Fallen Mage Regressor

There was a single, solitary tree standing in the way of the avalanche. The avalanche crashed into that tree, bent it back, then it snapped loudly and flew backward toward them. It pointed like a spear, then crashed into a snowbank about ten feet away from Mal.

He stared at it and grimaced.

"Yeah, we should probably get out of the way of that."

Savaly's eyes darted about before she pointed at a rocky outcropping. "Over there. Move, now!"

The three took off, their footsteps slow from sinking into the snow. Lusia kept a comfortable lead, strained but not worn out. Mal was in second, and it was taking everything he had to keep up with her.

Savaly had fallen to third. Her face, already pale, had turned a ghostly white. Her footsteps slowed down into a brisk walk.

Mal stopped and looked back at her. "Are you serious?"

"I—I'm fine—"

Mal turned around. He dropped down to his knees, back facing towards her. "Hop on."

"What? What are you doing?"

He turned his head back at her and shouted, "Hop on, or we're both going to die!"

"Damn it all—"

She clambered onto his back into a piggyback ride. He stood back up and increased his mana circulation. A wave of pain hit him in every place, wave after wave from overstraining his body.

He forced his bruised and beaten body to continue onward. The avalanche in the distance had grown closer, the dull roar now sharp as steel against Mal's ear. Lusia, who'd stopped to face him, stayed at his side while he carried Savaly. They got closer and closer to the rocky outcropping until finally they reached it. Mal walked over to the edge and did his best to clamber up the side.

A whooshing noise. He turned his head to the right. Another tree had been ripped out of the ground and was heading straight for him.

In that moment, Mal couldn't help but think about how ridiculous his life was. Of all the directions to go, of all the areas to land, it had to be pointed straight at him?

He shut his eyes, bracing for the inevitable.

A loud thud.

He opened his eyes. Thousands of wood splinters had shattered over an invisible rectangular barrier. On his back, Savaly shuddered and her head drooped forward.

Lusia, to the side, lowered her weapons and sheathed them back. Mal wasn't sure what she'd been planning to do—stab the tree to death? Then again, perhaps her kinetic redirection would have been strong enough to change its momentum? But that was far more than she'd ever taken at one point.

It was likely that Savaly had saved his life.

"Thanks," he said.

She grunted, hair buried in his neck. "Consider it repayment for services rendered."

Mal got up to the top of the rocky outcrop. A second later, the avalanche crashed against it. It was like a thunder crack, snow smashing into the rock, thousands of pounds of pressure sustained against the stone. Until slowly, bit by bit, it died down. Mal breathed a sigh of relief. He glanced around to see who else had made it.

To his surprise, there wasn't a single other person visible. They were the only ones who had been fast enough to react and get to somewhere safe.

Mildly concerning.

Although the teachers wouldn't let anything truly bad happen to them, there was a good chance that the others were too injured or had to be teleported back by the professors. Whether or not the professors would fail them on the spot or would allow them to continue with a handicap, Mal didn't know. Either way, their odds of reaching first had just pivoted upwards significantly.

"We can't waste any time," Savaly said.

Ah, she'd made the same calculation that he had.

He nodded. "Let's go."

The climb up was aggravatingly slow. Savaly was still exhausted and was creeping at a snail's pace. Mal himself was dead tired as well. Lusia was the only one in good condition.

But it didn't matter. Everyone else had been swept away by the avalanche. When they reached the peak, they didn't see a single other soul.

Savaly took a step forward, then stopped. Mal, curious, blinked at her. "What are you waiting for?"

A puff of air escaped her.

"You go."

Mal raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You—don't make me say it twice." She crossed her arms. "I'm not so utterly ungrateful that I would steal first place from you and the maid. Divvy it up between you two, I'll be taking third."

"Uh—" Mal shook his head. "I don't want it, Savaly. Please, take it."

She searched his eyes, then turned to Lusia. "What about you?"

"I have no desire for that position."

She scoffed. "And the favors just keep building up."

After a second of looking into the distance, her eyes sharpened and locked on Mal.

She marched up to him, then jabbed a finger into his chest. "You owed me a favor before," she said.

"I did, yes."

Back when he'd been looking for information, he'd come to Savaly and she'd provided it to him on the condition of a favor.

"You have no idea how much it strains me to say this, but you don't owe me anything anymore." She increased the pressure in her finger. "If you have something you want, hurry up and tell me. Don't take too long."

"Are you offering me a—"

"A favor. Within reason!" She emphasized the last two words. "There's some things that I simply can't provide. I may be the princess, but the royal family isn't as powerful as you think."

"I'll think about it."

"Good." The serious expression lifted from her face and she smirked. "Though if you ask for my hand, I might just consider it."

"Shut up."

Mal jerked. He quickly turned to face his left.

Only Lusia, staring at the two of them.

He shook his head. For some reason, he'd had the feeling that a dangerous beast was staring him down and considering how best to devour him. It was one of the most terrifying feelings he'd had in a while.

How strange, Mal thought. Perhaps the cult is at work?

Savaly turned around and walked toward the peak. Mal and Lusia followed.

Mal had briefly considered waiting until more people had come up, but even he realized that would be far too transparent in this case. Plus, they'd be able to easily attribute their victory to the avalanche. It had just been a turn of luck, nothing more.

An hour passed. One by one, more stragglers made it up the mountain.

"Oh, you?"

Hypode stared at them, then leaned back his head and groaned into the air. "How did you make it up here?"

"We climbed," Mal said.

"Late to the party, aren't you?" Savaly had sat down and while sitting, she waved a hand at Hypode. "Congratulations."

Hypode rolled his eyes and collapsed to his rear. More made it to the top—more than Mal thought. About fifteen or so, though all of them looked exhausted and on the verge of death.

A blue flash of light.

"Impressive. I didn't think so many would reach the peak."

Vigil stepped forward, arms clasped behind his back, a long trench coat wrapping around his lower body. He looked back over in the direction of the avalanche. "The rest of the top fifty will be filled up by those closest to the peak. But for those of you who did manage to reach the top, I have nothing but congratulations to give. You've shown a great amount of grit."

His eyes stopped on Mal, Savaly, and Lusia. "Grit far beyond what I would expect from a handful of first years."

Mal frowned.

This kind of attention obviously bothered him. But the alternatives had been worse. He would just have to put up with it. Hopefully Vigil would at least avoid pointing them out.

Beyond the obvious stare that he'd just given.

Was it just Mal, or were several of the other fifteen students who'd made it to the top looking over at him and Lusia?

Vigil finally stopped talking and nodded. "With that, the first event of the Exodi Triumpth is concluded. The results will be posted inside of Central Hall."

He raised his hand and a blue light shimmered. "Now then, return."

Mal's feet touched down on the wooden plank floor of Central Hall. Another person teleported in and swaggered backwards before hitting his head against the table. Mal walked over to the bulletin board when someone banged into his shoulder from behind—a figure. They darted past Mal and straight toward the bulletin board. When they reached it, they dropped to their knees.

Mal walked closer to the figure and realized that they had red hair. "Rolam?" Mal said.

Rolam turned his head back. His eyes were blank. A weak smile lifted his cheeks, and he pointed at the bulletin board.

Mal walked over to it and looked through the results.

1. Savaly Chama.

2. Lusia.

3. Malfrasius Patoal.

...

4. Philo.

...

50. Rolam.

"I barely passed," he chuckled. "All of that big talk, and I was this close from losing entirely."

"That was because of the avalanche, though. You can't be blamed for that."

"Excuses don't matter. Results are what matter."

"Ape, half-elf, how did you two do?" A hitch in his steps. "Oh."

Philo looked over at the bulletin board and back at Rolam. "At least you made it to the second event."

"That's not nearly good enough." Rolam stood back up. "Not at all."

"There'll be plenty of opportunities to come—" Philo reached out a clawed hand.

Rolam slapped the hand away and growled. "You left me behind after we made a deal."

"Philo had no choice. We were separated. Philo tried to find you, but—"

"We made a deal, and you left me behind!"

At this point, they'd started to attract attention from whispering students. Mal stepped between the two. He stared intently at Rolam. "If you're disappointed in your performance this time, you simply need to do better on the next. There's no point in taking out your frustrations on your allies."

Some of the blankness disappeared from Rolam's gaze. He looked down at the floor, then nodded.

Mal breathed a soft sigh of relief. He'd been worried that things would get ugly there for a moment. Luckily, it seemed that Rolam wasn't too far gone.

"Hello, Malfrasius?"

Mal glanced back in the direction of the voice.

Mal grimaced. He could guess what that person wanted to talk about, and it would be an awkward conversation.

Mal trailed behind the figure until they were outside of the Central Hall, in the middle of the grassy courtyard. Norin opened his mouth, then shut it, until he finally spoke.

"So," Norin said. "You ran into my father."

Right. Aston, the commander of the mercenary company. So that meant that the leader of his officer corps back in his own timeline had helped fight against the Academy.

But why would he do that?

Because Norin died in the original timeline during one of Hypode's accidental demon summonings—either that or it had simply been the result of the attack from the sea or the demonic incursion.

"Hello? I asked a question."

"I did," Mal said.

Norin was silent. He was waiting for Mal to crack under the pressure and reveal more of what had happened.

Unfortunately, Mal didn't particularly feel like playing that game today. He turned to walk off—

"Did he mention me?"

Mal stopped.

"He did."

"Did you tell him about—

"About how you're apparently a part of some nobleman's club with Hypode? No, I didn't. Should I?"

"No, that isn't necessary."

Mal turned back around and snorted. "How would he react knowing that you've become the lackey of someone like Hypode? And what about the whole facsimile of the cult?"

"The cult isn't real. Don't tell me you actually believe that garbage."

Mal shook his head in amazement. It was a wonder to him how many people remained ignorant of what was happening in this very city. Then again, Mal doubted the church was advertising the fact that the cult was on the prowl and accomplishing various things for their own evil aims.

"You don't plan to talk to him again, do you?" Norin asked

"What if I do?" Mal stepped up to Norin and looked up at him. "Perhaps I'm going to speak to him again. What are you going to do about it?"

Norin's hands shook before he snapped his legs around and stormed off.

Mal watched the boy turn a corner and shrugged.

What a strange person, he thought.

Mal sat down at his desk. There was a sewing needle off to the right, some Fireglove, and some actual leather gloves.

He pulled open his witchcraft journal and read through the recipe that he'd gotten from the elven witch. After how damaged his fingers had become—it had taken several days of recovery and multiple trips to the clinic—he'd made up his mind that he was going to make the recipe.

Mal had been forced to use Fireglove from the school stores. Although Cassandra was an excellent herbalist, Mal had started to get to the point where he could distinguish between different qualities of plants. Although it was still a vague sense, he could tell that the Fireglove in her personal stores wasn't as effective as the Airgrass that he'd grown himself. Maybe because the plant itself was higher quality, or maybe because the plant was more predisposed to work with him if he'd raised it from seedling.

Either way, Mal knew he wasn't being optimal. But his own Fireglove, the one he'd been raising next to his furnace, was taking a while to grow, and Mal didn't want to be caught off guard again. He plucked off the petals of the Fireglove and weaved it and set it down to the side. He then cut the leather gloves vertically, allowing him to access the interior. He lined the petals along the inside of the Fireglove with his sewing needle, then closed the whole thing back up.

He stood up from his chair, pointed his hand away from his plants, then brushed his internal mana along the inside of the glove.

There was a spark, then his hand was coated in flame. He didn't feel the heat, not on the inside of the glove proper, nor along his exposed wrists.

He punched the air once, then twice. With each attack, the flames flared up.

Okay, that's neat.

Mal deactivated the flames. He unsheathed his Nettleleaf dagger. He activated his Fireglove again, and the flames spread to not only cover his hand, but also his blade.

He slashed through the air, and the flames weaved alongside his blade in a beautiful display.

It was really cool. Although Mal had to admit that the effect would most likely be psychological. After all, cutting then burning seemed a little bit strange, given that he'd be cauterizing the wounds he makes.

He frowned and deactivated the fire.

No, he was thinking too rigidly. He stamped forward with the Fireglove off, then activated it at the apex of his strength. Flames burst out in a flare right at the tip of his weapon.

I can use it to turn missed attacks into ones that still deal damage, he thought. And even if I keep it on instead of using it for surprise attacks, it still gives me extra range because my opponent will be forced to keep away.

Mal sheathed back his knife.

I need to talk with Hemp about how the gang is doing, he thought. That should help relieve some financial pressure.

Once he'd finished, he packed away his items and double-checked his satchel. He walked over toward his door and exited with a clear destination in mind.

He'd received a summons not too long ago, and it was about time he dealt with it. It was time to talk to the church.

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