-oOo-

  Chapter 21

  -oOo-

  A cool wind blew, stirring silver locks. Sylvia’s dress fluttered, the hem’s movement dampened by the heavy weight of her navy-blue robes. On her head, a newsboy cap sat firmly in place. Unbothered by the evening’s chill, Sylvia flipped a page of her book. White paper was illuminated by an ether light lamp behind, cast in faint crimson by the color of the moon.

  Sylvia’s pastel pink eyes glowed against the dark.

  With the eyes of an asteri, Sylvia glimpsed the radiance of energetic ether. The whole world was lit by its soft shine. Phantasms had their own hue whether they were living or dead. The book she held and the words written upon it were no different.

  But to distinguish ink from paper? The quality of her vision was not so fine.

  Which was why Sylvia had stolen a lamp before perching upon the rooftop.

  “Oof.”

  Hands grasped the roof’s edge. With a groan, a freckled blonde hoisted herself on top. Riley Smith flashed a smile, her intense green eyes like fireflies in the night. Like shadows behind her were the distant buildings of Orasul Lunii.

  “Yo.”

  “Careful,” Sylvia warned without looking up. “You don’t want to make the gargoyle angry.”

  Riley’s gaze shifted to her right. She grimaced. A stone head had turned in her direction. The gargoyle leered, a hideous hiss escaping its maw. The blonde tomboy skittered two steps away. With the shuffle of stone, the phantasm settled back into place.

  Reassured, Riley made her way across the roof to plop down beside Sylvia. The warmth was nice.

  “Wait. Do they get angry?”

  Sylvia’s left pigtail reached out, changing the page. “Halva if I know.”

  Her tongue buzzed. Four more fucking weeks.

  She was going to be wearing this damn thing for years.

  Riley stared at the phantasm. “Let’s not find out.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Sylvia concurred.

  Sylvia had long been tempted to hit the gargoyle with an Observe Opponent. She held herself in check. Two days after the festival, Sylvia had been run out of a store after repeatedly casting ‘suspicious witchcraft’.

  It had been grossly unfair. It wasn’t as though Sylvia had been casting curses. She'd merely been stealing the owner’s IP!

  “So…,” Riley drawled, nudging closer to the nearby witch. “Reading anything good?”

  “Not unless you like biographies from the Silent Age,” Sylvia answered. With a proper human hand, she wedged a bookmark between the pages. Thump. Her cute, curly twin tails pressed the cover closed before delivering it to her space bag.

  Riley snorted a laugh.

  “Don’t,” Sylvia warned.

  A second, stifled laugh rumbled in Riley’s throat. “I’ll have you know, you look adorable.” The tomboy sputtered a third laugh. “And sparkly.”

  “You. Owe. Me. Five. Hundred. Soli,” Sylvia disparaged in a punctuated retort.

  The silver-haired witch glared at her freckled friend. Riley’s grin grew wider.

  “Mercy, mercy,” she begged, hands up. “Though, one of these days, I’m going to get you to explain why you suddenly gave in to Emily.”

  Sylvia gave her friend a half lidded glare.

  “Tell me about the Silent Age, resident historian,” Riley said, helpfully changing the subject.

  “I’m hardly a historian,” Sylvia muttered. “The Silent Age was the period after the third great war, Ragnarok. With the netherworld in shambles, Heaven, Hell, and the Fey Federation gathered together and signed treaties, hoping to prevent the onset of a fourth war.”

  And those treaties inevitably led to the War of Words. Then came the Colonial Age.

  Nether history was divided into four eras: the Primordial Era, the Ancient Era, the Divine Era, and the Modern Era. As for what happened during the Primordial Era, there were only the foggiest myths. The Primordial Era was prehistory. So, for all practical purposes, there were only three eras to speak about.

  Those three eras were, in turn, separated into ages. The Ancient Era was split into the Age of Myths, the Age of Blood, and the Age of Magic. The Divine Era consisted of the ages Golden and Silver. As for the Modern Era, historians had declared two ages thus far, the Silent Age and the Colonial Age.

  The biography Sylvia was reading told of a demon who dedicated his life to preserving peace. His tale was full of hope, a rare beacon in the ashes of Ragnarok. Alas, Sylvia already knew how the story would end. Even without the advantage of hindsight, anyone could’ve guessed. Demons held human souls, and where men walked, war was waged eternal.

  Especially with that fucker, Lucifer, intent on shattering the post-war stability.

  “You’re more of a historian than I am,” Riley proclaimed. The tomboy laid back, arms crossed behind her head, staring up at the stars. “It’s nice up here. Quiet. I like it.”

  “It was quiet,” Sylvia retorted.

  “Sorry,” Riley laughed. Then her bright green eyes turned serious. “Am I bothering you?”

  “No,” Sylvia returned, lying down beside her friend. “You can stay.”

  Reading textbooks had become a habit. Over the last year, she’d developed a certain degree of tolerance when it came to boring books. Sylvia, however, wouldn’t say she enjoyed the experience. Her actions were motivated more by the sweet reward of Wizard Means Wise than anything else.

  “The stars are wrong.”

  The dark sky was like a speckled painting. An ocean of gleaming white whose breadth and grandeur Eric had never witnessed on Earth. Having grown up in the city, the night had always been colored by the orange brush of the streetlights, washing away the night’s celestial beauty.

  “Is that so,” Sylvia murmured.

  “Yeah,” Riley answered, gesturing. “Draco is supposed to be right next to Ursa Minor, but it’s way over there.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sylvia said blandly.

  Riley laughed. “City girl?”

  “City boy,” she corrected.

  “Right,” the blonde accepted. “Same here, but my parents used to take me out camping when I was young. The stars out there were dazzling. I could just lay back and stare at them forever.”

  Sylvia was silent. Lying beside the blonde, her gaze remained fixed by the artistry of nature. As Eric, she had never witnessed the heavens of Earth. As Sylvia, she could admire their beauty, false though it may be.

  “I can’t believe I’m looking forward to going back,” Riley muttered. “I hate being cooped up like this. The Academy was bigger. Freer. There was always this energy. Places to go. Things to do.”

  “We always long for the places that are familiar,” Sylvia whispered.

  Sometimes, she even dreamed of Eric’s crummy apartment. Of picking up his keys and going to work at his shit job.

  What a pathetic desire.

  But oh so human.

  “After class, I could play soccer with the seniors. Or pick up a spear and spar with a few girls. Maybe, I could even talk Piper into letting me fly on a broom,” Riley continued. There was a pause, then her head turned toward the girl beside her. “This sucks. Worst festival ever. Sylvia, since you have an in with the dean, what’s the news?”

  “The army launched an attack last night to try and break the siege,” Sylvia answered. “The lightning cannons went quiet about an hour back, so things must’ve been decided one way or another.”

  Briefly, she wondered what her team was doing. Was Elroy on the wall, fighting the undead legions? Had Iulian joined the werewolf, or was he cooped up in the castle? For that matter, what happened to Gavin and Nessa?

  Sylvia felt a bit guilty for having left them.

  Though, Lady Vallenfelt would’ve killed her if she’d stayed.

  “Say we break the siege,” Riley questioned. “What comes next?”

  “The king’s army will reinforce Lup Rosu and Loge Sombre,” Sylvia answered immediately. “After that? It depends. If the rebels take those cities first, then they might march on Vallen. If the king’s army smashes the rebel army outside the walls, then the government will have the upper hand. In which case, the king might move on Port Blaze or Muguang Fortress.”

  Loge Sombre and Lup Rosu were in the Midnight Forest, where lay the core of the development faction. Port Blaze and Muguang Fortress, by contrast, were positioned along the River of Fire with Baron Ishii’s fief far to the south. This left Vallen and Bam poorly placed. However, neither held much strategic value. So, it was unlikely they would be attacked in the first phases of the war unless one side or the other had a solid advantage.

  “And who do you think will win?” Riley questioned.

  “The rebels obviously made more preparations,” Sylvia answered. “And, in their opening move, they wiped a third of the plane’s aerial fleet. However, the king has a two-to-one advantage when it comes to population. If Baron Ishii and his resource faction don’t score another strategic victory, they’ll lose.” Sylvia paused, then added. “Assuming foreign powers don’t stick their fingers in.”

  Through Emily, Sylvia had heard Viscount Vilhelm Codrin’s speculations that the Helheim legions were a 'gift' from an outside group called the Hoga Clan.

  Riley grimaced. “Feels weird, thinking that we might lose our home.”

  Sylvia nodded. As an American, she understood. For war to reach her shores was unimaginable. But this wasn’t Earth, and Vallen was not half as secure as her former nation.

  “Wars are common in Hell.”

  Ain’t that the truth.

  Most imagined war as an event driven by emotion. That hate, anger, and misunderstandings led humans to fight and die. The truth was far more banal and all the more horrible for it. Most wars were pushed by a cost-benefit analysis. The aggressor thought they would benefit, so they attacked. If things didn’t pan out as they expected, then they were trapped in a pit of their own making. On Earth, warfare had become bound not just by mutually assured destruction but also by the cost of capital. Even if an aggressor won, then what? They had to invest trillions and wait decades to recoup costs.

  In Hell, the economics were very different.

  Advanced nations on Earth manufactured goods using long, expensive, technological chains. In Hell, most goods were produced by artisans wielding simple tools. A ruined city could be quickly restored to life. Even the dead citizens could be revived.

  Just as importantly, demons rarely cared who ruled their cities. To the plebs, all the devils were the same. So why not serve the new lord?

  This war? It was no different. The politics were as shallow and as greedy as they got. The Demon King, Vilhelm Codrin, wanted to use the souls stored in the Frozen Wastes to develop the Timeless Beryl Wilderness into a sovereign plane. He wanted to invest. Less money now, more money later.

  Baron Ishii and the rebels wanted to sell the extraction rights to foreigners. More money now, less money later.

  That was it.

  That was the cause of this war.

  Fucking cash.

  To be sure, there were additional political complexities, but the root remained the twenty-five million souls. A five hundred billion soli prize.

  “To the surprise of no one,” Riley commented, continuing the earlier thought.

  Sylvia laughed.

  Ding!

  The System’s bell caught Sylvia’s attention. Her eyes flicked to the event log.

  Reward: +1 pts – A User has purchased: The Lesser Codex

  Eh? Eh. Eh! It finally happened! The first free merit point had gloriously found its way into her wallet. Sylvia had a sudden itch. She should buy the forum feature and see what everyone was talking about. What did her fellow Earth-bound System bearers think about runes and magic? Did they regard them as a hoax? Were they curious as to how she’d earned her skill books?

  No. No. No.

  Her place was that of the mysterious senior. An unknowable figure at whom they could only look up.

  Besides, there were barely any users right now. Who was she going to troll to amuse herself? She should buy the feature when there were plenty of naive noobs to toy with.

  Also, she really did have more important things to spend her merit points on.

  “Looks like they’re back,” Riley said, standing up.

  A score of witches flew in on brooms, Baroness Esmeralda Vallenfelt at the head. Sylvia’s teacher was wearing her battle armor, a demure white dress with a royal-blue cloak. The dean’s long hair trailed behind in a wondrous wave as she slowed into a graceful landing.

  Professor Fischer dismounted a step behind her. Seniors wheeled overhead before landing one by one.

  From the mansion emerged Zoe Marshall and Professor Wright. Zoe had curly, aqua colored hair. The tone of her skin was darker than Professor Wright's olive tan. Upon arrival, the two witches greeted their baroness with a proper curtsy.

  ““Milady.””

  Proper, of course, because if Sylvia had to do it then so should everyone else!

  Yes, she was feeling petty. Stuff it.

  “Zoe, assemble the witches, please. Glenda, collect any broom, staff, or other equipment we’ve lent,” Lady Vallenfelt ordered briskly.

  ““Of course milady,”” the two witches answered before taking to their tasks.

  Expression solemn, Professor Wright stepped forward taking the broom Esmeralda proffered.

  “Did everything go well?” the brown haired teacher asked.

  “The enemy has retreated,” Lady Vallenfelt answered. “So we can call it a victory. However, Baron Ishii has achieved his goal. Lup Rosu fell no more than three hours past. The army makes haste, but by the time they arrive, all pools and infrastructure will have been destroyed. Loge Sombre remains in question, but word is that it should hold for two days.”

  Esmeralda’s aqua-haired retainer, Zoe, had entered the mansion. Sylvia could hear the muffled shouts as the witch called everyone out. Professor Fischer was speaking to the seniors, having requisitioned Piper to help her gather an armful of brooms and staves.

  “Will you be departing with them?” Abigail continued.

  “No. I must see to Vallen,” the baroness replied. “The viscount has requested as many witches as we can muster. I will allow volunteers among the senior students only. The juniors and those that refuse the call will leave for the Academy immediately.”

  Lady Vallenfelt paused.

  “Abigail, see that naught is neglected. I do not wish to wait more than an hour.” The green-haired witch turned her eyes up. “Sylvia. Descend.”

  Sylvia’s eye twitched. What fun it was to be summoned by authority figures. Stifling a groan, Sylvia leapt off the roof. The silver-haired witch plummeted two stories before touching lightly upon the earth, a puff of petals circling her feet. Wearing her most polite expression, Sylvia pinched her skirt and offered a graceful curtsy.

  “Milady.”

  “You may refer to me as master. Your apprenticeship will soon be made formal,” Lady Vallenfelt instructed. “As for other matters, there is no need to speak. I have already been informed. We will discuss your situation in private.”

  “Yes, teacher,” Sylvia accepted, using a comfortable alternative.

  Esmeralda waved a hand. Stone rumbled. Heavy wings beat. Six gargoyles took off from the roof to land on the grass nearby.

  “Eeek!”

  One, however, took the time to snag a freckled blonde then toss her near the seniors. Sylvia held in her laugh. Riley always did love adventure. Lady Vallenfelt didn’t give the blonde tomboy a second glance.

  “Your hair is quite adorable, though the hat does it little favor,” Esmeralda commented. “Your friend Emily’s doing, I suppose.”

  “It was,” Sylvia grumbled, hand atop her hat to protect it.

  “I am not going to take it from you, child,” Lady Vallenfelt chided. “And speak clearly. Manners are a must.”

  “Yes, teacher,” Sylvia chirped.

  Why oh why didn’t she realize that Emily and Esmeralda were the same at the start?

  Forty students gathered on the lawn, corralled by Zoe Marshall and Abigail Wright. A dozen wore dresses of green, while a score wore sapphire. The rest were clothed in deep red. Juniors, seniors, and external students amassed together. Among them, Sylvia spotted Emily, Josephine, Kyna, and Camila. Most were gazing about the courtyard in confusion.

  The dean gestured. Grass rose, forming an earthen dais. Lady Vallenfelt stood upon it, gargoyles forming an array of soldiers behind.

  “Quiet!” Professor Fischer thundered.

  The baroness waited, letting calm descend before she spoke.

  “You came with me to Orasul Lunii to witness the Festival of Light and to cheer your sisters through the Young Demon’s Tournament,” the dean spoke, her words clear and confident. “Regretfully, we return with only one of those dreams fulfilled. War has fallen upon these lands. It has taken us from a world of games and classes to one of fear and tragedy. Its first victims bear the names: Brianna Schultz and Tiffany Lowe.”

  Esmeralda paused for a second, allowing a moment of silence.

  “Death is not to be feared in the netherworld,” she said, her voice firm and heavenly. “Those that are lost are never lost forever. I have sent a letter to Baron Ishii requesting your sisters’ ransom. Though we are enemies, the baron is an honorable man. I have faith that you will soon be reunited.

  “I know this ending brings great disappointment. Though we depart with reluctance in our hearts, I hope seven years from now we’ll stand here together again. Then, we will see the sky light in celebration. We will travel this city’s winding roads, our ears filled with song. Finally, we will watch our younger sisters as they face the strongest demons of this plane.

  “But first, we must prepare,” Esmeralda continued, her voice carrying sudden strength. “For the war that touched this city may soon threaten our land and our home.”

  Lady Vallenfelt’s gaze swept the students, her eyes galaxies of umbral green. With her poise and posture, she radiated authority. A queen more than a baroness. Looking at her from the side, Sylvia was struck by how small her teacher was. Every asteri was short. This was a trait common among the entire magissa genera. Professor Wright, at best, broke five-foot-seven. Lady Vallenfelt's height was average, halfway between Sylvia and the professor.

  But when Esmeralda stood on the dais, she felt like a giant.

  “The Demon King requests that I grant as many witches as I can spare. I will demand this of no one. However, I shall permit students senior and external to serve in his army. Furthermore, I shall waive all payments of debt for those that volunteer until the war meets its end.

  “But do not mistake this as my preference. As a baroness, this act is no more than my duty to the crown. No witch will be conscripted into the king’s army. My hope is that all of you will follow me to Vallen and stay by my side.”

  Esmeralda stepped off her earthen podium, vanishing it with a wave of her staff.

  “Ke ke ke, any who desire the taste of blood and battle, gather on the left,” Professor Fischer interjected. “The rest of you, remain where you are.”

  The blonde-haired teacher waited, wearing a wicked grin. Slowly, three senior students and two external peeled off from the group. Sylvia didn’t recognize any of them.

  Then she frowned. Ingrid was missing.

  Sylvia swept the crowd a second time to be sure.

  Yep. She had it right the first time. The succubus was gone.

  The silver-haired witch breathed a sigh.

  Ingrid, it seemed, had completed her last year at the Academy. The succubus was a student no more. Now, she’d work for Enchanted Elegance, learning her trade from the yuki onna, Kagome. Sylvia wished her luck. She’d miss Ingrid, her sexy manner and sexier legs, but she’d never miss the way the purple-haired demoness broke out a ruler to measure the height of Sylvia’s heels.

  Though the story was rather amusing in retrospect.

  To think, when they returned they’d be second years. Back then they had bumbled through the halls, confused girls without a single spell to their grimoire. Now, they were witches. Weavers of wonder and maidens of magic. Life would go on. Another year and Kyna would vanish, a maidservant for her mistress in Sunlight Harbor.

  One day, it would be Sylvia’s turn to leave the others behind.

  And that day wasn't far.

  Funny. The Academy. When the time came, Sylvia was going to miss it.

  May Ingrid find her dream.

  May all of them.

  “Looks like everyone has decided,” Professor Fischer said minutes later. The ruby lipped blonde flexed her fingers. “Then let's start the transfer. Ke ke ke.”

  ““■■■■, ■■ ■■■.””

  The professors started to chant. Lady Vallenfelt joined them five seconds later, drawing deep flows of ether. Wind, fire, and earth. The elements melted into metal and lightning, coiling upon themselves before being catalyzed by a runic structure into the advanced element calamity.

  Sylvia’s eye twitched. Flicking her gaze, she realized the teachers were repeatedly casting the cremation hex.

  She wasn’t the only one who noticed. Most of the juniors gazed up at the circling ether, dazzled and confused. A few seniors, however, had the knowing look of a woman about to face the inevitable.

  Ffoomp! Foof!

  A pillar of flame surged, roaring like a blast furnace. The blaze licked the sky, the orange tips reaching up three stories. In a single second, the gathered girls were incinerated, leaving not a speck of ash.

  In the next few moments, their souls would sink into Unus Mundus before being drawn to their anchors in Vallen.

  …

  That was certainly one way to fast travel.

  “Zoe, make sure the wards are set strictly,” Esmeralda said, staff dissolving back into her soul. “I will be taking four of the gargoyles with me, so security will be left bare.”

  “Of course, milady,” Zoe returned. Her eyes drifted curiously to the silver-haired witch before flicking back to the baroness. “When I saw you call them down, I took the liberty to collect their soul stones for you.”

  “Sylvia is my apprentice and will, consequently, be returning with me,” Lady Vallenfelt said, answering the unspoken question. “And thank you for your work, Zoe.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “It is my pleasure, milady.”

  “The war will, no doubt, bring a great deal of traffic. I regret that you will find yourself quite busy in the months to come,” Esmeralda commented.

  “I can’t call myself a servant if all I do is enjoy your mansion,” Zoe replied with a smile. “I will contact the graduates on your behalf.”

  “Tell them that, at the Academy, they will always find welcome. Though I fear they might have to endure Vallen for the moment.”

  Two maids exited the mansion, one with a dog's ears and another with a lizard’s tail. The first carried a basket holding six stones. The other bore a heavy, metal-bound chest. Moments later, the box was set down near Zoe’s feet.

  “Return two of the soul stones,” the aqua-haired retainer ordered. “Their phantasms will remain with us.”

  “Yes, Miss Marshall,” the dog-eared maid accepted.

  As instructed, the maid took two stones from the basket before scurrying back the way she came. The lizard-tailed maid remained, stepping aside while keeping her head bowed.

  Lady Vallenfelt gestured.

  Click.

  Impelled by magic, the chest’s lock sprang. The lid opened. Lady Vallenfelt lowered herself to better scrutinize the objects inside.

  Curious, Sylvia gazed in as well.

  Nestled neatly in the chest were five burial urns. Phylacteries. Tools of resurrection which, thanks to her gaming background, Sylvia associated with a lich. In Hell, phylacteries were rare objects only because few demons could lay hands on their mortal corpse.

  Lady Vallenfelt, who collected souls directly from the mortal world, had made a phylactery for every witch.

  The use of a phylactery was multifold. It was a powerful anchor, though not an omnipotent one or the souls of Brianna and Tiffany would not have been lost. It improved the efficiency of resurrection, cutting the essences required by half. The most important feature, however, was accelerated rebirth.

  Poor demons relied on public pools to resurrect, while the rich would keep a private pool in their residence. Rebirth wasn’t an instantaneous process. After dying, a soul required a week or two to recover.

  With these phylacteries, however, this time could be reduced to half a day. The trick to it was simple. The urn housed a demon's mortal remains. Even reduced to ash as it was, the remains knew their soul. With this, and a little magic, the urn could form an empty husk. A clone that, once inhabited by the soul, would transform into a true body carrying life.

  Each of these five urns belonged to a tournament participant.

  Sylvia wondered which one was hers.

  “■■.”

  Esmeralda cast a spell. Two balls of light were pried from the urns. One red. One gold. Souls. Those of Piper and Josephine. The dean flicked her wrist, sending them on their way. Then, she put the four red soul stones inside the chest before locking it.

  “Glenda, Abigail, I’m afraid I won’t have the mana to bring you along. I trust you know what to do.”

  Professor Fischer grinned, her cunning blue eyes dancing with mad light.

  “I might be a day behind,” Professor Wright interjected. “I want to give the mansion a once over and make sure we didn’t miss anything.”

  “Great! Then you can hold onto my heart,” Glenda said delightedly.

  The blonde witch reached for her eye, long nails pressing around the edge of the orb. Sylvia’s expression twisted. She promptly spun on her heel to avoid the sight.

  Crazy witch.

  “Glenda,” Esmeralda interrupted, words sharp. “Where others cannot see, please.”

  “Ke ke ke, as you wish, milady,” the blonde professor said. With a curtsy, Professor Fischer danced her way into the mansion.

  Lady Vallenfelt clicked her tongue while shaking her head. “What is the point of adding to her collection after all these years? That girl has taken up a most strange hobby.”

  Sylvia decided not to mention that she still had her own astral core sitting on a bookshelf in her dorm. A gift left behind after her vivisection by the same professor.

  “Sylvia, pick up the chest. We will be on our way in a moment.”

  The silver-haired witch stooped then grabbed the box as instructed. Oof. Heavy. And easily solved. “■.” A quick application of feather-light and Sylvia easily hoisted the chest off the ground.

  While she waited, Esmeralda chanted.

  “■■■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■■.”

  Hundreds of runes were spun into three chains. Two twined together, forming a giant wreath. The last knotted upon itself. The ball of runes was cast into the circle’s center. Mana exploded. A roiling wave bearing the realm element washed over her. This time, Lady Vallenfelt didn’t use a spell catalyst, meaning that she could form the advanced element directly.

  Before Sylvia’s eyes, the air split. A glowing aperture opened. A gate. Ether seethed as a tunnel was cut across the plane. A hole in the world, the depths filled with blue and green light instead of darkness.

  Space was the element which defined area and territory. It described location and physical connection. Though space could be used to twist or stretch distance, its primary function was to form a foundation. This was space in the sense that paper was a space on which an artist could draw a picture.

  Teleportation wasn’t a magic of the element space. Instead, the advanced element realm was required. Realm was catalyzed from the basic elements void and space, claiming characteristics from each. From void, it gained the ability to change reality into fantasy and fantasy into reality. Unbound by logic and continuity, realm could connect that which was not connected.

  “If you’d please,” Esmeralda directed.

  Sylvia stepped through.

  There was a jolt.

  The world swung. Up became left, while right became down. Sylvia swayed. She felt her existence stretch like a rubber band. Then, just as quickly, she snapped back.

  Her pink pumps touched the ground. Foot crooked, she stumbled. Then, before her ankle could twist, Sylvia caught herself with the waltz of flowers.

  Voomp.

  The gate’s throat thrummed like a pneumatic tube as Lady Vallenfelt passed through. The aperture vanished behind her.

  Darkness.

  At least, it would’ve been dark if the room hadn’t been lit by flows of ether so thick and bright that even an ordinary demon could see by them.

  The area was a circle. Thick wood, like the trunk of a tree, rose through the center. Podiums were set all around it. Twelve towering crystals floated atop. Eight shimmered with primordial ether. Lightning, metal, wood, and ice glinted within. Four half-sized gems carried the advanced elements calamity, abyss, nature, and sky.

  Behind, stood the gate through which they passed. A stone archway was set against the wall. Cubbyholes were cut from the wall on either side, each with smaller crystals a third Sylvia’s height. Both were drained entirely, having held the energies of chaos. This ether of realm had helped fuel the gate even though Esmeralda had opened it from the other side.

  The weight growing in her arms stemmed Sylvia’s curiosity. Hurriedly, the silver-haired witch renewed her feather-light.

  “■.”

  “Put it in the corner for now,” Lady Vallenfelt instructed. “I will see it stored properly later.”

  For once, Sylvia was happy to do as she was told.

  Bereft of her burden, Sylvia’s pastel pink eyes took in the room.

  The floor and ceiling were like murals depicting a great tree. Roots spread through the stone beneath her, while branches swept through the ceiling like a petrified relief. The offshoots gathered around the room’s rim, where twenty-four crystals sat in carved nooks. Six sources for each of the primary, primordial elements.

  On the stone walls were glyphs. Runes shaped into the granite, shimmering with ether.

  “It’s a staff,” Sylvia realized.

  “Not quite, but similar in structure,” Lady Vallenfelt corrected. “There are seven great circles embedded in Vallen's butte. Each draws ether into the central posts. The elemental sources serve to regulate and convert the elements so that the energies might be dispatched to the enchantments as needed.”

  Sylvia frowned, her gaze flicking back to the stone arch. A waygate, she guessed. “This is the ward room then.”

  “Your expression reveals, my apprentice,” Esmeralda chided. “This is the backup wardroom. The primary sits under the belfry. The waygate serves as both an emergency exit and a point of access. I am not a fool. It is well guarded. Without the key stone it cannot be found, and it will refuse gates opened with mana that is not my own.”

  Sylvia nodded to indicate she understood.

  “This room is secure,” Lady Vallenfelt made clear. “Show me this ‘System’.”

  So, that was why the dean had brought her here.

  Sylvia unleashed a mental command. D-d-d-d-ding! The System’s bell sounded as windows opened one after another. Her status screen, simple and extended. Traits, quests, and the merit shop were all displayed. The blue rectangles didn’t just appear in Sylvia’s mind, they were made visible in the real world, drinking a score of mana points to accomplish the deed.

  This feature had been granted to Sylvia by Lucifer himself to improve communication with her teacher.

  Also, because Emily insisted.

  … Mostly because Emily insisted. Loudly and repeatedly.

  Sylvia, for her part, had made it abundantly clear that she would level however she pleased, and no adorably puffed cheeks would convince her otherwise.

  The baroness gazed at the array of blue windows, using her hands to move the illusions as she willed.

  “I understand that you can ‘level-up’ and ‘assign attribute points’ by way of this tool.”

  Sylvia’s lips quirked.

  Lady Vallenfelt spoke the words in mangled English. That little imp, Emily, must have badgered Sylvia’s poor teacher into it. Sylvia could already imagine the brunette giggling at her older self’s plight, yet insisting that it had to be said ‘right’.

  Esmeralda’s umbral eyes shifted to the silver-haired witch.

  “Did I misspeak?” Lady Vallenfelt demanded, pronouncing each word with warning.

  “No. No,” Sylvia assured hurriedly. “Your understanding is correct. Though it’s nothing fancy. Leveling is just another way of saying that I advance my cultivation. The System just puts it in terms those of us from Earth find familiar.”

  “I see,” Esmeralda responded. “And you are free to raise any of these ‘attributes’?”

  “Yes,” Sylvia confirmed. “I could put it all into strength, if I wanted.”

  Esmeralda tapped her chin while she thought. “That sounds rather foolish,” she murmured.

  Which was why Sylvia didn’t stupidly try. Sure, it would’ve been amusing to punch an ogre’s lights out as a pint-sized witch. But this wasn’t a video game. Sylvia couldn’t swap to a new character if she bungled her build. Nor could she respec, short transmigration, which would reset her level to zero.

  “It isn’t much different from how normal demons advance,” Sylvia shrugged. “I gather experience points, soul essence, then I raise my attributes. The only real divergence is, I have more control of the where and how.”

  Which was a useless feature. While assigning attributes did grant Sylvia some degree of direction, she was still stuck with her starlight witch bloodline and the associated traits. This limited the number of builds that were practical. Reality constrained them further. Real life was closer to PvE than PvP. If Sylvia tried to min-max to the extreme, she’d just get killed in all sorts of stupid ways.

  As a result, Sylvia’s distribution wasn’t too far off from that of her fellow asteri.

  Rather than gifting her with control, it was better to say the System had handed her the rope with which she could hang herself.

  “Posture,” Esmeralda reminded sharply.

  Sylvia straightened her slouch immediately, folding her hands neatly in front, like a proper lady. “Yes, teacher.”

  “Your tongue has become freer since we last met,” Lady Vallenfelt noted. “I prefer this attitude, but, nonetheless, you must maintain your deportment.” The baroness flicked the status windows aside, giving the list of traits a cursory glance. “On the matter of attributes, you lack proper perspective. For demons, the accumulation of soul essence represents potential, nothing more. To transform that potential into power requires time and effort.”

  “Is that why we exercise in Armed Combat class?” Sylvia questioned, retaining her courtly demeanor.

  “Your deduction is correct,” Esmeralda stated. “Demons are not like mortals, who must exercise to maintain their strength, but they must still put in effort to develop both mind and body. I must admit, to have this happen naturally leaves me quite envious.”

  The baroness paused, stopping in front of the windows that show Sylvia’s quests.

  “These are the tasks he has set us to?”

  Sylvia noticed that, even in the ward room, her teacher never spoke the Devil’s title out loud.

  “Yes,” Sylvia answered. “The System offers quests and rewards, mostly in the form of virtual items or merit points.”

  Esmeralda nodded, reading the text of each. Two new ones had appeared after Sylvia completed Netherworld Recruitment.

  Compared to Netherworld Recruitment, the quest reward was pretty minor. However, nothing in this quest was particularly risky. Baroness Vallenfelt had the resources to build the compass and enough money to buy an astral ship. Finding the plane shouldn’t be hard after that. The Fifth Piece had arranged the tree for any Lucifer that followed, so the power of fate would lead Sylvia straight to it.

  The second quest was, technically speaking, even easier.

  If Esmeralda were willing, Sylvia could complete the quest today. Emily, however, had made it quite clear she had no intention to yield her treasure until Lucifer had an Apple of Idunn in hand.

  Also, the merit reward was absolute shit. Which went to show that merit was determined as much by the quest’s difficulty as the value gained from the act.

  Or, you know, the merit reward was shit because Lucifer was an asshole. The asshole hypothesis was hard to dismiss.

  On this, Esmeralda clearly agreed.

  “He requests my plane for such a petty reward?” the baroness scoffed. “If circumstances were not what they were, I would refuse the man out of principle.”

  Lady Vallenfelt shoved the window aside.

  “Let us speak of future plans,” the dean continued. “Originally, it was my intent to restrict your growth for the next few years to ensure your education keeps up with your strength.”

  Which was a polite way to say it. Sylvia knew quite well that Lady Vallenfelt wanted to use those years to polish her into the picture of femininity.

  “Are you planning to increase my quota of astral dew?” Sylvia asked, hopefully.

  Going from 350xp a day to 500xp a day was enticing. It was a little lacking, though, compared the 10,000xp Sylvia had harvested in Orasul Lunii. Albeit, she had to take into account the fact that her soul could only process around 1,500xp a day in the form of fresh blood essence.

  “No, you will be consuming astral amber from my personal reserves. If not for the war, I would have sent you out to hunt in order to save on costs.”

  “Were you not saving those resources for Emily?”

  Esmeralda nodded. “Quite astute. It was for my recovery after transmigration. However, my plans have been thrown awry. I cannot be weakened while my enemies threaten my house, and now, I must additionally consider this System.”

  Lady Vallenfelt waved at the blue window. Sylvia was curious whether her master would end up accepting a System, as Lucifer had offered. For now, she directed the conversation toward her personal profit.

  “Teacher, in addition to completing quests, I can obtain merit points by collecting spells, maps, enchantment codes, nether codes, and the like,” Sylvia asserted. Her greedy, pink eyes stared at the walls and the collection of enchantments. “May I?”

  “You may not,” Esmeralda countermanded. “I do not wish for that man to know all my secrets. Nor will I trust this System of yours until it has been tested and reviewed to my standard. However, ■.”

  The emerald haired witch clicked her tongue. The lid of the chest popped. From it, she drew a dark, red stone.

  “So I might better understand the mechanism, you may study this.”

  “Thank you,” Sylvia accepted, maintaining her politeness.

  Focusing her thoughts, the silver-haired girl commanded her System. Observe Item.

  Ding!

  So, this was what the stones were, artificial souls to supply immortal phantasms. Sylvia wasn’t aware such a method was possible. Useful, though the drawbacks were equally obvious.

  Sylvia’s event log scrolled. For her teacher’s benefit, she made both windows visible.

  Reward: +17 pts – Enchantment code: Soul Stone

  Reward: +35 pts – Nether code: Soul-Touched Spinel

  “Causality magic,” Lady Vallenfelt stated, observing her apprentice. “Interesting. You can buy such features?”

  When the dean asked, she held out a hand. Understanding her master’s intent, Sylvia offered Esmeralda her arm. Ki flowed through the point of contact, probing Sylvia’s internals.

  “Yes. The features I have collected are: Observe Opponent, Observe Item, Observe Terrain, and Track Threats,” Sylvia explained.

  Esmeralda nodded. “Is this ability limited to divination?”

  Sylvia shook her head. “The merit shop also sells other ability slots.”

  There was even a special slot that would allow her to record any spell and trigger it with a cooldown. The recording process took a full day though.

  “Do not purchase the others,” Lady Vallenfelt commanded, withdrawing her soft palm. “This ‘System’ is realizing these magics by way of the bone engraving method. The number of spells you can handle is limited by what your skeleton can endure.”

  Good to know.

  Wait a minute. If the effect came from a bone engraving, then how could Sylvia use the active functions right after purchase? Was the System lending its support as a bridge?

  The silver-haired witch put aside her curiosity for the moment.

  “I never intended to,” Sylvia replied. Ignoring physical limits, Sylvia wasn’t made of money. And, why should she suffer cooldowns when she could cast the same spell with a word? “How many more can my body handle?”

  “With your strength, two or three at best,” Lady Vallenfelt answered. “More, as the quality of your body grows. Forging the body into a martial tool or magical equipment is a common tactic among Transcendent demons. The chief trouble is, all your effort will be wiped away after death.”

  Lady Vallenfelt flipped through Sylvia’s windows, stopping on those describing Observe Opponent and Observe Item.

  “Divinations like these should be your target,” she instructed. “Common causality magics provide only glimpses and impressions. To have a clear record refined by analysis is an immense advantage.”

  Sylvia nodded. Maps were nice. Especially, when she could add way points, pins, notes, and annotations. Also, she could zoom. Zoom was super handy! She could even search for locations by name. One day, she might even be able to buy maps from other gamers.

  Speaking of the future.

  “Teacher, do you intend to help him reach his goal?”

  “Yes. Distasteful as he may be, that man is my lord. Therefore, I will carry out the tasks to which I am sworn diligently,” Esmeralda supplied. Her eyes were steady and judging. “To serve another is not a degradation, my darling apprentice. Not so long as the one you serve is worthy. And worthiness aside, the reward is honey sweet. I now grasp your reluctance. I, too, would hesitate to risk the loss.”

  Lady Vallenfelt’s expression turned gentle. “Thank you. Over these past months, you have become very dear to me. It moves my heart to see it returned.”

  Sylvia blushed. Her eyes suddenly found the wooden column very interesting.

  “Dismiss these frames,” Lady Vallenfelt decided. “We have much to prepare, and you have many days to explain the nature of this new world we find dawning.”

  -oOo-

  Gate

  Runes: 395

  Mana: 500 (realm)

  Duration: 10 minutes

  A high level spell deriving from the realm element. The gate spell opens a portal between two locations. Ordinarily, this gate can only be created within the caster’s area of awareness, moderately augmented by the spatial nature of the magic. This corresponds to roughly 10 km * Magic: Mysticism.

  However, the gate’s reach is not fundamentally limited by this distance. To exceed this range, mages often build waygates. These act as a physical structure that both supports the magic and acts as a long distance receiver.

  While the common gate spell can cross a plane, it cannot cross the starry void, as the flows of chaos wreak havoc on the magic. Interplanar gates do exist, but require two-sided anchors and sophisticated enchantments. Gating between planes with spells alone is an idea confined more to myth than reality.

  In addition to the initial mana expenditure, the caster must provide energy for each drom of material transported. The cost is roughly 0.25 to 1.0 mp per a drom transported, depending on distance and how well the waygate was constructed – should there be one. An approximate table of costs for teleporting souls and living beings is below:

  Note: transporting ethers and essences of the realm, space, or void elements comes at a 10x to 100x discount.