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

“Hmmmm…”

I rubbed my jaw in concentration as I read over the text.

Damn it. Did I screw up?

The textbook covered what a Cerberus was in great detail. Essentially, the creature was a giant, multi-headed dog that spewed fire from its mouth rather than saliva. It inhabited environments of extreme heat, preferring the deepest layers of the earth where molten rock flowed like rivers.

Getting to one was practically impossible for any ordinary person. A diagram on one of the pages showed just how far below the surface these creatures resided.

It was far deeper than I had ever imagined possible.

In other words, my explanation that I “happened to run into one” in a forest near the village I resided in would be met with understandable skepticism.

Though… if we were being technical, I hadn’t lied in the official application.

It was all true. And would be found as such if I were put under a lie-detection spell or skill. It simply happened to be in an entirely different realm.

I tapped the page with my finger, my gaze drifting lower.

Even if the location could be somehow ignored (unlikely), this second discovery regarding the Cerberus was an even bigger issue.

Classification: Ultra-Rare. (Near extinction. None remaining in the wild.)

I frowned.

Near extinction. That implied there were still some alive. However, the textbook did not divulge how many. Moreover, there was evidently a specific count, as all were apparently accounted for, with none found in the wild.

Yet my story hinged on having somehow run into one in the wild.

I ran my left hand through my hair, sighing.

Moreover, how accurate was this information?

“Just how old is this textbook…?” I muttered under my breath.

I flipped to the cover to check the publishing date. Luckily, I found it. Unfortunately, the textbook was a decade old at this point.

Damn it.

What if there weren’t any remaining? What if they were already all extinct?

I let out a heavy sigh, laying my forehead against the textbook.

Yeah. I’m screwed.

{{ Mama? Are you ok? }}

I blinked and turned my head.

My gaze fell to the shadow pooled at my feet, its edges faintly shifting against the floor.

“I’m fine,” I replied.

Void could understand me regardless of how I spoke to it, so basic speech was easiest. Besides, that was how Paisley communicated with hers.

{{ But Mama, you sighed. }}

I let out a small chuckle.

What a clever toddler. It caught on so quickly.

“Well, it’s not exactly fine,” I admitted, lifting my head off the book. “See, I registered you as having originated from a Cerberus. Since phoenixes don’t exist in this realm. However, it appears a Cerberus isn’t that much simpler an explanation than a Phoenix.”

I stretched my arms up and did my best attempt to smile as lightly and reassuringly as possible.

“But there’s no point in worrying about something that’s already done,” I added. “I’ll cross that bridge when the time comes.”

{{ Can I help…? }}

“Help…?” I was caught off guard momentarily by the genuine voice. I felt a warm, fuzzy feeling rise up inside me.

{{ Mama, I’ll help. }}

Void’s voice sounded again, but more resolute. It wasn’t posing a question now.

And then I felt it slide upward.

The shadow that had pooled up beneath my feet suddenly seemed to broaden around the shadow around my right hand. The shadow expanded, with Void having appeared beside my book.

And to my amazement, I watched my own hand flip the textbook open again and flip through the pages, with the shadow filling each page before my right hand flipped it again.

What started out as a warm and fuzzy feeling grew into a cold, sinking dread.

Void was moving my body on its own.

“Void, stop,” I managed out. “Stop moving my hand.”

My voice came out dry.

{{ No, I’m helping. }}

I grabbed hold of my right hand with my left. However, my right hand continued moving despite my tight grip.

“Void, stop,” I said again, more firmly this time. “I don’t like it.”

{{ No! I’m helping! }}

The words came out louder this time—strained, but not angry. Void sounded desperate.

{{ I’m learning what a Cerberus is, so I can help Mama! }}

There was no malice in it. Just… insistence. The kind that didn’t understand why it was being refused.

I swallowed.

Based on the tone, Void wasn’t trying to be threatening or scary. It actually sounded hurt.

And I had seen it before, though merely in passing on the streets. Toddlers clinging to something they believed was right, even when told to stop.

This was a tantrum.

The difference was that those children didn’t have the ability to take control of someone else’s body. Void did.

I tightened my grip around my wrist as my hand continued to turn the pages against my will.

Damn it. I’m completely out of my depth.

While I had experience in caring for my younger siblings, that was long, long ago. Moreover, Elda and Jarvis weren’t… exactly your typical toddlers.

I watched, a chill creeping up my body, as my fingers moved again without my intention.

Not that Void was typical by any means. And unlike a regular human toddler, which might be somewhat frustrating to handle during an unreasonable tantrum… Void was far more dangerous.

And now I have learned firsthand about one of its capabilities. Puppetering.

I watched in horror as my right hand continued to move all on its own.

~Master, Void is upset that you’ve been ignoring him for so long, reading that textbook. And then when he wanted to help, you pushed him away. That’s why he is acting out now.

I exhaled slowly, forcing the tension out of my shoulders.

“Grandpa,” I muttered through Illusion Magic, keeping the words from reaching Void, “whose side are you on, exactly?”

Apophis’ voice slithered into my mind.

~Master, I am merely explaining what has occurred. I am trying to save you from having your hand torn off. You cannot force a toddler to comply. You coax them. Especially one that can do… this.

I sighed.

He was right. Force wouldn’t work. Frustration wouldn’t work. If anything, it would make things worse.

“Void,” I said softly, letting go of the lingering tension in my voice. “I know you’re trying to help.”

My right hand paused. Barely, but that gave me hope.

“But I need this hand,” I continued gently. “If you want, I can turn the pages for you. You just have to ask.”

The pressure around my wrist loosened slightly. I was regaining control.

“Can I turn the pages for you?” I asked.

{{ …I just wanted to help. }}

The voice trembled. It felt like a child on the verge of tears.

Something in my chest tightened.

It was merely a toddler. A powerful and dangerous toddler that didn’t know its own strength, but a toddler nonetheless.

“I know,” I said, keeping my tone steady. “And I appreciate that. Really.”

I glanced down at the shadow pooled around my hand.

“But next time, please ask me first. Or tell me what you want, and I’ll do it for you. Alright?”

I waited.

{{ …Okay. }}

Finally, the shadow receded, and my hand went still. It was no longer a puppet of Void’s control.

I closed my eyes momentarily, savoring the relief.

{{ Mama… can you turn the page? }}

I didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

I flipped the page immediately.

“Apophis… this dynamic will not do,” I said, switching to Illusion Magic again for a private conversation. “What sort of a one-sided contract is this?”

Apophis hissed softly into my mind.

~Contracts with elementals have always been fundamentally dangerous. Plenty of contractors have lost their lives to their own elementals.

“Don’t give me that,” I retorted. “Paisley didn’t mention anything like this.”

~That is because this is not a typical case, Apophis replied. Void is immature. He does not yet understand his own power.

There was a brief pause before he continued.

~But Master… this is also a rare opportunity. An elemental you can raise and mold entirely to your will is something most would never encounter.

I clicked my tongue, my gaze drifting down to the shadow pooled at my feet.

That was certainly one way to frame it.

“An opportunity only if I survive it first,” I said dryly.

~And I have full confidence that you will.

I let out a quiet sigh.

There was no point in arguing. It wasn’t as if I had much of a choice either way.

First things first: I needed to learn how to raise and communicate with a toddler.

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

Nara Marsh laid down the stack of books on the counter. Each title bore a theme: magical law, contractual bindings, and famous contract cases that went wrong.

“Please have these reserved for tomorrow,” she said, sliding the stack forward. “Same time.”

The librarian behind the desk nodded without looking up. “Of course.”

Nara stepped back and reached up, pulling the tie from her hair. The tension released immediately as her wavy brown hair fell past her shoulders. She combed her fingers through it, loosening the strands at the roots, letting her scalp relax.

It was a small ritual she followed.

When it was time to focus, her hair went up. And when she was done, she quite literally let down her hair.

Her green eyes drifted over the quiet expanse of the library, the ceiling providing a view of the heavens overhead.

Majoring in magical contracts was notoriously brutal. It was intentional to weed out those with a weak disposition. Because in practice, one mistake could cost you far more than a life. But it was also an extremely lucrative career path, especially if you landed with one of the top three agencies.

Nara stifled a yawn and glanced up at the clock suspended above the central crystal archway.

It was two in the morning.

Time to get some sleep.

She rolled her neck, stiff from hours of studying.

Nara was not against performance enhancers when it came to one’s studies—quite the opposite. However, nothing could beat a proper night of sleep.

Besides, it was a regular weeknight. Not a rush before an exam.

“More on the same subject?” a voice remarked nearby. “Dear, you might be better off getting some sleep.”

Nara raised a brow and turned her head. The academy librarians rarely commented on a student’s studies. Thus, she was curious about the student and the occasion.

To her surprise, the student in question was none other than Luca Frey. The most famous student across the academy.

To further her intrigue was the topic of his studies.

“Luca,” Nara said lightly, “are you planning to major in Childhood Development… or did you recently discover you have a child?”

She meant it in jest.

Luca’s head turned toward her, almost mechanically. His eyes were half dead and completely bloodshot. Nara realized too late that he had no mental capacity for jokes.

Suddenly, Luca stepped forward and grabbed one of Nara’s wool cardigans’ sleeves.

Nara stumbled back a half-step, caught completely off guard.

“Hey, Nara,” he said, voice low and rough. “You know how to get a hold of a Cat Nap Potion? You mentioned them before.”

His grip tightened. He seemed to have anchored on her, with no intention of backing off.

“I need one,” he added. “Desperately. It’s a matter of life and death.”

Nara blinked.

Her mind struggled to catch up. She wasn’t exactly in peak mental condition herself. That was why she had paused her own studying.

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “I can… get one for you.”

That seemed to satisfy him.

Luca’s shoulders sagged, his head of black hair dipping forward as a long, exhausted sigh escaped him.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “You’re a lifesaver. Truly.”

Nara clicked her tongue softly, already piecing it together.

“Didn’t you just sign that contract this week?” she asked, folding her arms. “He’s already working you this hard?”

Nara had been the one to advise Luca regarding what to expect on a contract with a Red Royal Mage.

But it appears my advice was of little use if the hazing is of this extent.

Nara glanced once more at the books he’d been reading. Then back at him.

…What exactly did you sign yourself into?

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

“Yeah…” I mumbled.

Whatever she had said before that… I didn’t quite catch or process.

“I’ll bring a potion for you in half an hour. Wait here. I’ll be back!” Nara said, already turning on her heel.

I nodded slowly and collapsed into the nearest armchair. The cushions swallowed me whole.

I rubbed my tired eyes. Thankfully, Void seemed to have gone to sleep, so I didn’t have to entertain him. However, despite his absence, my mind was filled with nothing but him. Time was of the essence to regain my footing in this ridiculous situation afterall.

Ten minutes passed. Or maybe it was five. Or twenty. Time had become… unreliable.

It was only then that the realization hit.

Ah. Nara thinks Augustus is overworking me.

I stared at the ceiling, which provided a beautiful view of the stars.

Correcting her, however, would have required a level of mental effort I simply did not possess at the moment. So when Nara returned, slightly out of breath with a small dark vial in hand, I chose not to bother explaining.

“Here,” she said, offering it to me.

“Thanks,” I replied, taking it without hesitation.

The taste was sweet, but medicinal. Like fennel honey.

In any case, the Cat Nap Potion went down smoothly, and the effect was near instantaneous. If I were to compare it to tea, it was tenfold better. If compared to sleep, it was more akin to a short, quick nap.

The haze that had dulled my thoughts moments before was stripped away, leaving everything sharper and more focused.

“Thank you. I owe you one,” I said, this time with a bit more awareness behind my words.

Nara gave me a look that made me immediately wonder if my choice of words might bite me in the end. “Here, have two more.”

But I accepted the additional vials without giving too much further thought and turned toward the stairwell. I had no time to waste.

Not when my life quite literally depended on it.

Especially after learning that Void possessed two additional abilities I had absolutely no intention of experiencing firsthand again.

But ones that could be quite useful if directed elsewhere.

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