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

“You are dismissed!”

The verdict concluded and landed with the pound of a wooden mallet.

I was ushered out before I could make sense of it and ask a single clarifying question. Not that I had the words for one. The heavy wooden doors, each twice my height and thick enough to wonder about their true purpose, groaned shut behind me. The sound echoed down the large and empty stone corridor like the sealing of a tomb. Whatever discussions may or may not have continued inside, I was no longer privy to.

For a few slow moments, I simply stood there.

It was late in the afternoon. Warm sunlight filtered through large open-air stone arches, casting golden light over the unpolished stone floor. Dust drifted through the openings like fluttering gold flakes that a flying insect zipped through. Somewhere far off, I heard the laughter of students, and the bell chimed, letting me know it was time for an early dinner.

I was in a daze. Shocked was an understatement.

I had heard the verdict clearly. Headmaster Ostergaard had spoken calmly, Professor Sadie Maccaferri had handed me the formal letter, and the red-haired fire mage, Professor Brennan, had an expression that was far too pleased.

But none of it felt real.

Looking downward, I felt the physical proof in my hand. The parchment was thick between my fingers, smooth and expensive, with a faint grain that caught against my thumb when I shifted my grip. This letter detailed the so-called disciplinary action against me.

My eyes swished through the text, absorbing slowly that what the headmaster had stated was indeed the real verdict, and not the conjuring of my imagination.

Corrective field assignment…  Enhanced supervision… Controlled battlefield exposure.

The parchment was far too elegant for something that essentially informed me I was being sent to the front lines of an active war.

I furrowed my brows and turned my neck to look back at the intricately carved wooden doors.

Wolves bared their fangs across the right panels, their bodies twisted, and their backs curled upward. On the left panels were muscular unicorns whose long, sharp horns were lowered like lances ready to strike. The craftsmanship of the doors was beautiful. It also felt a little too enthusiastically violent for an academic institution. The doors would have been more appropriate for a war room, in my opinion. Or perhaps they were a clue to the reality of how the academy was run.

“Are they all insane?” I muttered.

~Master, it is quite a fortunate outcome, if you ask me. Apophis’s voice hissed into my mind. Their explanation made perfect sense.

I stared at the door.

“What sense?” I asked under my breath. “Their conclusion—the punishment they deemed most fair—was to send a teenager to the front lines of a war.”

I might not have been of this world, but the verdict seemed extreme.

And I had a very strong suspicion that such a punishment would never have crossed their minds had I come from one of the wealthy, well-connected families. No noble house would have tolerated it. But my paperwork stated that I came from a no-name village, which meant any repercussions taken against me were negligible.

What was not negligible was that my duel opponent, Aegus Matrinovo, had been mentally harmed. Not physically, but mentally, since I did convince Void to undo its removal of Azar. I felt bad about the whole matter, but it wasn’t as if Aegus went into the duel with a pure and noble heart. He had dragged me into that silver cage to expose me as a fraud.

And wasn’t the entire point of mandatory Elemental Training to help new contractees learn control over their elementals? It had been my first session. Surely, room for error was supposed to be built into the process, rather than deciding that the proper corrective measure was to toss me into the front lines.

But unlike me, Aegus came from a powerful and well-connected family.

Harm done to him was not considered negligible.

That much was obvious from the fact that he had obtained the last remaining cerberus-born elemental in the first place.

The explanation that I would take Aegus’s place on the front lines was clearly bogus. Even if my dorm roommate had been expected to assist with the war effort, I strongly suspected his family would have ensured he was placed in a position where no real harm could befall him. Somewhere, perhaps impressive-sounding, but far enough from actual danger that he could return home with heroic stories and maybe a commemorative medal.

I knew plenty of individuals like that back in The Order. Decorated officers in name only.

~But Master, you are not, in reality, a teenager. Are you? Apophis hissed from my shoulder. You have soaked your hands and sword in blood before. Have you not?

Tch.

“True, but they don’t know that,” I said.

The letter crinkled beneath my fingers as my grip tightened.

“And frankly, that makes their decision worse.”

I lowered my voice further as a pair of students passed at the far end of the corridor.

They looked about my apparent age. Maybe younger. One had his blue uniform jacket thrown over one shoulder, tie loosened, hair slightly damp as if he’d finished a workout. The other had bright blonde hair and was waving his hands animatedly while describing a girl in his class with the sort of cringe-worthy enthusiasm only a teenage boy could muster.

His friend shoved him by the shoulder, laughing.

The blond boy stumbled, protested loudly, but then immediately continued talking with even more dramatic gestures.

Their conversation at the end of the corridor faded as the pair disappeared from view.

I stared at the empty stretch of corridor they left behind.

It was true. I wasn’t a teenager.

Sure, my body may have passed for one in this and my own realm, but my mind was still twenty-six years old. Even older, in some ways. Degraded in other ways. ‘Ignorance is Bliss’ made it hard to pinpoint where my mental age and state really were. However, regardless, during my known existence, I had already died, been killed, and watched people I cared about pass away in front of me, multiple times.

Yet, sometimes, surrounded by the blue uniforms, the academic classrooms, and comfortable dormitories, I forgot the difference between myself and the students around me.

Then I would see actual teenagers laughing over potential love interests in a hallway, and the illusion would crack.

The sound of another pair of students echoed from the end of the corridor.

Perhaps it’s best I switch to Illusion Speech. It’s not like I need to conserve mana right now.

~There is no need to waste your mind on such useless thoughts. You haven’t been able to test Void’s abilities to their full extent, and now the academy has provided its blessing for you to do so. In my humble opinion, they have given you a gift like no other.

“A gift?” I looked down at my shadow. “He’s barely been born. I can’t drag him into a war so soon.”

Void had slept through the entire verdict and was still asleep now, currently lying beneath my feet like an ordinary shadow.

~Void is an elemental, Master. Aposhis’ voice came through in a serious tone. Do not confuse his concern for your well-being with the fragility of a human child’s mind. He may be young, yes, and foolish in many ways, but I can assure you, Void’s mind is more stable than yours in several respects.

I inadvertently chuckled.

“That’s too low a bar to beat,” I replied. My brows furrowed. “But that’s the other thing I’m worried about. What if I witness something that results in a memory wipe?”

Sure, I had fought in many battles before. I even died while fending off Kobar’s demonic knights. However, I had an inkling that the worst of what I had witnessed had faded away. Not merely through the passage of time, but because ‘Ignorance is Bliss’ had erased the memories my Sanity could not endure.

~Master, you would have had to face the ravages of war eventually, Apophis said. There is no way around that. To reach the end of the Game in your world, you will be required to engage in battle.

I smiled.

“Honestly, I planned to sit back, if at all possible.”

It was the truth.

The reason I was so focused on gathering and strengthening capable talents back in my own realm was precisely so I could avoid the bloodshed, pain, and suffering of the battlefield myself. In part because if I had to repeat battle after battle, my memories would be ripped to shreds. But also because I had always found the mere sight of blood nauseating and disgusting. It was a truly ironic twist of fate that my past professions had forced me to be elbow-deep in it.

I sighed.

But perhaps with Void’s help, once I learned how to properly control and manage him, I could avoid battling directly. Learning Illusion Magic, Chaos Magic, and now Elemental Control were stepping stones to ensure my assistance on the battlefield against the Kobar Empire kept me away from the true horrors of war.

“You’re right, this will be good training for Void. And me,” I finally admitted. “Afterall, even though I’m here now, my purpose is to return to my realm and ensure everyone I care about lives on.”

As enjoyable as my time had been in this realm, it was not my own. I wanted to go home. I had family and friends waiting for me. As soon as the ability to do it presented itself, I planned to return home.

But until then, I needed to make the absolute most of this place.

I folded the letter carefully and tucked it away.

Then I started down the corridor, my footsteps echoing against the stone as I turned toward the stairs.

There was no point standing here any longer, pondering about the turn of events and staring at doors that would not reopen for me.

I pushed away the remaining unease I still felt.

I needed to pack my bags.

​

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

​

“He’s going to the front lines,” Carmilla announced.

Vincent Corwin and Abbot Mather sat inside the private room of a neglected pub, one that survived on a handful of regulars and watered-down ale. The floorboards were warped, the walls stained dark from smoke, and the decor was questionable at best, with much of the furniture appearing to have been scavenged from a landfill or the side of the road.

However, its lack of popularity, despite being in a convenient part of the capital city, made it a uniquely great place for the three Eclipse members to meet.

Carmilla had obviously not come in through the door. One moment, the torn armchair beside them was empty. The next she had materialized beside them, smoothing out the folds of her black dress.

A mug of light-amber ale had already been set out for her.

She picked it up and took a sip.

Carmilla had attended the verdict regarding some trouble that Luca Frey had wounded himself in, and had returned to report her latest findings.

“The front lines?” Vincent frowned. He sat with one arm draped over the back of his chair, looking too well-groomed for the shabby and tiny room. “In the southern region?”

Carmilla nodded. “The battle location hasn’t changed. His location within the southern region has.”

“That’s a peculiar choice for Rosel’s academic board,” Vincent said, rubbing his chin. “We'll have to adjust our plans, but it's more convenient in some ways. The front lines are prone to accidents and mishaps, as everyone knows.”

Abbot bit his right thumb’s nail in evident glee.

“Especially with the recent Glimver Dungeon conscripts,” Abbot said quickly. “Several lower-level prisoners have been recruited for the war effort. I’m certain we can arrange a far better incentive than a few years docked from their sentence or improved prison amenities for the life-termers.”

Vincent’s mouth curved.

“That we can.”

Carmilla’s gaze moved between the two men, unreadable above the rim of her mug.

Vincent leaned toward Abbot, with his palms together. “Do you have the list of who will be stationed there?”

Abbot’s smile elongated.

He reached into his brown coat and produced a folded note, its edges still crisp. Having unfolded it, he began running through the names.

“You’ll be surprised by some of these names,” Abbot said. “The army has become far less particular now that the southern front has turned into a real thorn in their side.”

His finger slid down the page.

“Rudolf Kain. Twelve-year sentence. Seven remaining. Arson of three homes through unauthorized explosive spellwork.”

Vincent tapped his fingers. “Motivation? And what’s his temperament?”

“The army offered a year off his sentence for his cooperation. It appears he is innocent—Count Aitken’s daughter was—”

“Pass,” Vincent waved his hand. “This job requires a hardened criminal.”

Abbot continued.

“Peter Malvek. Fifty-two-year sentence. Thirty remaining. Illegal portal trafficking, smuggling, and war profiteering. Not much use in combat, but excellent at moving people where they should not be.”

“Could be useful,” Vincent said, but motioned for Abbot to continue.

“Elsa Rusk. Life-long sentence. Former battlefield healer.”

Carmilla’s eyes widened, and she interjected. “A healer?”

“A famous case, actually,” Vincent replied. “But long before your time. She had a bad past-time of pushing patients to the brink of death before healing them.”

“Her argument,” Abbot added, “was that she was improving her skill to eventually bring back the dead.”

Carmilla stared in disgust.

“The jury was evidently unmoved,” Abbot said.

“Not her, in any case,” Vincent motioned his hand for Abbot to move on.

Abbot moved through another handful of names. A former siege engineer. A poisoner. A disgraced captain who had sold troop movements to the enemy and then attempted to sell the enemy’s movements back to his own side.

None held Vincent’s attention for long.

Then Abbot’s finger stopped. And he looked up, a curious smile on his face.

“And finally,” he said, “Cathleen City.”

Carmilla lowered her mug. “That is not a person’s name.”

“No,” Abbot said. “It is the name of what she flattened.”

Vincent's gaze hardened.

“Her name was sealed, but I have my ways,” Abbot continued, “Her name is Evelia Maren. Life sentence. No release.”

Carmilla’s expression cooled. “She should not be anywhere near a battlefield. What is this kingdom thinking of putting a person like her out there??”

“Which is precisely why,” Vincent said softly, “she will be very useful near Luca Frey.”

Vincent reached for the note in Abbot’s hand.

“Evelia Maren and Peter Malvek,” he said softly. “A city-flattener and a portal trafficker.”

Carmilla set down her mug, half-finished.

“What exactly are you planning?” she asked.

“Nothing extraordinary,” Vincent replied. “Only an accident convincing enough that the kingdom will ensure Luca Frey is properly subdued, at least until our formal Eclipse meeting.”

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