Player 0.4 [You have died.] [Reset in progress.]

“You’re leaving campus?”

Helen’s gaze dragged slowly from my shoes to my collar, lingering there a moment before meeting my eyes.

“Like that?”

Her voice and gaze were coated in opinion.

The late-afternoon sun hung high in the blue sky, baking the stone platform where other students were lined up. The academy’s open dark iron gates loomed behind the checkpoint, with golden protective sigils shimmering through them and the fence that extended around the academy. Beyond the booth where Helen sat, a red trolley sat idle on its rails, its brass fittings gleaming in the sunlight, as it waited to descend toward the city below.

“He’s not dressed any differently than the rest of us,” Dmitry chimed in, pointing his thumb over his shoulder.

Behind us, students were lined up in pairs and clusters. Most still wore the blue academy uniform, with their jackets slung over their arms or tied around their waists, given the summer heat. A few peered cautiously in my direction, but the majority were busy complaining about the sun or discussing where to eat once they got to the city.

Dmitry and I were hardly the only ones leaving the campus grounds. However, simply leaving the campus was not permitted. All students of the academy had to pass through this checkpoint before leaving the academy grounds. Liability protection.

Helen repositioned her two dark braids.

“But Luca is different. Very different,” she retorted.

Her eyes locked onto my neck again.

I shifted on my feet, suddenly keenly aware of the mana shackles on my ankles, wrists, and neck. The ones on my arms and legs were hidden by my uniform, easy enough to forget even for me.

But there was little I could do regarding the collar.

I considered putting on a scarf, but it was a hot summer day and would have drawn just as many looks as the black band currently resting against my skin.

Helen let out a long, irritated sigh and raised her hand.

“Roger,” she called out without turning to look. “Take over my line, too.”

A bored-looking young man at the adjacent booth straightened in surprise. But before he could even respond, Helen swung one leg over the stool and hopped off.

“I’m going into town,” she added. “As their escort.”

She didn’t wait for Roger. Instead, she jerked her head in my direction and started walking, motioning with her right hand to follow.

But she was not walking through the black iron gates to get on the next trolley.

“Uh—where are we going?” I asked.

Nonetheless, I followed. Helen was a Prefect afterall, and even Dmitry didn’t offer any additional words of protest, walking a step behind me.

Helen didn’t slow as we moved down a narrow side passage that branched off from the main checkpoint. The air immediately grew cooler in the shade of the trees, and with no one else around, our footsteps echoed faintly.

She glanced back just long enough to flick her fingers toward my restraints.

“If we want to avoid a panic in the city,” she said flatly, “we need to do something about those first.”

I tugged at the black mana cuff around my neck. “But I can’t take these off.”

“Obviously,” she shot back. “But we can at least hide them.”

She stopped abruptly and pushed open a narrow wooden door covered in moss set into the stone wall. It creaked in protest, revealing what was evidently a supply closet. It was cramped, dim, and cluttered. Shelves were filled with folded old uniforms, spare cloaks, moth-eaten wool blankets, and unlabeled potion vials that caught the light in muted hues.

Helen immediately began rummaging through one of the boxes.

After a few seconds, she straightened and tossed something toward me. “Here. White gauze.”

I caught the roll instinctively.

“This will do for your arms and legs,” she continued. “Wrap it around the cuffs. They’ll be mostly hidden by your sleeves and trousers anyway, so just this much will suffice.”

I nodded and, with Dmitry’s help, pulled the gauze around my wrists.

~Such a surprisingly simple solution, provided by a mage of this realm. Apophis hissed from my left shoulder. Looks like some mages here aren’t overly reliant on magic.

“I don’t think the gauze will work for his neck,” Dmitry said, voicing the same thought I had.

“Of course it won’t,” Helen replied without looking up, already elbow-deep in another crate.

Then an exclamation sounded. “Ah!”

She straightened with a triumphant smile on her face. “Found it.”

She turned, holding up her solution.

Apophis’ amusement curled through my mind, while Dmitry roared with laughter beside me.

I stared. “You cannot be serious.”

Suddenly, a scarf didn’t seem like such a ridiculous idea. Who cared if it was summer? Maybe I had a blizzard elemental. I’d managed to convince others to believe stranger things, after all.

“Yes, I’m serious,” Helen said, her expression without a tinge of jest as she pressed the object into my hands. “Unless you have a better idea, on such short notice?”

I sighed.

“…Fine.”

I had to admit that her solution was less peculiar to bear witness to than the black mana cuff around my neck, or a scarf in the middle of a hot summer day. But it was still peculiar.

Dmitry grinned as I put on and adjusted the item. “Don’t worry,” he said cheerfully. “It matches your wrists and ankles.”

I caught my reflection in a dusty mirror mounted crookedly to the wall.

He wasn’t wrong.

“I look like I’ve been in one heck of an accident,” I muttered, gingerly touching the rigid neck brace.

***

The trolley ride down was pleasant and fairly quick.

It rattled along iron tracks that curved through a shaded forest road, sunlight breaking through the canopy of leafy branches in soft, shifting patterns. The air grew cooler as we descended, carrying a faint scent of sap, flowers, and damp earth, until the trees thinned and the city came into view.

“A teleportation portal would have been faster, but the academy’s grounds were set up to prevent teleportation for tighter security,” Helen explained as we disembarked at a small stone platform reserved exclusively for the academy’s students and faculty.

As for the number of looks I received, the disguise did nothing to reduce them. It merely changed their nature.

Instead of fear, the expressions of others were full of pity.

“How terrible…” an elderly woman murmured as she passed me.

“What kind of sorcery—or curse—could leave a boy like that?” another whispered. “If even magic failed to heal him…”

“To rely on such crude contraptions,” someone else said softly, “it must have been horrific.”

“Or perhaps, he is too poor to afford the proper care?”

“Nonsense,” a man scoffed. “See that uniform? He’s from that academy. He could hire any physician in the world.”

I kept my gaze forward, doing my best to ignore the remarks that drifted around me.

Helen, on the other hand, wore a look of quiet satisfaction.

“See?” she said. “It worked.”

“I suppose,” I replied, already filing away a mental note to rely on the Pull Tab Necklace for my next outing. Being invisible would be far more comfortable than dealing with all the whispers. And having to wear a stiff brace around my neck, atop the black mana neck cuff, was quite annoying.

Still, for my first trip into the city, I was grateful not to be alone.

My eyes wandered over the surroundings as we moved deeper in. Neat white-brick buildings lined the streets, three stories tall with red shingled roofs that sloped steeply enough to suggest a fourth floor. Ivy crept along their walls, interwoven with crawling roses similar to those that adorned much of the academy.

The ancient stone roads were busy—not with carriages, but with people.

Pedestrians outnumbered carriages, their attire ranging from understated elegance to unmistakable wealth. Servants in neat attire followed their employers at a respectful two paces behind. The few carriages that did pass were drawn by unicorns, their crystal-like horns catching the sunlight and scattering it in prismatic flashes across the street.

The view wasn’t too extraordinarily different from West Genise, except for all the magic that was liberally utilized for the most mundane of tasks. I watched a woman motioning her hand, to adjust the sun-umbrella's position, that floated above her head, and without even a handle that could be held.

I slowed my walk slightly, taking it all in.

“Come this way; the royal mages will appear at the city’s center court,” Dmitry grabbed my hand and pulled me forward.

“So that’s what you were going to go see,” Helen remarked, following diligently along.

“You’re coming? You were serious about acting as our escort?” Dmitry raised a brow. “I thought that was a front to get out of your gate duties.”

“Of course, the reputation of the academy is on the line,” Helen replied curtly and walked ahead of us, her nose tilted up.

“What a load of garbage. She's happy for an excuse to take the day off as any of us." Dmitry gave me a look, then added in a lower whisper. “We can go to Kilt and Penn Avenue in a bit. Either before or after seeing the royal mages. Up to you.”

I blinked, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. Dmitry had seen the map and coordinates I had scribbled down. My true purpose of the trip was evident to him.

“That’s where you wanted to go, right?” Dmitry winked.

“We can just pass by that area quickly,” I said.

Today’s trip was not the right day for reconnaissance work. But a brief walk-by, with a pair of fellow students in tow, wouldn’t be too suspicious.

Dmitry shrugged. “If you say so.”

“Why are you two so slow?” Helen stopped walking and paused, waiting for us to catch up.

“We’re just enjoying the sights,” Dmitry replied with a grin. “You should too—it's not often you come down to the city either, especially with all your Prefect duties. Besides, the royal mages won’t show up for another two or so hours, so we might as well take our time.”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Ronan Horshe let out a long, weary sigh as the brightness of the mana orb dimmed.

The soft yellow glow faded until it was nothing more than a glass sphere resting in its wooden cradle. Inside, murky white gas curled and shifted.

Ronan leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his dark hair—patchy, uncooperative strands sticking out at odd angles as though he’d just rolled out of bed rather than spent the last several hours hunched over arcane instruments. He was in his late twenties but could easily have passed for a decade or two older.

Scrolls littered the worktable around him. Ink-stained notes and half-erased calculations testified to long days and nights without much rest.

“What’s the matter?” his friend asked lightly. “Don’t tell me you found my mana core lacking.”

Augustus Vointdel stood beside the mana orb, immaculate even in the dim lighting of the workspace. His green eyes twinkled in amusement, his dark-blond hair fell in effortless waves, his face was clean-shaven, and his posture was perfect. Where Ronan looked as though he’d been wrestling many sleepless nights, Augustus looked like a man who accomplished all he set out to do without ever breaking a sweat. It was hard to imagine that the two men graduated from this very academy in the same year.

Ronan laughed, the sound rough. And his dark circles deepened as he did so.

“How could I ever find the mana core of a royal mage lacking? Especially yours?” he said. “No—the problem is that the mana reader worked perfectly.”

He reached out and tapped the orb with his index finger.

“The headmaster tasked me with ‘fixing’ this thing,” Ronan went on. “But no matter how I test it, there’s nothing to fix. I thought perhaps if I measured the core of a uniquely powerful and accomplished mage like yourself, something might go wrong.” He spread his hands helplessly. “But there are no issues whatsoever.”

Augustus adjusted his red-and-gold robes before sitting beside his old friend.

“Then report exactly that,” he said mildly. “There’s nothing to fix.”

“It’s not so simple.” Ronan tilted his head back and let out another deep sigh. “If only I hadn’t left for my holiday that day….”

He straightened his head and, with a conspiratorial whisper, leaned toward Augustus. “See, this is in regard to the infamous new student.”

Augustus’s ears perked up immediately. “The one who nearly aced the written exam?” he asked. “The one whose mana core readings were… off the charts, reportedly?”

Word of this monstrous mage had circulated among the Red Royal Mages with great interest—whispered in the royal hallways and debated over wine. There were even conversations circulating about extending him an internship at the royal palace, with every royal mage salivating at the notion of obtaining a competent and moldable mentee. And Augustus was no different.

“He was provisioned black mana cuffs to contain his magic, as he was deemed too dangerous otherwise,” Augustus recounted what he’d heard.

“Yes,” Ronan said. “A Prefect conducted the mana level test in my place, and per her and all the attending professors and headmaster, this orb shone as blinding as the sun during the test.”

Augustus said nothing, his attention fixed.

“But here’s the thing,” Ronan went on, rubbing his temples. “No number was recorded. The meter didn’t move. Not really anyway.”

Augustus frowned. “Was it too high to be recordable?”

“That’s the official explanation,” Ronan said. “But even then, there should have been an initial rise as the mana output increased.”

“Unless,” Augustus mused, stroking his chin, “the output began beyond the measurable range.”

“I’ve considered that as well,” Ronan replied. He groaned, pressing his palms against his eyes. “A part of me wants to just chalk it up to that and be done with this damned task. But I don’t believe it.”

“How long have you been trying to ‘fix’ that orb?” Augustus asked, nodding toward the device.

Ronan lowered his hands, eyes bloodshot. “Longer than it deserves. I need another holiday after this.”

Augustus stood, smoothing the creases from his red robes. “Then it’s time you stop, my friend.”

He reached down and pulled Ronan to his feet.

“Come,” Augustus said with an easy smile. “I’ll buy you a beer. The mind works better with some proper rest. And I have time to spare before making my rounds in the city center.”

Ronan hesitated, but then allowed himself to be dragged away from the table.

“Maybe just an hour or two…” he mumbled, a tired smile tugging at his lips.

An hour without thinking about the orb. An hour without thinking about the strange new student. That would be a nice break.

A short trolley ride later, the pair settled onto stools at a bar table facing the street, with cold mugs of golden liquor set before them. Ronan’s gaze drifted outward and froze.

There, passing through the crowd, was the Prefect who had conducted the problematic mana level test.

And beside her walked the very mage the orb had failed to measure—Luca Frey—accompanied by Ethereal Academy’s most notorious troublemaker, the one every professor bemoaned: Dmitry Oliynyk.

Ronan’s fingers tightened around his glass mug.

“So much for taking my mind off….” he grumbled.

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