He looked up. His face was unreadable, until it changed to an obvious relief.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes warm.
X let out a breath, his shoulders dropping, clearly moved by the boy's first instinct being concern.
But Mizuki felt a chill crawl up her spine. The shift was too smooth. Too instant. There was no grogginess, no confusion—just a seamless pivot from analyzing a weapon to playing the saint.
He even lies the same way he breathes, she thought, her eyes narrowing. Without thought. Without effort. To him, it’s just how he stays alive.
Noll’s face turned blank as his gaze darted around the room, feverish and sharp. He patted his sides, then ripped the blanket back, checking under the pillow. Nothing. The relief vanished from his face, replaced by a cold, hollow panic.
“Guys,” he said, his voice tight. He looked at them, made a hand sign, thumb up, index pointing, and snapped his finger down in a quick, precise tap. As if pulling on an invisible lever. “Have you seen my… my blaster?” he looks ridiculous, like a child asking for his toy.
B…blaster? Mizuki exchanged glances with X. There is no word like that in the Altavian language.
X’s eyes widened, his hand going to his mouth. “I… I forgot about it. We were in a rush to get you out.”
The color drained from Noll’s face. He didn’t say a word. He just stood up, and started walking toward the door with a manic determination.
“Where do you think you're going?” Mizuki stepped in his path, blocking the doorway. “You can barely stand!”
“Move.” It wasn't a request.
“You need to rest, Noll!” she snapped, reaching out to steady him. She never made contact. A shimmering pink hand materialized from the air between them—solid, heavy, and fast. It slammed into Mizuki’s chest, shoving her violently against the wall. The construct pinned her there, unyielding and heavy as iron.
Thud. Mizuki gasped, the wind knocked out of her. She stared at him, stunned. He hadn’t even raised his real hand. Noll didn't look back. He was already gripping the doorframe, dragging himself into the corridor.
“I can’t let someone…” his voice cracked, and he corrected himself, shouting the last words. “No… I can’t let anyone take it! If they figure out how it works…”
The pink hand, holding Mizuki, disappeared, making her fall to the ground, gasping for air. A pink disk then appeared in front of Noll. He mounted it, and the disk accelerated toward the cave.
X rushed after him. “He is in a weakened state, he can’t go there alone!”
Mizuki rushed after him too. “Maybe you should stop him, instead of just standing and watching. I thought you were in charge here!”
They burst out of the outpost doors into the cool night air.
Noll was ahead of them, hovering over the grass, the pink glow of his disk cutting through the dark like a wound. He was leaning dangerously forward, his body trembling, trying to push the construct faster, driven by pure panic.
“Noll!” X bellowed, his voice cracking with desperation. “You’re going to crash!”
Noll didn’t listen. He forced more energy into the disk—and that was the mistake.
His body, already pushed past its limit, couldn't sustain the magic. The pink disk flickered violently, destabilized, and then shattered into sparks.
Noll hit the ground with sickening momentum. He tumbled across the dirt, and a wet, sickening snap echoed from his leg before his body stopped near the gate.
X reached him first, sliding on his knees to catch the boy as he tried to push himself up again. Noll was shaking, his face pale, sweat dripping from his chin.
“Let me… go…” Noll wheezed, his hands clawing at X’s shirt, weak but frantic. “We have to check. If it’s still there… before someone else comes…”
“You can’t make it, Noll!” X held him down firmly. “You’ll collapse before you reach the woods!”
“Then you go!” Noll shouted, clutching X's collar. “Go back and check! It might be under the rubble! It might have kicked into a shadow! We don't know!”
“Noll, listen to me!” X interrupted, his voice sharp to cut through the panic. “There was someone there. We met him after you passed out.”
Noll froze. His grip on X’s collar tightened. “Who?”
“Tall, black hair,” X said. “He called himself Tim Kris.”
“Never heard about him.” Noll whispered. “From Kris?”
“Yes,” X said. “He left right after we found him.”
Noll stared at the night sky, his breathing ragged. He ran the calculation out loud instantly.
“Clan Kris. They study biology. Crystals. Magic signatures. If a Kris scientist saw a metal object that fired blue energy… he wouldn't ignore it—especially since the blaster runs on a crystal core."
“Did he have it?” Noll demanded. “Did you see him holding it?”
“It was dark,” X admitted. “He had his hands up. I didn’t see anything bulky.”
“But we constantly watched him!” Mizuki interjected, stepping forward. “He couldn't have taken it right under our eyes.”
X shook his head slowly, the memory surfacing. “No. There was one second when we didn't look at him. When my arm gave out.”
“But it was just a second!” Mizuki argued, waving her hand dismissively. “Surely you don't propose that he could find it, grab it, and hide it in just one second?”
Noll went rigid. He didn't share Mizuki's skepticism.
“He is from Clan Kris,” Noll said, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. “They are obsessed with the unknown. If he saw it… he took it.”
He tried to push himself up one last time, a desperate heave to go and prove himself wrong, to go and find that infernal machine sitting safely in the dirt. But his arms gave out. He collapsed back onto X’s chest, his body totally spent.
He lay there for a long moment, the fight draining out of him.
“He has it,” Noll whispered, the logic finally defeating the hope. “And he’s going to try to understand it. He’s going to take it apart.”
Silence fell over the courtyard. No one asked why that was so bad. But the terror in Noll's voice made it clear: being taken apart was the worst possible outcome.
“I…” Noll swallowed, pushing X away feebly so he could sit up on his own. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, his face shutting down, becoming unreadable again. “I need to go inside.”
He tried to plant his hands to stand, but as he put weight on them, his arm gave out. His fingers spasmed uncontrollably, trembling so violently they scraped uselessly against the dirt.
He stared at his own hand, frustrated. He tried to clench a fist, but the fingers just twitched. He couldn't even keep them steady.
X watched the shaking hands, then looked at Noll’s pale, defeated face.
“I’m cooking,” X said, his tone leaving no room for debate. “You’re eating. And then you’re sleeping.”
Noll didn't argue. He just let his head hang, the energy required to protest far beyond what he had left.
X stood up and hoisted Noll’s arm over his shoulder, taking the boy’s weight.
He half-carried, half-walked Noll back toward the outpost. Noll dragged his feet, a dead weight against the captain’s side.
Mizuki followed them, watching X struggle to support him.
He’s useless, she thought, watching the boy who had decimated a monster just a few hours ago now unable to even walk. Without his toys… he's just a broken child.
Mizuki looked around, spotting a small crater she created when fighting a hallucination of Noll. Her eye twitched.
And he seems to break everyone around him, too.
She went inside the outpost, heading for her room.
As she passed the kitchen, she caught a glimpse of them through the doorway. Noll was eating, head down, focused entirely on the food. X stood beside him, watching with an expression of pure, unguarded worry.
His hand hovered just inches from Noll’s back, trembling slightly—afraid to make contact, as if the boy were a delicate flower that might shatter at a touch.
Mizuki looked away and kept walking.
The door to her room clicked shut, sealing out the hallway, the kitchen, and the broken boy. But it couldn’t seal out the image of X’s trembling hand.
Mizuki threw herself onto the bed without undressing. She stared at the ceiling, her mind replaying the tape of the last few hours. The cave. The transformation. The blaster. The panic.
He’s unstable, she told the dark ceiling. He’s dangerous.
But as sleep finally dragged her under, the last thought wasn't about his danger. It was about the silence in the courtyard when he realized the weapon was gone.
Morning didn't come gently. It arrived like an intruder—a sharp beam of sunlight hitting her face, accompanied by the aggressive, cheerful chirping of birds that had no right to be this happy given the events of the night.
Mizuki groaned, shielding her eyes. Her body ached—a stiff, deep bruising from the wall Noll had slammed her against.
She sat up, her hand instinctively going to her head. The hat was there. Good.
She swung her legs out of bed. The outpost was quiet. Too quiet. Had they left? Did Noll try to run again?
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
She grabbed her bat—just in case—and opened the door.
She expected silence. She expected to find Noll unconscious in the infirmary or X pacing the halls.
What she found was the smell of burnt toast and the quiet rustle of newsprint.
Mizuki walked into the kitchen and stopped dead.
X was at the stove, looking haggard, his eyes rimmed with red, prodding a skillet with a spatula. He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink.
But Noll…
Noll sat at the table, fully dressed in his coat, buttoned to the chin. His skin was gray, the color of ash. But it wasn't his clothes, or the color of his skin that made her freeze. It was the way he was eating.
X’s cooking was… rustic, to be polite. The eggs were scorched, the toast blackened. Yet Noll was dissecting the rubbery omelet with the precision of a surgeon. His back was perfectly straight, not touching the chair. His elbows were tucked in, completely motionless as his wrists did the work. He didn't scrape the plate. He didn't slouch. He took a bite, dabbed his mouth with a napkin, and set the fork down silently.
Mizuki stared. She was the daughter of a Clan Head. She had attended the Grand Named Council banquets. She had seen the most powerful lords and ladies of Altavia eat. Even they slouched when tired. Even they clinked silverware when hungry.
But this? This was unnatural. It was archaic. It looked less like a person eating breakfast and more like a scene from an old romance novel written by someone who had never actually met a human.
Who eats burnt eggs like they’re dining with the King? she wondered, a shiver of unease crawling up her neck. It’s like he’s performing a play nobody else knows the lines to.
Next to his plate was a stack of old newspapers and his notebook. His metal hand rested on the paper, holding it flat, while his eyes scanned the text with predatory focus.
“You’re up,” X said, not turning around. His voice was gravelly. “Eggs are… edible. Mostly.”
Noll didn’t look up. He circled a small paragraph in the bottom corner of the paper, then jotted something down in his notebook.
“Morning,” he said. Flat. Calm.
Mizuki walked to the table, pulling out a chair with a loud scrape—deliberately trying to break his perfect rhythm. She sat down opposite him, staring daggers at his face.
She glanced at the newspaper. It wasn't the front page. He was scouring the science and academic back-columns. She saw the name he had circled: Tim Kris.
‘Breakthrough in Aether-Resonance… Youngest lead researcher… Outstanding contribution to the field…’
There were only a few mentions, buried deep in the archives. No photos. Just dry praise for a brilliant, reclusive mind.
“You’re moving well,” she said, the accusation plain in her voice. “For someone who couldn’t walk six hours ago. And researching the enemy over breakfast? That’s efficient.”
Noll flipped a page of the newspaper, his movements crisp. “I braced the leg with a stiff metal splint. And as for the research… know thy enemy.”
“Don’t play games with me,” Mizuki snapped. “Last night you were losing your mind. You were screaming about that… blaster of yours. About Tim Kris.”
Noll’s hand paused. For a fraction of a second—just a heartbeat—the pen stopped moving. Then he resumed writing.
“Last night was a miscalculation,” he said smoothly. “I was compromised by fatigue and shock. I have reassessed the situation.”
“Reassessed?” Mizuki scoffed. “You mean you realized you looked pathetic, so now you’re pretending it didn’t happen?”
Noll finally looked up. His blue eyes were clear, empty of the terror she had seen in the dirt.
“I mean,” he said, his voice steady, “that panic is inefficient. Tim Kris is an outstanding scientist. The papers confirm he is methodical. He won't destroy the blaster immediately; he will study it. That buys me time.”
He closed the notebook with a snap.
“So, I have a new plan.”
X turned from the stove, sliding a plate of slightly scorched eggs onto the table. “And does this plan involve you resting?”
“It involves resource management,” Noll said, standing up. He winced slightly as he put weight on his leg, but he hid it quickly behind that terrifyingly perfect posture. “I need supplies. The blaster is gone, which means I am mostly unable to fight. I need to build countermeasures.”
He grabbed a cane that was leaning against the wall—a simple metal rod he must have scavenged from the workshop.
“I’m going to town.”
“Town?” Mizuki stood up. “You’re going to the Broken Town? In this state?”
“Not the Broken Town,” Noll corrected, adjusting his collar. “The trade district in the Lower Ring. I have… contacts there.”
Lower Ring? Mizuki thought. So that’s what that excuse for a town is called.
“I’ll go with you,” X said, untying his apron.
“No.” Noll raised a hand. “You need to stay here and draft the report for the Council. If we don’t explain the situation in the cave, they’ll send an inquisitor. You have to handle the paperwork.”
“Wait.” Mizuki interrupted. “You are sending reports to the Council? I thought this place didn’t care about outside rules?”
“You really think so?” X laughed. “You should stop believing some rumors. The only reason we are here is because the Council doesn’t want to waste men on this Goddess-forsaken place.”
Noll looked at Mizuki.
“And because we are not interrupting their plans.” He put his cup down. “Well, I have to go.”
He turned and limped toward the door, the cane clicking rhythmically against the wood. Click. Step. Click. Step.
Mizuki watched him go. It was a perfect performance. The stoic mechanic, back to work.
But she saw the sweat beading at his hairline. She saw how white his knuckles were on the cane.
He’s running, she realized. He’s not going for supplies. He’s going to do something he doesn’t want us to see.
The door closed behind him.
Mizuki looked at X. The captain slumped into a chair, rubbing his face with his hands. He bought it. Or he was too tired to argue.
“I’m going for a walk,” Mizuki said, grabbing a piece of toast.
X waved a hand dismissively. “Just… don’t go far.”
“I won’t,” she lied.
She waited ten seconds, then slipped out the door.
Noll was already halfway to the perimeter, flying on his pink disk. There was a small bag on it, too. He wasn't looking back.
Mizuki pulled her hat low and stepped into the shadows.
Alright, actor, she thought. Let’s see what happens when you think the audience has gone home.
She kept her distance, but the hardest part wasn't staying out of sight—it was staying "quiet."
Leaky bucket, his voice echoed in her head.
Mizuki grit her teeth. She focused on the hum of electricity under her skin, the cold mist that usually drifted from her breath. She forced it down. Compressed it. It felt like holding her breath while running a marathon, a constant, suffocating pressure.
I’m not leaking, she thought fiercely, watching his back. I’m a void. You won't sense a spark.
Noll didn’t look back once. He seemed entirely focused on the path ahead. Mizuki allowed herself a grim smile.
First round to me.
At the bottom of the hill, where the dirt path met the cobblestones of the Lower Ring, Noll slowed. He stepped off the pink disk.
Instead of vanishing, the construct rippled. The flat circle folded in on itself, sharp corners emerging from the liquid light, until it solidified into a perfect, floating pink cube.
Noll dropped the small bag onto it. The cube bobbed gently, carrying the weight he couldn't manage.
Then, the performance resumed.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, unassuming silver cylinder, no longer than a knife handle.
His thumb found a small catch on the side.
Schlik-click.
With a sharp hiss, the cylinder extended outward, segments locking into place until it formed a long, sturdy cane. It was lightweight metal—hollow and efficient.
He tested it against the cobblestones. Tink.
Satisfied, he hunched his shoulders, putting his weight on the metal rod.
Tink. Step. Tink. Step.
The flying sorcerer was gone. The crippled mechanic was back.
Mizuki stayed twenty meters back, blending into the morning shadows of the alleyways, moving only when Noll moved, synchronizing with his movements.
Another toy, she thought, watching the cane near his left leg. Does he have a tool for everything? Or is he just afraid of touching the world with his own hands?
He continued moving forward. Occasionally, he would stop, looking around. Mizuki would be one step too late to stop. She was praying he didn’t hear that, but the morning bustle of the Lower Ring swallowed the sound.
A heavy merchant cart rumbled past, drawn by two massive draft horses. Its iron-rimmed wheels ground against the stone, masking the scuff of her boot.
Noll didn’t turn. He didn’t scan the shadows like a paranoid fugitive. Instead, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his neck, his hand trembling visibly.
Is he ignoring me? Mizuki wondered, pressing herself flat against a brick wall. Or is he just too focused on not collapsing to notice?
He put the handkerchief away, tapped the cane twice—tink, tink—and resumed his slow, rhythmic march.
They moved deeper into the district. The air grew thick with the smell of sulfur, burning coal, and exotic spices. Here, the architecture changed. The clean lines of the Upper Ring were gone, replaced by a chaotic jumble of workshops, stalls, and heavy ropes strung between rooftops.
Noll navigated the chaos with ease, the pink cube weaving between pedestrians who barely gave it a second glance. In the Lower Ring, strange magic was just another Tuesday.
He stopped in front of a narrow, crooked building squeezed between a bakery and a loud tannery. The sign above the door was faded, the paint peeling to reveal the wood grain beneath, but the words were still legible: RARE ARTEFACTS & CURIOSITIES.
Noll stared at the door for a long moment. Then, he straightened his coat, fixed his posture, and pushed inside.
The pink cube floated in after him. The door chimed—a cheerful, rusty bell.
Mizuki waited for a beat, then crept closer, peering through the grime-streaked window.
The place was surprisingly clean. Especially the shelves. Whatever they sell here… it goes fast.
There were other people there. Two hooded men, walking around, inspecting polished glass globes.
Noll walked straight to the empty counter, head down, ignoring the customers entirely. The pink cube placed itself there and disappeared, leaving the bag on the wood.
Strange… Mizuki thought, shifting her grip on the bat. Why isn’t the owner at the counter? In a district like this, you don't leave the register unguarded.
Noll tapped the silver bell on the counter.
Ding.
The sound was sharp, cutting through the silence.
“Coming!” a crude voice called out. An old man emerged from the door behind the counter, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. He looked at Noll, and recognition flashed in his eyes. Then he looked at the bag on the counter, and a greedy smile stretched his face.
“The usual…” Noll said, sliding the bag closer.
The owner took the bag, weighing it in his hands, then carefully opened it for inspection.
“This is nice…” he muttered, smiling. Then he coughed loudly.
The two hooded customers slowly turned around. They weren't shopping. They placed their hands behind their backs, blocking the exit.
“But there is a problem,” the owner said, his voice hardening. “Your artifacts… they sell too well. They draw attention. We've got Clan watchdogs sniffing around, wondering where the quality goods are coming from.”
He leaned forward, trying to loom over Noll. Noll didn’t flinch.
“High risk means high fees,” the owner smirked. “So here is how it’s going to go. Either we increase the price… or I take seventy percent of the profit instead of the usual thirty. For 'protection' fees, of course.”
Noll looked at him, unimpressed. “And if I refuse?”
The owner tapped his finger on the counter.
Shing.
The two men drew short blades from their belts.
What are these three thinking? Mizuki shook her head. Do they really think cheap steel scares him?
She looked at Noll’s back. He was standing tall, but she saw the slight tremor in his left leg.
…But he’s running on fumes, she realized, her stomach tightening. He has one construct. If he tries to block two blades and defend from the shopkeeper at the same time… he'll shatter like he did last night.
She gripped her bat, her knuckles white. If they lunge, I have to move.
Noll sighed. A long, disappointed exhale.
“Young man,” Noll said, his voice weary. “I advise you not to play games with me.”
Young man? Mizuki blinked. The shopkeeper is sixty if he's a day. Did I hear that right?
The owner looked just as confused. “Who are you calling young, you cripple?” He sneered. “You know what? For the disrespect… I’m not giving you a single copper. All the profits are mine.”
Noll’s face went blank. He looked at the owner not with fear, but with a cold, clinical indifference.
“I wonder…” Noll said, a gentle half-smile touching his lips. “What would Alice and Danny say, if they found out what their father actually does for a living?”
Mizuki froze.
The shopkeeper froze. The sneer vanished from his face. His mustache stopped twitching.
“Seven years old, correct?” Noll continued, tilting his head. “Just started school. And your wife, Cara… surely she knows where the money comes from? Or do you lie to her, too?”
The shopkeeper’s face went red, then purple.
“Keep their names out of your mouth, you bastard!” Mark screamed, his composure shattering.
“How noble,” Noll nodded, looking genuinely impressed.
“Touching, really,” he whispered, mostly to himself. “I am almost jealous of such devotion.”
Noll’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Your family would have to pay the debt. You wouldn't want Alice to never make it to school tomorrow, would you?”
“You’re… you’re bluffing,” Mark stammered, though his voice trembled.
Noll took a step closer. He didn't look at the thugs. He looked straight into Mark's eyes.
“Rookwood Street,” Noll recited, his voice crisp. “Building number six. Second staircase, third floor, first door on the right. Or did you already move to that apartment closer to the center you bragged about so much?”
Mark’s hands started to shake uncontrollably. He looked at the two thugs, then back at Noll.
“Even if you know…” Mark hissed, desperation creeping in. “You can’t do anything. You’re alone here. I’m not.”
“You are mistaken.”
Noll leaned in, his face inches from the shopkeeper’s.
“I never come alone,” Noll whispered, but in the silence of the shop, it sounded like a shout. “It’s just that sometimes… my friends stand further back. And watch.”
Mizuki’s heart skipped a beat. She pressed herself harder against the brick wall, her breath hitching.
Does he know? she panicked. Is he talking about me? Or does he have unseen assassins in the alleys?
The room went dead silent. Quieter than a grave. The two thugs exchanged nervous glances, suddenly terrified to look at the windows, feeling invisible eyes on their backs.
Mark wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. Defeated, he reached under the counter, pulled out the heavy bag of gold, and shoved it toward Noll.
Noll took it. He weighed it in his pink cube for a second, not even bothering to look inside.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Mark,” he said calmly.
He turned and walked toward the exit, his cane tapping a steady rhythm against the floor. Tink. Step. Tink.
At the door, he stopped. He didn't turn around.
“Tell your wife the children draw beautifully.”
He pushed the door open and stepped out into the street.
"I never come alone."
Let's break down the "Noll" we just saw:
-
The Noble: He eats burnt eggs with the posture of a King. Is he a fallen noble? A construct programmed with high-society etiquette?
-
The Monster: He threatened a man’s family with their home address and children's names without blinking. That is colder than any ice magic.
-
The Omniscient: "Tell your wife the children draw beautifully." How does he know that? Does he have cameras? Spies? Or can he see through walls?
The Big Question: When Noll said, "My friends stand further back and watch," was he:
-
A) Bluffing to scare the shopkeeper?
-
B) talking about his "invisible" construct friends?
-
C) Telling Mizuki he knows exactly where she is hiding?
C. Noll doesn't seem like the type to miss a tail.
Also, the Blaster is gone. Tim Kris has it. That is a catastrophe waiting to happen.
Next Chapter: We see the fallout of the "bluff." And maybe, just maybe, Mizuki confronts him about the "friend" comment.
If you enjoyed the psychological warfare: Leave a Like or a Comment. It helps the algorithm find us!