Fallen Mage Regressor

Mal's heart jumped in his chest. Lusia and Nima had slidden past each other, a flash of steel the only thing Mal had been able to make out.

Once Nima's body stilled, a thin line of red opened up on his cheek. First, shock. Then he bared his teeth like an angry animal, eyes wide and bloodshot.

"You whore!" Nima growled. "I've decided that you're not going to leave this room alive after all."

Lusia flicked her knife and the blood droplets from Nima's cheek scattered against the floor. There was no way that she meant that as a provocation. She was almost certainly just removing it now so that it wouldn't splatter back in her eyeball if she made any sudden movements.

Mal could tell that.

Nima couldn't.

He roared and three clones appeared to his left and right. They ran forward. One weaved in front of the other, one dodged, one allowed another to jump over his head. Through it all, Lusia's eyes were unerringly fixed on the original.

It was too obvious. This had to be a trap.

Mal opened his mouth to warn her. Blood was the only thing that exited from his lungs.

Lusia swiped through the air at the "true" Nima.

Her knife impacted nothing. The fakes disappeared, leaving only one. It was far too late. Lusia was mid-attack. Her body had fully committed to the strike. She couldn't block, she couldn't dodge—it was over.

Mal felt his heart sink in his chest. All of this effort, only to be defeated by somebody that he had considered a friend.

And then Mal saw the impossible.

Lusia’s core lit up like a beacon, visible even through her chest and without Mal enhancing his sensory perception. It was a bright golden yellow, like the sun in miniature. It burned Mal's eyes to even look.

A clang.

Nima's knife whipped out of his hand and into the ground. It had been a physical impossibility—one second, Lusia's momentum was completely forward and away from Nima. The next, her body had abruptly shifted in mid-air and her arm had shot out with a parry.

Mal's heart stopped. She couldn't be her. He refused to believe it, that Lusia, the one he trusted most…

His blood was ice. Every moment of the past, every time he'd smelled the heroine's presence in the present, they all merged together in a single bloody vision, the memory of her sword in his chest.

She stumbled to a stop, quickly bringing her knife back up. Tendrils of golden yellow mana lifted off her body like puffs of steam. Nima's jaw worked up and down.

"How did you do that?" he said.

Lusia took a single quick step forward and slammed the butt of her knife into his forehead. He stumbled back, and she followed up with a jump into the air and a kick to the temple.

He fell to the ground completely unconscious.

Working quickly, she grabbed a piece of rope from the corner of the room and tied him up.

Glad we still have those construction supplies, Mal thought.

A vain distraction. A sad attempt at humor to ignore what he'd just seen.

The door cracked open. Igna had her hand out and a lightning bolt formed and crackling in front of her. Vigil was equipped with two knives and an expression fierce enough to cut thunder. When they saw Nima on the ground, their eyes shot wide open.

"Mr. Patoal." Igna faced him, eyes alight with frustration. "We require an explanation. Now."

"You expect me to believe that you were targeted by the Bird Eaters merely by coincidence?"

Mal shrugged. "It's the truth. I don't know what to tell you."

This time, Puck and Cassandra hadn't bothered to show up. After Cassandra had confirmed that Mal and Lusia weren't in imminent danger of dying from her treatment, she'd left, citing that she needed her rest the same as anybody else. Vigil had stuck around, and the headmaster would apparently be briefed in the morning.

"It's obvious that the boy is working with the bird-eaters," Igna said. "This is some sort of inter-cult dispute."

"Igna!" Vigil shouted and slammed his palm into her desk. "You can't make accusations like that without evidence. You know this!"

Igna stared at Vigil. "You don't think that the things we've talked about have indicated that there isn't at least a little bit of merit to this theory?"

The things they talked about? Well, that wasn't ominous in the slightest.

"When it comes to me being targeted," Mal said, "I would like to note that the cult isn't exactly known for their sane judgment and reason. I don't think that it's wise to extrapolate meaning where there's likely none."

In this case, of course, the cult was dead on, it wasn't a random targeting. Mal was a rogue element and serious threat to their future plans. What's more, it was likely that he would become more and more of a target as these lesser attempts to subdue him failed.

Mal knew he was dealing with the dregs of the cult right now. Lesser demons, junior members. But the more of a reputation he built, the more the cult would realize he wasn't someone to be taken trivially. Mal would have thought that they would have figured that out early on since they were apparently aware of the fact that he was a future Endbringer, but they must have assumed that as a student, he didn't have access to the full height of his power, and thus wasn't worth expending significant effort on.

The professors glanced at Mal. Igna inclined her head.

"A valid point," she said. "Trying to read into the motivations of these lunatics isn't the wisest idea."

A beat of silence.

Lusia remained still and silent, not a word to be spoken. She'd only responded to their questions, and only with the absolute bare minimum required.

"What's to be done with Nima?" Mal asked.

"He's going to be handed off to the city and locked away in a temporary jail. Once his trial is through, he'll be sent off to a maximum security prison. The best one we have in the country."

Virgil paused. "Actually, he may not even get there. A Bird Eater, even a junior like him, will likely be executed as soon as they extract as much information as they can."

The faintest flicker of sorrow swirled in Mal's chest before he ruthlessly suppressed it.

He'd hurt Lusia. Severely. Even with wizardry and witchcraft, bone healing in particular took a large amount of time. Especially around the hands, which were highly delicate and precise. Cassandra wouldn't be able to just slap some magic on her and call it a day.

Nima deserved whatever was coming.

"Well, with the debrief over, I suppose we need to move to the next issue." Igna leaned back in her chair. "We need to arrange a transfer as soon as possible."

"I actually have an idea about that, Professor," Mal said.

Her brow creased in irritation. "What? Make it quick."

"I believe that Lusia would make for a good addition to my circle."

Lusia stiffened. Igna let out a roaring laugh.

"The maid?" She wiped a tear from her eye. "She's a Hollow Core, what the hell are you talking about?"

"She used magic during the fight against Nima. That's how she managed to defeat him."

"Wait." Her laughter became a little more strained. "You weren't joking about that? She actually took him out?"

"Indeed. He faced Lusia. Can you show them the results of your study?"

This was it. Maybe earlier had just been a fluke. Maybe Mal had tricked himself into seeing ghosts. Now that they were away from all the pressure, away from the drama, away from the danger—Mal would surely see the truth, and not whatever nightmare his mind had conjured up in that moment.

"It's very simple," Mal said. "Perform your mana circulation and summon an Arcane Sphere. You've done it a hundred times."

Lusia nodded and held out her hand. Mal watched as the mana flowed into her from the air.

"Look at her, nothing's happening," Igna said. "Stop wasting our time—"

A sphere of bright golden-yellow shimmered into the space above her palm.

Igna's jaw dropped. Virgil reached up and rubbed his eyes.

After a moment of staring, his lips pursed and both his eyebrows raised.

"We probably need to speak to whoever tested this girl and get his license revoked," Virgil said. "Because I'm pretty sure that's magic."

Mal wasn't going to explain that he'd cured her, obviously. Thankfully, Lusia didn't seem inclined to say anything, either.

...

He would have had to have been blind to not see the similarities. But then again, there was a limited number of colors on the color spectrum. The real test would be the smell.

He took a deep breath.

A bittersweet smile crossed his lips.

It was the scent of dust warmed on a windowsill. The smell of old paper. The smell of wildflowers in the middle of a field. Fresh mountain air. The freedom of the sky.

It was the smell of light.

There was no other way that he could describe it.

Igna and Virgil were talking in the background, asking Lusia further questions. To Mal, their voices might as well have been coming through a two-foot wall.

He'd known as soon as her mana signature had started to develop. He just hadn't wanted to admit it to himself. He'd been hoping desperately that he was wrong, that his senses were fooled.

But he couldn't suppress the truth any further.

Lusia was his loyal servant, his personal maid, and his first victim. She was also the Heroine, the Herald of Victory, his killer, and his fated enemy.

And he had no idea what he was going to do about it.

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