-oOo-

  Chapter 22

  -oOo-

  Sylvia whistled through the air, curly tails dancing behind her.

  Two months had passed since their return to Vallen. By date, it was Tuesday of the third week of Men-Ignis. That meant Sylvia was officially a second year witch. Well, she would’ve been if the war hadn’t turned her class schedule into shit.

  By order of Lady Vallenfelt, all student witches had been conscripted by the Academy. Their duty was to aid the baroness’s combat preparations. To facilitate their new role, students had been assigned to squads of ten. Sylvia had, naturally, been promoted to squad leader. Of her second year class, Emily and Natalie had been similarly selected.

  To make their position formal, the Academy had given each leader – corporals as they were now called – new uniforms.

  Black robes replaced blue, each with the same gold trim and triangular coat-tails. Beneath was a white dress, Sylvia’s lovingly amended by charm club with frills and pink lace. Clipping the robes in front was a gold medallion bearing the Academy’s coat of arms set atop a pink ribbon.

  A shade of pink that, coincidentally, matched Sylvia’s eyes.

  The silver-haired witch was damn sure who was behind the new arrangement.

  The rest of the uniform remained optional. The buckle shoes Sylvia had willingly replaced with her pink pumps. The white stockings, however, she’d been coerced into wearing by an extremely annoying faerie.

  The only thing Sylvia truly loved about her uniform was the black beret marked by three, four pointed stars. This insignia declared her authority as being just below that of the teachers. Of the students, only Piper was similarly decorated. The rest of the girls from the Sunday Course had two stars on their hat, including Tiffany and Brianna, who’d been successfully ransomed back.

  The rest of Sylvia’s uniform could burn in hell fire.

  Err… well… not her heels. The only way Sylvia would stop wearing her Blood Bone Heels was if someone pried them off her feet with a crowbar. Fuck manhood. Flying was awesome. Sylvia refused to consider a different pair of shoes until her strength broke twenty-five.

  But the waltz of flowers wasn’t the only way to fly.

  Wind roared as Sylvia circled the Academy’s bluff, riding atop a school broom. Below, demons carried logs, piling them along the butte’s edge. Beast-kin, werewolves, and hogmin wandered grounds once kept clean and pure for the Academy’s witches. Even men could be found within the hallowed ground of the Starlight Nether Witch Academy. Though Baroness Esmeralda Vallenfelt might disdain their kind, she had no choice but to let them pass through the gates.

  The threat of war trumped sentiment.

  Walls were raised around the cliff’s rim. Towers were erected beside them, each mounted with massive bows. The main gate had been reinforced. New bulwarks stood at either side, while a barracks was built near the entrance. The first floor was already complete while a second remained in work.

  Crafting stations had filled the Recreation Hall then spilled out over the Grounds. Many of the fields were now covered in tables and equipment. There, Sylvia could see teams of witches working alongside smiths and carpenters to create weapons of war. Not far from this were mountains of cages, filled with all manners of beasts.

  Senior witches, graduates, and specialists used their magics to tame the creatures. In Hell, phantasms were as much a munition as any arrow.

  Second years were, of course, not expected to complete such a complicated task. Instead, Sylvia’s squad of baby witches had been assigned the simplest drudge work. Specifically, they had been ordered to smooth the Academy’s cliffs.

  Riley was the only girl happy to hear it.

  “Hey, Sylvia, we’ve got another one!”

  The freckled blonde shouted. Riley waved. Once she was sure she had Sylvia attention, the witch pointed at the star filled void below.

  Sylvia sighed, then adjusted her angle of flight.

  During the last few months, they’d worked their way to the back end of the Academy, which meant Sylvia’s squad was hanging from ropes suspended over the edge of the plane. The good news, they were only responsible for smoothing the top five or so meters. The better news, if anyone fell, they wouldn’t be hurt.

  Which made the girls lazy.

  And that was bad news for her.

  “This is the fourth time in the last three days,” Sylvia grumbled.

  She dove.

  The wind whipping around her vanished into void as she left the plane proper and entered the astral ocean beyond. Without the aid of primordial ether, Sylvia’s broom faltered. The silver-haired witch let her body float off the haft then pressed forward by stepping off waves of petals.

  The starry void was strange.

  This was not space of the material world. The astral realm was, instead, an indescribable amalgamate. Like the ocean, it had ebbs, flows, and currents. Like air, it came with faint resistance. Akin to space, she floated with no up or down, untouched by the concept of gravity.

  To pass through the starry void, one swam as much as they flew.

  Deep in the shimmering dark, Sylvia found Lucy White. The silver-haired witch wrapped her arms around the dark-haired girl’s waist. “■.” One sound and runes spiraled, imbuing Sylvia’s burden with feather-light. She turned, gazed up, then pushed off the nothingness.

  The pair rose. The Academy’s mighty cliff stood in contrast to the twinkling dark. Suddenly, primordial ether thickened. Her broom drank the wind’s breath. Enchantments kicked into gear with a sputter. Rather than ride her broom, Sylvia chanted feather-light twice more and let the tool drag her up and over the Academy’s ridge.

  Feet on the grass, Sylvia gave Lucy a stern look.

  “Where’s your rope?”

  “It got trapped on a crag, so I untied myself to climb around,” Lucy explained, her voice delightfully smooth and mellow. She had the decency to look embarrassed. “I didn’t think I would slip.”

  “The currents are stronger than you’d expect,” Sylvia reminded. “You’re lucky you didn’t get sucked a good hundred meters under the Academy.”

  A couple of days ago, Sylvia had spent a good ten minutes wrestling Valerie out of a nasty flow. Fortunately, demons were tough. And they didn’t need to breathe. So, being slammed repeatedly into the stone was more annoying than threatening.

  “Sorry.”

  “Call for help if your ropes get stuck in the future,” Sylvia said. She remounted her broom, rising gracefully above the ground. “Give me a minute. I’ll untangle it for you.”

  Sylvia drifted back over the cliff’s edge then disappeared behind the precipice.

  Every method of flight had its pros and cons.

  Using the waltz was like dancing. A step. A slide. A twirl. Each motion had energy and momentum paired with precise control. The waltz drew deep from Sylvia’s strength. Fifteen minutes was enough to leave her completely exhausted.

  Brooms, by comparison, were far more efficient.

  A broom was just a fancy, flying staff. It fed on mana and ether instead of ki. As a witch, Sylvia had mana in abundance. When flying on a broom, the silver-haired witch could remain in the air for hours.

  But brooms were not without their own detriments. The waltz was born from her faith. A broom relied upon wind to keep itself aloft. In the starry void, a broom provided nothing. That was not all. Brooms were mechanical in nature. They lacked the waltz’s fine application of force. Their acceleration was less while their velocity was greater.

  In other words, they tended to swing and drift, making it hard for Sylvia to stop exactly where she wanted.

  Or, they would, if Sylvia was limited to only one means of flight at a time.

  Descending, Sylvia used short pulses of ki to adjust her position. With a tap of her foot, she slued to the right, finding the rope and the crag on which it had been caught. Sylvia pulled it loose, winding the rope in wide loops around her arm and palm as she rose.

  Floating a few feet above the ground, she tossed the coil to Lucy before yelling.

  “Five minutes!”

  “Five minutes!” Riley echoed, ever helpful.

  Using her System, Sylvia set a clock. When she said five minutes, she damn well meant it.

  Witches slowly climbed back up and over the edge.

  The first to reach the top was Riley. The blonde was still brimming with energy. Shaping was grueling work, especially when compacting so many droms of stone, but physical labor only seemed to brighten Riley’s day. After her came the others. Margret Rivera drooped. Her friend, Valerie Baker, stood beside trying to cheer her up. Last to rise was Kinsley Pearson. The lethargic bluette practically flopped over the top of the Academy’s bluff.

  Spare her the theatrics. Demons didn’t get tired like that.

  After giving the crew a minute to untie their ropes, Sylvia spoke.

  “You’re probably wondering why I called you up early.”

  “It’s early?” Valerie grumbled.

  “Please don’t be shielding drills,” Margret whimpered. “Please, please don’t be shielding drills.”

  Sylvia grimace. “It won’t be shielding drills,” she said. “Not today.”

  On this, Sylvia had legit fucked up.

  As squad leader, one of her responsibilities was to ensure her subordinates were combat ready. For this, the Academy had arranged a series of drills. After watching the girls practice the spells daily for weeks, Sylvia had decided to ramp up the pressure.

  Turns out, throwing a fireball at a second year’s face made them fumble. Who would’ve thunk.

  That wasn’t the problem. Teaching the girls not to panic was the point. The issue was, Sylvia had been… a tad zealous. Water shield was a ten rune spell. The witches under her could barely manage a short chant, never mind a fast one. Which meant it took them a bit under two seconds to erect the spell.

  Sylvia, by contrast, could cast flame shot with a single syllable.

  And here in lay the error, Sylvia had tossed her spell when the girls were six to seven runes in. She figured they had enough time. Flame shot wasn’t terribly fast as projectile spells went, and Sylvia had made an effort to lob the blazing orb. Technically, they could’ve blocked it.

  Sylvia could’ve. Even if she were using a short chant.

  But Sylvia had forgotten that she didn’t just use the skill books How to Fast Cast and Basic Combat Magic, but also Magical Combat. Her nerves were dead calm. A two hundred millisecond margin gave plenty of room to spare.

  The girls underneath her? Not a single one pulled it off.

  Thankfully, Riley had set her straight.

  Which didn’t mean Sylvia’s intentions were wrong. It was just that she’d been too fast. So, next time, Sylvia would slow her casting speed. An extra quarter second would make all the difference in the world.

  The girls who fucked up, well, they deserved to be toast.

  “Thank god,” Kinsley whimpered.

  Three witches down the line, Margret nodded.

  “Don’t get too happy,” Sylvia warned. “Drills are mandatory, and I’ll be ramping up the difficulty in the next few months to make sure you can fight.

  “However, that’s not why I called you here. Instead, I have good news. We’re almost done,” Sylvia said. “I just finished checking the cliff face. There’s only one big spot left, which we should finish tomorrow. That means the rest of the week will be spent cleaning up the parts we missed the first time around.”

  A few girls grinned. A couple cheered, Riley among them.

  “Unfortunately, the reward for hard work well done is always more hard work,” Sylvia joked. “Which means we’ll be moving onto our next task. On this, I have better news. Our next job involves magic.”

  The excitement was louder this time. Not Riley, though. The freckled blonde’s shoulders slumped. Sylvia had zero sympathy. Like it or not, Riley was a witch.

  “What are we doing?” Valerie asked, hand raised.

  “Instead of explaining it to you, I’ll show you,” Sylvia said.

  The silver-haired turned, her right tress waving the girls to follow behind.

  The troop fell into line.

  Broom in hand, Sylvia led them to the Grounds. Compared to the Academy’s northern edge, this space was bustling with demons. Massive, muscled giants moved to and fro carrying heavy logs and other equipment. To the side, one demon ran a furnace. Nearby, a minotaur worked metal with a hammer and ki.

  It didn’t take long to find Willow.

  The pink-haired witch looked much the same as when Sylvia met her at Vallenfelt’s gates in Orasul Lunii. Short, strict, and very cute looking with her fluffy, twin tails.

  Just a glance at Willow’s girly visage and Sylvia wondered how anyone could take her seriously. Then, Sylvia recalled she was sporting twin tails of her own. No. Sylvia’s were worse. Her tails were bouncing, calf-length swirls of silver embellished with bows, ribbons, and pink sparkles. She even had a star shaped hairpin clipped to her left bangs.

  She was disgustingly adorable. It was utterly impossible for a girl like her to project authority.

  At least, it would be, if she hadn’t the almighty power of the beret. It was an irrefutable fact. All must yield to the beret. And since Sylvia’s beret had three stars while Willow’s held one, the senior student had to bow to her.

  “Corporal Swallows.” Willow snapped into a salute. The asteri stood, back straight with her left arm barred across her chest.

  “Corporal Cooper,” Sylvia responded with a quick salute of her own. “My team is here for an introduction.”

  Willow was a sixth year. The witches serving beneath her were seniors one and all, easily identified by their sapphire dress.

  “Of course.”

  The pink-haired asteri stepped up beside a massive bow attached to a wooden stand. Willow patted it twice, excited to explain her work.

  “This is a single-action, light combat ballista. The Academy has three for practice. The ballistas you see on the towers are Scorpions, a classic dual-stringed ballista with superior range and performance.”

  The ballista was the most common war machine in the netherworld. It was reasonably cheap and could fire a wide variety of ammunition. Bows and bowmen were quite rare throughout Hell, as the arrows had to be imbued with magic to do meaningful damage to a foe’s blood essence. So, ballista helped fill an important role in warfare.

  “Each ballista is operated by a team of three,” Willow continued, pointing at the various parts of the giant crossbow. “The shooter provides mana to trigger the bolt and is responsible for aiming, firing, and guiding the munition to the target. The driver pulls the string back. They also provide ki to enhance the bow’s performance. Finally, there is the loader, who has the job of preparing the bolt and identifying tactical targets.”

  Witches could be decent shooters and loaders but were terrible drivers. However, Sylvia’s squad wasn’t here to man the ballista. The Academy had already picked out teams of experienced demons for that task. Witches were better used elsewhere.

  “There are four common bolts: bare shot, explosive shot, thunder shot, and steel shot.” Willow lifted a new finger as she ticked each off. “The enchantments for the last three are complicated, so you’ll be learning how to make bare shot.”

  The pink-haired corporal walked over to a stack of boxes piled higher than Sylvia’s head. One box lay on the grass, offset from the rest. Willow popped open the lid, showing Sylvia’s squad the score of blanks stored inside. The bolts were as long as a spear with shafts thicker than a thumb. Each sported broad, palm sized bone arrowheads and feather fletching.

  “Which will free my team to work on the other three.”

  Willow pointed at a second pile of boxes to her right. One of the senior witches was pulling a simple rod without head or feathers from inside it. These were the cores which would later be used to form bolts. A special sheath would be placed over the top bearing its own enchantments. Only then would the final product be assembled.

  “Bare shot uses an enchantment code that mimics the magic arrow spell,” Sylvia said, stepping in.

  The silver-haired witch walked to the front, stopping beside Willow. From a nearby table, Sylvia took a rune stylus. This was a tool used to draw runes while leaving the mana pure, clear, and unnatured. Then, with a deft hand, Sylvia traced the sequence in midair.

  Willow’s eyes widened in surprise. Sylvia felt a bit smug. She hadn’t burned four thousand merit points for nothing.

  May their sacrifice never be forgotten.

  “The magic arrow spell consists of five runes,” Sylvia explained, stylus still swishing. “However, because enchantments must operate independent of a caster, they have to define things more precisely. Therefore, the code we’ll be using consists of sixty-eight runes instead.”

  With a flourish, Sylvia finished her elegant sweep. A beautiful chain of runes hung in the air, their shimmering forms bright before the eyes of the asteri. Sylvia glanced at her System. Four Mp. Not bad.

  Riley looked a little green. Her misery was delicious. Ha, ha, ha, Sylvia was going to force her friend to learn magic.

  “There are enough rune styluses for everyone,” Sylvia said. “Just be sure to return them when you’re done. Unfortunately, the Academy only has a score of a magi-scopes. Which means, that once you can consistently draw the sequence right, you’ll have to practice it again, smaller.”

  Sylvia’s hand flickered in the air, this time with motions delicate and swift. Rune after rune formed, each fine enough to be writ on paper.

  This was by no means an easy task, not when wielding a rod half a meter in length.

  The facial expressions of her squad turned ugly. Now it wasn’t just Riley who looked like she wanted to vomit.

  Time for the coup de grace. Sylvia swished the rod, pulling the line tight. Excess energy was squeezed out so that the runes were half their prior size.

  “A blank costs a hundred soli,” the silver-haired witch informed, enjoying the schadenfreude. “The code has to be placed three times on each blank. Make a mistake and the whole bolt has to be trashed.”

  Sylvia’s smile turned evil.

  “So, you’ll draw the whole sequence a thousand times, big and small, before you’ll be enchanting your first bolt.”

  And now, the circle of suffering was complete. Margret looked sick enough that Sylvia suspected the girl would beg for shielding drills instead.

  “Any questions?”

  Kinsley raised a hand. Sylvia gestured toward the blue-haired witch, stylus in hand.

  “If we use up all our mana, do we have to do drills after?”

  “No, we won’t be doing drills after,” Sylvia said, pausing just long enough for the girls to feel hope. “Instead, we’ll hold them before curfew at twenty-one hundred hours.”

  Did they seriously think they could evade combat drills? Mana could regenerate from empty to full in a mere eight hours. The only thing these witches needed was a break.

  And what better time to practice than right before they went to sleep?

  Riley raised a hand.

  “Go ahead.”

  The freckled blonde scratched a cheek. “I don’t think I recognized half those runes.”

  “I’d be surprised if you did. The enchantment code consists of twenty-three runes from the Lesser Codex and forty-five from the Great Codex.”

  As second year witches, all of them had completed Basic Runes. But most would be doing quite well if they identify fifteen of the runes Sylvia had drawn. One year wasn’t nearly enough to learn the Lesser Codex properly, much less the Great Codex.

  Unless you were a System-wielding cheat.

  Or a freak like Sylvia’s teacher.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be teaching you the runes one by one over the next week.” With lessons to be held just after they finished shaping the Academy’s cliffs. “But enough of that. Let’s have some fun. Willow, do you mind if my girls get a chance to shoot the ballista once? That way they’ll appreciate what they’re making.”

  There was much rejoicing.

  -oOo-

  Light poured into Esmeralda Vallenfelt’s office through a trio of picture windows. The shimmer of eternal morn set her teacher’s hair alight with a halo of emerald beauty. The baroness stood far from her desk, a second table dominating her favored reading space. On this surface was spread a map, the thick leather browned and curled.

  Sylvia had a better version in her head.

  But what she didn’t have were the miniatures set atop representing battles, armies and units. Information reinforced by news, intelligence, and Lady Vallenfelt’s expert divination.

  Her teacher spoke with fury.

  “Major Gavril Ghimpe, does Vilhelm intend to empty my pools entirely?” she accused, her words clear and crisp. “If so, with what army does he expect me to protect my fief?”

  Gavril was the commanding officer of the Fortress of Dawn. The stalwart man had short, dark hair and darker eyes. He skin was pale but his figure robust. The man was a devil and a vampire.

  Which meant his social position was well below that of a baroness.

  The soldier’s posture was stiff and polite. “The Demon King promised five hundred fighters in return for this favor.”

  “Which will hardly deter the rebels should they strike,” Esmeralda snapped in retort.

  The woman’s eyes flickered in Sylvia’s direction. Sylvia took that as permission to close the door behind her.

  “I have already raised a levy of thrice that number,” Lady Vallenfelt continued. “Warriors to whom I have pledged free resurrections should this war lead to their death. You speak of promises yet ask me to profane my word and leave it without worth.”

  “Levies are not soldiers,” Gavril ground out. “Disorganized, undisciplined trash will scatter before Baron Ishii’s army. And what pool do you have to offer?” The vampire gestured out the window violently. “I have warned you time and again that Vallen’s pool cannot be defended.”

  “Your tongue wags carelessly, Gavril.”

  Lady Vallenfelt’s words held sharp warning. Gavril clenched his fists.

  “My apologies, baroness. What I mean to say is that your pool is best used now, while we still have the chance.”

  Reasonable.

  Vallen’s public pool was placed at the Academy’s foot. The building itself was tough and well guarded, but only from casual attack. If an army sieged Vallen, the resurrection pool would fall within hours if not minutes.

  What the major didn’t know was that the public pool was only an outward face. Most of its amniotic essence was gathered and condensed within the Academy’s heart. The fluid was then brought into the pool by way of a pipe. Losing it would hurt, but not nearly so much as it seemed.

  It was clear, however, that Lady Vallenfelt had no wish to inform him of this fact.

  “Gavril, on this I have already decided,” Esmeralda asserted. “One thousand souls may be revived promptly, then half that every month. And costs will be paid in soli, not the soldiers the king needs for his war. If Vilhelm insists on Vallen’s defense, then he may place as many bodies in the Fortress of Dawn as he may wish. That is his right. However, the Academy will be defended by the people of Vallen, no one else.”

  It was equally certain that Sylvia’s master had no desire to let the king sink his claws deeper into her territory.

  Lady Vallenfelt’s gaze shifted to the door. “Sylvia, be a dear and announce yourself.”

  With a painted smile, Sylvia took another three steps into Esmeralda’s office. Gracefully, she slipped into a curtsy.

  “Teacher.”

  “Lady Swallows.” The major bowed in her direction.

  “Major Gavril Ghimpe.” Sylvia provided him a curtsy in turn.

  Hell’s rules of etiquette were complicated. Gavril was a devil so, by decorum, Sylvia was obligated to show respect. However, Sylvia’s master was a baroness. This meant, in many circumstances, Sylvia was considered to have borrowed Lady Vallenfelt’s rank. Consequently, it was considered proper for Gavril to bow to her.

  Proper, not necessary, because at the end of the day his rank was strictly higher. It was, however, the polite thing to do and failure to abide could be considered an insult to the baroness. Alas, the moment he bowed to Sylvia then Sylvia, being in truth a mere denizen, was absolutely obliged to offer him courtesy in return.

  Sylvia really hated this high society bullshit.

  Thank you, Baron Ishii, for starting a war and saving her from the Grand Ball.

  Also, it was scary how natural that curtsy felt.

  “Baroness,” Gavril said stiffly, bowing toward the emerald-haired woman. “I will take my leave. But I implore you, aid the king and beware the rebels.”

  So said, the major let himself out.

  “■, ■■, ■.”

  The room sealed. Lady Vallenfelt gestured. High heels clicking, Sylvia crossed the office before taking a seat near the map. Meanwhile, Lady Vallenfelt opened a cabinet and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of wine.

  “Vilhelm Codrin destroyed the rebel’s astral fleet at Port Blaze,” Lady Vallenfelt informed, claiming the chair opposite. “For now, the king reigns over the starry void. But the cost was ruinous. Half his army was lost in the battle, along with all his airships. Both sides are now without meaningful force, so he sends souls to me, hoping that his army will spring back faster than his foe’s.”

  Esmeralda set down both cups before popping the cork. Dark liquid sloshed into a crystal chalice. Stars winked within, the wine thick with astral essence. Sylvia took the first, stabilizing the liquid with her ki lest it fade into ether.

  Resurrection pools were like lakes fed by a stream. The waters within were only sufficient to birth a certain number of demons. If the quantity of souls exceed that limit, the pool would be drained leaving nothing for the dead who came after.

  Yet, the stream would still flow.

  The result was something akin to a traffic jam. When the roads were clear, a demon would be reborn in one or two weeks. As more cars piled in and the road exceeded its limit, they might have to wait a month, maybe even three before returning from the dead. In extreme cases, the pool might be so backlogged that souls would wait for years.

  In which case, they would be better off resurrecting in the wilderness.

  Assuming the local wildlife didn’t decide to chomp on their partially reborn bodies, anyway.

  Lady Vallenfelt’s glass touched delicate lips. The emerald-haired dean sipped from her cup. Sylvia copied her motion. Sweet. Dry. Nebulous. The final flavor was impossible to describe. Space and stardust.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “An astral wine,” Esmeralda explained. “A brew of my own making. Decades ago, when I last cultivated in earnest, I found the taste of astral amber had grown intolerable. Therefore, I set upon myself to make the next experience more pleasant. Alas, my efforts failed. Though the wine is quite lovely, the efficiency of conversion is too pitiful. So, the two of us must endure.”

  “For what it’s worth, it does taste a lot better,” Sylvia praised.

  That was an understatement. Consuming astral amber was like eating plastic covered in mud.

  Lady Vallenfelt leaned back, sunlight glinting as it passed through her crystal cup. “Tell me, my dear apprentice, how do you see the politics of our current circumstance?”

  Sylvia considered for a moment before answering. “The Demon King wants to control Vallen.”

  “Perceptive, but I would expect you to know this simply by observing the room,” Esmeralda said, swirling the star filled liquid before taking a second sip. “Why does Vilhelm force himself upon my fief?”

  That was a more difficult question.

  “Because our interests are more aligned with Baron Ishii than those of the development faction,” Sylvia stated.

  “Go on,” Lady Vallenfelt nudged.

  This was a lesson.

  Recently, Esmeralda had been pushing Sylvia to think more deeply about political matters. It wasn’t only that. Since the revelation, their relationship had undergone a subtle change. There was a closeness that wasn’t there before. Esmeralda, Sylvia sensed, saw her more like a peer than a child.

  The chill between them had vanished.

  But the authority remained.

  “The king plans to use the souls in the Frozen Wastes to populate the plane,” Sylvia began. She took a sip of wine to give herself a second to arrange her thoughts. “Superficially, your goals are aligned. Both parties profit if the plane becomes richer. But there’s a problem. While the souls in the south are useful for creating more slaves, vampires, and werewolves, they hold no value to you.”

  “My bloodline requires pure souls, not those from Earth in specific,” Lady Vallenfelt pointed out. “So your hypothesis contains an error.”

  Sylvia shook her head, challenging Esmeralda’s assertion head on.

  “No. They’re useless. Because creating a witch isn’t just a matter of adding code to a soul. A witch must be educated or they can’t be called a witch.”

  This was particularly true for starlight witches, as they lacked natural magic altogether. Without years of training, the largest economic value an asteri held was as a whore.

  That was the ugly truth.

  “Even if you had a hundred souls, you don’t have enough professors to teach them. At most, you can handle thirty souls every two years.”

  It was tempting to ask why not seek professors from the other planes?

  But this wouldn’t work. Skilled mages were upper-middle class professionals, akin to doctors and engineers. Even in the United States, rural communities struggled to attract teachers. And this was with a plethora of programs designed to help.

  Inviting a professor might work. This was probably how Lady Vallenfelt ended up with Roisin Owsley. Inviting dozens of teachers was impossible. Even Lady Vallenfelt’s apprentice, Belkis, had refused much to Esmeralda’s chagrin.

  “Well thought,” Lady Vallenfelt acknowledged. “And what you can deduce, so can Vilhelm. A second test. When the king gave his speech, what were the great cities he named?”

  Which cities? Sylvia was confused for a moment, then she recalled the speech right before the tournament.

  “Orasul Lunii, Loge Sombre, and Lup Rosu.”

  Sylvia groaned, head falling into her palm. How did she miss it? The king had rattled off every member of the development faction short Vallen. The snub couldn’t have been more obvious.

  “Pay more attention in the future,” Esmeralda chided. “A slight like that is often a warning and should not be missed. You are destined to stand amid a maelstrom of politics. You must learn to read people and heed threats no matter how well disguised.”

  Sylvia wore a miserable smile. She suspected Lady Vallenfelt was right, but Sylvia was not looking forward to it. She’d rather crash through the wild slaughtering phantasms for delicious experience than cavort with the noble class.

  “Teacher, if I may,” she said carefully. “Why do you take souls from Earth?”

  Esmeralda emptied the last of her cup. Lifting the bottle, she filled her chalice to half.

  “Forty years ago, when I first gathered souls from Origin, I did so knowing only there could I find girls who had never known the touch of ether,” Lady Vallenfelt explained. “You were the blankest slate, a canvas which would show most perfectly my bloodline’s impact and the transformation brought about by the injected mutations.”

  “Did it work?” Sylvia probed, curious.

  Esmeralda nodded. “It did, but not so much as to justify the cost. However, by that time I had grown fond of your world’s penchant for education. To teach every child logic, history, literature, and math is a grand undertaking. This foundation served me well and saved me many soli in the operation of my Academy.”

  An entirely practical reason to gather souls from Earth. One only a mage could appreciate.

  “Lastly, I found another benefit. As Origin is hard to reach, I faced little competition. This made it easier to acquire souls with preferable traits and talents. For instance, I am confident nine tenths of my graduates will eventually cross the second consolidation. Few clans or households can make a similar claim.

  “But this, I think, is not the question of your heart,” Lady Vallenfelt deduced. She leaned forward, gorgeous nebula gazing into fractal pink. “You wish to know why I made you a witch.”

  Sylvia shuffled uncomfortably. She was right. That question had always hung over her head. Why did Lady Vallenfelt turn her into a witch? It was clear Esmeralda knew Sylvia’s soul came from a man. And the dean had made no pretense of her aversion to the other gender.

  In fact, Lady Vallenfelt was insistent Sylvia forget she’d ever been male in the first place.

  “It is no grand secret. When I issue my invitations, I place upon them charms so they might find the hands I deem fittest. Among those enchantments, I lay a spell of fate: ‘Let the one who opens this letter be better for it’.”

  Better for it. This explained Riley, who found her letter after killing her ex. How many others girls made their way to the Academy because the Academy was better than what they left behind?

  Even Sylvia fit that metric. No wonder Emily insisted Sylvia had been fated.

  “Those who use fate must trust in fate,” Sylvia murmured before draining her glass.

  Clink.

  She placed her cup on the table. Esmeralda leaned forward, filling it anew.

  “The breadth of your reading never ceases to surprise,” Esmeralda praised. “When casting spells of fate, one must hold in their heart a degree of faith. This does not mean you should never question. Fate magic merely changes the arrangement of probability. It is impossible to know if what comes is the result of your wish or mere accident in masquerade.”

  Lady Vallenfelt leaned back, head tilted toward the forever morn. Light fell on her perfect face, illuminating the darkened void.

  “When the first irregular landed in my hand, I hesitated. But then I asked myself what will I do with this soul otherwise? At that moment I realized, fated or not, to birth a witch was the kinder choice. For, would it not be better to be taught in my Academy than to be sold to whatever foul merchant bears interest?”

  Now that was definitely true.

  “I’d rather be a witch than a hogmin,” Sylvia concurred before drawing another drink.

  Or a werewolf for that matter. Better to be a woman, she didn’t want to be a furry. Now, a vampire on the other hand. With her System, Sylvia would’ve made a most handsome vampire.

  She could already see herself walking down the streets of Orasul Lunii, beautiful girls hanging off both arms.

  “Thank you,” Esmeralda said softly. “There are days I question.”

  Which was the closest thing to sorry Sylvia would ever hear from her master’s mouth.

  “Why not ally with Baron Ishii?” Sylvia said, changing the subject. “Given our circumstances, we need money now more than later.”

  “Allies are not to be swapped like hats,” Lady Vallenfelt rebuked. “There is also the question of his character. A third of Vilhelm’s supporters are women. Of the lords and devils who consort with Goro Ishii, there is but one. Be wary of such things, as this is oft an omen of intent.”

  Yes. Life would be so much better as a vampire. As a man, Sylvia never once worried about misogynists and rapists.

  “But this is not why I summoned you,” Esmeralda said, putting down her cup. This time she did not refill it. “The defeat of the rebel’s fleet is an opportunity.”

  Sylvia frowned. “I thought we would wait until I reached the second consolidation.”

  “I fear we might not have the chance. To fight this war, Baron Ishii drew strength from the Hoga. Now that the tide has turned against him, he will most certainly seek additional support. The Demon King will respond in kind. Already, there are whispers of aid from the Padure clan. If these forces clash upon this small plane, matters will quickly spiral beyond our control.”

  “A pity we can’t just push the Academy off into the starry void and sail away,” Sylvia joked, throwing out her arms as though she were shoving the bluff.

  “An amusing thought,” Esmeralda said, lips quirked. “Show me your condition.”

  Sylvia directed her System.

  Ding!

  Though astral amber was a noxious substance, it was hard to argue with the result. In the last two months, Sylvia had put on seventy levels. In Orasul Lunii, she’d been on the weaker end of those who’d passed the preliminaries. Now she threatened to unseat Mihaela’s absurdity.

  How quick the tables turn.

  “You have invested heavily in ‘spirit’” Lady Vallenfelt noted.

  “I figured I should start learning advanced magic,” Sylvia explained. “But before this, I need to raise my casting speed.”

  Esmeralda nodded. “And your books?”

  “Four to learn the Great Codex,” Sylvia answered. “I have enough merit to buy another.”

  The biggest obstacle had already been removed. By Sylvia’s measure, she still needed two books to effectively use advanced combat magic in actual battle. The first to master the spells in question. This would ensure speed and efficiency while preventing fumbles. The second to improve her fast casting.

  Sylvia didn’t have the luxury of hiding behind meat shields. If she mimicked the dark elf, it’d be off with her head before she finished her first spell. Warriors had arts of their own, and they knew better than to let a mage chant.

  “You focus too heavily in combat,” Esmeralda chided. “Though, given your circumstance, I will not reprimand you. Nevertheless, you must reserve enough merit to purchase at least one ‘skill book’. When you set sail, you will do so alone. If not, your destination will never be reached.”

  “I’m aware.” On both points. “The System still says poor.”

  “Then you will have to buy a manual, or better, a jade scroll when you reach Tartarus. Astrogation is not a subject in which I am studied. Nor is the Timeless Beryl Wilderness a ready repository of academia,” Lady Vallenfelt lamented. “What of the other?”

  “Excellent as of five days ago,” Sylvia answered. The silver-haired witch pressed her lips. “Which only means that I’ll get my money’s worth. I think I’ll be able to handle the grunt work, but I’m not sure if I can make an interplanar gate on my own even after consuming a skill book just to master the art.”

  Gamer’s Heaven came with a 1,500 merit point reward, so there wasn’t a worry that she’d be short after reaching the tree. Yes, the quest objective included building a base, but Sylvia had looked into the rules. A base just meant a safe space where she could resurrect.

  Which was entirely within her current ability.

  But Lady Vallenfelt’s plan extended well past the minimum. She wanted to set up an interplanar gate so the plane could be reached directly. Enchantments of that level weren’t simple. The frame Sylvia would be creating involved several hundred thousand runes.

  The bulk of the work, she could handle. Though, she’d have to be cautious given the limited amount of raw materials she’d have on hand. The fine details however….

  “It is our fortune, then, that I already have a waystone prepared,” Esmeralda stated. “As for the realm brick, half are prepared. I have always kept a store in case Vallen’s gate required repairs.”

  “The rest of the pieces are modular,” Sylvia mused. “After using a skill book on gate construction, I think I could handle the stones, rocks, and bricks.”

  It felt like a terrible waste of a skill book. Sylvia could only hope it would polish her general understanding of enchanting when she used it.

  “I would be most grateful,” Esmeralda accepted. “Then, let us skew things further in our favor. If I have understood your System, it should not be difficult to obtain additional merit.”

  The baroness stood. With graceful steps, she swept across the room, long skirts fluttering. She opened a cabinet, this one with opaque doors instead of glass. From it she drew a rack of vials, all filled with translucent crimson.

  “Nether code from the bloodlines I’ve collected. None touch on my research. If this proves insufficient, I will hazard secrets of greater value.”

  Lady Vallenfelt really didn’t like the thought of Lucifer yoinking her IP.

  The dean set vials in front of Sylvia. Without a word, the silver-haired witch started dropping observes. She burned down pure mana. Causality ether was far too tedious to gather.

  Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

  Windows opened and the event log marched. After five casts, Sylvia was forced to wait through a cooldown. Still, it didn’t take long to do another set.

  Reward: +25 pts – Bloodline code: Hecates Magissa Asteri (Sample 2/100)

  Reward: +15 pts – Bloodline code: Hecates Magissa Asteri (Sample 3/100)

  Reward: +5 pts – Bloodline code: Hecates Magissa Asteri (Sample 4/100)

  Reward: +5 pts – Bloodline code: Hecates Magissa Asteri (Sample 5/100)

  Reward: +4 pts – Bloodline code: Hecates Magissa Asteri (Sample 6/100)

  ...

  Reward: +100 pts – Bloodline code: Nox Luna Canis (Sample 1/100)

  Reward: +100 pts – Bloodline code: Nox Sanguis Umbra (Sample 1/100)

  Reward: +25 pts – Bloodline code: Nox Sanguis Umbra (Sample 2/100)

  ...

  Reward: +100 pts – Bloodline code: Typhon Aplistia Choiros (Sample 1/100)

  Reward: +100 pts – Bloodline code: Katergaris Alepou Oura (Sample 1/100)

  Reward: +100 pts – Bloodline code: Aos-Si Tuath Spiorad (Sample 1/100)

  “How much does that bring you to?”

  “Twenty-four hundred,” Sylvia answered, looking up. “The first sample of any bloodline is worth one hundred merit. Then twenty-five. Then fifteen. Peanuts after.”

  To be exact, Sylvia had 2,379 merit points.

  “Then to start, you will use a book to master the creation of the gate so that I may confirm your skill,” Esmeralda commanded. “The second must be used to learn astrogation. Your ‘System’ seems fond of bloodline codes, I will draw more from my laboratory and see if we can make the two books three.”

  The dean paused. Sharp eyes fell upon Sylvia.

  “The mission comes first. Until these ‘skill books’ have been learned, you are not to use merit on anything else.”

  “Yes, Teacher,” Sylvia answered, feeling like a toddler beside a cookie jar. “When do I leave?”

  “Not long after Vilhelm’s ships arrive. It should not be hard to requisition one to buy war supplies. You will serve as my proxy for this venture. So as not to seed doubt, I will provide a list of what I in fact need, though it will dig deep into my coffers.

  “When you arrive at Tartarus, you will meet your sister apprentice, Belkis. She can be trusted with your welfare, but not your quest.”

  Sylvia nodded. It was weird to call a woman she’d never met sister. It was going to be a lot stranger if Belkis started calling Sylvia sister in return.

  “As for funds, I will provide my seal and permit to spend five million soli,” Esmeralda continued. “An astralship will cost one million at the least. You will have to spend a comparable amount on the weapons returned to me. As for the rest, use your judgment but do not displease.”

  Lady Vallenfelt’s hard gaze made clear that Sylvia would regret it if money was spent frivolously.

  Sylvia sighed. Finishing her glass, she stood. The silver-haired witch looked out the windows of Vallenfelt’s office. Bright morning light fell upon viridian trees and green grass. Witches milled about, some carrying out tasks, others taking a chance to relax. Even on the eve of war, there was still an atmosphere of innocence.

  And most likely, that innocence would never belong to her again.

  “Half a year ago, I was like them,” Sylvia murmured. “When I come back, what will I be?”

  “Growth is a necessary function of grand ambition.”

  A pity, then, that Sylvia had never been ambitious. Eric Swallow had dreamed of unlimited levels since the day he obtained his System, but this was a child’s longing for praise and power.

  To grow so much faster than those around you was a lonely thing.

  A normal life, surrounded by friends. Cheerful days spent learning without true responsibility. Laying down to sleep with Emily and Riley on either side. Fearing and struggling about problems which, in reflection, seemed so small.

  Ha.

  She’d finally done it.

  She’d become a ‘hero’.

  Not a real hero. Rather, the kind of hero who appeared in video games. The one that fought the big battles and tackled silly side quests.

  The thing little Eric dreamed of.

  It sucked just as much as Sylvia knew it would.

  “I suppose I’d better start packing my things.”

  “Sylvia Swallows,” Esmeralda said, her tone a strange combination of formal and gentle. “You will always be my apprentice. Never forget that. No matter how high you rise, I will never be more than a step behind.”

  -oOo-

  Magic Arrow

  Runes: 5

  Mana: 5 to 15, 3:1

  Attack: +15 to +25

  Max Attack: 150 to 250

  Due to the nature of phantasms, physical type ranged weapons bear little effect. Using ki is inefficient, as the energy would be thrown away rather than recycled. Magic arrow serves the purpose of adding magical energies to a projectile so that bows, knives, and other ranged weapons can be used.

  In addition, the magic arrow spell allows the caster to place their intent in the projectile, allowing for a minor to moderate degree of guidance.

  However, being a spell, to use magic arrow demands some study of magecraft. Older demons often dabble in the art but few achieve a fast chant. This means that bows can only be fired slowly. Still, in siege conditions, an army of archers often proves its worth.

  Ballista

  A heavy weapon designed to eliminate ranged foes. While it can be used against structures, the weapon system lacks the weight and potency of flame mortars and lightning cannons.

  Ballistas are the most common siege weapon in the netherworld. They come in multiple variants, ranging from single action, to multi-shot. There are even heavy ballistas which require a pair of drivers to fire. Combined with the ability to change out ammunition for the task, ballistas provide a versatile offense.

  In warfare, ballistas are typically used to suppress and eliminate enemies that are C-IV and below. They are also the core of any anti-air system. In a pinch, they can be used to destroy other siege weapons.

  Bare Shot

  Attack:

  - Light: 300 to 800

  - Heavy: 500 to 1300

  Penetration: 50 pierce

  Range: 2.5 km, moderate guidance

  Exploding Shot

  Attack:

  - Light: 500

  - Heavy: 750

  Penetration: 0 pierce

  Area:

  - Light: 5m radius

  - Heavy: 8m radius

  Range: 2.5 km, minor guidance

  Thunder Shot

  Attack:

  - Light: 500 to 1000

  - Heavy: 800 to 1600

  Penetration: 50 pierce

  Range: 4 km, 1.5 degree correction cone

  Steel Shot

  Attack:

  - Light: 500 to 1000;

  - Heavy: 800 to 1600

  Penetration: 150 pierce, 50% multiplier, 20% DRR

  Range: 2.5 km, minor guidance

  Lightning Canon

  Attack: 4000 to 8000

  Penetration: 100 pierce, 400% to 700% multiplier, 15% DRR

  Range: 4 to 7 km, 0.5 degree correction cone

  A heavy weapon designed and scaled for effective anti-material operations. While lightning cannons are considered heavy siege weapons, they also have the precision to pick off individual demonic targets. As such, they are an important piece of any defensive operation. Lightning cannons are a deadly threat to opponents C-V and lower. They may be used to suppress demons of up to C-VIII.

  Warships will typically carry two to four lightning cannons, with larger ships carrying those of higher caliber. More advanced ships, such as those owned directly by the armies of Heaven, Hell, and the Fey Federation will be armed with weapons much deadlier.

  Flame Mortar

  Attack: 1000 to 2000

  Penetration: 50 pierce

  Range: 4 to 6 km

  Area: 15m to 25m radius

  The netherworld’s answer to artillery, a flame mortar unleashes a powerful fire attack that incinerates an entire area upon impact. In a pinch, the mortar blast can be commanded to detonate in the sky to better threaten aerial targets. However, the relatively slow velocity of ~300 m/s means that at long ranges the target can easily evade.

  Though built upon the spell structure of meteor blast, a flame mortar’s projectiles offer very little directional control. This means they are only useful against large masses of enemies or static targets. However, due to the scale of the blast, they are far more effective on structures than attack power alone implies.