So many minutes of conversation had gone by, and yet Edmond could not hold on to any details.

  He understood what his family was saying and replied timely and properly, but there was something missing. Even if they did not seem concerned with it, he could not help but feel like a robot going through programmed motions rather than a person.

  An input yielding a corresponding output, ‘new’ results coming once specific conditions were met. At worst, it was like he was taking an exam.

  What’s wrong with me?

  It was unfair. Why was he even wasting their time like this? Such worry, such support… all over what may as well have been a hollow shell. Almost a machine, if not for the fact his thoughts remained focused on one single thing.

  Even now, no matter what they did, thoughts of his family failed to take over her spot. Could he insult them in a worse way? Not even if he tried.

  “Mom?”

  Unable to bear it any longer, Edmond finally spoke up entirely of his own will.

  Mom stopped whatever she was saying, and so did everyone else. Four gazes suddenly focusing on him would not be the most pleasant experience usually, but it was no issue this time.

  “… I don’t think I’m ready yet, for any of this. I just want to be alone for a while.”

  He almost regretted saying such a thing before he had even finished, but knew it was the best for them… and for him.

  Mom’s expression was the first one to change, for how little it did. She looked anything except surprised, though the resignation in her eyes was far more concerning.

  Her lips trembled briefly, but it was Isolde who replied.

  “Mondi, I know you’re very upset, but this doesn’t solve anything. If we said something bad just tell us, but don’t push us awa—”

  “Don’t try to manipulate me.” Edmond said firmly, causing Isolde to stiffen.

  Not only her, but everyone else was taken aback by his unexpected change in tone, even if in somewhat different ways. He himself was surprised by how cold his voice sounded, but did not have it in him to regret it.

  “I haven’t had a single minute to myself since I woke up, so how is this too much to ask? You’re really going to have me eat up some cheap emotional help drivel you saw in a movie instead?”

  “I’m just trying to help, asshole! Stop taking it out on me!”

  Isolde’s anger was understandable, righteous even, and the pain his words had caused was beyond obvious.

  Nonetheless, his reply came out before he could think of stopping.

  “There’s an easy fix for that, you know? Leave. Me. Alone!”

  A yell that burned his still hoarse throat, while ironically causing Isolde to freeze for a moment.

  Unreasonable. Petty. Destructive. He himself could think of many ways to describe his outburst, so anyone else would likely be able to dwarf that number.

  Still, no one spoke back. No complaint, no reprimand. While Isolde seemed ready to tell him the absolute worst in ways only she could, she simply stood up and stormed out of the room, followed by a very worried-looking Eric.

  Max’s face was blank, like he could not fully process what had just happened. Still, he silently stepped off his chair and took his leave next, rather slowly as he repeatedly glanced back.

  Only Mom was finally left, but not for long. She rubbed her hands together in a way that looked quite painful, before just barely easing up on them, then went for the exit with a deep sigh.

  “Mom...”

  He only barely attempted to stop her, for a brief moment.

  After all, there was something he needed to know for sure, but that he had no way to talk about if everyone was still in the room. Just asking his mother about it was hard enough, but if he did not do it now…

  “… How much do you all know about Hilda?”

  … there might not be a second chance.

  Mom stopped by the door, her hand suddenly resting at the edge. She stood still for one, two… over five seconds. Saying nothing.

  There was no change by the time she left. Not a word, not a glance.

  The worst of Edmond’s suspicions had been proven completely true.

  Damn all this…

  He fell back on the headboard, only barely cushioned by the pillows laid against it. He did not want to rest, and did not even feel particularly tired, but his mind that had still lost all its strength.

  No reason to keep himself up. No reason to remain angry at Isolde. Even his hatred for the Violet Thorn felt worn out.

  Hilda. No matter what he tried, it was her who was first and foremost in his mind.

  … How… How could you…?

  Yes. Only that was reasonable, regardless of how much he had struggled to come to such a conclusion.

  So pathetic that it would take him this long to come to terms with it. The source of his sorrow, of his confusion that slowly but surely became the anger it was meant to be all along.

  A fury like fire, like poison even. A simple truth, that if he should hate anyone, then it was definitely Hil—

  “Mondi.”

  “Huh?”

  But that voice overshadowed the answer he had arrived to.

  Edmond glanced in its direction, then saw the small body waiting by the door. He unconsciously raised his body again and noticed brown eyes as rich as honey.

  “I brought something for you.” Max said, raising both hands to show what he was holding

  A paperback of magazine proportions, having long since lost its sheen. It was not tattered by any means, but it was clearly old, worn and with chipped corners. The cover, however, remained vivid and attractive.

  A beautiful green landscape, covered in grass and trees that gave view to a township with a tall tower. And in the middle of it all, a single person dressed for travel with a worn, raggedy, admittedly ugly dark cloak. A big stylized ‘Wandering Will’ titling it at the top, and at the bottom right, far more unassuming… a name.

  Theo B. Blixen. A pen name he knew very well, but did not need to recognize a comic book his father wrote.

  “For me?” Edmond’s confusion was not alleviated by any of that. “I’ve read it already.”

  “But I haven’t.” Maximillian replied without regard for his cold dismissal. “I found it on Hilda’s bed before she left, so I was curious. Can we read it?”

  … On Hilda’s bed?

  After everything, he was not confident at all in guessing what she had been up to just before leaving, but even so… reading such a thing for her last moments in the house was very strange.

  Hilda never even knew Dad. She arrived in their life several months after he…

  “… We can. If that’s what you want.”

  “I do. Thank you, Mondi.”

  Max’s face lit up, despite how reserved he usually was. If it meant so much to him, then there should be no problems with agreeing to such a small request.

  Small, light footsteps made their way to Edmond’s bed, only stopping once Max was close enough to not only leave the comic book comfortably on his lap, but maybe also read along or at least see the pictures.

  Edmond’s look remained on his brother for a few seconds, before he focused on the comic book with a sigh. Parting cover from page, he began to read.

  ‘Wandering Will’ was not the most standard work of mystery, taking place in a period setting with castles, villages and the perils of old society in full display. Still, a story did not need sharp-tongued PIs, corrupt law enforcement and charming snoops to be popular. The setting was certainly not to blame for its early cancellation, so quick that the whole thing had wrapped up in the six issues compiled in his hands; so was it the story’s fault?

  Edmond was not sure what to think. It still included a lot of elements common to successful stories of its type, such as incompetent and even oppressive authorities, a split perspective, several smaller mysteries all leading to the big reveal…

  … It was a bit formulaic, to be honest. Just the story of a vagrant staying at the neighboring township of a small kingdom, then chasing the killer of the innkeeper’s son. The art was nice enough to look at, but as the artist’s second work, it definitely had its rough spots.

  It had probably been buried under so many other titles like it. Stories with a stronger hook, be it an evil corporation to start things off with a bang, a blooming romance between investigator and criminal, or another one of those ‘meaner’ main characters. Compared to those, ‘Wandering Will’ was slower and more methodical in its setup and pace, deliberately walking the thin line between a more proper plotline and a more exciting one.

  Six issues were a tad too much for the first storyline in a comic book, and his father had likely paid the price for that. However, a main character such as The Vagrant probably played a part as well.

  Intelligent, but not a genius. Willing to fight, but no match for a soldier. Committed, but fearful nonetheless. She definitely… lost a lot, whether by being outsmarted or just beaten down in a fight, even framed and imprisoned…

  … No, the latter was usually a popular tactic to keep readers engaged. It was the way in which she became free again that was not so standard.

  Rather than outmatching the guards or engineering some extraordinary escape plan, she simply continued to pursue the killer via favors from the guard indebted to her from the second issue. Such a stupidly honest display, that the bright-eyed guard could not help but be convinced of her innocence.

  The Vagrant so confused by it, his response so simple...

  …

  “Mondi?”

  Maximillian’s voice made him realize he had stopped reading out loud.

  “Oh, sorry. I was just…”

  The next line… The next line was…

  Strength is important, so that you can protect. Cunning even more so, to find a problem’s solution. But without a flame in one’s heart that will burn bright when it’s time to act, they mean nothing.

  “… Heh.”

  “Mm. Hmm.”

  How silly. There was on-the-nose dialogue, and then this. Edmond remembered his upperclassmen who laughed at such stuff before he even became a knight cadet, and now understood them to an extent.

  “Mondi, did people in old times talk like that?”

  “I don’t think they did, Max.”

  He could not imagine things back then, but at least now there was no one who spoke in such a way. No one… except for two people he had known of.

  Dad. Miss Lunaris. Starry-eyed, clueless outside of whatever their inner world was like, always stuck in their baffling, unique ways…

  … That was the kind of person he wanted to be like.

  “Do you feel better, Mondi?”

  His brother’s small voice asked suddenly.

  “Mm?”

  Edmond glanced back at him, at those calm, yet vivid eyes of honey.

  “You’re smiling. It’s nice.”

  “Yeah… Well, thank you for that.”

  “Mhm.”

  Without any more words, Edmond brought Max into a hug.

  To think such a small body held such power. His younger brother was already so admirable, someone he could learn from, even. And for four years, all he had done was…

  … No, it was okay. He would simply work his hardest to become an older brother Max could also learn from.

  Edmond let go, reaching for the comic book once more.

  “Let’s finish this up, Max. But when we’re done, can you do me a favor?”

  “What kind?” The young boy asked as he scooted closer again, to see the story’s conclusion.

  Edmond laughed lightly, briefly glancing outside the window.

  “I’ll be going out for a while. Think you can cover for me in the meantime?”

  “… Mhm. Let’s be crooks together, Mondi.”

  The small smile from Max saying such a silly thing turned his small laugh into a shameless cackle.

  “You… You’re really the best…”

  “No, Dad is. Mondi, is this all there is to the story?”

  Surprised by the question, Edmond stopped for a second before answering.

  “Yeah. We’re almost done, it was cancelled by the next issue.”

  “… I’ll make my own, then. A complete version. Mondi, you think Mom will be okay if I make comic books?”

  What came next, however, was on a whole different level. Leaving him at an even worse loss for words, so much more to comprehend and consider, but the answer itself… was beyond obvious.

  “Mom… She’ll be more than happy if you do so. We’ll all be.”

  “Mhm. Thank you, Mondi.”

  Edmond almost cried, but managed to simply smile.

  He really was so lucky, to have a family like this.

  Jeans, slip-on sneakers, a long-sleeved t-shirt and a dark blue pullover sweater. Having changed out of his heaviest bandaging and into the clothes his mother brought him, Edmond had walked far enough to lose sight of the medical facility, the cold nightly breeze soothing his healing wounds.

  If asked why he could not wait until fully recovering before heading out, it would not be easy for him to respond. He simply could not bear to stay put in that bed, not when so much was still going on. Even the incessant pain pulsing from his knee failed to keep him still.

  Pent-up energy, some might say. An unbearable need to do something, anything. Still, he wanted to believe that regardless of his ability to identify it, there was a deeper reason for doing what many would deem utterly nonsensical.

  For now, he just walked. His hearing stimulated by his own footsteps and little else, the tenuous scent of the trees and grass that decorated the knight facility’s grounds tickling his nostrils, his vision limited by the darkness around…

  … but still able to notice the small lights in front of him, somewhat to the right.

  Those… aren’t light posts, right?

  They looked very unique, and the differences only became more apparent as he continued to approach.

  After all, it turned out the lights were coming from the commemorative monument, which had… five new additions in the last few days.

  Edmond’s brow furrowed, his eyes downcast as sorrow and regret tightened their grip on him. It was then that he noticed he was no longer alone.

  There was a girl standing much closer to one of the monument’s towers. She wore knee-high laced boots over somewhat thick tights, a denim skirt ending right above her knees and a cerulean hoodie. Her chin-length hair was… very red, vivid enough to be readily apparent despite the darkness.

  He may have already seen her once or twice, with the second or third years, and the spell she was casting was something very particular, especially with her fingers touching the monument.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Hey.”

  Edmond made his presence known before walking further. Vandalism of such nature would be downright repulsive, but he did not think that was the case here.

  The girl glanced aside, eyes as blue as sapphires aimed at him as she acknowledged his approach, without altering her hand’s position nor the flow of prana one bit. She was steady, almost machine-like in her devotion to the job.

  “So, they hired cadets to record the names?”

  “Name; singular. All others were put in the day after. And I… I wasn’t hired to do anything.” Her voice was quite deep, somewhat like Tatyana’s, and without any notable accent.

  “I see… Then why do this at all?”

  The girl’s look returned to the monument, where luminous letters were slowly, carefully engraved onto the crystalline pillar.

  “… This is a monument meant to commemorate heroism.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Edmond’s response was automatic, unintentionally and regretfully careless due to hearing something obvious. She scoffed, but showed no more displeasure before continuing.

  “I just think… all heroes should be here, not just knights. Not just the people one would think of as grand and noble. It’s… It’s not always like that. Anyone can act at the right place, the right time, and make a difference.”

  “… Of course. Finn more than deserves a spot.”

  For the first time, the girl’s hand faltered. She turned to Edmond, baffled, and the flow of prana through her hand became noticeably erratic.

  “You’re his sister, right? I want to help. It was only for a short time, but… I got to know Finn a bit.”

  She did not seem sure on how to react, struggling over words for a full three seconds before she awkwardly turned back to the pillar, stabilized the prana engraving the name, and finally nodded.

  “Thank you.” Edmond said, then took a deep breath.

  Prana was not flowing too badly through him, and within a moment, he carefully raised his hand. The light he released was of a different color compared to the girl’s, but worked toward the same goal without problem.

  “What’s your name?”

  “… Ciara. So, how did you get to know him?”

  Memories surfaced in his mind, both from her words and his own attempts to dig up everything he could recall.

  That which filled him with a painful, anxiety-inducing regret the more he thought about it, but would never allow him to forgive himself if he dared forget.

  “Through my work. He was struggling with something, and I was just there at the right time to h… try to help.”

  “‘Try’?”

  Her next question felt like a bullet to his heart. The last ‘n’ was finished too at that moment.

  “Yeah. I don't think I did a very good job at it.”

  He did not even know his last name, so he switched to simply feeding Ciara’s spell extra prana afterward.

  “What was he even trying to do?”

  “... I don't think he’d be okay with me telling.”

  “Was it embarrassing?”

  “I… I guess you could say that.”

  ‘M’. ‘O’. Letters that had started out a tad crooked now looked a little better, he wanted to believe.

  “Mm, you talk a bit like him. And if you’re similar at all, you might be a little wrong.”

  “... Excuse me?”

  Edmond’s gaze turned, but Ciara’s retained all its focus on the monument.

  “He was the kind of person who thought so weirdly of himself. Like he had to stick to this ‘normal’ role he believed was assigned to him, and yet… he went on to do something like this. A big, dumb hero moment, and then he's gone…”

  Her voice had not broken in the slightest, but tears were undeniably building up in her eyes.

  “I know it’s wrong to think like this, but I… I wish he hadn't done it. We hardly ever saw eye to eye, it was so awkward to move in here together and things didn't get any more comfortable after that. But just thinking that we won't share a meal ever again, watch a movie or even wake each other up, it’s… so hard. So, so…”

  ‘R’. ‘R’. ‘I’. ‘G’.

  And then she stopped. For the first time since he had arrived, Ciara stopped the flow of her prana for just a moment. If not for Edmond supporting the spell, she would have needed to start over.

  “Sorry… I got carried away.” She said as she resumed her work without further delay.

  “It's all good. I'm the one who came here to help, also… it’s not wrong to want more time with someone you love.”

  ‘A’.

  Ciara brought her free hand to her face, brushing away her tears. More came out soon after, and only after wiping those too did it seem like enough.

  “It's just… I don't get it. Maybe if he was arrogant, or had some entitled complex. There's people who think they have to do huge stuff, leave some big mark just because they're kind of good at something, but Finn was always…”

  ‘N’.

  When the last letter was finally engraved. Edmond was left speechless as something finally fit within him. A shocking fact that was so important, yet remained hidden even when he was so unintentionally close to realizing it.

  Is that really it? I’ve got to be missing something, maybe misremembering…

  Those would be the reasonable assumptions, the most likely possibilities.

  But they were not the only ones. And the one he had suddenly become aware of was the last one he could ever ignore.

  “Are you okay?”

  Ciara’s voice brought him back to the world outside his thoughts. For the first time, he saw her face properly, now focused on him.

  It only reminded him of how clueless he had been all this time, and of the danger that waiting any longer now entailed.

  “No, I'm not. Not yet and I… I need to go, sorry.”

  “Huh? What do you… Hey, wait up!”

  Edmond ran, running prana quickly and desperately through one hand. If he started to form the spell now, maybe he would have enough time.

  “What’s the matter!? Who even are you!?”

  It was indeed the worst kind of departure. To offer solace, a small comfort to someone who had suffered due to his actions, only to leave without warning the moment something else came to attention.

  For of course, when it came to anyone related to Finn, that was just how concerning such a ‘something’ was.

  “My name’s Edmond! And I'll go do right by your brother!”

  Understandably, there was still a fair bit of confusion to be voiced out by Ciara, but he could no longer distinguish what exactly she was saying, whether from distance between them or just his shift in priorities.

  The only thing left was that which his still free hand could do, and that was the hardest part indeed.

  Could he bring himself to reach for his phone now of all times?

  The way in which the Seyfelt knight training facility handled certain private information was generally up to the individual. While most people saw no need to keep things such as their phone number and home address public, there were exceptions that the facility did not really mind.

  These applied primarily to the instructors, who oftentimes kept several ways to contact them on their official profiles so that cadets could express doubts or ask questions with less stringent timing. Some of them had no problems sharing their address, perhaps in the case a cadet wanted assistance with something harder to explain, such as a sorcery experiment.

  Edmond now faced the apartment of someone like that, atop the roof opposite to a large window. He had spent about a minute analyzing the mass of prana practically glazing the window, judging the strength of the barrier it formed before realizing it was indeed something he could break through.

  He took a deep breath, then another and one more. Finally, he raised his arm.

  A thick bullet of orange prana, sacrificing a lot of reach and speed for extra power and his best, if still very clumsy attempt at a muffling effect, was shot out and shattered the window almost wholly down to its edges.

  The resulting noise was… still mostly noticeable, but he would have to make do with such. There was no time to lose, so Edmond made the jump without hesitation, beginning his search as soon as he laid foot inside the apartment.

  The place was rather ostentatious with plenty of glassware and similarly constructed decorations. It was also very large for an apartment, so the task was not easy at all, but at the very least his gamble on the absence of its owner had paid off.

  He only hoped that would also go for the immediate neighbors, or that they were sleeping at least…

  Every drawer on every cabinet was pulled, he moved every piece of furniture off its spot to take a look beneath, and even went as far as to peel off the carpet, revealing a surprisingly opaque, but very clean floor of carminewood underneath.

  Edmond searched the bathroom next, followed by the kitchen, dining area, and the very intricate bedroom, decorated with ornate glass sculptures which he also removed to check for anything hidden. Once again, he found very little of notice.

  The electronics that needed no passcodes showed general, unassuming stuff when he turned them on. There were no signs of stress or strange shadows around or within the ventilation shafts. Hell, it seemed like he did not even have a ‘workshop’, at least not in his home. Aside from the protective charms on the windows and doors, there was nothing out of the ordinary.

  Absolutely nothing.

  … That can't be it, it’s still too early. So long as I have a little bit of time, I have to keep going!

  Spurred by the dread of what a single, small error could mean in these circumstances, Edmond retraced his steps, looking over every single thing he could remember.

  Still nothing, and so, he went for it a third time. Then, and only then, did he grow just slightly fed up with the echo of his footsteps on the wooden floor.

  The noise was not very noticeable at first, but it added up as he kept crossing the living room time and time again, becoming extremely grating after so long.

  He almost wanted to put the carpet back on just for that reason… but why did the carminewood floor echo like that?

  … What’s this…?

  A wooden floor would always generate more sound if one stepped onto it directly, but not like this. For most constructions, the wood would lay down against cement or some other, harder material that would mitigate the impact of footsteps.

  Could it be that this carminewood was at an unusual altitude?

  The wood is opaque, so it's lightly treated if at all. Untreated carminewood would have to be replaced so often, so why? Is this… recent?

  Many questions swam across Edmond’s head as he incessantly tapped his foot onto the wooden floor, making absolutely sure that his ears were not deceiving him about the unusual noise.

  They were not.

  … Alright then.

  His eyes narrowed as he raised a hand, forming a crude blade of prana around it which he brought down to the floor. The crimsonwood cut rather easily, in an arc just over three-hundred degrees spanning past half of the living room.

  Good enough.

  Edmond’s fingers reached below the curve… and indeed, there was a rather comfortable gap for him to grip below the wood. He lifted it like a lid and finally saw it.

  A huge sorcery array drawn on the cement a few centimeters below the carminewood, almost complete. The pattern was more than recognizable, downright unique in its intended purpose of teleportation, the theory that could revolutionize evacuations worldwide within a couple of years.

  “May I ask why a cadet not only broke into my place, but also decided to absolutely trash it?”

  A new voice frightened Edmond enough for him to suddenly drop the enormous quasi-circle of wood. No doubt, it would normally cause a thunderous noise when it fell, but the quickly gathering prana around it prevented that.

  Edmond turned, glaring at the man who had just stepped through the apartment's door, then closed it behind him.

  Throvim Van Svelten.

  “So?” The instructor reiterated, looking around in annoyance at the sorry state of his apartment.

  “It was you all along.” Edmond spat the most bitter words.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The stolen weapons, the deal with the Violet Thorn, it all hinged on you! I should’ve figured it out sooner… We knew that a teleportation spell was probably in use, but that it would be another traitor…”

  “What are you even saying, fool? Have you gone crazy from trauma or something?”

  Despite his words, Throvim looked at Edmond not like a madman, but more like a half-dead roach crawling out from under his fridge.

  “I was also injured during the attack, you know? And yet I can’t even rest without my personal alert system going wild, all because some insane kid broke into my apartment with baseless accusations...”

  “Baseless!?”

  Was he really that oblivious? At this point?

  Edmond pointed at the fault on the floor, struggling to not attack the man right then and there.

  “So that almost finished escape array means nothing, is what you're trying to say?”

  “I just had my home burglarized, and you think I don't need it?”

  “Then what’s the carminewood for?”

  Throvim raised an eyebrow. Not in a strictly telling way, but in genuine confusion. He would not have to wait long before knowing the crucial bit, though.

  “A carminewood floor with custom elevation, untreated and yet in perfect condition. There’s no way it’s been like that for more than a month.”

  “And I haven’t lived here for that long, imbecile. I just haven’t gotten around to treating it or even deciding whether I want to keep this floor for the long term.”

  “Then if the police and knights were to investigate, they’d corroborate that? Actually, forget it. If that were the case, I’m sure you’d have filed for the necessary permissions to have a teleportation array at your home, wouldn’t you?”

  And then, he was quiet. For the first time since he had arrived, Throvim did not have some response immediately ready, no matter what it may be.

  Edmond was not so presumptuous as to say he looked pressed, but the way in which his look of scorn intensified said a lot.

  “Yeah, I didn't think so. After all, you didn’t want there to be any suspicions after what you knew would happen—”

  “I’m still waiting for whatever point you're trying to make, Bach. Want me to get tried or fined for clandestine practice of sorcery? You might just get that, but that’s it.”

  Throvim was correct. There was no other way to describe it, and to expect more was not even optimistic, but delusional.

  For how seemingly solid Edmond’s reasoning was, rooted in several layers of thought on top of the available evidence, in the end it was still conjecture relying on several leaps. One no more valid than many other possible interpretations.

  “Oh yeah, all this stuff could still mean many things. You probably even fought alongside your fellow instructors, just a little, and suffered some injuries too to keep up your act. You’d be a criminal for the array, and nothing more; if not for the herald crest.”

  That single fact, however, changed everything. And the immediate change in Throvim’s expression made it clear he knew that as well.

  Panic. Fury. Confusion A myriad of ineffectually hidden emotions could be seen in the instructor’s face as Edmond followed on.

  “That’s right. All the stolen weapons, inscribed with the same spell pattern set to suppress their prana once it was all over. No one could recognize it, so things should have ended there… is that what you thought? Or did you believe it’d at least buy you enough time to leave like a rat? Well, it’s just one extra step they were missing, and I heard just the right stuff to figure it out. What was it you said? ‘Talented people’ want to be remembered, or something? Well, now you won’t have to make do with just a unique glyph, but with your whole identity.”

  This time, it really was over. Edmond may not be the most knowledgeable when it came to sorcery, but the fact he did not know what a herald crest was in the first place, or that Claude and the others did not even consider it before asking Throvim, was a real statement to the concept’s obscurity. If he brought it up to the authorities, they would look into it and inevitably find people who knew about the topic, who could not be many more than Throvim alone.

  Suspicions would quickly gather around him, and once he was properly interrogated and had his tracks and property investigated, they would know the truth. It was such a simple and obvious sequence of events at this point, and that teleportation array below the floor had not gathered nearly enough prana to transport all it had seemingly been built to handle.

  … So why did Throvim’s expression suddenly relax? Why did his eyes soften, and why was he now smiling in that usual ‘professor’ way from back at the facility?

  “Well… congratulations. From what little I remembered of you, I thought you were kind of a dimwit, but you really thought things through, eh? Still, you missed one part, though I can’t blame you for it. That’s where I put the most effort, after all.”

  He… confessed? Just like that? Not just to what Edmond accused him of, but to something else.

  What was he even planning? If he was truly cornered, it was simply logical to stop fighting back, but people were not ‘simply logical’. There was something else to Throvim’s admission of guilt, something that kept his confidence intact.

  And that roused a nameless fear from deep within Edmond.

  “I don’t care about it. This much is enough to get you locked up for good, with no sorcery.”

  He stated with the strongest voice he could muster, even taking a step forward. But the anxiety did not leave him, and Throvim did not even react to his approach.

  “Oh, but you do care. A milquetoast like you is probably dying to know who set up the spell that opened that rift.”

  … It was only the fire of a profound rage that managed to melt his icy fear.

  This piece of shit… Just what’s wrong with him!?

  Edmond would not stick around to find out. Without delay, he raised a hand and shot the prana he had just gathered. Far from a bullet, it was a furious stream, a burst with the only goal of causing harm.

  But it did not reach even half of the way to Throvim before a chilling, high-pitched sound reverberated through the air.

  “…!?”

  At first, Edmond only saw the prana particles fizzling about, but he still found that abnormal enough to leap aside for safety. His knee almost seemed to scream due to the brusque movement, but the call proved to be correct when his prana blast completely broke away into flakes of light, making way for a two-meter spear of glass to fly past him.

  Despite its speed and apparent sharpness, it fell harmlessly on the floor upon lightly impacting the wall, but Edmond was convinced that would not have been the case if it had hit him.

  “See? I knew that would get you riled up.”

  Despite the speed with which he had cast such a prana-dense spell, Throvim only chuckled with a hand to his waist. No strain, no focus… He was as relaxed as ever.

  Regardless of how angry he was, Edmond could not deny how anxious such a display made him. Still, he attempted his very best to bury that unease.

  “How did you even manage such a thing?!”

  “What thing? My attack just now, or the rift?”

  Edmond almost attacked him again upon hearing such a stupid question, but with his surprise strike from earlier failing so miserably, he probably could no longer achieve anything now that Throvim was expecting it. His visible fury proved amusing enough for the instructor though, as his smile continued to grow into almost another chuckle.

  “You should already know, fool. When it comes to teleportation on the macro scale, I’m the one. So long as I have a good enough sample, I can create a link to wherever that substance is most abundant, even if that place is past the near-boundless sea of stars.”

  … It made sense, yes. Strictly speaking, a rift was just a specific kind of spatial portal, and those formed the core of Throvim’s studies. Between an evacuation system for civilians and an escape route for four deserters, the only real difference was the destination and the distance covered, but talking ‘distance’ when it came to teleportation was nonsense. The actual methodology was probably similar enough.

  Still, that much was only about what was possibly. People like General Marinca or the other Heavenly Kings may be able to raze a whole continent instantly, but they would not even think of trying that.

  “… Just why? You should know what can happen if a rift opens anywhere, let alone a city with as many people in it as Seyfelt! Even if Hilda and the others planned to close it right after leaving, you never know! We don’t know what could happen if something goes wrong!”

  Throvim’s amused expression disappeared, replaced by a look of offense and even disdain.

  “Speak for yourself. This is a project I’ve already spent years on, kid. Fei-hung Long comes up with a way to let me speed my research up by years, and you want me to let it go?”

  … What…?

  Edmond’s eyes went wide as he struggled to comprehend just what Throvim had said. Was he for real? Could a knight instructor truly be so callous?

  “… You… You just don’t care, then? S-Say there’s no mistake on your end, but that Fei guy just decided to keep the rift open and let in demon after demon to do as they please here… That’s just ‘whatever’ to you!?”

  The instructor sighed as he heard Edmond’s words, as if listening to a toddler’s tantrum, and the voice he replied with was as condescending as the worst parent’s.

  “Yes, it would be a pity if that happened. But you don’t get to where I am by freaking out over every inconvenience.”

  “‘Inconvenience’!? Endangering all those lives is an ‘inconvenience’ to you!? Wherever ‘you are’ doesn’t matter when you’re just waiting for a disaster to happen and then say ‘worth it’!”

  Edmond could hardly believe what he was hearing, but even that paled in comparison to Throvim’s reaction.

  “Immature buffoon.”

  Pure indifference for so long had now turned into anger, somehow. Giving no chance for a response, the instructor continued with new passion in his words.

  “Who do you think I am? I’m Throvim Van Svelten! Can you name anyone under the age of fifty who knows more about runes than me? I’ve revolutionized a field of sorcery that’s been pursued since the art itself was conceived! Even if you want to talk about people’s lives or whatever, whose research do you think is leading to the best evacuation system in history? Compared to me, what have you achieved with your mediocrity and vapid words? Come on, tell me!”

  “…?”

  … He was… not correct.

  He was wrong. Throvim’s words were absolute nonsense. Stupid. No, so much worse than that. They were downright evil.

  Edmond inwardly repeated that to himself, over and over again. He knew a man like this was the worst, without a single respectable bone in his body.

  … But still, all the ‘achievements’ he bragged about were pretty much true. And if that was the case, had he not ‘saved’ people regardless of his intention?

  Lots of people. So many in the present, and even more in the future once his research reached its full potential. The sort of progress that had only been seen a few times in history, reaching people all around the world. Compared to that… What was Edmond even doing?

  Forget since he decided to become a knight; ever since he vowed to become a superhero, had he helped even half as many people as Throvim’s actions had? A tenth? … A hundredth?

  Edmond could not speak. No matter how desperately he tried, his words and voice alike had vanished.

  Mediocre. Incompetent. A failure.

  Even if Throvim was so evil it made him sick, why did that matter if he could actually get the job done?

  Edmond brought a hand to his face and another to the nearby wall as he felt his head so light, his knees so wobbly, and his vision flickering to a blur in every direction. Even worse, Throvim’s voice rose again.

  “Exactly. Now, are you really going to turn someone like me in and ruin everything? Even you should know what a stupid choice that is. Especially when you can actually make a difference with me around.”

  “… What are you even saying?”

  Only a question managed to come out. That fact made him as nauseous as the act itself.

  “Without Fei-hung Long, I’m back to my original position, lacking in resources to continue my research into demons and the rifts themselves. For a prototype, I sure did amazing, but my replication was still a far cry from natural ones, requiring so much time to open while being the most obvious target one could ask for. I need to do more tests, many more, but I require good samples. And from what Fei-hung Long said, you may be hosting the perfect resource.”

  Edmond’s sight became clear once more, focused on Throvim with wrath he had hardly ever felt before. How could a single person be so utterly infuriating?

  “The demon they call ‘Veltis’.”

  “Oh, you already know? Good, saves me the explanation.”

  The fact his smile could return in such a situation almost made Edmond lose control. He could picture a hand wrapped around Throvim’s neck so clearly, while the other readied a fist with which to completely flatten his face.

  Normally, he would not even consider embracing such a desire, but this time he was thankful for it. His dizziness gradually disappeared, his limbs regained strength, and he managed to stand straight once more.

  “Are you asking me to be your lab rat?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, I couldn’t care less about what you want; I’m telling you how things will go from now on. It was troublesome with you still in the hospital, but now that you came over all by yourself, I’ll just have to cripple you if you don’t comply.”

  Throvim’s eyes were as calm as a frozen lake, his voice smooth like a blade. He was completely serious; if they fought, he would be as cold and surgical as with any experiment.

  … An instructor, the kind who had roughed up Hilda and the others like that, was now targeting him.

  “So, what will it be? Will you be nice and obedient, or do I have to do away with your limbs?”

  But compared to what he would do next; opening more rifts wherever else and who knows what other callous experiments on the side, such danger was nothing.

  Edmond raised a hand, and gathered as much prana as he could.

  “Try me.”

  Throvim’s eyes narrowed in delight, as if this was the result he most wanted.

  “You asked for it.”