blood on her hand was definitely not human. And the holes in her clothes were slowly filling in. This was the netherworld. The more Sylvia experienced, the more she felt that the logic this place operated on differed greatly from that which she was familiar. ¡°Congratulation.¡± Isabella¡¯s shout called everyone to attention. Sylvia¡¯s eyes swept the grounds. All three wolves were dead, their carcasses slumped on the ground transforming into ooze and mist. In this last fight, two more students passed. Of the three they¡¯d saved, one died to blood loss. Among Natalie¡¯s group, another croaked while facing the final beryl blood wolf. ¡°Give yourselves a hand, brats. I¡¯m officially impressed,¡± Isabella continued callously. ¡°The last few batches the Academy gave me got wiped out.¡± Isabella strolled around the field, observing the students that survived. Some looked worn. Some looked broken. Some trembled. Some cried. Riley¡¯s visage was cold. Sylvia imagined that she appeared as dead on the outside as she felt on the in. Isabella slammed her bone sword into the dirt. Shocking the group to attention. ¡°There are things that can only be understood after experiencing them. Death. Terror. You¡¯ve tasted both,¡± Isabella said. ¡°You¡¯ll understand the other side of the netherworld tomorrow, when your companions killed on this field meet you confused and distraught.¡± Riley let out an uneasy breath, as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. ¡°But that¡¯s not the lesson I¡¯m teaching today. That¡¯s just a happy accident.¡± Isabella smirked. ¡°The lesson of this class is simple. It¡¯s one that will be drilled into your head whether you lived or died. Whether you fought, ran, or cowered. You. Are. Weak.¡± Isabella¡¯s blunt words struck the group like a hammer. With slit eyes, she scanned the crowd cold and uncaring. Riley scowled. The green-eyed blonde clenched a hand. Sylvia didn¡¯t blink. She already knew it, but she had to admit that knowing she was weak and feeling it were two different things. No, most of the girls here were worse than weak. They were cowards. How many students were still standing? Eleven. How many would be alive if everyone had fought right from the start? Not thirty, that¡¯s for sure. But twenty was definitely possible. But what else could be expected? Even Sylvia couldn¡¯t say that she would¡¯ve fought if she hadn¡¯t snapped early on. To a society which had lived so long in peace, battle was a mere abstraction. A fantasy told in movies, video games, and story books. What did it have to do with the real world? Well. It was real now. ¡°The netherworld is cruel,¡± Isabella pronounced, striding down the length of the group. ¡°It will hurt you. It will kill you. It will break you. It will enslave you.¡± The redhead sneered when a few girls flinched. ¡°Slavery is part of Hell. Cry all you want, but there are far worse places to be born than the Academy.¡± Isabella lips turned into a grin. ¡°But that¡¯s only half of this world. The netherworld is place of miracles. The dead rise. The weak endure a thousand years. The strong stand for ten-thousand. Love. Wealth. Power. Romance. If you want them, they are there for the taking. ¡°But not for the weak!¡± Isabella¡¯s shout jolted the group. ¡°Strength is your only ally. Strength is your only friend. Weak girls are no more than toys of men. But if you are strong? Then you will walk these planes as though they were Elysium. ¡°You are witches. Be proud of it. Magic is a potent force. It can create. It can destroy. There is no surer path to wealth than magic. But in this world, everyone fights. Violence is an inescapable part of the nether. Only through force of arms can you earn respect. Only the strong can hold onto freedom. Without strength, whatever you obtain will soon be stripped from your hands by the rotten and the greedy. ¡°I can¡¯t make you strong. I¡¯m a warrior, not a mage. My path is not your path. But I can teach you how to fight. How to kill. How to endure pain, face suffering, and overcome cruelty. ¡°Now, grab your spears, brats. And don¡¯t give me any whining about how you¡¯re hurt, because the nether won¡¯t give a damn. Your bodies can take it. And if it can¡¯t?¡± Isabella turned and spat. ¡°There are worse things than death, especially in the nether. So you better get used to dying.¡± -oOo- ¡°I can¡¯t believe that bitch,¡± Riley swore. Sylvia stumbled along behind, wincing with every step. The remainder of Isabella¡¯s lesson involved weapon drills. Thrusts, strikes, movements and footwork. The redheaded dragon lady hadn¡¯t been kind either. She¡¯d screamed in the face of any student who moved slow or fucked up. Being wounded, Sylvia had often been party to that abuse. Still, no amount of pain or injury could kill Sylvia¡¯s smile.
Name Sylvia Swallows Class Apprentice Witch
Level 8+30 Exp 673 / 90
HP 46 / 85 MP 149 / 158
Str 3 Mag 9
Vit 3 Spr 10
Agl 3 Wit 10
Six-hundred and seventy-three experience points. Six-hundred and seventy-three! Every time Sylvia saw the number, a giddy feeling filled her head. It was a value so beautiful that Sylvia could almost forgive the ¡®s¡¯ tagged onto the end of her last name. Six-hundred and seventy-three! That was fifty-six years and one month in old Earth leveling terms. How wonderful. How truly wonderful. Sylvia felt as though she were in a dream. A good one this time. Then, as usual, her glee was replaced by dread. Forty-six hit points. Sylvia shuddered. She had come halfway to death and that was with a beryl blood wolf digging its claw in by accident. What if it got a clean strike? Or if those jaws had managed to snag her around the throat? Yes. She¡¯d resurrect. That much was confirmed. Well, not fully. Sylvia wouldn¡¯t trust resurrection until she saw it with her own two eyes. But Sylvia was confident Isabella hadn¡¯t lied. Damned capitalists would never let debtors off that easily. No. The important question was, if Sylvia died, what would happen to her precious experience points? Those were six-hundred and seventy-three innocent points of experience that had never done anyone wrong. Would she keep them? Would they be lost forever? Was this a damned souls game? No, no, no. That possibility was too horrible to contemplate. Sylvia had to turn her experience into levels immediately. That was the only way to keep her precious safe. ¡­ Actually, come to think it, would she die when her hit points reached zero? Not all games worked like that. A morbid curiosity filled her. ¡°Are you okay, Sylvia?¡± Emily asked, looking worried. Sylvia banished her thoughts. Levels first. Madness later. ¡°I¡¯m better than I should be.¡± ¡°Was Isabella trying to traumatize her students,¡± Riley growled, continuing her rant. ¡°And I can¡¯t believe you didn¡¯t just sit it out.¡± ¡°I figured she¡¯d off me if I complained,¡± Sylvia said, cynically. Riley might¡¯ve forgotten the students Isabella cut down, but Sylvia hadn¡¯t. Also, Sylvia had six-hundred and seventy-three experience points she had to protect. Did she mention the six-hundred and seventy-three experience points? Riley¡¯s nose scrunched as her scowl grew deeper. Sylvia thought the blonde looked similar to an angry kitten. ¡°What class is next?¡± Sylvia inserted, changing the subject. ¡°The schedule says ¡®cultivation¡¯,¡± Emily answered, sounding confused. ¡°But the notes say it¡¯s not mandatory until our mentors are chosen next week.¡± Sylvia¡¯s gaze shifted to the tiny, brown haired girl. After Armed Comba,t Emily had attached herself to their group. With her shy and adorable character, Sylvia couldn¡¯t help but feel Emily was out of place. Emily all but radiated sweet femininity. In contrast, Riley was a tomboy and Sylvia a ¡®man¡¯ transformed into a woman. At least, Sylvia hoped she came across as masculine. She did have some masculine pride, damn it. Detecting Sylvia¡¯s unease, Emily stepped close, clasping the silver haired girl¡¯s hands between her own. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. You¡¯ll be okay,¡± she encouraged. ¡°You¡¯re strong. And brave!¡± Sylvia blushed. She could feel Emily¡¯s soft hands wrapped around her own. Her warmth. Her closeness. Her lingering scent. Emily¡¯s pure emerald eyes gazed into hers. The irises dark, shadowy, and beautiful. The pupils shimmering, star filled voids. Sylvia could lose herself in them forever. Uncomfortable, she stepped back. Sylvia wasn¡¯t used to being physically close to a beautiful woman. Or anyone for that matter. But mostly, she stepped back because her body was starting to react in ways that were as familiar as they were alien. ¡°Thanks?¡± Sylvia said weakly. She felt like a sleaze. Emily giggled. ¡°Sylvia¡¯s a shy girl,¡± she teased. Then her eye¡¯s brightened. The brunette clenched each fist adorably. ¡°I know! We should rush to the dorms and choose our room before anyone else selects theirs!¡± ¡°She¡¯s not shy,¡± Riley corrected, patting her morose silver haired friend on the shoulder. ¡°And dorm rooms are assigned to groups of three. I figured Sylvia and I would pair up, but¡­¡± ¡°Eh?¡± Emily noised. She pushed her hands together cutely. ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t?¡± Riley¡¯s gaze flickered back to Sylvia. Riley¡¯s green eyes were vivid and bright, glowing with life and intensity. Emily¡¯s, by contrast, were like a dark jewel in the night. Both incredibly beautiful. Sylvia was suddenly curious, what did her eyes look like? ¡°You want to tell her or should I?¡± the blonde stated. Oh. That. Sylvia grimaced. She didn¡¯t want to talk about it. The Academy might have laid down the law, but Sylvia had never planned to run around in the halls shouting: ¡®I¡¯m a man!¡¯ to anyone who cared to listen. Bigots were, unfortunately, a sizable proportion of the world¡¯s population. Sylvia would rather not deal with those assholes. Especially when her transformation wasn¡¯t by choice. ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to say,¡± Sylvia reminded, knowing she was making an excuse. ¡°I¡¯m fine with it,¡± Riley made clear. ¡°I don¡¯t care about your past. But if we¡¯re going to dorm together, Emily has the right to know.¡± Yeah. That was bullshit. Did lesbians have to come out of the closet to live with another girl? Then why did Sylvia have to declare her former sex? How the fuck was her circumstances different? Sylvia got Riley¡¯s point. If the shoe was on the other foot, she might have agreed. Hypocrisy was human. Riley must¡¯ve read her glare. ¡°I don¡¯t want to deal with a lot of drama six months from now.¡± Shit. Sylvia couldn¡¯t disagree with that. Know what, swapping sexes sucked. Life was easier as a man. Or, at the very least, more familiar. ¡°Uhmm,¡± Emily noised, glancing between the two of them. Sylvia sighed, then held out a hand as though facing an executioner. ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Eric. Eric Swallow.¡± Emily titled her head, but took the offered palm and gave it a gentle shake. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°She¡¯s a man,¡± Riley said bluntly. Then she gave the silver haired girl a look. ¡°Well. She was a man. I¡¯m assuming you¡¯ve got the right parts below because you definitely have the right ones up top.¡± ¡°Eh? Eh. Eh!¡± Emily noised with growing alarm. The brunette stepped back looking flustered. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I must¡¯ve¡­. Ah! Wait! I didn¡¯t mean¡­ that is¡­ you didn¡¯t seem like¡­.¡± Emily paused, finally catching herself before probing cautiously. ¡°You¡¯re very cute?¡± Watching the brunette scramble, Sylvia couldn¡¯t help but lament, ¡°I¡¯d rather not be praised as cute.¡± ¡°But you are!¡± Emily insisted. ¡°You¡¯re super cute.¡± Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. Way to drive that knife in a second time like a serial killer. Emily giggled again. Sylvia wasn¡¯t sure how old the brunette was on the inside, but as an adult Sylvia refused to get dragged into childish arguments. Even if it was completely obvious that there was nothing cute about her. Nothing. At all. Yes, Sylvia hadn¡¯t looked at herself in a mirror yet, but she knew it deep in her soul. She might be cool, or handsome, but never, ever cute. ¡°I¡¯d appreciate it if you kept that to yourself,¡± Sylvia pushed. ¡°People can be shit. And I was all but told that I¡¯m not allowed to talk about it.¡± A day of classes had improved Sylvia¡¯s opinion of the Academy. The teachers were definitely here to teach. So long as they didn¡¯t start breaking out brainwashing devices or engaging in casual torture, Sylvia could probably put up with the school for the next few months. Especially since she was going to learn magic. Also, you know, Sylvia didn¡¯t want to end up on the streets. Or a slave. And definitely not as a slave working the streets. ¡°I will,¡± Emily promised. Then the brunette showed a brilliant smile. ¡°So¡­ the three of us will room together then? Ah. I want a window facing the Academy. The flower gardens are so pretty.¡± ¡°Sounds like its decided then,¡± Riley said. The blonde¡¯s expression turned skeptical. ¡°But do we get to choose?¡± ¡°Of course! The rules say, dorm rooms are first come, first served,¡± Emily informed eagerly. The brunette looked anxiously between the pair. ¡°Then?¡± Sylvia shrugged, wincing when her insides shifted. ¡°I really don¡¯t care.¡± ¡°Knock yourself out,¡± Riley permitted. Emily¡¯s eyes brightened. No longer able to stand still, the delicate girl dashed off excitedly. Sylvia watched the brunette vanish before finding a stone bench to sit on. A slight hiss escaped the silver haired girl as she set herself down. ¡°Shit. I should¡¯ve asked if you¡¯re okay standing,¡± Riley said, rushing forward to help. Sylvia waved her off. Curious, she lifted the edge of her green dress. Her skin was smooth and pale. The soft, creamy surface was so flawless that Sylvia¡¯s breath caught. Her cheeks lit lightly as her male mind reacted to her body¡¯s beauty. But this perfection was marred. From her pale skin grew bulbous, red growths. The smallest lump was the size of a fingernail. The largest as broad as knuckle. Each was nestled exactly where the wolf¡¯s claws sunk in. Scabs of some sort. They looked more like tumors. She was not human. Sylvia probed one of the lumps experimentally. It wobbled under pressure, releasing a funny, tingly feeling. It hurt. A little. But only kinda-sorta. ¡°Careful there, you¡¯re flashing the world,¡± Riley commented, impishly. Sylvia dropped the edge of her dress. ¡°Ugh. Forgot I wasn¡¯t wearing pants.¡± She didn¡¯t know how she forgot, because now Sylvia was once again hyper aware of the cool breeze kissing her thighs. ¡°It¡¯s just us girls here at the Academy,¡± Riley said, ¡°But keep it in mind. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s smart to give men around here ideas.¡± Sylvia shuddered. Just the thought of men perving on her made her feel gross and violated. No wonder girls stuck to their cliques. Riley smirked, cute freckles wrinkling. ¡°Not so fun, huh, when the shoe¡¯s on the other foot.¡± The blonde paused, scratching a cheek. ¡°I want to take a look around, but if you need me ¨C ¡± Sylvia shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡± ¡°You sure?¡± ¡°I want to think about things,¡± Sylvia said, tapping her head. ¡°And it¡¯s not like I can die.¡± Riley frowned. ¡°Don¡¯t. Not until we see the others come back. And not until we really know the consequences.¡± The girl¡¯s intense green eyes swept the grounds cautiously. Then she continued with a hushed voice. ¡°I don¡¯t trust them.¡± And she shouldn¡¯t. ¡°I¡¯ll look around then,¡± Riley said, finally. ¡°And I¡¯ll let you know if I see anything.¡± ¡°Good luck,¡± Sylvia offered. The silver haired girl¡¯s attention turned away from the world as the blonde walked off. Her eyes were on the blue window that had been teasing her for the better part of an hour. It was time to level up. But how should she level? At the start of the day, Sylvia had assigned her points blindly. The logic she followed was that round numbers looked better. So, Wit and Spirit became ten. It was dumb, but Sylvia liked it. Now? Armed Combat had been a reality check. If Sylvia had fucked up, she¡¯d be dead. No. She had fucked up and was lucky she wasn¡¯t dead. Sure, their trio had killed two wolves but that was only with a giant pile of distractions. She was weak. The blood wolves were a massive reward. If Sylvia could kill them. But, without a lot of help Sylvia couldn¡¯t kill one much less three. Worse, Sylvia had no hope of killing them. Fifty levels? A hundred levels? Even if Sylvia dumped every stat point into her physical attributes there was no way she could guarantee a one-on-one victory. The impact of levels was just too small. As for her magic stats, Sylvia didn¡¯t know how to cast spells. What good were they going to do? And that was the problem. She didn¡¯t know. Sylvia didn¡¯t know any spells. She didn¡¯t know how to fight. She didn¡¯t know anything about combat. Sylvia could slay a dragon in a video game, but video games weren¡¯t reality. Sylvia wasn¡¯t holding a controller, nor was she piloting an avatar that knew how to dodge, block, and combo her attacks. She was weak. So Sylvia found herself at loose ends. She had to raise her level if she wanted to escape the Academy¡¯s mercy. Not just once or twice, but enough times to become strong. And for that she needed a plan. Not just a plan, a feedback loop. A way of raising her level that would naturally result in secondary rewards that made her stronger faster. And on that¡­. Sylvia¡¯s eyes flickered to a quest: Wizard Means Wise I. A chain quest. A chain quests whose first step rewarded a blank skill book. Skill was what Sylvia required. Dared she bet on it? Sylvia hesitated. She didn¡¯t trust the System. In her experience, it never coughed up anything good. Even if it did, it wasn¡¯t clear Wizard Means Wise II would be as valuable as Wizard Means Wise I. Though, by their name, Sylvia suspected the two quests would be similar. ¡°Screw it.¡± Sylvia pounded the level up button five times. ¡°I need the wit one way or another. If the System hands out crap, I can still use it to learn faster when I¡¯m studying.¡±
Name Sylvia Swallows Class Apprentice Witch
Level 13+30 Exp 123 / 140
HP 46 / 89 MP 149 / 165
Str 3 Mag 9
Vit 3 Spr 10
Agl 3 Wit 15
Blank skill book, you better be worth it. -oOo- System Codex Attribute: Wit Eric¡¯s notes: Wit isn¡¯t intelligence. An idiot with high wit will only think stupid thoughts faster. Sub-Attribute: Awareness Raw Calculation: (100% + 4% * Wit)^0.5 The bandwidth and rate at which the mind processes information. This covers the speed of thought and thus the speed of intellectual activities such as reading or writing. This also enhances the amount of data drawn through external senses. For material bodies, awareness cannot improve the sensory organs. It can only improve the volume of data consumed to the limit of said organ. However, for phantasmal bodies greater wit also corresponds to a better sense of hearing, sight, and touch. While awareness effects the speed of thought, the minimum time to complete a thought is still governed by reaction time and thus celerity (agility). As mana moves with thought, the speed of its action is also controlled by awareness. Eric¡¯s notes: Thinking speed is: Reaction Time/Celerity + Thinking Time/Awareness. Sub-Attribute: Capacity Raw Calculation: 100% + 1% * Wit The mind¡¯s ability to hold information, track multiple threads, and endure all forms of intellectual strain. Capacity influences memory in terms of retention but not in the terms of recollection. With high wit newly acquired memories will be clearer and stick for longer, however old memories will not improve in the slightest. High capacity does not grant true multithreaded thinking. It merely enhances any such capability already present in the User. It does however, greatly enhance the ability resume or juggle thoughts both in the sense that operating in multiple frames is easier, but also in the sense that more thoughts can be held in short term memory at once. Attribute: Spirit Integrity: Raw Calculation: 100% + 4% * Spr The solidity and durability of mind and mana. This covers the ability to resist infiltration and influence by alien forces, but does not in any way increase the ability to ignore ones own desires and emotions. Integrity also influences the stability of runes formed in the soul and thus theoretical casting speed. This also impacts how easy it is to break the framework of any spell cast. Resolve: Raw Calculation: 100% + 1% * Spr The ability to overcome all forms of spiritual and psychological trial. High resolve allows one to press past their limits in pursuit of a higher cause. Fear, pain, boredom and other distractions will not cause them to waver. This does not diminish emotions, it simply allows their influence to be overcome. This is true for all desires whether foreign or natural. Resolve also enhances the ability to endure and recover from psychological trauma. Mental wounds will heal more quickly, and horrific experiences will not cause the User to lose sight of themselves. Finally, resolve influences the ability to endure mental strain and exhaustion. This can reduce the mental need for sleep. The physical need for sleep however, is governed by vitality (resilience). Sylvia¡¯s notes: Do I even have a physical need for sleep? Chapter 4 -oOo- Chapter 4 -oOo- Sylvia¡¯s first day ended quietly. Still suffering from her wounds, Sylvia devoted her time to reading. Her intent was to complete Wizard Means Wise I. She started with The Lesser Codex. The textbook was as dry as expected. Reading it was like pulling teeth. After a long struggle, Sylvia made it twenty pages in and scored two quests points. Then she abandoned the book in a huff. Introduction to Magic proved more tolerable. Quest points came slower, but Sylvia was able to complete a two-hour slog. After this, she retired to their dorm and tried again. Next, she tested A Beryl-ous Travel Record. This book told the story of Abigail Wright¡¯s rather inept adventures. After leaving the Academy in her sixth year, Abigail Wright tried her hand as a hunter in the Daylight Forest just outside Vallen. This ended, rather expectedly, in death. In the first chapter, Abigail Wright froze to death after being bitten by a beryl mist snake. In the second, she was stabbed to death by her hunter companion. The rather humorous and witty text didn¡¯t just describe how Abigail died, it provided information about places, creatures, and culture. More importantly, it was fun. Sylvia was fully engaged in Abigail Wright¡¯s tale when the lights went out. The sun, as Sylvia feared, had not budged an inch. Thankfully, the dorms provided solid shutters that dimmed the room to an approximation of night. Getting ready for bed was awkward, especially with a now female body and a pair of dorm mates. But Sylvia made due. She even managed to keep her eyes to herself. Really. She really did. And there was no evidence to prove otherwise! So dawned Sylvia¡¯s second day at the Starlight Nether Witch Academy. With this morn ended the lingering dead left by their Armed Combat class. Sylvia and Riley watched with relief as the resurrected students gathered. A few hugs and tears were exchanged but a greater tension hung over the reunion. Among those that survived, many did not see companions but traitors and cowards. These emotions, however, were swiftly brushed aside in favor of their first class. Field Studies, taught by Professor Wright. Yes that Abigail Wright. Corruption and self-dealing aside, Professor Wright proved an entertaining teacher. Rather than throw her students off the deep end, the professor chose to tell tales about her time as a young witch at the Academy. To the frazzled nerves of Sylvia¡¯s classmates this proved a balm. A reminder that this was a school of magic and all that entailed, good and ill. By the time Field Studies ended, empty eyes had been filled anew with brilliant sparks. Which brought Sylvia to her Nether History class. ¡°Oh god, I was about to graduate from college,¡± Riley moaned. ¡°I graduated from college,¡± Sylvia replied dully. ¡°I was done. I¡¯d moved on. I had started my career and was even living in my own apartment.¡± And now she was stuck in school. Again. With goddamned homework and no video games or internet. Most importantly, she was hungry. Not hungry, hungry. There was no pressing physical need. But Sylvia very much wanted to eat. ¡°Chin up!¡± Emily cheered them energetically. ¡°We¡¯re learning magic.¡± Sylvia gave the brunette a dead eyed stare. Nether History was, shock of shockers, a history class. History that, as one might suspect, had very little to do with magic. Sylvia didn¡¯t hate history. But she had never been a scholar. More to the point, it was hard to appreciate history without already knowing history. And the history of the netherworld was deep. Twelve-thousand years deep. And that was just the clearly recorded parts. Oral accounts ran back a full thirty thousand years to the early Age of Myths. Nether History wasn¡¯t a subject that could be taught in a year. Or even ten years. Which was to say, the history they were covering was just scratching the surface. No, to be more specific, it was literally describing the surface. Because first year was entirely devoted to netherworld geography. You know, learning the seven continents. Or in this case, the planes. Many of which were as large as continents. ¡°Heather Grenier,¡± Miss Myers called out. The stern eyed teacher gazed across the room. ¡°Can you tell me how many major planes there are in the netherworld?¡± Heather Grenier was a redhead. Not the ordinary kind. Her hair was a mix of burning crimson and fiery orange. She kept it long and straight, ending between her shoulder blades. Heather sat next to Natalie Ward. Sylvia was pretty sure the two girls dormed together. Where Natalie was poised and focused, Heather had that delinquent valley girl posture. Which may be why she¡¯d been targeted by Professor Myers. ¡°Six hundred?¡± Heather asked, toying with her burning locks. Riley twitched. If Sylvia¡¯s cheek wasn¡¯t resting in her hand, she would¡¯ve facepalmed. ¡°It¡¯s the title of the book,¡± Riley muttered. ¡°Six-hundred and sixty-six. There are six-hundred and sixty-six major planes in the netherworld, Miss Grenier. Please pay attention.¡± Allison Myers said, tone sharp. Her violet gaze swept the room. ¡°Lets try again. Emily Clark, can you name the planar types?¡± The dainty brunette on Sylvia¡¯s left stood. ¡°Planes are categorized as major or minor,¡± Emily said, her shy voice quiet yet clear. ¡°They can be further divided into sovereign, wild, barren, and turbulent. A sovereign plane is any plane with enough denizens to ¨C ¡± ¡°Thank you, Miss Clark,¡± Miss Myers interrupted. The beautiful woman smiled. ¡°But you don¡¯t need to rehash the whole lesson.¡± Professor Myers paused then addressed the group. ¡°The history of the netherworld is long. With thirty billion denizens, some of whom have lived for thousands of years, it is far longer and far more complicated than we can cover in this class. ¡°You are witches not scholars. The Academy doesn¡¯t expect you to rattle off how each of the thirty-three heavens were founded, though I would personally be pleased if you could,¡± Professor Myers said. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean history can be neglected. Unless something terrible comes to pass, all of you will remain in the netherworld for centuries if not millennia. Understanding the history of the netherworld means understanding your place within it.¡± Allison¡¯s violet eyes swept the gathered students. The teacher was as sexy as she was strict. Without her skirt and suit, Professor Myers would only look a few years older than her students. ¡°Before you¡¯re dismissed, there is one last matter to talk about. Clubs.¡± Several of Sylvia¡¯s classmates perked up, Emily and Riley included. Sylvia, on the other hand, would¡¯ve rathered retire to her room or the library. An internet caf¨¦ would be nice too, but the netherworld didn¡¯t have those. Barbarians. ¡°As mentioned yesterday, clubs are mandatory. Further, as indicated in your schedule, they fill the period following my class,¡± Professor Myers made clear. ¡°All clubs provide a mentor. This is the person most suitable to go to with questions. In fact, handling your questions is one of their duties. In addition, each club must teach their members a trade. So take your club seriously. It may have a direct impact on your post academic future. ¡°Clubrooms are found on the second floor, west wing of this building. If you have not chosen a club by this time next week, one will be assigned to you.¡± The raven haired professor paused. If the universe had justice, this would be part where she adjusted her horn rimmed glasses. Alas, the universe was cold, dark, and cruel. ¡°You are dismissed. Miss Swallows, if you would stay.¡± Sylvia groaned. Swallow. It was Swallow, like the bird. Why was that so hard to remember? And fuck you too, System. Don¡¯t think she didn¡¯t notice! While the rest of the class filed out of the room, Sylvia trudged up toward the podium. Professor Myers waited patiently. With a flick of her eyes, Allison noted Riley and Emily remained. ¡°This has to do with your special circumstances,¡± Professor Myers said, carefully. Sylvia glanced back, then shrugged. ¡°They already know.¡± ¡°The Academy would prefer you kept that to yourself,¡± Allison reminded, violet eyes narrowing. ¡°But I am glad you¡¯ve made friends.¡± Sylvia¡¯s expression turned odd. Friends. When was the last time Sylvia had friends? High school? It¡¯d been ages since Sylvia had heard that word in connection to herself. She wasn¡¯t the type that made friends easily. Which made her association with Riley all the more odd. Then Emily, right after Armed Combat class. Was this a girl thing? Or was this so-called pretty privilege? Hmm, maybe being cute wasn¡¯t so bad. Though she¡¯d rather be a man! ¡°Do you remember yesterday¡¯s discussion?¡± Professor Myers questioned. Sylvia nodded. ¡°I do.¡± ¡°Then you should not be surprised that, in review of your recent behavior, the Academy had decided to provide additional direction. As such, your club and your mentor have been chosen for you.¡± ¡°What?¡± Sylvia said, confused. ¡°Your hair, Miss Swallows.¡± This morning, before heading to class, Sylvia let Riley cut her hair. The blonde had sliced her silver locks so that they ended just below the ear. Longer than Sylvia was used to, though admittedly boyish. She¡¯d brought up the concern. Riley thought it would be fine. In retrospect, Sylvia should¡¯ve taken the hint when Emily buried her face under a pillow. ¡°How is that fair?¡± Riley challenged, pushing her way forward from the back of the class. ¡°Her hair isn¡¯t much shorter than mine.¡± Professor Myers¡¯ sharp, violet eyes flickered to the freckled blonde. A nervous Emily trailed behind. ¡°I made myself quite clear when I said Sylvia would be held to higher standards. And those standards have not been met.¡± ¡°I¡¯m the one that cut it,¡± Riley argued boldly. ¡°If anyone should face punishment ¨C ¡± ¡°This was decided by Baroness Vallenfelt,¡± Allison Myers interrupted, bluntly. ¡°I respect your wish to support your friend, but this is out of our hands.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± Sylvia said putting a hand on the blonde¡¯s shoulder. Then she looked at the raven haired professor. ¡°Can I know what club it is?¡± ¡°Charm club. I presume the baroness wishes that you comport yourself as a charming lady,¡± Allison answered. With the click of her high heels, the professor led them out of the room. ¡°Either that or she¡¯s fond of you.¡± Charm club. Joy. Sylvia scowled. Her eyes traced the teacher¡¯s long legs, but her heart wasn¡¯t in it. Great. Just great. Charm club. Just what Sylvia wanted to do with her spare time. ¡°It could be fun,¡± Emily chirped. ¡°We should do it together!¡± The brunette¡¯s emerald eyes danced with excitement. Sylvia didn¡¯t doubt for a second that Emily would find charm club fun. Just as Sylvia had no doubt she would find it the opposite of fun. ¡°Ugh, I can¡¯t believe they¡¯d do this to you,¡± Riley commiserated, following behind. Sylvia sighed. ¡°They were probably going to find an excuse and force me in regardless.¡± ¡°True.¡± Riley patted Sylvia on the shoulder. ¡°At least you¡¯ll have Emily.¡± Sylvia¡¯s sour gaze, shifted to the freckled blonde. Traitor. ¡°What happened to ¡®if anyone should face punishment¡¯?¡± ¡°Right. It¡¯ll be even more fun if all three of us join together,¡± Emily insisted, bouncing on her toes. Riley replied to the silver haired girl, completely ignoring the brunette. ¡°Charm club really doesn¡¯t sound like my kind of thing.¡± The raven haired professor came to a stop. The teacher pushed open a door, revealing the room beyond. It was small. Half the size of a classroom. Sunlight poured in through the three south facing windows, elegant curtains crowding around the glass panes. To the left were crates and stands. Some filled with tufts of grass. Others with wood or rolls of cloth. A few dresses were put on display nearby. At the center of the room were a pair of long tables with wooden stools. There Sylvia found two women seated. The first was a doll-like girl no more than a meter tall perched on the table¡¯s edge. Glossy wings grew from her back, sparkling with faint light. The second had purple hair cut off around her shoulders. Goat horns grew from her temples curving back to the rear of her skull before twisting around a knuckle¡¯s length in the opposite direction. The doll-like faerie jumped up into the air when they entered. Her wings fluttered, shedding luminescent motes. ¡°Is that her?¡± the faerie questioned. She fluttered around the group of three, curious. The faerie¡¯s waist length, pink hair danced behind her. ¡°I thought you were only bringing one?¡± ¡°The other two are her friends,¡± Professor Myers explained, pushing the reluctant silver haired girl into the room. ¡°Only Sylvia is required. Inform the staff if she causes any trouble. The others you¡¯ll have to convince.¡± ¡°Come in, come in,¡± the faerie greeted enthusiastically. ¡°Welcome to charm club. I¡¯m Kyna, club president.¡± Emily entered happily, her dark, emerald eyes shining with starlight as she took in the ribbons, frills, and accessories lining the walls. Sylvia trudged into the room as though approaching her executioner. Riley had a bored look as though none of it had anything to do with her. Tch. Let¡¯s see if you can run away. Thud. Professor Myers left, closing the door behind her. The heavy sound was like a lock wrapping around Sylvia¡¯s heart. It was Riley, surprisingly, who tried to add optimism. ¡°I heard clubs have to teach a trade,¡± the blonde commented. ¡°So is it sewing?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right!¡± Kyna said, cheerfully. ¡°Here we¡¯ll teach you how to use alchemy to synthesize fabrics, and how to shape cloth into all sorts of cute and adorable clothes. Ingrid even knows how to place enchantments!¡± Suddenly, things didn¡¯t sound nearly as horrible. Of course, Kyna just had to snuff that tiny ember of hope. ¡°Buuttt,¡± the faerie dragged the word out, wagging a finger. ¡°The most important thing for our new club members is to be charming.¡± ¡°My dream is to open a shop,¡± The purple haired woman inserted. Her voice was smoke and velvet. A pleasing, husky trill as smooth as a teasing touch running across the skin. The woman¡¯s ruby eyes flitted over the girls. ¡°We also sell clothes and accessories in the Recreation Hall. Learning to craft takes time. For your first year, your primary job is to advertise our wares.¡± ¡°Which is why we¡¯re looking for girls who not only love fashion, but will devote themselves to being the prettiest girls in the school,¡± Kyna finished. ¡°Elegant, beautiful, cool, or sexy. Any style is fine, as long is it inspires your classmates,¡± the horned beauty added. ¡°I¡¯m Ingrid, vice-president of the club. Kyna is your mentor. And, yes, I¡¯m a succubus. The rumors aren¡¯t wrong. I do like sex, but only on my terms.¡± If Kyna was a cute little faerie, Ingrid was bombshell. Full breasts that threatened to spill out of her top. A narrow waist. Legs that went on for miles. It wasn¡¯t just her figure. It was her fashion. The hem of the demonic woman¡¯s ruby dress was alluringly short. Her dress was cut low, to reveal deep cleavage. Her shoes sported heels so towering they made Allison¡¯s look sensible by comparison. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t it always be?¡± Riley¡¯s question pulled Sylvia from her lustful reverie. The silver haired girl tore her eyes from the succubus. Ingrid¡¯s lips quirked knowingly. The demoness shifted her hips revealing a hint white thigh above her sexy stockings. Sylvia¡¯s eyes caught it, a predator latching onto prey. Wearing a smirk, Ingrid looked past the silver haired girl to answer Riley¡¯s question. ¡°I had the misfortune of being born into Hell as part of a succubus clan. Those that didn¡¯t meet their expectations in the first few years were sent to the brothels,¡± Ingrid said. ¡°I envy you. A chance to learn magic without having to fight, pay, or sell yourself is a true treasure.¡± With another twist of her hips, Ingrid turned her eyes on her work. It was clear she had nothing further to say on the subject. Riley¡¯s expression was dark. History had never been kind to women. Hell was no exception. ¡°Any style,¡± Emily questioned, redirecting the conversation. ¡°Then can it be super cute and girly?¡± Kyna giggled. ¡°Of course! Cuteness is justice!¡± Danger. Danger. Danger. Sylvia went on high alert. It was possible that Emily was asking for herself. The brunette was an absolutely adorable girl right to her core. Not only was she tiny and delicate, but her poise and posture radiated charm. Sylvia would be thrilled to see Emily dress up in cute frills. Nobody hated pretty girls. But Sylvia had a terrible suspicion that the brunette was plotting against her. Best to nip this madness in the bud. ¡°If it¡¯s any style, I¡¯ll go with cool and handsome,¡± Sylvia asserted. ¡°Don¡¯t be silly, you don¡¯t get to choose,¡± the pink haired faerie said, slapping the attempt down. ¡°Especially not with that travesty you call hair.¡± Sylvia¡¯s shoulders dropped. Shit. Everything she feared was coming to pass. ¡°Before it was so, so pretty,¡± Emily lamented, her emerald eyes shimmering with half formed tears. ¡°I cried every time Riley cut it.¡± The brunette gave Riley a glare as though the freckled blonde was a wicked monster who murdered her pet cat. ¡°Well. I think that¡¯s my cue,¡± Riley said, turning to leave. ¡°Eh!¡± Emily noised, eyes growing wide. Sylvia abandoned all mercy. Before Riley could escape, the silver haired witch wrapped her left arm around the freckled blonde¡¯s neck. Then, for good measure, she locked the limb into place by gripping her left wrist with her right hand. Riley let out a strangled, ¡°Grrk!¡± ¡°If I¡¯m going down, you¡¯re going down with me,¡± Sylvia growled, ruthlessly. Didn¡¯t you say you¡¯d take responsibility? Huh? Huh? Then take responsibility! ¡°R-right!¡± Emily said, both fists clenched in cute appeal. ¡°We have to stay and support Sylvia.¡± ¡°Not so tight,¡± Riley gurgled out. Rolling her eyes, Sylvia loosed her grip. Riley immediately took the chance to slip out of the hold. ¡°Fine,¡± the blonde grumbled. ¡°I can deal with some dress up, but I don¡¯t do the fancy stuff.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± Kyna mused. The faerie floated close to the blonde¡¯s face. Then she giggled. ¡°I think we can find something you¡¯d like. It¡¯s decided then?¡± ¡°Of course!¡± ¡°Do I have choice?¡± ¡°The things I do for friends.¡± The words came from Emily, Sylvia, and Riley all at once. Emily¡¯s in the form of a cheer. Sylvia¡¯s as a groan. Riley¡¯s as a barely heard mutter. Kyna clapped her hands excitedly, completely ignoring the lack of enthusiasm. ¡°Great! Then the three of you will be my pupils for the next year,¡± the pink haired faerie declared. ¡°So, what are your names?¡± ¡°Emily Clark!¡± Emily jumped in eagerly. ¡°Riley Smith,¡± added the freckled blonde without much enthusiasm. ¡°Good, and I already know Sylvia Swallows,¡± Kyna said happily. ¡°Swallow. Like the bird,¡± Sylvia repeated dully while pinching the bridge of her nose. ¡°Isn¡¯t that what I said?¡± Kyna replied, bright blue eyes blinking in confusion. ¡°You said Swallows,¡± Riley noted. ¡°Which has a very different meaning.¡± Ingrid snorted. ¡°Why does it matter? It¡¯s a name, you aren¡¯t supposed to put meaning into it,¡± Kyna declared, glaring at her succubus companion. Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. Ingrid spoke up before anyone could interrupt. ¡°They probably haven¡¯t learned about spirit speech.¡± ¡°Silly me. I forgot starlight witches are born with their mortal memories. Normally demons spend their first year getting acquainted with the world,¡± Kyna mused. The little faerie raised a finger. ¡°Then as your mentor, let me explain.¡± So said, the faerie opened her mouth and sang. From her throat came a playful ~la~~la~la~~la~la~la~~la~. Somehow, overlapping the childish song was meaning. ¡°Ether resonates with thoughts and feelings, that¡¯s why it can be refined into mana. Spirit speech is the action of placing ideas into ether in order to communicate. This way, no matter how you talk ¨C even if you sing! ¨C everyone will understand what you¡¯re saying. ¡°You don¡¯t have to think about it. For most bloodlines, it comes naturally. It¡¯s only tricky when you try to do special things, like communicating by way of song.¡± Finished, Kyna puffed out her chest, proud of her recursive account. ¡°That was amazing,¡± Emily praised, clapping. ¡°Thank you. Thank you,¡± Kyna accepted gleefully. ¡°It takes a lot of practice.¡± ¡°Let me try,¡± Emily said eagerly. ¡°~La~~la~la~¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have the heart to tell her,¡± Riley whispered. ¡°Do you?¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Sylvia just facepalmed. ¡°Mmm,¡± Emily noised, noticing their side commentary. ¡°You¡¯re mean.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll get it. You¡¯ll get it,¡± Kyna encouraged. ¡°Spirit speech is important to magic. In a few more years, you¡¯ll be able to do it easily.¡± ¡°But what does this have to do with my name?¡± Sylvia asked. ¡°Only true names are spoken with meaning. In conversation, names are spoken as sound,¡± Ingrid explained. ¡°Unless you are involved in a significant ceremony, never place meaning behind a name. It¡¯s considered rude.¡± That¡­ made a lot of sense when Sylvia thought about it. If the meaning placed behind a name was arbitrary, then someone could shove whatever bullshit they wanted between the lines. Sylvia could see how that could turn into a faux pas real fast. ¡°Right and since everyone here is a charming lady, you¡¯ll never do it,¡± Kyna insisted. ¡°The netherworld is weird,¡± Riley murmured. ¡°This doesn¡¯t even score a five out of ten after seeing people come back from the dead,¡± Sylvia countered. ¡°Okay, enough distractions,¡± Kyna said, putting a hand on her hip. ¡°Every month charm club has a theme. This month¡¯s theme is hair.¡± Oh, joy. ¡°A woman¡¯s hair is her life,¡± Kyna said seriously. ¡°It¡¯s a symbol of who we are. Our image and our individuality. Take Emily. One look and you know she¡¯s cute, feminine, and refined. Riley¡¯s hair says: I¡¯m a sporty girl. Isn¡¯t that just perfect for her? As for Sylvia.¡± The pink haired faerie¡¯s nose crinkled in disgust. ¡°It says: I¡¯m a boy and I don¡¯t care what I look like.¡± Know what? Sylvia owed Riley an apology. She thought Riley¡¯s technique was sloppy. Apparently it was spot on. To make sure the freckled blonde knew her appreciation, Sylvia gave Riley a thumbs up. Riley snorted a laugh. Kyna put both hands on her hips. The doll-like faerie was not amused. ¡°I¡¯ll deal with you later,¡± Kyna said with annoyance. Then she smiled brightly. ¡°Emily and Riley, your job is simple. Take what you have and make it glow. There¡¯s nothing that exists that can¡¯t be made more beautiful. I want to see you put your heart into it. Take your pick of accessories. At the end of the month, we¡¯ll review and find out which style lets you shine best.¡± ¡°Definitely,¡± Emily said with enthusiasm. Riley just let out an exhausted sigh and started poking around the room. ¡°If you want something specific, let us know,¡± Ingrid added with her smooth, sexy voice. ¡°I don¡¯t mind customizing a piece.¡± ¡°As for you,¡± Kyna continued, looking at the silver haired girl. ¡°Your task is to show me a new style every club period. Remember, you have to keep it until the next club. I want to see you explore your feminine side. But if you don¡¯t impress then, hmph, we will choose a style for you. In fact, I¡¯m going to start with a new rule right now. From now on, it¡¯s forbidden to cut your hair short. ¡°¡ö¡ö ¡ö¡ö¡ö ¡ö ¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö.¡± Following her words, the pink haired faerie chanted. Incomprehensible sound released a chain of faint, shimmering runes. Light swirled over Sylvia¡¯s head before wrapping around her skull. Her scalp itched. A burning fire seemed to light under the skin, like a terrible rash. Hair started to grow. Silver locks touched her shoulders. Then it flowed past to the small of her back, then her waist. Still it kept growing until it nearly touched her calves. ¡°Not one inch,¡± Kyna insisted after. ¡°Not one inch shorter than that for the rest of the year.¡± Sylvia scowled. Her hair was longer than it¡¯d been before Riley cut it. ¡°I hear you,¡± Sylvia answered, not at all happy about it. ¡°If it makes you feel better, my mom made me wear it long when I was a kid,¡± Riley offered. It didn¡¯t make her feel any better, actually. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s a wonderful thought,¡± Emily said instantly. ¡°We should act like Riley¡¯s mom and make sure Sylvia nurtures her inner girl.¡± Kyna giggled. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit! Sylvia¡¯s hair is too boring, I¡¯m giving you first dibs on her new style.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll make sure she¡¯s the cutest girl in the whole school!¡± ¡­ ¡°Thanks,¡± Sylvia said to the freckled blonde, tone dead. ¡°I¡¯m just sharing the love,¡± Riley retorted. Being a girl sucked. ¡°At least you don¡¯t have to wash it,¡± Riley relented. Sylvia supposed that was one redeeming factor. The netherworld didn¡¯t have dirt and grime in the same sense as Earth. Blood stains just kind of evaporated after a few minutes. Sylvia had seen a few dirty corners here and there in the Academy, so a build up of filth was possible. It just didn¡¯t work the same. One win for the netherworld. Now if only the sun would fucking set. Kyna clapped her hands. ¡°Now for the fun part! Charm club is open every day after class. While I¡¯m here, you¡¯re free to ask me anything. I know all the rules in the student handbook. How many frills you can add to your uniform. What kind of accessories are allowed ¨C ¡± ¡°How short you can keep your skirt,¡± Ingrid picked up. The succubus turned on her stool. ¡°Hats. Shoes. Jewelry. If it has anything to do with fashion, you can consult with me. The more you three stand out the better. But don¡¯t bother me about school or magic. Kyna is the club mentor.¡± With club admissions complete, Emily rushed up to Kyna with a deluge of questions. All of which the faerie cheerfully answered. Riley struck out on her own, peering into boxes and picking through clothes and fabric with a serious expression on her face. Temporarily free, Sylvia removed herself from the fray. Instead, her eyes were drawn to Ingrid. Her work, not her breasts. Though Ingrid had very nice breasts. The succubus held a stencil in her hand. With diligent effort, she traced runes in the air. Sylvia watched the shapes with fascination, wondering what magic the succubus was weaving. ¡°Are we allowed to wear these?¡± Sylvia glanced back. Riley was holding up a pair of black leggings. ¡°Yes!¡± Kyna answered, floating over. ¡°Pants are forbidden but socks, stockings, and leggings are all accepted under the student handbook.¡± Emily giggled. ¡°Riley is a girl after all.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t mind looking nice,¡± Riley confirmed. The freckled blonde stooped, sorting through a box. ¡°But I prefer comfortable. Hey, do you have any yoga shorts in here?¡± ¡°Yoga shorts?¡± ¡°Tight shorts I can wear under my dress so I¡¯m not flashing anyone by accident.¡± Kyna titled her head. ¡°How interesting.¡± ¡°I¡¯m surprised you haven¡¯t heard of them,¡± Riley said. ¡°Skirts don¡¯t go too well with flight I imagine.¡± ¡°I have a special technique for that,¡± Kyna giggled. ¡°But I suppose it¡¯s too much to teach you now. Ingrid, what do you think?¡± ¡°The girls in the explorers club will probably be interested,¡± Ingrid mused. ¡°But how to make them look good without ruining the lines of the skirt?¡± ¡°What a fun idea,¡± Kyna sounded out excitedly. ¡°As for the material, I think ¨C ¡± Sylvia tuned them out. Instead, the silver haired witch opened her book. She made it ten pages in when Ingrid broke her concentration. ¡°You should teach them to cultivate.¡± ¡°Eh, isn¡¯t it a little early?¡± the pink haired faerie questioned. ¡°Mentors aren¡¯t supposed to teach cultivation until next week.¡± ¡°Mentors are not required,¡± Ingrid corrected. With her stencil, the succubus traced another rune. ¡°Cultivate?¡± Emily noised cutely. Her starlit emerald eyes glimmered. ¡°Does that mean we¡¯re going to grow vegetables?¡± The doll-like Kyna, who had been musing thoughtfully in midair, giggled. ¡°No. No. Cultivation isn¡¯t about growing plants. Well, I suppose it can be. But the cultivation we¡¯re talking about is how to grow you.¡± The pink haired faerie pointed a finger at Emily in emphasis. Sylvia¡¯s lips pursed. Cultivate. The word was familiar. Right. Back in his early twenties Eric read a web novel that contained the concept. Cultivation was a leveling system of sorts. Beyond that, Sylvia couldn¡¯t recall anything. Sylvia had always been more of a gamer than a reader. ¡°Grow grow? Or level up grow?¡± Riley interrupted, suddenly looking very interest. Riley, Riley, Riley, you really hate being part of team shorty, don¡¯t you? ¡°Oh no,¡± Kyna said, cupping one cheek with a palm. ¡°You¡¯ll be stuck with that height until you Awaken.¡± ¡°Witches aren¡¯t faeries,¡± Ingrid suddenly asserted. ¡°Awakening doesn¡¯t inherently induce growth. Most likely, you¡¯ll be stuck at that height for the rest of your life.¡± Riley¡¯s shoulders drooped. ¡°Okay! Let¡¯s go cultivate,¡± Kyna decided. ¡°I¡¯ll explain the basics while we travel. Follow me.¡± The faerie fluttered her wings, leading them out of the room. Sylvia hopped off her stool pattering after her roommates. No matter what they called it, no true gamer would ever neglect the chance to level up. The trio walked down the hall. Kyna floated backwards in front of them, transparent wings sparkling as she casually lectured. ¡°Cultivation is like eating. Mortals eat to grow up and some demons eat to cultivate,¡± the faerie explained casually. ¡°Regardless, the purpose of cultivation is to create soul essence. The more soul essence you refine, the stronger you¡¯ll be.¡± ¡°What does that have to do with Awakening?¡± Riley pressed, her laser like focus on what was dear to her heart. Sylvia gave the freckled blonde a sidelong look. Ingrid had just told them Awakening probably wouldn¡¯t help. But, Sylvia supposed that Riley had heard the ¡®probably¡¯ different than Sylvia had. ¡°I¡¯m getting to that!¡± Kyna huffed, hands on her hips. The faerie, fluttered her wings, floating lazily down the stairwell as she talked. The trio, of course, was forced to take the stairs. ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­. Right! The soul, as you know, consists of inner and outer layers ¨C ¡± ¡°We don¡¯t know,¡± Riley interrupted. ¡°We do, now,¡± Sylvia corrected. Riley gave her a sour look. Kyna groaned. Emily giggled. ¡°Ugh! This is why it¡¯d be better to wait until next week,¡± Kyna whined. The faerie put on a brilliant smile, blue eyes shining with fake enthusiasm. ¡°Anyway! The soul consists of inner and outer layers. When the outermost layer is full of soul essence you have to go through a process called consolidation. During consolidation all the soul essence is compressed into the inner layer then transformed into a new core. ¡°This makes your nether code denser. You can even mutate and gain new traits! Though, how much you get depends on luck and the quality of your bloodline.¡± ¡­ Sylvia¡¯s expression turned weird. That¡­ wasn¡¯t how genetics worked. Why would more code be better? Why would mutations produce new and better traits? What did any of this have to do with the quality of the bloodline? If the bloodline was good, wouldn¡¯t all the traits be there right at the start? The entire process sounded silly and illogical. ¡°Yeah, but what about Awakening,¡± Riley pushed again. ¡°Patience!¡± Kyna chided, sounding annoyed. ¡°After consolidating, you have to fill soul with essence again. Except, because there¡¯s more code, the soul will be bigger. Get it. Fill then consolidate. Fill then consolidate.¡± Sylvia nodded. The process sounded pretty simple. Come to think of it, was that what her System was doing? It fit. Experience transformed into soul essence. Soul essence transformed into levels. If that was the case, would there be a day when Sylvia also had to consolidate? Ding. Speak of the devil.
New Quest: First Consolidation The soul is a finite container. Fill your soul to the limit and take the next step on your journey. An apprentice seeks to become a journeyman. A journeyman dreams of becoming a master. Masters strive to leave behind a legend. Step over the threshold. Grasp true strength. It is only when you are strong that you will be free to experience the real netherworld.
Quest Reward: Class Advancement
Objectives: [ ] Level: 13 / 100 [ ] Experience: 0 / 10,000
Well. That pretty much confirmed it. Leveling was just gathering soul essence. Class advancement was consolidation. Sylvia¡¯s eyes narrowed. Add in hit points, experience points from kills, and so on and it was damn clear that the System was meant to operate in the netherworld from the start. The question then was, who created it and why? ¡°Buuttt,¡± Kyna sang, ¡°If you keep consolidating, your soul will get all stuffy. And if you go too far the outer membrane will burst and all your soul essence will fly away. So, to go further, the foundation of the soul has to grow. The only way to do that is to evolve. The first grand mutation is called Awakening. The second Transcendence. And the third Apotheosis.¡± ¡°Are we witches or pokemon?¡± Sylvia questioned, eye twitching. Seriously. Leveling was already a pain in the ass. Sylvia was going to be damned if she had to hunt down evolution stones. ¡­ Err, technically, she was already damned. Sylvia was, quite literally, living in Hell. She needed to learn new curse words, didn¡¯t she? ¡­ On second thought, fuck it. No. To hell with it! ¡°I¡¯m stuck on the mutation thing,¡± Riley groused back. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound healthy.¡± ¡°Hmph!¡± Kyna huffed. ¡°Forget about Awakening. It¡¯s impossible to Awaken without first reaching the second consolidation. Which won¡¯t happen for centuries, unless you¡¯re very talented. Most souls never reach the second consolidation, much less Awaken.¡± The doll-like faerie giggled. ¡°~Accept it~. You¡¯ll be a little cutie ~for~ev~er~.¡± Riley scowled. ¡°I¡¯m taller than you.¡± ¡°Yes, but I am an adorable faerie. Aannd I have wings,¡± Kyna replied cheerfully, the girl fluttered higher into the air in emphasis. ¡°Also, faeries always get taller when they Awaken. Unlike witches.¡± While Riley grumbled, Kyna lead the trio away from the Academic Building. The path took them past their dorm and the gothic fortress known as the resurrection pool. As they left the academy proper, well trimmed grass gave way to trees, brush, and craggy rocks. In the silence, Sylvia contemplated the cultivation system. In Kyna¡¯s description a terrible realization lurked. Everyone leveled up. Every-fucking-body, leveled up. Damn it, what was the point of having System if everyone leveled up? She¡¯d been cheated. Cheated! It was common knowledge that having a System was supposed to be a golden ticket. Sylvia wanted a refund! Shit. Who was she kidding? Sylvia had lost faith in her System a long time ago. At this rate, even Wizard Means Wise I would be a dud. Was this her fate, to live her life in Hell as a mediocre witch? The path grew steeper. Sylvia trudged forward along with the others, envious of Kyna¡¯s fluttering wings. The silver haired girl suspected that if she were Eric, her legs would be burning from the exertion. Instead, there was little struggle. She didn¡¯t grow weary. She wasn¡¯t even breathing hard. Mostly because she didn¡¯t have to breathe. At all. That didn¡¯t keep her body from doing it, or from feeling uncomfortable when she stopped. Sylvia just didn¡¯t need to. After minutes, the forest broke. Grassland stretched ten to twenty meters before terminating in a cliff. Left and right, as far as Sylvia could see, a winding stone path traced the cliff¡¯s edge. A stone dais split the path. Not just one, dozens. Possibly hundreds. Some stood empty. On others sat girls in school robes with dresses of green or blue. Most rested in meditative poses. Some, particularly those with blue dresses, had books or scattered homework. Each platform was separated from the next by a gap. Ten meters, Sylvia guessed. The air glistened. The atmosphere was thick. Not in the sense of muggy or humid, rather it crackled with electric energy. Faint misty wisps whirled around the stone stands, twinkling with infinitesimal motes of light. ¡°Every bloodline has its own way of cultivating. For instance, I¡¯m a woodland sprite,¡± Kyna explained, placing a hand on her chest. ¡°Specifically aos-si tuatha spiorad. As you might have guessed, I am most compatible with ether of the wood element, though water and earth work well too. ¡°Since Faeries are gentle, we¡¯re Producers unlike you wicked witches who Produce and Consume.¡± ¡°Mmm!¡± Emily¡¯s cheeks puffed. It seemed she didn¡¯t like being called a wicked witch. Kyna giggled. ¡°I¡¯m teasing. Producers are those that convert ether directly into soul essence, either through meditation or respiration. Consumers convert other essences into soul essence. Starlight witches, hecates magissa asteri, are kosmovores, meaning you can consume essences from the chaos domain elements like space, void, or causality.¡± Okay. First she was witch. Next she was a pokemon. Now Sylvia was a langolier. That sounded¡­ positively demonic. Cool. Creepy cool, but still cool. ¡°Consuming essences is expensive, and I don¡¯t have anything for you girls on hand. I¡¯m not sure where you¡¯d even get chaos essence. Well¡­ I suppose you could eat soli? Eh? Isn¡¯t it strange to eat money,¡± Kyna mumbled to herself. ¡°Whatever. We¡¯ll be doing meditation.¡± ¡°Meditation is the act of using ki or mana to assist in the collection or digestion of ether. This is opposed to respiration, which happens automatically. ~Sorry~,¡± Kyna sang, ¡°But witches can¡¯t respire. That¡¯s why cute little faeries are better.¡± Sylvia looked at her experience bar. The bar which rose by one point a month for seventeen and half years. The bar which rose, since the end of Armed Combat to now, nearly ten points. It appeared that this witch did, in fact, respire. At ten points a day she¡¯d reach level one-hundred in what, fifteen years? Eh. Not bad, actually. Or was it? Unable to accept the notion the System wasn¡¯t trash, Sylvia asked the question which had been burning at the forefront of her mind. ¡°What level are you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m in the middle of the first consolidation,¡± Kyna answered, proudly. ¡°With my talent, I might cross the second consolidation in my next life if I work really hard at it. After that it¡¯s pure luck if I¡¯ll Awaken. And if I don¡¯t achieve it in the next three centuries, I probably never will.¡± The faerie¡¯s glee slumped. Kyna let out a heavy sigh. ¡°I feel terrible for Ingrid. Unless she strikes it rich, she¡¯ll never reach the second consolidation no matter how long she lives.¡± Middle of the first consolidation, huh. Sylvia stroked her chin. According to her System, she¡¯d consolidate at level one-hundred. If middle meant level one-fifty Sylvia would achieve the same in thirty years. And now Sylvia had another question. How many levels did she need to reach the second consolidation? Regardless, Sylvia finally had a vague sense of her place in the world. Any level less than one-hundred was newbie stage. She needed to complete two consolidations before she was strong. While Sylvia fixated on levels, as a proper gamer should, Riley focused on something else. ¡°Three centuries!¡± she croaked. ¡°How old are you?¡± ¡°Me? I¡¯m sixty-seven,¡± Kyna answered unhesitatingly. ¡°Ingrid is a hundred and forty-three. I still can¡¯t believe how young some of the professors are. They¡¯re practically babies!¡± The doll-like faerie sounded positively scandalized. ¡°But I suppose it makes sense,¡± Kyna mused. ¡°The baroness is only one-hundred-and-eighty-six. Imagine discovering a new rune, Awakening, and becoming a titled noble so young. Lady Vallenfelt is an inspiration.¡± ¡°I¡¯m getting the sense that the netherworld works on a different timeline than we¡¯re used to,¡± Riley said, throat tight. ¡°Isabella did say the weak endure a thousand years and the strong can stand for ten-thousand.¡± ¡°I thought she meant it figuratively,¡± Riley groaned with horror. ¡°How long are they expecting us to stay as students? It¡¯s only a couple of years, right?¡± ¡°The third year girls said we can stay for ten,¡± Emily chimed in cheerfully. ¡°Apparently, if you collect full class credit you can earn a hedge witch certificate after three years, a novice witch certificate after six, and starlight witch after nine. But, most students have their accounts run dry around year seven.¡± Riley groaned. Sylvia felt for her. Seven years was better than the ten Professor Myers implied, but it was still the length of middle school and high school put together. How in the world was Sylvia going to endure the Academy for that long? But did she have to? Maybe she¡¯d run away right after earning her hedge witch certificate. Or sooner, if Sylvia could find a way to level up fast. She had a way marker now. After level one-hundred, Sylvia could start thinking about striking out on her own. Until then, she was officially stuck in newbieville. While they chatted, Kyna took the lead flying along the stone path. Sylvia and the others followed. Where they started, about half the platforms had witches meditating atop them. A few of them were wearing emerald dresses like herself and her classmates. Sylvia didn¡¯t recognize any of them. As the stone path wound, Sylvia found herself near the edge of the cliff. Her gaze naturally drifted down. There blue sky thinned into the abyss of night. Curious, the silver haired girl edged closer. At the bottom of the cliff was a void filled with stars. Sylvia felt as though she were gazing over the edge of the world. ¡°Well, I guess that¡¯s why they call it a plane,¡± Riley commented. ¡°It¡¯s so pretty,¡± Emily murmured, taking a look as well. ¡°That¡¯s the starry void,¡± Kyna said. ¡°It fills the space between planes. And please step back. It¡¯ll be annoying if I have to fish you out after you fall off.¡± Good point. Following the faerie¡¯s advice, Sylvia moved away from the cliff. Riley gazed for a few seconds longer, then jogged to catch up. Finally, Kyna found a trio of empty platforms along the path. ¡°Okay! Gather up, I¡¯ll talk you through your first meditation.¡± -oOo- System Codex Attribute: Magic Sub-Attribute: Dominion Raw Calculation: 100% + 4% * Mag Magical strength. Dominion governs the maximum amount of energy the User can muster at once, regardless of origin. It also decides the rate at which mana can be squeezed from the body, which in turn can influence spell casting speed when casting at the limit. Dominion is also important when ether is contested, allowing the User to wrest control from their opponent. When dominion is especially high, it¡¯s even possible to directly squelch the spells of the enemy. Provided, of course, that the runic structure is sufficiently fragile. When the attribute is extremely high it can be used to forcefully cast spells from local ether without any mana provided. Sub-Attribute: Mysticism Raw Calculation: 100% + 1% * Mag Magical affinity. This is the degree to which the User can influence neutral ether. For casting purposes this decides ether gathering speed whether internal or external. However, as mana must be polished by the psyche this does not change mana recovery speed except where ether levels are low. Mysticism also impacts the ease and degree to which spells and mana can be blended into the environment. This is useful for stealthy spell casting, or when using infiltration style magics such as curses, poisons, malignant transformations, or mental effects. Finally, mysticism governs sensitivity to exotic forces that cannot normally be detected such as the chaos elements: causality, space, void, realm, law, and fate. Sylvia¡¯s notes: Mysticism also influences ether control, not that it matters unless wit is crazy high compared to magic. Statistic: Level A value measuring the amount of soul essence accumulated and the degree to which it has been digested into true strength. As the amount of soul essence rises, the soul¡¯s impact on reality increases with it. This is especially true in the netherworld. Leveling is achieved by absorbing and refining ether or essence into soul essence. Cultivation consists of the techniques, methods, and procedures that facilitate this growth. Soul essence initially accumulates in the outer layer of the soul. However, not all souls hold onto their essence equally. This variation of efficiency is referred to as talent. Talent is extremely important in the netherworld, as flaws related to containment incur an exponential increase in the experience required to level up. Talent therefore defines a soft ceiling for a soul¡¯s level. Talent is not fixed. Instead, it is determined by the soul¡¯s size and its compatibility with the nether code. Both of these traits increase naturally with time. Consolidations and mutations both engender changes to the code and soul. This provides a more perfect fusion and thus greater talent. The advantages of these increases, however, cannot be seen until a denizen transmigrates and rebuilds their foundation. Virtually all denizens start with enough talent to cross the first consolidation. Many souls struggle to cross the second. Throughout all the nether world, less than one in two hundred will eventually Awaken. And those that do will most often achieve it centuries into their new lives. Chapter 5 -oOo- Chapter 5 -oOo- ¡°Can I change it?¡± Sylvia¡¯s cheeks were burning. She looked at Emily, searching for pity. Her visage that of a puppy begging for mercy. But not an ounce of forgiveness could be found in the brunette¡¯s cruel, dark emerald eyes. A week had passed in a flash. One would think being snatched into Hell¡¯s fiery embrace would change things. But school, apparently, was school no matter where or in which universe. After six days of classes followed by one day off, Sylvia found herself sinking into a rut. Mornings were consumed by lectures. Afternoons were devoured by books. Not that there was an actual afternoon in this godforsaken place. Yet, in this all too conventional misery, Sylvia had found a point of light. During this morning¡¯s prep Wizard Means Wise I had reached completion. On a different day, she might have celebrated. But today all joy had been dashed by the demon Sylvia named friend. Emily Clark. And what unforgivable, nefarious thing had this monster wrought? Why, the barbarous brunette had arranged Sylvia¡¯s hair into a pair of cutesy twin tails. The long, glossy locks dangled around Sylvia¡¯s knees, complimented by a pair of absolutely adorable pink bows. Hell¡¯s savagery knew no bounds. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. You¡¯re super cute,¡± Emily encouraged, her void-like eyes akin a black hole found at the center of a galaxy. Fucking charm club. What was wrong with a ponytail? Lots of girls wore ponytails. But no. That didn¡¯t pass Kyna¡¯s muster and thus Sylvia was condemned to serve as Emily¡¯s favorite doll. ¡°It could be worse,¡± Riley comforted. ¡°She could¡¯ve made them curly.¡± Emily¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Oh!¡± Sylvia wanted to cry. ¡°Stop being a wuss,¡± Riley said, pushing the silver haired girl toward the entrance. ¡°Nobody¡¯s going to bite.¡± Sylvia gazed at the door. Her stomach did somersaults. The feeling was worse than walking through the halls for the first time in her schoolgirl uniform. At least back then Sylvia could tell herself that she was part of the crowd. Now? Now she looked like a girly girl. ¡°At least I have my hat,¡± Sylvia muttered, patting her beret as though it would make her twin tails disappear. Riley rolled her eyes. ¡°I hate to break it to you, that beret makes you like a bishoujo sergeant from an anime.¡± ¡°Are you saying I¡¯m a 2D waifu?¡± Sylvia questioned, threateningly. ¡°I won¡¯t let you slander the hat.¡± Berets were, objectively speaking, awesome hats. The flat top and trim profile suited anyone. It was an artist¡¯s hat, a fashionable hat, and a military hat. Yes, military. Meaning manly. A manly hat for Sylvia¡¯s manly heart. Sure, it would¡¯ve been more manly without the arrangement of pastel pink flowers set elegantly off center. And no, the fact they complimented Sylvia¡¯s disgustingly cute, candy pink eyes did not make them better. Also, Sylvia needed to wear something stylish otherwise Emily would be doing Sylvia¡¯s hair for the next three weeks. And if Sylvia didn¡¯t pass Kyna¡¯s examination at least thrice, Emily would choose Sylvia¡¯s hairstyle for the rest of the year. But mostly, berets were fucking awesome. ¡°Mmm,¡± Emily noised. ¡°I never knew Sylvia loved hats.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not my fault I look so damn perfect in them,¡± Sylvia replied, arrogantly. Emily giggled at her theatrics. ¡°Come on. Stop stalling, you¡¯re not getting her to change your hair back,¡± Riley grouched, giving the silver haired girl a shove. ¡°Mm~hmm,¡± Emily hummed in happy concurrence. ¡°I will slowly break down Sylvia¡¯s resistance to cuteness then transform her into an adorable princess.¡± Clenching her dainty hands into fists, the brunette shook them excitedly in the air. The freckled blonde had enough. Wasting no more time, Riley physically dragged Sylvia into Field Studies class. Sylvia¡¯s fears did not manifest. The class did not stop and stare. Nobody shouted, are you six. Or, what a sissy. In fact, nobody commented on Sylvia at all. Which, given the circumstances, wasn¡¯t surprising. Bang! Margret Rivera let out a short shriek before hitting the ground. Camila Powell shoved a textbook off the desk, letting it fall directly onto the face of the shy girl with pale green hair. Flustered, Margret¡¯s friend and dorm mate Valarie Baker jumped to her feet. But Valarie didn¡¯t say or do anything. Camila¡¯s cold, lilac eyes met Valerie¡¯s. She sneered. ¡°Cowards sit in the back.¡± Riley¡¯s expression darkened. Sylvia didn¡¯t know Margret¡¯s story, but she knew Valerie¡¯s. Valerie was one of the ignoble duo they ¡®saved¡¯ during the first Armed Combat class. You know, the selfish shits that sat back and did absolutely fucking nothing while the three of them fought off the beryl blood wolf? Yeah. That girl. Call it petty or vindictive, but Sylvia had no desire to step in on Valerie¡¯s behalf. Riley, however, was a more righteous person. ¡°Hey! Leave her alone!¡± The freckled blonde shouted. Riley¡¯s intense green eyes practically glowed. Camila turned. The witch had blue hair so dark it was better described as black. Her mane was ragged, wild, and cut short in a way Sylvia wished she was allowed to wear hers. The lilac eyed girl wore a smarmy smile, that contrasted with her natural softness. ¡°The white knight shows her face,¡± Camila crowed, not the least bit afraid. Camila was part of Natalie¡¯s crew and by far the most vicious. Like most of the Academy¡¯s cliques, the group had formed around Natalie Ward¡¯s roommates Camila Powell and Heather Grenier. The group had expanded from there drawing in survivors from Isabella¡¯s first Armed Combat class. Riley didn¡¯t say anything. Instead, the freckled blonde stooped down and helped Margret to her feet. ¡°You okay?¡± ¡°Th-thanks,¡± Margret stuttered. Camila grinned and kicked the girl¡¯s chair. Squeee. The wooden legs squealed on the floor, not tipping over. ¡°Cowards sit in back,¡± she repeated. Cold. Hard. Cruel. Unyielding. Camila wasn¡¯t just a petty bully. She¡¯d stared down a beryl blood wolf, spear in hand. Sylvia, on the other hand, had fought two. Reee. The silver haired girl pushed the chair back where it belonged, irritated. Sylvia¡¯s character leaned toward ignoring confrontations like this, even without the spite. Abject, certainly, but Sylvia was well aware she was no hero. ¡°Are you trying to piss off the staff?¡± Sylvia asked. Camila¡¯s eyes shifted to her. The lilac eyed girl immediately sputtered. ¡°Pffft. What the hell is this? The mad dog turned herself into a princess.¡± Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. Yeah. There it was. The reaction she¡¯d been expecting. Sylvia wanted to shrink back. She didn¡¯t. Instead, she stiffened her spine. Stepping back would only make her look more pathetic. ¡°Mad dog? More like dumpster dog,¡± Heather sneered from three seats down. ¡°Look at you, trying to be pretty. Give it up. At least Riley knows she¡¯s hopeless.¡± ¡°Mmm!¡± Emily hummed angrily, inserting herself into the fight. The brunette glared, looking as threatening as toddler carrying a teddy bear. ¡°Sylvia is adorable and you know it!¡± ¡°Scary, scary,¡± Camila mocked. ¡°Let them play dress up if they wish,¡± a cultured voice interrupted. ¡°We are here to learn magic, not adorn ourselves like dolls.¡± Natalie Ward paused then casually flipped her wavy, forest green hair. Natalie took her seat gracefully. Refined. Elegant. Natalie¡¯s demeanor was that of a living, breathing depiction of a lady. Of Sylvia¡¯s class, only Emily matched Natalie¡¯s poise, and the brunette was more cute than courtly. ¡°I¡¯ll find another seat,¡± Margret muttered, grabbing her things. Sylvia scowled. Why did she get dragged into this again? Right. Riley. Shaking her head, the silver haired girl made her way back to her seat. One step behind, Riley grumbled, ¡°Weren¡¯t they the ones who wanted to join charm club?¡± Emily nodded wisely, daintily taking her chair. ¡°They¡¯re jealous because they know they¡¯ll never be as cute as Sylvia.¡± Sylvia dropped her forehead onto the table with a thunk. Please, please, have mercy Emily. She had the soul of a man. She didn¡¯t want to be cute. ¡°Why the hell are those bitches picking fights when the Academy kidnapped us?¡± Emily glared. ¡°That¡¯s not a nice word,¡± she warned. ¡°They¡¯re not nice people,¡± Riley retorted. The room quieted for a bit. In the pause, Riley¡¯s question continued to roll around in Sylvia¡¯s head. Why fight after being kidnapped? Kidnapped. Were they really kidnapped? The idea struck Sylvia like thunder. ¡°Maybe they weren¡¯t.¡± ¡°Weren¡¯t what?¡± Riley asked, confused. ¡°Kidnapped,¡± Sylvia supplied. Riley turned, green eyes blazing like those of an angry dragon. ¡°Is that a joke?¡± Sylvia gazed at the freckled blonde beside her. She wasn¡¯t joking. The more Sylvia thought about it, the more right she felt she was. ¡°Were you kidnapped?¡± Sylvia asked seriously. Riley glowered. ¡°I didn¡¯t exactly volunteer.¡± ¡°But you had plenty of reasons to leave Earth,¡± Sylvia pressed. ¡°My circumstances were special,¡± Riley said, unhappily. The blonde clearly didn¡¯t enjoy where the questions were going. ¡°You know that.¡± ¡°Yeah, but you aren¡¯t exactly opposed to being here,¡± Sylvia continued. ¡°Fair enough,¡± Riley agreed. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean I want to be here either.¡± This was where Sylvia turned toward the curious brunette on her left. ¡°If I¡¯m not wrong, Emily is actually happy to be here.¡± Emily nodded. ¡°Of course! It¡¯s a magic academy. We¡¯re going to learn how to cast spells and maybe even fly on brooms!¡± The brunette let out a dreamy sigh before cocking her head adorably. ¡°Aren¡¯t you happy too?¡± Riley frowned. With intense green eyes, Riley studied the delicate girl. Then her gaze shifted to the class beyond. ¡°You¡¯re saying,¡± Riley slowly mused. ¡°That everyone has a reason.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Sylvia confirmed. She also had a reason. Her reason was the System suckering her into grabbing an invitation with a quest. ¡°Think about it. What school sends invitations to random people? That¡¯s not normal. Most schools want the pick of the litter. Magic exists. Divination is a thing. Ergo, our arrival was not an accident.¡± The pieces fit. Of the thirty students, twenty-nine were girls. Sylvia¡¯s classmates adapted too quick, almost as though they didn¡¯t want to go home. The obvious conclusion was that the students had been filtered. But not perfectly filtered. Professor Myers made clear that Sylvia wasn¡¯t the first ¡®irregular¡¯ to grace the Academy. ¡°Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three-times is enemy action,¡± Riley spelled out, accepting the argument. ¡°Thinking back, the timing was a little too convenient.¡± Sylvia gave the blonde a sidelong look. Too convenient? No shit. Receiving an invitation right after murdering her ex wasn¡¯t much different than the Academy providing a getaway driver. ¡°Three times?¡± Emily questioned. The charming brunette leaned in, peering at her silver haired companion suspiciously. ¡°I see. Becoming a witch is Sylvia¡¯s secret desire.¡± Sylvia choked. Wait! Wait! Where the hell did that conclusion come from? That¡¯s not what Sylvia had been implying at all. Having reasons was not the same as wanting to be girl! It was the System¡¯s fault! It had nothing to do with her! The true horror was that Sylvia didn¡¯t dare speak the truth out loud. Riley snickered. ¡°You know, Emily has a point.¡± ¡°It¡¯s destiny!¡± Emily declared, eyes shining. ¡°Sylvia was destined to become a magical princess.¡± Sylvia glared at the blonde. Traitor. ¡°Logically, that would apply to Riley too,¡± Sylvia ruthlessly enticed. Riley scowled. He he he. Eat mutually assured destruction. Emily¡¯s eyes were filled with stars. ¡°We¡¯ll become magical girls together!¡± Thankfully, the teacher arrived before Riley and Sylvia could drag themselves deeper into the abyss. Abigail Wright was the single most normal looking starlight witch Sylvia had ever seen. When it came to color, Sylvia¡¯s classmates straddled the rainbow. There were classical redheads, blondes, and brunettes. Almost ordinary, if the reds weren¡¯t so bright and the browns not so vivid. Then there were the other colors. Greens, blues, oranges, and violets. Bright and dark. Sharp and pastel. And that wasn¡¯t all. Starlight witches were universally pretty. Eyes like jewels. Smooth complexions. Silky legs. Hips. Breasts. None Sylvia had seen matched Ingrid¡¯s alluring curves nor Kyna¡¯s pure, childish innocence. Instead, each witch was an adorable kid-sister. Tiny. Petite. Leaving the house for the first time to attend college. As a former man, Sylvia very much approved of this delectable buffet. Even as her soul curdled when she recognized she was the same. Professor Wright, in contrast, was extraordinarily ordinary. Brown hair and light brown eyes. Her irises were, perhaps, a touch too bright but not remarkably so. Olive skin, seeming browned by the sun, yet not appearing spectacular. Even Abigail¡¯s height befit Earth standards. The professor was a touch taller than Natalie Ward. Professor¡¯s Wright style matched her looks. Simple. The teacher wore dull blue robes embroidered with yellow thread. The hem ended a hand above the ground. Her fashion sense was a far cry from Glenda Fischer¡¯s flashy cosplay and Allison Myers sexy secretary. Hmm, Allison. Allison glaring at her through horn rimmed glasses. Sylvia flushed. Fantasy fluttered in her thoughts. After a week as a girl, the formerly alien parts reacting ruined her delusion no longer. Bang! She jumped. Dream shattered, she looked up to see Professor Wright had dropped a boulder onto the podium. Yes. A boulder. A common, dark gray rock whose breadth was just short of fifty centimeters. Professor Wright slapped a hand atop the heavy stone. The brown eyed teacher swept the room with a broad grin, indulging in the dull confusion reflected. Sylvia waited for an explanation. Professor Wright didn¡¯t seem keen to provide one. ¡°Last week we discussed phantasmal objects,¡± Abigail Wright said, her voice filling the room. ¡°Today, we¡¯re going to build on that knowledge. But first, a quick quiz. Who here can tell me what would happen if I broke this big boy in half?¡± Lucy White, a witch with a black ponytail and lavender highlights, raised a hand. Professor Wright gestured. ¡°It¡¯ll disintegrate,¡± Lucy said with a smooth, mellow voice. Where do objects come from? How does debt work? What happens when you break the law? How do we come back from the dead? Field Studies answered all those questions and more. It was, in short, demonic common sense with a theoretical twist. It was a class that was sorely needed. Professor Wright had demonstrated that in the simplest way. She¡¯d taken a branch then snapped it in half. Then, while the class looked on in a daze, she had asked: ¡®how do you think those chairs you¡¯re sitting on were made?¡¯ And that¡¯s when reality struck deep. This wasn¡¯t Earth. Physics didn¡¯t apply. A snapped branch didn¡¯t transform into two smaller branches. It disintegrated. Just like the dead wolves and dead witches killed during Armed Combat. So, how indeed, were wooden chairs made? Sadly the answer to that question would wait until the second half of the year when the class had the necessary skills to experience the process rather than hear about it. ¡°Looks like someone was paying attention,¡± Abigail answered. ¡°But you¡¯d be wrong. ¡°Phantasmal objects, as we discussed last week, consist of two parts: essence and crust. Essence holds the nether code which defines the shape and characteristics of the object. Crust, on the other hand, is an organized ether structure projected by that essence. Thus, the word ¡®phantasm¡¯. ¡°When the crust is broken, the essence leaks out. This, in turn, causes the remaining crust to collapse in a vicious cycle. This is a process known as dissolution. But there is one big difference between this rock and the tree branch I broke last week. Can anyone guess what it is?¡± Riley¡¯s nose scrunched. ¡°It¡¯s bigger,¡± she guessed haphazardly. ¡°Ha ha, that¡¯s a good guess,¡± Professor Wright laughed. ¡°And the right one. But that answer is incomplete. This rock is only ¡®bigger¡¯ in the sense that it has more essence. Because it has more essence, if I broke it in half the damaged crust would stabilize before all of it could escape. That means one rock becomes too smaller rocks.¡± Ah. So, it wasn¡¯t that everything dissolves after being broken. Wait. That should¡¯ve been obvious at the start. Sylvia had lost half her hit points in Armed Combat, and she was still walking and talking. Then, was that what her hit points actually measured? The amount of essence she could lose before dissolving into ether? Interesting. ¡°Now let¡¯s get fancy,¡± Professor Wright continued. ¡°If you wanted this boulder to dissolve, how would you make that happen?¡± ¡°¡°Use mana.¡±¡± This time the class spoke as one. Everyone who had survived the fight with the beryl blood wolves knew how to make something die. And all the witches that died had learned the truth the day after. ¡°That¡¯s right. Blast it with energy. Mana works. So does ki. The shock of foreign energy fractures the underlying essence leading to destruction. The opposite is also true. If you want to stab someone and leave them alive, don¡¯t put energy into it. Demons are pretty tough. You could even say that we¡¯re resistant to non-magical weapons.¡± Professor Wright grinned at her low-key joke. Facepalming, Sylvia groaned. Abigail was such a nerd. ¡°Am I missing something?¡± Riley whispered, seeing her companion¡¯s reaction. Sylvia didn¡¯t deign that with a reply. ¡°Okay. Enough review,¡± Professor Wright continued. ¡°I want to talk about another concept with which you¡¯re familiar. Mass. In physics, we define mass as a quantitative measure of inertia. However, most of us think of mass in terms of weight. If you guys were to guess, how much would you say this boulder weighs?¡± A shy hand rose in the back. ¡°A hundred pounds?¡± ¡°Given how I strained my back picking it up, that sounds about right,¡± Abigail laughed. ¡°Okay, now let¡¯s make this tricky.¡± Professor Wright grabbed the gray boulder with both hands then pushed. The rock¡¯s surface sank in as though made from wet clay. Shifting her hands, Abigail pressed in again and again, shaping the rock with her palms. Sylvia could see the energy flowing through the professor¡¯s arms as she worked the rock, shrinking it down smaller and smaller until it fit neatly into a palm. Then the teacher picked it up. ¡°So, how heavy do you think this is?¡± Professor Wright said, tossing the rock into the air before catching it with the same hand. No one answered. ¡°Looks like you all smartened up. The material world has conservation of mass. In the netherworld there is no such law. In fact, with the right art or magic, mass can be made quite subjective. So the question becomes, how do we measure an object¡¯s mass? And the answer to that question is droms.¡± Professor Wright walked to the back of the room and started writing on the board using a piece of chalk. ¡°A drom is a measure of etheric mass. Specifically, it corresponds to the amount of essence in an object. That¡¯s because, during shaping, essence is neither created nor destroyed. The original boulder you saw, it massed five droms. The smaller rock now sitting on my podium, roughly five droms.¡± A spark of light seemed to glimmer in Professor Wright¡¯s otherwise ordinary brown eyes. She quirked a sly smile. ¡°Now, who can guess why I said roughly?¡± ¡°Because you didn¡¯t actually measure it.¡± Heather¡¯s tone was disdainful. Professor Wright didn¡¯t seem bothered. ¡°True. But that¡¯s not the main reason. Anyone else have a guess?¡± This time Sylvia hesitantly raised a hand. ¡°Because some essence leaked when you were shaping the stone.¡± ¡°Correct,¡± Abigail confirmed. ¡°Etheric mass is not material mass. Essence can be created and destroyed. Essence disperses into ether and ether condenses into essence. Both of these processes occur naturally in the planes according to the local world logic. A skilled alchemist can even forge essence straight from the ether. ¡°But we still measure in droms for good reason. That¡¯s because the amount of essence in an object is the truest representation of its size and scale. A boulder as large as you are tall might consist of a single drom. A powerful ring that can ¡®in darkness bind them¡¯ ¨C¡± Several girls giggled, catching the professor¡¯s nerdy joke. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°¨C might mass as much as two-or-three hundred droms,¡± Professor Wright finished with a wink. ¡°Okay. Enough of the boring stuff. Field Studies is a practical class so let¡¯s get practical.¡± Out of thin air, Professor Wright whipped out a giant sack woven from thick, silver thread. Grinning, she held the top at the height of her waist while the rest sank down until it touched the classroom floor. The bulging bottom made clear that there were a heap of objects still inside. ¡°Ladies, meet your new best friend, the space bag.¡± Professor Wright lifted a pile of folded, silver cloth from out of her sack. ¡°Now line up I¡¯ll start handing them out. Don¡¯t worry, they¡¯re free.¡± At the teacher¡¯s encouragement, the class assembled. Each girl grabbed a silvery bag as they passed. Against Sylvia¡¯s expectation, the bag was thick and heavy. The surface was stiff, akin to steel wool. Yet, the material itself remained strangely elastic. ¡°Space bags are made of soul-space silver,¡± Professor Wright lectured. ¡°Soul-space silver is a rare material that has the property of being able to define ¡®space¡¯ even while inside the soul. And the carrying capacity of the soul is measured in¡­.¡± Abigail paused, waiting for the obvious answer. ¡°¡°Droms,¡±¡± Sylvia muttered, in tandem with several other girls. Riley rolled her eyes. ¡°Does she think we¡¯re six?¡± the blonde muttered, retaking her seat. Sylvia snorted. Emily made an adorably angry noise while giving Riley the evil eye. The class carried on. -oOo- By the Academy¡¯s reckoning, it was late afternoon. Not that there were afternoons here in the Timeless Beryl Wilderness. As it was want, the sun sat on the horizon basking the world in eternal morn. The cheerful light poured in through the windows of Sylvia¡¯s dorm. The silver haired girl closed the shutters, drenching the inner space with dark. A faint glow passed through the slats, dimmed and hued until it resembled moonlight. It was the only way, here at the Academy, that Sylvia could experience something akin to night. And for that she was grateful. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. A distant bell tolled, the belfry of the Academic Building ringing out to let the students know the time. Four o¡¯clock. Six more hours until curfew forced the first and third year students back into their dorm. As for the juniors in their second or fourth year, they didn¡¯t exist. This was a free period. The Academy¡¯s sole mandate was that at least an hour be spent on cultivation. The rest could be used however one wished. The diligent would study. The careless would indulge in recreational sport. Emily was the former. Riley the latter. As for Sylvia? If this was Earth she¡¯d blow it all off playing video games. Here in Hell, she lacked a computer. So she spent most of her time reading. Sylvia flopped onto her bed. Her cute, silvery twin tails spilling down around her. She could feel the two bows pressing annoyingly against her skull. ¡°I hate charm club,¡± Sylvia grumbled to herself. Today, Kyna spent an entire hour blabbering about hairstyles. The worst part was that Sylvia had no choice but to pay attention, because the topic was directed at her. If the club had let out any later, Sylvia feared she would¡¯ve gone mad. ¡°Why couldn¡¯t I have joined the hunters club or the library club instead?¡± Sylvia continued to whine. Of course, Sylvia knew the answer to that question. Because she was man and therefore, the Academy felt extra effort must be expended to turn her into a lady. ¡°Better be worth it,¡± Sylvia mumbled to herself. She raised a hand toward the ceiling before commanding, ¡°Inventory: Blank Skill Book.¡± The air shimmered. A book appeared, floating within arms reach. It was blue and transparent, the polygons apparent from the wire frame and the vertices. The object was neither material nor ethereal. It had no mass and no essence. The book¡¯s existence, as far as Sylvia could tell, was purely virtual. A construct that dwelled only in her mind. Sylvia tapped it with a lazy finger. The blue surface rippled. Ding!
System Item: Blank Skill Book Using a skill book grants 1000 hours of training in the designated subject. A Blank Skill Book can be transformed into any skill book by providing a known subject of study. Skill books cannot be transferred or sold. Consuming a skill book takes 1 hour during which the User will be rendered unconscious. Use Item / Cancel
And there it was. The result of Sylvia¡¯s suffering. The reason she had retired to her dorm early. Before using the item Sylvia scanned the room one last time. The Academy dorms were simple. Three beds set against a wall, a window between each. At the foot of each bed was a chest and to the right a nightstand. On the opposite side of the room the Academy provided additional shelving. A few textbooks stood on different levels, representing tomorrow¡¯s classes. Sylvia planned to shove them into her space bag later. All of this was very normal. What stood out was what the dorm lacked. No bathroom. Demons didn¡¯t shit, piss, or sweat. Blood, dirt, and grime evaporated like water shed by a character in a video game. The common, daily cleansing that was part of Eric¡¯s life had nothing to do with Sylvia. In the morning when she woke up, her hair would spill down all glossy without a single tangle. Her breath was always fresh. Her teeth, pearly white without scrubbing. After a week without bathing, even Sylvia felt like a slob. Riley complained about how dirty she felt morning and night. Finally, Sylvia¡¯s eyes fell on the door. Shut and magically locked. Her roommates could open it, of course. There was nothing Sylvia could do about that. Hopefully, if any of them showed up, they¡¯d assume she was taking a nap. ¡°Use Item.¡± Normally Sylvia command the System with her mind. Today she spoke aloud. This bit a theater was Sylvia¡¯s way to celebrate. Bzzt!
Error: A skill topic must be provided when using this item.
Right. Right. She¡¯d gotten ahead of herself. ¡°Use Item: Combat Magic.¡± Querying Database¡­ Querying Database¡­ ¡­ Associated information found. Simulating Scenario¡­ ¡­ Simulation complete. The event log started to scroll. After a few seconds, the System unleashed its illusionary ding before popping up a new window.
Create Item: Magical Combat I [Poor]? Upon confirming the creation of this item, the skill book Spear Techniques I will be used. Consuming a skill book takes 1 hour, during which the User will be rendered unconscious. Warning: You have 2 creation attempts left. Confirm / Cancel
The good news? Sylvia had a chance to see the quality of the skill book she had created. The bad news? Magical combat was quite obviously disdained by the System. ¡°But why poor?¡± Sylvia mused, tapping the Cancel button. ¡°Use Item: Cultivation.¡± Poor again? Sylvia frowned. ¡°Use Item: Spear techniques.¡±
Create Item: Spear Techniques I [Mediocre]? Upon confirming the creation of this item, the skill book Spear Techniques I will be used. Consuming a skill book takes 1 hour, during which the User will be rendered unconscious. Warning: You have 2 creation attempts left. Confirm / Cancel
Shit. If the next book didn¡¯t pan out, she¡¯d be between a rock and a hard place. Choose the skill she wanted and take the poor, or bet on a fifth attempt. There had to be some logic behind the System¡¯s assignment. What was it? Wait. ¡°Ugh.¡± Groaning, Sylvia facepalmed. ¡°I¡¯m an idiot.¡± The event log told her straight up. Querying database. ¡°¡®Providing a known subject of study¡¯, means known to the System,¡± Sylvia realized. The quality of the book, Sylvia guessed, depended on what the System knew. And where did that knowledge come from? Sylvia had an ugly suspicion. With an unhappy expression, Sylvia named a book she¡¯d come to hate. ¡°Cancel. Use Item: Lesser Codex.¡± Ding.
Create Item: Lesser Codex [Excellent]? Upon confirming the creation of this item, the skill book Lesser Codex will be used. Consuming a skill book takes 1 hour, during which the User will be rendered unconscious. Warning: You have 1 creation attempt left. Confirm / Cancel
¡°You¡¯re a piece of shit, you know that.¡± Sylvia grumbled, stretching the window angrily. ¡°A proper System is omniscient and omnipotent. Don¡¯t you have any pride? Why are you relying on your user to teach you everything?¡± Fuck. Wizard Means Wise I. What bullshit. The quest wasn¡¯t for her. It was for the System. Sylvia was just a tool the System was using to fill its damn database. Sylvia twisted the window into a knot before letting it spring back into form. With a sigh, she fell back onto her pillow. What should she do? Well. There was only one choice, bite the bullet and find out what a skill book was worth. But first. ¡°Cancel. Use Item: Lesser Codex.¡±
Create Item: Lesser Codex [Excellent]? Upon confirming the creation of this item, the skill book Lesser Codex will be used. Consuming a skill book takes 1 hour, during which the User will be rendered unconscious. Confirm / Store
Ah. So, after running out of attempts, Sylvia could store the resulting skill book. She didn¡¯t actually have to use the book right after creating it. That was useful to know. ¡°You better be worth it,¡± Sylvia threatened. The blue window remained undaunted, as always. ¡°If I just end up reading the Lesser Codex again, I¡¯m going to be pissed.¡± Then she hit the button. Confirm. Time stopped. Sylvia was in an empty room. A lonely desk stood in front of her. On it rested a copy of The Lesser Codex, Edition XCIII. Sylvia opened the book. Then she read. Page by page. Chapter by chapter. Hour after hour. Front to back. No impatience. No boredom. She was tireless and attentive. Diligent in every step. Not a person. A machine lacking all emotion. She never skipped a line. She never missed a word. Her focus was absolute. The last page turned. The book closed. Undaunted, Sylvia flipped it over and read it again. And again. And again. Then the process changed. After reading a rune and studying its shape and description, Sylvia stopped. Instead of flipping the page, she picked up a stencil. With it, she carved the rune into the air. A quarter of the way through, the rod buzzed in her hand. The glowing shape highlighted red, showing where her motion was wrong. So she tried it again. And again. And again. And again until the rune was drawn correctly ten times in a row. The page turned. The action repeated. Two runes. Thirty runes. Four-hundred runes. Finally, all five hundred were perfectly drawn. Without an ounce of hesitation, Sylvia returned to the beginning. Like that, three weeks passed. Never once did she sleep. Never once did her mana reach its limit. She kept pressing forward, unstoppable. The scene changed. The book was closed. Instead, a rune appeared in midair. Sylvia studied it. Then she named it. Then she carved it. Whenever she made a mistake, the book would pop open and she would study the contents anew. The fourth week passed. The difficulty increased. Now she had to draw the rune in her mind before releasing it into the world by speaking its name. The fifth week passed. Now she identified runes by name, trait, or element only. Sometimes entire strings of runes were presented and she was made to read their meaning. As the sixth week closed, one thousand hours came to an end. The world broke. Sylvia jolted to awareness. Her head span. Information pounded at her skull like a jackhammer. Memories, fake yet real. Faded, yet clear. The events hung in her head, stale, empty, and sterile without a single emotion attached. It was as though she were remembering a boring movie she¡¯d watched five hundred times ten years ago. ¡°What the hell was that?¡± This wasn¡¯t what Sylvia expected. Based on her genre savvy, Sylvia had assumed that a skill book would directly grant a skill. That ¡®Lesser Codex, lv X¡¯ would appear magically on her status screen. Then she would just know. Instead¡­. Instead, the System had spawned an emotionless copy of Sylvia then set the clone to practice the skill for a literal one thousand hours. Then it had taken her forked clone¡¯s memories and jammed them directly into her brain. ¡°Seriously, what the hell,¡± Sylvia cursed, summarizing her feelings. Clutching her head, Sylvia waited for the pounding to die down. As the headache faded, her anger did too. A thousand hours. What was a thousand hours? The average American, working a full-time job, clocked two-thousand hours of labor in a year. A year at the Academy similarly consisted of around two-thousand hours of classes, clubs included. On the surface, a thousand hours was worth half a year of instruction. But Sylvia would be an utter fool to think that. Sylvia didn¡¯t so much read The Lesser Codex as she skimmed it. The textbook was pure tedium. It was like reading a dictionary. When under the power of the System, Sylvia¡¯s clone had not only read the book. She¡¯d done so attentively. Then there were the advantages of feedback. When tracing the runes, Sylvia felt it when she got them wrong. How many hours would it take to achieve the same with self study? Actually, could she even self study to that level? Tracing a rune consumed mana. Not much, but Sylvia wasn¡¯t exactly brimming with it. And then there were the last few weeks in the simulation where the book provided an environment little different than a guided lesson plan. A blank skill book offered a thousand hours in the literal sense. But in the objective sense, each of those hours were worth two to five times what Sylvia could achieve on her own. ¡°This item is pure bullshit,¡± Sylvia realized. Not the bad kind of the bullshit. The good kind. Sylvia looked at her System window with a touch of excitement and a little fear. Nothing is ever free. So, what did the System want from her? Sylvia never considered it when the System was weak and pathetic. But a System that could offer a gift as transformative as a skill book. That was dangerous. ¡°I have to test it,¡± Sylvia said firmly. Sitting up, the silver haired witch closed her eyes. In her mind, a line was drawn. A loop crossing over itself four times forming a relatively simple knot. This was the first rune Sylvia learned. A rune whose name, description, and characteristics she knew by heart. ¡°Voya.¡± The air stirred. A book rattled on the far shelf then flopped over with a thud. Sylvia trembled. An incantation. The first step to true magic. Hurriedly, the silver haired girl raised a hand then scribbled a few runes into the air. ¡°It¡¯s real,¡± she breathed. A giddy feeling fluttered inside of her. If she had a heart instead of a core, it would¡¯ve been pounding wild in her chest. She had it. She finally had it. A path to strength. A means to stand tall. As for what the System wanted? Sylvia would worry about it later. Instead, she brought up her quest.
New Quest: Wizard Means Wise II Every mage is a scholar. Only through study and effort can a mage reach the pinnacle of magecraft. Read books. Attend lessons. Learn secrets. Seek all forms of knowledge and carve a path for all those who follow behind you.
Quest Reward: * 1x Blank Skill Book * Wizard Means Wise III
Objectives: [ ] Obtained knowledge: 2 / 200 pts
The second part of the quest chain was almost identical to the first. The only difference was the number in the name and how many points she needed to complete it. ¡°I have to read more books,¡± Sylvia decided firmly. A sick feeling formed in her gut. ¡°A lot more books.¡± Because if Wizard Means Wise III worked like the first two parts, the challenge was only going to increase with each iteration. But no matter how many iterations there were, Sylvia had to complete them all. Because this was Hell and a thousand hours of practice, no matter how good, was nothing in front of a thousand-year-old demon. -oOo- Term: Witch A common epithet used to describe knowledgeable, female spell casters of the hecates lineage. In the netherworld, most witches view the term in an honorable light. This is particularly true in Hell and the Fey Federation. The term sometimes finds broader use, being applied to female spell casters of all kinds. However, using ¡®witch¡¯ in this manner is sure to draw sharp reproach from those of the hecates lineage who view the term as exclusive. As men are rarely born from the hecates lineage, it remains disputed whether the title of witch should be applied to them. Some witches believe that all dedicated magic users of their lineage are witches. Others insist that men be named warlocks instead. In most material worlds, however, the word witch remains a denigrating insult. Lineage: Hecates The lineage originating from the titan, Hecate. The hecates lineage is known first and foremost for its strong affinity for magic and magecraft. However, it is also well known for producing very human looking and almost always female demons. Hecates has three major genera: xemyalistra, magissa, and hexe. These branches correspond to the three faces of Hecate, the mother, the maiden, and the crone. Of these the hexe and magissa have the greatest tendency toward magecraft. Xemyalistra possess a more balanced capability between natural magic and learned magic. Despite common belief, men can be born from the hecates lineage. The incubus bloodline being the most prominent example. However, under ordinary circumstances male births are unheard of. In nearly all bloodlines men only appear as the direct descendants of an Awakened witch whose soul was originally male. The life experiences of these men vary wildly. Some face great discrimination. Others find themselves surrounded by curious women eager to taste those of their own tribe. Since the Ancient Era, the Supreme Coven of the Nether has overseen lineage affairs for the hecates. By convention, this coven consists of four members from each branch plus a single, elected Presiding Witch. Edicts issued by the Supreme Coven are passed through a series of subordinate covens and are thus, loosely enforced. However, major breaches can still draw ire even in modern times. To this day, hexe and magissa most commonly organize themselves into covens, typically consisting of no more than two layers of circles. The xemyalistra, being the black sheep of the lineage, instead tend to organize themselves into bloodline clans. Genera do not commonly mix with other genera, with the hexe often disparaging the others as ¡®sluts and whores¡¯. This has generated equal spite from the magissa who commonly retort hexe are ¡®disgusting old hags¡¯. Chapter 6 -oOo- Chapter 6 -oOo- ¡°Mmm!¡± Emily noised angrily, her cheeks puffing adorably. ¡°That¡¯s against the rules.¡± Riley rolled her eyes. ¡°Please tell me you aren¡¯t wearing high heels into a fight.¡± ¡°Of course I am,¡± Emily said, pure and passionate. ¡°It¡¯s our job to inspire everyone. We have to let them know what it means to be a charming witch.¡± The brunette¡¯s emerald eyes shimmered with starlight. ¡­ Emily was, without a doubt, a charming witch. Her priorities, though, were very different than Sylvia¡¯s own. Sylvia and Riley naturally clicked. When hanging with the blonde, Sylvia could be herself, not caring whether she was male or female. Emily? Emily was an alien squid thing from a different dimension. ¡°It won¡¯t look good if we fall on our faces,¡± Sylvia argued, rationally. Not that she expected Emily to listen. Sylvia was already on the ground removing her black pumps. Footwear was the latest theme of charm club¡¯s fashion blitz. And footwear meant heels. High heels. As in, the trio had been forbidden to wear shoes of any other sort. For once, Sylvia hadn¡¯t been singled out by this commandment. Riley and Emily were likewise compelled. Not that shared suffering made Sylvia happier. She¡¯d wanted to fight back. But what was there to debate between a succubus and a faerie? Kyna flew. Everywhere. Shoes were decorations to her. Ingrid was, somehow, worse. Sylvia had never seen the succubus in anything but heels. And Ingrid had a very strict view on heels. The ¡®high¡¯ in ¡®high heel¡¯ meant high. As in ankle breaking. Even Emily had been aghast. Thus, Emily, Sylvia, and Riley had joined together and appealed to Kyna¡¯s dreams of cuteness to escape Ingrid¡¯s dictatorial demands. Now that had been a strange tag team if there ever was one. This had bought them the right to wear heels of the ¡®sensible¡¯ category. Emily was pleased. Riley tolerated the result. Sylvia thought women were touched in the head if they felt any kind of heeled shoe could be called ¡®sensible¡¯. ¡°Why bother?¡± Riley groaned, exasperated. ¡°There¡¯s fashion. Then there¡¯s stupid.¡± Sylvia slipped on her buckled schoolgirl shoes, then stood. Flats were wonderful. Comfortably uniformed, the silver haired girl adjusted her beret. ¡°Hmph!¡± Emily huffed. ¡°I¡¯ll let you explain yourselves to Kyna then.¡± ¡°Emily, it¡¯s Armed Combat class,¡± Sylvia reasoned. Compelled by forces beyond her ken, Sylvia¡¯s style had undergone an evolution. Her emerald dress was adorned with lace and her robes tailored to her figure. From both earlobes hung wire hooked stones, scars left by the theme ¡®accessories¡¯. Then there was her hair. Sylvia¡¯s silver locks had escaped the terror of Emily¡¯s tails but not without paying a terrible price. Out of compromise, the witch had accepted a French braid complemented by a weave of pink ribbon. The evil, Sylvia realized, was seeping into her veins. One day it might claim her entirely. ¡°She¡¯s going to throw us under the bus,¡± Riley commented, not so quietly. Sylvia pinched her nose. ¡°She probably has a pair of shoes already picked out for me.¡± ¡°I¡¯m doing this for your own good,¡± Emily retorted, shaking a little fist. ¡°You¡¯ll thank me later. I know it!¡± The brunette was so, so adorable but she could be trying. Shoes swapped, the trio proceeded to the Grounds. It¡¯d been three months since Sylvia entered the netherworld. With the end of the quarter the Starlight Nether Witch Academy had launched a flurry of tests. Roisin Owsley initiated the event with a cruel exam. She had hung a copy of every rune in the Lesser Codex from the ceiling. To pass, students had to take five of these runes, then draw them and name them in front of the teacher. The problem? There were thirty students and only a hundred and twenty runes had been covered in class. Do the math. Needless to say, few of Sylvia¡¯s peers had read ahead. Ten witches failed the exam, earning a score of poor. Sylvia had done her part to relieve her classmate¡¯s plight, taking ten compound runes from the back of the book. With them, she¡¯d scored her first superb. Professor Fischer¡¯s quiz in Introduction to Magic had proved substantially easier. Each witch was asked to cast three of the five spells they had learned in the months prior. Nearly everyone passed, while Sylvia claimed a second superb by casting all five. Now, with the students gathered for Isabella¡¯s Armed Combat, Sylvia was aiming for a trifecta. ¡°This time I¡¯m hoping to get my hands on that sweet, sweet cash,¡± Riley said, eagerly. The Academy only had three grades: poor, acceptable, and superb. A score of poor meant loosing credit for the quarter and facing the horror of mandatory reviews on Sundays for the next month. Superb, on the other hand, rewarded students with cold hard cash. One-hundred soli straight up and another five-hundred off the girl¡¯s debt. As for acceptable? It was exactly what it said on the tin. ¡°The second they hand over the money, I¡¯m heading to the Recreation Hall and stuffing myself until I burst,¡± Sylvia agreed. Emily giggled. ¡°Sylvia, you can¡¯t spend all your money on food.¡± ¡°Watch me,¡± the silver haired witch challenged. Chest puffed, Sylvia entered the field. The nature of Isabella¡¯s test was obvious at a glance. At the clearing¡¯s center was a large, tarp covered cage. Blood wolves, Sylvia presumed. Though maybe the sadist had brought something special. Regardless, Sylvia headed for the weapons rack. Without waiting for any instruction, she grabbed three spears, handing the second and third to her roommates. They weren¡¯t alone. A score of first years were gathered on the grounds. Many clutched spears. Some were nervous. Others bounced with energy. A few studied the cage with grim expressions. Natalie, Camila and the rest of her gang stood in a small cluster beside the cage while their teacher, Isabella, rested on the structure¡¯s top. The horned redhead had her hands folded behind her head, a length of grass hanging from her mouth. ¡°What do you know, it¡¯s the princess, the knight, and the bimbo,¡± Camila¡¯s sneer made the babbling crowd go silent. The dark haired girl¡¯s lilac eyes fell to their feet. ¡°At least two of you were smart enough to switch to real shoes.¡± Sylvia nearly bristled. If not for charm club and that time Emily forced her into those pigtails, Camila would never have started calling her princess. Emily¡¯s cheeks puffed. The brunette shook her spear in a manner that was more cute than threatening. ¡°I¡¯ll beat you up!¡± ¡°Oh please,¡± Camila laughed. ¡°I¡¯m not afraid of a high-heeled ditz.¡± Sylvia raised a brow. Her gaze slid to her blonde friend. ¡°She doesn¡¯t know.¡± ¡°I almost wish the two of them would fight,¡± Riley muttered in reply. ¡°Almost?¡± ¡°You know how I feel about bullying,¡± Riley confirmed, with viscous subtlety. ¡°They¡¯re cheating meanies,¡± Emily condemned, ignoring the byplay. ¡°Cheating?¡± Heather jeered. ¡°You¡¯re only mad because your stupid, dumpster club clique didn¡¯t think of it first.¡± Ah, yes. Heather Grenier, proudly lowering the quality of the human race for twenty years running. Emily¡¯s complaint stemmed from the runes test. Natalie¡¯s crew had secured their grades by seizing all the best known runes right at the start. The tactic, though slimy, had proven effective. Natalie had earned a superb while the rest of her companions took an acceptable. At the low, low cost of her less able classmate¡¯s grades. Not that Emily cared one whit. No, no, no. Hers was not a fury born from justice. What stirred Emily¡¯s rancor was that Natalie¡¯s ill gained superb left the forest haired witch undeservedly tied with her darling Sylvia. As for Sylvia herself? She didn¡¯t give shit. The only thing she cared about was money! ¡°Mmm,¡± Emily noised angrily. ¡°Sylvia¡¯s smarter than Natalie and you know it!¡± Natalie Ward¡¯s blue eyes narrowed. ¡°No rules were violated by our act,¡± the forest haired girl countered smoothly. ¡°Everything we did was free and fair. This was confirmed by Professor Owsley herself.¡± ¡°It¡¯s called tactics,¡± Camila sneered. ¡°It¡¯s called being an ass,¡± Riley refuted. Natalie¡¯s expression tightened. Her eyes veered to the silver haired witch. ¡°I won¡¯t fall behind,¡± she said firmly. The woman turned, a picture of poise and elegance. Natalie was a driven woman. Beautiful. Intelligent. Capable. Sylvia might¡¯ve liked her if Natalie wasn¡¯t head honcho of the starlight thugs. Silence stood for a moment, then the babble of Sylvia¡¯s classmates rose once more. ¡°She must¡¯ve picked out a real cute pair for you,¡± Riley whispered. ¡°You know you¡¯re not getting away unscathed, right?¡± Sylvia grumbled. Riley shrugged. ¡°I kind of like being taller.¡± Sylvia groaned. Misery, as they say, loved company and here she was all on her own. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Sylvia,¡± Emily encouraged, emerald eyes shining. ¡°You¡¯ll be cuter and more refined than that cheater will ever be.¡± Stab. Stab. Stab. That was Emily¡¯s psychic knife shanking her soul. Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. Her poor, male ego was being murdered. Day after day. Week after week. Ruthlessly slaughtered by her own, dear friend. When the last student arrived, Isabella hopped off the cage. ¡°You brats ready?¡± With a toothy grin, the teacher scrutinized the girls. ¡°Definitely,¡± Sylvia answered. Her voice was but one of many. Sylvia had been looking forward to this test for a long time. Armed Combat consisted of physical training, drills, and spars. The drills and spars, she understood. Sylvia didn¡¯t quite comprehend the point of the physical training. Demons didn¡¯t have muscles. Not in the same sense humans did. Exercise did nothing to increase strength or stamina. Laziness would not lose it. But maybe her classmates leveled different. Cultivation was slow. Killing monsters and extracting their experience points was far faster. Meditation could earn Sylvia one hundred points a day. She had used her second blank skill book to improve her lot, gritting her teeth even though the System had classed it as mediocre. Alas, the reward wasn¡¯t what Sylvia had hoped. Mastering cultivation had done nothing but save time. Before, it took three hours of effort to fill her gullet. Now she required one. Cultivation, it turned out, was subject to digestion limits. Monsters were a juicier prize. The only balm to her regret was the same skill book had taught basic ki manipulation. Turns out advanced cultivation techniques are impossible without it. ¡°Today¡¯s test is the same as the first,¡± Isabella explained. ¡°The grading criteria is simple. Run or die and you get a poor. Give me a good show and I¡¯ll hand you a superb. Everything in between is acceptable.¡± The slit eyed woman whipped the cover off the cage revealing five, not three, beryl blood wolves. The creatures prowled inside, talons clicking against the wood. Burning eyes focused on the girls outside the bars. Saliva pooled between their teeth. A murmur went through the crowd. Fear and excitement intertwined. A few witches shied back. Most crowded forward, forming a semicircle near the door. Spears bristled in a hedge of wood and steel. The sight stirred greater courage. Margret and Valerie were trembling, yet ready. Natalie, Camila, and Heather pushed forward greedy for the first shot. Sylvia and her friends stood on the front line as well, far from their rivals. ¡°Back. Back. You have to give them a fighting chance,¡± Isabella laughed. The crowd shimmied a few meters further from the door. Isabella threw the cage open. The beryl blood wolves poured out in a flood. Phantasmal beasts had no fear. No yearning for survival. Just hunger and violence. The five wolves shot at the crowd with suicidal fury. Spears struck ruddy red hide. Some bit deep. Others skittered off bone. Of the five wolves, one was impaled instantly, shredded by four spears. Another found itself pinned down only seconds after smashing into the wall of witches. The rest tore into the group with tooth and talon. To Sylvia¡¯s left, a girl was blown onto her back when her spear struck bone near the beast¡¯s chest. The silver haired girl turned, thrusting at the wolf before it could slip deeper into the throng. The gleaming tip of her weapon crashed into the wolf¡¯s ribs, slicing through skin without a true bite. Enraged, the creature growled then lunged. Only to be met by Riley Smith. The blonde¡¯s weapon punched through the creature¡¯s throat. Emily¡¯s spear lanced in an instant later, passing perfectly between two ribs. Light crackled. The wolf howled. Sylvia pivoted and struck again. This time her weapon penetrated the beast¡¯s belly. The shock of mana, or in Sylvia¡¯s case ki, shattered the creature¡¯s essence. Sylvia wrenched her weapon from the broken corpse, the body dissolving into misty ether. Riley¡¯s gaze swept the field. The blonde dashed, chasing the closest wolf. Sylvia followed, one step behind. This beast had torn through three girls already, casting them about the ground like struck pins. Before they could reach, a weapon pierced through the wolf¡¯s rear stopping its motion. Lucky! Pfft. Sylvia added insult to injury. Her spear blasted through the creature¡¯s side. Pfft, pfft, pfft. In a chain, more blows rained down, ripping the poor beast apart. Then¡­ There was no then. Sylvia scanned the field in disbelief. All fives wolves were dead. The battle had lasted less than a minute. The casualties, seven girls. Three were already making their way back to their feet. Only two were dead. It wasn¡¯t just Sylvia. Every witch looked around in confusion. Dazed. Bewildered. Too fast. Too easy. Compared to the first class, the result was night and day. ¡°The foundation of strength is not a strong arm nor a good weapon, it is courage,¡± Isabella said, her hard voice cutting through their befuddlement. ¡°Cowards are no more than sheep waiting to be cut down. A strong heart and steady companions can overturn all odds. Never forget that.¡± The group turned toward the horned teacher. The topaz eyed Margret Rivera helped her injured friend Valerie Baker off the ground. Though pained, the blonde stood with pride. The shame of the first Armed Combat class had been washed away. Half a dozen meters distant, Heather wrenched her spear out from a dissolving beryl blood wolf. ¡°If they had any guts, we would¡¯ve ended the first class like this too,¡± the fiery haired girl sneered. Isabella glared, hand on the hilt of her sword. Heather paled. ¡°Don¡¯t interrupt me, brat,¡± Isabella warned. The redhead¡¯s gaze returned to the class. ¡°Be proud of yourselves. But don¡¯t be too proud. This test was easy. My next test will kill all but one of you. I guarantee it.¡± The redhead¡¯s lips twisted into a bloodthirsty smile. ¡°But you brats can worry about that three months from now,¡± the instructor continued. ¡°Over this last quarter, I taught you the basics. How to hold a spear. How to thrust. How to strike and parry. In this next quarter, I¡¯ll teach you how to use ki.¡± Scores of blank eyes stared in Isabella¡¯s direction. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that. If you want to hear the technical mumbo jumbo ask a real professor,¡± Isabella scoffed. ¡°The only thing you brats need to know is that ki is strength. When your body, your heart, and your mind move as one your ki will move with it. But the real trick is to control it with your head.¡± The horned woman tapped her skull in emphasis. ¡°I won¡¯t shit you. Ki based arts are as complicated as magic. Traditionally, we divide progress into seven levels: inner flow, externalization, manifestation, transformation, enlightenment, domain, and truth. You girls are witches. You only need to know the basics. So we¡¯ll be aiming for the bottom of the pyramid, inner flow.¡± Sylvia nodded along. Because of her substantial reading list, she already knew most of what Isabella was teaching. ¡°Now, you might ask yourself, why do I need to learn ki? Let me make it clear. That trick you¡¯re using?¡± The horned redhead unsheathed her sword then let it crackle with mana. ¡°It¡¯s pure trash. Do you dumb shits think you can always time your strikes? You¡¯re witches. Mana is precious. Why are you throwing it away?¡± Many of the girls wore a sour look, Riley included. If Isabella was going to insult their approach, she should¡¯ve taught them another one first. ¡°The real solution is to cycle your ki through your weapon. This is called unity. Not only is this technique more efficient, but it¡¯ll improve your control over your spear.¡± Isabella held our her bone sword. Ki flowed down the weapon so thick it formed a halo around the blade. Externalization. A step beyond what Sylvia had reached. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The instructor¡¯s reptilian eyes swept the group. ¡°Going forward, there¡¯s going to be two groups. Natalie, Sylvia, Camila, and Emily get your asses to my left,¡± Isabella barked. ¡°The rest of you to my right. Those of you in the first group, your job is to practice moving your ki without moving your body. As for the second group¡­.¡± The redhead¡¯s lips formed an evil smile. ¡°We¡¯ll be doing nonstop drills until you pick up the sense. And you better pray it happens quick, because I¡¯ll be keeping you here half an hour after class for the next three month if I have to.¡± The two parties began to separate. Sylvia gave Riley a glance. The blonde shrugged. Accepting reality, Sylvia trotted to the left, joining the elegant Natalie and the cruel Camila. Emily flounced happily alongside. ¡°What a joke. The bimbo is smarter than the knight,¡± Camila mocked. Sylvia¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Got a problem with what I said, princess?¡± Camila challenged. Emily¡¯s cheeks puffed. The brunette pointed her spear in lilac eyed witch¡¯s direction. ¡°I¡¯ll stab you.¡± ¡°You want to fight?¡± Camila sneered. The dark haired girl strutted forward, gangster style. ¡°You don¡¯t have the guts.¡± ¡°I mean it!¡± Emily insisted. Camila¡¯s smile turned malevolent. Her lilac eyes suddenly turned. ¡°Hey teach! How about the four of us have a duel and find out who¡¯s strongest?¡± The crowd fell silent. Sylvia frowned. Had Camila been aiming for this from the start? Across the field, Riley glared. It was clear that the blonde tomboy wanted to head on over and beat the shit out of Camila by herself. Camila grinned at her, tauntingly. Natalie eyes fixed on Sylvia, expression intense. Isabella laughed. ¡°Initiative. I like it. Knock yourself out brats.¡± Sylvia glowered. Great. Actually, revise that. Great! And not sarcastically this time. It really was great to have a school sanctioned chance to punch these bastards in the face. ¡°Looks like we¡¯re going to find out if you¡¯re a mad dog or a princess,¡± Camila mocked, stepping forward, spear resting on her right shoulder. ¡°Mmm,¡± Emily hummed angrily. ¡°Sylvia is obviously a princess!¡± Sylvia eye twitched. Please have mercy. She¡¯d rather be a mad dog than a princess. ¡°I¡¯ll be the one to fight her,¡± Natalie interrupted. Her brilliant blue eyes carried a spark. ¡°Tch,¡± Camila clicked, stepping back. ¡°Sure thing boss.¡± The witch with forest green hair lowered her weapon. Not to be deterred, Sylvia stood across spear at the ready. Fighting demons was vastly different than fighting wolves. Though Sylvia had picked up a lot of levels in the last few months, her attribute distribution wasn¡¯t suited for melee. As a starlight witch, Natalie¡¯s situation wouldn¡¯t be much better, but the girl had half a head on her. Height meant reach and mass. In the netherworld, these didn¡¯t have a fraction of the impact they did on Earth, but they still meant something. ¡°Beat her up, Sylvia,¡± Emily cheered, pumping her fist excitedly. Cautiously, Sylvia circled. Natalie shifted, blue eyes keen. A tension stood in the air. The two girls judged each other. Sylvia knew Natalie was good. The green haired woman always spared an hour after class to practice. But was she good enough? Whoosh. Thunk. The stillness broke. In a flash, Natalie stepped forward, her spear lancing out in a sharp, probing jab. Sylvia¡¯s weapon met it, haft cracking against haft. Two thrusts followed the first. Sylvia played the distance. A half step back left Natalie¡¯s second thrust short. The silver haired witch parried the third. An opening. Sylvia lunged in counter. With a single, smooth motion Natalie brushed it aside. The green haired girl stepped in, whipping the back of her weapon toward Sylvia¡¯s face. Crack. Sylvia¡¯s spear swept around, catching the unexpected strike with a firm block. Three months of Armed Combat had bred familiarity. Thrusts. Jabs. Parries. All of those motions came naturally. Sylvia¡¯s improved wit paid dividends. Sharpened senses made it easy to track Natalie¡¯s motions. Quicker thoughts left her calm and steady. Wit wasn¡¯t as suitable for a melee exchange as agility, but it had its uses. Then again, so did strength. Natalie leaned in. Spear pressed against spear. The weight behind Natalie was greater. Sylvia¡¯s thin arms trembled. The silver haired witch skidded back. The sudden shift transformed into a stumble. The forest haired witch struck. Her spear sprang up, slithering through the air like a snake. Still off balance, Sylvia threw herself back. A mistake. Natalie transformed her strike into a lung, spear hissing across the gap. Shit! Somehow, Sylvia turned her back pedal into a twist. The dodge was a millisecond too slow. Pain seared along the bottom of her left breast. Damned lumps of fat. Sylvia gasped then steadied. ¡°Hmph,¡± Natalie noised arrogantly. The green haired witch drew her weapon back. Except she didn¡¯t. Because her spear caught. Sylvia smirked. Ki was a fascination thing. Just as mana was ether polished by the psyche, ki was born from the essence of blood. Humans were creatures bound by physics. Force was applied by the contraction of the muscles. Those muscles pulled on tendons, while the tendons twisted levers attached to bones. To gather the body¡¯s strength into a single blow, a fighter had to move as a single unit. Push with the legs. Rotate with the hips. Swing with the arms. Demons were different. Phantasmal muscle was nothing more than a catalyst transforming ki into force. Beyond that it functioned as a repository. A wet rag to absorb the liquid of life. Where human muscles were fixed, ki could flow. Strength could be concentrated in a single limb. While moving with the whole body helped, it wasn¡¯t necessary. In fact, ki could be directed into things that were not limbs. Like Sylvia¡¯s hair. Natalie frowned. Around the shaft of her spear was wrapped a long, silvery braid. The blue-eyed witch jerked her weapon a second time. Sylvia¡¯s braid jerked back, half as strong. Then she used that force to throw herself forward in a lightning fast lunge. Pfft. Sylvia¡¯s spear slid through Natalie¡¯s gut. Then ¨C splut ¨C the witch drew her weapon back out. The forest haired girl stumbled back, left hand clutching her wound. Thick, globular blood oozed out between Natalie¡¯s fingers. Faint, crimson mist escaped even as the ichor hardened into protective scabs. Sylvia¡¯s stomach threatened to flip end over end. The sight. The smell. The feeling. It made her sick. In her head, Sylvia tried to remind herself that Natalie¡¯s injuries were temporary. It didn¡¯t help. ¡°I win,¡± Sylvia squeezed out. Natalie grimaced. With stubborn strength, the green haired woman forced herself back into princess poise. Her deep blue eyes burrowed into Sylvia¡¯s pastel pink. One warrior gazing into the soul of another. Even though Natalie was head of the starlight thugs, she deserved respect. ¡°An interesting trick,¡± Natalie said, her haughty tone tight to resist the pain. She gave a firm nod. ¡°I will remember it.¡± A small smile grew on Sylvia¡¯s lips. Only to be dashed by a thunderous shout. ¡°You brats!¡± Isabella roared angrily. ¡°All duels are to the death!¡± The roar made her jolt. Sylvia¡¯s head turned, gazing back. For an instant, the context didn¡¯t compute. Natalie caught on faster. Abandoning her captured spear, the green haired lady threw herself into the silver haired witch. Sylvia struggled to bring her weapon to bear, but it was already too late. Natalie crashed into Sylvia, her greater mass overcoming Sylvia¡¯s petite form. Carried by the weight, the silver haired girl smashed into the ground, Natalie on top. Her vision shook. Before Sylvia could recover ¨C pow! ¨C Natalie¡¯s right fist plowed straight into Sylvia¡¯s nose. Natalie reared back and struck again. The second punch rammed into a pale and delicate cheek. The third crashed into the silver haired girl¡¯s arms. A fourth and a fifth were absorbed by her guard, giving Sylvia enough time to recover her senses. She punched back. A hook cut through the air. Natalie leaned, letting the swing go wide. The attack seemed to give the green haired witch pause. Blue eyes glinting, Natalie reached up. The air parted, warping as the silvery mouth of Natalie¡¯s space bag became visible. From it the forest haired witch drew an illusionary knife. Natalie adjusted her grip, granting the weapon a precious second to drink ether and corporealize. Know what? Screw this. Sylvia stopped holding back. There were three components to any spell: runes, intent, and energy. Runes were best drawn in the mind. In the sea of her soul, Sylvia traced shimmering shapes by heart. Intent required nothing. Her thoughts were already formed and the course of action fully imagined. For a practiced mage, energy was the trickiest bit. For simple spells without an elemental character, it was enough to supply mana. But for any true elemental magic, the mana must be natured first. To nature a spell required resonance. This was achieved by mixing mana with the appropriate ether. The more ether the better because ether served a second purpose. It was another source of energy. Free power just hanging out, waiting for any mage to take it. And while not all of a spell¡¯s cost could be paid in ether, most it could. But sometimes speed was more important than efficiency. This was exactly such a case. So Sylvia condensed the smallest amount of wind ether necessary. Then she spoke. ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö!¡± Through the phenomenon of spirit speech, concepts internal were made external. Twelve runes, forged in her head, were pulled out like the carts of a train from a tunnel. With the first syllable, four runes were unleashed. With the second, five more followed. A third sound wrapped up the remainder. The string of runes mixed with her mana giving shape to the intangible. A curved blade formed. The edge was as long as Sylvia¡¯s arm and forged from rippling wind. Transparent. Nearly invisible to the ordinary eye. However, to the starlight eyes of an asteri, it glowed pale green. Wind blade. With runes, energy, and intent the spell was cast. But there was no time to witness it. From start to finish, Sylvia¡¯s conjuration lasted no more than three-quarters of a second. By the time the blade appeared, Natalie had already been chopped in half. Thick, sticky, almost gelatinous blood sprayed over Sylvia¡¯s face. Natalie chest flopped back, landing on the silver haired girl¡¯s legs. Sylvia shuddered in disgust. Taking a few breaths to gather herself, Sylvia stood. Her body shook. The image of Natalie¡¯s death replayed itself in her mind over and over again. It¡¯s not real. It¡¯s not real. It¡¯s not real. Natalie would be there again in the morning. A pair of warm hands wrapped themselves around Sylvia¡¯s waist. Adorable brunette hair filled her vision. Emily. The petite girl¡¯s softness pressed into her own. Gentle. Loving. For a second, Sylvia stood rigid. Then she relaxed, sinking into Emily¡¯s embrace. Sometimes being one of the girls was a good thing. ¡°Better?¡± Emily asked. Sylvia stepped back, feeling awkward. She gave a stiff nod. The brunette giggled. Sylvia¡¯s face burned. She could still smell the sweetness of Emily¡¯s hair. The warmth of her body. The touch of her breasts. Even the ache of Sylvia¡¯s wound paled in comparison. Glancing down, Sylvia noticed the blood on the brunette¡¯s shirt. The grotesque stood in strange offset to Emily¡¯s smile. Sylvia¡¯s guts turned at the reminder. Perhaps unaware, or mayhap uncaring, Emily stooped down and snagged Sylvia¡¯s beret. The brunette stepped forward and carefully placed the hat on Sylvia¡¯s head. ¡°There you go. Now everything is right in the world.¡± ¡°Are you two done playing?¡± Isabella interrupted. ¡°Good. Now tell me where you went wrong.¡± Sylvia¡¯s expression turned sheepish. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have looked away,¡± she admitted. ¡°Always keep your eyes on your opponent,¡± Isabella confirmed loudly, making sure the whole class heard. ¡°But that¡¯s the least of your problems. First off, why the fuck did you show mercy? Leaving your enemy alive isn¡¯t just stupid, it shows disrespect. In Hell, humiliation is worse than death. You fight, you kill. Do you brats hear me? All duels are to the death.¡± Isabella glared at her students making sure her words were properly processed. ¡°Then there¡¯s your second mistake. Why the fuck did you wait until the end to cast that spell?¡± Well, first off, Sylvia had been under the impression this was Armed Combat class. Weren¡¯t spells against the rules? Sylvia had half expected to be chastised after casting. But there was a bigger reason. Sylvia¡¯s plan was to keep her magic hidden. Not because the spell was special. In theory, anyone could¡¯ve learned wind blade in the last three months. It wasn¡¯t hard. As long as a witch knew her runes and understood the process, picking up new spells was pure memorization. Introduction to Magic only covered five spells because the class was more theory and mechanics than spell casting. That and most students didn¡¯t know their runes. Professor Owsley was awful. No. She kept her magic hidden because fast casting ¨C the art of pulling multiple runes with a single syllable ¨C wasn¡¯t a skill a first year should know. In fact, it wasn¡¯t a skill most third years knew. When Sylvia used her third blank skill book on wind blade, the System had allocated two-thirds of her time to the art. Six hundred hours of training wasn¡¯t a joke. Not even a genius could fast cast after three months. It wasn¡¯t just a problem of talent or effort. Sylvia quite simply didn¡¯t have enough mana to learn it in that frame of time. If the professors thought long and hard about what just transpired, there would be questions. Questions Sylvia would rather not answer. ¡°Did you brats forget you¡¯re witches?¡± Isabella demanded when the silence hung too long. ¡°This might be Armed Combat, but unless I tell you can¡¯t use magic, you should cast any spell you think will give you a fucking advantage. ¡°Now, who else wants to fight? And I don¡¯t want to see any chicken shit hesitation this time. You duel. One of you dies, or I¡¯ll kill the both of you myself.¡± ¡°Me!¡± Emily said cheerfully. The brunette wheeled. She posed, one finger pointed dramatically at the lilac eyed witch. ¡°For making fun of Sylvia, I¡¯ll punish you!¡± Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. Camila scowled. The dark haired witch lifted her spear and walked forward, unenthusiastic. ¡°Shit. Could¡¯ve fought the mad dog, instead I¡¯m stuck dealing with the bimbo,¡± Camila griped. The rough, lilac eyed girl adjusted her grip and her stance. ¡°You going to kick off those shoes, powder puff?¡± ¡°Eh?¡± Emily cocked her head to the side cutely. ¡°Why would I do that? They¡¯re pretty.¡± ¡°Tch,¡± Camila clicked her tongue. Then she lunged. ¡°Your funeral.¡± Wrmrm. Wood slid off of wood. Emily parried the strike. The motion looked sloppy and left the brunette wide open. Ruthless, Camila struck. Her spear flashed forward. Then ¨C Pfft. ¡°Huh?¡± Camila looked down, confused by the haft passing straight through her chest. Across from her, Emily smiled, having pivoted just slightly so that Camila¡¯s thrust missed. The brunette¡¯s spear crackled with golden light. The shock of mana blasted through Camila¡¯s body, shattering her perforated core. The dark-blue haired girl collapsed. Everyone on the field stood frozen. ¡°I win!¡± Emily cheered. ¡°You¡¯re amazing,¡± Sylvia deadpanned. The brunette hopped forward then wrapped Sylvia in another hug before she could react. ¡°And you¡¯re cute,¡± Emily said happily. ¡°Now no one will dare say Sylvia isn¡¯t a princess.¡± Emerald eyes turned dark. Emily waved her hand, threatening the rest of the class. Riley facepalmed. No one else spoke a word. Exasperated, Sylvia comforted herself by bringing up her status sheet and adding one level.
Name Sylvia Swallows Class Apprentice Witch
Level 38+30 Exp 270 / 390
HP 89 / 110 MP 220 / 243
Str 3 Mag 17
Vit 3 Spr 20
Agl 5 Wit 20
-oOo- Spirit Speech Spirit speech is the act of communicating through the resonance of intent in ether. Though spirit speech implies speech, this communication can be achieved through any action. Such as writing or gesture. Spirit speech is innate to most denizens of the netherworld. Thus, demons can easily communicate regardless of the language used. From this derives the root of mythologies like speaking in tongues. That said, not all denizens have natural spirit speech. Wild fey are a particularly notable occurrence, where their poor handling of spirit speech has resulted in a similar myth that ¡®faeries cannot lie¡¯. While the speech part of spirit speech is natural in demons, they must specifically learn to write or gesture using spirit speech. Under certain circumstances, spirit speech can be rendered incomprehensible. Puns, word games, and inside jokes are common examples. Talking about advanced concepts that the listener has no frame to understand can also induce great confusion. Excessively compacted information, especially when the intent is directed at the world instead of a person, can likewise be reduced to nonsense. Thus, the ¡°¡ö¡± common in spell casting. Spirit speech is absolutely necessary for incantation. Without it, it¡¯s impossible to form runes in the mind then speak them into the world. This is a serious obstacle for beings without natural spirit speech. Inversely, this means spells can be cast through gesture if a mage is sufficiently practiced. Chapter 7 -oOo- Chapter 7 -oOo- ¡°What¡¯s your plan?¡± Sylvia paused, looking back at Riley. Armed Combat had finished an hour ago, and now Sylvia had three-hundred soli rattling around in her pocket. Well, her soul, anyway. Her school robes didn¡¯t come with pockets. A few months back, Sylvia had questioned the design. Riley¡¯s only answer was to laugh. ¡°Recreation Hall,¡± Sylvia said simply. Riley glanced over her shoulder. The two of them were on the path outside the Academic Building. A few scattered trees provided shade, while gardens of flowers added color. A dozen meters away, a witch in an emerald dress sat on a bench with a book in her lap. Must be a third year. Sylvia didn¡¯t recognize her. The blonde stepped close and nudged the silver haired girl. ¡°Up for something a little more adventurous?¡± Riley whispered. Sylvia looked at the freckled girl, questioning. Riley grinned, her intense green eyes gleaming. ¡°What do you want? Because, right now, my goal is to stuff myself. There¡¯s a slice of cake in the cafeteria that¡¯s been calling to me for a full month.¡± It was the exact same slice of cake, in fact. Food didn¡¯t spoil in the netherworld. One of its merits. ¡°Not here,¡± Riley said. The blonde scurried forward. Exasperated, Sylvia followed. In the last three months, Sylvia had adapted to her situation. She no longer noticed the breeze between her legs. The sway of her braid had become so natural that the lack would be foreign instead. She had even come to terms with the bob of her boobs. Though the last was hard to ignore right now, thanks to the scar Natalie inflicted. But Sylvia still missed her creature comforts. Chugging down a cold soda. Munching on a bag of chips. Trolling the internet. Eating a thick, juicy burger. Grinding away for that one, perfect drop while polishing off a tub of ice cream. Life. What Sylvia missed was life. Boring, old, ordinary life. A world where she could eat and drink. Where the sun rose and set. Where she could be herself. Her real self. Eric Swallow, the fat salary man in a dead end job. This world. This eternal morn. Sylvia fucking hated it. Even more than the body she was stuck in, she hated being trapped here. Away from home. Without her things. Sometimes Sylvia thought she¡¯d gone mad. Months of reading book after book hadn¡¯t helped. Sylvia had already finished all her textbooks then perused the library for more. She¡¯d tried her hand at entertainment, but the Academy¡¯s selection was slim. What existed leaned toward classic literature, of the netherworld sense, and romance. And for Sylvia, that kind of book was barely better than reading a reference manual. Especially when the System coughed up a quarter of the quest points per a page consumed. In the end, she¡¯d found history books to be the most tolerable. She would¡¯ve read them exclusively but, well, the System¡¯s database had to be fed. Otherwise, the topics available for her blank skill books would be quite limited. The slog had been crushing. Sylvia had reached the point where she actually dreaded leaving charm club. Not because she wanted to be in charm club ¨C shudder ¨C but because leaving meant picking up whatever textbook she¡¯d been reading and continuing from where she left off. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you put those back on,¡± Sylvia commented. The silver haired girl¡¯s gaze was naturally attracted to Riley¡¯s form fitting leggings and her sensibly heeled ankle boots. Sylvia couldn¡¯t help it. Eric had always been a leg man and, as ¡®Sylvia¡¯, her sexuality remained unchanged. That was one matter on which she was grateful. Demons didn¡¯t have hormones. However, some bloodlines had attributes that distorted the bearer¡¯s mental character. Succubi had an enhanced libido. Many predatory species had greater aggression. The starlight witch, by comparison, was very pristine. If there were subtle impacts on her psyche, they were extraneous when set before environmental influence. Riley looked back with a wry grin. ¡°Those?¡± she laughed. ¡°I figured, why play with fire?¡± ¡°Uh huh,¡± Sylvia noised, not believing. ¡°You just hate being short.¡± Riley stopped and glowered. To the north, just past the Outer Dorms, was Vallenfelt Manor. The turrets of the rich house rose over the line of trees barely visible. They were now beyond the main grounds of the Academy. Here underbrush clawed at their robes while leaves dampened the fabric with morning dew. Light broke through the canopy, bright and cheery. The breeze was cool, making the warm air welcoming. Phantasmal birds chirped, their sounds matched by the cry of insects. Both beings were more illusionary than real. An idea imprinted upon the plane by world logic. Supposedly there was a way to tell when these creatures had accumulated enough essence to be hunted, but Professor Wright had yet to cover that in Field Studies class. ¡°Did it ever occur to you that I like looking nice?¡± Sylvia raised a brow. ¡°There¡¯s a difference between boy and tomboy, Sylvia,¡± Riley said, sounding annoyed. The blonde resumed her walk, pushing through the brush. ¡°I like sports. I was in martial arts as a kid. I don¡¯t do the whole girly thing because it¡¯s a waste of time, and I¡¯d rather wear something comfortable.¡± ¡°It occurred to me, you hate being short,¡± Sylvia answered blandly. Sylvia wasn¡¯t too fond of being petite either, but she would admit it was better than being obese. ¡°You¡¯re shorter than me,¡± came Riley¡¯s clipped response. ¡°And stop perving.¡± Now it was Sylvia¡¯s turn to sputter defensively. ¡°I¡¯m not ¨C ¡± ¡°Oh please,¡± Riley rolled her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve seen you staring at Ingrid and Professor Myers. It¡¯s obvious you have a foot fetish.¡± Sylvia scowled. ¡°I do not have a foot fetish. I have a leg fetish,¡± she explained slowly. ¡°And I don¡¯t perve. I admire. Ad-mi-re.¡± Sylvia wasn¡¯t one of those degenerates who wanted to be trampled by a woman in high heels. She wasn¡¯t interested in a lady¡¯s ankles and toes. It was all calves and thighs for her. And butts. And breasts, of course. The important part about high heels was how they shaped a woman¡¯s legs. ¡°Uh huh,¡± Riley returned, not believing. ¡°Tch. Your legs aren¡¯t long enough perve on anyway,¡± Sylvia snorted. Riley playfully thwacked the silver haired girl on the head. The two of them came to a stop at the edge of a cliff. To Sylvia¡¯s left, she could make out a distant stone dais. One end to the long strand of cultivation platforms that overlooked the starry void. Below was a fifty-meter plunge into a forest of trees. Further to the east lay the Fortress of Dawn. One of several military facilities that supported Hell¡¯s dominion of the Timeless Beryl Wilderness. The fortress¡¯s two tall towers rose above the woods, each supporting a long needle-like silhouette. Lightning cannons, Sylvia guessed from her historical readings. To the south was the town of Vallen, completely hidden by the trees and cliff. ¡°So, what are you plotting?¡± Sylvia asked. ¡°This.¡± Riley pulled a sapphire blue dress from out of her space bag. Sylvia frowned. ¡°You¡¯re thinking of sneaking out.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question. The Academy was small. Lady Vallenfelt recruited a new batch of starlight witches every other year. With a class size of thirty and an education program that ran for ten-years, it was easy to guess the number of witches. One-hundred fifty. In fact, the true number was two-hundred. Eighty outsiders like Ingrid and Kyna. One-hundred-twenty starlight witches like herself. As for the lower than expected number of seniors, this could be chalked up to early graduations. Not everyone stayed for the full ten years. The Academy split its students between juniors, seniors, and external. Starlight witches in their first four years were juniors and wore green dresses. Seniors sported blue dresses. External students, who willingly enrolled, wore a red dress. Juniors weren¡¯t allowed off campus. Sylvia had seen enough external students to know that a starlight witch would never blend in. The only reason for Riley to snag a sapphire dress was to sneak out. But there was a serious problem with that plan. The Academy was too small. There were only sixty seniors in the whole school. The Academy guards almost certainly knew them all by sight. ¡°We¡¯ll never make it through the front entrance,¡± Sylvia concluded, shaking her head. ¡°No shit,¡± Riley said. ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re here.¡± Sylvia looked over the edge. ¡°You¡¯re crazy. Even if we get down, we¡¯ll never get back up.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t say never,¡± Riley said, slapping the silver haired girl on the shoulder. ¡°Besides, if the worst happens, we¡¯ll just come back in through the front gates.¡± Which meant they¡¯d be caught. ¡°You must¡¯ve been a real troublemaker when you were young,¡± Sylvia muttered. ¡°You know what will happen if we get caught, right?¡± ¡°Worst thing that happens is we get flogged in front of the school,¡± Riley answered. Surprise, surprise, Hell permitted corporal punishment. Ordinary misbehavior was settled through fines and chores. Sylvia being assigned to charm club fell into that category, though Sylvia suspected her punishment was better described as an excuse. More serious offenses were settled through imprisonment, enslavement, and physical punishments. As demons were resistant to pain, that meant the psychic lash. Which, Sylvia assumed, was as horrible as it sounded. Still... ¡°No. The worst thing that can happen is we get expelled,¡± Sylvia corrected. That wasn¡¯t a joke. Putting aside memes involving a twelve-year-old witch, expulsion was the absolute worst punishment Sylvia and Riley could face. Death was a mere inconvenience. Whipping was but momentary pain. Being thrown out of the Academy, without a means to pay their debt, was ¡®Bad End¡¯ category horror. Debt slavery was the most common form of slavery in Hell. The term of service was never more than a hundred years but during that time a slave could be assigned to any form of labor approved of by the courts. And for debt slaves, that meant the labor which generated the most money. If Sylvia had a hedge witch certificate ¨C obtainable with three years of class credit ¨C her skill in magic would provide the highest value. So, even in the worst case, her owner could only set her to work on magical tasks. Two first years only three months in? They¡¯d end up working a job that involved laying on their backs. Sylvia would rather spend the next ten years as Emily¡¯s dress up doll than that. Riley shook her head. ¡°They don¡¯t expel students for breaking the rules. Expulsions are only for excess debt, serious lawbreaking, or repeated incorrigible behavior.¡± ¡°You mean, like you?¡± Sylvia deadpanned. ¡°I haven¡¯t done that much yet,¡± Riley laughed. ¡°You in or out?¡± Sylvia looked over the edge of the cliff. The silver haired girl had been dreaming of sneaking out of the Academy for months now. Not to run away. Rather, to hunt phantasmal beasts for their tasty, tasty experience points. If Sylvia could hunt and kill like an RPG protagonist ought, she could easily quadruple her daily take. More experience meant more levels. More levels meant higher wit and spirit. Higher attributes lead to faster reading and thus to more blank skill books. A beautiful, virtuous cycle of power. If Sylvia could reach the first consolidation ¨C class advancement as the System called it ¨C she¡¯d have the wherewithal to survive outside the Academy¡¯s wing. Freedom. But Sylvia also knew this plan was still a long way off. Wind blade was a decent spell, but it wasn¡¯t enough for Sylvia to go tromping through the woods all on her own. She needed mobility, detection, and defense before trying that. Still, it wouldn¡¯t hurt to take a look and get a feel for the environment first. ¡°I know a spell that can get us down,¡± Sylvia admitted. ¡°But promise me you won¡¯t keep doing shit like this until you have a graduation certificate.¡± ¡°Do I look stupid to you?¡± Sylvia just stared. No. Riley wasn¡¯t stupid. Riley was passionate. Passion led Riley into conflict with Natalie¡¯s crew. Passion drove Riley¡¯s frustration with the Academy¡¯s kidnapping. Passion put Riley here, with a wild plan to explore the town. Passion could easily make a smart woman do stupid things. Sylvia was a bit jealous of Riley¡¯s passion. Sylvia had always been the type who goes with the flow. Even with the System, Sylvia intended to stick with the Academy until she was massively over leveled. Because it was easier. Riley, if put in Sylvia¡¯s shoes, probably would¡¯ve vanished after the first month of class. ¡°Yes, mother,¡± Riley said sarcastically. Sylvia scowled. ¡°That¡¯s low.¡± ¡°You had it coming,¡± Riley retorted. ¡°I¡¯m twenty-two years old. I can make my own decisions.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t come crying to me if you get sold to a fat old slob,¡± Sylvia sneered. ¡°Now give me a dress.¡± Riley threw the sapphire dress at Sylvia face. Sylvia snatched it out of the air. Riley stripped down in front of her. Sylvia gave the blonde a side-on-look. Wasn¡¯t the blonde whining about Sylvia perving a few minutes ago? Sometimes she suspected that Riley didn¡¯t really believe Sylvia had ever been a man. Whatever. The two of them had been living in the same dorm for months. It wasn¡¯t unusual to see each other partially or mostly naked. It was just a little irksome to be forgotten. Sylvia leered to the side as a reminder. ¡°Nice, right?¡± Riley sassed with a grin. ¡°But yours are bigger.¡± Forget it. Riley wasn¡¯t her type. Sylvia preferred sexy girls like Ingrid and Professor Myers. Not tomboys in tight leggings and high heels. Nope. Emily was way cuter than Riley. ¡­. Suddenly, Sylvia felt like a predator. Aborting the thought, the silver haired witch pulled her dark blue robes over her new dress. ¡°Ready?¡± ¡°Give me a second,¡± Sylvia said, raising a forestalling hand. ¡°I have to remember the incantation.¡± Spells were akin to poetry. Creating a spell, much like creating a poem, was a challenge. Just as poets agonized over every word, striving to convey deep meaning with great brevity, mages worked meticulously on every rune for maximum efficiency. Both works were filled with the passion of the creator, yet it was the caster or reader whose understanding held the most impact. Like a poem, not all the words had to be remembered. If mage understood the sentiment and recalled a portion of the runes, it was possible to guess what was missing. This was more true the deeper a witch¡¯s understanding of magic. Sylvia¡¯s comprehension was far beyond that of the typical first year. She probably rivaled a third year. Sylvia knew the Lesser Codex forward and back. Her grasp of arithmancy, the mathematical ¡®grammar¡¯ of magic, on the other hand remained poor. Thankfully, feather light was a tremendously simple spell, so Sylvia wasn¡¯t likely to run into trouble. Float upon the wind, untouched by the laws of earth. That was a rough translation. Four of the six runes came to mind. Sylvia frowned, trying to fit the missing two. ¡°Fa-Ti-Lo-Ma-Si-Nu,¡± she guessed. The spell fizzled. Wait. That¡¯s right. Now she remembered. This time, Sylvia chanted with confidence. ¡°Fa-Ti-Mo-Ma-Si-Nu.¡± A light breeze kissed Sylvia¡¯s robes. The hem and coat-tails floated up as though she¡¯d been immersed in water. Her body felt light, as though she could easily float away. As a test, Sylvia jumped. Her body rose. The height was no greater than an ordinary leap, but the length she lingered in the air was at least thrice that of normal. ¡°Got it,¡± Sylvia announced. ¡°The spell doesn¡¯t last long, so you¡¯ll have to jump the moment I cast it.¡± ¡°A leap of faith, huh,¡± Riley said. She stared down off the cliff. ¡°How do you do that anyway?¡± ¡°Do what?¡± ¡°Cast without chanting the full spell,¡± Riley explained. ¡°You mean the short chant?¡± Sylvia questioned. ¡°Introduction to Magic covers it in the last chapter. Instead of chanting a rune¡¯s full name or the spell¡¯s meaning, you just speak the first syllable of each rune in the spell. Anyone can do it. It just takes practice.¡± Unlike fast casting, which took serious effort, short chants could be learned by witches in their first year. As in, short chants were literally first year material. Albeit, last quarter of first year material. Long form incantations, on the other hands, were a bit like doing math with a number line. A good place to start for an aspiring mage, but a complete embarrassment when used in real life. By the time students finished their first four years, they¡¯d be expected to short chant everything. As for fast incantations. Fast chants were mostly used for long spells and battle magic. It took a lot of practice with a lot of spells to freely fast chant newly learned magics. For ordinary mages, short chants were much more common, especially when casting out of a grimoire. ¡°Ugh,¡± Riley groaned. ¡°Runes. Spells. Long incantations. Short incantations. I¡¯m starting to think I¡¯m not cut out to be a witch.¡± Sylvia felt for her. If she hadn¡¯t cheated her way to mastery, she¡¯d also be struggling with the basics. There was a lot to learn about magic. Sylvia hadn¡¯t even touched arithmancy, dual elemental magics, aspect energies, enchantment, or nether codes yet. And she had access to blank skill books. A starlight witch certificate required nine years of class credit to achieve. Sylvia figured she needed at least ten skill books, maybe twenty, before she was truly competent. If she wanted to challenge Baroness Vallenfelt¡¯s mastery, she might need as many as one hundred. That was humbling. ¡°Ready?¡± ¡°I was waiting on you,¡± Sylvia replied. ¡°Fa-Ti-Mo-Ma-Si-Nu.¡± Faint mist flowed out before sinking into Riley¡¯s flesh. The blonde witch jumped off the cliff. Sylvia watched, half fearful as Riley floated down. Internal magic came with a time limit. The runic structure would be eroded by Riley¡¯s internal energies. In theory, feather light should last fifteen seconds when cast on others and half again longer when cast on one¡¯s self. The silver haired girl only relaxed when Riley safely passed the treeline. ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö. ¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö!¡± This time, not fearing false starts, Sylvia challenged her skill by trying to fast chant the spell. She started humble, aiming to reduce six runes to four syllables. The first attempt fractured when she pulled the train of runes too hard. The second fumbled when she forged a mental rune too slow. The third caught. Feather light sank into her body. The silver haired girl gave herself two seconds to be sure. Then she threw herself over the edge. And instantly regretted it. There was a brief sense of void, followed by mortal terror. The ground yawned below, a horror promising death. The stillness of her drift did nothing to salve Sylvia¡¯s panic. Instead, it dragged it out longer. Trees stretched up, with hard, hungry branches. Too far. Way too far. No wait! Too close! It was too close. Clammy panic squeezed Sylvia¡¯s chest. The surface approached faster and faster. Wasn¡¯t she supposed to be slow? Then the leaves hit. Whipping across her legs and face. She tumbled off balance. ¡°Waaaa!¡± Thump! Sylvia blinked twice. The trees whirled above her for a few seconds. A few meters away, Riley was snickering. ¡°Fuck you.¡± Sylvia flipped her the bird in emphasis. ¡°Sorry, but you¡¯ve got the wrong body shape,¡± Riley snarked back, making an hourglass gesture with her hands. Sylvia glowered then picked herself up. She brushed herself off. Pointless, because the few twigs that broke were already dissolving into the ether. ¡°So,¡± Riley began, looking up at the cliff. ¡°Do you think we can climb it?¡± From below, the cliff looked different. The craggy rock face hemmed in, narrower at the bottom than at the top. A gap opened at the base, a crack that led to the abyss. Sylvia gazed into the ravine, finding it filled with void and starlight. The crevice went clear through the plane. Or, rather, part of the plane had been uplifted, creating the floating island on which the Academy sat. ¡°A negative slope? No way. I¡¯m not sure we can jump the ravine either.¡± Eric never had the fitness to do rock climbing. Sylvia¡¯s athleticism was in every way superior to her old self, but she didn¡¯t trust herself climbing while hanging from a rock wall. That was ninja warrior level bullshit. ¡°We might find a flatter bluff,¡± Riley considered. Then she looked down. ¡°And a smaller gap. That¡¯s what, three meters?¡± ¡°Probably closer to four,¡± Sylvia corrected pessimistically. Then she considered for a bit longer. ¡°A long as there are enough handholds. With feather light we should be able to climb like a spider.¡± Riley gave a confused look. ¡°I thought that spell was only for getting down.¡± ¡°It¡¯s feather light not feather fall.¡± Feather light cut apparent mass by a factor of four. That was enough to give Sylvia one hell of a strength to weight ratio. She wasn¡¯t confidently pulling off anything technically difficult. But if the climb was mostly straight forward, magic would render the physical component trivial. ¡°We¡¯ll keep an eye out for something easier,¡± Riley decided. The blonde immediately headed south, the cliff on her right. ¡°Come on.¡± ¡°Just so you know, I¡¯m not sure I can time your buffs.¡± Fifteen seconds was tight under the wrong circumstances. It¡¯d be easy if Sylvia could just cast the spell from up top or from the ground. Unfortunately, the spell¡¯s reach was a little over fifteen meters, and it was a good thirty to fifty up. Which meant Sylvia would have to cast on the climb while continuously recasting the spell on herself. ¡°I¡¯ve done harder back on Earth. Not without equipment, but this body is better than my old one,¡± Riley dismissed. She rolled up a sleeve, advertising her strength. ¡°Still shorter,¡± Sylvia snipped snidely. ¡°At least I wasn¡¯t a neckbeard.¡± ¡°I told you before, I was always clean-shaven.¡± Riley led the way. This was the Daylight Forest. The edge of it anyway. The Daylight Forest was one of four wilderness regions dividing the Timeless Beryl Wilderness. The other three being the Twilight Forest, the Midnight Forest, and the Frozen Wastes. These uninspired names reflected the time of day for each respective territory. As it turned out, the easternmost edge of the Timeless Beryl Wilderness corresponded to high noon, while the western coincided with midnight. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The Frozen Wastes were the sole exception. This region, deep to the south, was named for the rigid flows of time found within. In the Frozen Wastes one could find themselves truly frozen, caught in a timeless moment forever. A terrifying prospect for an immortal people. Of the four regions, the Daylight Forest was the least dangerous. But this didn¡¯t mean it was benign. Packs of beryl blood wolves roamed the woods while lightning hawks patrolled the skies. Among the trees, the beryl bright wood lurked, its branches filled with exploding fruit. Then there was the apex predator of the plane, the golden arkos. A yellow coated bear which would make quick work of any demon below the second consolidation. Not that any of these beasts were likely to be seen near Vallen. The Daylight Forest was not one great monolith. The wilderness could itself be divided into many smaller regions. And those regions further subdivided. The Timeless Beryl Wilderness ranged for half of Europe. Many countries and counties could be fit within its confines. Here, near the boundary of the plane, phantasms were rarer. Decades of hunting made them rarer still. Phantasmal beasts weren¡¯t born in the traditional sense. They were spawned without parents or childhood in accordance with world logic. However, world logic itself was not fixed. By slaughtering the surrounding beasts, the hunters had changed the region¡¯s nature. Now, in this place, phantasms were rare. But not unheard of. And a pack of beryl blood wolves would be happy to munch on a pair of foolish first years. As they traveled south along the cliff, the turrets of the Fortress of Dawn became visible through the thinning trees. Huts could be spotted here and there, hidden by the brush. The first of these buildings were ramshackle. Then, as Vallen drew closer, nicer housing started to appear. There was no sharp line. Nor a city wall. As the density of the community increased, Sylvia and Riley found themselves walking on dirt then cobble. Which marked the start of Vallen proper. Vallen was a small town built at the foot of the Academy. The town and the land surrounding fell under Baroness Vallenfelt¡¯s dominion. It was her fief, the source of her power, wealth, and authority. In terms of population, Vallen was tiny, consisting of ten thousand persons. On foot, Vallen felt a lot bigger. As housing gave way to shops, carts, and street stands, Sylvia found herself surrounded by people of all shapes and size. Pig-men, with stocky bodies, tusks, and thick hands. Beast-kin were abound, whether cat, wolf or lizard. Seated in a side street, Sylvia spotted a man with triangular ears and a fox tail. The foxman moved a piece on a board. The woman across, with fin-like ears and skin marked by iridescent scales, pondered his move for a long moment before making her reply. Weapons were everywhere. Spears and polearms were strapped to backs. Swords and axes hung from belts. Armor was an elective hodgepodge of metal plates and leather, often leaving great expanses exposed. Sylvia felt like she owed Kyna an apology. The faerie had insisted that armor in the netherworld was all about fashion. Sylvia had rolled her eyes and dismissed her out of hand. Now, walking through the streets, it was clear Sylvia had been wrong. ¡­ On second thought, Sylvia wasn¡¯t offering shit. If she admitted her mistake who knew what kind of ¡®armor¡¯ charm club would put her in. Sylvia would be lucky if it was something as tame as a chain mail bikini. ¡°I don¡¯t get it. Why brooms?¡± Riley said, groaning. ¡°There has to be a better shape for flying.¡± Riley was gazing through a glass window. Inside the shop was displayed a collection of brooms. Sylvia looked past them to spot an array of staves in the case on the other side of the door. Some were craggy and crooked. Others were straight and refined. All sported colored crystals up top. The prices made Sylvia¡¯s her heart ache: 5,999, 7,999, 10,999. ¡°Technically, they¡¯re flying staves,¡± Sylvia answered, eyes shifting to the blonde. ¡°The fibers are there to help vector the thrust.¡± Which was why staves and brooms were sold in the same store. ¡°If it looks like a broom, it¡¯s a broom,¡± Riley retorted. Sylvia shrugged. ¡°That is what everyone calls them.¡± Right then a tantalizing scent teased her nose. Pausing, the silver haired witch sniffed the air. Spice and meat. Sizzling fat. An allure more powerful than a beautiful woman tugged Sylvia down the path. It only took a minute to find the source. Oils crackled and popped. A golden haired bear of a man held a pan over open flame. A slab of meat sizzled within, fried in its own juices along with scattered vegetables. Sylvia gulped. Her stomach twisted with desire. She watched with fascination. Cooking, in the netherworld, required skill. Not the skill of a chef. Rather, a mastery of ki and inner flow. Food in the netherworld was as phantasmal as everything else. When burned and boiled, the etheric crust would be stripped from the ingredients. With the essence exposed, the natural inclination was to dissolve into nothingness. To cook required maintaining that essence. A chef had to attend to the mystical as well as the physical. They had to massage the essences. Combine them. All while keeping the core in place. This was not an art completed with a mere recipe. Cooking required mastery. Correspondingly, food was a luxury. ¡°Hello ladies,¡± the bear-like chef greeted. ¡°If you give me a minute, I¡¯ll cook you two a delicious wolf steak.¡± Sylvia¡¯s eyes floated up to the metal shackle around the man¡¯s neck. He was a slave. Due to the Law of Acquisition, slaves were the majority population of the colonial planes, like the Timeless Beryl Wilderness. When souls were captured, they would most often be sold. Slaves drove the expansion of the planes. But slaves didn¡¯t remain slaves forever. Decades from now, this chef would be a citizen. Sylvia felt this was an unstable way to build a civilization, but it¡¯d been Hell¡¯s approach for one-thousand-five hundred years. ¡°How much?¡± ¡°Seventeen a drom,¡± the cook answered, flipping the meat with a flick of his hand. ¡°We¡¯ll take two!¡± Sylvia said eagerly. She slapped a palm down on the table, shifting ten silver coins with a value of thirty-four soli from her soul. ¡°Ha! Two steaks for two beautiful girls,¡± the golden haired chef laughed. ¡°Coming right up.¡± Sylvia took a seat at the bar, watching the food sizzle. If she could, Sylvia would¡¯ve been salivating now. Eating was true bliss. ¡°Two?¡± Riley asked, taking a stool beside her. ¡°You know I have money too.¡± Sylvia¡¯s eyes narrowed. The silver haired girl held out a greedy palm. ¡°Then give it back.¡± Riley snorted. She did not, Sylvia noticed, give the money back. Sylvia lowered her hand. Instead, she eagerly watched as the cook dumped a slab onto a plate and handed it to a customer. Sylvia licked her lips. She swore her stomach was growling. ¡°You¡¯re obsessed,¡± Riley commented. ¡°You know that, right?¡± ¡°Food is life,¡± Sylvia countered. The horror of no food was, in the silver haired girl¡¯s opinion, worse than being turned into a girl. It even challenged charm club for top tier suffering. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you aren¡¯t eating.¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m eating,¡± Riley replied. ¡°It just feels weird to after three months.¡± Sylvia gave the freckled blonde a suspicious stare. Weird? Not wanting to eat was weird. Not being hungry was weird. Riley was the one who was weird. ¡°So,¡± Riley noised, rolling her eyes at her friend¡¯s antics. ¡°What do you think?¡± Sylvia pursed her lips. ¡°Feels real.¡± ¡°Yeah. I know what you mean.¡± Walking through the Academy was like walking in an illusion. The teachers told them about world. They showed them spells and magic. They made them fight. But there was a wall between them and the truth. The Academy was a doll house, and they were pretty little school girls living inside of it. It didn¡¯t help that Sylvia¡¯s classmates came from Earth. And most of their seniors too. Being here, in Vallen, made things real. Real demons, roaming real streets, working real jobs. Clunk. A stone dish was placed before Sylvia. Steam wafted off the succulent meat. Two halves of a blue root vegetable stood beside the steak, soaked in the juices. ¡°For the silver haired enchantress,¡± the chef said with a suave bow. Sylvia gulped. She lifted her two tined fork and dinner knife hesitantly. Then she pressed her implement in, letting her ki flow into the food to stop the rupture. She cut. A thin slice separated. Eager, longing, Sylvia stuffed it into her mouth. Heaven. The silver haired witch chewed. The spice blended perfectly with the meat, filling her mouth with a blissful flavor. Every portly man struggled with their weight for different reasons. Gluttony had always been Eric¡¯s sin. He had never pretended otherwise. Now, here in the netherworld, Sylvia could eat without guilt. There were no Calories in the netherworld. If she ate sweets all day, she¡¯d never gain a single ounce. The only constraint on her feasting was the size of Sylvia¡¯s wallet. A pity she only had three-hundred soli. Driven by desire, Sylvia sliced off another piece. ¡°Looky here. I haven¡¯t seen you two flowers before,¡± a slimy voice said. A large man, covered in blueish gray fur sat down on the stool next to the silver haired girl. ¡°What brings you beauties into town?¡± Sylvia set down her knife in annoyance. A wolfman. That was the most accurate description Sylvia could come up with. A canine snout. Five fingered hands sporting sharp claws. These beastly features were paired with a humanoid frame. Metal pauldrons covered the wolfman¡¯s shoulders, while his legs were shielded by flauds and leather pants. His chest was exposed. Sylvia could make out the hint of a six-pack underneath the fur. Seeing Sylvia¡¯s gaze, the wolfman grinned. The expression was terrifyingly human. ¡°Hey. Go sit somewhere else,¡± Riley spoke up. ¡°Is that how a lady should speak?¡± the wolfman replied snidely. ¡°All the chairs here are free. Besides, this doll isn¡¯t complaining.¡± Then, just like that, the wolfman draped his arm over Sylvia¡¯s shoulders. Sylvia froze. Stunned. A sick feeling crawled up her spine as her mind tried to make sense of what was happening. ¡°Take your arm the fuck off her,¡± Riley snapped. The blonde¡¯s stool squealed as she stood. Knife in hand, Riley¡¯s green eyes burned with fury. The wolfman sneered. ¡°I don¡¯t see ¨C ¡± Thunk. That was the meaty sound of a knife hitting bone. It wasn¡¯t Riley who moved. It was the bear-like chef. The golden haired man loomed over the counter, his butcher¡¯s knife buried deep into the wolfman¡¯s arm. ¡°The misses told you to fuck off, werewolf,¡± the golden haired cook growled. The werewolf leapt from his seat. ¡°You dare raise a hand against me, slave?¡± Blood glistened on the werewolf¡¯s blue-gray fur. The wound closed quickly, sealing itself as though it never occurred. Enraged, the demon glared at the chef, gray eyes filled with fury. The golden haired man drew himself to his full height. The chef¡¯s size was intimidating. Not just in height, but the breadth of his arms and shoulders. ¡°Did you forget whose domain this is, demon? Get out before I call the guard.¡± The werewolf scoffed, clawed hand reaching for the hooked blade at his hip. Sylvia hopped off her stool, wind whipping around her as the ether condensed. Behind, the chef¡¯s knife filled with ki until it shed a faint hue. The stall went still. Then the werewolf removed his hand from the pommel of his weapon. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure your owner knows how you treated me, slave,¡± the werewolf said before leaving. It took a minute for Sylvia¡¯s nerves to settle. ¡°Thanks,¡± Sylvia murmured, turning back toward the bar. Sylvia felt shaky. Her body was ready for fight and flight. Her soul fixated on the werewolf¡¯s arms around her shoulders. Her mind tumbled through simulations, trying to find the right course of action. She should¡¯ve objected. She should¡¯ve shrugged the arm off. She should¡¯ve taken a page from the chef¡¯s book and used wind blade to claim her pound of flesh. Or maybe, cut the whole arm off. ¡°It is my job to serve my customers,¡± the chef said jovially. ¡°Besides, you never know what may come when you help a lady.¡± The golden haired man gave her a wink. Sylvia smile was stiff. The casual flirting was all the more apparent after the harassment. Sylvia felt sick. Then guilty, because it was terrible to feel disgust for the man who had helped her. Was this what life as a girl would be like? Sylvia shuddered. For once, she had sympathy for Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s insistence that the Starlight Nether Witch Academy was for women alone. ¡°You¡¯re not going to get into trouble, are you?¡± Riley asked. ¡°If that werewolf dares complain to my master, he¡¯ll be the one facing trouble,¡± the chef said. ¡°The baroness does not take kindly to those who harass the ladies, much less those that touch her witches.¡± Riley nodded. Her green eyes were fixed on the cook¡¯s collar. The band of black iron wrapped his neck. More a symbol than anything else. Riley seemed to have seen it for the first time. ¡°You¡¯re a slave,¡± Riley said. Sylvia frowned, giving the blonde a look. The chef, however, wasn¡¯t bothered. ¡°Ha! Yes, I am,¡± he confirmed, tending to his pan. ¡°My soul was acquired in the Daylight Forest, near the Frozen Wastes. A golden arkos had me in its gullet. The hunters bravely faced the beast, then cut him open.¡± The chef slashed through the air with his knife, enjoying his tale. ¡°There they found me. A great treasure from a grand adventure. My master named me Ashqar in honor of my origin. Not that I remember anything. Only flashes from the beast¡¯s memories as my soul was dormant at the time. My first recollection was of the slavers who awakened me.¡± The bear-man¡¯s eyes narrowed, good humor absent. ¡°Scum. Two years of training, then I was sold to my master.¡± Phantasmal beasts loved to feast on mortal souls. They couldn¡¯t digest them, but having a soul helped a beast in condensing their nether soul. It was a kind of instinct that helped drive the transformation into an immortal being. While being eaten didn¡¯t hurt, it wasn¡¯t without consequence. If a mortal soul was held in a beast, it would inevitably absorb a portion of that phantasm¡¯s nether code. Souls so tainted were called chimeric, whereas untouched souls were pure. Many bloodlines required pure souls to reproduce. Beast-kin were a common product of chimeric souls. ¡°Doesn¡¯t it bother you to be a slave?¡± Riley asked. The chef shrugged. Tilting his pan, he slid a seared steak onto a stone plate. Riley picked up her utensils. Sylvia was almost through hers. Thanks to that damn werewolf, half of it had disintegrated. ¡°I don¡¯t know anything else,¡± he said, voice low but even. ¡°Fifty seven years from now, I¡¯ll be a freeman. Or so they say. Isn¡¯t it the same for everyone? Knowing nothing. Laboring at the feet of our lords. Though, I hear you witches still recall your mortal lives.¡± ¡°We do,¡± Sylvia confirmed. When a person died, their mortal soul was drawn into Unus Mundus ¨C the one world. There, one of two things would happen. First, if the ego was weak, the soul would melt into Unus Mundus becoming one with the universe. Second, if the ego was strong, the soul would pass through Unus Mundus and enter the netherworld. While crossing Unus Mundus, the soul was cleansed. Dreams, regrets, and memories would be washed away, leaving behind the core of self. This soul would float naked, waiting until the right code gave it a new, phantasmal shape. Starlight witches did not go through this process. Instead, Baroness Vallenfelt collected their souls directly. Having never passed through Unus Mundus, they retained their mortal memories. And likewise, their attachments to life. ¡°Is that a blessing or curse?¡± the chef questioned solemnly. ¡°A little of both, I suspect,¡± Sylvia said simply. To be born into the nether properly meant accepting the world as it was. Retaining memories meant being tied to a past that would never return. But it wasn¡¯t without merits. To remember was to know oneself. If Sylvia couldn¡¯t remember, who would she be? At the very least, she wouldn¡¯t be Eric. Who could say if that was better or worse. ¡°Ha! What matters is that I am here, cooking food for beauties and fending off dastardly punks.¡± With good cheer, the golden haired chef waved around his butcher knife in excitement. Sylvia couldn¡¯t help but grin. Slapping down a palm, she left a score of soli behind. ¡°A tip, for your service.¡± -oOo- Runes A rune is a stable three-dimensional shape that, when drawn, affects the local ether. Runes can be found everywhere in the netherworld. All objects, all forces, and all living things are the product of runes. While the use of runes is commonly associated with magic, they appear outside of magic. Physical action is generated through runes. Ki is filled with runes. Ki based arts are born from rune transformations. The study of runes and their mathematical relation is therefore the closest thing to science and universal law the netherworld has. All pure runes consist of one continuous loop. The simplest is a circle, but there are many possible loops, such as the left-handed and right-handed trefoil knots, both of which represent different runes. Drawing the rune correctly is, therefore, important even when that rune is formed in the mind. Runes cannot be directly drawn in the air, due to crossing structures. Thus, mana manipulation, internal conception, or a rune stencil is required. Sylvia¡¯s Notes: In my later studies I became aware that runes may be related to a niche area of mathematics known as knot theory, but my head swims just thinking about it. Pure Runes A pure rune is any rune constructed from a single string. Pure runes are considered fundamental magical structures. Etheric energies that have associated pure runes are called elements. There are 1332 pure runes recorded for the 24 elements. Which makes for, roughly, 55 runes each. The Collegium Magicae has declared the list of pure runes complete. It is highly unlikely that even a single undiscovered pure rune exists in nature. Compound Runes A compound rune is created by combining runes, which themselves may be pure or compound. All compound runes can be drawn directly as a composite. Generally, a compound rune is only considered discovered when a method to disassemble and reassemble it from its pure rune components is known. Because compound runes can be directly imagined, they can be conveniently used in magic even without understanding their substructure. The simplest compound runes derive from two pure runes. The most complicated compound rune publicly known is made from sixteen. It is judged that there are hundreds, if not thousands of compound runes yet to be discovered. Complex Runes Any rune that cannot be directly drawn, even in the mind of a skilled mage, is called complex. Complex runes are unsuitable for common magic as it takes special tools, traits, or talent to use them in spell casting. However, complex runes still find use in alchemy, enchanting, and other environments where a mage is not rushed. To use a complex rune, it must first be assembled. This means drawing the non-complex subcomponents, then merging them using the correct process. This action can be completely trivial or as difficult as solving multiple connected tavern puzzles. It is not known how many complex runes remain undiscovered, but some scholars speculate the number is infinite. Abstract Runes Runes that only exist, or have different meaning, when paired with radicals. Radicals consist of closed loops that are not, themselves, runes and open strands of any sort that are made stable when tied into an existing rune. It is impossible to say how many abstract runes exist, as current magical theories are unable to guess their existence. Chapter 8 -oOo- Chapter 8 -oOo- ¡°Do you think he can keep it?¡± Riley¡¯s cynical question came as Sylvia was marveling at the sweet flavors of a frozen custard. This was the third food stall the two had hit in the last hour. During this culinary escapade, Sylvia had discovered a wonderful thing about being a demon. No matter how much she ate, Sylvia would never be full. How horrifying. How wonderful. The netherworld was truly the home of both Heaven and Hell. ¡°Don¡¯t know,¡± Sylvia said, going for a fifth scoop. Riley¡¯s enthusiasm was waning. Sylvia knew the cause. It was the black, metal shackles around so many necks. Three buildings down, descending from the sky, was a winged woman. A slave. Further up the street, a four-armed man haggled with a pink skinned goblin. Both slaves. In an alley, a woman in suggestive clothing enticed. No surprise there, a slave. Next was a pair of guards patrolling three stalls away. One of which was a slave. Slaves. Slaves. And more slaves. On these streets, slaves were more common than freemen. ¡°Doesn¡¯t it piss you off.¡± Sylvia polished off her custard, setting it down with a three soli tip. ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do about it.¡± Ain¡¯t that the truth. Slavery was an ugly institution. No matter how often it was whitewashed, slavery remained an eternal source of horror. Sylvia was no saint, and it still disgusted her. But getting rid of it was impossible. Hell¡¯s society was built on slavery. Why could Ingrid borrow money and attend the Academy? Because her body served as collateral. How were overdue debts settled? With slavery. Slavery wasn¡¯t just a source of labor, it was the foundation of the Hell¡¯s financial system. Without it, the poor couldn¡¯t borrow, and the rich would hesitate to invest. More importantly, slavery drove Hell¡¯s acquisition of souls. Demons lived for thousands of years, not forever. Mortal souls only formed on the material worlds. Demons couldn¡¯t give birth. Without souls, the population would decline. Fewer people meant fewer workers, warriors, and mages. On the national level, that meant less power. There was no way around it. The netherworld had never experienced the industrial revolution. Science had little hold in the ethereal universe. Without machines and factories, everything had to be handcrafted. Individual labor ruled when it came to production. A large population drove economic power. Economic power drove military power. Military power drove political power. Hell lacked a stream of souls. Heaven did not. Two-thousand five-hundred years ago, the Divine Era was brought to an end by the third great war ¨C Ragnarok. The Silver Age gave way to the Silent Age, a period of quiet that lingered between the three powers Heaven, Hell, and the Fey Federation. This developed into a cold war. The War of Words, they called it. The battlefield this time wasn¡¯t the nether. It was the twenty-three material worlds from which all mortal souls were sourced. Heaven won. The Fey Federation broke even. Hell lost. In order to prevent the onset of a fourth great war, treaties were signed to ensure a certain number of souls would flow free. Yet, this wasn¡¯t enough. The math was irrefutable. Hell didn¡¯t have enough souls. Thus, it was doomed to watch its population grow slower than that of Heaven. Which meant Hell¡¯s ancient enemy would grow proportionately stronger. Unacceptable. Those who recalled the first war, the second war, and the third would never abide by a soul gap. But where could they find the missing souls? The answer, the other planes. Mortal souls were born on the material worlds, but after passing through Unus Mundus they would emerge randomly in the netherworld. The best planes, the core planes where the most souls arrived, had already been claimed long ago. Yet, the netherworld was big. Many planes remained untouched by fey, demon, and celestial alike. Hell just needed to colonize them first. To set off this age of exploration, Hell created the Law of Acquisition. The Law of Acquisition made it legal to sell newly collected souls into slavery, or load said souls with debt to cover the cost of their birth. In turn, this drove up the price of souls, making the populace go mad with greed. Thus began the Colonial Age. ¡°Most who say things like that end up doing nothing,¡± Riley pointed out, following the silver haired girl away from the stall. ¡°Right now, I¡¯m more concerned with avoiding slavery than ending slavery,¡± Sylvia admitted, unabashed. ¡°In the grand scheme of things, we¡¯re insects. If anyone stomps on us, we die.¡± When he was young, Eric Swallow had dreamed of being a protagonist. An invincible hero who would sweep away all the bad guys. As an adult, Sylvia was aware that punching evil wasn¡¯t the same as doing good. Most problems couldn¡¯t be solved with a fist. And, more importantly, being a hero meant taking risks and making sacrifices. Heroes were called heroes because they did what no ordinary person was willing to do. Riley Smith had the heart of a hero. Sylvia didn¡¯t. Sylvia no longer had any interest in being a hero. That was a sucker¡¯s game. She wouldn¡¯t mind being an invincible good guy beating up random bastards here and there. The sacrifice part? No thanks. The hard work? She¡¯d rather leave it to others. She just wanted to enjoy the life she had. That was how most people were. Riley stood there, silent. There was a sense of judgment that hung around her paired with a halo of resignation. Riley was no child either. The freckled blonde sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s go back.¡± Sylvia nodded. ¡°It¡¯s about time. Cheer up. There¡¯s plenty you can do.¡± ¡°Like what,¡± Riley grumbled. ¡°You could buy the souls yourself before they get sold as slaves,¡± Sylvia pointed out. ¡°I¡¯d run out of money real quick. How much do they cost anyway?¡± Riley asked. ¡°Don¡¯t know.¡± Sylvia answered truthfully. ¡°Probably somewhere between ten and a hundred thousand. Play it right, and you could make your money back. I¡¯ve heard on the grape vine that running a magic academy can be profitable. Maybe you should try that.¡± Riley snorted a laugh. Her green eyes danced with mirth. ¡°Yeah. I should start a whole chain of them. When I end up with men, I can just assign them to charm club or something. Turn them into real ladies.¡± That one hurt, Riley. It hurt. Sylvia glowered exaggeratedly, so the freckled blonde understood her soul searing pain. This only made Riley laugh harder. They left town by a different road than which they came in. As they departed, Sylvia took a chance to view the courthouse and public resurrection pool. Riley observed the Academy¡¯s gates from the path below. Then they turned right, following the cliff face to the east. Dense buildings and cobble road faded away in favor of forest. Soon the two of them found themselves in the woods, tracing their former path back. Though they had been gone for hours, the morning sunlight remained unchanged. Scattered clouds crossed the great blue yonder, the only shift in the otherwise static sky. Sylvia never stopped hating it. This time, the two of them kept a close eye on the craggy cliff and starlit ravine. Sylvia spotted a few places that looked climbable, but all of them were matched by a wide gap. ¡°You¡¯re real pragmatic, you know that,¡± Riley said. ¡°Working a job does that to you,¡± Sylvia said plainly. She stopped. ¡°That one might be doable.¡± The silver haired girl pointed at a section of cliff. The jump across the ravine was three meters, but there was a tree nearby. Normally, Sylvia wouldn¡¯t trust the leap, but with the help of feather light it should be possible. Just as importantly, the climb after was pretty flat. ¡°It might be our best bet,¡± Riley agreed. ¡°Want me to start?¡± Sylvia grimaced. A sick feeling stirred in her gut. The starry void wasn¡¯t space. If they fell in, they wouldn¡¯t keep falling forever. Still, without anyone to fish them out, they could be stuck in the void for days. Depending on the astral currents, weeks even. ¡°Maybe we should turn ourselves in,¡± Sylvia said, having second thoughts. ¡°Hey now. Don¡¯t chicken out,¡± Riley pushed. ¡°We can do it.¡± Sylvia drew in a shaky breath. ¡°Yeah. Sure. Just give me a ¨C ¡± Crack. A branch broke. Sylvia and Riley turned. From the depths of the woods, a werewolf emerged. ¡°Two puppets sneaking out, no one to know they¡¯re gone. Naughty. Naughty.¡± The werewolf¡¯s snout curved into a slimy smile. He licked his chomps, taking in the two girls alone in the woods. ¡°I¡¯ve been wanting to play with you dolls for months, and what do you know, there¡¯s a group of them all on their own.¡± Sylvia¡¯s expression fell. She pulled, drawing the local ether around her. Wind filtered from the primordial mix, growing thick to the point it stirred the nearby leaves and grass. Riley¡¯s stance shifted. Her empty hand curled as though trying to grip a spear. She didn¡¯t have a weapon. And it wouldn¡¯t have mattered if she did. ¡°You sure you want to start something here?¡± Riley asked, her tone surprisingly cool. ¡°If we scream, who knows who¡¯ll hear.¡± The werewolf sneered. ¡°Try it if you want, sweetheart. If you¡¯re lucky, someone might even ¨C ¡± ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö.¡± Runes spilled from Sylvia¡¯s lips. A razor of wind whipped out. ¡°¡ö¡ö.¡± A second followed the first, the two spells chained from one to the other. Wind blade was fast, mobile, and hard to detect. Sylvia chose the spell because, out of all the fundamental combat magics, it was the hardest to deal with. Lightning bolt and water knife had too many runes. Flame shot was an ether hog. Earth spike was too easy to dodge. Only wind blade stood well on its own. Plus, it was the best magic for bullying the weak. Excellent for witch building her foundation. Perfect for an RPG character seeking to kill weak monsters for fast levels. Not nearly so great against a powerful adversary. The werewolf side stepped. The first blade flashed by, the demon sliding to the side in a blur. The second curved in chase. Caught in mid-motion, the werewolf had no time to dodge. Instead, the demon leaned into the attack. Dense, blue light sprung up in defense. The sword of air struck. Magic blasted into ki. Blue light parted. The solidified air sheered through pauldron and flesh. Blood burst. Teeth grit, the werewolf exploded forward. The lunge was lightning fast, covering a dozen meters in a blink. Sylvia¡¯s heart remained still. The System¡¯s skill books were not to be underestimated. They didn¡¯t just teach an incantation, they also covered support and application. Casting under pressure. Aiming at moving targets. Chaining spells. Combo attacks. Sylvia had experienced all of it. She didn¡¯t panic. She didn¡¯t slip. Instead, she instinctively rushed her spell, burning pure mana instead of ether. ¡°¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö.¡± Two blades formed even as Sylvia dashed to her left. The silver haired girl didn¡¯t have half the werewolf¡¯s speed. In a straight chase, the demon would reach her in a second. But Sylvia was free to run as she pleased. The werewolf wasn¡¯t. Blades sped through the air. The third went low, aiming to take the demon in the knees. The werewolf jumped it like a hurdle. The forth swung high, then hooked. Air sliced deep into the demon¡¯s waist, throwing him into a stumble. ¡°¡ö¡ö.¡± Sylvia¡¯s chant rolled on. Catching himself, the werewolf danced to the right. The fifth blade missed. But in doing so, his approach ground to a halt. Sylvia used that time to open the distance. Growling, the werewolf gathered his ki in a crude forward facing shield, planning to charge through. Only to have the first blade slam into his back. ¡°Fuck,¡± the demon spat. Wind blade didn¡¯t just curve a little. It curved a lot. Enough to cycle back for another swing. Gritting his teeth, the werewolf jinked to the right. A sixth blade flashed by. The demon¡¯s hooked sword sprang from his belt, hued with light. The weapon ripped through the structure of Sylvia¡¯s third spell, tearing it apart. All of this gave Riley enough time to scream. ¡°Eeeaaah!¡± A shrill, girlish shriek was let loose like a banshee¡¯s wail. Furious, the werewolf lunged. The lightning motion was so fast, Sylvia could see his afterimage. One blink, he stood still. The next the werewolf was seven meters distant, a ribbon of ki stretching out from underneath him like a great spring. Sylvia had made a strategic mistake. After kiting the werewolf, her wind blades weren¡¯t in position to protect Riley. Before Sylvia could adjust, a massive claw clamped over Riley¡¯s face. The demon turned, his motion so violent that he wrenched the blonde¡¯s feet off the ground. His sword rose, severing the seventh blade. The fifth and the sixth, however, boomeranged in carving deep into the werewolf¡¯s thigh and calf. ¡°Stop!¡± Sylvia stopped. Not because the werewolf ordered it, but because the delay let her gather wind ether. In that brief exchange, her mana had fallen by half. She had 126 out of 243 remaining. The flaw of wind blade was showing. The spell could tear apart a fragile, unconsolidated witch easy. A warrior type demon of the first consolidation? The wounds were too shallow. ¡°Cast another spell and I¡¯ll run away with her,¡± the demon threatened. With one arm, the werewolf lifted Riley by her head revealing his monstrous strength. The blonde swung her legs wildly, trying to escape. Ki rippled down the demon¡¯s arm, jolting into the witch¡¯s skull. Riley¡¯s movements became sluggish. Two more shocks and Riley went still. Sylvia¡¯s lips tightened. Fuck. Demons didn¡¯t have brains, they had psychic essence. Psychic essence was the mirror to blood essence. It was the foundation of consciousness and thought. Without blood essence, the body would collapse. Without psychic essence, the soul had no capacity to think. The good news was that psychic essence was entirely replaceable. This wasn¡¯t a brain injury. Riley¡¯s mind would function just fine when she recovered. The bad news was that this werewolf had a way to capture the two of them alive. Alive. Shit. Stupid! She was stupid. Sylvia had been thinking like a human when she should¡¯ve been thinking like a witch. In the period of silence, the werewolf shifted his position. The demon maneuvered so his back was toward the woods. Sylvia paused her own retreat, carefully noting the werewolf¡¯s limp. His wounds had stopped regenerating. Sylvia lacked a firm understanding of werewolf physiology, but she assumed this was a sign that the demon¡¯s blood essence had been heavily whittled. ¡°What do you want?¡± Sylvia asked. She measured the distance, trying to judge the range of the werewolf¡¯s leap and the speed of his retreat. ¡°Disperse your ether and walk over here real slow, and I¡¯ll let your friend go,¡± the werewolf demanded. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m stupid,¡± Sylvia said bluntly. Wind blade consumed twenty mana a casting. Twice that if overcharged to the spell¡¯s limit. Sylvia could pay two-thirds of this cost with wind ether, provided she had enough of it. In short, she had sufficient mana for three to eighteen spells depending on circumstance. If the werewolf¡¯s blood essence was depleted like she suspected, that was enough to kill. But killing the werewolf wasn¡¯t Sylvia¡¯s most pressing problem. ¡°No. I think you¡¯re a smart little puppet,¡± the werewolf retorted. ¡°I¡¯m faster than you, and I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s the only spell you know. If I want, I can run away before you can kill me. After that, I¡¯ll have plenty of days with your friend over here.¡± The werewolf shook Riley lazily in midair. Sylvia snorted inelegantly. ¡°And how would letting you capturing two of us be better than leaving you with one?¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. The werewolf grinned mockingly. ¡°It¡¯s easier to control one than two. You¡¯re more my type, sweetheart. If you spread your legs like a good girl, I¡¯ll be nice and gentle.¡± The demon leered. Sylvia shuddered. Disgust, recognition, and anger rolled through her. Enough of this shit, Sylvia had all the wind ether she could condense. ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö.¡± Three blades were flung in rapid succession. The ether surrounding was drained into nothing. Glowering, the werewolf leapt back. His sword flickered up to parry. Only to miss. The two blades veered off. The demon¡¯s eyes widened. Grasping her intent to pen him in, the werewolf turned his back and ran. Ki hued his entire body, creating an armor. Exactly as she hoped. The third blade streaked in as the first two completed their great loop. The demon¡¯s sword was ready. But the wind blade jinked at the last second. Instead of striking demonic flesh, it tore through a blonde haired witch. The werewolf lurched, thrown off balance by the sudden lack of weight. ¡°¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö.¡± At the start of this battle, Sylvia made a mistake. She¡¯d overvalued her life. Death, on Earth, was the worst outcome. The dead were lost forever. As long as you lived, there was always a chance to turn things to the better. Here in the netherworld, death had no weight. Death wasn¡¯t the worst result. Nor was it pain or violence. Demons were tough. The agony of being eviscerated was no worse than being punched in the gut. Crippling wounds and dismemberment healed within weeks. And, if for whatever reason they didn¡¯t, a demon could just off themselves then resurrect. In the netherworld it was rape, capture, and psychological trauma that dealt the greatest loss. No wonder Hell marked crimes of humiliation as more terrible than crimes of violence. ¡°You bitch!¡± the werewolf screamed, whirling. The demon¡¯s sword flashed, destroying two spells in a flicker. A fourth cut deep into the werewolf¡¯s chest, splatting thick, globular blood. Enraged, he charged the silver haired girl. But the distance was long. Unhurried, Sylvia cast once, sending a blade up high as insurance. Then she slowly filtered wind ether in preparation. She only had 40 Mp left. ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö.¡± Sylvia chanted, steadily The new blade flew forward at minimal cost. At the same time, she sent the high blade down like a guillotine. The target was her own damn head. Whomph. Crack! Sylvia startled. To her shock, the werewolf threw his sword. Steel crashed into stone, sheering Sylvia¡¯s suicide spell before it could take her life. This time, panic truly stirred in her heart. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She barely had time to think. The gap between witch and demon had shrunk in the passing moment. Then the beast lunged, crashing through her lonely wind blade with a ki covered arm. Thud. With a dull impact, the werewolf rammed right through her. He was six-foot-six. She was five nothing. It wasn¡¯t even a contest. Head spinning, Sylvia hit the ground. She skid across grass, a giant, blue-gray wolf man treating her like a surfboard. Before she could recover, a clawed hand clamped over her face. Solid ki forced itself up her nose and down her throat, silencing any attempt to speak. ¡°Got you, little puppet,¡± the werewolf sneered, leering down out her. ¡°Mm!¡± Sylvia noised back, tears forming in her eyes. She tried to focus and regather ether. ¡°Hard to cast spells when you can¡¯t speak,¡± the werewolf said, casually lifting her up. ¡°You tore me up pretty good. I¡¯m going to make you pay for it. But first. Lights out doll. When you wake up, we¡¯ll be in Muguang Fortress. Then I¡¯ll have plenty of time to make you mine.¡± The werewolf licked his chomps, bringing her ear near his snout so he could whisper. ¡°Forever.¡± Terror ran down her spine like ice, raising goosebumps. Ki pressed deep into her skull, oozing around her psychic core. Sylvia fought back with her own life force, but she was too weak and unskilled. Light coiled around the werewolf¡¯s arm, ready to hammer deep into her psychic essence. Before it hit, Sylvia¡¯s hand flicked. Shoof. Air tore through flesh and bone. The demon¡¯s arm separated at the bicep. Sylvia fell onto her butt with a thump. Incantation was a means by which runes formed internal were made external. This relied on the phenomenon known as spirit speech. Demons were natural spirit speakers. They could relay their intent through words without training. So most mages couldn¡¯t use magic without speaking. Most mages. Though it was called spirit speech, there was no law that said it had to come in the form of speech. Spells could also be cast through gesture. And the System¡¯s skill books were very thorough. The werewolf howled. Reaching up, Sylvia grabbed the clawed hand still clamped to her face then threw it away. The demon looked down on her, eyes burning with fury. Sylvia almost felt like laughing, but there was nothing funny about a mana pool of 12 out of 243. ¡°¡ö ¨C ¡± Bang! A round house took her across the face. Sylvia hit the ground in a roll. The pain and shock were worse than the damage. Demons were tough against any attack unaugmented by ki or mana, but Sylvia found a strange solace in how her pitiful pool of hit points had fallen below half. ¡°¡ö,¡± Sylvia teased again, slowly gathering wind ether around her. Fearful, the werewolf jumped back. Sylvia snorted. A hazy, hooked sword formed in his remaining hand. Soul bound equipment never truly left the soul, but after dismissing the weapon, it would take a dozen seconds for the sword to recover. Standing well back, the demon glared at her. ¡°You can¡¯t have much mana left, bitch. And when you run out ¨C ¡± ¡°You¡¯ll never know when I¡¯m out,¡± Sylvia interrupted. The silver haired girl stood, shakily. ¡°And you can¡¯t stop me from casting. Maybe next time I¡¯ll cut off your head instead.¡± The werewolf glowered. ¡°I¡¯m going to rip you apart.¡± Sylvia spread her arms wide. A broad, mad smile spread on her face. ¡°Come on. Kill me then.¡± ¡°The next time your blonde friend steps out, I¡¯m going to enjoy her,¡± the werewolf sneered. Apparently this bastard didn¡¯t like eating a loss. ¡°And when I resurrect, I¡¯ll be sure to tell everyone that a shitty dog tried to rape me. I don¡¯t know what the law says, but I¡¯m betting what happens to you next won¡¯t be pleasant,¡± Sylvia retorted. The werewolf scowled. Clearly, she¡¯d struck a sore point. For a long moment, the two stared at one another. The way Sylvia saw it, he had three choices. Walk, kill, or capture. The last was risky. With the help of wind ether, Sylvia had enough in the tank for one last spell. Far as she could tell, the demon was on his last legs. A faint glow emanated from the werewolf¡¯s wounds. This was a sure sign that the werewolf was using his ki to hold his blood essence in. One more shot might push him over the edge and make his body unravel. Which left walk and kill. Sylvia was pretty sure which of the two this bastard would choose. ¡°I¡¯ll be long gone when you resurrect,¡± the werewolf decided. Then he lunged. The distance was short. Maybe five meters. The werewolf crossed it so fast Sylvia would¡¯ve struggled to get out a single syllable. She could practically feel his hooked sword plunging into her heart. ¡°Grrk!¡± But it didn¡¯t happen. A bramble of vines sprang from the ground, catching the werewolf in midair. The stems wound themselves around the demon¡¯s limbs, tightening their embrace. ¡°A despicable wolf dares to touch the baroness¡¯s things,¡± a voice called from up above. ¡°And a delinquent where she doesn¡¯t belong. What should I do with the two of you I wonder?¡± Professor Fischer descended, floating down lazily on her broomstick. This time the professor was wearing her usual white robes over a black dress. The pair was reminiscent of the Academy uniform, except the robes bore a longer hem and coat-tails that ended near her feet. The werewolf went still at her appearance. Then his ki rippled, intensifying until his muscles wiggled like worms. For a second, Sylvia thought the demon would tear himself from the vines. Instead, the werewolf¡¯s fur ripped. Blood spewed from all his wounds in a fountain. A moment later, the corpse collapsed. ¡°Tch. He killed himself. I should¡¯ve brought a soul lamp,¡± Professor Fischer complained. The air rippled beside her. The blonde teacher reached into her space bag, removing a grimoire. Adjusting her hat, Professor Fischer quickly thumbed through the pages. ¡°That¡¯s the one. Ta-ku-ma-si-lo-re.¡± Glenda Fischer chanted the spell with slow precision. Mana pooled, taking on the character of causality. Causality was one of six elements belonging to the chaos domain. It was pointless to try and filter chaos ether. Within planar territories, ninety-seven percent of the ether corresponded to the primordial domain elements: wind, fire, earth, and water along with their secondary expressions lightning, ice, wood, and metal. Chaos represented a mere fraction of a percent. ¡°...vu-ho-qui-she-fu,¡± the golden haired teacher finished. Professor Fischer snapped her grimoire closed before tossing it into her bag. ¡°Dumas, if you were so foolish as to anchor your soul in Vallen, the guard will be there to welcome you when rise anew, ke ke ke¡± Divination. The causality element was famous for it. Spells of this sort could be used to deduce facts, calculate figures, and even predict the future. It was the element that represented the logical connection between things. With a wicked grin, Professor Fischer finished her descent. As her teacher set foot on ground, Sylvia admired the blonde¡¯s crooked witch¡¯s hat, which, while inferior in every way to the beret, showed its own admirable style. ¡­ Sylvia blamed that thought on Kyna. Yep. Unquestionably charm club¡¯s fault. Eric Swallow had most definitely never spent time and money to ensure his video game characters were sporting proper, fashionable hats. And if he did, nobody ¨C in the netherworld ¨C could prove otherwise. ¡°Sylvia Swallow,¡± Professor Fischer pronounced slowly. ¡°You have achieved a most exhilarating level of trouble.¡± ¡°Exactly how much trouble is that?¡± Sylvia asked with an uncomfortable expression. ¡°Enough that I will have to consult with the dean to determine your punishment,¡± Professor Fischer said ominously. The woman hopped off her broom then examined the silver haired girl. After, her blue eyes veered to the decaying werewolf. ¡°Strange. Very strange.¡± A deep fear stirred within her. ¡°Surely the dean is too busy ¨C ¡± Sylvia began. ¡°Ke ke ke,¡± Professor Fischer cackled, before granting a mad smile. ¡°I think the dean can find time to examine a witch who absorbs blood essence.¡± Sylvia froze. Her eyes skewed to the werewolf. She could feel the hidden fog forming around the werewolf¡¯s corpse. She could sense it being drawn into her. Beautiful experience points. Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. She noticed. Professor Fischer noticed. Sylvia should¡¯ve realized. Experience points weren¡¯t some unknown substance. The process of cultivation proved that. The System operated within the confines of the netherworld. Therefore, its operation could be detected. ¡°I don¡¯t know ¨C ¡± Sylvia quickly denied. ¡°If you think those words can convince the dean, you can use them in front of her,¡± Glenda interrupted. The witch¡¯s cunning, blue eyes suddenly sharpened. ¡°Wait a moment. Look at me, girl.¡± The teacher stepped forward, grabbing the silver haired girl¡¯s chin. Glenda forcefully tilted it. A swirling, star filled galaxy of blue peered into Sylvia¡¯s pastel pink. ¡°Pure starlight eyes,¡± Professor Fischer said, letting the silver haired witch loose. ¡°How rare. How rare indeed. Did you know that you can judge an asteri¡¯s talent by the number of stars filling their pupils and iris? Tell me, how many witches do you think have eyes like yours?¡± Sylvia took a few steps back. She didn¡¯t answer. That was a wise decision, because the question was rhetorical. ¡°Two. Lady Vallenfelt and you.¡± The teacher¡¯s burgundy lips curved into a mad smile. ¡°Curious, don¡¯t you think? How is it that a ¡®man¡¯ was born with the most perfect bloodline besides that of the baroness herself? Ke ke ke. One might suspect you were fated to come here.¡± Turning from Sylvia, Professor Fischer squatted beside Dumas¡¯s half dissolved corpse. Though Sylvia could barely see it herself, she could feel the reverberation as Glenda played with the ethereal stream from which Sylvia drew her experience. ¡°Do you know what I did when I first discovered I was immortal?¡± Sylvia shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± ¡°I found a knife, then I cut myself open,¡± Professor Fischer explained, casually. ¡°You see, I wanted to know if I still had the same parts. Heart. Lungs. Stomach. Intestines. Kidneys. Liver. Not a single one. Just an empty mush of bones, blood, and one beautiful crystal core. I gazed into my core with fascination as my life slipped away. I still have it you know. I keep it on my desk.¡± Sylvia¡¯s sense of unease grew. ¡°Demon bodies are intriguing. When I made you, I threw in a few extra bits for fun. Don¡¯t be surprised. Adding a little is normal,¡± Glenda explained. ¡°The soul mutates the code during inception, adapting the code to itself and itself to the code. Every one of you girls is a precious experiment. By observing the changes, the dean hopes to find pieces that will assist her Transcendence. And with her Transcendence, our Transcendence.¡± Professor Fischer¡¯s head rose, turning so that one eye focused in Sylvia¡¯s direction. ¡°All those born of a bloodline are bound by that bloodline. This is also a kind of fate.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Sylvia responded. ¡°What you have is very special. And that makes you very precious. But it also makes you suspicious. How can such a perfect soul appear by chance, hmm?¡± Glenda licked her lips, approaching until she stood uncomfortably close. ¡°Tell me, Sylvia Swallow, are you precious or suspicious?¡± Sylvia took a step back, already knowing there was no hope of escape. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you take me to the dean?¡± ¡°I will. I will. I¡¯m her loyal retainer,¡± Professor Fischer said, walking forward. ¡°But, how about we find out if there are any new parts inside of you first?¡± Eyes gleaming, Glenda Fischer pulled out a knife. -oOo- Bestiary: Dumas Species: Werewolf Lv: 200 Hp/Mp: 765/190 Atk/Def: 190/50 Celerity: 180% A hunter recently operating out of the Vallen region. Dumas migrated to the Timeless Beryl Wilderness seventeen years ago, reasons unknown. Since then, his success has been limited, having been thrown out of five separate hunting teams. Skill wise, Dumas is pretty typical. He is in the externalization realm with an ordinary set of movement and attack techniques. He¡¯s shown no talent for nor any willingness to pursue the higher arts. Personality wise, Dumas is selfish, violent, and misogynistic. The latter has been exacerbated by his inability to attract female attention. A common trait among souls with less than human forms. Werewolf Type: Physical Potential: High Commonality: Rare Formal Name: Nox Luna Canis Werewolves are one of two famous races born from the nox lineage, the other being the Vampire. Despite having an ancient bloodline, werewolves are an oddity in that they have yet to fully humanize. Instead, their form retains many animal traits including fur, claws, and a wolf like face. It is said that this is because further humanization would require giving up many of the advantages werewolves possess. This hypothesis is supported by the apparent weakness in the variant bloodline nox luna vir, which has a fully human form at the start. All members of the werewolf bloodline, including variant bloodlines, gain the power to transform upon Awakening. This allows them to assume a wolf body, a mixed body, or a human body at will. Werewolves are categorized as physical type demons, having no innate magic and poor magical talent. They are, however, keen hunters with good night vision and a powerful sense of smell. Their cultivation methods are simple and direct. They eat phantasmal beasts, converting their flesh into soul essence through digestion. Unlike their competitors of the sanguis branch, werewolves have no need for blood refinement. Werewolves are most often found in Hell, being less common in the Fey Federation. Heaven disdains them, as it does all non-human bloodlines. However, Heaven does not explicitly forbid werewolves from living in its territory. As a general rule, werewolves prefer rural areas where phantasmal beasts are plentiful and accessible. A trait shared by most bloodlines of a pure carnivorous nature. Chapter 9 -oOo- Chapter 9 -oOo- What is death? Imagine, for a moment, a video camera. Life was a camera rolling. Sounds. Images. Precious moments captured by the lens. Death? Death was when the camera was off. It was natural to assume life¡¯s opposite. Darkness. Silence. This was wrong. To record darkness, the camera must roll. To experience silence, one must be alive to hear sound¡¯s absence. Death was neither of these things. Death was a chasm. The gap of self. The break in memory. The lack of love, hate, fear, comfort, and worry. Death was the absence of record. And for this reason it was incomprehensible. Humans could never understand death. Nor could death be comprehended by anything else. Understanding, after all, required experience. And to have experience, one must first record. How, therefore, could anything record not recording? It was a logical impossibility. A paradox. The naive tried to dismiss by saying: why not have a camera pointed at the camera that is turned off? The wiser might try to guess at death by deducing the gaps from the before and after. But both these parties made the same mistake. What happened in the unrecorded gap was life, not death. Therefore, ¡®it¡¯ was not dead. ¡®It¡¯ was alive. Because vaguely, faintly as it floated in the void it made memories. Scattered. Broken. A second indistinguishable from an eternity. It drifted in a dream that was not a dream. A sleep deeper than any sleep. Yet still alive. Still existing. It was there, an ineffable existence atop a vacuous sea. ¡°¡­ other¡­.¡± Then a voice called. A distant whisper carried from the depths of nihility. It stirred. Thought beget existence. The void gained form. He/she found himself/herself with legs and limbs. The abstract body a contrariety of male and female. His fingers were thick and stubby. Hers were thin and delicate. His abdomen was heavy and rounded. Hers slim and set atop wide hips. Not one or the other. Not two bodies exchanging form. Both, simultaneously. A superposition of male and female. Eric and Sylvia sitting in Schr?dinger''s box, waiting for the experimenter to look inside and determine reality. ¡°¡­ brother ¡­¡± The voice called again, light like that of a child. Words both close and far. The contradiction cracked. Eric Swallow found himself in a hall. The bulk of his body was cumbersome. Familiar yet forgotten. His hands felt strange. Rough. Clumsy. His legs strained under his weight, joints protesting. He looked around. The floor was linoleum tile. The walls a mess of plates, wires, bronze tubes, and strange gears. Electricity crackled, skittering down the hall¡¯s length. The pipes hummed. The gears turned with an irregular clack, clack, clack. It felt like a dream. Yet, Eric was most definitely awake. ¡°Hello,¡± he/she called. The first syllable carried Eric¡¯s baritone. The second, Sylvia¡¯s soprano. Suddenly, her body was tiny and petite. Two lumps of fat protruded from her chest. Her hair streamed down her back, tickling her calves. Light and agile. Weak and fragile. Right and wrong. Somehow, this body was just as alien as the one before. The male form returned. ¡°¡­ brother ¡­ I have been waiting.¡± ¡°Who are you?¡± Eric shouted. His voice echoed in the hall, strange and muted. Who are you. Who are you. ¡°¡­ I have been waiting for so long ¡­ Brother, won¡¯t you be with me? ¡­¡± The whisper continued to speak as though not hearing. Perhaps it couldn¡¯t hear. It sounded so distant. Yet, strangely as though it were next to his ear. ¡°I¡¯m not your brother!¡± Eric shouted. His body shifted. Sylvia continued. ¡°I¡¯m an only child.¡± That was the truth. Eric was an only child. Even Eric¡¯s connection to his parents was remote. Eric¡¯s mother had always been the sort to say a son should be tossed from the nest the day they turned eighteen. His father was barely aware Eric existed, his world forever wrapped in his work. Even without that, Eric never would¡¯ve connected. His beliefs were too different from those of his parents. His dreams never encompassed their dreams. The gap was too wide. Their worlds could never be reconciled. ¡°¡­ come to me, brother ¡­ I am waiting ¡­ I am¨C ¡± Bzzt! Sylvia jumped. Electricity crackled, filling the hall with painful light. A series of orange screens exploded in front of her, stacking upon each other in a cascade. Each bore the same word over and over again in bold, red writing. Error. Error. Error. The hall went dark. The orange screens vanished, only to replaced by one final message.
Warning: Unauthorized Access Detected User connection will be purged.
The void jolted. Sylvia fell through the floor and into the atramentous ravine below. -oOo- A tube opened, vomiting forth a sphere of yellow-green mucus. Plop. Sylvia hit the ground, sinking toward the floor. The orb¡¯s viscous substance flowed around her. The bottom flattened. The surface warped then ruptured, splattering slime in all directions. As the dazed girl sat, the bulk of the liquid drained away through the stone grating below. The rest slowly disintegrated into ether. On Sylvia¡¯s left, a window remained suspended in nothingness.
New Quest: Call of the Void A wh?is¡õer ?? ¡ö?e d¡õr??. ? ??¡öce ¡õa¦Ì?ing. ??¡õd ¡önd ?n¡õ?e¨W.
Quest Reward: ???
Objectives [ ] Die [ ] Die, Die, Die
[ ] Die, Die, Die, Die, Die, Die, Die
The blue screen was glitched. The window¡¯s body fragmented along the center, a portion offset. The screen flickered. Once. Twice. Then it was gone. No quest was listed. No entry could be found in the event log. All that remained was her memory. Die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die. Was that an objective, or a curse? Never mind that. The fact her System could glitch was itself worrisome. Wobbly, Sylvia stood. A pure, white dress hung from her delicate shoulders. A figment cast into existence by the magic of the resurrection pool. The dress would fade after twelve hours. This was a common setting, though in ordinary pools it would be robes instead of a dress. That the Academy automatically provided dresses was one among many indications the school never intended to serve anyone but women. Sylvia¡¯s body felt light. Death had brought back memories of Eric¡¯s obesity. The sharp contrast from big and heavy versus slim and petite threw her off. Her shape was a strange mix of alien and familiar. Natural and unnatural. The recognition was frightening. She was changing. This wasn¡¯t fearsome. Change was part of life. When the old looked back on their youth they noticed the difference. To grow was to change. To learn was to change. Every day a person woke to a new self. This wasn¡¯t the same. This change felt deeper. More fundamental. Sylvia wasn¡¯t an older Eric. She had a different shape. A different gender. A different nature. What was it Professor Fischer said? The soul adapts the code to itself and itself to the code. Was Eric being replaced by Sylvia? Who then was Sylvia? ¡°You¡¯re here too.¡± It was Riley who spoke. The blonde girl was sitting on the raised stone lip beyond the stone grating. Riley¡¯s green eyes were turned upward, gazing at the stone tubes in the ceiling above. Like Sylvia, she wore a white dress. The pure fabric shone bright against the blonde¡¯s tanned skin. Sylvia felt a stab of guilt. Intellectually, she accepted killing Riley was the right choice, but her heart would have none of it. ¡°Sorry,¡± Sylvia apologized. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure ¨C ¡± Riley¡¯s eyes snapped to the silver haired girl. ¡°Sorry about what?¡± ¡°I killed you,¡± Sylvia admitted, bluntly. ¡°I¡¯m sitting right here you know,¡± Riley said, flashing a grin. The blonde scratched a freckled cheek. ¡°So I¡¯d say things worked out. If anyone should be saying sorry, it¡¯s me. I was useless. The only thing I could do was scream. Pathetic, right?¡± Sylvia knew better than to answer. Riley patted the stone floor next to her. ¡°When he grabbed me like that, I felt so helpless. Brought it all back, you know,¡± Riley murmured, gaze rising again to the stone tubes above. Sylvia took the hint and sat, carefully sweeping her dress forward so that the fabric wouldn¡¯t bundle up under her butt. ¡°Did I tell you I did martial arts when I was young?¡± ¡°You did,¡± Sylvia answered. Not long ago, in fact. ¡°Well, I was really into it. I even fought in a couple tournaments. Growing up, I thought I was the strong one. That if anything bad happened, I¡¯d just punch it in the face.¡± Riley lifted an arm, her hand curling into a tight fist. ¡°Then things went sour with my first boyfriend. He was bigger than me. A lot bigger. I knew how to move, but I couldn¡¯t do anything to him. I hated it. I hated being weak. Even thinking about it makes me sick.¡± ¡°In second year, Magical Combat replaces Armed Combat,¡± Sylvia interrupted. ¡°You can borrow the textbooks from the library.¡± She knew, because Sylvia had already read the second year textbooks. Riley groaned. ¡°And here I almost forgot you¡¯re a guy.¡± The blonde stood, brushing off her white dress out of habit. ¡°Sylvia, when a girl tells you her troubles, just listen. Don¡¯t try to give advice.¡± ¡­ What else was she supposed to do? ¡°How are you holding up?¡± Riley asked, changing the subject. How was she holding up? Sylvia lifted her silver hair. It was long, loose, spilling all the way down her back before pooling on the floor. Her hat, uniform, and ribbon had made their way into her space bag before Professor Fischer vivisected her, but Sylvia wasn¡¯t in a hurry to pull them out now. ¡°I¡¯m wondering if we¡¯re missing class,¡± Sylvia said finally. Nether History and Field Studies were holding their quarterly tests today. Sylvia lamented losing the chance to score a two more superbs. Though, the silver haired witch suspected that she should worry less about her grades and more about Baroness Vallenfelt. ¡°Let me,¡± Riley offered. The blonde moved behind Sylvia and lifted her silver locks. Gently, Riley started braiding Sylvia¡¯s hair. Sylvia relaxed. Emily loved doing the same. Sylvia usually let her, though she¡¯d always check Emily¡¯s work after. The adorable brunette was always trying to sneak something cute in. ¡°You don¡¯t have to act all macho,¡± Riley chided while working the silver hair into a single tress. ¡°Men aren¡¯t robots. I know what it feels like to have a creep come onto you like that. It sucks.¡± Sylvia bit her lip. To be honest, she had been avoiding thinking about it. Her feelings¡­. Sylvia didn¡¯t know what she felt. Disgust, definitely. Anger, certainly. But she wasn¡¯t used to this kind of introspection, digging into her heart to know what was inside. Most men weren¡¯t. ¡°Does it happen often?¡± ¡°Most men won¡¯t try to rape you,¡± Riley said clearly. ¡°I¡¯ve had a few who wanted to touch. A couple that couldn¡¯t take a hint. And then there are the ones who try to browbeat you into being their girlfriend.¡± The blonde tugged at the ribbon. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you still wear it like this.¡± ¡°If I don¡¯t, Emily will put me in pigtails. With ribbons. And this time she¡¯ll make them curly.¡± Sylvia made sure her voice was acrid enough that Riley knew who she blamed. Riley laughed. ¡°But you¡¯ll be ~so~ cute,¡± she cooed, teasingly. ¡°How do you deal with it?¡± Sylvia asked. She rather hoped there was some secret method girls had to make men go away. ¡°Personally, I¡¯m fond of your ¡®flay them alive with magic¡¯,¡± Riley answered, putting the finishing touches on the silver haired girl¡¯s braid. ¡°But you know how I ended up here.¡± Yes. She did. ¡°It¡¯s just how it works, Sylvia. Men chase women. Don¡¯t worry, most of them are nice. Nice, nice. Not ¡®nice guy¡¯ nice.¡± Sylvia¡¯s shoulders drooped. That was not the answer she was hoping for. ¡°I don¡¯t want the nice ones hitting on me either,¡± Sylvia grumbled. Then she changed the subject. ¡°What happened? If you don¡¯t mind me asking.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± Riley flopped back down on the stone rim. Stretching out a foot, she wiggled her toes before answering. ¡°I picked up my ex, Ethan, in my junior year of high school. He was a football player. Big guy. Kind of handsome.¡± ¡°Taller than you?¡± Riley karate chopped the silver haired girl on the head. ¡°It was nice at first. I thought I had fallen in love. So I moved in with him when we went to college.¡± Riley scowled. ¡°Biggest mistake of my life.¡± ¡°He hit you,¡± Sylvia filled in. ¡°Not at first,¡± Riley answered. ¡°He got drunk. He¡¯d go to frat parties and drink until he blacked out. I didn¡¯t like it, so I told him to stop. He got pissed that I was nagging him, then hit me. At first, I thought I could fix it. Talk him out of it. But when it happened a third time, I threatened to leave.¡± Riley expression turned ugly. ¡°Ethan went berserk. I tried to fight back. That¡¯s the day I learned, when someone has a hundred pounds on you, five years of martial arts isn¡¯t going to save your ass from getting beat. ¡°The cops got involved after. I moved out. Took up classes in another state. Picked up a new boyfriend. A skinny nerd this time. Ethan though, he wasn¡¯t willing to move on. He had it in his head that ¡®God¡¯ meant for us to be together. That I was a cheating whore for finding someone new.¡± Oh. Yeah. Sylvia knew the type. ¡°He found me. Beat the shit out of my boyfriend. This time I knew better than to rely on my fists. I grabbed the kitchen knife instead.¡± And Ethan discovered that a hundred pounds advantage meant shit in the face of lethal force. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, you did the right thing,¡± Sylvia said. Riley shook her head. ¡°Did I? Did I really? I could¡¯ve called the cops.¡± ¡°And then he might¡¯ve murdered you before circling back to kill your boyfriend,¡± Sylvia pointed out. Hunting Riley across state lines wasn¡¯t the action of a kid who lost control of their emotions. That was pure hate and malice. The fucker had it coming. ¡°I know,¡± Riley said, her voice was small and weak. ¡°But I loved him, once. I loved him and I killed him.¡± ¡°Riley, you¡¯re the closest thing I¡¯ve met to a hero,¡± Sylvia continued. Not like her. Sylvia might have a System, but she never had a hero¡¯s heart. ¡°Don¡¯t doubt yourself. Killing him was the right thing to do.¡± Silence stood for a long moment. In the quiet, Sylvia could hear the gurgle of liquid below the stone grate. She looked up, wondering what secrets lay in the guts of the resurrection pool. The Academy¡¯s witches could be brought back from death in a single day. With an ordinary pool, resurrection took roughly a week. ¡°Thanks,¡± Riley said, patting the silver haired witch on the knee before standing up. ¡°There wasn¡¯t anyone else I could talk to about this.¡± Sylvia knew that feeling. She knew it all too well. Sylvia couldn¡¯t talk about her past. For the fear of the bigots that any population of more than a hundred was sure to have, but also because the Academy itself forbade her from doing so. ¡°Let¡¯s head back to the dorm.¡± -oOo- Sylvia never made it to her dorm. When they exited the resurrection pool, Professor Fischer was there waiting for them. Riley was immediately directed toward the dorms. Field Studies started in a quarter of an hour, leaving the blonde with just enough time to put on a new uniform. Sylvia didn¡¯t have that luxury. She was to report to Lady Vallenfelt at once. Professor Fischer, at least, gave her a chance to change into new clothes. Adjusting her beret, Sylvia followed Professor Fischer to the dean¡¯s office. The office of Baroness Esmeralda Vallenfelt was located in the turret above the east wing of the Academic Building. The third floor suite had tall, stained-glass windows and a memorable balcony to the outdoor air. Memorable because, a few weeks back, Sylvia had the chance to watch the dean fly to her office from her distant manor. It was this event which had inspired Sylvia to read up on the history of broomsticks. As they walked, Sylvia opened her status screen and checked the damage.
Name Sylvia Swallows Class Apprentice Witch
Level 38+30 Exp 377 / 390
HP 110 / 110 MP 243 / 243
Str 3 Mag 17
Vit 3 Spr 20
Agl 5 Wit 20
The experience she collected from Dumas had vanished like the wind. The rest remained. Sylvia guessed at the logic behind it all. Was the difference in outcome a reflection of the level of digestion? Yet, if this was the case, wouldn¡¯t that mean Sylvia didn¡¯t actually gain attributes the moment she assigned them? Ugh. Thinking about it, this was probably the case. The System, Sylvia had discovered, often hid intricacies behind its silent, rectangular face. Spiral stairs ended in a small hall. Vases with potted plants and a couple hard chairs sat at the end, just outside a pair of large wooden doors. Tall windows gave view to the Academy campus below. Creeaak. Thud. The double doors opened then closed. Sylvia found herself eye to eye with Roisin Owsley. Roisin Owsley was the very image of a classic witch. The professor of runes had a long, crooked nose and dark, muddy eyes. Her hair was dull gray and chin length. ¡°A troublemaker?¡± Owsley questioned. Though her eyes were clouded, the old woman¡¯s gaze remained sharp. ¡°Sylvia I see. What a surprise. With the time she must spend studying runes, I would think she hadn¡¯t the opportunity for delinquency.¡± Professor Owsley was a hexe. Hexe and magissa represented opposite ends of the three faced goddess. Magissa reflected the maiden, forever young and beautiful. Hexe personified the crone, aged and old. It was said hexe felt their appearance was a gift. That only women without beauty could devote themselves to magic. Whereas magissa would always be distracted by lust, romance, and marriage. Sylvia thought this the height of self-delusion. ¡°Not a delinquent. A guinea pig,¡± Glenda Fischer corrected. ¡°Her nether code took an interesting turn. Lady Vallenfelt wants to take a look at it. Afterward, I get to play with her.¡± Professor Fischer wiggled her fingers excitedly. Sylvia¡¯s stomach turned. Vivisection¡­ was not pleasant. The fact she could come back from the dead didn¡¯t make the experience better. ¡°A guinea pig is it?¡± Owsley questioned. The old woman¡¯s cane flashed out, threatening to hook Silvia¡¯s neck with its handle. Professor Fischer stepped forward, catching the cane with an open palm. Sylvia took two steps back. Both professors were on her list for shittiest teacher. Professor Fischer because she was a barking mad serial killer that¡¯d tear her own student open just to see what was inside. Roisin Owsley because she was just fucking terrible. Basic runes was a doomed subject from the start. Sylvia understood this. No one could rescue it. The Academy, at least, recognized this fact. The second year classes, Simple Arithmancy and Common Spells I, weren¡¯t just used to further a student¡¯s knowledge of magic, but to pound the Lesser Codex into every witch¡¯s head via use and repetition. As for Advanced Runes I through V? Sylvia could only admire the seniors who grit their teeth and powered through. Speaking of which, Sylvia needed to allocate a few skill books toward the Great Codex. The Lesser Codex was fine for basic magic, but once she stepped into the advanced spells it was impossible to do anything without running into dozens of unknown runes. ¡°Don¡¯t touch the baroness¡¯s things,¡± Professor Fischer warned. ¡°How protective.¡± Owsley¡¯s lips spread into a horrifying smile. ¡°An unconsolidated, first year girl. What could possibly make her so interesting?¡± Professor Fischer gave a wicked grin of her own. ¡°That¡¯s not for you to know, old hag. If you want to experiment, find your own toy to play with.¡± ¡°Maybe I will. Maybe I will.¡± Taking back her cane, Roisin Owsley passed them with slow, hunched steps. She stopped beside Sylvia, muddy eyes peering at the girl. ¡°I look forward to your performance, Sylvia Swallows. It is always a delight to teach a genius.¡± The professor cackled while vanishing down the stairs. Sylvia¡¯s eyes trailed after her. They stepped into the dean¡¯s office. Sylvia froze. Sitting delicately upon a stool by the window was the single most beautiful woman Sylvia had ever seen. Gorgeous, green hair spilled down Esmeralda Vallenfelt¡¯s back in a rippling waterfall. The locks shimmered in the morning glow, a sea of emeralds reflecting light and life. Her perfect, peach skin was like silk, holding only a touch more color than Sylvia¡¯s own. From the curve of her calves to the swell of her breasts, Esmeralda¡¯s figure was flawless. Her nose, chin, and cheeks were an ideal mix of cherub and aristocrat. The dean swirled a beaker of blood, letting the sun pour through its ruby translucence. It wasn¡¯t just her image. The baroness¡¯s poise and posture were a portrait of elegance. ¡°¡ö, ¡ö¡ö, ¡ö.¡± Three spells on her tongue, Lady Vallenfelt turned to face them. Sylvia¡¯s breath caught. Esmeralda¡¯s eyes were a galaxy of umbral green. A sparkling nebula that surpassed the pillars of creation. Just a glimpse and Sylvia felt she could sink into them forever. The Starlight Nether Witch Academy was crawling with beautiful girls. Eric, an avid consumer of porn, had viewed world-class enchantresses in every state of dress and undress. But never had he witnessed a woman so bewitching in the flesh. Her aura. Her presence. The sheer reality of her being was greater than any beauty witnessed through a silver screen. The dean set down the beaker with a clink. The sound freed Sylvia from the glamour. ¡°Is this the child?¡± The baroness¡¯s voice was prim. Her demeanor radiated authority. Professor Fischer curtsied. Her manner gentle and feminine in a way Sylvia had never witnessed. ¡°Yes, milady.¡± Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s eyes fell on Sylvia. Her gaze lingered for quiet seconds. Just as anxiety started to ferment, the dean spoke. ¡°Manners should not require prompting. Glenda, see to it the child learns to greet her betters properly. It is not sufficient that she does so right. She must do so by habit.¡± ¡°I will convey your request to Kyna, milady,¡± Glenda answered. Well. Shit. Sylvia¡¯s modern brain had failed to compute the portent of nobility. Lady Vallenfelt was a baroness. A titled person who expected to be greeted with ceremony and respect. This was Hell, not the United States of America. Failure to abide by the rules of decorum was grounds for serious punishment. And Sylvia had just fucked up her introduction. ¡°You did indeed,¡± the dean confirmed. Esmeralda stood. The woman walked forward, her heels echoing with a crisp clack, clack, clack. Sylvia gulped. Did the dean ¨C ¡°Read your mind?¡± Esmeralda interrupted. ¡°Yes. It is a spell known as Ph??ng¡¯s Resonance. I use it when dealing with foolish girls who wish to hide things from me. Of which, you are most certainly one.¡± Fuck. ¡°Crude thoughts beget crude words. You should take care to cleanse yourself of them,¡± the baroness reprimanded. The dean circled the nervous silver haired witch, examining her from all angles. ¡°The ribbon is quite lovely. It does well to bring out your eyes. And the beret adds a certain flair. Charm club has done well by you.¡± Thanks? Sylvia tried not to squirm. She felt like a pig being inspected before the slaughter. The green haired woman clicked her tongue twice. ¡°¡ö, ¡ö¡± With the first sound, a kennel flew across the room. With the second fell a rod of molten iron. The shaft punched straight through the cage¡¯s top. Sylvia jumped. Ruined blood essence seeped through the slats, escaping from the dead phantasm hidden within. Essence which was promptly swept into Sylvia¡¯s body. Her experience ticked up. Ordinarily, Sylvia would have been delighted at the free reward. Right now, Sylvia was more than a little pissed. That shitty System. Couldn¡¯t it read the situation? ¡­ Fuck. Sylvia did her best to strangle her prior thought, her heart on tenterhooks. Esmeralda Vallenfelt watched her like a hawk. ¡°Carnivorous consumption, quite similar to that of a vampire¡¯s blood harvest. However, the character is different. This will require study.¡± The baroness¡¯s gaze turned to the professor. ¡°She can still cultivate using astral ether, correct?¡± ¡°She meditates every day,¡± Professor Fischer answered. ¡°Very diligent.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Esmeralda scrutinized the silver haired girl for another minute, a finger against her chin. ¡°Her mannerisms are more masculine than I prefer, but she responds well to compliments.¡± Lady Vallenfelt concluded. ¡°Glenda, leave us.¡± Professor Fischer looked a bit petulant. The eyes of the green haired dean narrowed. ¡°Of course, milady,¡± the teacher replied with a second curtsy. The door closed. Sylvia¡¯s nerves sang. Her inhuman body didn¡¯t prevent her deep, disquiet. Her hands were jittery. Clammy. No sweat, but a chill nonetheless. In the silence, Esmeralda high heels rang ¨C clack, clack ¨C as the baroness took her seat on the other side of her broad desk. ¡°Sit,¡± the baroness commanded, her exquisite face like marble. Sylvia sat promptly. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Tell me, child,¡± Esmeralda said, eyes as cold and merciless as the void of space. ¡°Who is your backer?¡± The question caught her off guard. For a second, the meaning failed to compute. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you are talking about.¡± But as she said it, several answers floated to the front of her mind. The System. The Academy. However, Sylvia suspected Baroness Vallenfelt would be quite irate if Sylvia dared to answer the last. ¡°I have reviewed Glenda¡¯s notes. When your soul was first exposed to my bloodline, the code was thoroughly rejected. Unexpectedly, on the second attempt, the code took. Pure asteri with a hint of kitsune for variation. Kitsune are carnivorous creatures, so it is not impossible that such a trait would emerge within you. But there is a fault in this logic. Kitsune have never shown a capacity for remote collection,¡± Esmeralda elucidated. ¡°Then, there is the matter of your pure starlight eyes,¡± Baroness Vallenfelt continued. ¡°While uncertain, this is a sign of both talent and compatibility. By the look of it, one that rivals my own. Which is quite curious seeing as how the asteri bloodline was specifically synthesized to fit my soul. ¡°Next, there is the matter of your invitation. It is quite difficult to work magic on the world of origin. As such, when I send my letters, I do so with all spells and energy prepared. Yet, my recent investigation shows that the threads of causality were altered. Which implies someone highly adept shifted the flow of fate. ¡°Finally, there is a matter I find most vexing. Which is that the answer to my question clearly sits at the forefront of your mind, yet I am unable to read it. If it were but one of these things, I could dismiss the outcome as mere chance. The chain of events, however, is beyond coincidence. So I will ask again, child, who is your backer?¡± ¡­ First, Sylvia was obviously terrible at hiding her secrets. Luckily, the System had stepped in to obscure its own existence. Next, if the System was hiding its existence, Sylvia could only assume that it would be very, very stupid to tell Esmeralda about it. Assuming she even could talk about the System at all. It had never been a problem back on Earth, but Sylvia hadn¡¯t tried since entering the netherworld. Actually, she hadn¡¯t tried in the last decade. Finally, this damned piece of shit. If the System wanted to hide, then why did it happily suck up the blood essence? If you¡¯re going to do the deed, then go all in! None of this half-assed bullshit. Under the dean¡¯s frigid gaze, Sylvia decided to tell as much truth as she dared. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Sylvia answered. And she really didn¡¯t. The System was the what. Sylvia knew nothing of the who. Someone was behind the System, of that Sylvia was certain. But who? Sylvia hadn¡¯t the faintest idea. Though, it was obvious now, that this who had come from the netherworld. ¡°I see,¡± the dean said sharply. Sylvia¡¯s stomach sank. ¡°You don¡¯t believe me.¡± ¡°I do,¡± Esmeralda countered smoothly. ¡°When I acquired your soul, it was verified pure by both my inspection and that of the soul officiate who notarized your collection. On this, it seems both of us were in error. However, it is also quite clear that you are hiding things from me.¡± Sylvia grimaced. ¡°I will not require you to say,¡± the baroness declared. ¡°You are obviously a pawn in a game beyond your means. I will not demand you make yourself the foe of myself or your hidden backer. But this places me in a difficult position. ¡°You are an unstable element. Your presence represents an invisible scheme. One most certainly targeted at me. The alterations to your code are a great temptation,¡± Lady Vallenfelt explained. ¡°The question now is, should I bite deep into the poisoned fruit or cast it aside so that my hands remain clean?¡± Sylvia scowled. She¡¯d like to say the dean was paranoid, but Esmeralda Vallenfelt certainly had a firmer grasp of Hell¡¯s politics than Sylvia did. ¡°What¡¯s going to happen to me?¡± Sylvia asked, despondent. She feared the answer would not be pleasant. ¡°Ordinarily, pawns are not given a choice,¡± Esmeralda responded. ¡°Fate is decided for them. However, I am prepared to go against that flow. No matter the who or the why, you remain a student of my Academy and thus my responsibility. Think carefully, child, as once you have decided, there will be no going back.¡± Expression grim, Sylvia nodded. Seeing she was listening seriously, Baroness Vallenfelt started. ¡°First, you may exit my Academy never to set foot in it or my fief again. As this could well be a prelude to a pitiful fate, I will grant succor. All payments on your debt will be eschewed for the next ten years. What befalls you after is of no concern of mine. As for the plot of your backer, I shall consider my hands washed of the matter.¡± If the dean had made this offer before yesterday¡¯s venture, Sylvia might¡¯ve jumped at it. Getting out from underneath charm club¡¯s thumb sounded fantastic. Now, after Dumas¡¯ reality check, Sylvia would be an utter fool to take this option. ¡°I¡¯ll consider that to be a last resort.¡± ¡°Wise,¡± Esmeralda agreed. ¡°Then let us proceed. Second, you may swear yourself to me. As my retainer, you will be bound to my command until I grant release. Your private affairs shall be your own, but fealty will be expected. Hell does not take well to oath breakers.¡± Baroness Vallenfelt¡¯s gaze carried dark warning. ¡°In this, I will have stepped into your backer¡¯s web. As such, should you choose this path, I will most certainly plunder any secret hidden in your soul so as to extract gain that exceeds my loss.¡± ¡°In other words, you will dissect me.¡± ¡°My methods are not so crude as Glenda Fischer¡¯s,¡± Esmeralda corrected. ¡°And I have no desire to bear the karmic weight of damaging your soul. It is the backlash of your backer for which you should be concerned.¡± Shit. That was a good point. How would the System react to a witch poking around looking for it? Hopefully it was good at hiding. Whatever the case, it wasn¡¯t her fault. Hear that, not her fault. If you got a problem, voice it now. The System, unsurprisingly, remained silent. ¡°Your third and final choice is to take me as your master,¡± Lady Vallenfelt continued. ¡°As my apprentice, your actions would reflect upon me. As such, you would be expected to uphold my name and my expectations whether in public or private. I shall not deceive you. I disdain men and shall never abide by one as my apprentice. Therefore, should you take this offer, you will be expected to comport yourself as a proper lady worthy of my house.¡± Wow, that sounded ¡®fun¡¯. Just what she wanted, charm club 2.0, now with more authority and relentless pressure. Still, it was objectively her best choice. Retainers were permanent servants, the kind bound by oath to their employer. In Hell, it was considered a cushy position. Newly risen nobles, like Baroness Vallenfelt, would collect retainers then use them to fill government positions with loyalists. It was a pretty good deal. An apprenticeship was a more intimate relationship. In the netherworld, it was impossible to give birth to children. Therefore, disciples were often a substitute to family. This meant, in the informal sense, an apprentice had a higher social position than a retainer. There were advantages and disadvantages to both. Apprentices weren¡¯t employees and thus weren¡¯t necessarily paid. On the reverse side, they also lacked the same obligation. An erstwhile apprentice wasn¡¯t an oathbreaker but a disobedient child. ¡°You¡¯re offering me an apprenticeship?¡± Sylvia questioned, surprised by the proposal. ¡°Your talent and ability is enough to garner my interest,¡± Esmeralda affirmed. ¡°This is a great honor. One I am hesitant to present. I strongly suggest you take it.¡± Sylvia wondered if Baroness Vallenfelt would feel disgraced if she rejected. The silver haired witch drew in a heavy breath. ¡°When do I have to decide?¡± ¡°Now.¡± Great. To start, Sylvia could discard the first choice. Leaving the Academy then fighting her way up from the dark alleys of the netherworld was a fitting story for a protagonist, but Sylvia was far too old to place her future in the hands of fate. Eric had passed, but Sylvia Swallow remained a salary man at heart. Which left the second offer and the third. Neither was satisfying. Taking the apprenticeship meant Sylvia was granting Esmeralda permission to brutally squash the remnants of her manhood. Taking the second meant Sylvia would have to bend knee to her lord. All men are created equal, were not mere words. It was a way of thinking that had been pounded into her skull since grade school. Just the thought of accepting Lady Vallenfelt as her social superior made Sylvia nauseous. ¡°What kind of apprenticeship are we talking about?¡± In the netherworld an apprenticeship could take many forms. There were legacy apprentices and occupational apprentices. The former was could last for centuries. The latter was more akin to being intern at an uncles company. ¡°A legacy apprentice,¡± the baroness made clear. ¡°If I am to swallow your backer¡¯s bait, then my claim must be firm lest they force me to cough it back up.¡± ¡­ Esmeralda wasn¡¯t going to make Sylvia call her mother, right? Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s eyes turned sharp. ¡°Whence came that fool notion?¡± Sylvia flinched. Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s expression was stormy. Mind reading. Joy. ¡°I might have read Maiden of the Silver Lake,¡± she admitted. ¡°Oh?¡± Esmeralda noised. Her gorgeous eyes softened. ¡°Is that the one where the girl takes the undine as her master? I found the romance with the gandharva performer quite trite.¡± Aannd¡­ now Sylvia knew why the library had so many romance novels. ¡°That¡¯s the one.¡± Trite was being generous. The book started so well, with teasing implications between the girl and the undine. Then the gandharva showed up with a pity story so horrible it made Sylvia want to strangle the bastard on the spot. The author gushed for pages about the male lead¡¯s handsomeness. Then the undine promptly decided to treat her apprentice as her daughter. By the end of the book, Sylvia had sworn off romance novels forever. The only way things could¡¯ve been worse, was if a thousand-year-old demon had been pining over a teenage girl. And the age gap was almost that bad! ¡°An apprentice is a student, nothing more, nothing less,¡± Lady Vallenfelt expounded. Thus was it decided. ¡°Then I will take the third offer,¡± Sylvia said, reluctantly. As an apprentice, Esmeralda would have little recourse if Sylvia just upped and ran. That made it, defacto, better than all the other options. ¡°I can still hear your thoughts,¡± Esmeralda reminded icily. ¡­ Fuck it. Who cared. What could Baroness Vallenfelt do after Sylvia reached the second consolidation? The silver haired witch would like to see the dean try and stop her! ¡°Then I best make certain to erase all vestiges of your prior life before that event comes to pass,¡± Lady Vallenfelt said with cool tones. ¡°Impropriety aside, your choice pleases me. The oath will be made before the Heavenly Will. Your apprenticeship will remain informal, however, until after the Festival of Light.¡± Well, at least Lady Vallenfelt wasn¡¯t going to punish Sylvia for her thoughts. ¡°If I were to punish your thoughts, it would be for your incessant obscenities,¡± Esmeralda inserted. ¡°However, I am of the firm belief that only action deserves discipline. No matter. We will begin the ceremony shortly. But first, I must know your name.¡± ¡°My name?¡± Sylvia questioned. Surely the dean learned her name before offering an apprenticeship, right? ¡°Yes, your name. Oaths must be made with a true name, as only intent and meaning can be inscribed upon Akashic Record,¡± Lady Vallenfelt explained. ¡°So tell me, Sylvia Swallows, what is your name?¡± Ether echoed. Words spoken in the nether carried intent. A psychic flux, reverberating through the ether. Names, by convention, were conveyed as mere sound. To do otherwise was a faux pas. A malicious speaker could tie a name to anything, even nude depictions. An honest speaker would unwittingly project, casting concepts and ideas without consent. True names, however, were more than just sound. Sylvia Swallows. The dean spoke those words conveying two images. The first conjured in Sylvia¡¯s mind a forest. Silver leaves glowed under the moonlight, a beauty of light and shadow. A brave band of adventures stood at the forest¡¯s edge. They entered, never to be seen again. Sylvia Swallows, the forest that devours all who dare intrude upon its domain. A magnificent name for a demon. The second image drew contrast with the first. A forest, this time in the brilliance of daylight. Verdant leaves covered endless vales and meadows. Then, from the canopy, burst a flock of swallows. They flapped their wings, showing their shiny, blue coats. Sylvia Swallows. A dazzle of the wild. ¡°You need not choose either. But as my apprentice, I require that your name be pleasing to my ear.¡± The nebula within the dean¡¯s eyes rolled, filled with twinkling twilight. In the stillness was born a suspicion that ¡®Sylvia Swallows¡¯ was not a name chosen by accident. Esmeralda had long before thought of both meanings. Perhaps she¡¯d chosen them before Sylvia birth. No wonder Professor Myers failed to remove the trailing ¡®s¡¯. In a different scenario, Sylvia might have thought long and deep and found a name for herself. In front of the dean, Sylvia¡¯s master, she did not wish to carefully ponder a new meaning. And what was wrong with that? Children didn¡¯t choose their name, their parents did. ¡°Sylvia ¨C ¡± She stopped. In her mind the silver forest floated. Sylvia liked the image. The concept. But it wasn¡¯t right. Swallow. Like the bird. Sylvia had reminded others of that fact over and over again. How could the answer be different now? ¡°I guess I¡¯ll go with Sylvia Swallows.¡± -oOo- The ceremony took a full hour. Grand oaths required sacrifice. Of blood. Of mind. Of soul. The three essences of life were offered to the Heavenly Will. With them, The Will would know her name and shape no matter how far she traveled or in what form. Then came the oath itself. Sylvia swore to take Esmeralda Vallenfelt as her teacher, to uphold her legacy, and to never forsake her. In return, Baroness Vallenfelt swore to guide her apprentice, to aid her growth, and to allow room for her student¡¯s dreams and ambition. Sylvia felt it was all rather corny. Then again, she¡¯d never been one for ceremony. It had been painful enough to make her way through graduation. Twice. Because apparently graduating once wasn¡¯t enough. Teachers forced their students through the horror twice. Once for high school. A second time for college. Sylvia was so not looking forward to the formal apprenticeship ceremony which would be held after the Festival of Light. In the end, Sylvia escaped Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s office, feeling awkward and out of place. ¡°At least there was no punishment for sneaking out,¡± Sylvia mumbled to herself. Nepotism for the win! To kick off Sylvia¡¯s apprenticeship, the dean had provided a reading list. Tarnished Gold detailed the events that led to the Utopia War ¨C the first of the three great wars between Heaven and Hell. Sylvia found herself eager to open the text. She¡¯d been looking for a good history which covered the start of the Silver Age for some time. The second book was The Devil¡¯s Decorum. It was, supposedly, The Prince with lessons on etiquette. ¡°I hope it¡¯s more the former and less the latter,¡± Sylvia complained. ¡°I also need to find a book on oaths and the Heavenly Will.¡± Sylvia knew of oaths. Her reading list was broad. It wasn¡¯t unusual to run into them. But Sylvia didn¡¯t have a firm grasp of what, exactly, an oath meant. Mechanically as well as socially. It was time to correct that error. ¡°Fuck, I hope oaths aren¡¯t magically binding,¡± Sylvia grumbled. ¡°I should¡¯ve left. How bad could it be? I¡¯m sure it¡¯d work out. It always does in books and video games.¡± Yeah. Right. She¡¯d be working in a brothel before the end of the year. Sylvia wasn¡¯t stupid enough to mistake games for reality. Beyond completing her reading list, Sylvia now had to report to Vallenfelt Manor every Sunday. Poof! Just like that, Sylvia¡¯s only free day had vanished. Normally, she would¡¯ve been sad to see it go. Especially when her afternoons were to be spent with Kyna learning dance and deportment. It was just that Sylvia was really, really sick of reading. Wizard Means Wise IV was an albatross wrapped around her neck. The beast¡¯s claws were digging into her flesh, while its beak was tearing its way into her gut, hoping to eat her liver. ¡°In a few weeks, I¡¯ll probably wish I was reading,¡± Sylvia laughed. Then she groaned. ¡°Is this my life? Am I doomed to be slowly refined into the perfect witch?¡± Emily, at least, was getting her wish. At this rate, Sylvia really would be transformed into a princess. Flopping backward, Sylvia sank into the green grass. The silver haired girl gazed up at a lonely cloud as it made its way across an otherwise perfect blue sky. Sylvia had never been the ambitious type. She knew it. Charm club aside, she kind of liked life at the Academy. It was relaxing. Part of her just wanted to drift. Drift and keep on drifting, not challenging the flow of the world. ¡°No,¡± Sylvia refuted. ¡°I can¡¯t keep drifting like this.¡± Eric Swallow had drifted his whole life. He drifted through school. He drifted through college. He drifted until he ended up in a dead end job, watching his life circle the drain. Empty. Hollow. Purposeless. As Sylvia Swallows, she refused to do the same. If she drifted, then one day Sylvia would find herself as vice dean of the Starlight Nether Witch Academy, berating some poor girl for improper dress and etiquette. Shudder. Sylvia wanted bigger. Grander. A life of color and wonder. Not a road of dull gray extending into forever. And Sylvia already had everything she needed to seize it. The only thing she lacked was the will. It was time to take charge of her life. And the first step was to confront the elephant in her soul. ¡°Who are you.¡± Sylvia¡¯s sharp demand was made to thin air. Birds chirped. Wind whistled. There was no answer. Sylvia sat up. Her navy blue robes were damp with morning dew. Nether History was in progress. Sylvia was missing her quarterly tests, but Lady Vallenfelt already made clear that Sylvia would take those tests later. This left Sylvia with an hour of quiet to decide her future. ¡°I¡¯m not stupid. You wrote it into the event log: administrative override,¡± Sylvia challenged. ¡°Stop playing games. You wanted me in the netherworld. Well, I¡¯m here.¡± Arms spread, Sylvia waited in silence. The quiet lingered. Frustrated, she stood. Her wooden dorm was to the south, three stories of housing rising above the trees. Near it, and to the east, was the resurrection pool. The forbidding Gothic structure loomed like the gargoyles perched on its arches. The cold stone divergent from the flowery beauty of the Academy¡¯s paths. Even now, Vallenfelt¡¯s sentries patrolled it. ¡°Maybe I should just tell Vallenfelt the truth. She already swore an oath to protect me. And there¡¯s a good chance she¡¯ll find you when she starts poking around in my soul.¡± Sylvia wasn¡¯t joking. The System could obscure her thoughts, but could it hide her skill? The baroness had said nothing about Sylvia¡¯s ability to fast cast, but sooner or later her teacher was going to notice. If the truth was going to out, then it was better to come clean right at the start. Ding! Against all odds, the System responded. When she read the window, Sylvia¡¯s expression soured.
New Quest: Netherworld Recruitment (Esmeralda Vallenfelt) By luck and fortune, the User has become an apprentice to Baroness Esmeralda Vallenfelt. The Baroness is a powerful individual in the Timeless Beryl Wilderness and will be of great help to the User¡¯s future success. However, the User¡¯s secrets serve as a barrier to this relationship. Develop your connection to Baroness Vallenfelt, then reveal the System. Boldly recruit your master to the System¡¯s cause, laying a steady foundation in the netherworld.
Quest Reward: * 5000 merit points * A confidant with which to share the System¡¯s secrets
Objectives: [ ] Form a good relationship with Esmeralda Vallenfelt. [ ] Reveal the System to Esmeralda Vallenfelt. [ ] Convince Esmeralda Vallenfelt to swear herself as the System¡¯s vassal.
Quest Failure: This quest will fail if the System is revealed to Esmeralda Vallenfelt and she rejects the System¡¯s offer. Note that any unauthorized disclosure, including by this quest, will result in the System locking itself in safe mode, depriving the User of all System functions.
¡­ Sylvia¡¯s teeth ground. ¡°You fucking!¡± Angrily, the silver haired girl seized the window and brutally folded it into paper airplane. With a sharp flick, she sent it into the sky, where it circled elegantly on the wind. Only to turn back and dive straight into her hat. Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. The ordinarily cold and emotionless System was mocking her. ¡°Is that supposed to be a joke? You want Vallenfelt as your damned vassal. Do you think I was born with a silver tongue?¡± Worse, if she revealed the System and Esmeralda wasn¡¯t willing to become the System¡¯s vassal, Sylvia would lose the System¡¯s support. Maybe temporarily. Maybe forever. Fuck. That was an outright threat, wasn¡¯t it? Shit. Lady Vallenfelt was right. Sylvia was a poisoned fruit and now that Esmeralda had plucked her, the System wanted to lure the dean into its schemes. ¡°This isn¡¯t over,¡± Sylvia said, pointing a finger at the window. ¡°I¡¯m going to find out who you are. And I¡¯m going to make you talk.¡± The rectangular window floated in the air, indifferent to the trials and tribulations of the world. ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡°Okay, okay. At least tell me what merit points are.¡± Ding!
New Feature: Merit Points The System is happy to introduce merit points. Merit points are a form of currency that can be used to buy System Items or unlock System Features. Like System Items, merit points cannot be traded with other Users. Merit points can be obtained by completing quests, collecting information, or taking any action that aids the System¡¯s goal and agenda. Please assist the System¡¯s development and enjoy a bountiful reward.
As soon as the window appeared, the event log started to scroll, showing the rewards she had collected thus far. Reward: +100 pts ¨C Bloodline Code: Hecates Magissa Asteri (Sample 1/100) Reward: +35 pts ¨C Nether code: Soul-Space Silver Reward: +5 pts ¨C Enchantment code: Space Bag (Common) Reward: +3 pts ¨C Nether code: Wood Essence (Beryl Pine) After scanning through the list, Sylvia detected a pattern. Virtually every reward related to an item she¡¯d thrown into her space bag. Conspicuously absent were the numerous books Sylvia had read. The final tally was 237 merit points. ¡­ And if there were merit points¡­. Paging through a few screens, Sylvia found the merit shop. The shop consisted of a deep, nested list of items and features. Most of which were grayed out and marked unavailable. Curious, Sylvia expanded the communication section. The features web, chat, forums, phone, and video were listed. The latter two required unlocking the microphone and camera functions first. Sylvia stared. ¡°I¡¯m not alone,¡± she concluded. She wasn¡¯t alone. There were others like her. How did she know for certain? Because if Sylvia was the only one with a System, then why was there a forum feature? This had major implications. Sylvia¡¯s fingers itched. She wanted to unlock the communication features and figure out who else had been dragged onto this crazy adventure. She resisted. Sylvia might not be alone in having a System, but she was almost certainly alone here in the netherworld. Sylvia¡¯s System appeared seventeen years ago. It took around fifty for a soul to pass through Unus Mundus. Unless the System had been around for half a century, or someone else found a lucky invitation, Sylvia¡¯s situation was unique. ¡°RPGs only became common in the ninety¡¯s,¡± Sylvia mused. It was a stretch, but by using this fact, Sylvia guessed the System¡¯s age wasn¡¯t much greater than her own. ¡°Alone or not, if the System is introducing chat functions there are others. And that means I have to make good use of my head start.¡± Sylvia felt excited, pressured, disappointed, and energized. It was a microcosm of the human condition. Everyone wanted to be special, yet nobody wanted to be alone. Here Sylvia was, playing through a single player game, only to see names shining on the ground after popping an ember. The silver haired witch formed a wicked grin. ¡°I wonder if any of them will get gender bent into a witch.¡± As the saying went, misery loves company. Skimming through the shop, Sylvia found a familiar item. Blank skill book, 1000 merit points. It appeared the System was looking to move away from quest specific rewards in favor of merit points. Oh. That was interesting. Sylvia could also buy ordinary skill books for 700 merit points. Pity the System only had one. Sylvia clicked into the library to take a gander. Lesser Codex, excellent, 700 merit ¨C this skill book was created by Sylvia Swallows. ¡°How the fuck is that useful?¡± Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. What was the point of buying books she¡¯d already used? Wait. ¡°I see. I earn one merit point every time somebody buys a book I created.¡± ¡­ ¡­ Know what, screw uniqueness. Lady Vallenfelt should recruit a million System bearing witches pronto. That way Sylvia could turn around and buy a thousand blank skill books. He he. Ascent to godhood in one bold move. Actually, come to think of it, why was there only one book in the System library? The silver haired witch stroked her smooth chin. Could it be that the books on wind blade and cultivation were too shit for the System? ¡­ She¡¯d contemplate it later. Mood buoyed, Sylvia closed the System window. The day was starting to look good. Thirty minutes later, Sylvia walked into charm club. -oOo- Elements Within the domain of magic, an element is defined as a type of ether energy, taking the form of a solution, for which pure runes exist. Ether energies can also exist as emulsions or suspensions. These are not elements. Nor are ether solutions for which there are no associated pure runes. Instead, these kinds of energies are known as aspects. There are twenty-four elements. These elements are divided into three domains: Primordial, Life, and Chaos. Elements can be primary, secondary, and advanced. Primary elements exist as pure energies. Secondary elements are solutions generated through the mixture of two primary elements. Advanced elements can only be generated by catalyzing their ether components. Primordial Primary: Wind, Fire, Earth, Water Secondary: Lightning, Metal, Wood, Ice Advanced: Cataclysm, Abyss, Nature, Sky The Primordial domain contains the physical forces. These are energies which produce tangible impact on the universe. Most phantasmal substances contain large helpings of Primordial energy. The number of Primordial elements is twice that of life and chaos. It is also the only domain to have secondary elements and conflicting elements. Of the three domains, Primordial ether is the most abundant. This is particularly true on the major planes, where is makes up around 97% of the ether. Even in the starry void, 75% of the ether is Primordial. Because Primordial ether is extremely common, mages almost exclusively use the Primordial elements for combat. Life and Chaos domain spells are not easily supplemented with ether, meaning that in real world terms the mana cost of these magics is between 2x to 10x that of Primordial magic. Life Primary: Blood, Soul, Psychic Advanced: Mutation, Dream, Anima The Life domain reflects the concepts of life. Blood is the energy of the body and gives birth to ki. Psychic is the energy of the mind and gives birth to mana. Soul is the foundation of immortality, rebirth, and transformation. The actual physical shape of living phantasms is defined by the Primordial domain, melded with abundant Blood elemental essence. On common planes, the Life ether makes up 2.5% of the mix. However, this lack of abundance is deceptive. By hunting and killing phantasmal beasts, life ether can be easily harvested. Life is only rare as a constituent of the atmosphere. Life ether is practically non-existent in the starry void. The Life domain contains the single most feared elements in the netherworld. Soul, Dream, and Mutation all have the ability to affect immortal beings. The Soul element can be used to capture. The Dream element can be used to alter not just the mind, but the very core of one¡¯s being. Mutation can distort the soul¡¯s shape and the body reflected by the code and is thus the source of the netherworld¡¯s most horrible curses. Despite its rarity, Life domain elements are the easiest to nature. A mage¡¯s body, after all, is always a repository of all three forms of ether. In a pinch, this same ether can also be used to fuel spells, though at a brutal burden to the caster. Chaos Primary: Space, Void, Causality Advanced: Realm, Fate, Law The Chaos domain defines the rules of existence. Chaos is the firmament on which all else exists. World logic is born from chaos. So too are the planes themselves. Chaos ether is the rarest of the three domains, making up a tiny fraction of the atmosphere of the planes. In the starry void it is more common, consisting of 25% of the ether, but the density of ether there is a mere tenth of that found on the major worlds. This makes working with Chaos elements difficult, as even condensing the ether to nature a spell can be a challenge. Chaos magics are often weird, being highly abstract. Causality is used to divine knowledge, while Fate can play with cause and effect or even void the logical connection between events. Space defines areas which may be stretched or twisted while Realm can violate the laws of locality allowing for magical gates and teleportation. Void decides what is true and false, whereas Law can be used to rewrite world logic however a mage may wish. Chapter 10 -oOo- Chapter 10 -oOo- It was the 6th day of the 2nd week of Men-Tenebris. Professor Wright¡¯s most recent unit had been on dates and times. The netherworld calendar consisted of 13 months, each with 28 days split into four weeks. Men-Tenebris was the twelfth month, followed by Men-Stella. After that was a single day known as the Festival of Light completing the 365-day year. Understanding this was important. Calling the sixth day of the week Saturday was fine. This translated without issue. However, if Sylvia were instead say ¡®it¡¯s early November¡¯ she¡¯d leave her audience confused. Why? Because spirit speech only carried intent. It wasn¡¯t a calculator. It didn¡¯t do math. Speaking of math. Sylvia started classes on the 1st of Men-Vita, the second month of the year. Which meant she¡¯d been an Academy student for a full ten months. For a thirty-year-old, ten months wasn¡¯t long. But ten months of a new life was enough time to change a lot of things. For instance, Sylvia was enjoying charm club. Yes. That wasn¡¯t a mistake. She was enjoying charm club. ¡°Right! Just like that. Use your ki to keep the essence firm and pound out all ether,¡± Kyna encouraged, gushing with enthusiasm. Bang! Bang! Bang! Riley smashed a doughy substance with glee. Puffs of ether escaped every time she struck. A few feet away, Emily giggled at the blonde¡¯s violence. Of course, Sylvia¡¯s enjoyment had more to do with their current task than a change of attitude. Charm club, as a whole, still sucked balls. Dirty, hairy, disgusting balls. ¡°You¡¯re shaking the whole room.¡± Ingrid huffed in irritation. The purple haired succubus had a rune stencil in hand. With nimble motions, she drew a sigil in midair. Then, with a swirl of her stencil, she pulled the excess energy out making it shrink to third its size. Finally, Ingrid gently pushed the rune through a magiscope. With a crackle, the sigil was emblazoned upon a length of metallic, golden tape. With practiced ease, Ingrid pulled the tape shifting the magiscope one slot to the right. ¡°Sorry, sorry,¡± Riley apologized with a loose grin. The freckled blonde had the presence of mind to ease her ruthless beating. Further down the table, Sylvia was kneading her own doughy lump of wood essence. First she would press it flat. Then she would chant a simple rune structure three to nine times. It wasn¡¯t a spell. Rather, it was a loose peppering of rune quads and quintets. These runes acted like tiny knives, cutting the nether code that defined the original material. When her incantations were done, Sylvia rolled the flattened sheet back into a ball, then worked it flat again. The process was a bit like making bread. It was strange to think the pliable, yellow dough Sylvia was pressing had been a lump of wood fifteen minutes ago. The pink haired faerie floated over to review Sylvia¡¯s performance. ¡°Excellent, Sylvia!¡± Kyna cheered happily. ¡°The texture looks right.¡± ¡°I was about to move on to transmutation,¡± Sylvia agreed. What were they doing? They were making cloth. Fabric. Textiles. If there was one lesson Sylvia had learned in the last ten months, it was to never assume the netherworld obeyed the laws of the material universe. Converting wood into cloth was alchemy. Very practical alchemy. The Timeless Beryl Wilderness had lots of trees, but no plants suitable for direct textile production. So it was either ship in the materials from another plane, or transmute wood locally. And transmutation was cheaper. ¡°¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö¡± Sylvia switched her incantation. She was still casting runes, not spells. This time the patterns were selected to bind to the frayed code while adding the nature of fabric. This was transmutation. Directly modifying the nether code of an object. The trickiest part here was minimizing the consumption of mana. The goal was runes, not energy. Gentle control was the name of the game. Sylvia found the process relaxing. ¡°Good job, Emily!¡± Kyna praised, advancing down the line. ¡°With a bit more practice, you can start with two droms of wood essence.¡± ¡°Mmm,¡± the adorable brunette noised, holding up a square of thick cloth. Emily¡¯s dark green eyes studied the dense fabric. ¡°Do you think we can turn it into a hat? Sylvia loves hats.¡± She totally did¡­ not. Despite not, totally, liking hats, Sylvia peeked in Emily¡¯s direction. Kyna landed on the table, her meter high frame lifted by a pair of pink pumps. The faerie took the material from Emily¡¯s hands, examining it herself. ¡°Well, the quality is about right,¡± Kyna said eventually. ¡°Generally speaking, we should age it for a month first. ~Buttt~, making a hat is a fun diversion.¡± ¡°Then we should make a newsboy cap!¡± Emily said excitedly. ¡°A touch of boyishness to play off Sylvia¡¯s femininity. That¡¯ll really bring out her cuteness, don¡¯t you think?¡± First, Sylvia had no femininity. Any claim otherwise was a malicious lie. Second, Sylvia was starting to find Emily¡¯s obsession with her looks a little creepy. ¡­ Ah, who was she kidding? Emily was just too, too cute to be creepy. Also, hats. Hats were the defacto cr¨¨me de la cr¨¨me of fashion. They couldn¡¯t be topped. Literally. Their superiority was self-evident by their very nature and could never be refuted. As such, Sylvia had no choice but to begrudgingly accept any hat styled offering. But only if it looked good on her. She was Baroness Vallenfelt¡¯s apprentice. Standards were a must. Shoes, on the other hand. Sylvia¡¯s eyes fell on the monstrosities strapped to her feet. Four centimeters of platform. Eighteen centimeters of heel. The shoes Sylvia wore fit deep within fetish territory. Riley had teasingly called them ¡®slutty¡¯. Heather had no humor when she claimed the same. As for how Sylvia ended up with these absurdities? Charm club, Ingrid, and Esmeralda Vallenfelt. Riley and Sylvia had, surprisingly, been able to argue their case in front of Ingrid. Alas, the succubus felt the only reason they shouldn¡¯t wear heels in combat was a lack of proper footwork techniques. Kyna had then promptly decided the best solution to that problem was practice. Thus, their month-long theme was extended into three months, Armed Combat excepted. Which made Emily happy. Mostly because the adorable brunette had, indeed, picked out several cute pairs for Sylvia to wear. The whole affair would¡¯ve ended there, if Sylvia hadn¡¯t opened her stupid mouth in front of Lady Vallenfelt. The baroness had far less sympathy than Ingrid. Indeed, Esmeralda saw no reason a lady shouldn¡¯t be properly attired at all times. Especially in combat. As such, Sylvia found herself imposed with a brand-new set of wardrobe restrictions. Ones that would hold until the day she showed ¡®appropriate appreciation for her appearance¡¯ ¨C whatever the fuck that meant. And that mandate made it back to charm club. Thus, Sylvia found herself stuck wearing high heels. ¡®High¡¯ by Ingrid¡¯s definition that was. At least she¡¯d gotten a martial manual from the fallout. The waltz of flowers. A true manifestation level art. Sadly, whatever joy Sylvia had salvaged had been quickly crushed by months of stumbling around like a bimbo in Armed Combat. ¡°I don¡¯t know, maybe you should try a witch¡¯s hat,¡± Riley said, interrupting the silver haired girl¡¯s recollection. ¡°Sylvia keeps staring at Professor Fischer¡¯s hat. I think she¡¯s planning to steal it.¡± ¡°I am not,¡± Sylvia asserted. What kind of monster would steal a hat? ¡°But if you do make a witch¡¯s hat it¡¯d have to have a crook. And a wide brim. And just the right amount of floppiness.¡± ¡°And there should be an adorable pink ribbon tied around the base,¡± Emily inserted. Sylvia gave the brunette a betrayed look. Why did it always have to be cute and girly? This was a witch¡¯s hat. It should be dark, edgy, and mysterious. Bonus points if it doubled as a wizard¡¯s hat. Emily stuck out her tongue in retort. Tch. Emily didn¡¯t even deny plotting against her. Sylvia¡¯s focus returned to the wood essence in hand. Squeezing it flat, she chanted a litany of runes before rolling it up. The physical repetition was exhausting. Because the crust had been stripped, leaving the essence bare, Sylvia was forced to hold the core in place with her ki. This constant cycling wore down her stamina. At Sylvia¡¯s side, Riley was still pounding her wood essence. Not because she needed to. The ether had long dispersed. Riley, Sylvia knew, hated the alchemical component of the crafting. Ingrid noticed. ¡°Stop dithering,¡± she said sharply. Riley looked sheepish. ¡°Hu-la-fo, hu-la-fo.¡± The blonde¡¯s short chant dragged compared to Sylvia¡¯s fast incantations. Sylvia empathized with Riley¡¯s reluctance. Casting hundreds of runes was already a pain when Sylvia threw them out in quartets and triplets. The silver haired witch didn¡¯t envy Riley, who had to cast them one by one. Thank you blank skill books. The loss of Sunday reading time had put a dent in Sylvia¡¯s progress, but the creep of her wit and spirit attributes paired with renewed vigor had filled that gap. In the last seven months, Sylvia had scrounged up another four books. The first had been burnt polishing her incantation speed. It didn¡¯t make much of a difference with wind blade, but now she could cast most spells at speed. After a few minutes of practice, anyway. The second book was used to learn arithmancy. This didn¡¯t provide Sylvia with any immediate advantage, but it was a necessary expense to build her foundation. The remaining books Sylvia held in reserve. There were too many things to learn. Arithmancy could eat another five books, easy. Fast casting deserved at least four. Then there was the Great Codex, with its three-thousands runes. Common magic. Combat magic. Enchantment. Spell theory. Alchemy. The mysteries of nether code. Oh, and multi-elemental magic. The advanced elements. The seventy-two aspects. And a wide swath of advanced spell casting techniques. And that was just the magical side of things. Sylvia was ahead of her class by a large margin, but she had too many gaps to compete with the oldest students. Plop. A hat draped over Sylvia¡¯s head. The silver haired witch found herself plunged into darkness. She cautiously removed her left hand to adjust the brim. Doughy wood essence wiggled, but Sylvia held it firm with her ki and right arm. ¡°How is it?¡± Emily asked. ¡°A bit big,¡± Sylvia answered, returning her left hand to her work. She wasn¡¯t skilled enough yet to ignore distractions. ¡°You did say you wanted it big,¡± Riley commented. Sylvia gave the blonde a look. ¡°A big brim,¡± she explained. ¡°Not a band wide enough to swallow my head.¡± ¡°Stop grumbling,¡± Kyna huffed. ¡°I only had five minutes to shape it.¡± Beating her wings, Kyna flew a meter closer. Sylvia felt the brush of the faerie¡¯s physical energy as she expertly tightened the band, so the hat sat neatly on Sylvia¡¯s head. ¡°Shit,¡± Riley suddenly cursed. Sylvia¡¯s eyes shifted. Essence slipped from Riley¡¯s wooden dough. The blonde tried to salvage the damage, using her ki to wrap the essence tight. It didn¡¯t work. Essence continued to melt into ether, pouring through the gaps like smoke from a fried computer. ¡°~Aahaaa~,¡± Kyna noised cutely. ¡°It¡¯s spoiled. Too many casts of the Hulafo pattern and not enough Talnami. Nothing you can do. You have to start over from the beginning.¡± Riley¡¯s head hung, her bright green eyes unusually dull. ¡°You can do it,¡± Emily tried to cheer. Sylvia took pity on her. ¡°You can have mine. I just finished the transmutation part. All you have to do is spread it thin and let the essence breath ether until a crust is formed.¡± The last step, in Sylvia¡¯s opinion, was the worst. Before she could withdraw her ki, the newly formed cloth essence had to stabilize. This took around an hour, if she was lazy. If Sylvia brewed earth and water to form wood, she could cut this time to twelve minutes. ¡°No. She starts from the beginning,¡± Ingrid commanded. ¡°Let them have a little fun, Ingrid,¡± Kyna returned, hand on her hips. The red-eyed woman stood, lifting the golden ribbon. Walking across the room, Ingrid sat at a wheel, gently feeding the metal tape into the mouth. The succubus confidently melded her ki into the strip. The wheel spun. With nimble hands, Ingrid stretched the tape into a thin, golden thread. ¡°A five drom bolt of cloth sells for fifty soli,¡± Ingrid said, winding the thread around a spindle. ¡°The wood essence to make it costs twenty-five. If you¡¯re skilled, you can sell five hundred bolts a year. Accounting for losses, that¡¯s ten-thousand soli in wages. ¡°Learn to manufacture clothing or higher grades of cloth and you can double that. Learn to enchant and an income touching one-hundred-thousand isn¡¯t impossible. Charm club isn¡¯t just here to teach you to be charming. The club is here to teach you how to make money.¡± Kyna sighed. ¡°Ingrid loves money.¡± ¡°She¡¯s just looking out for us,¡± Emily countered. Sylvia had to agree with Emily. The faerie¡¯s education was sponsored. She had nothing to worry about. Ingrid, like the rest of them, was learning on debt. Ending up in a brothel wasn¡¯t just a cynical possibility, it was Ingrid¡¯s first life in the netherworld. Also, anyone who doesn¡¯t love money is sick in the head. ¡°I know. I know,¡± Riley groaned, the freckled blonde fished a lump of wood from the crate on the other side of the room and dropped it on the table. ¡°It¡¯s just exhausting.¡± ¡°They wouldn¡¯t call it work if it wasn¡¯t,¡± Sylvia quipped. The door to the club opened. Sylvia¡¯s head turned, floppy hat bouncing. At the entryway stood a witch. A senior in navy blue robes and a sapphire dress. The woman had dark red hair pulled back in a ponytail. ¡°I¡¯m looking for Sylvia Swallows,¡± she said. With silver eyes, the senior scanned the room. Sylvia raised a hand. ¡°That would be me.¡± Redheaded witch frowned. ¡°You¡¯re a junior.¡± ¡°I¡¯m a first year,¡± Sylvia clarified. ¡°Does it matter?¡± The senior gave her a weird look. ¡°I suppose it doesn¡¯t,¡± the redhead answered with a shrug. ¡°I need you to come with me.¡± ¡°Can I have a minute?¡± Sylvia asked, glancing at her friends. ¡°Sure.¡± The older witch closed the door. Sylvia nodded to Riley. ¡°Looks like you get to take over after all.¡± ¡°It¡¯d be a waste not to,¡± Ingrid agreed. ¡°But next time, start from the beginning.¡± Having received approval, Riley abandoned her lump of wood in favor of Sylvia¡¯s essence. Sylvia¡¯s ki gave way to Riley¡¯s as the blonde claimed control. Hands freed, Sylvia lifted the hat from her head. It still had the grainy yellow color of the wood essence Emily started with. Emily took the hat with a pout. ¡°Wheedle one for me while I¡¯m gone,¡± Sylvia suggested conspiratorially. ¡°I will,¡± Emily replied with restored enthusiasm. ¡°I can hear you,¡± Kyna groused. Giving her friends a wave, Sylvia stepped out the door. The senior witch leaned lazily against the wall of the second floor hall. Sylvia felt a stab of envy at the girl¡¯s relaxed demeanor. Charm club¡¯s theme was posture a few months back and Lady Vallenfelt always had a sharp word ready for even the slightest impropriety. If Sylvia were lax, who knew what atrocity the Academy would inflict? Her shoes were already a source of abominable horror. ¡°So,¡± Sylvia began. ¡°What¡¯s this about?¡± The redhead straightened up. ¡°You¡¯ll find out soon enough.¡± Sylvia followed the senior down the stairs and into a room in the west wing. The room was large and empty. Stone floors with no seats and no desks. Four women milled about, all wearing the same sapphire dress. Sylvia didn¡¯t recognize any of them. First year witches rarely mixed with the senior students. The sole exception was during club hours. Abigail Wright, however, Sylvia knew. The professor stood to the side of the room. She stepped forward, voice rising as the silver haired witch walked in. ¡°Alright. Looks like everyone is here,¡± Professor Wright said. ¡°But before we begin. Let''s get some names. Tiffany, Brianna, Faith, Josephine, Piper, and Sylvia.¡± The brown haired teacher pointed at each girl in turn. The redhead guide was Piper. The rest of the names, Sylvia strove to hold onto. If she was lucky, she¡¯d remember who was who. All those points put into wit had to be worth something. Quite a few eyes stopped on her. As the only witch in a green dress, Sylvia was massively out of place. ¡°We¡¯ll do a meet and greet later,¡± Professor Wright said. ¡°On to the main topic. Every seven years, just after the Festival of Light, Demon King Vilhelm Codrin hosts the Young Demon¡¯s Tournament.¡± Three girls nodded. Ninth years, Sylvia guessed. ¡°The tournament is an opportunity for talented newcomers. Slaves can be freed. Debts can be erased. Crimes can be forgiven. Those with skill can use the tournament to overturn their fate. Politically speaking, it¡¯s a method the nobles use to separate the wheat from the chaff. The goal is to find demons worth investing in while providing the public with a circus.¡± No need for bread. Demons didn¡¯t have to eat. ¡°The tournament consists of two major divisions,¡± the brown haired instructor continued. ¡°The minors and the majors. Only demons under the age of ten can participate in the minors, while any demon with less than fifty years can fight in the majors. A tournament for the kids and the adults, if you¡¯d prefer, though in the noble¡¯s eyes we¡¯re all children.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Abigail grinned. The seniors were not amused. Sylvia rolled her eyes. The baroness was just under two centuries, by netherworld reckoning, and she was the youngest noble in the Timeless Beryl Wilderness. ¡°As you¡¯ve probably guessed, everyone in this room has been selected for the minors tournament. Since this is a display of the Academy¡¯s prestige, we¡¯ll be providing special lessons for the next two months. Classes are on Sunday. Tutoring will extend for a full three periods.¡± In other words, six hours. Basically what Sylvia had been suffering since becoming the dean¡¯s apprentice. A hand rose. Brianna, a witch with snow-white hair, spoke with a tone that was all business. ¡°I¡¯m president of the hunter¡¯s club. We delve the Daylight Forest every other Sunday. Is attendance obligatory?¡± ¡°No,¡± Abigail answered simply. ¡°But anyone who skips won¡¯t participate in the tournament. We understand that you¡¯re focused on graduation right now. And we won¡¯t force you if you¡¯re busy. Instead, we¡¯re rewarding participation. Anyone who completes the Sunday course will earn three academic credits. Pass the preliminaries and the Academy will sweeten the deal by taking ten-thousand soli off your debt.¡± That set off a wave of murmurs. As a first year student, debt and graduation were distant things. For senior students, they were front and center. The academy had six periods a week, one of which was dedicated to clubs. Each class granted one academic credit a quarter. Meaning the max any witch could earn in a year was twenty. A hedge witch certificate demanded sixty credits. Students could obtain one after three years. Herself excluded, everyone in this room had it in the bag. This was important. With a hedge witch certificate alone a girl could earn enough to pay off her debts. But that was just the beginning. Six years for a novice witch certificate and nine for a starlight witch certificate. The former would score a student an express ticket to Hell¡¯s middle class. The latter earned respect even outside the Timeless Beryl Wilderness. All of this sounded simple. It wasn¡¯t. Credits were lost whenever a student scored a poor on a quarterly test. Even one missing credit, meant one more year to secure the required number. In practice, most students became hedge witches after completing their fourth year. Normal students had a shot at becoming a novice witch after eight. If they made it that far. Upon entering their fifth year, juniors became seniors. At this point, attendance was no longer guaranteed. The Academy would decide each year¡¯s enrollment based upon a combination of grades and debt. Debt had a hard ceiling of 400,000 soli, half of which was filled the moment a starlight witch was born. As a year of classes incurred a cost of 25,000 soli, the money would run out quick. Particularly when the capitalist scumbags were throwing in additional debt to cover lost books, uniforms, unapproved deaths, and so on. To make it to ninth year, much less tenth, a witch either needed to earn money or consistently score superb on their quarterly tests. The witches in the room with Sylvia were definitely over achievers. Having a starlight witch certificate meant graduating with honors. And that meant respect. It meant Baroness Vallenfelt might offer the girl a chance to become a retainer, washing away her debt entirely. To Sylvia¡¯s seniors, those three credits were extremely enticing. It was hard to make through all the years without fucking up. Pretty much everyone scored poor once. The horrible professor, Roisin Owsley, was a teacher at this Academy. Not to mention the unfortunately sods who got iced at the start of Isabella¡¯s tests and tournaments. As for Sylvia? None of this had anything to do with her. Sylvia¡¯s debt had already been waived, and being the dean¡¯s apprentice was worth more than ten graduation certificates. But training for a tournament sounded more fun than practicing her etiquette. Tiffany raised a hand. The girl was tiny, with deep blue hair reaching her waist. ¡°How does the tournament work?¡± ¡°The minors consists of two rounds,¡± Professor Wright explained, holding up a pair of fingers. ¡°A preliminary followed by team survival. Anyone that makes it through the second round of the minors can bypass the major¡¯s preliminary and compete against their seniors directly. But I strongly suggest you don¡¯t. Glenda, though, will probably enjoy turning you into a flambee should you have the guts. ¡°The preliminary round is simple. You¡¯ll be set against a random opponent and fight a one-on-one battle to the death. Win and you¡¯re eligible. But eligibility doesn¡¯t mean you make it to the next round. For that you have to be selected by a team captain. If you aren¡¯t, you can keep fighting additional rounds to prove your worth. If you win five rounds in the preliminary, you can take a captain¡¯s slot. Should all the slots be filled, you can challenge any existing captain for their spot.¡± ¡°What happens if we run into someone we can¡¯t beat?¡± This time it was Piper who spoke. ¡°Then you¡¯re out of luck. If you lose, you¡¯re out of the tournament. It doesn¡¯t matter if it¡¯s your first match or your sixth,¡± Abigail said. ¡°The good news is that you girls only need to win once. Skilled mages are on the top of every captain¡¯s recruitment list. ¡°A word of advice. Don¡¯t aim for a captain¡¯s slot. We¡¯re too squishy for head-on-head battles. Five fights in a row is too much of a risk. If you want to be captain, fight it out here. Lady Vallenfelt has the right to gift one person the position directly, and she¡¯ll be handing it over to whoever performs best in this course.¡± Brianna turned, furious eyes falling on Piper. Piper returned a disdainful look. Sparks were already flying. Sylvia hoped nepotism wasn¡¯t in the cards. The silver haired girl didn¡¯t want to sooth feelings if a more worthy girl was wronged. ¡°We¡¯ll be brushing up on your dueling skills to help get you through the preliminary, but our main focus will be the survival round. ¡°The survival round will be fought by twenty teams of five. That makes for one hundred participants. All contestants will be placed in the Twilight Forest, near the River of Fire about fifty kilometers south of Port Blaze. As you know, the Twilight Forest is in the strip between the daylight zone and the night zone of the Timeless Beryl Wilderness meaning it contains phantasms resident of both territories. ¡°However, the wildlife won¡¯t be the biggest danger. The survival round lasts for three days. Victory is decided by points. Each team will start with a flag worth five points. An additional thirty flags will be added to the field during the survival round, giving the teams something to fight over. The more flags you have, the higher your score. ¡°However, there are also penalties. Your team will lose four points every time a member dies. Hence, the word, survival. The name of the game is patience, strategy, and judgment. Losing a team member doesn¡¯t just mean losing points. It means it¡¯ll be tough to stay in the game. ¡°One thing to note, you will be observed during the survival round. The best plays will be projected into the sky above Orasul Lunii. Fourteen years ago, we had a girl who didn¡¯t realize and decided to take a roll in the hay. The Baroness was livid.¡± Brianna lifted her hand again. ¡°What¡¯s the payout for the winner?¡± ¡°The team with the highest score takes home 100,000 soli. Second and third place get 50,000. That¡¯s for each member of the team, dead or alive. Captains get double. Not all of that will go into your pocket. The Academy will take ninety percent and use it to cover your debt.¡± ¡°What happens if we tie?¡± A witch with pinkish purple hair asked the question. Faith, if Sylvia remember correctly. ¡°Then the teams will fight it out for a better position,¡± Professor Wright explained. ¡°And, if by some miracle, all twenty teams tie, that won¡¯t change. The survival round will be followed by a free for all that lasts until three teams are left standing.¡± No matter what, the audience was going to see blood. Hell loved murder and mayhem. It was right up there with their other favorite past times, sex and drugs. To be entirely fair, Hell¡¯s entertainment sector was lacking. The barbarians of the netherworld didn¡¯t have video games, much less an internet to shit post on. Also, their works of fiction were utter garbage. Sylvia had heard that they had some pretty incredible plays and orchestras, though. Not that she¡¯d find them in a backwater world like the Timeless Beryl Wilderness. ¡°What are we allowed to bring in?¡± Brianna asked. ¡°Standard tournament rules. Whatever you can fit in your soul,¡± Professor Wright answered. ¡°The only exception is consumables. They¡¯re forbidden to be brought in direct, but you are allowed to make them during the fight. But I¡¯d recommend against it during the preliminary round.¡± What kind of freak would try to brew a potion in the middle of a duel? ¡°Anything else?¡± Abigail asked when the silence dragged. ¡°I have a question.¡± The gentle voice came from Josephine, a witch whose brown hair spilled down to her calves in beautiful curls. ¡°Who will pay the resurrection costs?¡± ¡°The Academy will cover all deaths related to training, as well as any resurrection fee incurred during the tournament. That¡¯s legitimate training activities only, so don¡¯t be randomly killing each other during practice,¡± Professor Wright answered. ¡°The Academy will also provide staves and robes for all participants. Nothing expensive, mind you.¡± ¡°One last question,¡± Brianna said. Her vivid, violet eyes turned on the silver haired witch. ¡°Why is she here?¡± The brown haired teacher grinned. ¡°Same reason you are,¡± Abigail said. ¡°Because she¡¯s one of the best in the Academy. For this tournament, we scrounged up all the witches who were competent with combat magic and who¡¯d entered ¨C or had a shot of entering ¨C the first consolidation.¡± ¡°Eh!¡± Tiffany¡¯s hand went to her mouth, aquamarine eyes wide. ¡°What? She¡¯s only a third year,¡± Brianna said, disbelieving. ¡°A first year, actually,¡± Piper corrected. Sylvia shifted uncomfortably. While she kinda liked the praise, she¡¯d rather not be put in the spotlight. Faith¡¯s blue eyes peered at her curiously. Josephine¡¯s void filled gaze joined in. Where Faith showed a friendly smile, Josephine¡¯s expression was as flat as a doll¡¯s. Brianna whirled toward the redheaded Piper, her white hair fluttering. ¡°Is that a joke?¡± she demanded, threateningly. ¡°I pulled her out of charm club,¡± Piper said, amused by the snow haired woman¡¯s anger. ¡°With the faerie?¡± Brianna questioned, her tone approaching a sneer. ¡°Can she really fight?¡± Sylvia scowled. ¡°¡ö¡ö¡± A wind blade rippled, condensed air cutting past Brianna¡¯s head. The senior witch leaned, her vivid, violet eyes snapping to the silver haired witch. ¡°I can fight,¡± Sylvia asserted with irritation. ¡°Wind blade is a twelve rune spell,¡± Faith murmured. ¡°Two syllables,¡± Piper noted. ¡°I counted.¡± Tiffany clapped her hands. ¡°Wow. I don¡¯t think I can cast that fast.¡± ¡°As I said, everyone here is competent with combat magic,¡± Professor Wright interrupted. ¡°If you¡¯re all done with the questions, I was thinking you girls could have a little spar and get to know each other. But keep it friendly. No killing.¡± With that said, Abigail retired to the far side of the room. A duel that wasn¡¯t to the death? Sylvia scoffed. Did Professor Wright think this was Heaven? Brianna approached roughly. Sylvia kept her gaze steady, ready for the challenge. ¡°Join my hunter¡¯s club,¡± the witch demanded. Brianna¡¯s gaze dipped. ¡°And lose those shoes. They¡¯re ridiculous.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t switch clubs this year,¡± Sylvia rejected. And yes, her shoes were, indeed, ridiculous. ¡°But I can try next year.¡± ¡°I think they¡¯re cute,¡± Tiffany cut in with a smile. The blue haired senior clapped hands eagerly. ¡°I heard a rumor that a junior is visiting Vallenfelt Manor. Is that you?¡± Sylvia nodded. ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s me,¡± she confirmed. No sense hiding it. ¡°Explorers is more suitable for a junior,¡± Piper suggested. ¡°Less fighting. More adventure. Plus, we have brooms.¡± Sylvia¡¯s pastel pink eyes lit up. Brianna¡¯s gaze flashed to the redheaded senior. ¡°You and me. Right now.¡± ¡°You want to throw down?¡± Piper jeered. ¡°We both know who¡¯s taking that captain¡¯s slot.¡± In silent agreement, Piper and Brianna advanced to the opposite side of the room. Brianna planted herself seven meters from the redhead. ¡°Since those two are going to play, who else wants to join in?¡± Tiffany asked. Her aquamarine eyes scanned the remaining three. ¡°I don¡¯t mind,¡± Faith volunteered. The two took off, leaving Sylvia with Josephine. Josephine gazed at her, eyes like fragments of void. Deep in the black, faint specks of light shimmered. ¡°We can watch the others,¡± Josephine said, her tone as mild and expressionless as her face. ¡°I want to see how I stand up,¡± Sylvia replied. Short Dumas, all of Sylvia¡¯s battles had been in Armed Combat class. Her peers could put up a pretty good fight, if Sylvia limited herself to the spear. But the moment magic came out, they¡¯d fold. Sylvia¡¯s casting speed on another level. First years didn¡¯t stand a chance. The silver haired witch wanted to know exactly how good the older witches were. And she wanted to experience it herself. ¡°Okay,¡± Josephine accepted. ¡°Then please make the first move.¡± Not one for ceremony, Sylvia started with a bang. ¡°¡ö¡ö, ¡ö, ¡ö¡± Wind blade¡¯s incantation consisted of twelve runes, seven when chained. The first spell fell from her lips in a calm six, six. The next two were released in a seven rune percussion. Three blades summoned in a single second. The first two curved. That last flew straight. A simple combination. Any of Sylvia¡¯s classmates would¡¯ve died to one blade, much less three. ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡± With four syllables the brown haired witch drew a stretched oval of rippling water. The spell caught two wind blades before exploding into droplets. With a lifeless expression, Josephine evaded the third. Because the room was small, the last blade had no chance to boomerang back. Water shield. A ten rune spell. That put Josephine¡¯s casting speed at two or three runes per a syllable. In this, Sylvia had an advantage. Casting speed was most directly measured as runes incanted per an action. This wasn¡¯t absolute. The rate at which a mage spoke, the velocity of their mana, and the alacrity of their reactions all played a role. This was particularly true when a spell was condensed to two syllables or fewer. So, while simple calculations said Sylvia¡¯s speed was twice that of Josephine¡¯s, in the real world the gap was a fair bit smaller. But smaller didn¡¯t mean small. Even accounting for compression at the limits, Sylvia¡¯s advantage was large enough that she could directly overwhelm the doll-like witch. She chose not to. When no spell followed, Josephine titled her head slightly. ¡°You are very fast,¡± she said, voice like a sweet whisper. ¡°I¡¯ve had a lot of practice,¡± Sylvia replied. Fifteen-hundred hours worth. ¡°Your turn,¡± Sylvia offered. ¡°Please be careful,¡± Josephine said lightly. Then she incanted. ¡°¡ö¡ö ¡ö¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö ¡ö¡ö¡± Fire ether swirled. The brown haired witch condensed a blazing ball before lobbing it high. Flame Shot. Wait. Sylvia¡¯s eyes narrowed. A variation. Sylvia sensed the faint wind ether curling around the construct. The orb flew with preternatural agility. A moment later, Sylvia picked up the flow of earth ether. That combo. What a classic. Sylvia side stepped, high heels clicking with her nimble dance. Not a moment too soon. A giant stalagmite burst from the ground below. Sharp, crystalline shards reached out like grasping branches, twisting as they sought the silver haired girl. ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö~¡ö.¡± Even as she moved, Sylvia completed a leisurely chant. The blazing ball plunged, chasing Sylvia¡¯s evasion. Water shield was casually chained into water burst. The moment the liquid barrier formed, it violently exploded, sending torrents of water through Josephine¡¯s flame. ¡°Nice try,¡± Sylvia offered. Sylvia didn¡¯t learn the waltz of flowers for nothing. The waltz of flowers was a ki art emphasizing mobility and lightness. When taken to its limit, it let the practitioner walk on air. Sylvia was far from this level. With inner flow, it was impossible to realize the art¡¯s concept. At most, Sylvia could use the technique to distribute her strength, improving agility and precision. Which, when combined with the netherworld¡¯s inconsistent physics, allowed her to fight comfortably in heels. Yes. It was, indeed, an extremely humiliating skill for a ¡®man¡¯ to cultivate. Sigh. ¡°Should I have another go at it?¡± Sylvia asked, hiding her lament. Expressionless, Josephine nodded. Taking a moment to think, Sylvia decided her next combo. -oOo- Alchemy Alchemy is a process of transforming a phantasmal substance by means of editing the nether code. This is distinct from shaping, which modifies the outward character without changing the underlying material. Nether Code Nether code is the netherworld equivalent of DNA. The main difference being that nether code can be found in any essence, living or unliving, whereas DNA is limited to biological creatures. The presence of nether code is what separates essence from ether, allowing the ether to congeal into stable forms and shapes. Nether code consists of at least one string of runes. Simple essences consist of a few thousand runes. Complex essences can contain millions of runes. Studying nether code is difficult, not only because the runes are very small, but also because nether code contains an extremely wide variety of runes. What¡¯s more, witches often draw their runes in simple, stable, discrete units. Runes in nature are tiny, twisted, tangled, moving messes, often demanding special magics or tools to read their sequence. Purification Purification is the process of reducing an essence into a standardized form. This allows the resulting substance to be used in well known alchemical recipes. The purification process is unique to each essence type. For instance, wood essence from the beryl oak requires a slightly different purification approach than the helheim pine. While purification can be done by hand, professional alchemists more often use specialized equipment. This allows an essence to be much more consistently reduced. Just as importantly, it eliminates the need to contain that essence with ki lest it dissolve into the ether. Transmutation Transmutation is the process of changing one essence into another by adding runes or incurring a reaction. This can be done through incantation, creating enchanted tools to steadily release the desired runes, or by form of an etheric reaction. Certain types of transmutation overlap with the art of smelting. Synthesis Synthesis is the extremity of alchemy. This is the technique of creating essence from pure ether. Even synthesizing simple materials is difficult, as this requires incanting millions of runes. Because of this, alchemists are always looking for tools and process chains that allow the substance to be transmuted instead. Despite this, there remain materials which can only be produced through synthesis. Aetheric gold is the most common such essence, the creation of which is viewed as a symbol of alchemical attainment. Chapter 11 -oOo- Chapter 11 -oOo- ¡®Sylvia¡¯ hung in midair. Over the last eleven months it had become natural to think of ¡®herself¡¯ as a silver haired witch. Yet here, in the ambiguous world of the soul, there was no Sylvia. There was no Eric either. ¡®She¡¯ was a shapeless consciousness. A disembodied notion viewing a scene. But it was necessary to think of ¡®herself¡¯ in some manner or another and ¡®Sylvia¡¯ had become habit. So Sylvia, she was. Souls were strange things. They had neither size nor shape. The foundation of the soul existed without ether, though the soul as a whole was ethereal. Every soul was a realm onto itself. A universe separate from both the material world and the netherworld. The substance of a soul could be twisted, torn, and transformed yet its fundamental constituents could never be reduced. Did that mean existence was eternal? That a person¡¯s being would continue even after the soul melted into Unus Mundus? Those were questions far and away from Sylvia. A philosophical preponderance best saved for the ancient demons reaching the end of their afterlives. Her focus was more concrete. Though a soul¡¯s nature was amorphous, there existed a kind of substructure. All souls in the nether had three layers: outer, inner, and nucleus. As for how these were perceived, this differed by the soul and the mind that viewed it. What Sylvia saw was sky. Endless blue surrounded her, hued with faint silver light. The air was thick with congealed essence, the result of her accumulated levels. At the world¡¯s edge lay a boundary of shadow. Not void. The external. The unknowable. For who can say anything exists except for themselves? Toward the center lay a swirl of clouds. A churning, white sphere veiled by deep mist. The roiling fog swelled as it passed over hidden shapes, teasing with hints of what might lay beyond. The inner layer and membrane. The space that contained much of what made Sylvia, Sylvia. And within this would rest a kernel. The nucleus. The firmament on which all was built. The nucleus held her nether code. The runic DNA that defined her shape and form. From this code was spun runic chains. If Sylvia focused, she could see strands swimming through the sky, as soft and as hardy as human hair. Wiggling worms carrying the information that defined life. Far more obvious were the foreign objects floating in the outer layer. A silver bag orbited the swirling sphere. Hundreds of coin danced in the silver hued sky. A pitiful display of Sylvia¡¯s poverty. ¡°Time to get started.¡± Two months ago, Sylvia had hit level one-hundred. Since then, she¡¯d been preparing for her break through. Consolidation, the first step of ascension. Class advancement as her System named it. There were many things a demon had to do before they could consolidate. Lady Vallenfelt had taught her thoroughly. How to project her consciousness. The faults, follies and mistakes. The means and methods of recovery. Sylvia wasn¡¯t sure how much applied to her. The System, after all, offered a simple rank up button. But after learning all the ways consolidation could go wrong, the silver haired girl intended to do it right. She waved a hand. A surge of will swept the world. Her distant bag was caught. With a flick it was sent tumbling beyond the bounds of existence. After, she stretched her consciousness. The sky rippled, forming a palm as broad as a planet. With it Sylvia caught the scattered coins. Ting-a-ling-ling. Coins rattled on a stone floor outside her soul. Faint and muted. There were five steps to consolidation. Compress. Congeal. Implant. Incubate. Communion. Most demons failed their first attempt. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for a denizen to fail thrice. Depending on the nature of that failure, the consequences could range from irritating to severe. Scanning her soul one last time, Sylvia opened a window.
Class Advancement: Common Witch [x] Level: 100 / 100 [x] Experience: 10,000 / 10,000 Please confirm to initiate class advancement from Apprentice Witch to Common Witch. The class advancement process will require between 2 and 4 hours. During this process, all System features will be locked. The User may remain conscious during this time, but heavy exertion should be avoided for your safety. Initiate Advancement / Cancel
¡°You¡¯ve been doing a good job lately, so I¡¯ll let you have a go,¡± she told the window. Sylvia drew in a breath. Her nerves sung with fear and excitement. ¡°Initiate Advancement,¡± she commanded. The blue window squiggled then shut off. Words rang in her soul. Soundless. Invisible. An echo akin to a dream or a memory. Even though heard instead of seen, she felt as though she were reading the text off a monospaced monitor. Ascertaining security¡­ ¡­ scanning ¡­ scanning ¡­ scanning ¡­ external security confirmed. ¡­ internal security confirmed. ¡­ no informational threats found. The world shuddered. Vhumm. Vhumm. Vhumm. With a deep, mechanical resonance, the inner layer of her soul stirred. Still, misty air began to whip and whirl. The white clouds obscuring her soul¡¯s center picked up pace. Faster and faster. As the shroud sped, it began to tear. Brass and steel glinted beneath the cover. The rip grew broader, revealing plates and rivets. Tubes with yawning mouths like horns and trumpets. Then the veil fell completely. Sylvia¡¯s inner membrane was revealed in all its grandeur. A great machine, akin to a mechanical heart. Thick brass pipes wrapped around it, breathing essence and ether. Veins and arteries pulsed. Thumm. Thumm. Thumm. The world beat with a steady, single percussion rhythm. Each gasp made the outer layer of her soul reverberate. Light glinted. From small points on the metal shell lasers were born. The beams swept the outer layer with a vertical sheet of whipping red. Crap. Sylvia surged back. Her consciousness slipped through the outer membrane an instant before the wave could roll over her. Scanning for foreign matter¡­ ¡­ no foreign matter found. Reviewing membrane integrity¡­ ¡­ integrity is at 99.87%. Words scrolled through her mind. After scanning twice, the lights turned off. Cautiously, Sylvia slid back in from the dark. TONNG! TONNG! The metal resonance sounded again, this time powerful and heavy. A noise like a giant bolt being thrown. With a deep, metallic groan the sphere split into eight parts. Sylvia relaxed. ¡°Either, I was worried about nothing or the System is kind of dumb,¡± she said, lambasting her reaction. Or, more likely, the System¡¯s security features neglected their User. In which case¡­. Sylvia eyes narrowed. ¡°This might be an opportunity.¡± The inner layer of Sylvia¡¯s soul had always been guarded by that white cloud. Despite numerous tries, the silver haired witch had failed to pierce it. She knew it was possible to reach beyond. Baroness Vallenfelt had taken samples of Sylvia¡¯s nether code. But had the dean truly seen Sylvia¡¯s nucleus? Or had Lady Vallenfelt seen what the System wanted her to see? Summoning her courage, Sylvia flew forward. Her consciousness slipped through the yawning crack. The heart was hollow. A shell of wires and steel. Within, Sylvia found her true core. Bulbous. Amorphous. Her nucleus was a dark patch of wiggling void. Inside this pulsating frame were millions of orbs. Cells shifting and twisting, like eyes rolling upon each other inside a jar. Thick cables were jacked into the unstable sludge. The wires split as they spread through the core, like the roots of a great tree. The System. At least, the System as Sylvia conceptualized its existence. Sylvia gazed up, tracing the wires. Overhead lingered the essential components of the mechanical heart. Large machines and unfathomable modules. The rest of the shell was still spreading. Soul essence seethed inward, bringing with it silvery light. As the illumination reached in through gaps, black was transformed into deep, brilliant blue. Her nucleus, however, remained as dark as night. ¡°Do I see the System because this is the System?¡± Sylvia mused. ¡°Or do I see a System because I expect there to be a System?¡± What was real and what was illusion was hard to ascertain in the realm cast by the self. With a bare ripple, the eight fragments of the shell slipped through her outer membrane. Lightning crackled. Thick streams jumped between the fragments, forming jittery ropes. Five bolts connected each adjacent piece of shell. The crisscrossing energy formed a net. Please stand by for compression in: ...3 ...2 ...1 Her soul contracted. The outer membrane squeezed in, pressured by the eight shell fragments. The atmosphere thickened, congealing into luminescent mist. The air grew sticky. It clung to her consciousness, making her feel stuffy and sluggish. Her soul continued to shrink. The eight fragments closed until there was naught but lightning filled seams. An invisible wave continued the crush. Narrowing. Constricting. The space shrank until mist turned into rain then rain into lake. Compression. Sylvia¡¯s System had carried out the first step of consolidation with textbook perfection. Compression was the first test of talent. Just as human skin varied in its character and consistency, so too did the outer membrane of the soul. Some were cracked, thin or weak. Others were flawless and firm. When the soul filled with essence, it would leak through the faults. When it compressed, these weaknesses would be strained to their breaking point. In some cases, the outer membrane would rupture. Soul essence would spew out in a flood. And this was far from the worst failure. After compression, the next step was to congeal. Pleased with the System¡¯s actions, Sylvia waited to see how it would carry this out. A hose fell from the mechanical components overhead. It wiggled like a tentacle, its mouth finding a valve attached to Sylvia¡¯s nucleus. The System inhaled. Liquid was drawn up the tube. Thwop, thwop, th-th-thowp. Cells were sucked in with the inky substance. They flowed up the hose and entered the machine above. ¡°Why are you?¡± Sylvia noised, startled. Her manner grew tense and cautious. When congealing soul essence, nucleoplasm from the true core was required. But, the cells were not to be touched before the third step ¨C Implant. Careless of Sylvia¡¯s rising anxiety, the System pumped the nucleoplasm into a transparent sack. Then the great pipes of the mechanical heart trumpeted. The sound reverberated through her entire soul. Throat cleared, the machine drank deep. The liquid soul essence drained from the compressed sphere only to pour into the pouch. There it mixed with darkness, congealing into a dense gel. As the soul essence drained, the sack inflated like a balloon. Five deformed cells floated inside, feasting eagerly on the energies. When they ate their fill, they divided. Once. Twice. Thrice. The fourth step. Incubate. The System was carrying out three steps in tandem. ¡°Are you insane!¡± Sylvia shouted in horror. Each of the five steps came with their own risk. The nuclear membrane could be damaged, or the false nucleus might rupture. In either case, the surrounding soul essence would be spoiled and would have to be discarded. Neither of these were of great concern. Sylvia felt that on both matters the System would never make a mistake. After all, there was a valve jammed into her true core. That was some Baron Harkonnen bullshit. No, what frightened Sylvia was the worst failure. A bad egg. Before the cells were implanted they had to be examined. Afterwards, their replication was to be carefully guided. During incubation, the contained nether code would mutate and transform. More often than not, the code would express new and favorable traits. But when a bad egg was created, what emerged would be crippling defects. And fixing them, once consolidation was complete, was all but impossible. ¡°Garbage machine,¡± Sylvia ground out. The silver haired witch flew up and gave the box a good kick. ¡°Stop! I said stop!¡± The System stopped. But only briefly. Initiating code optimization¡­ The clinical words echoed in her psyche. No sooner were they writ than did a series of cables shot from the machine. Wires punched through the transparent sack, then branched out. Thin, nearly invisible, threads of copper penetrated each cell. Lightning flashed. In an instant, ninety-percent of the cells popped and sizzled. ¡­ Sylvia let out a breath. ¡°Fuck. You scared me.¡± ¡­ optimizing ¡­ optimizing ¡­ optimizing Electricity flickered again and again, murdering individual cells with pinpoint precision. The worm filled spheres died and replicated. Each time, the number slaughtered grew smaller and smaller. Sylvia¡¯s fear receded replaced by growing excitement. Curious, she peered into the transparent pouch. With her eyes, she picked out a few flawed cells, their shape and color warped. Most though, were wiped away without a hint to their error. ¡°How do you know which ones are good and which ones are bad?¡± Then again, on a task like this, how could a human hope to compare with a computer? Ordinarily, during Implanting and Incubation, a demon would select hundreds of cells from their true core. Then they would compare each in turn, ensuring that only those with great resemblance were migrated to their new home. True experts and geniuses would use arts and magics to assist in this evaluation. Risk-takers might even doctor their cells with new code or coerced ki concepts. The System was far bolder. It was clear from the number of flaws that the System had started with the cells most deviant instead of those most similar. Then it relied on its ability to read the code in real time, trimming away the undesired mutations. Rather than genetic engineering, this was accelerated evolution. ¡­ optimizing ¡­ optimizing ¡­ optimization complete. Modeling results¡­ ¡­ done. Code has achieved 101.4% of predicted performance. Facilitating dendrite formation. The hard jolts of lightning quieted. The remaining cells replicated unimpeded. Their numbers grew, devouring all the essence in the sack until Sylvia¡¯s second core was filled to the brim with a million worm laden marbles. Then the System gently drew the two cores together. False and true, side by side. The System unleashed a weak shock. Electricity crackled in the nucleoplasm leaving the cells within unharmed. The quiet core quivered. Softly. Shyly, it answered with a spark of its own. The wires caught the signal, echoing it to the true core. There was a moment of silence, then the first nucleus answered back. Pulse. Pulse, pulse. Pu-pulse, p-p-pulse. With accelerating frenzy the two cores communicated. As they did, thick spiritual roots grew in each other¡¯s direction. The limbs tangled. Lightning flickered. The cores spoke without the System¡¯s influence. Dendrite formation complete. Soul essence collection will finish in 17 minutes and 31 seconds. Collating simulated results¡­ ¡­ done! Resuming GUI services. Echoing results. Ding. Sylvia relaxed. With growing joy, she reviewed the changes.
Class Advancement Complete!
Class: Common Witch * +100 Hp/Mp * +6 all Physical Attributes * +14 all Magical Attributes Your Tier has advanced, increasing your influence on the world: * +5% all fundamental attributes Due to the evolution of your code, the following traits have emerged:
Trait: Basic Elemental Palace [Primary/Primordial] [Closed] * 15% Max Mp capacity * 5 ether/second recovery An elemental palace breaths and stores raw ether of any chosen primary, primordial element. This ether can be used during casting, increasing the efficiency of magic. Mana may also be natured with the corresponding element, even when ether is not present. As a biological organ, the elemental palace grows with the User. It can also be destroyed by your foes, representing a minor vulnerability. Ether recovery increases with Magic: Mysticism and the local ether density. It may also be enhanced through supporting traits. To be used, the elemental palace must be first opened. Once opened, it may later be closed.
Trait: Silken Mana (replaces: Ultra-fine mana) Your mana has sublime smoothness and elasticity. This greatly enhances the innate integrity of all mana structures. You will find it much easier to cast spells while minimizing energy expenditure. Spell casting will be stealthier. Runes and rune structures will be more durable. Theoretical casting speed will be massively improved.
Two new traits. An elemental palace and silken mana. It was normal for new traits to emerge with consolidation. Lady Vallenfelt had even introduced a few common mutations. Her elemental palace was one example. Usually though, demons only gained a single trait. A dual emergence was rare. Or so her teacher said. Sylvia scanned the window again, ignoring the link that describing how to open her palace. After she brought up her status screen and took a gleeful gander.
Name Sylvia Swallows Class Common Witch
Level 100+60 Exp 137 / 1010
HP 173 / 264 MP 397 / 559
Str 9 Mag 37
Vit 9 Spr 43
Agl 16 Wit 46
Wow. Those were some impressive numbers. Sylvia finally felt strong. Powerful. Ready to take on the world. Felt being the key word. Intellectually, Sylvia knew she was weak. The first consolidation was just the beginning. The mark between the netherworld¡¯s commoners and its children. She wasn¡¯t strong. Sylvia had simply stopped being weak. ¡°But where¡¯s the five percent?¡± she considered, thumb and finger pinching her chin. Flipping between screens, Sylvia did some quick math. The numbers didn¡¯t add up. Wait. She had figured it out. The answer was hidden betwixt her secondary stats.
Strength 3 + 6 Magic 23 + 14
Force 143% Dominion 260%
Scaling 109% Mysticism 137%
Vitality 3 + 6 Spirit 29 + 14
Toughness 143% Integrity 286%
Resilience 109% Resolve 143%
Agility 10 + 6 Wit 32 + 14
Celerity 131% Awareness 173%
Precision 116% Capacity 146%
¡°I see. It only applies to the most basic portion of an attribute, not the attribute as a whole.¡± Still, pretty damn good. It also made her aware that consolidations had a larger impact than was immediately apparent. But there was one last thing she had to check. Sylvia pulled up her advancement requirements with a deep sense of dread.
Class Advancement: Elite Witch [ ] Level: 100 / 300 [ ] Experience: 137 / 50,000 Please advance your level to the required point before attempting class advancement from Common Witch to Elite Witch.
¡°Shit.¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Sylvia¡¯s dream was that the level requirement would be flat. Why? Because this would imply a small gap between consolidations. If her second advancement was at level 200 and the third 300 then it followed that arch demons would have a level around 600. Instead, her second class advancement was at 300. Following the pattern the System loved, this would place the third at 600, and the sixth at 2100. That¡¯s right. Two-fucking-thousand. Ignoring attribute bonuses and multipliers, that was twenty times Sylvia¡¯s current stats. And this was before accounting for a metric ton of powerful traits. Oh, and Sylvia still didn¡¯t know what kind of bullshit Awakening, Transcendence, and Apotheosis threw into the mix. Scratch ordinary strength. In Hell¡¯s pecking order Sylvia had risen from small bug to big bug. The major players could squash her at their leisure. ¡°Now that I think about it, aren¡¯t there seventh consolidation demons?¡± Sylvia groaned. In fact, it was speculated that Shiva and a few others had stepped into the eighth consolidation. The only thing everyone agreed on was that nobody had achieved a fourth grand mutation. ¡°On the bright side, when I cross the third consolidation I¡¯ll be able to kick demons around however I please,¡± Sylvia said, trying to cheer herself. How rotten. Here she was thinking about bullying the weak. Maybe someday she¡¯d turn into a wicked witch. Humored, Sylvia trolled through a few more panels. By the time she was done, her pool of soul essence had been reduced to a puddle beneath her feet. Mist rose from the silvery basin like steam from a hot bath. The pressure dropped. The eight fragments loosened. The outer membrane of her soul expanded, pushing the metal shell back. The pool beneath her evaporated. Silvery fog turned into faint mist then vanished altogether. Dark, clear sky was left in its wake. Before Sylvia¡¯s soul had been illuminated by the faint essence, granting the glow of midday. Now, her soul was cast into night. Soul essence collection complete. Returning to secure mode. The System¡¯s record rung monotonous. The shell begun to close. It was time to choose. If Sylvia remained within the inner layer, she risked being trapped. Her consciousness captured, her body would lay slumped in sleep. There she would stay until freed by herself, her System, or her teacher. And who knew how long that would take? It would be fine if it were hours. If it were days, Sylvia might well go insane. The silver haired witch grit her teeth. ¡°I have to stay. Even if the chances are slim, I need to know more about the System.¡± The System would probably throw her out anyway. At least, that¡¯s what Sylvia told herself. Rreee, clong, romm. The metallic shell drew closed. TONNG! TONNG! The metal bolts slammed into place, sealing the plates. Darkness. In the center of her soul, two cores sparked in communion. The flickering light granted bare visibility. Tubes and wires glinted. The mess of component above was drawn away. Sylvia watched as they vanished into the murk. She was alone in the quiet night. She felt a tremor of doubt. ¡°Or maybe it won¡¯t throw me out,¡± Sylvia murmured. Her voice was swallowed by the void. No echo. No sound. A deep resounding silence. ¡°¡ö¡± The silver haired witch clicked her tongue. The simple light spell conjured nothing. ¡°It¡¯s my soul. Shouldn¡¯t it be bright if I want it to be bright?¡± Sylvia muttered. The tone of her voice brought shallow comfort. White flickered. The faint strobe of her cores¡¯ commune. Nothing to do but search. So that¡¯s what she did. For an hour and a half, Sylvia scoured the dark interior. Shadows danced with the flash of light, hiding gears, pipes, and crevices. Mechanical limbs lay folded against the metal shell. Plates were riveted onto the walls without a single gap. From time to time, Sylvia felt she had found a secret tunnel. Only to realize it was just a dead end. Then she saw it. Nestled deep between chaotic pipes was a door. Sylvia noticed it by chance, hidden in the shadow of a robotic arm. At first, she thought it another plate, only when the cores sparked brilliant did she see the unmistakable seam. And more importantly, the lever at its side. Floating up beside it, Sylvia fumbled. Then she pulled. Shoo. With a sci-fi swish, the door opened. Sylvia drifted inside, an astronaut buoyed by zero gravity. She was in a hall. The floor was made of linoleum tile. The walls were a mess of plates, wires, and bronze tubes. Electricity crackled, lending dim light. The illumination cast was milder yet steadier than the communication of her cores. The space was alive. She could feel the thrum of machinery and hear repeated clack of gears. Maintenance Hatch 02. The label was painted in plain English. Sylvia stared. ¡°That¡¯s kinda creepy, actually.¡± Her voice echoed strangely. She shifted uncomfortably. Was she alone in this space? The darkness held no answer. She imagined doctors in white coats striding through the halls. A mad scientist stepping out the door, clip board in hand while he observed the nucleus of her soul. Perhaps he would tweak wires, or draw cells and liquid from her core. The System had been with her for eighteen years. Eighteen years. If the administrator had sinister intentions, it was too late for her now. ¡°Come to think of it, I¡¯m already thirty,¡± Sylvia laughed. ¡°If I hadn¡¯t become a witch, I¡¯d be a wizard.¡± The levity helped to beat back the ominous ambiance. Sylvia traveled forward. After a hundred meters in she found a T-junction. Conveniently, the halls were labeled. Left to the primary CPU, memory, and ROM oversight. Right to the conversion chambers and the control room. ¡°Control room sounds promising,¡± Sylvia said. Feeling better about her venture, she went down the rightward path. Following the signs, Sylvia flew through the halls. The English writing and computerized structures reinforced her suspicion. The System had been born on Earth by persons from the netherworld. But who? And why? Sylvia hoped to find answers to those questions. And she hoped all the more that her conjectures were wrong. Because, in the last few months, she¡¯d found a name. And she didn¡¯t like that name in the slightest. She arrived. Control Room was written on a sign above a closed door. No lever. No knob. Sylvia scrutinized the door. There was a junction ten meters back, so there was little chance of an alternative path. ¡°Here goes nothing.¡± Sylvia raised a hand and knocked. Tonk. Tonk. Ding! With a happy chime, a blue window appeared, projected in front of the door.
User Id: Local Host Password: ___________ [Open]
¡­ ¡­ Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°Are you shitting me?¡± A password to access the control room was good security. Sylvia could grant that. In fact, she relived to see guards against random guests toying with her soul. Indeed, she hoped there was a lot more protection here than just a password. But right now, Sylvia¡¯s only thought was: I never set a password. ... Fuck it. Sylvia tapped the Open button. Bzzt! With a nasty buzz, the screen went red. Three seconds later it settled back on blue. ... ¡°Don¡¯t tell me I¡¯m supposed to open the damn user¡¯s manual and look up the default?¡± Sylvia glowered. This wasn¡¯t a hunk of consumer electronics for which she could hunt down the part number and ask the internet. Shit. What did they normally use? Admin, nope. Administrator. No dice. Sylvia Swallows. Eric Swallow. Swallow. Hunter2. Password. 12345. Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! ¡°Fuck this,¡± Sylvia growled, kicking the door in frustration. The screen flashed an angry orange.
Warning: Use of force detected.
¡°Oh, you don¡¯t like that do you,¡± Sylvia sad. ¡°Then how about this.¡± Bang. Bang. Bang. She smashed into the door heavily with her foot. ¡°Open the door for your user, stupid machine. Or better yet, call the administrator.¡±
Warning: Use of force detected.
Warning: Use of force detected.
Warning: Use of force detected.
Window after window popped up. When the fourth appeared, it went blood-red. The hall lit with crimson emergency lights. Weee-ooo-weee-ooo. Flashing bulbs were joined by shrill sirens.
Warning: Illegal entry attempt detected. The System will purge all foreign objects in: ... 10 ... 9 ... 8
And suddenly the System cared. Whatever. At this point Sylvia would be happy enough if her consciousness was cast from her soul. ... Purge did mean kicked, right? Right? ¡­ ¡°Hey System, you¡¯re not planning on killing your host, right?¡±
... 4 ... 3 ... 2
Fear rose in her heart. Fuck. Sylvia pushed her hesitation aside and threw the dice. ¡°LUCIFER.¡± Sylvia shouted the name at the top of her lungs. The hall suddenly went silent. The quiet was so quick it was ringing. Shoo. With a swish, the door opened. She had guessed right. And Sylvia wasn¡¯t at all happy about it. Lucifer. Not a devil. The Devil. History named Lucifer the great betrayer. The most terrible evil in all the planes. But it also called him Prosecutor and Light Bringer. The man who challenged the tyranny of Zeus. The brightest star in the netherworld. No chronicle that marked the end of the Golden Age was complete without him. No book on the Silver Age could avoid mentioning his name. The latter half of the Divine Era had been shaped by Lucifer more than any other man. For both good and ill. The birth of the Heavenly Will was the source of Lucifer¡¯s fame. A god above the gods. An impartial being to oversee law and justice for all the netherworld. With the Will¡¯s creation, Lucifer¡¯s name rung with renown. When Zeus used the Heavenly Will to solidify his power and forcible unify the disparate planes, it was Lucifer who crushed that dream into pieces. These acts would later set off the Utopia War, the first of three great wars following the schism of Heaven. So died the dream of unity. The relentless progress to a better future met its end. ¡®The gold has become tarnished, only silver remains.¡¯ ¨C the immortal words of Lord Baal, dividing the Golden Age from the Silver Age. By the time the first war ended, there was no man more hated. Whether one was a demon, an outsider, a celestial, or fey, Lucifer was detested. His name smeared with mud by every civilization. Yet, there was no man more loved. Even today the Festival of Light celebrated the birth of the Heavenly Will. In doing so, the netherworld praised its creator. It was Lucifer who defined the precepts of Karmic Law. It was his hand that made souls sacrosanct. Under the gaze of the Heavenly Will, those that dared to harm the root of immortality would face inescapable judgment. The netherworld, which had been long wrapped in murk and darkness, was filled with brilliant light. The barbarities of the bloodwars were ended. The atrocities of the Ancient Era extinguished. No longer could souls be shredded like paper. Nor could minds be twisted to conceive slaves, cultists, and monsters. Even at their height, the three great wars never matched the horrors found during the Age of Blood. Only the outsiders clung to the past. Hiding from karma in the far planes, treating souls like so much trash. In the last few months, Sylvia had sought the System¡¯s creator. It was the book Lady Vallenfelt provided that hinted at the answer, Tarnished Gold. Who could create an existence like the System? Lucifer, who had already unleashed its equal. Who had the mad ambition to grant thousands the System¡¯s gift? Lucifer, who shattered Heaven in his quest for a more perfect utopia. It fit. But Sylvia had been reluctant. The idea felt far-fetched. The Devil, hanging out on Earth, playing with computers? Ha! A red herring if there ever was one. Even now, Sylvia questioned her conclusion. Perhaps she had made a mistake. Maybe the administrator had invited her in to correct her error before Sylvia dared to speak the theory out loud. Thinking this, Sylvia stepped through the door. The control room was bright. Metal consoles ran along the walls in a broad U. Giant screens stood above them, covering the rest. On the middle screen, Sylvia saw the twin nuclei of her soul. On the right they were depicted again, this time with parts labeled in vivid color. On the left, symbols scrolled highlighted in green or red. Common pictograms used to represent runes in written works. Sylvia didn¡¯t recognize most of them. Knowing the Lesser Codex forward and back was impressive for a first year witch. Not so much for a ten-thousand year old demon. A high backed, leather, executive chair stood at the center of the room. Seated there was a tall man. Handsome, with sharp boyish features. Short blonde hair. Blue eyes. The man wore a white suit with a red tie. That formality was offset by the lazy, arrogant manner in which the man leaned back. ¡°Welcome to your soul, little pawn.¡± His smooth, deep voice would¡¯ve been agreeable if it weren¡¯t so snide. With just those words, Sylvia¡¯s delusions were dashed. The Devil smiled. ¡°What¡¯s the matter? Cat got your tongue,¡± the blond teased, seeming to take sadistic pleasure from her discomfort. ¡°You weren¡¯t so shy a moment ago.¡± ¡­ Know what? Screw the Devil. Gods were just bigger men. Even they themselves had recognized this. Which was why, in modern times, they were called arch angels and arch demons. ¡°What¡¯s my password?¡± Sylvia groused, releasing her accumulated frustrations. The silver haired girl glanced side-to-side. No place to sit. Of course. ¡°A soul is not a toy for a child to play with,¡± the man rebuked. ¡°Before asking for the keys to your own destruction, perhaps you should learn to read your own nether code.¡± Scowling, Sylvia pressed forward, ¡°So you¡¯re Lucifer then.¡± ¡°Lucifer is a title, not a name. People have names,¡± he corrected. ¡°But I go by that appellation, yes. And since you are a well-read little girl, you should know why it would be very, very bad to throw my title around carelessly.¡± Oh. She did. The title, Lucifer, was by no means forbidden. It appeared in all sorts of works and histories. But this was a world of magic. A world where words carried thoughts and emotions. A world of mysteries and divination. To speak Lucifer¡¯s name carried an entirely different meaning when the word left the lips of someone who knew him personally. And with the right magic, that alone was enough to find her. It wasn¡¯t a joke to say Lucifer was the most hated man in the netherworld. Heaven was actively hunting him. Their crusade would never end until all thirteen of the Devil¡¯s evil pieces had been destroyed. ¡°I have no desire to meet Heaven¡¯s inquisitors,¡± Sylvia confirmed with a shudder. ¡°Good.¡± The Devil leaned forward in his chair, his smile friendly, his eyes sneering. ¡°Because there aren¡¯t many gates leading the nether. It would be a waste if my most useful pawn was taken from me.¡± Lucifer relaxed back again, peering at her past his nose. ¡°But since you have reached my kingdom, I will lower myself and sate your curiosity,¡± he offered with narcissistic generosity. ¡°Ask as you will, little girl.¡± ¡­ She never would¡¯ve believed it prior, but the history books actually undersold how arrogant Lucifer was. ¡°Then to start, let me say that I¡¯m not a little girl,¡± Sylvia said with narrowed eyes. Lucifer scoffed. ¡°If you are not a girl, then why are you here, prancing about in that body? And you will cease to be little after you¡¯re a thousand years old.¡± The blond leaned forward. ¡°You are nothing more than a newly weened babe. To call you little is already more than you deserve.¡± Sylvia scowled. She bit her lip to stifle a retort. ¡°Pathetic,¡± the Devil mocked. ¡°If you have a question, speak, or I¡¯ll throw you out.¡± ¡°Why the System? Why me?¡± Sylvia suddenly asserted. ¡°Why am I here?¡± ¡°That was three not one,¡± Lucifer pointed out. ¡°But I can answer all of them. Utopia.¡± The suited man spread his arms wide in emphasis, even as he leaned back in his executive seat. The silver haired witch looked on in disbelief. ¡°Utopia is an impossibility.¡± ¡°And that is why it is worth creating,¡± Lucifer countered. ¡°Only the impossible can crown the glory of my genius. My goal has never changed. I will be the man who fulfills the golden dream.¡± ¡°If you¡¯re still chasing after utopia then why fight Heaven?¡± Sylvia replied. ¡°Because they were in my way,¡± Lucifer sneered. ¡°Zeus was a small-minded buffoon. Obsessed with power, he wanted to fix the world in place so it could never defy him. I had no choice but to grind his dream into dust.¡± She was following the wrong thread. Sylvia wasn¡¯t here to discuss Lucifer¡¯s motives. Especially not those from six-thousand years ago. She wanted answers that had meaning to her. Most importantly, she wanted to know where she was going. ¡°Why me?¡± Sylvia repeated. ¡°Chance. Nothing more,¡± Lucifer answered. Then he smiled, blue eyes gleaming with malicious delight. ¡°I gave you the System because you fit my criteria. Then, when that child Esmeralda opened a path, I used it. What? Did you think you were special? You are nothing. Your only value is as a prototype for all those who come after.¡± ¡­ Wow. That was harsh. Sylvia already knew she wasn¡¯t special. Her life as Eric Swallow had long since killed those childish notions. But saying it outright was pretty damn rude. It also didn¡¯t resolve anything. ¡°Then, what do you want from me?¡± Sylvia asked, frustrated. ¡°What are you planing to use me for?¡± ¡°Use you?¡± Lucifer laughed. ¡°A petty pawn has no use. You don¡¯t need to do or be anything. Level up. Complete quests. Conquer the world if you like. Isn¡¯t that what players do in video games? All I need from you is data. And I will collect it by your mere act of existing.¡± Lucifer paused. The Devil leaned forward, tenting his fingers in front of his face. ¡°But if you are looking for meaning to fill your hollow, insignificant being there are a few tasks with which you can assist.¡± ¡°So I¡¯m just a sensor in your eyes,¡± Sylvia ground out. ¡°Yes,¡± the Devil confirmed. ¡°That is a fit depiction of what you are. The question you should be asking is what do you want to be.¡± Honestly. Sylvia didn¡¯t want to be anything. What Sylvia wanted was to lazily live a cushy life with plenty of food, rest, and entertainment. ¡°Then I¡¯d rather stay out of whatever mess you¡¯re conjuring,¡± Sylvia said firmly. Lucifer sneered. ¡°I didn¡¯t take you for stupid, little girl,¡± the Devil said. ¡°Unless you intend to ignore every quest my System offers, you are and will remain part of my every design.¡± Sylvia scowled. ¡°You¡¯re forcing me,¡± she accused. ¡°Have I ever forced you to complete a quest?¡± Lucifer refuted. ¡°You may do as you wish. It is hardly my fault if you are tempted by the reward.¡± The silver haired witch laughed. ¡°You¡¯ve never forced me? The penalty for failing my first quest was death!¡± ¡°I merely provided you with the facts,¡± Lucifer said in response. Her teeth ground. Lucifer, Sylvia decided, was a real asshole. A sly smile spread on the Devil¡¯s face. ¡°Helping me, is helping yourself. It will be very profitable. I promise.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t get anything if I¡¯m dead.¡± ¡°You are already dead.¡± ¡­ Touch¨¦. And he wasn¡¯t wrong. As much as Sylvia wanted to blame Lucifer and his System, Sylvia had made her own choices. Nobody had forced Eric to head out on that fateful night. That was his decision based on his own interests. And Lucifer was right to believe that Sylvia would give into temptation. Could she truly bring herself to refuse Wizard Means Wise VIII?? No way. That was impossible. A blank skill book was worth too much. Even though Sylvia knew she was feeding the System and therefore aiding Lucifer, her behavior wouldn¡¯t change. Because without the System, Sylvia had nothing. She wasn¡¯t special. Her academics were merely above average. Her nature was lazy. Her talent for magic, ordinary. Without the System, Sylvia would spend the next nine years in the Starlight Nether Witch Academy being slowly polished by Baroness Vallenfelt until she was the most perfect witch ever to grace the school¡¯s halls. Sylvia wanted more. She had tasted the Devil¡¯s fruit and was already addicted. Which meant, sooner or later she¡¯d find herself on the wrong side of Heaven. And if that was fated, then she may as well collect the rewards. ¡°What are you asking me to do?¡± Sylvia said, slowly. ¡°I knew you would understand,¡± Lucifer replied, wearing the slimy smile of a used car salesman. ¡°I have quite a few tasks that need to be done. Most to prepare a place for the souls of your kin. However, you are of little use before you Awaken. Until then there is one thing I desire above all else.¡± ¡°You want me to recruit Baroness Vallenfelt.¡± Sylvia had thought the System acted strange on that day. Now the witch knew the Devil had been gazing back through the screen in front of her. Lucifer¡¯s blue eyes held a hungry glint. ¡°Yes. I want her gate and her micro plane. With those, my plans will be greatly expedited. Her wealth and her person¡­, I suppose those will be adequate. She will, at least, be more useful than you for the next few years.¡± Sylvia shook her head. ¡°She¡¯ll never agree.¡± ¡°I can be very persuasive,¡± Lucifer said with a roguish smirk. The blond man¡¯s hands tented. The devil crossed his legs, left ankle over his right knee. ¡°Especially when I have what that child desires above all else.¡± What Esmeralda wanted? Sylvia thought back to why Lady Vallenfelt took her as an apprentice in the first place. ¡°Transcendence.¡± ¡°Apotheosis,¡± Lucifer corrected. Sylvia¡¯s expression went blank. That was¡­ a lot more than she expected. ¡°You can promise that?¡± she questioned. ¡°I can promise the opportunity,¡± Lucifer clarified. The Devil¡¯s smile was terrifying. ¡°Not just for her. For you. For all your kin. Every. Single. One.¡± The silver haired witch shuddered. A chill went down her spine. A terrible realization ran through her. Suddenly, she understood what Lucifer was planning. ¡°How many?¡± she croaked. ¡°All of them,¡± Lucifer supplied. ¡°Once my System is mature, I plan to share it with everyone on Earth. All eight billion of them.¡± ¡°Eight billion.¡± Sylvia¡¯s voice cracked. ¡°You¡¯re saying that all eight billion will complete Apotheosis.¡± ¡°No. All eight billion will have the opportunity,¡± Lucifer rectified. ¡°As for how many in the end? I think one-in-a-hundred-thousand is a reasonable estimate.¡± ¡­ One-in-a-hundred-thousand. One-in-a-hundred-thousand! That meant eighty-fucking-thousand. Eighty thousand ¡®arch-whatevers¡¯. In all the netherworld, there were roughly two thousand living souls who had achieved Apotheosis. Two thousand total. That was the sum of all the arch demons, arch angels, arch faeries, and outer gods combined. Lucifer was going to shatter the order of the netherworld then douse it with gasoline. If Heaven knew, if anyone knew, Sylvia would be so, so dead. The Devil may as well have declared he planned to manufacture eighty-thousand nukes. Because, for all intents and purposes, an arch demon was one. ¡°You¡¯re insane,¡± Sylvia said with dismay. She could feel her dream of a quiet life shrivel up and die. ¡°You¡¯re going to set off another great war.¡± ¡°A great war? The three great wars were nothing more than a schism,¡± Lucifer denied. ¡°This transformation will be much larger. Just as the advent of the Heavenly Will banished the shadows of the Ancient Era, the coming of my System will birth a brand-new utopia washing away the past and creating the netherworld anew.¡± Lucifer¡¯s eyes shined with mad delight. ¡°You¡¯re completely insane. They¡¯ll never let it happen.¡± The Devil grinned. ¡°I would like to see them try and stop me.¡± Sylvia¡¯s stomach sank through the floor. There was no way to escape this nightmare. Heaven would hunt her down and destroy her. It would send its host to Earth and flatten all seven continents. No. Who was she kidding. It wouldn¡¯t be just Heaven. It¡¯d be all three major powers working as one. And, as the first, she¡¯d be the fulcrum. Hers would be the name everyone remembered. As such, short Lucifer himself, she would take the greatest blame. ¡°I have no way of recruiting my teacher,¡± Sylvia said, weakly. Should she help him? Ha! Ha ha ha. Did she have a choice? Lucifer wasn¡¯t going to stop. The only way to protect herself from what was coming was to become strong enough to trade blows with Mammon, Mab, and Michael. Simultaneously. She was fucked. Utterly fucked. And this piece of shit sitting in front of her didn¡¯t care. He didn¡¯t care that he had dragged every man, woman, and child living on Earth into a disastrous war all because he wanted to create a ¡®utopia¡¯. Which couldn¡¯t even fucking exist! If Sylvia had a body of flesh, she¡¯d be hyperventilating. Alas, as both a demon and a disembodied cognition she was denied the sweet, sweet release of oblivion. ¡°You haven¡¯t noticed?¡± Lucifer mocked. ¡°If you want to recruit your master, talk to the younger one. You¡¯ll find her more sympathetic.¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Sylvia said, feeling whiplash from the gap between thoughts internal and external. ¡°Then let me give you a hint. How can there be thirteen of me?¡± Laughing, the blond man span in his chair, facing the screens. ¡°But don¡¯t wait too long. Your best chance will be right after that child makes your apprenticeship official. Try to be quick. It¡¯ll be easier if you act before the two become one.¡± ¡°Now begone. I have more important things to do than to entertain a squealing babe.¡± Then, just like that, Sylvia was gone. -oOo- The Heavenly Will The Heavenly Will is the existence that oversees Karmic Law. Created from a void soul 5783 years ago, the Will is said to have risen beyond the level of Apotheosis. It is a ¡®true god¡¯ surpassing the old gods of the Golden Age. The Heavenly Will, by nature, lacks human existence and human experience. This makes its thought process incomprehensible to mortal souls. This also makes it a perfect, impartial judge. The Will calculates the karma of all souls in the netherworld and renders punishment or grace as it sees fit. The project to create the Heavenly Will was headed by Prometheus. His success earned him the title Lucifer, the Light Bringer. Karmic Law Karmic Law defines the rules by which karma is gained and lost. It also decides how boons and punishments are rendered. All mortal souls are subject to karmic law, including those of animals. There are two sets of rules by which beings must abide the Edicts of the Will and the Law of Heaven. The Edicts of the Will are the unknowable rules by which the Heavenly Will itself determines karma. The Law of Heaven, by contrast, is written by the Choir ¨C Heaven¡¯s legislative body. The major distinction is to whom these apply. All beings are subject to the Edicts of the Will. However, only the citizens of Heaven are subject to the Law of Heaven. Historically, those who accepted the Law of Heaven could only escape by taking the Oath of Prosecution. Later, after the Unification War, the Fey Federation emerged with a second path known as the Law of the Wood. In modern times, Law of Heaven has been restricted by treaty to only those planes which Heaven governs. As such, the Oath of Prosecution has fallen to the wayside. However, anyone who wishes to hold the station of devil must take it. Karma In general, karma is gained or lost in accordance to actions. Actions may be personal or societal. Karma can accumulate to both individuals and organizations. This means states, nation, and companies can be judged just as easily as individuals. Karmic effects are influenced by the scale of an action¡¯s impact. This means that wealthy, powerful persons ¨C such as the lord of fief ¨C are subject to more dramatic swings in their karma. This has had a huge impact on how governments function, as no lord can run their domain into the ground. Not just because of their personal concern, but that of those in the hierarchy above them. As karma is an important military resource, all three of the great powers carefully manage their societies to ensure that they will have ¡®enough¡¯ should a fourth great war occur. The accounting of karma is completely managed by the Heavenly Will. Divination can be used to judge a person¡¯s karma in vague qualitative terms but never in precise quantitative terms. While the exact rules behind Edicts of the Will are unknowable, it is clear that karma is most quickly lost when harming a soul. The karmic loss is so great, in fact, that all individual actions are nearly meaningless beside it. Judgment All souls within the Heavenly Will¡¯s domain are subject to judgment should their karma fall deep into the red. However, there are various degrees of punishment that the Will might rain down depending on how severe the deficit has become. The most basic judgment is lightning punishment. Holy lightning will fall on the offender, regardless of location, sheering through the soul. This punishment will cause a severe rupture of the outer membrane causing soul essence to leak and ruining talent until transmigration. By most, this is considered as the Will¡¯s first and only warning to the offender. If bad karma persists what follows will be the Curse of Ruin. With this, the Heavenly Will twists fate. The probability of all events that lead to ruin will be increased while the chance of any event that leads to prosperity will be narrowed. Once the curse is inflicted, it will not be lifted until the Heavenly Will deems that the sinner has atoned. If this is still not enough, what will befall is Cataclysm. There is no specific shape or form to this punishment. Rather, the Heavenly Will will make use of whatever is available to utterly destroy the perpetrator, soul and all. Chapter 12 -oOo- Chapter 12 -oOo- Sylvia woke in Vallenfelt Manor. The room was small, no more than a cell with stone walls and an ether light lamp. Sylvia sat in the center, atop a soft meditation mat. There were a few shelves, an incense burner and little else. The only door was bolted from the inside, the space warded against intrusion both magical and physical. A quiet place to close up. A thick fog of astral ether filled the air forming wisps of shadow and twinkling light. Astral was a funny word. Astral referenced the starry void and all the things found within it. Astral ether was, therefore, the etheric mix that originated from outside the planes. So, in a certain sense, this ether was astral. However, it was more correct to call this ether chaos. Chaos encompassed the elements void, space, and causality. These were the ethers most suitable for an asteri¡¯s cultivation. Sylvia could find similar ether on the stone platforms set aside for students. The ether here, however, was far, far denser. One of the perks Sylvia enjoyed as the baroness¡¯s apprentice. ¡°What the hell am I supposed to do?¡± The silver haired witch gazed at the ceiling. Her mind was heavy with thoughts of the future. Her venture into her soul had uncovered her ¡®backer¡¯, Lucifer. The Devil himself. From him, she had learned his plot. And Sylvia had unwittingly become the hinge of it. And thus a lightning rod for the charges that would inevitably come after. So much for drifting through life. Mind blank, Sylvia continued to stare. The beautiful veins running through the ceiling went unnoticed. Instead, sick dread coiled in her gut. A deep, wrenching apprehension. The terror of the unknown. The authority of an existence far beyond herself. The knowledge that she could be so easily crushed. And all it would take was one mistake. Then, slowly, rationality asserted itself. ¡°Time is on my side.¡± Lucifer was no fool. The start of his plan was the safest and the most dangerous. Right now, there was next to no risk that the System would be discovered. Even if it were, most would not immediately connect it to the Devil¡¯s plot. As long as Sylvia didn¡¯t carelessly recruit her master or casually reveal too much, she had a lot of time to prepare and grow stronger. Of course, if she fucked up, she¡¯d die instantly. As in, Heaven would destroy her soul karmic costs be damned. Just as importantly, there was no way to avoid what was coming. The Devil would not be deterred. Sooner or later he would set his plan into motion with or without her. When a new power rose, it would attract the interest of Heaven, Hell, and the Fey Federation. Once they understood where this power came from and the potency of the System they were sure to turn to aggression. Because, if they did not snuff this rising power early, they would be snuffed by it. ¡°Before that happens, I have to reach Apotheosis.¡± Awakening came after the second consolidation. Transcendence after the fourth. Apotheosis after the sixth. Sylvia had a long way to go. And personal strength wouldn¡¯t be enough. When the storm came Sylvia needed allies. Lots and lots of powerful allies. ¡°I¡¯ve got thirty to fifty years,¡± she murmured. This was the time it took souls to cross Unus Mundus. ¡°Before then, I need to start laying the foundation. The less pawns running around out there causing trouble the better for me. If I¡¯m lucky, we can keep things under the table until we have eighty thousand arch whatevers. Then, heh, it won¡¯t matter what anyone thinks.¡± That was pure delusion. As the number of System laden souls in the netherworld swelled, their presence would become impossible to keep hidden. Then the shit would hit the fan. ¡°Nothing I can do about it today. Right now, I should focus on the tournament.¡± And figure out how to convince her teacher. Straightening her dress, Sylvia stood. She wobbled. With pastel pink eyes, she glared down at her sky-high heels. Knowing the System¡¯s source didn¡¯t change reality. Sylvia was still a witch at the Academy subject to Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s protocols of appearance. With a sigh Sylvia stooped, gathering scattered coins. ¡°I should¡¯ve put them in my bag.¡± The silver haired witch swept the loose change into her soul. Her space bag joined them a moment later. To cheer herself, Sylvia opened her status screen and gazed at the dazzling numbers.
Name Sylvia Swallows Class Common Witch
Level 100+60 Exp 137 / 1010
HP 173 / 264 MP 397 / 559
Str 9 Mag 37
Vit 9 Spr 43
Agl 16 Wit 46
Beautiful. Just beautiful. Look at those gorgeous attributes. That enormous pool of mana. Those nines would have to be rounded to tens, but it was a wonderful start. Recharged, Sylvia bounced out of the room. She could feel the difference. Fifteen percent stronger. A touch faster. Clearer thoughts. Sharper senses. None of these were huge, but the effect was distinct when gained in one sitting. If, right now, Sylvia found herself at the bottom of the Academy¡¯s bluff, she was confident she could climb straight up! ¡­ Okay. Okay. She¡¯d use magic. Still! She was bursting with power. Sylvia flicked the window closed then opened the door. Vallenfelt Manor was set on the highest point of the Academy butte. Perhaps due to the natural inclination of magi, Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s study was also in the tallest tower of the manor. As she ascended, Sylvia spotted the Fortress of Dawn¡¯s turrets rising above the trees. The outskirts of Vallen could be seen through the windows to the south, the town¡¯s core hidden by the terrain. ¡°Sylvia,¡± Dianna greeted. ¡°Done already? Nothing went wrong, right?¡± Dianna Sable was Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s assistant and one of seven retainers. She handled administrative affairs on behalf of the baroness, tending to Vallen rather than the Academy. Taxes. Court summons. Merchant disputes. Everything landed on her desk. When she wasn¡¯t handling paper work, Dianna was running between town and manor. As a starlight witch, Dianna was pretty normal. Locks of sea blue hair ended around her shoulders. She had a cute face and eyes like rubies. ¡°No problems,¡± Sylvia replied, offering a polite nod. ¡°Congratulations on your consolidation then, Sylvia. Lady Vallenfelt will be pleased,¡± Dianna said, returning a smile. ¡°Is Esmeralda in?¡± ¡°The baroness is right up the stairs.¡± Sylvia offered a wave before taking off. Calling Dianna an acquaintance was generous. Sylvia had spent more time with Professor Owsley. A moment later, the silver haired witch rapped on a door three times before letting herself in. ¡°Teacher,¡± she greeted with a curtsy. Baroness Esmeralda Vallenfelt was just as riveting as the day Sylvia first saw her. The dean, held a book in one hand, the picture of poise and elegance. Her visage was unusually gentle, caught in a moment of quiet respite. Her hair poured over the back of her chair in a waterfall of emeralds. The morning sun graced her with its light, a halo of celestial beauty. At Sylvia¡¯s approach, the dean lowered her book. Eyes closed. Head tilted. With a tender expression on her face, the baroness nodded as though captured by a distant tune. Thup. The book snapped closed. The poignant moment was gone. ¡°The thrum of your soul is smooth,¡± Lady Vallenfelt complimented. ¡°I take it you did not encounter any trouble?¡± ¡°None,¡± Sylvia answered, taking a seat beside her master. The click of her heels had become unobtrusive, forgotten before it was heard. ¡°Back straight,¡± Lady Vallenfelt chided. The baroness set her book down. ¡°Your talent is, perhaps, the best I¡¯ve ever seen. It¡¯s normal to proceed without misfortune.¡± Resisting the urge to grumble, Sylvia adjusted her posture. This short interaction characterized Sylvia¡¯s relationship with Baroness Vallenfelt. Stiff, formal, with a lingering air of authority. It was hard to say whether it was Lady Vallenfelt herself who maintained this clinical distance, or if it was Sylvia begrudging the dean¡¯s strict sense of propriety. At best, Sylvia would say she had no hate for the woman. Esmeralda was not to blame for stealing her into this world. That fault fell on Lucifer, who had plotted the affair. She likewise could not bring herself to despise the baroness for transforming her into a witch. There were far worse outcomes in Hell than being a woman and fates more terrible than attending the Academy. Many of which were likely had Sylvia¡¯s soul been sold instead. But she wasn¡¯t going to thank the woman either. Sylvia resented Esmeralda. She resented having her manners, dress, and appearance dictated by the baroness. It was her teacher who pushed Sylvia into the charm club. It was her teacher who had insisted that Sylvia be particularly proper. The benefits of being Esmeralda¡¯s apprentice did not abate these emotions. Resources. Instruction. Experience points. All these were offered by the dean, yet they did not match the bite of decorum. The cold pressure. The frozen shackles clamped upon her soul like a vise. Baroness Vallenfelt wished that Sylvia be molded into a lady. Sylvia found it suffocating. That was the clearest description of their interactions. Suffocating. Like all the air was being squeezed from her lungs. ¡°Show me which bloodline power has emerged.¡± Lady Vallenfelt extended a hand, palm up. Knowing what was expected, Sylvia offered her arm. Esmeralda¡¯s delicate fingers gripped her wrist. Ki slipped into Sylvia¡¯s veins. The silver haired witch let the dean¡¯s alien energy probe every corner of her body. Traits could take the form of organs, such as Sylvia¡¯s flawless astral core and pure starlight eyes. They could also have a more ephemeral nature, like her silken mana. During consolidation, it was mere chance which powers appeared. This chance could be skewed by taking risks during the incubation phase, but even then no one could say with surety what would crop up. ¡°An elemental palace, still in the nascent state,¡± Esmeralda noted. ¡°The inner structure is well suited for any of the primary primordial element. Or so I judge. You should spend the next few days considering which you¡¯d prefer.¡± Lady Vallenfelt withdrew her hand. Sylvia¡¯s second trait went unnoticed. For a moment, the silver haired witch considered keeping it to herself. Then Lucifer¡¯s mocking smile was reflected in her imagination. ¡°I noticed that my mana is flowing a lot smoother.¡± ¡°Show me.¡± Esmeralda¡¯s command was sharp. Without the structure of runes, mana was akin to smoke, quick to disperse. As Sylvia¡¯s spirit attribute increased, so too did the integrity of her mana making it more stable and cohesive. When further augmented by her latest trait, Sylvia¡¯s mana flowed like a silken stream. A thread of energy tied itself into a seven crossing knot, a large loop with an inner spiral expanded out like a hanger. From the two sides of the main body were hung a chain of simple loops. Trishullrunt, a compound rune connecting void and causality which conveyed the idea ¡®an unknowable truth¡¯. Ether stirred but magic failed to form. Sylvia had left the rune with neither intent nor natured energy. Thus, it remained. ¡°Mana like silk, fine and refined, flowing without turbulence,¡± Esmeralda murmured. ¡°I revise my earlier comment. Your compatibility with your code is a terror to behold. I begin to suspected I have touched something I should have not.¡± She had. She truly had. Guilt gnawed at Sylvia¡¯s insides. Lady Vallenfelt was no enemy. She deserved to know into what pit she had fallen. Still, Sylvia didn¡¯t speak. ¡°I thought you said the emergence of two traits, while rare, isn¡¯t special.¡± ¡°For two incomplete traits, you would be right,¡± the dean corrected. ¡°I find myself curious as to your backer¡¯s methods. What is it, in your soul, that remains hidden from my eyes.¡± Sylvia¡¯s expression shifted. Lady Vallenfelt sighed. Leaning forward, the green haired woman gave the silver haired witch a gentle flick on the forehead. ¡°You are my apprentice. I shall never do you harm,¡± Esmeralda said firmly. ¡°Whoever your backer may be, it is he or she who must answer.¡± A rare touch of warmth in their cold relationship. It made Sylvia¡¯s secret all the more painful. A kernel of resolve formed in her heart. She would find Esmeralda¡¯s clone and if she proved as sympathetic as Lucifer claimed, Sylvia would tell her the truth. Sylvia owed her teacher that much. ¡°I will not deny that your masculine past displeases me. I have never hidden this,¡± Lady Vallenfelt continued. ¡°But this is no fault of your own, and you have put up with my selfishness admirably.¡± The dean paused. ¡°Your capacity to hide your resentment is not as great as you believe.¡± Sylvia perked. ¡°Does this mean ¨C ¡± ¡°No,¡± Esmeralda cut her off. ¡°As my apprentice you are to be a lady. A graceful bearing and an elegant manner will serve you well in the future. Therefore, it is my duty as your master to see that these traits become party to your nature.¡± Sylvia¡¯s visage grew sour. ¡°This has nothing to do with your past, I expected the same of all my apprentices.¡± ¡°So, I¡¯m not the first,¡± Sylvia noted. ¡°You have one senior in the netherworld,¡± the baroness enlightened. ¡°Belkis von Vallenfelt. And three from my mortal life. Further, in the first years of this academy, I taught students directly. Glenda Fischer, can thus be considered a disciple in-name. I had hoped to make her mayor or vice-dean once she Awakened, but her personality is unfit for secretarial duties.¡± No kidding. ¡°Professor Myers and Dianna are better suited,¡± Sylvia mused in seriousness. In Sylvia¡¯s heart, Allison would always be the perfect secretary. Stern. Sexy. With killer legs and sharp, violet eyes. Fantasies aside, Miss Myers¡¯ character was a flawless fit. ¡°Alas, Allison has yet to swear herself to me,¡± Esmeralda lamented. ¡°But perhaps I can wear her down over the next few decades. She does have the love for teaching. As for Dianna, though I am fond of her, her talent is poor. There are many positions in government that can only be held by a devil. ¡°But I bore you with politics,¡± the dean interrupted. ¡°There is no need for you to concern yourself with such details. Not before graduation, anyway. I just hope you are not like my dear Belkis, who is obsessed with thrills and travel.¡± On that, the baroness was doomed to be disappointed. Prior to meeting Lucifer, Sylvia had already made up her mind to run the second she could stand on her own two feet. After facing the Devil, Sylvia couldn¡¯t afford to stand still even if she wanted to. She needed power. Fast. Anything short of arch mage was insufficient. Which meant Sylvia couldn¡¯t be tied down by a slow and boring life. Sylvia wasn¡¯t sure whether to be glad for it or disappointed. Drifting with the flow was in her nature, but it was that very nature Sylvia wished to change. Clonk. Esmeralda Vallenfelt placed a long staff on the table. The wood was pale white. The haft smooth with faint texture. At the top, four roots wound around a clear crystal forming a helix. Nestled in the crooks below were jewels. Two red, blazing with fire. Two green, swirling with wind. In the central quartz, lightning crackled. ¡°A lightning staff,¡± Sylvia said with surprise. She picked it up. The handle fit comfortably in hand. With a bit of concentration, Sylvia drew the local ether. The staff sucked it up eagerly, smoothly combining wind and fire to create lightning. She reversed the flow, lightning mutated into wind just as easily. Correction. A tri-elemental lightning staff. ¡°As you will be attending the tournament, it would be ill of me to see you poorly equipped,¡± Lady Vallenfelt explained. ¡°And knowing your origin, I guessed you would prefer the violent elements over the gentle ones.¡± Sylvia grinned. She did love explosions. The bigger the boom, the better. The silver haired girl had gone with wind blade for its farming potential. With this staff, Sylvia could unleash wanton destruction or the wind¡¯s whisper however she pleased. Sylvia slipped the weapon into her soul. A lump sank into her being as though she¡¯d swallowed a barbell. ¡°It¡¯s heavy,¡± she sounded. ¡°Forty-three droms,¡± Lady Vallenfelt confirmed. ¡°Having completed your consolidation, you should be able to bear one-hundred. Your armor was commissioned by charm club. You shall receive it in Orasul Lunii after the Festival of Light.¡± Somehow, Sylvia suspected she wouldn¡¯t be nearly as happy with her ¡®armor¡¯ as she was with her staff. ¡°It is soul bound equipment. Split its shadow and project the phantasmal form,¡± Esmeralda instructed. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. The silver haired witch did as she was told. In the depths of her soul, essence was hewed. A white staff appeared in hand. At first, the shape was a spectral haze. Then the shadow filled with ether, gaining substance and form. The staff had a fair heft, though Sylvia knew spiritual mass was as important as physical when considering impact. The core of the staff¡¯s being remained within Sylvia¡¯s soul. This was the function of soul bound equipment. On death, the phantasm would be recalled. Even if broken, the staff would slowly recover. An immortal tool for an immortal person. Like this, Sylvia would never fear her staff would be lost. Which was important. A good staff was expensive and if demons knew Sylvia was carrying something so precious outside the bounds of her soul they might kill her for it. One of the hazards of living in Hell. Clonk. After the staff came a scroll. There was no paper to read nor contents to unroll. Though Sylvia called it a scroll, the object only had a scroll¡¯s shape. Long. Cylindrical. Broad, metal ends on either side. The scroll¡¯s body was smooth, with a semi-translucent aquamarine color. Spirit jade. A netherworld material with a strong psychic affinity. Named because it resembled jade in color and character. This was a jade scroll. Specifically, the jade scroll for the waltz of flowers. ¡°You¡¯re letting me have it?¡± Sylvia asked, unable to hide her excited smile. ¡°I am letting you view it. Thrice,¡± Esmeralda said with stern warning. Communication in the netherworld was founded on spirit speech. This applied to spoken words and written works. Any legible book was laden with intent. When read, a thin layer would be drawn out to convey the author¡¯s meaning. Martial manuals contained thicker intent. Reading thus became an experience akin to feeling and seeing. Jade scrolls turned this feature up to eleven. One did not read a jade scroll. Instead, they drew from its depths pure knowledge. The dense intent was stronger than a movie and more intimate than virtual reality. This was a can of distilled wisdom. The introspection of the teacher. The movements of a master. The enlightenment of a sage. Jade scrolls were the closest thing the netherworld had to Sylvia¡¯s skill books. Unsurprisingly, jade scrolls were expensive. Half-a-million soli expensive. And that was just the start. The insights of a transformation realm expert went for millions. Enlightenment realm scrolls cost tens or hundreds of millions. Domain realm scrolls were literally priceless. As for truth? Ha! Forget about it. And all that for a limited number of uses. Jade scrolls held a lot of intent but they consumed it just as quickly. A new scroll was only good for a few dozen views. But they were worth it. ¡­ If you were filthy, stinking rich. ¡°I am still of the opinion that it is too early for you,¡± Lady Vallenfelt continued. ¡°But you are due a reward for your good behavior. I expect you to use this privilege wisely. I will be greatly displeased if you have not reached externalization prior to the tournament. If you lack confidence, then I suggest you pass on this opportunity or your punishment will be grave.¡± The dean¡¯s austere gaze was admonishing. Lack confidence? Sylvia had absolute confidence. Unable to resist a moment longer, Sylvia snatched the scroll and held against her breast as though it were a treasure. She¡¯d been wanting this scroll for months. She was eager to learn how well its lessons combined with the power of a blank skill book. Lady Vallenfelt clicked her tongue, conveying her displeasure. ¡°Manners.¡± Sylvia flushed. Not wanting to lose her reward, she offered her teacher a graceful curtsy. ¡°Thank you for this gift, master.¡± ¡°You are most welcome, my adorable apprentice,¡± Esmeralda accepted. ¡°Remember, no more than thrice or you shan¡¯t touch that scroll again until you are on the cusp of manifestation.¡± ¡°Yes teacher,¡± she accepted readily. ¡°Then, there is one last matter to discuss,¡± Lady Vallenfelt resumed. ¡°With your new consolidation comes an improved ability to absorb essence. Ordinarily, I would see to it that your allocation of astral dew was increased in proportion. ¡°However, as your cultivation is well ahead of your peers, I think it best you progress with your studies. Magic is a scholarly art. Power can easily cloud the mind to principles.¡± Esmeralda¡¯s gaze was cold. Sylvia¡¯s expression turned ugly. Power? More like, Lady Vallenfelt knew Sylvia would assert her independence the moment she touched the second consolidation. The dean wanted to keep Sylvia under her thumb. ¡°Am I allowed to meditate to make up the difference?¡± she ground out. Astral dew was a cultivation resource. The Academy farmed it in a cavern beneath the bluff. A portion was set aside for Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s personal interest. The rest was sold to Academy graduates. Ever since she became Baroness Vallenfelt¡¯s apprentice, Sylvia had received one bottle a week. Fifty droms per a bottle. Each containing 1500xp. The market price for this treasure was 500 soli. Being a seasoned gamer, Sylvia guzzled it like a pro. Cultivation resources were digested faster than the ether collected during meditation. When breathing ether Sylvia could gather 100xp a day. This process further demanded that Sylvia sacrifice an hour of her time. Astral dew, on the other hand, provided 250xp a day once digested. Yes, this meant Sylvia had a habit of walking around with essence sloshing around in her stomach six days a week. Which was way better than filling her inventory with that shit. In short, astral dew replaced meditation and let Sylvia level up two-and-a-half times faster. Of course, if she ran around killing phantasmal beasts she¡¯d gain levels three times faster than that. Alas, while her System¡¯s carnivorous consumption was excellent, it was also a picky eater. Sylvia processed direct kills easily. Meat and other leftovers, however, were consumed with an efficiency only marginally better than meditation. ¡°I will not forbid diligence,¡± Lady Vallenfelt permitted. ¡°But I shan¡¯t encourage you either. You may meditate in your free time using the dais provided to students. And if I am satisfied with your studies this next year, I will grant access to my personal meditation chambers.¡± That decided it then. Come next year, Sylvia was going to find a way to sneak out and hunt. Esmeralda¡¯s eyes narrowed, as though detecting her thoughts. ¡°Should you violate my trust, you will find that I have collected a number of corrective punishments. Punishments which, I think, you will not find as agreeable as I.¡± Grk! Sylvia shrank. Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s hard expression turned gentle. ¡°But let us not leave things on a sour note,¡± she said. ¡°Congratulations are due for your successful consolidation. This is a happy day. Now run along, my dear. There is still time to join the Sunday course.¡± Sylvia stood and curtsied. ¡°Thank you, teacher.¡± The green haired dean lifted her book finding the prior page. ¡°Mm,¡± she noised in soft acknowledgment. -oOo- Sylvia was sorely tempted to skip the Sunday course. The jade scroll was burning a hole in her pocket. Sylvia wanted to drink its intent then polish it off with a blank skill book. How much would she learn? Would her art touch the manifestation realm? She was keen to know. The silver haired witch resisted the urge. Before using a skill book, Sylvia first wished to study the scroll¡¯s ordinary impact. What¡¯s more, Sylvia hoped that by borrowing the scroll¡¯s power, she could reveal a natural progression. Esmeralda¡¯s eyes were on her and Sylvia now had a much greater to reason to keep her secret. Instead, Sylvia¡¯s gaze fell upon her event log. Reward: +27 pts ¨C Nether code: White ghost wood Reward: +33 pts ¨C Nether code: Blazing ruby Reward: +31 pts ¨C Nether code: Whirlwind emerald Reward: +39 pts ¨C Nether code: Crackling Quartz Reward: +7 pts ¨C Enchantment code: Ether conduit Reward: +10 pts ¨C Enchantment code: Ether transformer Reward: +50 pts ¨C Nether code: Spirit Jade What a tasty reward. 197 merit points, Sylvia¡¯s biggest haul since the merit shop opened. With this, her merit had accumulated to a grand total of 672 points. Not enough to buy a blank skill book, but more than enough to open a few of the System¡¯s features. Maybe it was time to buy something? Heh. She owed it to herself after the Devil dropped his shit onto her shoulders. The witch rubbed greedy hands together. What to pick. What to pick. Wasn¡¯t it obvious? She had to pick the feature most relevant! Sylvia quickly navigated her System window. Without hesitation, she clicked on a name. Buy! Ding! A new screen opened. Two-hundred merit points gone, just like that. Sylvia read the description eagerly.
Unlocked Feature: Observe Item Active Use: 10 mp (causality) The System will emit a runic structure, directly harvesting information on a designated object or item. Collected statistics will be stored in the System database and the object¡¯s characteristics will be deduced. Merit points will be rewarded as normal according to the value of the information collected. Repeated scans may be necessary to correctly determine a material¡¯s nether code. Information on scanned items may be reviewed through the System GUI. Data includes: weight, attributes, approximate value, effects, as well as relevant history. Note: Observe Item is a form of causality magic. It can be detected. Depending on the context, collecting information may be treated as a form of theft.
Oh ho ho. Now Sylvia could officially be called a ¡®gamer¡¯. Time to test this new power out. The silver haired witch projected her staff. ¡°Observe Item.¡± Ding!
Equipment: Ghost Lightning Staff
Type Weapons/Magical
Weight 42.3 droms
Value: 135,000 soli
Attributes
Attack 116%
Penetration 0 Ap
Ether 180 / Lightning, Wind, Fire
Charge Rate 275%
Potency 140%
A staff forged from lightning struck ghost wood. This weapon carries five ether sources, one major lightning source along with two wind and two fire sources. The runic code helps guide and transform gathered ether, reducing the mental burden of the user. Wind and fire can be breathed by the staff and stored as lightning ether. When released, the process can be reversed transforming lightning into wind or fire ether as needed. This staff was commissioned by Esmeralda Vallenfelt for her apprentice. Originally, Esmeralda Vallenfelt planned to give her apprentice one of her old staves, but the baroness feared that her noble peers would accuse her of cheating.
¡­ How much money did the baroness have? Rather than a staff, Lady Vallenfelt had gifted her a sports car. ¡°Now I feel like I¡¯m taking advantage of her,¡± Sylvia groaned. How was she supposed to complain when her teacher was throwing this much money in her direction? Wouldn¡¯t she be an ingrate? With mixed feelings, Sylvia closed the window. The silver haired witch made her way to through the Academic Building, coattails fluttering. Sylvia opened the classroom door. ¡°¡°Congratulations!¡±¡± A roar tore through Sylvia¡¯s thoughts. Colorful streamers fell down around her. The thin essence evanesced into sparkling motes. Tiffany was up front, throwing more confetti. Piper hung back, away from the crowd. The redheaded senior gave a casual wave. To her left, Brianna offered a respectful nod. Josephine was¡­ Josephine. The brown haired witch¡¯s expression was as blank and as beautiful as a doll¡¯s. ... Sylvia¡¯s eyes rose to the banner stretched across the room. Celebrating Consolidation. The words were writ in tacky letters. Professor Wright pushed to the front of the crowd. The tall teacher patted her on the shoulder. ¡°A consolidation is always a cause worth celebrating,¡± Abigail explained. ¡°Just treat it like a birthday party.¡± With that, Professor Wright pushed her deeper into the room. The silver haired witch all but stumbled into Faith. ¡°Congratulations,¡± Faith offered, blue eyes shining. ¡°I¡¯ll be going next.¡± As of an hour ago, Faith was the only witch in the Sunday course unconsolidated. If she wanted to join the tournament, she had to cross the threshold before the fourth week of Men-Stella. ¡°Good luck,¡± Sylvia offered seriously. ¡°Good luck?¡± A voice questioned. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me you were at the threshold of consolidation, you little cheat.¡± Before Sylvia could turn, Riley grabbed her from behind. The blonde ground her knuckles into Sylvia¡¯s skull. ¡°Ow. Ow. Ow.¡± Sylvia complained. This only made Riley rub harder. ¡°Your damned skull is too tough for that to hurt, so stop whining.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t ruin Sylvia¡¯s adorable hair,¡± Emily interrupted angrily. The petite, perfectly coiffed brunette intervened, taking a moment to straighten a few silver locks. ¡°See, now it¡¯s all better.¡± Emily shot Riley a look. Riley waggled her eyebrow with a wide grin. ¡°What are you two doing here?¡± Sylvia questioned, straightening her beret. It was her hat Sylvia had been crying over. The poor helpless hat, abused by a ruthless monster. It¡¯s suffering callously forgotten by the hero. But not by her. Never by her. As for her hair. Tch! If Riley¡¯s nuggie ground Sylvia¡¯s locks down to a nice two-inch length, Sylvia would praise the blonde¡¯s ingenuity. ¡°Professor Wright let us know. Not just us either,¡± Riley gestured back. At the far end of the room, near a buffet table, was Ingrid with a glass of red wine in hand. The succubus was pure seduction. Short skirt. Long, smooth legs. Tall, sexy heels. The purple haired woman raised her cup in greeting. Sylvia tried not to stare at the demon¡¯s full breasts, which threatened to spill from her dress. Fortunately, there was an equally enticing morsel beside the succubus. Approaching, Sylvia snagged herself a slice of cake. Important things first! ¡°I envy your talent,¡± Ingrid said, conversationally. ¡°I failed my first attempt at thirty years old. Outer membrane rupture.¡± Sylvia winced. ¡°Don¡¯t be a downer, Ingrid,¡± Kyna scolded with her cute and squeaky voice. The pink haired faerie dropped onto the succubus¡¯ head from above. ¡°It¡¯s Sylvia¡¯s big day.¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t,¡± Ingrid refuted, shaking her head to force the faerie to release her horns. ¡°I wanted to say, it is an honor to know a talent like you. Just remember me when you earn your title.¡± Raising her glass again, Ingrid took a sip. Sylvia could see the faint hue of ki clinging to the liquid to keep it from dispersing. Not to be out done, the silver haired witch sliced off the tip of her cake before putting it into her mouth. Mmm. Sweet and creamy. Absolutely delicious. ¡°Remember me too!¡± Kyna said brightly. ¡°I¡¯m your club mentor, so don¡¯t forget.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± Sylvia said, after swallowing her food. How could Sylvia forget the hateful insect that made her curtsy for two hours straight until she ¡®got it right¡¯. Sylvia stabbed her fork into her cake, the tines shooting through to clink off the plate below. ¡°Baroness Swallows,¡± Emily giggled. ¡°I¡¯ll admit, it does sound ridiculous,¡± Riley laughed. Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. She really hated that extra ¡®s¡¯. ¡°Baroness Swallows,¡± Sylvia corrected. When she spoke, her words carried an idea. A flock of birds rising from a verdant forest. She gestured with her fork. ¡°Actually, I think I prefer Archduke Swallows.¡± Not that she could ever become a lord of Hell. Not with Lucifer breathing down her neck. Perhaps, Arch Gamer Swallows. Hmm. Catchy. ¡°Archduchess,¡± Emily corrected. ¡°Now you¡¯re getting big-headed,¡± a voice interrupted. Piper slipped through their group and grabbed a glass of wine. The senior witch raised it high before toasting loudly. ¡°To the future devil!¡± Sylvia stiffened. Devil. A noble title that could be acquired by Awakened demons. In Hell¡¯s social hierarchy devils stood between barons and citizens. Devils were the gentile class. Only they could hold positions like official, commander, or magistrate. In fact, all titled nobles were technically devils. This was what Piper meant. A humble aspiration that all those in the Sunday course had hope for. The title of devil was not to be mistaken for The Devil. ¡°To victory,¡± Brianna called in contest. ¡°To Faith¡¯s consolidation!¡± Tiffany cheered. ¡°To the exp ¨C ,¡± Sylvia coughed. ¡°Growth!¡± she finished, plate raised high. Sylvia noticed Riley glowering from the side. Her lips quirked. The shorty was irritated. ¡°But Sylvia, you¡¯ll always be cute and adorable, just like me,¡± Emily interjected. ¡°Right, right,¡± Kyna cheered enthusiastically. ¡°Don¡¯t be a downer, Kyna. You¡¯re killing Riley¡¯s mood,¡± Sylvia commented blandly. Her eyes veered teasingly to the blonde. ¡°She can still grow taller. There are transformation spells, you know. Assuming Riley ever becomes competent enough to use them.¡± Enjoying her friend¡¯s glare, Sylvia proudly finished the rest of her cake. She swapped to another plate after. It was her consolidation party. Sylvia was going to enjoy every bit of it. Especially after learning shit news about her future. ¡°Hmph!¡± the faerie noised before fluttering off. ¡°I¡¯ll definitely become skilled enough,¡± Riley growled. ¡°Then I¡¯ll loom over you like an ogre.¡± ¡°You tell her, Riley!¡± Emily cheered. ¡°Who¡¯s going to loom over who?¡± Sylvia questioned, straightening her back. With her heels, her head rose over the blonde¡¯s. Emily giggled at their antics. ¡°It¡¯s starting to feel like you¡¯re going to leave us behind,¡± Riley sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not going to up and vanish,¡± Sylvia said. ¡°But who knows how many classes I¡¯ll share with you in the future. The baroness¡­ she¡¯s mentioned having me move into the mansion.¡± ¡°No way!¡± Emily said, arms crossed and lips turned into a pout. ¡°Yeah, if it bothers you, just tell her no,¡± Riley added. Sylvia smiled. ¡°I suppose I can do that.¡± After eleven months, Sylvia had come to think of Riley and Emily as friends. It had been a long time since Sylvia had friends. Not acquaintances. Real friends. Deep friends. People she could share her life with. Maybe, as Eric, she had never had them. Unfortunately, she couldn¡¯t share her troubles with them. Emily nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll be together for the next nine years,¡± the brunette insisted. ¡°And no matter how fast you run, I¡¯ll always be right behind you,¡± Emily declared, shaking her little fist. Sylvia grinned. ¡°I don¡¯t doubt it.¡± ¡°I mean it,¡± Emily said forcefully, cheeks puffed. ¡°I¡¯ll be right behind, making sure you always show your cutest side. Don¡¯t forget it!¡± ¡­ Riley snorted a laugh. The blonde slapped the silver haired witch on the shoulder. ¡°Looks like you¡¯re never going to escape.¡± Sylvia gave Riley a sour look. Riley¡¯s intense green eyes met hers. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me. I¡¯ll admit, I¡¯m not much for studying, but I¡¯ll take my classes seriously. I don¡¯t want to get kicked out before you are.¡± Sylvia¡¯s gaze shifted to Emily. ¡°I¡¯m counting on you to make sure Riley doesn¡¯t flunk out.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± ¡°Everyone!¡± High above the heads of the witches, Kyna hovered. Her iridescent wings fluttered behind, shedding glittering light. ¡°Since we¡¯re already having a party, how about we take this chance to teach you to dance!¡± And¡­ that was Sylvia¡¯s cue to leave. The silver haired witch tripled her chewing speed, her fork clinking against the plate as she did her best to inhale her second slice of cake. ¡°An excellent idea,¡± Professor Wright agreed. ¡°There will be a Grand Ball at Castel Lunii following the tournament. Anyone with achievements will be expected to attend. We had planned to cover dance and etiquette before the main event, but it¡¯s never a bad idea to start early.¡± Mouth still full, Sylvia put her plate on the buffet table and started walking toward the door. ¡°Right,¡± Kyna said cheerfully. ¡°Then, since Sylvia is the lady of the hour, how about she starts us off with the traditional seelie sweep.¡± The pink haired faerie¡¯s mischievous eyes were on Sylvia¡¯s back. The silver haired witch was still a good two meters from the door. The room grew quiet as all eyes fell upon her. Tiffany bounced with excitement. Piper looked on with curiosity. Josephine was¡­ Josephine. Sylvia let out a sigh. This was because she called Kyna a ¡®downer¡¯ wasn¡¯t it? ¡°You know how to dance?¡± Brianna questioned, flipping her pure white hair. ¡°Of course she does,¡± Kyna chirped. ¡°Sylvia¡¯s a member of my charm club. How can a girl call herself charming if she can¡¯t dance?¡± ¡°The seelie sweep requires a partner,¡± Sylvia said, voice strained. ¡°Oh. Pick me. Pick me,¡± Tiffany said, bouncing excitedly. She wasn¡¯t getting out of this, was she? Skipping past the eager blue haired witch Sylvia¡¯s gaze stopped briefly on Josephine. The expressionless girl gazed back, her eyes all devouring voids. Yeah. No. Sylvia¡¯s head turned to the girls she was most familiar with. Ingrid would dominate the floor, easy. That woman could dance. But Sylvia would look like a kid being dragged around by her mother. Riley liked dancing. Riley liked moving in general. Riley would also murder her after the party for daring to drag her on stage. Which left¡­ Sylvia stepped forward. Gracefully, she curtsied to the brunette in front of her. ¡°May I have the lady¡¯s hand?¡± Emily stretched out an arm, setting her limp wrist in Sylvia¡¯s palm. Her fingers were soft and dainty. Just like Sylvia¡¯s own. ¡°It would be my pleasure,¡± Emily said sweetly, dipping into an elegant curtsy of her own. Then the two swirled around the floor, high heels clicking to an unheard beat. -oOo- Shaping Shaping is the art of modifying a phantasmal object without changing its underlying code. Rock to chair. Wood to wall. Bone to sword. With shaping, the character of the initial material is maintained. The only thing altered is the object¡¯s expression and shape. Shaping is a key crafting skill in the netherworld. Common techniques from the material worlds simply do not work on phantasmal objects. Shaping is therefore used by smiths, chefs, and carpenters alike. Smelting Smelting is the process through which essence can be merged, purified, or refined. Poorly smelted materials can result in ¡®seams¡¯ where the two essences fail to unify into one. Quality smelting, however, is often a lossy process, therefore it is almost always better produce raw materials in large blocks. Many smelting techniques overlap with alchemy, with the energetic processes transforming the nether code. Smelting can also be used to create various alloys. As numerous essences exist, the breadth of this study is extreme. Forging Forging is the art of imbuing, transforming, or transferring concepts. With this, abilities like wind dash can be drawn from the bones of beryl blood wolf and placed in a pair of shoes. Likewise, a smith can take the mirrored metal concept from the shimmering coat of a golden arkos and meld it with a shield or armor. Tools containing concepts are known as martial equipment. Activating the conceptual powers requires ki. Martial tools exist in contrast with magical tool which rely on mana and engraved runic code. Because ki is most abundant in warrior type demons, martial equipment is usually preferred. Aging Objects in the netherworld collect history and recognition. Because of this, objects can spring back to their original form. Similarly, lost essence can be regenerated over weeks or months. This is a very useful trait. However, this feature can become a major headache for craftsman as shaping, smelting, and even forging can suddenly revert. The easiest way to protect against bounce back is to age an object. Aging requires no special process and is typically achieved by leaving an object to sit for a month, or sometimes multiple months. For the best results aging processes are carried out after each step of creation. Change the shape, age the item. Smelt the essence, age the item. Forge in a concept, age the item. Note there are magics and techniques that greatly accelerate the aging of an object. Often though, with cheap construction, it is easier and cheaper just let the item sit. Chapter 13 -oOo- Chapter 13 -oOo-
New Quest: Wizard Means Wise VIII Every mage is a scholar. Only through study and effort can a mage reach the pinnacle of magecraft. Read books. Attend lessons. Learn secrets. Seek all forms of knowledge and carve a path for all those who follow behind you.
Quest Reward: * 1x Blank Skill Book * Wizard Means Wise IX
Objectives: [x] Obtained Knowledge: 800 / 800 pts
¡°Finally,¡± Sylvia breathed. The silver haired witch set down The Weave of Fate by Apollonius, an elective class divination textbook. While the writing was dry, Sylvia found the spell applications fascinating. The Weave of Fate provided multiple case studies in the use of causality magic, each drawn from Apollonius¡¯s life experience. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll read Akashic Reflection next.¡± She¡¯d run it by her teacher first. Lady Vallenfelt knew which books were worth reading. No sense trudging through antiquated garbage. Sylvia checked her System. Three blank skill books. It was time to execute her grand plan. The jade scroll had been sitting in Sylvia¡¯s inventory for a month now. She¡¯d peeked at the contents, of course. The first view had provided a great deal of insight. In her practice thereafter, the asteri smoothed many of her mistakes. Then Sylvia had gritted her teeth and put the scroll aside. There were many reasons. The first and most direct motivator was reality. Sylvia was a witch. Her battle power was better increased through magic rather than ki. Sylvia had a tournament coming up and practicality was must. The second reason was fear of attention. Mastering an art in one day was sure to raise brows. So Sylvia had made theater of training in secret. To lend this illusion veracity, she had used the scroll a second time, then put enough hours in to touch the edge of externalization. Now it was time to turn lie into reality. Hands shaking with excitement, Sylvia unleashed the command. ¡°Use Item, Blank Skill Book: Waltz of Flowers.¡± Querying Database¡­ Querying Database¡­ ¡­ Associated information found. Simulating Scenario¡­ ¡­ Simulation complete. Ding!
Create Item: Waltz of Flowers [Perfect]? Upon confirming the creation of this item, the skill book Waltz of Flowers will be used. Consuming a skill book takes 1 hour, during which the User will be rendered unconscious. Warning: You have 3 creation attempts left. Confirm / Cancel
Perfect. A category above excellent. It was exactly as she hoped. Eager, Sylvia looked left and right. The silver haired witch was sitting on a stone dais far from prying eyes. Sunlight poured down with the morning¡¯s eternal glow, shedding soothing warmth. The cool breeze was gentle, rustling her robes. Napping in the meditation area was a fond pass time for witches. Even if someone wondered upon this space, they¡¯d think nothing of it. Sylvia laid back, eyes closed. The hard stone was nothing to a phantasmal body. ¡°Confirm.¡± Ding! ¡­ ¡­ Sylvia cracked open an eye. Instead of a dream, she found a blue window waiting.
Jade Scroll Detected The skill book Waltz of Flowers [Perfect] can be upgraded to Waltz of Flowers [Epic]. Do you wish to combine these items before use? Confirm / Cancel
¡°That¡¯s new,¡± Sylvia muttered. She pondered. The wording was rather suspicious. Did combine meaning losing the scroll? Was she willing to face Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s wrath? Hmm. Greedy desire pawed around in her heart. ¡°Hey, you. What does combine mean?¡± the witch demanded. The rectangle remained the silent. Sylvia pinched the screen in frustration. Know what? Screw it. ¡°Confirm!¡± Accessing Jade Scroll¡­ Interleaving intent¡­ ¡­ upgrade complete. Ding. The air rippled. A column of heavenly light poured from a portal above Sylvia¡¯s head. With great theater, a book descended, surrounded by purple motes. The cover was transparent gold. The pages silver leaf. On the front was inscribed the title: The Waltz of Flowers. Below was a sketch of a witch wearing a wide brimmed hat. The robed magician pranced upon a sea of petals.
Create Item: Waltz of Flowers [Epic]? Using an epic skill book grants 1500 hours of training in the designated subject. Consuming an epic skill book takes 2 hours, during which the User will be rendered unconscious. Bonus Effect: Insight (moderate) The intent of the jade scroll will guide the User¡¯s training, moderately increasing their ability to learn and comprehend. Walls will be overcome more easily, confusion will be eased, and the peak of mastery will be raised by a small level. Use Item / Cancel Warning!!! This item will expire in 23:59:32
There was a nervous flutter in her heart. Fear mixing with excitement. Sylvia trembled. Should she check the damage? No. It was already too late. The die had been cast. The first thing to do was to enjoy the results. ¡°Use Item!¡± In an instant, she was devoured by the darkness. Sylvia was standing in a field of green. Bare feet pressed against the dirt, strands of grass rising between her toes. Slowly, she stepped. Ki flowed through her, moving through spine, thigh, and calve. The woven flow split as it approached her ankle. Ki spread through the earth in sheets, an invisible force like the petals of a flower. Her weight shifted. Ki flexed with it, adding a spring to her step. Step. Step. Step. She moved. She sensed the stream of life within her. She felt every eddy and every mistaken action. Each movement was different than the last. A dance. Forward and back. Left and right. Turning. Spinning. Stabilizing. A hop and a leap. A turn and a twirl. A dash then a stop. A thorough course testing all the ways a human could move. The dance went on for half an hour. Then it repeated. Again and again. One hour became two. Two became four. Four became ten. A day passed. Her pace picked up. She moved with rhythm. A changing beat, brisk then sluggish. She danced on grass, sand, stone, and snow. Slowly, the flow of her ki was refined. The errors rarer. Her movement familiar. Then easy. Then natural. A week had passed. The process changed. Sylvia¡¯s ki surged. The volume doubled, then tripled. The energy in her body ballooned until the density was ten times that prior. In an instant, strength, vitality, and agility were increased by two-hundred points. Ki flowed smooth and refined, thick and durable. Then she stepped again. Physical energy, once contained by flesh, pushed out. Pale sheets spread along the ground like paper petals. Externalization made easy by the magnitude of her life force. Like this she practiced, following the prior regime. One day passed. Her attributes fell. Two days passed. Her strength was reduced again, ki only thrice where it started. On the third day twice. By the end of the fourth, her attributes had returned to normal. On the fifth day, she refined her control. On the sixth day, her movements were pure and perfect. On the seventh, she danced among paper petals, ki as weak as the day she entered the netherworld. The scene shifted. An obstacle course appeared in front of her. A mountain of walls, beams, and hazards that extended for kilometers. Without hesitation, Sylvia entered it. She ran along walls. She leapt between poles. She dodged around axes while crossing narrow beams. She traversed slick slopes, icy slides, and mud filled pits. Then she did it again. With bare feet, heavy boots, and high heels. She challenged variations with broken legs and iron shackles. She stumbled. She struggled. She failed. Again and again. Until she succeeded. Once. Then twice. Then repeatedly. The art became natural and the scenarios more versatile. Now she faced battles and formal dances. The inner flow was as easy as breathing. Externalization, equally effortless. The petals she cast conformed perfectly with the ground, spreading her weight and enhancing her grip. No matter the angle or the situation, when she stepped the petals flexed amplifying her force. Then a feeling flitted. An ephemeral echo. Slowly, she started to sense it. A concept. An idea. The deeper her understanding the more refined the petals. With each motion they became more real. Soon figments of flowers danced upon her wake. As the fifth week dawned, her movements became lighter. More agile. She ran across sand without sinking. She frolicked through swamp without being engulfed. Fantasy converged into truth. Concept coiled with ki. Idea was manifest into reality. By the seventh week, Sylvia slid on the surface of lakes as easily as figure skater flying on the ice. Lighter and lighter. Her weight seemed to vanish until, just before the eighth week, Sylvia stepped off air. What was done once became twice. Double jumps. Triple jumps. Still, she was challenged, forced to apply her new skill in all manner of danger. Beryl blood wolves nipped at her heels. Lighting hawks circled over head, spitting electric bolts. Beret wearing witches ran beside her, filling the air with vicious blades. She fought them atop still lakes. She fled from hordes while parkouring through mountains. She battled in the Academy halls, then across the rooftops of Earth¡¯s cities. She lived. She died. She lost. She won. The threat never ended, forever rising with her mastery. As the ninth week approached its close, Sylvia found herself dashing among the clouds. She dove through skies of blue, using her art to control her position. Lightning hawks gave chase, forcing her to dodge and evade while she plummeted toward the ground. The instant she touched earth, Sylvia awoke. Sunlight teased a pair of pastel pink eyes. Sylvia blinked. And regretted it. The light was a knife driven through the open sockets of her skull. With groan, Sylvia squeezed her eyes closed, shielding herself from the sun with an arm. Her head pounded. A troll hammered at her brain, treating it like a drum. Ordinary skill books were bad. This was much, much worse. Reeling from pain so sharp it made her sick, Sylvia waited for the memories to fade. Half an hour later, she dragged herself to her feet. ¡°That one was stronger than normal,¡± Sylvia squeezed out. Her head was still throbbing. It wasn¡¯t just the number of memories that increased, but also their intensity and clarity. Sylvia¡¯s psychic essence was scattered, leaving her dizzy and unsteady. She wobbled. Ki flexed. Life force flowed through her shoes, gripping the ground with soft petals. Even as the world swirled, she kept her balance. It was easy. Natural. After half a year, the silver haired witch had become tolerant of her ridiculous heels. Now they were almost comfortable. No different than standing with bare feet. In fact, was there a difference? When the waltz of flowers was mastered, it was ki on which she walked. Not the earth or footwear. As with Kyna, shoes were little more than ornaments to her now. The netherworld was an absurdity. Grimacing against the pain and recognition, Sylvia tested her control. Ki flowed again, this time through her arm. An aura wrapped her fist, hardening into a steel like plate. Externalization. Practicing the waltz of flowers had improved her skill with ki in general. Sylvia released the aura, opening a hand. Inner flow was the foundation. It was hard to live in the netherworld without it. Whether it was to eat food, drink wine, or shape cloth, ki was a necessity. Externalization was a step beyond. While witches would rarely reach this realm, it was all but expected from any competent warrior. To physical type fighters externalization was as important as fast casting. Beyond this was manifestation. The manifestation realm was the threshold that defined an expert. This was not a realm that could be reached by casual practice or mere strength. Grasping manifestation took commitment and effort. ¡°I can use externalization freely,¡± Sylvia noted. ¡°And technically speaking, I¡¯ve stepped a foot into manifestation.¡± Not that it mattered much with Sylvia¡¯s pitiful pool of ki. She owed this to the jade scroll and her skill book. Without the pairing, she would¡¯ve stopped at externalization. Only the two in conjunction let Sylvia cross one and a half realms in an instant. From a certain perspective, Sylvia could now be called a genius. ¡°Professor Wright told us to expect manifestation level arts during the tournament,¡± Sylvia reminded.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. The netherworld was unfair. Some were born with a code that fit their soul. Others had outer membranes that were pock marked and warped. Each bloodline came with different traits. Witches had abundant mana. Werewolves were abound with ki. Vampires were a mix in between, but could easily recover their strength by drinking blood. When Sylvia trained in martial arts, her practice was limited to an hour. Warrior type demons could train for thrice that. Their control would be better. Their power greater. Some would have innate traits that helped them grasp concepts and step into the manifestation realm. A few might even have the ultimate cheat, a mortal past life as a ki wielding knight. So, while a one-year-old manifestation realm witch was surprising, only Esmeralda would be shocked. After all, of the planar nobles, only Lady Vallenfelt truly understood how mundane the World of Origin truly was. ¡°I can¡¯t even call myself a talent. I had to use a jade scroll. For some people, manifestation just clicks.¡± She was still a bit worried. Eventually, Sylvia would have to tell her teacher the truth. The secret of the thirteen Lucifers was no secret at all. Before his capture by Heaven, Lucifer tore from his soul twelve fragments. These fragments were hidden on the material worlds. There they were held in stasis, awaiting the right century in which to be reborn. Thirteen evil pieces, scattered across space and time. This cloning technique wasn¡¯t unique. Splitting the soul and cultivating it by way of mortal flesh was an ancient method. The stronger the soul, the greater the talent. And nothing nurtured the soul like a newborn child. Once the fragment was properly grown it could be merged with the original. With a chance of insanity, of course. Clones grown this way were as much children as copies. While a soul would naturally seek to make itself whole, the mind was a more complicated affair. Lucifer¡¯s hint was that Esmeralda had a clone. A clone which would be sympathetic to Sylvia¡¯s plight. ¡°The first years are most suspicious,¡± Sylvia mused. ¡°But the third years are also a possibility.¡± Older students were unlikely, and the staff could be dismissed. Letting the soul mature and recultivate after returning to the nether was common sense. Letting it live an entirely separate life for decades or centuries was madness. ¡°If I go by demeanor, it has to be Natalie Ward. If I assume Esmeralda is a good actor, it could be anyone.¡± Riley Smith could be laughing at her behind a faux tomboy facade. Emily Clark¡¯s childish character might be a mere game. Heather Grenier a perfectly played mean girl charade. Ugh. Sylvia never liked mysteries. ¡°I don¡¯t want to think about it while my head is pounding. I¡¯ll save the basic combat magic book for tomorrow morning. The last blank skill book has to wait until the preliminaries.¡± Heh. Maybe she¡¯d get lucky her teacher would hand her another jade scroll. ¡­ Fuck. Reminded, Sylvia slipped the jade scroll from her soul. The stone was dull and empty. Not a scrap of intent could be felt inside. She sighed. ¡°You just had to take it all, didn¡¯t you?¡± What¡¯s done was done. All Sylvia could do was hope it was worth it. -oOo- A wooden ship floated over the Academy. It had three masts, one rising from the deck, two angled down from port and starboard. The sails were furled. A chain anchor had been dropped, holding the ship in place. It was a big beast, fifty meters from bow to stern. The scale was all the more impressive when looking up at it from below. The netherworld had many ships. Astral ships, that sailed the starry void. Ocean cruisers that plied the waters of a plane. This was an airship. A vessel that traveled the skies but couldn¡¯t cross the void. Like the ships of yore, airships relied on wind to carry them to their destination. The biggest difference was that airships made their own wind. ¡°No more than six at a time!¡± Professor Wright shouted. Fifty witches were boarding the vessel. This craft would bring them to Orasul Lunii, the capital of the Timeless Beryl Wilderness. Joyful students gossiped eagerly, imagining what they would see during the Festival of Light. Others were more interested in the Young Demon¡¯s Tournament. A few lamented they would have no chance to join that festivity. To ride this transport required 500 soli. This price covered the ticket to and fro, as well as a stay at Baroness Vallenfelt¡¯s guest house. Witches senior and junior were encouraged to attend. Not everyone could afford it. Sylvia¡¯s ride was free. Emily had paid for hers out of pocket. The brunette had no lack superbs. Riley? ¡°You better pay me back,¡± Sylvia said. Sylvia had covered the blonde¡¯s admission. Her stomach and taste buds were already filing their objection. Her subconscious had reviewed their case and acknowledged that both had standing. Riley¡¯s bright green eyes shone grumpily. ¡°If you¡¯re going to keep reminding me all the way there and back I¡¯d rather return my ticket.¡± ¡°Two poors. Two acceptables. One superb,¡± Sylvia reminded, ruthlessly. ¡°How long are you going to take, exactly?¡± ¡°Sylvia,¡± Emily scolded. ¡°Don¡¯t be mean. Riley is doing her best.¡± The three of them entered a small boat. They were joined by a trio of older students, two with ruby dresses and one wearing sapphire. The tender took to the air, flying upward to meet its mother. Professor Fischer shadowed them on her broom. The golden haired witch had already been forced to save one too eager junior. Not wanting to add to Glenda¡¯s troubles, Sylvia kept her butt firmly on her seat. Also, she was scared of heights. As all intelligent creatures were. Riley, on the other hand, happily peered over the edge supporting Sylvia¡¯s thesis. ¡°Hard to believe we¡¯ve been here for a year,¡± Riley commented. ¡°Back then I was thinking about running away. Now, I¡¯m trying to keep my grades up so I can stay.¡± ¡°It¡¯s only been twelve months,¡± Sylvia reminded. ¡°There are thirteen months to a netherworld year.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± Riley said sarcastically. ¡°I¡¯m just trying to keep your grades up,¡± Sylvia answered with a smug tone. ¡°That way you can pay me back faster.¡± Riley glared. The freckled blonde swung a hand in Sylvia¡¯s direction. The silver haired witch ducked, hand on her hat. ¡°Don¡¯t rock the boat!¡± an annoyed witch rebuked. ¡°I hope next year is as wonderful as the first,¡± Emily said, dreamily. ¡°I¡¯d prefer to chose my own shoes,¡± Sylvia retorted. She glanced down at her charm club modified dress. ¡°And my own clothes.¡± She¡¯d also like to spend a few hours as a man, if only to remind herself what it felt like. Mostly though, she just wanted the right to choose. ¡°Good luck,¡± Riley laughed. ¡°At this rate, I¡¯ll be out after fourth year and you¡¯ll still be stuck playing dress up in your tenth.¡± Sylvia¡¯s french braid jabbed the blonde in the face. ¡°Hey.¡± Jab. Jab. ¡°Stop that!¡± ¡°Sorry, my hair got caught in the wind,¡± Sylvia deadpanned. Emily giggled. ¡°I think Sylvia¡¯s fallen in love with long hair.¡± ¡°I might have,¡± Sylvia admitted. Now that she had good ki control, long hair had become too convenient. Sylvia could use it to grab cups, hold books, or do anything really where a third arm came in handy. If she ever had a ton of spare skill books, she might learn a few hair related arts. The brunette¡¯s dark, emerald eyes shimmered. ¡°You know if ¨C ¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°But ¨C ¡± ¡°I¡¯m not putting my hair in pigtails,¡± Sylvia said bluntly. Emily deflated. ¡°But it¡¯d be so cute.¡± ¡°And you¡¯d have two extra arms instead of one,¡± Riley added, mischievously. ¡°Right!¡± Emily cheered. ¡°Sounds like Riley wants pigtails,¡± Sylvia commented, blandly. ¡°Curly ones. With bows.¡± ¡°Mmm,¡± Emily noised. ¡°It¡¯s not the same.¡± Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. Why was Emily so fixed on her? Did the petite brunette get a special thrill from playing with a former man? Or was Sylvia too, too cute to the point Emily couldn¡¯t resist? Thud. The tender docked with the airship. The frame jolted. Once the small boat stabilized, Sylvia stood. Nimbly she moved onto the airship¡¯s deck. The solid planks, head high railings, and the sheer scale of the ship made her feel secure. Ironic, because Sylvia knew she¡¯d be safe even if she jumped off. Summoning her courage, Sylvia stepped up to the edge and looked down on the ground below. The senior and junior dorms were set east and west of the resurrection pool. The gothic, stone structure was itself north of the Academic Building. As Sylvia¡¯s gaze drifted south, she found the Academy Gates then the path down to the town of Vallen. Beyond lay the Daylight Forest. A sea of trees stretching all the way to the horizon, undulating with the hills and terrain. Further, she could spot the peaks of mountains. A distant spine separating the coastal forests from the true depths of the wilderness. To the north was the starry void. An ocean of stars. Void roiling atop Unus Mundus. If one traveled that void far enough, they might chance upon one of the other six-hundred and sixty-five major planes. ¡°Incredible, isn¡¯t it?¡± It was Piper who spoke. The redhead leaned against the railing, gazing out into the distance. The wind stirred the senior¡¯s short ponytail. ¡°A wilderness broad enough to cover a third of Europe. Only a fifth of it has been explored. There is nothing like it on Earth. Not anymore.¡± The Timeless Beryl Wilderness held a population of one-hundred and thirty-thousand. The city Eric had lived in dwarfed it ten times over. To Sylvia, the idea of vast swaths of unexplored territory was as unimaginable as humans walking on the moon to those three centuries back. ¡°Makes you wonder how many secret places are hidden out there,¡± Riley said, joining the conversation. ¡°And how many beautiful sites,¡± Emily added. ¡°Never took you for an explorer,¡± Sylvia commented, turning to the petite brunette. ¡°Flying on a broom, the wind in your hair, the land and sky laid out like a painting. Doesn¡¯t it sound romantic?¡± Emily sighed. ¡°Phantasmal beasts everywhere,¡± Sylvia teased. ¡°Most of them driven more by the intent to kill rather than the desire to survive.¡± ¡°Mmm!¡± Emily noised angrily. Piper laughed. ¡°Sounds like the three of you belong in my explorers club.¡± Riley perked. ¡°I didn¡¯t think the explorers club recruited before third year.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t,¡± Piper admitted. ¡°Not normally. Taking care of juniors is too much like babysitting. No offense. The Academy recruits girls between fifteen and thirty. So it¡¯s not about age, it¡¯s about magic. Magical Combat is a second year class, nobody wants the hassle of dealing with students that haven¡¯t passed it. But, in your case, I think I can make an exception.¡± Piper¡¯s silver eyes fell on Sylvia. The senior¡¯s robes danced in the wind. ¡°In other words, you¡¯ll make me babysit,¡± Sylvia said, not bothering to mince her words. Riley gave the silver haired witch a thumbs up. ¡°We¡¯re counting on you,¡± the freckled blonde said shamelessly. ¡°But then we¡¯d have to give up charm club,¡± Emily lamented. Then her shadowy, green eyes brightened. ¡°I know! We can all dress up like magical girls. Then we can fly through the sky, fighting evil phantasms in the name of love and justice!¡± ¡­ ¡­ ¡°I¡¯m not punishing them in high heels,¡± Sylvia deadpanned. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Piper said playfully. ¡°You seem to fight pretty well while wearing them.¡± ¡°Right!¡± Emily said excitedly. ¡°We can combine the best of charm club and explorers club. Wouldn¡¯t that be fun!¡± Piper¡¯s gaze turned away from Sylvia¡¯s friend to fall upon a witch with pinkish purple hair. Faith was hanging out near the stern, Tiffany at her side. Even at this distance, Sylvia could sense the senior¡¯s slump. ¡°I¡¯ll see the three of you later,¡± Piper said, pushing away from the railing. ¡°Don¡¯t forget to sign up with my explorers club next year. I¡¯ll take good care of you.¡± With a wave, Piper left. ¡°Something happen?¡± Riley asked, glancing back and forth. In the distance, Piper patted Faith on the shoulder trying to cheer her. ¡°Dispersion failure,¡± Sylvia explained. When the blonde gave her a flat eyed stare, Sylvia elaborated. ¡°Her consolidation failed last week so she won¡¯t be joining the tournament.¡± ¡°I feel so bad for her,¡± Emily lamented. ¡°Don¡¯t. Faith has her novice witch certificate. Save your tears for Riley. She¡¯s the one who might flunk out.¡± Why cry over the suffering of the rich when the pains of the poor were always more terrible? That was Sylvia¡¯s philosophy. ¡°I¡¯m not going to flunk out,¡± Riley growled for the umpteenth time. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t let her!¡± Emily agreed, both fists clenched cutely. ¡°But I can¡¯t help but feel sorry for poor Faith. She put her heart into it only to fail just before reaching the starting line.¡± ¡°Weigh anchor!¡± The first mate¡¯s shout drowned out Emily¡¯s concern. The trio turned to watch a one horned oni hoist the anchor. The sailors rushed around the deck while Professor Wright urged stray students out of the way. A siren flew overhead, circling the ship and checking the sails. The captain, a dog-eared man, reviewed the operation from his place at the helm. Baroness Esmeralda Vallenfelt stood beside him. The beautiful witch was akin to a child when placed beside the captain. Somehow, she radiated authority. Though, perhaps that was from the quick deference all the sailors showed to her presence. Thuft. Unfurled sails caught wind. Sylvia felt the pull through the planks beneath her. Professor Fischer flew in, dismounting her broom as she landed next to the dean. The two exchanged words unheard. Sylvia¡¯s eyes was drawn back to the surface. The airship slipped through the sky. Vallen and the Academy grew distant, disappearing behind an endless sea of trees. Soon they found themselves flying above the wild. No roads. No civilization. Just forest, hills, and streams as far as the eye could see. The coast wavered as they traveled west, the starry void twinkling outside the planar edge. A river rolled, coiling through the forest only to reach the land¡¯s edge. Water poured off the cliffs of the shore, misty ether swept aside by the turbulent flows of chaos. Slowly, the sun dipped. After two hours, bright blue was brushed with vivid reds, oranges, and purples. The frozen hands of time¡¯s clock ticked backward revealing glorious sunrise. Sylvia swept a stray lock from her eyes, indulging in nature¡¯s beauty. The whole world opened its arms in offered embrace. ¡°We¡¯re now above the Twilight Forest,¡± Professor Wright introduced like a tour guide. ¡°Port Blaze will be coming up on your right in the next ten minutes.¡± Curious girls, crowded on the ship¡¯s starboard side. Sylvia¡¯s inclination was to avoid the gaggle, but Riley dragged the trio toward the rail. To the fore, the silver haired witch made out the River of Fire. The River of Fire was the largest river in the Timeless Beryl Wilderness. It flowed north from the Frozen Wastes to dump into the starry void near Port Blaze. ¡°I think I see it,¡± Riley said excitedly. ¡°It¡¯s so pretty,¡± Emily breathed. ¡°And wet,¡± Sylvia supplied ruthlessly. The River of Fire was named for its appearance. The setting sun reflected off the rippling water, casting its length in a flaming glow. As the mighty river poured into the void, water essence broke down into ether. Port Blaze was like a bowl. The land shielded the coast from the astral currents, forming a natural harbor. As a result, the water ether rose. As it was drawn back into the plane, it was spun into mist and rain according to the logic of the plane. Hence, Port Blaze was forever wrapped in fog. And this fog, lit by the hue of dawn, made the land look as though it had been set on fire. ¡°Dry enough up here,¡± Riley commented. The blonde wedged her toes between the rails so she could lift herself until the cross-beam was chest height. Sylvia understood the temptation. Being out and about among ordinary demons reminded Sylvia that she was absurdly short. And the whole world was annoyingly sized for persons six foot tall. ¡°I¡¯m just glad the preliminaries are in Orasul Lunii,¡± Sylvia said. ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to a proper night¡¯s sleep after a year of endless morning.¡± ¡°You are a dreadfully boring person, you know that.¡± ¡°I went with you to Vallen,¡± Sylvia pointed out. ¡°Mmm and you didn¡¯t bring me,¡± Emily noised angrily. Riley rolled her eyes. ¡°You outright told us you would¡¯ve reported us to the professors.¡± ¡°You were breaking the rules,¡± Emily chided. ¡°But you should¡¯ve brought me anyway. That¡¯s what friends do.¡± Sylvia decided to ignore the brunette¡¯s unreasonableness. ¡°I¡¯m bringing you this time,¡± she pointed out before turning to the blonde. ¡°And you can hardly call me boring when I¡¯m the one participating in the tournament.¡± At the start, Sylvia wasn¡¯t too interested in the tournament. However, as it approached she felt a growing fervor. A thrill tempered by anxiety. The silver haired witch wanted to test her edge. To know how strong she was. Back when she descended to Vallen, Dumas had shattered her confidence. Now she hoped to get it all back. Was she strong? Could she face the phantasmal wildlife? Sylvia licked her lips, imagining the delicious experience points pouring into her like a flood. Even without the Devil¡¯s impetus, power had its own addictive allure. ¡°So, what should we do when we¡¯re there?¡± Riley asked. ¡°We should visit the shops and try on dresses,¡± Emily sang, spinning lightly on her toe. ¡°Oh and I want to see the midnight garden.¡± The blonde¡¯s bright green eyes fell on Sylvia. ¡°Food.¡± Did anything else need to be said? ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind looking at the hunter''s equipment.¡± She wanted to see the swords. Also, she wanted to use Observe Item to¡­ uh... acquire merit points. Mostly though, she wanted to look at the swords. Yes. She was a witch. Swords were useless to her. So what? Swords were a man¡¯s romance! If Emily could shop for clothes then Sylvia could play with swords. It was only fair. ¡°What about you?¡± Sylvia asked, turning to her friend. ¡°Other than watching the tournament?¡± Riley asked. ¡°I¡¯d like to get out of the city and see what the wilderness is like. And maybe explore all the nooks and crannies. Being cooped up in the Academy has me going stir-crazy.¡± ¡°Riley has so much energy,¡± Emily teased. ¡°I do,¡± Riley agreed, raising a fist into the air. ¡°Maybe next time, you¡¯ll join the tournament,¡± Sylvia commented. ¡°Mmm, mmm,¡± Emily sounded, nodding in agreement. ¡°Sure, why not,¡± Riley grinned. ¡°How are you holding up? Nervous.¡± ¡°A little,¡± Sylvia admitted. ¡°I¡¯ve never been part of something this big in my entire life. Kind of crazy to think about it. Sylvia Swallows, world-famous gladiator.¡± Plane famous, anyway. The Timeless Beryl Wilderness was tiny compared to most of the major planes. Duat was twenty times bigger and had nine thousand times the population. Actually, Sylvia would be famous regardless. Her apprenticeship would be made official after the tournament. ¡°You think you can win?¡± ¡°I¡¯m pretty confident,¡± Sylvia replied at the risk of sounding arrogant. ¡°But if my luck¡¯s shit, there¡¯s nothing I can do.¡± Hell wasn¡¯t big on fairness. For them, watching aloof experts get ganked was half the fun. The tournament wasn¡¯t just a way to find the strongest. It was entertainment. An ancient Roman coliseum with a touch of sporting theatrics. If a bad roll of the dice set Sylvia against the strongest duelist in the tournament, she would lose. If she won but her team was garbage she would be toast in the survival round. Skill and strength swayed the odds but random chance could throw things for a loop. There was nothing Sylvia could do about that. Well. Actually. There was. Sylvia could pick up fate magic and spin probability in her favor. Top tier spells were a hack. ¡°I believe in you Sylvia,¡± Emily said firmly. ¡°You can win. I know it.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± Sylvia said, patting the adorable brunette. ¡°But regardless, I¡¯m stopping after the survival round.¡± Riley snorted a laugh. ¡°What, not going to try your luck against Professor Fischer?¡± ¡°I¡¯m confident, not stupid,¡± Sylvia answered. Professor Fischer was a second consolidation witch. How was Sylvia even supposed to fight? She was ten skill books and two-hundred levels short of making a serious attempt at the under fifty bracket. Emily¡¯s eyes were burning. ¡°Believe in the me that believes in you.¡± ¡­ ¡°Gurren Lagann?¡± Sylvia raised an eyebrow. Emily¡¯s cheeks flushed adorably. ¡°I watched it with my dad. But I made him watch my entire magical girl collection after. You¡¯ll be my Sakura, and I¡¯ll be your Tomoyo!¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t watch that one, so I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about.¡± ¡°I did,¡± Riley said with quirked lips. ¡°Card Captor Sakura. Tomoyo is the girl who¡¯s always dressing Sakura up and videotaping her, right?¡± ¡°Right!¡± Emily said cheerfully. ¡­ Sylvia felt a deep sense of despair. -oOo- Orasul Lunii "City of the Moon" Lord: Viscount Vilhelm Codrin, Demon King Time Zone: Night Population: 42,000 GDP: 487 million soli Orasul Lunii is the capital of the Timeless Beryl Wilderness and the largest city, rivaled only by Port Blaze. The city is built on the coast of the Midnight Forest, the time corresponding 10:30 PM. The temperature is fixed at a cool but comfortable 50¡ã Fahrenheit. There are occasional storms and rains, but the weather is usually clear. A large supermoon hangs permanently on the horizon. The main city gate and Castel Lunii are arranged so that entrants into the city capture the silhouette of the castle perfectly against the moon¡¯s white glow. The city prizes beauty and artistry, with many works found along the main thoroughfare and the upper class district. However, the city does have a growing slums that services the slaves and the lower class. Orasul Lunii provides the plane¡¯s main astral port along with ample docks for astral ships. It is the foremost hub of interplanar travel, though Port Blaze¡¯s natural harbor should¡¯ve been its superior. Beyond Vilhelm Codrin¡¯s investments, Orasul Lunii owes its success to having been built on the Timeless Beryl Wilderness¡¯s largest soul well. From this well roughly 380 pure souls appear every year. Port Blaze Lord: Baron Tadc Cair Time Zone: Twilight Population: 24,000 GDP: 231 million soli Despite its name, Port Blaze is very wet. The water pouring into the void forms a perpetual cloud of mist that clings to the city. The outward fiery appearance is lost on the dwellers, for which the city remains gray, dull, and clammy. Port Blaze is set on the River of Fire, which acts as a major trade artery into the deep wilderness. At the southernmost point of the river is Muguang Fortress, a popular spot for hunters. In addition to trade goods, Port Blaze has abundant water resources, making the territory a gift to natravores of the correct persuasion. Despite Port Blaze¡¯s natural harbor, the lack of investment has left the city languishing. The mist and the fog also act as a deterrent to airships further hampering its growth. Vallen Lord: Baroness Esmeralda Vallenfelt, Laureate of Magic Time Zone: Day Population: 10,000 GDP: 117 million soli A small fief built near the Fortress of Dawn. Baroness Vallenfelt selected the location for its strong astral flows that crash upon the plane¡¯s shores. This results in high levels of chaos ether, which are drawn into the Academy to provide meditation points and to farm astral dew. Due to the currents, Vallen makes for a poor harbor. To support the territory, the land was carved to provide a small dock for ships coming into the Fortress of Dawn. Trade heavily relies on airships, most of which likewise dock at the Fortress. Investment wise, the Starlight Nether Witch Academy receives most of the Baroness¡¯s love. However, the fief also sports good roads and good order. Hunters seeking resources from the Daylight Fortress but aiming to avoid the deep wilderness often gather in the town. Those wishing for stronger game settle in Clara Arbores instead. Vallen marks the easternmost claim on the plane by Hell. However, further east can be found Sunlight Harbor, the sole town controlled by the Fey Federation. Chapter 14 -oOo- Chapter 14 -oOo- For the first time in twelve months, the sun had set. Darkness drenched the world. The sky was filled with sparkling stars and shadowy clouds. A great moon sat on the horizon, casting the ship¡¯s deck in silver light. The pale, celestial body was pock marked with visible craters, reminding Sylvia of Luna back home. On most planes, the sky was no more than an illusionary echo. A remembrance of the frame from which the ethereal realm was wrought. Earth held life for a billion years. In that time, countless souls had passed into the nether. Their thoughts and expectations had shaped all six-hundred-and-sixty-six planes. Below lay a city lit brighter than the night. Orasul Lunii. Long, winding streets were illuminated by lamp posts. Ether light orbs shined in front of houses and shops with a spattering of festive color. The roads throbbed with life. People were bustling over the smooth tile in thick crowds. The largest city in the Timeless Beryl Wilderness had swelled with the onset of the Festival. Boom. P-pop, pop. The sky flashed. Sparkling fireworks cascaded, light flickering on the ship¡¯s sails. Below them, faeries danced. Their fluttering forms high above the rooftops, shedding glitter and pulling stunning streamers. Melody hung in the air, still faint and distant. An orchestra playing for the masses. ¡°The music is my favorite part.¡± In the shadowed moment, Ingrid appeared. The succubus leaned against a rail next to Sylvia. Her ruby eyes looked down at the city, wistful. ¡°When I lived in Helheim, come the festival the streets would fill with song. It was magical. A band on every corner. Shopkeepers would sit outside their door, playing instruments for the crowd. Even the passersby would casually join in. An old plane has old demons. Everyone there knew how to make music. Some would even take the time to teach us.¡± The purple haired woman showed a small smile, turning so she faced Sylvia. ¡°Slave. Criminal. Prostitute. It didn¡¯t matter. Not during the Festival of Light.¡± ¡°Miss it?¡± ¡°Helheim?¡± Ingrid questioned. ¡°No. It was cold, dark, and miserable. I have too many bad memories of that place. But the Festival of Light here just can¡¯t compare.¡± ¡°Right now, I¡¯m glad for the dark,¡± Sylvia commented. ¡°I used to be fond of the cold but¡­.¡± The silver haired witch looked down at her body. ¡°I had a lot more fat on me back then.¡± Though not quite so much hanging off her chest. Ingrid huffed a laugh, her ruby eyes dancing. ¡°Do me a favor and give big tips for the whole of Men-Lux.¡± Sylvia raised a brow. ¡°Hell has an ancient law that no one can be forced to work during the festival or the month that follows,¡± Ingrid explained. ¡°To comply with the law, businesses pay their slaves. It was the only time I could get money. So it¡¯s important to me.¡± The purple haired succubus pushed off the banister. Ingrid walked away, her alluring rear showing a perfect sashay. Sylvia snuck a gander at the woman¡¯s sexy legs and killer heels. ¡°So, what¡¯s the best thing to do during festival?¡± Sylvia asked before the succubus could leave. Ingrid¡¯s head turned, looking over her shoulder. Her eyes held a strange smolder. ¡°Well, there was a tradition among the girls at the brothel. Every festival we¡¯d go out and take our pick of the men.¡± Ingrid¡¯s smile was sly and smoky. ¡°If you want to join, I can show you the ropes.¡± Sylvia¡¯s expression turned uncomfortable. Nearby, the cheeks of a petite brunette puffed angrily. ¡°Mmm!¡± ¡°I¡¯d rather not,¡± Sylvia answered quickly, and not because of Emily¡¯s prompting. ¡°To each their own,¡± Ingrid said easily. She paused, shifting her hips sexily. ¡°A bit of advice. Don¡¯t be a prude. It¡¯d be a shame if a girl as beautiful as you never indulged.¡± With a slight smirk, the succubus left. Complex feelings roiled in Sylvia¡¯s heart. ¡°Sylvia¡¯s not a prude! She¡¯s pure,¡± Emily argued angrily after the demoness. ¡­ Given the piles of porn Eric had consumed, Sylvia felt she was very much the opposite of pure. ¡°Where¡¯s Riley?¡± Sylvia asked, changing the subject. ¡°She was too excited and took off on the second boat,¡± Emily griped. ¡°Kyna flew after her.¡± That sounded like Riley, alright. Sylvia¡¯s gaze swept the deck. The tender drifted away from the ship, carrying the succubus to the field below. Lady Vallenfelt remained at the helm, in deep discussion with the ship¡¯s captain. A heavy chest lay at her feet. In it were the phylacteries of each tournament participant. A jar containing their mortal ashes which served to accelerate resurrection. It was also a fatal weakness to any witch. Sylvia was a little nervous to have hers removed from the Academy¡¯s well defended grounds. The ship¡¯s deck was quiet and empty. Of the fifty students that boarded, seven remained. Professors Wright and Fischer had already descended to wrangle the witches and keep them from running off. Now there were only the stars, the moon, and the creak of wind and wood. A sharp division from the festival playing out below. ¡°The boat left,¡± Sylvia commented. ¡°At this rate, we might be the last ones down.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t mind,¡± Emily said sweetly. She joined the silver haired witch by the rail. ¡°It¡¯s very pretty up here.¡± ¡°It really is.¡± Sylvia gazed at the infinite stars. A bright swath cut across the sky, filling it with milky light. Having lived in the city all his life, Eric had never witnessed such a celestial phenomenon. She wondered, was it like this on Earth too, far away from the urban light? At that moment, she regretted her failure to explore the world in which she¡¯d been born. Then, her pastel pink eyes trailed down. A sudden, crazy idea popped into her head. She trembled. Fear. Frenzy. The world seemed to spiral beneath her, primordial terror clawing at her gut. ¡°Want to do something insane?¡± the silver haired witch mustered. Emily¡¯s pure, emerald eyes met hers. In them twinkled a galaxy of stars cast in shadowy green. ¡°Is it fun?¡± ¡°Maybe.¡± Sylvia reached up, grabbing a rope to stabilize herself. Then she jumped. She landed atop the rail with stiletto heels. If she were a human, it would be a challenge to stand with such precarious footwear. With the waltz of flowers, her ki flowed grasping the wood with invisible petals. She released the rope, fighting against the rising panic. She was stable. She was stable. With her ki, she¡¯d always be stable. It helped. A little. But if Sylvia stood for another minute, she was sure she¡¯d vomit. Leaning down, Sylvia offered Emily a hand. ¡°How adventurous,¡± the brunette breathed, reaching up to take it. ¡°So wha ¨C eeaaa!¡± Sylvia hoisted Emily onto the rail then promptly jumped off. Arm wrapped tight around the petite girl¡¯s waist, the two of them plummeted. Cold wind whipped clothes and dress. Sylvia held onto her hat by gluing it to her head with a flow of ki. Energy whirled in her body, blossoming in a shower of petals. The deep dive slowed to a quick descent. Emily sank into Sylvia¡¯s arms. The silver haired girl adjusted her posture, so her body led at a twenty degrees angle. The brunette¡¯s weight pressed into her own. Emily tightened her grip. As the fear abated, the brunette peered around, eyes filled with the dazzle of pink petals. Sylvia blushed. She could feel Emily¡¯s warmth. Her soft body. Her breasts. She could only hope the brunette didn¡¯t notice the telltale signs of Sylvia¡¯s arousal. ¡°¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö¡± Sylvia whispered four syllables. The spell, feather light, wrapped the pair of them. The fall slowed into a magical drift. It was dark. Just the wind, the stars, and the celebration below. The ship was a dark shadow overhead. The city of lights beneath spread its arms in embrace. ¡°Fun?¡± Sylvia questioned, breaking the quiet. ¡°No, it¡¯s lovely,¡± Emily breathed in wonder. Then she squeezed tighter. ¡°But, hmph! That was mean scaring me like that.¡± ¡°I was afraid I¡¯d lose my courage,¡± Sylvia admitted. ¡°¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö.¡± Wind ether gathered. She renewed her spell. With the waltz of flowers, Sylvia could walk on air, if her strength attribute was ten points higher. Right now, it was all she could do to slow her fall. As for carrying Emily, that was impossible with potency of her ki. But what the art could do was control their flight, allowing them to remain upright in defiance to wind and gravity. ¡°Mmm, you¡¯re afraid of heights.¡± Sylvia set them into a slight spin. The land beneath swirled, taking a full minute to complete its circuit. ¡°¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö. It¡¯s not so bad when I¡¯m in control,¡± Sylvia professed. ¡°If only I knew the waltz of flowers,¡± Emily mused, dreamily. ¡°Then we could dance in the starry sky.¡± ¡°Which dance are you thinking?¡± Sylvia asked, letting the brunette float a bit to indulge her. ¡°The high seelie caper?¡± Emily giggled. ¡°Mmm. It¡¯d be so romantic. Two magical princesses waltzing in the night, surrounded by a swirl of flowers.¡± ¡­ Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. She was suddenly reminded of how girly the waltz of flowers looked. The two of them drifted down. Soon, Sylvia could see the witches gathered. Life breathed ether, casting out wisps of energy. A faint illumination, caught by her pure starlight eyes. It made it seem as though her fellow witches were haloed by magical beauty. Finally, they landed. Emily let go, emerald eyes shinning in the dark. The brunette stepped away from her. Sylvia immediately felt the night¡¯s chill replacing Emily¡¯s embrace. ¡°Next time, we¡¯ll dance,¡± the brunette decided with a gentle smile. ¡°Sure.¡± Sylvia found she wasn¡¯t against it. How could she say no to a girl as cute as Emily? ¡°You two!¡± An angry blonde growled, pushing through the crowd. ¡°How dare you jump off the airship without me!¡± There were a few giggles from the surrounding witches. Sylvia looked around to see several beautiful ladies peering in their direction. Feeling uncomfortable under all their scrutiny, she decided to trudge to where the greater crowd was gathered. The grounds they had settled on belonged to Baroness Vallenfelt. Orasul Lunii was the center of government for the Timeless Beryl Wilderness. Two to three months out of the year, the nobility would be summoned to Castel Lunii to hold court. The nobles, of course, would not deign to live in a shabby inn or tavern. Thus, the noble quarters. Seven barons and a score of devils owned property here. The streets were patrolled by Viscount Vilhelm Codrin¡¯s vampires. Vallenfelt¡¯s lands covered five acres enclosed by brick wall. The mansion was kept by Zoe Marshall, one of Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s retainers. Zoe was the witch responsible for the baroness¡¯s local interests. ¡°I think Riley gave us her answer to the question: If your friends jumped off a cliff, would you?¡± Sylvia joked, once the attention wavered. ¡°Mmm, mmm,¡± Emily noised in agreement. ¡°Ha ha,¡± Riley fake laughed. ¡°Don¡¯t think I¡¯m going to forget about this.¡± ¡°You¡¯re the one who ran off without us,¡± Sylvia retorted, rolling her eyes. ¡°Tell me you had fun on my behalf,¡± Riley pleaded to the brunette. ¡°It was magical,¡± Emily breathed, pressing her hands together. ¡°I think Sylvia¡¯s girly heart is blooming. I¡¯ve never done something so romantic in my life.¡± With a teasing smirk, Riley¡¯s bright green eyes veered to the silver haired witch. ¡°You might be onto something there.¡± ¡°Tch, there¡¯s no such thing,¡± Sylvia retorted. She patted her hat twice in emphasis. ¡°See. I¡¯m wearing my newsboy cap today. News-boy.¡± Which was proof that were nothing feminine about her. It was even a nice, dark navy that matched her school robes. Not a single touch of pink on it! Perfect proof of her inherent masculinity. ¡°And you look so cute in it,¡± Emily praised. ¡°Like a teen idol who screwed up her disguise,¡± Riley commented, twisting the knife. Emily giggled. Sylvia lifted her nose, ignoring the ignoble traitors she called friends. Try all you want, after twelve months of charm club, she was immune. Immune. Not corrupted. Immune. ¡°Ladies! Ladies!¡± Professor Wright shouted, summoning a circle of witches around her. The brown haired professor looked over the group, waiting for the last few stragglers. ¡°I know everyone¡¯s excited,¡± Abigail said as the desired quiet set. ¡°But first, I need to lay down a few rules. ¡°Always travel in groups. The locals don¡¯t ascribe to the same rules of harassment you¡¯re used to. Sticking to a group will help discourage incivility. On that note, juniors, I want you to pair yourselves with a senior at all times. Seniors, do me a favor and keep an eye on your juniors. ¡°Next, nightclub rules apply here. Keep an eye on your food and drinks. On Earth, they have rohypnol. In the netherworld, they have love potions. We have starlight eyes,¡± Professor Wright reminded, pointing at her own. ¡°Check everything for psychic energies and don¡¯t accept random gifts and especially don¡¯t wear anything offered by a stranger. Magic tools are expensive, but they are also a lot more subtle.¡± ¡°Lastly, I want you all back here an hour after the festival ends. We¡¯ll do a head count in the morning and Professor Fischer has promised to kill anyone who shows up late. And I¡¯m pretty sure she means it.¡± Oh, she meant it. Glenda definitely meant it. ¡°Enough talk,¡± Professor Wright declared, clapping her hands. ¡°School is now officially adjourned. That means you¡¯re free to run wild and wear whatever you want. Go. Have fun. Enjoy the Festival of Light. But don¡¯t forget to watch out for each other.¡± The crowd cheered. Riley joined in with her own whoop. The boldest girls began to strip on the spot. Sylvia¡¯s eyes went wide, shocked by the audacity. ¡°Mmm,¡± Emily noised with annoyance. ¡°Shameless.¡± Sylvia coughed and pointed. Riley was no less daring. The freckled blonde peeled off her navy blue robes then threw on a new dress. ¡°What?¡± Riley questioned. Emily¡¯s cheeks reddened. ¡°Riley is such a tomboy,¡± she stated. ¡°Thu-ma-hu¡­¡± Mist shrouded Emily¡¯s embarrassed form, conjured by her short chant. ¡°She says that like it¡¯s a bad thing,¡± Riley groused, no caring that the brunette was in ear shot. ¡°You going to change?¡± Riley was wearing a black dress with green trimming. Emerald earrings twinkled on either side of the blonde¡¯s face. Her chin length locks delivering messy elegance. Beneath, were black leggings that clung tight, showing the curve of her calves. A pair of green ankle boots finished her ensemble. ¡°I already did,¡± Sylvia said, proudly patting her newsboy cap. ¡°Surprised you didn¡¯t lose the shoes.¡± And challenge Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s authority? Sylvia sneered. Did Riley think her a fool? ¡°Accept it, you¡¯re shorter than me.¡± ¡°I have two inches on you,¡± Riley growled. ¡°My head is higher than yours,¡± Sylvia sang. For a period, the height of Riley¡¯s heels had chased after her own only to sink back to a sensible seven centimeters a month later. Somewhere along the line, the blonde realized that she wasn¡¯t willing wear shoes tall enough to surpass Sylvia inflated height. ¡°Tada!¡± The misty veil parted. Emily twirled. The brunette¡¯s uniform had been replaced by a frilly, yellow dress. The hem ended just above her knees, her legs covered by white stockings. On her feet, Emily wore a pair of blocky heeled mary janes adorned with adorable bows and ribbons. The outfit was completed with a white witch¡¯s hat, the cone wrapped with yellow ribbons then augmented by a puff of flowers. The brunette stopped in a pose, her shoulder-length brown hair teased out in cute perfection. Sylvia flashed a thumbs up. ¡°Nice hat.¡± ¡°He he,¡± Emily laughed happily, tugging at the brim of her hat. ¡°Ah! Where¡¯s your dress. You said we¡¯d wear matching dresses.¡± ¡°No. You said we should wear matching dresses,¡± Sylvia explained slowly. ¡°She also scoffed. Loudly,¡± Riley supplied helpfully. ¡°And you look adorable.¡± ¡°I wanted to look adorable with Sylvia,¡± Emily complained, her dark emerald eyes gave the silver haired witch a gaze of utter betrayal. ¡°I¡¯m not falling for it,¡± Sylvia deadpanned. Sylvia had already given Emily her grand moment. If she yielded an inch, Emily would take a mile. Then, the next thing Sylvia knew, she¡¯d be wearing a pink magical girl costume with her hair tied up in cutesy, girly-girl twin tails. The silver haired witch shuddered. The real horror, though, would be if Lady Vallenfelt saw it and loved it. If that happened, Sylvia would be dressed like that forever. ¡°Enough talk,¡± Riley cut in. ¡°I want to see the festival.¡± ¡°Mm,¡± Emily hummed in agreement. ¡°I¡¯ll dress Sylvia up tomorrow.¡± On those ominous words, the trio set off. Once they escaped the noble quarters, the streets were bustling. Denizens of Hell flooded the causeways. Beast-kin were in abundance. Hogmin pressed through the throng. All manner of demons were seen. Those with scales, fur, and feathers. Many indistinguishable from humans, others sporting additional limbs and features. Vampires and werewolves were common. Orasul Lunii was home to the blood sucking beasts. The werewolves flowed in from the southern city of Loge Sombre. Rarer were the oni and ogres, their heads well above the press. In the distance, Sylvia even spotted a lone cyclops wading through the crowd. Booths lined the main thoroughfare. Sylvia happily emptied her pockets. The silver haired witch feasted on treats while Riley emptied a bottle of beer, against Emily¡¯s scolding. After being cajoled by the brunette, the two of them tried their hand at a few carnival games. In the end, it was Emily who won all the prizes. Finally, the three of them gathered at the square.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Music filled the air, magnificent yet solemn. Wooden stands had been erected to hold the orchestra. Demons carried a dozen instruments, playing in unison. Three witches flew above, weaving magic to amplify the notes, sending the echoes throughout the city. The sound of the symphony reverberated through Sylvia¡¯s bones, filling her body with melody. ¡°I miss music,¡± Emily murmured. The brunette spoke as the band fell into interlude. ¡°I know what you mean.¡± Every week day, morning and night, listening to the radio. Music was everywhere in the modern world. Eric had listened to it while playing games on his computer. He heard it on TV and in movies. It was there when he ordered food at various restaurants. Omnipresent. The absence was like a deep, hollow pit. For all its wonders, the netherworld lacked so much of what the material had in abundance. ¡°What about you, Riley?¡± Emily questioned. ¡°I miss a lot of things. League games. Showers. Family.¡± ¡°I want to take a bath,¡± Emily sighed. ¡°Warm water. Clean skin. Relaxing while the heat takes away all your worries.¡± ¡°I want to take a shit,¡± Sylvia said bluntly. The brunette¡¯s nose scrunched. ¡°Ew.¡± ¡°No really. A few days ago, I had a dream where I was on the toilet. I¡¯ve had the urge to use the bathroom since.¡± Riley punched Sylvia in the arm. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare talk about it.¡± ¡°Right. Beat those disgusting boy thoughts out of her,¡± Emily said, shaking her fist angrily. ¡°Sylvia is too cute to use the bathroom.¡± Riley was happy to oblige. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Sylvia ignored her. Without ki, the repeated thuds were less dreadful than the threat of tickles. Phuit phwoo! A wolf whistle interrupted her thoughts. Sylvia looked back to see a scaled man openly leering at her ass. Soon, the demon vanished into the crowd. Mood soured, Sylvia spoke. ¡°Let¡¯s go back.¡± ¡°At least this time he didn¡¯t try to talk to us,¡± Riley agreed. ¡°But yeah, I think I¡¯ve had enough partying for the night.¡± ¡°It¡¯s because Sylvia¡¯s shoes are too naughty,¡± Emily lamented. ¡°The boys can¡¯t help but go wild for her.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not my fault they were picked by a succubus,¡± Sylvia grumbled. ¡°Don¡¯t complain to me about heels until you¡¯ve spent entire night in them. On Earth. Where they hurt,¡± Riley sniped. Sylvia gave the blonde a glower. Emily giggled at her plight. Tilting her head, the brunette set a cheek in her palm while gazing at the silver haired witch¡¯s rear. ¡°They do make Sylvia¡¯s legs look very sexy though,¡± Emily pondered. ¡°If only they were pink. And had cute ribbons and bows.¡± Friends. Sometimes they were the worst. The streets grew quiet as they left the Festival of Light behind them. In the air, fireworks popped and crackled sending out sprays of colorful embers. The airship had long left, heading toward the city¡¯s docks. As they stepped through the gates of the mansion, they spotted a few witches heading back out. ¡°Tournament in the morning,¡± Riley reminded, slapping her on the shoulder. ¡°After Sylvia tries on her armor,¡± Emily inserted. ¡°Mmm. I can¡¯t wait. You¡¯re going to be the cutest girl in the tournament.¡± ¡°How bad it is,¡± Sylvia squeezed out, looking at the blonde. Riley¡¯s smile was smug. ¡°See you in the morning,¡± the blonde said, turning to leave. Emily giggled then waved. ¡°We¡¯ll see you tomorrow, Sylvia.¡± The silver haired witch raised a hand in her own goodbye. The trio split. Riley and Emily went to the guest house. Alone, Sylvia headed toward the mansion. The mansion was lit with a welcoming yellow light. The interior was rich. Vases of flowers. Paintings. Couches and lounge chairs. There was even a small library for the guests to pursue. After querying a maid, Sylvia headed to her room. It was big. A king-sized bed dominated the center, huge compared to Sylvia¡¯s mortal form and even more so to the tiny body of a witch. The door to the side led to a closet, in which she found several dresses. One in particular caught Sylvia¡¯s eye. It was a frilly, pink dress adorned with black ribbons. Beneath were a pair of pink, platform heeled mary janes set to match the ensemble. On the shelf above was a witch¡¯s hat, the cone wrapped with ribbon then augmented by a puff of flowers. The silver haired girl stared. She scowled. She slammed the door closed. Sylvia dropped onto her bed heavily. Seconds ticked away. Silent. Empty. Sylvia felt a stab of loneliness. The room lacked the liveliness of girls preparing for the night. The changing of clothes. The conversations. The rustle of covers and the silly arguments. There was neither a gentle brunette nor an energetic blonde. How long had it been since Sylvia had a room to herself? Twelve months and a lifetime ago. ¡°I¡¯ve changed.¡± Sylvia fell back, gazing at the ceiling. Eric had always been alone. Sylvia had never been. Not really. Not even now. Her friends were just a building away. They¡¯d be there in the morning. For the tournament, win or loss. They¡¯d be with her next year and the year after. Maybe they¡¯d still be with Sylvia when the storm took the nether. That dress¡­. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just tell me?¡± A question cast into the void and left unanswered. The person wasn¡¯t here. Even if they were, would she dare to say it? Sylvia¡¯s stomach twisted. Time was ticking away. The decision loomed before her. Could she face her master¡¯s clone and speak the truth? Once the deed was done, Sylvia¡¯s life would change. Relationships and priorities would be resorted. These days at the Academy would be gone forever. Then again, if things were as Sylvia suspected, the same would occur regardless of her actions. ¡°Fuck,¡± she cursed, sitting up. ¡°I¡¯m going for a walk.¡± -oOo- Orasul Lunii was a beautiful city. Vallen had a small town feel, the wealth concentrated on the main street and the Academy. The rest of the city was a mix of middle and low income housing. In comparison, Orasul Lunii was rich in art and architecture. Stone houses fit in neat rows, sporting ether light lamps. The illumination fell upon the stone walkways, giving a bright cheer that fought against the gloom of night. Here and there were small parks with fountains, benches, and the occasional statue. Small gardens of trees and flowers were set around, bio-luminescence fighting against the dark. Sylvia traversed the back roads, avoiding the hustle and bustle of the festival. A few pedestrians wandered here and there, some drunk from the night¡¯s celebrations. So far she¡¯d avoided harassment, perhaps because of the staff she held in hand. Weapons were always a fine deterrence. In the distance, the orchestra played. The sounds were muted, characterized by faded cheers and chatter. Orasul Lunii was a sleepless city. The Academy had its bell, classes, and curfew to hold its witches to a schedule. The capital had no standardized frame. In a space of forever night and eternal life, time slipped away easily. The denizens slept and worked as they willed, with the slaves expected to fill in the gaps. Today though, all were drawn to the capital¡¯s core. So the emptiness of the side streets was especially deep. Sylvia came upon the docks. There was no water, no river, and no ocean. The wharves extended into the starry void, juts carrying their own weight. Three astral ships were at port, their silhouettes like that of a fish crossbred with a boat. Fifty meters inland, stone arches rose. On the flat top, four airships were anchored. At each tower¡¯s base was a wooden elevator. Hand cranked to hoist or lower passengers and goods. The netherworld used ships for bulk transport. Airships carried materials between cities. Astral ships hauled goods between ports planar and interplanar. These ships could also carry passengers, subject to local laws and statutes of course. Walking along the harbor, Sylvia peered with curiosity. Instead of sails, the astral ships bore tails and fins. The witch knew from her reading that they swam as much as sailed through the starry void using the magics of space instead of wind. Drawn by her fascination, Sylvia walked onto a wooden pier. With each step she could feel the ether density drop. The primordial elements grew thinner while the density of chaos rose precipitously. She gazed, for a moment, into the abyss. The shimmering stars below were half hidden by the white ripples created as the bottom of the plane brushed across Unus Mundus. Chattering voices called her attention. ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid girl. Nothing good is happening if you hop a ship to another plane.¡± Looking past a few crates, Sylvia caught a pair of sailors confronting two witches. The girls in question had dumped their Academy uniforms, but Sylvia recognized them in an instant. Classmates. The blonde, Valerie Baker. Next to her was Margret Rivera with pale green hair that all but shined white under the moon¡¯s light. ¡°We can pay!¡± Valerie insisted. ¡°What¡¯cha going to pay? A few hundred soli. You think we¡¯d be takin¡¯ a risk on a couple of runaways for just that?¡± The speaker was a dog-eared sailor. He had dark, mossy green hair. Ruddy red splotches covered the man¡¯s skin. Beast-kin. The lack of symmetry was a dead give away. The demon¡¯s chimerism was clearly derived from the beryl blood wolf. ¡°We could make a hundred thousand if we sold the two of them once we reached the other side,¡± the second sailor mentioned, voice urbane. The second sailor was a catman. Black fur covered his face, eyes blue and slit. They gleamed against the night. The catman played with the knife in his left hand. All ten digits were present, following the human norm. The skin was pale peach, with dark fur growing on his forearms. ¡°¡¯Xactly. If we be riskin¡¯ illegal passengers, then why not be sellin¡¯ slaves?¡± The dogman tapped the side of his skull. ¡°You gotta be thinkin¡¯ about these things.¡± Valerie deflated. ¡°Th-thank you,¡± Margret said politely. ¡°No need be thankin¡¯ us doll. Just setting you right.¡± Whoof, whoof. Heavy wings beat. A birdman descended, landing on the ship¡¯s rail. The newest entrant had talons instead of feet. His wings were white. The feathers bled into red as they spread up his back, transforming into a mane of hair. The birdman¡¯s face was human, though his nose was long and hooked resembling a beak. ¡°What¡¯s going on around here?¡± ¡°These two girls were trying to buy passage,¡± the catman explained. ¡°Chenzira wants them gone,¡± the birdman said. ¡°You heard ¡®em,¡± the dogman spoke up, directed at the witches. ¡°Scat before you get into real trouble.¡± Margret and Valerie started to scurry away. Feeling the situation was resolved, Sylvia turned to head off too. Before she could make it a step, the birdman suddenly spoke up. ¡°Wait. Those two weren¡¯t poking around the ship, were they?¡± The two girls froze. ¡°We didn¡¯t,¡± Valerie said quickly. ¡°We only stepped onto the deck when looking for someone. Not even five seconds.¡± ¡°Five seconds, huh,¡± the birdman questioned. His head turned. ¡°Where did you see them?¡± ¡°They were shouting hello near the cabin. We sent them out before they could touch anything,¡± the catman said, sheathing his knife. ¡°Y-yes. We only saw your lamp collection in the cabin window, it was very¡­.¡± Margret trailed off. A deathly silence hung in the air. The catman stood. The dogman¡¯s friendly expression vanished. The birdman¡¯s eyes were as cold as death. ¡°You saw the lamps,¡± the birdman said. Margret took a shaky step back. Valerie stepped forward, defensive. ¡°It¡¯s just a few lamps. What¡¯s the big deal?¡± ¡°It seems you girls are in luck,¡± a new, deep voice interjected. A tall naga slithered off the deck, his humanoid top armored with bone and leather. Instead of legs, his bottom was that of a scaled serpent. ¡°You will be traveling with us, free of charge.¡± With a terrifying smile, the naga drew a lamp from his soul. No wick. No light. The lamp was nothing more than a glass orb set inside a wrought iron cage. At the top was a chain so that it could be hooked to a belt. A horrible, sinking feeling grew in Sylvia¡¯s gut. Shunk. In a blink, the naga drove a gladius straight through Valerie¡¯s heart. Ki blasted through her demonic core, spreading through her torso. Blood essence crumbled. The blonde jolted as though electrocuted. Still not understanding what or why, the two witches stared in shock. Then, Valerie¡¯s body unraveled. Without essence, flesh dissolved into mist. Mist scattered into ether. She fell, her foundation so ravaged her corpse dissipated into motes before it touched ground. A second later the lamp lit, filled with a soft yellow glow. Oh fuck. Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck. It was a soul lamp. Known for their light and appearance, soul lamps were the netherworld¡¯s answer to demonic immortality. Ordinarily, a soul would sink into Unus Mundus before being drawn to its anchor. Invisible, intangible, and untraceable. It was difficult to stop a demon¡¯s resurrection. Given form by their code, they were immortal creatures in the truest sense of the word. Demons knew not age, nor disease, nor the touch of death. Even without a resurrection pool, a soul would slowly aggregate the resources necessary for rebirth. In such a world, how could the law enforce its justice? How could the creditor make the debtor cough up his cash? How could an immortal be strong-armed into obeying the rules? By threatening the soul itself. A soul lamp was a tool which manifested the soul then trapped it in a cage of metal and glass. Thereafter, the captured demon could be dealt with at the lamp owner¡¯s leisure. The soul could be forced to anchor at new points. Cursed objects could be slipped, unwillingly, through the outer membrane. The lamp itself could be cast into the starry void to be carried away by the currents. For a demon, only that which touched the soul was truly feared. Soul lamps were controlled objects. The common lamp could be bought be licensed hunters, but these could only capture loose souls which lacked the depth of code. A ¡®black lamp¡¯ was needed to seize the soul of a proper demon. This equipment was tightly regulated. Simply possessing one without a permit was highly illegal. Which meant these ¡®sailors¡¯ were criminals of the highest order. With a slow, casual ease the naga hooked the lamp to his belt. The gentle illumination, reflected off his sword. In a macabre way, the glow matched the festivities. ¡°The lamps, as you might have guessed, are quite a big deal,¡± the naga continued conversationally, drawing a second lamp from his soul. ¡°But don¡¯t take my word for it. Here, I¡¯ll let you experience one yourself.¡± System, purchase feature: Observe Opponent. Sylvia had no time to waste. With a thought, she burnt 200 merit points. A blue window flickered, appearing as an icon at the corner of her vision. The System grasped her rush. There was a three-second delay, then text appeared over the heads of the sailors. C-I/High, C-I/High, C-II/Low, C-II/Mid. The labels were colored green, green, yellow, and orange respectively, indicating the strength of her opponents. This was the netherworld¡¯s Class/Rank system. A technical measure of strength based upon the flux imposed upon the world by a creature. Class related power to mutation and consolidation, while rank defined the relative strength within that classification. This much Sylvia had been taught during Armed Combat. The silver haired witch let out a breath of relief. No class III or greater demons. In theory, she should be able to handle them. ¡°W-why,¡± Margret tried to say, backing away. The naga didn¡¯t answer. Shink. His sword swept through the witch¡¯s neck. Her head span through the air, pale green hair fluttering like an angel¡¯s wings. Her body fell. As it crumbled, Margret soul was sucked into the second cage filling it with pale green light. Quietly, Sylvia chanted. ¡°¡ö¡ö ¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö ¡ö¡ö.¡± One plane of ice formed after the other. Sylvia drew the water ether from her palace, weaving it with the wind stored in her staff. She had to be careful. Ether drawn from the world created a detectable disturbance. Mages were at their weakest when ambushed. And they were also the most horrifying opponents when completing one. ¡°Take a look around,¡± the naga ordered. ¡°I don¡¯t want any more surprises. And block all the windows in the cabin. I don¡¯t want a repeat of this catastrophe.¡± ¡°Yes, Chief Chen ¨C ¡± Sylvia stepped around the crates. Her staff crackled with electricity. ¡°¨C ¡ö.¡± The last runes of her spell fell from her lips. White light flashed. Lightning split the night. The streak jittered, crossing the ten-meter gap before piercing the highlighted weakness between the naga¡¯s hips. Bang! The serpentine core splintered. ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö.¡± Three syllables followed while the group stood stunned. Fourteen runes melted into mana natured by earth. The ground rumbled. A tsunami of dirt exploded from the wooden docks, swallowing the three sailors. Earth bulwark was a defensive spell. Its function was to erect fortifications and enact control of the battlefield. It could be easily shaped into a wall, dome, or anything in between. It could also be used as an impromptu prison. The dogman and catman dove to the side. Too late. Mud and rock flowed over their heads, sealing them in. The birdman was a step faster. He leapt back. With a beat of his wings, he blurred out from under the wave. Separated from the three, the naga, Chenzira, staggered. A single second was not long enough to recover from Sylvia¡¯s strike. Sylvia tilted forward, then dashed. Ether churned, drawn into her staff with great gulps. Ki flashed beneath her feet. She charged forward, a wake of petals behind her. One step. Two steps. Runes were drawn in her mind, cast into the world by way of her lips. ¡°¡ö¡ö, ¡ö, ¡ö.¡± Three blades of wind rippled. The first crashed into the gaping wound between Chenzira¡¯s hips. Dense air cut through ravaged flesh. The fractured magic expanded, tearing through the naga¡¯s guts. Blood essence ruptured. The demon¡¯s sputters drained into death. The remaining blades went high. They curved in toward the birdman, forcing him into an aerial dance. Sylvia span past the collapsing naga. With her left hand, she ripped the soul lamps from the naga¡¯s belt. As she turned, her heeled shoes landed on the earth bulwark. Her legs compressed. Then she jumped back. A lance of air exploded against rock. Magic tore through stone and dirt, earth evaporating as the elements earth and wind canceled. A second lance fell from above, targeting the silver haired witch. Sylvia caught it with one of the two frost shields she¡¯d prepared. A single crack spread through the ice. The birdman fell from the sky like a meteor. His spear smashed into Sylvia¡¯s defense. Chink. Only to be stopped cold. ¡°¡ö¡ö, ¡ö, ¡ö¡± Leaning on her most familiar spell, the silver haired witch released three more blades of wind. The birdman jumped back, a single beat of his wings sending him two meters into the sky. His spear span, swiping through condensed air with contemptuous ease. Sylvia sent the other two spells into a nasty corkscrew curve, before dashing toward the end of the pier. A catman shot from a pool of shadow. ¡°¡ö¡ö~¡ö.¡± A dagger flashed toward her neck. Sylvia caught it almost lazily, wrapping the sailor¡¯s arm with a sudden wall of water. Then, with a casual flick, the water shield exploded. A fluid pillar flung the demon off the wharf¡¯s edge and into the starry void. Nice try, but with her pure starlight eyes his ambush was as stealthy as a torch in the dead of night. Crack! As her foot landed on stone, Sylvia¡¯s frost shield caught a hammer of wind. The damaged frame shattered, sending evanescing shards scattering. In the brief second, the birdman had cleared all three wind blades. In the next, he flickered forward spear at the fore. Chink. Only to glance off Sylvia¡¯s spare shield. The shock made Sylvia slide, but with smooth expertise she transferred momentum into motion. Her second frost shield remained, ready for the next strike. At the same time, Sylvia chanted, ten meters from the alleys. ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö ¨C Electricity crackled. The birdman aborted his charge, flying for cover. Too late. ¡° ¨C ¡ö¡ö!¡± A bolt cut the dark. Every element had its use. Lightning was famed for both its speed and power. The spell streaked through the night, traveling a kilometer a second. Far slower than physics demanded. Far faster than the amped up reaction speed of a demon. The birdman jinked. Lightning jittered. Magic was driven by intent. Sylvia could hit a bullseye one-hundred times out of a hundred. On a still target anyway. The last second dodge threw off her aim. Instead of passing through the System highlighted weakness, the bolt hit the birdman¡¯s right wing. Space shattered. An invisible barrier broke. Electricity ripped through flesh and feather like a hungry beast. The blast threw the birdman into a wild spin. Sylvia ignored him in favor of the stirring shadows. The catman leapt from a pool of darkness. His dagger glinted white, surrounded by a shell of steel ki. Shink. Sylvia¡¯s frost shield met it. The tip punched through. Hardened ice peeled away as the catman drew back his dagger. The demon dove to her left. With a twist and a skip, Sylvia turned pointing her emptied staff in the furred man¡¯s direction. ¡°¡ö¡ö¡± Wind tore through darkness. The catman melted into the black, flowing like fluid to her opposite side. Sylvia span, skating across stone as though it were ice, a trail of petals dancing behind her. ¡°¡ö¡± A second wind blade. The catman dodged. Without missing a step, the silver haired witch dove into the alley. Shadow paused at the entrance. Alone in the dark, Sylvia continued her flight. -oOo- Lightning Bolt Runes: 31 Mana: 50 to 150, 5:1 Attack: 200 to 500 Penetration 50 pierce, 100% multiplier Max Range: 1500 meters Velocity: 1000 m/s An attack spell that touches upon the threshold of advanced magic. The dense rune structure allows for a stable bolt with long range, solid penetration characteristics, and flawless accuracy. In most scenarios, a lightning bolt will not miss so long as the target remains within the one-degree cone of redirection. Unlike its more advanced formulations: lightning lance and chain lightning, lightning bolt splinters upon hitting its target. This means it lacks the ability to cleave through multiple foes. A skilled enemy can take advantage of this, intercepting the spell so that most of the power is lost. Like most fire derived spells, lightning bolt has poor efficiency and a high ether ratio. Only 20% of the spell¡¯s cost must be paid in mana. Wind Blade Runes: 12 initial, 7 chain Mana: 20 to 40, 3:1 Attack: 140 to 220 Penetration 30 pierce, 200% multiplier Life: 1.5 seconds Velocity: 50 m/s A simple attack spell that forms a blade of wind. The rune structure provides a certain degree of sharpness, but if the armor is too thick the blade quickly loses its power. The greatest strength of wind blade is its agility. The blade has enough curvature to complete a full circle every half second, meaning it has the potential to hit again even after a miss. Wind blade is a chain spell. The first rune formation creates a simple ring that supports shorter incantations for any repetition that follows in the second after. This makes the casting speed quite high when launching multiple blades. Wind blades home according to the caster¡¯s intent. No mental effort is needed. Additional direction can, however, improve the spell¡¯s performance. Frost Shield Runes: 19 Mana: 20 to 50, 3:1 Hit Points: 160 to 280 Defense: 100 Duration: 60 seconds Creates a floating shield of ice. The size of the shield is slightly larger than a kite shield, but smaller than a tower shield. The shield is transparent, allowing the caster to see through it and track their enemies. Frost shield is innately animated and can be positioned anywhere within two meters of the caster. It is fast enough that it can shift from front to back in half a second. Compared to water shield, frost shield is harder and longer lived. However, its crystal structure is somewhat more fragile. Further, it cannot be chained into water burst. For lower level foes, the increased hardness means substantially improved performance. Against stronger opponents, frost shield may under perform water shield. Water Shield Runes: 10 Mana: 10 to 60, 3:1 Hit Points: 120 to 420 Defense: 0 Duration: 20 seconds Creates a floating, amorphous, barrier of water. The spell can be stretched into multiple shapes but cannot provide an effective defense for an area larger than a kite shield. The spell is transparent and can move quickly, intercepting attacks from front to back in three-quarters of a second. Water shield can be chained into water burst, a 3 rune construct that provides shock and knock back. This is also a highly effective parry technique. Most low level spells lack a solid runic structure and thus will fracture upon forceful contact. Higher grade spells might endure, but risk being deviated by the burst. Because of this, water shield remains a highly prized counter spell even for high level mages. Earth Bulwark Runes: 14 Mana: 25 to 100, 3:1 Hit Points: 300 Defense: 100 to 250 DR: 0% to 15% Duration: 10 to 40 minutes Summons mud and dirt to create a fortification within ten meters of the caster. This can be in the shape of a dome, wall, or other simple structures. This spell does not require that earthen materials be present in the area of the casting. Rather the necessary dirt emerges from the earth as a figment. Earth bulwark cannot float and will fall or crumble like any compressed earthwork once created. Compared to most low level defensive magics, earth bulwark lacks mutability and transparency. However, it is much tougher and longer lived. This means earth bulwark is by far the superior spell when generating cover for a cooperative team. It can also be used to temporarily imprison an opponent, provided the enemy is close and fails to evade. Chapter 15 -oOo- Chapter 15 -oOo- The clack of Sylvia¡¯s heels slowed to a furious walk. Her breath huffed in and out. More psychosomatic than necessity. For demons, stamina was related to ki, and ki was generated by refining ether by way of flesh. Breathing did help to accelerate this recovery, but only by a little. ¡°Did I lose them?¡± Sylvia glanced back over her shoulder. A drunk faun stumbled about randomly on the cobble streets of Orasul Lunii. Beyond that, she was alone. The shadows remained dark. Her starlight eyes caught no signs of hidden life. Grimacing, the silver-haired witch checked the soul lamps hidden beneath her robes before tucking them in tighter. The glow was swallowed by her thick, navy blue coat. Soul lamps weren¡¯t heavy. Neither in the conventional sense nor the spiritual. Each soul lamp weighed no more than a dozen droms. Probably a bit less. The souls stored within them, however, were much more massive. So much so that Sylvia had no hope of holding them in her inventory even if she emptied it of everything else. Sylvia¡¯s lips quirked. ¡°That¡¯s a good thing I suppose,¡± she muttered to herself. ¡°It would be really bad if the naga stored them.¡± It was a sword that cut both ways. If soul bearing lamps could be hidden in another soul, then Margret and Valerie would¡¯ve been screwed. For that matter, the planes as a whole would be far more dangerous. Click-clack. Click-clack. Sylvia moved through the winding streets. The festival was closer now. ¡°What the hell am I doing?¡± What a fool she¡¯d been. Didn¡¯t she conclude she was no hero? So why was she doing heroic stuff? She must¡¯ve gone insane. Shit. If she¡¯d screwed up, her soul might¡¯ve joined the others. Stolen away to another plane. Sold as a slave. A century of suffering. Maybe more. ¡­ Fuck, and she¡¯d do it again. If the event replayed, knowing what she knew now, Sylvia would repeat her actions. And not just because the birdman would¡¯ve gone looking for her. ¡°Sometimes you don¡¯t know yourself until the going gets tough,¡± Sylvia realized. ¡°I guess it¡¯s true. Some heroes are born. Others are made. Though, I can¡¯t be calling myself a hero yet.¡± There was a big difference between pulling someone from a fire and looking for fires to put out. Patting the lamps, Sylvia checked her System. Waiting for her was a message detailing her purchase.
System Feature: Observe Opponent Passive: The System will automatically collect data on surrounding phantasms via the User¡¯s sensory organs. This information will be evaluated against the System¡¯s database to generate a rough judgment of the opponent¡¯s level, condition, capabilities, and weak points. Active: 10 mp (causality) The System will emit a runic structure, directly harvesting information on a designated phantasm. Collected statistics will be stored in the System database and the phantasm¡¯s characteristics will be deduced. Merit points will be rewarded according to the value of the information collected. Repeated scans may be necessary to collect precise information on the phantasm¡¯s organs. After scanning an opponent, the System will provide detailed information on the opponent¡¯s: level, attributes, Hp, Mp, weak points, condition, and comprehensive capabilities. Active scanning cannot collect a demon¡¯s bloodline code, but it can collect the nether code of a phantasmal beast. Active scans can be detected and may be treated as a hostile act.
¡°Fairly similar to Observe Item. That said, was it necessary to follow the crappy game design style where features are never properly described until after you purchase them?¡± Sylvia groused. Lucifer better be taking notes. His GUI could use some work, and Sylvia was his official beta tester. Flicking the screen away, Sylvia navigated through the merit shop to make her third purchase.
System Feature: Networked Grimoire A grimoire containing the name, description, and rune sequence of any spell you¡¯ve previously studied. This includes spells you encountered prior to the purchase of this feature. Spells may be searched by name, subject, or element based upon the User¡¯s intent. Discovered spells can be copied into the public library in exchange for merit points. In return, the User may buy spells from the public library, adding to their grimoire. If a spell invented by the User is recorded, the User will be entitled to a royalty for any such purchase.
Options: [x] Auto share spells for merit [x] Announce discovered spells [x] Include public spells in search
To start, Sylvia tapped off the options ¡®Announce discovered spells¡¯ and ¡®Include public spells in search¡¯. The event log already cluttered enough, and she absolutely despised microtransactions to the depths of her soul. She paused on ¡®Auto share spells for merit¡¯. ¡°Who am I kidding? I¡¯m going to sell them all for merit anyway.¡± Right now, Sylvia was the only person bearing a System in the nether. However, sooner or later, millions of ¡®gamers¡¯ would pour into the planes. At that time, the spell library would get real thick real fast. Rather than fight the inevitable, wasn¡¯t it better to turn her first mover advantage into profit? Besides, it wasn¡¯t her intellectual property Sylvia was publishing. Trust the Devil to be thieving trash. Come to think of it, did the netherworld even have intellectual property laws? ¡­ ¡­ Wait one fucking second. ¡°You little shit,¡± Sylvia growled, stretching the window angrily. ¡°I submitted ¨C,¡± she paused to check her grimoire, ¡°Two-hundred and eighty-six spells. Don¡¯t tell me that was worth jack!¡± Ding!
Bug Report: Previously submitted spells did not reward merit points.
¡­ evaluating... ¡­ evaluating¡­ ¡­ evaluating... ¡°Oh, now you notice.¡± Was there anything more disconcerting than realizing the System managing her soul had bugs? Oh. Yeah. That the same fucking System was created by the Devil himself. Ding!
Bug Resolved: Previously submitted spells did not reward merit points. Please accept 100 merit points as an apology for this error.
¡­ ¡°You just fucking cheated me, didn¡¯t you,¡± Sylvia accused. The System window floated, its blue visage pristine, unmoved by the concerns of mortals and immortals alike. The silver-haired witch wadded the window into a ball then tossed it aside. Frustration released, Sylvia calculated the damage. Observe Opponent, 200 merit points. Observe Item, 200 merit points. Networked Grimoire, 100 merit points. She¡¯d spent 500 points since unlocking the shop. After adding the 100 point reward, Sylvia was left with 294 merit. Not bad. In the future, she¡¯d earn a lot more. But enough of that for now, Sylvia had bought Networked Grimoire for a reason. Search category: Anti-divination. Ding! With a happy bell, the System displayed the results. Opening the first, Sylvia started a short chant. Misplaced guilt. Anonymous presence. Tangled weave. She threw out three anti-divination spells in a row before blending into the festival crowd. The Festival of Light was still going strong. Sylvia slipped through a throng of beast-kin and vampires. As she did, she swapped her newsboy cap for a beret. Enlivened by her ki, her silver tress untangled. Instead of lingering in a braid, her hair fell in a straight, glossy fountain. Sylvia would¡¯ve changed her robes too, but she didn¡¯t dare show a pair of soul lamps amidst the crowd. Here she was, saving souls and smuggling illegal objects. Clearly, this was Riley¡¯s fault. The silver-haired witch traveled with the masses for a few minutes, her head well below those surrounding. Then she broke free heading toward Vallenfelt¡¯s mansion. Being mixed with strangers was nerve wracking without friends. Luckily, she passed through this tribulation unmolested. Upon entering the mansion, Sylvia called one of the servants aside. ¡°I need to see the baroness.¡± ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. Right this way.¡± Esmeralda Vallenfelt, for once, hadn¡¯t claimed the spire. Or perhaps, she had and that was her bedroom while this was her study. Upon reaching the door, the servant knocked twice. Knock. Knock. ¡°You may enter.¡± Sylvia whisked past the woman and stepped through the door. ¡°Teacher,¡± she greeted with a well-mannered curtsy. ¡°Sylvia,¡± Esmeralda returned pleasantly. The green haired dean was behind a desk, pouring over paperwork. Her eyes flickered up momentarily before returning to her task. ¡°You¡¯re up late, I see. I hope you¡¯ve been enjoying the festival.¡± ¡°I did, but that¡¯s not what I¡¯m here for.¡± Sylvia dropped both soul lamps on Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s desk with a thunk. The dean stilled. Expression grim, the baroness lifted the caged orb glowing with yellow light. ¡°Who would dare,¡± she hissed with fury. ¡°¡ö, ¡ö¡ö, ¡ö.¡± Esmeralda unleashed three lightning fast spells. The air buzzed. Sylvia could see the faint flux of magic. Ah. The first spell. Was that silent boundary? ¡°Explain,¡± she demanded sharply. Today, Sylvia withheld no information. ¡°I spotted Margret and Valerie at the docks, they were looking to buy tickets to another plane. While doing so, they stumbled upon something they shouldn¡¯t have and ended up like that,¡± Sylvia said, pointing at the soul lamps. ¡°Since I was there, I pulled their asses from the fire.¡± ¡°A lady does not curse,¡± Lady Vallenfelt chided. ¡°I find myself both pleased and cross. We will discuss this later. ¡ö. Glenda, I require your presence.¡± Ethers of psychic and causality pulsed, intertwining to form the aspect information. Esmeralda cast her words into the wind, letting them be carried to the person in question. While waiting for her retainer¡¯s appearance, Lady Vallenfelt shuffled through her desk. From a drawer she pulled two disks. Spirit jade, in the shape of a thick coin. ¡°Hold still and don¡¯t resist.¡± Esmeralda stepped around her desk. The baroness stopped in front of Sylvia. For a frozen moment, the silver-haired witch found her visage reflected in the dean¡¯s magnificent eyes. ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö.¡± Lady Vallenfelt tapped Sylvia on the head, a wisp of psychic energy flowed down on her fingertip. Sylvia let the energy sink into her consciousness. Images flashed through her mind. Walking through the docks. Margret and Valerie, speaking to the sailors. The naga pulling the lamps from his soul. The crack of lightning from her staff. The baroness pulled her hand back. Between her fingers was a flickering echo. A copy of Sylvia¡¯s memories. ¡°You used anti-divination magic,¡± Esmeralda noted. ¡°I didn¡¯t want them to come looking for me.¡± One might think silver-haired witches a rarity. They weren¡¯t. Sylvia knew of two girls with a similar color in the Academy. There were surely more among the graduates. If Sylvia were to further expand the list to witches with hair that looked silver under the moonlight, the number would jump considerably. Without a way to narrow which witch, targeted revenge would be difficult. As for random vengeance? Sylvia looked at her teacher. Uh. Yeah. That¡¯d be ill-advised. ¡°Wise, though it will reduce the value of your testimony,¡± Esmeralda replied. ¡°¡ö.¡± With another spell, Lady Vallenfelt clipped fragments from the remembrance. A director snipping segments from a reel of film. Then, the dean pressed the psychic imprint into a jade disk. Once recorded, she clicked two disks together with a second psychic pulse. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind,¡± Sylvia commented. There was a knock on the door. The baroness gestured. The door unlocked itself then opened. Professor Fischer entered with a curtsy. ¡°Milady.¡± Like many of Sylvia¡¯s fellow witches, Glenda chose to celebrate the Festival of Light with a new wardrobe. The professor was wearing a slinky, blood-red dress slit around the thighs. She matched it with a snazzy, crimson witch¡¯s hat. Professor Fischer, as usual, had style. ¡°Grab a few senior students then head for the docks.¡± Baroness Vallenfelt ordered. ¡°I want you to burn the Plutous to ash. And take this,¡± Esmeralda added, tossing a jade disk. The blonde professor snatched it from the air. ¡°Report to the guard after. Tell them I want every sailor registered to that ship arrested.¡± ¡°Ke ke ke,¡± Glenda snickered in a way that sounded all too authentic. Professor Fischer curtsied with joyful abandon. ¡°Your will be done, milady.¡± The Professor left the room as quickly as she came. The dean gestured again. The door closed with a thud. ¡°That girl,¡± Esmeralda said with a shake of her head. ¡°Sometimes I wonder what possessed me to take her as a retainer.¡± ¡°Talent,¡± Sylvia reminded with a loose grin. ¡°Talent indeed,¡± Esmeralda sighed. ¡°Sit.¡± The baroness followed her own advice. Folding her hands elegantly, Lady Vallenfelt addressed her apprentice. ¡°Now that the immediate concerns have been settled, let us discuss your behavior. First, I must commend you on saving your erstwhile peers. It takes bravery to face those who bear threat to the soul. It brings me honor to have such a courageous charge. ¡°However.¡± The dean¡¯s eyes sharpened. ¡°You are far too young to be engaging in such heroics. Perhaps you are under the impression that having reached the first consolidation means you are strong. You are not. Your power is merely ordinary.¡± ¡°I¡¯m well aware of that,¡± Sylvia said with a grimace. ¡°It is good that you are,¡± Esmeralda said harshly. ¡°I will say nothing of your visit to the docks, but if I find you taking risks like this again, you shall be restricted to the Academy until such time that your head is worthy of your heart.¡± Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s expression turned gentle. ¡°Now then, my adorable apprentice, is there anything else you wish to speak about?¡± Sylvia hesitated. There was. But dare she ask it? The silver-haired witch grit her teeth. ¡°The dresses in my closet. Did you pick them for me?¡± ¡°I did,¡± Baroness Vallenfelt confirmed. ¡°Though I shan¡¯t require you wear any before the grand ball. However, it is my wish that the opportunity be present, should you please.¡± Esmeralda¡¯s eyes turned sly. ¡°But I must say, it is quite surprising to see you so keen.¡± The silver-haired witch turned flustered. ¡°I¡¯m not ¨C I wasn¡¯t implying¡­ I just thought it was strange.¡± ¡°Is it so strange for a master to look after their apprentice?¡± Lady Vallenfelt inquired. Sylvia¡¯s lips tightened. ¡°No. I suppose it isn¡¯t.¡± In fact, having made the connection, nothing was more normal than for Esmeralda to obsess over Sylvia¡¯s appearance. A sick feeling rolled in Sylvia¡¯s gut. Her heart lurched as though the world underneath had suddenly moved in a new direction. Not wanting to remain for a second longer, Sylvia curtsied before heading for the door. ¡°Not so fast, my dear,¡± Esmeralda countermanded. ¡°If I am not mistaken, earlier this eve you displayed a most excellent mastery of the waltz of flowers. Show me your progress. Then return the jade scroll, if you would.¡± ¡­ ¡­ Sylvia stood frozen. She turned, slowly, as rigid as a statue. Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s gorgeous eyes narrowed. ¡°It seems you have withheld something of import.¡± The silver-haired witch let out a strangled laugh. ¡°I might have, accidentally, used the whole scroll.¡± ¡°Accidentally.¡± The baroness pronounced every syllable of the word precisely. She held out one, perfectly manicured hand, waiting. With dread, Sylvia withdrew the jade scroll and returned it to her master. Lady Vallenfelt checked the item, expression strict. ¡°This, I think, calls for discipline. Luckily, I have just the punishment on hand.¡± Esmeralda¡¯s wicked smile was worthy of a witch. -oOo- The new year dawned. The hour, as always, remained still in the Timeless Beryl Wilderness. No golden gleam greeted the change of calendars. Night remained. Darkness draped eternal upon Orasul Lunii, the shadows battled only by the light of the silver moon. The castle stood as a silhouette, a scene as clich¨¦ as it was beautiful. What stood out the strongest was the tranquility. Fireworks no longer filled the sky. Faeries didn¡¯t dance, carrying shimmering streamers. Music didn¡¯t cling to the air, alluring with its distant melody. The traffic on the streets had changed its nature. Demons bustled about, completing tasks and duties. Many walked half lidded, drained by the lack of sleep. Others squeezed their eyes, cursing the light cast by the street lamps, heads pounding from drunken revelry. The Festival of Light was over. Today was the first day of the first week of Men-Lux. Which meant the Young Demon¡¯s Tournament had begun. Soon, the empty streets would fill with warriors. The joy of the festival would be replaced by the lust of the coliseum. Three days were set aside for the preliminaries. On the fourth of Men-Lux, the survival round would begin. By the seventh, victory would be decided. The winners of the minors would be allowed a day of triumph before the blood spilled by the majors left them forgotten. ¡°Sylvia!¡± Emily ran across the lawn before pouncing on the silver-haired girl. The brunette clung to Sylvia like a koala, her arms wrapping tightly around Sylvia''s waist. ¡°It was horrible,¡± Emily whined. ¡°Six girls in one room and no Sylvia to heal me with her cuteness.¡± Sylvia froze, one hand extended to pat the brunette on the head. Her mind spun in circles, trying to figure out how to interpret the situation.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°How did you sleep?¡± Riley asked, trailing a few steps behind. ¡°Well enough,¡± Sylvia answered. Having a room to herself had been freeing. There was also an emptiness to it. Sylvia had been tempted to try a little ¡®experimentation¡¯, but recent revelations had spoiled her mood. ¡°Was it lonely?¡± Emily asked, peeking up. ¡°I didn¡¯t have any creepy stalkers staring at me while I was sleeping,¡± Sylvia replied, ruthlessly. Emily released her hug and stuck out her tongue. ¡°I¡¯m too cute to be creepy.¡± Was that Emily admitting she was a stalker? Sylvia relaxed. The brunette was right. She really was too cute to be creepy. Th-th-thud. A carriage rolled through the mansion gates, pulled by a massive bear. The golden furred phantasm let out a threatening growl, driving curious witches back. The door opened. From the carriage stepped a suave man. He had messy, black hair and blood-red eyes. Tall. Handsome. Lanky. Pale. No glitter. A stereotypical vampire. The System dropped the label C-V/Low. A devil at the bottom of the third consolidation. A Codrin clan elder, no doubt. On a developed plane, he¡¯d be a nobody. In the Timeless Beryl Wilderness, this man represented the pinnacle of power. Baroness Esmeralda Vallenfelt was C-V/Mid. Sylvia was sorely tempted to try an active scan. She held her foolishness. There would be plenty of targets in the tournament. ¡°What¡¯s that about?¡± Riley asked, as they headed toward the gates. Sylvia frowned. She hoped there wouldn¡¯t be trouble. ¡°Last night, Professor Fischer took Brianna and Piper to burn a ship in the harbor,¡± Tiffany jumped in, full of gossip. ¡°Turns out it belonged to Baron Ishii.¡± The blue haired witch had an excited smile. ¡°What the hell?¡± Riley questioned. ¡°Baroness Vallenfelt¡¯s orders,¡± Sylvia said, answering the implicit question. Tiffany¡¯s eyes gleamed, sensing a good rumor. ¡°You know something, don¡¯t you? You have to tell me,¡± Tiffany demanded, stepping close. ¡°I¡¯ve been bugging Piper all morning, but she won¡¯t say a thing!¡± ¡°Mmm,¡± Emily hummed in annoyance. She tugged at the silver-haired witch. ¡°Come on. Kyna and Ingrid are waiting.¡± Well said. Sylvia admired Emily¡¯s timely excuse. ¡°Right. We¡¯re busy,¡± Sylvia confirmed, even though she¡¯d rather gossip than face what was coming. ¡°Oh?¡± Tiffany¡¯s eyes twinkled. ¡°Is it something interesting?¡± Emily giggled. ¡°Sylvia is trying on her new armor. I can¡¯t wait for her to show it off. It¡¯s ~so~ cute.¡± Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°I hate it already.¡± Tiffany clapped her hands with a squeal. ¡°Oh! How exciting!¡± ¡°Kyna, Ingrid, and I helped design it.¡± The little brunette said, puffing up happily. ¡°Then it must be beautiful,¡± Tiffany sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll see you later, Sylvia. Don¡¯t forget to tell me about your teammates!¡± ¡­ ¡°Sure,¡± Sylvia responded, letting herself be dragged out the gates. ¡°Right after you tell the strengths and weakness of yours.¡± Seriously. They were competitors. Did Tiffany think Sylvia was stupid enough to sell her team out? As they left the noble quarters, traffic picked up. The first wave of competitors were raring to go. Sylvia felt the rush. It was better to complete the preliminary rounds early rather than late. By the time the third day came, the fights would be whittled down to those who had won two or more matches. The strongest of the strong. On the first day, there were easier prey. By Professor Wright¡¯s estimates, there would be between one and two thousand competitors fighting in the minors. Of those, no more than a hundred could make it into the survival round. Sylvia¡¯s plan was to fight this afternoon. Before that, she had to collect her armor, watch a few exchanges, and burn her last skill book. Ten minutes later they reached the shop. Enchanted Elegance was written on a sign outside the store, the meaning behind the curvy script understood only by way of spirit speech. In the windows were mannequins wearing tops, skirts, robes, and dresses. A horrible, stuffy feeling formed in Sylvia¡¯s chest. The same sense young Eric had when dragged into the mall by his mother. If there was a redeeming factor, it was that this shop was small. It had no equal to the department stores of Eric¡¯s childhood. Steeling herself, Sylvia stepped inside. ¡°The three of you are here,¡± Ingrid greeted with a smile. The succubus was wearing a slinky, white dress with a matching pair of sexy heels. Sylvia gave a questioning look. Today the demoness was positively demure. Ingrid didn¡¯t deign to answer. ¡°Is this where you¡¯ll be working after graduation?¡± Riley questioned, looking around. ¡°Ingrid will be serving under me for the next ten years, provided she meets my expectations,¡± a woman answered. Her eyes turned to the silver-haired witch. ¡°You must be Sylvia Swallows. Welcome to Enchanted Elegance. I am Kagome, proprietress.¡± The woman offered a slight bow, proving not every lady curtsied. Kagome¡¯s complexion was pale, near alabaster. Hair spilled down her back like melt water from a glacier, filled with varying depths of blue. A snow witch. A demoness of the hecates lineage best known by the name yuki onna. Kagome leaned forward, examining Sylvia¡¯s face. ¡°Lovely,¡± she pronounced. ¡°The colors will suit you perfectly. Especially those eyes. The eyes of a starlight witch inspire such envy. Baroness Vallenfelt is truly a woman of good taste.¡± Starlight witches were of the genera magissa while snow witches came from the branch xemyalistra. By blood, they could be considered distant cousins. Magissa reflected the maiden while xemyalistra echoed the mother. Nowhere was this more apparent than in Kagome¡¯s voluptuous body. The yuki onna was a true, mature woman filled with allure and temptation. She was also tall. A full head taller than Sylvia. And that was including Sylvia¡¯s stripper heels. ¡°Ingrid is lucky to have such an incredible teacher,¡± Emily said politely. ¡°With the baroness flooding the plane with magissa, we mitera have to support each other,¡± Kagome answered simply. Xemyalistra translated to temptress. Some witches from the genera took exception, calling themselves mitera instead. The rebranding might¡¯ve shown more success if snow witches didn¡¯t share their branch with sirens and succubi. ¡°Enough of the pleasantries. Ingrid, as you drafted the enchantment code, I will allow you the honors,¡± Kagome said. ¡°My pleasure,¡± the purple haired succubus accepted. ¡°Show us the dress! Show us the dress!¡± Kyna cheered, sitting on the edge of a counter. With the sway of her hips, Ingrid sauntered up then pulled a curtain aside. Sylvia¡¯s mind went blank. She knew netherworld armors didn¡¯t conform to mortal standards. A year in charm club had revealed to her all sorts of absurd equipment. Professor Wright¡¯s Field Studies had only served to clarify the gap between ethereal and material logic. So it was of no surprise that her ¡®armor¡¯ resembled a dress. Nothing, however, could¡¯ve prepared her for this horror. The monstrosity was, succinctly said, an answer to the burning question: ¡®What if a faerie, a succubus, and a witch with a magical girl fetish conspired to create a dress together?¡¯ A sheer, mesh leotard covered the torso. The thin fabric was near transparent carrying a slight, silver glint. Wrapped over it was a black corset, cinching around the waist. The fine fabric was covered with dark, silver etching while the front was laced with pink ribbons tied in a series of perfect bows. Two cups embraced a mannequin¡¯s breasts, adorned with cute, pink fluff. Beneath the corset lay a ruffled skirt short enough to be called scandalous. Three layers of lace returned a measure of decency, alternating between pink, white, and pink. A gap of absolute territory followed, broken by black stockings, trimmed with silver thread. The shoes were, of course, heels. Twelve centimeter pumps, with broad pink ribbons wrapping the calves with bows at the back. On the shoulders, was a shawl of sorts. The shape hinted at a shirt¡¯s collar, black with silver trim. Fabric ran from it down the mannequin''s arms blooming into a pair of bell-like sleeves, embellished with pink lace. On the mannequin''s back, the shawl was longer, creating a stylized cape. As with everything, the outer material was black. The inner however, was instead embroidered with silver stars, giving glimpse to a mysterious galaxy. ¡°I insisted on the hat,¡± Riley offered, as the silver-haired witch stood stunned. ¡°Emily wanted a tiara.¡± Sylvia gazed at the blonde in a daze. ¡°Tiaras are impossible,¡± Kagome clarified. ¡°Crowns, coronets, and diadems are restricted by law to high nobility.¡± Riley grinned, then leaned close. ¡°I didn¡¯t say I tried hard.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t just sit there staring, put it on and let us see it!¡± The pink haired faerie squeaked. ¡°Come on, Sylvia!¡± Emily cheered in combination. Her dark, emerald eyes were twinkling. ¡°You¡¯ll be like a magical princess.¡± Yes. Yes, she would. That¡¯s exactly what Sylvia feared. Then the dread grew deeper. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. She was going to have to wear this horror during the tournament. In front of everyone. In front of the whole fucking plane. ¡°Fudge,¡± she cursed. ¡°Don¡¯t be shy, dear,¡± Kagome encouraged. ¡°I need to see it first so we can make the final adjustments.¡± Fuck, she thought again, this time keeping her cuss internal. Reluctantly, Sylvia stepped forward. The silver-haired witch grabbed the jewel that sat between the mannequin¡¯s breasts. With the nudge of her ki, the armor transformed. Dark ether whirled. Skirt, shawl, and corset evaporated before being sucked into the gem. Left behind was a naked mannequin wearing only a pair of heels and a hat. The hat, Sylvia sensed, was a joined accessory. A weird sort of entanglement common in netherworld outfits. Sylvia gave the jewel a nudge. The hat vanished as well. Then, Sylvia slipped the gem into her soul. Like her staff, this was soul bound equipment. Once stored, Sylvia could project her armor¡¯s shadow. In this way she¡¯d have a set of clothes even after being reborn. Not that she would use them because Sylvia would rather wear a white dress! Now, only the pink heels remained. These were a separate piece. Odd as it was to say, Sylvia was rather happy to kick off her platform heels and slip into her new pink pumps. After putting them on she took a few steps to get a feel for them. So short. So sensible. Bliss. ¡­ ¡­ Misery. How thoroughly had she been brainwashed to think twelve centimeter heels were sensible? Heels this high surpassed those worn by Allison Myers! Binding her new shoes before projecting them, Sylvia cheered herself with a System window. Observe Item. Ding!
Equipment: Blood Bone Heels
Weight 9.1 droms
Type Accessory/Martial
Value 6,900 soli
Characteristics
+10 celerity when using movement techniques
+40 force when using lightness techniques
Moderately increases ki consumption
Shoes forged from the bones of a beryl blood wolf carrying the concept of wind. When empowered by ki, they lend a wind attribute to all movement skills, increasing both speed and lightness. However, this concept will clash with arts that emphasis earth, stability, or steadiness, eroding their effectiveness. Despite being designed for speed, these shoes illogically sport twelve centimeters of heel. The System advises against equipping this accessory unless appropriate movement skills have been learned.
Sylvia did, in fact, know an appropriate movement skill. Thanks, shitty System, for the reminder. Sour, Sylvia picked up her old platform heels and offered them to Riley. ¡°Here. They¡¯ll help you feel tall,¡± Sylvia said with a malicious smile. Riley smirked. ¡°The only thing that matters is that I¡¯m taller than you,¡± Riley countered. ¡°Which I am. And stop dithering. Emily¡¯s about to explode.¡± Sylvia glanced over at the brunette. Emily was shaking, both fists clenched, cheeks puffed. A low eager and angry hum was rising from her throat. Sylvia shook her head in disbelief. Then she loosened her robes. ¡°No need, darling,¡± Kagome interrupted. ¡°When projected, your armor will substitute your current outfit. When put away, the process will reverse. But nothing too heavy mind you. Your soul must still bear the weight of whatever you are wearing.¡± ¡°Convenient,¡± Sylvia praised. ¡°It¡¯s like a magical transformation,¡± Emily said excitedly. The brunette spun on her toes. ¡°When you change, you have to pose!¡± ¡­ ¡°No.¡± Emily gave her the world¡¯s most adorable puppy dog eyes. Making a point of ignoring the brunette, Sylvia released her armor¡¯s shadow. Ether puffed, forming a dark cloud. The mist swirled around her, protecting her dignity while her clothes were drawn into her inventory. The leotard formed first, followed by skirt and corset. Shawl and stockings came after. Last to appear were the accessories. Lace, earrings, and a broad witch¡¯s hat. Before Sylvia could react, an elated squeal filled the room. ¡°Eeaaa! It''s ~so cute~!¡± Emily squeed. ¡°I still say we should¡¯ve done more to emphasize her legs and breasts,¡± Ingrid mused. ¡°The mesh detracts from the allure, but I do like the delicacy. It makes her look so vulnerable. I just want to eat her up.¡± ¡°It''s cute, cute, cute,¡± Emily continued in the background, stomping her little feet. ¡°On the contrary, I think it¡¯s too lewd,¡± Kyna refuted. The pink haired fairy tapped her lips. ¡°Perhaps if we made it more playful? Little bows around the hem of the skirt like Emily suggested?¡± ¡°And two giant, pink bows on either side of the hips!¡± Emily chimed in. ¡°If we add bows to the skirt, we have to add them elsewhere, or it¡¯ll throw off the balance,¡± Ingrid commented. ¡°If the dress is too busy, it will detract from her assets.¡± The succubus pondered for a bit. ¡°The heels should be higher.¡± ¡°You always think the heels should be higher,¡± Kyna retorted. ¡°Also, black bows. Black bows will add a little flair while blending with the dress. Throw a couple on the sleeves and it fits.¡± Ingrid nodded. ¡°I can see it.¡± With dead eyes, Sylvia turned to Riley. The blonde scratched a freckled cheek. ¡°I hate to say it, but I¡¯m with Emily on this. You are extremely cute. And I mean that as a compliment.¡± ¡°Right! Right! I¡¯ve been saying it since the start, Sylvia is super cute.¡± Sylvia¡¯s gaze turned into a glower. ¡°How about we give the girl some space so she can look for herself,¡± Kagome suggested. Mirrors weren¡¯t as common in Hell as they were on Earth. Sylvia¡¯s dorm room didn¡¯t have one. The dorm building had several on every floor. Charm club also had a few. Sylvia would even use them from time to time to check her looks after acquiring a new hat. Hats were important! But Sylvia had never seen herself like this. On her head was a broad brimmed hat. The conical top flopped back in a beautiful crook, a silver moon ornament hanging from the tip. The fabric had a dark silver pattern to it while the underside was tinged purple, embroidered with mystifying silver stars. Beneath the brim, hair spilled down her back in a French braid, bangs framing her face. While Sylvia thought of her hair as silver, the color was closer to light gray tinged with a hint of lavender-pink. It was shiny, straight, and silky with a character dancing on the edge of metallic. Her skin was pale. Not pallid like a vampire, nor white like a yuki oni. Instead, it was smooth, soft, and supple like the skin of a child. The black fabric of Sylvia¡¯s dress stood in sharp opposition, dark hard against her healthy glow. Her frame was delicate, challenging Emily¡¯s fragile cuteness. But her hips and bust had more shape than those of the brunette. The skirt and corset emphasized both. Then, there was her face. Cherubic. Sylvia¡¯s nose was adorable. Her rounded cheeks blended perfectly with her elegant chin. But the masterpiece was her eyes. Wide and enchanting, like those of an anime girl. The irises were candy pink, filled with a fractal universe. Her pupils, a telescope into an ancient galaxy a billion light years away. She was cute. Even Sylvia was forced to admit it. With her puffy skirt, bell sleeves, and dangly teardrop earrings Sylvia was an ode to adorableness. Sylvia was cute to the point that Eric might¡¯ve used a picture of her as the background of his computer screen. So cute that Sylvia had a sudden itch to pose and twirl, just so she could see what it looked like. Terrifyingly cute to the degree that Sylvia wondered, how much cuter would she be in twin tails. With bows. Maybe even ¨C shudder ¨C curls. She trembled. No. No, no, no. This was an abomination. She had stepped past the pale. She was gazing into the abyss and the abyss was looking back. She had gone mad. Eldritch horror was stretching its claws and tearing at her sanity. There was no hope. She had been undone. Sylvia turned to her sole source of salvation. ¡°Kill me,¡± she begged. ¡°Kill me please. I can no longer be saved.¡± Riley just stared. ¡°Even if I killed you, you¡¯d resurrect. And you¡¯d still be wearing that dress,¡± the blonde pointed out. ¡°Also, we¡¯re in Hell. We¡¯re pretty well damned already.¡± Emily giggled at their theatrics. ¡°I used void silk for the main body,¡± Kagome interjected, describing the armor¡¯s features. ¡°Void silk is fragile but stubborn, meaning that the material will tear easily but so long as the essence is not damaged the ether will quickly recoalesce. ¡°The defense is provided through a barrier. We used the aspect force combined with a law of crystallization. Most attacks won¡¯t penetrate without breaking the field entirely. The spatial coordinates are guided by your clothes, so the barrier should be skin tight. However, it will become bulbous around the face if you go without the hat.¡± As if Sylvia would ever forget her hat. That was sacrilege! ¡­ Unless... it was to wear a different hat. ¡°The barrier can be slick,¡± Kagome continued. ¡°Because of the stocking, it won¡¯t be an issue around the feet. However, when holding objects with your hands use your ki to firm your grip. Finally, when wearing magical armors you may experience some drain. If you find the drain to be too much, switch to standard clothing during periods of rest.¡± While Kagome spoke, Sylvia checked the System¡¯s deductions.
Equipment: Witch-Princess Dress
Weight 31.6 droms
Type Armor/Magical
Value 11,500 soli
Characteristics
Defense 2
Barrier 90 hp
Mp Drain 20 / hour
An armor inspired by magical girl animes. Rather than material or concept, this armor relies on force magic to provide defense. This field will deflect and absorb attacks. As the field is incompatible with the User¡¯s ki, it will absorb damage without benefiting from the User¡¯s defense. Once broken, the barrier will naturally reform after 15 minutes, given sufficient ether. This process can be accelerated by providing 50mp. However, the enchantment code cannot re-emit the fractured rune structure immediately, so there is a 15 second cool down before the barrier can be restored. The enchantment code of this armor is simple. As such, the barrier may be bypassed with appropriate spells and concepts. The armor was made from void silk. A side effect of production is that the void concept can be borrowed for void element buffs applied to the wearer, reducing mana consumption by 2%.
-oOo- Bestiary: Dogman Sailor Species: Beast-Kin (Beryl Blood Wolf) Lv: 115 Hp/Mp: 324/107 Atk/Def: 131/37 Celerity: 165% Catman Sailor Species: Beast-Kin (Beryl Night Panther) Lv: 103 Hp/Mp: 324/97 Atk/Def: 127/35 Celerity: 150% Birdman Sailor Species: Beast-Kin (Ersetu Storm Gull) Lv: 174 Hp/Mp: 370+75 / 397 Atk/Def: 125+60 / 20 Dominion: 70 (innate wind magic) Celerity: 200% Chenzira, First Mate of the Plutous Species: Naga Lv: 252 Hp/Mp: 871/244 Atk/Def: 214/85 Celerity: 180% (210%, short motions) Bloodline: Beast-Kin Type: Physical/Mixed Potential: Low Commonality: Common Formal Name: Ouranios Thirio Anthros A bloodline synthesized shortly before the start of the Colonial Age and instrumental to its success. Beast-kin were created with the goal of universal compatibility with chimeric code. While this intent was not exactly realized, the bloodline came close. Beast-kin thus opened the door to the cheap processing of chimeric souls, allowing for greater exploitation of wilderness resources. Being derived from the ouranious (heavenly) lineage, beast-kin are prone to human forms and figures. One result is that, unlike most bloodlines, the first two consolidations have a strong humanizing effect. During this period beast-kin may experience a large improvement to their talent, appearance, and symmetry. Because the type and amount of chimeric code contained in each soul is different, beast-kin can easily run into a wall during advancement. If this occurs, then to proceed the individual will be forced to take in the nether code from other species and rely upon their bloodline¡¯s innate capacity for adaptation. This action is risky and can easily degrade talent. Because of this, beast-kin rarely achieve Awakening. As a low ranked bloodline, beast-kin form a natural underclass in Hell¡¯s society. This ¡®feature¡¯ is prized by slavers and merchants desiring cheap labor. In combination with Hell¡¯s colonial expansion, this has caused the beast-kin population to soar. Currently, this bloodline makes up a tenth of Hell¡¯s overall population. On colonial planes, that ratio is often three to five times higher. Beast-kin form traits based upon the innate abilities of the creatures from which they are born. Due to their need for additional chimerism, the trait distribution of high consolidation beast-kin is almost always unique. Chapter 16 -oOo- Chapter 16 -oOo- Sylvia passed through Orasul Lunii as though she were approaching the gallows. Her face burned. Sylvia had thought she was embarrassed on her first day at the Academy. A man wearing girl¡¯s clothes, waiting for everyone to notice. This was so much worse. Back then, it¡¯d been all in her head. Sylvia¡¯s classmates were blind to the truth. Nobody laughed. Nobody noticed. With time, the fear passed. The taboo had been shattered. What was once forbidden became normal and thought about no more. Today, Sylvia suffered the exact opposite. Eyes. Eyes. Eyes everywhere. Vampires staring. Beast-kin leering. Werewolves hooting or licking their chops. Sylvia shivered as demonic gazes traced her bare skin. She felt naked. Exposed. Her body an offering for their delight. Sylvia wanted nothing more than to grab the brim of her hat and pull it down so she wouldn¡¯t see that they saw. It was like having one of those dreams where you went to school naked. Except this was real. It was all she could do to not have a nervous breakdown. Sylvia found herself sympathizing with figure skaters and divas. How did they put up with it? ¡­ Who was she kidding? From the way Emily was bouncing alongside, half those girls were probably thrilled to wear those outfits. Mouth dry, Sylvia clutched her staff, quartz crystal crackling. She tried to stand tall and project power and authority. Alas, she was way too adorable for it to have any effect. Fortunately, as she approached the arena, gazes fell away from her and toward something far more interesting. Blood sport. Orasul Lunii¡¯s coliseum was a rounded stone building. It rose three stories high while covering a breadth of one hundred meters. Lanes led into the building from various directions, with the statues along the path honoring fighters from the last fifty years. Demons milled about, bearing weapons on their backs or at their side. Armor of every style was found, from heavy plate to barbarian warrior. Mages entered with enchanted robes while others planned to fight in what looked to be ordinary clothes. Sylvia¡¯s group passed them by, stepping into the building. A long line led to the main field with a desk set up for registrants. The tournament was officiated by the Codrin clan. So, it was no surprise that all the judges and officials were vampires. ¡°You can do it, Sylvia,¡± Emily encouraged. ¡°Believe in the Emily that believes in you,¡± Riley joked, patting the silver-haired witch on the shoulder. Sylvia groaned. ¡°I just want this to be done and over with.¡± ¡°You do realize that you¡¯ll be wearing that in front of literally everyone, right?¡± ¡°I was trying to forget.¡± Sylvia ground out. ¡°Don¡¯t be nervous, Sylvia. You¡¯re super cute. No matter what happens, everyone will love you,¡± Emily reassured. ¡°If it makes you feel better, I¡¯ve worn worse,¡± Riley commented. The freckled blonde had a sly grin. ¡°For Halloween. When I was nine.¡± ¡°Riley!¡± Emily shrieked in anger, cheeks puffed adorably. ¡°Don¡¯t discourage Sylvia! Sylvia, don¡¯t listen to her. Cuteness is justice! It doesn¡¯t matter what you do, as long as you¡¯re cute!¡± ¡­ She was going to be murdering people for the pleasure of the crowd. What did any of this have to do with justice? The angry brunette made a few swatting motions toward Riley. The tomboy laughed and dodged. Rolling her eyes, Sylvia flipped Riley the bird before joining the registration line. As she left, Riley turned back and hollered. ¡°Knock them out!¡± Registration took fifteen minutes. The process was pretty simple. A vampire recorded her name and race, recited the rules, then made her swear she¡¯d abide by them. After handing Sylvia a token, an orange eyed woman brought the witch into a tent where Sylvia was asked to change into a set of red robes to prove she wasn¡¯t carrying more than her soul could bear. ¡°This is your proof of registration,¡± the orange eyed vampiress said, handing over an engraved stone. ¡°You can start a fight by three means. First, you may put your stone in the box. When a ring is free, two stones will be pulled at random. If you¡¯re not present, your stone will be marked and returned to the box. Three times and you¡¯re disqualified.¡± ¡°How long¡¯s the queue?¡± Sylvia asked. The official shrugged. ¡°Three, maybe four hours.¡± That sounded¡­ fun. ¡°And the other ways?¡± ¡°A contender may take any empty ring and hold it. After, registered demons can challenge you to a fight. Refusal is an automatic forfeit. Once you take the ring you must fight at least one battle before you can leave it. If no one fights you in ten minutes, the judge will draw a stone and force the issue.¡± Sylvia nodded. This was intended for fighters who were sure of themselves. Particularly, those who were aiming for the captain¡¯s seat in the survival round. Professor Wright had reminded them not to do this, because whoever challenged them would be confident they could take down a mage. ¡°And the third way is to challenge someone holding a ring.¡± ¡°Correct,¡± the vampiress confirmed. ¡°If you have to leave and reenter, you must show your stone to the registration desk. Losing the stone is also a forfeit.¡± With that, it was onward to the main field. Giant lamps lit the coliseum, making it as bright as day. The arena floor was dirt. Around the perimeter were five rings marked for individual battles. The judges observed the fights from their high chairs set near the center. Beside each chair was a box. While Sylvia watched, a scaled demon casually tossed his stone in the nearest container. Four out of five rings held raging battles. In the bleachers, crowds cheered as weapons clashed. Near the fight, benches were set up so the participants could watch. Others stood at the center, some with eyes on the fights or quietly conversing. Sylvia spotted Piper chatting with an oni, no doubt trying to sucker him onto her team. As she approached the center, Sylvia¡¯s eyes were drawn to the fight on her left. In the ring, a werewolf faced a vampire. The wolf¡¯s fur was matted with blood. In his hand, he carried a long halberd. The demon lunged, lance a blur. Opposite, a black haired vampiress flitted, leaving behind umbral afterimages. Sylvia¡¯s gaze sharpened. This was her first fight in the tournament, and Sylvia had already witnessed a competitor wielding a manifestation realm art. The concept remained vague, yet a hint lingered in the echo of ki and mana. The pace reversed. The vampiress flickered, slipping past the werewolf¡¯s halberd. She thrust, rapier haloed by a shadowy serpent. The wolf tried to pivot. Too late. Aura twisted through the air then pierced his core. The crowd roared. The black haired vampiress whipped her blade, pointing it toward the arena¡¯s center. ¡°Who else dares accompany me?¡± The gathered demons laughed and jostled. Nobody stepped up. ¡°Three victories in half an hour, Mihaela,¡± a genial voice spoke. ¡°Are you truly so set on a captain position?¡± Even Sylvia was forced to admit the speaker was handsome. He had chiseled features and bright red eyes. The vampire¡¯s hair was a mess of blood-red curls. His dress and manner projected an aristocratic style. Mihaela, the vampiress, sheathed her sword with a huff. ¡°Iulian, we both know the elder favored you because you¡¯re a man.¡± The vampiress was attractive in an ordinary sort of way. Her hair was like night, straight locks pouring down to her waist. Her facial features were sharp. She was also tall. Taller than Ingrid, if Sylvia ignored the boost of the succubus¡¯ heels. ¡°Mihaela, Mihaela,¡± Iulian lamented, shaking his head. ¡°You still don¡¯t understand why you lost.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve never lost to you,¡± Mihaela spat. ¡°Come up here and fight me, you gutless coward!¡± Already bored of the dispute, Sylvia scanned for an empty ring. Tactically speaking, the smart path was to throw her stone into a box. That way, her fight would be random. Initially, Sylvia had planned exactly that. She was in no hurry and watching a few fights would help her grasp the strengths and weaknesses of other demons. Plus, if she found the time, she could slip out and use her last blank skill book. Right now? Sylvia wanted to exit this nightmare as soon as possible. ¡°Where¡¯s a free ring?¡± she muttered. ¡°On the other side, sugar,¡± a monkey man laughed, pointing past the crowd. ¡°Hop on in sweetheart, and I¡¯ll be sure to show you a good time.¡± Grinning, the monkey man made thrusting motions with his hips. Beside him, a second demon sporting antlers nudged his friend with his elbow, seeming to enjoy the play. Sylvia¡¯s lips twisted with disgust. Was misogyny really that common, or was her luck shit? ¡°On the other side you say?¡± Sylvia said, keeping her tone bland. ¡°Then come and fight me, if you¡¯ve got the guts.¡± She leapt, petals fluttering beneath pink pumps. A moment later, she landed elegantly amid the empty ring. A hush fell upon the horde. Demons gazed, processing what just happened. Not a wave of silence, rather a dampening of the rowdy roar. This dip was followed by a chain of hoots and hollers. ¡°Hello gorgeous!¡± ¡°I bet I could break her with one swing.¡± ¡°Rip them apart, mad dog!¡± ¡°Look, another arrogant beauty.¡± ¡°I can take her!¡± ¡°Who wants to go first?¡± Sylvia let the torrent roll over her. Her eyes found the monkey man through the gaps in the crowd. The beast-kin¡¯s smile faltered, turning into a scowl. Then, he vanished behind the throng. That¡¯s right, tuck your tail and run, worm, Sylvia sneered internally. ¡°Miss, are you issuing an open challenge?¡± It was the judge in the high chair who asked the question. He had steely, gray hair and eyes like dried blood. ¡°Yes,¡± Sylvia answered, tossing him her stone. The judge checked her token. Satisfied, his voice rose. ¡°Ring three has been claimed by Sylvia Swallows. Who dares face this contender?¡± ¡°I do!¡± a voice roared. A hogmin shoved his way through the crowd. The demon was big and bulky. His shoulders were nearly two meters wide. By comparison, his height of six-foot-three was below average for warrior class demons. When compared to Sylvia¡¯s five nothing, however, he might as well have been a giant. Chung. Chung. Heavy armor rattled as the hogmin stepped into the ring. His head was bare, showing his tusks and pig-like snout. The rest of him was layered in metal plate. A tall shield was slung over the demon¡¯s back, paired with a double-headed battleaxe. The judge held out a hand. With thick fingers, the hogmin handed over his token. ¡°Do you know the rules?¡± he asked, voice directed toward both contestants. ¡°¡°Yes¡±¡± Sylvia and the hogmin answered at the same time. ¡°Then take your positions,¡± the judge commanded. ¡°We will start on my mark.¡± The ring was defined by a white circle which swept a space twenty meters in diameter. Through the ring¡¯s center a line was drawn. That line was split by four marks. Fighters were allowed to place themselves between any two of those marks on their side of the field. Through this means, the contestants could start as close as five meters or as far as fifteen. As Sylvia was a witch, she took the space furthest back. The hogmin, naturally, took the spot most forward. ¡°I am called Leonid, witch.¡± The hogmin declared, thumping his axe against his shield. ¡°Remember the name of your vanquisher.¡± ¡°Who is to say who will be vanquishing whom,¡± Sylvia retorted in annoyance. The silver-haired witch leaned on her staff. The quartz crystal was crackling with lightning ether. A thin, invisible barrier was cast from her armor, shielding her from harm. ¡°The arrogance of high demons,¡± Leonid spat. The hogmin shifted his posture. His body lowered, shield to the fore. The pig demon¡¯s brown eyes peered over the rim. Sylvia could almost feel his ki shifting, gathering in his lower body, ready to explode. Hers spiraled internally, forming stems and petals. External manipulation was forbidden before the match began. If not, Sylvia would¡¯ve started the fight by erecting an array of frost shields. She might¡¯ve even boldly built fortifications. Sylvia felt this rule was unfair to mages, but there was no helping it. Letting her do as she pleased would¡¯ve been even more ridiculous. ¡°Ready.¡± The judge called, raising his hand. Then his arm fell. ¡°Fight!¡± It started in an instant. Ki exploded under Leonid¡¯s feet. He shot forward, energy uncoiling behind him. Spring step. An externalization realm technique as common as it was effective. Sylvia swished to the side. The waltz of flowers was of a higher level but it was no match for the hogmin¡¯s acceleration. What it did have was mobility. Chunk! The pig demon¡¯s axe blurred down, crashing into the dirt. Earth shattered on impact, unleashing a cloud of dust. Leonid wrenched his weapon from the ground, whirling in Sylvia¡¯s direction. With a hop and a skip, Sylvia glided back. With each leap, she gained altitude. ¡°¡ö¡ö.¡± Then, with one great step, she soared. Without her Blood Bone Heels, Sylvia could manage a triple jump at best. Her strength attribute was too weak, so her ki couldn¡¯t support her own weight. With them, Sylvia could stride through the sky, flying as freely as a bird. Briefly. The rate of exhaustion was comparable to an athlete competing in the two-hundred meter dash. Add in feather-light and Sylvia could remain in the air for as long as her mana could last. ¡°That¡¯s cheating!¡± Leonid roared, raising his axe angrily. While the pigman turned to the judge, Sylvia chanted. ¡°¡ö¡ö ¡ö¡ö¡± Water ether flowed from her elemental palace, winding with wind to form ice. A frozen plane formed in the air, guarding her from danger. Opening an elemental palace wasn¡¯t difficult. It only required ingesting an elemental source capable of storing 50 ether along with a payment of one-thousand experience points. Water had been Sylvia¡¯s element of choice, much to Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s delight. Sylvia had felt the element the most practical of the set. Wind, fire, and lightning were covered by her staff. Of the primary elements, only earth and water were left. And water was, without a doubt, the best when it came to defense. Not so much because water was stronger than earth but because water was transparent. ¡°The flight ceiling is twenty meters,¡± the judge rejected. ¡°As long as she remains within the ring, all movements are legal.¡± Laughter rose from the crowd. ¡°Pig man picked wrong!¡± ¡°Throw your axe, man!¡± ¡°Beat him up, Sylvia!¡± ¡°Roast the pig!¡± ¡°Why can¡¯t I see up her skirt?¡± Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. Don¡¯t listen to the crowd. Don¡¯t listen to the crowd. Reminding herself, Sylvia did her best to focus on the fight. Below, the hogmin glowered. The pig demon paced back and forth, glaring at her while grinding his teeth. Sylvia judged from his lack of action that Leonid had no good way to attack an aerial foe. Which meant it was a great time to make use of a System feature. Observe Opponent Ding!
Leonid - C-II/Low
Species Hogmin Level 191
Hp/Mp 777 / 192 Atk/Def 194 / 73
Celerity 163%
Traits: Heart of Greed, Essence Thief, Life Force I, Rubbery Hide
Ding! Reward: +10 pts ¨C Anatomical structure: Typhon Aplistia Choiros Ten merit points. Sweet. Sylvia felt a wave of excitement. Unable to resist, she quickly used Observe Item targeting Leonid¡¯s armor, shield, and axe. This time, she ignored the associated windows. The real reward was the twenty-one merit points flowing into her pocket. Beautiful. Life was beautiful. ¡°You can¡¯t stay up there forever!¡± Leonid shouted. ¡°You¡¯re right. I can only hang around for fifteen minutes,¡± Sylvia stated, dully. She waved her staff. ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö.¡± Sharp stone ripped through the earth, a flower of razor shards reaching out. The hogmin threw himself to the side in a brief roll before scrambling to his feet. Worth a try. Since that didn¡¯t work, Sylvia would go for something a little more sophisticated. ¡°¡ö ¡ö¡ö¡ö.¡± Her next spell was the cremation hex. An invisible chain of runes swam through the air like a serpent. The unseen magic sank into Leonid¡¯s flesh, wriggling as it dug deep. The curse melted into his blood, hidden and waiting. ¡°¡ö¡ö.¡± With a flick, Sylvia renewed her feather light. ¡°Then I¡¯ll wait down here for you!¡± Leonid yelled. Moron. ¡°¡ö ¡ö¡ö¡ö.¡± She added a second cremation hex to the first. The hogmin growled angrily. It was clear he didn¡¯t know what to do. Magic and ki had very different characteristics. Mana was ephemeral. Without runes, it was nearly worthless. With runes, it could be forged into many shapes. A skilled mage was adaptable and deadly at every range. Ki was heavier. Being born from the body, it easily augmented the flesh. Compared to mana, it was difficult to shape. Basic arts relied on a vessel. Even with externalization, it was not easily separated from its source. And when it was, the action came with great cost. A mage stretched their mana by blending spells with ether. A warrior preserved their ki through cycling. As Sylvia stood upon air, her ki was consumed by the waltz of flowers. But, of the energy she spent, ninety-five percent of it was recovered. Or, to apply that math in reverse, her consumption rate would be twenty times greater if she were to scatter her ki into the air. Ranged martial arts weren¡¯t just difficult, they were absurdly expensive. Which left Leonid up shit creek without a paddle. ¡°¡ö¡ö.¡± With two syllables, Sylvia summoned a massive ball of fire. The roaring flame roiled, sucking the ether from her staff. When the last drop was drained, Sylvia swung her weapon unleashing the blazing orb. Flame shot was slow, obvious, and an ether hog. Sylvia never had a high opinion of it. As for why, Leonid¡¯s response illustrated it perfectly. When the fire fell, the hogmin raised his shield. The demon crouched, ki flowing into his equipment. A haze of light spread from the shield, forming a wall of aura twice the size of the shield itself. Whomph! Magic hit with a billowing blaze. A wave of heat and wind rose, stirring Sylvia¡¯s hair and skirt. Below, an inferno swirled, parting around the hogmin, leaving him singed but mostly unharmed. Sylvia wore an evil smile. Fire twisted. Right as the spell was about to dissipate, the coiling flame was sucked into Leonid¡¯s body in the shape of twin ropes. The hogmin screamed. A pillar of fire wrapped the demon for a full second, before a burst of ki scattered the spell. Barbecued pig emerged from the blaze, a shadow spinning through dying embers. Whomp. Whomp. Leonid¡¯s massive tower shield whirled through the air. Sylvia dodged to the side, her motions made floaty by feather light. On the tail of the first attack came a second. A body loomed over the silver-haired witch, giving her a bare instant to react. Bang! Leonid¡¯s battleaxe smashed into Sylvia¡¯s frost shield with the full weight of the pigman behind it. The shock sent her crashing down. Sylvia twisted, before she hit ground she transformed her fall into a curved skate. The witch slid back, then up, like a roller coaster on banked tracks. Thump.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The hogmin touched ground. The demon lunged forward, hoping to catch Sylvia before she could rise. The witch danced backward, chanting a spell. Ether flowed from her water palace. ¡°¡ö¡ö ¡ö ¡ö¡ö.¡± A ball of clear liquid condensed at the tip of her staff. It shot forward like a bullet. The projectile curved toward the hogmin. Water knife, an attack spell reminiscent of wind blade but with less ability to turn and greater penetration. Deprived of his shield, Leonid blocked with his axe. The water knife smashed into the broad face of his weapon. The impact made him flinch, slowing his chase. Sylvia rose higher, her chant a rapid percussion. ¡°¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö.¡± Two additional knives chained with the first. The second went low, aiming for the hogmin¡¯s knees. The demon threw himself into a roll. The third streaked toward his chest. Leonid shifted the shaft of his weapon at the last second, saving him from a pierced core. But not from the broken drops perforating his armor. The System showed the hogmin on the edge of death. Mercilessly, Sylvia continued her chant. ¡°¡ö¡ö ¨C¡± Leonid rolled again, placing himself outside the arena¡¯s lines. Sylvia cut her spell, bullet veering into the dirt. The witch drifted down, feet touching lightly on the earth. ¡°Victory, Sylvia Swallows,¡± the judge called. Leonid struggled to his knees. ¡°Fuck!¡± he roared, pounding the earth with a fist. Sylvia stayed silent. She didn¡¯t berate his bad sportsmanship. How could she? There was a slave collar around the hogmin¡¯s neck. There was one around the necks of half the fighters gathered here today. The Young Demons Tournament was open to all demons, slave and free alike. For Leonid, this was a chance to show his worth. Not for freedom. Freedom wasn¡¯t so easily obtained. Rather, for a better life. Not all slaves were equal. Even for those who were owned, there were masters who were better and worse. Jobs and positions that earned greater wealth would, in turn, provide a slave with greater comfort and more resources. In the netherworld, the most prestigious job a young slave could hope for were guard, soldier, or a member of a hunting team. ¡°Good match,¡± she said eventually. Did she regret winning? No. No one was entitled to victory. But she felt a pang in her heart. Leonid sneered. ¡°Don¡¯t patronize me, high-born.¡± The hogmin stood. Worn and weak, he walked off. Leonid¡¯s token shattered in the judge¡¯s hand. The gray haired vampire looked toward Sylvia. ¡°Will you accept another challenge?¡± ¡°Fight!¡± ¡°Sylvia, I love you!¡± ¡°Fight!¡± ¡°Fight!¡± ¡°Sylvia¡¯s mine, you can¡¯t have her!¡± ¡°Fight!¡± ¡°Fight!¡± ¡°Fight!¡± The crowd chanted, driving her toward battle. The raucous energy was like a drug. The silver-haired witch felt her heart soaring. A powerful, heady desire urged her to go one more round. One more battle. One more chance to show her strength. But her pastel pink eyes were undeterred. ¡°No,¡± she answered, with a shake of her head. Sylvia stepped out of the ring and received her stone token. The polished rock had a new line, symbolizing her victory. ¡°Boo!¡± the horde roared. Assholes. While pushing through the crowd, Sylvia stirred fire ether in warning. Whether from fear or respect, demons shifted to let her pass. The press faded behind her as she neared the exit. Sylvia gazed up, sweeping the stands for her friends. ¡°Sylvia Swallows was it?¡± A genial voice interrupted. ¡°I¡¯m Iulian Codrin, the captain appointed by the Demon King, Vilhelm Codrin. It is my great pleasure to meet such a lovely witch.¡± Sylvia turned. Iulian offered his hand. The witch extended hers out of habit. Instead of a shake, the redheaded vampire gave an elegant bow then kissed it. ¡­ Her face started to burn. Sylvia snatched the limb back, feeling incredibly awkward. ¡°Don¡¯t work with that weakling,¡± a female voice interrupted. ¡°Work with me, instead.¡± Right on Iulian¡¯s heel appeared Mihaela. The black haired beauty leaned in, glaring down at Sylvia like a bandit. ¡°Don¡¯t you have two more fights to complete?¡± Iulian retorted. He made a shooing motion, as though dealing with a pest. ¡°Earn your captain seat before poaching recruits.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not my fault the demons here are cowards,¡± Mihaela sneered. ¡°I¡¯m stronger. She belongs to me.¡± Wow. And here she was, partial to an attractive woman over a suave gentleman. Way to set a great first impression. ¡°The lady may consort with whomever she wishes,¡± Iulian countered with a cultured tone. ¡°And must you force me to this discourtesy?¡± Iulian, on the other hand, was hitting it out of the park, creepy kissing and constant reminders of her femininity aside. She sighed. Why would anyone think of her as anything but a ladylike girl when she was wearing this dress? On the bright side, Professor Wright was correct. Sylvia wouldn¡¯t have to look for a captain. Instead, they¡¯d come looking for her. ¡°If you two want to recruit me, then you can start by giving me a reason I should join your team,¡± Sylvia said forthright. So stated, the witch brushed past the pair. She continued on her path, exiting the arena to stop in the lobby. Both vampires followed, unbothered by the prospect of having to show their stones at the registration desk. ¡°That¡¯s easy,¡± Mihaela said, thumbing toward her person. ¡°I¡¯m the strongest.¡± The System rated the black haired vampiress at C-II/Mid. Iulian wore the same tag. Sylvia was well aware that this measure was imprecise. And even if she knew their exact level, she still wouldn¡¯t know the subtle difference in their skill. Which, with their cultivation near identical, was far more important. ¡°So it has come to this,¡± Iulian sighed. ¡°If you must know, I won the captain seat because I was fittest to lead. I am an expert in tactics, strategy, and group management. I have led hunter teams for the last three years and am experienced in the field. Mihaela, if you have not yet noticed, is a thick-headed brigand.¡± Sylvia nodded. A good sell. There were plenty of powerful demons in the tournament, but how many of them knew how to lead? This was the minors. No one here had been born more than ten years ago. Experience was often lacking. ¡°You¡¯ve never once won a fight against me!¡± Mihaela declared angrily, glaring at her companion. ¡°I challenge you for her.¡± Iulian¡¯s exasperated look said: see what I mean. ¡°Since you say you are strong, let me test how strong you are,¡± Sylvia requested. The black haired vampiress looked in Sylvia¡¯s direction then gave a firm nod. ¡°I¡¯ll warn you, I¡¯m not good at holding back.¡± Thick-headed indeed. Thud. Sylvia tapped the butt of her staff against the ground while unleashing Observe Opponent. She didn¡¯t actually need to, but she felt the act would avoid undesirable questions. Ding!
Mihaela - C-II/Mid
Species Shadow Vampire Level 258
Hp/Mp 511 / 497 Atk/Def 180 / 51
Celerity 213% Dominion 74
Traits: Vampire Heart, Blood Harvest, Shadow Magic, Grace
Mihaela was as strong as she claimed. Vampires were pure carnivores. Compared to witches, who relied on mixed cultivation, their growth was faster. Provided they could lay their hands on sufficient resources, of course. Still, to reach level 258 in less than ten years was patently ridiculous. ¡°Causality magic?¡± Iulian questioned. The black haired vampiress glanced between the two of them in confusion. ¡°It¡¯s convenient,¡± Sylvia explained. She lifted her staff, tilting it toward the redheaded vampire. ¡°May I?¡± ¡°To catch the eye of a beauty is my honor,¡± Iulian agreed with a bow. Sleaze. Thud. Faking a second tool activation, Sylvia used Observe Opponent. Ding!
Iulian - C-II/Mid
Species Shadow Vampire Level 221
Hp/Mp 453 / 441 Atk/Def 171 / 50
Celerity 196% Dominion 74
Traits: Vampire Heart, Blood Harvest, Shadow Magic, Blood Reservoir
And the courtly slime ball was level 221. Freak. Sylvia¡¯s level was only 173. ¡­ Which, uh, made her a super freak. Those two had to be around ten years old by demon reckoning. Sylvia had been in Hell for less than one. ¡°Both of you are quite strong,¡± Sylvia noted. ¡°No way. Iulian is a wimp,¡± Mihaela denied. Then she glowered. ¡°And a coward.¡± ¡°On one thing, Mihaela speaks true. Never once have I defeated her,¡± Iulian made clear. ¡°Her gift with the blade surpasses mine. In this, she is a true genius who has crossed into the manifestation realm.¡± ¡°I¡¯m in the manifestation realm,¡± Sylvia deadpanned. ¡­ The two of them stared at her. ¡°Yes. And in this I must say I am not your peer,¡± Iulian sighed, handling the interruption elegantly. ¡°I remain but a warrior of externalization.¡± Smooth. Very smooth. Mihaela looked smug. ¡°See. You belong with me, not this weakling.¡± ¡°However,¡± Iulian continued. ¡°There are many forms of talent.¡± With a flourish, Iulian formed a knife of darkness. The blade cut deep into his wrist. Rivulets of blood dibbled to the ground. A pool formed, melting into shadow. Sylvia watched with interest, her eyes revealing a transformation of ki, mana, ether, and essence. Shadow vampires were the most common vampires of the sanguis genera. Their foremost trait was blood harvest, which let them drink blood and transform it into strength. Their second innate trait was shadow magic. This was a form of natural spell casting that was more art than science. Shadow was not an element. It was an aspect born from an entanglement of void and water. What Iulian worked, however, was a magic of a higher level. Blood was the currency of life. From shadow came form. The two intertwined, creating a black bat. The phantasm beat its wings, circling over Iulian¡¯s head. ¡°I thought only regal vampires could birth familiars from blood,¡± Sylvia mused. ¡°You are a lady and a scholar,¡± Iulian praised. ¡°It is indeed a rare skill among us vampires of the night. Mine is a limited gift which will only see its true emergence after Awakening. This servitor will live for but an hour.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the point,¡± Mihaela scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s not like they can do anything.¡± Sylvia¡¯s gaze was flat. Iulian was right. The black haired beauty was an idiot. ¡°You can see through their eyes.¡± ¡°You are as wise as you are beautiful, Lady Swallows,¡± Iulian confirmed, bright red eyes shining with delight. ¡°I can also hear through their ears.¡± Mihaela¡¯s nose wrinkled. ¡°Spare me your disgusting flirting. The witch is mine. I¡¯ve already claimed her.¡± ¡°I choose who I work with. Not you,¡± Sylvia asserted. Her staff crackled in warning. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve been enchanted by this pansy,¡± Mihaela spat. Sylvia¡¯s eyes narrowed. Mihaela was formally off the list. She wasn¡¯t just a fool, her personality was rotten. ¡°If I might add,¡± Iulian interrupted. ¡°I have already recruited Elroy of Est Sombre. A werewolf whose combat ability surpasses mine.¡± The redheaded vampire sure knew how to make his offer tempting. If Iulian had recruited another class II mid ranked demon, his team could contend for first place. In the minors, at least. ¡°You¡¯d ally with a mangy mutt!¡± Mihaela said, scandalized. Iulian¡¯s eyes turned dark. His tone was icy. ¡°In the Timeless Beryl Wilderness, the vampires have no greater ally. Have you forgotten this, Mihaela?¡± ¡°Play with your witch as you like,¡± the black haired vampiress said angrily, striding back to claim a ring. The silver-haired witch scowled. ¡°I don¡¯t like her.¡± ¡°But she is strong,¡± Iulian observed. ¡°Displeasing as she may be, it would be best to avoid her in the survival round. Lady Swallows, might I know your answer?¡± The constant flattery was like moldy cake. Just enough sweetness to entice the tongue, while the stomach made known its wish to vomit. ¡°I want to meet this werewolf first,¡± Sylvia answered. ¡°And drop the lady. I¡¯m not nobility.¡± ¡°Then allow me to guide you, Miss Swallows¡± Iulian accepted. Elroy of Est Somber wasn¡¯t far. The werewolf had taken a post in the stands, his gaze fixed on ring one. He was big. Taller than Leonid by half a hand span. Like Dumas, who still haunted Sylvia¡¯s nightmares, his body was covered in fur. White, turning dark in the under layer. And much of that fur was hidden beneath thick, gray metal. Cuirass, plates, and pauldrons covered the wolf. Only his hands and face were revealed. Even then, Elroy wore a helmet that shielded the top of his head and snout. Heavy armor was something of an oddity. Martial armors provided defense through the power of concepts rather than the weight of material. This defense was carried by the warrior¡¯s ki, spreading to every centimeter of skin. For this reason, netherworld armor was more a matter of fashion than function. Still, having layers of phantasmal substance had its use. It was just that, unlike in the physical universe, it wasn¡¯t clear whether this small advantage was worth the price paid in outward weight. Elroy¡¯s golden eyes fell on Sylvia. Her expression twisted. She felt like a kid beside a giant. If the whole netherworld was like this, she feared she might one day be seduced into wearing Ingrid style high heels. Poor Riley. May her suffering lighten Sylvia¡¯s heart. ¡°You found a witch,¡± Elroy noted, his voice a deep rumble. ¡°I haven¡¯t decided yet,¡± Sylvia asserted. This time she didn¡¯t stand for ceremony. Thud. Observe Opponent. Ding!
Elroy of Est Sombre - C-II/Mid
Species Werewolf Level 244
Hp/Mp 803 / 237 Atk/Def 257 / 66
Celerity 195%
Traits: Vigorous Core, Monstrous Strength I, Grace, Brutality I
Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. The outward attributes of a pure warrior class demon dwarfed those of mixed races like vampires. Sylvia knew well that skill and technique mattered more than raw power. Still, it was humbling to see those heaps of hit points. Also, how did Iulian recruit this monster? ¡°Why aren¡¯t you fighting for a captain¡¯s seat?¡± Sylvia asked. ¡°Pairing with a strong captain is a surer route to victory than creating a team of my own,¡± Elroy answered simply. He offered a hand. Sylvia cautiously extended her own. The werewolf hand gripped her forearm for a firm shake. Wow. No flirting. No flattery. She liked him already. ¡°I am Elroy of Est Sombre.¡± ¡°Sylvia Swallows,¡± Sylvia answered. ¡°Miss Swallows wishes to judge you before accepting my invitation,¡± Iulian explained. ¡°I have a few questions of my own,¡± Elroy agreed. ¡°But first, allow me to introduce myself. I am a werewolf, as should be obvious. In terms of combat, I have touched upon the manifestation realm and am capable of using the art mountain crusher. I¡¯m also confident in using my ki to guard, armor, and deflect. As for movement arts, I admit to only having passing familiarity.¡± Sylvia raised an eyebrow. This was the second manifestation realm fighter she¡¯d met in the tournament. Were they so common? ¡°If you wish, I can demonstrate my ability,¡± Elroy continued. Sylvia shook her head. ¡°No need.¡± ¡°As for the lady, I have personally witnessed her prowess in the ring,¡± Iulian vouched. ¡°She toyed with a hogmin in the lower end of the first consolidation. Quite easily, I might add.¡± ¡°I am less interested in her combat ability than her craft,¡± Elroy dismissed. His golden eyes were sharp. ¡°Can you create healing potions?¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t call myself an expert, but I know the spells,¡± Sylvia answered truthfully. Professor Wright had covered them during the survival unit. With the help of her Networked Grimoire, Sylvia was confident she could handle simple alchemy. Magic in combat had to be swift. Spells cast outside of battle were far more forgiving. ¡°Divination and counter divination?¡± ¡°I can do both.¡± Sylvia raised a palm, cutting off the follow-up. ¡°I know a few hundred spells and can cover most scenarios. However, of the five witches from the Academy, I¡¯m the youngest. My real world experience is pretty limited. Compared to the others, all I can say is that my casting speed is the fastest.¡± She was also rather confident that she was the best fighter of the five. And if she weren¡¯t right now, she¡¯d definitely be the strongest after consuming her last skill book. Elroy frowned. The werewolf stroked his chin. ¡°Are you confident in tracking and counter tracking?¡± ¡°Against anyone but Tiffany, yes,¡± Sylvia answered. Tiffany, that insufferable gossip, had an obsession with causality magic. ¡°Then I am fine with it,¡± Elroy agreed. ¡°Grasping a witch is an uncertain thing from the start.¡± Now that much was true. There were only five participating, one of whom was a captain herself. ¡°Then consider me recruited,¡± Sylvia accepted. ¡°If I may,¡± Iulian interrupted. ¡°The Academy, I believe, recruits on a biannual basis. Since you are the youngest, does that mean you are a fifth year?¡± Sylvia paused. Then, sheepishly, she raised one finger. ¡°First.¡± ¡­ The courtly vampire gazed at her in disbelief. ¡°Excuse me? I believe I misheard.¡± The werewolf let out a low, rumbling laugh. ¡°Iulian, you have a rare gift when it comes to collecting allies.¡± Elroy thumped his chest. ¡°Forgive me, I did not expect to be in the presence of a genius. Have faith in my hammer. I will see that no one dares touch you.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m more than capable of carrying my weight,¡± Sylvia affirmed. Err¡­ she should¡¯ve said ¡®your weight¡¯. Hers was a little lacking. -oOo- Term: High Demon, High-Born, Blue Blood Informal references used by demons of the lower class to refer to those who were born ¡®superior¡¯. There are three unifying traits to high-born demons. First, they enter Hell outside the slave system. Often with training, support, and cultivation resources provided to them. Second, they have an attractive human-like appearance. Third, their bloodline has good potential. While this category is informal, there is no question that Hell systematically favors high demons. Sometimes for shallow, animal prejudice ¨C good looks are always welcome. Other times, for consequence of actual advantage ¨C high potential. But in the case of former slaves, the racism is blatant. Many nobles outright refuse to appoint anyone who has ever been a slave to important positions, believing such demons have a chip on their shoulder. Which, of course, is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Bloodline: Hogmin Type: Physical Potential: Low Commonality: Common Formal Name: Typhon Aplistia Choiros Hogmin are a common slave race of the typhon lineage. They have an innate ability to sense, control, and extract essences. This power is particularly strong with materials of an earth or metal origin. Not unsurprisingly, hogmin are natravores who cultivate by consuming earth and metal resources. Though not a synthesized race, hogmin have been bred to reduce their potential, an action accomplished by intentionally birthing demons from the weakest codes of their species instead of the strongest. As a result, it is difficult for hogmin to achieve Awakening. Further, unlike beast-kin, their bloodline lacks strong adaptability. Thus, there is no good solution to this problem. The best shot for most hogmin is to find the bloodline code of the original hogmin species or risk chimeric adoption of other codes from the aplistia genera. In society, hogmin are often scorned. They are seen as inferior, not just because of their potential, but because of their inhuman appearance. Hogmin rarely escape the lower classes. Even after their enslavement period ends, they are often forced to reenter the same industry, scraping by at the edge of existence. The successful members often become slave owners, ruling over those of their own bloodline. Hogmin make up about 5% of Hell¡¯s population base. Their bloodline is far rarer in both Heaven and the Fey Federation. Chapter 17 -oOo- Chapter 17 -oOo- A pig demon¡¯s axe blurred down. Earth shattered, unleashing a cloud of dust. Sylvia swayed, dancing just beyond the blade¡¯s edge. ¡°¡ö.¡± Feather light caught the hogmin, making him float and stumble. The silver-haired witch slipped around his back. ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö.¡± Earth spike erupted beneath his feet, cleaving through armor and flesh. The shock sent the hogmin tumbling through the air, end over end. ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö ¡ö¡ö.¡± Lightning crackled. A bolt tore through the hogmin¡¯s core. Another fight followed. Then another. Duels. Joint battles. Sylvia fought foes on the docks, this time without the advantage of ambush. She faced demons in the halls of the Academy and challenged wolves on the streets of Orasul Lunii. In the dark neighborhood of the world she left behind, she traded spells with witches. Sometimes she fought one-on-one. Other times, she encountered groups, alone or with companions. She died. She died. And she died some more. Every death was a new experience. Every failure was followed by a chance to review the battle and revise her tactics. Again and again. Day after day. Week after week. Then Sylvia opened her eyes. Her last blank skill book had been used. The lesson, Magical Combat. Sylvia had been holding onto the System item for weeks, waiting until the database was filled with enemies and tactics. She was rewarded with a practice the System named excellent. And the wait was well worth it. One book and Sylvia was confident she could defeat two of her prior self. Overall, Sylvia had dedicated five books to combat. These were All About Wind Blade, How to Fast Cast, Waltz of Flowers, Basic Combat Magic, and now Magical Combat. Standing, Sylvia gazed into the mirror and checked herself. Dark fabric wrapped her pale frame providing an adorable allure. A wide brimmed hat sat on her head, complete with a snazzy crook, a silver moon hanging from the tip. A witch. She looked like a witch. At least, that¡¯s what Sylvia wanted to think. In reality, she looked more akin to a witch-themed magical girl. Especially with her high heels, teardrop earrings, cutesy ribbons and puffs of lace. Sylvia slapped both of her cheeks. ¡°Don¡¯t think about it. No one will care after you¡¯ve murdered your first few demons.¡± Appearance was less important than power. This principle applied in both the netherworld and in video games. Sylvia¡¯s shoes and dress looked impractical, but the stats didn¡¯t lie. They were high quality pieces of equipment. She was, without question, an armed and armored badass. ¡­ Sylvia sighed. No matter how many times she reminded herself of this fact, the only thing she could see was a cutesy girl dressed up like a magical idol. Grumpily, Sylvia left her room. The grounds outside the mansion were abuzz. Sylvia spotted Brianna making her way past the wrought iron gates, ready to meet her team. Faith gave a cheer. The silver-haired witch wasn¡¯t sure whether Faith had finally accepted her loss or if she was just faking her smiles. Piper had taken off a few hours early, wishing to organize her group and go over last minute tactics. ¡°Go Sylvia. Go, go Syl~vi~a.¡± Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. Sometime in the last day, Emily had transformed a few first years into a cheer squad. Standing nearby, Riley offered a grin and a lazy wave. Watching from the side was Natalie Ward. The elegant perfectionist flipped her hair, not deigning to grant a word. Camila Powell, on the other hand, roared like a British football fan. ¡°Rip them apart, mad dog!¡± ¡­ Sylvia turned her gaze, deciding it better to pretend she didn¡¯t know them. The silver-haired witch quickly walked toward the iron gates. Before she could exit the manor grounds, a carriage pulled up next to her. The elegant cart was made of white wood and decorated with carved flowers. The door opened. ¡°Sylvia, if you¡¯d please,¡± Lady Vallenfelt said. She knew better than to think that a request. Sylvia stepped inside. The stone horse continued forward with a steady clop, clop, clop. Today, Esmeralda was especially gorgeous. Demonic fashion favored the axes of cool, beautiful, and terrifying. Lacking the grounding of comfort and physics, it often ventured into the extravagant. Sometimes, it went one step further and entered the bounds of the absurd. Yet, the gravity of glamour could never be escaped. When fashion went too far, it would be inevitably drawn back to what plainly looked good. Baroness Vallenfelt had struck a balance between these two extremes. The dean¡¯s dress was spectacular. Long, wide white ribbons floated around her body in a magical display. Her bodice was white with gold trim. Tight, and showing her form, though far more modest than what Sylvia was wearing. Her skirts, green and ruffled, ended around her ankles, lending the witch the air of the purest princess. Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s hair, as always, was dazzling. It spilled down her back in elegant, patterned waves that suggested the shape of flowers. Earrings framed her face, the crystals glinting with light akin to stars. ¡°You weren¡¯t waiting for me, were you?¡± Sylvia questioned. ¡°I was not,¡± Esmeralda answered. ¡°But our relationship will soon be made public, so it is fitting that you ride with me.¡± Sylvia''s stomach twisted. Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s words were an uncomfortable reminder. Lucifer hung over the silver-haired witch like the sword of Damocles. ¡°Adjust your braid,¡± Baroness Vallenfelt commanded. ¡°Your ribbon is uneven.¡± Sylvia groaned inwardly. Concentrating her ki, the silver-haired witch loosened her locks. Sylvia¡¯s pink ribbon had been replaced by one with three bands of black and two strips of pink. In her mind, it held two merits. The style was more sophisticated and the color less girly-girl. It¡¯d also passed Emily¡¯s review. Because, if Sylvia had freedom of choice, she wouldn¡¯t be wearing one at all. ¡­ Probably. ¡­ It was kinda cute. ¡­ Maybe she should just commit suicide now? Sylvia would resurrect, to be sure, but at least that horrible thought would be cast into the abyss alongside her phantasm. ¡°I hear you have teamed with Iulian Codrin.¡± ¡°I have,¡± Sylvia confirmed, re-braiding her hair as much with her ki as with her hands. ¡°An excellent choice. Iulian has Vilhelm Codrin¡¯s favor. If he performs well in this tournament, he may soon be known as young master Codrin.¡± Orasul Lunii was ruled by the Codrin clan with Demon King Vilhelm Codrin at the helm. Vampires of the greatest merit would receive that last name during the selection ceremony. The rest would be divided into the branches Ghimpe, Frunze, Inima, and Ramura. Those who were rejected year after year would eventually be given the name Gol and made servants of their betters. Vampires abhorred slavery. Not in general. Just of their own kind. Mostly because it made the rest of them look bad. Being named Codrin wasn''t too special. There were a couple hundred Codrins running around the city. Being recognized to the point he could be called young master, on the other hand, was. Sylvia scowled. She didn¡¯t like where this conversation was going. ¡°This isn¡¯t a trite romance novel. I do not intend to betroth you,¡± Esmeralda teased, reading the pink-eyed witch¡¯s expression. ¡°In fact, as a woman, I would discourage marriage altogether. It is not an able path to power in the netherworld.¡± ¡°I never thought you would,¡± Sylvia grumbled. ¡°I see. It is the networking you find displeasing,¡± Lady Vallenfelt correctly concluded. ¡°Relationships are the foundation of power. I want you to treat this as an opportunity to polish your social skills. I have already heard your name on Vilhelm¡¯s lips, which pleases me. Be aware that Iulian will have, most assuredly, been ordered to do the same.¡± Oh, joy. Sylvia had no particular distaste for Iulian. She found his flirting and flattery irritating, but the vampire clearly understood the meaning of the word consent. ¡°Yes, teacher,¡± Sylvia sighed. Her silver braid floated up. Sylvia scrutinized her work. It looked straight to her. Seeing that Esmeralda had nothing to say, Sylvia assumed her work passed muster. ¡°Elroy of Est Somber, by contrast, is disliked by Baron Gris. It would be best to keep your relation cordial yet distant,¡± Lady Vallenfelt continued. ¡°The other two¡­.¡± ¡°Gavin and Nessa,¡± Sylvia supplied. ¡°Thank you,¡± Esmeralda said. ¡°Are not worthy of note. Pleasantry and politeness, however, are proper for a lady. I expect you to abide by them.¡± Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s words held a hint of warning. Sylvia knew well enough that if she didn¡¯t project a satisfactory image, then Esmeralda would most certainly arrange further instruction to fix Sylvia¡¯s habits. Or worse, another cursed item. Sylvia¡¯s punishment for draining the jade scroll had been simple and brutal. Esmeralda had snapped a magic tool around Sylvia¡¯s tongue, sealing her ability to cuss. Now whenever the asteri spoke a dirty word, her curse would be censored into something folksy or cute. As for how to end this punishment? All Sylvia had to do was not cuss, not even once, for four weeks straight. ¡­ Yeah. It was going to be a while. At least it was better than months of lessons with Kyna. However, it¡¯d left Sylvia rather fearful. What other evil tricks did the witch have up her sleeves? Sylvia feared, if she continued to make mistakes, she¡¯d end up wrapped in so many curses she¡¯d be a doll. ¡°What¡¯s the issue with Elroy?¡± Sylvia asked, distracting herself from the unhappy thoughts. ¡°Rupert did not make his displeasure known,¡± Esmeralda answered. ¡°There is no need to overly concern yourself with the politics. Children will be children. I ask only that you not be the instigator of political troubles.¡± Oh, good. That sounded better than she first thought. Sylvia had little interest in the local scene. The plane was too small and the games too petty. Sylvia found it impossible to take the issues seriously. This, however, didn¡¯t mean she was unaware. Her teacher was a baroness. Ignoring the Fey Federation¡¯s small claim, the Timeless Beryl Wilderness was split into eight fiefs. Viscount Vilhelm Codrin ruled over Orasul Lunii, while Baron Rupert Gris controlled Loge Sombre. Add in the Baronesses Esmeralda Vallenfelt and Nicola Codrin and she had the development faction. The remaining nobles belonged to the resource faction. In a rare twist, werewolves and vampires were allies. On most planes, the two were bitter rivals. Blood often decided fate. Vampires and werewolves were pure carnivores. Phantasms didn¡¯t spawn infinitely, meaning the two races were doomed to compete for sustenance. A clash that was made more bitter by their shared nox lineage. Asteri, by contrast, were above the fray. Kosmovores were rare as a rule, and what they ate didn¡¯t often overlap with that of other demons. The carriage slowed. The thump of the wheels was replaced by silence. ¡°I wish you luck, my dear apprentice,¡± Esmeralda said. ¡°Thank you, teacher,¡± Sylvia responded, exiting with a graceful curtsy. -oOo- Gavin the Black scrambled over the edge of the tender, following Elroy and Iulian onto the airship. The goblin¡¯s skin was as dark as his name, his flesh thick and knotted. His eyes were like emeralds, with no whites to be seen. Goblins were a magical race. As was the case of most, he was short. In fact, Gavin was a foot shorter than Sylvia. Nessa was the exact opposite. The ship¡¯s deck creaked when the giant stepped onto it. Nessa was a beast-kin whose chimerism derived from the beryl bright wood. She towered over Elroy of Est Sombre by a head and a half, and that was ignoring her green hair which spread out like the branches of a tree. Sylvia¡¯s System listed both as C-II/Low. Gavin was level 182, just a bit ahead of the silver-haired witch. Nessa lingered at level 159. This degree of strength was more typical of the demons who passed the preliminaries. Iulian and Elroy were veritable monsters. ¡°The smell of blood lingers in the air,¡± the goblin said. Gavin raised his long, sharp nose, drawing a deep breath. ¡°Delicious.¡± ¡°Lady Swallows, may I serve,¡± Iulian said, offering an arm with one graceful action. Sylvia was very tempted to ignore the vampire. Instead, she took the limb and let Iulian help her onto the deck. It wouldn¡¯t do to disappoint her teacher. Nessa¡¯s hair waggled, eyes conveying envy. Sylvia would¡¯ve switched places if she could. ¡°I think Nessa would¡¯ve appreciated your help as well,¡± Sylvia commented. Iulian¡¯s smile turned stiff. Yet, the vampire was as suave as he was charming. He gave the giant an apologetic bow. ¡°Forgive me, Miss Nessa. I neglected you.¡± Nessa smiled, her expression bright behind layers of brown bark. ¡°No need. No need. I¡¯m a big girl and can take care of myself.¡± The witch¡¯s expression soured. Was Nessa implying Sylvia couldn¡¯t? Three airships floated over Castel Lunii. Beneath, thousands of demons were gathered to witness the ceremony. Today marked the end of the preliminaries and the start of the survival round. The true tournament had begun. And not just for the youngest demons. On this day, majors would start their selection round. Those battles would occur in the background while Sylvia¡¯s team traded blows in the Twilight Forest. Small boats rose and fell, each bearing a team of hopeful fighters. But it wasn¡¯t the warriors who commanded everyone''s eyes and attention. It was the nobles. The lords of the plane were gathered on a balcony overlooking the castle¡¯s lawn. To ensure visibility, their image was projected into the night sky. ¡°Now enters Baron Rupert Gris, Lord of Loge Sombre.¡± The herald¡¯s call echoed high and low. The castle was too far to be seen with the naked eye, so Sylvia watched the lanky man walk in using the screen overhead. Baron Gris was in human form, his hair black speckled with spots of gray. He looked casual, his chin sporting a ragged shadow and his clothes a drab trench coat. Dropping into a seat, Baron Gris rudely put his boots atop the back of the chair in front of him. ¡°Now enters Baroness Esmeralda Vallenfelt, Lord of Vallen, Laureate of Magic.¡± Next appeared Sylvia¡¯s teacher. Lady Vallenfelt was the personification of culture and courtesy. The baroness swept along the balcony, gracefully taking a seat far from the werewolf. The empty throne of the demon king stood in between. Words unheard, the distant dean exchanged pleasantries with a woman. ¡°Baroness Nicola Codrin,¡± Iulian identified, tracing Sylvia''s gaze to a silver-haired vampiress dressed in tight leather. ¡°It looks like the entire resource faction is absent. They must be furious.¡± Sylvia made a curious noise. The redheaded vampire just smiled. Whatever. She was only trying to kill time anyway. ¡°Now enters Viscount Vilhelm Codrin,¡± the herald called. ¡°Lord of Orasul Lunii, Demon King of the Timeless Beryl Wilderness, First Prince of the plane.¡± A hush fell over the gathered crowd. Sylvia could see the faint flux of ether facilitating the quiet. Demon king was a position, not a title. Politically speaking, the demon king was the chief executive of the planar government. In terms of authority, the position was akin to president or prime minister. The king¡¯s most important power was the right to command the army, though his privileges weren¡¯t limited to this. Interestingly, demon kings were not appointed for life. They held their position for a single century. This somewhat democratic process was perhaps not so surprising when one realized that Athena was the third Emperor of Hell. Just a few tidbits of netherworld history. Vilhelm Codrin wore a dark suit, trimmed with golden knotwork. On his back fluttered a stately cape of crimson. His hair was black, like coal, sharing Iulian¡¯s curls. His beard was well trimmed perfection. Sylvia envied it. As Eric, she¡¯d always kept her face well shaven. But she did admire a good beard. Not that she ever had the patience to maintain one. A pity that here in the netherworld, where hygiene was easy, Sylvia would never sport such a magnificent creation. Life was full of regrets. All she could do was stroke her smooth chin and lament. ¡­ and maybe learn a few transformation spells. ¡°When I came to this plane eighty-four years ago, there was nothing but mountains and forest,¡± Vilhelm Codrin spoke, his voice booming over the entire city. ¡°The largest encampment consisted of cabins, tents, and a dirt wall set at the mouth of the River of Fire. Five thousand. There were only five thousand souls living in this great wilderness.¡± The demon king paused for a moment, to let everyone imagine it. ¡°Today, that number has swelled to one-hundred and thirty-seven thousand. In this once empty land, we have erected great cities. Orasul Lunii. Loge Sombre. Lup Rosu. We have forged pools and ports. We have built fortresses to guard our territory and carved paths so that ships might fly across our skies. ¡°But this is not enough!¡± The demon king hammered the podium. ¡°Is this to be a sovereign plane or a rural backwater? Will we live in a thriving civilization or a forgotten wilderness? For long, I have dreamed of something greater. And now the doors to a better future have been thrown open to all!¡± Gavin scoffed. He fingered the iron shackle wrapping his neck. ¡°For all? I think not.¡± Nessa nodded in agreement with the goblin, touching her own collar. ¡°We have long known that to the south lies the Frozen Wastes,¡± Lord Codrin continued. ¡°A forbidden land where even time stands still. Hunters dare not tread it, for if death takes you, your soul will be caught in an eternal moment, like an insect trapped in honey. ¡°Yet, in that timeless place lies the plane¡¯s greatest gift. For tens of thousands of years, souls have emerged from the world¡¯s depths only to be frozen in that space. Over the millennia, they have formed an immense reservoir. For decades, we struggled to tap this resource. Brave demons faced the dangers of the Frozen Wastes, some never to return. ¡°But could we leave our brothers to this cruel fate? No! Could we forget our sisters who were never born? We did not! The Frozen Wastes are our destiny! To all the souls trapped within, we will grant freedom!¡± Sylvia snorted. Freedom. Right. Viscount Codrin was going to free them right into slavery. ¡°Today, I am proud to announce our moment has come,¡± Lord Codrin continued. ¡°Thanks to the enduring effort of the Obsidian Tower, we have found a cheap and effective means to tread the Frozen Wastes. And this method will not be restricted to the lords and their fiefs. It will be shared with any who dares seek their fortune. ¡°Hunters, go forth! Head south and find riches! Merchants, expand your shops and your workhouses! A grand prosperity lies ahead of us. Twenty-five million mortal souls. Fifteen million of which are born from beasts. Ten million bearing the hearts of men. Today¡¯s tournament is not just a celebration of a new generation, but the start of a new future for the Timeless Beryl Wilderness!Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°Now, let the games begin!¡± Bang! B-b-bang, b-bang! Bang! Fireworks filled the sky, casting shapes and images. Demons fought demons. Warriors were devoured by wildlife. Limbs were torn and thrown askew. The crowd went wild. ¡°Kill!¡± ¡°Kill!¡± ¡°Kill!¡± A steady chant echoed from the mob below. A mad thrill tainted by the lust of blood. Grins spread on the faces of greedy gamblers. Demons were caught in dreams of glory and destruction. The coliseum of Hell was a greater entertainer than the one of ancient Rome. For, in this world, there was no guilt and no responsibility. Only the pleasure of watching the plane¡¯s strongest fighters tear each other apart with devastating arts and shocking magic. The airship lurched. Sails spread, catching magically induced wind. Below, a chain of demons marched toward the coliseum, carrying a parade of torches. Many would watch the first participants of the majors fight in their preliminaries. In a few hours, the survival round would eclipse their current interest, the highlights shown in the sky above. But first, Sylvia and the rest would be brought to the River of Fire. There, demons would die to the raucous screams of Orasul Lunii. Even a veteran gamer like Sylvia felt the scene was a touch macabre. White wings flickered in the moonlight. Sylvia¡¯s head turned. A hook-nosed sailor landed on the deck. She frowned, pastel pink eyes following as the man slipped into the hold. ¡°Did something catch your attention, Lady Swallows?¡± Iulian asked. ¡°I thought I recognized one of the sailors,¡± she answered. ¡°Also, I told you to drop the lady.¡± Iulian put a hand across his chest in a noble gesture. ¡°How could I dare such familiarity with a beauty like you?¡± Sylvia really wanted to roll her eyes. The courtly vampire had complied fast enough prior. Clearly, Iulian had been spoken to about her, just as Lady Vallenfelt had discussed the vampire with Sylvia. ¡°He¡¯s an enemy,¡± Gavin said. The goblin wore wicked grin filled with sharp, triangular teeth. ¡°I can feel the malice.¡± ¡°In my heart or his?¡± Sylvia questioned. Gavin was a redcap. Officially katergaris xotiko aima. Redcaps were a species of demon that had high sensitivity to all manner of negative emotions. Hate. Fear. Anger. Guilt. If she felt them, Gavin would pick up on it. Perhaps not the exact mix or context, but he¡¯d know her thoughts had turned in a dark direction. This trait led redcaps to have nasty, cynical personalities. A problem augmented by the fact that all demons of the katergaris lineage were prone to roguish thoughts. ¡°Both, Lady Swallows. Both.¡± Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. This bastard was calling her lady because he knew she didn¡¯t like it. ¡°I¡¯m curious as to how Miss Sylvia came about such an enemy?¡± Iulian asked, graciously using her first name. ¡°I ran across him on the docks a few nights back. I¡¯m surprised he¡¯s free,¡± Sylvia said, eyes dark. ¡°Baroness Vallenfelt ordered him arrested. But I suppose, he got away because he¡¯s Baron Ishii¡¯s man.¡± Iulian frowned. ¡°The Plutous?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Lord Codrin approved the warrant,¡± the redheaded vampire said, his bright red eyes narrowed on the hatchway. ¡°If that sailor is from the Plutous, he shouldn¡¯t be here. Wait a moment, I will talk to the captain.¡± Iulian headed for the helm. Sylvia followed. The rest trailed behind. ¡°This won¡¯t get us disqualified, will it?¡± Nessa whispered quietly. The ship¡¯s captain was a vampire. The System marked him C-III/Low, which was run-of-the-mill for important positions. This was a key distinction between young nobles, like Lady Vallenfelt, and older ones, such as Demon King Codrin. The King had long built an array of loyal servants and retainers, ensuring he could man every important position. ¡°Captain Sergiu,¡± Iulian greeted. ¡°My companion, Lady Swallows, says she spotted a man from the Plutous among your sailors.¡± The captain snorted. ¡°Iulian Codrin, you dare imply I would hire a criminal? Much less a man loyal to another lord.¡± ¡°I¡¯m implying no such ¨C ¡± ¡°You seem to think you are young master Codrin already, boy,¡± Captain Sergiu snapped. ¡°This is my ship and I will not be questioned upon it. Especially not so that you may appear bold before your tart.¡± Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. Iulian¡¯s gaze darkened. ¡°Take care with your words, Captain, lest you regret them.¡± The captain¡¯s expression turned furious. ¡°It is your tongue you should hold. One more word and I will have you thrown overboard.¡± Sylvia frowned. Her eyes found the helm. A frightening name appeared over the first mate¡¯s head. ¡°Wait,¡± Sylvia said, she pointed at the helm. ¡°Who is ¨C ¡± ¡°Seize that girl,¡± the captain ordered. The fuck? Sylvia¡¯s eyes snapped back. A few sailors moved. What bullshit was this? Her gaze flickered to the man at the helm then the captain again. ¡°Captain Sergiu!¡± Iulian shouted angrily, stepping forward in defense. ¡°And this ¨C ¡± Fuck this. ¡°¡ö¡ö.¡± Sylvia waved her staff. Foomph. Ether flowed out, blossoming into a blazing orb. The sphere struck the helm. Flame rolled, swallowing the demon whole. Without waiting to check, the witch leapt back. One foot pushed off petals as she flew over the banister to land on the main deck. ¡°You dare!¡± ¡°He¡¯s a fa ¨C ¡± Her retort was cut short. The captain vanished, form fading into shadow. His body blurred back into reality right in front of her. Darkness coiled around his arm. A blade covered the vampire¡¯s open palm. The captain thrust. Sylvia moved. Instinct bred by a thousand battles made Sylvia lean. With a light step she swayed, transforming dodge into spin. In a blink, she was at the captain¡¯s left flank. The vampire was faster than her. A lot faster. But nine-tenths of speed was skill. When Sylvia mastered the waltz of flowers, she had learned how to dodge and move. When she used a skill book to learn combat, this practice had been refined into something new. A prowess seen only among true experts. The captain, however, was no slouch either. The vampire whirled. The shadow on his arm elongated as he swung, transforming into a full scale cutlass. Inside the darkness, the embryo of his sword was taking form. Sylvia leapt. ¡°¡ö¡ö.¡± The brief exchange bought Sylvia time for two syllables. Water rippled, drawing deep from her water palace. An umbral cutlass sheered through the liquid plane. The shock sent Sylvia¡¯s small body skittering higher. In moments like these, being petite was pure advantage. Sylvia oriented herself in midair, toes tapping off sky to enhance her flight. Sergiu¡¯s left arm flicked up. Black knives shot from the captain¡¯s palm. The silver-haired witch shifted. The first blade went wide. The other two were spot on. ¡°~¡ö.¡± Dispersed water solidified then burst. A torrent of liquid sprayed through the knives, forcing the captain into a dodge. The two shadow blades tumbled in the wrong direction then vanished. Sylvia landed on the balcony, closer to the helm than when she began. The entire exchange lasted mere seconds. In that time, the bridge had been thrown into chaos. Elroy¡¯s hammer had smashed through the helmsman. The demon twisted, true form revealed. A naga. Sylvia knew his name. Chenzira, First Mate of the Plutous. Elroy was not the only one who moved. Iulian Codrin seized the wheel then threw the ship hard to port. Screams echoed as the ship swayed. Sailors scrambled to take control, only to be ambushed by their companions. As the chaos peaked, the truth dawned. ¡°Sergiu Ghimpe, you¡¯ve been boarded by ¨C ¡± Ka-BOOM!!! Kilometers away, an airship exploded. A ball of fire filled the night, drenching the city in light as bright as the midday sun. The orange illumination washed over the Orasul Lunii¡¯s South Tower. Then, with ponderous speed, the building collapsed. Captain Sergiu vanished into black mist. One blink and he was at Iulian¡¯s side, throwing the young scion of the Codrin clan away from the wheel. ¡°Cut the sails!¡± He roared. ¡°Kill the traitors, then throw these shits into the brig.¡± ¡°Iulian, we must get off this ship!¡± Elroy shouted. The white-furred werewolf didn¡¯t wait for confirmation before running toward the starboard side. Sylvia leapt from her place, leaving behind scattered petals. Water rolled around her, a second water shield erected during the period of confusion. ¡°Don¡¯t you ¨C ¡± ¡°None of us can fly!¡± Iulian shouted over the captain¡¯s roar. ¡°Trust me!¡± Sylvia yelled in return. She jumped off. Elroy of Est Sombre was only a second slower, having paused to snag Gavin then huck him over the edge. Iulian flew over right after, followed by a screaming Nessa. ¡°Elroy, you bastard! I¡¯m not a sack for you to throw about!¡± Gavin yelled in indignation. Sylvia turned, wind whipping around her body. The darkness was lit by pale petals. The asteri picked out her plummeting companions, starlight eyes capturing the hue of energetic ether in their bodies. She waited, letting the airship shrink overhead. Then she chanted. ¡°¡ö, ¡ö, ¡ö, ¡ö, ¡ö.¡± Strings of runes flew from her staff. Feather light wrapped her teammates in its gentle embrace, the spell made a touch faster after a thousand hours of Magical Combat polished her skill. The magic sank into herself last. Their rapid plunge reduced to a slow drift. Above, the airship continued its slow, grinding turn, curving away from the West Tower. Then the sky flashed. The starboard sail snapped. The ship swayed drunkenly to the same side. Demons spilled overboard, ten seconds later than Sylvia¡¯s team and now too far for the witch to catch. Sylvia reminded herself that death was but a passing thing here in the nether. ¡°¡ö, ¡ö, ¡ö, ¡ö, ¡ö.¡± She repeated her spells. Boom! The airship shook again, this time a burst of flame exploding from the port side of the hull. The ship was thrown into a lateral spin, then a bare second later ¨C BOOM!!! The sky shattered. The sound was a physical force. Air crashed into her like a giant¡¯s fist. Her shield splintered into mist, a spray of fine water hitting her face. The world went white. A ravenous blaze rolled through the sky, shedding searing heat. Sylvia was sent into a tailspin, hair, legs, and arms whipping as she tumbled through the night. Crinkle. Thud. She plowed into a roof, her armor¡¯s barrier cracking under the impact. The silver-haired witch bounced once, rolled dizzily through the air, then dropped into the street below. Somehow, she caught herself with the waltz of flowers before she hit. Sylvia blinked. The world whirled around her. The ground shuddered. She looked up to watch the tower sway. Massive blocks of stone fell from it, plummeting onto the walls and city below. Fragments of the ship were tossed into the sky, blazing with fiery light. ¡°¡ö¡ö ¡ö¡ö.¡± Sylvia conjured a frost shield and placed it overhead. Flipping open her status window, she checked the damage.
Name Sylvia Swallows Class Common Witch
Level 113+60 Exp 996 / 1140
HP 237 / 279 MP 493 / 588
Str 10 Mag 40
Vit 10 Spr 45
Agl 20 Wit 48
¡°What the hamburgers just happened?¡± she asked. Cinders rained down around her, flames mixed with etheric mist as fractured essence crumbled. Larger, denser objects crashed into houses surrounding. A wooden beam cracked off her frost shield before bouncing onto the cobble. The impact drove her to her knees. ¡°Sugar.¡± Tongue tingling, Sylvia found her feet. Using her staff as a lever, she slowly condensed ethers from the elements space and metal. Then she fed these energies into her armor, letting the rune chains within transform it into the aspect force. It¡¯d be faster to burn pure mana, but with everything turning to shit, Sylvia feared she¡¯d need her barrier and every point of energy she could scrape up. ¡°¡ö¡ö.¡± Raising her staff, Sylvia sent a shot of fire into the air before making it explode. Then she found a nice set of stone steps, adjusted her skirt, then sat. She wasn¡¯t alone on the streets. Demons poked their heads outside. Beast-kin were most prevalent, mixed with vampires and a few werewolves. A pair of vanara leaned out a window, tails curled around the sill, pointing at the tower. A karnabo stomped outside, checking the damage to his roof, his elephant trunk waving angrily. Though she was far from alone, the crowd remained thin. The coliseum and the demon king¡¯s speech had drawn much of Orasul Lunii¡¯s population. The residences here, near the wall, were poorer. The density was no match for the bustle of city¡¯s core. Feet scrambled on a roof nearby. A dark skinned goblin dropped over the edge. Gavin the Black had a smarmy smile, his sharp nose raised high. ¡°Little witch, I thought that might be you.¡± Sylvia¡¯s gaze flicked to the smaller goblin. Then her eyes rose to the West Tower. The fires were fading, but she could still see the side that had been smashed in by the explosion. ¡°I suspect the survival round has undergone a small revision,¡± she noted blandly. ¡°Heh,¡± the goblin laughed. ¡°At first I thought you¡¯d be a snooty high-born, dressing yourself up all pretty. Instead, I¡¯m starting to like you.¡± ¡°Believe it or not, I didn¡¯t choose these clothes,¡± Sylvia sighed. ¡°Better someone choosing your clothes than your life,¡± Gavin replied, pinching the iron collar around his neck. ¡°True,¡± Sylvia agreed. She stood. ¡°How did you end up in the tournament, anyway?¡± Gavin showed his jagged, triangular teeth. Sylvia looked down the road past him. Wrapped in thick armor, a white furred werewolf strode through the streets. Elroy of Est Sombre. Beside him was the wood born beast-kin Nessa. The wolf appeared singed but otherwise unharmed. Nessa looked more ragged, with many of her twig hairs broken. ¡°How are you holding up?¡± Sylvia asked as they neared. Elroy grunted. ¡°Superficial injuries.¡± ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± Nessa babbled in confusion. The woman looked a little shell-shocked. ¡°Why were we fighting on the airship? Why did the ship explode? Are we disqualified?¡± ¡°I¡¯m thinking the tournament is the least of our problems, leaf girl,¡± Gavin responded. Elroy ignored the two demons, his golden eyes fixed on the silver-haired witch. ¡°Once we find Iulian we should proceed to Castel Lunii.¡± The werewolf glanced back over his shoulder, toward the tower and the city walls. ¡°I fear this is the start, not the end.¡± ¡°You¡¯d be right,¡± an urbane voice interjected. Iulian flowed out of an alley¡¯s shadows, his cloak billowing as his body gained substance. The redhead¡¯s expression was grim. ¡°Lady Swallows, thank you for your quick-witted action. If we¡¯d remained on board that ship a moment longer¡­.¡± ¡°We¡¯d be toast,¡± Gavin said snidely. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re scared of a little death, high-born.¡± ¡°Not at all,¡± Iulian contradicted. ¡°But I prefer to avoid it. Unlike you, I must shoulder the cost of resurrection. And, if we perished beyond the wall, it is quite possible that our souls ¨C ¡± ¡°Iulian,¡± Elroy interrupted. ¡°Do you have information?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± the vampire confirmed. ¡°Upon reaching the ground, I formed a familiar to check the situation. The tower¡¯s garrison remains intact, but beyond the walls lie at least ten Helheim Legions.¡± ¡°Helheim legions?¡± Nessa asked. ¡°But there¡¯s worse,¡± Iulian continued. ¡°When my familiar returned, I spotted scores of shamblers in the city. Perhaps hundreds. They are clearing out houses a kilometer from the tower as we speak.¡± Sylvia frowned. ¡°Shamblers lack intelligence.¡± ¡°Which means there must be a centurion guiding them,¡± Iulian said, walking quickly down the street. ¡°We must leave. Now.¡± ¡°Snickerdoodles,¡± Sylvia cursed. This day had truly turned to shit. Also, it was four more fucking weeks before she could cuss properly again. -oOo- Bestiary Gavin the Black C-II/Low Species: Redcap Lv: 181 Hp/Mp: 298+80 / 561 Atk/Def: 103/28 Celerity: 135% Dominion: 92 Traits: Malicious Heart, Flesh Manipulation, Flesh Aspect Well, Malleable Flesh Nessa C-II/Low Species: Beast-kin (beryl bright wood) Lv: 159 Hp/Mp: 659+33 / 165 Atk/Def: 187/67 Celerity: 131% Traits: Beast Core, Ki Release: Beryl Bright Wood, Tough Hide, Protective Bark Grimoire Earth Spike Runes: 13 Mana: 40 to 100, 3:1 Attack: 280 to 400 Penetration 40 to 100 pierce, 50% multiplier, 15% DRR Max Range: 20 meters * Mysticism Causes a flower of sharp stone to explode from the earth. The earth, in this case, is any thick and solid surface. This may include walls and ceilings, making the spell extra tricky in caves and castle hallways. The point of emergence is set in the second before the earth spike erupts. However, the shards can twist toward the target. As such, to dodge the target must escape the point of origin by one to two meters. Because the spell is easy to dodge by anyone with decent ether sensitivity, it¡¯s recommended to use earth spike in a spell combination or after reducing the target¡¯s mobility. Like most earth magics, earth spike has high defense penetration. It is, therefore, an excellent spell against slow and armored opponents. It''s also decently effective against large, fixed assets. The mass of the stone can push through guards and thick material, assuming it can even be blocked. Most demons find it difficult to parry spells that come from below. Water Knife Runes: 23 initial, 11 chain Mana: 30, 3:1 Attack: 210 Penetration 50 pierce, 100% multiplier Max Range: 150 meters Velocity: 75 m/s Water knife might better be named water bullet. This magic forges a projectile of hardened water that pierces the enemy. The effect is simple and direct. Water knife can be chained, allowing fast iterations after the first casting. Further, the bullets may be held for up to three seconds, allowing for various rhythms of release. Like wind blade, water knife can curve along the trajectory of flight. Unlike wind blade, it may never curve back onto itself, nor veer more than 80 degrees off its initial direction. Further, the rate of turn is far less intense, achieving no more than 180 degrees for every second of flight. However, water knife can be quite tricky to dodge, as the bullet can jitter if controlled by skilled hands. This allows the spell to displace itself up to half-a-meter along the column of its path. This feature is independent of the spell¡¯s ability to change its overall trajectory. Contrary to most spells, the energy that can be placed in a water knife is fixed. Because of this, the magic is considered highly technical, challenging a mage¡¯s casting speed and control rather than their raw power. Flame Shot Runes: 9 (14 variant) Mana: 30 to 270, 8:1 Attack: 60 to 540 Penetration 10 pierce, 100% multiplier Max Range: 60 meters Velocity: ~35 m/s Area: 1 to 3 meter radius One of the simplest, effective combat spells in existence. Flame shot forms a ball of fire that may be lobbed like a common material projectile. In order to maximize the range, flame shot must be thrown at a 45-degree angle, with the caster moving in tandem to enhance the velocity. The normal variation of the spell has minimal control, only able to skew 5 meters in any direction when cast at its maximum range. Like most fire spells, flame shot easily accommodates great amounts of energy and ether. Mages can put about twice as much energy into the spell as they can into ordinary attack magics while retaining control. This allows anyone with sufficient energy to unleash terrible destruction. Despite flame shot¡¯s drawbacks, it remains a rather popular spell in the netherworld. A 14 rune wind dual-element variant of this spell exists. By adding 10 wind ether, the spell¡¯s velocity and trajectory control can be greatly improved. Cremation Hex Runes: 17 Mana: 15, 3:1 Power: 0 to 250 fire damage Duration: 0 to 60 seconds Despite the name, the cremation hex is blood element magic, not fire. The cremation hex forms a runic curse that embeds itself in the target. The duration is approximate, as the actual span depends on the comparison between the caster¡¯s mana integrity and the opponent¡¯s ability to break down the curse. The cremation hex creates channels that absorb fire ether, burning the target from the inside out. This completely bypasses all defenses, causing direct and horrifying damage to the blood essence. Each curse is sufficient to channel around 100 ether into the body, but is consumed after triggering. Multiple curses have an additive effect while compounding the duration by the resultant. Interestingly, independent curses can be braided into a super curse with greater power and function. Each thread beyond the first increases duration and function by +25%, to a maximum of 200%. However, this rarely comes into play as mages of sufficient skill have almost always moved onto advanced magics. Chapter 18 -oOo- Chapter 18 -oOo- Castel Lunii loomed over the city, its shadow made visible by the moon to their fore. Iulian walked at a quick pace, a team of demons behind. Sylvia and Gavin were forced to take fast steps just to keep up. The streets were winding. Curious and confused demons hung out on the path, forcing them to navigate around. ¡°You said Helheim legions,¡± Nessa pressed. ¡°Does that mean Helheim is here?¡± ¡°I¡¯m with tree girl on this one,¡± Gavin commented. ¡°I¡¯m not a tree,¡± Nessa scolded. ¡°Yet, you have leaves growing out of your head.¡± ¡°At least I¡¯m not an ugly goblin.¡± ¡°A Helheim Legion, not Helheim,¡± Iulian clarified, having no intent to explain further. Nessa tilted her head in confusion. ¡°A Helheim Legion consists of one-thousand undead. Seven-hundred shamblers. Two hundred fighters. One hundred elite,¡± Sylvia said. ¡°Helheim sells them. Think of it as a brand.¡± And quite a popular one at that. When someone referred to ¡®the legions of Hell¡¯ they were inevitably speaking of Helheim Legions. In fact, they were so oversold that their presence had distorted the world logic of multiple planes. This led to the rampant, and ironic, commonality of undead throughout much of the netherworld. There were even government programs dedicated to cleaning up the mess. ¡°Miss Sylvia is, indeed, well-read,¡± Iulian complimented. ¡°What might we run up against?¡± Elroy asked, his deep voice rumbling on the edge of a growl. ¡°Shamblers are class I, low-ranked phantasmal beasts,¡± Iulian said. ¡°Individually, they aren¡¯t much of a threat. Their danger is in their numbers and their cursed flame. The fire devours both ki and life. It isn¡¯t powerful, but it is very stubborn, enough so that a hundred shamblers can easily drag down a warrior of the second consolidation.¡± The redheaded vampire stopped. A frown decorated his chiseled features. With the pause, Sylvia became aware of a strange gap. Though demons were still on the street, there were far fewer heading south than those traveling north. It was as though the traffic was draining away. The white werewolf put a hand on his hammer, golden eyes focused forward with wariness. ¡°How many?¡± Elroy asked. ¡°At least a score,¡± Iulian said. ¡°We should be able to push through, if we rush.¡± ¡°Wait a second,¡± Sylvia interrupted, raising a hand to stall. ¡°I¡¯ll get better numbers.¡± The silver-haired witch flipped open the merit shop. With quick thoughts, she purchased two new features: Observe Terrain and Track Threats. Four hundred merit points gone. Just like that. Sylvia felt a pain in her heart. She¡¯d breached four hundred just a little bit ago. Now, she was left with sixteen. She wanted to cry. Would she ever be able to buy a blank skill book? Hurting inside, Sylvia tapped the butt of her staff against the ground three times to feign a spell. Observe Terrain. Track Threats. Sylvia¡¯s System unleashed a wave of runes. Complicated chains were woven with fine perfection. Forty-five mana was devoured, fueling the magic. She had no causality ether to offset the cost. The first spell unleashed a pulse. Information fed back into her brain, filtered by the System. Vague shapes were consolidated into a minimap that appeared in the corner of her vision. The second spell followed the first. Creatures and persons flashed through her mind. Suddenly, her minimap was filled with red dots. Not ten or twenty of them. Hundreds of them, stretching across the streets in a thick stream. Ants scurrying along the breadth of her map. At the head was a dense bulge, a knife piercing through the city. This hammer was no more than two hundred meters to the north-east. ¡°What¡¯s it look like?¡± Sylvia¡¯s dead, pink eyes fell on Iulian. ¡°More than a score?¡± she asked scathingly. ¡°Try two or three hundred.¡± ¡°Th-three hundred!¡± Nessa squeaked. Iulian grit his teeth. ¡°You sure?¡± ¡°They¡¯re cutting through the city west to east. Right now the bulk is to the north-east of us. We might be able to punch through, if we hit hard and fast. But there¡¯s enough shamblers around that, if we¡¯re a bit slow, ten could turn into a hundred,¡± Sylvia explained. ¡°From the looks of it, they¡¯re forming a blockade and grinding inward.¡± ¡°So we move east and get ahead or go west and cut the chain,¡± Elroy considered. The young scion of the Codrin clan shook his head. ¡°No. All the major roads run north-south toward Castel Lunii, like spokes on a wheel. If we go east or west we slow down. The more time we give those shamblers, the tighter the noose.¡± Sylvia spread her map, confirming what Iulian said. ¡°South to the tower?¡± Elroy asked. ¡°They won¡¯t let anyone near it after what happened,¡± Iulian rejected. ¡°Then what do we do?¡± Nessa asked nervously. ¡°We die,¡± Gavin joked. The goblin crackled his knuckles then wiggled his fingers. ¡°May as well make it bloody.¡± ¡°Best chance is to hole up somewhere defensible. Thick walls. Stone, not wood. Shamblers will burn through anything holding an aspect of life. Shamblers aren¡¯t strong and demons don¡¯t go down easy. The centurion will be losing one shambler for every demon he kills in the city. More, if those demons fort up.¡± ¡°We should alert the locals. Gather as many as we can,¡± Elroy rumbled. ¡°Right,¡± Iulian agreed with a snap. ¡°The centurion¡¯s goal must be to flood the resurrection pool. If the price is too high, they¡¯ll look for easier pickings. Lady Swallows, is it safe toward the wall?¡± Sylvia nodded. ¡°Just don¡¯t veer too far to the east or west.¡± ¡°Then that¡¯s our plan. Gavin, Elroy, you two head out and gather as many locals as you can. Nessa, with me. Lady Swallows, it was an honor.¡± This time, Sylvia shook her head. ¡°If it¡¯s just shamblers, I can leave anytime I want.¡± That was the beauty of a high mobility movement art. ¡°You focus on grabbing anyone who will listen. I¡¯ll find us a place to hole up. When I do, I¡¯ll throw a couple flame shots into the air so you can find me.¡± ¡°Thank you, Lady Swallows,¡± Iulian said. ¡°Nn,¡± Nessa sounded. Elroy pounded his chest in recognition before taking off. Gavin the Black scurried behind him. ¡°Ten soli we don¡¯t make it to the day¡¯s end,¡± the goblin called to his companion. Sylvia snorted. Day¡¯s end? In the Timeless Beryl Wilderness, days never end. With that thought, Sylvia jumped. Powerful steps sent her sailing onto a tiled roof. The silver-haired witch flicked her wrist, enlarging the map window. The stream of red had faded into gray. Track Threats was a short-lived magic. Observe Terrain, however, was not. Or, to be more accurate, Observe Terrain¡¯s duration didn¡¯t matter. Not when Sylvia had the System to parse the data and store it on her behalf. Urrooohhh! A horn sounded, reverberating through the air despite the vast distance. Sylvia¡¯s gaze was drawn to Castel Lunii. The silver moon bled red, a crimson hue washing over the celestial body. Spots flitted across the black sky, bodies illuminated by the ether. The first soldiers had sprung into action. The West Tower lit. A huge ball of flame flew from its turret before vanishing behind the city walls. There was a faint rumble when the projectile hit. The towers east and south remained silent. Sylvia wondered whether Orasul Lunii¡¯s defenses would crack. North, toward the docks, her pastel pink eyes caught a glimpse of fighting. Flashes of light as arts and magic were exchanged. Sylvia¡¯s thoughts turned inward. How were her fellow witches holding up? Were they still at Vallenfelt¡¯s mansion, or had some been peeled away to face the enemy? At least she had no reason to fear for their safety. The noble district was near the castle and heavily defended. Sylvia set off. A scan of her map revealed three promising locations. The first was a smithy with walls of solid stone. The shape and the structure looked sound, but Sylvia dismissed it at a glance. Her starlight eyes revealed the flaw. The essence was thin and stretched. Against physical force, the building would hold as readily as any other. Against supernatural power, it may as well have been made from Styrofoam. Next was a shop. Sylvia approached only to be driven off by a zealous guard. No matter. The abundance of windows were already cause for concern. Rather than a fort, the shop better resembled a death trap. After warning the guard of the shamblers approaching, she left. As for whether he heard, she didn¡¯t care. Sylvia suspected the slave felt similarly. Death was his master¡¯s problem, and it was more forgivable to die carrying out his duty than to survive while abandoning the same. Heh. Since it was Men-Lux, at least he¡¯d get paid. Which brought her to the final location. A temple. Demons were birthed from human souls and therefore had human desire. Love. Hate. Anger. Compassion. Though nether code might distort, that nature never failed to shine through. Religion had existed for as long as men had walked the Earth, so how could it be lacking here in the netherworld? One difference was in how demons were indoctrinated. Most entered the nether with mature souls. Though memory might vanish, reason remained. This meant priests couldn¡¯t rely on brainwashing young, fragile minds. They had to take a different approach. This change resulted in faiths with a subtly different flavor than those seen on Earth. The most popular religion in Hell was, amusingly, the Church of the Benevolent Light. This temple, however, was dedicated to more ancient gods. The building was two stories tall, a bell tower adding a third. The frame was solid stone with open arches on the second floor. Dense essence filled the structure, deepened by decades of history and devotion. This accumulated recognition had transformed the building, rendering it part of the plane¡¯s world logic. The temple¡¯s doors were made from a bronze colored metal. Sylvia pushed inside, satisfied with their weight and thickness. She studied the interior. The temple¡¯s floor was open space with the ceiling ten meters above. Wooden pews faced an altar. Three statues at the back showed the objects of worship. A matronly woman whose bottom half was wood emerging from a mound of dirt. An old, bearded man leaning on a staff and crowned by the sun. Finally, a four-armed man with a trident in one hand and a drum in another. Shiva. That was the only god Sylvia recognized. ¡°Welcome to the Temple of the First Creation.¡± A demonic priest greeted her. The man had a head akin to an upside down octopus. The priest¡¯s eyes were black and bulbous, while his skin was orange and puffy. Instead of hair, tentacles rose from his skull, suckers and all. Like many demons, the priest was big. A little over six feet in height, with a body that out massed Sylvia three to one. A warrior bloodline, she guessed. As for his specific species? Sylvia hadn¡¯t the faintest idea. There were thousands of bloodlines scattered throughout Hell. She could recognize the common types, but that was about it. ¡°Whether it is solace or safety, my halls are open to you,¡± the octopus demon said smoothly. The temple wasn¡¯t empty. Four demons were in the pews. A succubus bearing an iron collar sat next to a vampire. A few seats down were two beast-kin, one bearing an insect ancestry Sylvia found unfamiliar. ¡°Shamblers are overrunning the district,¡± Sylvia explained, eyes snapping back to the priest. ¡°I¡¯m looking for a place where people can fort up, and this temple is looking pretty decent.¡± ¡°Shamblers?¡± The insectile beast-kin voiced in dismay. ¡°Has the wall fallen?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be a fool,¡± the vampire interjected. ¡°We all heard the horn. The watch has been called. Any enemy will first have to pass through a horde of blood wolves. And, if it hasn¡¯t happened already, the skies will soon fill with frost specters. The lords are in attendance and the army is at hand. There is no force on this plane that can take Orasul Lunii.¡± Clong. ¡°Quiet!¡± the priest shouted. The octopus demon held a trident in hand. His simple, brown robes and green stole faded into mist, replaced by an armor of stone and wood. ¡°If the dead are in this district, then we best make ready,¡± he said firmly. ¡°Ciprian, search the nearby houses and bring back anyone who lives. Mufaru, head to the roof and let us know when you sense the enemy.¡± ¡°Bako,¡± the vampire, Ciprian, interrupted. ¡°I have a business. If I¡¯m dead for who knows how many weeks or months, looters will ravage my property.¡± Bako, the priest, turned his bulbous eyes back on the vampire. ¡°Then you best be quick. Our chances will be greater the more demons you gather.¡± Ciprian trembled, looking as though he¡¯d reject, then he turned to the succubus who wore a demure uniform reminiscent of a maid. ¡°Lea, remain here where it¡¯s safe,¡± he said softly, kissing her on the forehead. His gaze rose. ¡°You there,¡± he snapped, looking at the other beast-kin. ¡°Yes you. Don¡¯t be a laggard. Make yourself useful and come with me.¡± Sylvia scanned the room. Moonlight filtered through the arches overhead. A beautiful mural was painted on the walls depicting an act of creation. The earth mother, collecting plants and animals from Origin. The old man, felling the giants. Shiva dancing, shattering rock and summoning storms. Soon this space would turn into a battlefield. ¡°I¡¯ll call the others,¡± she said finally. Then she stepped back out the door. -oOo- Dong! Dong! Dong! The temple¡¯s bell rang. For Sylvia, who stood on the building¡¯s dome, the toll was deafening. Throngs of shamblers rolled through the streets. They moved in waves. A pause and an ebb, then suddenly, the corpse men would surge out of one building to seize the next. Flaming men beat on doors, climbed through windows, and ascended onto roofs. Then, they would vanish inside and, for a moment, things would appear quiet again. Shamblers were not at all what Sylvia expected. A few sentences in a book didn¡¯t do justice to reality. The phantasmal beasts were shaped like men. Rotting, charred flesh clung to their bones, making them look like starved corpses. Black flame smoldered on their skin, shedding a strange blue-violet light. Most importantly, they were fast. Rather than shambler, the phantasm might¡¯ve been better named runner. The creatures moved with speed and agility akin to mortal men. When reading her tomes, Sylvia had forgotten something important. Demons saw the world through the lens of their own strength. To them, mortal speed was pathetic. In that sense, the appellation shambler was right. Elroy of Est Somber displayed this difference clearly. The white wolfman sprinted through the streets, Gavin the Black riding on his shoulders. Deathly hands reached out. The demon wove around them with a grace that belied his heavy armor. In mere moments, Elroy broke through the loose group, fleeing the more distant ocean of corpse and fire. When the werewolf reached the walls, ki surged beneath his feet. Elroy leapt. The warrior landed smoothly atop the temple¡¯s roof. Reaching up, he helped the goblin down. ¡°These walls are a bit short, don¡¯t you think, miss witch,¡± Gavin said. ¡°It was the best I could find,¡± Sylvia retorted. Gavin stretched, gazing out at the undead tide. The wave of shamblers broke on the temple, leaving a space a hundred meters wide untouched. Like a river, the flow swept around them. A rock protruding from the stream. The silver-haired witch frowned. Iulian was right. These shamblers were far too intelligent. A centurion was guiding them. ¡°Thank you there, wolf man,¡± Gavin continued. ¡°If I had to rely on my two legs, those things would¡¯ve torn me apart.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear another word about me throwing you off the ship,¡± Elroy said roughly. His gaze switched to the witch. ¡°How many did we gather?¡± ¡°About fifty,¡± Sylvia answered evenly. ¡°Thirty unconsolidated. Twenty in the first. The priest, Bako, is on the low end of the second.¡± Slave owners often kept their thralls below the first consolidation. This was motivated, in part, by control but also by cash. Cultivation required time and money. Time which could be spent working and money which could be kept in the owner¡¯s pocket. Not only that, crossing a consolidation was risky. Many slavers would rather their property not take unnecessary risks. As for control? That was self-explanatory. In uncommon cases ¨C as with Gavin and Leonid ¨C they might be allowed greater strength. Combat slaves could be sold for a lot of money, especially talented ones. Bolder slave owners were willing to risk that gamble. In Nessa¡¯s case, it was her ability to produce explosive fruit, not her military talents, that won her master¡¯s support. Sadly, there weren¡¯t many combat slaves to be found in these parts. They tended to live with wealthier demons and, consequently, in a different district. To say nothing of those who had already died in the preliminaries. One bit of good news was that combat was life in Hell. Most of the district¡¯s denizens not only knew how to wield a weapon, they were carrying one with them. The only caveat was that most of these denizens were quite rusty and many of the slaves had no weapons at all. ¡°There¡¯s several hundred of those things out there,¡± Gavin pointed out. ¡°I don¡¯t think fifty is going to cut it.¡± ¡°Five hundred is my best guess. They likely started with a full legion of one thousand. The numbers would¡¯ve been worn away as they cleaned the district.¡± Iulian Codrin emerged from the bell tower, gazing out at the undead teaming the streets. He bowed in the witch¡¯s direction. ¡°Lady Swallows, your selection of forts is quite fortuitous.¡± The silver-haired witch tilted her head in the redheaded vampire¡¯s direction, the silver moon ornament wobbling with the turn of her hat. Did this bastard really have to flatter her over everything? ¡°Lady Swallows, Lady Swallows,¡± Gavin grumbled, voicing her complaint. ¡°Why don¡¯t I ever get praised like that?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not as good-looking,¡± Elroy explained with gruff tones. Fuck both of you too. ¡°Can we win?¡± Sylvia asked. ¡°It will be difficult. If we can fight them ten at a time, we can wear them down quite severely,¡± Iulian said. ¡°However, five hundred to fifty is not good odds.¡± ¡°I doubt those corpse men are going to let us fight them ten at a time,¡± Gavin pointed out. ¡°We force them to,¡± Elroy said, firmly. ¡°Quite right,¡± Iulian agreed. The redheaded took in a breath. ¡°I have good news and bad news.¡± ¡°There¡¯s good news?¡± Gavin quipped. The goblin wore a slimy grin. On this sentiment, Sylvia agreed. ¡°There is,¡± Iulian answered, taking the goblin¡¯s words in stride. ¡°Fighting near the docks has ceased. Given our position and how our tower is intact, the army will most likely sweep east to west. Shamblers won¡¯t last long against a proper fighting force, so we only have to hold for an hour. Perhaps half.¡± Elroy grunted in acknowledgment. ¡°That sounds pretty good to me,¡± Gavin acknowledged. ¡°Then what¡¯s the bad news, ladies¡¯ boy.¡± ¡°The centurion has almost certainly been commanded to kill as many persons as possible before his destruction,¡± Iulian explained. ¡°By now, the space outside our district has been fortified. That means, once the remaining houses are cleansed, he will turn to us.¡± Sylvia grimaced along with the others. So much for being a nut too hard to crack. ¡°Those things can climb,¡± she pointed out. ¡°And they¡¯re pretty damn good at it,¡± Gavin reinforced. ¡°They¡¯ll go right through those arches even while filling the roof.¡± ¡°I can seal the windows,¡± Sylvia said. ¡°But only for half an hour. And it¡¯ll take a lot of mana.¡± Earth bulwark was tailor-made for creating short-lived fortifications. It wouldn¡¯t stand up against stronger foes, but it should hold readily against class I phantasms. She¡¯d need three casts to seal the building, which meant sacrificing 100 mp ¨C earth ether accounted. The only wild card was whether the shamblers¡¯ cursed flame would burn through. Mana was ether polished by the psyche. The psychic element fell within the domain of life. The fires born from a shambler feasted on blood and ki. Life was like wood and oil to those flames. While earth bulwark was primordial magic, there was a chance the shamblers¡¯ fire would eat the mana underneath and cause the spell to unravel. ¡°With two floors, they will be hampered significantly,¡± Elroy mused. ¡°I¡¯ve already brought most of the ranged fighters up here to trim the crowd,¡± Iulian said. ¡°I¡¯ll add a few warriors to delay them further.¡± ¡°Recruiting a witch was wise,¡± Elroy concluded. Gavin let out a sneering tut. ¡°Don¡¯t look down on goblin magic. When the sweet smell of blood fills the air, I¡¯ll show you how fast bodies can tear themselves apart.¡± ¡°Any demon can learn runes,¡± Sylvia pointed out, annoyed at the excessive acclaim. Not only could they learn runes, most older demons did. Knowing a spattering of magic was no less practical than a mage practicing ki. Of course, not all demons were equally suited to it. Elroy would always struggle with spells, just as Sylvia had little hope of winning an arm wrestling match against the werewolf. Goblins, however, were built for magic. Albeit, their magic tended toward the natural. ¡°I wasn¡¯t born in an academy,¡± Gavin quipped. ¡°I¡¯ll leave the complicated casting to you, Lady Swallows. Me? I¡¯ll stick to what I¡¯m good at.¡± This was also a common attitude. The streets fell under a strange, deathly stillness. Eerie, blue-violet light poured from windows, twining with the white cast by the ether light lamps. In the deep alleys, shadows danced, empty and devoid of life. Then, a horse set foot atop a roof. Cold fire wrapped the steed¡¯s hooves. Flesh hung on its frame, pitted and rotten. Its eyes were like pale, blue embers. On its back sat a knight. Black, rusted armor covered his frame, shrouded in a halo of spectral white. A visor disguised the phantasm¡¯s face, but it couldn¡¯t hide the red gleam behind. The hel centurion had arrived. According to the books, hel centurions were class II, high ranked phantasms. Ten served each legion, commanded by a death knight. The beast below was a hel hestr, a class II, mid ranked phantasm with prestigious mobility and speed. Phantasms were not demons. They lacked both a soul and a mortal origin. Once dead, they were gone forever. Instead, they were birthed by world logic, having an existence comparable to a monster or an NPC. And not all of them were beasts. Centurions, at least when it came to matters of war, were no less intelligent than humans.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Sylvia had a sudden itch to snipe the undead general with a lightning bolt. She resisted the temptation. Without knowing where the centurion¡¯s core was hidden, it was impossible to achieve a one hit kill. Nor was there any certainty that her attack would pierce the phantasm¡¯s guard. Instead, Sylvia made herself useful by gathering ether. Her staff could only filter the elements wind, fire, and lightning. Water could be separated with the aid of her elemental palace. Earth ether, however, had to be concentrated manually, which made the process slower and more tedious. Elroy loosed his hammer. The weapon¡¯s head was as broad as the werewolf¡¯s skull. The front side was blunt and flanged. On the other was a sharp pick. ¡°The enemy is ready,¡± the werewolf rumbled. The redheaded vampire raised his voice. ¡°All able fighters up top! Mages, pace yourselves!¡± ¡°All able fighters up top!¡± Ciprian echoed. There was a bustle of movement. Nessa emerged from the bell tower¡¯s stairs. The leaf-haired beast-kin was carrying a glaive half again longer than she was tall. Five vampires, a few beast-kin, and a werewolf followed after. As for mages, they were limited to the succubus ¨C Lea, a dark elf, Gavin, and herself. Sylvia grimaced. They were sorely lacking in ranged firepower. The vampires, fortunately, were a mixed species and could pick up the slack. As for Lea, she didn¡¯t inspire much confidence. The witch peered at the dark elf. Elves had no innate magics. Thus, the fey had to be a pure caster. Sylvia¡¯s hopes, however, were dashed when she saw the elf with a book in hand, rehearsing his spells. There was nothing wrong with casting spells from a book. Outside of combat anyway. During a fierce melee, casting from a grimoire was just a fancy way of committing suicide. She prayed the warriors would keep the shamblers off the elf¡¯s back. There was movement on the street. Shamblers poured out of buildings, filling the roads with rows and rows of flaming corpse men. Sylvia felt herself tremble. A cold, clammy nervousness tore at her core. Her hand tightened on her staff. It was one thing to talk about hundreds of shamblers. It was another thing to see them. An enormous wall of enemies that completely dwarfed their tiny crew. ¡°We are not mortals to fear death!¡± Iulian roared. The courtly vampire held his sword high, calling all eyes to him. ¡°We are proud demons of Hell, not cowards born of Heaven. These phantasms come seeking our lives. I say, we make them pay for it!¡± A few voices raised in cheer. Sylvia joined, thumping her staff against the roof in agreement. If victory was impossible, then she¡¯d be that asshole floating a command center in the corner of the map. ¡°Our enemy outnumbers us ten to one,¡± Iulian continued. ¡°But I believe that we can still win. We are stronger than them. We have tall walls to protect us. And most importantly, it is they who must win this battle quickly. The king¡¯s army fights at the East Tower. Soon they will reach the South. We need not defeat this feeble legion. We only need to hold until our allies reach our side.¡± ¡°We will hold!¡± Elroy shouted. ¡°We will hold!¡± More voices joined in. ¡°We will hold!¡± The last came as a roar, echoed even by those still in the temple below. Now was a good time. Sylvia incanted. Runes gave form to mana. Mana melted into ether. Magic was spun to the witch¡¯s intent. Stone groaned. Illusionary rock grew upon the temple¡¯s surface, sealing the arches of the floor below. After three casts, the only entry was through the bell tower. ¡°We will hold,¡± Iulian echoed one final time, giving the silver-haired witch a nod. ¡°And even if we fail, I promise you that I, Iulian Codrin, will not forget your bravery. With my name I swear: every shambler slain will be a military merit to your account.¡± ¡°By my name, Ciprian Frunze, I too shall act as witness to your courage,¡± Ciprian confirmed. ¡°And Bako will also attest. Orasul Lunii will reward those who stand here today.¡± ¡°They damn well better!¡± Gavin shouted. ¡°Nn,¡± Nessa agreed with a nod. Beyond the temple, the undead army had gathered. The centurion raised his sword, the curved blade wrapped in a blaze of purple and crimson. Then it fell. Screams and shrieks filled the air. All at once, the great mass of undead began to run. ¡°Don¡¯t hesitate, kill as many as you can!¡± Iulian yelled. The redheaded vampire summoned up a spear of shadow, then threw it into the advancing mass. A wave of magic followed. From Lea¡¯s hands flew a ghostly flame. The fires of passion landed among the mass, consuming mind and flesh alike. Black spears flew from vampiric hands, piercing limbs and torsos. This shadow sank into flesh, chewing through meat as though it were acid. ¡°¡ö¡ö.¡± Sylvia swung her staff, casting a blazing ball into the fray. A bright orange flash banished the night. Flames of black were consumed by heat and fury. Charred flesh was reduced to scattered ash. Death filled the air. Her System opened its hungry maw, drinking the haze of essence. But not all of it. Ether whirled around Gavin the Black. With a deft hand, the redcap consumed the elements wood and blood and spun them into the aspect flesh. Complex strings of runes gathered between his fingertips before descending into the horde. Curses wrapped around phantasms. Where they touched, bones snapped and twisted. Shamblers doubled over, vomiting up their guts. Literally. Sylvia couldn¡¯t help but scowl. The ether was fine, but some of that was her experience! It took mere seconds for the shamblers to crash into the temple walls. For the first few moments, the undead creatures scratched and screamed, flailing uselessly at the dense stone. A few climbed up over those in front, scrambling to reach the roof. Then, a wave of stillness swept over them. The shamblers closest turned, placing their backs against the wall. With two hands, they proceeded to boost their companions toward the top. Claws fingers pawed at the roof¡¯s edge. Some caught. Others bounced off Sylvia¡¯s irregular bulwark, crashing back down into the throng below. The first of the horde pulled themselves up. ¡°Kill them quickly!¡± Iulian warned. The young scion of the Codrin clan flashed forward, his broadsword slashing a shambler¡¯s head from its neck. A second later, he stabbed, wounding the next. ¡°We mustn¡¯t allow them to gather in numbers!¡± The melee had begun. Elroy was a storm. His great hammer swung with inhuman force, crashing into shamblers with a meaty thunk. Heads were crushed like melons. Chests were caved in, ribs shattered, their owners flung like baseballs off the roof. Nessa, by contrast, was steady and stalwart. The tree-born beast-kin planted herself at the roof¡¯s edge. Ki flowed through her body, forming a dense aura that matched her origin. Roots sank into stone. An ethereal trunk grew around her, shielding her from harm. Tall, illusionary branches loomed overhead. With enduring force, her glaive cut down, splitting any who dared to climb the wall beside her. Yet, her protective bark smoldered. The wave was relentless. More and more climbed onto the roof. At first, only two or three managed to stand. Then those numbers became four and five. Gavin reached out and twisted. A shambler exploded into a fountain of blood. Iulian flashed, his umbral sword hewing through a walking corpse. Flame crawled up his blade, feasting on his ki. With a twist and flick, he threw away his burning aura. Against the weak, shamblers killed with numbers. When faced with the strong, it was the shamblers'' cursed flame that inevitably wore them down. ¡°¡ö¡ö.¡± Sylvia flicked her staff, adding a wave of flame to the mix. This time the fireball dropped by the roof¡¯s edge, incinerating the shamblers gathered below. A vampire wailed, in a moment¡¯s mishap a burning corpse grabbed his ankle. There was but an instant¡¯s pause. Then, instead of climbing the rest of the way up, the shambler fell back, dragging the vampire into the horde below. His screams lasted mere seconds. ¡°¡­ wa-mo-shi!¡± Grimoire shaking, the dark elf finished his slow incantation. Ether pulsed, thick and heavy. Then vines exploded from the roof¡¯s rim. Green stems tore through undead flesh, ripping bodies apart. Seven shamblers were shredded in an blink. The thick bramble remained, forming a parapet that guarded the roof. But not for long. Corpses tried to climb, clinging to the wood. Where they touched, black flame began to spread, a festering fire feeding on the embers of life. The vines, however, were not dead wood. Like a living beast they twisted, tearing hands and slicing flesh. The dark elf quickly thumbed through the pages of his book, staff resting in his elbow¡¯s crook. A few seconds later, he started a second chant. The image was as impressive as it was absurd. ¡°These flames are irritating,¡± Elroy grumbled, waving his hammer twice before the black blaze was snuffed. ¡°I don¡¯t think we can hold for more than two hundred.¡± ¡°Two hundred of these pests? I¡¯m already running on half a tank,¡± Gavin muttered. ¡°We will retreat down through the bell tower when the time comes,¡± Iulian agreed. ¡°Lady Swallows, how do you stand?¡± ¡°The walls are holding,¡± she said. Earth elemental magic ignored fire better than wood. ¡°And I¡¯m also around half. How many do you think that was?¡± Iulian grimaced. ¡°A fifth, if we¡¯re lucky.¡± They were eating their resources too fast. If things continued like this, they were sure to lose. ¡°Bako is below,¡± Iulian reminded. ¡°It won¡¯t be easy to get past him or the rest of the fighters.¡± ¡°¡­ lo-rhu-phi!¡± The dark elf¡¯s second chant ended their conversation. The thin, dusk-skinned fey swirled his craggy staff overhead before driving the butt down to crack against the roof. A new magic took hold, sharing the same ethereal hue as the first. The wood element, this time unleashed in a much more appropriate form. Burning vines melted. The wooden substance transformed into a caustic, green liquid. Acid poured down the temple¡¯s side in a waterfall of destruction. Shamblers, still struggling to climb, shrieked and fell. Skin dissolved. Meat peeled from bone. Scores of shamblers were slaughtered in an instant. Then, the steaming acid pooled at the temple¡¯s foot, creating an uneven moat that promised death to all intruders. ¡°Can you do that?¡± Gavin questioned. Sylvia gave him an annoyed look. ¡°No.¡± Just as warriors divided ki into realms, mages divided spells into levels. Basic magic. Advanced magic. High magic. Supreme magic. Those were the terms magi preferred. Unlike ki, magic had no clearly defined boundaries. A spell¡¯s level was a subjective determination based on the spell¡¯s complexity. The number and type of runes used in the casting. The techniques, elements, and aspects used to weave it into form. The combination of all factors had to be considered. A simple example of this was the spell lightning bolt. Lightning bolt consisted of thirty-one runes, enough to dance on the edge of advanced magic. But nearly all of those runes came from the Lesser Codex. The runic chain was a single thread that required neither braiding nor knotting. There were no contrary elemental components, like water and fire or wind and earth. Therefore, the spell was considered basic magic instead. In fact, all the battle magic Sylvia used was basic magic. There was no helping it. Sylvia knew the Lesser Codex forward and back but, of the Great Codex, she could only name a dozen runes at most. Without that foundation, grasping the higher level spells was an extraordinary challenge. Nor could she cast them quickly. That last obstacle, however, didn¡¯t stop the dark elf. The fey fumbled his book, searching for the next spell in his chain. In a duel, such an act would¡¯ve left him dead in a second. Here, on the field of war, he was a terror. But the hel centurion would have no more of it. Cl-clop. Cl-clop. Cl-clop. Their first warning was a horse galloping on the wind. Drawn by the sound, Sylvia¡¯s eyes shot up. The hel hester flashed through the sky, leaving behind streaks of pale blue flame. She had only an moment to compute the new entrant before the centurion swept down in a blur. Whoosh. Purple crimson flared, cutting a long crescent. The burning plane tore through Iulian¡¯s chest. Sylvia expected a spray of blood. Instead, the redheaded vampire faded back into a haze of shadow, leaving only his afterimage. But he was not entirely unscathed, either. Two meters back, Iulian stumbled, sizzling blood falling from his chest. Cl-clop, clop. Elroy turned, lunging with the help of an amateurish spring step. Too slow. The hel hestr moved first, taking to the sky with dizzying speed. The undead steed breathed out, exhaling a thick stream of yellow mist. A beast-kin warrior screamed as his skin began to rot and fester. Quick and agile, the horse traced a short curve, before touching hoof on roof once more. The centurion swung. The searing blade flashed through the night. A head rolled in the sky, a black silhouette against the crimson moon. The dark elf¡¯s corpse flopped onto the ground. The hel hestr reared, lunging toward the sky. Ciprian was faster. The older vampire flitted across the roof in a shadowy mist. He thrust. Steel kissed the steed¡¯s rump. The umbral edge sliced through the centurion¡¯s spectral armor then cut deep into rotting flesh. Two more vampires dove in after, swords at the ready. But the hel hestr was already in the air, too high for their weapons to touch. Yet, he was still close enough for Sylvia¡¯s strike. ¡°¨C ¡ö!¡± Brilliant blue flashed. The hel hestr was fast, but few things were faster than lightning. A jagged bolt erupted from Sylvia¡¯s staff. Electricity streaked across the night, tearing through the horse¡¯s chest. Ribs splintered. An arm¡¯s length of sizzling meat exploded out. The phantasm stumbled. For an instant, Sylvia felt she¡¯d won. Then the centurion vanished beneath the temple¡¯s edge. Demons were screaming. The yellow mist breathed by the hel hestr spread in a cloud. Where it touched, bodies began to rot. The beast-kin closest was already on the ground, convulsing as his skin fell away to reveal the bone beneath. A vampire slightly further scrambled from the mist, his skin was covered in boils. Still, the yellow cloud was growing. Shit. Sylvia stepped off the air, letting her body rise. At the same time, she let loose a wave of wind ether, reinforcing energy with a few loose runes. ¡°¡ö ¡ö!¡± A sudden gust washed most of the mist over the edge. But Sylvia didn¡¯t have time to tend to her allies because ¨C Bang! A shock of fire and fury rang out. A wave of sparks and embers scattered. The silver-haired witch twisted in midair, catching a glimpse of the hel centurion circling the temple¡¯s second floor. The knight¡¯s weapon was ablaze. With one brutal swing he carved through illusionary stone. Already eroded by the cursed flames, Sylvia¡¯s earth bulwark crumbled. ¡°Fiddlesticks!¡± she cursed. In a storm of petals, the witch dashed past the roof¡¯s edge. The centurion swept around, intent on cleaving the last of her protections. ¡°¡ö¡ö ¡ö¡ö.¡± Staff drained, Sylvia drew from her water palace. A sphere of transparent liquid formed beside her, soon joined by three others. ¡°¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö.¡± Water knives fell like rain. Sensing her intervention, the centurion veered, shield raised as protection. But though the rusted steel was broad enough to cover him, it couldn¡¯t defend his horse. Pfft. Pfft. Pfft. Three out of four bullets punched through the steed. One ripped through its skull. A second through its neck. The third through its rump. The horse jolted then ¨C crack ¨C it¡¯s neck suddenly twisted one hundred eighty degrees. On the roof¡¯s edge, a grinning goblin had an outstretched hand. The centurion threw himself off his dying steed, crashing down into a horde of shamblers below. Sylvia dove after, sweeping from two stories above to cut off the centurion¡¯s escape. Her staff drank ether, slowly refilling. A flame spell sat ready on her lips. ¡°Stay high!¡± Iulian¡¯s shout was a reminder. Sylvia glanced up to see Nessa at the ready, near the temple¡¯s wall. Rounded objects flew from her hand. Cringing, the silver-haired witch leapt, casting a quick feather light to stabilize her flight. Fruits, each the size of an apple, hit the shambler swarm like hand grenades. Boom! B-b-b-boom! B-boom! The beryl bright wood was a tree type phantasm found in the Daylight Forest. It had a tough body reinforced by a barrier of protective bark. Though it could kill by swinging its branches, the phantasm¡¯s greatest threat was its exploding fruit. A single bright wood could carry hundreds of them. A pity Nessa lacked those numbers or the fight would¡¯ve been a joke. The tournament¡¯s judges had deemed Nessa¡¯s innate ability a kind of consumable. To maintain fairness, they had limited her to ten. Those ten were already terrifying enough. Explosions ripped through the horde. Bodies were blasted apart, limbs flying in every direction. A few rattled the centurion before a wall of shamblers piled on top, shielding him with their undead flesh. B-Boom. Boom! The last fruits landed. Fat and muscle were flung hither and yon. A lump of flesh landed on Sylvia¡¯s hat before dissolving into motes. Her lips twisted in disgust. For once, Sylvia understood Emily¡¯s deep longing for a nice, warm bath. ¡°Don¡¯t let him escape!¡± Iulian shouted as the roar faded. Sylvia dropped. The centurion¡¯s intervention was a massive gamble. If his blitz ended successfully, they would¡¯ve lost their walls, their leader, and their most threatening mage. Without those defenses, they would quickly crumble, swallowed by an endless horde of shamblers. If Sylvia killed him here, the shamblers would lose something equally important. Their intelligence. His decapitation strike was only a half success. Sylvia intended to make hers a true one. The moment the centurion rose from his shell of meat, she struck. ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö.¡± Earth surged, shooting from the ground in a stone flower. An earth spike formed a meter to the centurion¡¯s fore. The undead knight stopped then back stepped, shield snapping into position. Clong! Stone smashed into metal. The rusted shield reverberated as though it were a gong. The centurion was blown off his feet. Just in time for her flame shot to crash into his face. Which, as it so happened, was where the centurion was hiding his core. Whoomph! Bright orange fire blazed in a pyre. The shamblers stopped. Charred corpses swung their heads, caught in confusion. Then the first of them sighted her. A shambler screamed. The first was followed by a second, then a third, then the entire horde. Flame wrapped men leapt, jumped, and scrambled. Shamblers climbed on top of each other in a mad attempt to reach her, stretching up in a growing pyramid. Sylvia pushed off air, striding higher on a stairway of petals. When the undead tower reached four persons tall, it toppled, but this didn¡¯t leave the beasts deterred. Yet, the witch no longer had any reason to fear them. Sylvia walked back, passing through the air casually. To maintain her flight she clicked her tongue adding another cast of feather light. ¡°A glorious achievement, Lady Swallows,¡± Iulian Codrin praised as the witch neared the temple. ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö.¡± With the wave of her staff, Sylvia sealed a row of arches. A portion of the undead had already climbed inside, but she felt the demons there could handle those numbers easily. ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll lead the bulk of them away,¡± Sylvia said, after casting a second earth bulwark. ¡°I trust you can handle the rest.¡± Gavin ran his tongue over his sharp teeth. ¡°I have enough left to tease a few of them.¡± ¡°If they come in series, we can kill them no matter how many there are,¡± Elroy rumbled. ¡°Then, I¡¯m going to meet up with the baroness,¡± Sylvia answered. ¡°¡ö¡ö.¡± Before she left, Sylvia flicked her staff down. A burst of fire incinerated the undead piling up underneath her. Shamblers screamed and shrieked. Those closest had their eyes drawn to her instead of the temple. With flitting steps, the silver-haired witch skated through the sky, dragging behind her a horde of screeching undead. ¡°It was a pleasure, Miss Sylvia!¡± Iulian yelled. ¡°May we meet again under better circumstances!¡± Sylvia raised her staff in answer. Without looking back, she vanished down Orasul Lunii¡¯s broad streets. From time to time, a blaze fell onto the hundreds of corpses seething beneath her. -oOo- Temple of the First Creation The Temple of the First Creation celebrates three gods: Gaia, Viracocha, and Shiva. Like many netherworld religions, it doesn¡¯t actually worship any god. Instead, it considers sacred the act of creating Duo Paca Ayu ¨C Ayu for short ¨C supposedly the first material world to carry life after Origin. According to legend, Ayu was created during the Age of Myths. Five other materials worlds eventually followed, all under the direction of Gaia. As this period predated recorded history, the exact means by which these worlds were ¡®made¡¯ remains a mystery. Of the sixteen material worlds nurtured after however, it is certain that it required centuries of effort by thousands of demons to render the planets fit for human life. Most historians, therefore, believe that when myths name these gods, it was in reference to their tribe or organization. Myth of the First Creation Five times did Gaia, beloved mother of the earth, bring the seeds of life from the world of origin. Five times did she descend through the frozen void to enter a world far from where men were begot. Five times did she sow her burden. Five times did she watch life wither, spoiled by the cold and dark. Doomed by the barren stone. Poisoned by the dead air. Parched by the dry fields. Loving and steadfast, Gaia ventured to Origin to try a sixth. There Viracocha, moved by her conviction, took pity upon her. ¡°Earth mother, it is for naught. That rock knows only darkness. Only here, on Origin, can the seeds of life bud and bear fruit.¡± ¡°Perhaps it is so. Nevertheless, I shall sow this world. I believe, should I strive, that one day these seeds will take root. Then the world will flourish, and many souls will enter the netherworld, bringing light to the empty planes.¡± ¡°I admire your devotion,¡± Viracocha said, bowing to the earth mother. So he went with Gaia to the dead rock. From his quiver, he drew seven arrows. With each shot, a mighty giant was slain. Six bodies fell upon the world, blood pouring from their veins to form the lakes, rivers, oceans. The last he lit ablaze then threw into the sky. With this, warm light fell upon the land. ¡°With this gift of sun and water, I hope that your seeds might grow.¡± And so Viracocha left. Pleased, Gaia sowed her seeds once more. This time, plants bloomed. Green leaves spread, seeking greedily for the sun¡¯s burning warmth. Alas, like before, all life withered. For the earth was barren and the air poison. Yet, strident, Gaia was unchanged. She left to the world of origin once more, to collect new seeds and new life. This time, when she traversed the frozen void to land upon that rock, Shiva was there, waiting for her. ¡°Earth mother, this is a land of death. Life will never take root here.¡± ¡°Perhaps it is so. Nevertheless, I shall plant these seeds, for I wish to see life flourish,¡± Gaia said stubbornly. ¡°I admire your devotion,¡± Shiva said with a bow. ¡°If that is your wish, then let us destroy this world and create it anew.¡± So, Shiva sprang to his feet. Then, the great god began to dance. He danced for seven days and seven nights. With each turn of his palm, a storm stirred. With each stomp of his foot, the earth quaked and shattered. Oceans turned end over end. Rock crumbled, transforming into sand and soil. Rain poured with endless fury until the air was washed clean and made sweet. Clasping his hands, Shiva bowed again to the goddess. ¡°I have done what I can, earth mother. Sow your seeds once more. Perhaps this time we will see life.¡± So did Gaia sow and nurture. For a thousand years did she tend to the smallest weed and the tiniest insect. Slowly, life stretched its limbs. The empty rock filled with a curtain of green. Pleased, Gaia ventured to the world of origin and brought back with her mortal men. ¡°Let this land be known as Duo Pacu Ayu,¡± she said. ¡°The second world of life.¡± Chapter 19 -oOo- Chapter 19 -oOo-
Name Sylvia Swallows Class Common Witch
Level 121+60 Exp 1100 / 1220
HP 239 / 290 MP 27 / 602
Str 15 Mag 40
Vit 10 Spr 46
Agl 20 Wit 50
Sylvia gazed at her status window. Eight levels in one fight. She licked her lips, tasting the delicious wave of experience points. Ten thousand! Never before had she gathered this much. In fact, she might¡¯ve earned more if she hadn¡¯t hit her limit. Sylvia was so full of blood essence she could practically feel it sloshing. Yum. If only every day played out like this. Then, she¡¯d be in the second consolidation in less than two months. ¡°If I want to enjoy it, I have to stay alive for the next few days, no matter what,¡± Sylvia reminded herself. Though her System recorded the points, they weren¡¯t really hers as of yet. Not until her body finished transforming the blood essence into soul essence, which would take half a week. ¡­ ... Her eye twitched. She didn¡¯t set a death flag for herself, right? Ha ha ha. No way that would happen. Leaping off a roof, Sylvia headed for the noble district. Soldiers moved through the streets of Orasul Lunii. To her rear were the city walls, the districts beside them recently ravaged by waves of shamblers. Buildings burned with black flame and blue light. Two of the three towers had fallen. Only the West Tower stood, crooked and beaten. An occasional flash flared from its peak, flame mortars and lightning cannons firing into the sieging mass. Frost specters were a white swirl above the walls, tackling anyone who dared to climb them. To Sylvia¡¯s fore was Castel Lunii, framed by the blood-red moon. A lonely specter floated overhead, most long since directed toward the walls. Clear proof the foe lacked a powerful air force. To remain inconspicuous, Sylvia had swapped her armor for her school robes. That was one upside to this clusterfuck. Sylvia hadn¡¯t been forced to show off her ¡®magical girl outfit¡¯ to the entire plane. Sometimes, when life hands you lemons, Hell transforms you into a cute girl and makes you sell lemonade. With that disdainful thought, Sylvia considered her leveling plan. Of the eight levels she¡¯d earned, Sylvia had tossed five into strength. With this investment, she hoped to free herself from the constraints of feather light. Ki derived from the body. Its potency was a product of strength. This decided Sylvia''s lift when using the waltz of flowers. Right now, with her Blood Bone Heels, Sylvia could fly, but she had to push herself hard to do it. So, while vitality better improved stamina, strength was needed to drive the physical burden from a sprint to a jog. Of the remaining levels, she used two to round her wit to a beautiful fifty. The last went to spirit. Hmm. Maybe it was time to stop leading with wit? Wit improved the speed of mana and thought. It also enhanced memory and retention. As a student of the Academy harvesting blank skill books, it¡¯d been her most potent investment. However, Sylvia had already reached the point of diminishing returns. In terms of real world casting speed, spirit played a larger role than wit. It also buffed her mana pool, which Sylvia had recently found lacking. As for the magic attribute? Sylvia had no immediate need. She¡¯d still boost it to fifty because she didn¡¯t want the stat to lag too far behind the others. It wouldn¡¯t add much though. Higher mysticism meant faster ether recovery, which was good. She could also put a little more umph into her spells, but she really needed to crawl up the quality chain before chasing raw power. Sigh. So many things to do. So many levels to gain. A patrol passed by as Sylvia approached the noble¡¯s district. There was a tense energy in the air. On her left, the witch spotted a house shrouded in a bell of flowing water. On her right, stone soldiers were guarding a manor¡¯s grounds. Even the streets were bustling, servants running to and fro, carrying goods and carts. As usual, with the spark of war, the devils and nobles first ensured their property was protected. Finally, the wrought iron gates which marked Baroness Vallenfelt¡¯s territory came into view. A weight fell from Sylvia¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Hey, you!¡± a voice shouted. ¡°What are you doing out there?¡± From the Vallenfelt grounds emerged a witch. Soft pink hair, school robes and a sapphire dress. The senior, only a few inches taller than Sylvia, glared at the younger witch, hand on her hip. ¡°Making my way back,¡± Sylvia deadpanned. With the pinkette''s short, cutesy twin tails, it was hard to take her seriously. Sylvia''s first instinct was to think ¡®puppy¡¯. This was the natural contempt of a thirty-year-old man looking down on a young woman who appeared between seventeen and twenty. A year in the Academy wasn''t enough to change that. Intellectually, Sylvia knew this was wrong, but the heart moves the mind not the other way around. ¡°The professors have ordered everyone to stay behind the walls, no matter what,¡± the senior said with a huff, grabbing the silver-haired girl¡¯s sleeve. Sylvia let the girl drag her through the gate. A snide portion of her brain desperately wanted to point out that the pink-haired witch had just violated her self said rule. She couldn¡¯t help but smile. It felt homey. Normal. Sylvia was where she belonged. With her peers. When she was teamed with Iulian, it was always Lady Swallows this and Lady Swallows that. Formality and responsibility everywhere. How ironic. She looked at the senior witch and saw a junior, but deep down, Sylvia kind of wanted to be a kid herself. Once through the gates, Sylvia spotted a dog-eared warrior. The man was relaxing in a wooden guard house, his eyes following the pair with sharp interest. The beast-kin wore a dashing uniform with Vallenfelt¡¯s crest: a quill and wand crossed in front of a giant star. Sylvia looked past her senior toward the guard. ¡°I need to speak with Lady Vallenfelt.¡± The guard shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t deal with academy matters.¡± Of course not. If Sylvia were him, she wouldn¡¯t either. ¡°What were you doing out there?¡± the pinkette demanded. ¡°Trying to not be dead,¡± Sylvia answered, blithely. ¡°I¡¯m taking you to Professor Wright,¡± the senior student insisted. ¡°Right now.¡± ¡°That works too,¡± Sylvia accepted. The pink-haired senior¡¯s expression darkened. Apparently, she didn¡¯t like Sylvia¡¯s answer. Well, that was a her problem. The two approached the mansion. Armed maids in Vallenfelt¡¯s livery watched the door. Junior students, wearing navy blue robes, marched in and out. On the awning above, a gargoyle shuffled, dark red eyes leering down at her. The System tagged the phantasm as C-III/Low. Having noticed them for the first time, Sylvia scanned the roof finding five more. Then, the senior witch huffed and pulled her inside. They found Abigail Wright a minute later. The professor was busy wrangling students. A pair of academy juniors ¨C third years, Sylvia guessed ¨C were moving a king-sized bed out of the room. Just down the hall, others waited with a pair of bunks. Ah. It clicked. They were moving witches from the guest house to the mansion. So long, individual room. I hardly knew ya. ¡°Professor Wright, I found ¨C ¡± The teacher turned only to startle when she saw Sylvia. ¡°Oh good. You¡¯re alive,¡± Professor Wright breathed out. She patted her chest. ¡°This is great news. I¡¯ll go and tell Lady Vallenfelt immediately.¡± Sylvia¡¯s gaze flicked to the witches floating a bed awkwardly through the door. Feather light was so handy. Also, school robes. Everyone was wearing school robes. The baroness must¡¯ve laid down the law, because Sylvia¡¯s fellow witches had shed those skins the second the festival started. ¡°I can tell her myself,¡± she offered. ¡°Not possible,¡± Professor Wright refuted. ¡°The dean took most of the senior students to the South Tower. She doesn¡¯t want anyone running about.¡± Sylvia glanced around. This explained the dearth of seniors and abundance of juniors. Ruby dresses, she noted, were also scarce. Though, there had always been a gap between students external and internal. Not just in terms of bloodline, but of life experience. ¡°Professor Wright,¡± the senior student said, again. ¡°I found her on the street. Outside the walls.¡± ¡°Yes. Of course, you did,¡± Abigail dismissed. ¡°Now Sylvia, I¡¯m afraid we¡¯re moving all the students into the mansion. So, you¡¯ll have to share ¨C ¡± ¡°Outside the walls,¡± the pinkette repeated, looking both annoyed and serious. Sylvia snorted a laugh. The senior¡¯s expression turned to a scowl. Professor Wright wore a loose grin. The teacher reached over and patted the older student on the shoulder. ¡°Sorry, Willow. It slipped my mind. Sylvia was part of the tournament,¡± Abigail explained with an amused smile. ¡°She could¡¯ve hardly come from anywhere but outside the walls. And thank you for bringing her to me.¡± Willow looked at Sylvia, confused. Then her eyes brightened. Having realized the situation, the older witch turned back to the brown haired professor. ¡°Of course, Professor Wright,¡± she said happily. ¡°I¡¯ll go back to the gate.¡± ¡°Did anyone else make it back?¡± Sylvia questioned, as the other witch vanished. The professor shook her head. ¡°Josephine and Piper are in the process of resurrection. Brianna and Tiffany remain unaccounted for. The legions outside managed to bring a soul beacon close to the city. The dean fears they might¡¯ve been swept up by it.¡± Sylvia grimaced. Soul beacons were, essentially, giant soul lamps. Armies used them to deny their enemy a chance to resurrect and also to ensure their own troops enjoyed the privilege. If there was good news, it was that soul beacons were huge. They weren¡¯t easily moved. If Orasul Lunii could destroy it, then all the souls captured would be free to seek rebirth. Assuming the imprisoned souls weren¡¯t first ported elsewhere by alternative means. Immortality wasn¡¯t nearly so grand when the enemy made preparations against it. ¡°Cheer up,¡± Professor Wright said, slapping her shoulder. ¡°The baron has better things to do with his karma than to cast schoolgirls into the void. Even if the worst happened, Lady Vallenfelt will ransom them back from Baron Ishii.¡± ¡°True.¡± Demons traded souls in warfare, just as mortals traded prisoners. Brianna and Tiffany weren¡¯t important to the war effort. Even if Lady Vallenfelt lacked soldiers to exchange with Baron Ishii, it was unlikely the oni would disregard the allure of cold hard cash. ¡°I have to report to the dean,¡± Abigail said. ¡°Your friends are set up in your former room, along with two others. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be happy to see you.¡± Sylvia nodded, saying nothing. Professor Wright quirked a smile, then hurried off. It was time. Her pastel pink eyes gazed down the hall, thoughts turning inward. Sylvia had put it off for too long. She knew it. She knew what she needed to do. She knew her responsibility. Still, Sylvia hesitated. Because she didn¡¯t want to know. Because she didn¡¯t want to change. Somewhere in the past year, her friends had become part of her. A precious human connection Eric had lacked. His life had been empty. A lonely job. A lonely apartment. A stream of acquaintances, superficial and dull. Relationships between coworkers weren¡¯t the same as those between friends. Even before this, the story had repeated. In his college years, the bonds Eric forged were tenuous at best. Emily and Riley had been with her for a full year. Every morning, they were there, nattering. Every class, they sat beside her. Every night, Sylvia would find them to her left and right. That kind of connection had power. Invisible and intangible, for sure, but real nonetheless. Today, Sylvia was going to test this bond. She feared it might break. Gut churning, Sylvia opened the door to her room. Inside, she found madness. A pair of bunks were set against the walls. On one end were Emily Clark and Riley Smith. On the other rested Natalie Ward and Camila Powell. Friend and enemy. Black and white. A volatile grouping which could only have been made in Hell. As expected, the two sides had met in a reaction best described as exothermic. ¡°Don¡¯t touch Sylvia¡¯s things!¡± an angry brunette shrieked, waving her little fists in rage. ¡°Oh please,¡± Camila Powell sneered. ¡°The mad dog wouldn¡¯t get caught dead in a dress like this.¡± With cold, lilac eyes, Camila held up a frilly, pink dress adorned with black ribbons. If worn, the hem would¡¯ve ended just above Sylvia¡¯s knees. It came paired with a set of platform heeled mary janes, complete with adorable bows. The shoes were still in the closet. Sylvia had noted the horror immediately. It was, after all, a perfect match for Emily¡¯s yellow dress. ¡°And stop calling Sylvia mad dog!¡± Emily retorted. ¡°That¡¯s mean.¡± ¡­ Er, Sylvia actually considered the title a compliment¡­. ¡°I hate to break it to you, murder bimbo, but that girl is a complete psycho,¡± Camila explained slowly, as though talking to a dim witted fool. ¡°Only a crazy bitch would throw herself atop a blood wolf.¡± Okay. That was uncalled-for. Sylvia didn¡¯t throw herself on the blood wolf for fun. It was just how things ended up. Also, while she was fond of mad dog, she could do without the ¡®B¡¯ word getting thrown around. Especially in the context of her being atop a wolf. ¡°Sylvia¡¯s the sweetest, purest, and most adorable girl in the whole wide world!¡± Emily countered, her dark emerald eyes narrowed. ¡°I dare you to say otherwise.¡± ¡­ Yeah. Emily had a few screws loose. Riley pinched her nose. ¡°Emily,¡± the blonde said, wearily. ¡°We both know the only way Sylvia is wearing that dress is if you sell her out to charm club.¡± ¡°Ri~le~y,¡± Emily cried, in a shrill warning. ¡°Take that back! I¡¯d never betray Sylvia. I¡¯m just helping her find her true self.¡± In other words, Emily was totally going to sell her out. Why was she friends with these people again? ¡°Rather than argue, it would be better to ask her yourself,¡± Natalie Ward interrupted, her tone prim and proper. Quiet fell upon the room. Four pairs of eyes focused on the door. Sylvia let out a cough then stepped through the frame. ¡°Hello,¡± she said with a lazy wave. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m here. Yes, I¡¯m alive. And yes, I¡¯d rather die than wear that dress.¡± Emily¡¯s cheeks puffed. Camila wore a scornful smirk. ¡°Also, you should put that back in the closet before Emily kills you,¡± Sylvia continued, gaze falling upon the dark haired witch. ¡°After which, the dean will resurrect you, then kill you again. Because she is the one who bought that dress and put it in my closet.¡± Sylvia¡¯s eyes were filled with warning. Even if she hated the clothes inside, that didn¡¯t mean she wanted strangers pawing through her stuff. Camila¡¯s expression turned stiff. Robotically, she returned the monstrosity to the abyss from whence it came. ¡°Huh?¡± Riley quirked her head. ¡°I thought Emily gave it to you. The dress is pretty much a color shifted match for the one she was wearing during the Festival of Light.¡± ¡°Apparently, the two have a similar taste in clothes,¡± Sylvia said, tone biting. ¡°See? It was meant to be,¡± Emily said, dreamily. The brunette spun on her toes. ¡°We¡¯ll look so cute together.¡± Sylvia¡¯s stomach lurched at the childish display. ¡°I heard you were missing,¡± Riley questioned, speaking over the brunette. ¡°I jumped out of the airship before it exploded,¡± Sylvia explained. She looked around. No bed for her. ¡°Then we had to fight off a few hundred shamblers.¡± Technically, Sylvia could¡¯ve left right then and there. She could fly, after all. But that would¡¯ve been a dick move. ¡°Shamblers?¡± Riley pressed. ¡°Zombies,¡± Sylvia supplied. Which they basically were. ¡°Flaming zombies. Flaming, running, climbing zombies. I¡¯ll tell you about it later.¡± She paused. Her eyes fell on Emily. The cute brunette gazed back, her dark green eyes like shimmering, star filled voids. She could stop right here. She could continue to pretend. She wanted to pretend. Instead, Sylvia spoke. ¡°Emily,¡± she said, throat tight. ¡°We need to talk.¡± ¡°Eh?¡± Emily cocked her head to the side cutely. ¡°Are you okay, Sylvia?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Sylvia rejected. Then she breathed, trying to calm her anxiety. ¡°I¡¯m fine. But we need to talk. Privately.¡± ¡°Uhm.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Emily glanced around at the girls in the room. The tomboyish blonde gazed at Sylvia, green eyes sharp and intense. Camila¡¯s expression was cold and judgmental. The first to move was Natalie. The lady sat up, snapping her book closed. Then, she dropped from the top bunk. ¡°Camila, I want to breathe fresh air,¡± the forest haired witch said. ¡°Preferably, without the noise.¡± So said, the woman brushed past the door, sparing Sylvia not a glance. The green haired witch¡¯s poise and manner were those of refined elegance. Camila followed with a gangster strut. Her smile was cruel, her lilac eyes glinting. ¡°See you later, mad dog,¡± the dark haired witch said as she left. ¡°And don¡¯t let the bimbo turn you into one of her own.¡± ¡°What Emily does or doesn¡¯t do is between her and me,¡± Sylvia returned, icily. ¡°That¡¯s right!¡± Emily shouted after the dark haired witch. ¡°I wonder how long you two will remain friends,¡± Camila sneered before disappearing around the corner. That one hit a little close to home. ¡°She¡¯s so mean,¡± Emily muttered, cheeks puffed. Sylvia walked into the room. Her gaze fell upon Riley. The blonde pointed at herself, questioning. ¡°Me too?¡± Sylvia closed her eyes. Riley. Her best friend. Not just in the netherworld. Her best friend, period. No one had ever been as close to her as Riley had. Not her parents. Not her cousins. But some secrets weren¡¯t so easily shared. Even if Riley was the second most deserving person she knew. ¡°Yeah,¡± Sylvia breathed. ¡°You should.¡± The freckled blonde hopped off the bunk. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on,¡± Riley said, putting a hand on the silver-haired girl¡¯s shoulder as she passed. ¡°But whatever it is, both of you have good hearts. Remember that.¡± Emily nodded quickly. ¡°I know.¡± ¡°I know you know,¡± Riley said, before closing the door. ¡°But Sylvia¡¯s not good with people. So you have to tell her these things straight up.¡± Thud. Now, they were alone. ¡°You should cast your privacy spells,¡± Sylvia said, after throwing the bolt. The silver-haired girl crossed and dropped onto Camila¡¯s bunk. Her nose scrunched. The smell was wrong. Sylvia was used to the scent of Emily and Riley. The faint whiff of others intruding into her private space was vexing. The brunette peered across the room, eyes filled with concern. ¡°The dress was a little much, don¡¯t you think?¡± Sylvia pointed out, when the silence dragged on too long. ¡°You told me you wanted to wear matching dresses that night.¡± The brunette stayed silent. Not a single word in defense. So, Sylvia continued, letting the words she¡¯d been keeping inside flow out. ¡°When I thought back, it was obvious. The morning Riley cut my hair, you cried. A few hours later, I¡¯m in charm club, and it was longer than ever,¡± Sylvia explained. ¡°At first, I thought the staff was being strict. But they never really cared, did they?¡± ¡°Sylvi ¨C ¡± Sylvia cut her off. ¡°Then there was Armed Combat class. You were the first to use mana. You were too good with a spear. Too sharp with your timing. After, you buddied up with us. That¡¯s because you noticed it, the way I pulled blood ¨C ¡± This time, when Emily interrupted, Sylvia fell silent. ¡°¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö.¡± A chant. Smooth and quick. A dozen runes flowing out with each syllable. The air buzzed. The room was sealed. Sylvia wasn¡¯t surprised. Emily Clark had another name. And that name was Esmeralda Vallenfelt. The silver-haired witch¡¯s gaze floated just above the brunette¡¯s head, expecting the label to change. It didn¡¯t. The text was unmoved. C-I/Mid. The class and rank shared by the upper half of Sylvia¡¯s grade. A typical first year, about to start on her second. Sylvia knew for sure, Emily¡¯s strength couldn¡¯t be that low. ¡°You found out,¡± the brunette said, smiling weakly. ¡°I did.¡± ¡°The dress really was too much, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Emily murmured to herself. ¡°Mmm, I was going to tell you. After the tournament.¡± ¡°When your souls merged,¡± Sylvia finished. ¡°I¡¯m surprised,¡± Emily said. ¡°It¡¯s not easy to figure out, not without knowing....¡± That Esmeralda had a clone. Yeah. If Lucifer hadn¡¯t dropped that hint, Sylvia probably would¡¯ve missed it. ¡°I read a lot of books.¡± ¡°You do!¡± Emily cheered with a big smile. ¡°I always liked that about you. I¡¯m really impressed!¡± Sylvia gazed across the room. ¡°Why?¡± Emily giggled. ¡°I didn¡¯t clone myself to keep an eye on you. It just happened. When I saw you absorb blood essence, I decided you were suspicious.¡± ¡°So, to investigate, you became my roommate,¡± Sylvia groaned. ¡°Ugh. That¡¯s so clich¨¦.¡± ¡°I may have been inspired by TV shows,¡± Emily admitted. Sylvia wanted to laugh. She wanted to make fun of the brunette for being stupid. Strange. The truth was out. So why was Sylvia relaxing? Why did things feel as though they were being drawn back to where they started? The smiles were the same. The jokes were the same. The feeling was the same. It was as though nothing had changed. Yet, when she focused, Sylvia could sense the difference. The shift in the atmosphere. Emily stood a little straighter. Her posture was a touch more formal. There was an air about her. An authority the brunette had never projected. ¡°Can you tell me one thing?¡± Sylvia forced herself to ask. ¡°Of course, my adorable apprentice,¡± Emily teased in a manner that was as prim as it was cute. ¡°Was any of it real?¡± This was the question which had been haunting her. Emily Clark was a facade. An act. A guise. And if she was an illusion, then how many of their shared moments were true? Were the times they spent together forged of genuine emotion, or was it a play orchestrated by an old witch? Sylvia didn¡¯t hate Esmeralda Vallenfelt. Not anymore. But Emily Clark was something Esmeralda Vallenfelt could never be. A friend. Sylvia didn¡¯t want to lose her friend. Emily sighed. The brunette sat down, taking the bunk opposite her. ¡°Sylvia, how much do you know about transmigration?¡± ¡°Transmigration means starting anew,¡± Sylvia answered. ¡°When demons undergo consolidation and mutation, their nether code changes. These changes transform both the soul and the code, increasing the compatibility between them. Transmigration is the process of shedding the outer layers of the soul so they can be regrown in a purer and more perfect form. This allows a demon to recultivate from the beginning, with a better, stronger foundation.¡± In System terms, transmigration meant resetting your level back to zero. In exchange, a demon would pay less experience to level up. Talent was exponential. A halving of cost through level 300 meant that the experience required to reach 600 would be quartered. For 900, it would be reduced to an eighth. Even tiny changes in talent paid dividends. Beyond this, transmigration offered a chance to restore the outer membrane. The external layer of the soul accumulated damage over time, some by the wear of the world, others through injuries and attacks directed against the soul. This, too, eroded talent. ¡°An excellent answer!¡± Emily praised, clapping happily. ¡°Sylvia is so smart.¡± Sylvia rolled her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not six.¡± ¡°No, you¡¯re twelve. Twelve months,¡± Emily teased. Her emerald eyes danced. ¡°My little baby girl is as cute as she is brilliant.¡± Sylvia gave her a dead eyed look. There it was again. That weird feeling. An Emily that was not Emily but, at the same time, nothing like Lady Vallenfelt. ¡°Transmigration isn¡¯t just the replacement of the outer membranes, it¡¯s a cleansing of the core,¡± Emily explained. ¡°When we transmigrate, we let our naked soul sink into Unus Mundus so our burdens can be washed away by the collective unconsciousness of mankind. Transmigration is a rebirth and renewal. When you open your eyes after, it¡¯s like you¡¯re seeing the world for the first time. Everything is so raw and beautiful.¡± The brunette sighed dreamily, as though she were imagining something romantic. ¡°But you keep your memories.¡± ¡°Mm-hmm,¡± Emily noised in agreement. ¡°Yes, but they don¡¯t have the same weight. It¡¯s impossible to explain without experiencing it. You¡¯re you, but not you. You haven¡¯t lost anything, but you are new. That¡¯s why demons transmigrate every hundred years or so. A millennium is too long. It wears on the human mind and the human soul. Without this renewal, everything loses its shine and meaning.¡± Sylvia nodded. ¡°So,¡± Sylvia began. ¡°You¡¯re saying you¡¯re a brand-new Esmeralda Vallenfelt.¡± ¡°No, no, no, I¡¯m Emily Clark,¡± the brunette corrected, wagging a finger. ¡°When Esmeralda split her soul, my part transmigrated. Then, my cleansed soul was placed in the body of a newborn girl named Emily Clark. I spent ten years on Earth. I went to school. I had friends. I had a father that loved me. I even had an adopted sister. ¡°I am Emily Clark. I am also Esmeralda. I¡¯m not one or the other. I¡¯m both,¡± she continued. ¡°She¡¯s just Esmeralda.¡± ¡°Until your souls merge again.¡± ¡°Yes, until our souls merge again.¡± ¡­ ¡­ ¡°In other words, you¡¯re a ten-year-old brat,¡± Sylvia clarified. ¡°Eh!¡± Emily exclaimed. The silver-haired witch nodded wisely. Everything made sense. Why was Emily so childish? Why did Emily want to wrap her in pink dresses and cute ribbons? Because the little imp was a ten-year-old girl. ¡°Punishment!¡± Emily yelled. She waved an adorable fist in the air. ¡°You can¡¯t talk to your master like that. Pigtail punishment. From now on, you have to wear your hair in cute pigtails.¡± ¡°No way.¡± ¡°Yes way. I¡¯m your teacher, you have to do what I say.¡± ¡°Nope. Not happening,¡± Sylvia said in bland disregard. ¡°If Esmeralda told you to do it, you would,¡± Emily accused. ¡°That¡¯s different ¨C oof.¡± A brunette bullet crashed into Sylvia¡¯s chest. The silver-haired witch was knocked down, her body flopping back onto the bottom bunk. The mattress squished beneath her, bearing the weight of two girls. Soft. Emily was soft. The delicate brunette was just a touch smaller than Sylvia herself. She felt nice. Warm. Her smell was right. Comforting. Familiar. Sylvia felt as if she could drift away while in Emily¡¯s embrace. ¡°All better now?¡± Emily asked, peering up at her. ¡°As long as you don¡¯t touch my hair.¡± ¡°Hmph, you brought that on yourself,¡± Emily huffed. ¡°But I¡¯ll let you go, if we wear matching dresses. I even got you a hat.¡± The brunette¡¯s shadowy green eyes showed a hint of betrayal. ¡°Fine,¡± Sylvia groaned. She¡¯d do it for the hat. ¡°I¡¯ll wear it once. Just once and only once.¡± Hmm, would Esmeralda hug her like this when the two rejoined? Sylvia tried to imagine her gorgeous teacher clinging to her. Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s magnificent eyes gazing into her own. Her lips opened. With a stern command, the baroness told Sylvia to promptly straighten her posture. Shaking her head, Sylvia focused again on Emily. Her heart couldn''t understand the two were the same. Was a relationship really possible? Sylvia caught herself. Those thoughts were a little dangerous. Ten years old. She¡¯s ten years old, Sylvia reminded herself. ... ten years, plus two centuries ... ¡°You know, if it¡¯s pigtail punishment, then aren¡¯t you training me to never wear them like that?¡± Sylvia pointed out to escape her mental spiral. Emily giggled. ¡°That¡¯s okay. I just have to make you wear your hair in perfect, princess pigtails until you fall in love with them. Then, it won¡¯t be a punishment anymore. See, I have it all planned out.¡± Sylvia gave her a dead gaze. ¡°That¡¯s not how it works.¡± ¡°Yes it is.¡± ¡°No. It¡¯s not.¡± Emily smiled like an imp. ¡°Then let¡¯s test it. Scientifically.¡± ¡°Ha, ha, ha,¡± Sylvia fake laughed. ¡°You know, you need a control group for that.¡± ¡°Riley will be the control, you¡¯ll be the test,¡± Emily said wisely. ¡°Mmm. I think a hundred years ought to do it. And if a hundred years doesn¡¯t work, we¡¯ll try a thousand!¡± The silver-haired witch sat up. Emily moved away, her body close enough Sylvia could feel the brunette¡¯s breath. Emily¡¯s emerald eyes traced toward Sylvia¡¯s back. Gaze narrowed, Sylvia made her French braid pick itself up then flop over her right shoulder. ¡°Mmmm,¡± the girl sounded, cheeks puffed. ¡°I¡¯m still wearing a ribbon in it,¡± Sylvia groaned in disbelief. Her eyes turned to the upper bunk across from them. ¡°What are we going to tell Riley?¡± Also, where were they going to put her bed? In the middle? She didn¡¯t want to sleep in the midst of a warzone. Emily sighed. ¡°I worry about that girl.¡± ¡°You and me both.¡± Sylvia was already set to leave the blonde behind. There was no helping it. Sylvia was a full year ahead of her class in every subject. Ten years, maybe even twenty, if Sylvia narrowed the field to combat magic. The rest was a mix of degrees. In terms of power, she rivaled the strongest seventh years. And the gap would only yawn wider. As the months passed, Sylvia would consume more skill books. The holes in her knowledge would fill in. Eight skills books equaled eight-thousand hours of training. That was four years of schooling by the simplest measure. How in the world was Riley supposed to keep up? How could her friend stand beside her? Friendships did not require equality. But, her life as Eric had taught Sylvia that, when two people do not occupy the same space, relationships would grow distant. And now, Emily would be leaving too. Then, Riley would be all alone. Well. Not really. The blonde tomboy was quick to make friends. Still, it made Sylvia sad. ¡°I¡¯ll tell her once I rejoin the two halves of my soul,¡± the brunette decided. ¡°It won¡¯t be a secret then. If she¡¯s willing, I¡¯ll even take her as an in-name disciple. But, only after I make your apprenticeship official.¡± Sylvia went cold. Her breath stopped. Her hands began to shake. A second wave of anxiety washed over her. With terrible clarity, Sylvia remembered that there was a second sword hanging over both of their heads. Lucifer, you fucker. ¡®Much more sympathetic¡¯. This was what the bastard meant. Anger surged. If ¡®Emily¡¯ had been pure pretense, this boiling rage would never have arisen. Esmeralda Vallenfelt was cold and rational. No matter what, Sylvia could trust that the baroness would only choose what was best for her. Emily was, in certain ways, a kid. Childish. Irrational. Prone to emotion. Easy to manipulate. Fury mixed with disgust. Fuck. The Devil was slime. He wanted to use friendship as a weapon. Sylvia couldn¡¯t do it. She shouldn¡¯t do it. ¡°Sylvia?¡± Mouth dry, Sylvia searched for the right words. ¡°We should sever the apprenticeship.¡± ¡°What?¡± Emily¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°No way!¡± ¡°Emily,¡± Sylvia spoke, squeezing her eyes closed. ¡°I know my backer.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care who it is. It¡¯s already been decided. You are my apprentice,¡± Emily insisted. The brunette¡¯s eyes were tight and narrowed. Anger. And not a cute anger, either. This was an ire Sylvia had never seen on her friend¡¯s face. ¡°Emily,¡± Sylvia repeated. ¡°I. Don¡¯t. Care,¡± the brunette snarled. ¡°If it¡¯s an arch demon, I¡¯ll fight him for you. You¡¯re mine. I don¡¯t know how my other self treated you, but you¡¯re my apprentice. She only accepted after I forced her into it. Understand? You¡¯re mine. Nobody can take you.¡± ¡°Emily.¡± Mixed beneath the rage were tears. The brunette¡¯s eyes shimmered. Her voice trembled. Sylvia felt a stab of guilt. This was both an old woman, approaching two centuries, and a ten-year-old girl. Smart, cold, and wise. Soft, brash, and fragile. Not one or the other. Both at the same time. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I should¡¯ve ¨C ,¡± she said, wiping away her tears from her eyes. ¡° ¨C I can¡¯t stop. He he. Look at me. I¡¯m this old and I can¡¯t stop¡­.¡± The petite brunette hiccuped as she tried to compose herself. Sylvia reached over and draped an arm over Emily¡¯s shoulders. Lightly, she pulled the brunette close. Emily blinked a few times, trying to force away the tears. Then, after a long moment, Emily pulled away, resting her hands in her lap like a proper lady. ¡°Why?¡± The word was firm but petulant. ¡°Because being attached to me is a flippin death sentence. That¡¯s why,¡± Sylvia explained, frustrated. She closed her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to Lady Vallenfelt.¡± Emily¡¯s expression turned to ice. Her tone was as sharp and as cold as her eyes. Esmeralda Vallenfelt in the flesh. ¡°No. You will speak to me.¡± Each word was clear and laced with frozen fury. ¡°Who. Is. It?¡± ¡°Emily,¡± Sylvia pressed, with warning. ¡°He wants me to tell you because he thinks you¡¯re easier to manipulate.¡± ¡°Sylvia Swallows.¡± Emily spoke the name in the way only an enraged mother could. ¡°If you did not wish for me to pursue this matter, then you should not have implied that our association might lead to my death and, by inference, your own.¡± Well, shit. Sylvia grimaced. ¡°Emily ¨C ¡± Emily¡¯s gaze was chilling. ¡°You think I am too emotional. You think this is a weakness. I disagree. It is because of my feelings that I should be the one to decide. More importantly, I think you mistake how angry I currently am. Sylvia Swallows, you will tell me who dares threaten the soul of my apprentice.¡± Emily was angry all right. She was really, really angry. Sylvia could see the girl¡¯s teeth grinding. And she wasn¡¯t wrong either. Fuck. ¡°How much do you trust your privacy wards?¡± ¡°I see.¡± The tiny brunette promptly stood and walked toward the door. Sylvia frowned, then stood after. ¡°So?¡± she questioned. ¡°We are going to my office. Then you will tell me everything.¡± Eyes of emerald, as dark as the frozen void, looked upon the silver-haired witch. ¡°And this time, I really am going to punish you.¡± -oOo- System Features Observe Terrain Passive: The System will automatically collect data on surrounding structures by means of the User¡¯s sensory organs. This information will be recorded into the System¡¯s database. Maps and mapping information collected by the User will be made available through the HUD. Active: 10 to 100 mp (causality) The System will emit a runic structure, scanning the local terrain to collect structural data. This information will be stored in the System database. Each scan will collect 1 km2 to 10 km2 of area data, depending on the amount of mana placed in the spell. This scan has limited penetrative capabilities and will not attempt to circumvent wards. It is unlikely that using this feature will be considered a hostile act. Sylvia¡¯s notes: There¡¯s also a maps feature in the library section. I should probably buy that. Track Threats Active: 20 mp (causality) The System will emit a runic structure, sweeping an area of 450 meters radius. The general location of hostile forces will then be made visible on the User¡¯s interface. This feature can only provide basic information on the threats, such as their type and species. Persons or people that the User considers friendly will not be marked as threats, even if they have malicious intent, unless revealed by other means. Track Threats can be defeated by anti-divination equipment, spells, and techniques. Its use can be detected and may trigger immediate hostile action by the User¡¯s enemies. In extreme cases, activating this feature may result in the User¡¯s location being revealed to the hostile force or to third parties. This feature has a duration of 30 seconds, during which time all threats will be labeled and tracked. Afterwards, the System will provide the last known location of the danger until such a time that the information is deemed stale. Bestiary Shambler C-I/Low Type: Helheim/Undead Lv: 50 Hp/Mp: 300 / 55 Atk/Def: 99 / 30 Celerity: 100% Exp: 112 Abilities: Cursed-Flame Touch, Monstrous Strength I Hel Centurion C-II/High Type: Helheim/Undead Lv: 300 Hp/Mp: 900 / 300 Atk/Def: 250 / 85 Celerity: 200% Exp: 1300 Abilities: Command Undead, Death-Fire Art, Spectral Armor Hel Hestr C-II/Mid Type: Helheim/Undead Lv: 225 Hp/Mp: 850 / 300 Atk/Def: 175 / 60 Celerity: 185% Dominion: 62 Exp: 812 Abilities: Nightmare Prance, Rotting Mist Chapter 20 -oOo- Chapter 20 -oOo- Hanging lamps lit the rich, red wood of Baroness Vallenfelt¡¯s office. It was smaller than Esmeralda''s workspace at the Academy. If four or five persons entered the room, it might feel cramped, but with only two the office remained quite open. ¡°¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö¡ö, ¡ö¡ö.¡± With a fast incantation, the petite brunette sealed the space. Firm steps brought Emily around the wooden barrier to claim Esmeralda¡¯s chair as though it were her own. Her flawless poise and posture mirrored Sylvia¡¯s teacher to perfection. ¡°Sit.¡± The command held the baroness¡¯s tone and authority. Without thinking, Sylvia sat. ¡°Mmm,¡± Emily hummed angrily, cheeks puffing adorably. ¡°Not over there. Over here. Sit next to me. And turn your back so I can do your hair.¡± And there was the cute girl Sylvia remembered. ¡°Are you sure this is a good idea?¡± she asked without moving. ¡°I thought you wanted to keep your identity hidden.¡± ¡°That was my wish,¡± Emily said, seriously. ¡°However, seeing the severity of the situation I can no longer be bothered. Also, I believe I gave you an order.¡± ¡°I thought you were joking,¡± Sylvia groaned. The witch lifted the guest chair and brought it around the table. ¡°Better,¡± the brunette said, nodding in approval. ¡°Now, my sweet apprentice, tell me who is threatening you?¡± Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. It was impossible to take the brunette seriously when she was tugging at Sylvia¡¯s braided tress. ¡°It¡¯s not him threatening me. It¡¯s his enemies. And he has a lot of enemies.¡± Six-hundred-and-sixty-six planes worth of them. ¡°Are you certain? I wasn¡¯t joking when I said we should sever our apprenticeship. Being caught up in this isn¡¯t good and the moment I tell you, you¡¯ll lose all deniability.¡± ¡°Two.¡± ¡­ ¡°Two what?¡± Sylvia asked. ¡°For the next two months, you will wear your hair however I desire,¡± Emily huffed. ¡°And if you don¡¯t answer my question, it¡¯ll be three.¡± ¡°Emily, I¡¯m being serious here,¡± Sylvia said, exasperated. ¡°And so was I,¡± Emily returned, coldly. ¡°Three months. Now cease your dithering, Sylvia Swallows.¡± ¡°Emily. Please,¡± Sylvia ground out. Delicate fingers brushed through her braid, unwinding locks of hair. ¡°Sylvia,¡± she said softly while the ribbon slipped through silver strands. ¡°I¡¯m happy you want to protect me. But I am the adult and you are the child. When I took you as my apprentice, I knew I might be wrapped in another¡¯s scheme. So let me be the one who protects you.¡± The brunette let out a pleased hum. The last of Sylvia¡¯s braid fell apart. Emily merrily lifted a tuft of silver hair. ¡°Also, four.¡± ¡°Oh, come on!¡± Sylvia groaned. ¡°Hmph,¡± Emily huffed. ¡°I¡¯m doing this for your own good. The sooner you drown all that stubbornness in a sea of cuteness, the sooner you¡¯ll be happy living as a girl!¡± At least she didn¡¯t say five. What Emily did was tie a ribbon around Sylvia¡¯s right tail. ¡°Lucifer,¡± Sylvia finally admitted. ¡°It¡¯s Lucifer. The Devil. The Light Bringer. The Great Betrayer. Lucifer, the enemy of Heaven, is my backer. Not that I¡¯d call that booger a backer.¡± ¡°Mmm,¡± Emily sounded, working on the left tuft. ¡°See. That didn¡¯t hurt at all. It¡¯s just Lucifer. Why are you making such a big deal about it?¡± The sweet and gentle words might¡¯ve set Sylvia¡¯s mind at ease if she hadn¡¯t sensed Emily¡¯s slight quiver. ¡°That¡¯s why I didn¡¯t want to tell you,¡± Sylvia said quietly. ¡°When Heaven finds out, they¡¯ll hunt me down. When they do, they¡¯ll interrogate you. I¡­ I can¡¯t do that to you.¡± ¡°Sylvia,¡± Emily said sharply. She leaned around, so her face could be seen. ¡°You¡¯re smarter than that. People are only responsible for their own actions.¡± ¡°I know.¡± ¡°Then why are you taking responsibility for what Heaven will do? If they find out, what they do will be their fault,¡± Emily espoused. ¡°And, I think you¡¯re worrying too much. Heaven can be zealous, but overall they are quite reasonable.¡± ¡°Maybe if circumstances were different,¡± Sylvia muttered. The System was no small matter. Perhaps, Heaven would look aside if Sylvia were the only one who had it, but what would they do when a dozen ¡®gamers¡¯ showed up? Or a hundred? Or a thousand? When the scale reached the point it threatened their interests, Heaven would react violently. Not just them. Hell and the Fey Federation would also flip their lid. And, as the advent of what was to come, half the hate would fall squarely on her. Because that was just how humans were. ¡°Lucifer edited my soul,¡± Sylvia explained. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m so compatible with my code. That¡¯s why I picked up two traits on the first consolidation instead of one.¡± ¡°Mm-hmm,¡± Emily hummed. The brunette tugged at a pair of bows, checking to make sure they were balanced. Then she whispered a spell. ¡°¡ö¡ö ¡ö¡ö¡ö¡± Tingling ether spread through Sylvia¡¯s tresses. With a light finger, Emily twirled the right tail. Shit. She was making them curly. Oh god. It was really happening. Her masculinity was never going to recover from this. ¡°It¡¯s also why I learn things so fast,¡± Sylvia continued, doing her damned best not to think about her hair. ¡°You probably noticed¡­.¡± ¡°I did,¡± Emily confirmed. ¡°Fast casting after three months. Very impressive. And you learned the entire Lesser Codex. Though it only took me two.¡± The brunette bounced Sylvia¡¯s left tress. Her hair danced adorably. Not noticing. Not noticing. Deep in denial, Sylvia squeezed her pastel pink eyes closed. Ugh. At least Emily had exhausted her fun. ¡°You learned five hundred runes in two months?¡± Sylvia muttered, disbelieving. Emily giggled. ¡°Don¡¯t be silly. It was two months before I fast cast my first spell. But you were far more impressive. It might¡¯ve been three months, but you were casting under duress. And four runes per syllable!¡± Freak. Esmeralda Vallenfelt was a genuine freak of nature. Also, she hadn¡¯t missed a single thing, had she? ¡°¡ö¡ö¡ö.¡± Emily chanted another spell before resuming. ¡°How does that work anyway? I¡¯m very curious.¡± ¡°I collect a kind of¡­ energy and use it to¡­ absorb knowledge?¡± Sylvia answered. She frowned. ¡°And what did you do to my hair?¡± ¡°I added sparkles.¡± ¡°You what!¡± Sylvia squeaked in outrage. ¡°It¡¯s super cute, you¡¯ll love it,¡± Emily said sweetly. Sylvia turned, grinding her teeth in irritation. ¡°I¡¯m already letting you put my hair into pigtails.¡± ¡°Sylvia Swallows, I said I will style your hair however I please,¡± Emily said firmly, her shadowy eyes echoing the demeanor of Vallenfelt. ¡°And I am quite aware that you are still hiding things from me.¡± Sylvia winced. Normally when she snapped back, Emily would back off. Today, Sylvia sank into her seat, feeling guilty for dragging Emily into this. Twin tails swayed, the coiled hair like adorable springs. From the corner of her eye, Sylvia spotted the glint of glitter. Pink. Of course it was pink. She felt sick. Her reputation was ruined. No one would be able to look at her and think she was anything but a girly-girl. Mad dog no more. Camila would be calling her psycho princess. Tch. That wasn¡¯t even half as fun as murder bimbo. Not that she was aiming for Emily¡¯s title. ¡°This time I¡¯m not allowed to explain,¡± Sylvia grumbled, slouching. She could feel the brunette glare, but she didn¡¯t care. ¡°Unless you¡¯re willing to become Lucifer¡¯s vassal.¡± Short this and Sylvia would fail the quest. Then her System would lock itself in safe mode. ¡°Mmm,¡± Emily sounded fiercely, cheeks puffed. The petite brunette swung a fist in the sky. ¡°I want to give that man a piece of my mind. Sylvia is mine. I made an oath to the Heavenly Will. If he wanted you, he should¡¯ve claimed you first!¡± ¡­ He kinda did. One might even go so far to say that the Devil owned her soul. My, my, what a proper witch Sylvia was. Very traditional. ¡°Well, he¡¯s on Earth, so you can forget about ¨C ¡± Ding! Sylvia stopped in mid-word. A new window had appeared. Sylvia¡¯s eye twitched. That fucking piece of shit was spying on her, wasn¡¯t he?
Checkpoint Reached: Netherworld Recruitment (Esmeralda Vallenfelt) You have successfully lowered the barriers between you and your teacher Esmeralda Vallenfelt. As the target has expressed interest in communicating with the System Administrator, the System will provide a direct line access to the User to facilitate this meeting. Activation Cost: 50 mp (information) Maintenance Cost: 5 mp/minute
The moment Sylvia finished reading through the first window, a second one appeared. This showed a screen reminiscent of the call window on a smartphone. A design which the shameless copyright violator Lucifer undoubtedly stole. What were they going to do, sue the Devil? The name ¡®Administrator¡¯ was already set in the box. While Sylvia was distracted, Emily slipped around the silver-haired witch and clipped a pin onto her left bangs. Smiling, the brunette took two steps back to eye her apprentice critically. ¡°And now you¡¯re perfect!¡± Emily paused. ¡°No wait. I should color your lips. And add gloss!¡± ¡°Hair only!¡± Sylvia snapped. Annoyed, silver-haired witch reached and fiddled with the clip. At least it felt star shaped. Sylvia half feared it¡¯d be a heart. Emily stuck out her tongue. ¡°No matter how long you struggle, you¡¯ll never escape my grasp.¡± ¡°You sound like a villain.¡± The adorable brunette raised her nose haughtily. ¡°I¡¯m too cute to be a villain.¡± ¡°You are, literally, a demon from Hell,¡± Sylvia deadpanned. Then she took a deep breath, expression turning serious. ¡°If you want to give the bugger a piece of your mind, you might have a chance.¡± In for a penny, in for a pound. Besides, since the System was offering, that meant it wasn¡¯t Sylvia¡¯s fault if Lady Vallenfelt refused the Devil¡¯s offer. Right? ¡­ Right? ¡­ Yeah. That wasn¡¯t how the asshole worked. Emily¡¯s gaze turned sharp. ¡°Good. Then let me speak with the man who dares bully my adorable apprentice.¡± Then so be it. With her will, Sylvia spun causality and psychic mana into the aspect information, feeding it into the System interface in her soul. -oOo- When Sylvia opened her eyes, she found herself on a balcony overlooking a city. Fifty floors below, streets ran side by side in a perfect grid. Lights flowed up and down their length. For a second, Sylvia mistook her location for Earth. Then, as she gazed longer, she realized this was no city. Instead of houses and commercial complexes, the buildings were chips, capacitors, and resistors. The streets were wires. The highways, gray cables stretching across the circuit board¡¯s length. ¡°A soul domain.¡± Sylvia¡¯s eyes shifted. Emily stood beside her, gaze sweeping heaven and earth. ¡°I don¡¯t think this is my soul,¡± Sylvia murmured. A soul was a cognitive space. An idea given reality. It had no form. When gazing into the soul, one would find as many depictions as there were viewers. There were certain consistencies. A core. A nucleus. An outer territory. But beyond that, shape was limited only by imagination. If this was Sylvia¡¯s soul then she was gazing at it from a brand-new angle. ¡°If you are unsure, there is an easy way to tell,¡± Emily said, demeanor like a teacher¡¯s. ¡°Look for the things you have stored inside.¡± ¡°Right.¡± She focused. With her mind, Sylvia pulled. Nothing. This wasn¡¯t her soul. Sylvia was certain now. ¡°Then where are we?¡± she asked. Eleven gray columns rose from the city. Towers akin to the poles that carried streetlights, each as tall as a skyscraper. From them extended branches. Most stood empty. Others held colored spheres, like ornaments on a pitiful Christmas tree. Then, at the center, was the greatest tower of them all. The building was a pillar of twisted cord rising ten stories higher than the balcony on which they stood. Above that tower floated a massive amalgamation of spheres. Color upon color was cast until the cascade became white, clipped with fragments of rainbow. ¡°A soul domain,¡± Emily repeated. A haze eclipsed the petite brunette. Cute, perfectly coiffed hair was displaced by an emerald fountain. For an instant, a nebula reflected in the girl¡¯s shadowy eyes. An image so beautiful, Sylvia could sink into it forever. The visage of Baroness Esmeralda Vallenfelt. ¡°The soul by nature has neither shape nor form,¡± Emily explained. ¡°The consciousness of origin can simply imagine the soul into existence. However, for a foreign mind to enter the soul, they must first render it tangible. This can be done using the elements soul, dream, or mutation. A soul domain is a palace formed when the soul is forced into form or structure.¡± ¡°That reminds me of a video game,¡± Sylvia mused. ¡°If this is a palace, could someone snatch its heart?¡± As Sylvia¡¯s mind turned to the past, her body grew larger. Her tiny waist bulged, while her breasts were drawn into her chest. The dainty, silver-haired witch was replaced by a pudgy, thirty-year-old salary man. Eric stroked his chin. An afternoon¡¯s stubble added texture. So much more satisfying. ¡°Ew, ew, ew,¡± Emily whined, waving her adorable fists. ¡°Go away and give me back my Sylvia!¡± The mirage broke. Eric snapped back to Sylvia while the illusion of Esmeralda was replaced by Emily Clark. ¡°I¡¯m not that ugly,¡± she complained. ¡°Of course not,¡± Emily soothed, reaching out to tweak the other girl¡¯s bangs. ¡°You¡¯re absolutely adorable.¡± Sylvia groaned. She had the worst friends. ¡°Yes. You, too, can be a phantom thief,¡± Emily confirmed, thrusting a hand into the air. After spinning on her toe, the brunette walked around the balcony. ¡°But you shouldn¡¯t do it. The dream element can change the nature of a soul. It can make you hate what you love and love what you hate.¡± ¡°But the karmic cost is too heavy,¡± Sylvia interrupted. After traveling a dozen meters, the two of them found a gondola and stepped inside. The floating carriage slid away from the balcony, following a thread of light. As they departed, Sylvia looked back. A silver sphere. One of thirteen circling the central tower. ¡°Mmm,¡± Emily sounded, cheeks puffed. She wagged a finger. ¡°You have to be careful, Sylvia. Those old men in Hell like to snatch up cute girls. No matter how much karma it costs, they have more than enough to spare.¡± ¡°Is that why you¡¯re out here in the boondocks?¡± Sylvia joked. ¡°In my first life, I acquired the interest of an archduke,¡± Emily replied seriously, her stern gaze holding no humor. The mirage of Esmeralda wrapped Emily again. ¡°It is wise to beware, not to be fearful. Though the power of dreams inspires terror, it is not so easily wielded. Prometheus, more than any other, cannot afford such a mistake. For though he receives from the Will its greatest love, he is also the quickest to draw its ire.¡± Prometheus. The one who stole fire from the gods. The light bringer. Ha. She should¡¯ve known. ¡°There is still psychic magic,¡± Sylvia pointed out. Emily, or perhaps, Esmeralda shook her head. ¡°The psychic element can mask the mind, but it cannot touch the soul. No matter what spell is cast, when washed away, true feeling will emerge once more.¡± This time, it was Sylvia¡¯s turn to refute. ¡°Even if psychic magic can¡¯t touch the soul, it can still be used to brainwash.¡± Words, propaganda, and deception could transform the masses. Though psychic magic couldn¡¯t replace one¡¯s nature, who was to say cunning methods couldn¡¯t produce the same result? Souls grew, even after death. They were shaped by feelings, emotions, and experience. If not, how could a demon learn? And if a demon could learn, then, by indirection, the psychic element could slowly but surely twist the soul into whatever shape the caster desired. Speaking of which¡­. Sylvia¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°You haven¡¯t been using psychic magic on me, have you?¡± Sylvia questioned. The image of Esmeralda shattered. An adorable brunette giggled. ¡°Silly Sylvia. I hate to break it to you, but all that cuteness came nat~ural~ly.¡± ¡°Is that so,¡± Sylvia responded dully. ¡°Then, you admit you¡¯ve been brainwashing me conventionally.¡± The brunette stuck out her tongue. Clung. The gondola came to a stop. All playfulness vanished from Emily¡¯s face. With it was lost the brunette figure. A waterfall of gorgeous, green hair spilled down her back. Her skin, a perfect peach. Hers was flawless figure that captures the ideal of both cherub and aristocrat. Esmeralda Vallenfelt. Sylvia found herself standing beside her master, the visage complete with the poise and posture of the baroness. Yet, a few things remained out of place. There was a big, white bow in her emerald hair. Stray ribbons decorated her elegant dress. A youthful touch which separated Emily Clark from Lady Vallenfelt¡¯s mature refinement. Somehow, it made Sylvia smile. Cl-clack. Cl-clack. Cl-clack. They entered a steel fortress, high-heels clacking on the tile floor. Fluorescent lights illuminated the hall. Metal walls were cut in the shape of a diamond, with glass windows facing out to the right. Through them, they could see the city of circuits, lending the passage a sci-fi feel. Then, the hall opened into a conference room. The space was broad, wide enough to fit scores. In the center was a long, metal table surrounded by comfortable leather chairs. To the left and right hung flat screen monitors. To the fore, a window granted a view of the realm beyond. A blond in a white suit waited for them at the table¡¯s head. Lucifer. The Devil himself. Sylvia glanced past him, eyes drawn to the screens. Several showed familiar cities. Roads, cars, streets, signs and lights. Tall buildings made of glass. Earth. The others revealed lists, data, and web pages. On one, Sylvia spotted the System Forum. Three of seven measly topics were in view, the top of which read: So, I¡¯m thinking about buying a skill book. To the right of that a monitor showed the top ten merit owners. At the pinnacle was MrDeepPockets with 4,122 merit points followed by ResearchKing with 1,863. In third place, was a user named CutestSilverBird with a much more reasonable 926. ¡­ ¡­ That fucker! Sylvia glowered. Wasn¡¯t 926 the exact number of points she¡¯d earned? Bastard. The moment Sylvia could afford to buy Forum privileges, she was fixing her username. Also, how the hell was she in third place? Sylvia had it on good authority she was the only person with a System in the netherworld. Hax! She called hax! ¡°Esmeralda Vallenfelt, Laureate of Magic, discoverer of the rune Yithmafar,¡± Lucifer greeted with unusual grace. Emily elegantly claimed a chair at the foot of the conference table. ¡°I merely unraveled a rune of little consequence,¡± she returned politely. ¡°Your work on Luciferian Chains, however, was transformative. Even in modern times, it still provides the foundation of nearly all enchantments.¡± A slimy smile stretched across Lucifer¡¯s face. ¡°It¡¯s good you know your place, little girl.¡± The man leaned forward, blue eyes conveying his sneer. ¡°What? I respect your accomplishment. That is all. To me, you are still a babe fresh from her mother¡¯s womb. What hubris. Playing with the nether code I wrought, did you really think you could add anything to my work?¡± Ah. There was the Lucifer Sylvia knew. Cosmic grade asshole. May this fucker get his. ¡­ Er. May he get his long after Sylvia had cut ties. She didn¡¯t want to be caught in the fray. ¡°Oh? That was your work?¡± Emily feigned with an impish manner that belied Esmeralda¡¯s visage. ¡°I apologize. I didn¡¯t see your name on it. So, I wrote mine instead.¡± ¡°And we descend to childish games,¡± Lucifer scoffed. The handsome blonde leaned back, tenting his hands. ¡°Tell me girl, am I speaking to Emily Clark or Esmeralda Vallenfelt?¡± Emily¡¯s magnificent eyes were judging. ¡°It seems you are, indeed, as charming as rumor implies.¡± ¡°I suspect that you¡¯ll find me plenty charming by the end,¡± Lucifer said with the smirk of a corrupt politician. He gestured, as though waving away trivialities. ¡°You came here with questions and desires. It just so happens that I have answers. So, let¡¯s have the two meet.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°Then, I will be bold,¡± Emily asserted, her posture prim and proper. ¡°What do you want in exchange for Sylvia?¡± ¡°Now, now, Miss Clark¡± Lucifer sneered, his tone and punctuation of the woman¡¯s name making clear his insult. ¡°People aren¡¯t objects to be bought and sold. But I¡¯ll be generous and assume you were asking: what would it take to release Sylvia from my design? That, dear, is impossible. My code is already wound throughout the girl¡¯s soul. Nothing can undo a weave so deep short of the shattering of the soul itself.¡± The Devil smiled as Emily¡¯s eyes darkened, seeming to revel in her suffering. ¡°But before we negotiate further, perhaps you should ask ¡®your Sylvia¡¯ whether she wants to be ¡®free¡¯.¡± Lucifer grinned. Emily¡¯s head jerked, gazing to her left where Sylvia still stood. Sylvia¡¯s smile was sheepish. ¡°Sylvia,¡± she whispered, looking askance. What was she supposed to say? ¡®Please rip my soul apart.¡¯ ¡®I don¡¯t want to be special anymore.¡¯ The System had been with her since she was twelve. Sylvia couldn¡¯t imagine life without it. In fact, she hadn¡¯t come here asking to be ¡®freed¡¯ in the first place. ¡°You are quite the creature of emotion, Miss Clark,¡± Lucifer needled. ¡°Let me make the truth clear. A picture, they say, is worth a thousand words.¡± The Devil snapped his fingers. In the air appeared a blue window.
Name Sylvia Swallows Class Common Witch
Level 113+60 Exp 1100 / 1210
HP 245 / 290 MP 215 / 602
Str 10 Mag 40
Vit 10 Spr 46
Agl 20 Wit 50
It was her status screen. Emily glanced at the image then at Sylvia in confusion. ¡°Is this not sufficient?¡± Lucifer mocked. ¡°Then let¡¯s try another.¡± Snap. The status screen blinked out. A quest entry replaced it. This time, Sylvia scowled.
New Quest: Netherworld Recruitment (Esmeralda Vallenfelt) By luck and fortune, the User has become an apprentice to Baroness Esmeralda Vallenfelt. The Baroness is a powerful individual in the Timeless Beryl Wilderness and will be of great help to the User¡¯s future success. However, the User¡¯s secrets serve as a barrier to this relationship. Develop your connection to Baroness Vallenfelt, then reveal the System. Boldly recruit your master to the System¡¯s cause, laying a steady foundation in the netherworld.
Quest Reward: * 5000 merit points * A confidant with whom to share the System¡¯s secrets
Objectives: [x] Form a good relationship with Esmeralda Vallenfelt. [x] Reveal the System to Esmeralda Vallenfelt. [ ] Convince Esmeralda Vallenfelt to swear herself as the System¡¯s vassal.
Quest Failure: This quest will fail if the System is revealed to Esmeralda Vallenfelt and she rejects the System¡¯s offer. Note that any unauthorized disclosure, including by this quest, will result in the System locking itself in safe mode, depriving the User of all System functions.
¡°It looks you¡¯re in luck, Miss Clark,¡± Lucifer continued, spreading his arms as though things were out of his hands. ¡°You can ¡®free¡¯ your apprentice by the simple act of refusing my offer. Though, I wonder how your apprentice will feel about that. And, I would not be so quick to presume the lords of Heaven and Hell will agree that our bond was severed.¡± Sylvia looked at her friend, nervously. The illusion called Esmeralda wavered, revealing hints of the petite brunette beneath. ¡°Emily ¨C ¡± ¡°Mmm,¡± Emily sounded, cheeks puffing. ¡°Is that why you didn¡¯t tell me anything?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t want you to feel forced.¡± Emily glared. ¡°Is it that important to you?¡± The silver-haired witch grimaced, pastel pink eyes turning away from the brunette. ¡°Without it, I¡¯d be nothing special.¡± Because she wasn¡¯t. In terms of talent, ability, and drive, Eric Swallow had always been ordinary. That which divided him from the masses was only this unimposing blue screen. The Devil might have taken his soul, unasked, but in another universe Eric might well have sold it instead. Because no one wished to live and die without meaning. ¡°You¡¯d still be special to me,¡± Emily whispered in a small voice. ¡°Relationship troubles?¡± Lucifer taunted. The brunette¡¯s image blurred. By the time her gaze fell upon the Devil, Lady Vallenfelt had returned. ¡°Is that it? A video game?¡± she questioned, words crisp. ¡°Quests, levels, and attribute points. You even have her collecting experience by killing monsters. Is this supposed to impress? To think, you show this and insinuate that I am the child.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s just say, I was inspired by mortals,¡± Lucifer laughed. ¡°My dream has always been utopia. And what is utopia if not a game? When the golden dream died, leaving behind tarnished silver, I contemplated where I went wrong. Was it Zeus¡¯s lust for power? Was it the fools who feared Heaven would fracture, only for their suspicion to make it so? ¡°But at the kernel, I came to understand, was a fatal flaw of its own design. What is utopia? What is it that human¡¯s desire? Back then, I thought they wished for love, safety, and happiness. A pure and simple life. It was only when I watched mortals fight, kill, and murder that I grasped the truth. What humans desire is the struggle. A fruit freely given is an empty reward. Only one obtained through your own strength has meaning. ¡°Torment without lasting loss. Toil with worthy reward. To clash and overcome. To achieve, with your own two hands, that which you dream. This is man¡¯s foremost wish. Games force players to suffer because that is what gives humans joy. A game is not utopia, but it is the closest thing to it humanity has ever created. ¡°But what I have crafted is far more than a mere game.¡± ¡°You have a means by which to refine and adapt code,¡± Emily asserted. ¡°Yes,¡± Lucifer confirmed. The white-suited man stood, walking toward the window so he could gaze out into the digital city. ¡°From the mortals on Earth, I learned a secret. Technology cannot be contained. And when its promise is great enough, the old will crumble no matter how desperately it resists.¡± The Devil¡¯s smile, reflected on the glass by the fluorescent lights, was as broad as it was vicious. ¡°There are many talents in the netherworld, no few greater than my own,¡± Emily countered. ¡°All of the powers have developed tools, means, and resources. A way to increase talent is not unique.¡± ¡°Denial does not become you, little girl,¡± Lucifer snorted. ¡°Which fey, demon, or angel is born with perfect compatibility? Which of the great powers of the netherworld can promise the gift of supreme talent to every soul that enters their domain?¡± Emily¡¯s umbral green eyes narrowed. ¡°Impossible. Perfect compatibility is a myth. Even if it were to exist, the outer membrane would retain flaws as witnessed in the souls of those who have reached the eighth consolidation.¡± ¡°Conventional wisdom is only wisdom until it¡¯s wrong,¡± Lucifer replied, turning away from the window. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve been ignoring the results of your own research, Miss Vallenfelt.¡± Emily¡¯s tone was cold. ¡°Do you even know what those words mean?¡± ¡°I am quite capable of math,¡± Lucifer retorted snidely, gracefully reclaiming his executive seat. ¡°It means your ¡®apprentice¡¯ will touch upon Apotheosis in two to six decades, depending on how well she is resourced. The only wild card is the three mutations, which my System can do little to help her cross.¡± Lucifer leaned forward, wearing a malicious grin. ¡°You are just a post on the side of the road, little girl. Today, you are her guardian. Tomorrow, you¡¯ll be her equal. The day after, you will already have been forgotten.¡± ¡°You!¡± Emily stood angrily. ¡°Sylvia would never ¨C ¡± ¡°Oh? So you would accept your place as a helpless maid on which your apprentice dotes?¡± Lucifer condescended. ¡°How much time and preparation have you set aside for just the fourth consolidation? This entire life as Emily Clark, if I¡¯m not mistaken.¡± The Devil scoffed. ¡°And another century for Transcendence.¡± Emily¡¯s expression was frigid. ¡°So, this is how you plan to lure me in. With promises of power.¡± Emily concluded, reclaiming her seat as though her outburst had never happened. ¡°I will admit, I know little of how your ¡®System¡¯ works, but it is clear that its code must be laid first and the bloodline second.¡± ¡°Finally, you show proper interest.¡± Lucifer smiled like the slickest, dirtiest used car salesman. ¡°You are right, of course. But every problem has a solution.¡± The Devil snapped his fingers. In the center of the table appeared a large fruit. It was red, like an apple, with a strange translucence. Beneath the skin were veins and arteries pumping runes instead of blood. Millions upon millions of tiny, glittery runes. ¡°No one likes being left behind,¡± he said gently. ¡°And why should you? Earth is extraordinarily confining. I would like, very much, to extend my hand into the nether. Why not become my vanguard? That way, you¡¯ll remain beside your precious Sylvia, ready to share her every burden.¡± ¡°What is it?¡± Sylvia interrupted. ¡°An Apple of Idunn, also known as the fruit of life,¡± Emily answered. The majestic nebula in her eyes reflected longing. ¡°It combines the elements blood and soul into the element mutation, prompting an evolution of the bloodline code. It is raw possibility in its most advantageous form.¡± Her gaze rose, fluorescent light glinting off gorgeous green locks. ¡°I will admit, I am quite tempted,¡± she stated. ¡°However, I must ask, where would you acquire such a fruit? Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re hiding a tree of life on the world of origin.¡± ¡°That would be a sight,¡± Lucifer chuckled. ¡°But no. When the Fifth Piece assisted the Fey Federation in creating the Law of Wood, they rewarded him with three world trees. One was extinguished when Heaven brought about his end. The second was claimed by the Tenth Piece. The last remains hidden, waiting for a worthy Devil. And that Devil will be me.¡± A world tree wasn¡¯t a specific breed of phantasm. Rather, a world tree was a hybrid creature born from multiple beings. Yggdrasil was the most famous of its kind, created from a tree of life, a cosmic ash, and a primordial pine. Though Yggdrasil¡¯s recipe was well known, the exact manner in which the trees were grafted remained a strategic secret held by the Fey Federation. As for their worth? It was beyond imagining. A world tree gave birth to a world. A minor plane controlled by the tree¡¯s phantasm. Owning a world tree was no different than owning an aircraft carrier, complete with its own battlegroup. ¡°Having to work for my employment bonus stifles my interest,¡± Emily derided, echoing the aristocratic manner of Esmeralda. ¡°A fruit of life is hardly the only benefit to owning a world tree,¡± Lucifer retorted. ¡°But would the tree be mine? I think not,¡± Emily returned. ¡°Yours? No. But you would be the first to lay claim to the land and territory. When the next souls arrive, you would be there to shape its cities and government. Don¡¯t tell me you aren¡¯t enticed.¡± ¡°You tempt me with more work.¡± Lucifer leaned forward. ¡°The fruit of life is already a priceless treasure, little girl. Combined with my System, Apotheosis would be well within reach.¡± Lucifer sneered. ¡°Or do you wish to muddle along with your crude measures? Making clones to enlarge your soul. Experimenting on witches, hoping to find clues on how to extend your code. You are quite brilliant, I will say that. A Laureate of Magic. You even went so far as to synthesize a bloodline while mortal. Both are exceptional feats. ¡°But your nether code has too many flaws. No matter how you flail and struggle, Transcendence is forever your limit. You made a mistake. You know it and I know it.¡± Emily¡¯s expression fell briefly before being replaced by a still mask. ¡°You would have me install your System knowing not the shackles with which I would be bound.¡± ¡°How is that different than any other bloodline?¡± Lucifer spat, his blue eyes glinted with anger. ¡°You accuse me and I ask, was the Heavenly Will a trap?¡± ¡°Hell has not forgotten the tribulation,¡± Emily retorted icily. ¡°Do not place Zeus¡¯s perversions on me,¡± Lucifer said, voice rising. ¡°Am I to ignore your lies regarding the Oath of ¨C ¡± ¡°I told no lies,¡± Lucifer rejected. ¡°I simply did not explain the full portent. And a child should refrain from commenting on events that occurred five-thousand years before she was born. I will not speak further on this topic. I have made clear the benefits of working for me: a fruit of life, a path to Apotheosis, and a world to build your kingdom. And let us not forget, an opportunity to remain with ¡®your¡¯ Sylvia. ¡°Or, if you prefer, you can leave. With all the consequence that comes with it.¡± Lucifer leaned back in his chair, evil eyes veering toward the silver-haired witch. Sylvia scowled. ¡°Don¡¯t use me against her,¡± she warned. ¡°How cute,¡± the Devil said, snidely. ¡°She is,¡± Emily breathed quietly to herself. Thanks, Emily. Sylvia glowered. Shit. She hated this. Dealing with the Devil for herself was one thing, she didn¡¯t want to deal on behalf of her teacher. Nor did she want Emily to deal on behalf of her. Drawing a deep breath, Sylvia addressed Emily, looking past the facade of Lady Vallenfelt. ¡°Emily, you don¡¯t have to do this,¡± Sylvia said. ¡°I¡¯ll admit. I like being special. Killing monsters. Completing quests. Leveling up. It¡¯s fun. I don¡¯t care about helping this bonbon. He can rot. I do it for me. Because, I want to do something with meaning.¡± In that, Lucifer was right. As Eric Swallow, her life had been empty. There was no goal to achieve and no dream to chase. The fantasies of children had been dashed by the ugliness of reality. People were small. With their tiny hands, it was hard to change anything. Even if Eric had been born with a heroic heart, that gray world would not move easily. ¡°I spent thirty years of my life being normal,¡± she continued. ¡°Even without the System, I can still cultivate. I can still study magic. I can cross the second consolidation and Awaken.¡± Her lips quirked. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll become a devil.¡± She recalled the years spent alone in her apartment. A fat salary man with no hope that things would ever get better. She didn¡¯t want to live like that. She didn¡¯t really want to be Sylvia. Although her female identity had, slowly, become normalized it wasn¡¯t what she wished for. But this life was better. As Sylvia, she had friends. As Sylvia, she could do things. As Sylvia, she had a beautiful teacher to help her through the difficult times. Even if that teacher conspired to turn her into a lady. As Sylvia, she could imagine her life getting better. As Eric Swallow, there was only an endless emptiness followed by death and decay. ¡°I¡¯ll just be slower. And I¡¯ll be¡­ ordinary.¡± Without the System, she¡¯d fuck up her consolidations. From time to time, she¡¯d have to transmigrate and try again from the start. When she succeeded, she¡¯d get fewer traits and be less powerful. Her cultivation would take longer, and she¡¯d have to learn magic the hard way like a normal witch. Imagining it hurt. She didn¡¯t want that. Sylvia didn¡¯t like the idea at all. But she¡¯d hate it more if Emily threw away her future. Emily shouldn¡¯t do that. Nobody should do that. Ever. Because Sylvia certainly wouldn¡¯t let her own dreams die just to fit the mold of her master. Though, she was likewise not so young and foolish as to insist her dream should remain forever unchanged even as the people around her revealed alternative paths. ¡°What I¡¯m saying is, you should choose for yourself,¡± Sylvia finished. ¡°Mmm,¡± The brunette¡¯s eyes shimmered with the hint of tears, the adult illusion stripped bare. ¡°I picked the best apprentice.¡± Her gaze returned to the Devil. ¡°If I were to accept, what would be expected of me?¡± Lucifer smiled. The fish had taken the bait. Sylvia could only hope this was what Emily wished for. ¡°There are three things I require. First, you must assist me in claiming the world tree. This is to your benefit as much as mine. Next, you must provide access to your micro ¨C ¡± ¡°So, you are aware of that,¡± Emily interrupted, tone cool. ¡°Of the doors opened to Origin in the last three decades, a quarter was yours alone,¡± Lucifer replied. ¡°I would be a fool if I did not notice. And it¡¯s only a matter of time before others deduce your actions as well. Anyone can guess you have a gate, girl.¡± Emily pressed her lips together. ¡°It¡¯s not for sale.¡± ¡°The only reason you still hold that plane is because Archduke Asmodeus lusts for your flesh,¡± Lucifer said snidely. ¡°Unless you wish to join his harem, you best give it up.¡± Emily¡¯s expression turned ugly. ¡°And you believe you can hide it.¡± ¡°I am more experienced in such matters,¡± Lucifer confirmed. ¡°And I won¡¯t be using it to smuggle souls into the netherworld where even the village idiot could guess the method by which they came.¡± ¡°You are an exceptionally rude man,¡± Emily said, miffed. ¡°Some even say I¡¯m the root of all evil,¡± Lucifer laughed. ¡°And what is the last?¡± ¡°Swear yourself as my vassal.¡± Emily pressed her lips. ¡°And once I do, how much will you demand?¡± ¡°Nothing.¡± Lucifer spread his arms. ¡°It might seem strange, but I spent my last century on Earth. I have become accustomed to paying my minions rather than asking for their labors out of loyalty. Anything more and you will be justly rewarded.¡± The asshole didn¡¯t even hide the fact that he thought of them as minions. ¡°A fruit of life in exchange for labors and a plane worth far more than the apple itself,¡± Emily mused. ¡°It hardly seems worth the troubles it would bring down upon my head.¡± ¡°Not just a fruit, an opportunity. You have tasted the splendor of technology. You understand how entire nations can be made or broken by a new invention. I have married machine learning to the mysteries of the soul. Pandora¡¯s box has been opened. The genie has left its bottle. There is no turning back. A great wave is coming, and the old world will be drowned beneath it. I grant you the chance to ride that tsunami rather than be swallowed by the churning waters below.¡± Emily shook her head. ¡°An idea, once proven, is not so easily erased. But what certainty is there that it will be your wave that sweeps the netherworld? Perhaps your System will be crushed and it will be another, decades from now, which brings forth the great transformation.¡± ¡°True,¡± Lucifer relented. ¡°But if it is not mine, then the wave that comes will have nothing to do with you.¡± ¡°To side with the Devil and become Heaven¡¯s mortal enemy, or to stand aside and be forgotten by the flow of history.¡± Emily sighed. ¡°A difficult choice.¡± ¡°I would think it is an easy one,¡± Lucifer countered. The blond man¡¯s smile was especially slimy. ¡°Seeing as how Heaven will most certainly treat you as an enemy regardless. Don¡¯t blame me for that one, child. It was you who swore an oath before the Heavenly Will.¡± ¡°I see.¡± Emily remained quiet for a moment. Then gracefully, she stood. Taking a step away from her chair, she fell into an elegant curtsy. ¡°Then from now on, I shall be your humble servant, my lord Prometheus.¡± Then Emily¡¯s sweetness vanished, replaced by glacial iron. ¡°However, I shan¡¯t move a single finger without proper remuneration. Further, I must make clear, Sylvia is mine. You will not touch her without my permission.¡± With eyes as hard as the vacuum of space, Emily made clear her claim. ¡°Excellent,¡± the Devil proclaimed, leaning forward in his seat. ¡°Then, let us hash out the finer details of our contract.¡± Ding!
Quest Complete: Netherworld Recruitment (Esmeralda Vallenfelt)
Was this a good thing or a bad thing? Regardless, Sylvia had a pile of merit points in which to drown her tears. ¡­ Speaking of which, Sylvia looked up. The screen listing the top ten merit earners had changed. Now, CutestSilverBird stood at the peak. Beside the user¡¯s name was the total lifetime merits: 5,926 points. -oOo- Terms: Demon 1. Archaic: A humanoid being, born from a mortal soul, that stands between man and god. 2. A person who belongs to Hell, especially a citizen who has taken the Oath of Prosecution. The word demon originates from the Ancient Era and was used to distinguish the human-like denizens of the netherworld from both mortals and monsters. In modern times, this word is most commonly used to refer to those that reside in Hell, regardless of their shape or nature. In Heaven and many material worlds, the epitaph demon has become pejorative. This is also true, to a lesser degree, in the Fey Federation. People from these areas instead describe themselves as celestials or fey. However, in Hell, the identity of demon is still worn with pride. Fey 1. Archaic: A non-human being that nevertheless maintains a human identity. 2. A person who belongs to the Fey Federation. 3. Anyone subject to the Law of Wood. 4. Faeries, particularly Aos-Si of the Tuatha genera. The word fey came into use during the latter half of the Age of Blood. It was first used by the dragons to separate themselves from monsters. The broad recognition of fey as a distinct group was one of the key elements that brought about the Age of Magic. In modern times, the word fey has become fuzzier. While it is used to refer to the denizens of the Fey Federation, it has also been extended to independent kingdoms that unify under the Law of Wood. Even the oldest definition finds common use when speaking of ¡®wild fey¡¯, souls that Awaken with a human mind after absorbing code from a phantasm. Celestial 1. A modern word identifying the residents of Heaven, especially those higher in the hierarchy. 2. A person who receives grace under the Law of Heaven. The first usage of the name celestial traces back to the early Golden Age. Initially, it referred to those of the ouranios lineage who occupied the thirty-three planes which became Heaven. By the end of the Golden Age, all the citizens of Heaven were called celestials and the words fey and demon fell out of common use. This changed after the Utopia War. When Hell split from Heaven, its citizens reclaimed the name demon so as to reject the Heaven¡¯s rule. The word fey re-emerged a millennium later with the appearance of the Fey Federation. Clans In the netherworld, a clan is a group of demons who share a relation and work toward a unified end. Most clans function like corporations, gathering resources and money for the elders and the clan head. The majority of clans are bloodline clans, which is to say, the clan almost entirely consists of a single bloodline. A clan is distinct from other organizations, mainly by virtue of shared relation. Typically, demons are born into their clan then raised in that clan. This makes for a connection far deeper than that of a mere employee. However, as demons do not grow up in the same sense as children, this relationship remains weaker than seen in clans in the material world. Some bloodlines are especially prone to clan structures. Vampires and werewolves are famous for it. Other bloodlines, such as hogmin and beast-kin, mainly enter Hell through the slave system. Because of this, being born to a clan is often indicative of higher status. Especially, if the clan head or elders hold a higher noble title such as duke, marquis, or count. Codrin Clan The Codrin clan is headed by Viscount Vilhelm Codrin who serves as demon king for the Timeless Beryl Wilderness. It, therefore, represents the highest power of the plane. The Codrin Clan is a vampire clan consisting of five branches Codrin, Ghimpe, Frunze, Inima, and Ramura. It is subordinate to the Padure clan of Tartarus. The Codrins are considered head of the local clan, with the other four beneath and co-equal. The clan recruits new vampires by transforming souls drawn from Orasul Lunii¡¯s soul well, adding one to two hundred a year. These new bloods are raised in the clan hall for no more than thirteen years. Vampires graduate into the clan by means of a selection ceremony. Of those selected, only a few will gain the surname Codrin, while the vast majority will join the four branches. The worst of the lot will be excluded entirely then granted the name Gol when their time is up. Vampires named Gol are stricken from the clan register, though they may still work for the clan as servants. The Codrin clan consists of seven-thousand vampires, most of which live in Orasul Lunii. Of these, around three hundred have the surname Codrin.